#i like her fics n silly little drawings i giggle when they pop up on my tl | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eunoiaastralwings · 2 years

Text

characters celegorm x reader, celegorm, y/n and their daughter

fandom tolkien- the silmarillion

a/n @doodle-pops and i were talking about this and i really eanted to make it into a fic. here you are hun i hope you like it

notes (y/d/n) - your daughter's name.

You rolled your eyes at your silly pouting husband — it seems he lost yet another time in his attempt to pull your beloved daughter outside for a hunt.

But it filled you with immense warmth and pride when Celegorm never pushed past your quiet daughter's boundaries — he finally learnt.

It took many times to teach him about it and many more times to quote:

"Celegorm! Vero, just because our daughter inherited your hair and other features does not mean she is exactly like you!" (Husband).

It took many attempts — but he finally learnt to accept that your daughter was more like you — shy, quiet and insecure — rather to put yourself in creative and safe works of arts, such as writing, drawing or reading.

Many — including yourselves — found it surprising how the two of you two fell in love.

It seems the phrase of opposites attract really explained your relationship with Celegorm. As he was the wild hunting prince — with an aloof and chaotic nature, you were the quiet working maiden preferring the busy urban city's libraries and researching, than anything the forest had to offer.

In fact — the your first (and all) hunting trip and camping with Celegorm was filled with your screams every 3 seconds — not used the wild bugs and spider crawling the grounds.

More than thrice — you scared away all of Celegorm's hunts.

Now — seeing your beloved daughter was becoming another you, it disappointed the poor hunter.

To others — it was surprising to see Celegorm act so quietly and calmly beside his daughter — even sitting down next to her — interested in whatever she could be reading — and it could be the stupidest story in his opinion but in honesty he loved watching his daughter be in her own element.

"My love. . ."

You cooed — then wrapped your arms from his shoulders from behind. He stayed seated on his chair, but his hands came up to hold your hands — and drew soft circles on them.

Both of you were watching your daughter draw something on the piece of paper she had secretly gotten from her father's study.

Celegorm knew very well of the little thief that kept stealing of his blank papers and scrolls on his desk — sometimes little sparkles and little pieces of tinsel she accidentally dropped and left behind as evidence— whatever that was his mother had gifted her with.

Oh — but didn't he not have a fun time explaining to his brothers and father where they came from.

"She awfully quiet today. . ."

His narrowed — though not sharply but in concentration — at his daughter, who perched herself on the windowsill to draw.

"It's just one of those days — where she wants peace and quiet — you know I want those days too — but you rarely ever give them to me."

He turned his head slightly and smirked — you giggled like a little maiden finding love was for the first time again — at that his smirk only grew and he reached across to leave a promising kiss on your lips — controlling himself, not to left it slide past that.

But the sound of light talk perked up the both of you.

You turned back to see your daughter quietly chatting away with a blue bird — before she started petting him.

You almost let out a startled yelp when your husband suddenly stood from the chair — then stalking closer to the bird she was petting — before it flew away at the sound of Celegorm approaching.

Your daughter gleefully watched it fly.

For some time — you darted your eyes back and forth from your husband to your daughter.

"Tyelko-"

Before you got to ask anything — your husband was already the door — muttering something about coming right back.

You rolled your eyes again— and made your way to your daughter.

"Amal!" (Mother).

She smiled and happily wrapped her arms around you— eager to be picked up by you.

"My little dove. . ."

As you and Celegorm always fondly called her.

"Look— I drew the blue birdie!"

She said — very happily as she showed you the drawing.

"Oh — it's beautiful, (y/d/n). I love it."

You said — a little surprised in seeing it was a rare bird that barely ever associated themselves with any other spices — and your daughter was just petting one — maybe that explained your husband's abrupt leave.

"You must be hungry after all this hard work."

"Yes."

She answered — smiling up at you with her big pale eyes — the split image of her your father's.

By the time dinner was ready — you were just about to help the servants place the plates on the dinner table — when you heard a low whine followed by a howling sound.

Your servants and you exchanged odd looks — you set down the plate back on the kitchen counter and almost ran to the dinner room.

"Oh my, valar!"

Your eyes widened when you saw a huge wolf pup on your dinner table — his tail wagging very happily and your daughter petted and hugged him — her laughter soon echoing through the room as it started licking her face.

Celegorm was on the other end of the room — his arms crossed leaning against the wall beside the 9door — looking all too smug.

"Celegorm Tyelkormo Turkafinwë! Get that thing off our dinner table!"

You shouted at your husband.

"But Amal— he's my pet!"

Your daughter giggled.

"Oh, my love — a wolf isn't something to keep as a pet."

"Why not?"

Celegorm made his way over to you.

"Her father has a magic, gigantic hound— only fair his daughter gets to have something of a sort."

"But a wolf! Celegorm!"

You rubbed your forehead — feeling annoyed at your husband.

"You said she was exactly like you dearest — but she adores these creatures as much as I do."

"Then why didn't you marry of those creatures!"

You retorted back — your husband frowned down at you before he chuckled and leaned close to your ears.

"Because, one — that's a little outside of nature law — and because a sweet innocent maiden had caught my eyes and only she is capable of handling the beast that I am."

His whispered — his lips brushing against yours ears and hands possessively wrapping around yoour waist — sending shivers down your spine.

"Am taking her out hunting tomorrow."

He said — smirking again seeing how he turned you into a flustered mess.

"She won't come with you — (y/d/n) doesn't like it, Tyelko!"

"She will now."

The day Celegorm's hunt go unplanned would be the day he cursed his life as a hunter — and that's exactly what was happening.

From the minute, himself and his daughter entered the forest hand in hand — with Huan and the little wolf pup — something was . . . different.

It caused him to be on high alert — he had checked these parts before — making sure it was safe while he was with his daughter.

But something about the forest made him feel uneasy — he wondered if he should turn back — but sensing no actual danger. . . just that odd difference he decided to stay.

He had been teaching her how to set camp — and careful not to wander off too far — even if Huan was keeping a watch over her.

But by the time he returned to the camp with the firewood — he was beyond surprised and amazed to see the camp surrounded by little critters and his daughter in the center of it all.

For a second — he really thought his eyes would fall off from their sockets.

He spent amount the next hour or two trying to shoo away the rabbits, birds, owls and squirrels that nestled and gathered around.

Celegorm noticed how some would wander and follow the steps of his daughter — but he paid no heed and finally sat on a log to sharpen his arrow.

At least she wasn't screaming like her mother every 3 seconds when something crept up.

When his daughter quietly walked up to him — he discarded his work for a moment to give her his full attention.

She smiled at him — he recognized the smile — her mother smiled like that whenever she was hiding something. . . or trying at least.

"Atar!"

She spoke — despite gaining his attention already.

"Yes, little dove?"

"You wanted this deer, right? — Here you go!"

His eyes widened as his daughter stepped aside and revealed the deer walking up to them.

In all his years as a hunter — he never seen his prey so willingly draw near him and drop their head in submission and sacrifice.

Celegorm had to be dreaming. . . right?

When you saw your husband and daughter return rather quickly — you knew it couldn't be good.

"I told you – but you still dragged her out."

You crossed your arms at your husband.

"Oh no — we did hunt and we got a deer."

He said — and gestured to the deer strapped to Huan.

"Oh— that was fast. . ."

"Unusually fast. . ."

Your husband replied.

He was right — hunts and camping at least took him 3 days — the fact they returned by the evening of their departure was a surprising sight to behold.

"So what happened-"

Before you had the chance to ask — the sounds of those little critters and the giggles of your daughter caught your ears.

She talked to them — her animals friends and you never seen her so happily engage in a conversation.

With each step she took towards her parents — they followed

"Vero. . . Are you. . . — seeing this?"

You asked not believing your eyes.

"Those little nightmares were following her around the moment we entered the forest."

Celegorm sighed.

"Well they are certainly not getting into our house!"

You crossed your arms at your little girl.

Even though she pouted so much like her father — she still, turned around and told her little friends.

The low whines and groans made your heart ache— but you stood your ground.

The next few days — they were a nightmare more than anything else. You would find owls perched up on your door — or birds singing happily in the early morning by your window.

Sometimes frogs on your sink and squirrels in your tub— you screamed startling your poor husband awake.

If you weren't already so dazed and ready to faint — you would have hard time believing birds were — indeed— braiding your daughter's silver hair.

But you watched — defeated and accepting your fate as your daughter giggled and spoke softly to them — while you sat on the other side of your table.

Unfortunately — due to the silence your husband was pouring out — you knew, this was your job.

"Little dove, what did we say about animals in the house?"

You gently asked your daughter.

"They missed me, amal."

"I know, (y/d/n)— but they have to stay outside — you can meet them while out on hunts with your father."

That — definitely perked up your husband's ears and he instantly joined.

"Yes— and we will have plenty of hunts, so you can meet them all the time!"

You pushed down the urge to roll your eyes— but you were happy when your daughter agreed.

Thankfully — your daughter's little friends seemed to understand and took their leave— however not before giving both you and your husband some glares.

Wheh Celegorm and his daughter returned for another hunt — her animals friends never forgot her.

In fact— one or two steps into the forest, birds flew out the trees and instantly placed flower crowns on their heads — even the mighty Huan had a beautiful flower crown.

"In all my years. . ."

Celegorm groaned inwardly — thankful none of brothers were here to see this.

Sometimes it annoyed the hunter — he hadn't even began to set up his camp or weapons and his daughter had already brought forth the best kill, again, willingly!

It took away the thrill of hunting for him — and so the days came without his daughter — her little animals friends followed him throughout the forest — demanding the whereabouts of (y/d/n).

Sometimes — he would setting up camping or making his weapons and they would gather around him—just staring at him as if he could magically make his daughter appear.

Some rabbits even tried getting into his gear — wondering if he was hiding or storing her away in his bag.

"Alright— alright! I'll bring her next time."

He said— in the tongue of the birds and they happily delivered the message to rest of animals.

Celegorm even picked up how they were calling her — the princess of the forest — and he chuckled with pride.

"The princess of the forest — she sure is."

tags: @mslizziesblog @sorisooyaa (I know you love Disney) @doodle-pops @aeonianarchives @antares0606 (I know you wanted this too— I hope you like it) @spidergirla5

111 notes · View notes

blossomkoushi · 3 years

Text

it’s what you feel, when you love someone.

summary: tsukishima kei spends his life discovering love. and the heartache that comes with it.

warnings: reader is a bit of an ass, but so is tsukishima one time, childhood friends AU, unrequited love, heartache, heartbreak, general angst things like that. gender neutral reader, referred to as “stinky” in texts. truly all hurt and no comfort in this one.

word count: 2.1k

A/N: i haven’t written angst in forever, so please let me know if this was okay or what i could improve on! i absolutely love angst and i want to get better at writing it, so any and all feedback is appreciated. fic is based off this prompt, thank you for requesting!

The sun shines through Tsukishima’s window. 7:30am. Rolling over in his bed and sighing, he reaches for his phone. The text messages you’d sent after he’d gone to bed sit at the top of the screen. A small smile grows on his face.

[from: stinky, sent at 1:43am] >> kei-kei, did you know that fish cough? Isn’t that so weird? >> like how does that even work >> wait I found a youtube video, look! >> *stinky sent a link* >> …doesn’t really look like coughing, does it? It’s more like a yawn >> kei-kei are you sleeping? >> laaaame >> sleeping is dumb

The nickname makes his heart flutter, just for a moment. It’d always had that effect on him, the blush creeping up on his face until he trained himself to keep it down.

[to: stinky, 7:34am] >> why were you sending me texts about fish at 1:40 in the morning >> stupid

Tsukishima pauses for a moment, hesitating before sending another text.

[to: stinky, 7:36am] >> are you still coming by practice later?

Getting out of bed, he starts getting ready for his morning class and practice. A part of him is grateful that you decided to go to the same university as him, being able to see you nearly every day made his life brighter. Not that he’d ever tell you that.

He’s out the door and walking to class when you text him back.

[from: stinky, 8:27am] >> obviously, I need to go see how ‘Taro is doing >> could you steal his shirt so I can see his abs during practice? >> *image attached*

Some kind of horny meme that Tsukishima never bothered to pay attention to, the kinds you always send when talking about his teammate, Kyoutani.

[from: stinky, 8:29am] >> oh, and you’ll be there too, ig

There it is.

He knows it’s a joke. He knows that he’s your best friend and you’re only joking. But the sinking in his chest and the knot tightening in his stomach is refusing to listen to his reasoning.

Swallowing down any anxious and sad feelings, he shakes his head and starts typing away at his phone.

[to: stinky, 8:30am] >> great. I’ll see you after class

Another message of seemingly random emojis pop up on his screen and he pockets his phone, taking a seat in the classroom and bringing out his notebook. He can feel himself zoning out before the professor even starts speaking.

Love is a strange word to Tsukishima Kei. It’s something his mom, and occasionally brother, say to him. Something on instinct, as if a promise would be broken if the words weren’t uttered.

Tsukishima had been 5 years old when he asked his mom about it. At the time he only repeated it back to her, an echo of her declaration, unaware of what he was promising her.

“it’s a feeling, Kei. Love is what you feel when you care for someone deeply. And so, you tell them.”

“do you have to say it?”

His mom stops for a moment, pondering before brushing his hair back and shaking her head. “no, you don’t have to say it. But you should at least show it to the people you love.”

Tsukishima continued telling his mom that he loves her up until elementary school. He still loves her after that, but his priorities shifted.

Tsukishima had been 8 years old when he realizes that he loves you.

The feeling grew stronger every day, your smile brightening his day and your laughter making his heart flutter in a strange way.

“Kei-Kei! Look, I found a snail! There’s more over there, come on!” your excited voice made his heart swell in his chest. Your small hand gripped his, tugging him through the mud and puddles on the yard, giggling happily despite the rain pouring down.

He starts drawing you pictures of snails. Small doodles placed on your desk before recess. He points them out after it’s rained, pulling you along to bend down and watch them slowly drag along the road on the way home from school.

You get interested in frogs, cats, worms, bees, even ants for a while. Tsukishima joined your obsessions, indulging you with drawings, books and pictures. One time he collected worms in a bucket on his walk home, handing them to you when he arrived at your house, knowing that you were ill and hoping the wigglies, as you called them, would make you happier. The smile you gave him burned into his mind, and he wanted to see it again and again until the end of time.

He loves you, even his young mind can grasp that. He hopes that you can tell.

Tsukishima is 12 years old when he realizes that he’s in love with you.

Valentine’s day was never something he’d pay attention to. It seemed silly to him, a whole day just to talk about love? Stupid. Love is something you feel, so you say it or show it and that’s that, why spend a whole day talking about it?

That is, until you run up to him the day before, excitement flashing in your eyes.

“Kei-Kei, do you know what day it is tomorrow?” your hands gripped his arms, nearly shaking him. The familiar blush grows on his face and he shakes his head, hoping you don’t notice how his skin is turning pinker by the second. “it’s valentine’s day! I heard some of the older boys talking in the hallway about what they’re doing for their girlfriends and it seems so cute! Like, oh, one is going to take his girlfriend out roller skating, isn’t that so romantic? And this other boy was saying that-“

Tsukishima tunes your voice out, focusing his attention to your lips moving. Your hands are still gripping his arms and a part of him wishes that you’d never let go, feeling his skin burning under his clothes. You’re standing so close; he could lean his head forward just a bit and his lips could be on yours. If he just-

“-Oh! And I heard some girls talking before gym that the boys in our class were going to confess to their crushes tomorrow! Do you think anyone will confess to me? I hope so” your words snap him back to reality. His eyes go slightly wide, looking into yours. Confess? You wanted one of the stupid boys in your class to confess?

A twinge of discomfort stabs in his stomach, his body filling with sudden annoyance. “no way” he scoffs.

He’s never regretted anything more in his life.

The excitement drains from your eyes and your hands fall from his arms. Before he can think, your chin quivers and you nod silently, turning around and running away.

The discomfort in his stomach only grows, changing and chafing along with an ache in his chest, all annoyance drained from his body in an instance.

He draws a picture of a snail and dinosaur, writing your names over them. Underneath he scribbles an apology. A quick “I’m sorry”, and he places it in your mailbox on his way home.

The next day, he sees you on the yard of the school, standing excitedly in front of a boy and throwing your arms around him.

Tsukishima is 13 years old when he realizes that you don’t love him back. Not in the way he wants.

Though, to be honest, he knew from the moment he saw you with the boy from your class walk home together from school, hand in hand.

You’re both in junior high and all you seem to want to talk about is your stupid boyfriend. It’s a different boy, not the same one he saw you with that previous February. This one is taller, not as tall as Tsukishima, but you say that height isn’t something you look for in a boyfriend. He can’t help but to feel the jealousy and sadness seep in at that.

“he’s older, you know. He’s turning 15 in a few weeks and he says that I can meet his family at his birthday party.” You’re seated on Tsukishima’s bed while he’s at the desk, trying to tune you out and do his homework. He hopes you’ll stop talking about him and do the same. You don’t. “oh, and I know you’ve never had a girlfriend, so you won’t know this, but he’s such a good kisser. Like, you can definitely tell that he’s got some experience compared to my ex. Isn’t that so weird? Me? Having an ex?”

Tsukishima doesn’t like this. You’re changing, trying to be older than you actually are to impress this older boy that he’s never even met. Not that he wants to. He’s gotten used to the dull ache of his heart breaking over and over again, the steady and constant reminder that you won’t ever see him the way that he sees you. He’s mastered the art of seeming okay, masking his feelings and pushing them deep down where no living soul will ever see them. But if he had to see you with this… boyfriend… he’s not sure that he’d recover.

So instead, he shuts up. He stays quiet and lets you babble on about all the little things that this boy does for you, letting the ache in his chest grow and grow. It’s better than the alternative, telling you how he feels. No, that’s not an option. He can’t risk losing you.

Tsukishima Kei is an idiot. He knows this for a fact after having to watch you pine after endless boys and men all the way up until university. Boyfriends that come and go, the make out sessions that he gets graphic descriptions of and a constant damp shoulder from holding you after your heart gets broken.

He pretends to laugh along when you joke about him being single for so long, his heart squeezing painfully at the reminder that his long-time crush has eyes for every man except him.

He only comes back from his heart-break haze when he steps into the gym after class. Only he wishes that he hadn’t.

Calling out a greeting, he sees you standing alone with Kyoutani. Except he’s not sure if it counts as standing, it’s more of a pinning to the wall. Kyoutani’s body caging you in, your back pressed to the wall with your hands around his neck. Even from a distance, he can see your usual excited smile, happy to have gotten attention from the boy you’d been pining after.

“sorry.” Tsukishima can only mutter, quickly turning around and walking out the gym again. He can hear your muffled voice, probably reassuring Kyoutani that it’s okay. He wishes that he’d walked faster, so he would’ve missed the unmistakable sounds of kissing and your soft sighs.

Tsukishima hasn’t let himself cry over you in years. He forces himself to go numb, push away any and all bad feelings until his breathing gets steady and he can look you in the eye again.

But this time, he can’t stop it. He’s fallen to the floor as soon as the bathroom door locks behind him. It’s disgusting, sitting on the floor with his hands pressed to his eyes, trying to force the tears back inside. His classes clink onto the floor, skidding away from him as his body shakes.

Tears stream down his face and drips down his shirt, turning the fabric into a blotchy mess, matching his flushed face and the snot running from his nose. His sobs echo off the walls, arms hugging his knees while the image of your body pressed against his teammate flashes behind his eyes every time he blinks.

He hasn’t cried over you in years. So, when it all hits him, it hits hard.

He misses practice completely, spending his time laying on the filthy floor in the bathroom and clutching his chest, trying to bring the broken pieces back together. He finally stands after what feels like an eternity. Picking up his glasses from the floor, he puts them on and watches himself in the mirror. Face flushed pink, eyes bloodshot and snot running from his nose, he thinks about what his mother said when he was a kid.

“love is what you feel when you care for someone deeply.”

A bitter laugh fills the room, his own hard eyes meeting him in the mirror.

His mother was wrong. Love isn’t what you feel when you care for someone deeply. All you feel is pain. The dull twisting of a knife in your chest as you watch the one you love fall for someone else, over and over again until you accept that their soft and loving eyes will never meet yours. Or at least that’s what you tell yourself when you’re standing in the bathroom of the gym where you saw said person fall in love with someone new. That you’ve accepted it.

#wilted.flowers #wilted.tsukishima #sprout.tsukishima #tsukishima kei #tsukishima angst #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst

85 notes · View notes

freaoscanlin · 3 years

Text

Put It On the List

3283 words, rated PG. Clint/Laura, Laura & Natasha, Natasha & Clint.

A few months before the events of Captain America: Winter Soldier, the spy life interrupts the Barton family on a normal errand. Perhaps bringing the scary ex-Russian spy was a mistake. She thinks so, at any rate.

A/N: I wrote this as something of a prelude to an Endgame fix-it fic in progress. It predates everything in that fic and it's cute, so I'm tossing it up here for now.

“Everybody’s allowed one fun item, too. House rules.”

“Not sure they sell anything I consider fun here,” Natasha said, glancing up at the rafters dubiously, “but I’ll take it under consideration.”

“Dirty,” Clint said, walking by with a green bunch of bananas.

“Sorry we can’t provide more excitement than grocery shopping,” Laura said as she pulled out the stash of reusable bags from the trunk.

“It’s fine.”

Laura was of the opinion that a vacation should be taken somewhere exotic, or at least filled with bottomless alcoholic beverages, especially given as young and unfettered as Natasha was. But the woman who had recently become Captain America’s partner at SHIELD had apparently decided a week off merited a trip to Iowa and she had been absolutely content to tag along on family outings with no apparently sign of boredom at all.

“It’s okay,” Clint said, hopping out from the driver’s seat as Natasha unhooked Lila from her car seat. “Nat’s secretly boring at heart. It’s the best kept secret at SHIELD.”

Natasha gave him a puzzled look. “Now, that can’t be true if even you’ve figured it out.”

“Excellent burn,” Laura said, laughing. “You really should come stay more often.”

“Somebody needs to keep Cap in line, otherwise I would.” Nat easily swung Lila onto her hip, following the other three as Cooper grabbed onto his father’s hand.

Laura had already spent the entire dinner the night before peppering her with questions about working with Steve Rogers, the Captain America from the comments. Clint had mentioned him a few times after that kerfuffle in New York with the Chitauri (“Nice guy, wears khakis.”), but Natasha had the inside scoop. And more willingness to share if he was as attractive in person as he looked on TV in that ridiculous star-striped uniform (“If you like that square-jawed All-American sort of thing, sure.”). Laura had even pointed out that, hey, if he was single...

“Yes, the ex-Russian spy and the American war hero. It sounds too much like a bad eighties movie.” Natasha had helped herself to more creamed corn. “I think I’ll have to find him a girlfriend to avoid ever having to answer that question again.”

“Hey,” Laura had said, protesting.

“Fair,” Clint had agreed.

And now here was the ex-Russian spy herself tagging along at the grocery store, carrying Lila and looking like there wasn’t anyplace else she’d rather be than the big chain grocery store a few towns over because they had a better selection of gluten free snacks than the Shop A Lot back home. She trailed along as Clint took over the cart, Lila kicking her legs happily from the child’s seat atop.

“You’ve got the list?” Laura asked.

“I thought you had it?”

“Clint, I said you need to grab it off the fridge before we left. Weren’t you listening?”

“I always listen to you. But it wasn’t on the fridge, so I thought you had it.”

