#its genuinely so heart wrenching but I could NOT stop laughing because of this stupid clown

[cactle]

POV: You’re watching the marineford live stream

[devilyn]

drunken honesty | tsukishima kei

— alexa, play: us by keshi.

maybe we’ve been

a little too guarded

from things that have hurt us

a bit more than we thought

— synopsis: drinking always made you more honest, which is how you ended up calling someone you shouldn’t have in the bathroom in the middle of a house party.

— genre: angst, happy ending (yay)

— word count: 1.9k

“Did you drink again?”

You wanted to lie to him. But you knew he would find you out right away no matter what. So you laughed weakly, the bass pounding against the bathroom door as if trying to force its way into your inebriated brain.

“You went to another party, and just expected me to pick you up after you got drunk again?”

His straightforward tone was always so cruel. It was one of the many reasons the two of you ended up breaking up. Even now, through the drunken haze that the many alcoholic drinks put onto your consciousness, he knew just how to hurt your feelings.

“I’m sorry, Kei,” you croaked out.

“You say that everytime,” he spit out like venom, as if the words hurt him too. “When will you learn to stop all of this?”

You bit back tears. The beat-up soles of your sneakers pressed firmly against the sticky bathroom floor as if they were the only thing keeping you grounded. You forgot why you called him in the first place. You couldn’t even remember why you had ended up at this party. It must’ve been Kuroo who dragged you along again, claiming that you needed to stop moping in your bedroom all the time. When in reality, he probably knew of your terrible drunken habit that was calling your ex-boyfriend.

“Drunk calling me isn’t going to get my attention the way you want it to,” he continued, your silence not stopping him. He was frustrated, you could hear it in his voice. “And it’s sure as hell not going to get us back together.”

“Come pick me up, Kei,” you finally pleaded. “I wanna go home.”

You heard him curse a few times, then the sound of his chair skidding back against the hardwood floor, and then keys jingling.

“You’re a fucking nuisance,” he grumbled, and despite the sting in your heart, you smiled.

“I love you,” you whispered, and you could picture him furrowing his brows and pushing his glasses back up against the bridge of his nose.

“I love you,” you repeated.

“I’ll be there in 15 minutes, so you better be outside or I’m leaving without you.”

“Bye.”

The sound of him hanging up beeped through your handphone, and you closed your eyes.

“I love you,” you murmured again to a man who could no longer hear you.

Maybe, deep down, this was your plan. You could only be honest with him when you were drunk, which is why you ultimately agreed to Kuroo’s invitation. In reality, you could’ve asked Kuroo to get you a ride back to your dorm building, but you unconsciously called Tsukishima instead. It’s not like Kuroo didn’t know that either. That must’ve been why he poured you so many shots even before the party started.

You jumped as the pounding on the door grew louder. Only then, did you realize it wasn’t the music, but another party patron who was begging to be let in or else they’d pee their pants. Quickly, you fumbled with the door handle and wrenched it open. Sheepishly, you smiled at the group of girls who forced their way past you into the tiny bathroom.

In less than 10 minutes, you managed to track down Kuroo and yell over the loud music that your ex would be picking you up. If you weren’t drunk, you might have noticed the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, but instead, you gave him a tight hug and bid your close friend goodbye.

This meant you only had to wait 5 minutes in the freezing cold for Tsukki to arrive. You stumbled over your feet a bit as you squat down to sit on the edge of the sidewalk, but ultimately managed to accomplish your goal safely.

Your breath came out in white smoke, and despite how cold it must’ve been, you couldn’t feel it over the heat that alcohol always brought to your skin. Your vision blurred, and you closed your eyes to force back the tears pricking at your eyelids.

Just a few years back, you had asked Tsukki out in this same cold. It took you three days to process the fact that he had accepted your confession, and that the two of you were then going out. Aside from the occasional teasing from his volleyball teammates, things were smooth sailing. Tsukki was a surprisingly sweet boyfriend behind his tough exterior, though he never let up on the brutally honest side of him that made him who he was. You never minded it--it was a part of him, after all. 

When did it all go wrong? Did university truly pull you two apart like everyone said it would? You had hoped that his friends would be right when they said you two would make it--that your relationship was strong enough to survive anything. But all it really took was a few glares, one or two missed dates, and a couple sharp insults under his breath, and you gave in.

It didn’t mean you loved him any less. But there were nights after the break up where you’d lay down and stare up at your ceiling, wondering why you gave so much of yourself to someone who, towards the end, never seemed to give you the same amount back.

“What? Now you’re going to catch a cold and call me over too?”

His voice used to be warm when addressing you, but was now as cold as it was to those he thought were a bother. It made sense. You were merely a bother to him now, after all.

“Kei,” you murmured, eyes still closed as he tossed what you assumed to be a jacket into your lap. “Why did you never let me in?”

A question you always wanted to ask him, but never had the courage to until you were drunk enough. The inquiry silenced him. It seemed he couldn’t even come up with an insulting jab in response to that. Instead, he grabbed your arm to pull you up off of the cold concrete, forcing the jacket around your trembling shoulders.

“I did,” he answered simply, and you could almost feel his sharp eyes narrow as you snorted. “I let you into my apartment multiple times.”

“You’re really cute when you act stupid,” you giggled, eyes fluttering open to look up at him. “Let’s stop playing around. Do you know why I broke up with you?”

“I never asked,” he responded snarkily under his breath, his hands steadying your form to make sure you didn’t trip over your own feet. You absentmindedly watched him pull the passenger side door open and help you inside the warm vehicle.

“It felt like you didn’t love me,” you told him anyway. “And you didn’t say anything when I suggested we break up, so I thought it was what you must’ve been waiting for all along.”

He was silent. With a sigh, he buckled your seatbelt before slamming the door shut and making his way over to the driver’s side.

“I realized, you know. That you never told me you loved me. Not once,” you continued when he was settled into his seat, the door closed behind him. His phone was hooked up to the car stereo, playing music quietly. But you knew he could hear you, even if some of your words were slurred. “I knew that you showed it in different ways. Like how you never missed my birthday even if I never brought it up, and how you’d ask us to eat together because you knew around what time of the day I’d get hungry.”

You turned to look at your ex, the tears finally streaming down your cheeks. He had his gaze focused on the road in front of him, hands clenched around the wheel despite having not released the parking break yet.

“But what am I supposed to do, Kei? What am I supposed to do when I don’t see those signs anymore?”

Were you still drunk? You didn’t know anymore. Maybe your body was forcing you to still be drunk so you could continue honestly telling him your thoughts. In reality, you suddenly felt very sober, especially as the sorrow built up in your throat.

"You just stopped one day. Stopped texting me what I wanted to eat for dinner, stopped remembering dates, stopped helping me study for exams," your voice trembled. "And you started ignoring me or genuinely insulting me."

You placed the heel of your palms against your eyes in an attempt to stop your tears. 

“I love you so much,” you breathed out between soft cries. “So what am I supposed to do when you don’t feel the same?”

Tsukki was silent as he put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb. His eyes never left the road, though you could see on his face that he was troubled.

You slid further down into your seat as if trying to make yourself seem as small as possible. You placed a palm over your mouth to hide your sobs, closing your eyes again, as if that would stop your endless crying.

Fifteen minutes must’ve passed. He had waited for you to stop crying before he spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the sound barely audible over the softly playing music.

You didn’t respond, burying yourself into his jacket.

“I’m really sorry,” he repeated. “For how I acted. For making you think I didn’t love you. For everything.”

His voice cracked as he spoke, and you could hear him curse quietly again, as if angry at himself for showing weakness.

“You know me,” his voice continued to quiver, “I’m a prideful prick. I never wanted to look weak in front of you, so I shut you out when things started getting tough. Volleyball and school got to me when I was frustrated, and I ignored you because of it, when I should’ve just told you honestly. I let you break up with me because I didn’t want to beg for you to come back, even if that’s what I really wanted to do deep down. I took my anger out on you when you drunk called me, because I was upset you kept coming back to me even though you broke up with me.”

You rubbed at your wet cheeks as his hand came over to rest hesitantly on your thigh.

“I love you,” the car rolled to a stop in front of your dorm building. “And I’m sorry it took this long for me to say it.”

He finally turned to look at you, and you could feel yourself tearing up again. His brown eyes reflected your sorrow, and you fumbled to unbuckle your seatbelt so you could throw your arms around his shoulders.

“You’re so stupid,” you cried, “A stupid idiot. I hate you.”

“I think I deserve that,” he laughed weakly as your arms tightened around him, hugging yourself as close to him as you could despite the awkward positioning.

“Next time, can we please just talk to each other?” You buried your face into the crook of his neck as his arms came around you to rub gently at your back.

“Yeah,” his tone was warm again, and it melted away any inebriation that may have still been in your system. “Let’s do that. Without the alcohol this time."

He pulled back to rest his forehead against yours, gazing into your teary eyes and snickering when he spotted your pout.

“Should I take us back to my apartment? I think there’s a lot we should catch up on.”

Your pout twitched up into a smile you could no longer hold back. “Mm. Let’s go home.”

[morizoras-cave]

Big Smile (Request)

Tom Hiddleston x Teen!Co-star!Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff

Request Description: maybe some Tom Hiddleston who is close to reader cause hes like her mentor and shes a very happy person, goofy and silly as well but nothing can make her cry. Like, it's genuinely hard to make her cry so maybe him seeing her cry for the first time? and it's pretty bad? maybe its cause she goes to a normal high school along with a catch up high school (basically a school where u go to if youre SERIOUSLY behind) and the pressure is way too much for her to handle and her emotions exploded? ty!!

Warnings: depression, anxiety about school, stress

(A/N): im very excited to be going on vacation!! dont worry ill still update, im just going to another city nothing too big (of course with the ‘rona still out here). I wrote like half of this on my phone btw so if anything looks weird that’s why

“Why would you say it like that?” you laughed loudly, falling back on your bed. Tom giggled too, watching as you got into a laughing fit.

“I’m just demonstrating that you can say each line differently!” he defended, but your laughter didn’t falter. Tom smiled and shook his head, waiting for you to be done. “Can you hurry that up, we have a couple more lines to go through,” he joked.

You held your stomach and shook your head. Finally, the laughter died down and you tried desperately not to start it again, as Tom continued helping you with the script. You forced your mouth into a frown, but that only reinforced your need to laugh. 

Tom looked and saw your expression and sighed, making you laugh again. 

“This is impossible,” he muttered, but he was smiling. He thought you were so incredibly sweet and bright, although lacking a little seriousness. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” you finally stopped laughing AGAIN, “we’re done. Those were all the lines I had questions about.”

“You sure?” 

“Yeah,” you said and both of you stood up. Tom grabbed his jacket and his bag from the counter of your hotel room. He smiled at you and hugged you as a farewell. 

“See you on set tomorrow,” and then he was out of your room. You smiled softly thinking about how much fun you two had, but the sweet moment was over far too fast. 

You had school. You’d never been a top student or anything, but before this whole movie-thing you’d been able to keep up. A couple of weeks ago you started Catch-Up-High-School, which you’d been required to start, since you grades had all dropped. 

And since then you’d felt awful. You felt so stupid and useless. And on top of that, you were stressed. With both regular high school teachings and catch up school, you seemed to spend every waking moment working, either on the movie or on school, and you’d only sleep once you were done. Which could take a while. 

It was getting to you. You were phenomenal at hiding it, truthfully. Because your personality was too bright and blinding for anyone to see anything behind it. 

You weren’t one to cry, but you felt it behind your eyes, constantly. All day, when you remembered your school situation, it started coming. You never cried, not when watching movies or reading books, you didn’t even really cry when you were sad. The stress was simply getting to you. 

You pulled out both your math books, both regular high school and catch up high school, which you had neatly tucked away when Tom came, and started doing your assignments for the day. 

Your head hurt, as you did it, and it was so hard for you to understand. You wished you could ask Tom for help, but you couldn’t tell him. It was simply too embarrassing. ‘Hey Tom, I’m too stupid for regular school, please help?’ What would he even think of you?

You hadn’t even done your assignments for long, when you started crying. You were just writing the answer to a question, when a tear slid down your face. You wiped it away as quick as it came and continued. 

But so did your tears. You cried silently as you worked, ignoring them, eventually not even wiping them away. You were just trying to get through it, chewing through your lip. 

Just as you failed to figure an assignment out, your pencil broke on the paper, and you threw it away from your, putting your head in your hands. Then you sobbed, and you weren’t trying to ignore it, you were doing it. You were sitting there, and all of your focus was on the seemingly never ending stream of tears from your eyes. 

God, what kind of person are you if you can’t even do your catch up school work? You felt so unbelievably heavy, heart wrenching and tingling. 

Meanwhile Tom had hauled down a cab, making it about a third of the way to his meeting, when he realized he’d left his phone at your place. He sighed and asked the driver to drive back to your hotel, knowing he’d need it.

Tom drove back there, and then stepped out of the cab, telling the driver to wait for him. He entered and pulled out his keycard. Your room had had two keycards and you’d given him your second one, which had made his heart melt. 

He walked down the corridor, reading the room numbers, and then reached your door. He grabbed the handle and scanned the keycard, effectively cracking open the door.

And there you were. Tom blinked rapidly, refusing to believe that that was you, so immersed in your own crying that you hadn’t heard him come in. That couldn’t be you, not the smiling, laughing, happy Y/n he knew. You were sitting there so dark and alone, hugging your legs and wailing. 

You never cried. Never. It had gotten to the point where him and his coworkers had discussed it, whether you were some robot or something. But you were crying. You were alone. 

“Y/n?”

His voice made you flinch and you didn’t have to look at him, to know you’d exposed yourself. You, although knowing it was useless, wiped your tears, before raising your head.

Tom was heartbroken. He’d never thought about how he’d actually feel once he finally did see you cry. But it was such a gut wrenching image, something he could feel in both his stomach and heart and throat.

“What’s going on?” He asked. You shook your head. He simply stepped inside and saw your regular high school math book, immediately knowing you were probably stressed. “Do you need help with your homework?”

You laughed bitterly, another tear sliding down your cheek. Tom walked to you, sitting down next to you, so he could wipe away the tear.

“What’s wrong? Come on, talk to me.. What happened?” He searches your eyes.

“I’m just stressed, Tom, it’s stupid,” you avoided his gaze. Tom knew it wasn’t stupid. If it was you wouldn’t be balling your eyes out.

“So, let me help you with it,” He heard how his voice was shaking.

“Tom, no.”

“Yes-“

“No!”

Silence. Tom pulled away from you. He was simply shocked. You weren’t you. He closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice breaking, as you started crying again. When you yelled at Tom, you felt your heart withering. What a horrible feeling.

“I’m sorry for yelling. It’s just- I feel so useless. All the time. I’m failing school! I mean, for God’s sake, I have mandatory catch-up-school. Do you know how embarrassing that is? God, how can I be so stupid?”

Tom finally understood why you were crying. Why you were so stressed, why you were crying like that.

It was tough.

“You’re not stupid, Y/n,” you immediately shook your head at his attempt to console you, “You’re not! I’m serious. You’re smarts come from your understanding of people, and your talents in acting and everything you love. Not from your schoolwork. Your grades are not your worth. You’re the smartest kid I’ve ever met! I mean it.”

Your crying turned to sniffles and you finally nodded. You agreed. You hadn’t felt so sure of yourself in a long time. A small smile found your lips.

“Thank you, Tom, I-I really needed that.”

“Oh, of course, N/n,” he mumbled and pulled you into a hug, burying your head in his chest. You wrapped your arms around him.

“Now my offer still stands. Do you want my help doing the homework?” This time you nodded, and the two of you spent the rest of the day doing all of your homework.

When you were finished, you apologised profusely, but Tom just smiled and said he’d do it any day. Every day onward while you were working on that movie, he’d ask you after shooting if you needed any help, and always insisted it was his pleasure. With Tom around, you never had to feel useless again.

[koala-otter]

can i get some soft modern!zukka pls 👉🏻👈🏻

anon honey, you can get whatever you like

I see a lot of fics where Sokka’s comforting and assuring Zuko, and as pointed out in this post by @nothing-more-than-hot-leaf-juice, something really great about their dynamic is the way Zuko actively appreciates and praises Sokka’s abilities when he’s fairly insecure about them

so here’s some soft modern!zukka written with that in mind 2k+ words

The ride back home is quiet except for the rain outside, because Sokka doesn’t say anything. Usually, after a party, he makes jokes about stuffy diplomats and comments extensively on the scant spread of hors d’oeuvres, but now, as Zuko watches him carefully in the back of the cab, Sokka only sits quietly with his arms crossed, his head turned to look out the window streaked with raindrops.

He is still quiet when they make it to their building in Ba Sing Se’s Middle Ring, and then when they walk up the three flights up stairs to their apartment. He doesn’t even turn on the light as he walks through the door and into the living room, pausing only to kick his shoes off on the way in. 

Zuko watches after him, flicking the light on once Sokka’s passed by in his stormy wake. He loosens his tie and leans against the open doorway of the living room as he racks his brain for something to say.

“Do you want anything to eat?” he finally asks. “There wasn’t a lot of food at the party. You must be starving.” 

“Not hungry,” Sokka replies with a huff. He sinks lower into the sofa.

Zuko widens his eyes. Something is really wrong, then. He ventures further into the living room, ready to work his subtle charms on his unsuspecting boyfriend.

“Is something wrong?” Zuko asks plainly.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Sokka says loudly. He huffs again and crosses his arms.

Zuko rubs the right side of his face before looking at Sokka once more. “You know, it’s pretty obvious when you’re in a bad mood,” he says.

Sokka gives a short, dry laugh. “Right, and you’re the king of subtlety,” he says sarcastically.

They painted the walls robin’s egg blue in the living room when they moved in because it reminded Sokka of home, and it reminded Zuko of everything but his own. The building is old, so, while the hot water never lasts long, their apartment is a vision made up of high ceilings and tall windows with original crown molding. Zuko looks at the living room walls. During the day, the way they stretch up toward the white of the molding evokes memories of blue skies dotted with curly clouds. But at night, like now, when the light fades, and the wind whistles, and the windows are barraged with rain, the walls go dark. Almost as if the room itself were overcast.

Zuko lets a breath out and leaves the room. Sokka can’t keep anything to himself for long, but he still needs time to stew. They might as well have food ready for when he finally lets it out. 

Zuko reaches the kitchen and takes his suit jacket off, draping it over the back of a chair. The rice cooker sits on the countertop, a housewarming gift from Katara, ready for use. He takes out the pot and rinses rice in it, quickly, before measuring the water up to the first knuckle of his middle finger and placing it back in the cooker. He turns around from pressing the button to find Sokka shuffling in through the doorway, pulling a chair away from the kitchen table to settle heavily there instead. Zuko refrains from commenting on how he’ll wrinkle the jacket behind him, and instead grabs a packet of Sokka’s favorite seal jerky from the pantry and brings it with him to the table. He reaches over and takes Sokka’s hand. 

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” he asks.

Sokka pouts for another moment before he’s ready. 

High-pitched, and a little whiny, he erupts, “Everyone at your work thinks I’m stupid!” 

Zuko startles away before his eyes narrow and he draws closer to Sokka. “What?” he asks, disbelieving.

Sokka waves his arms helplessly in the air and throws his head back. “All those stupid lawyers and human rights dorks you work with! They think I’m an idiot.”

Zuko almost wants to laugh, but, with a glance at Sokka’s face, thinks better of it. “That doesn’t make any sense,” he instead says earnestly. “You’re the smartest person I know.”

Sokka scoffs and crosses his arms. 

“Really, Sokka,” Zuko insists. “I don’t know anyone else getting their PhD in mechanical and aerospace engineering at Ba Sing Se, the best university in the world.” 

“I do,” Sokka says, though the corner of his mouth is tugging up into something of a smug smile.

Zuko rolls his eyes. “Right, only everybody in your lab,” he deadpans. He pauses. “There’s all the other stuff, too. Like when you help me with my work. An engineer doesn’t have to be so good at economics, too.”

Zuko works as an associate expert at the United Council of Nations for Economics, Science, and Culture. He has spent many a night dragging briefings home and poring over them at the kitchen table, trying to make sense of some graph or diagram, when Sokka will take a break from his designs and calculations to glance over his shoulder.

“Whoa, Earth Kingdom agriculture’s gonna take a real hit next year,” he once said, pointing to a data point. “That’s way too big of a cabbage surplus.”

Zuko could only gape at him, and then buy Sokka the most expensive gym bag he could find when raising the point in a meeting the next day earned him a raise. 

“It’s intuitive,” Sokka says almost humbly, looking down at the kitchen table.

“If it’s intuitive to you, you could replace everyone who was at the party tonight,” Zuko replies.

Sokka's expression turns doubtful, and he bites his lip. Zuko resists the urge to kiss it.

“They were all laughing at me,” Sokka says.

Zuko tilts his head at him. “You’re funny,” he supplies hopefully. 

“I wasn’t telling any jokes,” Sokka says sadly. 

The sound of his voice wrenches at Zuko’s heart, and he barely registers it when he rises and finds himself tilting Sokka’s face up by his chin, only able to get this angle when Sokka is sitting. He bends down and kisses him. It only lasts a second, and when he pulls back, Sokka looks no less upset. Zuko is about to try to drum up some more words of comfort for him when the rice cooker starts beeping. 

Zuko smiles apologetically at Sokka and goes back to the counter, pressing the button and opening the rice cooker. A little puff of steam rises from beneath the lid and disappears on its way to the ceiling. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, turning around to look at Sokka and leaning his back against the counter. 

“Not your fault,” Sokka says with a shrug, though the dejection still reads clearly across his face. 

The torrent outside only seems to have gotten stronger. The wet leaves of the maple tree outside their building slap against their windows, the sound so loud and forceful, they can hear it even in the kitchen.

“Jeez,” Sokka says, shifting forward to glance back at the archway that leads to the living room, “that’s loud.”

Zuko spies the jacket behind him, and he immediately brightens.

“Here,” he says, coming over to reach into the breast pocket. Sokka looks up at him in confusion as he pulls out the folded page of a newspaper and a pen. “Take this.”

Sokka takes the paper and unfolds it carefully. His brow immediately furrows in confusion. “What am I supposed to do with a crossword?” he asks. The question almost sounds like a whine. He eyes the paper once more before looking back up at Zuko like he might have gone insane. “And one you already finished?”

Zuko shakes his head. “But I didn’t finish it,” he says excitedly. He points to an area of the grid. “Look, I couldn’t figure these three out. And when I got into work, I asked everyone, and they couldn’t figure them out either.” He smiles. “If anyone can do it, it’s you, Sokka.”

Sokka looks doubtful once more, but he lays the crossword on the table. Zuko moves back to the counter and hears the click of a pen behind him. This is a good idea, he thinks, grabbing a carton of eggs from the fridge and placing a pan on the stove. Now Sokka will be occupied while he makes dinner, and they’ll have food ready just in time for when Sokka feels better, and he has time to fry eggs just the way Sokka likes them, yolks so runny they practically bleed onto the rice, and then they can watch one of his favorite history documentaries, and they’ll curl up on the sofa and fall asleep to the sound of the rain, or if they don’t feel like sleeping—

“Done!” Sokka says.

Zuko whirls around, two eggs in his hand, still uncracked, to find Sokka grinning smugly at him. “How?” he demands, genuinely surprised. 

Sokka shrugs, the grin immovable. “Easy,” he says. Zuko puts the eggs down and goes back to the kitchen table, his hand landing on Sokka’s shoulder. Sokka grabs it as he explains, “‘A Northern delicacy’ is obviously roast duck. And then ‘failure to communicate,’ with the duck in mind, is that expression your uncle’s always saying: ‘Like a chicken talking to a duck.’ And then ‘skinny appendages?’” He looks up at Zuko before he cheers, barely able to contain himself, “Chicken legs!”

“Let me see that,” Zuko says, grabbing the paper with his free hand. He stares at it closely. A small scowl reaches his lips. “Are you kidding me? I spent a whole hour on the monorail trying to get these. I almost missed my stop! And it was just ‘roast duck’ the whole time?”

He looks up sharply when he hears Sokka laughing. 

“I mean,” Zuko starts, a blush creeping into his cheeks as he smiles awkwardly, “I told you you were smart.”

“Actually, I think you called me the smartest person you know,” Sokka corrects jokingly. 

“You are the smartest person I know,” Zuko insists. 

He keeps smiling at the scratchy characters of Sokka’s writing on the crossword next to the careful strokes of his own when he feels Sokka pulling him by the hand. Once Zuko is standing in front of him, Sokka throws his arms around his boyfriend’s middle and hugs him tightly, burying his head into Zuko’s ribs. 

“Thanks, Zuko,” he says quietly into the fabric of Zuko’s dress shirt. 

One of Zuko’s hands lands on the top of Sokka’s head, stroking his hair till he reaches the end of his wolf tail. Then, Zuko wraps his arms around Sokka’s neck and shoulders and hugs him back fiercely, protectively. 

“Love you,” he says, and he smiles when he feels Sokka nod against his chest. He rubs Sokka’s shoulders and upper back, trying to ease the tight muscle beneath his hands. “Do you think you might want something to eat now?”

Sokka pulls his face away from Zuko’s shirt to beam up at him. “I thought you’d never ask,” he says enthusiastically. 

