#recently i feel like this blog is leaning away from slice of life

[ofgentleresolve]

sometimes i wonder if i should change my mun fc to someone with a harder edge simply bc my muses have been diving more and more into a life of crime and i'm pretty sure to*hru would not approve of say, taking revenge. and stabbing ppl sjdklfsjldf :'D

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

Connected ch1

pairing: chan x reader

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

word count: ~1.3k

synopsis: upset reader comments on chans room, chan sees it and privately reaches out to reader to comfort them.

warnings: crying, brief mention of dying (like as a joke), christopher using his rizz, i think that’s all?

an: this is a repost from my recently deceased blog hyunjins-orange-slice. may she rest in peace. this was originally a request from a moot but now has turned into a full series!

masterlist * next chapter

your phone dinged with a notification. wiping the tears from your cheeks, you pick up the device.

youtube: Stray Kids is Live- 찬이의 “방” 🐺 ep.209

you clicked on the link. the screen shows the studio, chans empty chair, the chat moving so quickly you struggle to read it, and FAM plays softly in the background.

you prop your phone up on the pillow next to you, curling your body on its side, sniffling still but finding comfort in the livestream.

as the song comes to an end, chan takes his seat. “안녕하세요“ he sing songs, smiling. and you smile too.

the live goes on for a little over an hour, and by the end of it you’re feeling a bit better. but you have a sneaking suspicion that once the video ends, so will your happiness. even the thought of that steals away some of your joy.

“stayyy im going to go.” he says. “감사합니다“

he waits a moment as more comments roll in. he reads through them.

‘no don’t go!’ ‘bye channie! remember to rest and eat well!’. ‘사랑해요~~’ ‘big hug??’

you read through the chat the best you could, and you normally don’t comment. but today you weren’t having the best day and his live really helped you, if only for a moment. so you click on the chat bar and begin typing.

“chan, im having a pretty rough day today, but your big hugs always help! thank you for this livestream ❤️”

you hesitated for a moment. reading your comment over and over, wondering if it sounded too cheesy. you decided that it totally sounded too cheesy, but the live was ending and what are the odds of him seeing it anyway? so you press send.

he’s still looking down at his phone, reading the comments.

“you’re having a rough day?” he reads aloud, looking up into the camera. your stomach dropped, and the eye contact was making you blush. “i’m sorry you’re having a bad day.” he pouted. “i’m glad i could help a little.” he smiles and then stands. “for everyone who’s having a bad day, or for anyone who may want one, let’s do a hug” he spreads his arms out wide, “biiiig hugggg” he says, leaning toward the screen.

you knew the smile on your face was goofy as hell, but you didn’t care. you couldn’t help it. he sat back down and said his outro, thanking the stays and doing his signature pose, and then the screen went black.

the smile stayed on your face for longer than you expected. but then the day came crashing back to you, the same thoughts, the same fears plaguing your brain. you let out a sad sigh. you could feel the tears coming on again, so you grabbed your switch, deciding you would try to occupy your brain with video games so you wouldn’t be thinking about your life (mood).

you played for hours, your thumbs moving furiously over the joysticks, until eventually you fell into a fitful sleep. you awoke in the middle of the night from yet another nightmare, your heart beating out of your chest, your face and pillow wet with your tears. you reach for your phone in the darkness to check the time. 2am. but that’s not the only thing you see on your screen. you have an instagram messenger notification. you were instantly confused. no one ever messages you on instagram. you cautiously opened the app and clicked the messages in the top corner. what you saw next had your heart seizing. you had accepted your fate. this was how you died and honestly.. you were okay with it. because on your screen, staring back at you, was a message from bang chan. like thee bang chan. like christopher bahng himself. complete with blue check mark and all.

you sat bolt upright in bed, suddenly not sleepy at all but at full attention. you clicked on his message.

“hey this might be weird.. and im not even sure if you’re the right person im looking for. but this picture and username matches the one on youtube?” -9:04pm

“is that weird? it’s weird.” -9:06pm

“i’m sorry ㅋㅋ“ -9:07pm

“did you comment on a live stream of mine that you were having a bad day? if not, this is totally embarrassing and ignore this.” -9:08pm

“oh, you’re probably sleeping” -9:30pm

“sorry again.” -9:31pm

•

you chuckled at his messages. they seemed very… chan. but then the realization hit you. do you message him back? of course you do. every stay dreams of this moment. so you should send him a message. right? yes. definitely reply. but what do you say?

‘oh my god’ you type and erase. ‘yeah that’s me’ erase ‘i’m such a big fan’ erase ‘sorry if i bothered you’ erase

damn this was hard. what do you even say to a famous person?

hands shaking, you settle on a response and type it out before taking a deep breath and hitting send.

“you found me! totally not weird. and yeah i commented on chans room. today wasn’t the best but you made it so much better. thank you!” -2:38am

after you sent the message, you couldn’t stop yourself from reading it over and over, analyzing everything you said. you had decided it was a weird message and you shouldn’t have sent it. you were about to freak out when he responded.

“i’m glad you were the right person! i’m relieved ㅋㅋ” -2:45am

“i just wanted to check in with you. make sure you’re okay. if that’s okay.” -2:45am

you couldn’t believe this. he’s so sweet for checking on you. your heart swelled. you quickly typed out a response to him, knowing his time is valuable and probably limited at this moment.

“that’s so nice of you. i’m doing okay. i distracted myself with video games. haha.” -2:48am

“well i did until i fell asleep and had a nightmare.” -2:48am

“you had a nightmare? i’m sorry to hear that.” -2:50am

“i wish i could go live every time you needed me.” -2:50am

he is literally the sweetest human and you thought you may cry.

“you don’t have time for that. you’re so so busy. one hour with you earlier helped me so much, truly. you’ve already done so much.” -2:53am

“not if you’re having nightmares.” -2:55am

“that’s not your fault tho, chan.” -2:56am

“chan?” -2:57am

“sounds so formal. ㅋㅋ” -2:57am

“well.. that’s your name. so… haha” -2:58am

“i think i prefer channie. ㅋㅋ” -3:00am

“or you can just call me your boyfriend.” -3:00am

you squealed and giggled, kicking your feet under your covers. he did not just say that.

“maybe i should just call you chrizztopher.” -3:02am

“ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ” -3:03am

“that works too. ㅋㅋ” -3:03am

“i’m sorry, but i have to go now. busy busy.” 3:04am

your heart fell a little, but you know how busy he is and you got more time with him than most people, so you were happy.

“that’s okay! thank you for checking on me. it was very kind. ❤️” -3:06am

“oooh hearts. i like hearts. ❤️❤️❤️” -3:07am

“good night. and if you have another nightmare, message me. i’ll have my notifications on.” -3:07am

you had the thought that the world does not deserve bang chan. and what did you do to deserve him? you felt so lucky.

“thank you channie. don’t work too hard.” -3:08am

and then he was gone. off to record some music, or write some music, or take some pictures, or do an interview, you didn’t know. but you fell back asleep with a smile on your face and for the first time in a long time, you slept through the night.

to be added to the taglist for this series, just let me know.

🚨reminder: this blog is 18+ only. i’ve been getting a lot of new followers (which i greatly appreciate) but if there’s no age identifier on your blog, i’m blocking you no questions asked. (for my own sanity and peace of mind.) ik some people don’t actually go to my page to read the warnings, so im going to start attaching a warning at the bottom of all my posts. thanks for understanding. 💕

[thekidultlife]

Plot: After an unexpected encounter with Yoon Jeonghan during a baby shower, more memories unfold from your mind, and his.

Genre: slice of life, angst

Pairing: Jeonghan + fem!reader + Mingyu

Warnings: a bit of explicit language

A/N: Many thanks to my incredibly amazing beta reader, @secndlife​, for helping me make this beautiful! Also, I would like to express my gratitude to @xuseokgyu​ for taking the time to make lovely banners and even a teaser for this series! You are both a joy to work with and I am so blessed to have you both help me. 🧡 Lastly, to our followers and readers who are continually supporting this blog despite its inactivity, thank you! More details about my future works will be addressed after this fic.

Taglist: @haotheheckk, @jeonjungkaka, @soonhoonsol, @fluffyhyeju, @minkwans​

“If you love me like you tell me, please be careful with my heart. you can take it, just don’t break it — or my world will fall apart.”

🍁🎧🧡

The cobbled pavements of the narrow alley you were walking on were damp from the rain that had recently poured. It was chipped and uneven in some places, and your thin-strapped sandals would sometimes slip and get stuck between the cobblestones. Despite the imperfections of this street, you had come to love it, just like every other self-respecting college student living around the vicinity. Behind you, the signage of restaurants and thrift stores flashed in bright neon blues and violets, blending with the honey-golden glow of the lights coming from the shops and apartment buildings that rose around you.

This alley was the most beautiful place to go to in the city. 

It was a beautiful Saturday night, too, and in your opinion, you had spent it well.

You were walking back to the dorms with your friends and a couple of seniors. You were in the back of the group, where it was quieter. Clutching your arm was Jung Mirae, one of your roommates, who was struggling to walk straight after too many beers. 

In the process of half-dragging Mirae, an alarm from your phone rang. You hasted to get it switched off. 

Bright laughter pierced the stillness as the ones just a few steps ahead of you, Park Hyewon and Lee Joonyoung, your best friends besides Mirae, kept on cracking jokes that would make the whole group roar with laughter. You giggled at their ridiculousness occasionally while trying to keep Mirae on her feet. 

Hangout nights are incomplete without these two, you thought to yourself, as you studied long-legged, pink-haired Hyewon and the tall, broad-shouldered Joonyoung. You watched as they made mean comments at each other and then made up for the teasing by giving each other kisses.

“Gross!” someone called out from behind you, and you could not help but smile. 

Joonyoung turned around and playfully gave the finger to the person who had shouted out. "Go get yourself a girlfriend, Sunwoo! It's clear to me that you’re in need of love.” 

The group snickered at Joonyoung's words.

As you listened to everyone talk about how good the night was and how hellish the next week would be with final exams coming up, you felt cold fingers touch your cheek.

You turned to Mirae, who was looking up at you with quizzical—albeit drunken—eyes. 

“Hey, Y/N." Mirae’s voice was loud and clear in the narrow alley. You brushed her hand away gently. "Why are you crying?” 

“What do you mean?” You put a hand over her mouth and tried to tell her to stop spouting off nonsense, but it was then that you felt it—the wet trickle of tears on your face. Surprised, you wiped them away with your hand.

It was true.

You were crying.

The walking paused. Footsteps ceased over the cobbled pavement as everyone halted to look over at you. Your cheeks reddened at the unwanted attention.

“Y/N, is something wrong? Here, let me have Mirae.” One of your classmates reached out to take Mirae.

“Thank you.” I think I drank too much, you despaired, as you kept wiping at your face and waving people away. You made attempts to control your emotions, but nothing could stop the tears from coursing down your cheeks.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you kept saying over and over with a hoarse voice that almost didn’t sound like you. “Keep walking, please! Don’t mind me. I think I just drank too much.” You gave a shaky laugh and rubbed your eyes. “I get like this sometimes. Sorry.” 

“You did not drink too much tonight, though,” someone commented dubiously. The others agreed and continued to look at you with confused expressions. "You never do."

“Jin-ah is right. And you don’t ‘get like this sometimes,’ babe.” Just a few feet away from you and leaning against Joonyoung, Hyewon crossed her arms. Her face, full of concern over your sudden outburst of emotions, made her look as though she hadn’t spent the night drinking as much as the guys did. “What's wrong?” 

“I really don’t know, to be honest.” You pushed a strand of hair away from your face and made a poor attempt to smile at Hyewon. "I think it’s just the beer. Really."

Hyewon looked like she didn’t want to stop questioning you.

Please don’t ask me anything more, you begged with your eyes.

Joonyoung nudged Hyewon casually.

"Okay." Hyewon shrugged as she reluctantly conceded to your lame answers. She walked up to you, linked her arm with yours, and turned to grin at the others placatingly. “Let’s go home for real, gang! I think my girlfriend here just needs to sleep.”

Everyone nodded, put on happy faces, and eagerly put the awkward scene behind them. They once again started with the jokes and laughter and even managed to loop you into their silly conversations. However, their eyes avoided you most of the time, and their jokes were careful. You sensed that nobody wanted to have any part in pulling any triggers you might have. Tonight was no time to be sad. With finals coming up, no one needed any sort of emotional baggage. You felt bad for making them cautious, but you were also grateful for their thoughtfulness about your feelings.

The happy atmosphere became short-lived, though, as five minutes later, a sound cut through the alley and through the facades that everyone was putting up for your sake. It made all of them stop in their tracks once more. Even Hyewon stiffened beside you. 

The sound perfectly explained everything that was going on with you, and there was no hiding it now.

Your alarm was playing again. 

“Oh, fuck.” Hyewon let out a huge breath and squeezed her eyes shut. She looked as though she was trying to block out the sound. “Y/N, for goodness’ sake, don’t be an idiot. Don’t listen to it. Turn it off—”

But of course, like an idiot, you listened.

“Hey there. If you find yourself listening to this, then it means we have made it to Year 3. Please meet me at the same place where we are tonight: the art pier, one hour before the day ends. I'll be the stupid-looking guy standing by the yacht statue while holding too many roses. I love you. Happy Anniversary!"

This alarm shouldn’t be ringing—because you didn’t make it to Year 3.

“Please turn it off.”

Joonyoung, who was right behind you, reached for your bag, rummaged inside, and pulled out your phone. Glaring at the screen, he shut it off and dropped the phone in the bag again.

The alleyway was silent for a while.

Hyewon sighed. And then she leaned against you and said softly, “Let’s go home.”

The cobbled pavements of the narrow alley you were still walking on were damp from the rain that had recently poured. Hands would steady you from behind when your thin-strapped sandals would slip and get stuck between the loose cobblestones. No one drunk should walk on this alley with its imperfect pavements, but you had come to love it, just like every other self-respecting college student living around the vicinity. As you passed, the signage of restaurants and thrift stores flashed in bright neon blues and violets before melting into the ever-constant amber colors of the street lights.

This alley was the most beautiful place to go to in this city. 

It was a beautiful Saturday night, too, and in your opinion, you had spent it well. But you weren’t supposed to spend this night here. Not in this place, despite its beauty, no. 

You were supposed to be somewhere else. 

You were supposed to be with someone else.

“I know that everybody here is trying to be nice, but let me say it for all of you here, so you don’t have to wonder how it sounds.” Joonyoung kicked a crumpled beer can out of his way as he walked. “Fuck Yoon Jeonghan.”

“Oh, please, Lee Joonyoung.” Hyewon sounded tired. “Thank you for making Y/N more miserable.”

“What do you mean? Bubs, I’m not the douchebag who—ah, whatever.” Joonyoung shrugged and flung middle fingers up the sky. “Wherever you are, Yoon Jeonghan, fuck you!” 

“He’s completely drunk,” Hyewon said apologetically, looking around her; some of the campus seniors with you were friends of Jeonghan’s. “Sorry.” And then, looking at Joonyoung exasperatedly, she hissed, “Joonyoung. Cut it out.” 

“Let him be,” you said in a drained voice, “let him be.”

You were supposed to be with Yoon Jeonghan tonight, but you weren’t. He was long gone, and all you have left of him was something that you had somehow forgotten to remove, something you wished so desperately to forget. 

All you have left of him was his voice—frozen in time through that alarm.

The rest was memories and history. 

🍁🎧🧡

Mingyu sips from a coffee mug and nods in understanding as you finish speaking. He leans back on one of the steps of the townhouse, where you both sit. Cars drive down your neighborhood street, their headlights coloring the concrete road with hazy white and yellow lights. You watch their signals blink as they find spaces to park. Leaves continue to fall, and some end up in your hair. You feel Mingyu brush them away. You smile and do the same for him.

It is way past midnight, and here you both sit, snuggling to keep warm against the cold night air and talking about a love long gone.

“So,” Mingyu traces the rim of his coffee cup as he puts the pieces together, “you and Jeonghan-hyung dated during uni days?”

You nod. “Mm-hmm. We dated for two years. And then we broke up during my junior year, which was when that alley story happened.” You look at your boyfriend in mock suspicion. “Not that I’m complaining, but are you sure you want to listen to this story? Because we don’t need to talk about this if you aren’t comfortable—” 

“—No, no, baby, I’m okay!” Mingyu chuckles a little bit as he turns to you. “I’m perfectly fine. I really want to know. If you’re not comfortable talking about it, though, we could just put it behind us.” He smiles at you. “I’m okay either way.”

He had stepped onto a minefield of your past without warning. He’s not supposed to be okay either way. You keep staring at him, not believing what he said.

���But, babe…” You sigh as you look at him. “Instead of talking about how Jeonghan and I ended up dating years ago, why don’t we talk about other things first?” You keep searching his face for any sign of uneasiness, any sign of hurt or confusion. “Like, how you felt when you found out. Or, how to avoid getting ambushed by stuff like this in the future.” You lean against him. “I don’t want something like this to happen again, no matter how great we both are at handling surprises. I think this is a good time to talk about things we haven’t talked about yet. Exes, our most embarrassing moments—” you giggle as Mingyu laughs at your last words. “Hey, I’m serious here!”

Your mind recalls the events of the night. You remember twirling in front of your full-length mirror to admire your new dress. You remember how perfect Mingyu had looked when he stepped out of his car and walked up to you. You remember the car ride, the conversation that you had about meeting his family and kissing underneath the porchlight of Aera’s house. You remember the baby shower: meeting Mingyu’s parents, Kim Aera, and Mingyu’s other friends. You remember how happy and secure you felt with Mingyu beside you as he introduced you to his family and some high-profile friends. You remember the crib and the games.

You remember Choi Seungcheol’s surprised expression and shaking Yoon Jeonghan’s hand for the first time in years. You remember Kwon Soonyoung’s drunken announcement.

“So, the former flames have finally met!” 

“Well, I guess I got surprised when I found out that you guys used to date,” Mingyu clarifies, “but if we will talk about whether I had strong, negative feelings about the whole thing...” his voice trails off as he looks at you.

“...Uh-huh?” you prod.

Mingyu shakes his head. “I didn’t have any.” He squeezes your hand reassuringly. “You don’t have to worry about me. To be honest, what surprised me the most was the fact that I handled the situation pretty well. Back when we were still at Aera’s house, I really did my best to be careful with how I took in the whole thing. I took care not to show how surprised I was with my expressions, my words...”

“Mm-hmm.” You nod along with him as his voice trails off. “Yes. I agree. You handled it pretty well. But I am still so sorry for dropping that bomb on you that way.” You look up at him with an apologetic expression. “We haven’t really talked about past relationships that much yet, so...” 

“Y/N, please don’t overthink.” His face hovers inches away from yours as he looks deep into your eyes. “See?” He makes all sorts of cute expressions, and you couldn’t help but smile. “I’m okay.” 

You become willing to believe him, but then you catch him looking at you with a twinkle in his eye.

“Although,” Mingyu adds, “I did feel a bit self-conscious.” He sighs dramatically, and he pouts—adorably. “I mean, he’s the Yoon Jeonghan. You dated the Yoon Jeonghan that most girls nowadays are swooning over. Who am I compared to that?”

As he continues to make such cute faces while saying the most outrageous things, you stare at him, open-mouthed. “What the hell.” You had seen through his joke, of course, but you could not help but look at him incredulously. “Is my boyfriend actually saying this to me right now while looking so drop-dead gorgeous beside me? Is he really comparing himself right now to someone else?”

Mingyu ignores your words and continues. “Yoon Jeonghan, actor extraordinaire, ranking twentieth at this year’s Asia’s Sexiest 100. Hmm. Yes.” He considers his words and nods. “I did feel intimidated. He’s good-looking and is amazing at acting and—”

“—Whoa, whoa, whoa.” You put your mug down beside you, and you giggle as you take Mingyu’s face in your hands. “You are one gorgeous person, too, and I am so, so in love with you. Stop comparing yourself to him.” You nuzzle his face, smiling. “I know you’re just joking about this, but please. Stop.”

He continues to look at you with a playful pout, but his eyes turn darker voice drops a notch lower. “Make me.” 

You feel him grin against your lips as you make him stop speaking.

At the back of your head, you remember Kim Aera’s words when she talked about her husband.

“Not all women are as fortunate as I am, you know? Some of us meet such crappy guys that it’s a miracle I ended up finding someone worth the wedding vows.” 

You aren’t one to believe in fortunes, so you try to think about all the things you must have done right to deserve a man such as Kim Mingyu. More importantly, you wonder if you would be able to keep him by your side. 

Too much thinking, too much thinking, you chastise yourself as you kiss Mingyu harder, wanting to erase everything from your mind.

“I love you,” you say after a while.

“I love you, too. But where were we with your story?” Mingyu lets go of you and takes his mug once more. Leaves still fall from the trees. The streetlights glow brighter as midnight darkens. A green sedan stops directly across you both, and you watch as a man staggers out of the driver’s side. 

“Well, if you really want to hear all about it, it would take us all night.” You look up at him with an enticing, hopeful smile. “Do you want to stay the night here? Hyewon and Joonyoung would be thrilled to have you. We can do storytime together with them.” You shake your head. “I still haven’t said a word to them about meeting Jeonghan again because we only went upstairs to get coffee. Hyewon will get a kick out of this.”

Mingyu laughs softly. “I can imagine.” He kisses your forehead before taking your hand. “Let’s head back inside.”

No more cars drive down your neighborhood street. No more hazy yellow and white headlights color the dark concrete road. Mingyu takes your hand and pulls you up from the steps. You feel him brush away some leaves from your hair once more. You look up at him appreciatively, and you do the same for him. Across the street, a glaring woman opens the front door for the drunken man from the green sedan.

You retreat indoors for the night. You think about how to tell Mingyu everything. And when Hyewon opens the door to greet you both, you wonder if she and Joonyoung would help you get the facts right about how you and Jeonghan started and how you and Jeonghan eventually ended.

