#excuse. i was plenty conscious and still scared as fuck (so much that after i sent the message i took a lap around the building lol)

[horrorwebs]

fucking hell fucking hell is she gonna reject me? i want to let sth out for a second and didnt want to tell my psychologist until i have answers so. tags it is

#so. i told my friend i like her. i really really do you cant imagine how much. this was while i was away on a trip last week and we were #messaging.honestly i wanted to be brave enough to tell her in person but i tried already and i was tired of waiting for 'the perfect moment #i was tired of not doing anything ever and watching my life go by. so i drann a bit and told her. not bc i was a bit drunk thats just an #excuse. i was plenty conscious and still scared as fuck (so much that after i sent the message i took a lap around the building lol) #she said i should be scared first. then that she wasnt sure what to say. in her words 'more yes than no. but i dont know what to say' #understandable. she prob wasnt expecting it and its not amazing to have a conversation like that through text (despite the fact that our #relationship has always relied heavily on texting cause weve always stayed up talking. like from day 1) #anyway. she said that before we met she had a crush on me (i already knew this) and that she sometimes felt this way too wbut was scared i #didnt feel that way as well and didnt wanna risk anything so didnt do anything (granted. but she DID say plenty of ambiguous things + #told me i could sleep w her then um. slept on top of me. hugging. you know) #my friend said this was a good sign i was nervous and told her that i thought it was weird and she said her response was p good #and later she uploaded on her cf story a video that said a ring she shares w me is her 'married ring' so i think thats good?? #but also. we havent talked yet (hard to do in 15 min at school) and i have a bad fweling #i feel shes going to say sth like she likes me but doesnt want to risk what we have esp considering her other friends sometimes treat her #badly/exclude her and that shes worried if we fight we are going to lose our friendship + shes going to lose my friends as well #which is well. stupid of course. because i always want her in my life. i think she knows this. i want her to know this. #ever since we met i want her in my life and i cant stop thinking about her and how i miss her and her eyes and how she hugs me and GOD #THE OTHER DAY WHEN WE SAW EACH OTHER AFTER I WENT ON A WEEK LONG TRIP SHE FUCKIN. LIFTED ME OFF THE GROUND AND. CARRIED ME AROUND #HONESTLY IT WAS A BIT EMBARASSING THERE WERE LOTS OF PPL SRIUND AND IM A VERY PRIVATE PERSON BUT I WAS SO HAPPY !!!! #and idk i just dont want her to reject me. shes the first person i really like and i see myself together with. we have so much in common an #we understand each other and we are GOOD for each other. shes so good for my life and i want to believe i am as awell and god how i #want to kiss her and call her my girlfriend and just. agh #its exhausting liking someone huh #loveposting #spikeposting #if anyone has read this far omg hi thank you what do you think?

[bestintheparsec]

The Same Coin - Part 4

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to get this chapter out! I split one of the chapters into two (so this series will now have 8 chapters instead of 7), which is why this chapter is a bit shorter—the next one should be out soon after I post this one! I hope you like this one (things are coming soon😏), and as always I appreciate any feedback! Thank you for reading! 

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: angst, slow roast burn continues

Javier pushes the thin blanket off of himself, leaning over to light a cigarette. He shuts his eyes, taking a long drag before exhaling. He wants to forget a lot of things, but for the past two days it’s seemed like no amount of alcohol could drown out the thoughts of you. 

It shouldn't be like this. He shakes his head and rubs his face. You shouldn’t be there, taking up residence in his mind; the same way you shouldn’t have been in his room, so close to him that night. But there’s a thought that lingers in the crevices of his mind, whether or not he’s willing to admit it out loud. Maybe he had wanted you to stay that night. Asking you to do so would’ve pushed you both past an invisible line, one he doesn’t want you to cross—certainly not for him. He’s made his fair share of bad decisions that have gotten people hurt, and asking you to stay would’ve been another. Whatever it was that overcame him, it can’t and won’t happen again. The man you held that night isn’t someone who deserves to be comforted. He brushes off the nagging emotion—the one that’s wrapped him up and filled him with warmth for the entirety of the last forty-eight hours. He doesn’t deserve to be that man, the one who finds refuge in another. He tries to go back to a state of numbness, where he belongs.

The gentle hand that touches his shoulder almost makes him jump. “You’re thinking very loudly,” she muses. 

He turns to the woman. Her hair is messy, the long waves falling softly over her bare shoulders. She meets his eyes, smiling at him before sitting up and placing her other hand on his shoulder and massaging it. 

He wants this to be enough—the sensation of her warm skin on his, the feeling of release. He's not sure if it was ever enough. But when he loses himself in her arms, he doesn’t feel as safe as he did in yours that night. What the fuck has gotten into me? 

He doesn’t answer, instead pouring himself another glass of whiskey and sighing when the bottle runs empty. 

“It’s work, isn’t it?” she asks, curiously. 

“No,” he replies simply, turning away. I can’t even escape there. 

She smiles softly again, lightly caressing his face before getting out of bed to put her clothes back on.

He doesn’t meet her eyes but knows she’s watching him. “Is there anything I can do?” she asks, her tone teasing.

He puts the cigarette back to his lips, shaking his head. She slips her shoes on, taking her purse before leaving when he calls to her.

“Lina,” he murmurs. She turns to him.

Despite himself, his mind plays with the idea of being with someone for longer than just a night or two. He holds her gaze for a few moments, then looks away. “Nothing,” he finally whispers.

~

You’re sitting at your desk with your chin resting on your knuckle. It’s early so no one else is here yet, leaving you alone with your relentless thoughts. There’s plenty to do, but too many things have been keeping you up so you’re even more exhausted than usual. So much so that you don’t realize you’re dozing off until Steve sets his things down on his desk loudly, startling you.

He looks you in the eyes, giving you a tiny smirk. “Long weekend?” he asks, and you reply with only a groan, pinching the bridge of your nose.

He grins. “Maybe we can all get drinks later or—” he starts, but stops when you suddenly drop your head and turn your attention back to the files in front of you.

He’s about to ask what the problem is when Javier comes up from behind him, setting his cup of coffee down. Javier acknowledges him with a nod but says nothing to you, pulling out his chair and sitting down, refusing to look at you. Steve watches the two of you, confused by the awkward silence. He raises his brows and shrugs, because what's new? He lets out a huff of air, slumping down in his own chair and getting to work.

You try to quell the unwelcome flushing of warmth in your face as you think back to that night. It took you most of the weekend to admit to yourself that you just might have felt something shift in yourself after those events. As much as it frustrates you, you can't get the image of Peña—his warm skin against yours, the static of his fingers brushing against your cheek—out of your head. You've tried to convince yourself it was just pity that took you in there, but it might be more than that—and that scares you. Whatever you’re feeling right now, it needs to stop. This isn’t what you’re here for, and there are a multitude of other things to worry about—things that don’t involve other DEA agents and your feelings for them. About them, not for them, you remind yourself. So why can’t you even look him in the eyes?

It was your decision to go into his room that night. It was a conscious choice, and you don’t regret it. You know how the long nights can wreak havoc on a person’s mind when they’ve seen the same things you have—if you’re able to support someone through it, you’ll do it every time. But that’s all this is, and it’s all it can be—he’s your partner, just like Steve is. You refuse to get attached, not when you live a life surrounded by danger; and especially not when Peña seems to throw himself in that path more often than everyone else. There’s already enough rules being broken around here, you may as well try to follow your own. 

You cast a sideways glance at him. He’s absent-mindedly working on the files at hand, resting his fingers against his temple and seemingly unaffected by your presence. You shouldn’t care, but you still wonder if it’s just you overanalyzing again—the thought that he’s unfazed bothers you, for a reason you can’t comprehend. Forcing yourself to look away, you decide that if Peña doesn’t care, then you don’t have to either.