After their easy dinner of fried eggs and seal jerky on rice, Zuko ends up being right; they go back to the living room and watch a documentary on the construction of the ancient air temples. They lie on the couch with Sokka between Zuko’s legs, his head on Zuko’s chest. The rain has stopped outside, but Zuko hardly notices with Sokka pressed against him. From this angle, he can pull the tie out of Sokka’s hair and comb his fingers through the soft, brown tresses, as well as the fuzz of his undercut, while the narrator debunks a theory that aliens teleported the building materials up the Potola Mountain Range.

“What do you think, Sokka?” Zuko whispers near his ear. “Did aliens build the air temples?”

Sokka’s response is a light snore against his chest. 

Zuko suppresses a laugh. There’s no way of getting Sokka to bed without waking him, so Zuko settles in behind him instead. He wraps one of his arms protectively around his boyfriend’s body, while the other stays in place to let his fingers keep playing with Sokka’s hair, enjoying the soft smile it coaxes onto his relaxed mouth. The clouds outside clear to make way for the nearly full moon, whose light spills through the towering windows into the apartment. The dark lifts from the room, the walls glow an otherworldly blue, and Zuko sinks beneath Sokka’s weight into the night’s quiet.

[kakashiswilloffire]

Friend Killer Kakashi

ao3

words: 2.2k

warnings: angst, mention of gore, mention of vomit, no comfort

He was ready to crawl out of his own skin. His whole body flushed with waves of heat, prickling uncomfortably in his chest, like thousands of pins jabbing both inside and outside of himself. He stopped, gripping the counter to hold himself steady while he dragged shallow breaths into his lungs. He knew he needed to take a deep breath, he was telling himself to take a deep fucking breath, even just one, why can’t he just even breathe correctly, how the fuck was he supposed—

The sound of his fist interrupted him before he’d even realized he had struck out. Knowing it would be several minutes before the pain really set in, he smacked his hand against the counter again and shook his head viciously. Silver strands, oilier than he usually let them get, stung as they met skin while the weight of his hair shifted.

He sucked air thickly into his nostrils then pawed at his nose, grimacing at the spices that overwhelmed the air around him. He tossed the pan into the sink, not caring that it still sizzled or that the oil splashed onto the cold tiles beneath him. He was trying to make pan fried eggplant to go with the premade miso soup he’d picked up last week. It had been a shitty week and he just wanted to make his favorite meal to make everything hurt a little bit less. There was no way it’d be as good as what Gai made, or whatever Dai had done when he first made it for him, but Kakashi figured it would do, and since it would be the first thing he had cooked himself all week, there should be some sense of achievement and dopamine to relish in when it was done. Unfortunately, it had gone terribly.

He couldn’t remember exactly what spices went on the eggplant. Salt, pepper, minced garlic, and then Gai would riff from there. Kakashi hated that—he was fine as long as he could follow a recipe. Gai, however, could just pour a splash of soy, or a squeeze of lemon, or even a drizzle of honey on anything and it was phenomenal, and also, unrepeatable. He could remember what the version he wanted tonight should taste like, and it didn’t matter what bottles he shook out into the pan, it never smelled right. The oil just kept popping onto his arms and hands, and the eggplant got slimier, and everything started to smell way too strong.

Kakashi Hatake, master of a thousand jutsu, and fucking garbage at cooking.

Whatever.

Running his hand along his forehead, he tried to find a single thought to focus on rather than the swirling mess in his head. Rin’s death a few months ago had hit him hard, much like he had hit her. He knew Gai hated to hear him think like that, but she would be alive if he hadn’t been there. If his hand hadn’t crushed through her chest, her ribs scraping along—

He lurched forward, the smell of the kitchen and the visceral memories getting to him at last. His shoulders jerked erratically as he retched into the tiny sink then sunk to his knees. The cold of the floor helped ground him while he wrapped his muscled arms around his stomach, leaning his head against the cabinet until the room stopped spinning.

Pathetic.

Obito would be absolutely pissed to know this was what he died for.

Gai wouldn’t be back from his mission for at least four more days. Kakashi was on a temporary leave pending the results of the investigation into Rin’s death. Ibiki had tried to reassure him the other day that unofficially it was looking good, and should turn out in his favor soon. He was almost certain to be found not at fault. Kakashi had scoffed—even if that was the official ruling, her murder was entirely his fault.

While they weren’t living together, Gai had taken it upon himself years ago to have a spare key, or maybe several spare keys, to his apartment copied and he kept one in a pocket in that garish green spandex at all times. With everything going on, Gai had been by every other day or so that he was in the village. The couch still had a crumpled blanket at one end he had used the last time he stayed overnight, and the one throw pillow with the Hatake crest that Gai wouldn’t let him get rid of. He tossed it out of his way as he flopped down on his back, letting his legs kick up and rest over the top of the dingy couch.

Why did anyone bother with him? Why would Ibiki go to the effort of leaking confidential information about his investigation to him? Why would Asuma invite him out for drinks every Friday night? Why would Kurenai and Genma leave bottles of sake in his mailbox with notes that everything would be fine? Why would Gai.. anything relating to him?

He couldn’t even hold the memories back long enough to successfully make dinner. He hadn’t even reheated the miso soup, and that was only two steps. He couldn’t save Obito, he couldn’t save Rin, he couldn’t convince Gai to leave well enough alone.

What if Gai was next?

Fuck.

He couldn’t let Gai be next. There were a lot of things he had failed at, but damned if he wouldn’t succeed in this. He could not, under any circumstances, let Gai any closer, any further into his life. The further away he could get the overly-enthusiastic shinobi, the better.

He nodded, swinging his legs around to the edge of the couch and letting that propel him into a seated position from which he sprang up. He walked over to the tiny end table and wrenched open the single overstuffed drawer, digging through for a pad of paper and the first writing instrument he could find, a blue pen with the academy’s logo printed on it.

Gai—

I don’t know how to tell you this, but you have to stay away from me. It’s for your own good. No one close to me is safe, even from me.

Sorry. Please understand.

��Kakashi

He read over the messily scrawled note, then tore the sheet off the pad and crumbled it in a fist. There’s no way Gai could read that and not have about a billion questions. Especially with how they had relied on each other through the years, from Dai’s death to Rin’s, this wouldn’t be remotely good enough to get Gai to stay away.

He sat down on the couch again, tapping the pen absentmindedly against the faded lined paper. What do you say to someone to convince them to be done with you completely?

When the key scraped into the lock, he froze.

The door swung wide open, Gai slumping into the apartment. His jumpsuit was nicked and torn and his hair didn’t have its usual luster. He was clearly exhausted, though not chakra exhausted. Kakashi felt the familiar pangs of panic begin to hit—how was he back so soon?

“Hey, ‘Kashi. The client blew the mission terms totally out of proportion—he made it seem like it’d be almost an A rank, and instead it was like a grueling C rank. We’re still not sure if the pay will be adjusted accordingly, but Ebisu is arguing it shouldn’t be because we did still run into trouble—Stone ninja near the border tried to take Chouza out. Recognized him somehow, but no worries, Konoha’s magnificent Green Beast was on the scene and we handled them without any major issues.” He grinned and flexed, posing for a moment before relaxing now that he had reached his destination and sliding his vest off and onto the hook by the door.

“How have you been? You eaten yet? Yakiniku is running a special according to Chouza—he asked me to join him for a post-mission meal and I told him I’d have to swing by here and see if you wanted to tag along. You like their short rib, right? Or are you still on the vegetarian kick?”

It never failed to impress Kakashi how Gai could fill a space, whether it be with his words, his personality, or his posing. No matter how he did it, though, it always was genuine and warm, and it was nearly impossible to maintain the solemn composure he frequently fronted. They made a nice contrast as a pair. Shame they would never have the chance to explore the friendship further.

He looked down at the crumpled paper on the ground and kicked it under the couch, setting the pad and pen aside. Unfortunately, he was going to have to explain in person.

He walked past Gai without making eye contact, the other man stepping out of his way without resistance. He lifted the vest off the hook next to his own vest, brought it briefly to his own chest, and immediately regretted it when the scent of his rival slammed into him. Once again, he shook his head vigorously, then shoved the vest back at Gai.

“Get out.”

He laughed, taking the vest back and slipping it on without understanding. “Want yours as well?” he asked, reaching for the door.

Kakashi felt flushed again, realizing that Gai meant for them to get dinner together. He walked back into the small living room, keeping his back to the door.

“Don’t need it. Get out.”

Gai’s laugh died in his chest, questions rising to the surface. “I… You okay? Did something happen while I was gone? Your investigation results? I told Ibiki to send word if they made the announcement, that asshole—”

“No, Gai. Nothing happened. I just…” Kakashi swallowed and felt his heart frost over. “Just did some thinking. Realized I’m better off without you.”

He scoffed. “Very funny, Kakashi. Come on, grab a jacket or something, Chouza said he’d wait on me to get back.”

“I mean it, Gai. You’re holding me back. The stupid challenges, do you think I actually care? I’ve always been stronger than you, and now that I’ve got the Sharingan, it’s comical, competing against you. I can see all your moves from miles away. You broadcast like a bull. You’re loud, annoying, and a useless ninja. I want you out of my life.”

There was silence for more than a full minute. It might have been as long as the two of them had gone without speaking, ever. Then Gai crossed to Kakashi in two steps, grabbing his left shoulder and spinning him around to face him.

“I know you’re not saying all that ‘cause you mean it, Kakashi. Look me in the eyes and think about this.”

Kakashi steeled himself, making full eye contact with the single grey eye. “Why don’t you think about it, Gai? Honestly? What kind of a ninja can’t even use ninjutsu? Everyone’s just humoring you and letting you make a fool of yourself. You’re a walking lesson in how to not be a shinobi.”

Gai blinked hard, his eyes beginning to shimmer. He cocked his head to the side, his grip on his rival’s shoulder only strengthening.

“’Kashi, I know things are hard for you. I know your brain lies to you sometimes. It’s okay. Listen, we’ll stay here tonight, I’ll cook, we can watch a movie or something, I’ll keep watch so you can sleep and we’ll talk more in the morning. There’s no pressure. I care about you, Kakashi. Let me help you.”

His eyes were swimming now, the passion making tears roll slowly down his face. The silver-haired man refused to move or answer. Swallowing, he made one last effort to persuade him. “Kakashi… please. Don’t do this. I love you.”

Kakashi’s heart, freeze dried, now shattered, crumbling into a powder and blowing away on a light breeze. Of course Gai loved him, and he loved Gai, but could Gai really mean that he… could he love him the way?—

Impossible.

No. Of course not. And even if he did, that just put him in all the more danger.

His resolve strengthened, he scowled back. “Fuck off, Gai. A ninja that only uses taijutsu is useless in battle. Don’t you remember how your dad died? Couldn’t save himself, could barely save you. What did you even do to try and help him?”

He was grateful for the fist that slammed into his jaw, shutting him up and knocking him into the wall.

“Fuck off, Hatake.”

He only dimly registered the door slamming, and possibly coming off its’ hinges. After a beat, a glint of silver flew through the air and lodged into the wall directly opposite the door. Slowly, he gathered himself up and limped over to it, realizing with a sharp ache that it was the key to his apartment. Turning to the mirror propped near the door, he stared down the version of him with grey circles under his eyes, thumbing at the blood growing at the corner of his mouth.

Friend-Killer Kakashi was starting to sound more like him by the moment.

[snowydaffodils]

Flustered

3501 words | 2nd Person POV

A Yoon Jeonghan fluff, prompt, how you met, how you (hinted) eventually dated, where you're an actress and he's the other lead actor. Enjoy your new years! 🎉

---

Yoon Jeonghan is very rarely flustered. If anything, he's usually the cause of all the flustering - twelve boys can back you up on that. He'd make fun of your height, poke your cheeks, comment cutesy compliments as you work together, flirt playfully, and make fun of how stupid your character sounds.

Indeed, you accepted this role fully aware of the awfully pure and slow-witted character the scriptwriter had written down. Throughout your years in acting, even if this was your very first lead role, you had never gone easy on the rest of the roles you had received. You live and understand them, think like them, and every single character you've performed have now become a part of you. But of course, the closest character to you now is this easily distracted girl who just blushes all the time.

So for the course of eight months, you've acted with all your might, and this is the you that Jeonghan knew. You weren't exactly innocent and slow-witted just like the character, but a bit of the character influenced your own personal traits. The fun to tease, cute, and adorably likable girl. Just like you, it was his first lead role in a drama, and the first one in Seventeen to land on one, too, even if he wasn't the first one to be in one. He had curiously accepted a side role before, right after his military release, and just as the group were exploring their own careers whilst waiting to reunite again as a whole. That side role, with the help of his previous acting lessons, drowned him into the world of acting once more, and he fell in love with the art of the screen more than he ever did before.

Your first impression on him during the first cast meeting was that he looked heavenly. It was like his cheekbones were sculpted to perfection and no one could tell you otherwise. You were incredibly starstruck and in awe that you stuttered in making your first introductions. It didn't help that he was smooth with his words, too, making you sound incredibly nervous as opposed to him.

"Hi, I'm Jeonghan from Seventeen, and I'll be taking the lead role in this drama. Please take care of me."

"Hi, I'm play, uh, playing the lead gull, I mean g-girl."

Had he smiled politely and continued the conversation like nothing had happened, maybe you wouldn't have been too embarrassed, but also maybe you wouldn't have let your guards down to know and befriend him personally. Instead, he had laughed at you with all the stomach power he had. He never lets you forget that you stuttered so badly as you introduced yourself for the first time the entire day. He even made his own reasons (you wouldn't admit them, but they couldn't have been more true) as to why you stuttered.

"Nervous? I'm super charming, aren't I?" his ego is surely out of bounds as he said that, a smirk donning his lips. "I know, I'm surprised at myself, too sometimes."

You hit him on the arm, your cheeks growing in color. "I'm a big fan of Seventeen, but I didn't realize that you're this cheeky."

He laughed, so genuinely and purely, and you smiled, already warmed up to him. He made friends with you quickly, and from all the behind the scenes footage, he was quick to melt his awkward-i-just-met-you exterior and interacted with you as he would with his members. Jeonghan was this tall, built, and handsome man, and he owned unreal facial features that made everyone wonder if he was indeed human just like everyone else. He was perfect for his role: the cold, sly, and dominating lead in the series. It was the complete opposite of your character, and with his friendliness, it was easy for you to quickly build up chemistry and work well with him, but as you two get closer, the more playful he became.

"You're the love of my life," he recited his lines, cheesy as it is, to which you became shy to and shrank as he got closer and closed his lips to yours.

He was quick to tease your blushes after the director's "Cut!" in each kissing scene, and would tease you easily at other romantic or heart fluttering scenes you had to do.

"Aww, that's cute, you're blushing again! I can hear your heart fluttering," he would say. "Then again, I am charming."

And in each time, you were always caught in his trap, stuck in the moment, and your heart follows his lead, ignoring all the other self-restraining signals your head was screaming about. He'd laugh right after he got a reaction out of you, and the grin he'd give you would linger in your head for the rest of the day.

There was another day when one of his members - Joshua - came to support as a cameo, and it felt like Jeonghan was on booster or something. He introduced you to Joshua, who was sweet, polite, and a perfect gentleman, but then Jeonghan continued to tease you the entire day Joshua was there. He made sure to remind Joshua how cute you were so many times throughout the day. At that point you were actually getting used to Jeonghan's antics, but him teasing you in front of a new person puts you on another level of flustered.

"Hey Josh, meet the love of my life," Jeonghan said, using his scripted lines.

Joshua, while he was nicer than Jeonghan, still played along sometimes. "Then I'll call you member-in-law!" He said.

Your birthday was on a filming day, and he managed to fool you to think that you had hurt his feelings by giving him comments on his acting as per usual (you were sure you weren't saying anything bad, but he kept directing it to be a negative one). He started showing acts of distaste and, at one point, even yelled at you and left the room.

It was heart-wrenching to watch him leave - you never wanted to hurt his feelings, you just wanted to help and support him and the drama entirely. Guilt washed over you quickly, and tears piled in your eyes. The crew was looking at you so judgmentally, and all you wanted to do was go home, lock the doors, and hide under your covers. You didn't know what to do, and some of the crew even went to you to convince you that he just needed to blow off steam and he'll be back and you can apologize when he gets back.

You wanted to scream and rip his hair off when he came back with a cake, singing Happy Birthday like nothing happened. Your tears flowed like a river though, because you genuinely thought that Yoon Jeonghan, this man, was actually angry at you to the point that he put it to display to everyone who was present and even yelled at you.

"Don't cry!" he laughed at you, taking the cream from the cake and swiping your cheeks with his finger. "You'll look ugly. We have to take a picture with this cake!"

You cursed at him for the first time since you've known him, but he only chuckled and patted your back to calm down your sniffles (you glared at his finger until he wiped the cream away first, though). He gave you a friendly hug and you hit him to prove the point that you were upset, and it was a loud slap in the back that everyone was surprised but laughed at. Apparently, a behind-the-scenes camera was on and recording the entire surprise; Jeonghan remembered this and went to the camera to tell on you. He complained really loudly, "Carats, she hit me!" he pointed at you playfully.

You were still sniffling, snots everywhere and you eyes still bawling with tears. "Y-you deserve it!" you screamed.

On the last day of filming, you had laughed everything off, remembering everything that happened during the course of filming and engraving every memory to your heart. It was surely an indescribable experience. The crew had been super nice, and they felt like a second family to you. The cast members became your best friends, including the one and only Yoon Jeonghan. You thanked Jeonghan, the rest of the cast, and the entire crew for all their hard work, hugged your co-stars tightly, and told Jeonghan to stay in contact with you even after it all ended because you'd miss him.

"Hey, but don't be a stranger," you told him. "I think I'm too used to having you around, its gonna be hard to live peacefully, now."

He smiled, pinched your cheeks and said, "Did you think I'm gonna stop just because the drama ended? You should've seen me annoy my members even from the military base."

You rolled your eyes at him, "I wouldn't dare to assume you'd do anything less."

And he kept to his word. Though there hadn't been any opportunities for both of you to meet each other again (variety shows and interview promotions were done during the course of filming), he still contacts you day-to-day, even if only to send a meme he found of you and laugh at you through text.

"You really DO look like you've got a frog in your mouth! Hahahaha!"

This went on through the rest of the year until the Award Shows started to busy every single celebrity available, finally announcing the invites, MCs, performances, and nominees to each award they have. Your drama with Jeonghan had hit it big as fans were so happy to watch both of you interact (also, maybe because Woozi sang the main OST, and Scoups' rap on the OST was fire), and you were invited to almost every single one of them as a nominee for multiple awards.

It was first assumed, then implied, but it was also because he was actually sweet enough to ask you personally, that you were officially his date to every one of the award shows your drama was nominated in. You agreed, not because he was your co-star, but because he was a genuinely nice and fun person to spend time with. You were also very excited, not just because you were nominated, but also because this time you were going to finally present your original and true self to Yoon Jeonghan and the world. The other characters within you screamed in delight as you excitement rose, and you had planned everything out, determined to show that you are not just a simple easily teased girl that Yoon Jeonghan bullies on.

On the very first show you wore a white gown - the top part was gold glitter with a heart neckline, and it corseted your figure, highlighting all the important curves in your body. Down your dress, the fabric flowed in an A-line skirt, transparency growing in a gradient as it reached the bottom, your strapped golden heels visible within your skirt. You put your half your hair into a braid and curled the rest. With curtain-like gold earrings and white diamonds shining out of the strands, Jeonghan was stunned when he saw you for the first time. Your make up was different from what he was used to, and a mature-like pureness aura radiates from you. He didn't know what to say, muted to say the least. He had never seen you like that, and once both of you reached the red carpet, his hand on your back as a gentlemanly support to guide you through the reporters, he noticed how straight you walked, and how you carried yourself so gracefully. The reporters were asking questions, but he left the answering to you as he continued to stay stunned through the red carpet. It was only when you both had finally taken your seats when he finally relaxed and converse normally again.

The minimum movements you emitted, just enough to be polite and to please your audience were not missed by the man, and he observed the details of your interactions to the utmost adoration. Your gracefulness had struck a chord in his heart and he was awed to say the least.

He ended the night with a shy smile and an "Oh, and by the way, you were absolutely beautiful tonight." The sincerity of his tone didn't go unnoticed and you didn't forget to thank him before going separate ways. It was oddly out of character of him to do, but you liked the new side of him you have yet to explore.

The next show, you opted for a bright red designer's gown. This one, fitting to its price tag, created this absolutely stunning silhouette, and while it did not sparkle or glitter, its muted red still create a distinction of you and made you shine. The designed folds in your dress accented your figure even more, and with a looser fabric, the skirt of your dress was made longer so it could trail behind you as you walk. Your hair was gathered up into one straight ponytail, a pretty simple hairdo to gather attention to your striking gown for the night.

Jeonghan didn't recognize you when he first was led to your changing room. You didn't just look like a different person, you feel like one, too. He didn't even realize that he held his breath as he looked at you. The stylist were so proud of their efforts and Jeonghan's reaction had them giggling and teasing him. "She's incredibly beautiful, isn't she?"

He barely managed a "yes" before you could chuckle and said to him, "Well look who's being shy, now."

At this, he returned a laughter of his own. He didn't bother hiding his surprised expression. "You got me. You look incredible."

Your outfit and style of the day, added with your elegance and poise as you conducted yourself in front of the reporters and other celebrities had Jeonghan staring at you for a while, and quite numerous whiles. He absolutely adored you. There was a surging feeling of wholesome pride as he stood beside you, his hand on your back as he escorted you through the venue. Even as he teased you as he answered the reporters' questions, you had retained your poise as you held it within yourself not to be flustered easily by this man. You had a year worth of practice for that.

"Isn't she beautiful? I'm such a fan of hers," Jeonghan whispered to the reporters, his playful grins and chuckles evident as he interacted happily. "She doesn't look like her character now, does she?"

You chuckled along with him, but dragged him to stop him from acting like a fan on the red carpet. He laughed and after a few tries of refusing your urges to move on, eventually let it go and allowed you to pull him forwards. As you moved on, he placed his hand on your back just like how he usually does, as a sign that he was right there walking with you.

The third time though, Jeonghan was speechless. He barely spoke through the course of the night, and his eyes never left you.

You wore a black designer's gown this time, with sequinned patterned Qs coming from your neck down to your knees before the skirt spreads out to hide your silver heels. It was a mermaid gown and it hugged your figure nicely. The skirt was actually more flowy that you thought, but it added a nice touch. You wore silver earrings and diamond hair pieces as you put your hair up in the most elegant updo Jeonghan had ever seen. He was already stunned when he saw you for the first time, but he almost choked when you turned around only for him to realize that your gown was completely backless.

Now, where is he supposed to place his hand again?

His face was flushed and when you turned to finally go out the door, you see his face filled with more red than you've ever seen. While his face was kind of salvaged by the foundation he used, the makeup couldn't help his neck from turning red as well.

"Yoon Jeonghan, are you sick?" you asked aloud, gaining the attention of all staff members present, all their eyes pointed at the man in question. "Or are you actually blushing?"

Your second question snapped him out of his haze (and had many of the stylists and make up artists giggling) as he looked at you for a few seconds, and you were starting to actually worry, before he eventually puts his hand on his forehead, covering his face.

"God, you'll be the death of me. Let's go before I embarrass myself any further."

He was indeed blushing, and his statement confirmed that for you. You laughed, but you can't help but feel you cheeks tinting a little pink from his confession. He linked your arm with his and went out together.

The first few minutes into the red carpet, Jeonghan did his best not to have direct contact with your back. He was blushing the entire time, had to ask the interviewers to repeat themselves a couple of times, and his hand was going to unsure places like your shoulder or your waist, which he was also not confident about, and eventually just lingers a few inches away from your back, like in mid-air. The so-called manner hands.

It wasn't as reassuring as having his hand on your back like the previous times you both had gone through this. His focus was also off as he tried to avoid the contact, and just moved his hand when you moved as well. You sighed and just pulled his hand to slightly slap your back, and you pointed a look at Jeonghan's direction, telling him to stop fidgeting through your eyes.

He blushed.

"Jeonghan, are you not feeling well?" one of the reporters asked.

He seemed to click then and there. His honest self couldn't help himself as he answered, "Oh yeah, she just looks gorgeous tonight, I can't take my eyes off of her."

When he finally comprehended his own words, he fumbled and stuttered. "I-I mean," he tried to reason, but the stars in the reporters' eyes were showing that they heard everything he said, and some of them squealed in delight.

"Why, thank you," you turned to face him, your smile directed for him.

He was stunned - again.

"Oh, let's just go," he said shyly, one of his hands reaching to his neck to feel just how warm he had gotten.

That night, both of you had received a daesang award, but Jeonghan kind of added a few more elements to his acceptance speech.

"Hi, this is Seventeen's Jeonghan. This acting experience was truly incredible and there's so many people who should know that they are the reason for this award. I want to thank Carats, who have always been there for me through thick and thin, and my members who have been watching and supporting me, especially to Joshua who became a cameo, my parents and my family members who had been with me from the very start, the staff members, Pledis, directors, pd-nim, and all the crew members. This is not possible without any of you. And special thanks to," Jeonghan moved his eyes on you, and he didn't know why then and there, your name disappeared from his head and instead replaced with that one line that had caught all the viewers' heart as they watched the drama.

"The love of my life - " he stopped when he realized what he just said, and realized he had kind of just confessed on national TV. "I mean, M-my co-star."