“That’s ridiculous, I put it there last night and—” Laura turned to see Natasha silently holding it out, eyebrows high. “Oh, that works. Thanks, Natasha.”

A half-shrug. “He would’ve forgotten it.”

“They’re impugning my honor,” Clint told Lila and Cooper, the former of whom giggled back at him. “What’s first? Edible or not edible?”

“Food first. Oh, hey, did you remember to put the popsicle sticks on here? Cooper’s day camp was asking people to donate supplies, and I put us down for those.”

“Yes, I absolutely did that. For no reason whatsoever, may I see the list?” Clint grabbed it away and underhandedly passed it to Natasha. Since Laura caught the move, she figured they weren’t actually trying to hide it.

When the list returned to her, “popsicle sticks” was written on the appropriate line in slightly loopy handwriting. “Cute,” Laura said. “Also, if there’s food you want that we don’t have at the house, make sure you put it in, Nat.”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay. Just keep it in mind.” Laura smirked. “Everybody’s allowed one fun item, too. House rules.”

“Not sure they sell anything I consider fun here,” Natasha said, glancing up at the rafters dubiously, “but I’ll take it under consideration.”

“Dirty,” Clint said, walking by with a green bunch of bananas.

Natasha rolled her eyes at him, but a small smile broke out when Laura laughed. Later, Laura noticed that a small bag of nectarines had been added to the cart.

Normally she did this errand without two spies in tow, which was a matter of getting the groceries as quickly as possible and especially speeding through the aisles with the brightly colored boxes that would make Cooper and now Lila whine. Clint’s paycheck was more than generous enough to cover their expenses, but she liked to keep the sugar down at least a little. Grocery trips could be a nightmare from that alone. But now she could send one of them down the danger aisles, while the other distracted the children.

She could get used to this.

Of course, she could have just sent Clint or even Natasha to do the shopping—or gone herself—and she imagined they’d have it done in less than a fifth of the time it took them to wander the aisles now. But Clint had been called on so many SHIELD missions lately that it was nice to just have some family time together.

She was about to suggest they hit up the putt putt course on the way home when Clint’s body language snapped into readiness. On the other side of the cart, Natasha turned away in what most people would deem a casual fashion, but Laura was surprised to see tension running across the line of her shoulders as well.

Instantly, she began to turn her head, to see what had set them both off.

“Don’t look,” Natasha said, Clint echoing her a split-second later.

Cold panic sprang up, but Laura froze in place. The air conditioning turned abruptly frigid. In the basket, Lila had conked out, wheezing a little, and Laura had never been so grateful for her daughter’s ability to fall asleep anywhere.

“This way,” Clint said in a murmur, scooping up Cooper. To strangers, it would never look out of the ordinary, but Laura knew her husband too well to be fooled. And his partner, too, apparently, for she could sense something amiss as Natasha fell in step behind her. At the end of the aisle, away from the registers and most of the store, Clint began shoving aside various things in the cart to deposit Cooper in there. He glanced at Laura. “It’ll be okay, honey. Nat, are they here for you or me?”

“Me.” The word was flat. “They’re scoping out women.”

“Who? Who’s here for what?”

She’d seen Clint and Natasha’s silent conversations before, usually at holiday dinners, but those were always warm and amused. Now, Laura was treated to the fact that they seemingly had their own entire language—and the ability to hold arguments with little more than a few nods and pointed looks.

“Mom, what’s going on?” Cooper asked. “Dad put the stuff back wrong.”

“I know. It’s okay, though. The store employees will know where to put it back properly.” Her pulse had begun to hammer, but Laura did her best to keep her hands steady as she petted Lila’s bent head.

“Fine, you win,” Natasha said, the first words she’d spoken aloud. “Where?”

“Northeast corner, break room.” Clint collected an oversized bucket of licorice, and as Laura and Cooper gawked at him, popped it open and dumped the individually wrapped candies into the cart.

Natasha dropped her phone into it and grabbed Laura’s purse.

“What? Hey, don’t—”

Natasha pulled out a few items, including Laura’s phone. This she dumped in the bucket. An unfamiliar black box, she tossed to Clint. Laura stared mournfully at the shimmery blue phone case bought off of Etsy only last week as the entire bucket was hidden on a shelf behind a case of gum. Clint tossed his hooded jacket to Natasha, gave Laura one brief, heart-stopping look, tousled Cooper’s hair, kissed Lila on the head, and strode off without looking back.

“We were followed,” Natasha said in an undertone, pulling the hood over her distinctive hair.

Followed could mean anything from evil assassins to space aliens at this point, and both of those options led to nauseating conclusions. But Natasha shot her a look, so Laura nodded and swallowed back any panic. And then she changed again, quicksilver just like Clint, so that she was bright and happy Auntie Natasha once more. She picked up Cooper out of the basket and held onto his hand, swinging it cheerfully. “Time to play a new fun game. It’s called ‘Let’s be invisible.’”

“How do you play?”

“Our job,” and Natasha actually hunkered down so that she was on eye level with Cooper, “is to get all the way there,” she pointed to the back of the store, “as fast as we can without running. Because if we run, we won’t be invisible anymore.”

“This is a silly game, Auntie Nat.”

“That’s half the fun, isn’t it? Shh, come with me.” Natasha rose and made brief eye contact with Laura, then headed down the aisle in the opposite direction from Clint. She walked briskly, but not fast enough to draw attention, and Laura had to follow. “Clint’s scoping things out,” she said in a low voice as Laura caught up with the sleeping Lila. “He’ll be fine. I’m taking you and the kids to hide.”

“Are you going to stay with us?”

“You’ll be safe.”

So that was a no. Because she knew her friend well enough, she knew Natasha was tense and watchful, but not a single thing about her betrayed that fact. Natasha didn’t lead them straight to wherever they were going, either. They crossed the store through random aisles, first through the art department and then sporting goods, and Laura’s heart sank as she noticed they were approaching the toy department. They were never escaping without at least one meltdown.

But Natasha surprised her by leaning down and whispering something to Cooper that had him giggling. And right on through they went without a single problem.

“Shh,” Natasha said to Cooper as she pushed open the door to a break room. She peeked inside, then jerked her head for Laura to follow.

“What are we doing, Auntie Nat?” Cooper asked as Natasha immediately climbed onto a table and reached for the ceiling.

“New part of the game,” Natasha said.

Laura looked at the human-sized trap door she’d opened and thought Oh no.

“You get to go up there,” Natasha said. “And it’ll be like hide and seek.”

Cooper’s expression suddenly shouted that he found the prospect of invisibility much less enchanting now. “It looks scary.”

“I’ll be with you,” Laura said. “The whole time. We’ll be invisible together, okay?”

“You first, and I’ll hand them up,” Natasha said.

Laura clambered gingerly onto the table, wishing she’d worn better shoes for this. She put her foot into Natasha’s cupped hands and hauled herself into a very, very dusty vent. Darkness surrounded her and she thought Oh, no. Cooper needed a nightlight on the best of nights. Her son was far cleverer than most; even with Natasha’s easy cheer, he could clearly tell something was off. And if he began crying, Lila was bound to wake as well. Keeping them both quiet would be beyond impossible.

Natasha passed Lila up first, and the toddler barely even stirred. Before she could lift Cooper, she hopped off the table and down to his level. Laura couldn’t hear what she said, but she saw Cooper nod and hold his arms up, completely trusting.

When Natasha lifted him up into the vent, he had his chubby little fist wrapped around a little flashlight. Laura hadn’t even seen Natasha pull that from the shelf, though she recognized it as being from sporting goods. Cooper waved it about, wildly.

“I couldn’t grab much,” Natasha said, hauling herself up so that she hung half off the trap door. Laura would kill for that kind of core strength. She slid over two coloring books and crayons. “Sorry about that. Stay here until Clint or I come to get you. If somebody comes in, we’re invisible, right?”

“Invisible,” Cooper agreed, scrambling for the coloring books.

“Good man.” Natasha reached up to ruffle his hair like Clint had done. She glanced about the air vent in a distinctly sardonic way. “Cozy.”

“Stay safe.”

“Will do.” She raised an eyebrow at Laura, and disappeared down the hatch. A few seconds later, the trapdoor slid back into place, leaving Laura in a dark vent with her children and no cell phone to keep them company.

She had to remind herself that they were lucky something like this hadn’t happened before, though that felt like cold comfort when everything smelled like dust. She shifted the sleeping Lila in her arms. “Here, set it here,” she said, helping Cooper open the coloring book. “What shall we color first, huh?”

* * * *

Nearly eleven minutes later, Natasha knelt down next to the man she’d cornered in Home and Garden and resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Coincidence.”

“Yup.” Clint sounded close to laughter, the traitor.

“The whole thing. Coincidence.”

“Looks that way.”

Natasha sat down hard on the bottom shelf, which held giant sacks of birdseed. Slamming his head into those rather than the concrete floor was probably the only reason the thug was even still breathing. She’d need to hide the body soon, and alert SHIELD, but she had a few minutes to recover. The cell phone she’d stolen out of his pocket after their fight didn’t show an image of her, as she’d expected, but a completely random woman who looked nothing like Natasha outside of being the same height.

It had definitely been a hit, but she hadn’t been the target.

At least they’d saved some random woman, so there was that.

“We should’ve known they weren’t here for you when there were only two of them,” Clint said over the earpiece. He’d teased her about stashing them in Laura’s purse before they left, the traitor. And look who’d been correct to do so. It had kept them in contact as he’d stalked his own target back to the clearance section in the back. “Mine’s taken care of. You?”

“One minute.” She hauled the man bodily onto the shelf and tossed sacks of birdseed over him.

“I’ll get the phones and swing by to steal the surveillance. You fetch Laura and the kids.”

Natasha winced. The last thing she wanted to do was face Laura after ruining this outing for everybody. “I think they’d rather see their daddy after being stuffed in a dark place out of nowhere.”

“Nah, Auntie Nat is just as good,” Clint said. “Face it, you’re part of the family now, god help you.”

“Yeah, part of the family that can’t even let us go grocery shopping without disaster striking.”

There was a warm laugh from the other side of the comms. “Disaster? This is nothing compared to getting two small children through the cereal aisle without a tantrum, Romanoff.”

Natasha, reaching up to fix the braids that had become disordered during the scuffle, wrinkled her nose. She debated whether or not to swing by the staff restrooms on the way and clean up the lucky hit the thug had landed, but decided it was more important to get la familia Barton out of the vents quickly. The less time the children spent in a dark, scary place, the better.

She resolutely did not think of the absolute darkness of thatshipping container, which unfortunately brought the thoughts closer to the surface than she liked.

But she also didn’t want to scare the children, so she grabbed a hand towel off an endcap as she passed, and dabbed at her face.

Mercifully, the break room remained empty when she stepped in. “All clear,” she said, moving the table back under the trap door. “Invisible game’s over.”

From inside, she heard thumping. “Auntie Nat!”

“Cooper, wait—” was the only warning she had before the trap door opened and Cooper launched himself at her.

She snatched him out of the air, and absolutely did not think about what could have happened if she’d been slower to react. “Whoa, okay. Excited to get out of there, huh?” Laura’s white face appeared over the edge, eyes wide. Natasha mouthed he’s fine back at her. “Here, climb down, let me help your mom and your sister out.”

“I stayed so-o-o-o quiet,” Cooper said. “We colored in a dinosaur for you, but we didn’t know your favorite color so I picked red like your hair. What is your favorite color? There’s another dinosaur on the page, so if it’s not red, I can use that color instead.”

“I do like red a lot.” Natasha thought about it. “Purple, too, maybe.”

“You can’t have purple, that’s Dad’s favorite color.”

“Coop, more than one person can have purple as their favorite color,” Laura said, transferring Lila down to Natasha. Mercifully the baby had slept through all of it. “I like purple, too, remember?”

Cooper wrinkled his nose at that. “Okay, fine. I’ll make it purple.”

“I can’t wait to see it,” Natasha promised. Once the entire family had been retrieved, she pushed the trap door back into place. Of course Clint had scouted this spot months ago. His paranoia remained legendary. “Family’s secure, Barton.”

“Got it,” Clint said. “Heading to the front.”

“Meet you there,” Natasha said. To the others with her, she tilted her head toward the door. “Ready to get out of here?”

Laura looked more or less composed, which Natasha had to credit her for. Civilians rarely handled those kinds of curveballs well, but she’d been married to Clint for a decade. It stood to reason this might not even be the first time something like this had happened. Her grip on the sleeping Lila remained tight. “Coop, hold Auntie Nat’s hand, okay? Humor me.”

“All right, I guess.”

“Everything good?” Laura asked.

“False alarm,” Natasha said.

One eyebrow went up. “A false alarm gave you a split lip?”

Natasha worked at it with her tongue, scrunching her nose at the brief spark of pain. “Just another exciting day in our line of work. It all turned out okay, if you ignore that we were unsuccessful in our primary objective.”

Laura looked blank, so Natasha prompted: “Getting the groceries, Barton.”

“Pfft, whatever. We’ll get takeout. We’ll consider it an adventure, and it won’t even be the first one today. Hopefully there will be less dust this time.” Laura leaned over, conspiratorially. “I am getting my phone back, right? I really like the case, and it’ll take forever to get another one like it.”

Years of espionage training kept Natasha from staring at her like she’d sprouted a second head. Clint had told her years before that his wife was far more pragmatic than either of them, but she’d never had a chance to witness it in action before. She almost wanted to ask if this was some kind of backwoods Midwestern thing, but it seemed better not to do that.

So she settled into a helpless laugh. “Yes, we’ll get your phone back. The case is really cute.”

“Good. I knew you’d agree.” Laura squeezed her shoulder with her free hand, and it felt more like a thank you than Natasha had ever received after years and years on the job.

“One point,” Natasha said, feeling a tiny bit shy as as she pulled out a package she’d swiped on their trip through the store earlier. “We should probably pay for the coloring books. And these.”

Laura looked down at the bag of popsicle sticks and laughed. “You really are a hero.”

FIN

(the target was a leaked witsec hit. Bad timing all around)

#avengers fanfiction #natasha romanoff #black widow #hawkeye #clint barton #laura barton #cooper barton #lila barton #fanfiction #fanfic #my fic #not simple to say verse

33 notes · View notes

savnofilter · 4 years

Text

Another Year Together

Todoroki x 『GN』Reader

↬ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ(s): intoxication, mentions of partying too hard, injuries and cleaning said injuries, crack (?), fluff.

↬ᴡᴄ: 2.5k [10 mins].

↬ᴀ/ɴ: ahhhh i was bummed that i dont have any sfw shouto reqs *cough cough* send some- *cough cough* anyways so i made up a scenario of my own! i have more fluff ideas i'd love to put out but this may be the birthday fic or i'll post something else tonight if i can~ every time there needs to be a party, just know either mina or kaminari threw it. also its a little rushed because i wanted to get this out tonight and this is the longest sfw piece ive ever written. ;; pffft hopefully you all will love this as much as i loved writing it, happy birthday shouto!

"Stay still." Shouto muttered to you as you squirmed away from the harsh sting the disinfectant alcohol caused your bruised skin.

"Mmmnhmm... M' sorry." You utter haltingly, your leg jerking once more from the sudden sensation. You look up at him with puppy eyes, guilt-stricken as you have already broken your promise.

He stared at you for a few seconds before his gaze softened as you stuck out your bottom lip with a sorrowful look on your face. As he smooths the cloth over your exposed thighs, he softly sighs under his breath, expertly concealing the roll of his eyes. Todoroki was relieved that your reflexes were still in shape, the abuse of the liquor not interfering much with your cognition... at least not too much.

You two shared the same birthday. He had no idea that celebrating your big day of turning 21 would've been so hectic. As many things between you and Todorooki, you guys took today as a competition. The day started with you both trying to one-up each other since Todoroki’s lucky day was yours as well. First, your day with a breakfast made by him -- with the assistance of Bakugo of course. You couldn’t help the warm swell in your heart at how much effort he had put into it but it wouldn’t top you! While you two interned at the same agency it was pretty easy to surprise him with a big B-Day lunch and an obnoxious bouquet.

“This is a little too much…”

“There is no such thing as too much for you, Sho.”

Truthfully, he felt that way because he wanted to wow you as well. He was glad that today was a calm day concerning his patrol watch, giving him time to map up his day today and think about all the other miscellaneous thoughts that roamed his head. The painting he had saved for this momentous day sat in the back of his head as he patrolled the streets, the small accessory along with it sitting next to the rest of his pee-pee pouches making him grow nervous. I had kept the small item with him in fear of losing it, the last thing he needed was it to go missing under his watch.

You on the other handheld no qualms about goofing off for the day. Now, you weren’t entirely wasting away the day, you just simply knew how to let loose. With the great news you’d be staying in the office you had more than enough time to help plan and finalize Todoroki’s surprise birthday party. You bit your lip as you checked in with your longtime friend, Kaminari, to host the momentous occasion. Your mind was mostly occupied with the thought of the party and the small but significant present that you had in your desk draw. You and Todoroki had the same mind, the only thing setting you apart is you somehow being more… airhead than him.

Impossible, right? Not at all. That’s how it explains why he was busy cleaning up your injuries.

After being sent home early you had taken him out to lunch for some soba and well, boba as a great lunch treat — simple enough. You both were full upon going back home, giving you two a few hours to snuggle up and nap to rejoice with the sleep you two had lost from over the time having part-time heroes. Holding back the excited news of the party was hard to do, the first thing you did when you woke up was jump up and usher him to get up as well.

“What -- why??” Shouto glared as he was forced to sit up, rubbing his eyes with the free hand that you didn’t use to pull him up.

“C’mooonn! I just have one more thing to show you for today!” You beam brightly. Your facial expression was as bright as ever like you hadn’t just slept for 4 hours before that. Everything in his body wanted to resist but he couldn’t as he wouldn’t bring himself to. It took but only an hour for the both of you to get ready, sending Kaminari a quick text to make sure that everything was set for sure.

“Honey, I know this might sound a little odd but I need you to put this on.” You hand him the blindfold once you find him dressed and ready. You couldn’t help but grin at his confused face when he stares at the piece of fabric.

“I thought you said we were going out?” He asks mildly confused, taking it and putting it on anyway.

You paused and gave yourself a moment to think about his response, your cheeks feeling hot at the insinuation. Todoroki’s small giggle makes you feel better about your flustered words, rolling your eyes annoyed when he teased you like that. “Just hold onto my hand okay?” You instruct, hand coming up to hold him as an example. He nods his head as he follows your lead, more excited than what he led on.

The trip from your apartment down to your car didn’t take too long, the assistance of helping him not trip over his shoes harder than you thought. It was hard to keep back your laugh as he fumbled here and there, the most highlight of your experience was helping him in his care (like he usually did with you) and even buckling in his seat (not something he did for you). You were practically buzzing in your seat in excitement as you took off as soon as you were ready, the journey to his place not too far from your own. You bobbed your head to the music of the radio as you vibed along with the beats, fingers tapping the steering wheel as you mumbled the lyrics to whatever song played. Had it not been winter time in Japan you would’ve had the windows down, but you had to settle with the subtle and gentle breeze of the heaters on your skin instead.

“We’re here.” You announced your arrival. You used the keycard Kaminari had given you as the entrance to his apartment complex and zoomed-in irresponsibly. It was easy finding a parking space on the higher levels conveniently the same as his home. You hopped out and helped Todoroki out from his seat and helped him to the elevator. “Promise me to have fun, okay?” The question was simple enough, but your level of fun always exceeded his.

The sentence made him turn in your direction with confusion heavy on the top of his head. You took out the key from your pocket and jiggled it into the lock. As soon as he was about to open his mouth you yoinked the blindfold off his eyes, the first thing his eyes seeing your cheerful grin and everyone popping up from their hiding places and throwing the decorations up that they held in their hands.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Todoroki was taken back from the whole thing. How many people were there, the familiar faces, the decorations, and just overall effort that was put into this. He couldn’t help but look over at you with the same adoration he normally did when you looked the other way. He was greeted by so many of his friends and mutuals, the overwhelming amount of gifts that sat on the table, and the arrangement of food and drinks that sat up in the spacious room. In the back of his head, he knew he would have to keep an eye on you, and he was right.

The group had gathered to get some cake to get it out the way, the bonus of ice cream filling your tummy with happiness. As soon as you had finished your dessert plate, you declared everyone should loosen up; since no one objected, you went straight for shots. First, it was one, two, then it was two at once, then it was some straight from Mina’s belly button. You held no restraint at your alcohol intake, taking the immature opportunity to drink to your heart’s content. While you were liberal with your amount, Todoroki decided to take in practically none. The verses of your habits are almost amusing to watch like your two contrasting but similar personalities.

Later in the night when the mayhem had started. You and a few friends decided to dance on a few more dangerous surfaces, guaranteeing the sacrifice of one of them being Kaminari’s glass table.

“Holy shit—” Mina quickly rushed to your side, the same drunken posture and smile on her face as she tried to help you up, careful not to get the same glass shards that scattered the floor. “Are you okay-?!”

“YO Y/N WILDING!” Denki tries helping you up too, the help of the duo helping you somewhat.

You stumbled to get up, the flashlight of other people’s phones making you weary. “I-I’m fine-” You managed to let out, standing as you tried to clear your head and drink the water handed towards you. Either the H2O in that cup gave you courage or you simply went crazy. “let’s go again!”

Todoroki was left speechless upon watching you continue to party on, knowing damn well he'd have to stop you soon. He wasn’t one to attend parties, and most times when he did they always ended up like this. It seemed after your fall that the knock had given you a sign to calm down at least, deciding to drink more beverages that didn’t hold liquor in it. After some time he had managed to get you in his lap, holding you as he monitored your well-being.

As much as your reckless behavior would have annoyed someone else, he found it almost endearing. Well… not really in the sense you were drinking yourself silly, but in the fact that you still had the spirit to keep up and party even after the effects of your last hour of madness. It wasn’t long till you had gotten comfortable in his arms you had successfully partied yourself to sleep. Todoroki was careful in lifting you, thanking everyone from attending before quietly slipping out from the apartment.

He took a deep breath as he somehow managed to find your car, maneuvering to get you into the car and hopping in on his side to drive you home. Todoroki made sure to drive carefully in hopes that you wouldn’t barf all over his car that you had used to get there. The drive back was much quicker than when you two had headed up since it was practically dead at night and the streets empty. He liked drives like these. A part of him was sad that you weren’t awake for it.

Your boyfriend repeated the same process when he had pulled into your apartment complex, picking up your body and bringing you up to your shared home. He was dedicated to getting you situated, prepared to take care of you as much as he needed to. That’s how he found himself tending to your scrapes and bruises right now.

“You know I’m never going to let you drink again.” Shouto teases you, smirking lightly at your sad expression.

“You’d never!” You argued back with the same teasing tone, moving to cross your arms, stifling the pain as you did so.

Todoroki snorts at your dedication to hold up the act, nodding his head as he finished cleaning up your legs. “You’re right. But don’t expect me not to monitor you from now on.”

A smile tugs at your lips at his words, uncrossing your arms. The lingering drunk feeling still played in how you thought and spoke but not managing to affect how effortless it was to talk to Shouto. You blushed when he picked up your hands, kissing the back of your hands as he spoke to you once again.

“I have a present for you.” He mutters against your skin, eyes trained on the fresh bandages before looking up at you. He wasn’t looking for an answer and he didn’t wait for one either. He hoped that you couldn’t tell that he was weary, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small velvet box.

Your eyes widened at the realization of what he held in his hand, your heart beating faster as you sat up in your chair. “Sh-Sho?”

