#i’m half asleep so i don’t know how coherent or articulate this is or if anyone has already made these observations (which seems likely

[thedensworld]

Top 10 Anime Betrayal | K.Mg

Genre: fluff, est. Relationship

Summary: It's hot news, and you can't help but share it with your boyfriend because Mingyu always loves your stories—top 10 anime betrayal level.

Author note: literally based on a recent experience of mine. I'm done with them凸( •̀_•́ )凸

“I swear this one takes the top spot on my list,” Mingyu giggled, recalling your earlier struggle to articulate what had left you so speechless. You had been fuming, your voice caught somewhere between disbelief and anger, too stunned to say anything coherent when he first asked you what was going on.

“So, now you’re ready?” he teased, leaning back as he observed you intently. He noted that your breaths were steadier, your flushed cheeks had regained their normal color, and the fire in your tone had simmered down, if only just a little.

You nodded, taking a deep breath before starting. Mingyu tightened his hold around your waist, drawing you closer. The two of you were sitting on the couch, your legs draped over his as you straddled his lap, his face inches away from yours. The proximity between you revealed just how eager and passionate you were to share this news.

“I told you about Yunji last night, right?”

Mingyu’s eyes lit up with recognition. Of course, he remembered Yunji—one of your closest friends. She was a sweet girl, full of kindness and patience, but she had unfortunately ended up with a very toxic and manipulative man. Yunji had been dating this guy for five years, and you and your other friend, Dain, had tried numerous times to show her what kind of person he really was—a cheater, a liar, and emotionally abusive.

Mingyu’s jaw had dropped when you first told him about the time Yunji’s boyfriend almost slapped her, and how he always tried to undermine her achievements, belittling her and making her feel small. You had recounted how you confronted Yunji with all the things you’d uncovered about him, only for Yunji to respond with words that had left you devastated. “I don’t know who to believe.”

“She didn’t believe me, babe. It broke my heart,” you’d confided in Mingyu that night, tears of frustration and hurt streaming down your face. Mingyu had held you in his arms for hours, whispering comforting words and stroking your hair until you finally drifted off to sleep, both of you still aching from Yunji’s refusal to see the truth.

Last night, Yunji had texted the group chat in a frenzy, saying she’d finally caught him cheating. She’d found messages on his smartwatch, which he’d accidentally left at her house. You’d been beside yourself with joy and relief. “I can’t believe the time has finally come! Oh my God, I’m so happy!” you’d exclaimed, clutching Mingyu’s arm as you read out the messages. Yunji had said she was going to break up with him for good, and Mingyu, despite being half-asleep, had listened patiently to your excited ramblings, smiling softly as you kissed him goodnight. “I always knew he was a cheater. I’m just glad she’s finally aware now. Thank God you’re not like him, love.”

But now, here you were, with an entirely different expression on your face.

“It was a misunderstanding,” you muttered, the words tasting bitter as they left your mouth.

Mingyu’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean, honey?”

You let out a frustrated sigh. “The messages weren’t his. They were his brother’s. Apparently, his brother had been using the smartwatch until just yesterday, and the messages got left behind when they switched.”

Mingyu still didn’t get it. “But… they’re still breaking up, right?”

You scoffed, bitterness seeping into your tone. “I wish.”

Mingyu’s eyes widened. “No? Really? She’s staying with him?”

“And you know what she said after all of this?” You paused, glancing at your phone, as if reading her words would make them any less painful. “She said, ‘It was a misunderstanding, and I have to settle everything. Let’s not talk about this for now.’”

Mingyu blinked, sharing your expression of betrayal. “That’s it? After everything you and Dain did for her?”

You shrugged, showing him the last text you’d sent in the group chat. “I told her I’m done with this shit.” Your voice shook as you remembered the sleepless nights and the hours you’d spent worrying about her, all gone to waste. “I told her I’m here for her if she needs company, but if she wants to vent about her sad life with that shitty boyfriend, I’m out.”

Mingyu scanned the message you’d sent, his gaze softening as he looked back up at you. “You did the right thing,” he murmured, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around you. “I know she’s your best friend, but she really discredited you and Dain by saying that.”

“I know,” you mumbled into his neck, fighting back the urge to cry. “I didn’t lose sleep for nothing!” Your voice wavered, your exhaustion seeping through.

Mingyu chuckled softly, rubbing small circles on your back. “Let’s go to sleep, baby. You need to rest. No more thinking about them.”

You lifted your head, nodding with a resigned smile. “Right?! I don’t need to think about them. I don’t have to care anymore. Screw them both. If she needs me, I’ll be there, but I’m not wasting any more energy on this drama.”

With a soft grunt, Mingyu stood up, carefully cradling your body that still clung to his. “Alright, baby girl. Now it’s time for you to get some real rest.”

You hummed contentedly, nuzzling into his neck as he carried you to bed. “I love you…” you whispered.

Mingyu smiled, his heart swelling with warmth as he gazed down at you. “I love you more, love. Now sleep.”

With him holding you close, the weight of betrayal and heartache slowly began to melt away, leaving you cocooned in the safety and comfort of his embrace. And for the first time in days, you felt like you could finally breathe again.

[norrrington]

ok nobody asked but while making my faceless edit i nabbed some really interesting screencaps throughout james and elizabeth’s reunion scene in AWE which i have extremely big #feelings and disjointed thoughts about, so please bear with me!:

so we know that the opening of this scene shows james noticing elizabeth first (doesn’t he always?), and he calls out to her as she’s being held at swordpoint by an EITC marine. her initial reaction is clear elation and relief; i don’t think anyone could argue she doesn’t seem genuinely thrilled to see him. some people have commented on how her reaction appears to flip from excitement to disdain as she descends the stairs toward him, but i’ve always interpreted it more as them approaching one another cautiously, as if they’re both shocked to see the other alive and well (which tracks, considering james had been explicitly told elizabeth was dead and elizabeth had last seen james volunteering himself distract jones’ crew on isla cruces).

what strikes me the most about this shot is that between elizabeth’s elevated position and james’ body language, it literally looks like james is standing before an altar, surrendering himself completely to the deity to whom he’s pledged his life. it’s a quick throwaway shot, but one that speaks volumes about his feelings toward and about elizabeth and makes his impending sacrifice for her all the more poignant and heart wrenching.

when he embraces her (the first time in their entire relationship that he ever breaches her space and physically demonstrates his affection for her), she obviously seems taken aback, but upon watching this scene almost frame-by-frame i don’t think she actually becomes angry and indignant toward him until she properly regards his uniform, which is apparent here:

this looks like the moment she fully reckons with what he’s done, why he’s there, who he serves, and what that means, and it’s immediately after this that she rebuffs him and explicitly blames him for her father’s death (complete with her biting “did lord beckett tell you that?” as her gaze flits over his uniform a second time).

i am OBSESSED with the shot that follows, which occurs as james swears to elizabeth that he had no knowledge of or part in her father’s death, but is interrupted by jones demanding to speak with the captain of the empress. it could’ve been entirely unintentional, but it’s so fucking brilliant and prescient to position jones as literally standing between james and elizabeth, interrupting their reunion and cutting off james’ desperate pleas for elizabeth’s forgiveness and understanding.

considering the parallels that have been drawn between james & jones and elizabeth & calypso, it’s a particularly powerful frame.

this movie was riddled with problems (james’ ending being chief among them, though i might be biased), but the little details sprinkled into just this one scene—whether intentional or not—add so much unspoken exposition to these characters and their dynamic. anyway i love my one true doomed otp

[summerohnine]

you bring me home

warnings: none

word count: 2.7k

summary: harry’s homesick while on tour and louis comforts him.

[read on ao3]

The tips of Harry’s fingers stung from where he’d bitten off the white parts of his nails, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as he continued to gnaw at the aching skin. His mind raced with too many thoughts to really pay any attention to the pain. It was only when a particularly rough bite tore the skin a bit too much and caused blood to seep out onto his tongue that he was brought back to reality and finally brought his hands down to his lap. 

He looked around, then, at the walls tightly surrounding him in his too-small bunk. He thought of where he was. America. Somewhere in Colorado by now, I’d bet. Not that it really mattered where in America. What mattered is where he wasn’t, which was home. And not just his flat in London, which was beautiful and much more than Harry had ever thought he’d own. No, he wanted to be home, in Holmes Chapel with his mum and sister, getting woken up by Gemma smacking a pillow across his face because “Mum says it’s your turn to take the trash out.”

Harry loved his boys, and they were as much a family to him as his actual relatives were, but he missed home. The ache was always there, however it was usually distant and easy enough for Harry to distract himself from by playing a round of FIFA with Niall or cuddling up next to Louis (sometimes he even got away with doing both simultaneously, despite the dramatic eyerolls from Liam and teasing from Niall and Zayn). 