With all these thoughts in your head, you faintly hear your phone ring in your purse. Getting a sense of déjà vu from the story that you had told Mingyu earlier, you feel chills run up and down your spine as you pull your phone out.

“Who’s your midnight caller, girlfriend?” Hyewon goodnaturedly teases as she takes your empty mug from your hand. Her face looks flushed, and you remember that she and Joonyoung had been drinking when you left them earlier. “Joonyoung! Mingyu’s here!”

“I have a confession to make,” you say as you look at the caller ID. “Mingyu and I ran into Jeonghan and Seungcheol at his cousin’s baby shower.”

Hyewon’s face pales at your words. “You what?”  

“We did,” Mingyu says softly, scratching his head while smiling at Hyewon. “He’s a good hyung of mine and Aera’s in the industry. We’ve been friends for a long time, but I didn’t know that he and Y/N used to date.” 

“Huh,” Hyewon breathes out. “All these years, the only way we could see him was on TV. We never ran across him, ever. And now we find out that he’s good friends with your boyfriend’s family.” Hyewon raises her eyebrows and shakes her head. “Imagine that.” 

“You met Jeonghan?” Joonyoung bounds into the foyer, which suddenly becomes crowded with the four of you there. “Was he with anyone else?” 

“Just him and Seungcheol-hyung,” Mingyu answers.

“Let’s not talk about this here. Come on in, you two. We still have some pizza, chicken, and beer.” Hyewon manages to push the two guys into the living room. She turns to you, clearly wanting to talk to you in private, but you put up a hand. 

“Hold on.” Your phone is vibrating in your hand, and you hastily answer the call. “Hello?”

🍁🎧🧡

He leans on the railings of the rooftop bar, a drink in one hand and a phone in the other. As he gazes at the city below, he knows that he has had too much to drink. The lights have started to pulse too much. The numbness inside him has finally reached his fingertips. He considers stopping to drink this last glass, but his call finally goes through. 

At the sound of the voice on the other line, he decides that he needs this one last shot of bourbon.

“I know that it’s too late to call you now,” he whispers almost inaudibly, “but if I don’t say this tonight, I probably never will.”

He lets go of the empty glass in his hand, and he watches as it shatters on the ground. 

“I miss you,” he says, oblivious of the curses and complaints from the people around him. “And I know that you’re in a happy place now, but I—” A painful pause ensues as he stands there, lost for words. Shifting his weight from one foot to another, he tries to ignore the ache in his throat and the burning in his eyes. “—I just wanted you to know that. Everything about this call feels wrong because I know that I am not supposed to and that I have no right to call you anymore, but I will never stop wondering how these words sound like if I don’t say it right now.” A tortured grin spreads across his lips. “I miss you.”

The phone falls out of his hands, and he blindly falls to the ground to pick it up. Sharp fragments from the broken glass cut through his skin and the material of his pants, but he doesn’t feel the pain. He is too numb right now. He couldn’t even feel his legs. As he futilely tries to smoothen the cracked screen on his phone, he hears a loud voice coming from a megaphone. 

“And cut!” The director’s voice rings loud and clear throughout the rooftop bar. He walks over to Jeonghan, who is still trying to bring his phone back to life. “Okay, did I suddenly step into some shitty romance movie after the break? What was all that?” The director impatiently turns around and gestures to the crew behind him. “I need a medical kit here; and another phone, please. Geez. What has gotten into you tonight?” 

“Sorry,” Jeonghan says apologetically. “I just got too immersed with my role.” He shakily stands up. “And I can’t feel my legs.”

The director shakes his head. “Look, Jeonghan, I know that you love ad-libs. I love your ad-libs, too. You know that. But your last lines threw me off.” He squints his eyes suspiciously at Jeonghan. “Where did you go tonight? You were fine the whole day, and then you suddenly get picked up by your friend. The minute you come back to work, you’re a different person.” He shakes his head again and walks away. “Read the script and pull yourself together. We’ll be taking a short break. And apologize to your co-star for spouting out all that mushy stuff!”

“What was that about?” Seungcheol has appeared from out of nowhere, arms crossed. “Why were you telling Jihoon that you missed him?”

Jeonghan laughs. He gestures weakly with his hand as he answers, “It’s the bourbon.”

“Who on earth actually drinks half a dozen shots while filming?” Seungcheol pauses as he studies Jeonghan’s face. “And why are you crying?” 

“I’m not.” Jeonghan wipes away something wet from his face. “Stop bitching, Cheol, and just help me sit down somewhere.” 

“Oh, Yoon Jeonghan.” Seungcheol sighs as guides Jeonghan to the nearest steel chair. “You said you would be able to come back to work after the baby shower! God, I was an idiot for believing you.” 

“This is not about the baby shower,” Jeonghan protests weakly as he leans back against the chair. “Leave me alone and let me rest. Please.” He closes his eyes. 

“So," Seungcheol fishes around for words, "what was that about?"

Jeonghan doesn’t answer. 

Seungcheol sighs again. “Was she the one you were ‘talking to’ in that phone call?” 

Silence. 

“Jeonghan—”

“—She looked happy.” Jeonghan’s voice is calm, but tears still escape his closed eyes. He leans to the side as though he wanted to sleep. “They looked happy. And when I saw them kiss by the front porch when we got to Aera’s, I felt funny." He grins. "I felt funny because a part of me got hurt—” He pounds his chest. “—Right here.” His grin widens. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just like this because I haven't seen her for a long time."

The rooftop bar is buzzing with activity: the director is making changes with the camera angles, someone is adjusting the brightness of the floodlights, and the extras are practicing the not-so-easy art of blending in with the scene. Jeonghan hears someone sweep the broken glass from the tiled floor.

“Mingyu is a good guy,” Seungcheol offers sympathetically. “At least we can both be sure that she will be alright.” 

“Mm-hmm.” Jeonghan continues pounding his chest with his bandaged hand. “I know.” 

“You are my first romance, and I’m willing to take a chance that till life is through, I’d still be loving you.”

🍁🎧🧡

The cobbled pavements of the narrow alley that he is walking on are still the same. It feels damp, even though no rain had poured that night. It is still chipped and uneven in some places, and he remembers how your thin-strapped sandals would sometimes slip and get stuck between the cobblestones. Despite the imperfections of this street, he knows that you loved it. But while you had loved this place for its bright lights and broken cobblestones, he had loved it for what it contained: the restaurants and thrift stores, all of which still had signs that flash in bright neon blues and violets. 

And he loved them because of the memories he had created inside them—memories that he had made with you.

He vividly remembers the first plate of spaghetti that you shared at Georgie’s, a quaint restaurant that would have been considered Italian but for the sweet spaghetti sauce that it serves. He has not forgotten the taste because he still goes there on Thursdays. And he has never forgotten the way you had laughed while eating spaghetti as he confessed that he wanted to date you.

“You have no idea how ridiculous that sounds coming out of your mouth,” you had said while pushing away your plate. Your eyes had been gleaming with humor then, but your voice had been guarded and careful. “To put it simply, sunbae, I am not going to date you.” You had shrugged, and locks of your hair had tumbled across that denim jacket that he had loved seeing on you. “You know why.” 

He had known then.

You had never fallen in love before. That knowledge should have made him cautious, but he admits to himself now that it had made him all the more desperate to snag that spot in your heart marked, “First Love.” 

It was at Georgie’s that you had first rejected him, but it was there that you also said yes to him a few months later. Twirling pasta in your plate, you had murmured, “Okay. Let’s date. But Yoon Jeonghan—” Your voice had shaken. And then you had looked at him. 

“Please be careful with my heart.”

He had answered that with your first kiss.

At signless thrift stores that are scattered a few stalls away from each other, Jeonghan remembers patiently waiting for you as you picked clothes for him and art supplies for yourself. He remembers how you would stand to the side to let Hyewon and Mirae haggle with the storekeeper. He remembers your apologetic expression when you felt like Hyewon or Mirae had taken the bargaining too far. He smiles as he remembers how embarrassed you would be during those times.

And then he smiles wider as he remembers Hyewon’s sharp fingernails that had dug on his shoulder when she pulled him aside during the first time he tagged along for the shopping. He chuckles as he remembers how menacing she had looked. 

“If dating my goody-two-shoes Y/N is payback because I broke your best friend’s heart a few years ago,” Hyewon warns darkly, “then you’d better know that I’ll be coming for you. And I have no qualms whatsoever about tearing you to shreds. You got that?” She had dug her nails deeper at that point. 

“I don’t care what history you had with my best friend,” he had answered calmly. “I am dating Y/N because I love her. That’s all there is. You’re reading way too much into this, Park Hyewon.” 

“Am I?” Hyewon had scoffed, clearly unconvinced. “Yoon Jeonghan, why are you dating Y/N? The real reason, please."

"I love her," he repeated. "That's all."

"No. That's not it. I refuse to believe that’s your reason. And we both know here that you can’t fool me with that crap.” She had let go of him then, but not before throwing out a few more words that sounded like a prophecy. Throwing up her hands in the air and rolling her eyes, she had said, “I’m calling it: you’ll only break Y/N's heart.”

Funny how Hyewon turned out to be right. 

“This alley is the most beautiful place to go to in the city, isn’t it?” 

At that moment, Jeonghan stops in his tracks. He stops reminiscing. 

He whirls around, his eyes wide and almost sober, searching for the owner of that voice. His heartbeats quicken. He clenches his jaw as another knife of pain stabs through him at those words. 

You used to say the same thing to him. You used to say those words while holding his hand or whenever he would kiss you unannounced while you walked this street. You used to say those words while looking up at him. He would never get lost anywhere in the world, but he used to get lost in your eyes when you did so.

He squints his eyes, certain that it had been you who had spoken. But as his vision focuses on the owner of the voice, he feels his heart sink inside him. 

Of course, it wasn’t you. Jeonghan laughs at himself and his stupidity.

It wasn’t you. It was some stupid co-ed echoing the words that any college student would say about this street. It wasn’t you because you were long gone from him now, and he had nothing left of you but all these memories that still plague him in this fucking alleyway.

It wasn’t you because Jeonghan had done what Hyewon had said that he would do. 

A hand grabs his arm. “Let’s go, Yoon Jeonghan. You shouldn’t be here.” 

Jeonghan recognizes Seungcheol’s voice. He grins at his friend’s frustrated face as he trips on a stupid loose cobblestone. “Hello, there. Why do you keep appearing out of nowhere? And did you also think of Hyewon while following me along this legendary street? You only loved this street because of Hyewon, but you still feel it, right?” Jeonghan helps himself up and absently studies his dirtied pants. “The nostalgia this place evokes?”

“Shut up,” Seungcheol snaps, “just shut up. You know, I expected you to act more maturely than this, Jeonghan.” 

“What?” Jeonghan laughs. “Can’t a guy walk in peace?” 

Seungcheol stops walking. He lets go of Jeonghan’s arm, and he faces Jeonghan with a furious expression. “You have no right to get hung up over Y/N,” he says with a poisonous tone. “You have no right at all.” 

Seungcheol’s words slice through Jeonghan like a blade he didn’t see coming. He wasn't able to brace for it. He didn’t expect those words to come, especially from Seungcheol.

“You broke her heart.” Seungcheol’s tone is more fit for a eulogy than for a conversation with his best friend. “You made a choice years ago. What did you expect the ending to be? You can’t cry now.” His face softens. “Be a man. Accept that she’s moved on. Did you see her face earlier at the baby shower? She didn’t even look at you with any hurt or anger.” He presses a hand on Jeonghan’s shoulder. “She looks happy. Was she surprised to have seen you? Yes. But she has clearly moved on, and so should you.”

There is silence for a while until Seungcheol hands him a face mask. 

"Spare yourself the hell you'd experience from gossip rags and wear the fucking mask. You look terrible and stupid, coming here without any disguise at all. These aren’t uni days anymore, dumbass."

The cobbled pavements of the narrow alley that Jeonghan and Seungcheol are walking on are still the same. It feels damp, even though no rain had poured that night. It is chipped and uneven in some places, and both men could still remember how easily one could trip and fall on the slippery cobblestones. But despite the imperfections of this street, they both know someone who had loved it for what it was.

Yes, you had loved this alleyway for its bright lights and broken cobblestones. Seungcheol had loved it because of your friend Hyewon, but Jeonghan had loved it for what it contained: the restaurants and thrift stores, all of which still had signs that flash in bright neon blues and violets. 

And he loved them because of the memories he had created inside them—memories that he had made with you.

But now he realizes that this alleyway is a literal Memory Lane, bringing him back to the past and clouding his judgment of the present. 

As he walks past Georgie’s, He remembers your words again. 

“Please be careful with my heart.” 

Friday has barely ended, and Saturday is just about to begin, but when Georgie’s fades behind him, he laughs. He laughs like the idiot that he is, and tears pour out of his eyes as he does so.

“I will be true to you—just a promise from you will do: from the very start, please be careful with my heart.”

🍁🎧🧡

The truth has finally hit him.

Everything that he had with you—all of it—is now just memories and history.

And his conviction that he should stop riding this rollercoaster of emotions about you becomes even more pronounced when his phone vibrates, and he picks up a call.

“Where are you?” a woman’s voice asks, worried. “I’ve been up all night waiting at your apartment.”

Seungcheol mouths, Who is it?

Jeonghan flashes the phone at Seungcheol.

It was Jung Mirae.

“I love you and you know I do—there’ll be no one else for me. I promise I’ll be always true, for the world and all to see. Love has heard some lies softly spoken, and I have had my heart badly broken; I’ve been burned and I’ve been hurt before.”

🍁🎧🧡

Mingyu stops staring at the ceiling and turns to look at you. You are sleeping beside him, tucked under his arm, and he is happy. He had spent the night with you, going through your memories and learning from them. He had spent the whole night immersed in the past that you had inside you.

Yes, indeed, he had learned a lot about you tonight. And as he presses a tender kiss to your forehead, he whispers something that you did not hear. He whispers words that he just wants to prove to you with actions.

“I’ll be careful with your heart,” Mingyu whispers as he kisses your hair, your neck, your bare shoulder, “because I know how it feels to get hurt, too.” If you had been awake at that point, you would have seen the pensive, faraway look in his eyes as he walks down his own cobblestoned path—his own Memory Lane. If you had been awake, you would have worried about his expression like he knows you would. So he quickly smiles at your peaceful, sleeping face.

“I have a story, too,” he adds softly, “but I’ll save it for later.” He hugs you close to him. “For now, I’ll just be content with taking care of you.” He kisses your lips, and you stir. “Of us.”

When your eyes open, he shyly ducks under the covers, his twinkling eyes peeking at you. And as you protest that it was late and that he should sleep, he laughs softly, and he nods. “Okay, okay. I’ll take care of you.”

“What?” you ask, uncomprehending. “Say again, baby?”

“Nothing.” He hugs you close again. “Just that I love you.” 

You fall back into sleep at his words, and he keeps watching you until his eyes close on their own.

“I love you,” he whispers again. 

“So I know just how you feel: trust that my love is real for you. I’ll be gentle with your heart—I’ll caress it like the morning dew. I’ll be right beside you forever, I won’t let our world fall apart. From the very start, I’ll be careful with your heart.”

Author’s Note: Thank you very much for reading! I know that I have been very slow and inconsistent with my updates, but as long as there are unfinished WIPs on this list, please expect me to keep posting, no matter how sporadic. Tell me what you think about this part on the askbox, comments/reblogs! Thank you! - Leanne.

[bbystark]

Anxious Baker

Gordon Ramsay x reader 

Request: “Hi ! Gordon Ramsay x reader please ? This is a weird ask but like reader having an anxiety attack or something and them passing out in his arms idk idk you can ignore this if u want - 🤍”

Warnings: Talk of mental health, anxiety, panic attacks 

A/N: This is so terribly late and I apologize. I’ve finally figured out how to balance work and college so now I’m back on track for having free time to write. Also, I love the fact that someone requested Gordon Ramsey. I literally will dump anything on my blog, hopefully this is proof. (is this the first Gordon Ramsay fic on tumblr?) 

Word Count: 1695

Requests | Feedback 

You hum quietly, stirring the strawberries that were slowly reducing in a pot. You dipped your finger in, bringing it to your lips. You exclaim to yourself in delight, surprised that you were pulling off the recipe you had chosen. You turned the pot off, spinning around to pour the syrupy strawberries over the now-chilled pound cake. 

You set the pot down, leaning on the counter to take a small break. You smiled to yourself and took a deep breath. Everything was going good. 

Nothing is wrong, you remind yourself as thoughts in the back of your head nag at you. 

You had struggled with anxiety for a while, and had become accustomed to random racing thoughts and heart acceleration. You were proud that you were working through it, even if you had a bad day once and a while. 

As far as you could tell, today was a decent day. Baking was a safe escape for you, and you weren’t too bad at it. At some points it could be stressful, but being able to get rid of worries and focus on what was in front of you was therapy, in your mind. 

You’re pulled from your thoughts by the doorbell ringing, causing a smile to spread across your face. You wipe your hands on a dish towel nearby and jog to your front door. When you make it there, you throw it open. 

Gordon. 

“Hello, Darling.” He steps in the door, hanging his jacket up on the rack and toeing his shoes off to the side. He sets the other things he was holding down and reaches towards you. 

You step into his arms, your head briefly resting on his chest. 

“Gordon! It’s been so long.” 

He releases you, gently grasping your shoulders to hold you at arm's length. 

“You look good,” he pauses, “And what’s that delightful smell? You’ve been baking again haven’t you?” He smiles down at you. 

You smile bashfully. “I have. It’s strawberry shortcake this time. Nothing earth shattering.” 

“Well I’m no pastry chef but if you made it I know it will be amazing love.” 

You blush a little, realizing he’s still holding onto you. You roll our eyes, trying not to seem flustered and reach for the bags he had previously set down. 

“What’d you bring me, old friend?” 

“Old you say?” He follows you into the kitchen. 

You set the bag down on the island, glancing up at Gordon as he nudges you aside and starts taking containers out of his bag. 

“Skillet Cod with lemon and capers. It’s from the Tahoe location I’ve recently opened.” He moves around you with confidence, finding the cupboard you keep your plates in and pulling two out. 

You grab forks, making your way to the table and setting two spots. Gordon joins you, placing plates down and plating the food from the “to go” boxes. It’s still warm, and somehow he manages to make it look like it just came out of the pass. 

“This looks great Gordon. How’s the restaurant faring?” 

He sits beside you, passing you a napkin. The whole thing seems too domestic and you almost hate how much you love the idea of life being like this every day. 

“Just fine darling, my head chef is fully capable but it doesn’t stop me from making frequent trips up here,” He looks up from his food and gives you a sly smile, “Tahoe is truly a world treasure.” 

You laugh. You have lived in California your entire life and oftentimes forget how lucky you are to have Lake Tahoe at your fingertips. 

“I certainly don’t mind all the company I’ve been getting. Speaking of, when are you going to take me to your crowning achievement, hm?” 

He laughs.

“Very soon, I promise.” 

-

Conversation continues easily between you two, simply catching up. Occasionally one of you would look a little too long at the other, but fleeting glances would scare your gazes away. At some point, wine was brought to the table and you had a few drinks in (you swear it was only a few) and your head was swimming in a very pleasant way. 

That was, until a smoke detector went off. Your heart rate accelerated almost immediately, eyes widening. Did you leave the stove on? Was it something else? Oh god, was your house about to burn down? 

A million thoughts race through your mind and suddenly your throat seems very dry and tight. 

You bolt up from your seat, rounding the corner. The stove was fine, and there were no flames anywhere else. The cake was still safe on the counter. Suddenly you realized there was smoke in the air and it was coming from the oven. 

You had left it on after you took the cake out. You opened it after clicking the cancel button, a mass of smoke billowing out.

“Y/n? Isn't everything alright?” 

You almost don’t hear him, too busy looking for what exactly was burning so badly. When the smoke clears a little bit, you see the now black batter at the bottom of the oven, realizing how stupid you currently felt. You had spilled some earlier when putting the cake in the oven, and had tried to remember to clean it up once the oven had cooled. 

You now didn’t feel fear, just overwhelming embarrassment. Gordon had just witnessed you totally freak out over virtually nothing. Your throat felt tight and your eyes began to sting. You quickly shut the oven, bracing yourself against it. It was only getting harder to breathe, and it wasn’t helping that you were trying to stifle your emotions.

“Y/n darling-” 

You’re braced against the oven, chest heaving. You can’t really lie to yourself any longer and say you aren’t panicking, because you are and suddenly every coping mechanism your therapist taught you is thrown out the window and god you don’t want anyone- much less Gordon- to see you like this. 

Your anxieties are only piling on and you suddenly have tunnel vision, slumping even more onto the oven. You faintly feel Gordon’s hands underneath your arms, probably holding you up at this point. Your vision is swimming and you feel sick. 

For a moment or so there’s nothing, and slowly you begin to feel better as your vision returns. You only feel so, so tired as you realize you had just passed out. 

“There you go love, take it easy.” 

You blink a few times, looking at your surroundings. You're on your kitchen floor, in Gordon’s lap. He’s stroking your hair, his brows furrowed. 

“You look like you do when you get pissed on Hell’s Kitchen.” You let your head fall back onto his lap. 

“Jesus fucking christ you scared me. What was that?” 

“Just a panic attack, I think.” 

“I thought they were getting better, that you were making progress?” 

He looked genuinley worried and you realized how dumb your brain was for being overly anxious about having a panic attack in front of him. Which was ironic, seeing how more panic only made a bigger panic attack. 

“I was. Sometimes they’re still bad, never like that though.” 

“Are you sure you’re okay, should we go to the hospital?” 

You try to sit up, only for Gordon to put a hand on your shoulder. You half smile allowing yourself to lay your head back down. 

“Really Gordon, I feel better. It’s nothing but my brain overreacting a bit. I promise.”

He’s stroking your head again, and you can see he doesn’t believe you. You don’t blame him, he hadn’t experienced mental health issues in the same personal way you experienced them. This was something you had to deal with everyday, and he didn’t. You understood how concerning this probably seemed to him. 