“It’s not what you think.” He responds almost defensively. Shouto bites his lip in anticipation, fiddling with the little box. “... it’s a promise ring,” Todoroki concludes. He felt like he had to explain himself for the slightly expensive jewelry. “If you don’t want it-”

You had engulfed him in a hug, pulling him tight against you as you had started to sob. You couldn’t think of words for how happy you were. The only thing that had taken over your body was actions. You nuzzled your face into his neck once his arms wrapped around your shaking your body. His hands soothingly rubbed your back, letting you get out what you wanted. He couldn’t help but laugh when you pull away with the most love-filled face he’d ever seen you make.

“You okay?”

“I’m perfect!” You hastily wiped your face with the help of Shouto, shakily laughing once he leaned into pepper your face with kisses.

“I was afraid that I scared you,” Shouto admits. You shake your head as you grab his hands, placing his palms on your cheeks, appreciating his soft palms.

“No… your hands are really soft…” You mumble. Your mind went blank as you tried to remember the next line you were going to speak, pouting as you looked around for the answer. The shock of him handing you the ring has successfully shaken you into processing your brain a little better, the heavy impacts of your drinking still lingering on.

“Are you okay?” He asks, worried. You nod your head in affirmation.

“A kiss could cheer me up.” You give him the same puppy eyes that you used before, weaponizing your cuteness to your advantage. He slightly cringed at the thought, hesitating before leaning in and placing a soft kiss against yours. He prepared himself to taste the alcohol against his lips. He pulled away once he deemed it ready, wiping his mouth and getting the ring he kept in his hand the whole day.

“I think you owe me by wearing the ring for making me kiss you.” He huffs, slipping the ring on your finger, his heart beating at the sound of your giggle.

“Nah you love me without the ring~”

“Yes, but I’d prefer you with it on.” He stands up and holds his hand out for you, taking you into his arms once again for the night and carrying you to your room. “For now get some rest, okay?” He sat you down on the bed and got you changed out of your clothes, sneaking in a few playful kisses here and there to make you laugh. Shouto’s main focus was just to get you situated to sleep peacefully for the night.

“G’night, Sho…” You mutter to him as you got comfortable in the sheets. Although the returning soreness didn’t go away you had managed to close your eyes and get comfortable.

“Goodnight.” He watched you until you fell asleep before leaving the room to prepare for you the pain medication you’d need in the morning for your impending hangover.

You never needed the promise ring to let you know he loved you; his actions always told you so.

78 notes · View notes

sluttbuttsstuff · 3 years

Text

Mista x Reader fic Not SFW: The Slurpee Incident

This fic was dangerously self-indulgent, but I hope you’re still able to enjoy it. Also an alarming amount of Angela Lansbury to not be a crack fic

WARNING: Not sfw, blow jobs, deep throating, fluff, public indecency (?) several references to older tv shows including murder she wrote, etc

“Angela Lansbury is a saint, and I won’t tolerate any more slander to her good name!” Mista proclaimed, stomping down the snack isles of the local convenience store. Mista had called you about an hour ago to let you know he was done with “Work” and the two of you were in the beginning of your domestic routine. Mista and you would, at least once a week, grab as many snack foods as the two of you could carry to replenish your boyfriend and the Sex Pistols, build a pillow fort in your living room, and binge watch old tv shows no one had heard of for decades until you either fell asleep, had sex, or sometimes both. The two of you had gotten through Dragnet, Boston Legal, Trailer Park Boys. You had recently started watching murder she wrote, which had brought you to your current discussion.

“Of course she’s a saint, Mista, i’m not arguing that at all- for god’s sakes she’s Mrs. Potts, it’s impossible to hate her! I’m just saying, would it kill the writers to come up with plot lines that don’t revolve around her family? I mean, Grady’s cool and all, I like the relationship between him and Jessica-” Jessica is, of course, the name of Angela Lansbury’s character-”But Grady’s fiance? And family?? Donna’s a cute enough character, but the episode about their wedding was like something from a sitcom, not a murder mystery.” You argued your case to him, stopping by the Slushy machine to fill a cup, “Your favorite still Blue Raspberry?”

“Yes, and I will admit, that sometimes the familial subplots run a bit thin, and certain episodes don’t let Angela shine her brightest-BUT!” He Pointed at you for emphasis, as he grabbed the slushie from you and took a dramatic sip, “ -BUT the small town drama and family drama is what MAKES Murder She Wrote the show it is! I mean, Doc Seth, Sheriff Tupper? They’re just as important as Jessica to Cabot Cove!”

A cleared throat followed by a glare from the cashier interrupted the two of you, pointedly looking at the drink and open packages Mista had been too impatient to get into. Sheepishly, the two of you paid for your stash and quickly left, nothing but a bell to signal you were even there.

You paused outside of the doors, looked at one another, and burst into laughter.

“Man,did you see that guy’s face? Can you imagine, he probably had no idea what we were talking about at all!” Mista cackled.

“He must think we’re crazy or something!” You giggled, pulling him away and toward your favorite shortcut.

Normally you wouldn’t go home down a back alley like this, especially in the dark of night, but with Mista you had zero worries. Yes, he was a silly man passionate about old tv shows and actresses, but he was also a full-fledged mafioso that you trusted with your life.

“Hey, gimme some more of that slushie, I'm super thirsty.” You pulled the straw to your lips, sucking. You couldn’t help but notice the way Mista eyed you so intently, a flush on his cheeks and a lump on his throat. Looking down, you could see another lump as well.

“Seriously, Mista?” You asked, rolling your eyes. Your boyfriend had a hair trigger in his pants, and you weren’t talking about the sex pistols.

“Hey~ cut me some slack! It’s been awhile since i saw you last, and, y’know,” Mista stammered, trying to justify himself, “I like the way you drink my slushie~”

You snorted, “Are you sure it’s not because you’ve been thinking about Angela Lansbury” You teased him.

“I plead the fifth.”

“Just shut up and kiss me.” You grabbed Mista, dropping your grocery bags (without spilling them onto the dirt soaked asphalt, thank you) and Kissed him hard. Mista quickly reciprocated, letting you push him against the brick wall behind him. You bit his lip before pulling away, tasting the blue raspberry on his lips.

“Your tongue’s blue,” Mista said, sticking a thumb into your mouth, poking you to stick it out. You licked his finger, and felt him twitch through his pants, groaning. You pulled away from Mista, only to kneel down in front of him.

“Holy shit, y/n, for real? Here??” Mista whispered, as if he was afraid someone was going to find the two of you.

“ Keep drinking your slushie and stay quiet, I'm gonna make sure I'm the only woman you can think about for the rest of the night~” You replied, playing with his happy trail, gleefully watching the way Mista’s body leaned into your touch.

Mista choked on the straw with how quickly he jammed it into his mouth, moving with you to help you take his belt off of his tacky pants, and pulled him out of his underwear’s fly.

He groaned, biting the straw and bucking into your hands. Giggling, you shushed him stroking his shaft briefly, making sure he was fully hard and ready for you. You stuck out your blue tongue and licked a stripe from base to tip, swirling it around the head teasingly. Mista growled, his free hand Pushing you face first onto his cock, too impatient and nervous to draw out the teasing in a back alley like this. You moaned on his shaft, feeling it hit the back of your throat, savoring the feeling of fullness that would have intimidated you at the beginning of your relationship. Mista was large, but you weren’t a quitter- you had conquered his dick in your mouth, pussy and even ass like the size queen you were.

“Fuuuuck, y/n, you really know how to drive a guy wild. Did you do this sort of thing with any other lucky punk who dated you?” He grunted, trying not to move his hips and choke you on his cock. You just looked him in the eye as you deep throated him to the base, massaging his balls in one hand.

“Jesus, bella, keep doing that and I'm gonna cum real fast!” Mista gasped, nearly dropping his slushie.

“That’s kind of the idea,“ You told him bluntly, popping off his throbbing prick, to catch a deep breath before continuing.

Bobbing your head on and off him steadily faster, careful not to hit your gag reflex. Mista grinned down at you, clearly enjoying himself. In truth, he had been wanting this long before your slushie, but had planned to be a gentleman and ignore it until you were home and comfortable. But you, you could read him like a book, and always treated him right. Not just in the bedroom, but all the other ways that made him feel warm and fluffy inside. You were wonderful with Sex Pistols, you let him hang out with his gang no questions asked, you even accepted the unsavory, highly illegal parts of him as well. This? This was just icing on his cake, or rather syrup in his slurpee.

You could tell from the way Mista was looking at you, and leaking in your mouth, that he was close. You made sure to focus your efforts on his sensitive head, stroking his shaft with one hand and playing with his testes in the other.

“H-hey, i’m… y’know, so either pull off or don’t choke,” Mista warned you. You nodded; you wouldn’t dream of it. You said his name around his pulsing cockhead, and he busted hard and fast down your waiting throat. His cum was thick and creamy, and tasted vaguely sweet, or was that the slushie? Either way, you swallowed it all down as you stared at him unashamedly.

“y/n~~!” He giggled. Watching you swallow his load was always his favorite part. Like he was marking you as his. He pulled you off of the ground and kissed you, tongue tasting the remnants in each other’s mouths. You brushed off the dust from your pants, and grabbed the now-melted slurpee from Mista and finished it off.

“Heyyy!” He complained, watching you throw it into a dark corner of the alley. “Oh hush, I have plenty of soda at home.” Mista moped a little, but let it go, throwing an arm over your shoulder after he and you grabbed your grocery bags.

“Hey y/n,” Mista asked, walking to your place, “I was thinking- after we finish Murder she Wrote, do you wanna watch Friends?”

“First, you can eat my pussy out when we get home. We’ll figure out what to binge watch later.”

#not sfw #n/s/f/w #sluttbuttsstuff #fic #mista #mistaxreader #jjba #ventoaureo

11 notes · View notes

goldenworldsabound · 5 years

Text

Driving Lesson

I’ve fallen behind on posting fic oops SO let’s take a break from the Angst ™ and have some early relationship flirting~

(the fic is about 5 pages long heads up)

It had started as idle conversation. She didn't even remember how they'd gotten there.

"I used to drive. But it's been a few years. Once I left my parents I never ended up buying a car...didn't really need it." Wendy explained, shrugging a little.

"Hm. You wanna drive Bessie?" Philly asked, visibly surprising Wendy.

"Wh-what?!" Wendy responded on reflex. "But she's, I mean, she's your baby!"

"Yeah Philly, what gives? I had to practically beg before you let me drive her!" Casey chimed in from the backseat.

"That's because you're not the most stable, short stack." Philly snapped back at Casey, looking annoyed at the interruption. "Remember when you popped the hood and almost ran us into a truck?" He growled.

"Y-yeah..." Casey quieted down.

Philly turned to look at Wendy. "Bessie may be my baby, but you're my babe." He grinned at her, turning on the charm with his silly remark. Wendy giggled, and Casey rolled her eyes. Human flirting was so...stupid and inefficient and pointless. She liked it better when one of them was embarrassed and red. Just the thought made her snicker a bit.

"I...appreciate the offer but...like I said it's been...years." Wendy scratched the back of her head nervously. "A-and never anything so large as Bessie! It's quite intimidating."

Casey figured that would the end of that. She still didn't understand why Philly had even offered for Wendy to drive. It seemed out of character. So she couldn't help but let out a startled sound at his next words.

"Don't worry about it, I can teach ya." He said, gazing at Wendy with a mischievous smirk.

Casey peered up over the seats in disbelief.

"R-really? Are you sure?"

"Positive. C'mon, it'll be fun." He pulled the car off the side and put it in park, turning to give her his full attention, resting his elbows on the side of the car as he faced her.

"Hm?" Sam opened her eyes, blinking. "Why did we stop? Is something wrong?"

"Philly's gonna teach Wendy how to drive Bessie." Casey answered, sounding a bit put out.

"Really? That's wonderful!" Sam replied.

"Er, well, I-I mean, we hadn't decided that-" Wendy chimed in nervously, trying to correct the situation before it got out of hand.

"See? Even Sam thinks it's okay to take time to do that." Philly added, smirking even wider. "It'll be fine."

"Can I learn too?" Sam asked, looking excited.

Philly's face dropped to a scowl instantly. "No fucking way, you get us into enough trouble without being in charge of how we get there..."

"He's flirting, Sam." Casey said bluntly, smiling.

"H-HEY! Am not! I just trust Wendy to drive, that's all! It's good for her to learn!" Philly yelled defensively, shooting daggers at Casey. His cheeks were a bit pink despite his denial. Wendy looked away, feeling her own cheeks warm. Geez...

"Anyway, why don't you go fix the tv or whatever, huh Casey?!" Philly continued, eager to get rid of the snarky bot.

"Oh, yes! Can I watch Casey? I'd love to see how to fix it!" Sam asked eagerly.

Casey thought for a moment, but the allure of fixing things was greater than the allure of heckling Philly. "Okay! Have fun with driving, Wendy!" She waved before going into Bessie's interior, Sam happily following.

"Ah...I guess that's that then." Wendy commented as the two bots disappeared.

"What...are you nervous? I won't get mad at you unless you do something really dumb, I promise." Philly replied, pouting a little at her reluctance. "Or do you...not wanna...have me as your teacher?"

"N-no, it's not that! I...I dunno why I was so resistant." She sighed. "Alright." She stood up forcing her face into a determined expression. "I'm ready."

"Great. Bessie is pretty much like any other car when she's in drive mode, so as long as you remember that you might as well just give her a try." Philly explained. Wendy nodded, listening intently. She waited for him to stand up, so she could sit behind the wheel. "Since you're so nervous though, I figure we'll make it easy for me to take control if you get freaked out, yeah?"

"That...sounds reasonable." Wendy responded, though not understanding what he meant by that.

Philly spread his legs and leaned back, patting the seat between his legs. "Have a seat then."

"Huh?" Wendy said reflexively, as her brain processing the suggestion. "HAAAA?!" She turned a fierce red, only exacerbated by the smirk she saw spread across Philly's face at her reaction. "Y-you can't, you cannot, you can't possibly be s-serious!!!" Her heart was pounding. This was awfully forward given how long they had (or rather, hadn't) been dating.

Philly nodded. "I sure am. Don't be shy." He chuckled a bit.

Beet red, she swallowed, and walked tentatively over to stand in front of him. She looked back at him for a moment before sitting down, just barely on the edge of the seat, avoiding touching him too much. She squeaked as he leaned forward, reaching his arms around her to put them on the steering wheel.

"Go ahead, put your hands on the wheel." He said, his voice so close to her ear making her shiver a bit. "Are you cold?"

"I'm fine! Haha just. Shiver sometimes. You ever get that? The weird tingly shiver? You know?" She rambled a bit before placing her gloved hands on the wheel, with Philly's next to them.

He laughed a little, and she fought back another shiver at the throaty laugh. This whole situation was...well, it was unreasonable. She was certain this was just a ploy to be so close. On the other hand...she didn't find she minded so much, aside from being shy about being so close...the way he seemed to be enjoying the set up was certainly attractive.

"Alright, go ahead and pull back onto the road then." Philly said lazily, still smirking.

Wendy tentatively gassed the car, getting back onto the road, slowly. After a few moments, Philly encouraged her.

"You can go a little faster. Don't worry, Bessie's tough, and I'll be here to help you through anything difficult that comes up." Philly added.

"Mm." Wendy picked up speed as Philly instructed. The road was fairly straight, and long, and boring...after a few minutes, Philly's hands left the wheel, and came to rest on her. One on her leg, and one on her hip.

"You're doing great, Wendy." Philly pressed his face into her hair for a moment. "I should let you drive instead, heh."

"Ha, well, that'd be all fine for, fine for you, but this is a little boring. It's just. Flat. And straight. And empty." Wendy had twitched a bit at the unexpected touches, but settled into them quickly enough. Her heart pounded for some reason. The feeling of him breathing softly onto her neck, his arms still wrapped around her, hands resting on her body...

He laughed. "Yeah it is pretty boring, isn't it?" She heard a certain tone in his voice that made her sweat a bit. "But we can make it interesting..." She gripped the wheel tighter as he pushed aside her hair, kissing her neck.

"B-but, but I, the road-"

He ignored her protests, his other hand drawing circles on her leg. "Like you said, it's boring. Just drive straight. Nothing to it." He whispered into her ear. "You're doing so well, after all, my good girl."

She was certain she was bright red. She was also certain that if she had to do anything other than drive the car straight, she wouldn't be able to do it very well at this point.

At that moment, Sam came up from the interior. "The tv is fixed!" She announced happily. "Casey did such a good job."

Philly tensed, annoyed that the moment had effectively been obliterated by Sam's entrance. Wendy squeaked but continued driving, staring straight ahead, grateful for the distraction, though given the option she would likely have leapt from Philly's lap. Sam didn't really understand flirting and why this would be embarrassing, or why flirting happened, or what romantic feelings were. So who knew what would come out of her mouth. And Casey...Casey liked to tease.

Sam took in the scene before her. To their relief, what she said was on the better end of things. "Wendy's been driving this whole time? That's amazing! Your driving is smoother than Philly's!" Sam clasped her hands together, smiling.

"Thank you! I'm, um, trying my best!" Wendy replied, unable to stop from smiling.

Philly scowled, turning back to look over the seat at Sam, and bringing his arms with him. Wendy found herself both relieved and disappointed.

"You saying...my driving sucks?" Philly asked, squinting at her.

"Not at all! Your driving is above average. But Wendy's driving is smoother, if not slower." Sam replied concisely with a smile. Wendy snickered.

Philly scowled for a moment longer, but then shrugged. "Whatever. Well, go back and watch some tv then." He turned away, resting his elbows on the seat, not quite willing to go back to what he was doing earlier with Sam still there, but hoping to convince her to go away.

"Oh, no, that's for tonight when you're sleeping!" Sam responded, sitting down in the front passenger seat now that it was vacated. Wendy opened her mouth to speak but closed it again, deciding to see how Philly handled the situation. "Is that a comfortable way to sit? I've never seen you two sit that like that before."

"Of course it's comfortable or we wouldn't be sitting this way." Philly snapped back, annoyance growing to irritation. "It's for learning how to drive."

"Is it." Wendy murmured.

"What was that?" Philly replied, leaning his head over her shoulder to glare at her a little.

"I didn't say anything." Wendy made her best innocent face.

"Wendy I'm so impressed with your driving!" Casey appeared from the interior as well. As she saw the seating arrangement, she grinned. "What's this about?"

"It's for learning!" Sam explained before Philly could respond.

"It's true." Wendy added, enjoying needling Philly. She felt his hands slide onto her legs again, giving a gentle squeeze.

"So shut up about it, both of you." Philly added, laying his chin on Wendy's shoulder with a sigh and a defeated expression.

"It seems like some rather advanced flirting-" Casey began.

"I TOLD YOU TO SHUT UP ABOUT IT, DIDN'T I?!" Philly yelled, glaring at Casey.

"Is it advanced flirting? I don't know very much about flirting." Sam added, turning her gaze to Philly curiously.

Philly growled. Wendy started laughing. She took one hand off the wheel to cover her mouth, she was laughing so hard.

"Take the- take- take the wheel." She managed to gasp out to Philly through her laughter. He looked at her with confusion and disbelief, but moved his hands onto the wheel. She clutched at her stomach, still cackling. Finally she stopped, wiping a few tears away. "That was fun. Alright, I'll drive again."

Philly rolled his eyes, but couldn't hide his smile at seeing her laugh so much. He handed over the wheel, settling his hands on her thighs again.

The car and it's occupants returned to a semblance of normal...for now.

#fic #eternal roadtrip #THIS IS WHAT I MEAN WHEN I SAY PHILLY IS A FLIRT #HE'S REALLY GOOD AT THIS KINDA THING WEJKFHEWJFHWJEK #he loves the flustered react #it's just if you go at all farther than this HE'S the flustered one hehe

16 notes · View notes

warmbeebosoftbeebo · 4 years

Text

Truth or Dare? 1/3 probably

much of the details about him in this fic is from things b has said in interviews, on periscope, twitch, twitter... see if you can guess what is true vs details/things i made up. other things, like most of his friends being girls (at least as a kid and teen) i don't think he's ever stated outright but i consider so damn obvious as you learn about him eg the bullying, his best friend in 8th grade was a girl. hopefully, all the things i remember him saying he's actually said and i didn't dream it/imagine it haha. also i love this fic so fucking much if i may say so. one of my faves, to be a braggart. in this universe, he never got introduced to spence or ryan, hence no mentions of them or panic! and him going off to arizona for cosmetology

tag list @greatheromuffinpalace @paypoulterer1 @anyh0w @anobsessioncalled @panicsinning @queerbrendon @prettyoddfiction @iwriteficsnottragediesladies @uriellybrendon @pageoftheclouds @brendonuriesbubblyass @ier0-must-die @itriedallthenamesiwantedaretaken @xfoxtalynx @spacesams00 @satanspuppet-x @1-800-hallelujah @ryrostan @tacobelltylerr @urie-dreams [just message me to be added or taken off the tag list]

----

You're watching Aladdin with Brendon, after Alice in Wonderland but before Bambi because you don't want to wind up crying yet. He's totally like Flower and Bambi. Loves flowers, flirty and doe-eyed, for starters. He's an Aladdin too, and is singing along with you as you're cuddled up on your bed with him, him absentmindedly playing with, brushing your hair. He stopped styling it a while ago, but you love having your hair played with, scalp massaged, neck too, as much as he does... Even that has arousal spreading, tickling over you.

You don't have class tomorrow, but he has a cosmetology one in the morning. He's still excited about not having someone telling him to get to bed though, and you're too relaxed, and uh... you like how you feel around him too much, how simple things, touches kind of turn you on, to suggest he get to sleep or leave your room. Besides, your roommate went home for the weekend. And these blankets and pajamas are comfy. You wind up getting into A Whole New World though: dramatic actions and singing, batting lashes at each other, giggling, pretending the bed is a magic carpet like the dorks you two are...

You offer your lap for his head to get pets in once the song ends... You love touching his hair. Watching his lashes, eyes, lips in the television light. Hearing his breathing deepening, his sighs, a couple mmms when you stroke the nape of his neck, tug his hair, scritch his scalp. You've only known him a couple months, but... whoo boy. Too bad he's gayer than the day is long. And kind of has a boyfriend from his program, George. Well, a friend with benefits.

“Truth or dare, B?” you ask when the movie ends, but neither of you move.

“'M sleepy from all those pets, y/n, so for once, I'm going with truth.”

“Were you like this as a kid? Was it musicals and wanting to do cosmetology and stuff back then too? Like not being... being... different. From how boys were supposed to be.”

He chuckles. “Pretty much. Did skateboarding for years, and some soccer, but that was pretty much the extent of the manly shit. Well, the heavy metal too. And lots of people did pot. But mostly the kind of things people thought boys shouldn't do. Most of my friends were girls. Still are. Liked making people laugh, entertaining them. Gymnastics, dance; just messing around not pro. Did sets for the drama kids in high school. I fit in with some guys, mostly chill stoner or art types, guys who weren't straight, but not many. Sometimes I had to fake it to get by with guys, if it even worked. But mostly stuff like the dress up box.”

“What'd you dress up as?”