Sometimes, though, the longing overtook him. It was always at night, when everyone else was asleep and Harry was left alone with his thoughts, too polite to wake any of the boys up, including his own boyfriend. Though he knew Louis would be more than willing to comfort him, Harry could never bring himself to wake Louis at times like this. He felt selfish, and almost humiliated at the thought. What 19-year-old needed to be held in the middle of the night because he missed his mum? It was childish. 

Not that he thought Louis would judge him for it. Harry was well aware that Louis got his own bouts of homesickness, as Harry had been the one to stay up with him and run his fingers through his hair, rocking him back and forth as he struggled to find the words to express how he felt. But it made sense for Louis to miss home. He had little sisters that he had been taking care of for years, and he wasn’t used to not knowing what was going on with them. He was missing so many of their firsts, things that Louis had been waiting to experience for so long. But Harry was just a pathetic little kid whining for his mum. It wasn’t the same. 

Frustrated, Harry finally forced himself out of his bunk and walked into the small kitchen on the bus. He searched for his phone in the dark, which had been plugged in on the cluttered countertop. He looked at the time, half-past three in the morning. His mum should be awake by now at home. Would it make it worse to give her a call? Or would hearing her voice be the one thing Harry needed to put himself at ease?

Without any other options, Harry rang her. 

No answer. 

When the call went to voicemail, the lump that Harry hadn’t yet noticed in his throat grew. He coughed lightly, willing it to go away, before the beep sounded indicating he could leave his message.

“Hi, Mum,” he said weakly into the phone, his voice thick from fatigue and disappointment. “I-it’s Harry. Well, you knew that. Um, anyways.” He let out a short laugh that caught in his throat and threatened to turn into a sob. It was much louder than he intended, but he hoped no one had heard. “I just, I wanted to tell you that I miss you and Gem, a lot, and, uh, I-I’m sorry I haven’t gotten the chance to call in the last few days.” He spoke slowly, careful to make sure he was forming coherent sentences because he was beyond tired and it was difficult for his brain to fully process what he was saying. Tears threatened to spill out from his eyes, and he was sure the slight quiver in his voice would give it away when his mum listened back to the voicemail. “I’m going to try and get some sleep, but give me a call when you can later on today. If you get the chance to talk to Gemma before me, ask her to call me, okay?” He sniffed, and he knew that there was no point in hiding the obvious pain in his voice anymore. “Love you, Mum. See you soon.” His voice shook at that last sentence, and it took everything in him to hold in his sob until he had hung up.

As soon as he set his phone down, he collapsed to the ground. He clutched at his stomach and tried his hardest to bury his face into his knees as an attempt to muffle the sounds of his cries. It must not have worked as well as he thought (or maybe Louis just had a sixth sense to know when Harry needed him), because almost as soon as Harry’s butt hit the ground, Louis came shuffling down the hall to see what was the matter. 

Harry heard the unmistakable sound of Louis’ footsteps getting closer, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up. He didn’t want to see the look of pity that was sure to be on Louis’ face, he already felt embarrassed enough. Harry wanted to hang on to what little bit of dignity he had left. 

“Oh, Haz,” Louis murmured, sinking down next to Harry on the floor and surrounding him with his arms. Harry buried his face into Louis’ neck instinctively and let himself sob into his shoulder, dignity be damned. 

Harry didn’t even want to think about what a mess he probably looked, tears and snot running down his face and soaking into the soft cotton of Louis’ shirt. Harry knew Louis couldn’t give two fucks about him ruining his cheap shirt, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit bad.

Louis scratched at Harry’s back as he continued to shake with sobs. The noise was starting to die down a bit, but only because Harry couldn’t breathe enough to get anything out other than a few wheezes. His head began to go dizzy from the lack of oxygen, which Louis must have been able to sense.

“Love, you have to take a few deep breaths,” Louis whispered into Harry’s ear, grabbing his face with both of his hands and rubbing at his still shut eyes with his thumbs. “For me, please?” 

At that, Harry managed to open his eyes for the first time since he’d hung up the phone. His vision was blurred, but even through the tears he could tell that Louis was extremely worried. After a minute or so of Louis softly repeating, “In-two-three, out-two-three,” Harry was able to get his breathing somewhat back to normal.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing Harry said when he was able to form words again. His voice shook as tears that he had been too lazy to wipe away collected at the corners of his mouth. Louis kissed them away. 

Against Harry’s mouth, Louis whispered, “Sorry for what?” 

Despite every part of him telling him not to, Harry pulled away from Louis’ mouth and looked him in the eyes for the first time. Louis’ hands remained on either side of Harry’s face, gently wiping each tear as they continued to fall from his eyes. He sniffed. “For waking you up.”

“You didn’t,” Louis responded instantly.

“Don’t lie.”

Louis sighed, staring into Harry’s eyes and searching for something, though Harry wasn’t sure what. “I’d been awake for a while,” he admitted. “I could tell from your breathing that you weren’t asleep.”

“That’s kind of creepy.” Harry laughed, which surprised him a bit. Louis smiled and leaned in to peck him on the cheek.  

“What can I say? I’m sort of obsessed with you.” Harry allowed his lips to turn up into a slight smile, but didn’t say anything because he could tell Louis wanted to say more. Louis took a breath, the gentle smile on his face fading into something of concern. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Harry thought about it. He did want to talk about it. But what would he even say? Anything he thought of saying just sounded pathetic. He didn’t want to sound ungrateful for the life he’s living. It’s all he’s ever dreamed of--getting to perform with his three best friends and the love of his life, to fans who loved them for who they were and not for their looks or the fake personas forced upon them by the media. It was a lot to process sometimes, but it was all amazing. 

But he missed the simpler parts of his life, from before any of this ever took off. He missed lazy mornings spent watching cartoons with his sister that they were both much too old to admit they enjoyed. He missed making trips to the grocery store and running into people he knew who actually wanted to talk to him, not just scream and take a few pictures. And, most of all, he missed being able to curl up in his mum’s lap and let her play with his hair like when he was younger. He missed the quick kiss on the cheek she would give him before leaving for school, and the notes she’d pack in his lunch that he pretended to be embarrassed by but secretly kept tucked away in a little shoebox under his bed. 

But how was Harry supposed to articulate all of that at nearly four in the morning, with his foggy brain and head that was inches away from falling limply to rest on Louis’ shoulder so he could rest? 

“Don’t know how,” Harry finally responded, looking down at his hands that had somehow found their way to clutch the material of Louis’ shirt. 

As if Louis could read Harry’s mind, he untangled himself from Harry’s limbs and stood up from the floor, holding his hand out for Harry to take, then said, “Wanna get some sleep and talk about it in the morning?” Harry just nodded before taking Louis’ outstretched hand and using it to pull himself up.

Louis began to lead Harry back to their respective bunks, but Harry hesitated before they could make it much farther than a few steps. Louis turned to face Harry and stepped closer to him, not letting go of his hand in the process. 

“What is it, love?”

Harry chewed at his bottom lip, oddly nervous to ask for something that they had done countless times before. He looked down at their clasped hands and rubbed his thumb along the smooth stretch of skin across Louis’ knuckles. Finally, looking up at Louis through his lashes, he managed to speak. 

“Will you sleep with me?” It came out as barely more than a whisper, Harry’s lips hardly moving as he spoke. He wasn’t sure why he had been so scared to ask--they’d done much more together, after all--but something about Harry’s fragile mental state made it difficult to force the words from his lips. 

It’d been longer than they both liked since they’d last gotten to properly sleep together. They tried to limit it to only when they were in hotels, because as much as Harry loved Louis, he also loved having enough room to spread out in bed and that just wasn’t possible with both of them in one of those tour bus bunks. But Harry couldn’t care less about that tonight. He just needed to be held. 

Louis reached up on his toes to place a kiss on Harry’s forehead, a task that would have been much easier less than a year ago, but somehow Harry had managed to grow taller than him without Louis even noticing. “Of course.” 

Instead of attempting to squeeze both of them into one of their tiny bunks, Louis just grabbed a few blankets from his bed and pulled Harry to the couch at the back of the bus. It was still rather small and they would definitely both have sore backs the next morning from sleeping on the stiff cushions, but they didn’t mind. 

Louis gently wrapped one of the blankets around Harry’s shoulders and pulled him down onto the couch. He fit his arms around Harry’s torso and settled so his lips were right behind the younger boy’s ear. Harry easily settled into the weight of Louis surrounding him, loving the way Louis’ breath tickled his neck. A leg came and swung itself over Harry’s hip, and Louis shifted to breathe in the smell of his hair as he pulled Harry impossibly closer.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” Harry didn’t really mean to say it out loud, but it slipped out of his mouth before he even realized it had happened, the words barely more than a whisper but enough that Louis heard. 