“I think I should stay tonight, just to make sure you’re okay.” 

He helps you up, slowly, and being ever so careful with you. He leads you to your room, barely allowing you to change into pajamas. It was endearing how worried he was for you, but there was still a slight concern that you were being a burden. 

“Are you alright?” He peaks around the door when you give him the okay, and you see that he’s shed his jacket and is now in sweatpants. 

“Yes,” you sit on your bed, trying to hold in a yawn. “Are you sure you can stay tonight?”

“I would have been heading back to my hotel anyway. I don’t leave until Saturday.” He sits next to you on the bed, looking as if he’s gonna fret over you again. 

“You can sleep in here, if you would like. My couch isn’t the most comfortable…” 

“You didn’t think I was leaving you alone after that, did you?” He rolls over you, jokingly grabbing a pillow and bumping you with it. “This is my bed now too until I know you’re absolutely okay.” 

You flush, and roll your eyes once again.  “If you insist.” 

Your heart is racing again and you almost laugh. This is a different kind of anxiety, the kind that makes your heart swell with love and the butterflies in your stomach to flutter around gently. It was exciting.

You turn and turn off your bedside light, crawling under the covers. You feel Gordon do the same, situating himself. You’re about to whisper goodnight when he pulls you into him, your head resting on his chest. He gives you a kiss on the forehead, squeezing your shoulder in a comforting way. 

“Goodnight my love.” 

“Goodnight Gordon.”

You suddenly feel content. No anxiety in the back of your mind, only bliss and safeness. There’s an unspoken promise that Gordon wishes he could voice, the solid promise of love that neither of you were quite ready to explore yet. But all of that didn’t matter at the moment. The only thing that he could feel was your steady heartbeat and rise and fall of your chest. 

He unspokenly loved you, and that was enough for now. 

“You know, we never got cake.” 

“Cuddling you is dessert enough for me,”  a pause, “Actually I will be stealing a slice tomorrow.

- 

Thank you for reading! 

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[jimlingss]

The Colour of Our Voices [15]

Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16

➜ Words: 4k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Angst, Slice of Life, Broadway!AU

➜ Summary: He wasn’t supposed to hear. He wasn't supposed to know. But the instant Jimin came into your life and pulled the curtains back, you couldn't hide backstage anymore. You were no longer merely a phantom of the opera.

cr.

Every relationship has its own set of difficulties, its ups and downs.   It’s just painful that you can’t be together when you want to. You never knew there’d come a point where your goals, dreams, and ambitions would contend with your relationship. It seems like it’s either one or the other and you don’t know if you can pick — if he would choose what you would.   You hope that with time, it’ll pass.    You try not to show how hurt you are over the missed date night incident even though it makes you overwhelmingly sad. But you can laugh at it a little when you’re faced with a different kind of reaction instead of sadness — rage.   “He fucking forgot?!” Yeonjeon is hysterical and her disgust is practically tangible. “Oh my god. I’m going to kill him.”   She gets up, but you pull her arm down with a laugh. Jimin’s at work. She probably wouldn’t know where to look for him even if she tried. “Hey, don’t kill him, I still love him.”   “Yeah, and it’s a mistake,” the actress says right out and rolls her eyes. “God, I can’t believe I had a crush on that motherfucker. All men are pigs, aren’t they? What an asshole!”   “It was an accident.” You shrug.   “Uh-huh. Pathetic is what it is.”   “He’s been really tired lately.”   “Umm, don’t defend him in my house.” She’s personally offended and is still fuming. “He can’t even remember a date. Does he have one brain cell?”   “No. He has at least two,” you giggle.   Yeonjeon shakes her head, but softens. Suddenly, she puts her hands on your shoulders, making you look at her. “Listen, Y/N. Just dump Jimin.”   Immediately, you burst out laughing. “I love him too much to dump him.”   “Well, fame changes people,” she states coldly. “He probably thinks he’s some kind of big shot now because he’s has some stupid role in a movie.”   You smile at her sheepishly.   It doesn’t seem like fame changed him. More like fame changed his life. It changed yours too — if you could even call it fame.   “Anyways, enough about that jerk—”   “Yeonjeon,” you warn her with a pout. He’s your boyfriend after all so you’ll defend him till the end.   “—how’s your own projects going so far?”   “They’re going fine. Rapunzel doesn’t have that many lines and she doesn’t actually sing any lyrics, but in the scenes that she is in, they’re pretty important. I’m having fun. Plus the people there are really nice to work with too.”   “You know what?” She snaps her fingers. “Now that I think about it. Rapunzel fits you perfectly.” You laugh at her and she eyes you. “What? It just does.”   Someone else had told you that — a boy that you miss dearly. 

Jimin’s been having a recurring nightmare recently — one where he’s a four year old again and he’s stacking blocks as high as he can.    It doesn’t sound so bad, but always when he has the last block in his hand and goes to top off the tower, he can see it teeter. He knows what’s about to happen, He can see it right in front of him. But no matter what he does, how carefully he deals with the blocks, he can’t stop it from tumbling down.   The worst part is knowing the inevitable, but being unable to stop it. To see the collapse before it happens.   “Going home already, Park?”   The corner of Jungkook’s mouth curls, eyes flickering down to how Jimin’s gathering his belongings. His bag and coat are slung over his arms as if he’s being chased by debt collectors and needs to run out as soon as possible.   “Why so soon?” Chanyeol throws his arm around the younger’s shoulder, pulling him in. “I thought we were gonna go out for drinks again tonight.”   “I’m good.” Jimin slyly and discreetly moves the actor’s arm off of him. “I think I’m gonna head home early. I’m pretty tired.”   “Oh come on. Don’t be a downer. We even have our day off tomorrow. We should celebrate, don’t you think?” Chanyeol grins and looks across the set. “Hey, Director! You want to come with us again?”   Yoongi, the camera director looks up from what he’s doing and shrugs. “Sure.”   “See? Even Min’s coming. What are you waiting for?”   It’s not rare to drink with the other cast members after a long day of filming. Usually outings can range from three to four people to every person on the set. They’re a good bunch but he wishes there weren't so many eyes on him right now.   “What else would you be doing at home?”   “He’s whipped for some girl at home, that’s why,” Jungkook says with a laugh. “Let him go if he really doesn’t want to come.”   “That so?” Chanyeol raises his brows. “You can invite her.”   “No, she works fairly early. She’s probably asleep right now.”   “Then what are you going home for? Come on,” he insists, and Jimin succumbs to the pressure.   //   They’re huddled in a private room at the back of the fancy nightclub. It’s exclusive, sofas softer than expected, the back light of the walls creating a sensual ambiance and everything he drinks feels expensive. Jimin guesses this is what fame and fortune buys you.   One of the girls working at the nightclub comes over with a tray of drinks, gorgeous with her dress that’s too small and too short, and her cleavage practically spilling out. Chanyeol whistles, tipping her with a pretty bill which she smiles to, and the actor notices the way Jimin diverts his eyes.   “This girl of yours must be one hell of a woman,” he comments out of the blue and has Jimin’s eyes widening.   “Me?”   “Yeah, you, Park. Who else would I be talking about?” The handsome actor laughs boisterously, perhaps having taken one too many drinks.   “Apparently they’re neighbours,” Jungkook pipes up, remembering the story Jimin told a few weeks ago.   “Oof, brutal.” Chanyeol shakes his head. “If you guys break up, you’re gonna have to definitely move.”   “We’re not going to break up,” Jimin instinctively states. It’s almost defensive in a way and he hopes they don’t notice the nervous tick in his fingers.   There’s an exchange of expressions around the table. “You’re going to get married to her then?”   “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably.”   “Ooh, he is whipped,” Chanyeol sing-songs, but it also sounds sharp.   Jungkook frowns. “You really want to tie yourself down so soon? I mean, it’s not a bad thing.”   “It is a bad thing,” the other actor corrects, “Jimin’s young and good looking. You shouldn’t tie yourself down so early. You haven’t even begun to experience what kind of girls are out there….”   Jimin doesn’t say anything. He takes the shot that’s in front of him. It’s bitter in his mouth, disgusting, but he ignores the actual taste to chase after the free feeling it gives him instead.   “You’re cute — girls like that sort of thing. Trust me, you’ll be missing out if you tie yourself down now, Park. You have the rest of your life to be serious,” Chanyeol continues before his eyes flicker to the person across from him. “Right, Min?”   Yoongi sighs and Chanyeol laughs, explaining, “He’s divorced. His ex-wife’s some critic who runs her own blog. They had to reach a huge settlement and it took two years in court, but get this, she didn’t change her last name back. She kept Min just to fuck with him.”   “That’s enough,” Yoongi pipes up, cat-like eyes narrowed in on his drink. He throws it back and exhales afterwards. “I don’t want to talk about it.”   The actor smiles, gripping his glass. “I got married to my high school sweetheart, and it’s an absolute nightmare.” Chanyeol grins and shakes his head, lighthearted in the way he talks and it makes Jimin’s own mouth quirk. “She’s bat shit insane.”   Jungkook grins. “Didn’t she key your car?”   “Broke my windshield too with a fucking brick.”   Jimin blinks hard, unable to believe it. “Christ.”   “They’re not crazy at the start, trust me. Everything’s always nice at the beginning — everyone’s in love, doesn’t matter that they like to call up their ex, that they want to forgo condoms and skip their birth control….”   Jungkook snickers at Chanyeol’s woes and even Yoongi is amused. “I was an idiot, to say the least,” he sighs. “Not that I didn’t have my own problems, but I rushed into it way too quickly. What can you do, right? It would be bearable if not for the nagging.”   “This is why I don’t do relationships,” Jungkook comments with his lips tightly drawn in a line.   “Smart man.” He lifts his glass and they clink their drinks together. Jimin’s persuaded to take another shot. “Don’t you ever feel held down by her?” Chanyeol asks, smacking his lips. “Doesn’t she nag or anything?”   “I wouldn’t say that….” Jimin considers it and his intoxication makes the words slip out recklessly. “She asks where I’m going. She texts me to ask when I’m coming home. She complains when I’m out late...sometimes.” The brunette shrugs. “She just worries about me.”   “Sounds like a burden to me,” Chanyeol remarks.   Suddenly Yoongi’s silence is broken. His eyes perceive more than they let on. “Does she ever make you feel bad for doing what you want?”   “That’s a good point.” Jungkook nods and leans over to look at the brunette, propping his elbow on the table, chin in his hand. “You shouldn’t feel bad about doing what you want.”   Jimin remains quiet. He drinks.   It’s silent for a while, unsettlingly so and as each person waits for him to answer, Jimin never speaks. He never lifts his eyes away from the table. Chanyeol ends up clearing his throat.    “What’s with this somber mood? Let’s change the subject! Come on, I’m getting too sober to be around you ugly motherfuckers. Shots, people!” They clink glasses together, laughing and moving on from the heavy topic of conversation.   But they’re unknowing to just how it resonates with Jimin more than it should.   He wants to be here — but you make him feel like he should be at home instead. He wants to perform, on screen or on Broadway — but you make him feel bad for being so busy. He loves you, but he feels guilty for your conflicting schedules, for not seeing you enough, even though this is all he’s been dreaming of, this is what he wanted…   Jimin drinks and swallows past the thick lump forming in his throat.   //   The slamming door shakes you from your slumber. You turn around in your sheets, listening to the oncoming stomping footsteps, an irregular pattern instead of a consistent beat as if someone’s stumbling. The bedroom door creaks open and then Jimin dives into the sheets.   He opens his arms and falls to his front, his arm hitting your shoulder.   “What are you doing?” You rub your eyes and with a sigh, you sit up. You reach over to flicker the bedside lamp on. “Did you drink?”   You can smell the alcohol radiating off of him, and it’s stronger than ever before. It’s surprising considering he’s usually a responsible drinker who always knows how to pace himself.   One side of Jimin’s face is squished into the sheets, the other facing you. One of his eyes open. The pair of you stare at each other.    “I love you.” The words slur and he exhales. “But goddamn ‘s hard sometimes.”   You sigh again, getting up to take off his shoes as he lays there. You peel off his socks too, throwing them onto the ground for him to deal with it himself in the morning. “You didn’t even take off your jacket.”   At least it’s his day off tomorrow, so he can get plenty of rest and recover — it doesn’t look like he’ll have a pleasant time in the morning. Unfortunately, the case is not the same for you. You have to wake up in three hours, so you’re not impressed to say the least.   You climb over top of him, taking off his coat. Jimin’s arms are limp like noodles and he turns his head to stare straight at you. “‘Hy do you make me feel bad…’bout doing what I want, huh?”   “What are you talking about, Jimin?”   You go to unbutton his stained dress shirt reeking of spilled alcohol, but he abruptly shoves his hands off of him. “‘Could get so many girls….”   “You could get so many girls?” Your eyebrow cocks. “Do you want to get girls?”   “Dunno.”   “Alright, Casanova.” You smile. “Let’s get you changed and to bed, ‘kay?”   As you’re unbuttoning his shirt, peaceful silence settles around. Jimin savours the warmth of your hands on his skin, gazing at how your eyes are concentrated but still sleepy, how messy your hair is from twisting in the bed sheets and turning against the pillow. Your edges are soft in the yellow, dim light of the lamp. You’re practically glowing.   “’re gonna break up, aren’t we?”   The reaction is immediate. Your hands halt. Your lips fall. Your blood runs cold.   “What?”    “We’re gonna break up,” Jimin says it like he’s announcing it, like he’s decided himself.   Your bottom lips tremble, hands quivering, and you quickly get off of him to collect yourself. You want to brush it off that he’s intoxicated, that doesn’t know what he’s saying. But drunk words are sober thoughts.   “What are you saying?”   “Do you know who I am?” His tongue slurs heavily, syllables melted together, and the man sits up slowly, swaying from side to side.   “Who are you?” Your voice cracks against your will, eyes glossy and looking into his.   “Cute — ‘Andsome — young — Park J-Jimin…..” He giggles with a finger in the air and he points at you. “‘M missing out by being with you, did ya know that? ‘Nd why do you make me feel guilty for doing what I want, huh? I wanna to go out and party and drink and meet girls and perform, but I gotta go home to you….sucks, man.”   “It sucks, huh?” You swallow hard, fist curling tight into the sheets. “So you want to break up with me?”   “’Ts gonna end anyways. Look at us.” Jimin falls onto his back again, cozying up in the sheets. “Don’t even see each other anymore.”   “So this is it?” You ask again and again, not knowing where this is coming from, unable to believe that it’s happening.   “Where else it gonna go?”   You’re silent. You remove yourself from him, bringing your shaking hands into your lap. He lays there like a dead body, but he doesn’t fall asleep just yet despite the temptation being so strong.   “What happened to the Jimin I first met?” you ask quietly, a mere whisper leaving your parted lips. You don’t know who this arrogant asshole is — a stranger has entered your home.   “’S not here no more,” he mumbles, “Fame changed me. ’M not some sad dude pinning after you anymore.”   “Go to bed, Jimin,” you spit out the command harsher than you thought was possible. It goes silent and you watch him sprawl in your bed, limbs spread freely and his chest rising and falling as he snores. You reach over to turn off the lamp and grab your pillow, shoving his head off of it.    You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand and try to sleep out on the couch for the remaining hours. But it’s hard when you’re so restless.   //   The sunlight pierces through the window and into his eyes. He groans, shaken awake and brought to consciousness and to his head throbbing. His head aches and he feels sickly, the world swirling around him.    Jimin gets up and stumbles to the bathroom to relieve his bladder. He tries to wash his face afterwards and brush his teeth. When he leaves, he holds onto the door frame to brace himself and he hears noisy clanging in the kitchen that makes him wince.   He staggers out, shocked to see you. “What are you doing here?”   Jimin’s voice cracks and he moves to get water to quench his painful thirst. Your back stays turned to him.    “It’s one in the afternoon,” you state rather coldly, mumbling from the corner of your mouth. “I asked to come home early. I remembered I’m allowed to do that.”   He raises a brow and finishes drinking an entire bottle. “Are you still mad at me for forgetting our date night?”   It goes quiet. You don’t spare him a glance, simply putting the dishes away. The loud clanging has him flinching.   “I already said I’m sorry,” he reasons, “I got you flowers!”   You don’t know what he’s talking about and you don’t care to learn.   “Y/N.”   You came home to talk to him but now that he’s here, you know that you’ll regret what wants to come out. “Y/N.”   “Y/N,” Jimin repeats for the third time. He approaches and secures his hands on your shoulders, forcibly turning you around to face him. “Are you ignoring me?”   “Don’t touch me.” You shove his hands off of you, stepping back. His eyes frantically search your hurt expression and he’s utterly confused. “Please. Just don’t.”   “W-What’s wrong?”   “You don’t remember anything about last night?” you ask him, loudly, enough to strain your own voice.   Jimin winces again. “Can you not shout at me? I have a headache.”   “You said….you wanted to break up with me,” you whisper, unable to believe it yourself. When you say it with your own mouth, it stings and you want to burst out crying. Jimin watches the way your expression crumples and he pales.    It slowly comes back to him in waves, vague but he begins to remember bits and pieces, enough to know what he’s done.   “Hey.” Jimin reaches out, stepping closer. But he retracts his hand. “I’m sorry.”   “You always are.”   Maybe it shouldn’t be a big deal. He was drunk, inebriated, not in full control of his words — but to know he was even thinking about it, to know that he’s lined up the reasons for his dissatisfaction with your relationship, to hear it be said aloud, hurts.    “I’m sorry. I really am.” He searches the floor and musters the courage to lift his eyes. “You don’t believe me?”   “It’s not that I don’t believe you aren’t sorry,” you murmur, “I just think you’re sorry that I know what you think now.”   “Oh come on, babe. Y/N.” Jimin follows you to the living room. “I didn’t mean it.”   “Really?” You stop on your heel. You hate this — hate being upset and angry, hate feeling at a loss, hate spiraling out of control. “Not the part where you think I’m basically a huge burden to you now? Not the part where you want to get girls and go to parties and how I make you feel bad about doing the things you want? Not the part where you’re no longer pathetic enough to love me? Or what was it that you said, oh yeah, you’re not some sad guy pinning after me anymore.”   “I was drunk.”   “Were you? Or were they your sober thoughts?”   He sighs in frustration. Your loud voice is worsening his headache. And this isn’t what he wanted to do first thing he woke up — he doesn’t want to argue with you. But he doesn’t know how to make it stop.   “I think that it’s unfair you’re using this against me when I was wasted.”   “You told me that we should break up because we don’t even see each other anymore. Because what else was supposed to happen to us,” you softly whisper, crossing your arms, holding yourself. Now that he can answer clearly, now he’s not drunk anymore, there are no excuses. “So what is that you want from us, Jimin? Do I really make you feel guilty for doing the things you want to do? Is that how you feel about me now?”   “No, that’s not it. I’m...I’m sorry.”   “You’re selfish,” you say, spitefully. “That’s what you are. Always have been.”   Jimin scoffs outright. “Selfish?”   “All you think about is yourself. What you want. What you don’t have. What you’re missing out on. You’re supposed to think about the other person in a relationship. We’re supposed to sacrifice, compromise — and you’re not willing to do that. You don’t think about me for a second, Jimin.”   “Are you kidding me? I am trying my best! Everything I do is for us and our future together—”   “Really? I thought we didn’t have a future in your plans.”   He ignores your low jab. “I took care of you when you hated me. How’s that sacrifice for you?”   “Well nobody asked! Did they?”   “I love you!” Jimin shouts at the top of his lungs, making his throat dry again. “I’ve loved you longer than you loved me. Even when you were jealous of me, when you hated me, I loved you. And I still love you!”   “Then why did you tell me that I make you feel bad for doing what you want?!” you’re sobbing as the last word comes out, holding your face in your hands. Guilt swallows him whole.   “Because it does. I feel bad that I don’t get enough to spend enough time with you. I feel bad that we’re always waiting for the other person to come home. I feel bad about going out with the cast when I should be having fun and for taking on roles when I know it’ll be time consuming even though that’s been my dream.”   You’re sobbing, shaking your head. “W-What do you want me to do?”   “I don’t know.”    He can’t find a solution, and he’s most certainly not going to make you give up your dream. Jimin’s not going to ask or make you do anything.    Everything caused by ill timing. Caused by stress.    What’s the point of being in a relationship when you can’t even see each other?   It always seems like you have to choose each other or choose your ambitions.   Jimin wants to say boldly that he’ll figure it out with you — that he’ll find a way to do both. He wants to hug you, to embrace you, let you cry into his shoulder as he makes more meaningless apologies. He wants to say that with time, it’ll pass, that your schedules will clear up, that the pair of you will overcome this obstacle.   But he can’t bring himself to say it or to step forward.   “Maybe we should take a break.”   You’re taken aback.   A break? So he can do whatever he wants and thinks he can still have you?   “What’s that supposed to mean?”   “I don’t know,” Jimin admits. “I think we just need some time away from each other to figure this out.”   Without the obligation of having to see you, of having to maintain this relationship, the guilt would disappear. Maybe neither of you would have to feel so bad about yourselves.   But you persist in your questions. “Figure what out? Us?”   Jimin’s frustrated at why you don’t understand. “Well if you don’t like it, then maybe we should just cleanly break it off with one another. If that makes more sense to you.”   “Fine,” you hiss out of unadulterated spite.   His eyes widening, mouth dropping open. He’s shocked at your quick answer.   Jimin’s rendered speechless, breathless. “F-Fine then…”   “Get out of my apartment, Jimin.” You sniffle with your chest heaving.   He can’t believe it’s happening. Everything in his mind screams for him to stop, but his body moves on its own. Then the door slams shut.

[staytheb]

You Live Here, Too?

Pairing: GOT7′s Mark x OC [Linna] Genre: slice of life, slight fluff, slight angst Word Count: 2,050 Summary: It’s been two years since Linna and Mark last saw one another after their breakup. They meet again when Linna tries to enter her apartment, but it’s really Mark’s in her slightly tipsy state.