“Different musical roles, like Maria and Cosette, Jean Valjean. I remember being about five and wrapping curtains around myself like a dress and singing Sound of Music. Cheerleader with the miniskirt and all from my older sister Kara. Uh... pirate, cowboy, or cowgirl. Elvis, Carly Simon, Gwen. Wanted to sound like her so bad. Beyonce. David Bowie in Labyrinth, without a proper wig though. And a few of the personas he had different eras too. Jareth was mixed up in a crush on him. Like I wasn't sure how much I wanted to play that role versus liked David... At twelve, with Jessica Alba, that was a lot clearer. Make up too, some wigs. Lots of my mom's clothes. I'm sure you can tell on that last one.” He still wears women's jeans now. And hoodies, shirts, a couple pairs of sneakers...

“Oh, a weird flower boy version of Rambo,” he laughs. “Like the headband, but my mom's blouse and jeans, a bouquet of flowers, heels, dad's sunglasses... Still have a picture of that one. And we have lots of home movies of stuff. Me being a lounge singer with a feather boa and gold dress... seducing my mom. Oh, shit, can't believe I just admitted that aloud. Anyway, there was firefighter, seamstress, servant, scuba diver, vet... Vampire, fairy, witch. Playing a mom or sister in plays, like sometimes one of my sisters would be the dad, I'd be the mom, or we'd be three sisters. Or they'd be the mom and dad and I'd be their baby. I remember one where I was pregnant—pillow and doll baby, haha—and Kyla was the pirate doctor helping me deliver on the ship. Or the damsel in distress being rescued by them. Or kidnapped by them. Or we had to save our mom, the queen, from a dragon or evil king.”

They were imaginative too! You're picturing them, little Brendon in these outfits, roles. So cute, and silly, and did you say cute? He must've been adorable, playful and an entertainer back then, too. He's done an open mic a few times and sings and plays at parties with friends. You've seen him do it last Saturday, nervous but eager to sing and play guitar, or keyboard. He said that music was his favourite hobby, that he loves doing it, especially for people, but you had no idea how deep it went.

“Me in my sister's gymnastic leotard, but over my shorts because she didn't want it so close to my crotch.”

The crotch part makes you think of it: if he wears... uh, panties too? The thought makes you flush and feel embarrassed. You haven't seen him in a dress or skirt either, but he used to wear those. You wonder if he still does and you just haven't seen it. You think they'd suit him for some reason. The lavender hoodie, the pink sneakers, plus a miniskirt? Denim, or black. God, you bet that he'd look even better, draw you to him more.

“Wish we had dress up stuff to play with here, B. Bet it was fun. And I bet you looked so cute.”

He gets up, but it's to turn on the lamp; the tv had gone dark. He bats his lashes. “Oh, I did.”

You both laugh as you throw a pillow at him. “Goofball. Don't ever let me tell you you still look cute, then. And that I actually would want to see you with a dress up box.”

“Truth or dare?” he asks. You'd forgotten how this started.

“Truth?” Neither is a safe bet, so you just go with what he went with to even it out.

“Would you want to see me dressed up? Like... in things here... of yours?”

Your breath catches. Are you that obvious? You nod, asking “Truth or dare?”

He grins. “Whattaya think, y/n? Dare.”

“M-maybe... uh... a skirt? On you, I mean?”

“That can be arranged.” He practically bounces over to your closet, sorts through, deciding on a long soft blue and lilac hippieish flowery one that goes to your ankles, a purple plaid one that comes to your knees but would be two to three inches shorter on him, and your denim one that's so short it would be a mini on him. You wear it with black tights or other pants it's so short. Really, he picked most of them; you only have two others. He holds them out one by one, then places them over his hips: “Which one would fit me best?”

You get flustered, because you want to see the denim one most, but worry it would be too short for him. The plaid one? It gives “naughty schoolgirl” vibes to boys and men, older pervs included, so you don't wear it much, even though it reminds you of a newly formed coven of witches stuck at a Catholic school for some reason (you blame The Craft). You wonder what'd look like on him. You bet he's worn skirt school uniforms before, and that he'd get cheesy with it, calling you Miss and asking hammily but flirtatiously about extra credit, asking you to teach him, maybe bending over... which not going to lie, you do want if it got sexily funny, but you know it couldn't mean anything.

He grins. "Warning ya, my legs are really hairy, so you might wanna go with the longest one. What can I say, I've got Jewish legs."

You snort. "Guess I've got Jewish legs too: my hair is a light brown, but there's lots of it below my knees. I stopped shaving now that it's November." You can't help wondering if he's dressed up for Hallowe'en in a girl's costume, or in drag, and what he'd look like; even some guys who are kind of sexist and homophobic do that for Hallowe'en, so it wouldn't be out of the ordinary even outside of the gay bar you and he were let into a few times, because George knew the bouncer. Both of your first one, bar or gay bar.

"Oh, I bet I've got more than you," he jokes, and slides his pant leg up a bit, doing a "banananana" strip tease music thing, shaking his leg, making you both giggle.

"Go with the shortest one, B. Bet you'd look super sexy," you reply, hammily winking.

"No peeking!" he admonishes teasingly, hiding behind your closet door, but he pops his booty out and sways it before hiding again. His jeans quickly get flung towards you to him laughing, "Hey, you ever see that British film The Full Monty?"

"It's kinda tight on my ass, but loose on my hips. What can I say? I bring the booty. But your hips are more womanly than mine, alas," he sighs dramatically. “And your thighs are damn. Um. At least it covers my underwear. Pretty much.” He peeks out, excited. "Ready? I just wanna make sure you're prepared for my hairy ass legs, oh and my stunningly gorgeous ass."

"Pshaw, I know that that booty brings all the boys to your yard, you tramp." He's really a tease at that bar. Both guys his age and kind of older, but only one creep. He always drinks for free, gets you drinks too, and you alternately keep close and watch from afar and let him do his thing with said boys. He only talks with most, often dances, but if he likes the guy, the dancing goes beyond pg territory, kissing too, and he even went home with one of them.

2 notes · View notes

gyuten · 6 years

Text

heavens will burn

— Genre: angst, fluff ; bodyguard!au

— Pairing: bodyguard!jungkook/celebrity!reader

— Words: 11.3 k

— Synopsis: The truth is that love is only easy for the very lucky few. Jeon Jungkook is in love with someone, and she him. Their love should have come easy, if only life hadn’t given him the biggest misfortune of all: a curse to never be able to touch others without harming them. To Jungkook, his love becomes nothing but sweet pain.

— A/N: if any of you recognize the plot of this fic, then congrats, you’ve figured out who I am :)

“I thought I told you to stay in the car.”

Her black cap does little to shadow her features, a refined glamour too familiar to the eyes of the public—be it from pages strewn on magazine stands, the statics of TV or gigantic billboards scattered across glinting skyscrapers. Her latest designer sunglasses isn’t subtle, neither are the diamonds circling her wrist, it glitters in the light of the coffee shop brighter than the cheap christmas ornaments strung on the corner. Jungkook sometimes wonders if he has the patience to continue this job—a job that entails protection, not babysitting. These stubborn moments of hers often makes him wonder why he agreed to be her bodyguard in the first place. Oh yes, it is purely due to the fact that he is in love with her that he is willing to withstand her every action—not that he’ll ever admit it, gosh no.

“But you’re warm.” She draws out her words in a whine.

Her fingers are drawing circles on his back, a motion that should make him shrink away, for its gentle and nonchalance is not something he is entitled to receive. He does not draw away, selfishly, he doesn’t want to. Over a year it has been since he attempted to draw boundaries between them: his defenses laid set, the perimeters to his shriveled heart strong as it always was, and the layers encasing him towed securely wherever he goes. She is either blind to all the warning signs he’s set up, or is the very naive feline in the phrase: curiosity killed the cat. Somehow, she wedges past the barbed wires surrounding him to settle in the most desolate part of him: his heart. Calling her stubborn would be an understatement. Nevertheless, she succeeded, her presence now a permanent figure that if taken away will undoubtedly leave an ugly tear of her shape. He hopes she doesn’t, for it’s too late for him to stop from falling for her.

“The car has a heater for a reason.” He quips, folding his arms over his chest in a useless act of defense.

Her lips form into an annoyed pout at the indifference he wears. Though she knows it will crumble down in no time, she doesn’t quite understand why Jungkook is always adamant on playing this game of cat and mouse with her. Why resist the inevitable? The answer, mostly, is because [Name] is still clueless to his special circumstance. Special being a too nice way to describe the curse he bears. The painful reality is that Jeon Jungkook is cursed with never being able to touch another person without decreasing their life span. The handmade rock tombstone of the deceased pets lining his home’s garden is proof of it. It’s not a surprise that the once soft spoken and warm hearted boy winds up as a stranger to his former self, lifeless and close to undead if anything else.

“You’re so mean...and I’m okay with that.” She giggles like there’s a joke he’s missing.

Jungkook feels his right eye twitch at how soft and accepting she is of him, another reason as to why he has grown fond of her—with fond being an understatement. No matter what he does to push her away, how cold or sharp his words struck her, she always comes back, too eagerly, too enthusiastic, too unguarded and trusting of him. He hoped her feelings for him will be nothing more than just a phase, for both their sake. But deep down he doesn’t want her to stop, doesn’t want the shower of affection he’s been deprived of to be taken away just like that. There’s a sense of confusion weighing him ever since he met her, he drifts in a limbo of uncertainty, between the lines of falling in love and refusing to.

“Hey, you’re not getting mad at me for invading your personal space anymore. I’d say, there seems to be progress in my attempts to woo you, am I right?” Her face pops into his peripheral vision from over his shoulder, treading on being too confident.

But she is right. Though he’ll never admit it. Jungkook shrugs her off when she digs her chin on his shoulder blades. There is an indentation she leaves whenever he lets her touch him, going deeper than breaking the surface of his skin it makes him crave for more, but he cannot allow himself to. It’s why he does his best to distance himself. A touch from him can be lethal. Nevermind a graze, a stroke, an embrace. That is the thought that keeps him awake at night, at least once, before he met her. But now, his sleepless nights are spent wondering if he will ever feel her touch, no one else’s, and if he will be forever content with being able to feel just her skin. Whenever his mind drifts to that particular direction, Jungkook’s rational side slaps a painful reminder. No, he cannot allow himself to crave the touch of others, or her, especially not her, especially now, now that he finds himself inevitably drawn to the overly affectionate woman whose laughter can warm his freezing nights.

“Hey, Jungkook. You’re spacing out again—”

The hand waving over his face comes too close and too suddenly, Jungkook instinctively jerks away to escape it from touching the tip of his red nose. His foot crunch on her leather boots by mistake, but she doesn’t whine or speak about it. Instead, she looks at her hand, perplexed that then turns to guilt.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you.” She apologizes, averting her eyes to her shoes.

He hates that she can sound so beaten up and rejected over him. If only she can understand why he does things like this.

“No, no, you just startled me.” He tries to sound nonchalant, not at all freaked out like the way he reacted.

But the way she keeps pouting and now move away from him tells him he isn’t convincing. Jungkook sighs.

“[Name], come on, you know it’s not you. I just have issues with personal space.”

Jungkook hates pleading, but he finds himself doing it without being asked to if it concerns her. The corner of her lips lifts into a smile, a complete 360 from how sad she was just seconds ago—she was just acting, of course, that’s what she does for a living.

“Why though?” She asks, head tilting to let her hair fall over her shoulder like a soft curtain.

Jungkook turns back to the person in front of him in the queue and pretends as if he doesn’t hear her question. He turns a blind eye to her even as she bumps him from behind and whines his name exaggeratedly to get his attention. All that he cares for is that she’s not really mad at him, it’s just another round of trying to find the reason why he’s the way he is. One would think she’d have given up asking after so long. Well, that one would’ve been wrong. [Name] is nothing but persistent.

“It’s none of your business, [Name]. Now please stop, you’re going to cause a scene. And that would be a hassle for both of us.” Jungkook’s curt words cease her action, which honestly surprises him, though he doesn’t complain at her rare compliance.

“I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked.”

The shamelessness in the way she says it makes him turn back around to face her, wide eyed and pink cheeked. She raises her eyebrows when their eyes meet, the smug expression she wears challenging him to respond. Jungkook has no time for her silly games, however. They’ve already spent too much time in this coffee shop, and certainly they’re going to be late to their destination. Jungkook flicks her off with a gloved hand over her mouth and shoves her head back—gently, of course. He returns to face the front of the queue with a roll of his eyes, hearing her complain at him for the awful taste of his glove that she had accidentally tasted.

“Oi, that is no way to treat A-list celebrity [Name]!” She rebukes, brows furrowing into a threatening expression Jungkook isn’t impressed by.

“What? [Name]?”

“She’s here?”

“Oh my gosh there she is!”

“[Name]! I’m such a huge fan, please take a picture with me!”

Jungkook releases a long, long sigh and slams his head on his palms.

“Oops?”

“You have really big eyes and it freaks me out sometimes.”

“You have a really big mouth and it makes me want to shove my shoe in it, sometimes.” Jungkook throws out without as much as a blink.

She giggles, always entertained and amused at his hostility, knowing it’s nothing more than a ruse he has to keep up around her. Currently, his eyes are not on her, but on the magazine pages with her picture stamped on the cover. She smiles softly at how immersed on her spread he seems. No matter how much he denies it—how he’s just there to protect her, not watch her movies, buy magazines featuring her, or stalk her on social media—she knows that he does what he can to support her.

“If you do that, I might fire you.” She threatens, though it lacks any real meaning.

“You like me too much to fire me.” Jungkook confidently replies, a smug smirk tilting his lips.

She bites back her tongue, unable to deny it. They both know it's true, though neither has said it out loud before. Jungkook has a way of making her think often of their relationship despite acting like he could care less about it. To her, what they have could be considered more than just a normal bodyguard-celebrity relationship. To him, she isn’t sure.

“Hey, Jungkook.”

As he raises an eyebrow in response, [Name] finds herself enthralled in the effortless way that his features move, like a moth drawn to a flame, the words at the tip of her tongue dies as her mind starts to wander. He is comparable to the many actors she’s had the pleasure of working with: a set of stone cold gaze under undeniably gorgeous eyes, a smile that—while rare—is captivating in a soft and shy kind of brilliance, features sculpted into a vision of art, and a voice that entails all the good dreams she’s ever had. She’s being dramatic, yes, but it’s not as if none of it are true.

“You’re staring.” He points out.

Though so, his eyes have not left his magazine. But the way his adam’s apple bob and his fingers fidget as he pinches the corner of the page makes her wonder if he’s really been reading or just looking for a reason not to look at her.

“So? I’m not invading your space, though.” She reasons with a smile that’s so amused at how suddenly awkward he seems, reading in the corner of the room, pinned by her stare.

Jungkook’s shoulders are drawn back and stiff, his fingers crumple the pages before finally he lands his half-hearted glare on her.

“It’s still rude to stare.”

She edges herself closer to the end of the couch and twists her body to him. There’s a sudden low rumbling that cuts their gazes. Jungkook’s face immediately morphs to that of a disappointed frown, and [Name] replies to it with a half-hearted fake confusion.

“Did you skip out on breakfast again?” He raises a scrutinizing eyebrow.

[Name] thins her lips to stop herself from answering. Her next movements are swift, and Jungkook cannot avoid it as a rolled ball of her used sock comes hurtling at his chest. He only has time to react by pulling out his arms in front of him by the time the sock ball has landed on his lap. The expression he pulls out afterwards is one of disbelief as he glares at her.

“Did you just throw a sock ball at me?!” How juvenile, he thinks, and yet, it’s so her.

Before Jungkook can drag her to the nearest buffet table and chew her out for avoiding his question, [Name] has got running head start away from him with a giggle hanging by her lips.

“Hey!”

Jungkook clambers off the couch and chases her out of her dressing room, an expression of furrowed eyebrows and jutted bottom lip as he runs.

“Come back here so I can feed you!” He yells, not minding the stares he receives as he whizz by.

The laughter she carries as she runs past him is what slows Jungkook’s pace down in the chase after her. Despite how often frustrated he feels due to her lack of concern for her well being, Jungkook can’t recall the last time he hears her laugh with such unguarded carefreeness. The very fact burdens his mind with melancholy. He understands that the life of a celebrity isn’t as glamorous as the media and television makes it seem, but before this job, he could never guess that the celebrity life is also this emotionally draining on someone. Perhaps that’s why she acts so childishly towards him. Maybe, just maybe, he’s the only thing keeping her together the way she is keeping him sane.

“Hey, Jungkook, you’re spacing out again,” She has stopped running and now stands before him on the other side of the room, hand on her hips and a pout on her lips, “You’re so not fun.” She playfully taunts, disappointed at the sudden halt in their chase.

Jungkook composes himself from his wandering thoughts, and with a clear of his throat beckons her closer. Recognizing the silent reprimanding in his eyes, [Name] trudges over in defeat, rebuking with a sulk she hopes is enough to force Jungkook into guilt. It isn’t. She stops when the tips of their shoes meet, their distance close enough for her to feel the tickle of his breath against her skin—the only touch he allows her to feel—this a deliberate action done to taut his nerves. For a reason unknown, Jungkook doesn’t push her away like he always does when she stands too close, this time he lets her.

His stone cold guise bares itself into the truth of his flawed and worn down complexion: the blotch of redness scattered across his cheek, the bruise like ringlets surrounding his eyes, the spider web like crack across his lips. There is a vulnerability in him she’s never been aware of at this close of a distance, bathing him in a light more humane than he ever was. Unlike the immaculate Jungkook who strives for perfection, the one before her is just a man struggling under the weight of life. Perfection is not the reason Jungkook appeals to her, it is the cracks and dents he harbors that draws her curious and thirsty for a sip of what he truly is.

The noise of their bustling shooting set is swallowed by the stone walls of the waiting room they stand on. Once they fall silent, so does the entire room. The way they are separated from the rest of the world gives off an intimacy to their silent stare off. Jungkook always avoids moments like this, fearful for what might happen if he is to be left alone with her. Despite all his attempts, here he is, stiff and pliant for her. Her gaze always hold an unadulterated compassion for him, soft and heart warming like the crackle of a fireplace. Yet when she is this close to him, there lies a severity bordering on dangerous, a heat threatening to burn that nearly leaves him breathless.

Jungkook swallows down the trembling of his limbs—his body’s immediate reaction whenever it senses her near. He wonders how he is still able to stand, to circulate air and still manage to function properly when she is so close, he can almost feel the warmth radiating off her skin. As much as the racing of his heart and rush of blood in his veins drives him to make this moment eternal, he knows he is not allowed to feel. Not her. Fear curls around him with a vice grip, whispering paranoias and nightmares that will sure to come if he surrenders to his desire of taking that one step closer and sealing their distance.

Do you really think she’ll let you be around her again when she finds out?

She doesn’t need you, you are but a stardust in her galaxy.

You ruin everything you touch.

You weren’t raised to love tender, you weren’t raised to love someone like her.

She is too kind, and you are too violent.

If you hurt her, it might kill you.

Bone-chilling coldness slices through his skin like a waterfall of ice, the pain slithers up his spine and shatters the hope harboring in his heart. He jolts away from her, all too aware of what he had done, and how wrong it was. [Name] frowns as he recoils, the pain scrunched in his expression wrenched her heart. It’s a dull ache she’s used to, for Jungkook always pulls away every time she holds her hand out to him, every time the are too close for his liking. A heavy sigh wrack his chest, hiding the choked way it rises and falls.

“Eat, [Name].” The words he said is not what he is truly pleading for.

Jungkook clears his throat, and he becomes stone cold again with the distance he forces upon them. He must’ve felt guilty, for he forces on a small smile, an assurance that does nothing to tame her disappointment. It’s infuriating how easily he can turn his head away as if nothing has happened. She knows for certain that he feels the way she does, if not love, then something toeing around its lines, an almost perhaps. She sees it in the way he hovers and lingers around her with a desperation he thought she can’t see. So, why does he keep resisting?

“You know, you can’t keep doing this shitty thing and then feel bad about it as if that makes it okay! You need to be better!” The anger bubbles up in her throat and spills over.

A sense of astonishment carves itself into his features with the hostility she has resorted to yelling at him with. He doesn’t blame her. She deserves to feel angry, to detest him, as all his actions are done unfairly without her knowledge of why. Maybe, he can drive her crazy enough through this and finally eradicate the love she has for him, make her hatred burn for him.

If you hurt her, you might kill yourself.

He curses life for landing him in such a complicated predicament. It seems, no matter what he does, he will hurt her either way.

“I’m sorry.” He says. The softened edges of his eyes pleads for her to believe that he truly is.

She hates herself for forgiving him all too easily. Whatever it is that Jungkook does, she knows it is only ever in her best interest. He would let himself bleed over before she can even spare a single drop of hers. It’s a raw protectiveness that goes far beyond that of someone paid to protect her. Another reason why she had been suspicious of him possibly reciprocating her feelings in the first place.

“If you care for me, you won’t further pry,” His hands sneaks itself into his pant pocket, it returns with a single chocolate bar which he graciously hand over to her, “If you care for me, you’d mind your own health better and eat.” She opens up her palm and accepts despite the bitterness rising up her throat.

“And do you, care for me?” She had to ask.

His face goes blank, a neutral slate that gives nothing of the thoughts lurking in his mind. Still, she waits for an answer, clutching at the chocolate bar tightly she can hear a small crack as it breaks. He licks his dry lips and pries it open, but a voice not of his pierces the silence in a demand for her to be back on set. How freaking convenient, she thinks. She clucked her tongue, annoyed at the interruption, but wills herself to turn away from him. Her heels clicks sharply as it hits the floor, she spares Jungkook a glance that carries her confusion for him, then leaves him to his own suffocating emotions as she leaves.

“Trust me, I wish I could stop.”

Lights flash like twinkling stars under her eyelids. Whenever she opens them the shine becomes unbearably blinding, forcing herself to hide from it. This cycle repeats endlessly, of a garish light then a warm glow, the sharp transition makes her brain muddled and fuzzy. It’s only one of the many uncomfortable situations a celebrity has to endure. She can’t complain much, this life has littered her in plentiful riches that many would die for.

The train of her jewel encrusted dress weighs down every step she makes, slowing her from reaching her car just yet. Under the well rehearsed smile, she scoots herself closer to the edge of the crimson carpet laid underneath her heels, the only joy she feels comes only from the relief of finally having this premiere night done and over with. And maybe, it also has something to do with being in a confined space with Jungkook. She lets her eyes flit over beyond the shadowed figures of the camera men and fans lining up behind the barrier, it’s not an action she can understand of why, but when she spots him pushing his way through the crowd she realizes just how much she has yearned for him throughout this tiring night. Her smile falls more naturally now.

The breeze changes swiftly from a bustling gust to a gentler drift when she enters her car, the noise of the crowd becomes drowned and distorted when the car door finally closes in on her. Relief and exhaustion seeps into her bones in heavy torrents, the perfect posture and smile she has been wearing along with the heavy dress slumps into the leather seat in a manner not quite lady like. Her eyelids are heavy, threatening to shut, but she doesn’t allow it, she has to wait for Jungkook.

His heavy breaths comes before he does and her body tenses like a live wire when she senses him. Jungkook’s weight falls on to the leather seat recklessly, and he slams the door shut without a second to waste. With both car doors shut, the vehicle startles forward past the sea of crowds, their muffled screaming and eager faces a blur to her barely opened eyes. His heavy breaths are louder in the confinements of the quiet car, louder than the hum of the engines that it’s beginning to get hard for her not to notice. She averts her eyes to him out of worry, watching the sweat dribble down his pale face and the hairs sticking to his forehead. Only Jungkook can wear exhaustion as well as a fine tailored suit.