“Harry…” Louis breathed, lifting himself up on one arm so he could look down at the younger boy. Harry turned his head to meet Louis’ gaze. Louis brought a hand up to tuck a stray curl behind Harry’s ear, then leaned in close so their noses almost touched. “You didn’t have to do anything. Just existing was enough.” 

Not knowing what to say, Harry just reached up and closed the distance between him and Louis, their lips fitting together perfectly. It was a slow, patient kiss. Their lips moved in sync, just as they always did, and it was comforting. Louis’ hand moved to caress Harry’s cheek before he pulled away. Harry watched as Louis’ eyes roamed around his face, as if he were attempting to memorize every feature. The corners of Louis’ mouth pulled up into a soft smile when their eyes finally met, and Harry felt his heart flutter. Three years, and he still had that effect on him. Harry wondered if it would ever go away. 

He hoped not. 

“Are you feeling any better?” Louis asked, breaking the silence. 

Harry hesitated for a moment, then nodded slightly. “A bit, yeah.” 

Louis bent down to leave a peck on the tip of Harry’s nose. “Good, that’s good. Y’know, Haz, you can talk to me about this kind of stuff, okay? I know what it’s like to miss home, and you know that. And I hate the thought of you hurting on your own.”

“I know, Louis, I do. I just, I don’t know, I feel annoying bothering you with stuff like that. Makes me feel like a burden.” The last part came out mumbled, but Louis understood. 

“You’ll never be a burden, Harry.” 

“I know, I just--shit.” Harry dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, tears blurring his vision once again. He couldn’t help but laugh pathetically at himself. Harry kept his hands over his eyes as he spoke. “Can we just talk about it in the morning? It’s too much for me right now.” 

Harry could tell Louis didn’t want to wait, and it was understandable. If Harry were in Louis’ position, he’d feel the same. But Louis knew not to push it. “Sure, love.” 

Harry waited for Louis to move back to laying down behind him, but instead he felt Louis tugging gently at Harry’s wrists. Reluctantly, Harry moved his hands away from his eyes.

Once Louis had Harry’s eyes locked on him, he said, “I love you. And I’m here. Always will be. You know that, right?”

Harry nodded. “Of course I do.”

“Good.” 

“I love you, too. So much, Louis.”

“I know.”

Finally, Louis settled back down into their previous position, his left hand finding Harry’s and tangling their fingers together. 

Harry brought both of their hands up to his lips and placed a kiss on Louis’ knuckles. After just a few minutes, Louis’ breathing evened out and his limbs hung heavily over Harry’s figure. Harry felt himself relax more than he’d been able to at all in the past few weeks against Louis’ sleeping body.

Maybe this was home.

reblogs/comments are appreciated!!

[kingsten]

Thuong. ( @cir for Peter.6 times Peter doesn’t finish his meal but one time he does. ) word prompt. “To love tenderly— a deep and sincere notion of fondness and care between family members, friends, or lovers.” 

1— CAFE DES DEUX MOULINS, PARIS— NOON “Here you are, toasts, champignons et oeufs pochés. Tell me, how was my pronunciation this time? Better?” Brian makes light conversation with a smile while he gives Peter time to clear space on the table in front of himself in order to set down the plate. Peter isn’t his most talkative regular but if there’s one thing Brian is self confident in, it’s his ability to outwait another person and abundance of patience when it comes to working towards getting them to open up to him. It’s amusing to him, cute even the way Peter likes to elude his numerous attempts at small talk and yet he keeps coming back, and as long as he’s in his usual booth at 11:16 AM then so will new questions await him. 

“Nothing to correct.... much better than yesterday.” Peter’s voice is quiet in contrast but his words makes Brian grin widely, and with satisfied look on his face he moves on to attend to the other customers. Later, when he returns to collect the dishes and payment his expression shifts to something akin to a mix of displeasure and confusion. He begins to clear the table, pausing when he picks up the half eaten plate of food.  

“What?” Peter sips on his drink, eying Brian who is hesitant to speak. 

“Was the food not to your liking because if it was overcooked or something then I can get the chef to remake the order...” After a moment’s silence and a gesture to the kitchen Brian adds, “I can even get you something else. No extra charge.” Peter shakes his head then rests his chin in his hand. He looks at Brian in a way that makes him feel a tiny bit shy, like he can read him or knows some secret to the universe that Brian isn’t in on but replies with a simple. “It was nice, Brian. I liked it.” 

Brian wants to ask then why did you only eat half and why is it that every day, no matter what he orders all the meal receive the same treatment even though Peter supposedly likes the food. When Peter begins to pack up, he lets it go and takes the plate away.

2— RUE MONTORGUEIL, PARIS— MORNING They’re friends now. Well, in Brian’s way of thinking he considers Peter a close friend of his. However, he couldn’t possibly say if the feeling is mutual but Peter doesn’t complain as much as he used to before whenever Brian would show up unannounced, invite himself over to his place or drag Peter to some new destination. It’s a good sign that they’re making progress in their friendship. Even though in reality Peter let’s him do whatever he wants and just goes along for the ride.

So what is today’s adventure? Tackling Rue Montorgueil in pursuit of fresh produce and other groceries. Another advantage of having Peter around is his ability to haggle with venders that try to sell Brian overprice fruits, and veggies. It’s a skill that Brian. with admiration, watches as an exchange happens between Peter and a vender who insists his prices are fair. It’s almost an art the way Peter shakes his head, maintains his position and argues until the price is brought down to a reasonable price. He’s so good at it that Jae made it an unofficial rule in the house that Brian isn’t allowed to do any of the weekly shopping unless Peter is with him. 

And it’s a rule that Brian is more than happy to abide by.

So, with fruits and vegetables in one bag and various cheeses, crackers, and cuts of meat and fish in the other Brian talks idly to Peter while on their walk home. Eating a peach, he chats about a number of topics such as the fact he likes Kate’s idea of starting an herb garden in the kitchen window sill but is dismayed to find out from Peter that Jae has a habit of killing every green thing he touches. The air is crisp. It’s somewhere between fall leaning towards winter where a long sleeve will suffice or a light jacket. It’s a pleasant walk home.

Peter has a peach too that he’s taken a bite out of but otherwise just holds it. And this does not escape Brian’s attention but he figures it’s because they’re actually talking, as in really talking. He says something and Peter does more than listen: He replies back, he laughs, he pouts, but most important is that he opens up and shows off his personality little by little. And Brian loves it — though he credits this change to Jae who acts more like Peter’s older brother than he does his cousin. The two bicker all the time, it’s funny the way they both seem to go out of their way to annoy one another. 

“Do you have cousins you’re close to?” Peter asks, rebalancing the bag he’s carrying with one hand. Brian blinks, surprised by the change in direction to him and his own family. He shakes his head slowly. 

“No. Actually I’m jealous of you and Jae.” Brian shrugs, as he tosses the pit into a trash can they pass. “All my cousins are either in South Korea or scattered amongst various parts of the US and Canada. I think I even have an aunt in New Zealand if I remember correctly— do you not like the peach?” Brian stops when he catches Peter hovering over a trash can posed to toss his peach but hands it over when Brian holds out his hand. 

“We bought loads of stuff. Crackers, plums, erm.... hmm grapes?” And Brian wonders maybe Peter likes snacks that don’t require much commitment such as berries or nuts. Something he can pick at and eat in small doses but Peter declines everything he offers, even the bread which makes Brian narrow his eyes in a quizzical way. “You don’t eat much.” He comments to which Peter laughs and replies with “I’m still full off breakfast.” 

Brian bites into the peach and nods, thoroughly unconvinced by that statement. “Uh-huh.” He saw what Peter was picking at that morning when he came by to pick him up. Needless to say, he was not impressed. “Oatmeal... is very filling.” Brian gives Peter a once over then returns to walking in silence until his phone rings. It’s Angelina, calling to ask where they are because she wants to know if the money she pitched in for groceries was all spent.

3— TAXI CAB, PARIS— NIGHT “I’m sorry. I, I’m sorry. You’re so nice. I’m sorry.” Peter slurs, drunkenly pushing away from Brian to wipe at his eyes with the sleeves on the back of his hand almost like a child that is scared of receiving a lecture. Brian is a bit tipsy himself but nowhere near the same level as Peter who he suspects was drunk after the first glass of wine.