You stood there surprised at how flustered Yoon Jeonghan could be, and stunned that you were the main reason that he was fumbling on the stage and his ears redder than ever. He caught himself before he did anything else and finished his speech nicely.

"Anyways, uh, thank you for this award, I'll work even harder to be a better actor and come back with more for you all. Thankyou!"

It was your turn after him to deliver your speech, and suddenly the trophy on your hands became heavier than it actually was. Jeonghan turned his back to walk back to the spot beside you as you move forward, and you can see a small smile tugging the corners of his lips. When you were brushing against each other before you took the mic, he whispered, just loud for you to hear, and short enough to go unnoticed.

"Yes, that was my confession to you. Will you go out with me?"

All eyes were on you and all lights were on you when you felt like you bit your tongue and couldn't speak.

The MCs were waiting for your speech, and nudged you to start when you seem lost.

"Ah, yes, I mean, no, I mean yes!"

Yoon Jeonghan really knows how to fluster you, even in his most flustering moments.

---

[weakzen]

Left on the detective’s desk, a single red rose and a note written in precise handwriting:

Alex,

What happened to you - you didn’t deserve it. You can be loved, if you let yourself.

Happy Valentine’s Day

(yolo experimental style; alex/mason, early established relationship, angst and fluff; no direct mention of abuse, just oblique circling and fatalistic thoughts; rated m for mason; also on AO3~)

Even though I didn't finish reading it, even though I hid it from sight, imprisoned it in darkness, cast it to the depths of the bottom drawer until the end of shift, when it would be possible to smuggle the thing into the break room recycle bin without risking Tina's eyes or interrogation, that stupid fucking note has somehow still managed to reach up through all those heavy files and twist my stomach into knots.

For hours.

Plucking my nerves hard enough to make my hands fucking shake too. Typos in every report, backspace key pulling overtime without pay. Not helped by eyes that won't stop stinging. Armpits that haven't fully dried either, along with a weird chill, shivers that persist despite the sweater and the cranked-up thermostat.

At least the rose is gone. Snuck it into the arrangement on Tina's desk, the one I get her every year.

It looks better surrounded by friends.

It was nice to see it on the desk this morning

(Can still smell it perfuming the air.)

And if I could get rid of my thoughts as easily, I would. Because after half a day of chasing them in circles, I still can't figure out who the fuck sent that goddamn note, who the fuck would write something like that—say shit like that, to me—who could possibly fucking think or know or say anything about that, or that I-I, that I—

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckingfuck.

That sickly feeling wrenches again, hard enough to jerk me forward over the desk, face buried in my hands while my breathing shudders into something unsteady and vaguely gasping.

Fuck.

It can't be Tina.

It can't.

It should be, but it can't.

The writing's not loopy enough to be hers, and it's not slanted enough to be Verda's, and the damn thing isn't covered in nearly enough heart stickers to be from Felix. We all should know. Nate's been sighing nonstop for the past week, scraping them off every available surface in the Warehouse—except for the lacy pink one Felix managed to sneak right between Adam's shoulders.

And the glittery red one I pressed covertly to Mason's ass.

(Maybe not so covertly. Found a few hearts stuck to my underwear later when I slipped outta my jeans, and the secrets of how the fuck he pulled that off are still locked behind his smirk.)

A smile tries to pull at my lips, but the tightness in my gut warps it crooked.

Another shuddery breath.

It can't be from Adam either. If he had something to say to me, he'd just say it, preferably after he finished laying me out on the mats, all sweaty and sucking down air from another session of his gentle ass-kicking. Nate, however, would write a note to me. Has written a note to me. Has written many notes to me and still not made a dent in that stack of expensive stationary, and although the card stock was silk cream, the pigment obsidian night, and the calligraphy swooping in almost a dead ringer, I know it can't be from Nate because he would never leave a rose with his words, not the ones meant for me.

But there isn't anyone else.

There's Mason

And it can't be from him.

It's not his handwriting, to start. I think. I'm pretty sure. I've never actually seen his writing, but I can't imagine it would be anything resembling neat or careful. It's gotta be complete chicken scratch. All cramped and illegible. He's left handed too, barely patient enough to sit through a stoplight, much less give ink the time to dry, so there'd be definitely be smears, and there weren't any smears. At all. Can't be him.

Not to mention he'd never do anything like this.

Don't know why he keeps coming to mind anyway. Just because we're…

Together

—for now.

Doesn't mean he'd ever say anything like that—

He already has

(He did. He said I deserved better and I believe him, but I don't, I can't.)

—only because he'd say differently if he knew.

If he really knew.

He'd say different and I'm not gonna fucking tell him and it doesn't fucking matter anyway, it doesn't. Shine's gonna wear off soon enough. Novelty, satisfied. Boredom, returning. And at least the conversation won't be awkward, just… blunt. To the point. A first for us both, in topic, if not style.

I've never been dumped before, at least not in a romantic sense.

Another breath. Another shuddery breath.

Wonder how it's gonna feel.

(It's gonna suck.)

No fucking shit.

If it can't last, why agree to it at all?

I rub hard at my eyes, grinding palms into sockets.

If it can't last, why not tell him anyway?

Because I already fucking know! Don't need to hear it from him, don't wanna hear it from—

If it can't last, why does it matter what he thinks?

“…Stupid fucking note.”

It was nice to see it on the desk this morning

(Someone took the time, wrote it, left it in here. Someone cares.)

Someone's playing a sick fucking joke, more like.

What if it's genuine?

I scoff ragged, squeezing fingers around the back of my neck.

(Tina cares. So does Verda. The whole team, so many others, I know, and I believe them all but I don't. I can't.)

What if you didn't deserve it?

I did. I stayed and I did. My fault. Fucking stupid, like he always said.

(All Mason ever speaks is care. In a thousand different ways of touch, in silence, in lingering looks, he cares.)

What if you can be loved?

What if you can?

A brittle laugh wheezes past my lips and shoots toward something hysterical, boosted by acid burn and cloying petals and that churning, churning tightness. My shoulders hunch high around my ears while the sound pitches even higher, lungs immolated and screaming along, nails digging, cutting crescents as I shake and curl tighter, smaller, compacting into stiffness hard enough to rival diamonds, every muscle verging on a cramp and my throat is stinging and my eyes are on fire, hot, wet, and the door is closed, the blinds shut, and maybe I could just— this time— if I stayed quiet, I could—

I could—

But I don't.

I swallow once, twice, suck down, blink it away, then snap upright and get back to work. There's too much shit, not enough time.

Never enough time, not for that.

For you

(Remember to eat lunch.)

I don't.

I don't really remember talking to anyone either. Or finishing paperwork. Answering email. Clearing the inbox backlog, digital and otherwise, but the stack depletes, the numbers go down, Tina gives me shit from the doorway, and soon the peripheral lights tick off overhead in the foyer, a mop bucket rattles its rounds, darkness crept into my office at some point for a visit and now it's here to stay, just its quiet company along with the monitor blasting eye strain, clacking keys, tight shoulders, a headache, and then—

A familiar ass plops down on my desk and scares the shit out of me.

I jerk back in the chair, wheels rolling, hand over heart to keep it from pounding free and Mason looms above it all, bathed in harsh blues, deep shadows, a deeper frown, and eyes that refuse to obey the rules of any ambient illumination.

Right now? They're crinkled soft, even as they scrutinize.

He looks… worried.

When did he even open my door?

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“…Yeah,” I mutter. A lie, an obvious one, but I fight the urge to glance away and dare him to call me out anyway. “You need something, sunshine?”

A muscle in his jaw twitches. “You're late.”

“For what?”

We didn't make plans.

“Getting home.”

Fuck.

I sigh, slumping in the seat, and now I'm looking away, now I'm backing down, running a hand through my hair, mussing and tangling, just like he always does when he's uncertain.

And when the hell did I start doing that?

“Yeah, I'm still behind on shit from my vacation. I was gonna stay late tonight, try and catch up…” I explain, because Tina and I also didn't make plans this year.

(Because she's been marinating in smugness ever since I sighed and told her about the relationship. Because she dropped that shit-eating smirk earlier—that I remember, at least—dripping suggestion all over my office as she waggled her brows and winked and made obnoxious kissy faces until I shoved her out the door, but not before she told me to 'have lots of fun tonight, Alexandra.')

Sure.

“Sorry I didn't text. I… forgot.”

That tightness in my stomach does another loop, and I huff a quiet breath.

Stupid fucking note.

Mason folds his arms. “…The fuck is going on with you?”

Concern blunts the teeth of his words, not that there's any real bite. There never is, not with him, but I tense up anyway, expecting it, expecting to be ripped open.

Blood and pain.

I'd tense up no matter how he asked.

It's okay

(He's not Bobby.)

“Nothing,” I reply, folding my arms, eyes down, “just…”

It's okay

(He's not looking to hurt.)

Probably will anyway, but fuck it. I already know his answer.

Let's just get it over with.

“You didn't leave me a valentine earlier, did you?” My gaze snaps to his. “On my desk?”

Mason scoffs. “Why the hell would I do that?”

This time, it stabs instead of twists, higher up, somewhere in my chest. Something sharp instead of dull.

Disappointment? …Relief? I'm not sure.

Just that it stings.

And it's nighttime, so maybe he feels it too, and maybe that's why he unfolds his arms and shifts toward me, boot heel dangling by the bottom drawer while his voice drops to a softness that matches his accent. “What it say?”

“Nothing,” I repeat, even quieter than him. “Just someone fucking with me. It doesn't matter.”

It does

(Shouldn't lie, not to him. Don't need to. Don't want to, don't like it.)

Mason doesn't like it either, but he doesn't push it. Neither do I.

We look away from each other.

The office swelters around us, too stuffy, too small. Too silent and uncomfortable now to stay. I roll forward to save my work, then turn the computer off and Mason's already waiting for me by the door, a dark silhouette framed by distant fluorescent, my coat and bag hanging off his arms. He pulls me in while I put it all on, yanking me by lapels before abandoning them for the sweater on my lower back, the loose hair at my nape. His lips brush against mine in slow movements, soft nibbling, and he's whispering something to me with it all, with the strokes of his fingers and the circle of our chins, but I can't quite hear.

So ask

(He'll answer—and he won't lie.)

I swallow, then I do.

“…What kind of kiss was that?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs beneath my hands, breath tickling my face. “I want you to feel better.”

“Oh.”

A shadow flits behind his eyes.

“…And if he's still bothering you, I'm gonna break his fucking jaw again.”

I chuckle softly. “Pretty sure it wasn't him this time.”

“Good.” Mason nibbles another kiss, then smirks. “Might still do it anyway.”

That gets a laugh from both of us, one that sprawls into a pause, grey eyes locked to mine while our grins fade out and our breath catches on everything unspoken and nameless rushing in to take the space.

Honesty. It's what I try to speak. Trailing up from the emotional ooze, raw and sticky.

I hope he can fucking see it, hear it cry, but I wipe it off and whisper the words into shape anyway, cheeks flaming, just to be sure—

“I'm sorry, I just… I don't wanna talk about it now.”

—and he answers me with a brush of his mouth, with his tongue parting my lips, with the way he teases into me before licking deeper, the way he jerks our hips together then shoves, a knee between my thighs, my back into a wall, a door frame, a sharp corner, a low groan rumbling up his chest directly into mine and I hear it all this time, in his breathy panting at the edge of our kiss, the firmness in his fingers angling my face to his, the solid heat of his cock pressed hard against me, grinding slow while I cling tight and moan, I hear it all, but he sucks my lip in with a sharp inhale, rolls me around his mouth before releasing with a drag of teeth, and he murmurs it aloud anyway, just to be sure—

“I know, sweetheart. It's fine.”

—then he nips down hard, and it's hard not to smile, hard not to laugh, harder still not to nip that asshole right back, so I don't.

Hold back, that is.

Our lips are swollen and sore by the time the station door swings shut behind us.

[joonsdiary]

worth fighting for (06)

pairing: jungkook x reader genre/warnings: a pinch of fluff, a dash of angst / royalty au, historical au / tw: indignant!koo, apologetic!reader, jimin being the supportive bun that he is, if you came for a fun time this chapter probably isn’t? word count: 4,815

summary: fresh out of the perils of war, jungkook didn’t think that his task as the newly appointed general would be to look after you.

                                                                       SIX.

“Congratulations, Y/N. The distance you so crave is finally there.”

You mumble to yourself as you watch Jungkook’s back disappear into the horizon. Had it not been for your sharp tongue, perhaps you would’ve prevented the damage you’ve inflicted upon him. You hadn’t seen his expression as he didn’t bother to face you, but his slackened shoulders are enough to let you know how he feels. Your heart wrenches painfully as you swallow thickly.

Yes, his mistrust towards your capabilities is unwarranted, inflicting your pride. You aren’t some weak helpless princess who needs to wait around and be rescued – you are more than capable of saving your own ass. But that doesn’t give you the authority to overstep your boundary and bring up his dead brother, of all people.

You blink up at the sky, unable to keep the tears pooling from staining your flush cheeks. There’s no use in feeling sorry for yourself now, though. You have to apologize, and somehow make it up to him. An action that’s easier said than done if Jungkook does not brush you off with every attempt.

But he does.

Throughout the rest of the day, you chase him around like a puppy does their master. There’s not much left to do since Jimin gathered firewood when you were busy stomping on Jungkook’s feelings. The tents have also been set up, courtesy of both Miyoung and Jimin. That doesn’t stop Jungkook from coming up with creative ways to dismiss your presence, though.

“I’m going to relieve myself. Will you follow me there, too?” Jungkook deadpans and you wilt away, cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

“No,” you toy with the string of your dress. You look up at him and open your mouth to say the words that are eating you up. You don’t have the chance to, though, because he turns to leave in search of a dense forest area. Your shoulders slump in defeat as you massage your temples.

“Did something happen between you and the general?” Miyoung approaches you with caution. You don’t turn to address her presence, but you nod at her inquisition.

“I was being a dimwit.”

“You can be a bit dense at times,” Miyoung mumbles thoughtfully, and you give her a slanted gaze. She returns the favour with a playful smile. “What is it; you finally confessed, and he rejected you? It was so bad that he wants to avoid you, but you can’t help how your poor heart yearns for him.”

Her statement is like cold water being splashed to your face. “What do you mean finally?”

“I’m not going through the whole spiel about you acting jittery around him again,” she says wryly. “But you’ve been really, really obvious.”

Your face blanches, and Miyoung gives you a puzzling gaze.

He hasn’t noticed though, right?

You push the thought away since what she said hasn’t crossed your mind. You’re bound to someone by agreement, and you have no plans of tearing that for something as meagre as your feelings.

“Judging from your reaction, I’m guessing that’s not what happened?” her brows creased with worry, and you shake your head.

“Would you believe me if I say that I’ve done something more idiotic than that?” you give her a sheepish grin and dive into telling her what happened. Your gaze travels to Jimin, ensuring he doesn’t hear any of what you’re saying. It’s enough that one other person knows of your stupidity. She listens with intent and waits for you to finish.

“…and then he just walked away. I’ve been trying to apologize to him since, and you can guess how that went,” you awkwardly point to the direction Jungkook has gone. She doesn’t say anything for a while, and dread fills your chest. Her silence speaks volumes on her position in this matter; she thinks you’re in the wrong as well.

“I can see where you’re coming from,” she begins slowly, uncharacteristically picking her words as if not to say anything that will disfavour you. “But you didn’t have to bring up the topic of his late brother like that.”

“I know,” you exhale, feeling exasperated. “I know that. I slipped in the most immodest way possible. But he doesn’t want to give me the room to explain.”

“Perhaps you should give him some space. It looks like he needs it if he’s actively avoiding you.”

I know that, too.

You sigh defeatedly. “Maybe you’re right. It seems selfish of me to keep pushing myself where I’m not wanted.”

“He’ll come around,” she offers a reassuring smile, which lifts your mood in the slightest.

But two days pass, yet there’s still no sign of Jungkook’s temper thawing. He rescinded his offer to teach and you agree amicably, opting to listen to Miyoung about taking the diplomatic approach in order to give him the space he needs. It’s not like he had been willing to teach you more either way, so you graciously collect your losses. If avoidance is what he desires, it’s what he’ll get.

Jimin has noticed the surly atmosphere, but he doesn’t dare ask anything. You feel apologetic for placing him in the dark by not saying anything, but you don’t think your ego could handle another moral beating after confiding with Miyoung.

You’ve chosen to stay in the carriage in the instances where you’re not needed, which happens to be most of the time since they still refuse to task you with too much work. You occasionally volunteer with Miyoung but otherwise avoid Jungkook like the plague, and you refuse to eat any meals with them as you hide away in your tent. You delude yourself into thinking that it’s the easiest task you could possibly be assigned but hearing his laughter on the other side of the closed doors prove harder than anything you’ve ever done.

You prepare your heart, nonetheless, telling yourself it’s the punishment you deserve after breaking his.

On the third day post-Jungkook, a soft knock comes at the door of your carriage. You put down your embroidery — a suggestion from Miyoung you’ve gingerly agreed to complete despite how tedious you think it is. Hope blooms in your chest and you eagerly open the door. Perhaps Miyoung talked to Jungkook about your intentions to apologize —

“Your Grace.”

Jimin’s crescent eyes greet you, and you try to hide your disappointment with a stiff smile. He steps aside as you disembark, stretching your limbs that have been bent to one position for hours. The afternoon sun is hidden beneath grey clouds, and you don’t have to squint too much as your gaze sweeps the surroundings.

“General Jeon wants to unrein the horses. It seems like we might camp out for a while. He predicts a storm might be coming and would rather be stationary when that happens.”

You nod as your eyes search for the said general. Your shoulder deflates when you don’t find him.

“I can still stay inside though, right?” you offer a meek smile, hoping he’d say yes.

“Actually…” he trails off as he rubs the back of his neck bashfully. “I’ve noticed you’ve been keeping to yourself a lot and…well…”

He meets your gaze, a grin forming on his lips. “I was wondering if you wanted to go for a horse ride. Help you stave off some of that dark aura surrounding you lately.”

You allow yourself to laugh at his statement, already feeling more at ease than you’ve been the past few days.

“If you insist,” your words are filled with excitement. He offers his elbow and your palm rests on the crook of his hand.

“None of them are Luna, but I promise you they’re just as wild-spirited.” You allow him to guide you to where two horses await, saddled and unbound from the carriage. Approaching the caramel-coloured steed, you hold your palms out and run it along its neck.

“I’ve been so preoccupied these past few weeks to even ask if this was possible,” the horse neighs as you run your fingertips through its thick mane.

It doesn’t take long for you to settle down and once you do, Jimin mounts his horse.

“Thank you for inviting me,” you turn to him with a genuine smile. “And having a horse of your own to ride this time around.”

“I wasn’t going to let the same thing happen where you leave me behind. As powerful as my thighs are, I still don’t stand a chance in catching up to a horse,” his tone is bright as he claps his hand on his thighs for full effect. You laugh at the memory as your grip tightens around the rope.

“Don’t blame me for feeling excited. I’m sorry it got you in trouble though,” you lament, feeling apologetic since you heard he was severely punished by the stable master. You suspect the order came from your father, though, hence his reluctance for you to bring Jimin along. But in a scenario where you had to place your trust in the hands of a few, there’s not an inkling of doubt in your mind that he would be one of them.

“It was nothing I couldn’t handle.” The certainty in Jimin’s tone is enough for you not to press.

The two of you begin at a slow pace, and you welcome the cool breeze of tousling your hair in every direction possible. You bask in your false sense of freedom, your spirits already lifting the slightest.

“I’m sorry, too, for my recent actions,” you begin as vaguely as you possibly can. You’re not sure how much Jimin knows about your situation, but you have been ignoring him too as of late. It doesn’t feel fair, especially because he’s the one making an effort to bridge the gap you’ve built.

“That’s quite alright. Given your circumstance, I understand if you feel closed off at times.”

“Circumstance?” Your brows knit in confusion and you face Jimin. He returns your confusion with a small smile.

“Trekking an unknown path towards the Northern border, where no Southerner has been able to do in three generations since the conflict started. Not only that, but you’ll have to marry their monarch.”

“Oh, that,” your eyes flit back to the small patch of road ahead of you. You’re unsure what Jimin has in mind as a destination, but he promises it’s not a long ride. “The least I could do.”

Jimin dips his chin.

“I know you’re attempting to diminish the responsibility you’ve chosen to bear, but you have a lot to lose, too.”

You shake your head at him, unable to acquiesce with his considerate words.

“Compared to what you went through during the war…” you trail off, unsure of how to continue. The last time you talked to someone about death and loss, they walked away from you. Perhaps you’re not as eloquent as you’d like to think in spite of your status, so you don’t say anything further.

“Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but this isn’t a competition of who suffers the most like you make it sound to be.” His smile is mellow, his voice gentle but not condescending. The kindness in his eyes almost deceives you into falling infatuated with him. “You don’t have to undermine your sacrifice just because you think you’re not losing a limb or getting stabbed with an arrow.”

The sentiment is enough to fill the corner of your eyes with fresh tears. You laugh softly, sounding slightly unhinged. “You make me sound so benevolent.”

“Aren’t you, though?” His lilt is playful, but you shake your head in disagreement.

“Far from it, actually.”

“You’re too hard on yourself, you know. You both.”

You don’t have to ask twice to figure out who he’s talking about. Curiosity is nagging you but you’re unable to find the right words, so you let silence permeate.

“Did he say anything…?” you whisper, and you’re sure Jimin didn’t hear it.

“About you?”

His reply catches you off guard, and you make an effort not to seem overly eager. “No, just… broadly speaking.”

“If you must know,” Jimin pauses and eyes you suggestively. You pull the ropes to halt the movement of the horse. He mimics your actions, and you fall in step with each other, pulling the reins so the animals would follow. His features soften as he looks ahead. “He hasn’t spoken much of anything. Of you.”

“Oh.” You try not to sound distraught, but your voice wavers. “I guess he must still hate me.”

“Do you think he’d still be here if he hates you?”

You blink up at him, and with the most impassive tone you can muster, you answer, “Yes.”

“You’re right,” he says after a short pause. “He’s hard-headed in that way where he’ll see this through to the end, regardless of how he feels.” Jimin chuckles as he shakes his head. You grin up at him. “You’re both stubborn— ”

“— as a mule, I am aware,” you finish for him, and his eyes twinkle in amusement.

“Am I that predictable?” He places his hand on his chest in mock offence. You nod at his inquiry, realizing that you’ve been missing this type of banter.

“Thank you, Jimin.”

His eyes form into crescents, smiling from ear to ear at your appreciation. He stretches his arms out wide. “Now that you owe me…”

“Name your price, Park.”

He throws his head back and barks out a laugh.

“It’s nothing complicated,” he begins once he’s calmed down. “But Miyoung refuses to tell me what went on between you and General Jeon. I know she knows.”

“And you couldn’t have asked Jungkook?”

“The man will snap me in half if I so much as attempt it.”

“You’re being dramatic,” you roll your eyes and bite back a smile. “Also, quite bold of you to assume that I’ll tell you. Is that why you’ve decided to bring me along on this trip with you — butter me up so you can get the answers from me?”

“It was worth the try,” Jimin grins, shrugging. “But really, I’ve brought you here because I think you need to unwind. You’ve been spending a lot of time stacking brick walls around you. Miyoung was starting to worry.”

Your heart swells and your face grows warm, thankful you have the company of the right people. You slowly realize you did yourself a disservice when you decided to close the door on the two people who care about your well-being.

“Now help me help you end this lover’s quarrel so we can move on along,” Jimin’s tone is still light. But you shake your head defiantly, ignoring the pervasive radiance of your cheeks. He pauses his walk, and you do the same.

“It’s not like that at all.”

You close your eyes, steeling your nerves as you let out a shaky breath. Jimin nods in understanding and patiently waits for you as you gather your thoughts.

*  *  *

Jungkook treks through the sparse wooden area. The task has been like clockwork every time you stay somewhere new. He doesn’t want a repeat of what happened weeks ago, so he’s thorough in his search. He wants to make sure no stone is left unturned, metaphorically speaking.

The only difference this time is he didn’t bring his horse along. When he told Jimin to free the horses for the night, the older suggested that he leave his horse to be looked after, as well. He agreed, but now he doesn’t think it was a good idea. Especially since his thighs are throbbing from all the walking he’s done. The weariness is enough for him to call it a day and head back to camp.

Until he hears an inconspicuous laugh. By a man.

His body goes rigid, his brain wires into autopilot as his legs deftly take him to the source. The closer he walks, the clearer it’s becoming that he’s heading towards the carved-out path he’s already gone through hours prior.

“…snap me in half…”

His ears perk up in recognition, eyes thinning into slits as he attempts to form the image of Jimin’s face from a distance. He steps closer but realizes he’s not alone, so he turns his back against a sturdy tree.

Your voice cuts through the air and arrests him on the spot. He still couldn’t make out much of what is being said, and he desperately wants to know.

“No, you don’t,” Jungkook grumbles to himself.

But his feet move closer and he stands behind another tree.

“…brick walls around you. Miyoung was starting to worry.”

Jungkook is beginning to feel like a half-wit. Nothing is stopping him from going up to them as a normal person would. None of this sneaking around horseshit. But he’s unsure what your reaction will be if he does show up all of a sudden. He has been the biggest idiot in the whole country the past few days, so he will not be surprised if you walk away and leave abruptly if he steps out.

“Should I really disturb them?” He mumbles to himself.