~

Javier taps his fingers impatiently on the desk, waiting for an excuse to dip out—to anywhere. He gets the feeling you would love to do the same, although you’re usually better at staying composed than he is. But he watches your fingers play with the same loose button on your cardigan, and he almost wishes he had an excuse to offer you for that night. What is there to even say?

His attention is pried away from you when Trujillo marches over, whispering something about a phone call for him. Javier feels your concerned eyes on him as he walks away from his desk, and he feels even more guilty for not saying a word to you all day. You don't deserve to be ignored like this. But surely the silence is better than all the bickering that constantly made his blood pressure rise. He’s hardly paying attention to whatever Trujillo’s telling him now, shaking his head before picking up the phone.

~

Javier slings his leather jacket over his shoulder, walking towards his Jeep. He doesn’t ever tell himself he’s a good man—nor has he claimed to be one. Sometimes you have to do bad things to catch bad people. This thought repeats itself in his head as he starts the car, preparing to drive to meet this informant. Heat waves radiate off the concrete roads as he drives towards his destination. He’s worked with the man before, but only on more...official arrangements. Whatever he has to offer this time, there’s no doubt it’s going to be under-the-table, since it was made explicitly clear that Javier should come alone and with discretion. 

Everything he's done has been done with a single goal in mind—get Escobar. Time and time again, one wrong decision ends up with people being dead, or damaged beyond repair. The lines under his eyes and the heaviness that permanently lives in his chest are further proof that he needs to leave other people out of his decisions, if at all possible. He learned a long time ago that once you get into bed with monsters, you’re forced to live with them alone.

Somehow, this drags his thoughts back over to you. He could've stopped you from coming in that night—should've shut the damn door. It would’ve been easy—a simple “just go” and you wouldn’t have hesitated to leave. Javier swallows thickly when he realizes that maybe he left it open for a reason. He remembers his conversation with you on the bench, the day of the explosion. “It’s best not to be attached to anything, or anyone,” you’d said. He’d pretended not to notice when you let that slip, but if anything, it’s the one thing you both have in common. He knows better than to let himself get too close to anyone. But his mind keeps taking him back to the gentle look in your eyes before you wrapped your arms around him. To how, for once, he felt like he was being enveloped in something other than darkness. To the way he felt his fears and anxieties from that nightmare flee his body, if only for a short while. Because of you. Fuck. He hasn't known peace, not in a long time. He doesn't want to find it in another person. 

He grips the steering wheel a little tighter, turning his focus back onto the road. Familiar buildings pass by as he makes his way to the same convenient spot in a quieter part of town, a place he knows well. He can almost hear the comments you and Steve would have if you knew about this. But someone has to do what no one else will.

He sighs loudly. Javier knows he doesn't deserve to feel the sense of comfort that he did in your arms, but maybe...he wants to.

~

Upon Steve’s insistence, you all end up at a local bar after work, along with Connie. After a couple of rounds, Steve takes Connie’s hand and leads her to the center of the floor for a half-drunken slow dance, leaving you alone with Peña. It’s been another long day, and with neither of you having much to say, you stay quietly seated at the bar next to each other. Some upbeat music blares in the background, but it’s not loud enough to drown out your thoughts. Peña doesn’t seem to mind the ambiance, though. His posture’s relaxed as he watches Steve and Connie haphazardly holding onto each other on the other side of the bar. They laugh a lot, and you’re happy that Steve’s able to enjoy a moment of peace.

You’re not drunk yourself, but the alcohol makes you brave. Things will never go back to normal at work if you don’t address the elephant in the room, and you can’t take the silence anymore—not here, or at work. There’s been enough tension with the bosses lately, and that alone is enough to exhaust you.

You don’t really know how to bring up that night. “Peña, I’m—” you mumble. You start to busy yourself by playing with the strap on your purse.

“Look, we don’t have to do this,” he quickly interrupts with a wave of his hand, but his tone is gentle. You wrinkle your brows, peering at him and biting your lip. He’s still holding his glass, taking a drag on his cigarette before meeting your eyes, as if he’s contemplating what to say himself.

“I’m...sorry. For the other night,” he says quietly. “It won’t happen again. We don’t have to talk about it.” 

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t this. You blink a few times and purse your lips, unsure of how to respond. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. I...get them, too. The bad dreams...” you start to ramble, massaging your fingers.

“That’s not what—” he stops and sighs. “I had too much to drink,” he mutters. 

Is he serious? You scoff with disbelief, meeting his eyes as you take a sip of your drink. “Too much to drink? Peña, you drink like it’s your job, those few glasses you had were hardly anything.” 

“I said we don’t need to talk about it,” he insists. He turns away and gestures for the bartender, asking for another glass. Why is he being like this? For fuck’s sake, you don’t expect him to pour his feelings out, but his stubbornness makes you want to scream sometimes.

“I just wanted to help,” you say, raising a hand in resignation. “I know I shouldn’t have...but you don't have to be alone,” you add quietly.

I don’t need any help with being alone. “I’m telling you it was nothing,” he reiterates, but his tone betrays his unease. He looks at you again and his eyes are almost pleading. “Please,” he whispers. 

You want to believe him, believe that it means nothing so you can stop thinking about it—if this is what he wants, you’ll oblige. But it hurts a little all the same. You had thought he would be more open about what happened, because things definitely feel different now and you haven't the slightest clue what you're supposed to do about it—or if you should do anything at all, especially considering you'd only recently become more civil with each other. You exhale quietly and drop the subject. The loud bar music is the only thing saving you from a biting silence as you both down your drinks. 

Javier slips off the bar stool when his phone starts to buzz. He could use the break right now, so he gladly takes the call, moving over to an empty corner of the bar to answer it.

“I’m glad you decided to answer,” the deep voice bellows.

“I told you not to call after hours,” Javier states firmly. “If we do this, we do it my way. You play by my rules, and that's one of them.”

“And I told you we have a common goal,” the man says. Javier stuffs his hand in his pocket, casually checking around him to make sure no one’s watching.

“Then why the hell are you calling me now?” He rubs his jaw with annoyance. “I thought the plan was settled.” 

“There’s been a slight change of plans. We need another person—one to infiltrate the party. Someone those bastards won’t be suspicious of.” With the phone to his ear, Javier watches Steve and Connie from across the room. His eyes soften just a little when Steve whispers something into her ear, making her smile. It passes quickly when he turns his attention back to the call.

Javier runs a hand through his hair, clenching his jaw. “Too bad. You’ve got me.”

“No, Agent Peña. If we don’t get someone off-the-radar in there, this won’t work.”

He glances over at you, sitting on the bar stool. You’re slouched over, nursing your drink and shaking your head when the bartender asks if you want another. He bites his lower lip. “Yeah, well, you’re not getting my other partner in on this,” Javier contends. 

“Come on, Peña. You know plenty of people—I’m sure you can find one who’s willing to help, for the right price.”

Javier frowns, momentarily reconsidering his decision to work with this asshole. He looks at you again, and then Steve, then to his shoes on the grimy tile floor.

“Yeah. I know someone,” he mutters, ending the call with a click.

~

*If you haven’t been tagged properly, it might be because your search-ability is off in your settings!*

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#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena #narcos fic #my ff #non sw

[faefictions]

Still

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x Reader

Word Count: 1023

“Love, you alright?” Harrison whispered in your ear, eyes briefly leaving the screen in front of you. You always had troubles sitting still, especially for long periods of time. Harrison had become slightly aware of it, noticing that you had shifted away from him multiple times. Most of the time you didn’t notice it, especially if you had something to focus on, like the movie in front of you, but today you were hyper-aware of it. You and Harrison had only been dating for a few weeks, and you were worried that your constant fidgeting was annoying him. You had had plenty of people complain to you about your habits, and it always upset you although you played it cool and apologized. Harrison was the last person you wanted to judge you, and you definitely didn’t want to scare him away. 