Regardless, he defiantly was slammed by the third glass which makes Brian feel a tiny bit bad. It was his brilliant idea to bring Peter to a wine tasting party but when he tries to articulate that maybe he should’ve just asked Kate instead or even went alone with Jae he’s cut off by having to grab Peter to keep him from losing his balance all together when they get into the cab. Jae laughs, not worried in the least and pats the top of the car. “Get him home safe, Bri.” he says, then shuts the door for them. And Brian waves as him and the girls. The minute the taxi pulls away from the curb Peter clings to him and stays like that the duration of the ride to his apartment. 

Brian doesn’t mind and basks in the proximity, knowing Peter would never grant him such a luxury sober. And it’s nice, even though Brian keeps his hands to himself, awkwardly kept tucked in his lap. He can feel the steady raise and fall of his chest and how warm Peter’s breath is against his neck. Peter hugs him closer and the only coherent train of thought Brian can form is that he’s so glad he picked tonight to wear a hoodie rather than the usual denim jacket. The hoodie’s material is soft enough for Peter to fall asleep on without discomfort. The softness of his hair tickles Brian’s cheek and he can smell his shampoo or conditioner, perhaps aftershave? A combination of all three more than likely. Whatever it is that he uses, it’s nice.

“I’m sorry.” Peter half awake and half asleep slurs again, surprising Brian. The words are muffled but heated against Brian’s neck and it makes him swallow deep but thankfully the taxi pulls to a gentle stop outside Peter’s apartment. Brian moves, putting his hands on Peter’s shoulder to pushes him to sit up just enough to look him in the eye. “It’s my fault. I should’ve made you eat something before.” He reassures, smiling but feeling a little sad that the moment is over but at least he has the memory of being this close to hold onto. “Come on, let’s get you inside and put you to bed.”

4— BRIAN AND PETER’S FIRST APARTMENT, US— SOMETIME AROUND BRUNCH Brian leans against the countertop: blonde hair a mess, shirtless as he takes a bite out of a  carrot stick. Peter is quiet (he usually is after just waking up) as he preps food. Brian observes him in silence and though he enjoys the sight of his boyfriend wearing nothing but his t-shirt which fits big on him and falls to thighs he can’t help but wonder... where on earth did Peter learn to cook like this?

This is where Brian makes the connection that perhaps this is why Peter never seems to finish his food. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have much experience in the kitchen. A weird concept to Brian given in his family food is an expression of love and he wonders if Peter’s mom ever cut up fruit for him or took special care to pack him lunches she cooked that morning before he was even awake like Brian’s mom used to— he continues to chew thoughtfully when Peter starts chopping green onion, slowly and carefully and it’s just not efficient but it’s more amusing than anything. 

“Ok, here, let me.” Brian finally intervenes when Peter starts to peel the garlic. He gets off the counter and moves to stand behind him and takes the clove from Peter’s fingers and uses the kitchen knife to cut off the tip then uses the flat side to crush it flat against the cutting board. It detaches from the peel fairly easily after that but Brian figures he’s already here and goes ahead and minces the garlic then sets the knife aside. “Show off.” Peter murmurs, complaining that Brian should cook instead but Brian shakes his head and snakes his arms around Peter’s middle to hold him close and the only help he contributes after that is by cooing over how cute Peter is when he cooks. 

5— MARINA GREEN PARK, SAN FRANSISCO— AFTERNOON "You.” Brian points at Peter with his fork then at the several boxes of food between them, “do not eat nearly enough.” Even though Brian’s face is blank, eyes hidden and obscured behind a pair of dark sunglasses there’s an unmistakable edge to his voice, throwing a quick glance at the food. All of which Peter had picked out, and all of which Peter is now ignoring and it’s slightly irritating to Brian today.

“And you...” Peter picks at his jacket— well, technically Brian’s since Peter doesn’t make a habit of wearing jean jackets but he gets cold easily and even in San Francisco on a sunny day such as this it gets a bit chilly the nearer you are to the sea. Peter is not interested in starting a fight but also not one to sit back and allow Brian to accuse him much less, talk to him with that tone of voice without retaliation finishes his response with a warning tone of voice. One that advises his boyfriend to drop the subject: “You always say that.”    

“Yeah well, I always mean it too.” Brian bites back, uncapping a bottle of water and downing half its contents.

Ok, so the food they’ve been eating while on tour isn’t five star gourmet and he should be thankful that today they get to eat in the park, in fresh air on a blanket on a nice day but his cabin fever has become a state of mind. What’s making him irritable is the fact that he’s bored of San Francisco. The first three days the band played at a local festival was fun in it’s own way. Jae and the rest of the band enjoyed it. Brian thought the music was too poppy or daft-punkish for his liking but there were a few indie acts that were bearable. And the four days after that were nice, getting to sleep in a real bed and eat something green and not takeout or fast food for once was a treat but it’s been two weeks, going on three now and he’s ready to move on. Though he’s certain Peter feels the opposite.

“Here.” 

Brian is pulled from his thoughts and turns to see Peter is holding out a chocolate covered strawberry to him. Immediately, he feels guilty about his outburst earlier but rather than accept the peace offering and apologize he shakes his head and resumes his sulking. Peter scoots closer and tries again, evidently annoyed too but adds. “Who doesn’t finish their food now?” Which is a dig enough to make Brian give him a look that is lost behind dark shades, and he tries to grab the strawberry. Peter is quick to hold it out of his reach with a stern “No.” 

Brian blinks, confused then it clicks what Peter wants. He rolls his eyes then opens his mouth and allows him to feed it to him. After he takes a bite Peter eats one too and they sit in silence, chewing until their moods lift a little and Peter is the one to break the silence. “I think. I understand you better now.” He says, feeding Brian another strawberry. 

“Oh?” Brian asks, starting to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand until Peter hands him a napkin. Peter flicks a crumb of chocolate off his pants then says, “You use food as a way to take care of people.” Brian stops chewing and it makes sense when he thinks about it but before he can add a comment of his own. Peter continues. “And I think that’s why it bothers you that I don’t finish my meals.”  

 Later, when Brain thinks about it in more and even dares to ask Jae for his two cents on the idea. Jae confirms Peter’s idea. 

“Yeah man. It’s sort of how you communicate that you care. Words like ‘have you eaten?’ or ‘finish your food.’ I think it’s like, your way of saying I love you.

6— TOM’S APARTMENT, LA— NIGHT Brian gestures for Peter to come closer which Peter, who is mad at him, bluntly ignores and shows complete disinterest in whatever Brian is planning. Instead, he stays seated on his side of Joonmyun’s coffee table and watches the tv. There’s some Star Wars movie playing, or maybe one its series. Brian laughs from the other side then gestures again. “Babe, come here. Please? I have something for you.”

Peter remains firmly planted right where he is, chewing on the plastic of his fork rather than eat from the half-empty takeout box in front of him but he’s at least acknowledging Brian now as he regards him with newfound interest. Curious and very much skeptical about what he could possibly have since he’s empty handed and unless he’s hiding another plane ticket under his shirt or in the thin pockets of his pants Peter’s at a complete loss as to what he has or is planning.

“Please?”

Peter rolls his eyes before he puts the fork down and scoots to sit close enough so that their knees are touching and his eyes search Brian’s. Mostly skeptical but Brian leans in to steal a small kiss which makes him freeze at first but it’s been a long time since they last kissed. Peter sighs, and slowly allows himself to kiss back. It’s not hard to allow himself to melt, it’s familiar and he’s missed this but just as they’re building a steady momentum it’s over just like that.

Peter clearly expects another and his eyes remain shut and his head tilted for a moment or two even after Brian pulls away. When he does open his eyes, Brian is already back to eating his own food.

“Is that it?” Peter’s voice is slightly raised along with his brows.

“If you finish your food then I’ll kiss you some more.” Brian says casually before shoving a large amount of food into his mouth that if it were anyone else it would be considered a choking hazard.

Peter lets out a tsk of disbelief, butterflies still in his stomach yet ready to argue. Brian, after he swallows, cuts him off with a curt “but only if you finish.” then smiles when Peter rolls his eyes and pouts. It doesn’t take long for Brian to finish then he starts to clear away his trash and tosses it into the trashcan in the kitchen but Peter remains seated by the coffee table and pokes around his takeout with a pout. Bey, Mikoto’s corgi is seated next to him and watches him eat in small bites with pleading eyes. It’s not a bad idea... he could just give the rest to the dog and Peter almost considers caving in but Brian comes back, takes a seat next to them and picks Bey up and watches tv.