The black gloves he wears is always taken off whenever a red carpet event ends. It’s his way of shedding away the exhaustion of the day, of letting himself breathe and settle. Most times, [Name] attempts to reach out and touch him, just a brush of skin, she wants so badly to understand why he never lets anyone but himself touch the expanse of his skin. Is it because he’s insecure over how rough and dry they are? It doesn’t seem like it, if anything, it’s currently glistening with a sheen of sweat from the heat the gloves gave. She doesn’t try anymore, respecting him and his space, even though she doesn’t understand of why.

“Your fans are savages.” His voice breaks through the night with a small dry laugh.

“It’s not my fault I’m gorgeous.” She shrugs, only half paying attention to his words.

He makes no attempt to deny, only sharing her a small smile. A small sense of pride wells in her chest. Jungkook thinks she’s pretty.

“You should shower once you get back, you stink of sweat.” He doesn’t, but she likes to witness him as he turns pink cheeked and shy.

Subtly, he ducks his head and sniffs himself to confirm her words. His nose scrunches as he does so, in an awfully adorable way she’s not sure he is even aware of, moreover the effect it does to her heart.

“Or you can just, you know, take off your coat.” She suggests.

Jungkook pauses, his narrowed eyes darting consciously at her underlying motive. For an actress, [Name]’s not putting much of a convincing grin for him. He doesn’t seem annoyed, having gotten used to her meddling into his business. The last time he’s shown an inkling of annoyance was when he had chased after her before they nearly kissed a few weeks ago. It’s odd, how easily they return to the flow of their relationship despite all the tension and anger that has surfaced before. It is only because it has become increasingly harder for Jungkook to ignore her, any kind of anger or resentment he has for himself that should have drawn him away from her always fades. Whether they will to or not they always keep coming back to one another, like birds migrating in a pattern that always leads them home.

“Nice try, [Name].” She pouts. Well, there’s never any harm in trying.

The night falls silent with the halt of their light conversation, both figures going idle on their respective side of the car. Shards of the moonlight and city lights scatters through the car’s window, illuminating [Name]’s features with a soft brilliance unlike the harsh glare of flashing cameras she was bathed in. Even with the distance between them Jungkook is always aware of her, of the even rise and fall of her breath and the crimson of her lips cracking ever so slightly as the night goes on. An internal radar exists in his system, whatever it is he is doing, somehow, someway, he always turns to her whenever she enters a room, as if he hasn’t had enough of watching her.

“You hungry?” He asks.

She turns away from the window and acknowledge him with a raised eyebrow. He always has time to worry for her, sometimes it annoys her, currently it is endearing.

“Are you kidding? Can’t get through more than a bite with this stupid corset on.” She groans, poking at her waist.

“Great. Namjoon, make a stop at the nearest convenience store.” He instructs to the driver.

“You brought my spare change, right?” Though he provides no verbal answer, she knows Jungkook is always prepared when it comes to her, despite it not being entirely in his job description.

Fortunately, the convenience store they found themselves in is empty, the only sign of it still opening being the fluorescent glow coming from within. It’s an odd sight, a sleek black limo parked in a run down store. More so when a famed celebrity is sitting on its curb, stripped from all her gold and glitter and into something more understated and plain. A warm cup noodle is within her hold, providing warmth in the cold breeze of 1 AM. Jungkook sits next to her, watching her silently feed herself with the elegance of a reckless child from the corner of his eyes. He smiles, relishing in the authenticity she is comfortable enough to show around him.

“You know, your face should be up on the silver screen.” She says out of the blue.

Jungkook shrugs, barely paying attention to her words and more so to the sparkling ruby red layering it, and how delectable it looks as it move. He realizes his heart is always at its most vulnerable when the sun has dipped beneath the horizon, it turns tender just as his exhaustion leaves him without the strength to uphold his defenses. Like this moment, where the urge to move closer and hold her becomes unbearable, Jungkook can feel his fingers twitch involuntarily.

“I’m not interested in any of that stuff.”

“Why not? You’ll make a better living than being a bodyguard anyways.”

An unspoken answer suffocates the air around them, bringing about a tense silence neither expects to fall into so quickly. Though he has never said it, they know that the main reason Jungkook sticks to this job is because of her, because he has found himself attached to her and is unwilling to let go. A clear of his throat interrupts the silence, and Jungkook takes a swig of his water to relieve himself.

“I just don’t think that type of lifestyle suits me. I mean, I’m tough on the outside, but to become a celebrity means I need to toughen up my inside, which is—”

“Really soft and fragile, I know.” She giggles like its not a secret to the world.

Jungkook smiles along with her. Somehow, he doesn’t mind that she knows of his true self, of the fragile boy longing to be cared for.

“Besides, I’m a very private guy myself. I wouldn’t like to have people intruding in my life all the time.” Jungkook bumps her shoulder with his water bottle at that last remark, teasing her with a smile that shows off his teeth.

“Right, you have a very strong need for personal space,” The sentence draws out into a wistful silence, one which makes Jungkook nervous when her smile fades, “Why is that?” She asks, turning her eyes to him with a long harbored sadness.

He frowns. Whether he likes it or not, their conversation always leads to this topic, as it is the foundation that builds their questionable relationship. He hates that her constant frowns and worries all stem from him: his inability to tell her the truth and his selfish need for her to stay in his life. In the silence that drags on, Jungkook can only stare at his hands, the only piece of skin that is currently visible to the eyes other than his face. In the years since he has discovered his curse, a burning hatred for the skin he wears exist in the deepest part of his soul, rendering him unable to look or touch his own skin for too long. Looking at the milky plane that shapes his fingers and the blue veins snaking underneath it brings about a sense of nausea that makes him want to vomit his dinner. He can’t understand why she’s so fixated on wanting to touch something so vile, so dangerous. If only the curse could have the same effect to him as it does to everyone else. Maybe then he could lessen her suffering.

“How bad can it be, really, Jungkook?” She wounds herself closer to him as she pries.

Jungkook shuts his eyes, as if willing his brain to remain unaware of how close she is to him. It’s the only thing keeping him from giving in to his desire and from hurting her. How cruel of life, to not rid of him of the heart that he wished should have died along when the curse happened. The intensity that comes with his love feasts at the wall he’s worked so hard to build, brick by brick it is torn apart, and brick by brick Jungkook tries to rebuild the damage that won’t stop, for her sake.

“It’s pretty bad, trust me.” He tries to lighten the tension by offering up a dry laugh.

“I have feelings for you.” She confesses.

Unexpectedly, it is said with a raw passion and unabashed truthfulness that tugs at his heart strings painfully. He swallows down his own confession and chokes out words he knows is not sufficient enough to respond to her, but has to be said to draw the line of boundaries she must not over step.

“I know.”

“And you have feelings for me too.” She says.

There is no denial, as much as he should deny it. He digs his nails into his own palms, leaving crescent moons that threatens to tear into his skin. He has half the mind to stop himself from drawing any blood for the sake of not worrying her. It hurts to not be able to look at her when he craves nothing but to see the softness of her features, it hurts to not be able to say the words for himself when he desperately wants to. This confession feels painful, though it should liberate his heart.

“Please, don’t do this.” He begs, a whisper so fragile and broken [Name] cannot recognize it as his voice.

She draws herself back, choking at the painful weight pressing down on her chest. It is always like this with him. After so many months, the sting continues to bite harder and harder every time it happens, leaving behind a suffering she can no longer bear. I’m sorry. Please. It’s always what comes out of him when she asks. She can’t understand, he leaves no room for her to. How long does he plan to drag this on? To leave her in the dark? She’s had enough of his avoidance, of the hurt he gives her. How dare he dig his way into her heart and irresponsibly abandon it whenever he wants to?

“No, I’m doing this.”

The ferocity that licks at her words pries his eyes open. She brings herself to her feet and sends a ferocious glare down at him, her shadows spill over his hunched figure with a sense that tows in a feeling inferiority within his heart.

“Are you trying to hurt me on purpose? Is that it? You could at least have the decency to distance yourself from me if I’m bothering you, but no, you just have to toy around with my feelings and continue to play this game of push and pull. Well, I’ve had it.”

He knows he must have struck a sensitive nerve within her to have her raise her voice at him like this. [Name] doesn’t raise her voice to anyone, especially not him. Guilt crawls its way up his throat, and he swallows, not knowing what else to do other than look down at his shoes and let her berate him. She deserves this much.

“You won’t understand.” Softly, he says.

“You don’t know that! You never gave me a chance or an explanation!” She argues hotly.

This predicament makes him fidget in his spot, anxious for what words may accidentally slip out of him in the midst of his rising emotions and the repercussions it may bring. Jungkook takes a breath and calms himself before facing her.

“This is not going to go the way you think, [Name].”

“With you? Nothing ever is.”

Jungkook is startled into silence, noting of the spite lacing her words. He just isn’t used to her being so straightforward with him in such a resentful manner. Though he knows he deserves it, the thought of her hating him on its own is enough to make him stand out of agitation.

“[Name]—“

“What? You’re sorry?” She draws her eyebrows down, perusing the array of conflicting emotions on his expression.

A dying ember is starting to spark back to life when he meets her eyes, confused and angry and hurt. Anger swells up in him, not for her, but for himself and what he’s too weak to do, what he has done.

“But I really am—“

“Well, your apologies means crap to me now. Not when you keep repeating this over and over.”

“Look, have I ever lied to you before? If I could tell you without getting you to hate me I would!”

“You don’t know for certain that I’d hate you! You kept assuming that I will as if anything could make me care you any less. What is it, did you kill a man or something? I won’t tell the police if—“

“No, no, please, just—“ The overwhelming thoughts running through his mind wound his head up like a tight knot, bringing about a tense pain at the back of his head that makes him wince, “I can’t lose you.”

“But you’re okay with lying to me forever?”

The defeat underlying her question makes him pause, the words at the tip of his tongue immediately ceasing. There has never been a time where [Name] doesn’t look beautiful to him, whatever state or expression she wears, Jungkook is always enthralled with her every feature. Now, witnessing the despair worrying the lines of her face feels painful, a feeling he never thought could occur when it’s her. The racing of his heart slows into a sluggish pace, worn down and weighted by the helplessness he feels.

“[Name]—” He calls for her, but can’t understand why, the name falls from his lips almost naturally as if it’s the only word he knows how to say.

Perhaps he is just desperate for her to understand, to accept that he’ll never be able to explain to her of the things she deserves to know though he knows it is unfair. Fear is a familiar taste for Jungkook, a manifestation of the curse he bears. But he finds there’s something else he fears more than what the curse can do, and that is losing her. His breathing stutters, as he feels himself losing his grip on her.

“Please, I—“ He hesitates in taking a step closer, because no matter how much he wants to tell her, he knows he’ll lose her once he does.

Desperation claws at his throat, and he tries to say something, anything to get her to stay with him. Though she is near, Jungkook feels as if she’s drifting farther and farther away when her eyes starts glistening with unshed tears, the warm gaze that he has come to love now looks at him as if he’s a stranger.

“That’s what you always say.” She sighs, not trying to hide her disappointment.

His body trembles like a fallen autumn leaf when she turns her back on him and starts walking away. No, no, no. There is no excuse for what he does next, once panic clings on to him his body goes into overdrive, and out of pure instinct he grabs on to her hand with a desperation evident in his strong grip. The panic and fear pumping in his veins clouds his mind, but all he knows is that he has to get her to stay, he needs her to. He’s never been more desperate for anything more in his life, if he has her, he knows that he will be content for life.

The cold of his touch sends a shock wave up her arm and down to her spine. At the sensation, [Name] whirls her head to him with a speed even she’s surprised of. She’s convinced that it is only her imagination, the pressure on her hand and the fingers curling over her skin, until she sees their hands connect. Somehow, [Name] can’t shake off the fact of how odd their hands look together, almost unnatural due to it never happening before.

It’s not as wonderful as she dreamed it would be, his touch is cold and palms calloused. Yet it’s exhilarating, getting to feel the rush of blood in his veins, the constant thrumming of his pulse and the shake of his every bones. For the first time, [Name] can feel the fibers making up his body and the essence that molds his soul. Jungkook feels, most of all, real.

The shock wears off once she hears how shaky her breathing has gone, the thundering of her heart becomes a deafening bass that rattles her eardrums hard enough for her to finally pay attention to. When she lands her eyes on him, she sees Jungkook’s face contorted in pain, as if her turning away from him had caused a physical kind of pain. [Name] has always known of his feelings for her. But she has never known it to go as deep as it did, to burn with such a raw passion that it could wound him greatly. There is relief and fear in her, of both their dangerously strong feelings for each other.

“Jungkook?”

The sound of his name snaps him awake out of the cloud of fear. His eyes go to hers before anything else, no longer angry or disappointed, its tenderness has returned, though tinged with an uncertainty he isn’t sure of what it means. Then his eyes lands on his hand, holding on to hers with an iron grip even he cannot recognize as his. The situation sinks in to him with a heavy dread, and Jungkook withdraws himself away from her as far as he can. The hand that had held hers tremble as he clutches it, out of rage for what he’s done but at the same time, a delight exist from finally getting a taste of her. He doesn’t allow the joy to happen for long, instead allowing fear and dread to envelope him.

I’ve touched her.

She’s going to die because of me.

I’ve hurt her, in a way that she can’t imagine.

“Jungkook? Jungkook, talk to me.” [Name]’s anger is now replaced with concern as she draws nearer to him.

Jungkook thrusts his hand up, but it withers back to his side in fear of touching her again. His vision blurs into splotches of broken street lights and her distorted face, he doesn’t even realize that he’s crying until a wet trail cascades down his cheeks. He’s far too afraid, far too angry at himself to focus on responding her. The only thing his mind is screaming at him is: you hurt her, you hurt her, you hurt her.

“Jungkook, hey, are you alright?” She asks, her hands hovering carefully over his deflating figure.

Jungkook staggers, feet turning into jelly under the weight of his anger. He hasn’t even notice of the powerful grip he has on his own hand, this time, he successfully draws blood from under his skin at the force he’s putting on it.

“You don’t understand, [Name]. I’m cursed! I can never touch anyone without drawing them further to their deaths. That’s why I don’t let anyone in, why I wore all those unnecessary garments, why I can’t have anyone touching me. Don’t you see? I really want to be with you, I do. But I can’t. I will hurt you, I know I will, and I can’t do that to you.” A rawness tearing from deep within him speaks out, manifesting the broken man for he truly is, crying and pleading before her.

At that moment, watching Jungkook rip himself apart fills her with the same pain she saw Jungkook with when she was leaving him. [Name] thought that she would finally be liberated from the burden on her shoulders when she receives her answer. She is wrong. There is no greater heartbreak than the answer she so desperately wanted to know. Right now, the weight in her heart is overflowing, as she feels it bleed with regret like a heavy torrent.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook—“

“I don’t deserve you, how could I let this happen?” He’s mumbling to himself, surrendering to his own madness underneath the silver moonlight.

[Name] hovers over him like a shadow, unable to touch him and unpleasantly forced to witness him breakdown. I made him like this. It’s my fault. Why can’t I just let it go? Why, why, why.

“You deserve more.” Her voice carries out into the night like a soft breeze, calling Jungkook back from his self induced nightmare.

With a sluggish pace that worries her, Jungkook lifts his head up and lands a pair of hesitant eyes on her. She frowns when she notes of the red rimming his swollen eyes and the starking paleness that weaves its way onto his complexion, a heartbreaking despair webs across his features like a parasite, depriving him from the beauty she’s come to love. This is all because of her, because she refuses to listen to him.

“We’re just one hell of a modern tragedy aren’t we?” He laughs, though it is coarse and without humor.

[Name] casts her eyes to the ground, fighting back the tears that threatens to spill from the unbearable ache in her heart.

That night, they leave the store and return to the car in silence. There is no second glances spared, even as Jungkook takes the vacant passenger seat by the driver instead of claiming the seat next to hers. Weary from the roller coaster of emotions, Jungkook slumps deep into the leather seat, hoping he can disappear from this night and from her for the rest of her life. It’s what’s best for her, especially after what he’s done.

Namjoon worries his bottom teeth at the unsettling tension that has suddenly encase the limo, but he says nothing, not when he catches the reflection of Jungkook’s face on the car’s window: the face of a man whose world has shattered before him.

The knowledge of the curse has anchored down the once halcyon days into one of uneasy distance and tense silence. Secret glances and hushed laughters becomes a distant memory that slips away from him like sand no matter how hard he tries to hold on. He’s never realized how quickly time ebbs with her constant company and demand for attention. Now that a wall has burrowed itself between them, the day seems never ending, and when it transitions to the inky darkness of night, it always ends in a fit of nightmares he’s not keen on recollecting.

Resisting her has been more difficult than he thought. It’s as he suspects, the second she wormed her way inside his heart, the absence of warmth it has stood by feeds off of her like a leech, and once she tears herself away, it is left starving for only her. Well, at least she seems to be faring of better than him. As long as she is happy, then he can live with this pain for the rest of his life, all for the chance to see her smile, even if not for him.

She’s found solace in her make-up artist and manager more often now, and he can’t lie to himself if he says he is not envious. He used to be her safe space, a place to confide in on the thoughts she’s never been able to say to anyone without risking judgement. It’s a privilege which he realizes he’s never truly appreciated before. Now he finds himself being the one to spare time to silently watch her—the only thing that has gotten him through his dark days—a habit he’s not even aware of having, only that it feels right.

There is something different in her smile nowadays, a certain restraint that cannot truly encompass the joy or amusement like she always had with him. He wish he can turn a blind eye to this. The last thing he needs is a reminder of how affected she had also been when his curse was revealed, of how good of an actress she is to be able to carry on through the day as if nothing has changed.

What he hates most about the situation between them are the nights of unbearable loneliness and regret spent fighting off the temptation to surrender to his dark thoughts. Sleep hasn’t been easy, and even then, he looks forward not to the dreams that wakes him with a painfully wrenched heart. Very much like tonight, where he finds himself curled on his couch, though his eyes are seemingly glued to the TV screen in focus, there is an impassiveness in his lack of movement and slow blinking.

The pitter patter of rain gently sings a song of heartbreak that reflects to his own state, and the shadows that has fallen upon the city provides the perfect gloom to wrap around his freezing heart. Though worn from sadness, he cannot cry, having dried his eyes off too much the night he confessed to her. All that is left is a hollowness aching to be filled.

A stuttered knock breaks through the cold night, interrupting the perfectly orchestrated beat of sorrow Jungkook nearly falls asleep to. He remains petrified, his mind leadened to a state of lacking any sort of motivation to go through the day. The knock repeats itself after a long moment, and Jungkook pries his eyes away from the TV, wondering silently who could be behind the oaken doors at an 11 PM on Saturday.

His steps are heavy with reluctance as he drags himself across the room. He half hoped whoever it is would go away and leave him to suffocate in his own self pity. A barely coherent what manage to escape him before his attention fixes onto the last person he thought would ever show up in his doorstep, her: dripping and heaving from the rain with the radiance of the golden sunshine that had been eclipsed from him. There shouldn’t be anything remotely attractive in the way she carries herself so recklessly like this. Yet he falls into a delighted silence, soaking in the unadulterated sight she presents so willingly to him. A sensation of lightness enters him, flushing away the lead coating his bones and the pressure on his chest, allowing him with an easiness to breathe.

The shock comes belatedly, after Jungkook’s mind process the reality that even in his most vivid of imagination he can never capture the details of the constellation of freckles dotting her skin so accurately, for she really is standing on his doorstep. He cannot hide the smile that blooms on his face. But the memory of that fateful night tugs at his mind, reeling him to cower behind his door with uncertainty.

“[Name]..” His voice is hoarse from its lack of use. There is no reason for him to speak if it’s not to her.

Her eyes watch him carefully, every curvature of his face: the prominent hollow under his cheekbones, the dip of his cupid’s bow and the familiar scar on his cheek she’s missed so terribly. There is a significant age that has caught on to him, despite it only having been less than a month since they fall into silence with each other. Is it perhaps the sorrow, or the hopelessness that weighs him most of all? She cannot determine, for even at its bleakest she feels her breath being taken away by the presence of him. She smiles, a soft curve of her lips that makes Jungkook’s heart lurch to reach out to her.

“Your face is a mess.” She says, after a long moment of silence.

Even when she is trapped in an emotionally draining mess, she still finds time to ridicule him. Like the smile that unknowingly appears whenever she is present, he laughs, an uncontrollable force that racks his chest with a joyful tingle. The ringing of his laughter infects her, bearing joy in the hearts that had been drowning in forlorn. As if all the emotional turmoil of the past weeks never existed, they fall back into their familiar pattern, of a liberation to truly be themselves that can mend each other’s broken hearts.

“Nice to see you’ve got your priority straight.” He jokes.

“Oh, I do, and it’s always you.” She confirms with a confidence that stuns him.

His teeth digs into the bottom of his lip, suppressing the shock from showing on his expression.

“Why are you here, [Name]? You’re cold and drenched! Please tell me you didn’t run all the way here in your pajamas.” His answer is only a sheepish smile.

A heavy sigh breaks out of him, though he is not sure whether it is out of disappointment or relief, perhaps both.

“Isn’t it obvious? When a girl runs through traffic lights and heavy rain to reach for your doorstep it means she loves you, you idiot.”

The word love has always been held back by both, they keep dancing around it as if it could burn them from the inside out. Though he knows that if either of them were to say it first, it would be her, always the more dauntless of the two. He just didn’t expect her to say it now, in the moment where their relationship is in the brink of collapsing, a vulnerable knot threatening to break. Jungkook inhales a shaky breath to steady himself, but the word that keeps ringing in his ear and the sound of his blood rushing makes it difficult for him to focus.

“[Name]..” He begins, hesitant.

“You’re cursed, I know.”

There is defiance in the upright stance in which she carries herself with, even though weighed down by her sopping attire and the stream of water dripping off of her hair, she is the cliff by the shore of the open ocean, steady and firm through the never ending waves. He doesn’t understand why she’s so sure, not when she seems to understand so little of the big picture.

“But you don’t understand—“

“No, you assume I don’t. Look, I get that you’ve been protecting me for a long while, you think I’m fragile and naive, and maybe it’s become a habit of yours to continue protecting me as if I know nothing of how unfair reality can be, but god damn it Jeon Jungkook for once in your life listen to what I have to say!”

He folds his lips shut, though he cannot hide the glimmer of intrigue and amusement shrouded in his silent smile.

“I know it’s just chemicals that makes me cling to you, but gosh making me fall in love with you is the greatest thing my body can ever give to me. You make your way into my veins, course right through my limbs, and dig right through my brain like a parasite, but Jungkook, it’s the most wonderful parasite I’ve ever had the honor of harboring. My life has always been an array of uncertainty and risks, a leaping stone that I could slip on. But you, you came to me, and I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. You are the ground that lays across the stream I’ve been crossing. There are cracks and blight on you, but you make me feel safe and real.” She says, with a clarity that terrifies him.

Jungkook wonders what he’s done to deserve this, this kind of selfish love that eats away at the soul and leaves you disoriented and broken like the cracked grounds after an earthquake. The damage and pain is addicting, a good kind of pain. And then he realizes that this love he has the honor of receiving is only due to his curse, the very mark that has tainted him and ostracize him from the rest of the world.

This love hurts, but it is a love that is specifically theirs. Not just his, he realizes. Because the pain and longing he thought he had experienced alone is wrong, all this time she too feels it. The words he can never articulate to describe the intensity of his emotions are robbed right out of his mouth and on to hers. She feels it too, the inevitable pull for each other that goes far beyond their limbs. Jungkook feels the warmth of his tears building behind his eyelids, a relief and weightlessness greater than that he’s ever received makes his heart soar in the confinements of his ribs.