You told him everything was fine, and he returned his gaze to the movie. He didn’t fully believe you, but he wasn’t going to pester. As you sat next to him, you tried to keep your entire body still. You tried not to readjust your position, you tried not to bounce your leg, and you tried not to fidget with your hands. At first, you were able to keep it down, but the more you focused on every move of your body, the less you could focus on the movie, and the higher your anxiety level rose. It was hard to focus so intensely on yourself, and you eventually had to excuse yourself to the bathroom so you could clear your self-conscious mind. 

You stood in front of the mirror for a good few minutes and took some deep breaths, trying your best to clear your head. Eventually, you felt secure enough to walk back out and join Harrison on the couch, but to your disappointment, he had paused the movie and was waiting for your return. 

“Are you sure everything’s alright?” he asked again, this time the concern couldn’t be hidden in his voice. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you smiled, returning to your spot, right next to him. 

“Are you sure?”

“Let’s just watch the movie Haz.”

He studied your face, your smile never faltering, so he slung his arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, pressing a kiss to your temple before grabbing the remote to play the movie. Now that his arm was tightly holding your shoulder, you were even more self conscious of the movements. Your finger was instinctively tracing patterns into the couch and you were wiggling your toes rapidly. Those were the only two things you thought he wouldn’t notice, and at first, he didn’t, but he could eventually feel your arm constantly shifting under his hand. He peeked down at your face, and you didn’t notice, you were too focused on your every breath, your every move, your every thought echoing inside your head. He could see the distant look in your eyes, and he sighed and paused the movie again. 

“Are you upset with me?” he asked, clearly distraught. 

“What? No, why would you think that?”

“I can tell something’s wrong. Why else wouldn’t you tell me?”

“Haz, I’m not mad at you, please don’t worry about it,” you pleaded, a blush crossing your cheeks. 

“Please, talk to me. You’re making me nervous.”

“Harrison-“

“I’m not an idiot. I know something is wrong. You know you can talk to me about anything.”

After careful deliberation, you looked down and started twirling your fingers around one another. 

“It’s stupid,” you muttered, obviously frustrated with yourself. 

“It can’t be stupid if it’s enough to upset you.”

You took a deep breath, but kept your eyes on your lap. “I don’t wanna annoy you.”

“What was that?”

“I said I don’t want to annoy you.”

“And why would you annoy me?”

“Because, I can’t just fucking sit still. And I know it’s so obnoxious, and I don’t want you to fucking dump me because I can’t stay still for more than five seconds.”

“Hey, woah, calm down. I have no idea what you mean, Angel. I haven’t noticed any of that.”

“Because I spend all of my energy trying not to move while I’m next to you. It’s fucking exhausting.”

“Then stop trying, Love. I think I can handle that,” he chuckled, but you were still upset. A tear came to you eye, you just couldn’t help but feel humiliated. 

“Love, why are you crying?” he asked, quickly bringing a hand up to wipe your tear and pull you closer. 

“I just really don’t want you to hate me.”

“Love, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re being ridiculous. I could never hate you over something so small. It would take so much more to scare me off. And I can assure you that if it did annoy me, I would communicate that. That isn’t something you need to worry your cute little head about.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky promise,” he smiled, holding out his pinky to link with yours. 

“Are we ok to finish the movie?” he asked tentatively, obviously willing to hit the brakes if you wanted to. You shyly nodded at him and snuggled back into his side. 

You spent the rest of the movie trying not to think too much about how you were moving. You would readjust your body every 20 minutes, and with each position, you would trace shapes onto another one of Harrison’s body parts. You started with his hands, then his legs, then his chest. He glanced down at you each time and soaked in your intent expression. You were very focused on the movie now, and it made his heart happy that you were finally comfortable next to him. And he wasn’t going to lie, he loved the domestic attention that he was receiving from you. There was nothing inherently romantic about it, but it made his heart melt more than any other time he had spent with you. As you traced words across his chest, you both realized that this was exactly where you were supposed to be. Right next to each other for the rest of time. 

(This has been written and ready to post for about 5 months now. I just completely forgot it existed until a month ago and kept forgetting to post it. It’s a miracle this blog has made it this far. If you would like to be tagged in anything in the future, there is a link to add yourself to my tag lists in my bio!!)

Taglist: 

@embrace-themagic​ @fanficparker​ @baconlover001​ @chloe-geoghegan1​ @chonisberonica​ @heartbeats-wildly​ @saturn-aka-six​ @harringtonsbaseballbat @ghostofdrfluke​ @calum-hoodwinked-me​ @peterplanet​ @mischiefmanaged49​ @bucky-newtlock​ @r3ader​ @lizzyosterfield​ @nicotine-sunshine820​ @hrryhllnd​

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield blurb #harrison osterfied fluff #haz osterfield #harrison osterfeild imagine #harrison osterfeild x reader #harrison

[taeguboi]

BTS HC - Lockdown

In which each BTS member lives with y/n

I’m hoping these imagines might lighten the mood for anyone who might be feeling a bit lonely right now.

Please see the end of post first if you need some context or wish to see the notes

RM

Has good balance of me time and us time

steps back when you both need space

sitting in the back yard on some chair reading a book

taking in the sun

The restrictions don’t hinder him from making sure you both get plenty of sun and fresh air

it isn’t much but in week 1, he gave the back yard a little tidy up

turned it into a place to chill out

so there aren’t any flower planted or decor

but it makes all the difference

there’s chairs, a table and a parasol

to you, this is perfect

Spot of tea under cooler weather

or orange juice under the sun

Board games at the table in the back yard

you tried cards once out there but even just the slightest breeze...

“Goddammit!!!”

The card games are for when it rains

or for when neither of you quite feel like going out today

He swears you’re cheating at UNO

you swear he’s just really bad at it

turns out he keeps saving those wild 4 draw cards too long

which you gather over his last 3 rage quits 

because he just slings the cards, revealing them to you

“You play it too safe” you tell him

so he plays it a bit less safe

“Yes! Finally I won!”

“OH! Look at that!” you smile

he smiles back because of how proud you...

“...it’s sunny again!”

‘Goddammit y/n...’

Shopping trips together

not so helpful when the rules get stricter

“One adult at a time please...”

oh dear

who goes in?

so you go in

“Crap! Namjoon has the shopping list!”

this period of time really shows how you complete each other

pretty much every day you each think

“what would I do without him/her?”

Random talks

he tells you about this one book he read

and now you want to read it

so you do

and you can’t take your eyes off it

you find a new love for reading

so sometimes when you both need me time

you remain in the same room, just reading a book each

Every day you feel enlightened

almost sad at the thought of going back to normal life

because you won’t have as much time for yourself

Jin

Everyone is suddenly having the time to cook from scratch

imagine Jin’s frustration since he did this all along

so when certain things he usually gets aren’t in stock

“Oh for crying out loud!”

you sometimes have to calm him down when shopping

and since only 1 adult in at a time it’s like a really awkward phone call

you’re just stood outside alone like

“For Christ’s sake Jin! Calm down!”

but he makes every meal taste great anyway

“Sorry it doesn’t have the usual...”

“Jin, please!” you reply

because it’s still really yummy because

“you’re still the best cook in the world, okay?”

“Okay fine...” he sighs “Thank you”

can I just add here food is the only time you both get hysterical at each other

He still low key hoard particular ingredients when he FINALLY can get them

and you have to explain how irrational he’s being

“We don’t need SIX tubes of tomato puree!”

“Jin... How are we going to use up all THIS fruit and veg before it goes off?”

But he’s not selfish, no

if he’s in a shop and sees someone elderly, he helps them out

“Would you like me to reach that for you?”

“Do you need any toilet paper? There’s 2 packs left - here”

“Here’s my number; let me know if you need me to run any errands for you”

ahh you’re lucky to be living with such a gentleman

Daily walks in the park to feed the ducks

“This is the best kind of exercise” he tells you “...relaxed and where you can connect with nature”

some of the ducks at the beginning of the lockdown are a bit nutty

Jin may or may not be low key scared of that one goose

“I swear it’s giving me the evils”

it may or may not have chased him the second day in

“Wahhhhhh!!!”