Sulking, Peter takes another bite then offers the rest to Brian as he usually does. Old habits die hard but Brian shakes his head and pushes the box away with two fingers. “Technically that’s cheating.” Brian murmurs, scrunching his nose at Peter as he turns away from the tv to look at him. It’s weird not knowing exactly where they are in terms of relationships and if he even has the right to call him boyfriend or if Peter even likes him anymore because sometimes he can feel so distant and impossible to read but they both know one thing is for sure when Brian says, “Finish your food, babe.” 

Peter hides a small smile then he picks up the takeout box, and finishes his food.

[angrylizardjacket]

Run to Paradise {Nikki Sixx} Part 14

14. you’re the only thing that’s making any sense to me

Chapter Summary: domestic moments, the band gets a record deal and everyone’s celebrating in the way they best know now

Warnings: nsfw big time but not full smut, drinking, drugs, had a breakdown from dan howell’s new video in the middle of writing this and i have work in 3 hours (it’s 6am) this goes a lot of places and also seemingly does nothing. please feedback?? highkey moments for all of lola/mc, and poly!lola is officially being established

ragtag bunch of misfits: @starlalove @obsessivesky @lovehelpmewrite@colsons-crue @marvelismylifffe @lilytalebi @glitterdreamsz @freddiessmallnipples @crazysaladchopshop @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies @dramatique-moi @missqueeniewrites @calspixie @aryssav @catsoo12 @sweetshutter @silvertonguedserpent @shamelessobsessions @lavenderbones22 @keepcalm-and-beyou @scarecrowmax @nicholeh7

{masterlist}

Lola's the one who organises the meeting for them, though she doesn't go; she's their assistant, but this is a band decision, and besides, she was covering a shift at the hotel and couldn't make it even if she'd wanted to.

Instead, she wakes at about noon to the sound her alarm, shoving Nikki where he grumbles about it, and climbs over him to shut off the alarm and start getting read. It's the fourth one she's had in as many months, since both she and Nikki have a habit of tossing it across the room in favour of getting up. She searches for the cleanest uniform she can manage amid the grubby chaos of their bedroom.

"Don't forget; meeting at the Rainbow after practice," she tells the still mostly asleep bassist, dropping  quick kiss on his cheek before she's carrying her pile of clothes to the bathroom.

"Vince!" She kicks at the door of the spare room where Vince has been staying since Beth had kicked him out of her place. Vince, who's got a marginally more coherent sleep schedule, pulls the door open, wearing sweat pants holding a copy of Rolling Stone that looked like it had been set alight at one point.

"Any particular reason you're out here screamin' your head off?" He asks, leaning against the doorframe, taking a moment to appreciate her soft, unguarded state in the midday light. Lola steps up to him, kissing him softly in greeting.

"You've got a meeting after rehearsals, it's at the Rainbow; don't let Nikki forget." Much softer this time, Lola reminds him about Elektra, and steps out of his space before he can wrap his arms around her like is often want to do. At his pout, she laughs, turning on her heel, "I've got work." Is her only explanation, but Vince just snickers and heads back to lounge on the bed until Nikki decided to wake up.

When she's done showering and dressed, Lola makes two calls; Mick and Tommy. If nothing else, she at least tries to earn her title of assistant. Her hair's up in a towel and she's got the kettle on when Mick answers. It's brief, and he thanks her for the reminder, lets her know he'll be around at four, and they hang up.

When she calls Tommy, his sister answers.

"Hey Athena, it's Lola, is Tommy awake?" Lola asks, voice kind, and the girl on the other end of the line covers the receiver before shouting the drummer's name through the house. After a beat, Lola can hear the faint mumbling of someone, not Tommy, probably a parent, scolding her. Athena then uncovers the receiver.

"He's on his way," she says, and sounds weirdly smug. There's a beat of time where Lola assumes Tommy's making his way to the phone, and Athena asks when the band will play somewhere she can go watch, somewhere she can actually meet Lola; "come on, he won't shut up about you, I mean you and the band but I've met the band-"

"Who is it?" Tommy's voice is faint over the other end of the line, and Lola can feel herself blush just a little at his sister's words.

"Lola~" Athena all but sings, and there's some sharp noises, line the phone's being roughly grabbed, and a muffled shout, like someone's got their hand over the receiver, probably Tommy as his voice is far closer as he tells Athena she's annoying. Lola can't help her grin through the whole altercation.

"Sorry about her," Tommy breathes once he's got the phone to his ear, "what's up?"

"Don't apologise for her, it's cute; do really talk about me and the band that much?"

"'Thena, you're dead," Tommy doesn't even bother to cover the receiver this time, though his voice is dampened like he's shouting over his shoulder. Lola just laughs.

"Don't worry about it, dude, I just called to remind you about practice, and your meeting tonight," Lola tells him, holding the phone between her ear and shoulder as she unwraps her hair from it's towel, throwing the towel over the arm of the sofa, leaning against the wall where the phone was connected.

"Oh hell yeah! Awesome!" Tommy's mood shifts immediate, and something tightens in Lola's chest to be able hear the smile in his voice. "Four, right? I'll be there."

"Well alright, babes, I gotta finish getting ready for work, good luck for tonight-"

"You're not gonna be there?" He actually sounded disappointed, and Lola couldn't help her fond smile. Though he couldn't see it, he could hear it when she spoke.

"I'm working a double, covering for one of my casuals," she paused, "but I finish at ten, if you're still around after that we can see who's playing; I think Sucker Puns is playing the Starwood." And he's agreeing quick, joyous and bright, quick to wish her a good afternoon, and then they're saying their goodbyes and hanging up. The kettle finishes boiling.

Lola's pouring milk into her coffee when Vince joins her in the kitchen, now changed into a white singlet and a pair of brightly coloured shorts, making a beeline for the fridge.

"Could you grab me the Easy Cheese while you're in there?" She asks, capping the milk and handing it over, pointedly ignoring Vince's look of disgust at the bottle of cheese he hands her, swapping it for the milk, which he puts away. Lola's already turned away from him, picking through the bread to find a slice without mold and throwing away the other two she had to go past to find it.

"How do you stand that shit? No cheese is actually that colour," Vince frowns as she sprays an upsetting amount of incredibly processed, orange cheese spread onto the single piece of bread.

"I don't know a lot about cheese," Lola starts, carefully folding the bread in half, taking a big bite and turning to Vince, leaning against the counter; he looks a little horrified, there's cheese almost leaking from the bread, "but I feel like, in my heart, you're wrong," Lola tells him, mouth full of bread and cheese sauce, "besides, it's my dad's favourite-" she took another bite, "so don't be a dick." Though that's mostly unintelligable.

After a long, drawn out pause, they both break out into laughter, Lola with a hand over her mouth to keep from spitting food, but she's quick to finish, and wash it down, gulping down half her coffee in one go.

"Your food habits fuckin' horrify me, you know that?" But Vince is smiling as he steps up to her, wrapping his arms around her where she's leaning against the counter, holding her coffee to her chest. "Nikki living off of hotdogs and whiskey and pills, I can deal with that shit, but you-" he shakes his head, laughing.

"Cheese is good, Vince," Lola fires back, taking another sip of coffee, before reaching back to put the cup on the bench, "and it's cheap; the less I spend on food, the more I can put towards booze and other stuff, you know." Vince's smile is exasperated but somehow endeared, and he reaches up to scratch at her scalp with one of his hands. Lola leans into it, watching him.

"You could be a millionaire and still be downing that plastic, orange shit like it was water," he snickers, though there's no malice behind it, and Lola gives him a gentle shove.

"You gonna kiss me or are you afraid it's gonna taste like cheese?"

He smirks at her like it's a challenge, leaning in and pressing a single, chaste kiss to her lips, something warm and surprisingly tender about it, but then his hands are ghosting down her sides until he's pushing her obnoxious work skirt up, hands on her thighs. By the time he's got his hands on her ass, he raises a single, questioning eyebrow at her. Lola steps her feet apart, never breaking eye contact, still smiling as Vince sinks to his knees. Lola's laugh is low and heady, tipping her head back, and she leans further back on her hands on the counter, all thoughts of the frivolous argument leaving her head.

"I don't have a lot of time, Vin."

"I don't need a lot of time," and she can feel him grinning at his own cockiness as he presses a kiss to the stretch marks along her inner thighs.

Moments like this with this, passing interactions, beats of domestic familiarity, are becoming a far more regular occurrence. Not just with Vince, who throws around casual contact like it's nothing - and hadn't that been strange at first, for the girl who was so used to keeping painfully discrete for fear of jealous girlfriends or groupies - but it's as if everything's shifted. Perhaps it's having someone around who didn't hesitate to reach out, to make contact even with other people around, that made Lola feel more comfortable reaching out to Nikki too. And, of course, Tommy. Even Mick, at times, though that was far more platonic, but he, at the very least, seemed to enjoy her company. He'd even taking to wrapping an arm around her shoulders when he wanted to discuss something about the setup or pack down; a vast improvement from the guy who didn't want her around to begin with.