Warning: semi-proofread. curse words. lol

hello! this piece is actually a re-work from my other side blog with NPC’s Yanjun titled Nice To Meet You. i re-did it for my own piece of mind and to re-do things from that side blog to fit this current blog. anyways, this is like a sequel to LA Confidential, but you don’t really have to read that one to get this one. also, to each their own on how they do their relationship, this was just fitting for me to end it on a better term than what i had previously... plus my sister has been wanting a part two and this one came through lol but yeah, i’m terrible with titles, too. okay happy reading and kthxbai, Admin Lia~

Linna staggered down the hallway of her apartment floor after stepping out of the elevator. She normally didn't get drunk unless she knew that one of her friends would take care of her, but tonight she needed a drink and had one too many. Her friends made sure she arrived into her complex safely and that she was coherent enough to make it the rest of the way up on her own. Feeling the slight headache coming on, Linna clumsily, but hurried down the long hallway until she reached her apartment's door. She pressed the four digit code, but it didn't work. Believing it to be her drunken state, Linna tried again, but the code failed.

"I know the code can't be wrong unless Serena changed it and forgot to tell me." Linna muttered in frustration.

Linna recently moved into the building with her sister after securing a place together a month ago. She just didn't get why she was having issues now as Linna dialed Serena's number and waited for her sister to pickup. Just as Linna heard Serena's voice, the sound cut off soon afterwards. Linna frowned while gazing at her phone and seeing that the battery ran out. She double checked and sighed in agitation that her phone had to die on her at this crucial time. Inhaling slowly and exhaling a moment later, Linna steadily stared at the nine-numbered key pad. She slowly, but surely pressed the right buttons. The pass-code failed once again.

"Seriously? What the fuck, man?"

Linna groaned angrily as she could feel hot tears build up. She bang against the door in hopes that Serena was home. Feeling a bit woozy, Linna leaned her body against the cool surface and rested her head sleepily onto the door. She hoped that her sister would open the door soon. A moment later the door opened and Linna fell in to the arms that didn't belong to Serena. It was her ex-boyfriend, Mark, she hadn't seen in nearly two years after their breakup due to his infidelity. Mark instinctively caught Linna in his arms as his eyes widened upon their unexpected situation. Linna hadn't taken notice of his presence and just stayed like that unaware of her situation.

"Are you okay?" Mark simply asked a second later wondering what he should do.

Unfortunately for Mark the innocent question opened a dam and Linna burst with all of her pent up tears and emotions exploding.

"No, I'm not okay!" She cried before ranting.

"Nothing's fucking okay. Life sucks. The owner of my job is a fuckin' dick and a cheapskate who gives two shit for his employees and just worries about financial aspects. My general manager is a two-face bitch who won't hesitate to throw someone under the bus to save her own ass, but yet she'll take all the credit for something she did not do. All of my colleagues can't do shit without being told to do something, especially the upper management who are all supposed to work with me and not against me."

Linna let out a heavy sigh before finishing out her rant.

"I hate being an assistant general manager that they still treat like a regular worker, but still expect so much things from me even though they micro-manage me. Like I know so much more than they do and still know how to keep things professional, but they see me as nothing more than some lower employee they can do whatever with. Ugh, all these motherfuckin' idiots think it's easy being in my position and that I don't do shit, but yet always depend on me to handle their fuck ups without actually thinking."

Linna comfortably leaned against Mark, but had still not recognized her current situation. Mark just let his ex-girlfriend rant and do her thing not really sure how to go about their current situation.

"Damn, do I hate stupid people." Linna complained while speaking in a tired tone. "I really wanna quit, but I need the job to make money. I wished they would realize that I'm important individual with feelings and have so much potential to offer. I just wished they realized that without me they wouldn't be where they are right now because they still can't fuckin' operate the system on their own without blowing up my phone left and right to answer obvious questions."

Linna positioned her face against Mark's chest and let the tears continued to run.

"Why can't they use their own brains to actually assess the situation or make sure of it themselves? Or to just look it up on their own without bugging me beforehand?"

Mark wrapped his arms around Linna's body and soothingly rubbed her back in comfort. Although they had broken up and that he was the one at fault, but to this day Mark still cared for Linna. Seeing his ex-girlfriend in her current state reminded him that her work place was still shitty and her co-workers were even more annoying than before their breakup. Mark wanted to comfort her with words, but nothing came to mind. He was even more shocked that she lived in the same apartment complex as him now. He moved in about two years ago after the lease of their shared apartment was up shortly after their breakup. Mark honestly believed that he and Linna would never cross paths again.

"Now I can't even enter my apartment because the code doesn't work, my phone died, and you smell like my ex-boyfriend."

Just as Linna inhaled the familiar scent did her mind snapped her back to reality and to her senses of what she had just said. She instantly backed up and out of Mark's embrace to stare at the person before her. A small gasp escaped her as Linna stared at her ex-boyfriend with widened eyes. Seeing Mark standing there sobered Linna quickly, but the headache remained. She wasn't sure if it was due to the alcohol or the fact that her ex-boyfriend lived in the same complex as her and that she may have mistaken his place for her own.

"You live here, too?" Linna asked rhetorically while checking the number plate to make sure she was at the right place.

She wasn't. The first number she was staring at was for the seventh floor. She lived on the fourth floor, but realized that they both lived in the eighth apartment. Linna didn't understand how that could've happened except that she may have clumsily hit the 'seven' button instead of the 'four' button when she got into the elevator. She softly groaned before slowly fixing her eyes onto Mark while wiping away the stray tears from her face.

"Um, I'm sorry, Mark. I'm just gonna go."

"Linna, wait."

"Hmm?"

"Um..."

So many thoughts crossed Mark's mind as to what he wanted to say to his ex-girlfriend, but none of it sounded right to say at that moment. A 'sorry' seemed too pathetic and just worst to bring up even after two years. A 'how are you' would probably backfire like 'are you okay' from earlier. He wanted to tell her that she looked good despite her tear-stained and red face, but that just may come out wrong and out of context. Mark sighed and resorted to just looking at Linna speechless. Linna could see that her ex-boyfriend wanted to say something to her and so waited. She wasn't sure why she stayed, but she did. Neither said anything as they continued to gaze at each other. It wasn't until a third, much younger voice, interrupted them.

"Uncle Mark."

The duo turned their attention to Mark's niece, Leah, that Linna hadn't seen since their break up. The little girl stood beside Mark and pulled on the hem of his shirt.

"I had a nightmare. I woke up and you weren't there." Leah said while sleepily rubbing at her eyes.

Leah turned her attention onto Linna to see who her uncle was talking to. Her face lit up upon seeing Linna and recognizing her.

"Auntie Linna. Hi."

Leah moved closer to hug Linna's lower body. Linna hugged the child back while casting Mark an unsure look. Mark softly cast her a small smile with a shrug.

"I missed you. Where did you? Did Uncle Mark make you cry again? Is that why you haven't visited me?"

Leah's questions brought tears to Linna's face, but for a different reason. Mark frowned upon hearing his niece's questions.

"I didn't make Auntie Linna cry, Leah."

Leah turned to face her uncle with a pointed look.

"But why didn't she come see me like before?"

Mark couldn't answer his niece honestly and so didn't reply. Linna took this opportunity to do it for him.

"Leah, sweetie," Linna called for the little girl's attention while crouching down to eye level with the child, "Your uncle and I just had to take some time apart. That's why I couldn't come see you."

Leah's facial expression turned to one of hopefulness.

"But you can come see me now, right?"

Linna briefly glanced at Mark who's facial expression didn't reveal much, but she could see in his eyes that he wanted to rekindle what they had two years ago. If she had to be honest with herself, then Linna wasn't sure if she had moved on from Mark. Sure he did her wrong, but they didn't really have any sort of closure. They just broke up without talking about anything and now here they were where she ranted to him about her work life. He comforted her in his own way even though he didn't have to. Linna inwardly sighed that being an adult was too complicated and that being child-like was much simpler back then. Her attention was brought back onto Leah.

"Auntie Linna."

"Hmm?"

"You didn't answer me."

"I dunno, Leah. It's late. Auntie has to go home."

Linna avoided answering the question fully and shot the little girl a soft look.

"It's very late, Leah. We all need to be in bed."

"C'mon, Leah. Let's let Auntie Linna go home now." Mark softly urged his niece while walking over to place his hands on his niece's shoulders to lead her back inside the apartment.

Leah wasn't giving up so easily as she took a hold of Linna's hand.

"Can you come over for breakfast?" She asked hopefully.

"Uncle Mark and me are going to make pancakes, but I know auntie like waffles so I want to make waffles with auntie. Please?"

Linna glanced at Leah's hopeful expression before looking over at Mark unsure, but his only response was to shrug his shoulders with an aloof expression and leaving it up to her if she wanted to accept or not.

"Please?" Leah repeated as she tightly held onto Linna's hand.

Linna wasn't sure if it was just Leah's way of uniting them again or if it was just fate bringing her and Mark's paths to cross one another again, but she would let it be to see where it would go. A lot could happen in two years and although it doesn't change the past it could set something else towards the future by living in the present.

"Okay, Leah. I'll join you for breakfast." Linna agreed with a small smile.

"Yay!" Leah cheered as she happily jumped up and down.

Leah let go of Linna's hand as she went to hold her uncle's instead and tried pulling him further inside the apartment.

"C'mon, Uncle Mark. We have to sleep so that Auntie Linna can come over faster."

"Okay, okay." Mark responded with a chuckle before casting Linna a smile with a small wave.

"See you later, Linna."

"See you later, Mark."

Linna returned the same gestured as Leah happily waved at her while bidding her a good night and Mark closing the door shortly afterwards. Linna inhaled deeply before exhaling a moment later. As she made her way back to the elevator a small smile graced her face as she felt relieved of stress and worries for the first time in a long while. When she get back home Linna knew that she was gonna definitely have to vent to Serena about earlier, but that she ran into her ex-boyfriend again and that their current status may change.

[nev3rfound]

unanswered : p.p

brief summary: you can’t deny it, you’re in love with your best friend, peter. however, as you fight alongside him during the events of far from home, you do wonder if the feelings could ever be returned. 

word count: 3.4k (it is a long one that has taken months to work on) requested: yes by the sweetest anon - i am sorry it’s taken me literal months to write this, but i hope you enjoy reading it warnings: ffh spoilers, angst. 

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it isn’t me. all rights reserved. - thank you to everyone who helped regarding the wattpad situation, you’re all amazing)

* masterlistin’

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“It’s a shame she couldn’t come on the trip,” Ned sighs to Peter as he sits beside him on the plane, glancing to see Peter weakly nod in response. “why couldn’t she come again?” 

Peter shrugs his shoulders, having received a message from you last night about your Mom being sick. He had it all planned, this was going to be his chance to tell you, but once again something has gotten in the way. 

“Come on, dude.” Ned nudges Peter who averts his longing gaze to his phone background which happens to be his favourite photo of you all. “Could she not like sneak out, call for some assistance?” Ned raises an eyebrow, having recently learnt that you’re also apart of the whole SHIELD/Avengers world.

“I told you Ned,” Peter reminds Ned. “Y/n has to stay low about that stuff.” A shiver curls through his body as his mind wanders back to the moment you were almost caught on a rooftop mere months ago. If it wasn’t for Fury keeping his eye out on you and Peter, anything could’ve happened.

Seeing his phone light up, Peter can’t help but smile at the sight. It’s a photo of you all at the local pizza place, cheesy grins whilst you’re in mid-laugh thanks to Peter. MJ is rolling her eyes, but she has a hint of a smile whilst Ned is holding up the biggest slice of pizza possible. 

“I know, it’ll be great I just, I had plans,” Peter mutters, having told Ned the plan of action he had all thought out. 

“But we’re bachelors in Europe!” Ned cheers quietly, but Peter merely shrugs it off. “Come on, Y/n will be alright you know that.” 

“I guess,” Peter agrees half-heartedly as he turns his eyes to the window, looking over three people to see them rising higher into the air as clouds disperse below them. “I’m just gonna miss her.” 

*

Inside of their small room, Peter continues to brush his teeth as Ned rambles on. After everything that has happened, all Peter can focus on is how he’ll explain this to you. 

“She’s so pretty, she was showing me around and suddenly it happened. Do you know what caused it? Like, I don’t know how to even comprehend it all does Y/n know? Is she going to come hel-” Ned’s rambles come to a halt as he hits the ground with a heavy thud. 

Turning quickly on his feet, Peter allows his toothbrush to fall as Nick Fury sits in an armchair. “You’re Nick Fury?” Peter mumbles before he spits his toothpaste out and wipes his mouth. 

“And you’ve been ignoring me, Spider-Man.” Fury retorts before he rises to his feet. “Come on,” He motions for Peter to follow. “you’re needed.” 

Without a chance to fully reason, Peter hangs his head in defeat as he follows behind Fury, unsure where he’ll be led. 

“Where are we?” Peter speaks up as he rests his hands in his pockets, looking around at the underground base. 

“About time and all!” Someone announces with a huff and Peter freezes. 

You turn around, your arms crossed over your chest as you stand alongside Maria. 

“Y/n?” Peter stutters in shock. “Why, what?” Words struggle to form as you chuckle. 

“You didn’t tell him?” You look over to Fury who shakes his head.

“He ghosted me, how was I supposed to tell him?” Fury answers before taking a seat, leaving you to explain to a rather confused Peter Parker. 

*

“So, all this time you’ve been apart of this?” Peter questions as you sit down in a private room, a table between the two of you as a dying plant rests in the middle.

You simply nod, unsure what to say. “Fury contacted me the day after Ixtenco, told me I was needed so I had to come up with an excuse to not come on the trip.” You explain, absentmindedly playing with the plant, slowly bringing it back to life with your powers. 

Peter couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Though your abilities to control nature were unlike anything he’d ever seen, Peter always knew the girl behind it first and foremost. He grew up with you, knew you throughout school and learnt your secret before the snap happened. 

“And Fury knew I’d come if you were involved,” Peter mutters, knowing his longing looks at you say more than words could at times, even if you remain oblivious. 

“He’s smarter than he lets on you know.” You comment with a small smile, now looking at a healthy plant before your very eyes. 

“And now we just have to wait?” Peter breaks the silence, snapping you from your deep concentration on the plant. 

You sit upright, leaning back in the chair as you nod. “Just go along with it, and have fun.” You tell him with a small smile, wishing you could’ve been a part of it. 

Deep down you regret having agreed to help with Fury. You had this whole trip planned, you were going to have the summer of a lifetime with your friends and make new memories. Part of you hoped something could’ve happened between you and Peter, but you saw the looks he gave MJ. You knew he could never look at you in that way. 

*

Sitting with Maria, you watched from the sidelines as things clearly developed between Peter and MJ. You couldn’t be mad about it, hell, you anticipated it happening. A trip around Europe? It would be the perfect and most romantic place to fall in love. It’s just a shame it wasn’t you.

“You seeing this?” Maria calls out, catching you out from your daydream as you walk over to see what she’s monitoring. 

Your eyes widen as you see Edith has sent drones to Brad. “Oh no.” You mutter as you watch in panic, unsure how it can be resolved. “What’s wrong with Brad! He’s a nice guy, albeit a bit of a douche at times.” You ramble, watching as the drones never hit. 

“He avoided that one,” Maria comments before looking up at you, seeing a smile ghost your lips. “just.” 

“He’ll get better,” You shrug your shoulder, trying to convince Maria but you can see she’s not warming to him. “it’s a lot of responsibility, knowing Tony wanted him to have those.” 

Maria hums quietly before she continues with her work. “You’ve got work to do, go on.” She tells you, dismissing you from the room as you walk off to find Fury, knowing he’ll at least be more helpful in your next task. 

*

You’re one of the first on the scene during the events in Prague. Undercover, hidden away from your friends’ view you try your best to fight the fire elemental. “Anyone around to help a girl out?!” You yell as you keep your hands on the ground, forcing plants to rise and swarm the creature whilst water runs through, causing the creature to scream. 

“Hang in there, Y/n.” You hear Peter speak through the comms system as he appears dressed in all black before he jumps to a building, shooting webs to secure your friends on the Ferris wheel. 

Forcing back the urge to laugh, you return to your main goal and focus. 

“Where’s Beck?” You question as Peter looks around, wondering the same thing. 

As if on cue, Beck appears. “You monster.” He mutters as the beast roars loudly, growing in size as he stomps down, forcing you back as you slam into a wall. You watch as he burns off the vines you wrapped him in. 

“He’s getting stronger!” You yell to the others and Peter is by your side, helping you to your feet. 

His hands rest on your cheeks, though he is masked you can tell he’s worried. “Are you alright?” He questions, watching as you nod in response before Beck surrounds you all in a bubble. 

“We need a new plan,” Beck announces as you nod. “What can you do, Y/n?” He asks you as you look down at your hands before resting them on the ground. 

“I can flood the place, control the water directly at the elemental.” You suggest and Beck waits for your signal before dropping the barrier, allowing it to happen. 

With a scream, you flood the creature, but within seconds his flames return. “No,” You mutter as you turn to see Peter, but he’s vanished. “that, that should’ve stopped it.” You state as Beck takes a step forward, standing directly in front of the thing as he fires at it. “Beck, what’re you doing?” You yell and Peter yells too. 

“What I should’ve done last time.” He states before nodding to you. 

Before you can react, Beck launches himself right into the belly of the beast. You shelter your eyes as you see the orange being engulfed in green smoke. 

The elemental roars before it becomes green and crashes to the ground. Flames surround you as Peter holds up the Ferris wheel. “Mr Beck?” Peter yells, but you’re running over to Beck who is lying on the ground.

Cautious to move him, you check to make sure he’s breathing. “Is he?” Peter mutters as he kneels beside you, fear evident in his tone.

Beck begins to move and Peter lets out a sigh of relief. “I’ll be alright, kid.” Beck mutters as he groans loudly, forcing himself upright with both of you helping him. “It’s gone, right?” Beck questions as he looks around at the damage caused. 

“Yeah,” You say with a small smile. “it’s gone.” 

Maria moves in to help get you out of there. You glance back at Peter, seeing him still standing there in his new black suit. “You in there?” You question and Peter snaps out of his daze before walking alongside you. “Gotta say, the new suit isn’t too shabby.” You nudge his arm, hearing him chuckle.

“So, I have your approval on it, then?” His voice has a small quirk to it, and he can see you smiling to yourself. 

As you go to respond, you hear the sound of your name being called. “I, I better go.” You tell him half-heartedly, watching as he quickly nods.

“Yeah, I should get back to everyone. MJ and Ned will probably be worried.” Peter tells you quickly, and you wish you could disguise your small heartache when he mentions MJ before Ned. 

You begin to walk away, but then you pause and turn on your heels. “Hey, Spidey?” You see Peter point to himself and you nod before wrapping your arms around him tightly. “Take care, okay?” You whisper to him, not waiting to hear his response before you disappear into the chaotic scenes surrounding you both.

Yet, you missed something that could’ve changed everything. You miss the way Peter rests his hand against his chest and the smile that refuses to leave his lips beneath the mask. If you saw that then maybe, just maybe, things could’ve been different. 

“He won’t come to Berlin, will he?” You ask Maria as you sit in the back of the car, leaving Prague to head to the jet.

She shakes her head in response, and as she goes to tell you it’ll be fine you shift and look out of the window longingly. 

*

“How did we not notice this?!” You yell in frustration, panic filling your mind as you think to everything that’s happened. 

He’s gotten everything he’s wanted and did it right under your noses. Hell, he fooled you all. You felt sorry for him, the loss he endured, the pain he went through. And all of it, it was all a lie. 

“Listen, we can’t let him know we’ve caught on. You have to go along with it, Y/n.” Fury explains to you as you all remain in one of the many office blocks in London. “Peter’s trip has been diverted to London, so they’ll be here,” 

Your eyes go wide. “You brought my class right in the middle of this?” You ask boldly, not caring who you’re talking to anymore. 

“Y/n,” Maria tries to calm you down, but Fury can see the fire rising in your eyes. 

“And, and where’s Peter?” You begin to pace as no one answers your questions. “Why is no one answering?!” 

“Y/n,” Fury snaps you out of your spiralling thoughts. “you have to focus.” He tells you, looking right at you as sparks begin to play at the plug sockets. “Beck has this all planned. A lot of people will die if you don’t focus.” 

Letting out a deep breath, you shut everything else back. “Tell me what I have to do.” 

*

Standing on London bridge you remain still as people scream with fear as they run past you. You focus on the tour bus being emptied, your classmates running in confusion as your teachers fumble behind, close to shitting their pants. 

You watch as the elemental is filled with lightning, flames and water amongst the dusty form. The technology is something else, you have to hand it to him. But you have to stay present at this moment, if you slip out of place it’ll ruin the plan. 

Resting your hands down on the ground, you begin to feel vines surrounding the bridge, holding parts together as they start to crumble. You block out the cries of families, children screaming knowing they’ll be saved. No one has to die today, not a single person. 

An illusion of Beck flies around the elemental, repeating the same line you have heard before. You can hear the elemental screaming in pain, but as you open your eyes you see a piece of rock hurtling toward you. 

Somehow, it misses you, only just. 

You rise to your feet and raise your arms, bringing water from the Themes upwards and force it straight at the elemental. Though it’s an illusion, it could be damaged by enough of a brute force, especially when it’s unexpected. 

“Not today!” You scream, ignoring the projection of Beck as it stumbles backwards. 

Letting out a heavy sigh, you remain unaware of Peter hurtling through the sky. You turn to see several bots rising from the water and locking on you. 

Sitting safely, Beck tells them something that no one would’ve expected. “Kill Y/n.” He states coldly, and not even Peter could stop it from happening.

Everything happened within an instant. 

You blocked only so many of them, stopped them using your powers. But for once, you couldn’t escape all of it, no matter how strong you were. 

The green laser fired through the right side of your chest, missing your heart by inches. You saw it coming, but there wasn’t time to react. Beck planned this element, a sick twisted way allowing you to die slowly. You would die before Peter could find you, you would die with a broken heart and Peter would live on with one. 