*Jin running away in the distance*

You cooked for him that evening

“Honey, I don’t know how to put this...”

“Aw sweetie it’s okay about what happened in the park; I mean you were the one holding the bread and...”

“oh no no” he replies. “this meal is awful”

r00d

but it’s okay

you knew the minute you offered to make dinner it wasn’t going to turn out well

so you both agree the kitchen will be his space to work his magic in during lockdown

and he somehow gets better than he already is at cooking

just woowwww

foodgasm

but neither of you get podgy

Lazy exercises together

chair exercises watching the tv

small periods of jogging in the woods

“oh wow, what’s that?”

you come across some random squirrel

and all of a sudden trips to the park for that daily walk 

it turns into a nature watch

bird watching

luckily he forgets about the angry goose

Sometimes talking about what you miss

and then promising to do all of those things when everything is back to normal

so many plans

and it helps you both stay optimistic

because you just created a bunch of stuff to look forward to

Suga

Late night movie marathons

and accidentally getting into a routine of late mornings late nights

Cooking together

because neither of you want to do it

but someone has to

can’t live on instant food for all this time

Night time walks

less people, less danger

please don’t yell at me if we’re not supposed to do this in real life I haven’t actually been out that late during lockdown hahaha

it’s only around a few blocks

but deep talks, you know

There may not be much room in the back garden

but you have a ball and a hoop

basketball together

he teaches you to shoot better

“yes! I did it!”

*he hugs you from behind*

sorry that was gay

He’s actually quite chill about the whole lockdown situation

almost like he forgets the circumstances sometimes

“I think I might nip down to _____’s house today...”

“Uh, Yoongi, remember?”

“Oh yeah”

Detective series marathons too

the two of you trying to figure out whodunnit

sometimes even low key bets or light arguments if you disagree

a mildly sore loser when you’re correct

smug af when he is correct

Evenings lounging in the back yard with the drink of your choice

some quiet music on 

random hypothetical conversations and questions about life

“what if...”

“what happened to...”

“don’t you think that cloud looks like a goldfish?”

Board games that keep the brain stimulated

why is he so good at scrabble

you can’t recall a game you’ve won

but no monopoly

not after the last time

“I want a divorce!”

“We’re not married”

“Yet”

tbf you might as well be an old married couple

because there’s those films you just watch over and over

close to unlocking the power of mind reading

“want a cup of tea?”

“omg I was about to ask that”

Some days you get on each other’s nerves a little though

so you each occupy yourselves with little chores

and even though you weren’t in the mood to do anything together

you’ve just made the house look great in a day as a team

and you’ve got everything you need just in time for dinner

“I’m proud of us”

“I’m proud of us too”

J-Hope

Picnics in the back garden

much better than one in the park though

there’s no packing involved

there’s cushions

sometimes low key fine dining

your favourite is the one evening picnic the other day

you had been shopping alone for the essentials

and he wanted to surprise you

he had set up a makeshift table out of a few old crates

did the cooking

the pasta dish was lovely

there was even dessert

okay the dessert was M&S

fairy lights

seriously you swear you weren’t out for that long how did he manage all of this so fast?

wine

staring at the stars

and there were blankets too

dozing off until early hours of the morning

finally coming indoors at like 2am

sleeping in til noon oops haha

then binge watching some random show together 

and now it’s your new favourite

For some reason you have a big stock of popcorn

watching any old crap on the TV as an excuse to eat it

like there’s 3 films on this afternoon that sound shite

but you’re going to watch them all anyway

and the third one is actually really good

more popcorn more films

“we should probably go out at some point...”

whoops it’s been like 4 days now

and now it’s raining damn

fuck it, you go out anyway

dancing in the rain in an empty park

followed by shivering on the walk home

he gets in the shower first

but then runs a lovely hot bath for you

candles, bubble bath, the works

just so you can have some relaxing time to yourself

so thoughtful

lockdown doesn’t mean needing to compromise on showing you love each other

Jimin

You’re not quite sure how you got pulled into this

but Jimin decided to make use of his YouTube following

Virtual dance classes

and fun little exercise sessions for all the family

He does the dance classes solo

but he loves to flaunt you to the world even in lockdown

“Today joining me for this session... my lovely significant other, y/n!”

at first you felt uncertain and a little conscious

but thanks to Jimin your confidence grew

He helps you stay positive during a tough time

and you even feel like your self improvement has been going amazingly well

he even inspires you to make your own channel

to show the world what you love; [insert hobby/interest here]

people love the both of you

they go to Jimin’s channel to keep fit and happy

and your channel just fills them with joy

But not everything revolves around the virtual world

Care packages for all of your friends

food and other essentials get mailed to the ones that lost their jobs

and for the ones still working, a bundle of stuff for their mental well being

and a little drawing with rainbow colours in each

and a positive message

Woolly jumpers, cushions and hot chocolate

sweater paws

Sometimes in the evening you doze off

like you fall asleep just as you are

and you wake up to the smell of food and a blanket over you

Sometimes you miss your friends

and Jimin hates to see you down

so he organises a big surprise

his hands over your eyes as he walks you into the living room

“surprise!” you hear over the laptop

and then Jimin hands you some gifts 

he asked them all a few days ago to send you something meaningful

and your heart just melts

and you may or may not cry a little in front of your friends on the video call

you just have to do something in return so

You make the living room all nice whilst he’s making a video in the garden

wow you’re actually quite proud

the lighting is just right

the improv decor is actually somewhat aesthetic

“Honey, why’s it so dull in here..... Woah, what’s this?”

“Dinner’s ready” you smile

and you have a gift for him too

you can’t wipe the smile off his face when he sees it

a scrapbook of memories between you and him

which you look through after eating

“We’re going to make more memories like this once this blows over”

V

Lots of online socialising

Calls with his friends 

which you always end up being a part of in the background with your commentaries

Cute online double dates with Jimin and/or your best friend

Will try everything and anything to kill the boredom

“look what I found in the bargain bin at the supermarket!”

“Tae, I’m not really sure I’m in the mood to take up crocheting...”

but actually it turns out to be more fun that you thought

he has his little ways of making everything fun

one day you guys just find some random paints in a cupboard

and WOW

he’s so good at it

such beautiful landscapes

Makes sure that you both maintain some sort of routine

“best make sure we have an early night lovely”

“why? it’s not like there’s much to do tomorrow”

but no matter how sceptical you may be at times

he’s determined to be your sunshine

he helps you stay sane

makes everything sound productive

“because tomorrow we are going to make a playlist for when we walk, feed the ducks, go shopping, learn how to make a new dish...”

makes you a cup of tea just because

or breakfast in bed

the perfect companion

caring about even the people he can’t physically be with

“we haven’t heard from _____ in a while; we should drop a phone call or something”

but it isn’t just a phone call

it’s also a letter in the mail a few days later

plus a painting for the close friends

Dressing up really formal for a home date

3 course meal, courtesy of the microwave

then a slow dance in the living room

always the romantic

“tonight was amazing... will I see you again?”

“you are terrible Tae, you really are!”

such a joker

he keeps you smiling through it all

Jungkook

Tries to get you to go on daily jogs with him

“Can’t I just walk?”

“Come on, y/n; get those endorphins running through you!”

you try like once

*wheezing*

nope

Nintendo switch

Not that I have one welp

I can just imagine it okay

Lots of active games

thrashes you at Wii Sports Tennis

but you whoop his ass at Bowling

he does most of the shopping

so that he can go for a jog first

and also so he’s not out too often in any one day, two birds one stone and all that

Doesn’t quite always get the shopping list right….

“Jungkook?”

“Yes?”

“I wrote 1-2 bananas… You’ve brought back 12”

blames your handwriting

Small bits of banter like this keep you both sane

and he eats all those bananas in like 2 days

“What? There was no cereal in the shop”

someone teach this boy to cook please

*brings back like a crate load of instant noodles*

at least it means you’ve come up with something to pass the time

teaching Jungkook some basic meals

maybe beginning with breakfast first thing in the morning wasn’t the best idea

“Jungkook! I said keep an eye on it!”