He’s surprised that you’re even doing something besides isolating yourself either in your carriage or your tent.

No thanks to you, his subconscious nags.

It isn’t his intention to push you out all the way. He wasn’t feeling bothered by your subsequent attempts to talk to him after he walked out on you as he makes it out to be. But his ultimatum had been the sword fighting lesson; your lack of protest when he revoked it made him think you gave up trying. He didn’t let his surprise be known – he’d been the one who wanted to cancel, anyway. Then so be it.

He’s not surprised when you took it even further and refused to converse or have a meal with anyone. The action feels like an exaggeration to him. He’s the one who lost a brother, after all, not you.

He is caught in a daze for a moment, lulled by the soft timbre of your voice. No discernible word files in his mind — it’s not information he doesn’t already know. He isn’t the least bit surprised that you chose your confidante to be Jimin; as Jungkook has learned himself, Jimin gives quite the advice. The man is practically like a walking library — at times he could be spewing utter nonsense, but more often than not he says the most knowledgeable things only an elder would know.

Yet it seems odd to Jungkook. Yes, you talk to Jimin and are friendly with him. But to be able to confide in a stable boy, of all people, when you are royalty? Technically you can command anybody to talk to you and keep you company, but that’s not the case. It seems to him that it had been Jimin who’s coaxed you into opening up; like how friends would.

Jungkook’s stomach drops. There had been a moment where he genuinely thought of you as a friend, but he needlessly threw it aside by being obtuse.

The next words you utter disarms him.

“...I didn’t mean for him to interpret as if I wish it had been him who died instead.”

A twinge of guilt carves out of Jungkook’s chest as he tries to remember exactly what you said that day. The more fragments of his memory slip through his fingers like coarse sand, the more foolish he feels. He scarcely recalls what you’ve told him verbatim that had him so irate at that moment. He can only remember his reaction to it.

The anger bubbling from the pit of his stomach. The jealousy and hurt coursing through his veins. The regret looming over him as he walks away.

“I shouldn’t be here.”

Stalking around private thoughts that you choose to share with anyone but him, feels all sorts of wrong. He shouldn’t pry, especially after ignoring your attempts at apologizing and pushing you away roughly like a rag doll.

He wills himself to walk away from the conversation. It’s the least he can do.

*  *  *

Speaking to Jimin after refusing to talk to anyone for a few days feels cathartic. You’re thankful that he provides a peaceful aura and being able to let everything out is invigorating.

“How do you know Jungkook’s brother, anyway?” Jimin asks as you descend back to the path you came from.

“Oh,” you blink for a few moments before chuckling. “I guess I haven’t told you. I grew up with them, so to speak. Hoseok taught me everything I know about bows and arrows. We were practically —”

“— attached at the hip,” Jimin cuts you off suddenly. You look at him quizzically, but nod in agreement.

“Are you sure you’re not my soulmate? We practically finish each other’s sentences all the time,” you tease. But his face is unreadable as if he’d gone in a completely different dimension without you. He grows quiet and you let him soak in the information.

“You didn’t grow close with General Jeon, though.” He says slowly, sounding more like a statement than a question. You nod your head, nonetheless.

“He was quieter and more distant back then if you can imagine,” you begin softly. “Although he was quite a pain to deal with at times; who isn’t at seven?”

Jimin laughs, nodding in agreement.

Your memories of Jungkook are sparse, but you’ll never forget the day he challenged you to a game of archery at the height of your lessons with Hoseok. You were eleven and Jungkook would only be around every so often, always getting called by his father for his own training. You shake your head at the thought, still unable to wrap your mind around how a mere thirteen-year-old boy could be shoved into the harsh environment of endless training.

“But he had always been competitive, especially against me. Although he still hasn’t beaten me at archery. Maybe that’s why he dislikes me so much,” your nose wrinkles at the thought.

Jimin scoffs and shakes his head. “On the contrary…”

“Hm?” you look up at him, and Jimin’s eyes widen in panic. He looks away momentarily before clearing his throat.

“What I meant was — you lied, completely! About having beginner’s luck.” Jimin’s cheeks are ruddy when he turns back to you, and you wonder what has him so flustered. “The highwaymen that stop us next time better be on the lookout. We have a master archer in our midst.”

You eyed him suspiciously, but a grin forms on your face all the same. “Flattering could only get you so far, Jimin.”

“I only aim to tell the truth, Your Grace,” his head shakes and you roll your eyes. Jimin hesitates before continuing. “I’m sorry for your loss, albeit belatedly. I’m sure you were devastated to hear about what had happened to him.”

Your mood plunges, but you muster a small smile. “Hoseok was like an older brother I always wanted to have.”  

Jimin’s forehead creases in confusion, but he nods in understanding. You swallow the lump that wedged itself in your throat.

“His presence was always so bright; his ability to bring a smile to everyone is such a gift. That’s why losing him feels like you’ve been robbed of warmth,” your eyes trail forward, but they’re unseeing. Your thoughts flit back to Jungkook; if you are here feeling like your heart has been ripped out of your chest, you can’t begin to imagine what he’s going through.

“You remind me a lot of him,” you beam at Jimin, anxious to shift your mood.

“Sounds like I have a lot to live up to,” Jimin chuckles.

“You have the whole radiant part down. You’re practically bursting with sunlight at the seams.” You squint and pretend to cover your eyes for full effect.  

“Flattering could only get you so far, Your Highness,” his eyes flicker with playfulness, lips unable to hold back a grin.

“I only aim to tell the truth, Jimin.”

His laugh bubbles from his chest as satisfaction fills you to the brim.

*  *  *

“I don’t want to speak out of turn…” Miyoung begins cautiously, but her lips are set in a straight line. “But will you stop pacing, for the love of god?”

Jungkook glowers at her, fists balled as steam billows out of his ear. The frigid wind does nothing to cool down his boiling body, but the grey clouds mirror his current mood. Despite the overcast masking the skies, he knows that the sun is about to set sooner rather than later.

Yet there are no signs of you or Jimin returning from your impromptu trip. He’s been mulling over the decision to leave you for hours, and every second that ticks by weighs heavier on his shoulders.

I knew I shouldn’t have left. He sighs in an attempt to alleviate the tension in his muscles. “They were supposed to be back hours ago.”

“I had no idea. It’s not like you’ve said it about five times in the last ten minutes.” Miyoung says sardonically, but Jungkook knows she’s just as anxious as he is. It’s evident in the way she looks towards the direction where he also came from every minute. “I’m sure they’ll be back at any moment now. I’ll start preparing a meal.”

She turns to leave just as the winds pick up their speed, ruffling Jungkook’s tunic. He nods wordlessly, but at her proclamation of finding something to do, Jungkook resumes his pacing. He’s thought about going to the same spot he saw you and Jimin, but that seems like a terrible idea the more he thinks about it.

One, you’re probably long gone by now and he wouldn’t know where you went next. Two, there’s an off chance that you’ll miss each other, so leaving would be futile and a waste of energy; you’ll be back, he’ll be gone. What a travesty.

“Why did I decide then to have some morals and leave them be?” he groans and dips his head into his palms, slapping himself in the process.

For a man with a calibre such as him, he’s currently lacking in all his areas of expertise. Nothing makes him feel more inept than his inability to care for you, which speaking candidly, is his sole task. Surely, he’s had more daunting responsibilities; one that requires him to think on his feet but at the same time not make haste decisions. So far, he’s done neither and no one is to blame but himself.

He feels the soft patter of the rain on his forearm, followed by the quivering rumble of thunder. Jungkook comes to a halt, his heart being propelled faster than a horse in a race. The light drizzle turns to a torrential downpour within minutes, and he curses the heavens; their timing couldn’t be more perfect.

“General!” Miyoung beckons, which compels Jungkook to run and seek shelter. Encased in the warmth of the tent, he shakes off the remnants of water in his hair as he heaves a deep sigh.

“There’s no reason why I shouldn’t go out there now.”

Miyoung rolls her eyes, and Jungkook gains an inkling as to why you insist on keeping her around out of all your chambermaids. If he didn’t know any better, he might think you two are cut from the same cloth.

“Terrible idea. Do you not hear that?”

As if on cue, the second round of thunder rippled through the silence. The wind howls louder, causing the tarpaulin to tremble with fear. A shiver runs down his spine.

“We don’t really have a choice—”

Jungkook is cut off by the pounding of hoofbeats against the dirt, which is all the consent he needs to bolt out of the safety of the tent. He squints against the rain as one horse approaches. His heart sinks.

“I was closer here than I was to her, so I assumed it would be better—” Jimin slides off the saddle and Jungkook quickly takes the ropes from him, not bothering to take his own ride.

“Where?” his tone is clipped, head swimming with endless thoughts as he awaits Jimin’s reply.

“She said something about dipping her toes in the water, I—” Jungkook’s feet slipped in his first attempt to embark and he cursed under his breath. Calm down, Jeon. His trousers squelch uncomfortably beneath him as he takes a seat, but that might be the least of his worries.

“Stay put in case she comes back.”

He doesn’t need to ask why Jimin had left you in the first place; you had probably forced him to go back on his own. Tugging at the reins slightly, he carefully steers the horse in the right direction. With one command he is off; his lungs burning in his chest as thousands of water droplets pellet his face, blurring his vision.

— previous ; next ; series masterlist

[princess-of-riviaa]

The Tonight Show

Request 1 by anonymous: Hi hi my darling! How are you? I hope you're ok and I hope you have a great weekend. So, I've never requested anything before, and it's ok if you don't appreciate what I'm about to ask, but I've never seen anyone writing about a hot night with Henry in Brazil. You know what I mean? Summer, samba, the sea, caipirinha, that mystic moonlight (he loves Brazil, and Brazil LOVES him). Thanks for reading 💙

Request 2 by @lunedelorient​: Reader writes a fantasy book. Henry discovers the story and convince Charlie, they have to produce a movie. Both met Reader, and Henry falls madly in love for her, (because she is as awesome as her book). And filming just made them closer and closer. Charlie, who knows his bro likes her (but is too scared that this doesn’t work like his other relationships) starts to give her clues, and since she likes him back, decided to let him know he can ask her out. On a very sexy way. The movie is a hit, so they have a very busy promo tour. One of the stops is Lipsync Battle. Henry doesn’t know she is the queen of Lipsync, so she used it for her plan.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC (Melanie)

Author’s Note: i’m so sorry if I didn’t get your requests down just right. I allowed the story to flow how it wanted to and this was what happened! So I hope you both still enjoy!

Summary: Henry finds himself falling for the writer of the latest film he’s working on. One night in Brazil, those feelings are finally acted on.

Warning(s): mentions of alcohol, fluff (surprisingly)

Word Count: 1,568

HENRY

She circles her hips, and I swear I’m hypnotized. The way she moves… it’s like the music is a part of her, flowing from her swaying hips and shaking arms. She’s a fucking goddess.

I move in my seat, hoping my hard on isn’t obvious under these low streetlights. Brazil was a bad idea. This girl is full of bad ideas, yet for some reason I seem to go along with every single one.

It started with that stupid interview. I should have known she was up to no good when I first saw her in that tight cocktail dress that did nothing to hide the teasing shape of her ass and the luscious bounce of her tits. I’d ignored my feelings up until then; but on the night, she was irresistible.

I guess if I’m going to explain myself, I should start at the beginning. Ten months before the interview. The day the script for A Hunted Crown landed in front of me and my casting agent convinced me to go for the lead role. It was a brilliant script, full of twists and heart-wrenching scenes, as well as characters that jumped off the page and became real, fleshed-out people. According to my agent, the book this movie was based on was even better. So, obviously, I had to audition. There was no way I would give up a chance to be a part of something like this. Not only could it make my career, but as a fantasy lover I know that finding a genuine story these days is harder than finding a needle in a haystack.

The only problem: she was at the audition. Her pseudonym was Little Lady, but I learned that day that her real name was Melanie. I was a few years her senior, but damn if she didn’t make me feel like I knew nothing about the world. Not in a condescending way--she was so sweet and genuine, it was adorable--but in a way that she knew so much about everything and I knew so little compared to her. I spent most of our brief, five-minute conversation trying not to gape in awe at her brilliance. I was glad she wasn’t in the actual audition room, otherwise I would have been too distracted to do my audition any good.

But five days later I got the call; I’d been casted as the main character. Cue three months of training and six months of filming. Melanie was on set everyday. She became a familiar face I enjoyed seeing all the time. We bonded through our love of fantasy and other nerdy things. Though I quickly began to memorize trivial things like how she ate a green apple with her lunch everyday, or how she giggled uncontrollably when she was tired after a tedious day of reshoots, or how her clumsiness made me yearn to look out for and protect her, I forced myself to stay focused on the film. Just get through filming, then I can let my mind wander.

Filming ended too soon. I found myself grateful that she was going to Brazil with the main cast to promote the movie (we’d shot ninety percent of the film in the mountains of Serra do Mar, just outside Rio, and the director had roots there, so we were doing half our promoting there and the rest of it back in the states) and even happier when they paired me with her for almost every interview we did.

Until The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallen. He had us do a lip sync battle. On his show, it was a tradition that he battled against his guest for the night, but since he had both me and Melanie, we were put against each other. And of course she had to choose songs that weren’t even discreet about all their sexual innuendos, and of course it had to be right then and there that I learned she knew how to move her body. It took everything in me not to drag her backstage and take her right then. Somehow, though, I managed to contain myself. I lost the battle, but for once in my life I had been too preoccupied with other things to care about winning.

I won’t be able to contain myself tonight. Not with how she’s dancing. Not with the way she’s looking directly at me, like she’s doing all of this for me. Not with how hard I already am.

… MELANIE

My pulse races, though I know it’s not from all the dancing. It’s from Henry. It’s from the way he’s looking at me right now--like he wants to devour me. The look makes adrenaline pump through my veins, mixed with just the right amount of nerves, and I force all of that into the dance. One thing most people don’t know about me is I dance as well as I write. Henry is completely entranced by my movements and something in the air--maybe it’s the amount of beer we’ve already had, or all the couples grinding and making out around us, or just the romantic atmosphere of Brazil itself--tells me that tonight I’m finally going to get what I’ve been waiting for.

I reach out for his hand and drag him from his seat before he can protest or I can think logically about what I’m about to do. I lead him to the middle of the dancing crowd before starting to dance again. He hesitantly begins to dance along with me. Before my mind can halt me in my tracks, I turn my back to him and begin to dance in front of him, swaying my hips like I’m dangling a treat in front of his nose. I gasp when I feel his hands slide around my hips and pull me against him. We fall into a steady rhythm, swaying our hips together, and with every movement my heart beats harder in my chest.

Henry nudges my ear with his nose, sending a shiver down my spine as he tells me, “I never knew you could dance like this.”

I throw my head back until it rests on his shoulder, his thick muscles flexing and unflexing with each of his movements. “You never asked,” I reply. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Henry.”

His right hand lets go of my hip and moves to rest on my stomach. My back is now flush with his chest. It’s an intimate gesture, one that sends heat straight to my face and my core. Butterflies dance just under my skin where his hand rests. I want to know how it will feel when he moves his hand lower.

“I want to know those things. I want to know you inside and out, Melanie,” he whispers in my ear, and I become a puddle of desperate want.

I spin around to face him, my lips parting when I see how dark his gaze has become--and how he can’t look anywhere but at my lips. He closes the distance between us until we share one breath.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathes. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

“I can’t,” I reply, my voice shaking. “I’m not a liar.”

And then he closes that last half-inch of space between us and brushes his mouth against mine. It’s a hesitant kiss, a mere brush of two nervous mouths, but my heart is still in my throat and my hands are still shaking at my sides. Henry finally closes his mouth over mine and deepens the kiss, applying much needed pressure to my mouth. An embarrassing moan claws its way from the back of my throat. Henry can no doubt hear it. But instead of laughing or pulling away, he wraps an arm around my back and pulls me as tight against him as I can possibly be. My hands reach up to cling onto his dark curls. He whispers a soft fuck and I swallow the noise greedily. Our tongues collide and make a dance of their own--a dance of giving and taking, of claiming and exploring.

Henry pulls back, albeit reluctantly, and rests his forehead against mine. We both stand in silence for a minute, attempting to catch our breath. “We should go back to the hotel,” Henry sighs.

I nod. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

How the hell can one kiss be that mind-blowing? I can barely think, barely stand without my legs shaking, barely breathe. I never want him to stop kissing me.

He gives me a soft smile as his fingers loop through mine and he guides me out of the crowd and back onto emptier streets. The hotel is only two blocks away so we walk back in tense silence. Everyone--the director, the three main actors of the movie, and me--all have our own rooms, but tonight I stay in Henry’s. It’s the same as mine--single bed, bedside table, bathroom--but it’s so much more appealing than my room. Maybe it’s because, after a week of staying here, the smell of Henry is in the sheets.

“Do you want to stay?” he asks as we make our way inside.

I nod a simple yes at him. That’s all he needs before he kisses me again, slowly moving towards the bed.

Neither one of us get any sleep that night. I couldn’t be happier about it.

***

Tag Squad:

@agniavateira​ @hnryycvll​ @littlefreya​ @celestial-vomit​ @lestersglitterglue​ @watermeloncavill​ @honeychicana​ @penwieldingdreamer​ @mary-ann84​ @elixasays​ @buckysgoldenheart​ @noz4a2​ @trippedmetaldetector​ @omgkatinka​ @lunedelorient​ @aphrodites-punch​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @sweetybuzz25​ @iloveyouyen​ @deathonyourtongue​ @utterlyhopeful​ @wondersofdreaming​ @tsukuyomi011​ @the-soot-sprite @desperate-and-broken​ @jayismz @emelinelovesjc @palaiasaurus64​ @wolvesandhoundshowltogether​ @henrythickcavill​ @secretlyactivated​ @madbaddic7ed​

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[irwinkitten]

got lucky | c.h

requested by anon: ok so for the bi!reader concept: last year i ended my relationship w this girl the main reason was because she was really insecure and jealous especially about me being bisexual like anytime i would talk to a guy she would just get so upset about it and she would make such gross biphobic comments and at the time i had so much internalised biphobia that i tried to convince myself i was gay n stayed in the relationship longer than i should have because i rly liked her i guess lol anyways (1/4) we ended and a while afterwards i started seeing this guy who i’d known of for ages (friends of friends type situation) but we just never really talked before or hung out but from the first date we clicked and the sex was crazy good like the type of sex were ur ditching ur vibrators cuz he’s that good lmao so one weekend we went to this party together and of course she is also there, i was so surprised and i could see her eyeing us the whole night, so when she came over i was anxious af (2/4) and this guy knew i was bi! it was no secret, i worked really hard to accept myself! so she comes over and she deadass goes “are you straight now? i knew you would end up with a man!” and she’s all smug but also hurt and im standing there like what the fuck and THEN this dumb man goes “ha guess the sex is so good i made her straight again” and i’m literally about to cry over how gross the whole interaction is and im so shocked i can’t even defend myself, i dumped him that night obviously (3/) last messgae: so basically can you pls do a redo of the gross situation where instead of being with that dumb guy its with calum and he is so protective n sweet n NORMAL n encourages u to stand up for urself about bisexuality / your sexuality, because what happened to me happens too often and its disgusting and gross and no one deserves that!! only if u feel comfortable/inspired tho, no pressure!! love u laura, thank u for creating such a safe space for all the queer babies it means a lot 💘 notes: i kinda enjoyed writing this one esp for my sweet anon baby. i love u and i hope this is everything you wanted ♥  warnings: biphobia, implications of emotional abuse

word count: 3.2k

donate to my ko-fi here

-

“Hey what’cha doing sweets?” Calum’s voice pulled you from your musings, your hand idly tracing patterns against the paper but the pen remaining on the desk. You wrenched your thoughts from the spiral you seemed to have fallen down, a smile crossing your lips as you felt your heart flutter at the sight of him.

“Nothin’. Just thinking.” You finally replied as he pulled up one of the spare chairs next to you, the bustling activity of the coffee shop falling into your background noise as his thigh pressed against yours.

“Really? Normally you doodle when you’re just thinking.” He countered with ease and your eyes dropped to the paper, noticing that the pen remained where you’d placed it when you first sat down. Subconsciously you must’ve realised that the route your thoughts had gone were not suitable to put down on paper, your fingers picking up the pen and mind falling blank immediately.

“Oh.” You breathed before placing the pen back down and packing away the pad and pen.

“What’s running through your head, doll?” Calum’s voice was quiet and concerned, you shrugged.

“Just, a lot on my mind is all. You’re not my keeper just because we’ve slept together.” You admitted quietly and he frowned before picking up his bag and for a sinking second you thought he was going to walk off, but instead, he took your bag from your hands and slung it over his shoulder. 

He looked back at you expectantly and you sighed before standing up, leaving the coffee shop with him, your eyes on the floor as you fell into step next to him.

“Your place or mine?”

“E’s gonna be home and I don’t want to hear them rant about me bringing people back.” You muttered and Calum nodded. 

“I think Ash is out. He’ll probably head out to Luke’s if I show up with you.” At his smirk, you rolled your eyes fondly before shoving him towards the bus stop. His indignant “hey!” was only ignored as you two waited for the bus, his arm slung over your shoulders.

Selfishly, you leaned into his touch, trying to ignore the fact that your stomach was doing flips at his touch alone. 

The bus journey was a quiet ten minutes, but Calum seemed to understand that you weren’t willing to talk with so many people around, so he was content to just keep you close, and you were unwilling to pull away until his stop came up.

When you reached his shared house with Ashton, you noted that the car was gone from the driveway and Calum smirked.

“Looks like he’s out. C’mon.” His hand tucked around yours and pulled you inside. And for a second you wondered if you could distract him with sex, but then the guilt appeared and you could feel the tears of frustration appear as your thoughts swirled and you felt dizzy.

Calum had stepped ahead, turning to see you stood leaning against the closed door, head in your hands and he knew something was wrong. Stepping back to you, he dropped your bags and took your hand in his, pulling you upstairs to his room and your stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“Cal I-”

“I’m not suggesting that.” He muttered. You fell silent at that and as he pulled you into his room, you felt unsure, but he gave you no chance to really deny him as he crawled into bed before opening his arms out to you.

“Cal.”

“I know you. You don’t do emotional stuff well but I’m here for a cuddle and an ear if you need it.” You fell into the embrace easily, your head resting on his chest as his arms wrapped around your shoulders, his lips finding your temple as you finally felt something in you snap, the surge of emotions overwhelming and frighteningly vivid. 

“I keep telling myself that I never was a lesbian, that I still found men attractive but Poppy made me feel like having that attraction was stupid since I was dating her and that I was a lesbian and it’s so fucking confusing because I like you, but I can hear her voice screeching that I’m not right, that I’m a lesbian or faking it or a freak.” And for the first time since you left Poppy, you cried.

Calum had been waiting for this. When the split had happened, you’d been ready for it, you’d already left her mentally, but this was what he knew you needed. He knew that the relationship with her had been toxic, but you’d never revealed the extent of her behaviour. 

His heart broke.

“Just because you like both men and women does not mean you should feel so guilty over your sexuality. There’s a B in LGBT for a reason, doll. That’s you. You’re bisexual and you should be proud of that, not ashamed because some bitch with a control issue couldn’t handle the fact that you liked more than women.” 

You found yourself gripping his shirt with your fists as you pressed your face into his chest, trying to stem the tears that seemed relentless. But Calum held his silence whilst you got it out of your system, knowing that you needed to get this off your chest. 

“I’m sorry.” You finally got out, but he simply shushed you. 

“She was a shitty person with an attitude to show. You shouldn’t apologise for the bitch.” His words were simple but it gave you a breath of ease, pulling away as hands rubbed your shoulders gently. 

He was definitely too good to you, but he was there for you regardless and you were certain that you loved him for that.

“There’s gonna be a party on the other side of town in a couple of weeks. Ash took over the old Firefly down on Hartley. He’s revamping before opening the bar to the public. You fancy going?” And you smiled at the gentle distraction he was offering. 

“We get at least a free drink if we show up, right?” And Calum laughed as he kissed your temple. 

“He wouldn’t say no to me. Or you. In fact, I’m almost certain he’s expecting me to do full introductions on that night since Luke and Mike will be there with the others and their girls.” You rolled your eyes. 

“It’s not like I went to school with Luke or anything.” Came your sarcastic retort and Calum laughed as the two of you settled for the evening. 

“Pretty sure Luke last saw you when you started dating Poppy. He’s put two and two together but he won’t say anything unless you mention it. Even then he knows it’s not his place.” Your heart seemed to swell another size in affection for Luke. 

“You’re making it difficult for me to not fall in love with you Cal. Good dick, you know how to use those lips and fingers of yours, you make me feel like I belong and you respect boundaries without me having to ask.” You finally muttered and Calum gave you an almost wistful smile. 

“You may have been with Poppy but that didn’t stop me from being friends with you. You’re someone I’ve genuinely cared about from day one. Not gonna chuck that away because of who you are. Plus growing up with my mom and sister almost made certain I’d be in touch with my feminine side.” He teased but the sincerity and understanding in his tone eased your shoulders. 

Your features softened at the admittance and you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Then I definitely got lucky to have you in my life at least, falling in love or not.”

—

When the day of the party rolled around, you felt sick with nerves and you couldn’t understand why. 

When Calum rolled up to pick you up—he was driving to Luke’s who lived closest to the bar and you’d both get a ride back to yours before he picked up his car the following morning—he could see the nerves and the grimace on his face spoke volumes. 