“You don’t understand what you do to me, what you can make me do. Heck, I’ll let you drag me to hell if it means I get to hold your hand. Jeon Jungkook, if you think that a curse will keep me away from you then you really don’t know me at all.”

He’s not sure if it’s the rain or her own outburst of tears streaming down her face, but the urge to swipe his thumb over her damp skin becomes tenfold after the passionate confession. But he holds back, with the reminder that the curse still exists and can still very much harm her.

“I can never touch you, I can never hold your hand or kiss you. You’ll be sentenced to a very cold and lonely love with me.” He warns, a tinge of sorrow returning in the droop of his eyes.

[Name] laughs, airy and short, it can almost be mistaken as a cough. She shakes her head, letting droplets spill on to his cotton shirt.

“As long as it’s your love.” She assures.

This time he can’t fight back the onslaught of joy pricking at the back of his eyes, and he lets out a laugh of his own, just as airy, but filled with a happiness pure and bright, amidst attempting to mask the tears spilling on his cheeks.

“Gosh, you’re so stubborn,” He wipes at the tears, pressing on to his eyes until stars explode behind his eyelids, but when he opens them back she is still there, then he knows that this is truly not a dream, “Why me? Out of all the other celebrities and bodyguards and staff, why the heck pick the guy hardest to love?”

“The people who are hardest to love loves the hardest. And frankly, I’m not a pussy who will settle for anything less than a fucking thunderstorm.”

Jungkook chortles, choking in disbelief over how crude she can be at the most inappropriate of times. Though it is one of the quirks he finds himself growing fond over.

“I love it when you unnecessarily use vulgar words to get your point across.”

“What better way is there?”

Jungkook cannot respond. It is not rare of him to find himself speechless because of her. As if taking his breath away is not enough, she also knows how to take the words right out of his mouth. The moment simmers, and with it, Jungkook’s attention inadvertently travels to her, to the lips that shapes her silent laughter. He licks his own, wondering to himself if he’ll ever be able to have a taste of her the way he truly wants to. It’s human nature, to want more than what you already have. And now that he finally has her, he desperately wants to feel her. To convey the affection and wonder he holds for her with something that is a lot more permanent than words.

“I love you, and I really want to kiss you.” He admits, because it’s the least he can give her.

[Name] falls uncharacteristically silent. Her fingers fidget against each other with the force of an earthquake, its is enough to make her tangle them together in the pocket of her hoodie to stop them. The intensity that lies beneath his words burns her inside, boiling the blood in her veins and warming her skin with a force enough to make her forget about the chill from the rain. Jungkook wonders of the sudden shift in the self assured and confident woman before him, why now she appears so very small and timid unlike she ever is. Has his words impact her as great as what she always does to him?

“Mannered men usually invite the women in before jumping at them you know.” She says, turning the attention away from her.

A pink flush floods his cheek, for he hasn’t even realized of how distracted he has been with her and her confession to have forgotten about the alarming situation she is in. Thoughtfully, he reprimands himself for not prioritizing her shivering form and what it might do to her health far earlier.

“O-Oh, shoot, you’re going to get sick!” He realizes a tad too late.

Jungkook ushers her in with haste, overcome with the over protective and doting side of him she always finds entertaining in witnessing. To think that the cold hearted man the world sees him as is tripping over his own feet in a clumsy attempt to warm her. How cute.

“But, hey, if you still want that kiss, I think I might have an idea.” She yells, craning her head in a look out for him who had disappeared past one of the doors.

Jungkook’s mop of brown hair pops out from one of the doorway, his scrunched expression a mixture of uncertainty and curiosity that draws similarity to that of an adorable child. He returns to her side with freshly laundered clothes and a towel.

“Here’s a fresh pair of change. They’re a bit tight on me, so I think it’ll fit on you. Um, shower, right, bathroom is on—“

She makes no move to accept it, instead opting to rummage past her hoodie for an item she’s hidden there. Jungkook’s train of thoughts halt, its course shifting down a path of perverse at her sudden action. He turns his eyes away, though he cannot control the rush of blood from showing on his cheeks. [Name] wants to laugh at the embarrassment he bears in this moment, though she can’t help but feel a certain kind of admiration for the manner he possess. Still, she can’t let this slip away without as much as an attempt to further humiliate him.

“Wow, do you seriously think I’m the type of shameless girl who undresses herself after confessing her love?” She asks with a tone bordering on a full on giggle.

“[Name], honestly—“

“Well, I mean, maybe for Chris Hemsworth, sure, but, as much as I love you, you’re nowhere close to him.”

Jungkook’s skin cools down once he’s gotten a grasp of the ambience in her joke. If his embarrassment for his thoughts had gone on longer, he would’ve missed the way she so casually slips in an I love you, as if the days they’ve spent hadn’t been spent avoiding the words. He almost chokes on his own breath, though fortunately has caught himself before she could hear him. Jungkook swivels his attention back to her, but it quickly falters when he catches sight of a questionable item that she must’ve pulled out from her hoodie. Of course, how in the hell could he ever think of the idea of her undressing herself so readily for him?

“What’s that?”

Wet fingers unravel itself around the item and allowing Jungkook to decipher the inscription written in the box, which only further confuses him.

“Plastic wrappers? For leftovers?”

[Name] isn’t deterred by his lack of understanding as she tears it open eagerly, a thin layer of it is unrolled and poised over his adorably clueless face.

“To think, it only took an agonizing weeks of silence and a spontaneous confession in the rain for you to admit you want to kiss me, huh?”

Jungkook is still very much confused.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking since the fight, you see—and maybe a lot of crying too.” She says, ducking her head down as she hesitantly adds the last sentence.

Something squeezed terribly hard at his heart, the thought of her: tear streaked, tender skin splotched in unpleasant shades of red and touched with inflammation from the force of such a heartbreaking outburst. All because of him.

“You can’t touch me because of the curse, but that only applies when your skin makes direct contact with mine. You can touch me through your gloves, and I can touch you through your clothes, so I thought—“

Something flickers in the enthusiasm she wears when Jungkook’s confusion refuses to fade. Rather than puzzled, perhaps she had misread him, and maybe he doesn’t feel as sincere about his words as she does. She frowns, lowering the plastic wrap back to her side.

“I can kiss you through that wrapper.” He finishes, after a beat of tense silence.

Clarity lights his features into one of happiness, capturing the essence of ocean waves breaking the sunset into rippling kaleidoscope she can never resist in looking. [Name] can feel herself falling in love with him all over again at this sight.

“Y-Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.”

Silence always manage to embed its claws between them, though no longer does its talons make them bleed. Now, it has become a familiar part of their relationship. This time, the silence in the room contains a certain nervous energy that drives both to shyly turn away from each other’s gazes.

“I mean, if you’d like to try it—I guess—there’s no harm in it.” Jungkook stutters, feet shifting against the cold tiles.

“Do you?” She asks.

Another silence enters, though it carries a meaning that is enough to answer her question. Jungkook welcomes himself to her warmth with a certainty she can never predict, as if he had belonged there all along, he sneaks his way into her hold. She can barely process it, process him: arms taught around her waist with the desperate longing of belonging to a place that is permanent, he is so close, so comfortable in settling within her hold with an ease she can ever imagine him to have. The dampness in the room tastes sweet on the roof of her mouth, and the colors in the muted room bursts with an intensity that shouldn’t be possible in such a gloomy lighting. But it is because it’s him, it’s him holding on to her and him professing his love to her in a way that he fears the most.

Before she can return his embrace his grip has loosened, and both instinctively draw their heads back with the desire to soak in each other at such close distance. She maps the blemishes and each shade of color that exists on his face to save in her memory, a sight so rare she wishes she could continue seeing him like this forever.

“Kiss me.” He whispers.

Her fingers shake around the plastic wrapper, though she wills herself to bring it between them she can’t, the function of her limbs disconnected from her jumbled state of mind at the simple request. Another set of hand comes to her aid and Jungkook takes the plastic wrapper over their faces, her vision of him ripples at the appearance of the plastic sheen. Neither move immediately, too afraid of ruining this moment. The courage that usually flows in her cannot be found, she can only continue to cherish the sight of him so close to her. Then he moves, a sluggish confidence surging over him. His display of courage pushes her to mirror his movements, meeting him halfway from the other side of the plastic wrapper.

The tang of the plastic tastes synthetic to her tongue, but the fire under his lips sets her senses ablaze and her nerves to haywire, the awful taste of plastic becomes nothing but a miniscule stardust in the universe that explodes behind her eyelids. A chill tingles her spine, ice and fire clashes within her system and sends her body into overdrive from the overwhelming sensations. It is as if the world collectively breaths out a blissful sigh as they kiss, a sense of feeling whole she never thought she was missing fills in the cracks and dents in her heart.

The chill of the rain greets her lips when he withdraws for air, though she can’t find any disappointment like she expected to feel, not when the memory of his warmth still lingers in her system. She blinks slowly, afraid that she cannot capture enough of his flushed face and starry eyed expression at this moment.

“That was..” He doesn’t finish, not knowing how exactly he can describe the sensations flooding him.

“Plastic-y.” She offers with a shrug.

Jungkook shuts his eyes, a low groan bubbling from within his throat. The air flows gentler at her answer, with a lighthearted feeling they both land in easy familiarity.

“So, um, I really don’t want to further ruin the moment—I mean I’ve always imagined it a bit different to be honest, though it is still amazing—but, well, someone needs to tell my manager that my bodyguard is my new boyfriend.”

Jungkook purses his lips, mind still leadened with the memory of the kiss to properly process her words quickly.

“Not it!”

“Not—darn it.”

If the wrath of her manager and the rest of the world is what he has to face for the opportunity to see her happy because of him, then he’ll let the heavens burn for their love.

#bts scenario #bts x reader #jungkook scenario #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #bts #bts fluff #bts au #bodyguard!jungkook #gyuwrites

338 notes · View notes

hellomissmabel · 7 years

Text

Debut part II/II

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: Someone being called a slut. Fluffiness overload.

Word count: 1.7k

Summary: You’re a small town actress catapulted to fame when you land a role in an immensely popular TV show. After turning down the flirtations of the lead male character, the media paints you as a bitch and you end up being bullied by his fans. Struggling to stay true to yourself, you find comfort and friendship in one of actors who makes his debut on the show.

Find part one here

All Sebastian Stan’s characters & fics can be found here

A/N: Written for @bbparker aka @bxckybxarnesstar

You can hear him playing the piano even with the door closed, the melodic movements of his fingertips creating an ecstatic atmosphere, never mind if it’s a slow or sad song. Yesterday you caught him playing ‘Last Christmas’ by Wham and today he’s playing ‘All I want for Christmas’. He doesn’t stop when he notices someone opening the door, continuing with marvellous rhythmic intent.

When you sit down next to him on the bench, he eventually nudges your side and stops playing with both hands, his left hand resting on your knee while the right finishes off the song and ebbs into another one of his own creation. The silly tunes make you giggle and with a quick peck to his cheek, your fingers ache for the same workout and you join in to the best of your abilities.

“What took you so long? You’re nearly half an hour late?”

With a deep sigh, you tell him the break-up scene. You gave Brady shit about how he started seeing Dixie behind your back, yet Brady also had a field day barking at Harley for kissing his half-brother August. The necessary dramatics ensued and Harley slapped her now ex-boyfriend right across the cheek.

“I didn’t enjoy hitting him, you know. Even though he deserved it,” you admit to the brunet as you miss a couple notes, noticing how he’s smiling from ear to ear. “He called me a slut.”

He stops playing as he notices the melody you’re playing is horrendous. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I thoroughly enjoyed making out with you.”

Caressing the keys of the piano with absent-mindedly, you think back to the moment where he confesses his love to you. It’s the plot twist of the entire fifth season and supposed to feed the fans throughout the entire sixth and seventh. You didn’t rehearse your first kiss with Bucky like you did with Steve, because you actually like Bucky and didn’t want all the kissing to dull down the special moment between Harley and August.

And maybe you were a little bit selfish too, because you’ve been taking piano lessons from Bucky for almost four months now and you’ve only grown fonder of the brunet with the baby blue eyes. “Me too,” you chuckle, leaning your cheek on his shoulder and listening to him play song after song. “You never did tell me why you started playing the piano,” you ask him after some time has passed.

Humming along to the melody, you feel the soft press of his lips to your hair. “I’ve never told this to anyone before, so…” He drops his hands to his lap and coughs. “My mother, euhm, she’s… a music teacher. I never really had a taste for music, didn’t consider myself to be very musical either. Until she passed away… Then music became a way to stay in touch with her.”

Looking up at the pianist, you cradle his cheek in the palm of your hand and smile sadly. He gives you a tight-lipped smile in return and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “Don’t worry about me, babe. Worry about your lack of rhythm.” His warm lips find yours again with a tiny wink. “Which song do you wanna play next?”

“I do my best but I’ve never really had a sense of rhythm,” you smirk in a teasing tone, your fingers rapidly conjuring up the first song that pops into your head. “How about –“

“Cut! Cut, cut, cut! Cut!”

Tony comes barging in on the set, pushing past the camera crew and elbowing his way towards where you and Bucky are sitting at the piano. “I need more chemistry! Y/N, Harley just left the guy she’s been seeing since first year for his brother, the love of her life. I need you to be more broken up about it. And you,” he turns to Bucky, pointing a stern finger at him, “You have to be more charming! You just stole your half-brother’s girlfriend! I wanna see you flirt your way into her pants for God’s sake!”

“Alright, let’s just take a break first, okay?,” Peggy saves the day. “We’ve been shooting since 5 a.m.”

You and Bucky slide off the bench and both head into different directions, Bucky being called to the wardrobe department because Tony doesn’t like the way his jacket fits around his shoulder. Natasha and Maria as well as the other dancers aren’t on set today so you feel a little lost without your usual crew. You can’t exactly go sit with Sharon and Steve, their mutual scene up next after you finish up with Bucky.

So you head over to the makeup department where you find Wanda scrolling on her phone, checking out guys on Tinder. “Hi there,” she pipes up, a little startled when she sees you leaning against the door frame with a knowing look in your eyes. “Just… checking my e-mails. How was your scene?”

“Checking your e-mails, hm?,” you wink knowingly. “With that big of a smile? Come on, Wanda, please…” Sitting down next to her on one of the chair for the makeup artists and hair stylists, you look over her shoulder at the guys she’s checking out.

“You’re not with Bucky?,” she asks you after swiping left on a certain Sam Wilson, the millionth aspiring actor on Tinder, the perks of finding a boyfriend in Hollywood. “You usually practice in between scenes and never spent any time with us anymore.” With a fake pout, she nudges your side with her elbow and smiles cheekily. “Is there something wrong in paradise?”

“No, he got called to wardrobe for a new fitting,” you grin as you poke her back in the ribs. “And there’s nothing going on between me and Bucky.”

“Right,” she chuckles dryly as she locks her phone, the face of a certain Clint Barton vanishing as she closes the app. “Now, missy, you get your ass to the rehearsal room and text Bucky to join you. Tell him you wanna practice the scene again to please Tony and so that you can all go home early.”

Pushing you out of the room, she stands her ground and even pickpockets your phone to do the dirty work for you, sending a quick text to Bucky who immediately replies with an ‘OK’ and a smiley. “You can thank me later, Y/N.”

With a soft groan you make your way down to the rehearsal room at the far end of the hallway, right next to Peggy’s private office. You arrive just in time for you to sit down at the piano and start playing the show’s theme song, the only song you know by heart, before Bucky gets there too and stands behind you with his hands on your shoulders and his lips pressing an affectionate kiss to the crown of your hair.

“You did great, you know. Tony’s just on edge because there’s this new show airing tomorrow that supposed to be the next Pretty Little Liars. Now we’ve all got to be more sexy, more scheming, more dramatic,… More fake if you ask me…,” Bucky chuckles dryly.

You stop playing as soon as you feel and focus on his touch. “But I thought we were the next Pretty Little Liars?,” you feign sadness as Bucky takes a seat next to you.

“No, Y/N, we are the next Gossip Girl,” he corrects you with an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Huuuuuuuuuuge difference!”

Ardently he erupts into a play of tones and tunes, trying to impress the girl next to him. “You know, I did enjoy kissing you, Y/N. Too bad it was only on set…,” he throws his bait at you to see if you’ll bite. “And I’m not saying that just because we’re supposed to be the new power couple on the show. I’m not Steve.”

He glances at you from the corner of his eye to see a small smile break through your stoic, surprised façade. “C’mon Y/N, at least admit you liked kissing me, too.”

You place a hand on top of his and he halts his movements, looking at you with curiosity and hope in those beautiful baby blues. “I really liked kissing you, Bucky. And I never really thanked you for teaching me how to play the piano, so…”

Leaning in very close, you give the brunet the impression you’re going to kiss him. There��s chemistry in the air and an electrifying pull between you and our co-star, yet as your lips just about brush his, you lean back again and start playing the piano. “But first, practice!,” you chuckle with a girly giggle.

Bucky’s lips chase after you when you leave him hanging mid-air, his eyes already fluttering closed, and when he figures out you’ve played him, he laces his arm around your waist and pulls you into his side. His fingertips tickle you, drawing high-pitches squeals from your lips as you’re very ticklish.

“Practice? Practice, hm? I’ll show you some practice?,” he chimes in a sing-song voice before the soft press of his lips on yours catches you off guard. Instantly you melt into him, hands splayed on his chest and gently fisting his shirt while Bucky cups your cheek in one hand and holds your neck with the other.

Gasping slowly when the pianist elicits a low moans from your lips, he deepens the kiss and caresses your tongue with his. “How’s that for practice, babe?,” he chuckles as you are both panting slightly.

“Practice makes perfect, they say. So let’s try again, even if it’s just to keep Tony satisfied with your charms,” you joke playfully, a seductive tone to your voice as the piano lessons are long forgotten and another searing kiss from Bucky takes your breath away.

Tag list: @melconnor2007 @learisa @mrshopkirk @dont-speak-just-read @buckyappreciationsociety @beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep @lovemarvelousfics @pleasantdreamqueen @petersunderroos @movingonto-betterthings @palaiasaurus64 @ssweet-empowerment @lovemarvelousfics @rrwilson66 @petersunderroos @reniescarlett @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @barnes-heaven @that-sokovian-bastard @abovethesmokestacks @marvelrevival @marvel-fanfiction @justanotherbuckydevotee @barnes-heaven @heartmade-writingbucky @buckyywiththegoodhair @captnbarnesrogers @a-little-hell-to-raise @knittingknerdy @winterboobaer @hymnofthevalkyrie @feelmyroarrrr @justareader @howlingbarnes @themcuhasruinedme @buchananbarnestrash @hollycornish @delicatecapnerd @tomhollandzs @aletheladyinred @xbergiex @promarvelfangirl @capbuckybuchanan @pegasusdragontiger @salty-holographic-stickers @sebstanchrisevanchickforever19 @autijahnerd13s-blahg @sophiealiice @sarahmatthews7 @lumelgy @kudosia @daringtodreamawake @moonbeambucky @suz-123 @breezy1415 @always-an-evans-addict @thegreentgirl @yourtropegirl @4theluvofall @curvybihufflepuff @caplansteverogers @amrita31199 @isnt-the-blog-youre-looking-for @pineapplebooboo @thefridgeismybestie @supernatural508 @supernaturaldean67@cant-decide-at-this-moment @mehrmonga @specs15 @kanupps06 @imnotinsanehunny @sarahgracej @jasura @nerdyandproud9 @geeksareunique @jesspfly @badassbaker @whenallsaidanddone @ailynalonso15 @thebookisbtr @animechick725 @wheneggsymetbucky

#bbparkers1kchallenge #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fan fiction #modern!au #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan #marvel #marvel fan fiction #marvel fan fic #fan fiction #fan fic #avengers #avengers fan fiction #actor!bucky x reader #movie!au #steve rogers #chris evans

316 notes · View notes

greekowl87 · 7 years

Text

Fic: False Flags Redux 5/13

(1) (2) (3) (4) | AO3

A/N: Hey everyone, thanks for sticking around. Chapter five is here. A massive thanks to @mulders-boyish-enthousiasm and @scully-loves-ruthie . Tagging @today-in-fic

P.S. I’m being bad this week by posting two chapters this week because I got the time still and things haven’t gotten too crazy yet. I’ve also added the AO3 link if you want it all in one place. Chapter six is on Friday.

5/13

Gosport Shipyard Portsmouth, Virginia March 7, 1862

Mulder and Scully had communicated with each via letter a few times now since their last in-person meeting. He started supplying her with simple things, such as orders and troop numbers, but there still had been nothing of great value except the letters itself. Their correspondence had grown more personal in nature, something he had not expected. He thought he was supposed to keep it impersonal. While he kept the sensitive information coded, like he had been taught, they begin to speak of familiar things...addressing each other in the letters simply as M. and S. She spoke of her hopes after the war, seeing her family again, maybe filing for divorce if she could find a valid reason, and what she loved and read. He spoke of his childhood, his fondness for books and mysteries, and his hopes for the war's end. In each other, without meaning to or realizing it, they had found a confident within each other and a growing trust. The trust seemed like it had been built over years, decades even, instead of a few short days. The sensation he had met her too before the dinner party was growing in the back of his mind as well.

Since he had reported for duty that past Monday, the CSS Virginia still remained in dry dock and he was still in his barracks. He opened his most recent letter she had written him and read it carefully to his self. He was the only one in the barracks at the moment. The rest of the officers had gone to a local tavern to enjoy themselves that evening. He jumped when he heard someone knocking lightly on the door. Nervously, he tucked the folded letter under the pillow, got up and opened it a crack and when he saw Scully wearing a cloak with the hood drawn. He instinctively grabbed her hand and pulled her into the barracks, god forbid anyone sees her.

“Scully,” he hissed, grabbing her arm, “what the hell are you doing here? Coming in the middle of the night? I thought we both agreed that we would never meet in person like this.”

“I needed to come, Mulder,” she retorted, ignoring his anger and stepping past him. “It couldn't wait.”

“Why?” he asked desperately. He shut teh door. “We both agreed not to meet if this arrangement was to work.”

She took the opportunity to glance around the barracks. “Is this where you stay?”

“When I'm not on the ship? Yes. But that still doesn't answer my question. Stop changing the subject”

“Which one is your cot?”

He pointed towards his bed absently and shook his head. “Scully! Quit distracting me.”

She took a moment to pull back the blankets, inspect his shell jacket, his officer saber, his kepi, and his personal effects, noting the lack of pictures. She kept running her fingers over his things with such familiarity. Mulder ran his own fingers through his hair, clearly flustered. “I'm sorry,” she said softly. “I had a dream the other night. I needed to reassure myself of your well being.”

“What dream?”

“I dreamed you had died. I saw you die and there was nothing I could do about it.”

“Since when do you care about my well being?” His voice softened. “I'm no one, remember. Just a soldier. I'm just convenient to your cause.”

“You aren't just a soldier,” she spat. “And it’s our cause, Mulder. Are we safe here?”

“For a bit, yes. Scully, why are you here? Do you know the danger that you are putting yourself in? I would die if something happened to you because of me.”

“I'm sorry,” she said softly again. She relaxed and looked at him finally. “But that dream was horrible. And it seemed so real, like a memory.”

“Nothing's happened to me,” he soothed. “I'm right here. Nothing's happened.”