Lola doesn't think about it too much, because if she does she starts to grin, blushy and unrestrained and completely against the image she's cultivated for herself. It's not really anything serious, they all still have lives, and they all still have groupies, in a manner of speaking, but it makes her happy in ways she can't quite articulate.

They're in her thoughts for her full nine hour shift. Every smoke break she takes she considers how long it would take to run to the Rainbow, but ultimately decides that it would ruin her look to show up in her work uniform. The casual she was covering for had been part of the housekeeping staff, and Lola hadn't been a housekeeper for so long, she forgets how much she hated it, and how disgusting people were, which was saying something considering who she lived with.

By eight, she's flagging and ready to head home, and by ten, she's really half-assing everything, though she knows she can get away with it. When she clocks out, she practically runs the six blocks home. It's not a short distance, but it's habit more than anything else, and when she drags the window open and climbs inside, remembering how Nikki had nailed the door shut after the last party had brought the cops and left the lock ineffective, Tommy's the only one there. He looks about ready to burst with excitement.

"Did it go-"

"They gave us a fucking record deal!" He yells, and Lola, not one to be underdone, matches his energy, actually screams, and practically launches herself at the drummer. Managing to wrap herself around him like a koala, he stumbles back from the force, glad for the sofa behind him as they both go crashing down.

"Fuck yeah! Hell yeah! Fuck yeah you got a record deal!" Lola's babbling, leaning back and taking Tommy's face in her hands where she's sitting in his lap. She's beaming, positively glowing with enthusiasm, and Tommy's right alongside her, tapping at her thighs, grinning up at her. "I'm so proud, I'm so fucking-" but she cuts herself off, can't help herself, kisses him hard, letting go of his face to fist her hands in the collar of his shirt, as if desperate to be as close as possible.

But then she's leaning back, eyes wide, mouth moving a mile a minute.

"I'm still in my uniform, fuck, I- where's the others? Are they out celebrating- lemme get changed-" She rattled off, a frown slowly creasing her forehead, and Tommy leaned back into the sofa, laughing.

"Oh, dude we are absolutely going and getting completely fuckin' blitzed tonight, but there's no rush; the guys are at the Starwood." He adds, and Lola takes a deep breath, taking the moment to calm down, to recenter herself. His hands are so steady and warm where they're resting atop her thighs, and he's grinning, because of course he is, because he's Tommy and he's busting at the seams with excitement at any given moment, but he can still reel it back to let Lola breath, and something about that makes Lola's heart warm.

"You're a fucking rockstar," she murmurs, leaning forward again, and something about how she's looking at him, the glint in her eyes and the way she wets her lips, Tommy never wants this moment to end.

"Yeah," he agrees quietly, "fuck, it doesn't feel real, you know?"

"No other band on The Strip works half as hard," Lola drags the nails of her left hand so gently up the side of his throat, to hold his jaw in one hand, and he leans into it, hums in agreement as she murmurs reverentially, before pressing a kiss to his jaw, "or deserves it half as much."

"Fuck, Lols-" he groans, his grip on her getting tighter, and Lola hums in acknowledgement, but presses a kiss to his throat, "fuck, you just-" but he cuts himself off, and Lola sits back a little, watching with confusion.

"I'm so proud of you, dude, I just- I want to show you, want to-"

And it's like a switch has been flipped in his mind, like he remembers the whole conversation they'd had just a few days ago, like he remembers that he's allowed to want her like this. He surges forwards and crushes his lips to hers, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of her work shirt.

It's awkward at first, fumbling with clothes, and quietly adoring laughter when Tommy grimaces at the state of the sofa, but then Lola's in her underwear, straddling his thighs, kissing him like it's her mission in life, and his hand moves between her legs, and they find a way to fit together. They find themselves a rhythm and it feels right.

They fuck on the sofa, and then again in the bedroom when Lola goes to get changed, and she lets him lead. She's tentative, doesn't want to go too hard or too rough, doesn't want to hold on too tight lest he run the moment she lets go. But his curses sound like prayers, and his nails sting so good where he's holding her hips, and she can't help herself. She scrapes her nails hard up his back, and the sensation has him shivering and groaning, arching into her, and she bites his shoulder to muffle her own moans.

Lola's not in her usual 'going out' attire, settling for a pair of jeans and t-shirt she'd picked up off the floor. As she goes to leave the apartment, however, Tommy, who's grinning like the Cheshire Cat and smelling like sweat and sex and hairspray, offer his hand. Tentatively, she takes it, not quite sure what was happening, and surprised when he doesn't let go. Hand in hand, they head to the Starwood. They both just chat excitedly about the record deal, they talk about what actually happened at the meeting, and not about what just happened, and not about whatever it is that was currently happening.

All three of the other band members, as well as a very awkward Tom Zutaut, were all at the bar, and all cheered when Lola and Tommy showed up. They dropped hands automatically, but neither seemed to mind. While Tommy ordered a drink, Lola made a beeline for Zutaut.

"You made the right choice," she told him with a sudden, unwavering seriousness. Zutaut smiled, but didn't seem nearly as intimidated as the first time he met her.

"I like to hope so," he laughed a little, "so how do you know these guys? Do you just work for them or were you friends- ?"

"I've lived with Nikki for years." She answers honestly, half smiling, and that seemed to unnerve him out more than anything else. The woman turned abruptly to face the bassist, who had discretely been watching the interaction, and her whole expression lit up.

"I heard a rumour that we're getting shitfaced tonight," Lola grins sharply, making her way to him, letting him wrap an arm around her, opening his leather jacket to indicate the bag of white powder tucked away from the public eyes.

"If I remember any of tonight that isn't me signin' a fuckin' record contract, I'm gonna be severely disappointed in myself." Nikki announced, and Lola laughs, and she rests her chin on his shoulder. She tells him she's proud, tells him she knows how much this means to him, but her voice is low, quiet enough that none of the others can hear, and honest enough that it makes Nikki's breath catch in his throat for a moment. When he turns, she's gazing at him with such love and adoration that is almost hurts.

He never wants her to stop looking at him like that.

And for just a beat, she a look of realisation passes over her face, and like she wants to say something- but she can't. She looks away.

The night is a blur of revelries, of booze and blow and pills and strippers, and Lola shuts up about how proud she is about half an hour in, by the time she's good and tipsy, but it's always there in the glint of her eyes, the curve of her smile.

Every so often she'll reach out, her fingers gentle where she holds Nikki's wrist, and the first time he'd frowned, asked if everything was okay, and she'd nodded, but hadn't let go for a few moments. It's strange and endearing to watch the way she interacts with the others, Nikki notes, because he's known Lola long enough to know when she was sleeping with someone on the regular. Something about this is... different.

Vince is loud and tactile, and Lola's grown comfortable tucking herself up beside him, his arm around her waist while they hold two different conversations with two different people, barely paying each other attention, just enjoying the contact. With Tommy it's - horrifying as the concept is - sweet. They share looks, share laughs, and occasionally, when they think no-one's looking, they'll steal a kiss and Lola will turn pink and Tommy will turn smug and it's weirdly endearing.

And with Nikki? She can read him like a book, but out of habit they're discrete. Standing or sitting close enough that they're shoulder to shoulder when there's so much extra space, or she'll take his wrist, or rest her hand on his for a few moments beneath a table. Or Lola will be the one to reach out, make moves that can be construed as platonic, and fill them with meaning that only the two of them are privy to.

Yes, the night is a blur, and he's pretty sure he's going to regret not remembering whatever he and Lola and that stripper got up to in the private room, but when he tumbles into bed, they're both too tired to do more than peel off their various layers of leather and jeans and fall into bed together, but when they're alone Lola's clingy, and they're both too fucked up to really hear Vince's date for the night through the walls, he's coming down enough to appreciate Lola's reverential tone, voice quiet and a little slurred, but so damn sincere when she tells him that she knows he's gonna go far, when she waxes poetic about the way he plays and writes. In the back of his mind he knows she's drunk and enthusiastic, and that maybe he should take what she says with a grain of salt, or that he could be hallucinating.

She's in that high, hyper focused state, the two of them laying facing one another, and she's gazing at him with a distracted smile like she's trying to commit his face in this moment to memory.

"You and me against the world," she murmurs, reaching out to gently hold his chin, as if to keep him in place, "it was always you and me against the world." It's followed by such a gentle laugh, and Nikki can't even begin to keep himself guarded from his own real emotions.

"When you get all big and take off, will you take me with you?"