A painful scream left your lips as you fell to the ground, only to see a blurred image of red and blue fly past and disappear into the elemental. 

With weak vision, you reach out to the ground, forcing a vine to spread toward the bridge in the hope he might find you. All you want is to be found, for someone to save you. 

“Y/n, you in there?” Maria asks and you weakly reply.

“I’m, I’m down.” Your lower lip begins to quiver, the realisation hitting that you won’t be making it out alive.

“Y/n, can you hear me?” She repeats, urgency rising in her tone as you tilt your head, seeing the elemental projection disappearing piece by piece. 

“He’s doing it,” You think aloud, your comms system still on as tears fall from your eyes. “Peter, he, he’s saving everyone.” 

“Where are you?” Maria yells, but you merely chuckle to yourself as Peter lands on the bridge, the projection gone. 

Panting heavily, Peter looks around at the damage caused, the destruction Beck has created in months. 

Taking a step forward, Peter looks down to see a vine beneath his feet and his stomach drops. With fear rising through his mind, he follows the path to find something he never wanted to see. 

“No, no no,” He mumbles, collapsing down beside you and removes his mask. The glossy look of your eyes says the painful truth; you’re almost gone. “Y/n, please, no,” He whimpers as he rests his hand on your cheek. 

You smile up at him, realising it really is him. “Hey, Pete.” You whisper, forcing the corners of your lips to rise even further. “Gotta say,” You cough, ignoring Peter’s protests for you to not talk. “new suit ain’t too shabby.” 

Peter can feel the tears rolling down his cheeks as he wishes he could say it all to you, tell you the truth behind everything he’s ever felt. But time isn’t on his side, it’s never been a good friend to him. 

“You’ll be okay, Pete.” You nod, wanting him to believe it. “T, Tony would be proud.” You whisper, feeling tears pour more as you struggle to breathe. 

“Don’t go, Y/n. Please, I, I can’t,” Peter cries as he holds you in his arms. 

He watches as your weak smile drops and you go limp in his embrace, you’re gone. 

Sadly, someone died today, and it just had to be you. 

*

Two months had passed since the events that had taken place in London. 

It didn’t feel like two months to Peter, to MJ, to Aunt May or to Happy. Everyone felt lost without your presence to lift the mood. No one would ever hear your sweet laugh as you sat in the pizzeria, you wouldn’t hug anyone with as much love as you could project. 

But what hurts the most is that you’ll never know how much Peter truly loved you. 

You’ll never hear that Peter wandered the streets of Prague asking MJ about the best way to ask you out. Or how he looked back at old photos on the flight to Venice instead of discussing how to live his bachelor life with Ned for the next few weeks. 

You won’t ever hear Peter tell you he loves you, but he still says it every day when he visits your gravestone. 

Walking down the steps he’s memorised, Peter keeps a tight grip on another bunch of flowers. He’ll always bring you flowers, knowing you loved to be surrounded by nature at all times. 

“Hey, Y/n,” Peter speaks up as he kneels in front of your gravestone, wiping off a bit of dirt before placing the flowers alongside the rest. “I just wanted to check up on you as I do.” He lets out a small sigh. “Still trying to figure out how to, to talk to you knowing you aren’t here anymore.” His voice cracks as Peter averts his gaze from the dates on your stone, the engraved quote. 

Peter wishes he could scream, that he could yell at Beck for causing it all. But he’s dead, Peter watched him die before his very eyes. He has no one left to hold accountable beside himself. 

“I wish I could take it all back.” He thinks aloud. “That I told you to stay away, not go to London or if I told you sooner how much I love you it might not have happened.” He rambles, knowing it makes no difference now. “I just wish you were here,” He sighs as he wipes his face, unaware of Aunt May and Happy stood at the entrance of the cemetery. 

“Does it ever get easier?” Aunt May turns to Happy, seeing a solemn look on his face as he watches Peter hunch over, his shoulders shaking as he strokes your name, remembering how he stroked your cheek as he held you in his arms. 

“Time will heal him,” Happy says with a sad smile. “but he’ll never forget.” 

May nods. “He won’t want to forget.” She says honestly as Peter rises to his feet before turning away, seeing them stood waiting for him. 

Accepting him with open arms, May holds Peter close. “It’ll get easier, Pete.” May mutters as she looks at your gravestone, seeing the bright colours that surround the dull graphite. “You’ll learn to heal, and Y/n would be so proud.” 

The three of them walk out of the cemetery with heavy hearts, but you died knowing things would be okay. No one else had to die, and that’s what mattered the most. 

permanent taglist (thank you for the love and support!)

@biss-stuff​  @psychicforest​  @lourightm​ @mywinterwolf​   @justsomedreaming​ @stanlux17​ @supermoonchildbroski​ @xrosegoldwolfx​ @courtneychicken​ @marvelsangels​ @supraveng​

[phroyd]

Dumb-Fuck #MAGA Teens, children of Dumb-Fuck #MAGA Parents, and QTards Everywhere, resurrect #PizzaGate on Tik-Tok! - Phroyd

WASHINGTON — Four minutes into a video that was posted on Instagram last month, Justin Bieber leaned into the camera and adjusted the front of his black knit beanie. For some of his 130 million followers, it was a signal.

In the video, someone had posted a comment asking Mr. Bieber to touch his hat if he had been a victim of a child-trafficking ring known as PizzaGate. Thousands of comments were flooding in, and there was no evidence that Mr. Bieber had seen that message. But the pop star’s innocuous gesture set off a flurry of online activity, which highlighted the resurgence of one of social media’s early conspiracy theories.

Viewers quickly uploaded hundreds of videos online analyzing Mr. Bieber’s action. The videos were translated into Spanish, Portuguese and other languages, amassing millions of views. Fans then left thousands of comments on Mr. Bieber’s social media posts asking him if he was safe. Within days, searches for “Justin and PizzaGate” soared on Google, and the hashtag #savebieber started trending.

Four years ago, ahead of the 2016 presidential election, the baseless notion that Hillary Clinton and Democratic elites were running a child sex-trafficking ring out of a Washington pizzeria spread across the internet, illustrating how a crackpot idea with no truth to it could blossom on social media — and how dangerous it could be. In December 2016, a vigilante gunman showed up at the restaurant with an assault rifle and opened fire into a closet.

In the years afterward, Facebook, Twitter and YouTube managed to largely suppress PizzaGate. But now, just months before the next presidential election, the conspiracy theory is making a comeback on these platforms — and on new ones such as TikTok — underlining the limits of their efforts to stamp out dangerous speech online and how little has changed despite rising public frustration.

This time, PizzaGate is being fueled by a younger generation that is active on TikTok, which was in its infancy four years ago, as well as on other social media platforms. The conspiracy group QAnon is also promoting PizzaGate in private Facebook groups and creating easy-to-share memes on it.

Driven by these new elements, the theory has morphed. PizzaGate no longer focuses on Mrs. Clinton and has taken on less of a political bent. Its new targets and victims are a broader assortment of powerful businesspeople, politicians and celebrities, including Mr. Bieber, Bill Gates, Ellen DeGeneres, Oprah Winfrey and Chrissy Teigen, who are lumped together as part of the global elite. For groups like QAnon, PizzaGate has become a convenient way to foment discontent.

The theory has also gone global. While it previously found traction mainly in the United States, videos and posts about it have racked up millions of views in Italy, Brazil and Turkey.

“PizzaGate never went away because it encompasses very potent forces,” including children’s safety and the power of elites, said Alice Marwick, a disinformation expert at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. “But now there is so much scaffolding from people who have researched it, it wasn’t hard for others to pick up from there.”

PizzaGate is reaching a level that nearly exceeds its 2016 fever pitch, according to an analysis by The New York Times. TikTok posts with the #PizzaGate hashtag have been viewed more than 82 million times in recent months. Google searches for PizzaGate have skyrocketed.

In the first week of June, comments, likes and shares of PizzaGate also spiked to more than 800,000 on Facebook and nearly 600,000 on Instagram, according to data from CrowdTangle, a Facebook-owned tool for analyzing social interactions. That compares with 512,000 interactions on Facebook and 93,000 on Instagram during the first week of December 2016. From the start of 2017 through January this year, the average number of weekly PizzaGate mentions, likes and shares on Facebook and Instagram was under 20,000, according to The Times’s analysis.

The conspiracy has regained momentum even as its original targets — Mrs. Clinton, her top aides and a Washington pizzeria, Comet Ping Pong — are still dealing with the fallout.

Hateful comments have recently surged on the Facebook page and Yelp and Google review pages for Comet Ping Pong, where the child trafficking supposedly happened. The pizzeria’s owner, James Alefantis, said he had received fresh death threats that caused the Federal Bureau of Investigation to open a new investigation two months ago. The F.B.I. said Friday that it could not confirm the existence of an investigation.

“There are no real options for someone like me. I don’t have the names or numbers for people to call at Google or TikTok,” Mr. Alefantis said. “But I don’t want to be that person who lives their life in fear.”

PizzaGate was born in 2016 in online forums like 4chan and Reddit, where right-wing users and supporters of Donald J. Trump pored over hacked emails from John D. Podesta, Mrs. Clinton’s senior campaign adviser, looking for evidence of wrongdoing. Some emails referring to Mr. Podesta’s dinner plans mentioned pizza. A 4chan participant then connected the phrase “cheese pizza” to pedophiles, who on chat boards use the initials “c.p.” to denote child pornography.

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Mr. Alefantis, who is friends with Mr. Podesta’s brother, Tony, was mentioned in several of the emails. That led internet users to connect his pizza parlor to their conspiracy.

The theory soon appeared in bogus publications like The Vigilant Citizen and The New Nationalist on Facebook and Instagram. On Twitter and YouTube, other users amplified the content.

Fact checkers debunked the idea. But weeks after the November 2016 election, Edgar M. Welch, 32, a North Carolina resident, drove six hours to Comet Ping Pong to free what he believed were enslaved children. He shot several rounds from a military-style assault rifle into a locked closet door of the pizzeria and eventually surrendered to the police. In 2017, he was sentenced to four years in prison.

Soon after, YouTube, Twitter and Facebook suspended the accounts of users who had pushed PizzaGate and took down hundreds of related posts.

To keep PizzaGate tamped down, the social media companies took other steps. Facebook made it impossible to search for hashtags such as #pizzagateisreal. On YouTube, searching for #pizzagate brought up a label that explained the term was part of a false conspiracy. Twitter also stopped #pizzagate from surfacing in its trending topics in the United States.

A documentary promoting PizzaGate, “Out of Shadows,” made by a former Hollywood stuntman, was released on YouTube that month and passed around the QAnon community. In May, the idea that Mr. Bieber was connected to the conspiracy surfaced. Teenagers on TikTok began promoting both, as reported earlier by The Daily Beast.

A week ago, Rachel McNear, 20, watched “Out of Shadows,” which has garnered 15 million views on YouTube. She then turned to Twitter, where she came across Mr. Bieber’s supposed association with PizzaGate. After reading more on Instagram, YouTube and Facebook, she created a one-minute description of her research on the topic and posted it to TikTok on Monday.

“The mainstream media uses words like conspiracy theory and how it is debunked but I’m seeing the research,” Ms. McNear, of Timonium, Md., said in an interview.

Her video was taken down on Wednesday when TikTok removed the #PizzaGate hashtag and all content searchable with the term. A TikTok spokeswoman said such content violated its guidelines.

That same day, Facebook also expunged PizzaGate-related comments under Comet Ping Pong’s page after a call from The Times.

YouTube said it had long demoted PizzaGate-related videos and removes them from its recommendation engine, including “Out of Shadows.” Twitter said it constantly eliminates PizzaGate posts and had updated its child sexual-exploitation policy to prevent harm from the conspiracy. Facebook said it had created new policies, teams and tools to prevent falsehoods like PizzaGate from spreading.

Teenagers and young adults, many of whom are just forming political beliefs, are particularly susceptible to PizzaGate, said Travis View, a researcher and host of the “QAnon Anonymous” podcast, which examines conspiracy theories. They are drawn to celebrity photos on tabloid sites and Hollywood blogs to uncover PizzaGate’s supposed secret symbols and clues, he said. Even a triangle — which can signify a slice of pizza — can be taken as proof that a celebrity is part of a secret elite cabal.

“It all becomes a game, and people are drawn in because it feels participatory,” Mr. View said.

For Tony Podesta, John Podesta’s brother, PizzaGate’s revival has opened up old wounds. He had dealt with trolling from conspiracy believers in 2016. Recently, he got a voice mail message from an anonymous caller saying, “Your pizza is ready.”

“It just doesn’t go away,” Mr. Podesta said. “They are always three steps ahead of the sheriff.”

[lostinaseaoffictionalbliss]

Bark At The Moon part 12

A/N: My taglist for this is open (but there’s only a few parts left) as well as my forever tags. However I warn you guys I’m currently working on an original book (the second in the series), but I will still answer and take requests on this blog and my side blog @im-weak-for-jaskier

Pairing: werewolf!Sam x OC

Warnings: this is for the story over all and not any specific chapter. Language, violence, attempted rape, torture, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) marking (not ABO even though Sam is an Alpha) but I’ll will tag the chapters appropriately.

Word Count: 1226

Nola was quiet as Sam took her back to the cabin. She was pale and her eyes wide. She couldn’t believe what had happened. She had killed someone. Sure that someone was a hunter and trying to kill her mate, but she had never harmed anyone in her life. She had always been a rather gentle soul. If given a choice she never would have shot Gordon.

Sam carried Nola into his room and helped her out of her clothing. He slipped his shirt over her head and covered her up. He had a feeling she was going into shock and wanted to treat it before it got dangerous. He laid her back and elevated her legs and feet a bit. If he could he would take her to the hospital, but they would ask questions; questions that would lead to more trouble.

It took two hours before Nola finally acknowledged Sam’s presence. She gazed up at him and tears silently leaked down her cheeks. “I killed someone,” she whispered. Looking down at her hands she let out a sob. “I killed someone,” she repeated.

Sam frowned. He lifted her chin and made her look at him. “Talk to me.”

“I shot him. I...I picked up the gun and shot him. M-me...I did it. I’m a m-m-murderer...I’m a bad...person. I’m g-going to...to hell,” she wailed in anguish.

He pulled her into his lap and shook his head. “No, baby, no. What you did was in defense. He kidnapped you, threatened your friends, was about to kill me. You didn’t commit murder. You had no choice. You aren’t a bad person and you aren’t going to hell,” he said softly.

His words didn’t stop the flow of her tears. Nola sobbed for an hour straight before finally falling asleep.

Two weeks after the event-that’s what they were calling it-Nola was still upset. However Sam had finally convinced her that she had no choice and it wasn’t her fault. That didn’t stop her from feeling guilty. She had always been a good person. Driven by passion to help others and do good. Growing up she was the sweet girl giving her cookies or extra grapes to other kids. She always brought extra toys for those that had none. To take a life went against who she was at her core. Even if she had no other choice.

At first Nola barely touched food, pushing it around on her plate and then going back to her room to cry. But gradually her appetite came back and while she still cried herself to sleep she no longer ran off to hide. Sam felt like they were slowly making progress. He hoped that what he and the pack had planned would help to cheer her up a little. He knew it wasn’t easy to pull out of depression, but he wouldn’t let her succumb to it either.

It was around 11 am when Nola finally strolled into the kitchen. At this point she had given up hiding the truth from Donny and told him everything. He was shocked, but swore to keep her secret and run the hotel until she felt like coming back. That meant she could sleep as late as she wanted.

“Morning,” she mumbled moving toward the coffee pot. Sam, knowing she would sleep in, had recently made a fresh pot for her. After fixing her mug she turned and looked at the kitchen table, blinking. It was covered in different things. “What is all this?”

“Coloring books and colored pencils. Some stuffed animals,” he picked up a stuffed wolf to go with her other one, “bath bombs courtesy of Carly. Some new body lotion. I got some lavender massage oil. We got some of your favorite movies, chocolates, and salty foods. Figured we could all pile up in the den, watch some movies, junk out. I‘ll even order pizza. Then you can take a nice bath and sip some wine. After that, I'll give you a massage.”

Nola teared up and sat her mug down. She walked over to her mate and sat in his lap, laying her head on his chest. “Thank you. Thank all of you. I know I’ve been a mess lately…”

“An understandable mess.”

“An understandable mess. Anyway, I'm grateful that all of you have been here. You holding me without me asking. The fresh flowers Cas leaves in my room. The comfort foods Benny makes. Dean and Carly acting like everything is normal. All of it means so much. I still feel bad. I don’t blame myself, I know I had no choice. I’ll always regret what I did, but I believe I’m ready to move on from it.”

Sam wiped her tears away and kissed her softly. “That makes me happy. It’s normal to feel guilt and remorse, you’re a good person, but you can’t let it eat you alive. And all of us are here to help you. You don’t ever have to ask.”

Three extra large pizzas were spread out on the coffee table in the living room along with all kinds of snacks and beer bottles. Nola was dressed in her favorite pajamas, snuggled under her favorite blanket with Sam as the opening credits of Dirty Dancing started. Everyone had grabbed up a slice of pizza and was ready to watch the movie.

Sam had one arm around his mate, snuggling her. He kissed her head and relaxed. As she leaned against him, he could feel a difference in her body language. She was less tense than she had been in recent weeks, but not fully relaxed yet. She wasn’t curling up on herself, trying to hide anymore. Instead she was curling up to him, being open to his presence and the others. Nor was she quite as jumpy as she had been.

Nola was deep into the movie when she heard her phone. She grabbed it and opened up the text message. She was surprised to see it was from Nikita. She hadn’t heard from her friend in some time.

Hey I’m back in town. Was hoping you and I could catch up. I’m sorry that I haven’t messaged you. Aidan and I have been having a lot of fun and kept busy.

She smiled as she read it over. She hadn’t been bothered by the fact that Nikita had been radio silent. She wanted her friend to enjoy her vacation with her fiancé. Aidan was a good guy and by the sounds of things he had made sure Nikita was happy.

I’d love to get together and catch up. How does lunch tomorrow sound? We can hit the little bistro in town. I have a lot to tell you.

Not that she would tell her everything. Some things were better left unspoken.

Sam looked down and smiled. “You seem rather happy. Who’s texting you baby?”

“My best friend. I’ve known her for years. There isn’t a thing I don’t know about her. We’re going to meet for lunch tomorrow and catch up.”

“That’s good. I’m glad you’re happy. Of course you know you can’t tell her things.”

She nodded. “I know. I’ll tell her about you, but not everything. Promise.” She smiled.

He kissed her head and they settled to watch the rest of the movie, not worried about a thing.

***

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[random-imagines-blog]

Noir {James McAvoy x Fem!Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: @kellysimagines Wordcount: 3632 Summary: Your relationship with James is amazing, but fans seem to want to get between you two during an important day in your lives. James takes not one, but three dramatic steps.

There had been controversy about yours and James’ relationship from the get-go. It was largely circled around the fact that you were eleven years his junior, and that it progressed quickly, with you starting to date and then moving in within a span of six months. It didn’t much matter to you what the magazines and the blogs said, though. Things between you and James were amazing, an you were absolutely smitten from the first moment that he had charmed you into dinner. Well, before that when you first caught eyes but you wouldn’t admit that outloud for it sounded like you were some sort of crazed fan. You got along well with James’s friends too, which was a huge relief because they were a big part of his life. There was nothing that could go wrong ... or so you thought, until you woke up one morning feeling sick to your stomach despite not drinking anything the night before.

The pregnancy test had come back positive. Your backups all did as well, all of the different brands giving you the pink cross, the right amount of lines, or even just saying ‘pregnant’ as in the case of the digital test. You washed your hands profusely after each test, then sat on the toilet seat with your fingers tapping at your bottom lip, looking at the line of tests in front of you. In your mind, you were starting to panic, wondering how you were going to tell James about this. In your heart, you were exploding with happiness because starting a family was something that you wanted to do now that you have found the man that you loved, and who loved you back. It was a crazy debate and there was one question most prevalent in your mind - would James even want this?

-

You had put a plan in motion once he was back at home. You had to make this as smooth as possible, and make sure that he was in the best mood that he could be for this news, since you still weren’t a hundred percent sure that he would consider it to be a good thing. If he took the pregnancy as a good thing, it wouldn’t be possible that you could be happier.

You dressed in one of his shirts a week after you had taken all of the tests, and your package had come in. You paired it with a comfortable pair of jeans, and styled your hair the way that you knew James liked it the most - up so he would have access to your neck. James was laying out on the couch, flipping through the channels on the TV, settling on a comedy show.

“Y/N, what do you want to do about dinner?” James called once you walked into the room, then he looked you over, smirking when he saw that it was his shirt that clad your body. He found it to be a turn on when you wore his things, it gave him a sense of you being his. “We goin’ out then?”

“James McAvoy, get off that couch and take your girlfriend out to dinner,” You said, biting down on your lip, attempting to sound dominant. There was no argument with that, for as soon as you said it, he turned on the television, and got to his feet. James immediately rushed past you, pausing to kiss your cheek, then got into the shower and started to get ready, making you grin. Of course, he was not going to say no to your request, nor to going out for dinner since honestly, he wasn’t much of a cook, as he’d shown you more than once. Annoying as it was, he couldn’t do much more than breakfast foods.

It didn’t take him long to get ready, and he approached you while fixing the collar on his jacket. It always took your breath away how good looking he was, even when he wasn’t meaning to be. It made you smile as you took a step towards him and helped him to fix the collar. You even leaned in to smell the cologne that he had recently sprayed on, which didn’t trigger any sort of negative response from your stomach - it was one of the few things that didn’t.

“The Chinese Place?” You suggested, hoping that he would say yes or your little plan would be entirely ruined. But he agreed easily, and grabbed his keys so he could drive the two of you there.

James even went as far as to open the door for you, since he didn’t get the chance to the first time that the two of you were here - which just so happened to be your first date a year ago. So long ago, that seemed, though the decor in here hadn’t changed at all. They lead you to a private table towards the back of the restaurant, and took care of all of your needs immediately. Some might think that it was because of who James was, but no - the service here was just amazing.