“I did”

and he literally just watched the bacon burn instead of regularly flipping it over

bless

Singing to you whilst snuggling on the couch

bliss

meme-y dances before bed time

like you’ll be sat in bed maybe watching tv / reading

and something moves in the corner of your eye

oh my word Jungkook

*insert all the meme-y dances you have even seen him do*

the biggest dork

can’t stop laughing at his own silliness afterwards

jumps into the bed and puts his head on your shoulder

falls asleep like this quite fast

well you aren’t surprised since he’s always so energetic

Small campfires in the back garden

the best marshmallows you’ve ever had

and it’s so much fun

campfire stories

usually people have a guitar around the fire

not Jungkook though, no

*serenades you with a ukulele purposely singing out of tune*

has you in stitches

people in the neighbouring houses hear the laughter and some think it’s insensitive to be laughing so much

but seriously, if you can’t laugh, what can you do?

So I thought I’d make a post around the strange times many of us are living in. Whilst I get that some readers may not be in a situation like mine (UK) so a quick bit of context for you even though I made the location / country ambiguous in my writing. The circumstances explained in the imagines though are of course based on my experiences in England.

Right now, we are limited in what we do; only essential shops are open, (supermarkets, pharmacies, etc,) the country is being advised to go out as little as possible, (only for food shopping, medical reasons and exercise,) social gatherings aren’t allowed, our death rate has been increasing due to the virus (even our prime minister has it,) and our NHS is overwhelmed - currently more than 10,000 being treated as I’m listening to the news and writing this note. 

I hope everyone is staying safe and doing the right thing by staying indoors and maintaining social distancing.

#ps sorry some are longer imagines than others #bts #bts fiction #bts headcanons #bts headcanon #bts fic #bts imagines #bts fanfic #namjoon #rm #kim namjoon #seokjin #jin #kim seokjin #yoongi #suga #min yoongi #hoseok #jhope #jung hoseok #jimin #park jimin #bts jimin #v #bts v #taehyung #kim taehyung #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts fluff

[kenzieam]

Beauty and the Blackheart - Chapter Three

@jewels2876​​​​  @moonbeambucky​​​  @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​​​​  @iammarylastar​​​​@captstefanbrandt​​​​  @badassbaker​​​​  @pinknerdpanda​​​​  

I know I’m forgetting people, sorry. If you want in, hit me.

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Rating: M

Warnings: Language, general nuttiness, smut

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FEEDBACK IS LIFE, Y’ALL, LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT ME TO CONTINUE POSTING OR NOT

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It was too much; his proximity, his scent, the heat he generated and most importantly, the feelings they all sparked in Lev. Ducking and spinning away at the same time, Lev all but launched herself away, her ass smacking against the far counter of the elevated desk.  She gripped the edge behind her and fought to control her breathing, staring at Bucky with a mix of fear and confusion.

What was it about Bucky that twisted her up in knots like this?

Bucky straightened, leaning against the opposite counter with much less urgency. Crossing his feet at the ankles, chains clinking, he folded his arms and regarded her.

“What is your problem?” She stuttered, still not even sure if her heart was racing because she was scared or because she was aroused.

Bucky tilted his head, staring at her with an intensity that made her skin burn. His eyes raked up from her feet to her face and he swallowed.

Although still dressed conservatively compared to her sister-in-law and the women who frequented Blackheart, Lev had made attempts to branch out her wardrobe since she’d started helping out at the shop. She hadn’t worn khakis or a pencil skirt in weeks and while the jeans Nat had urged her to buy when they’d gone shopping a few days before she’d had to leave felt painted on, Nat had only laughed at her and said they were ‘fitted’, cut to show off Lev’s curves, not hide them. Paired with Nat’s knee-high boots and one of Blackheart’s logoed tank-tops, Lev was dressed far more scantily than she ever had before and right now, she felt naked under Bucky’s scrutiny.

Her bare shoulders hadn’t seen the light of day in years, for Christ’s sake and you could even see the swell of the tops of her breasts.

She never showed cleavage. Never. Even her graduation dress had covered up to her neck. Lev wished she had her Blackheart’s hoody to throw on, but it was draped over the chair, at least five feet away.

Bucky licked his lips, then wiped at his mouth with a decadent slowness, as if savouring something. He opened his mouth to speak and Lev felt her control begin to snap.

With a musical tingle, the door to the shop opened and Steve stepped inside, breaking the thick tension in the air. Lev whirled towards him almost dementedly, ridiculously grateful for his distraction.

“Steve! Hey.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Bucky turn to face Steve as well, albeit much more calmly.

“Hi…. Everything alright?” Steve replied, eyes flicking between Bucky and Lev, brow raising in question.

“Never better, brother.” Bucky grunted then, before anyone could speak further, turned and disappeared into his room, the familiar thrash metal filling the air after a moment.

Steve stared after his friend for a beat before returning his focus to Lev. Silently he moved to stand behind the counter and put his hands on his hips.

“Was he bothering you?” There was a faint sadness in his voice, as if he was disappointed and Lev shook her head, deciding a half-truth was better than a full lie.

“No, he just did the most amazing tattoo on this woman, these incredible violets that looked so realistic, and her story…. It was so beautiful and sad. It was a memorial tattoo for her late husband and it just kind of hit me, you know?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, some of them do…. And Bucky’s really damned talented. It looked like a picture, right? Like you could just reach out and touch them?

Lev nodded back, almost giddy with relief that Steve seemed to have accepted her excuse. The last thing she wanted was to make trouble between lifelong friends. “Uh…” she clamoured for a change of topic. “You’re early but your 3 o’clock appointment mentioned that if you were able to start earlier to give him a call-”

“Sure,” Steve agreed, gifting her with a gentle smile. “I’ll give him a call.” He paused, scratching at his neck. “It’s looking like it’s going to be a slower day, so if you had anything you needed to do, or wanted to get out of here early-”

Lev almost felt guilty at how fast she agreed, but she was so goddamn twisted up inside right now, so fucking confused that she needed space and time to think, to try and sort through her head. “Yeah, sure. That’d be great. I was going to… yeah.”

Snatching her backpack and hoodie, Lev forced herself not to run out the door.

***************************************************************************

The music pounded, throbbing through the floor and Lev glanced around, so thoroughly out of her element that it was surreal, like a dream around her.

In the few days since Lev’s strange encounter with Bucky, she’d gone back to invisible with him. Whether Steve said anything she didn’t know, and didn’t have the balls to ask, but Bucky had returned to all but ignoring her. She couldn’t say whether she liked it anymore or not. There had been something, a warmth almost, while under his hypnotizing gaze that was gone again, and Lev was surprised to realize she missed it.

Now, she was wedged into a booth beside her brother, with Steve and Bucky across the table, a steady stream of girls parading by for the two of them to feast their eyes on. Bucky seemed to be dividing his time between paying attention to the girls and glowering at Lev, still not able to believe what for him seemed an outlandish claim, one Lev had let slip at the shop earlier when Clint was still trying to convince her to go with them.

“I’ve never been to a bar before.” Lev confessed, when Clint had commented on her obvious nerves.

“Wait, what?” Apparently, her complete lack of coolness was enough to break Bucky’s indifference to her, and he’d almost dropped the set of clamps he was setting in the autoclave.

Steve stepped closer, peering at her. “Really, Lev? Not once?”

Lev shook her head, regretting saying anything. Bucky’s glare burned like acid at the side of her face.

“I know I could never get you to come with me,” Clint replied. “But you never went once in university?”

Biting her lip, feeling like a thousand different kinds of fool, Lev shook her head again. “I was too busy studying.”

“Jesus,” Bucky grumbled, shutting and securing the autoclave. “Have you ever had any fun?”