“What?” You all but demanded when you were debating outfits. He’d been sitting on the bed watching, but got up and held his hands out to you. 

You took them hesitantly. His thumbs almost immediately started to soothe across the back of your hands to help relax you. 

“Word has gotten around that Poppy is planning to show up. We haven’t exactly been quiet about our relationship, but I didn’t think she’d pull something like this.” And your stomach churned uncomfortably. 

“We’re still going. Ashton promised free drinks and we’ll be in the VIP area right?” You checked and Calum nodded.

“Ashton has already told the bouncers that she’s not allowed near the VIP section. They’re checking and rechecking the lists to make sure she isn’t on one of them.” He explained and you let out a breath of air. 

“Okay. It’ll be fine. It’s being handled and I’ve got you. Now which outfit do you think I should wear?” He studied your face for a second before a smile broke across his lips. 

“The dark purple with the deep plunge. Is it wrong of me to flaunt in her face what she lost?” And you laughed as you kissed him. 

“I mean, yes. But I also know that you want to show me off properly now that we’ve got things really settled.” You murmured and he grinned back unabashedly. 

It was still an uphill battle, but he’d given you a lot to think about. And after gentle convincing, you’d found an LGBT friendly therapist who helped you process your thoughts. It helped you come to terms with accepting the toxic relationship that you’d been in but also it highlighted how beneficial Calum had been as a friend and confidant. 

It also gave you the courage to ask Calum out officially, wanting to be with him entirely and not just in the evenings. 

He took that in his stride and things shifted once more between the two of you. When you opened up to him about some of your sessions, you knew that your trust had been well placed because he never indicated anything to his friends and so you were never subjected to pitying stares or glares. 

You were almost sure that you’d fall in love with him faster than you fell for Poppy. 

The drive to Luke’s was filled with your nerves. You hadn’t seen Luke in years and you were also meeting his two other friends, Ashton and Michael as well as their partners. 

“Ashton’s excited to finally meet you and stop telling me to be careful when I go to yours.” 

Despite Calum living with Ashton, your schedules never seemed to match and more often than not, Calum could be found at your place, a small sanctuary from your hectic lives. 

Ashton never begrudged that time you shared together, but Calum had mentioned a few times about how snappy he was being on the subject. 

“He’ll chill when he realises I’m not out to break your heart or steal something.” You muttered with a chuckle. Calum snorted in return as he pulled into Luke’s driveway. 

Your nerves return full force as he pulls you to the front door and steps in like he lives there. 

“Hey fuckers, anyone about?” He called through and was met with calls of confirmation, another yell following that they were in the dining room. Your fingers squeezed Calum’s tightly and he didn’t hesitate to return it, his thumb soothing across the skin on the back of your hand.

“Look who it is!” A voice crowed loudly as he stepped into the dining room, followed by loud calls of greetings. 

There was a flurry of introductions and you felt like the spotlight was being shone on you, under scrutiny from his best friends gazes once they had greeted their friend and Calum had introduced you. Or re-introduced you in Luke’s case.

“Well c’mon, the last time I saw you we were leaving school. What’s been happening to you?” Luke finally asked, indicating to the seat next to him. A small smile graced your lips as you sat down, Calum falling into the seat next to you as you shrugged. 

“Life I guess? It’s been definitely more interesting with the different jobs and moving about. Building up a social life again.” Luke’s face filled with a frown at that. 

Michael came in next. 

“Building up a social life? Did you not have one?” His words held an innocent curiosity, yet you felt yourself hesitate. 

“My ex was controlling to the point that I couldn’t do anything without their permission. They managed to make me believe that no one really wanted me around and I lost touch with old friends, like Luke.” You glanced to the side and he was frowning. 

The others held varying degrees of stunned shock or disapproval. 

“Well then he was a cunt.” Michael muttered and your eyes refused to meet theirs at the assumptions. Luke stayed quiet but his hand rested on your knee, squeezing it. You shot him a gentle smile in return.

“Well it’ll be good to have you back in our lives. Especially with these two knuckleheads.” He nodded at Ashton and Michael who immediately protested and you laughed. 

It felt like you’d known them for years as you all had a few shots. Ashton, despite being the owner of the bar, wasn’t worried about turning up with his friends. He’d already explained to his staff that he’d be around for the rest of the night once he arrived and he’d told the small groups he’d be here and there. 

After a handful of shots, the group of you made your way to the bar, your arm linked with Calum’s. There were separate conversations happening between you all, their girlfriends including you on their pamper night whilst the boys discussed a possible games night for all of you. 

When you arrived at the club, you saw the queue of people waiting to get in and the subsequent groans from the line as the bouncer let you in, no questions asked. 

Ashton guided the group of you to the VIP section and the music was still loud but you could still hear each other talking. You were chatting away with Luke’s girlfriend, arm still linked with Calum’s as Ashton disappeared to get drinks. 

Calum pulled your attention away briefly, his lips by your ear. 

“I’ve spotted her. She’s not seen us yet so don’t worry.” You barely nodded, acknowledging his words as you listened in, fighting to keep your nerves down. 

The night continued and you were all a few drinks deep. Calum’s arm had barely left your waist all night as you talked and danced and drank. You’d been welcomed into his group of friends with an ease you never realised existed. 

You’d deliberately not tried to seek out Poppy, silently praying that the universe would comply. But as the group of you stood out in the smokers area, huddled together under a heating lamp, your stomach sank as she stepped out, her eyes narrowing on you. 

“Fuckin’ knew it!” You could feel the alarm in your face as you stepped back into Calum, his arm going around you protectively. 

“Poppy, you’re drunk.” You felt curious gazes from your new friends, but you didn’t spare them a glance.

“You break up with me and go running to his arms, I knew you weren’t a fuckin lesbian. Pretending to try it out? Just another straight girl seeking attention. Fucking freak.” She snapped and your stomach sank. 

“Get it through your thick head that she’s bisexual.” Calum snapped in your defence, earning a glare from Poppy. But Calum didn’t shrink from the glare, your glance to his face confirmed he was giving her his own. You were mildly impressed that she didn’t back down instantly. 

“She’s a fuckin liar! Years of my life wasted on this bitch.” She spat at your feet and you took in a deep breath. 

“You don’t get to control me anymore, Poppy. I’ve liked both men and women, but you never liked that because it meant that I had more chances of leaving you. And I wished I’d have left you sooner. Calum certainly thought so.” 

“Of course you fucked the first man to pay you any attention.” Your heart sank once more at her declaration and you felt your mind fall into the old trap that you’d fought with for so long. 

“No she never. In fact she slept with a few girls long before she slept with me. But I was her best friend as she tried to deal with the mess you created in her mind.” Calum snapped back. You felt your heart swell for him. 

Poppy stepped forward, her hand raised but then Ashton stepped in front of you. 

“Get out. You’re no longer welcome in this bar.” He made a gesture and security slowly made their way over. 

“She shouldn’t be fucking welcome!” Poppy yelled back, but Ashton held firm. 

“She is my friend. You are not. Get. Out.” When the bouncer rested a hand on her arm, she shrugged it off and stormed away. Your entire body was trembling.

“So that was the ex, huh?” Michael commented and you could feel your hands trembling as you nodded. “Why didn’t you correct me?” Calum spoke up for you as his hands took yours. 

“It’s been a battle for her. Poppy had convinced her she was a lesbian, that she was wrong for having any attraction to men. In Poppy’s world, either your gay, lesbian or straight. Being bisexual isn’t acceptable in her eyes.” Calum’s arms wrapped around you and you stood there, holding onto him for dear life. 

“Well that makes two of us then.” Michael’s casual comment had your knees go weak and you let out a weak laugh. 

“Thank you Ash.” You finally murmured when you pulled away from Calum. Ashton didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you in a warm hug that was both comforting and reassuring. 

“Hey, you’ve been the best thing for my best mate. And you were friends with Luke once before. I’ve definitely got your back. And I get why you didn’t say anything and don’t hold that against you.” He muttered and you breathed a sigh of relief before returning to Calum’s embrace. 

“More drinks or are we gonna go back to Luke’s?” And you shook your head. 

“Let’s stay. I’m not gonna let her ruin it,” you leaned forwards so your lips were by his ear as the others went inside, “also I want to see if we can christen the bar in one of the toilets.” You breathed. Calum groaned as his grip around you got tighter and he pulled you in for a kiss that promised more. 

“Oh you’re so fucked sweetheart. Especially since I know where the individual lips are and they aren’t attended by anyone.” You held back a moan at that thought before pulling away, your hand in his. 

“Dance first?” And the innocence in your tone made him laugh as he followed behind you willingly. 

“Menace.” The term was laced with affection as he caught up to you, kissing the spot just below your ear. 

You simply grinned in return as you pulled him onto the dance floor, Poppy long forgotten as he danced with you. 

-

@sexgodashton, @goth5sos, @calumsmermaid, @empathycth, @wildflowergrae, @calpops, @rosecolouredash, @cal-puddies, @clockwork124, @loveroflrh, @stellar5sosrecs, @ashtoniwir, @cthla, @liketheydidwithyou, @sc0ttish-wildfl0wer​, @bluehairedtracii, @drummerboy794, @feliznavidaddycal, @i-calumhood, @wokeupinjapanisabop, @converse-luke, @madbomb, @ccnicole02, @youngblood199456, @aulxna, @megz1985, @lukesidentitycrisis, @snapback-irwie, @neonweeknds, @666yourwitchyfriend666, @gamerboymike, @cashtonasfuck, @ashtaway, @conquerwhatliesahead92, @itjustkindahappenedreally, @twoamhood, @kchillout, @damselindistressanu, @colormekaykay, @findingliam-o, @sublimehood, @sugarcoated-pain, @singt0mecalum, @singledadharrington​, @calumspeachy​, @colourfulcalum​, @lostincalum​, @burncrashbromance​, @asht0ns-world​, @a-mnd, @flusteredcliffo​, @loti18​, @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave​, @clumclum-hood​, @fangirl-everythang​, @lashtondaddies​, @calumssunshine​, @ambskiwi​, @abundant-stars​, @caltattoohood, @seedless-vascular, @myescapefromthislife​, @lmao5sosimagines​, @beyoncesdragon​, @jae-writes-fanfiction​, @cxddlyash​, @tresfandom​, @utterly-u-n-p-e-r-f-e-c-t​, @niallisworld​, @lietomevalntyn​, @babylon-corgis​, @monochrome44​, @behind-my-hazeleyes27​, @ghost0fy0u​, @lyllibug​, @bloodmoonashton​, @balsamic-cal, @calumsbaldhead​, @washedout-ky, @calumssunshinee​, @ghostofmashton​, @summerellaz​, @a-little-less-sixteen​, @cashworthy​, @smokeinherlungs​, @longlastingdaydream​, @h0tsos​, @sweetcherrymike​, @5sosnsfw​, @sugar-nico​, @sunnysideblog, @angel-cal​, @samros95​, @maluminspace​, @lukeinblue​, @cakesunflower​, @allamerican-betch​,  @britnicole11​, @gigglyirwin​, @everyscarisahealingplace, @loverofcashton​, @iovehemmings​, @g-l-pierce​, @jannimoeller3​, @wildmichaelflower​, @lukeskisses​, @5sossstan​, @youngbloodchild​, @alloutofcashton​, @tobefalling​, @abb-lan-5sos​, @calumsbub​, @flameraine​, @here-for-the-uproars​, @mateisit-balsamic​, @ilovelukey​, @sarahshepherdblog​

[ajokeformur-ray]

I watched Joker tonight and typed out my thoughts as they occurred to me. Unedited; typos are guaranteed. I did this a few months ago and really enjoyed looking back at my thought process and I wanted to do it again so that I can look back and know that what I feel is real and true in my darkest times.

You're welcome to skip this; it's under a cut for ease of doing so. Warnings for occasional sexual comment lmao. There’s no self shipping in this, I don’t think.

word count: 2, 575.

I’M SOBBING and I’ve only just pressed play.

Heart squeeze Chest much ow

THERE HE IS

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Nooooo baby omg don’t pretend - let yourself hurt if it hurts. Don’t pretend. 

Carnival Carnival Carnivalllllllll 😍😍😍😍😍

I am a Simp for one clown and his name is Carnival

Someone help him, I????

That sign hit Arthur as hard as my love for him did ksksksk

MY EYES BE LEAKIN💔💔💔💔💔

bb nooooo

Oh honey let me kiss those bruises and replace the marks of violence with love, hm? You’re safe with me.

Breathe, my love. Don’t fight the laughter. Let it out, let yourself go. 

Screams into a pillow because????? much sad must kiss

“have you been keeping up with your journal?” LIKE HE HAS TIME

oHHHHH boi’s close to losing his shit

Do it, Artie. Give ‘em hell.

“I think I did” YOU TELL HER!!💖💖💖

I want to be his cigarette. Where’s Satan??? I got a new deal for my blackened soul which he took at half price😂😂😂😂

I’d have my hand between the door and his head so fuckin fast I swear

“I just don’t wanna feel so bad anymore” yep SAME

ohhhh peekaboo🥺🥺🥺

this makes me giggle ksksksk i watch this scene when i feel sad bc it always makes me happy for the time it’s on

he’s so good with kids; he doesn’t have to try and think about what’s funny, he just does it, he’s himself and it works

FUCK OFF LADY CAN’T YOU SEE HE’S STRUGGLING????

give

him

back

his

card

casually wrinkling my nose against tears lmao

ohhh the way he looks up at those stairs from the bottom

i can feel his exhaustion

me too, my love

step step step step

god i wanna get him the fuck outta gotham

and into my arms and a soft, warm blanket

“eat. you need to eat” LITERALLY WHAT I TELL MYSELF EVERY DAY IN HIS VOICE BC OTHERWISE I JUST WOULDNT EAT???? I’m losing so much weight asdfghjk its not enough tho

SUPAH RATS

Did Arthur come up w that joke or was it actually a Murray joke????

HIS VOICE IS SO SOFT IM CRY??🥺🥺🥺🥺

“I WAS PUT HERE TO SPREAD JOY AND LAUGHTER”

YOU DO BABY, YOU DO!!!! EVERY FUCKING DAY!!!!

go deepthroat a cactus randall - youre already a bit of a prick so🙃🙃🙃

“THE GUYS THINNK YOU’RE A FREAK BUT I LIKE YOU”

HOYT. YOU CAN GO SIT ON A CACTUS TOO

FUCK OFF

😡😡😡😡

“WHY WOULD ANYONE STEAL A SIGN”//”WHY DOES ANYONE DO ANYTIHNG?” HOYT YOU’RE SO FUCKING ILLOGICAL HERE IM????? ERIKA DOES NOT (ALSO WILL NOT LMAO IM A STUBBORN BIITCH) COMPUTE

Can arthur fuck me like he pounds the trash/????🥵🥵👀

those dark curls.... that crooked tooth... must kiss.🥺🥺🥺

pennys casual cruelty makes me so fucking angry

foreshadowingggggg ~  *JAZZ HANDS*

ugh the way he dances with that gun im👀🥵🥵🥵

he enjoys the power of it and his breathing gets deeper asdfghjk

clumsy baby omggggg i just COOED 🥺🥺🥺🥺

okay maybe im stupid but i genuinely dont understand this “senior who needs to graduate” skit i’m??? how is being an intro to western civ student funny im???? someone explain???

but also dont bc fuck that guy lmao arthur’s hilarious

true millenial humour (and brit humour lmao we’re dark asf)

THE WAY ARTIE TWIRLS HIS FINGERS AROUND HIS HAIR AND DANCES IN HIS SEAT IM???🥺🥺🥺

wanna curl up on his lap at night when hes writing and go to sleep with a 

blanket around our bodies🥺🥺🥺🥺

when arthur wears a shirt at home you KNOW it’s a daydream

THAT CROOKED TOOTH IM WANT KISS.

WAIT IS IT CALLED STAND UP COMEDY BC YOU STAND UP... AND ITS COMEDY???

23 FUCKING YEARS, PEOPLE... TO REALISE THAT🙄

WHEN CARNIVAL CAME ON SCREEN I NTHE HOSPITAL I MADE A PORNOGRAPHIC NOISE LMAO I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

IF YOURE HAPPY AND YOU KNOW IT, SHOOT MURRAY

WOOPS WRONG LYRICS

😂

“doctor of laughter”🥺🥺🥺🥺

doctor i have a case of the Big Sad can you... do an exam? 😉😏

NO BB DONT BEAT YOUR HEAD UP THERES PRECIOUS CARGO IN THERE

in what world does chucking cold greasy chips in a girls hair being “nice”???

lmao fuck these guys

ohhh honey breathe. dont fight it, my love, just breathe.

my heart’s breaking for you, you sweet thing🥺🥺🥺

i love you so so so so so so so much ugh you’re an actual fucking angel

just breathe darling

i need to get you a cup of tea with honey in it, your throat must be so sore

ohhhh baby im so sorry

i’d take every single punch if i could

i’d die for you

i wish i could protect you

i wish i could look after you

and take all those hits

and kill those guys for you

im so sorry

sobbingggg

YES GOOD MAN THANK YOUUU

KILL THOSE ASSHOLES LMAO DESERVED IT

yeah i have a grey morality... im similar to deadpool in that way tbh

carnival comin’ to kill your insecurities

8 bullets in a 6 chamber???? mm-hm

DONT FORGET YOUR BAG THATS EVIDENCE

AND THE WIG

RUN BABY RUNNNNNNN

GO GO GO GOOOOOOOOOOOO

RUN LIKE THE WIND BULLSEYE

THE SOUND OF HIS FEET SLAPPING THE PAVEMENT IM👀

OOOOOH JOKER’S WAKIN’ UUUUUUP

fuck he’s so hypnotic

the way he runs his hand down his lower stomach asdfghj🥵

must kiss the inner tendons on his wrists and lick the blood off his face 

must kiss

he moves like water

fuck hes so fluid

bathroom scene = the scene in which my heart and vagina clench at the same time

im WANT

T POSEEEEEEEE

“i still owe you for that, dont i?”

PUNCH OUT IS MY FAVOURITE THING E  V  E  R

D O N T S M I LE

UGH I FUCKING HATE being told to smile if i don’t fucking want to so BIG mood

PLEASE SHUSH ME THE WAY YOU JUST SHUSHED PENNY IM???

but also dont lmao bc i’ll think you’re mad at me and i’ll hide in the bedroom for the rest of the day lmao i’m sensitive✨✨✨

i wanna sit on his lap and still his bouncing knees

“thats not funny”

fuck off penny yes it is

I JUST CHOKED ON MY COFFEE IM???

“but i do” god the  P O W E R

ugh that fucking sexist piece of shit comedian can choke “women look at sex like buying a car” 🤢🤮🤢🤢🤮

chauvinistic pigs can die thanks

his lil trip upstage im cry🥺🥺🥺

ohhh baby. just breathe, darling. it’s okay to be scared. dont fight it. just breathe. 

he and i both cover our mouths when we laugh/smile in the exact same way and it makes me feel closer to him

how can they think hes laughing at himself when hes literally gagging????

people only see what they wanna

the Penny imitation is👌👌👌

s m i l e

i remember when i came home from seeing this for the first time, i got home and dropped to my knees to cry in the bathroom. it was such an emotional release and so much love and i played smile to try to make myself smile but i only made myself cry harder lmaooooo ~ 

smile and thats life are my go-to songs if i gotta cheer tf up

danger sign = neither works

he looks so soft after his “date”🥺🥺🥺

“thats life” yeah but murray you dont even leave the studio so how do you know????

ngl arthur’s anger scares me.

anyone so much as raise their voice at me and i’ll cry really bad and i will shut myself away for the rest of the day and quiet anger terrifies me so his banging abt in the kitchen would freak me tf out😲

angry bb😭

he controls his anger so fast though omgggg ~ 

that soft please sends me

idk where it sends me lmao

down below probably

BARE FACED CARNIVAL OMG THIS SCENE IS SO CUTE

I LOVE THE MATCHING COLOURS ON ARTHUR AND BRUCE TOO ???

okay but the implication that arthur always carries a clown nose on him is🥺🥺🥺

hes such a good clown im?????

lmao im enjoying the show more than bruce is skskskk

arthur’s lil chuckle makes me🥺

his HUMMING im??? soft?????

his brows are so strong and dark omggg ~ he’s so beautiful

OKAY i’ll be honest i’ve seen this alfred/bruce scene and the thomas bathroom scene later on and the penny flashback scene a 100 times and i still dont fucking understand what did or didnt happen regarding arthur’s parentage im????

 ive seen interpretations to say he is thomas’ son and some to say he isnt and i still cant decide so? im stupid i guess 🙃

“a clown thing?” the  s a s s

“it’s exit only” yeah so’s my ass🙃

if i was there in the hospital room i woulda turned that tv off as soon as i realised what clip was gonna play

murray’s cruelty is d i s g u s t i n g

lmao hes an asshole

arthurs lil clap from joyyyyy ~ 🥺🥺🥺

did i say murray???

i meant  m u r r a t

🙃🙃🙃

sneaky baby

wayne hall either has super bad security or arthurs v quick on his feet

🤔🤔🤔🤔

he looks so good in red omggg ~ 

f o r e s h a d o w i n g

arthurs smile when hes watching chaplin is how he smiles when we all gush to each other abt him and ourselves!!!

hes so cuuuuuute🥺🥺🥺🥺😭😭😍😍😍🥰🥰🥰

“told me what” 

ohhhh honey🥺🥺 im so sorry. “crazy” is a trigger word for arthur; it made him start laughing in the bathroom with thomas

“touch my son again ill fucking kill you” yeah?? touch my arthur again and i’ll fucking kill you🙃🙃🙃🙃

^^^ that ones a joke do not come at me

the clerk in arkham was nice to arthur - he, gary and sophie are the good gothamites.

none of it was enough to stop his descent into joker, though, and i’d even say it was too late right at the beginning of the film, too... 

his sock puppet thingy “they cut all those” is such a Joker thing to doooo ~ 

the way arthur’s laughing in the hall at arkham turns into sobbing is gut-wrenching omg the poor thing😭

i wanna hug him and protect him and help him to process this in a healthy way

sweetheart, if i could take all of your pain and put it onto me... i so would. i’d do it in a heartbeat.

i wanna get you into a hot shower, make you some food and sit and listen to you. we can either sit in silence or you can talk to me, my love, and you will be heard and understood and loved.

“i had a bad day”

IT’S OKAY I DIDNT NEED MY HEART ANYWAY OMG YOU POOR SWEET INNOCENT THING IM LOVE YOU🥺💔

THAT ENTIRE LATE NIGHT SCENE LAUGH/SOBBING GOT ME -

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

i just wanna hold you and protect you and help you and love you

I’m so fucking sorry, darling. i wish i could take it all away from you

“i havent been happy one minute of my entire fucking life”

NO ONE SHOULD LOOK THAT ANGELIC AFTER COMMITING MATRICIDE IM????

get

that

fucking

gun

away

from

your

face

boi dont test me ill fucking go feral or - no, tell you what, i’ll point the gun at me and see how you like it

im looking respectfully at the green speckled undies scene....👀👀👀

“coming” 😏😏😏

“my mum died im celebrating” and “i stopped taking my medication” and you STILL stayed in the apartment with Arthur????? dudes those are 🚨🚨🚨 signs

woe betide anyone who underestimates arthur fleck lmaoooo

randalls death scene makes me laugh every time omg i feel so vindictive

get WRECKED

i wanna lick the blood off his face. i really want to

ngl i think i have a blood kink... 

“dont look just go” ME WITH MY ACNE WHEN I SEE IT IN THE MIRROR 😂😂😂😂

JOKERJOKERJOKERJOKER 

ASDFGHJKL

J

O

K

E

R

ERIKA.EXE HAS STOPPED WORKING

JOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERJOKERRRRRR

😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍 MY BABY MY MAN OMG THERE HE IS IM CRY???????😭🥺😭🥺😭🥺

my mind is literally blank rn im just staring and crying and smiling so hard my face hurts????? im love him so so so so much

sweet thing’s so used to pain he gets HIT BY A CAR AND KEEPS GOING????