Every time the waitress went by, you were tempted to call her over, but you had to do it secretly. You waited until you were nearly done your food then excused yourself to go to the bathroom - because you really did have to use it. It was one of the disadvantages to being pregnant, but at least you weren’t getting sick.

Needless to say, when you did stop the waitress near the bathroom doors, explained the situation and gave her the custom-made fortune cookie, wrapped in a clear plastic bag, she was more than happy to do this for you. You thanked her profusely, then went back to your table as if nothing had happened. You did a good job, James didn’t suspect a thing. Your anticipation and nerves were starting to make you feel jumpy, so you continually drank your glass of water until the waitress from earlier came around with the two complimentary cookies.

That was just the start. James started to reach for the one that was given by the restaurant, but you reached forward and grabbed it first, smiling sneakily. It made James chuckle and shake his head, then go for the other one. You didn’t open yours, not straight away, but slipped it into your pocket for later. James cracked open his cookie, pulled out the fortune, and read it with squinted eyes.

‘There will be a new addition to your family in seven and a half months.’

One minute went by, where you were staring at James, biting at the corner of your lip, waiting to see any reaction from his face. He read it out loud again, as if he had misinterpreted it. It was after the third time that he looked at you with wide blue eyes.

“Y/N?” He poured everything he was wondering into your name, saying it as a question.

“Even confirmed by the Doctor, though I started with some tests at home,” You told him, putting your hand over your belly.

“Wait - you ... we, you’re? So you’re -” James was hardly able to get the words out, but you nodded with a twinkle in your eye. It looked like it was a good reaction, for his mouth had started to turn into a smile. His hands went over his face, and pushed tendrils of hair backward. “For real?”

“Two months, give or take a week or two.” You told him. In a flash, he was out of his chair, and kneeling by your side, with his hand over your stomach. You exhaled your nervous breath - how could you have thought for a moment that he wouldn’t be happy about this? He loved kids, he was always going on about ones that he met through charity work. You smiled as he kissed the fabric of the shirt that you were wearing, right at your belly button.

“This is incredible y/n... I - I can’t wait to meet him, or her, or .. whatever they want to go by.”

-

You had Doctors appointments every couple of weeks, just to make sure that everything was coming along fine. For a first pregnancy, you were surprisingly calm about most of the ordeal. Then again, you didn’t have much morning sickness at all, though certain smells did make you want to leave a room immediately, like oatmeal. Much like you and James, your group of family and friends were ecstatic for the pair of you. You even used this as an opportunity to grow closer to James’s family, especially his sister Joy who had treated you like a sister since the moment she saw the chemistry between you and her brother.

It was because of this relationship that you left it up to Joy to take care of the Gender Reveal party. But she was the only one who was allowed to know the gender before hand - You and James had talked about it and decided that you were going to do a livestream with his instagram followers when the gender was revealed. As you were more relaxed and lowkey, the reveal would just be the inner color of a vanilla cake, covered in Buttercream frosting.

It started as an absolutely lovely party. You were almost five months along with a noticable bump under the dress that you were wearing. You had taken to wearing some of James’s shirts the last couple of months but even they were starting to get a bit tight around the middle. James never minded when they were stretched, but he did enjoy the look of you in a dress.

Fast forward to the reveal. James had propped up his phone on a table against the wall, so the comments could be seen if you squinted enough, and the camera was directly on the two of you and the cake. It was a bit overwhelming knowing that there were thousands of people out there sharing this special moment with the two of you, but James considered the fans to be very important.

It really hit home when Michael Fassbender handed you the large knife to cut into the cake with. It sliced clean through without any resistance, then you handed it to James so he could make the second cut and pull out a piece onto a plate.

“It’s a boy!” Joy called out on behalf of everyone who didn’t have as good of a glimpse of the baby blue inside of the cake. You couldn’t be happier, and it showed all over your face, just as it did James. On one major thing the two of you agreed - gender did not matter, as long as he, or she, was healthy, and grew up happy. You leaned in an kissed James right on the lips, and he returned it greedily, only breaking away when Jessica Chastain let off a confetti canon that shot neutral greens and yellows over the two of you.

Finally though, things started to settle down and the guests began to leave until it was only family who offered to clean up everything so you and James could relax. Since you had the opportunity, you slipped into the bathroom for one of the famously long pregnancy pees, and to check the messages on your phone. Though James had been the one livestreaming, you had a lot of people tagging you in things. Because of the baby news, you assumed, and was excited to see if any of the fans were as happy for you as your friends were.

The beginning of the bad started then. You noticed a couple of nice comments, but the majority of them were absolutely negative. Flooding James’s more recent pictures were the nastiest comments from mainly females, calling you a Golddigger, fat, ugly, not good enough for him, and calling him a cradle robber and other disgusting things.

A feeling like being kicked in the stomach came over you - probably because you just were. A strange moment for the baby boy inside of your stomach to start kicking. All of the positivity that you had from the party just dissipated, and you crouched down on the floor, your hand over your baby bump, trying to keep back the tears.

James took a couple of minutes to find you. He was saying goodbye to his friends, and had assume that you went to lie down since the pregnancy made him tired. James then came up to join you, but heard you sobbing in the bathroom, with the door locked. He knocked - and you didn’t answer. You only opened the door upon threat of him breaking it down to get to you.

Once he saw your damp cheeks and red eyes, he pulled you into a hug and lightly kissed the crook of your neck. “I  don’t know what this is about, but we’ll work it out.”

“It’s not something that you can work out.” You told him, resting your head on his shoulder. You inhaled the scent of his cologne which immediately helped to soothe you, but then those words came back into your mind.

“It has to be - tell me,” James asked. You pulled away from him slowly, and looked at his bright blue eyes, full of worry.

“You have to promise not to get too mad, baby.” You told him. Things would not go well if his temper got involved - damn that Scottish heritage. The man that you loved took a deep breath and then nodded, so you pulled the livestream back up on your phone and handed it to him. Thankfully, he asked no questions, and watched with a confused expression as the cake was cut into - that’s when the comments started, filling up the feed. “You promised...” You said, biting down on your lip, fighting the tears back as you saw the hurtful words.

“You were wrong, I can do something about this.” James said. You watched as he left the hallway to go back to the living room, and followed tentatively. He had gone for his phone, and was doing something on it, concentrating carefully.

“Don’t make it worse-” You said, but he shook his head. A moment later, you got the notification on your phone that James had posted something. You opened it up to see that he had just posted a black square. His profile picture was black as well. Under it was the caption, ‘I don’t tolerate bullies. Neither should any of you. I’m ashamed of social media today, so I’m calling for a blackout to call out the bad behavior.’

“You don’t have to do that.” You said, though your heart was partly touched. You were sure the backlash for this was going to be intense though, with his fans blaming you.

“You’re the most important person to me, I’m not going to just let them say those things about you.” James wrapped an arm around your shoulder and kissed your temple gently. His words meant the world to you, for you know that he meant them.

-

You were standing backstage, your son in a baby wrap around your chest, sleeping soundly. You were treated extremely kindly by the staff at the Graham Norton Show, and being here was always really fun. James was sitting on the couch with a couple of other celebrities, but as usual, he was the only one that you could look at. Surely after so long, your crush might have worn off and you two would be a comfortable couple but you were still as infatuated with him as you had been since day one.

“You’ve been on blackout on social media for a year now, do you miss it?” Graham asked James.

“You know Graham, I don’t think I do,” James said, clapping his hands together in front of his knees. Graham looked a little surprised by that, and waved for his guest to tell him more. “It can be a very toxic environment sometimes, and though I miss connecting with the fans a bit, it gives them a platform to be rude towards my family.”

“I watched the livestream of the gender reveal, there were quite a few comments on there - but Instagram misses you, look at this!” Graham pointed to one of the monitors and on it, Instagram posts chiding the bullies, petitions, all sorts of things were made to get him to come back to Social media. You did start to feel a bit bad for over-reacting to the comments of a few jealous people, but you hadn’t told James to do this - he decided to go total noir on his own. “Is there anything they could do to make you come back?”

James rubbed his chin in thought. You smiled as you saw a familiar light come into his eyes - his lighthearted spirit was going to come out and play.

“Y/N, come out here and tell me what you think?” He called out to you, which was not entirely what you were expecting. Your hair was thrown into a mom-bun to keep your little man from grabbing at it, you were just in a sweatshirt and jeans, you were far from glamorous enough to go on TV. But the audience was already cheering for you, and James stood up with his hand extended, beckoning you over.

So you went out, with your six month son swaddled around you still. While it wasn’t going to be your first debut on television, having done a few things with James in the past, it would be your son’s. You heard the ‘awwws’ of the crowd, and from Graham and the other two guests as you smiled shyly and approached your boyfriend, taking his hand. This then gave him incentive to sit back down and pull you onto his lap, and wrap his arms around the both of you. He had never been afraid of public affection, that’s for sure. “But what do you think, love, what will it take to get me to post more pictures of my beautiful face?”

“Humble as always,” You laughed, looking into his blue eyes rather than all of the ones that were watching you right now. “You know that I never asked you to stop posting, that was your decision.”

Graham tried to speak but the little baby in the swaddling started to gurgle, taking the spotlight, making both you and James grin. You moved off of James’s lap to next to him so that you could take hold of your little boy’s hand so he had entertainment.

“I might just have an idea,” James said, looking past you at Graham, then into the counter. You raised an eyebrow at him, wondering just what this was going to entail. “I’m going to look into different anti-bullying charities, and you can help me pick one today Graham. We get to... five thousand pounds and I’ll go back to using my account?”

It made the audience happy, and Graham nodded approvingly. The other guests on the couch clapped as well, and James smiled at you, looking for what you thought. You nodded, thinking that was great - at least something good would come from the misery that those comments brought you, and hopefully nothing like this would ever happen again.

He wasn’t finished though. You looked up as James got to his feet and reached into his pockets for something. “James, what are you-”

“Let’s do more to show those bullies how wrong they were.” He breathed out. Instead of that little bit of mischief, he seemed to look nervous now, which in turn made your own belly flop. He didn’t even seem to care that he had entirely taken over Graham’s show, though the host didn’t complain much either. “You know that all of those things that they said about you wasn’t true - I don’t care about your age, in fact, you’ve made me feel like a younger man again.”

James got down on one knee, to the amazement of everyone in the room, from the audience to Graham to the cameramen. It was starting to feel really hot in the room now - or was that just you? James’s neck seemed to get a bit red, and he had matching sweat droplets on his forehead as you did.

“That you handled it all so well, along with being an amazing mother to our little boy just made me realize that everything in my life right now, especially you, is perfect. You are everything I have ever wanted, no matter what anyone says. You are the only person in this world I could consider marrying so...” You gasped as he brought out a blue velvet box, and opened it to reveal a ring. James and you had talked about this but ... so public, while you were looking far from your best? “Will you marry me?”

“Of course.” You said, blinking back the happy tears that took up your eyes. Instead of engulfing him in a big hug like you wanted, you had to settle for kissing the top of your son’s head since he would get caught between the two of you. The ring wen onto your finger, and every mean thing that anyone has ever said about you no longer stayed in your head, because you had the most perfect boys in the world loving you without limits.

[quietbrain-quieteyes]

Hello there! I recently found your blog and am very excited to see what you have to offer! :) is it okay if I request some fluff for Aizawa with a female s/o that is burnt out and in pain by all the physical work on her job and decides to take a day off? You don’t have to, but I’d totally appreciate it if you did! TvT) thank you!

Sorry this took so long to answer! (๑꒪⍘꒪๑) I used to have a job that was physically painful for me. Especially for my legs, sometimes I couldn’t even walk on my off days. So I sort of based it off of that and how I felt when I wasn’t working.

Uhh,, I’m not really good at fluff so this is more of like a slice of life kind of thing? I dunno, I don’t consider it fluff :V

A Day Off [Aizawa Shouta x Female Reader]

[1,769 words]

It was times like these that you were grateful that you never really asked for days off, because now that you were actually asking for one off with a complaint of sever pain in your legs they happily gave it to you. After all a hero, no matter how little media exposure, deserved a break and you had been putting in your time for a while now without a break. Sometimes your coworkers joked that your quirk was really just your kind heart. You’d covered so many shifts and patrols in the last month.

Unfortunately this had resulted in overworking yourself, which had lead to your legs- specifically your joins in your hips, knees and ankles- to ache so badly you thought your legs would give out from under you more than once throughout your day off. The pain left you in bed with thoughts of being useless and a burden filling your skull.

One of the reasons you found yourself working and taking so many shifts was primarily for this reason. You felt like you weren’t contributing to society, that you were a freeloader. And when you weren’t plagued with the self depreciating thoughts? You didn’t think. You cycled between sleep and just staring at the wall, absentmindedly you would stand to find something to eat or drink and as you passed by the mirror hung on your door you would see the way your legs quaked beneath your weight and the reflection of your face. Frown painted onto your features with sunken eyes that looked like you had slept for weeks on end. 

A knock on the door interrupted you. Staring in the direction of the offending sound your muscle memory kicked in. You made your way to the front door, albeit slowly. Using furniture and the walls as a support method the bones in your knees felt as if the cartilage had thinned out so far so that they might be scrubbing together. Upon opening the door you were met with a familiar and equally tired face.

At once Aizawa’s brow knitted together at the sight of your numb appearance only to push in as tears welled in your eyes and a sob ripped through your throat. Discarding his things at the door as he closed it he guided you to the couch he sat you down. Eraserhead was solid as you clung to him, all of your pint up emotions escaping you in a rush that neither of you were prepared for. Warm from walking through the sunlight in his hero uniform.

Carefully his fingers pulled your hair from your face and back over your shoulders when you finally sat back, sniffling and wiping your eyes, trying to force yourself out of this funk. “Y/n,” The scruffy man started quietly, voice even, easy to focus on. “What happened?”

You could only meet his gaze for a second before you looked to your lap shaking your head slowly. Again his fingers were in your hair, tucking it behind your ear to keep it off of your wet cheeks. With a stocked up voice thanks to your revolting sinuses you managed to speak “I-” Swallowing hard you felt like a child under his concerned gaze. “I took the day off of work because I’ve felt so bad lately and I’m physically hurting.” Aizawa remained silent as he thought. His hand was on your back, thumb rubbing soothing circles just above your bra clasp. 

Standing the tall man walked into the kitchen, fixing you something cold to drink “I don’t see what the problem is. You’re taking a day for yourself because both your body and mind need it.” Coming back he pressed the chilled glass into your hand but he didn’t sit as you responded. “I just feel like I’m useless, like I can’t do anything right if I can do anything at all! And on top of that now I actually can’t do anything because my legs are hurting so mu– hEY!” Clearly you weren’t expecting him to stoop down and pick you up like you weighed nothing whatsoever. 

Clinging to your cup so you didn’t spill it as he toted you like a sack of potatoes he patted just below your rear with a little smug smirk on his face. Dropping you on the bed he plucked the glass from your hands and pressed a soft kiss to your lips before he unceremoniously wiped your face on his sleeve, earning a little confused giggle from you. “Don’t do that to yourself.” Another kiss with another giggle, you sighed as he pulled away. That had always been the amazing thing about Aizawa Shouta. He cared, he cared a whole lot. 

Retreating into the bathroom you could hear him running the water for the tub, occasionally he was slosh the water around to test the heat. You stayed where he had placed you besides laying back to reach for your phone, legs dangling from the bed. A couple minutes passed before Shouta was satisfied with the temperature of the water. 

Sneaking up on you he pulled your sleep pants off in one sharp tug, resulting in a loud surprised yelp from you. Before you could sit up though he was laid on top of you, calloused hands messaging against the tense muscles in your thighs as he pressed his face against the crook of your neck. Softly you groaned dropping your head back, you’d been so focused on how raw your joints felt that you weren’t even aware of how tight everything else was. “You really should take some time to yourself, y/n..” He muttered against your neck before he slid down your body as you protested “I do take time for myself!” 

“Going out with me ins’t what I meant.”

“Listen!” Lazily his dark irises and pupils found yours, eyebrows raising as he listened. Spluttering you crossed your arms over your chest and looked away, once again feeling like a kid. “I just feel- I- Shouta I don’t know what to do with myself when I’m not working. I don’t know how I lived my life before I became a pro!” His hands had traveled down to your calves now, kneading the muscle as you vented to him.

That was one of the reasons you loved him so much. He listened to you and when he felt qualified or like he knew what he was talking about he would offer you advice. He had always been like that, before you loved him. One of those times was right now, you could tell he was processing your words, trying to find a solution that didn’t rely on you simply going out on dates with him. 

Standing he pulled you to your feet, letting you prop on him he remained silent as he helped you into the bathroom. Cutting off the flow of the water as you stripped down to nothing. Climbing into the tub to hide your insecurities even though you were aware that Aizawa had never seen anything on you as wrong, he’d simply seen you.

The raven haired man set his capture weapon on the counter, tying his jumpsuit’s sleeves around his hips he ditched his under shirt. Crossing the room he started getting a rag ready with soap to scrub you clean, taking care of you he finally spoke again. Voice quiet, making you listen.

“I think you’ve gotten to the point where you’re afraid not to work. You’re afraid other people might think you aren’t putting in the time or the effort- that you don’t care. So you’ve subconsciously created an environment where you’ve injured yourself unknowingly so that you have to stay active so that you don’t physically feel what’s happening to you. On top of this mindset you’re running from your feelings of self doubt and self loathing. Again, you’re afraid of how others will see you if you stop putting in as much time simply to take some for yourself.” He sighed, pausing as he focused on getting the grime off of your arms and back while you’re lower half soaked in the hot water, reducing swelling that had started in your ankles that you hadn’t even noticed.

“In doing this you’re trying to live up to this unrealistic idea of how a pro hero should be. Y/n, not everyone is like the top ten heroes. Not everyone can be. We all have our limitations that we struggle with. Whether those limitations be quirk related or not.” Even the best of the best had limitations. Japan was currently very aware of that.

He kept his touches gentle despite the amount of pressure he used to remove what felt like the top layer of your skin. That was another thing you liked about him, the way he touched you. Even now he was careful, almost wordlessly asking if it was alright as the rag dipped beneath the surface of the water. Dragging against your sore legs, the warm water had eased the pain from your joints now. Now just a dull ache as he testily bent your leg as he cleaned your foot. 

Leaning over towards you as he finished he left his hands in the water, kissing you once more “Take your time. Let me know if you need any help.” With that he gathered all of the extra clothing from the room and left you to your own devices.

After a few minutes he returned with a set of new clean clothes for you, setting them and a fresh towel on the counter before he slinked away again. When you finished you put on the choice outfit and examined it. From the scrunchy to the underwear every article of clothing was something you had told him was your favorite. A mismatch of fuzzy pieces and worn down, thin cotton material. When you emerged from the bathroom he was laid out on the bed, still in his jumpsuit but at this point you didn’t care. Climbing onto the bed you snuggled close against him, something he returned once he pulled the nearest blanket over both of you. letting one had rest against the dip in your natural waistline he buried his nose in your damp hair, eyes closed. He was warm and you were fuzzy. The perfect mix that quickly lulled the both of you to sleep.

[shirolovesu]

Hey! I really love your blog, I’m a sucker for your prompts 🤣😻 would you be comfortable writing about a fem!reader who is dying (idk of what, either terminal sickness or she’s been shot in battle) and Shiro has to say goodbye and all and when he thinks it’s over and she’s dead, there is a miracle happening and she’s alive and is going to recover with time? Thank youuuu ❤️

“I’ll find a cure, I promise! Just hang on a little longer,” Shiro pleads. He’s not crying but his eyes are red-rimmed, his mouth a trembling line.

“I’ll do my best,” you manage to whisper. It takes all your strength just to say those few words. Your breathing is so shallow that even the oxygen mask strapped to your face hardly helps.

Shiro bites his lip and looks away. He knows as well as you that your time is limited, and the chance of the team finding a cure is very slim.

You and the paladins had been exploring a jungle planet when you stumbled across a snake-like creature that had immediately attacked you. Its fangs were long enough to pierce through your armor suit and even though Shiro had come to the rescue quickly, slicing the creature in half with his prosthetic hand, he hadn’t been fast enough.

The venom is now running its way through your bloodstream, slowly paralyzing your body and shutting down your organs one by one.

And there’s nothing anyone can do to save you.

—-

Fuzzy shapes seem to slowly spin overhead. You recognize the blue lights and white walls of the Castle’s infirmary, but it feels a million miles away. In fact, everything feels so far away. Even your body is floating disconnectedly from your surroundings. You think you can feel the softness of a mattress beneath you but it’s like being in a dream. Any moment now, your mind will drift on to the next scene. You hope it’s a nice dream – maybe Shiro will be there?

But as your hearing fades in and out of existence, you realize that Shiro is already there. He’s calling your name over and over, his voice so broken that you hardly recognize it.

“Y/N, don’t leave! I have so much left to tell you.” He inhales sharply, chokes on a sob, and buries his head against your side.

This isn’t a dream. This is real, and you’re dying. As easy as it would be to let yourself slip away on the tide of gentle sleep, you can’t do that to Shiro. You have to at least say goodbye; say one last time that you love him. Say that you’re sorry you couldn’t spend the rest of your life with him like you’d hoped.

“Shiro.” You slur his name.

He picks his head up immediately, leaning in closer to your bedside. “Y/N. Please.”

His pleading tone breaks your heart, as does the reverently tender way he clasps your hand in both of his. You never want to leave him -- especially not like this, when you can’t even imagine the anguish and guilt that he’ll drown in when you’re gone. You love him so much that watching him suffer is more painful than the poison inside your blood.

“I’m so sorry,” you gasp. “I love you, Shiro. ...Please don’t cry.”

Your voice breaks on the last sentence as tears finally start to fall down Shiro’s cheeks. He knows this is goodbye.

Weakly, you raise your hand to your face and push the oxygen mask aside. Your breathing is slow and painful, but there’s something you need to do.