Although this was as foreign an experience as Lev had ever had, even more so than her first cadaver class, she made a conscious effort to relax and pay attention to her surroundings. The white wine spritzer she’d ordered sweated in her hand and she’d barely made a dent in it, even though all three men were working their way through their second beer each.

When one of the girls, a willowy brunette, took the opportunity to perch in Bucky’s lap, throwing a covert catty glance at Lev as she did, Lev decided she needed a break.

“Gotta use the bathroom.” She elbowed her twin to move, scooting awkwardly along the seat, feeling like a warthog next to the potential model across from her. Of course, Bucky had to wrap his arm around the bimbo, his fingers toying idly with the bare skin of the woman’s back, and Lev felt an unexpected surge of… jealousy as she gained her feet and moved past the booth.

What the everlasting fuck?

Well, her language had certainly transformed in her time here, she thought bitterly, slamming her hand into the bathroom door a little harder than necessary to make it open, still reeling from the unexpected emotion.

Jealousy, what the hell? Why the hell would she be jealous of one of Bucky’s sluts?

She wasn’t, she decided, jealous that is. She was just sick of Bucky parading his manwhore ways in front of her. She’d treated plenty of gonorrhea and chlamydia in her ER rotation, she knew what Bucky was really flirting with, and when his cock suddenly sprouted oozing blisters, she would do her best not to laugh in his face.

Her business done; Lev studied her reflection in the cracked mirror. She’d never been unhappy with her appearance before, but then again, she’d never really paid attention to it before either. Her hair was a unique auburn shade, that one of her roommates had spent a whole semester trying to match as she moonlighted at a beauty salon, and she’d never encountered anyone else with eyes the same shade as hers, the same electric violet, like trapped galaxies but she didn’t have the confidence or presence of these women, the lady-balls to wear practically nothing and strut around, sure in the knowledge that all eyes were on them.

The tank top she wore now was the most revealing and risqué thing she’d ever worn and it still made her look like a nun compared to some of these girls, Bucky would never look her way with those other options, not that Lev wanted him to, right?

Goddammit, she was no closer to figuring out her feelings towards that man than she had been a week ago; and not being able to think her way through something both pissed her off and terrified her.

Whatever. Sometimes things just needed to sit, the diagnosis would come when it wanted to, not when you wanted it, that much she’d learned as a resident.

As she made her way back towards the table, praying that the girl was gone, Lev’s ears caught her name and she froze. She was close to them, able to see them but was not yet in the boy’s line of sight and they had apparently decided to discuss her in her absence.

“Lev’s cool, she’s trying.” Clint was saying.

“Yeah,” Steve added. “I mean you can tell she’s nervous, but she’s got courage, I’m proud of her; she’s always making herself face new things, ever since she got here-”

“She’s a princess.” Bucky’s voice was flat. “It’s hard to believe you’re even related. Wouldn’t know a good time if it bit her in the ass.”

Clint and Steve’s strident disagreement were lost in the rush of blood through Lev’s ears, the instant heat to her face. Shame boiled hot in her throat and something low in her chest snapped.

I’ll show you. I do too know how to have a good time.

Changing direction, Lev headed straight for the bar and claimed a stool. Glancing to her right, she saw a woman hold up a few bills and order a number of shots and she followed suit, barking out a brusque ‘tequila, shots’ when the bartender looked her way.

As a row of six was placed in front of her, the stool beside her was suddenly occupied and Lev glanced over, seeing an unfamiliar man smiling shyly at her.

You’ll do.

“Tequila?” She offered, gesturing to the line.

His tentative grin widened, and he turned, searching down the bar for something before facing her again, holding a saltshaker and plate of sliced lemons.

“Tequila.” He agreed.

Lev shivered, which was apparently the point, as the man licked a stripe up the side of her throat. Shaking salt at the wet patch, he licked her again then grabbed a shot glass and winked at her, slamming it in one go. The lemon wedge he’d pushed into her mouth bit her tongue with its acid and then he was kissing her, tonguing the wedge and making her head swim. She swayed slightly as he pulled back, proudly displaying the citrus chunk he’d take from her before pulling it out and setting it on the plate.

The first two shots each they’d taken normally, but for the last one, her new drinking buddy had suggested trying using the salt and lemon, and the smirk on his face as he’d described the procedure should have clued Lev into what was coming next.

“Okay,” he grinned widely at her, taking a fresh wedge. “Your turn.” His last words were slightly muffled around the lemon, but the sight made her giggle and, taking a deep breath, she reached for the shaker.

Hesitating only a moment, Lev leaned forwards and the guy obliged, tipping closer and offering his throat. She closed her eyes and ran her tongue along the cord in his neck, tasting hot skin then pulled back, hand shaking only slightly as she dusted him with salt, then licked again.

The tequila burned and she started coughing, but then the guy was grabbing her by the back of her head and yanking her close, capturing her mouth and forcing both his tongue and the lemon wedge into hers. She struggled, overwhelmed and suddenly dizzy as the three rapid shots of tequila hit her virgin body. Sure, she’d drank before, but only small amounts and never Patron.

The guy’s other hand was suddenly climbing her thigh and Lev squirmed, realizing she’d walked into a potentially dangerous situation and was going to have to figure some way out.

Dammit, she wished instantly that she hadn’t left the safety of the table, because while Bucky was an absolute prick to her, at the very least Steve and Clint would have looked out for her. Now, she was trapped and alone, with no idea if her brother was even looking for her yet.

Unexpectedly, her shot-mate was yanked roughly away, crashing against the counter with a garbled squawk.

“What the fuck are you doing?” A deep voice all but roared and Lev wasn’t sure if the question was aimed at her or the guy still flailing against the bar. She peered blearily upwards, heart sinking when she recognized her nemesis himself towering over her, glowering impressively even for him.

Bucky reached for her, face still twisted with fury and Lev flung her arms out, her tequila-soaked brain slow on the uptake and in no control whatsoever over her limbs. Whether she was trying to ward Bucky away or keep from losing her balance and tumbling over was impossible to say but her hand suddenly connected with his cheek in a sharp backhand.

Bucky’s head snapped to the side, the sound of striking flesh loud in Lev’s buzzing ears. He staggered slightly, either in surprise or from the force of Lev’s hit then turned storm-cloud eyes her way, his jaw clenched so tight his teeth were in danger of shattering.

“Hey- wha da fuck?” The guy he’d pushed away had found his voice, stumbling to his feet, reaching to pull Lev away from Bucky like some favored toy and Bucky exploded at him with an inhuman snarl, fist connecting with the man’s face, throwing him back again. Dimly Lev registered blood flying in a rather interesting arc as the man flew and then her arm was on fire as Bucky dragged her away, literally dragged her, towards the door.

Lev struggled and fought, fists striking Bucky’s torso and arms and maybe even his head as they hit the sidewalk, finally gaining her feet, fury beginning to roar in her veins. She wrenched herself out of his grip a few dozen feet down the sidewalk then whirled to really let Bucky have it when a sudden wave hit her, and she staggered, reaching blindly for support. The railing of a wheelchair ramp hit her hard in the belly and she folded over it as she opened her mouth, letting the tsunami of vomit boiling up her throat escape, flinching as it splashed wetly in the dark. Another wave hit her and she wretched again, gagging and then a hand touched her, soft and gentle, gathering up her hair at the nape of her neck to pull it away from her mess.

Clint, her heart sighed with relief. Her brother was here at last, saving her.

She groaned as the fierce pangs ceased, leaning heavily over the railing, all her strength gone. An arm snaked between her body and the metal, carefully pulling her back upright and Lev swayed, staggering a step to collapse against her brother and tuck into his chest, clawing at his shirt to draw closer with relief, tears threatening then lifted her head to focus on Clint, wiping at her mouth before she thanked him.

Bucky gazed down at her, brow drawn. Faint red showed on his cheek where she’d hit him, but he didn’t look mad anymore, he looked…. concerned.

“Are you alright, doll?” He rumbled. “Did that fuck hurt you?”