I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU

hghhhhhhhhhhhhhh

euirrrrrrgkjbgkfbirsghigrbugr

*incoherent keyboardsmash to portray utter love*

ohhh baby no dont cry. oh honey😭 i wanna sit on your lap and kiss your tears away

“i love dr sally”

you have a WIFE at home

“DO YOU REMEMBER?” THAT WAS YOUR CUE TO APOLOGISE LMAO GET FUCKED MURRAT

he’s so CUTE

omgggg ~ 

my hearts gonna give out its SQUEEZING SO HARD IT HURTS

YOU MOCK THEM, BABY!!! THEY GOT IT COMING

“i wanna get it right” hes so passionate

my comments have deceased in number bc im just too starstruck and in love to even think clearly lmao

jokers all i know rn and this is the most peaceful ive felt in WEEKS

im sobbing

ugh fuck this hurts so BAD

youre speaking the truth, darling. im so so proud of you and i love you so much

“THEY COULDNT CARRY A TUNE TO SAVE THEIR LIVES” LMAO INSIDE JOKESSS

literally sobbing right now ugh what the fuck youre in so much pain and in the middle of a breakdown and no one saw you

ugh baby im so sorry, you deserve so much better

you tried so hard and you were gonna fall no matter what

IN THE WHITE ROOM

“hi” baby they cant hear you but im COOING 🥺🥺🥺🥺

you’re so fucking cute

say the word and ill burn gotham to the fucking ground for you

i wanna sit atop that car and cradle your head in my lap and wipe the blood off your face and help you stand up and be there for you and and and😭😭😭😭😭😭 i love you so so so much. 

i’d be so much worse off without you in my life. you brought a splash of colour which has never dimmed or faded. it never will. 

b l o o d    s m i l e

=

im wearing my inside on the outside now and it still hurts

angel💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

i see you and your pain. i love you.

i see you, angel. 

his genuine laughter is🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

that cute lil “ksksks” he does im🥺🥺🥺

i always laugh with him omg the two of us are laughing together ugh its the closest i will ever get to sharing in his joy

 t h a t ‘s    l i f e

i love the hallway daaaaaaaaaaaaaance ~ 

them hips dont lie😉😉😉

i love you i love you i love you i love you omg the sun’s like a halo ugh i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you im singing along to thats life while i type out how much i love you at 220am lmaooooo ~ 

i   l o v e    y o u

[garbagevanfleet]

Learn To Leave A Room (series)

PART THREE

Pairing: Jake & female!Reader Warnings:  REAL ACTUAL SEXUAL CONTENT. 18+ ONLY. Summary: Balancing relationships is hard work - God forbid someone throw a wrench into it. Notes:  I appreciate everyone that likes, reblogs, and comments. There’s a special place in heaven for people like you. <3

MASTERLIST

“I am not ashamed, the story goes. I swear I will learn to leave a room without touching every part of your face.” — Marcelo Hernandez Castillo, “How to Grow the Brightest Geranium,” published in Breakwater Review

The cake is perfect. It’s exactly what you had ordered - a vanilla cake with blush pink, buttercream frosting. Little edible pearls spell out Lucy’s name. It’s uncanny how perfectly it mirrors her personality. 

It lives in your fridge for six hours before you head to the party, next to a carton of orange juice and a bag of baby carrots. You think about it periodically while you get ready, trying to remind yourself not to forget it when you leave. 

Lucy had requested that you wear something “really cute for pictures”, so you had gone and bought the most pastel dress you could find at Forever 21 and hung it in the back of your closet. 

You’re trying to figure out if it makes more sense to do your makeup first and risk smearing your foundation on the dress as you slip it on, or put the garment on first and risk dusting powder on it. You weigh the options as you lay out every product you want to use, but in the end, you decide to slide the dress on and then tuck an old t-shirt into the neckline like a bib. It looks stupid, but it gets the job done, because you do drop a pea-sized glob of concealer onto it, and it surely would have stained the lilac-colored fabric.

You run your fingers through the loose curls that you’ve shaped your locks into, and straighten your dress in the mirror.  When you’re finished, you grab your keys and your phone, and you do get all the way out to your car before you realize you forgot the cake. 

It’s only 6 pm when you pull up to the Kiszka house, but Lucy had texted you earlier asking if you wanted to come and help her put up decorations, so you agreed. You’re glad that you did because she’s hectically taping candy pink streamers around the supporting boards on the ceiling. 

“Lucy, wow,” you say. “You look incredible.”

And she does. Her long blonde hair is in a loose, fishtail braid down her back and she’s wearing a party dress the exact color of the cake you’d brought. She only turns her head to look at you and give you a smile. 

“Thanks, babe. I’d look better if I didn’t have to sweat my butt off rehanging these streamers,” she explains, shooting Josh a look, who you realize is leaning leisurely against a doorway instead of doing any work. He grins at you, feigning innocence.

“I don’t really feel like there’s a wrong way to hang them,” Josh argues lightheartedly. “I guess I just don’t know about taping shit.”

You breathe a laugh at him and cross the room to give him a one-armed hug, careful to not risk dropping the cake. He takes it from you and disappears with it in the kitchen. There are heart-shaped mylar balloons everywhere; across the ceiling, tied to the stair railing, framing the doorways. 

“It looks like Valentine’s Day in here,” you say sweetly and Lucy hums back at you.

“I have a lot left to do, but isn’t it pretty?” 

“It’s gorgeous,” you agree. 

You had been completely distracted by everything that you hadn’t worried about Jake once since you got there, so when he steps into the living room through the kitchen archway, it knocks the smile right off of your face. 

You are not sure of much in your life, but you’re positive you’ve never seen him look so good. He looks like the antithesis of this party, dressed in a ripped pair of dark-wash jeans and a button-down that’s undone down to the base of his sternum. An array of long necklaces rest over the exposed flesh. 

The nerve. 

Looking at him is like trying to look directly into the sun, so you try to keep your eyes trained on anything else, but it’s nearly impossible. Lucy is turned away, and Josh is still in the kitchen, so you steal a glance over again. Since you’re the least lucky person you know, he meets your eyes, and the smirk he offers you back makes you wish you could choke him to death with all his stupid jewelry. 

“Can I help with something, Lu?” you ask, snapping yourself back to reality. 

“Wanna spread the glitter?” she asks in a sing-song tone. 

You frown deeply at her. 

“Glitter?” Jake asks in a tone that mirrors your exact confusion. “You know this is a house party, right?”

She nods at him but doesn’t say anything else.

You know you can’t reason with her, but you also know that you should try. “Lucy, isn’t glitter going to be a little messy? How are you going to clean it all up?”

“I’m not,” she responds through a grin that shows her blindingly white teeth. “It’s my birthday, so you guys are.”

You feel your face fall into a sour look, but she just keeps grinning at you. After a good five seconds of silence, you sigh and she points at a gallon-sized bag of glitter on the coffee table.

“For my birthday, I’m going to make you fill this entire house with foam like a rave,” you threaten. “And then, the morning after, I’m going to make your hungover ass eat it.”

She lets out a genuine laugh that makes you feel warm, so you can’t stay mad at her. 

“Wouldn’t it all melt?” Jake asks, playing along. 

“Then she can use a straw,” you say, but you still end up spreading glitter across the tables.

Half an hour later, you’re trying to dust tiny reflective pink stars off of your hands when you hear Lucy gasp. She had been setting cups out on the table, but now she’s staring at you with wide eyes. 

“Shit, we forgot to get alcohol!” she squeals and turns to look at Josh. “Is there anything left from the last party?”

He shakes his head. “Definitely not enough.”

“Will you pretty please make a booze run?” she begs you, looking like she’s about to cry. “I’m not even close to done here.”

“Of course I’ll go.” You start heading towards the door when Josh calls Jake’s name and it echoes through the house. 

Jake calls back a “what” from his room, but you can hear him start to make his way down to the living room.

“I’ll send Jake with you,” Josh explains, and then to Jake as he reaches the bottom stair. “You’ll escort her to the liquor store, right?” 

You try to stop it but your eyes pop open wide. “No, it’s okay. I’m perfectly capable of making it there and back.”

“Just go with Jake so he can help you carry it all,” Lucy insists like you’re being stupid, which you are. “You know what I like, and we need at least the same amount we had for the last one.”

You watch Josh hand Jake his debit card and then he ushers you both along. 

He doesn’t say it, but you figure that Jake is driving when he leads you out to his car, and you clamber in. The bench seat is freezing against your bare legs, and you feel like it’s somehow gotten colder out since you left your house. He must notice you curl in on yourself because Jake flicks the heat on high as soon as the car is started. 

On the drive into town, you’re acutely aware of the small amount of space between the two of you. There’s no center console, so the only thing separating you is a couple of cassette tapes and an unopened pack of cigarettes. 

You chance a look at him and instantly regret it. 

His profile is so unbelievably beautiful, from the slope of his nose to the way his hair rests on his shoulder. It’s starting to get dark out, but what’s left of the natural light makes his jaw look knife sharp. He licks his lips absently, but you can tell he’s aware that you’re staring at him now. It feels safer here, without the threat of Lucy or Josh’s prying eyes. Just you two in a glass box. 

Once your brain gets the idea that you need to touch him, you couldn’t stop yourself if you tried, so you don’t. You reach over slowly and place your hand on his thigh, but you force yourself to resist the urge to slide it up any further. 

He looks down at it and then over at you, and he breathes a disbelieving laugh. 

“You know, you’re starting to give me whiplash,” he says, but there’s no malice in his tone. His eyes flick back to the road. 

Your fingers press tighter into the fabric of his jeans as you open your mouth to speak. “I’m sorry,” you reply, but you know you’re not, and so does he. You wish you could tell him what you want, but you can’t quite find the words, so you just settle for focusing on the feeling of his leg beneath your palm. You leave it there the rest of the ride into town, but you manage to rip your eyes away and watch out your window as the shedding trees pass you by. 

When he pulls into the parking lot and turns the car off, you share a blank look. He’s not wearing that cocky smirk anymore, and you think he’s truly trying to figure out what you’re going to do next. But the joke is on him because not even you know. 

You head inside with him close behind you and grab a cart. A bottle or two of every type of alcohol you can think of finds its way in and you pull a bottle of birthday cake flavored vodka off a shelf. You smile down at it as you set it in with the rest. After you pick out mixers, you’ve got enough to last through three parties, you think. The cashier gives you a look that makes you think maybe you’ve gotten too much, but he rings it up all the same. 

You’re about to ask him to split the tab up, but Jake shakes his head and hands Josh’s card over. 

“We’ll get it,” he says under his breath.

You’re more than grateful to have him along as you pack everything into the backseat because you can admit when you’re wrong, and there’s no way you’d be able to handle all the bags yourself. 

The sun is completely gone as you hop back into the front seat, so the ride back is pretty dark, and you’re a little grateful because it eliminates the temptation of stealing looks at him. However, that doesn’t stop you from placing your hand back on his leg, maybe a little higher up this time, but hey, who’s keeping track?

You keep thinking about his outfit. He normally dresses somewhat like that, doesn’t he? You can’t recall ever being quite so taken aback by his appearance. By the time you’re just a minute away from home, you’ve convinced yourself that he’s dressed like this deliberately, and it makes you wonder if he’d done the same for the last party. 

He parks the car, but you don’t make an effort to get out, so neither does he. He looks over at you expectantly, an eyebrow cocked slightly.

You hold his gaze and, heart racing, you start to slide your hand farther up his thigh. His eyes flick down at it, but it isn’t until your fingertips are brushing over his zipper that he grabs your wrist. The motion is so quick that it startles you a bit. You hold your breath, suddenly worried that you’ve gone too far. 

He looks like he’s considering letting you keep going, but after a few seconds he lets out a shaky laugh.

 “We need to get back inside,” he says, but his voice has taken on that tone again. The silky one that commands your attention. 

You laugh breathlessly back at him and he lets go of your wrist. You don’t let yourself feel like a scolded school kid as you get out of the car, but you can feel yourself blushing. 

Josh opens the front door and jogs out, Sam just behind him.

 “Where’d you come from?” you quip at Sam.

“I was napping,” he says through a goofy smile.

You feign outrage. “Are you telling me that I was spreading glitter and you were sleeping?”

“In my defense,” he starts and then brushes past you to open the back door to the car. “There’s no way I’d help with glitter. And being in charge of the music is a really exhausting job.” 

“I’ll gladly take it over for you,” you tease. It would be nice to be able to hear yourself think this time around.

 “You can pry it out of my cold, dead hands.” 

Josh ushers you inside empty-handed, and you smile gratefully at him. It takes the boys two trips to bring in the bags, but as soon as they’re set down on the kitchen counter, you start to unpack them. Lucy trots up to your side, giving you a hug.

“Thank you so much for going to get all this,” she whines and you hug her back. “You’re a great friend.”

“I know,” you tease. You can see that she’s been busy since you’ve been gone. There’s now little heart-shaped sugar cookies and chocolate dipped pretzel sticks laid out around the house for snacking, and you cannot imagine a reality where there isn’t pink and white frosting puked all over this house in the morning.

You grab out five shot glasses from the cupboard as the boys join you in the kitchen. Lucy looks absolutely delighted at the sight of her special birthday cake vodka, and after pouring you each a shot, you hold your glass up and turn to her.

“To Lucy,” you say and she beams a smile at you. “And to Valentine’s Day in October.”

The alcohol is so sweet that it makes you cough, but you laugh as Lucy picks up the bottle and takes another pull. She disappears into the living room with it under her arm.

As soon as people start arriving, they don’t stop until the house is packed. You get to catch up with old friends from high school, and you drink until you’re feeling nice and loose. This time when Lucy asks you to dance, you don’t put it off. You twirl around with her, and she doesn’t let go of the bottle of vodka the entire time.

The house is warm from so many bodies and it makes your hair stick to your skin. Luckily you had thought ahead to wear waterproof makeup, so when you find yourself checking it in the bathroom mirror there are no smudges to clean up - only flecks of pink glitter dusted across your nose like freckles.

The cake finds its way out unceremoniously and Lucy’s so drunk that she just swipes frosting off the top of her slice. You watch her lick it off of her finger and then offer it Josh to do the same and you shake your head. He laughs at her, but you look away before you see anything else, opting instead to make yourself another drink.

You wind your way through people, too drunk to care too deeply if you bump into anyone. The concoction you mix is a bit too strong, but the cup is too full to add more mixer, so you don’t make any moves to fix it. You’re thinking about trying to stir through it with a straw when you notice that Jake is standing feet away from you. Has he been there the whole time? You think yes, especially when you realize the girl that’s standing between you and him is having a full-blown conversation with him. You want to laugh at the lump in your throat that feels suspiciously like envy.

He doesn’t look deeply invested, but he’s nodding and laughing at all the right moments. You’re not sure he’s spotted you until he locks eyes with you over her shoulder. It’s only for a second, but it makes your face hot, so you rip away and weave back into the living room, praying that he doesn’t think you were eavesdropping. 

You sit with Lucy and Josh on the couch where Lucy is trying to talk with you about a conversation she had with a high school friend. You’re not sure if it’s because she’s too drunk, or because you are, but you’re having trouble understanding her, so you just nod along. You have no idea what time it is, but people are finally starting to leave, and it gives you the warm feeling of a successful party as people come and say their goodbyes to the three of you collectively. 

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t thinking about him before, but now for the rest of the night, you are hyper-aware of Jake’s presence. Every time he’s in the same room as you, your eyes are on him, and you have the sense to feel a little embarrassed about it. At first. But every sip of alcohol sees a fraction more of your inhibitions out the window. 

You should be at least trying to listen to Lucy, but out of the corner of your eye, you catch Jake standing by the staircase. He sets his drink down on the railing and goes to pull the pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket, and looking back at you, he flicks his eyes toward the kitchen - an invitation for you to follow. 

You go to excuse yourself, but Josh and Lucy are already standing to hug someone else goodbye, so you’re able to slip away undetected. 

The rest of the house is really starting to clear out, but the kitchen is still the most populated as people rush to get one more drink before it’s all over. You’re easily able to shoulder past them to make your way through, and you find that Jake is already waiting for you on the porch when you get out there. 

The October air is chilly, and you think you’d be colder if you weren’t so full of alcohol. Still, you wrap your bare arms around your chest to preserve heat, and you unabashedly watch his fingers as Jake pulls a cigarette out and slips it between his lips. You’re impressed with how sober he can act as he fumbles with his lighter, especially since you’ve been watching him drink all night. Once he gets it lit, you watch him take a drag. 

Neither of you says a word, but the silence is comfortable as you just stare at each other.  You wish you could play coy - pretend that you weren’t sure if you were going to end up fucking him, but you know, and so does he. 

The way his eyes rake up and down your body makes your breath catch. It feels like his gaze is touching you, leaving your skin to tighten in its wake. You think he might kiss you - you’re hoping - and you brace yourself for it, but he doesn’t. He just smirks at you, and a drunken worry that he can read your thoughts crosses your mind.

When he finishes his cigarette, he stubs it out into the railing, then he gestures you back toward the door and follows you in. You’d only been out there a few minutes - or at least you think it was only a few minutes - but when you reenter, the kitchen is nearly vacant. The only people still lingering are Sam and a girl under each of his arms, one of them brushing her fingers through his hair. You laugh at them on your way past and receive a grin from him in return. 

The living room is completely empty, save for Lucy, who has just shed her heels onto the hardwood and is currently pulling off her earrings. 

“Wow, everyone left so quickly,” you remark, and you have to tell yourself not to look as Jake slips past you and disappears up the stairs. 

“I kicked them out,” Lucy replies sweetly. “It’s pretty late. Hey, do you want me to stay down here with you?” 

You give her a questioning look before you realize what she’s talking about. “Oh, no. I’ll be okay. I’m pretty used to sleeping on this couch.” You pat the back of it, giving her a smile. 

“Are you sure? Or maybe you want to come sleep with us upstairs?” 

The look Josh shoots her makes you laugh a little too loud and you shake your head. 

“Lucy, go. I’m going to be just fine.”

Josh has to help her up the stairs, but as soon as you’re sure that they’re in his room, you slip into the kitchen. Sam (and his girls) have disappeared too, and you allow a sigh of relief. You fill a glass with water and sip at it with the weak hope that it’ll lessen the hangover you’re due for in the morning.  

Back in the living room, you pull a blanket out of the wicker basket by the tv stand and place it over the couch. You stare at it ruefully for a brief moment before roughing it up to look used, just in case someone happens upon it and wonders where you are. A pang of nerves feels like hot fluid in your veins as you flick off the lights. As you’re heading up the stairs, you try to be completely silent. You’re relieved that you can’t hear anyone throughout the rooms, but you also eye the bathroom door, just in case anyone pops out and you have to pretend that you’re too drunk to find your way around.

You pause a second in front of Jake’s door, your hand on the knob. It’s only after you take a deep breath and count to three that you can turn the knob, even if it’s frustratingly slow.

You’re praying that the hinges won’t squeak, so you aren’t expecting it when the door is pulled the rest of the way open from the inside. You gasp as his hand finds its way to your hip and he gently tugs you into the room. He is decidedly less quiet as he shuts the door behind you with a thud. 

“Jake,” you scold through a grin. You feel his fingers press into your hip just a fraction tighter.

His room is dark and your eyes aren’t adjusted yet, but you realize how close he is as he breathes a laugh and it’s warm against your face. 

“Stop worrying so much,” he says, and for the third time in your life, that silky commanding tone of his has you feeling weak. He presses you back against the door and instinctively, your arms wrap around his neck.  When he brings his face closer to you, the smell of smoke and cologne in his hair is intoxicating. You curl your fingers through the strands and press your body back against his until you’re flush together. 

You’ve been anticipating it for so long that the first time that he kisses you, you can’t help but let out a moan at how satisfying it is. He hums a laugh against your lips, but you’re too drunk to feel self conscious about it. He tastes incredible as you start to lick into his mouth, your lips slipping together. He slides his hands down your back, slowly enough that you’re anticipating what he’ll do next. Another, dirtier sounding, moan escapes you as he cups your ass, pulling your hips closer. His fingertips knead into your flesh through the fabric of your dress, and you enjoy the warmth that washes through you. 

Your heartbeat picks up as his right-hand starts to wander lower until it’s wrapped around your thigh. When he starts to wrap your leg around his waist, you think you might lose your balance, but he counters the weight flawlessly, pressing you tighter into the door for support. He situates you until his leg is between yours. Your dress is riding up high enough that your panties are what slides against the denim of his jeans. The breath you let out is embarrassingly shaky as he teasingly rocks you forward, grinding you against his thigh. It’s silent enough in the space between you two that he hears it perfectly, and your sound pulls a smug hum from his throat. You kiss him again, deeper this time because the nerves are melting away with the pressure against your core. He lets you work yourself against him, but between the feeling building in you, and the sound of his timed breathing, it becomes increasingly hard to focus on what your lips are supposed to be doing. Your face feels as hot as the point where you’re meeting his leg, and you don’t realize how wet you’re really getting until you can feel the slip of your skin against your panties.

You break away from his mouth to breathe the word “fuck” against his cheek, but before you know it, he’s pulling his leg away. You let out a whimper and mourn the loss of contact as deeply as you would a dead friend. He huffs a pleased laugh into your ear, making you shiver and when you realize he’s teasing you, you frown - even though you know he can’t see it.

“That’s fucked up.” You intend it to sound angry, but it comes out in a soft, pleading whisper. He holds you far enough away that you can see his face, and you can just make out his features in the dim light coming from under the door.

 When he speaks, it’s with his hand cupping your jaw. “What’s fucked up is the way you’ve been fucking with me for weeks.” His tone is serious, but you can hear a hint of a smirk under it. 

“I wasn’t sure what I wanted,” you explain through a breathy laugh.

 He shoves you tighter against the door, and it doesn’t hurt in the slightest, but the strength of it only turns you on further.

He leans in and takes your lips against his again. “Don’t lie to me,” he says directly into your mouth as he pulls you away from the door and starts walking you both towards his bed. It’s clumsy because of the state of your sobriety, but when the backs of your knees hit the bed, he pushes you down on it. The slight force of the action elicits a low moan from you.

Ever ready to push him further, you lay back and run your hands down your body, slowing over every curve, and you have to bite your bottom lip at the look on his face. 

There’s an old neon light plugged into the wall in this corner of the room and the dull red catches against the side of his face. The sight of him standing over you - you’re sure you’ve never seen anything like it in your life. He slowly pulls off his necklaces and they make metallic noises as he lets them drop to the hardwood floor. 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” you breathe and he cracks a smirk at you. You absolutely can’t help yourself - you sit up and start helping him undo the bottom buttons on his shirt, and as soon as the skin is exposed, your mouth finds it. Wet kisses leave shiny marks along his stomach and across his hips. His hand rakes through your hair, tugging the strands lightly. You nip into the skin and the feeling of his muscles jumping at the touch makes you groan through your teeth. 

Your fingers dance along the hem of his jeans, and without warning, you cup his cock through the fabric with your hand. The denim is a little too thick to feel the exact shape, but you can feel it getting harder as you palm against it. His grip in your hair tightens, maybe involuntarily, as your free hand fumbles with the button and then the zipper. You peel the fabric back and mouth over his cock through the thin fabric of his underwear. 

The little noise that falls out of his open mouth makes you feel instantly wetter, and you try to grind down against the bed for some reprieve, but it’s not quite enough to be satisfying. Your fingers are dipped under the band of his briefs, just about to tug them down when he gently shoves you back again. 

Your expression, eyes wide with shock, earns you a deep laugh from him. He pushes you up until you’re both fully on the bed and then crawls half over you, his hair falling around your face like a curtain. 

You reach up and run your fingers through it, scratching your nails lightly against his scalp. He dips down and kisses you again, but this time, he means business. He’s got his tongue in your mouth almost instantly, and you lick against it, tasting him. He tastes like sweet alcohol, but you lose focus the second you feel his grip on your knee. 

He starts to move his hand up your leg, painfully slow. When he gets to the hem of your little dress, he slides it up. His fingers press into the skin of your thigh, lightly at first, but then deep enough that you pray they leave bruises. You gasp against his lips, so he pulls away and leans in to nip at the skin on your neck. 

By the time his fingers catch against your panties, you’re feeling starved for the touch. He’s not giving you any pressure - any friction. It’s feather-light, but when he brushes over your clit, your hips buck into his hand without your permission.   

“Sit still,” he instructs, and it’s so sexy that it makes your eyes roll back. When his fingertips press against you again you have to press your hips flat to the bed to keep them from moving. Goosebumps rise over your limbs as he pulls your panties to the side and you feel his fingers toy along your skin before they pause. 

The look on his face is a little alarming. His brow is furrowed and the area around his lips is all red from the friction against your neck. His voice is already a little gravelly from want, so his voice comes out deep. “You are so fucking wet.”

You purse your lips together and bury your head into his shoulder. You’re way past feeling embarrassed, but you absolutely cannot handle him looking at you like that. The obscene whine you let out would be a little too loud if it wasn’t muffled against his hair, but you can’t stop it as his finger drags over your folds. When it dips into you, you can feel just how truly wet you are - you let him work it into you and love every movement. At that moment, you decide that his fingers are your very favorite thing about him.

You completely forget where and who you are until you hear how ragged his breathing is getting. He moves to delve in to the last knuckle, but as his body shifts, you can feel the length of him against your hip. 

“Jake,” you whisper, past the point of caring if you’re begging. “Please.”

He must be able to hear the desperation in your voice because he sits up and pulls you along with him, your arms tight around his neck. He holds your hair to the side as he undoes the zipper on your dress, and lets you shrug out of the garment. It gets set aside with care before his hand is cupping your breast, thumbing across the nipple. They’ve always been sensitive, so when he leans in to suck one into his mouth, you give a high whine from the back of your throat. Your fingers thread into his hair as his tongue circles around it. You’re thankful that he doesn’t waste too much time on them, but you can tell that he wants to. You make a note that if you ever get another chance at this with him, you’ll try to be patient enough to let him. 

He slides your panties down and onto the floor before he starts fumbling with his pants. The denim is so tight that he has to work a little to get them off, and it doesn’t help that his hands seem to be visibly shaking a little. You give a half-hearted laugh at the struggle.    

You are struck completely breathless, however, when he slides his briefs down and his hard cock is suddenly right there. At that moment, you decide that his fingers are no longer your favorite thing about him.

When he catches you eyeing it, he grips it and he gives it a couple of slow strokes, making a show of it for you. The fact that the sight makes your mouth water is fleetingly concerning to you, but you add another thing to your “next time list”.

You’re more than ready as he parts your legs and situates himself between them. Leaning over you, he presses his lips against yours and as he slides in, he swallows the shaky breath that you let out. 