“No.” She took a deep breath. “It was from a different time. I don't know. Maybe it is my imagination lead astray. But I just needed to reassure myself of your well being. I needed to see you”

He gave a feeble smile. “I'm touched, Scully. I really am. But you need to go. I won't risk you putting yourself in danger anymore.”

“You sound so silly,” she chuckled softly. “I just feel like something is about to happen soon. A feeling. I just want you to be careful. The information that you have provided has been invaluable, but I still worry. I want us to continue working in the future.”

“As an asset or a friend?”

“Friend,” she answered quickly. “We're friends. I think.” She chuckled to herself. “Forgive me. I acted without thinking. Just promise me, Mulder, promise me you will be careful.”

He nodded slightly. “I promise.”

“You know,” she paused after a moment, “I wear my brooch every day since you've given it to me.”

“A bit quick to be rushing it, don't you think? And you, a married woman,” he teased.

Her lips quirked into a weak smile, recognizing his wit and the warmth of his concern. “I wanted...I wanted to give you something in return. That's another reason why I came.”

“Scully,” he admonished softly. “Please, you don't have to.”

“No, no. I just...” From her pocket, she withdrew a beautiful rosary and pressed it into his hand. He tried to give it back. “No. No. Keep it.” She pressed it into his hands. “Please, Mulder.”

He squeezed the warm beads and glanced down the intricate blue and silver rosary. “I can't take this.”

“You can and you will.” She clasped both of their hands together, the rosary nestled between it. “That morning you went to mass with me, it felt like everything changed. I know you don't prize religion but your openness of mind and heart was most welcoming. Most would cast it from their mind and my silly inclinations.”

“Having faith is not a silly inclination,” he said softly. “I was honored to go. I enjoyed your company very much but the sermon was a little dry.”

Scully giggled. For some reason, it felt right. He could not describe it, the feeling the ache that was welling in his chest. It was so deep. “For you, just this once,” he whispered. He instinctively tried to make light of this situation. “You know, this is the sort of token a girl should give to her dandy.”

“Well,” she replied after a moment, “maybe I have. Promise me you'll be safe, Mulder.”

“I will,” he promised.

They both could hear the drunken laughter of the other officers heading towards the barracks. “I better go,” she whispered, bowing her head.

He did not know why this stranger, this woman, elected this response from him. He felt like he had known her all his life. He bowed his head as well, resting their forehead against one another. “It will be okay, Scully. I promise.”

She gave a weak smile and nodded. “Be safe, Mulder, for me.”

“I promise.”

She broke away suddenly, drawing up her hood. She gave a sad smile and disappeared out the back door. He glanced down the rosary in his hands. Carefully he untangled the delicate symbol and placed it around his neck, hiding it under his shirt so no one would see it. She would always be close. He could not even begin to try and explain it. His friend. His partner.

. . . .

Elizabeth River Norfolk, Virginia March 8, 1862

Scully awoke to the sounds of cheering. She rushed outside, still wearing her dress from the night before, and saw the crowds. The home that she lived in had a lovely view of the Elizabeth River. She loved to sit in the window and watch the ships pass under the glow of the sunsets. But this morning, she saw her husband's ship and civilians lining the shore cheering them on. She also saw some of the officers and civilian workmen still aboard but she could hear the faint beating of a drum and hear her own husband's small voice yelling.

“Sailors, in a few minutes you will have the long looked opportunity of showing your devotion to our cause. Remember that you are about to strike for your country and your homes. The Confederacy expects every man to do his duty. Beat to quarters! The whole world is watching you today!”

Her eyes widened. She would have guessed this would be CSS Virginia's sea trials, but she knew how narcissistic her husband was. She had heard his speech. He intended to go straight into war.

. . . .

Coroner's Office Virginia Beach, Virginia December 15, 1998

Scully rolled her neck and snapped off her gloves, hearing her neck pop and crack. She gazed at the body she had just sliced and diced, silently bemoaning the report she still had to write and how badly her muscles were protesting. Scully had not slept the night before. Those dreams that had plagued her for the past couple nights had to continue, finding no respite. She tossed and turned, tried to read, watched tv. She ended up staying up talking to Mulder when she finally drifted off to sleep sometime around three am only to be promptly woken at six am.

She heard multiple footsteps squeaking along the well-polished floors of the coroner's office as she turned to gaze at the door. ASAC Benson came in, Mulder and Diana and some unnamed agent trailing behind him. Inwardly, she groaned, not ready to deal with Diana this early in the morning. “Agent Scully,” ASAC Benson greeted, “did you find anything?”

“Well,” she began, turning towards them. “I still have yet to write my report. But the victim was strangled, then stabbed postmortem. Sixteen stab wounds in all. I still have yet to hear back from the labs on any forensic evidence but I doubt if that is any help.”

“What were the other bodies like?” Benson asked.

“Tortured, shot in the chest, and finally in the head,” she recalled.

“And now he strangles?” Diana mused.

God, the sound of her voice, Scully groaned inwardly, like nails on the chalkboard. “Well, the guards were strangled,” she shrugged. “Maybe he's developed a taste for it. I don't know. This killing was done with precision and I did lift one of his fingerprints from her body, so we know it's him.”

“Agent Mulder,” the ASAC looked at her partner.

“Hm? I need time,” he murmured, looking at the body.

“Well, if anyone can do it, I'm sure you can, Fox.” Diana gave him a warm smile.

He glanced at her quickly before focusing back on the body. “Scully, did you find anything else? Anything helpful?” he asked her.

“No,” she said.

“Well,” Benson sighed, “it looks like we need to go to the public.”

“Draw him out?” Diana said. “Won't that make him run?”

“No,” Mulder sighed after a moment. “It will make him find more of a challenge in it. He's a narcissistic bastard. I would do it, but be vague. Just mention this murder.”

“Fowley, with me,” Benson said. “You can help on this.”

The other three left except Mulder who gave Scully a weak smile. She returned it and nodded towards the door. “Ever since you said something to Benson, I can't help find great pleasure that Diana has been regulated to his personal assistant. I suppose I should thank you?”

“She isn't that bad, Scully,” he said softly. “And I really do think she could help us with our problem.”

“Mulder, you know I don't trust her!”

“I know, that is why I haven't said anything to her,” he said, “and kind forced her off out of our hair. The last thing you need to freak out about that.”

Scully gave a small smile, her cheeks blushing. Small things like that were not rare for Mulder, even though he always had her interests at heart, he still made her blush. “Well, thank you nonetheless.”

He nodded towards the body. “I need to get back to the field office to work on my profile. Wanna tag along?”

“I have to finish up here,” she replied.

He nodded. “Wanna break for a late lunch later then? We can talk about your dreams last night.”

She nodded slightly. “That'd be nice.”

“You seem more grounded today,” he said as an afterthought.

“Hm. Maybe it is just the lack of caffeine or maybe it's the recent company.”

He smiled and gave her arm a quick squeeze before he left. She sighed again, glancing at the body and then frowning at the thought of writing that report.

. . . .

CSS Virginia Elizabeth River en route to Sewell's Point March 8, 1862

Mulder felt claustrophobic. The iron siding enclosing the ship made the world seem smaller. A young sailor glanced at him and chuckled softly. “Nervous, Lieutenant?”

“Just a wee bit,” he confessed.

“Why don't you go above deck and get yourself some air?”

He nodded despite himself and climbed above deck. The cold air was biting as he watched the coastline pass them by. A young naval officer smacked him on the back and smiled in greeting. “How you holding, army boy?”

“Hanging in there,” he nodded. “Marines are doing well.”

“Glad to hear it.” The young officer leaned against the railing. “Can you believe the captain? Today was supposed to be just sea trials but the eager bastard is hell-bent on confronting the Union blockade today.”

“Why, Evans?” Mulder blurted, despite himself. “I heard the onlookers when we left Portsmouth. 'Go on with your old metallic coffin!'”

“I'm sure we'll be fine. The Virginia will prove herself seaworthy. We'll go down in history that is for sure. Technology is changing, that's for sure.”

Mulder touched his chest briefly, feeling the rosary beneath his jacket. “We are just an experiment,” he muttered.

“Nothing can sink Old Ironsides!”

He chuckled. “Is that the captain or our ship?”

“The ship of course, but we might as well call the captain that, stubborn as he is,” Evans grinned.

They could hear the drum picking up as the Union blockade came into view. They saw the ships, the Union sailors white laundry hanging from the sails. “We better get below deck,” Evans muttered. “Where will you be during all this?”

“The top gun deck,” Mulder answered. “Marines can't do much while sailing but I do know my way around a cannon.”

“Good man,” Evans nodded. “Let's go get those Yankee bastards.”

They disappeared below deck, Mulder's chest growing heavier the doubt and anxiety. He did not want to fight his true country. He did not want to be here.

. . . .

Captain Buchanan stood in the pilot house with his helmsman. “There, Jones!” He pointed out the small port window excitedly towards the USS Cumberland, a Union frigate. “That's our first target. Here we make history, men!”

The executive officer nodded. “Aye, sir. Helmsman, full speed! Ensign Edwards, belay the order to open fire!”

“Aye, aye, sir!” the young ensign echoed and disappeared.

Captain Buchanan clapped his hands enthusiastically as he heard his ship's cannons began their first explosions. Here he was, making history! Everyone would remember him and his ship! He could see it now! President Davis would congratulate him personally. He would be made an admiral. Admiral of the Fleet. That had a nice ring to it, Admiral Buchanan.

“Sir!” the executive officer cried in alarm. “Sir! We need to break course!”

“No, full speed ahead! Ram that ship!”

The helmsman looked nervously at the other officer and he nodded grimly. “Full speed ahead then,” he said softly.

“Aye, aye, sir,” he mumbled as his shaking hands gripped the helm tighter.

The CSS Virginia rammed into the Cumberland's starboard side with guns blazing. In the excitement, the ironclad was almost unable to free itself, barely escaping its own fate of sinking with the doomed ship. The captain was ecstatic at his ships first victory! “Seaworthy indeed!” he bellowed. “Helmsman, take us to the James River. We'll confront those Yanks head on!”

. . . .

The cannon fire was deafening for Mulder. He could not think. He could not breathe. But still his body kept functioning. The ringing would not go away. He was covered in soot, his hands ached from helping load cannons. His voice was hoarse from shouting orders over the cannon fire. Briefly, he touched his chest, once again feeling the rosary. He was going to make it out of this. He had to.

. . . .

The CSS Virginia steamed along, finally reach Sewell's Point and the Union blockade. Unlike the Cumberland, the rest of the Union ships, they were ready. They opened fired and the Virginia returned the lolly. The siege of the USS Congress for two whole hours, neither side giving in. But finally, the Congress surrendered herself. Then the Union batteries at Fort Monroe began to fire on ironclad.

. . . .

“Damn Yanks!” Captain Buchanan bellowed. He grabbed a rifle from a nearby marine and stormed up to the deck. “Fire on my ship will you? I'll show you!”

Among the cannon fire, Buchanan's rifle could be heard firing. A couple of marines joined him uselessly on deck, firing their own rifles. He ordered the marines to set the Congress aflame. Then a stray shell landed against the Virginia and shrapnel landed into his thigh. The marines quickly took their captain below deck.

“Damn it to hell!” he bellowed. “Jones, take the command! And someone fetch me that marine lieutenant! On the double!”

A young marine nodded quickly and went to find Mulder on the top gun deck, supervising his marines and the sailors. “Sir,” he said breathlessly, “the captain...the captain requests your presence.”

“Can't the damn fool see I'm busy?”

“Sir, he was wounded.”

“How bad?”

“I don't know. His thigh?”

Mulder rolled his eyes, leaving the gun deck and heading to the surgeon's quarters. He found Captain Buchanan snarling like an angry dog at the surgeon, who was more than annoyed. “Captain,” the doctor said, “I can't very well treat you if you don't sit still.”

“You won't be taking my leg, damn you!”

“I'm not taking your leg, for god's sake, man! Stop fussing like a child! It is just a flesh wound!”

“Sir,” Mulder interrupted, “you needed to see me?”

“Yes, yes,” he grunted. “You. You are to make sure nothing happens to my wife, understand?”

“Sir?” What the hell was the captain going on about?

“You keep an eye on her, you hear?”

“Jesus, you aren't dying!” The surgeon yelled.

“Promise me, lieutenant.”

“Why me?”

“Because you're her pet. I don't know! Jesus, get that saw away from me, you devil!”

The surgeon threw his hands up in surrender and when to get a bottle of whiskey. “Drink,” he ordered, fisting the bottle towards him.

“Lieutenant, promise me!” Captain Buchanan yelled.

“Aye, aye, sir,” he said hesitantly.

. . . .

FBI Field Office Norfolk, Virginia December 15, 1998

His phone was ringing. Mulder blinked himself out of a daze and shifted the files in front of him uselessly trying to find his phone. His ears were ringing like a loud explosion had just gone off next to him. He shook his head, trying to clear it. But the ringing. His phone.

“Mulder.”

“Mulder, it's me.”

“Scully,” he said softly. “Everything okay?”

“Everything's fine.”

“Everything?”

“Everything, me included. I can't make that late lunch. Something else here came up with the victim.”

“That's okay. Do you want me to swing by and pick you up when you're done?”

“No. Just go back to the hotel. I don't know how long this will take.”

“Okay. Scully, call me if you need anything.”

“I'm fine, Mulder. I promise.”

He rubbed his chest, an itching sensation near his heart. “Okay, well just let me know. I'll see you later tonight.”

“Count on it.”

She hung up and he buried his face in his hands. His profile was at a standstill and his mind elsewhere.

. . . .

CSS Virginia James River, Virginia March 9, 1862

In a hammock, Mulder fingered the rosary he wore, the day replaying itself in his mind. The battle was still fresh and it kept replaying itself over and over. He could hear the cannon fire. He gazed at his right hand as it shook slightly. He had experienced battles before. But something about naval warfare, being stuck on a ship, being unable to run anywhere. He felt trapped.

But now it was quiet and he had time to reflect.

Scully. Why did his thoughts keep drifting to her? The familiar ache in his chest came back as he continued to fiddle with the rosary around his neck. Did she have prophetic dreams? Was she a seer? Mulder rubbed his face, trying to erase the thoughts and drowsiness he felt. He had been having weird dreams lately, ever since he met her. Dreams of a different time, different places. She was always there. Like two halves. But he was brought out of his daydreaming by shouting.

“What is going on?” he called.

“Damn yanks! The got their own iron ship!” one of his marines yelled.

He quickly went to the top deck, rifle in hand with a handful of marines. Below he could hear the cannons firing, the shells uselessly bouncing off the rotating turret. He had never seen anything like it. He thought the ironclad was an amazing technological feat, this tiny little ironclad (which paled in contrast to CSS Virginia) and its rotating turret. “Look for a target,” he yelled to his men.

It was a useless feat. They could find no targets.

. . . .

For two hours the ships fired uselessly at each until the Confederate vessel ceased fire all together as they ran low on gunpowder. Lieutenant Jones, the executive officer and now captain, had to think of something. He ordered the ship into line. He was going to ram the Monitor. But the tiny little union ironclad was able to maneuver away before there could be any impact. Time elapsed. Jones needed to leave, replenish the stores and repair the vessel. No one had won that battle.

. . . .

Gosport Shipyard Portsmouth, Virginia March 9, 1862

Mulder was glad to be back on land. Experiencing another naval battle was not something he desired to do again. As soon as they were back on land, the captain had been whisked away for medical attention. The shipyard works set about repairing the vessel's damage. The marines and sailor returned to their barracks for some much-needed rest. It was near midnight when a field medic came for him.

“What's this all about,” Mulder murmured.

“The captain wants to talk to you.”

“Why?”

“I'm just following orders, sir.”

Mulder grumbled as he pulled on his jacket and followed the young medic to the infirmary. He saw his captain in the lamplight, sitting in bed pensively. His wrinkled face was frumpish. Mulder ran his fingers through his hair in a last minuted attempt to look decent. “Sir,” he called softly. “You desired to speak to me?”

The captain trained his gaze at the lieutenant. “What was your name again, soldier?”

“Mulder, sir,” he said.

“Mulder,” Captain Buchanan repeated softly. “I said some things on the ship.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I made a request to you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I understand the peculiar nature of the request,” he said, lingering over the word 'peculiar' as it rolled off his tongue.

“I remember.”

“You are an honorable man, aren't you, lieutenant?”

“Sir?”

“Do you have a wife at home?”

“I'm a widower,” Mulder replied uneasily, wondering where the conversation was going. “My wife died in childbirth about seven years back.”

“You're a father then.”

“Would have been. My daughter died as well in childbirth.”

Captain Buchanan shook his head. “I have nine myself, from my first wife. She passed unexpectedly. Dana...I wish she would bear a child but it seems there is something wrong with her. We've seen doctors and all assure me she is perfectly normal.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Anyways, they are going to send me to Richmond for a time as I heal from this. Then elsewhere” He waved uselessly at his wounded thigh. “Doctor says a change of environment will do me good.”

Mulder felt his heart stop. What about the whole mission?

“But,” Captain Buchanan droned on, “Dana is to remain here. However, I need someone to hold her accountable.”

“She is more than capable herself, sir.”

“Nonsense. Her head is in the clouds. She just needs a bit of moral guidance. Which,” he said, gazing at Mulder, “where I desire your help.”

“Help, sir?”

“Dana needs a firm hand. A male guardian to look after her interests. You are the one who is going to do that while I am away. I’m transferring you to the war office in Norfolk. I believe your background before that was in stragey and planning battles?”

“Yes, sir, but e?”

“I need to go elsewhere to recover from my wound. Then there are some damn grand plans for me.” Captain Buchanan waved his hands and glanced at Mulder in thought. “You were a husband once. You know what is expected of a wife. Their place is in the home. Her head is in the clouds and her nose buried in books. You're a marine too. Maybe you can straighten her out with that discipline.”

He bit his lip to keep from replying.

��Regardless, I am changing your orders. You'll be stationed here and check in on my wife periodically while I recover.”

“Sir? Can you actually do that?”

“I can do what I damn well please. After the other day, I'm a hero. Do you understand your new orders?”

“Yes, sir.”

He nodded. “Dismissed.”

Mulder briefly shot to attention and left, unable to believe his luck. What were the odds. He was already composing his next message. 'S.- You will never believe the odds...'

#false flags redux #xfiles #xf fic #msr #msr fic #mulder #scully #mulder and scully #early post suprise!

38 notes · View notes

imaginesfromtheupsidedown · 7 years

Text

Blast From The Past

A Kol Mikaelson imagine (Kol x reader)

Hi guys! I’m finally back! This is a fic I wrote and had posted on my other blog (leslieknopeforgov) before I deleted it! I thought all my fics were gone forever, but I found my flash drive with all of them on it!! So I’m going to re post a few of them, and if you’ve read them before, don’t worry, I didn’t steal them! Just reposting :)

Not requested

A/N: This is a fic I tried adding a little soulmate twist to, let me know if you like it or what other things you’d like to see!

Triggers: none? please let me know if I’m wrong!

word count: 3146

---------------------------------------------------------------------

He sat skulking around the house like he always did. I mean, what more was there to do around the French Quarter? The quarrel with the witches was over, most of his siblings were hiding or, like his recent love interest, dead. And his brothers didn’t really approve of him ripping humans anymore, so honestly, why the hell did he stay here?

He absentmindedly rubbed his fingers across the small letters etched across the side of his wrist while he walked into the study where his brother, Klaus, was adding in the final intimate details to a painting that he had been painting for the last few weeks.

“It’s not nice to sneak up on people, brother.” Klaus mused, his face close to the canvas.

“Well I’m bored. Entertain me, before I dagger myself.” Kol jokingly motioned his hands toward his chest, pretending to actually dagger himself.

“Ah, yes, well that would certainly make for quality entertainment, now wouldn’t it?” his brother laughed, setting his supplies down and turning to face him. “It has been a hot second since anything exciting has happened, though..”

“I agree,” Kol eagerly approached his brother, “so what will it be? Shall we throw a ball? Go on a lavish vacation? How about we pop down to the pub and have a drink or two from some of the locals?” he plopped onto the nearest chair, a smirk on his face as he crossed one leg over the other. Klaus shot him an annoyed look.

“Kol, you know that we can’t do that. We’re laying low. After everything that’s happened since I’ve arrived here, let alone since you’ve come back, we need not draw any more attention to ourselves.” He turned back to his canvas. “But-“

“But?” Kol pipped, his eyebrow raising.

“It has been an awfully long time since you and I have gotten drinks together, hasn’t it?” Klaus smirked.

“Sounds like first rounds on you, brother!” Kol grinned.

“So, tell me why you’ve brought me to the smallest club in the city.” he was, sad to say, still a bit bored. Sure, it was a decent club with nice music and the drinks were tasty, but at the same time it was only one story and was packed even though there were only about 100 or so people there. Sure, the place looked brand-spanking-new and the atmosphere was exciting. But he liked bigger clubs with more people, louder music, where things go unnoticed. Things like drinking some blood from a few intoxicated patrons in between his drinks.

“Oh, come on now, Kol. I know you’ll love it here. Why don’t you go out and ‘bust a move’, make an ass of yourself for a bit.” Klaus laughed as he sipped from his glass, eyes skimming the crowd. The main lights were a pink-ish color, with blues, greens, and other colors swirling all around in different patterns and designs. Kol rolled his eyes, staring towards the door thinking about how fast he could get out of there and back in the comfort of his room. Klaus sat his drink down and rolled his eyes toward Kol. “Okay, No-Fun Nancy, how about we play a little drinking game?”

“I’m listening…”

“Let’s confess some of the sins, pranks, and wrong doings we’ve done to each other over the years. A shot per confession? Let’s see if either of us ends up surprised.”

“Well, good thing I came prepared to drink the place dry, isn’t it?” smiled Kol, ready to reminisce some very old memories with his older brother. The bartender brought over a round of about ten shots, five for each of them to start. Klaus reached first.

“Okay, I’m oldest therefore I’ll start us off.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “So, back in the day, when we were in London, ya know, for the fourth or fifth time around, I was the one who kept making Rebekah’s little boy toys disappear.” He tried to suppress a smile before downing the shot.

“What! She blamed me for that, you wank! I took several beatings because she thought that I was scaring them off just to spite her!” Kol exclaimed. Rebekah had tried to find love again while they had been living in London, and unfortunately, boyfriend after boyfriend after boyfriend came up missing after a few weeks. She blamed Kol for it since he was the one to always give the men a hard time, and she had always thought that Kol had scared them far, far away.

“Well, it would’ve been a bit too out of character for me to just scare them off, don’t you think?” Klaus laughed.

“Oh, you twat.” Kol reached for his shot, a grin on his face. “Alright, so, my turn I guess. Well, do you remember when we traveled to Italy to retrace some of the many the footsteps of that doppelgänger that got the best of you?”

“If this is going in the direction I think it’s going, Kol-“

“Hey! Let me finish! Anyways….”

They went through their first round of shots and were on the second to last on the second round. Both were a bit tipsy, red faced, and grinning ear to ear. Klaus reached for his shot glass while Kol erupted with laughter.

“Alright, you now know how I tricked the red head into thinking Finn was alive and eluding her, now, your turn!” Kol wiped away a tear from his eyes from laughing so much.

“Right, right, okay! Well this one is a rare occurrence where I got Elijah-“ Klaus started, but froze squinting his eyes in concentration. Kol raised an eyebrow but waited. “Changing my confession, brother. Do you remember a certain little settler a few hundred years back? What was her name…..”

“Y/N?” Kol answered a little too quickly. He squirmed a bit in his chair, he wasn’t expecting to hear that name pop up.