He's not sure what she means but her voice has gone quiet, barely more than a whisper, her expression so raw, pleading almost, desperate for an answer. He doesn't even have to think about it, just wraps her up in his arms, pulls her close, tries to stave off her worries with the physical contact. She buries against him, warm and solid and so familiar.

"Of course, Lo, always."

[lightsiided]

❛ don’t push me away. ❜

* angst starters | accepting

     nope, no, nuh uh. not now, not ever. alarm bells ring off in her head at a migraine-inducing volume, so it takes her a moment to find her voice and say, “listen. you don’t know anything about me.”

ben looks like he wants to ARGUE — or maybe that’s just his default expression — so she continues, “no, really. you seriously, like — you don’t even know what i’m really like, like at all. and i don’t know you, either. so please don’t pretend to, like, understand me or whatever it is you think you’re doing, okay? i don’t need you to patronize me.” 

this wasn’t the conversation she’d PLANNED on having when she decided to stop by ben’s on her way home from work. frankly, she’d had a nightmare of a day, and hoped he’d help her take her mind off of things, and she could fall asleep half on top of him and he’d give her that annoying knowing look in the morning but wouldn’t say anything about it. she’d been EXPECTING the freedom to stomp around his apartment and vent about her week, judgment-free, while he nodded along sympathetically, but she supposed now that she should have known better. 

because the things she’d been hoping for were the boyfriend stuff. she wasn’t too stupid to realize that; rey knew very well that, more often than not, lately, she’d been seeking ben out for the very things that she’d hoped to avoid when they first started seeing each other, from hand-holding to lots of lunches and dinners all the way to sleepovers WITHOUT sex. and it was foolish to expect the NICE boyfriend stuff without the agonizing boyfriend stuff to accompany it. 

“and you know what? you honestly think, like, that you’re fixing me or something, and i don’t need any help, okay? you don’t need to say that like you think i’m, like — like if you talk to me carefully i’ll calm down and do what you want.” 

panicked as she is, rey is far less articulate than she would like, her mind a jumbled mess of thoughts she can’t quite push out into coherent words or even understand, at the moment. “just stop acting like you’re making allowances for me, okay? i’m not fucking — i’m not doing anything. this is the way that i am. and i’m not going to — i’m not going to start, like, changing my relationship status on facebook, and bringing my shit over here, and making out with you in line at starbucks because that’s how YOU think the person you’re with should act.”

it’s easier not to look at him, so she doesn’t. rey stares at the ground, and reminds herself that this was always inevitable, and, more than that — that it’s NECESSARY. that nothing bad can happen to her ever again if she doesn’t give life the opportunity to make her look stupid. that people can only disappoint you if you let them. 

“i have to go,” she says suddenly, shattering the silence that’d started to stretch between them. rey’s already wiggling her feet back into her shoes, turning on her heel so he’s behind her. maybe putting even his shadow out of sight will be enough to calm her racing heartbeat. 

she feels herself rapidly starting to get upset and that’s something that absolutely cannot happen until she’s back in her car and safely on her way out of ben’s neighborhood. it isn’t something she’d accounted for, but she’d never expected to feel like this, at the end. as inevitable as it’d always seemed, part of her had never expected for there to BE an end to prepare for. but that — being caught so far off guard — is the reason they’re here, now, having this argument. 

quickly, rey gathers her bag and jacket, already on her escape route towards his front door. “it’s probably best if we don’t see each other anymore.”

@anciienteyes

[inkedtoast]

Cheering Up (11th Doctor x Reader)

Just a note: The GIF is for the end, AND this is my first Tumblr fic, so excuse any and all OOC-ness, please! Love you all, Matthew, out!

“(Y/N)? Where have you gone? If you’re in the aquarium room, I’m not gonna help you if the glass breaks again!”, The Doctor calls for you from the control room. You sigh and put down the book you were reading. Unfortunately, you were just getting to a good part. You’re kinda used to this, though. You’ve been travelling with him for almost a year now, and you’ve loved every moment. However, somewhere along the way, you fell for him. You know that it’ll never work out, and you are okay with that. You make up for it by being his companion and care-taker. All the same, you trudge down to the control room and stop across the panel from the Doctor.

“Whatcha need Doctor?”, You say as you lean against the railing. You cross your legs at the ankles and cross your arms on your chest.

“Well, I was thinking, and-”, You interrupt.

“Thinking, huh? That’s dangerous, Doctor!”, You snicker. He glares at you, then continues his sentence.

“So, I thought that maybe we could go this planet that is just a giant music festival all the time! Literally. Since a war was ended a long time ago and they’ve been celebrating 24/7 ever since! And, if anyone asks, I never had anything to do with the war.” The Doctor smiles wryly. You smile at the possibility of a music festival. You’ve always wanted to go to one, and there’s a planet that is nothing but one!

“Yes! I’d love to go! Is it warm there, or should I bring a warm jacket?”, You ask, smiling.

“Wonderful!”, He claps his hands together before adding,”Ah, it’s normally quite warm there, so I think you’ll be fine”, He replies flapping his hands around as usual. You race off out of the console room and to your bedroom to prepare for your trip to the never-ending music festival.

-Time Skip Via Impala-

You and the Doctor had a blast at the planet you visited. However, seeing as it’s the Doctor, it wasn’t as smooth as it could’ve been. It turns out, over half of the music they were playing was really a help signal, and the planet was still at war, but with a different species. So, naturally, you and the Doctor saved the planet. But, this time around, the Doctor wasn’t pleased with himself like usual after saving a planet. He was really down. He didn’t say anything, but you could see the look in his eyes. So, as the companion, you went to cheer him up.

“Hey, what’s up?”, You ask. He looks at you for a second before replying.

“Nothing. Just checking the diagnostics on flight trajectory and other stuff. Why”, He asks suspiciously. You sigh and smile.

“Well, just checking up on ya. You seemed a little down, so I thought I might ask. If you don’t wanna talk, though, that’s fine. I’m here to listen.”, With that you pat his shoulder and leave the console room, choosing a random hallway, and walking down it. The Doctor smiles sadly, knowing that you care. He follows you, and calls your name.

“(Y/N). Hey. Thank you.”, And before you can do anything, he’s hugging you. After a few seconds, you eagerly return the hug. Then, you hear a noise. It’s the Doctor… Sniffling… You pull back, and what you see breaks your heart. He is crying, but quietly. You remember something he said once… “I mean children cry because they want attention. ‘Cause they’re hurt or afraid. When they cry silently it’s ’cause they just can’t stop.”

You frown, and gently place your hands on both sides of his face.

“‘Kay. What’s up?”, You ask articulately. He sighs and looks at you with his big, sad green eyes. He then looks down and mumbles something, that you can’t understand. You figure it’s because of your hands on his face, mushing it up a little. So you remove them and patiently ask him to repeat.

“I’m so blind (Y/N)… I should’ve noticed that they really weren’t done with all their fighting.”. He sighs again, a few tears brimming over and sliding down his face. You rub your thumbs over his cheeks to wipe them away.

“Well, I can’t say I know that particular feeling, but I know something close. So, I’m gonna try and do something to cheer you up. Be right back!” You let go of him, and race to the library. There, you hid something JUST for this occasion. A container of custerd, a new (and really cool) bowtie, and of course, pre-cooked fish fingers. You race back to where you left him, and shove the items at him. He looks at the gifts in confusion for a moment, then he realizes what they are. He smiles at them, then you. He removes his red bowtie excitedly, and puts on the (f/c) one you gave him. You giggle as the Doctor spins around as though giving a showcase. He stops and stares at you for a few seconds. You open your mouth to ask if he’s having a stroke when he wraps his arms around your waist, and spins the both of you in a circle. You yelp, and then start giggling. He sets you down and laughs.

“Thank you, (Y/N). Really. What would I do if you weren’t here?”, He sighs happily, especially when he digs into the custard and fish fingers.

“Well, for one, you’d be lost AND trying to run a TARDIS on your own.”, You smirk. Then he scoffs and says;

“No, I would not! Not fair! Let’s see how you’d do on your own…”, He grumbles at you. After a few minutes, he’s finished off the fish fingers and custard, and smiling widely. He seems to stare off for a while, and you start to worry if he’ll fall asleep, when he looks at you again. He walks up to you and hugs you again, mumbling a muffled “Thank you” into your shoulder. When he pulls away he sets a hand on either side of your face.