Shiro seems to sense your intentions because he doesn’t push the mask back on you. Instead, he cups your face in both of his hands, as gently as he might cradle a bird with broken wings.

You force a smile onto your face even as the light fades from your eyes.

“Goodbye, Shiro.” Your lips form the words but no sound comes out.

He closes his eyes, tears falling like rain, and nods bitterly. “Goodbye, Y/N. I... I love you.”

His mouth crumples up and his hands on your skin start to shake. You’d do anything you could to comfort him, but the next breath never fills your lungs. Fixing your eyes on your beloved’s face, you drift away into the darkness of death.

---

Someone is holding you. Someone is holding you, their body warm and vibrating against yours, and desperate kisses are being pressed to your face, your neck, your hands.

“Sh’ro?” you mutter sleepily.

“Yes! Yes, it’s me. Y/N, you’re back! You came back to me!”

Huh? What’s going on?

You gather the energy to pry open your eyes and the first thing you see is Shiro. His face is wet from recent tears, but his radiant smile proves that the tears were born of uncontainable joy, not sorrow.

Beyond Shiro stretches an unfamiliar landscape of unbroken space, swirling nebulae, sprinklings of glittering stars.

“What happened?” The last thing you remember is dying in pain. This doesn’t look much like what you expected the afterlife to be.

“Black saved you. Your body died, but the lion managed to protect your soul here, in the astral plane. I need to find a way to bring you fully back to life, but for now, this is enough.” Shiro squeezes your hand to reassure himself of your solidity. Outside of the astral realm, you don’t have a physical form now that your body is dead. But in here, this safe, secret place for only you and Shiro, you’re alive and well.

“Thank you, Black.” You close your eyes and feel the great lion echo gratitude and kindness in your mind.

When you reopen your eyes, Shiro is still holding you, staring at your face like he can’t believe you’re real.

You reach up and touch his cheek to reassure him; he clasps your hand in his and presses it to his face.

“I love you,” he whispers. The same words that you thought you’d imagined as you were fading away, now fall like crystals from his mouth.

Without giving yourself a moment to hesitate, you pull yourself up in his embrace and press your lips against his in a tender, sweet kiss.

There are so many kisses you want to give him. So many words you want to say. And you’re going to make sure you don’t take for granted this second chance you were given with the man you love.

[writersrealmbts]

Protect Them-Hybrid AU: Part 7

Description: Safe with Me Sequel! You work two days a week teaching kids the joys of learning and reading, your favorites being the triplets. When the triplet’s adopted older brother is the one that starts picking them up, you’re not sure what life just handed you but you’re pretty sure it’s just another little slice of heaven. Hoseok x Reader.

Warnings: I don’t even know, if you do, let me know and I’ll change the warnings.

Posted: 02/20/2019

Tags: Hybrid!au, hybrid!Hoseok, Safe With Me Sequel

Angst with fluffs: 2,584 words

A/N: The wait is over for the next part. I mean, it’s only been eleven days which isn’t nearly as long as I’ve been waiting for the fic I’m reading on Ao3 to update, but it’s still pretty long if you’re only on my blog for this story. I’m trying to figure out how to approach the next few chapters so that I can resolve things. Also, formatting is a little different so let me know if you like it or not.

You woke up to find Hoseok’s arms around you.

You lay there, frozen in shock for what felt like forever.

Until Jungkook poked his head into the room, nose twitching. “Damn it, Hobi.” He hurried over and carefully moved Hoseok’s arms. “Go.”

You slid out and onto the chair beside the bed, hugging yourself and staring at the way Hoseok searched in his sleep for you.

Jungkook handed you your crutch. “The kids are going to be all over you.”

“Why?”

He looked away. “You smell like fear. That’s what made me look for Hobi in here…it’s seeped into the hallway. It’s not all from Hoseok-hyung…”

“No, I had a nightmare,” You reached for the nightstand and grabbed your glasses so you could actually see his expression. Apparently, it was going to be one of those days where your left eye wouldn’t work, which was fantastic and another reason Hoseok being beside you when you woke up scared you. What if it had been someone else?

Your right eye wasn’t helping much either, only focusing after you put your glasses on. Only reason you knew it was Jungkook before was because you could make out the ears.

“Good, because…” He stopped there. “He wouldn’t want you to be scared of him.”

“I’m not scared of him,” You answered sharply.

“I know. You’re scared of what you feel for him.”

You got up and passed him. “Shut up. I just woke up. I don’t need this.”

“I know, sorry. I just…I think you should tell him. At least that would prevent some hard feelings between you both.”

You shook your head. “I’m not…I can’t handle the stress.”

“But if there’s even a chance that—”

You couldn’t breathe, but hitting him with your crutch seemed to shut him up. “Shut. Up.”

He listened this time, following closely behind you, his desire to tell you to breath heavy in the air.

You dropped onto the couch and dropped your head into your hands to try and calm down. Of course there would be ramifications of you never speaking about the feelings you had for Hoseok. Of you rushing away from his gravitational pull as quickly as you could. You wanted to keep him in your life, but you knew you couldn’t have him. Not the way—

“Do you smell smoke?” Jungkook asked, sounding alarmed.

You sat up, not even sure if you could breath in to smell.

Hoseok came stumbling out. “Is your neighbor’s fire alarm going off?”

Jimin came running into the apartment. “Quick, get the kids, out the fire escape. I think the threat was bigger than they thought!” He had a bloody nose.

Jungkook ran to the bedroom.

Hoseok and Jimin pulled you to your feet as the smoke started in under the door, then Jimin hurried to help with the kids.

You nudged Hoseok. “Protect them. I’ll be along as fast as I can.”

“Jimin and Jungkook have them. I’m protecting you.” He picked you up. “Need to move faster.”

You could hear the kids yelping in fright.

Hoseok set you down, then guided you out the window. “The car isn’t big enough for all of us.”

“I need to get to Ariel. Kook and I will get them into the car with you and y/n, then we’ll head toward her place. Then warn her parents, just in case,” Jimin said from outside the window as he helped you through.

“Be careful, Jiminie,” Hoseok warned, sounding concerned. “If anything happens to you two…”

“Let’s focus on getting to safety before you go worrying about the future,” You interrupted.

They both nodded and helped you down the fire escape since you couldn’t bend your leg with the brace.

Once down, Hoseok checked that the munchkins were okay.

An officer saw them and came over.

Jungkook intercepted, talking softly and explaining the situation.

The officer’s eyes widened and he nodded.

Jungkook came back over. “He’s a hybrid. He said he’ll take us to Ariel’s.”

Hoseok breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Help me get them into the car then we can be on our way. Eomma gave me specific instructions to keep them away from the Sanctuary, but if the officer can take you there, it’s probably safest.”

“Okay, hyung.”

They got the kids strapped in while you got into the passenger seat, pulling out a physical map and scouting out a route.

The kids were terrified, crying for their parents, and just generally in distress.

You turned in your seat, starting with Kae since he was in the middle, stroking his head and pulled the car blankets over them. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Min-min, tuck the blanket around yourself, okay, baby?”

Min-min nodded and managed to tuck the blanket around his shoulders, sniffling and sobbing but still a little calmer than the other two. “I want Appa.”

“I know, I know you do.” You craned your arm around the seat to rub his head and ears, then stretched over to tuck the blanket around Nari. “It’s okay. Everything will be okay. We’re going to take care of you and protect you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Minsu whimpered, sniffling but a little calmer. He must have reached over and grabbed his brother’s hand. “It’s okay, Monnie…”

You turned to Hoseok as he got in, careful to avoid touching you since you were over the console. “Head towards Main, then turn left, get on the highway.”

He nodded, looking somewhat grateful that you had already planned it out.

“Min-min, I’m going to lean my seat back okay, let me know before I squish you,” You said in a light tone.

He giggled and sniffled at the same time, squeaking when you went all the way back and were basically on his lap (you didn’t stay there), but it was a good squeak and it let you reach all three of them more easily, even if it was acutely uncomfortable and somewhat dangerous.

It took a long time for them to even begin to calm down, and the other two were pretty miserable after such a scare.

“Better pull into that rest stop,” You told Hoseok softly.

He nodded.

Once there, you took Nari and he took the other two into the bathrooms. Jimin or Jungkook had thrown the supplies bought for the munchkins last night into a backpack, and the clothes that they had been wearing the day before, but you had told Hoseok to keep them in their pajamas because they would be more comfortable. It still didn’t leave you two with very much for the almost 5-year-olds who had had two stressful days without their parents. Last night had been a trial since they didn’t have their stuffed animals and couldn’t understand how their brothers could forget to get them toothbrushes, but eventually Jimin had convinced them that it was really special and promised that he would sleep with them.

You honestly weren’t sure how tonight was going to go, but you were ready to put money on them sleeping for the rest of the car ride. However long that might be.

You tucked Nari back into the carseat, knowing she could buckle herself so you left her unbuckled for now. You needed to go over what happened with Hoseok.

He set the kids into their carseats, telling them to buckled up and cuddle up with the blankets. He left the driver’s side door open and faced you.

You held up a plastic bag. “I thought I’d raid the vending machine.”

He nodded. “Good idea. There should be some decent snacks there. I’m sorry about all of this. I thought…we should have been safe there.”

You shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“It’s never been this bad before.”

"I think they're more determined than you all gave them credit for," You said simply, shrugging again and shaking your head. When had you gotten vision back in that eye? Because you could clearly see how upset he was. "Check in with Emma, make sure they're okay. I'll go to the vending machine and get some snacks. Better make sure the other two got somewhere safe as well."

“You shouldn’t—”

“I’m okay. I made it to the bathroom with Nari and back and it feels okay. I’m not in pain. She said to stop if there was pain, and I will, but we kind of left the crutch back in the apartment. I’ll holler if I need help.”

He nodded reluctantly, and pulled out his phone.

You reassured the triplets that you would be right back and limped back inside to the vending machine. You got as many decent snacks as you could before also getting some sugary ones. Some for bribes for the kids (desperate times) and the others for you and Hoseok. You were also considering getting a few sodas along with the water bottle you were planning on getting. One to split amongst the three of them, and one each for you and Hoseok. Something with caffeine so that you could keep up with the kids.

You jumped when your phone started ringing, and you stared disbelievingly at the caller id before finally answering it. "Hello?"

"Y/n? It's Sarah."

"I know, I have caller I.D. I'm just...surprised? What's up?" You swallowed and glanced back at car, sticking the most recently acquired snack into the grocery bag you had found in the backseat of the car.

"Can't I just call my sister?"

"You never have before," You replied dryly. "Seriously, Sarah, what's up?"

"I saw you on the news."

You blinked. "Oh?"

"Apartment fire. You were wearing a leg brace."

"Yup."

"Y/n," She said, annoyed.

"What do you want me to say? Yes, I'm currently recovering. Have been for two months ever since the tornado that ripped through the city. And yeah, there was a fire at the apartment building I was visiting today with my friend, who is trying to protect his siblings from people who are after them. What do you want?"

She was quiet. "You remember those summers where we would go to the lake?"

You scoffed lightly. "I hid in the tree-house the whole trip because Mom and Dad would always be fighting."

"Uncle Greg sold it to me. I'm not there right now, but it's safe. I've heard some rumors around here. Get there. No one has identified you yet, and they wouldn't be able to connect us to each other. Let alone me to that hybrid you're with. Key is in the treehouse, truck keys are in the desk, don’t use whatever vehicle you have around town. Stash it in the garage."

“Hang on, you’re helping me?”

“Y/n, the rumors I’ve heard are not good. I know I haven’t talked to you since that mess with the will—”

“Six years ago.”

“—but I’m serious right now.”

You weren’t sure you believed her.

“These people broke that guy out of jail. The one that did all those illegal things with hybrid kids. He sold them underage, abused them, he got put in jail after almost killing a fox hybrid almost fifteen years ago. He’s bad. Really bad. And if you’re with hybrids…especially kids…”

You stared at the vending machine. “F…fox hybrid…fifteen years ago…”

“Yeah, he almost killed the kid, who was saved by a cat hybrid just a couple years older than him. That was all they said other than the kid had been beaten to within an inch of his life.”

“Sarah…I think I’m with that fox hybrid…”

“What?”

“Hoseok, he…I think he’s…”

“Get to the summer house.”

“Okay…”

“Hey, you need to be stronger than you were the night you found out about mom, y/n. You don’t have anyone to hide behind, you have people hiding behind you. Snap out of it, get moving.”

“Right, right. Thank you, Sarah.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been pretty crappy to you. We’ll have to catch up when all of this is over.” She hung up before you could answer.

You grabbed the back of snacks and limped as quickly as you could back to the car.

Hoseok was still on the phone. “They’re okay, Eomma, they’re just upset and scared. I’ll—hey!”

You had snatched the phone from him. “Emma? They broke someone out of Jail. Someone who almost killed a fox-hybrid kid that was rescued by a cat hybrid just a couple years older. That was about fifteen years ago. Sound familiar?” You asked both.

Hoseok’s eyes were huge, and he closed the car door, gulping.

“I’ll look into it.” She breathed, sounding shaken. “I’ll ask Yoongi. He’s here with his daughter. We’ll increase security here. Do you—”

“We’re going to a place that they won’t be able to connect him or you to. It’s better if I don’t say where and we’re going to turn our phones off.”

“Okay. Y/n…I know it’s asking a lot, but my kids—”

“I’ll protect them. I promise. You’ll hear from us when I know it’s safe. Hoseok,” You offered the phone to him again.

He took it. “Eomma?”

You got into the car, checking on them.

They were almost asleep already, blissfully unaware of the turn in events.

Kae sniffled. “Why is Hobi-hyung scared?”

“I accidentally snuck up on him and he got scared when he saw me,” You explained, smiling softly at him. “He doesn’t mean to worry you. Go ahead and sleep, we’re going to have a bit of a drive. Okay?”

“Okay,” He murmured, eyes already drooping.

Hoseok got into the car, handing you his phone so you could turn it off. “Where to?” He sounded worn out, and his eyes looked a little red.

“Back to the highway, for now.”

“This place we’re going…it’s safe?”

“Yeah, it should be. It was my Uncle’s place. No way for them to even connect me to you, no one can identify me, so that means anything related to me is safer. And if we end up having to leave there, then I’ll call Pete and Myka.”

“Your Uncle?”

“He was never really around, but we went to his place every summer. He was never there when we were. I think he did a lot of traveling.”

“And what inspired this idea?”

“My sister called because she caught a glimpse of me on the news, the one covering the fire. And she’d been hearing some rumors, and I guess she looked into them. She inherited my Uncles place. Told me we’d be safe there.”

“I thought…”

“So did I. Something has changed for her, I think. We haven’t spoke in six or seven years so it’s entirely possible. We don’t have many other options, and from what I remember it’s actually a pretty nice place. Here’s hoping it’s still nice. There’s a truck there, we’ll have to use that instead of this car in town. Get clothing and food, maybe some toys for them.”

“What if people think we kidnapped them?”

“Hoseok, they could be mistaken for your kids, honestly. Their fur is black, and their tails are bushy. Well, those that have tails,” You added after a pouty growl was heard.

Hoseok cracked a smile as he looked in the mirror at the kids. “You think?”

“Yup. So, if anyone asks, they’re your kids.”

He smile got a little bigger, features softening. “Our kids. Yeah. That works.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to correct him.

Masterlist.  ~  Part 6.  ~  Part 8.  ~  Masterpost.

Tagged: @jiminslye, @musicandmusing

[stevieang]

May I Have This Dance? 2/?

Chapter 1

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston RPF x Plus-Size Reader Insert

Word Count: 2200

Warnings: If too much sweet fluffiness isn’t your thing, then keep on going.  This is full-on no-holds-barred fluff.

Tags:   @3dsaunt​  @andiyholly​  @averyrogers83​  @babybluesunsets​ @bettercallsabs​ @brittyevans​  @brookebarnes​ @captain-rogers-beard​ @cecygee​​   @csrfavs​​   @docharleythegeekqueen​​  @dorito-distractions​​  @everythingisoverrated​​  @fabicchi​​  @favhearts​​  @flawless-disaster​​  @gifsbysimplysonia​​ @hazeleyedgirl7​​   @hennessy0274-blog​​ @inumorph​​ @jaguars2007​​  @jaamesbbarnes​​ @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety​​  @janeyboo​​ @joshburtonhellzyess​  @jouhainak​​ @learisa​​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​​ @lilylovescomics​​   @lojo83​​   @lookwhatyoumademequeue​​  @lostinspace33​​  @madicardi​​  @magellan-88​​   @mamapeterson​​   @me-a-hopeless-romantic​​  @meyoko10​​  @mindingmyownbusiness​​ @mizzzpink​​ @neverleturheartshow2​​  @nomadicpixel​​  @part-time-patronus​​ @patzammit​​ @pinkieandthebrain1​​ @redqueen1221​​ @sebbytrash​​  @sgtjbuccky​​  @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​​  @stark-spangled-banner-man​​  @st-eve-barnes​​ @stillherebiandabitch​​ @sunriserose1023​​ @suz-123​​ @the-real-kellymonster​​    @tutis24​​ @winterismyfavoriteseason1945​​  @winters-beauty​​ @yaykitty3​​

Summary: Two of your best friends are getting married and you have the honor of singing at their wedding.  At the reception you’re approached by a famous friend of the groom, Tom Hiddleston.  Much polite flirting ensues.  Will there be more to come?  (That’s not a rhetorical question, I’m honestly asking for your input about whether I should write more.)

A/N: Thank you all for the wonderful responses, reblogs, and likes on this, my first RPF! I am always stunned at how wonderfully supportive this community can be, and it makes my day better each and every time I get one of those notifications.  Here’s a second chapter and I have a third planned.  We’ll see how folks feel about it, if it’s worth continuing.  Thanks again!!!!! Happy V-Day!!!!!!!

Chapter 2

**All Italicized dialogue indicates characters are communicating using American Sign Language**

When you turned over and saw the sun peeking around the edges of the hotel curtains, you reached out lazily for your phone and yelped when you saw the time.  It was 3 o’clock in the afternoon, and you were just waking up.  You hadn’t slept that late since...well...ever.  You quickly did your “morning” stroll through the land of social media and after eating a protein bar you stashed in your suitcase and drinking a large bottle of SmartWater, set up on your balcony with a book and your music.  Life was very good.

Around the same time on the top floor of the hotel, Tom awoke to several messages from his team - his agent, manager, director of his next project - all wanting to check in with him and ask when he planned to return to work.  After letting them know he’d be in D.C. for a few days and that he was relatively unscathed, his thoughts turned to you.  Though it was your voice that grabbed him - honey and whiskey with a touch of bright sweetness - it was your easy smile and raucous, unrestrained joy that pulled him closer.  When you danced and he saw how comfortable you were in your life, in your circle of friends, in your body, his feelings shifted from interested to intrigued.

To be honest, he’d become quite accustomed to women throwing themselves at him, or, at the very least, not making it difficult to get to know them better.  You immediately stood out with your gentle stubbornness, obvious kindness and undeniable intelligence.  It was a potent combination that made him eager to learn more, though he surprised himself when he honestly could not say whether you were as interested as he was.  No time like the present to test the waters.

TWH: Good afternoon.  Sleep well?

Nothing.  No conversation bubble, no “read” receipt, no response.  

Nothing.  You were surprised Tom hadn’t been in touch after last night.  You had tried very hard in recent years to enjoy each moment as it came, to live in the present, rather than pissing it away by focusing on the future.  You were disappointed, no doubt, but figured it was a time and experience you’d always hold close to your heart.  It had been awhile since you’d felt a connection with anyone, and to think it was with someone as kind and gentlemanly as Tom? Well, that was icing on the cake.  (Not to mention that he was shockingly handsome, funny, and intense).

You showered with the intention of washing off the cobwebs and went out in search of dinner.  D.C. had many amazing restaurants, but you were only interested in one thing - pizza.  With your wallet and phone safely tucked away, you headed down to the lobby to find your idea of oooey, gooey, cheesy, heaven.  You confirmed the address with the concierge and were almost out the door when you saw Tom standing out on the sidewalk, talking and laughing with a stunning woman with black hair, a figure worthy of Vogue, and 6-inch heels.  You ignored your instinct to hang back, to avoid being seen, but there was no need.  He saw you and smiled, excused himself, and walked over, kissing your cheek.  His companion kept her focus on her phone, so you quickly filled him in on your current mission for pizza and started for the door.

“You don’t have to rush off, we’ve got a few minutes.” He glanced sideways at his date and reached out for your fingertips, playing with then as if they were piano keys. That started all kinds of unexpected conflicted feelings and you suddenly found something shiny to pick up on the ground, allowing you to step just out of his reach. He noticed.

“I tried texting you this morning, but when I didn’t hear back I wondered, again, if I’d done something that upset you.”  His arms were crossed across his chest and his upper body leaned forward.  It was casually done but felt intentional, powerful.  You felt important.  After assuring him he hadn’t and showing him that you hadn’t received any messages you quickly determined that he had transposed two numbers when he entered your info into his phone.  You laughed thinking about whomever received a message from him and if they had any clue of their unintentional brush with celebrity.  

His companion quietly made her way over, looping her arm through his and lazily laying her hand on his bicep.  She smiled and whispered, making a small smile appear as he patted her hand and bid you goodnight with a small bow.  You smiled and walked away, intent on yummy sustenance.  Little did you know Tom’s eyes followed you until he ducked into the waiting car.

You were in search of heaven and you found it.  The same pizza place you frequented in grad school was still in business and walking in was like stepping into a time warp.  You were hit with a wave of memories some bright and happy, others sadly nostalgic.  Pushing the past aside, you stepped forward and ordered.  As you waited, you took some pictures and posted them, tagging your grad school friends that you’d be seeing the next night.  You decided to Uber home (for the sake of the pizza) and you were soon ensconced in your room, pizza and new teenage rom-com queued up.  You glanced over when your text alert sounded, fully expecting responses to your Instagram posts.  Nope.