He pauses for a moment after he’s in to the hilt, giving you a chance to adjust to it. He seems to be fighting the urge to move, and you think the sentiment is sweet. So sweet, in fact, that you feel slight butterflies, their wings beating against the inside of your stomach. But you have never been so turned on in your life, and you want this. 

You grip his hair, maybe a bit too tightly and look directly into his eyes. “Fuck me,” you demand through clenched teeth. The proud feeling you get from the way his breath catches will live in your head forever if you have any say about it.

He grips your thigh and hitches one of your legs over his hip before he starts thrusting into you. It feels so good that you can’t even make a noise; your lips just part as your chest tightens. His fingers have done such a good job at laying the groundwork that you feel like you’re already peering over the edge. You’re wet enough that just him thrusting in and out of you is enough friction on your clit and it feels like absolute heaven. 

He’s undeniably handsome under normal circumstances but he’s so much hotter in this moment than you ever could have expected. You can’t stop yourself from playing your fingers along his clenched jaw and his pulse races under your touch as he picks up a rhythm. You have to close your eyes because seeing his face like this is too much. 

You can feel him breathing hard against your cheek, and the space between you is so hot that you’re starting to sweat. You drag your nails down his back and he lets out a low hum between pursed lips. You try to imagine the red lines your fingers leave in their wake but he’s fucking you so good that all of your thoughts feel like they’re melting away before you can realize them. 

“Fuck, Jake,” you whisper against his lips and he desperately kisses you, like he’s afraid that the sound of your voice is going to send him over the edge. 

He shimmies up until his hips are flush against you and when he thrusts in again you have to cover your own mouth to keep yourself from crying out. The slight change to the position has him in you so deep that he’s grinding against your clit with every stroke. You’re so wet that you can feel it dripping and that thought alone makes you bite against your palm.

You can tell that he’s getting closer as his rhythm slowly starts to fall apart. He leans back and places one hand on your hip for leverage as the other starts rubbing firm circles into your clit. 

A string of expletives fall out of your open mouth into your palm, and you rock your hips into his touch, desperate for more of the hot feeling building in you. You don’t have to tell him that you’re going to come - you’re sure he can tell when your eyes roll back. As a last coherent thought, you recall something about him playing guitar, and you think that's maybe why he’s so dexterous - his fingers working so precisely against your clit. 

Before you can overthink it, you rip his hand from your hip and pull it up to your face. There’s a wild look in his eyes as you suck his forefinger and middle finger into your mouth. His jaw clenches tight as he starts to work them past your lips in time with his hips. He pushes them in just far enough that you can feel your throat threatening to gag.

Between his touch on your clit, his fingers in your mouth, and his cock sliding into you, the sensation overload sends you over the edge. Your eyes roll back and you can feel yourself clench around him as you come. 

He fucks you through it, slowing until his thumb is just brushing over you and patiently switching to long, deep thrusts. You hadn’t realized that you’d closed your eyes until you open them again. You can tell he’s so close to coming that he looks pained, and your hazy mind takes a split second to appreciate how insistent he’s been on your orgasm. He slowly pulls his fingers from your mouth, and you make sure to tease your tongue along them as he does. 

“Come on,” you say, your voice a bit fucked out. “Come for me.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, but he doesn’t wait for you to ask again. He leans over you, hands on either side of your head and starts fucking you in earnest. The rubbing against your clit is beyond intense post orgasm and you can’t hold back a whine. He feels incredible inside of you, and the sound of his jagged panting is something you never want to forget for the rest of your life.

He’s shaking as he pulls out of you and slides his cock through a tight fist a few times. He comes across your stomach with a low growl through clenched teeth and strokes himself for a moment longer.

You’re both panting as you come down from the high and you’re drunk enough that when you stare into his eyes, you don’t feel embarrassed. Your fingers reach up to tuck his sweat-damp hair behind his ear. Smiling down at you, he huffs a laugh. 

He fishes a t-shirt off of the floor and gently wipes his come off of your stomach, pecking a kiss against your cheekbone as a consolation. You try not to feel too sentimental about the gesture.

He pulls on a pair of loose shorts across the room and you watch intently as the dim, red light catches the sheen of sweat across his back muscles.

“Do you want me to go to the couch?” you ask gingerly as you sit up and pull his sheet across your bare chest. 

He turns and gives you a look that’s near mortified. “What? Do you want to?”

You shake your head. “No, I just-” You trail off as you reach for your panties and slip them back on. “Didn’t know what the boundaries were.”

He laughs at you, low and under his breath as he thrusts one of his clean t-shirts at you, and you slip it on gratefully. “Don’t you tire yourself out worrying so much?”

You offer him a smile and a shrug.

He crawls back into bed and pulls you down next to him. You’re not sure whether or not you’ll regret it in the morning, but you lay your head on his bare chest and press a kiss into the skin. He rubs his hand across your upper shoulders and wriggles until you’re flush against his side. You’re drunk and exhausted, and still coming down from an immense high, so you’re not sure if you’re dreaming it or not, but the last thing you seem to remember is him nuzzling his nose into your hair.

PART FOUR

Taglist:  @myownparadise96

[retroateez]

Prophecy - Chapter Fourteen

hi my loves! probably the last update of the year so in advance, happy holidays and a wonderful new year to all my lovely readers! i adore every single one of you <3

Prophecy Masterlist wc; 3199

No. Absolutely not. Not a chance in hell.

"We've been through this, Iris." Yeosang sighs. "You have to go!"

You stare up at your mentor, gritting your teeth and trying to contain your rage as best you can. He had found you in the castle gardens, sitting contentedly amoung the radiant blooms to completely ruin your day by telling you Hongjoong was arranging dancing lessons for you.

Because you didn't 'look as though you knew how to dance', apparently. (He was right.)

The prospect of going to the ball was bad enough, let alone have one of his stupid cronies teach you how to dance.

"Why can't you teach me?" you splutter, bursting into your room in an attempt to get away from him.

"Because I won't be dancing." he explains, following you into the room and standing in the threshold. "I'm just a guest. But you, you're an honourary guest."

Honourary guest?! What does that even mean?!

In the end, Yeosang pleads with you to please just do as he asks, and not to cause a fuss. So reluctantly, you agree. He tells you that he doesn't know who your dance teacher will be, and that you should also look for a dance partner to go to the ball with.

"You can't attend a ball alone." Yeosang says as if that is common knowledge.

He turns to walk away, but suddenly remembers something he had forgotten to tell you.

"You also have a dress fitting, by the way. You'll have to talk to Hongjoong or someone about it."

And with that he leaves your room, missing the way you collapse onto your bed with an overwhelmed grunt.

A ball, a dance partner, an elegant ball gown? It was all too much at once, especially for somebody who had never been introduced to anything remotely regal before. How were you supposed to act? What were you meant to say? What if the others could tell you came from a poor background and laughed at you? How were you supposed to dance in a dress? What if-

"Hey, are you alright?"

You snap your head up to the door frame, where the sight of Wooyoung's concerned face soothes your growing panic. He strides across the room and sits down beside you, throwing an arm over your shoulder and pulling you against his chest. He's wearing a billowy white shirt, which you've noticed he likes to leave fairly unbuttoned, plain black trousers and shiny black boots, that you assume have just been freshly polished.

"Are you alright?" He echoes his previous question, knitting his eyebrows together and leaning closer to your face, causing you to flush and rapidly turn your head away.

"Yes," you lie. "I'm just worried about the ball, that's all."

"You're worried? Why? It's going to be so much fun!"

Glancing up at him, you notice how genuinely excited he is, and it settles your worries for a split second. You imagine Wooyoung is an excellent dancer, incredibly graceful on his feet and one who loses himself to the feeling of the music.

"I have no idea how to dance." you shyly admit.

"Really?" The elf shoots up, grabbing your arms along the way. He tugs you roughly so you're standing before him, yet he fails to understand his own strength, and you crash into his chest. Luckily he catches you, with your arms trapped uncomfortably between you both, and he grins, hot breath fanning over your face.

"Then I'll teach you."

"Is that so?" You question sarcastically, wrenching yourself from his grip to hide how flustered you are.

Wooyoung pulls your body back towards him, this time wrapping your arms around his slim neck and settling one his large hands comfortably on your waist.

"Yes." He answers confidently. "All good elves know how to dance."

You glare up at him for a few moments, but you quickly realise his mind is set, and that he isn't letting you go anytime soon. So you yield, relaxing your arms and your legs and Wooyoung grins triumphantly as you do so.

"First of all," he instructs you. "You move your left foot backwards, and simultaneously, I move my left foot forwards.

Hesitantly, you take a step back with only your left leg, and Wooyoung follows suit and moves his left forward.

"See?" He breathes, smiling warmly at you. "Just like that."

He takes you through some more steps, moving your right leg this time, how to move your torso fluidly, and not 'shifting it bulkily from one place to another like an orc'. He teaches you where you should rest your hands, one on his shoulder, and the other clasped firmly, but not tightly, in his own. He scolds you for being too tense, grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you like a ragdoll to loosen you up a bit.

Soon, the two of you are twirling about your shared bedroom. Clumsily twirling, but twirling nonetheless. Wooyoung's grip on you is gentle, guiding and despite how cheesy it sounds, it's right. In the last few weeks you've felt increasingly comfortable around him. He is your comfort zone, your safe space and happy place all rolled into one, lanky, pointy-eared, star-loving, amethyst-eyed living being. It's shocking too, how long it has taken you to realise just how much you care about him.

And it's shocking how you remain oblivious to how he feels the exact same way.

To the way his heart speeds up when he knows you're close, the way his stomach lurches when your hand squeezes his as you spin around the room. His gaze on you growing softer as you both relax into each other's hold. Even to the way he subtley glances at you when you're both attending meeting with the king. Like he knows deep down it's wrong, that the two of you shouldn't be getting close in this way.

But it makes him so happy.

And that's all Wooyoung wants.

And heaven knows what Yeosang would say if he found out about Wooyoung's feelings for you.

But he'll cross that bridge when he comes to it, he thinks, and decides to instead concentrate on not stepping on your toes and not letting his hand accidentally fall too far down your waist.

You both continue to dance in silence. There's a definitive lack of music in the room, but you're both hearing the same melody in your heads, feeling the same beat in your bones and nothing could interrupt the harmony between you.

Wooyoung guides you once more through the room, but this time, in one grand gesture, dips you down whilst keeping a secure hand in the middle of your back. You tip your head backwards and close your eyes, trusting that Wooyoung won't let you fall.

Your eyes pop open to see Wooyoung leaning over you, his face so close to yours you can feel his breath on you.

"See?" He pants, flashing his killer smile. "You're a natural."

You shrug shyly, and he pulls you up so you're both stood facing one another.

"So, about the ball..." Wooyoung begins, suddenly looking nervously down at the floor and beginning to play with your fingers. "Can I tak-"

"Iris!" You and Wooyoung jump apart at Yeosang's bellow into the room. "I've been looking everywhere for you! Where on earth have you-"

Yeosang stops in his tracks, taking in the sight before him; Wooyoung's hands planted firmly on your waist, the deep blush spread across your cheeks.

"What are you two doing?" He asks suspiciously. No answer. "Whatever. Iris, you're late for your dance lessons. And Wooyoung, Hongjoong wants to speak with you."

Wooyoung bows his head respectfully, shot you a half sad smile and quickly hurries out of the room. Yeosang's curious gaze watches after him, then the mage suddenly turns to you.

"Well?" he snaps. "Off you go!"

With a start, you jump and scuttle off towards the grand hall where your mystery dance instructor was waiting for you.

Panic begins to flow through you then; who are they? Do they dance better than Wooyoung? Probably not. Are they going to be a strict teacher? You don't think you could handle anybody barking orders at you today.

You round the corner and discover the giant doors held open, not firmly closed like they usually are. Standing in the threshold, you take in the sight before you.

A collosal hall, stretching so far either side of you, you think it could probably fit double the entire kingdom's population within it. The floors are a pristine, freshly polished beige tile that looks perfect to dance on. You can imagine how amazing the clicking sounds of twirling heels would sound ricocheting off each of the mountain-high, stone walls. Embedded into the walls are multiple stained-glassed depictions. To name a few, you spot a man of impressive stature working away at his glass anvil, smithing something you've never seen before, something both round and spiky. You'll ask Yeosang later, you think. He'll know. On another window, there's powerful bears made out of honey-coloured glass, tearing into their prey; a venison of sorts. Through the years, the crimson dye of the wound had bled through the other panels, making it look as if the venison truly was writhing in pain and trying to escape the picture.

You frown.

The long, mahogany tables are pushed against the wall opposite you, presumably to create space for your lessons. There are benches stacked atop them neatly, and you salute the poor soul who was forced to put them there.

To your left, set proudly on a platform so as to raise its occupant higher than everybody else, is the throne. The centerpiece, the main focus, the pièce de résistance, is Hongjoong's special, reserved seat. Carved out of the richest, darkest wood the entire continent has to offer, you know that there probably isn't a finer throne to be seen. The backrest boasts an intricate design of swirls and stars, which run all the way across the armrests and even down to the bottom of the seat. The ends of the armrests curl inwards, and then curl in on themselves even more like a snailshell. A velvet cushion the colour of Wooyoung's vibrant amethyst eyes sits on the seat of the chair and you can't even begin to comprehend how comfortable it must be.

What catches your attention most though, is the exquisite, intricately detailed fox head, sculpted into the middle of the backrest. The light from the vast windows behind the throne shines through the gaps in the carving, forming the face of the fox in a natural way.

You imagine Hongjoong lounging in the chair, glittering crown upon his head, royal cloak draped over the armrests as he watches his subjects with a bored expression. The king strikes you as somebody who would find balls and banquets just as mundane as you do.

Seonghwa is stood in the middle of the hall, facing your direction and is mid-conversation with somebody else. He spots you and waves you over, extending a long arm well above his head. The other person turns to face you, and you scowl as your eyes meet with-

"San." you growl as  you approach the men.

"Good morning, Iris." he smiles at you, but the look in his eyes is pure poison.

The kingsguard doesn't catch on however, and claps his hands togther before addressing you both.

"Great, you're finally here! San here," he gestures to the younger man who is sporting an incredibly unimpressed frown. "will be teaching you how to dance, and how one should conduct themselves at a royal function."

"Lovely." you speak through gritted teeth.

Seonghwa wishes the two of you luck, and informs you he will be back in two hours to check your progress. If you haven't gotten any better, he says, you'll have to keep practising until Hongjoong decides you're good enough.

Brilliant. A minimum of two hours being stuck with an-

"Idiot." San snarls. "You're holding your arms completely wrong."

You glance at your arms which are rung hesitantly around his neck.

"Shut up, clown. My arms are perfectly fine."

"I'm a jester, not a clown." He seethes. And no, your arms are too heavy. You need to relax them, or you'll crush the poor soul who has the misfortune of dancing with you."

You glare furiously at him, but relax your arms nonetheless. As much as it bruises your dignity to listen to him, you don't want to spend any longer with this insufferable human being than you have to.

"Fine." you huff, and let your arms hang more loosely.

"Better." San nods.

Luckily, your training with Wooyoung proved extremely helpful. You could see on San's face he was impressed with the way you moved your feet less clumsily than he had originally anticipated. Of course, he wouldn't ever admit that to you. Dancing with San was fairly straightforward, but it felt totally different to dancing with Wooyoung.

Probably because you couldn't stand San's guts. But whatever.

San's hands on your waist were easy to ignore, the fact that his face was ridiculously close to yours didn't bother you in the slightest. Almost the polar opposite to the way your heart would race and your palms would sweat when Wooyoung even breathed near you. All you could hear was the echoing of shoes on the polished tile floor and San's steady breathing in your ear.

The jester was in the middle of teaching you a new step when Seonghwa entered the room, tailed by a certain, nervous looking elf.

"So," Seonghwa looked at San. "how's it going?"

"Well. She seems to know what she's doing." San replied simply.

You shot Wooyoung a knowing, shy glance and his heart lurched up into this throat.

"Satisfactory enough for the ball?"

"Most likely, your time will be better spent teaching her royal manners rather than dancing."

You glare at San, about to berate him for insulting you, but you're interrupted.

"What exactly are you implying?" Wooyoung spits, his pupils narrowing in anger.

"The pigs in the courtyard have more elegance than she does." San retorts. "Step down, elf, I wouldn't try anything. I'm sure you're more than aware of what your fate will be if you even dare to start anything."

Wooyoung grits his teeth, knowing full well what would happen to him. He growls lowly in frustration before falling back to your side, and you can almost feel the anger radiating off him.

"Anyway..." Seonghwa's gaze flicks between the three of you, awkwardly trying to defuse the situation. "I think we'll leave the dancing lessons at that for now. San, join Mingi in the music room. There's a new routine for both of you to go over."

San nods, shoots both you and Wooyoung an irritated look, before hurrying proudly out of the hall.

"Apologies for him." Seonghwa addresses you both, straightening his posture and fixing the black strand of hair that hangs over his left eye. "He doesn't take to newcomers very well, I'm sure he'll warm up to you both in no time."

He adjusts his pristine uniform, bows shortly to you and follows San out of the room, leaving you and the elf alone in the hall.

"How stra-"

"Go to the ball with me."

"W-what?"

Peering up at Wooyoung, you notice his pupils are still dilated in fury. His nostrils are flared too, yet he speaks in the same calm tone he always holds.

"Go to the ball with me." He repeats, this time grabbing your hand tenderly in his and bending his head down a little to match your height. "Nobody has asked you already, have they?"

"No, but-"

"Then, I would be honoured if you would accompany me to the dance."

"Wooyoung I-" you lock eye contact with him, searching his amethyst eyes for any hint of malice or intent to humiliate you, but you find none.

He's dead serious.

And just like that, you're frozen. Of course your brain is screaming at you to say yes, and your heart is roaring at you to say yes. In fact, every part of you is blaring 'say yes', but the shock renders you speechless. You could sense something between you and Wooyoung had changed, but does this mean Wooyoung had sensed it too?

Sure, friends could dance at balls together too but-

It was different.

"Yes." you blurt, finally. "I would love to."

His face lights up like a kingdom parade, his eyes practically sparkle in the light and he smiles wider than you've ever seen, flashing a glimpse of his sharper, elfin canines.

"Really?" he grins. "Okay. Okay!"

"You're going to have to teach me more dancing, I'm still pretty bad at it."

"Nonsense." He says, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose. "You're an excellent dancer."

Wooyoung waves goodbye to you then, stating he has some 'important business to attend to, immediately'

You wave back meekly, stunned from the peck on your nose. He disappears into the hallway and now your worries about the ball have increased tenfold. Now that you actually have somebody to impress? You'll be tripping over your feet and stepping all over Wooyoung's toes. But the thought of Wooyoung wanting to go with you makes you feel giddy.

So giddy in fact you practically skip up the castle stairs to your room. You grab your cloak and sling it over your shoulders, yanking the hood up and over to hide as much as your face as possible.

Like a ghost, you pad through the hallways until you're met with a small side-door underneath the stairs that you're convinced nobody knows about. Perhaps only San and Mingi, but they're busy. You steal out the door, closing it silently behind you. Rushing through the dingy stone hallway, you find another door with sunlight filtering out underneath it.

Just what you were looking for.

-----

You push the door open with a determined hand, flinching slightly as the bell above you obnoxiously announces your arrival.

"Welcome to the Ateez Apothecary! What can I- oh, why, long time no see, little lady!"

"Afternoon, Yunho." You respond to his usual, cheery grin with a small smile of your own. He's as tall and baby-faced as ever, this time donning a summery blonde mop in place of the gingerbread hair he had the last time you saw him.

"No Yeosang with you today?" He notices. "You're not doing anything sneaky, are you?" he chuckles playfully, fully expecting you to laugh along.

But you don't. You keep your face kind, but serious as you reply.

"Actually... yes. Kind of."

Yunho's face falls a little, but an intrigued glint flickers in his eyeballs.

"Oh? And am I correct in assuming you require my assisstance? And that you would prefer it if this was kept from Yeosang's knowledge?"

You nod.

Yunho smirks, leaning forward onto his elbows on the wooden countertop.

"Then what exactly can I help you with?"

You adjust your hood anxiously, biting your lip as you watch Yunho's excited demenour. You wonder if this is something that you should be doing. The obvious answer being no. But you refuse to be a pushover. You refuse to blindly follow the rules put in place by other people who have no obligation to follow those same rules. And you know that there's nobody else who would help you. Except maybe Yunho.

It's a chance you're willing to take.

"I want you to teach me magic."

Chapter Fifteen

[madlymiho]

Hello @myrroronthewall ! Thanks for this ask because I absolutely loved the panel from the manga and that embarrassed face of Zoro!!

I went for a crush here! Made it female as well :)

Hope you will like it! ~

Words : 1847

Quick reminder, this happened in Wano's Arc :

Zoro : scenario (read after the cut)

It’s an usual cold evening, in the desperate lands of Wano. It’s dark outside, no stars in the sky, only a freezing wind blowing furiously. Zoro is drinking inside, his sake’s bottle firmly maintained in his large hand, more focus on the transparent liquid than the conversations around him. He doesn’t even hear her coming, silently sitting beside him. He raises an eyebrow when he feels a tiny hand grasping his bottle, without any strength though, more like a silent request. He turns his hand and feels his heart pumping slightly faster against his chest. She looks particularly beautiful tonight, wearing her traditional Wano’s outfit, her hair tied behind her nape.

“May I, Zoro-kun?” She asks with a soft smile, a beautiful shade of red invading her features.

For a moment, he only gulps, mesmerized by a few strange details such as the length of her eyelashes.

“Yeah, suits yourself, Name.” He eventually snaps, leaving the bottle as he turns his head to avoid her stare.

She’s not usually around him, preferring to share conversations with the Straw Hat girls, or Usopp, when he’s in the mood to tell his numerous epic stories. Zoro has always thought that she might be afraid of him, but since they sail together for a long time now, he must admit that it bothers him. He has developed an odd feeling for her ; every time she looks at him, or walks in the room, he feels an awful wrench in the depth of his stomach, to the point that he has asked Chopper’s help once or twice.

“You’re fine, Zoro!” Chopper said with a pat behind his shoulder. “But Zoro…Have you ever considered that you might...Like Name?”

Zoro stare at that moment has been so aggressive and enraged that Chopper has avoided him for almost two weeks.

Like Name. Tss. Zoro can’t help but think about it more often that he would admit. This is certainly the most absurd theory he has ever heard, yet, he can’t get her out of his head. He’s brought back to the reality when he hears a soft laugh beside him, her thigh touching his own for a second.

“Oï, you’re drunk already?” Zoro hisses, flinching a bit as she almost loses her balance once again.

“Not that much!” She laughs, looking at him with gleaming eyes. “Or perhaps a bit…,”

Zoro feels his cheeks burning when she starts to put her back against his chest, taking another swallow from the bottle. She lifts her chin up and gazes at him, her eyes reflecting something different tonight. For once, she’s not this shy girl anymore, and Zoro has a hard time to breath properly. This sudden overcrowding makes him feel dizzy and embarrassed. He wants to repulse her, yet he can’t find the courage to move her body, somehow slightly amused by the situation.

“Hey Zoro-kun,” she says, her head falling against his pec as she clumsily slams the bottle against his torso. “Do you know what it means, when two people share a bottle of sake?”

Zoro raises an eyebrow, taking the bottle out of her hand to have a drink.

“I’m certainly not becoming your brother, father, or whatsoever!” He snaps, irate.

She laughs and shakes her head, her hands fondling the material of her beautiful night dress.

“It has another meaning, stupid! Yet it’s quite similar when we think about it,” she continues, not even looking at him. “It means that this person becomes special for you.”

“What are you babbling about, Name?” Zoro angrily answers, embarrassed as hell, putting down the sake bottle as if it has just insulted him. “You’ve just invented this, seriously!”

He moves, unable to bear this burning sensation inside his chest anymore, and she has no choice but to straighten up herself, turning her hips a little to face him. She’s clearly merry, her grin plastered on her lips growing bigger on her marvelous features, her complexion enlightened by the booze.

“Don’t mock my beliefs, Zoro, it’s mean!” She says as she tries to reach the bottle, yet, Zoro has the smart reflex to lift his arm and puts it away from her grip. “Hey, give me that!”

“No! You had enough! And seriously, I would have shared thousand of special links with too many people in this world if this story was true, idiot!”

She growls, crossing her arms around her chest, abandoning the idea to reach the bottle anymore.

“Oh, well, so how would you seal the deal? How would you make people understand that you find someone special, then?”

Zoro is caught off guard, understanding that he has never truly thought about it before. He pinches his lips together, finding her especially sweet with this pout of annoyance on her face.

“If someone is special to me, I’d allow them to sleep in my bed.” Zoro eventually answers, lowered his voice as if he has just said a terrible secret.

She blinks, snorts, then bursts into a genuine laugh, and Zoro closes his eyes for a second, already cursing himself in his mind.

“Stop laughing!” He can’t help but yell, catching back her attention.

“So...Sorry! It’s just…I don’t know why it’s such a big deal?”

Zoro grabs her chin, making her laugh disappearing instantly. She gulps, her cheeks burning as they are somehow really close at the moment.

“It matters for me. Sharing my bed with someone only shows how much I trust this person enough to have them close, even in my weakest condition. It never happened before, Name. It’s a big deal.”