You look into his eyes questioningly, looking for an answer to his actions. All you get  is a him leaning in, feeling his breath on your lips. Before you can really register what’s happening, he quickly puts his lips on yours. You make a high pitched squeak (like REALLY high pitched) making him pull back. Then, fully realizing what he’s done, he backs up drastically, a blushing, stuttering mess. After a few tries of him trying to sting a coherent sentence together, you grab him by the lapels of his tawny, tweed jacket, and pull his face to yours. You kiss him, and he waves his hands about, trying to find a place to put them. You sigh through your nose and grab his wrists, and set his hands on your waist. The Doctor calms down, and kisses you back. Then, needing air, you both pull away at the same time.

“Well… That’s… That was different,” He says intelligently. You laugh and peck his cheek.

“Well, a lot could be different, but for today, let’s let dogs lie~”, You smirk. You turn away, walking to the console room.

“Was that flirting?! I’m not sure… Next time, just wave your arms and say “Hey, I’m flirting”, that’ll do!”

[redstarfiction-blog]

Enough. -Sonas/Happiness pt 8

Hi guys, her is the next installment. I hope you all enjoy some Friday Fluff and thank you so much for all your encouragement so far :) Han xxx

Jamie arrived at Lallybroch at around midnight after four weeks away, saddle sore, dirty and unshaven. He settled Blane in the stables, brushed him down and offered him a couple of handfuls of oats before shutting the stall door and turning his attention to himself.

He didn’t have a razor handy so the stubble on his jaw would have to stay until morning but he was sure he could probably make a half-way decent job of cleaning himself up a bit before going inside to see Claire. It was not that he thought she would mind the road-dirt, but he wanted to try to look the best he could for her.

The bucket of water beside the door looked new enough, likely ready to freshen the drinking trough come morning, and after plucking a few strands of hay out of it, Jamie decided it would do nicely.

He groaned in pleasure as he stripped off the damp jacket and sweaty shirt that he had worn for the last forty-eight hours and plunged his arms into the freezing water.

“Ah dhia!”

His teeth began to chatter but without hesitation, he splashed handfuls over his back and chest, washing his armpits with a series of small squeaks as the water trickled down his ribs.

He rubbed his hands together roughly; dislodging most of the grime picked up along the road, and finally splashed his face and rubbed it vigorously with the cleanest patch of shirt he could find.

He dug through his bag and came up with a halfway decent linen shirt that was only a little musty and tugged it over his head before running his fingers through his hair and carefully dislodging most of the knots. He had managed to lose his ribbon somewhere on the journey so left his hair loose around his shoulders, curling slightly as it dried.

Preparations complete, Jamie draped his jacket over his arm and made his way to the house. The dogs greeted him with quiet excitement and although the house was dark, Jamie moved with practiced ease, dodging the familiar furniture and creaking stares without thought, his mind entirely focussed on seeing his wife.

The laird’s chamber door was slightly open and he eased it shut with a gentle thump, the solid wood settling into place silently behind him. He lit a couple of candles, striking the flint successfully on the first try, and the room became illuminated in soft, yellow light.

Claire was asleep in the armchair beside the window, her most recent failed attempt at knitting the baby a shawl crumpled across her lap and a plate of cheese and walnuts, her latest craving, mostly untouched on the table beside her.

Jamie smiled and crossed the room, dropping to a crouch beside her. He hated to wake her but knew that she would be cross come morning if he did not announce himself.

“Mo graidh? Tis me. I’m home Sassenach.”

Her eyes fluttered and for a moment her gaze was unfocused but then their eyes met and she sat upright, throwing her arms around his shoulders and pressing a kiss to his cheek before burying her face in his neck.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

They stayed that way for perhaps a full minute before Claire pulled back and cupped his face in her hands

“Jamie, I have to tell you something, something wonderful but well… it’s a little shocking so …”

“Whatever it is Sassenach, can it wait until morning? I’m bone tired …”

Jamie yawned reflexively, his jaw cracking with the force of it.

“Well, no I don’t think it should wait.”

Claire’s eyes were sparkling in the candle light, almost feverish with glee and Jamie nodded with a rueful smile

“Alright, what is it then?”

“Jamie … Brianna is here.”

“What? How?”

Jamie’s jaw slackened with shock and Claire laughed despite herself

“She came through the stones to warn us about a fire that happened … that will happen, I mean, in America and apparently we’re in it but that’s years away yet and …”

“Our Brianna? Our daughter? Is here in this very house?”

Jamie shook his head to clear the buzzing that filled his ears and tried to slow his pounding heart. He had a horrible feeling that he was about to either faint or vomit.

“Yes. She’s asleep in Ian’s room, Ian is in with Michael.”

Claire beamed at him and Jamie nodded as if this was the most natural information in the world but his fingers were trembling fiercely. Claire caught hold of his hand and squeezed.

“You’ll meet her in the morning.”

Jamie nodded again. He had so many questions but none of them seemed to form coherently enough to ask and really, what did the answers matter? All that mattered was that his daughter was here.

“Can I see her now? I dinna mean to wake her but … I would verra much like to see her.”

Jamie licked his lips and Claire realised with a shock that he was afraid.

“Of course you can. Are you alright?”

She held out her hand and Jamie helped her to her feet

“Och aye … tis only that, well I didna expect to ever … it was enough to ken that she was but now … to have the chance to ken that she is …”

Jamie’s chest swelled with a deep breath. In his eyes Claire could see his hope, his fear and something else, something deeper shining back at her from the sapphire depths. For a moment Claire did not recognise it, but then she saw it clearly, it was the look of a parent contemplating the enormity of their child, of the new life they had produced and the wonder of creation.

“I know. I didn’t think I would ever …”

Claire bit the words off. She had not allowed herself to say that she feared she would never see her daughter again. It was a thought too painful to articulate and too raw to dwell on privately.

“But she is here and you should see her, Jamie.”

Jamie nodded and took hold of Claire’s hand, following as she led the way down the hall, a candle held out before her like a beacon.

Claire entered Ian’s room without hesitation but Jamie lingered a moment. His heart was beating so loudly he was sure it would wake the lass and if it did, if she woke and saw him, would she recoil? Would she want anything to do with him at all? Fear once again coiled around his hear and Jamie shuddered.

“Jamie?”

Claire stepped back into the hall and he shook his head wordlessly.

“What if I’m no’ enough Claire? She has come so far and risked so much.”

Claire placed her hands on his shoulders, warm and solid through the fabric of his shirt, gripping him hard enough to still his tremors and focus his attention on her.

“Listen to me James Fraser, you have always been and you will always be enough. You are ours and we are yours and the rest we will figure out.”

“She’s a woman grown though, aye? I dinna ken what she’ll need of me.”

“You. Just as you are. That’s all anyone can ever need of another person really.”

Jamie swallowed but nodded his head in acceptance of the truth of her words and allowed Claire to take his hand once again and gently lead him into the small room.

The candle light threw shadows up the wall, making the room seem deeper than it truly was. Brianna was curled on her side, the same position Claire favoured in sleep, softly muffled snores coming from beneath a veil of tussled russet curls, her hand curled delicately beside her chin. Claire gently moved the red hair back from her face and Jamie whimpered beside her. It was a very small sound, almost lost in the quiet of the room.

He slowly sank to a crouch, his eyes fixed on his daughter with the sort of devotion Claire imagined a antique dealer might have when gazing upon a fabled gem. Something precious and almost mythical which they had scarcely dared believe existed but was now right before them and every bit as glorious as they had ever dared to hope.

He reached out and ever so gently touched a red curl beside her hand and a single tear slid down the side of his nose, skirting his lips as he whispered

“Mo maise, mo nighean ruaidh. Brianna.”

His voice rose the hairs on Claire’s arms, the longing and love contained within the three syllables of their daughters name as it fell from his lips was almost too much to bear.

Jamie stood suddenly and caught Claire’s wrist in his hand, towing her from the room without uttering a word. He made it perhaps ten feet before turning to her and pressing his forehead to hers, his eyes closed and mouth pressed into a grim line to prevent his lip quivering.

“Thank ye, Claire. Thank ye for my daughter.”

Claire didn’t have time to respond before he kissed her, a gentle kiss at first, almost chaste, but as was so often the case between them, a tiny flame grew into an inferno and they broke apart, lips bruised and breathless.

“We should try and get some sleep.”

“Aye, though I dinna ken that I will manage to do so.”

Jamie smiled and Claire noticed the trembling had returned to his fingers.

“You will and in the morning you will meet your daughter and you will be astounded by what a wonderful person you created.”

She smiled, hugging him as tightly as she could around the swell of her pregnancy.

“We created.”

Jamie corrected softly, resting his cheek atop his wife’s head.

“Loving me may not have always been a bed of roses for ye, Sassenach, but my God, if ever anyone should need proof of the wisdom of it, there it is. She is worth everything.”

“She is.”

Claire smiled and together, they made their way back to bed, to await everything the morning would bring.