“Ahh, yes. Such a pretty name, wasn’t it?” Klaus dismissed. “Well, I must admit, I may have had a small part to play in your little goodbye…” Kol’s breath had hitched, thinking all the way back to what he had tried to forget in all the years since.

Y/N came over to the Americas when the colonies started to push westward. Gorgeous, sweet, Y/N. He remembers the first time he saw those piercing y/e/c eyes. She was carrying a basket of clothes to hang to dry out in the field behind where her house was, and he happened to be out for a little lunch when he stumbled upon her. Thinking he would have some fun with her before his main course, he ran up behind her and spooked her, causing her to scream and drop the basket. Right as he was about to lunge for her, she glanced up at him at him and something about her caused him to pause.

“My goodness! Where did you come from!” she giggled. “I apologize if I’m the one who ran into you, I’m just very thoughtful today and may not have been paying attention. I’m Y/N, Mr…..?” she held her hand out for him to shake, and that’s when he saw the little letters on the side of her wrist: KM. He had no idea how to process this gorgeous woman in front of him, let alone the fact that this could be his soulmate.

“Ah, yes, uh,” he coughed, “Mikaelson. Kol Mikaelson. Sorry, I, uh, was running to find my brothers and I just, um, ran into you.” She smiled the most beautiful smile he had ever seen and giggled a bit before bending down to pick the damp clothes from the ground.

“Ah! Well I do hope that you find them!” she said, giving him a sideways glance probably thinking that he was about to be on his way. He stood frozen for a few more seconds before reaching down to help her gather up the clothes.

“Eh, they’ll be fine wherever they went. Let me help you with these, I’m terribly sorry about spilling your clothes. I’ll even wash them again if they need it!” he grinned at her. And that was the first day he can remember his heart trying to come out of his chest.

“Wha- what do you mean? Her father told me that she and her mother died of the fever…” he trailed off.

“Well… I mean. Yes and no.” Klaus exaggerated. “You see….. Her mother was ill and she refused to leave her side, and you had decided to go on that little ‘hunting trip’ with Elijah, and I was a bit bored. I had been a little curious as to why you had become so infatuated with the girl and decided to-“

“Niklaus!” Kol growled, hands gripping his chair as hard as possible without completely cracking it.

“Let me continue, brother!” snapped Klaus, throwing his head back afterward as he gulped down the shot. “Where was I? Ah! Yes, see, she had refused to leave her mother’s bedside as she was so, so sure it was mommy’s last few days. And since you were gone she took to temporarily confiding in me. Cut to the chase, after a few days of consoling her annoying woes I told her I could help her mother. That I was a witch.” Kol’s grip started to make indents in the chair as he squeezed down harder.

“Niklaus you tell me right now! Did you kill them?!” spat Kol, anger starting to boil inside of him. This was the first woman he had ever fallen for, the first woman he had ever loved. And his brother spoiled that… He felt that it was different than with the others. Rebekah never truly loved any of the men she was with, and she never knew them for long before they either fled or got killed. And the whole ordeal with Sage, Finn wasn’t really dead, so sending her on a wild goose chase for a few years wasn’t killing their chance at love, it was just a silly little prank. But this…. This was the woman who had seen Kol for who he really was, the sensitive man who acted out to get a laugh out of anyone near. She was the woman that he had someday hoped to not only marry, but be with for the rest of his existence. She had never harmed anyone in her life, and he doubted that she ever would have. Her heart was too big, and he had absolutely adored that..

She laughed that beautiful laugh that he loved so much. They were in the loft of her family’s barn, a night of passion almost over. Her hair was down and her night gown lay a few yards away from them, tossed aside carelessly next to his clothes. They were intertwined on top of the hay.

“Shh! If your father hears us he’ll come out here and have our heads!” he laughed, his mouth right next to her ear.

“How can I be silent, Kol! This is the best night of my life, with the love of my life!” she cupped his face, bringing his forehead to hers.

“You say that every night. And if you want to keep having an ‘every night’, you’ll hush!” he teased, tickling her and sending her into a fit of giggles. He loved her so much, and could stay like this forever. There were a few moments of silence where he stayed gazing at her before pulling her in for a kiss.

“I’m very glad you ran into me..” blushed Y/N after they pulled apart. “If we hadn’t have met, I don’t know what I would have done...”

“Oh, nonsense. Some other lad would’ve swooped in and courted you! You’re the most amazing woman that I have ever met, trust me.” He assured her, pushing a stray hair behind her ear. “And besides, we would have met another way, I know it. We were meant to be lovers.” He grabber her wrist and kissed the spot with his initials. She traced her own initials that were on his wrist.

“Hand crafted for each other….”

“Kol! Enough or I leave right now.” Klaus’ voice was low and full of authority. “Now, I told her, ‘Listen Y/N, I can save her, but I need to bind you with a spell to help pull her out of this. All you both need to do is to drink a little bit of my blood, since I’m the witch performing the spell, and then I do the rest of the work’. And even though it took a little convincing, she eventually agreed that she wanted her mother to be back to full health! Such a wonderful, selfless daughter!” he teased, causing Kol’s blood to sizzle even more.

“So, I fed her my blood first, convincing her that she had to do it first since she was the healthy one. And then, after she drank it all down, thanking me over and over and over…. I snapped the little bitch’s neck.” He finished, any trace of joking gone. Kol was so angry at him! How DARE he kill her! She didn’t even know that vampires existed, let alone that they were the original family! She didn’t pose any threat to them! If only he hadn’t gone with Elijah… if only he had stayed with her a few more days, how would everything had turned out? He never even got to say goo-

“Wait,” Kol whispered, “did you just say that she had your blood in her system? That she’s-“

“Alive? Yes. Your little lady love is alive, and quite well. Thanks to her nearly dead mother who served her final purpose by allowing her daughter to feed for the first time.” Klaus was so proud of himself.

“Then.. Where in the hell is she!” demanded Kol. “Its been almost 400 years! What did you do to her!”

“Relax, she’s been on her own. We just had a little… falling out after her transformation. I made her swear she would keep her distance for a hundred years, and when that passed too quickly then I just started to keep her away. Like a little game!” Klaus tried to explain, although each word that came out of his mouth only infuriated Kol further.

“I… cannot believe you!” Kol started. “To tease Rebekah for the false loves she had every other day was one thing, but you watched me fall for her for years, Niklaus! How could you even-“

“And today the game, sadly for me, comes to an end. You see, you and I have grown so close in recent months, and in light of… recent events, I’ve decided that I have done you wrong for too long.” He reached over and took another shot glass from in front of Kol. “I didn’t bring you here to play stupid drinking games, Kol. I brought you here to- well, look for yourself.”

He nodded toward a door at the back of the club. It was swinging shut, someone having walked out of it. Kol’s chest tightened when he saw her: long, shiny hair, makeup all done, perfect manicure, with jet black heels, dark jeans, and a blazer. She was holding a binder in one arm and a coffee cup in the other hand. It was as if it was all happening in slow motion; her walking towards him, those piercing y/e/c eyes focused on the other side of the bar, hair wooshing back and forth. When she reached the end of the bar, she sat both the cup and binder down and started flipping through the binder, calling over the bartender to show him something.

He couldn’t believe it, she was alive and right in front of him! Of course, he wanted to run to her and take her in his arms and kiss her entire face and listen to every single detail that he had missed out on. But there he was like the first time he had ever seen her, frozen in place and words caught in his mouth. Klaus smirked at him before standing and then darting right next to her with his vampire speed. He didn’t know what to do so he just watched as she tensed up.

“Who the hell drinks coffee at a club?”

“Well, I’m not going to lie I never thought I would see you showing up here of all places, Klaus.” her beautiful voice was music to his ears, making his heart try to come through his chest again. He hadn’t felt that in almost 400 years... “What the hell do you want? Haven’t you already done your worst?” His heart sank, she sounded so tired.

“Now, love, why on earth would you say that? Have you not had great lifetimes?” Klaus teased, pulling her binder in front of him. “Oh, lovely, expanding are we?” she yanked it back from him.

“To what do I owe this… pleasure?” she said through her teeth.

“I came to apologize to a few people that I’ve done wrong. And you, love, are one of those people. So I’m here to make it all up to you!”

“Ha. Jesse, go outside and tell me if you see any pigs flying!” she yelled toward the bartender, crossing her arms. “Because that’s the only way I’ll believe that Klaus Mikaelson is coming into my club and admitting that he’s done any wrong.”

“I’m a changed soul, Y/N! And I can prove it.”

“Fine. Prove to me you’re a changed soul and I may CONSIDER forgiving you.” Her tone was flat.

“Only consider!”

“You killed me, had me kill my own mother, made me swear to stay away from the man I loved, then kept me from him, and when I finally find you, you’ve gotten him killed!” She was angry, so angry. Kol had never seen her so stoic or heard her voice so laced with malice. “You’re lucky that ‘consider’ is even an option.”

“Fine. I guess.” Klaus threw his arms up in mock surrender. “Well love, are you ready for my apology?” she shrugged, and butterflies started going mad in Kol’s stomach. Everything was in slow motion again. Klaus stepped aside and gestured behind him. Y/N rolled her eyes and looked his way, her jaw dropping and her eyes popping as soon as they landed on him. Their eyes stayed locked for what seemed like an eternity and then all of a sudden she was directly in front of him, eyes darting all over his face as if she was trying to memorize every inch; afraid he was going to disappear all over again. Words wouldn’t form for him, and he realized that he had been standing for who knows how long. All he could do was stare at her, mouth open wide. Another eternity passed, and then one of them finally spoke.

“Kol?”

#kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson fic #kol mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson x reader #kol x reader #vampire diaries #vampire diaries imagine #vampire diaries fic #originals #originals fic #originals imagine #x reader #imagine #request #requests open #request anything #imaginesfromtheupsidedown

232 notes · View notes

wasabi-cupcakes · 7 years

Text

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes (Namjoon x Reader)

Rating: General

Warnings: none

Categories: Pure Fluff/Romance/Slight Comedy

Summary: You started singing at the park to relive stress, you never thought anyone would hear you! And never in a million years did you think they would think you sounded good, comparing you to a princess even! But now here you were, having made a tradition out of coming to the park to sing for your tiny fanbase. You thought the children would be the only ones to hear you now, certainly no more listeners? Definitely no one attractive and your age. No way.

A/n: This work is apart of my princess series, each fic being based off of a Disney princess song~

1 | 2 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | Epilogue

“Did you dream about your prince again?” Mijin’s voice brought you out of your thoughts. You were becoming increasingly more distracted as the week went on, but that wasn’t entirely your fault. You had a couple of…encounters to blame for that; you had boys on the mind… which was never a healthy thing. Hoseok could just pop in your life again at any moment, and Taehyung had actually texted you last night! However, you were a little too flabbergasted to actually respond. You knew you couldn’t leave him hanging forever though; you were never one to “play games” anyhow. You sighed and brought your full attention to Mijin.

“What was that sweetheart?”

“I said, ‘Did you dream about your prince again?’ I can tell your thinking about something!” Mijin was always pretty observant; only seven years old and she could read you like a book.

You did a quick survey of the “crowd”; it was much smaller than usual today, which is why you decided to sit in a new spot today, just to try it out. You had led the children to a cute bench you had been eyeing for a while that was situated directly under two cherry blossom trees at the end of a small hill. It was just past the lake, and impossible to miss if anyone was headed to the butterfly garden…not like you were hoping to be found by anyone. Behind the hill sat the long stretch of trees that divided the park, making this area more secluded than the lake, but not quite as secluded as the butterfly garden (you didn’t have to draw anyone a map to get here!).

“No, I didn’t dream about that last night!” You waved your hands in front of your face, hoping to ease the embarrassment caused by being caught thinking about your “princes.”

“But you did dream about something right? Can you tell us?” Kinam spoke up and the others huddled closer for “story time.”

It’s true, you did dream last night, but your dream was far more embarrassing than just dreaming about a silly prince! You had seen yourself standing on an immaculate stage, lights flashing from all directions as the crowd roared in delight. Donned head to toe in expensive jewelry and clothes, and a mic placed in front of you, you put on the performance of a lifetime. But that was just a dream; that wasn’t you.

You were never one for large crowds and having all the attention on you, no matter how many times you wished you had to confidence to endure it. Perhaps that was the only reason you had never perused a music career; well that, and you were sure your singing was just okay, never to the standards it would have to be to be a professional. With these thoughts in mind, the last thing you wanted to do was tell the children what you dreamt of.

“Well yes, I did have a dream, but… I can’t tell you what it was about.” The children looked at you in confusion, before Jihae and Mijin yelled out at the same time.

“What?! Why not?” Jihae adding a pout for extra measure. You giggled in response, quickly coming up with an excuse.

“Cause if you tell a wish, it won’t come true!”

“A wish?”

“Yes, because a dream is...” suddenly you thought of a perfect way to distract the children from inquiring about your dream, “hold on, I have the perfect song for this~” Immediately all of the children’s faces lit up in excitement and you were glad that you had recently learned this song in Korean.

Namjoon had been coming to this park for years, even back during his trainee days. He didn’t get to visit it as often anymore because of how popular BTS had gotten, though he supposed that shouldn’t be any reason to complain. He loved how tucked away it was from society; usually in most parks, you would never be able to find a quiet area to read, write, or even put your thoughts together. But here there were so many places to choose from. His favorite spot, however, was in between the trees that separated the “adult” part of the park from the “children’s” part of the park. Particularly, the trees on the top of the hill, where he could get a good look at the lake and the cherry blossom trees below, was his absolute favorite.

Finally having a break from touring and working on new material, he got a chance to visit his beloved park. Bringing with him a good book and a notepad (you never know when inspiration strikes), he headed to his usual area, the high sun in the sky reminding him it was only the early afternoon.

Hopefully I’ll be able to finish this book today then.

Namjoon settled in, resting his back on the trunk of his favorite tree, and crossed his legs, setting his book in his lap and adjusting his glasses before diving into the piece of literature. He didn’t know how much time had passed before he started to hear voices at the bottom of the hill. Too engrossed in his book however, he decided to ignore them and keep on reading, hoping he would not be disturbed. Eventually the voices became white noise, and Namjoon could ignore them completely, that is, until he heard…

“A dream is a wish your heart makes,”

Is that singing?

Namjoon sharply looked up from his book, utterly snubbing what used to be so important just to find the source of the voice.

“When you’re fast asleep.” He looked all around him, before coming to the conclusion that the singing must have been coming from the bottom of the hill, since that’s where the voices were before.

But those where children’s voices…this singing definitely sounds more…mature and…beautiful

“In dreams you will loose your heartache,”

He stood up and craned his neck around the tree, making eyes at the hill below. He was surprised to see a group of children surrounding the cherry blossoms, and at the center, underneath them, sat a beautiful young woman.

“Whatever you wish for, you keep.”

He could only see her profile through the blossoms and branches, and he found himself inching closer and straining to get a better view.

“Have faith in your dreams and someday, Your rainbow will come smiling through.”

Namjoon’s mouth was fixated in permanent shock at the sound of this woman’s beautiful voice. He found her presence almost ethereal, like she was some sort of spirit or forest nymph not meant for human eyes.

“No matter how your heart is grieving, If you keep on believing,”

With every word the woman sang, a smile danced across her lips and Namjoon could practically feel the joy radiating off of her face.

“The dream that you wish will come true~”

He watched as she suddenly got up from the bench, still singing the tune of the song, albeit more fast-paced and with various “oohs,” “ahhs,” and “buh-dums.” The woman grabbed a few of the children’s hands, skipping about to the tune and twirling in circles. He could tell that the children liked it immensely, dancing along with the woman and laughing. Namjoon couldn’t stop his own face from brightening at the sight, his smile creeping up on him before he knew it. The young woman stopped dancing, and Namjoon watched as she took a deep breath, no doubt to start another line.

“No matter how your heart is grieving,” Namjoon was surprised to hear this line in English, the children seeming to mimic his emotion by the looks on their faces and in the way they stopped dancing, as if they were trying to keep all of their focus on the young lady in front of them.

“If you keep on believing,

The dream that you wish will come true~” The woman’s face broke out in a wide smile as the children around her cheered, some clapping while she took mock bows in appreciation. Namjoon couldn’t stop smiling as he leaned closer and closer, still gripping the tree, before… he slipped.

Shit

You were busy laughing with the children after your little “performance,” when suddenly you heard various faint groans and cries of pain coming from behind you. You saw the children’s eyes practically pop out of their sockets as they all pointed behind you towards the hill.

“N-Noona! There’s a man!”

“He’s falling!”

“He’s rolling down the hill!” Their panicked shouts faces caused you great alarm, and you hoped as you turned around, that they were just playing a silly game of “made you look.”

None such luck.

There, rolling down the hill, was what you could only assume was a fully-grown man, though the flailing mass of limbs made it hard to decipher any human form.

“Oh my god!” You instantly made your way over to the rolling boy as he finally came to a stop at the bottom of the hill. “Sir, are you alright?!” Concern flooded throughout your body, only dissipating slightly when the man finally propped himself up to smile awkwardly at you, his glasses sitting crooked on his face. He was dusted head to toe in various grass and dirt stains, some of the grass even still sticking out of his hair. You almost laughed. Almost. You reached your hand out for him to take.

“I’m, uh, I’m alright.” He gave you another sheepish smile, gladly taking your hand as you helped him up off the ground. He comically brushed himself off and adjusted his glasses back to the proper place on his face. This time you couldn’t hold back your laughter as you struggled to get your words out.

“A-Are you sure?” You managed, your giggles causing you to stutter.

“Ah, don’t worry about me, I fall all the time.”

“That just makes me worry more!” You were looking him over for any injuries when suddenly it hit you.

Oh my god this guy is handsome too, how does this keep happening to me?!?

He caught you staring and he bashfully turned his face away, scratching the back of his head as an embarrassed smile made it’s way to his face, highlighting his gorgeous dimples and…

OH MY GOD, STOP STARRING AT HIM!

“S-Sorry, I was just trying to make sure you weren’t hurt…” This time you were embarrassed, looking at your feet in shame, hoping he didn’t see through your lie.

“What, you don’t trust me or something?” Your eyes snapped back up to his, a blush still evident on your cheeks.

“Oh no! I just—“ You buried your face in your hands and grunted in despair while rolling boy just laughed at your embarrassment.

Ass…

What you didn’t know though, was that he was only laughing because he found you just so god damn adorable. You looked up at him from your hands, eyebrows furrowed with a small pout on your face.

Could she get any cuter?

“Sorry for teasing you~” Rolling boy made a slight bow of his head. “My name is Kim Namjoon, but I’m fine with just Namjoon…or Joonie~” He subtly raised his eyebrows at you and you chuckled in response.

“Nice to meet you Namjoon,” you smirked when you saw his face fall faintly at the sound of his name and not his nickname. “My name is (L/n) (Y/n), but I suppose you can call me (Y/n)~” you teased.

“I suppose I will, (Y/n).” Your name sounded like honey rolling off of his tongue, your knees almost buckling to his voice. In that moment, you abruptly became aware that the two of you had been speaking English the entire time.

“Your English is very good!” He smiled wide again, the cocky look from his last comment disappearing.

“Ah, thank you! Your Korean is very good, I heard you singing from up there,” he pointed behind himself to the stretch of trees at the top of the hill. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard you while I was reading—“

“Oh I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to distract you!”

“Don’t apologize, I’d gladly be distracted by your singing any day! God, it was just—has anyone ever told you you sound like an angel?” You looked at him wide-eyed, heat rising rapidly to your face; you were sure if you had a mirror, you’d find a tomato staring right back at you.

“N-No…” You gripped the hem of your blouse, suddenly finding the delicate stitching so interesting.

“Well, they should…” Namjoon trailed off, trying to find something else to say to you, anything to keep you here with him a while longer. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “So, uh, you’re not from Korea right?”

“N-no,” your voice sounding very small, even to you, “I moved here a few months ago on a work visa.”

“Oh?”

“But I want—“ Your eyes roamed up to his own, suddenly forgetting your words as your nervousness took ahold of you again. “But I want,” you started again, “I want to get citizenship eventually. I do love it here, I’ve always had an affinity for Korean culture.” Namjoon smiled smugly, like he knew something you didn’t.

“Oh well then you must love K-pop right?” Your face lit up, finally finding a topic you weren’t embarrassed to talk about.

“Of course! It’s actually one of the tools I used to help me learn the language! That and K-Dramas.” You looked to the side and nervously laughed, realizing that you probably sounded like a koreabo.

“That’s really cool! I actually learned English with a lot of help from American television, like the show Friends—“

“I love that show!” Another topic you weren’t embarrassed to talk about.

“It’s so great right?” Namjoon looked like a kid on Christmas, his eyes aglow, and you were sure you looked the same. “Favorite character on one, two, three!”

“Monica!”

“Chandler!”

The two of you looked at each other in shock for a moment, both giving a look that screamed, “No way!”, pointing to each other in amusement before you both burst into uncontrollable laughter. You held onto your sides as you finally settled down, Namjoon wiping the tears from his eyes. When the air was finally settled, Namjoon looked back to you, his face still proudly displaying a gorgeous smile.

And dimples…WHAT?! CHILL INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS!

“Since you like K-pop, do you know B—“ Suddenly a sharp ringing cut through Namjoon’s words, making him stop and furrow his brows, reaching for his phone in the front pocket of his cardigan. Once he read the contact on the screen, he smiled apologetically at you before quickly answering. You tried not to pry into his conversation, but you couldn’t help but pick up a few words like “dorm”, “now”, and “busy” before you saw Namjoon sigh and reluctantly agree to whatever demands the other person on the line was making. He hung up with a forlorn look on his face, slowly turning back to you before smiling melancholically.

“I have to go,” he gestured to his phone, giving you a peek into the previous conversation. “But, is it alright…if I see you again? Like would that be okay? You can say no if you w—“ You cut him off, laughing at his nervous rambling.

“Namjoon I’d love to see you again!” You watched as his face practically burned in front of you.

“R-Really?”

“Really.” You smiled at his dumfounded look.

“Then could I…could I text your number from my phone?” He awkwardly looked to the side, unsure of how you would answer.

“Yeah, of course! It’s…” You told him your number, watching as he excitedly typed it into his phone, smiling to himself at whatever he must have texted you.

“So um, I guess I’ll see you around hopefully?”

“Yes, hopefully you will~” You two smiled once more at each other before he finally started to stalk off in the direction he fell. You in turn started to head back to the children when his voice suddenly caught you by surprise.

“Bye (Y/n)!” You turned to see him now on top of the hill, book under his arm as he enthusiastically waved at you, a dopey smile on his face. You mirrored his actions, smiling yourself as you waved back to him.

“Bye Joonie!” You watched as his face lit up even more at the nickname before turned around and disappearing into the trees. You were still smiling when you finally found your way back to the children, all of them wearing the exact same face: one eyebrow up and a suspicious smirk.

“What?” You looked anywhere but their faces, knowing exactly what was on their mind before Mijin suddenly spoke up.

“How does this keep happening to you? Are you an actual princess noona? You’d tell us if you were right??” You just laughed and shook your head, just as confused and delighted by this week’s occurrences yourself.

Namjoon’s Text:

From Unknown: Hey Monica, it’s Chandler ;)

A/N: I know Namjoon sees himself as Monica, but like I was just tryna make a cute story thing~ FORGIVE ME!

#namjoon x reader #nammonth #rap monster x reader #kim namjoon #a dream is a wish your heart makes #bts x reader

24 notes · View notes