A riot of emotions crashed through Lev and, even sober, she wouldn’t have been able to make sense of them and react appropriately.

“Did he hurt me?” She sputtered, absolutely gobsmacked. She slammed her hands against Bucky’s chest and staggered away; pushing away his arms as they reached for her again, to either pull her back to him or at least steady her. “He didn’t hurt me at all, it was you!!”

Had this man not just been a raging beast, punching a man in the face and dragging her away from the bar like some sort of caveman? Where was this sudden gentle concern coming from? Why the hell had he risked touching her while she was sick, gathering her hair back like he had? It was a strangely considerate, intimate thing to do, especially when you despised the person.

Bucky flinched, as if she’d physically hit him and her mind noted hazily how he’d reacted more to her words than either of her strikes. He stepped closer, still reaching for her and Lev smacked his hands away furiously, throwing up a finger accusingly. Her mind was a chaotic, screaming mess; adrenaline coursing painfully through her veins and a detached, clinical part of her mind noted how much she probably resembled the patients she usually treated on wild Friday nights.

“It’s you!” Her voice was almost a shriek now, tears falling freely down her blotchy cheeks. “You’re the one that grabbed me! You’re the one who’s treated me like shit right from the first time I met you! What did I ever do to you? You look at me like I’m dogshit, you IGNORE me! I’m not a princess, I DO know how to have a good time!!”

Bucky’s face went instantly pale and he froze, eyes full of regret. She’d heard him, he realized, that’s why she’d ran to the bar, put herself in danger the way she had, she’d heard him say those hateful things.

Lev stumbled, ankle bending sharply, and fell to one knee with a cry, hands slamming onto the sidewalk. A pained groan spilled from her lips and she collapsed to sit on the curb, burying her face in her hands, rapidly sinking into misery.

A deep, unsteady sigh hit her ears as she registered a heavy form drop beside her, one of Bucky’s wide shoulders bumping against hers as he did. Lev scooted away, glaring briefly at him before dropping her gaze again, struggling to rein in her tears. The only thing that would make this night worse would be if she continued to cry with Bucky seated so close to her.

She tensed to stand, not sure if she was going to try and stumble through the parking lot, searching for Clint’s truck, start just walking, or turn and storm back into the bar and drag her brother out.

“Wait,” Bucky choked, reaching for her but not touching. Something in his voice made her pause and she glanced cautiously back towards him, sniffling, her bottom lip trembling. He sighed unsteadily and dared a glance up at Lev’s face, wincing at the pain and mistrust there.

Lev waited, in truth too dizzy to leap to her feet like she wanted to but also curious as to just what this man could possibly have to say, what was making him look like he himself might start crying.

“I’m sorry.” He finally whispered; eyes lowered. “You’re right, I’ve hurt you and I’m-” he swallowed and, when he spoke again, his voice was lower still and resigned. “I wish to God I’d done different.”

“Like how?”

His eyes flicked to hers, a tiny spark of hope there. He drew in a breath, seeming to search for the right words but then a bellow broke between them.

“Where the hell have you been?!” Clint yelled, storming towards them. He looked genuinely angry, almost violently crossing his arms over his chest and planting his feet, glaring between Lev and Bucky. Steve was right behind him, frowning and his glare seemed to darken as he took in the scene, eyes flicking from Bucky to Lev and back.

Lev stumbled for an explanation and Clint lost patience, reaching for her arm with a huff, but pulling her gently to her feet when she squeaked.

He peered at her, pushing her hair off her forehead and winced. “You puked.”

Lev nodded tiredly. “I just want to go.”

“’Kay.” Clint muttered, glaring momentarily at Bucky again before turning his back to him and ignoring him fully. “Come on, little sister. Steve?”

“Yeah, I’ll take him.” Steve answered, slapping a hand on Bucky’s shoulder when he moved to follow Lev, fixing him with a glare, silently telling him to back the fuck off then pulled his cell phone out to call an Uber.

Lev stayed quiet on the ride home, mind whirling and twisting around itself. She’d finally burst, finally let out the hurt and frustration Bucky’s treatment of her had fostered and, rather than reacting with his usual scorn or indifference, he’d looked chagrined and…. sorrowful, like this was one of his great shames.

Now she was hella confused.

This would have been the perfect opportunity for him to lay it all out, shut her down completely with only a few well-chosen words and instead…. he’d looked like he was about to cry himself. And he’d said he was sorry. For what? His treatment of her just now in the bar, or ever since they’d met?

Clint turned into his driveway and put the truck into park, turning it off but not exiting. The silence built between them, squeezing Lev’s chest.

She caught Clint glancing worriedly at her, hands clenching and unclenching on the steering wheel as he fought with himself, obviously wanting to ask but hesitating and Lev felt a rush of sympathy.

She’d messed everything up, her coming here had triggered something in Bucky and now her brother felt like he had to choose between her and one of his best friends.

She needed to leave. Nat wasn’t back yet, and they would now be short a runner at the shop, but they’d manage.

“Did he-” Clint sounded so torn that Lev almost started crying again.

“No,” she rushed to reassure him. “I was stupid, started doing shots at the bar with some random guy and he got handsy. Bucky stopped him and then I got sick and started puking.” Again, a half-truth rather than a whole lie.

Clint studied her. He was no dummy, for all his wild ways he was a smart guy and he was as capable of connecting the dots as anyone else. “You heard him, at the table, didn’t you?”

Lev shrugged, fighting fresh tears. “It’s true-”

“Lev-”

“I don’t know how to have a good time; I’ve wasted so much time.”

“Hey.” Clint’s voice was sharp, pulling her attention to him. He glanced outside before glaring back at her. “You have not wasted time; you have been working your ass off and making something of yourself. You’re a doctor, Lev. Do you have any idea how proud I am of you? I’m the one who’s wasting my life-”

“No!” Lev sobbed, reaching over and grabbing at Clint’s arm. “You have your own business. You’re a fucking talented artist, don’t you dare say you’ve wasted anything!”

Their mutual outbursts seemed to have cut the tension and, despite the tears still running down her face, Lev felt like she could breathe again.

Clint swiped at his cheek, then chuckled wetly, glancing at Lev. “Did you really just say ‘fuck’?”

“You’re a bad influence.” Lev mumbled, forcing a smile, eyes boring into her brother’s, desperate to convey her sincerity. For all his free-spiritedness, Clint was Lev’s rock and to hear him doubt himself was one of the scariest things she’d ever heard. “But seriously…. You have not wasted your life. Clint, you are amazing, alright? You are a master tattooist with your own business and people love you. I… just wish I knew how to… go with it like you do.”

Clint snorted quietly. “And sometimes I wish I could buckle down like you.” His hand reached to her, the back of his fingers brushing her tears away. “Seriously, little sis; I brag about you all the time, I am so fucking proud of you and the way Bucky is acting-”

“That’s my fault.” Lev broke in. “And the best thing I can do is go home and let everything calm back down.”

Clint looked at her, sorrow bright in his eyes. He hated to hear it, hated the fact that two of the most important people in his life couldn’t seem to co-exist peacefully, but Lev was right.

Still, that didn’t mean he had to like it, or needed to speak more about it tonight.

“C’mon. Let’s go in the house, get some sleep; we’ll talk more in the morning.”

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #au bucky #au bucky barnes #au bucky barnes fanfic #au bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky and lev #bucky x lev #au bucky drama #au bucky angst #au bucky romance #tattooartist!bucky #tattoo!bucky

[transcendencism]

love questions for Thyroh?

Who said “I love you” first?

Theron, most likely, if only because Hyroh was waiting for him to say it first. And it’s not because Hyroh was afraid to say it himself; he was honestly ready to say “I love you“ when he woke up from carbonite in Theron’s arms. Rather, he knows how difficult relationships can be for Theron to navigate, and so he waited for Theron to sort through those complicated feelings and finally feel comfortable enough to say it.