TWH: Was your quest successful, m’lady?

You: Yes, kind sir, thank you.  How’s dinner?

TWH: Delicious, but my mind’s elsewhere, to be honest.

You: Your poor date! She doesn’t deserve anything less than your full attention.  I’m disappointed. :(

TWH: My date?? You mean Laura? We’re not on a date.

You: Oh, ok.  Sorry to make an assumption, but you were standing next to a ravishingly beautiful woman, both dressed up, and you left together in the same car. Hmmmmm….wonder why I thought that? LOL

TWH: I can see why you did.  I’m sorry I didn’t disavow you of the idea, but Laura is the producer of an upcoming film and we were meeting the backers tonight.  It’s work, that’s all.  Money talk.

You: Well, at least you’re getting a nice night out with hopefully nice people.

TWH: Yes, that I am.  They want to go out to a bar for drinks, but I’m thinking of begging off.

You: You ok?

TWH: Yes, but as I said, my mind is elsewhere and I think I’ve successfully done what was asked of me.  I believe I’ll be able to exit gracefully without repercussion.

You: Ok, well, as long as you’re alright.  I’ll let you be so you can extricate yourself and enjoy the rest of the evening.

You smiled and pressed send.  Before you could start the movie, there was a text alert immediately followed by a knock at the door.  

TWH: I’m extricated and I hope to, thanks.

Your look through the peephole had you chuckling as you quickly opened the door and smiled.

Tom’s suit jacket was open, his hands clasped behind his back. “I told you my mind was elsewhere.”

“I didn’t think that meant here, but I’m happy it did.”  He smiled brilliantly at your response.

“Since you mentioned pizza and movies, I’ve been preoccupied with both.  I don’t mean to put you on the spot, but could I join you?  I come bearing gifts.”  He brought his hands from behind his back, one holding a very good bottle of wine and the other holding a tub of chocolate ice cream with caramel and chocolate.  You almost jumped him then and there.

After ushering him in, freezing the ice cream, pouring the wine, and offering him his choice of seat and slices, you started “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before,” the new movie that transported you back to the days of Sixteen Candles and Jake Ryan, your first movie crush.

You had seen it a few times before (ok, 15.  Ok, ok maybe more than that when you fast forwarded to the smooshy parts), so you were glad to show off when you answered Tom’s questions.  The script was based on the best-selling YA novel of the same name, the lead actors were new-ish with crazy chemistry, and it had been such a success that Netflix had already ordered a second installment.  Tom’s laugh prompted you to turn to him with an “are you making fun of me?” look on your face, which started him roaring.

“You are adorable.  You are so invested in this story, it’s infectious.”  You pushed his shoulder as you turned red.

“I’m not making fun, darling, I guess I’m just jaded.  I’ve forgotten what it’s like to see a movie through the eyes of someone looking at the finished product rather than the million moving parts that go into making it.  It’s beautiful.”  

He grabbed your hand, both of you looking down as he intertwined his fingers with yours and spoke so quietly you wouldn’t have heard him if you weren’t side by side.  “You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you, Tom.”  His other hand had come round and was softly placed on your thigh.

“Is this ok?” was barely audible, but you nodded.  As you covered his other hand with yours, your laptop screen lit up, making you drop his hand, bounce off the couch, and shriek with happiness.  You ran over to accept the Video Relay Call from your one of your grad school roommates, Jason.

Tom was sure you wanted to kiss him as much as he wanted to kiss you, but instead, he was sitting alone, dumbfounded.  You were staring at the laptop, clearly engaged in a hilarious conversation with the person on the other end, in sign language.  He stood up and walked next to you, watching you use a variety of facial expressions, both obvious and subtle, that would make many actors jealous.  He wished he understood.

You were so engrossed in the conversation that you barely noticed Tom sitting near you, watching you, with zero clue of what you were talking about.  You didn’t feel right about that.

You: J, hold on a sec, I have someone over and he doesn’t sign.  Let me catch him up.  

Jason: “Someone?” Who is this someone? Do I know him? Go ahead, I’ll wait.

When you pulled yourself away from Jason, it was surreal to see Tom quietly staring, as if he was studying you.  

You were struck by the uniqueness of the moment and threw your head back with laughter.  “I’m sorry, Tom.  I remember what it was like when I first started signing - I would watch fluent users for hours but have no clue what they were talking about, but didn’t really care because it was so beautiful, so graceful.  This is Jason, he was one of my roommates in grad school at Gallaudet University, here in D.C.  We’re getting together tomorrow night to see a play on campus.”

Tom took a deep breath in and blew an equally long one out while he took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose.  “You were transformed….so expressive, so energetic.”  After looking at your face, he quickly added, “Not that you aren’t those things usually, but….”

You jumped in to save him from himself.  “You’re absolutely right.  When hearing people communicate, we rely on our tone of voice and the way we combine words, to convey the strength of our emotion.  In ASL, that responsibility is transferred to the body - facial expressions and body language are grammatical markers and necessary to communicate fluently.”  You turned your head back to the screen as your peripheral vision caught Jason waving for your attention.  

You: Sorry J, I was just going down the Intro to ASL road….I should introduce the two of you, you do it way better than me.

Jason: Hey, any friend of yours….why don’t you bring him to the show tomorrow night.  There are plenty of tickets and I need to do my male roommate duty of vetting potential suitors.

You: Who says he’s a potential suitor?

Jason: Your blushing, smiling face every time you even mention him.  What’s his name by the way?

“He’s asking about you and wondering if you want to come to the play tomorrow night.  I think he really just wants to embarass me.”  Because you were signing and speaking at the same time, Jason jumped up with a “YES” so loudly that it clearly took Tom by surprise, as it did most people.

“Do you want me to come? I don’t want to intrude on a night with your…..friend?” His eyebrows were raised expectantly, hoping the reality was something different.

“J says there will be voice interpreting, so you’ll wear a pair of headphones and hear everything the actors are signing.  I think you’d love it, if for no other reason than seeing a type of acting you’ve never experienced.  It’s unforgettable.  Please come.”  He nodded and you finished up the call after finalizing the details for meeting up the next night.

Non-stop yawning commenced as soon as you sat back on the couch, and Tom excused himself for the night.  As he kissed your cheek and slowly pulled back to look at you, you wished your body chose another time to yawn so big you felt like you dislocated your jaw.  You both chuckled and wished each other a good night, with promises to get in touch late morning.  

“I’ll call you with the details, if that’s alright?”

His smile made you think of the Cheshire Cat.  “Of course it’s alright.  You have my number.”

Chapter 3

[galaxystony]

call me by your name 2; p.p

peter parker x reader

A/N: thank you all for reading part 1 & i’m so so glad you like it! this is quickly becoming one of my very favorite pieces. 

requested: sort of

Words: 1500+

Warnings: none

summary: she can speak three languages, has been swimming in the lake and navigating the town since she could walk, and can play piano and guitar like a regular maestro, but when it comes to telling peter, her father’s older, american intern how she feels, she’s completely clueless. or: the one summer that completely changes her life forever

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Part 1 | Part 2

masterlist

-

A week had passed since Peter had come to stay. While she thought him to be the type to hover, like the Earth breathing down the sun’s neck and following its every movement, he was more like a star, winking in and out of focus as he passed through the house, flitting between playing volleyball with the other college kids and swimming in the lake and helping her father organize his files, not always there, but his presence always known.

She tried to continue with her life as she usually did. She transcribed music by the pool. Helped her mother pick peaches and apricots and plums in the mornings before the sun’s heat got too overpowering and she had to cool off in the water. Learned Bach and Debussy from the cassettes in her father’s collection, both on the piano and the guitar. She hung out with the local boys, Matteo and Luca, and Edouard who was visiting from Lyon. Sped through Austen and Hugo and Wilde under the shade of the peach trees.

What she hadn’t done was speak to Peter. Yet, she chastised herself. It wasn’t like she was purposefully ignoring him. How could she, when they slept fifty feet apart every night? But he was very busy with his own adult things, and she with her own teen things.

He wasn’t much older than her. Seven or eight years at the most, she thought, but it was enough to cause a noticeable rift in whatever relationship might have formed had they been the same age.

And so they would greet each other in passing, when they bumped into one another in the bathroom, or when he’d make it down to breakfast early enough, sweet apricot juice and perfectly crusty bread and perfunctory greetings shared across the long, glass table in the garden, or when he’d show up at the lake with Marzia or Chiara, or sometimes both, and wave at her on the other bank as she chatted with her summer friends.

It was a morning like any other when she found herself thrown into his company. They were sitting at the breakfast table, a freshly-baked baguette and thin, thin slices of prosciutto piled on a plate in the middle for any to take beside a profusely sweating pitcher of once-cold peach juice, when Peter mentioned wanting to open a bank account.

“None of the others have ever shown any interest in opening a bank account,” her father mentioned, leaning back in his seat and taking a sip of juice. “You’ll have to go into town to do so. I’ll be meeting up with a colleague of mine today, but I may be able to take you tomorrow-”

“I can show him around?” she interrupted her father’s musings. She’d had her headphones on and plugged into her Walkman, one side hanging behind her ear so she could interject in the morning’s discussions if an opening presented itself. So far, no one had paid her any mind, and she was content listening to Queen and watching two birds fight over some fallen fruit beyond the table as she picked at a slice of bread that sputtered crumbs every time she pulled a piece apart.

“Perfetto. Peter, you can take my bike and Y/N will show you the town. I assure you there’s no better tour guide,” her father smiled, then turned back to his newspaper.

Peter glanced at her over the table and nodded, an intrigued look in his eyes as he downed the rest of his juice, then he got up from the table, his loose, unbuttoned shirt flapping in the breeze as he turned into the house with a wave and a “later”.

“Later,” she mumbled, pushing a hole into the soft center of her slice of bread. “Why does he always say that?” “I assume that’s how he speaks to his friends. Don’t read too far into it, ma chérie,” her mother suggested over a steaming mug of coffee.

“Just you wait. When the time comes for him to leave us, this is how he’ll say goodbye… Later,” she spoke in a near-perfect imitation of his lazy greeting.

Her father snorted, hiding his amusement behind the paper while her mother gave her a disapproving look. “Y/N. Be nice.”

“Oui, maman. Papa, don’t forget to grab your bike, per favore. Later,” she said with a mischievous smirk. Then she was pushing the chair back and brushing the crumbs off of her pinafore and following Peter into the cool house.

She knocked on the door to his room, making sure she wasn’t interrupting before stepping in and giving him a small smile then crossing to the door to her own room.

“It’s hot out today. You might like to wear something a little more… breathable,” she suggested, glancing down at his too-tight, too-short shorts that left next to nothing to the imagination and his bright pink t-shirt that looked a little more like a second skin than an article of clothing with the smallest hint of amusement.

“I think I’ll be fine, Y/N,” he smiled amicably. A thrill raced up her spine at the sound of her name coming from his lips.

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

“Alright then,” she raised an eyebrow before continuing, “see you downstairs.”

“Later,” he agreed, lackadaisical as usual.

When she met up with him outside the gate, rolling her bike by her side, she couldn’t help but smirk when she saw that Peter had indeed changed into a pair of loose, brightly patterned shorts and a half-buttoned shirt, but decided against mentioning it at all. She knew he had noticed her delighted grin.

It took less than ten minutes to get to the town by bike. The whole way the pair didn’t do much in the way of conversation. It was a nice day, just a touch too hot, but breezy enough to ignore the sting of the sun and the drip of sweat along her hairline.

When they came upon the town, she insisted they stop at a small cafe for water. They took a seat beneath a little table with an umbrella that did little to shade them from the unrelenting sun that seemed to follow their every movement no matter how the little parasol was positioned.

The stout cafe owner brought out a bottle of mineral water which they wasted no time in opening and pouring into their own glasses. The slightly tepid water did little to quench their thirst. It was in the small moments like these when she had to recenter herself and remember that she was in Italy and not New York. For some reason, the room-temperature water was the one thing that sent that little shock through her system, the feeling of wrongness and not-quite-belonging.

When she’d drained her glass, she pulled her book out from her backpack and leaned back in the chair, reading and noticing Peter’s presence all at once.

“That’s quite the book you’re reading. What is it?” he asked, noticing her presence back.

“Les Miserables,” she responded without looking up.

“Ah. In French?” he asked, his interest officially piqued.

“Italian,” she said, flipping the page. “I read it in French last year.”

“You’re quite the precocious kid, aren’t you?” he stated more than asked.

“Thank you,” she replied, still focused on her book. He chuckled.

“So… What does one do around here, exactly?” he inquired, refilling his glass and taking a long sip. She watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down, then forced herself to look away, altogether grateful that she’d chosen to wear her darker sunglasses today.

She shrugged, looking up at him over her book. “Not much. Wait for summer to end, I guess.”

“So then what do you do in the winter?” he continued. Before she could respond he said, “wait for summer to come, I’m guessing?”

She smiled then, because she was suddenly certain that he was a mind reader. She supposed she liked having her mind read.

“A little bit. But I prefer winters here rather than in the city. Even though it gets cold and grey, it’s… quiet. The city is too crowded, especially during the holidays. Dad insists we come up for Christmas every year. Usually it’s just us and Natalia and Alessandro, but sometimes Aunt Sofia, too, and Mounir and Anchiese sometimes, if they can get out of their other social engagements,” she told him, using her finger to keep her place in her book before shutting it and focusing on Peter’s interested smile.

“And besides appeasing family friends? What else do you do?”

“I think you said it all. Wait for summer to come.”

Then he was smiling, broad and a little bit curious and she felt that maybe she liked him now, once he’d read her mind and offered her so many smiles without asking for much in return.

“What about you specifically? What do you do here?” he asked, leaning forward and peeking at her over his tinted shades.

“Swim. Read. Transcribe music. Jog, if I’m in the mood for it. Go out at night,” she answered.

“I like to jog. Where’s a good place to jog around here?”

“The little trail across the lake, mostly. I could show you when we’re done here, if you want?” she offered, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Maybe,” he said. Then he got up, tossed a couple of Euros on the table and mounted his bike. “Later,” he called with a sideways grin.

And suddenly she was back to her adamant dislike.

Later.

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[imagines-oneshots-blog]

The Boys in Blue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

 Chapter 3: Sturdy Wooden Desks, Longing Looks, and The Weight of Things                                                          Left Unsaid

If you were being honest with yourself, you’d admit that you were loitering.

As soon as the clock had hit five Flo had been up and getting ready to leave, packing her gaudy faux leather purse with a gusto you only saw from her at times like this, when the day had dwindled down to it’s dregs and the bullpen was so empty that it seemed you could hear a pin drop. Callahan and Powell had been gone since late afternoon, so that just left the Chief in his office with the door closed, a barrier more hewn out of steel and something like circumvention instead of Indiana pine, you feeling about a million miles away from him on the other side of the aperture, and Flo, who was busy booking it. While the older woman hurriedly prepared for her hasty exit, throwing last minute instructions about how to handle various Hawkins citizens your way, you lingered and reorganized some stray files at your small desk to look busy, wanting to try and catch Hopper before he huffed with his customary grump out of the station, leaving you once more with your unspoken words and your heart planted firmly in your throat.

"And if Mrs. Damers calls again about her damn flower beds, just hang up on her. No one cares about her plants.” Flo was busy explaining as she slung her burgeoning bag over her shoulder in a few sharp, angry movements that perfectly mirrored her caustic tone.

"Flo!" you exclaimed, resting a hand on the swell of your skirt clad hip to compensate for the smile beginning to curl around your lips, the older woman's blatant disregard for the endlessly disgruntled residents of Hawkins making a strange kind of fondness erupt in your chest.

Flo just passed an apathetic shrug your way as she breezed out of the bullpen, waving goodbye to you over her satin and corduroy bedecked shoulder once she reached the wide double doors to the station. You chuckled softly as you watched the aperture swing shut behind her, grateful for the brief distraction that her amusing exit had provided you. Once alone in the seemingly endless, cavernous office space, however, your worries suddenly seemed crushing as they settled about your shoulders, bit at your heels.

And the foremost among the whetted, tangled mass of them was Hopper.

It seemed that your relationship with the Hawkins Police Chief was currently suffering from a condition disdainfully coined by the numerous other women he'd had flirtations with; something known colloquially, and with no measure of fondness, as the Hopper Effect.

Symptoms included limited contact with the Chief, ranging from unanswered phone messages or evaded conversations and a general feeling of unfinished business to an unrequited desire for something more, usually on the sufferers part. In your case, you could add weeks full of longing tinged looks exchanged between you and the Chief to that running list.

Actually, those fierce aching looks exchanged across an ocean of dingy linoleum tile and polyester blend carpet were the only things currently keeping you in your job at the station despite countless weeks worth of awkward bumbling kitchen encounters and embarrassingly short interactions in dim hallways. Just today as you’d poured yourself a mug of coffee and adjusted the plunging neckline of the new blouse that you wore you’d felt a strange heat prickling down the back of your neck and glanced up across the station to find yourself firmly trapped in the dark, churning blue of Hopper’s gaze, fixed on you where he was leaning against Powell’s desk, getting briefed on some new minor Hawkin’s catastrophe or other.

Your lips had parted in shock at the obvious hunger banked in the Chief’s gaze as it settled unexpectedly on you, at the naked, throbbing want laid bare in the storming tempest barely contained above his cheekbones and for the space of a few marvelous heart beats you were sure that he’d toss aside the boring manila folder clutched between his thick fingers, cross the sparse length of the bullpen in a few powerful strides, take you in his brawny arms and slant his hot, hungry mouth over yours.

The sharp clack of Flo’s heels as she’d strode into the room, all jaded bluster and stalwart intent, had broken you sharply from whatever it was that had begun sizzling across the bullpen between you and Hopper, and you couldn’t quite stem your frown as she abruptly plopped a stack of files that were to serve as your blessed distraction from any Hopper tinged thoughts until late afternoon right into your reluctant arms.

Sometimes you thought that it was better this way, with your heated memories of huge calloused hands curling around shaking thighs, of a ragged slip of beard rasping against your sensitive flesh, of eyes like storm churned ocean waves meeting yours while your body bowed, shuddered with unimaginable pleasure, locked safely away where they couldn’t spring vibrantly into the harsh fluorescents of the station or the dim sunlight of the Chief’s office. But then you’d share one of those heated, intense, goddamn looks again and you’d deprecatingly welcome the sizzling heat that splintered down your spine, the fierce longing that bloomed low between your hips, and you’d wonder if maybe today you’d pluck up the courage to say something.

So far you hadn’t quite been able to, but something was different this afternoon; something was virile and alive, sparking with a distinct ripple vaguely reminiscent of the taste in the air that blissful night a lifetime ago when you’d finally known the feel of Hopper’s hulking form pressed against yours, when you’d reveled in the gravel of his pleas and the blissful, fervent slip of his hands against your heated skin.

That was the thing about living in such a small town; things happened slowly. But somehow you knew that tonight everything would change. Tonight you and Hopper would finally talk.

And you weren’t quite sure if you’d be pleased or devastated by the outcome.

Hopper wasn’t particularly good at compartmentalization.

Which was a damn shame, cause there was so much shit he would have loved to never think of again. Shit like the first time he’d seen combat in Vietman, back when he was as green as goddamn springtime and more than a little wet behind the ears. Those memories of red and heat andjungle still made their occasional appearance in his nightmares.

Shit like more recently when he and Joyce had made their way through darkness and desolation to find her son, both trying valiantly not to think too hard about the fact that these were the familiar shapes and sights of home. That this scorched, hellish landscape thrumming with alien life, with sinister purpose they could feel chattering in their teeth, burrowing into the hammering of their hearts, was coiled right beneath the rippling flesh of their safe known world, their Hawkins.

Or like the time that his girl, his Sara, had slipped away, the doctors beating fervently at her skeletal chest, her limbs white and painfully thin beneath the papery sheets of the hospital bed, those crystal blue eyes, her mother’s eyes, closing and never opening again. That one had a particular sting to it, like a phantom limb or a branding scar; necrotic flesh and dead neurons tingling in some vain attempt to feel something that wasn’t pain.

No, Hopper wasn’t particularly good at compartmentalization, though he wished he was.

He made both physical and mental boxes where that shit was supposed to stay hidden far from his collective conscious, but sometimes they found a way to escape; a crack in the stalwart steel of his mind, a sinew of weakness in his faltering resolve.

Cigarettes helped keep them at bay. Booze helped more.

And now, after letting Eleven know he’d be home late, as he poured over more reports of dying crops on the outskirts of Hawkins, having exhausted his last pack of Camel’s and without access to any booze, he felt strangely defenseless, vulnerable almost, and that just pissed him off more. The shambly filing system within his head was collapsing, and Hopper felt each box tumble open with a keen, sharp kind of ache that nearly brought him to his knees.

That was until a relatively new box, one not quite so tattered at the corners or covered in duct tape, one that reminded him of dive bars and beer and a smile so warm it made his ears ring like he’d just been boxed square in the jaw, spilled open. It brought with it memories of your laughter ringing like the toll of an Easter Sunday church bell and your small determined hand sliding further up his thigh, igniting a fire that simmered wildly beneath his skin, caught in his throat and had his lips forming the syllables of your name, of your back bowing like a plea beneath his touch, of his fingers slipping hungrily down the notches of your spine, curling around your eager thighs.

That box had a more poignant ache than he’d remembered, or maybe it was just freshest in his mind, he wasn’t quite sure, but he also couldn’t seem to seal it back up again. He rasped in a deep breath as those memories washed over him, and he was almost grateful that he could still remember the details of you with such stunning clarity. He’d hadn’t quite gotten used to keeping his distance from you, to struggling to catch even the faintest whiff of your lilting feminine perfume as you breezed past him in the hallway, to having your interactions limited to searing looks shared once every few hours and the sharp whisper of memory stinging against his weary temples.

Hopper was no stranger to meaningless sex, he’d had his fair share of it in Hawkins, but what he was a stranger to was intense, gratingly intimate, fun sex. The kind that he’d had with you.

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