She nods, her eyes staring at his hazel irises, as if Zoro has just told her something deeper than it was supposed to be.

***

The turn of events couldn’t have been worse. Right after this particular talk with her, Zoro woke up in the morning with Komurasaki sleeping in his bed, her head on his chest. Of course, it has taken less than five minutes for his crewmates to spread the word about what happened during the night, and Zoro already knows who he has unfortunately hurt the most. He has tried to have a word with her, yet, she has been missing the entire day, wandering somewhere in Wano. Zoro has been worried at first, but he has chosen to maintain his everlasting “not concerned” face, somehow, acting as if nothing was wrong. However, as the evening starts to begin, its freezing winds coming back in the country, Zoro can’t help but hope that she would be back soon. While he’s drinking on his sake, Nami softly tells him that she has just spotted her on the terrass, outside. Without any hesitation, Zoro stands back up, abandoning his companions for a moment, heading to the place where she’s supposed to be.

He trembles and crosses his arms around his chest, not surprised by Wano’s weather, but terribly upset to leave such a warm place to an icy environment. Yet, Nami was right ; she’s there, her hands holding the barrier of the terrass, her hair wildly moving because of the wind.

“Oï Name,” Zoro greets loudly, coming beside her. “What are you doing here? It’s freaking cold!”

She sadly smiles, not even looking at him, then shrugs.

“I’m alright.”

Zoro rolls his eyes and catches her arm firmly, causing her to shiver.

“Come inside, now. Don’t be stupid, would you?”

“Thanks for insulting me,” she immediately answers, suddenly gazing at him with dark eyes. “Again.”

Zoro gulps, understanding that she’s more than hurt and it wouldn’t be so easy to get away from this situation, despite the disastrous weather outside. He furrowed his eyebrows and sighs :

“Again?” He asks, his voice less aggressive than usual.

She crosses her arms around her chest, trembling because of the cold, her eyes nothing but two balls of anger. Zoro wishes for a second he could drag her against his chest, not wanting her to freeze to death in the middle of this hideous terrass.

“You didn’t do it directly!” She eventually snaps, looking away as her cheeks are slightly pink, and not because of the chilly weather.

“Can you make it short and go straight to the fucking point?!” Zoro yells impatiently, his back covered with goosebumps, fighting hard his need not to run back inside.

“Yes, so that you can run to your princess and have a good night with her in your bed!”

Zoro opens his mouth, then closes it, unable to find the right answer at the moment. She’s pouting, terribly jealous about the whole situation. Moreover, she clearly believes that he has some views on Komurasaki, and after that conversation with her last night, well, it’s not that complicated to understand why she’s so pissed.

“Name…,” Zoro tries, having a hard time to find the good words to reassure her. “This is not...This is different -”

“Oh please, don’t bother! I clearly don’t want to hear you saying that you fell in love, or stupid things like this.” She cuts, pinching her lips together, looking away.

Zoro gasps, angry about her childish behaviors, and decides that it’s more than enough. He makes a step forwards, rolls one arm around her waist and easily lift her to make her topple over his shoulder. She yells at him to put him down, but Zoro is too cold and seriously mad to listen to her orders.

“Where the fuck are you heading?” She manages to scream, covering the plaintive wind with her tiny voice.

“Somewhere inside.”

“It’s not this way, you morron!”

After several chaotic minutes, Zoro manages to find his way back inside, heading to his room. He drops her on his bed, ignoring her everlasting complaints, while he starts to undress himself, leaving his kimono on the ground. She eventually stops talking, her cheeks furiously blushed, unable to look at him or to speak anymore. Without a word, Zoro crawls in his bed, tackles her down on the mattress as well, his muscled arm gripping her waist so he can pulls her against his torso, spooning her for the very first time. He’s not truly confident about this, but he believes this is the only way to make her understand.

“Zo...Zoro,” she calls, her body all tensed against his chest. “What are you doing?”

“Sleeping with you, idiot.” Zoro answers, eyes closed, relieved to be hidden behind her back so she can’t notice his blushing cheeks. “I didn’t invite her in my bed, last night. She sneaked into it without my consent.”

“Oh…,” She whispers, slightly arching her back to have a better position.

He feels a heat wave travelling through his entire body as she moves, her inviting rump pressed against his belly.

“So it means…,” She begins, her voice slightly shaking as she tries to put words on their behaviors.

For an answer, Zoro loudly sighs and pulls her even closer, his mouth finally finding the courage to press a timid kiss on her cheek. She snorts and hides her head in the pillow, and Zoro can’t help but smile brightly, feeling at ease.

[therewithasmile]

you have a hold

Duke Fraldarius gets a visit from a certain green-haired individual: Lady Byleth, archbishop, his wife.

ao3

"You have a visitor."

The simple statement was enough to rouse Felix from his stupor, one that he hadn’t known he was even in. But that was becoming a frequent occurrence: when the meetings dragged on, even the surrounding Lords and their words became nothing but added background noise. So when the courier looked at him in earnest, Felix knew the meaning of his pointed look. He barely managed to get his hastened apologies and pardons out, but those present shared a look as soon as his back was turned. Truthfully, he knew they would – such a presence, unannounced, only meant one thing.

And she hadn’t bothered to send a raven – anything – before arriving at his (their, if she ever decided she wanted it so) doorstep. 

Three long strides was all it took for Felix to cross the threshold the entrance hall and into his own personal training room. There she stood -- Byleth, archbishop, his wife -- just a few feet from him, arms crossed across her chest, in regalia that never quite suited her. While it hugged her curves and fit well against her body, it didn't do the same things to him as when he saw her in her battle garb, platemail and all, with her body tense, sword in hand.  

Her eyebrow perked. "Do I need an excuse to drop in, my love?" 

He must look frazzled. Felix certainly felt frazzled. There was more he liked to do when he knew she was coming. Something like preparing a meal, drawing a hot bath, making sure the sparring ground prim and proper despite what would happen moments later. "No, but I like to have a heads up," he chose to say instead, and though the intent was teasing he was certain just a little frustration intoned his words. And though what he felt wasn’t quite bashfulness, he did busy himself by sliding a steel sword from its holder, tossing a second still sheathed towards the green-haired archbishop. 

As always, Byleth betrayed nothing as she caught the weapon one-handed, a small quirk on the corner of her lip the only exception. "Like you ever gave me a heads up before," she scoffed playfully. "I still remember you chasing after me, hair barely out of your face, asking me to spar..." 

If she was trying to embarrass him, Felix had long since come to terms with his previous antics. To think back and realize what truly motivated him then had initially been quite a shock; now, he didn't try to control the smirk that tugged at his façade. 

"I'm sure seventeen year-old me would be disappointed to know I only get to see you the way I wanted when I get the rare chance to take the archbishop to bed." 

To her credit, Byleth's facade remained outwardly as cool as ever as she sank down, sword drawn. "Spent a long time beside Margrave Gauntier, have we?"  

"Childhood friends," Felix said as he mirrored her stance. "He was bound to rub off me sooner or later." 

She laughed, a bell of a sound that he so rarely heard from his wife, and she twirled her sword so familiarly. If Felix were being honest, this was what suited her -- this was so much more natural. Her eyes sharpened like a hawk's and her lips relaxed to a calm neutral. He'd seen her when she worked and he couldn't help but to note the lack of shine in his love's eyes, the way her mouth was tense even when talking, smiling. Now, she was relaxed - now, she was Byleth.  

And she still was, doubly so as she expertly blocked his blow, teeth grazing her lips in concentration at his sudden advance. It was the same dance that they had always had danced, a tango of blades accompanied by a symphony of metallic clashes as steel met steel. And, like every step to their routine, she always seemed to have the upper hand. It was almost unfair, in a way, that the revered archbishop could still be this skilled with the sword after this long on the job.  

Sheen of sweat had formed on her brow, and the ragged breath that serrated through her lungs was like fire to his ears. Still, it wasn't too long before his sword went flying from his grip, and then his back hit the stone wall - like ice against his heated torso - and the tip of her blade caressed along the planes of his jaw before her lips planted firmly onto his cheek.  

"Beat you again, Fraldarius," was her feathered breath, heavy and worn, and it did things to his head that he suspected had nothing to do with the adrenaline coursing through his veins.  

"Okay, Fraldarius," he said breathlessly, and this time he did manage to get a reaction from her, even if it was just the faintest blush to tint her cheeks pink.  

"Archbishop Byleth to you," she responded, almost dutifully. Felix couldn’t help but roll his eyes skywards as her own sword clattered noisily to the floor.  “You almost had me there too,” she said, almost conversationally, and Felix only scoffed. 

“Isn’t it sacrilegious to lie, Lady Byleth?” 

Something between a choke and a laugh came from his beloved. She pushed verdant hair from her face, and it was really unfair how such a simple motion was enough to make his heart thud erratically. Sure, distance made the heart grow fonder – but at this rate, it made him feel like he was – many – years younger, when he was admittedly much brasher and irrevocably infatuated with his then-professor. So with her hair pushed back and eyes a liquid fire, skin positively glowing from just sparring alone, the way her regalia -- so not accustomed to any physical activity, let alone to the extent they did – clung to her body, right under the weight of her breasts… 

To say that he swallowed through a lump in his throat would have been an understatement. 

The look she then gave him was sly, too all knowing – a combination of her seeing through him, like she always had, and just familiarity made it all the more easier for her to read his mind like a book. 

She smirked, and said all too breathlessly, “can I at least shower first?”  

. 

“Since when?”

Of all the things Felix had learned about her overtime, this was probably the most surprising. Her body was pressed up against his, the rise and fall of stolen breaths soft in the curve of her back. She was cold - she always was, one of the first thing he'd learned about her - and so he tightened his grip, tucked in the point of his elbow softly into her chest as a sigh feathered from her lips, and he pressed his own into the crown of her head.  

She flipped over, a bit suddenly, her green eyes so clear - like water, one of many parts of her he found irresistibly interesting about her - and hedging those oceanic depths, a small facet of genuine intrigue.  

Felix felt the heat rise to his ears; with a twist, he craned his head into the upper part of his forearm, if anything to stop himself before his words came before his train of thought did. "Gradually, I guess," he said, carefully, and he knew Byleth so well now that he could feel the tidal surge of her stare to know she, as usual, saw right through him.  

Her touch was lithe, cool, and meticulous - just the tip of her finger pad as she traced the line from his cheek, down to his jawline. And yet it was unfair how just a simple gesture, affectionate in a way she could afford, left trails of fire and ice that spread like spiderwebs across his skin.  

"And the truth, this time?"  

Her voice was coy, but he too knew that he hadn’t been the most forthcoming with his half-answer. And when her finger lingered on the jut of his chin, before lifting to press against the swell of his lower lip, he relented.  

"I don't know, maybe the whole time?" His answer wrenched out of his attempt of control, and perhaps to any other ears could have easily ruined the tender moment between them. But the bite that would have perhaps deterred only elicited a small giggle instead, and the sound only made the already-present sparks of nervous elation catch to a slow burning fire. 

If there was more that she was curious about, Byleth didn’t voice it, and Felix was not about to ask the same embarrassing question – he had no idea how she could so shamelessly say such. But he’d known her methodology, known it when she had snatched the ring-case out of his hand as he fought so hard to get the stupid words out of his mouth and then she’d dropped to one knee. “Just have to not think about it so hard, Fraldarius,” she had teased after he begrudgingly (because it should’ve been her who had to say it, Saints be damned) said yes.

She was always unfair when she saw through him that easily.

As she did again, when her eyes caught his, and they were nothing but inviting as he pushed himself up, hovering over her body. “Sappy,” he said simply, and then he lowered himself and let his lips feather along the angle of her jaw.

“Determined,” she responded, his particular area of interest vibrating as she spoke. “You were too, back then.”

 He couldn’t help the soft laugh that overtook him before he reclaimed her lips; she sighed into the gesture, just lightly, before the tips of her teeth tugged at his lower lip.

Felix pulled away before she could deepen the kiss any further. “I still am,” he said, very seriously, and his beloved underneath him bestowed him with a signature smirk.

“Are you asking me to spar, Fraldarius?”

“Haven’t you bested me already once today?” he responded, coolly, into the soft spot in her neck as she shifted, a breath wafting against his ear. And then, just as suddenly, those lithe fingers curled around his chin and pulled him up – and Felix found himself staring into endless green depths, depths he adored endlessly even if the journey through the abyss was spiralling.

“Please,” she whispered, and it was barely a question.

Yet he couldn’t resist her – he never could.

It was hard to put it into words: the realization had been shocking, but also in a way, comforting. It offered an explanation to everything, every calculation that had missed and every desire that had been fronting as something else. But to narrow it down to a single moment was more or less impossible; made even more so when the subject to the question offered so many other ways to occupy his mind – and mouth – just inches away from him.

The words fluttered at his lips, half formed as they were, and it simply became easier to ignore the raging inferno that seemed to burn at his tongue and redirect it to her collarbone – her shoulders – the swell of her breasts, unbidden from that frivolous regalia that did nothing to really accentuate how perfect his wife was.

“Easy Felix,” she said somewhere above him, words like little kisses of light underneath the heavy blanket of his arousal. “I’m here for a week, this time.”

“And you still couldn’t have sent a raven,” he murmured against her navel. The small peal of laughter makes her ribs tense, stretching the skin just slightly underneath his touch.

Her response was so simple, so transparent. “I like surprising you.”

She always did, and she continued to, for what he silently hoped to be something close to forever.

[metaphorical-love-for-a-car]

Angry Chihuahuas-- Roger Taylor x Reader

Request; “reader comes home from work one day to Roger trashing the place in one of his famous short-tempered, impulsive outbursts after an argument with one of the guys in which some comments/insults made crossed a line and genuinely upset him and reader calms him down” ( @fatbottomedboi )

Warnings; language

Word Count; 2.4k (whoops got a bit carried away lol)

Notes; I originally had a gif of Roger, but then I remembered this one and thought that it was appropriate for the fic

The boys were almost always off in the studio, working on their newest album. With all the hard work they were putting into it, you had no doubt that it would be amazing. You knew how they could be, always bickering about something or another, so you figured that you would pick up a pizza and some wine for dinner. You knew that Roger was bound to be tired and stressed, and you wanted him to have a relaxing night at home.

As you neared the front door, balancing the pizza box in your hand and cradling the bottle of wine in your arm, you dug your keys from your pocket. You were about to stick them into the door when you heard a loud crash. Your heart sank into the pit of your stomach. Possibilities ran through your mind. What if someone broke in? What would you do? A muffled thud sounded from the other side of the door, followed by a shout. You frowned, recognizing the voice. 

You slowly opened the front door, bracing yourself for whatever damage had been done. A bookshelf had been dumped over, and its contents littered the floor. Roger hadn’t noticed you come in. He was pacing like a caged animal, hands in his hair and muttering under his breath. He finally turned on his heel and disappeared into the bedroom. You sighed and made your way into the kitchen to put away the food. You flinched at the sound of something shattering. You had seen one of his tantrums before, but he had gotten better at controlling his temper. It had been a good while since he had an outburst this bad. 

When you walked out of the kitchen, you found Roger kneeling beside the broken shelf. He gathered up some of the books that were on the floor, pushing aside the wooden fragments. He was muttering to himself again, and you managed to catch the tail end of what he was saying. “You’re so fuckin’ stupid. Why are you always ruining-” His voice cracked. Roger brought a hand to his mouth and bit one of his knuckles as if he was trying to keep himself from crying. 

“Hey, hey,” you whispered, quickly making your way to his side. “It’s okay, love. You’re okay.” Roger looked at you with wide eyes that were full of tears. 

“I’m sorry. I fucked up again. I’m so sorry. I-” You shushed him before pulling him into an embrace. He desperately clung to you, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

“It’s alright.” You lightly traced random shaps on his back. “They’re just objects that can be replaced. We can always get new ones, yeah?” Roger slowly nodded. “I brought home some pizza and wine. How about we eat and when you’re ready, we’ll talk about what’s got you all worked up. Sound good?” Roger leaned back in order to look you in the eye. The corner of his lips twitched upward in the smallest of a smile. You flashed him an encouraging grin and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. “You’ve got the cutest little nose, did you know that?” Roger rolled his eyes with a scoff, and his smile faintly grew. You glanced down and noticed he was hiding one of his hands from your view. Narrowing your eyes at him, you held out an open palm. Roger avoided your gaze as he placed his scratched-up hand into yours. You sighed. “What happened?” 

“I... uh... may or may not have broken the mirror in the bathroom.” A tinge of pink spread across Roger’s cheeks. The poor boy was embarrassed. You pursed your lips and nodded.

“Alright, then. Let's get you cleaned up so we can enjoy our dinner.”

The two of you ate in the kitchen since the living room was a mess. Neither of you spoke much, save for the occasional boring comment about the day, such as “weather has been nice” or “my coworker was an ass today.” It had taken him a while to finally open up about what had caused him to lash out, but you didn’t mind. The last thing you wanted to do was push him. Roger was clearly shaken up, and you wanted to help him in whatever way you could. Sometimes that simply means just being there for them.

You sipped on your glass of wine, eyeing him carefully. He was staring off into space and kept opening then closing his mouth. “Take your time, love. Whenever you’re ready,” you softly told him before placing a hand on his shoulder. Roger nodded, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. Expressing the things that went on in his mind was never a strong suit of his. He chewed on his lip for a moment. Finally, he began to tell you what happened.

The boys were trying to smooth out some of the kinks in one of their new songs, but they could hardly agree on anything. “It sounds like shit,” Roger grumbled, twirling a drumstick between his fingers. He was sprawled out on a sofa. Deacy nodded in agreement. Freddie muttered under his breath before scribbling something down on a piece of paper. 

“Yeah, wonder whose fault that is,” Brian scoffed. Deacy tensed, knowing that a cat-fight was about to break out. Roger sat up and grimaced at Brian. 

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you’re not the easiest person to work with.”

“Fuck off, Brian.”

“Look at you, getting all defensive. You know I’m right.”

“Alright, ladies. Let’s not stir anything else up,” Freddie droned. The other two just ignored his comment.

“You’re not exactly sunshine and daisies either!” Brian opened his mouth, but Deacy interrupted him.

“Neither of you are easy to work with. Can we move on now?” Brian rolled his eyes, plopping down into a nearby chair.

“I’m just saying that we probably would have been finished with the song by now if it wasn’t for Roger’s screw-ups.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. I’m-So-Much-Better! We can’t all be fucking perfect.”

“Brian, you made a few mistakes yourself, so don’t get all high and mighty on us,” Freddie quipped. Brian crossed his arms with a huff.

“Of course, you’d take his side.” Freddie furrowed his brows.

“There aren’t any ‘sides.’ I’m just trying to get you two to stop bitching and get on with it!” 

“Yeah, Brian. Stop bitching already,” Roger parrotted. 

“Honestly, I don’t know how they do it.” Deacy pinched the bridge of his nose. Freddie raised a brow at him. Deacy rolled his eyes before addressing the two that were still bickering. “Surely, you two don’t always act like children? Because you’re both married, and I don’t understand how they put up with the likes of you.”

“I don’t, but I can’t say the same for Rog.” Roger glared daggers at Brian. “I don’t see how (Y/N) puts up with him either. Honestly, I didn’t expect the two to last this long.” Roger got to his feet in an instant. Freddie and Deacy shared a worried glance.

“Alright, Brian, that’s-” Brian plowed through Freddie’s warning.

“I’m just shocked! I mean, given Roger’s track record on trying to keep a stable relationship, I figured they would have fallen out by now. Probably won’t be long before he completely screws it up. It’s what he always does. (Y/N) should just leave before they get hurt.” Roger saw red and started towards Brian. Deacy and Freddie were quick to stop him.

“Fuck you, Brian! You’re not a saint either. Does Chrissy know about Anita? All those secret little rendezvous?” Roger shouted. Brian got to his feet.

“Oh, you want to play it like that, huh? I could make a list of names from your experiences.”

“Shove your list up your ass! That was before I met, (Y/N).”

“But I bet that doesn’t stop them from worrying. The seed’s already been planted in their mind, Rog. They’ll never really trust you.” Roger shook his head. His eyes were stinging, but he wouldn’t give Brian the satisfaction of seeing him cry.

“You’re a fucking ass, Brian. Maybe you and Prenter should shack up. Seems like you’d make a perfect couple,” Roger spat. Brian looked offended at his statement. Roger wrenched himself from Freddie and Deacy’s grasp, purposefully knocking over a nearby stack of papers. 

“There he goes, letting his temper get the best of him, as per usual,” Brian snapped. With a shout, Roger grabbed a nearby chair and launched it across the room. He didn’t see what it hit, but he heard a loud crash. Roger stormed out of the studio, slamming the door behind himself.

Your jaw dropped. The band had fought before, but they had never been this bad. Cupping his face in your hands, you stared into his big, blue eyes. “Roger, I love you so much. Yes, I know your reputation, but that was a thing of the past. I know you’ve grown and matured. I also know that you love me, and because of that, I never have to worry about you.” You peppered his face with kisses. He smiled, placing his hands over your own. “As much as I’m enjoying this tender moment with you, you have a mess to clean up in the bathroom.” Roger gave a dramatic groan. He gave you the saddest puppy-dog eyes, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Right now? Do I have to?”

“Yes because I need to get a shower tonight.” You wiggled your eyebrows, and Roger immediately perked up. You laughed at his reaction. “Is that enough incentive for you to clean your mess up?” Roger smiled before stealing a quick kiss. 

“More than.” As he started to walk off, you smacked his backside, earning a playful glare from Roger. You snorted and watched him disappear into the other room. 

You quickly dashed over to the telephone, dialing up Freddie. You told him that you were planning to hold an intervention and to call Deacy to fill him in. Freddie was wary, considering how the day had been thus far, but he agreed to help after hearing your plan. You chewed on your lip as you dialed Brian’s number, hoping that it would all work out. “Hello?” Brian’s voice crackled through the receiver.

“Hello, Space Boy! I’m planning a little get-together with the boys at our place. You know, pizza and booze, the usual,” you chirped.

“Well... I, uh...” He seemed surprised at your request. “When?”

“Tonight.” 

“Oh, (Y/N), I don’t think that’s a-” 

“Please, Bri? It’s my birthday!” you lied. “I’d hate to not get to spend some time with my favorite boys on my birthday.” He sighed. After a moment of silence, Brian begrudgingly agreed. “Great! See you in an hour.” Roger emerged just in time to see you hang up the phone. He snaked an arm around your waist.

“Who was that, love?”

“Uh, just called someone to help us haul out the old shelf.” Roger nodded, satisfied with your answer. 

It was getting close to the time for the boys to show up. You were a little nervous, but you assured yourself that between you, Freddie, and Deacy, you’d be able to handle it. In order to distract Roger, you sent him on a bit of a goose chase. You asked him to find your “favorite” pair of socks because your feet were cold. Of course, the socks you described were nonexistent, but it would keep him busy for the next couple of minutes.

You practically flung yourself at the door when someone knocked on it. You took a deep breath and put on your best poker face before opening it. “Hello, boys,” you greeted coolly. Their eyes widened as they entered, assessing the damages. Once they were all inside, you slammed the door shut and locked it. “No one in, and no one out. Roger, come here, please.” Brian looked confused, while Freddie and Deacy were bracing themselves for another fallout. When Roger stepped through the bedroom doorway, he froze. Scowling, he wagged a finger at Brian.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doin’ here?” Roger shouted, already going red in the face. If this was a cartoon, steam would be coming out of his ears. 

“Rog, darling, you need to calm down before your head explodes,” Freddie quipped. Brian crossed his arms, looking between the three of you and Roger.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask your partner?" Roger’s expression darkened.

“Wha’s that supposed to mean, then?”

“Everybody can it before another-” Deacy started. Brian scoffed.

“They lied about it being their birthday in order to get me over here!” Roger’s jaw clenched, and he was about to say something before you beat him to it.

“Shutup! Both of you! Now, sit down so we can get this sorted out. You two are stupid if you think I’m gonna sit around and watch you ruin your friendship.” You placed your hands on your hips and turned to face Brian. “I lied to you to get you over here because we’re having an intervention.” You glanced over your shoulder at the other two. “Freddie, did you bring it?” He nodded and held up a brown, paper bag. “Good.” You eyed Brian and Roger. “Well, what are we waiting for? Sit down, and sit next to each other.” 

They glared at each other but did as instructed. Freddie pulled out a large lump of cloth. Deacy smiled mischievously, causing Brian and Roger to get worried. The three of you managed to get it untangled and presented it to the other two. They weren’t amused. Roger wrinkled his nose. “‘Our get along sweater’?” You nodded.

“Yep, had it made a long time ago. Knew it would come in handy with you three toddlers running about. Thanks for letting me stash it at your place, Fred.”

“Any time, darling. Now, let’s get them all dolled up, shall we?” Freddie excitedly clapped his hands. He helped you and Deacy put the giant, two-person sweater on Brian and Roger, who made sure that their complaints were heard. After several minutes of struggling, you stepped back to examine your work. Deacy grabbed the camera he had brought, snapping a few photographs. 

“Perfect! Now that you two are all cozied up, we can begin our group therapy session, beginning with Freddie.”

“It all started when I was a child,” he began wistfully. Roger and Brian groaned dramatically. Your smile widened. Maybe next time they’ll choose their words carefully.

Tag List; @mothermercuryy @mmmmmitslikeadiseaseson @loveofmychips