I don’t think it took until the last chapter for The Eternal Throne for Theron to say “I love you” though. I think it was earlier, between Hyroh’s duel with Arcann and the Eternal Empire’s invasion of Voss. I’m torn between Theron actually deciding to say “I love you” or it coming out without him thinking about it because he was so terrified that he was going to lose Hyroh (like right after his duel with Arcann). On the one hand, I think there’s a particular impact of Theron making the conscious decision to finally state it out loud, but also... I’m a really big fan of characters blurting “I love you” when the object of their affection is gravely injured.

What are their primary love languages?

For Hyroh, it’s quality time and physical touch (which can pretty often go hand-in hand). Hyroh feels loved best just when... Theron’s with him. It honestly doesn’t take much more than that. Whether it’s trying (and often failing) to cook a meal together, or going on a long walk through the the woods on Odessen. And, of course, plenty of cuddles and kisses can’t hurt.

Theron is kind of bad at giving words of affirmation (at least at first), but he really appreciates receiving them. He knows Hyroh loves him, and most of the time he doesn’t doubt it, but sometimes old memories and insecurities pop up and he just needs to be reminded through words.

I think he’s also very fond of quality time, as well as acts of service. He and Hyroh both spend a lot of quality time together once they retire, but Theron also takes on a lot of chores when he knows Hyroh isn’t feeling well. It’s not totally unbalanced where Theron is the only one doing chores, but it’s something that he offers to do for Hyroh when he’s having an off day. (This goes back to the quality time thing, but they actually do a lot of chores like laundry, cleaning, dishes, etc. together)

Putting the rest under the cut because fuck this got LONG

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

Oh man, these two are joined at the hip when it comes to cuddling. Hyroh is just one cuddly dude, and considering Theron has spent most of his life touch-starved, it catches him off guard at first, but he comes to appreciate it pretty quickly. I’ve got a whole headcanon about Theron leaning into Hyroh’s touch, to the point where sometimes when Hyroh pulls away, Theron will lean just a little bit into where he just was, trying to chase the touch. He’s touch-starved, I’m telling you.

They aren’t obnoxious about PDA or anything, but they’re not shy about it either, once they’re Officially Dating (not that there was a time when they actually asked each other “do you want to be my boyfriend?”, it just kind of... happened.) Hyroh and Theron will occasionally hold hands in the middle of a meeting, and Hyroh usually greets Theron by touching his shoulder or his back, even in public.

What are their favorite things to do together?

Just going on walks through Odessen! Their favorite way to sneak away from meetings is to go hikes through the wilds, and Theron’s pretty much mapped out the whole place. When they end up moving off the base to their own apartment in the residential area, they love having picnics out there.

Also, based on some cut dialogue about Theron and Torian, I imagine Hyroh and Theron have gone hunting together once or twice. Of course, Mando game hunting is pretty different from Cathar game hunting.

Who’s better at comforting the other?

It depends on what they need comfort for. Theron’s particularly good at being a voice of reason for Hyroh’s more irrational thoughts and worries. Hyroh can get really carried away by his feelings, so having Theron provide a different perspective and guide him away from making rash decisions is really helpful to him.

On the other side of the coin, Hyroh is a really good listener, and pretty much unconditionally accepting of Theron. Whereas Hyroh can get entirely carried away by his emotions, Theron can have a hard time actually figuring out what he’s feeling, and Hyroh’s pretty good at helping him untangle that.

I don’t like the idea that one is “better at comforting” than the other, because... that goes against what Theron and Hyroh’s whole Thematic Elements are about. And that’s also the whole point of them having really strong friendships with other people too: for example, it isn’t like Theron doesn’t like talking to Hyroh about his relationship with the Jedi, but it’s not an experience that Hyroh can relate to. And it doesn’t help that Hyroh was a highly respected member of the Jedi Order, and even though any resentment Theron had about Hyroh being the Jedi he could’ve been is long gone, he feels more comfortable talking about that with someone like Yiress or Oriothe.

Meanwhile, Hyroh has an easier time talking about the bad choices he made in response to the Emperor with Kira or K’tasi, because that’s an experience that they personally understand. Again, Hyroh doesn’t dislike talking about it with Theron, but there’s only so much Theron can do to help. (Not to mention that talking about mystical Force stuff is, and will always be, a sore topic for Theron, and Hyroh respects that and goes to someone else to talk about that)

Who’s more protective?

To be honest...? It might be Theron?

I think long ago, before the carbonite incident, Hyroh was more protective of Theron than vice versa. Hyroh respected Theron, and he knew he was capable, but he still had it in his head that... it wasn’t that he thought Force-blind people were weaker or anything, but he was afraid that Theron wouldn’t be able to defend against the kind of crazy powerful Force-sensitives they were facing. After all, if Hyroh had fallen to the Emperor once, what was stopping something worse from happening to Theron. He was also trying to exert so much control onto his circumstances to keep things from getting out of hand (which was something of a self-fulfilling prophecy: because Hyroh was expending so much energy on trying to stop what he was afraid would happen, he ended up burning himself out and thus The Thing happened anyway), and part of that was keeping Theron safe.

Ziost was really when things turned around: aside from that minor hiccup of crashing his shuttle and Hyroh going to fish him out (but by that point, Theron had taken care of Vitiate’s pawns coming to get him), Theron really proved that he could handle himself, and it was Hyroh that got hurt. And it wasn’t just physical strength: Theron made a mistake, and there was never a point on Ziost where he denied it or made excuses for himself. He took full responsibility for that disaster.

And it all finally clicked when Hyroh, still bedridden on Tython from having been controlled by Vitiate (again), asked Theron to come with him. Theron had just been put on administrative leave from the SIS, and without the SIS to back him up, Hyroh offered him a place on his crew. Hyroh was scared of something happening to Theron, he wanted to protect him. But Theron told him that, no, his place was with the SIS. He wasn’t going to give up on that. It was that moment, his actions on Ziost, and years later when Theron came to get him out of carbonite that made Hyroh realize just how strong Theron is. That isn’t to say he doesn’t ever get protective, he definitely does, but he’s not nearly as overbearing as he used to be.

So, the reason why I say Theron is more protective is... well, you see the shit Hyroh has to face. You see the kind of monsters he’s slain. Theron operates behind the scenes, he works from the shadows, and that is definitely not difficult work by any means. But Hyroh faces things that Theron doesn’t understand, and I think his lingering insecurities about being Force-blind can sometimes come back to bite him because... there isn’t much he can do to protect Theron from people like Valkorion/Vitiate. There isn’t much he can do to defend him from Arcann and Vaylin. Unfortunately, it’s not a battle that can be won through wit and cleverness.

It’s scary for Theron, because he dealt with the Emperor once on Ziost. He knows firsthand the kind of catastrophic destruction he can cause, and it scares the shit out of him that Hyroh is expected to single-handedly fight that kind of power.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

Generally speaking, they’re both physical affection kind of people, however Theron does need words of affirmation now and then.

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

I have an entire playlist dedicated to them.

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

Neither of them have names that can be shortened to nicknames. However, pet names get thrown around a lot. Hyroh is quite fond of “ra svetlobi” (my dear), but the classic “honey” and “babe” are great too. I don’t imagine Theron being particularly crazy about pet names, but he also strikes me as a “babe” kind of man. Maybe that’s just because it’s my favorite pet name.

[ask meme]

#shanfamilydrama #oc: hyroh kaah #ch: theron shan #otp: the feeling's mutual #answered asks #asks: hyroh kaah #sORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG #i just. love these two so much...

[sleepyfountainkingdom]

Marigolds

Pairing: Loki X Peter

Warnings: Gore. Fighting. Biting. Zombie Apocalypse. 

Summary: Loki goes out on a supply run, leaving Peter to guard their current “safe house” of sorts. Things don’t necessarily go as planned for Loki. 

Word Count: 3.6k

Author’s Note: Loki is human in this! Both of them were pretty young when the apocalypse started. I’m also very new to actually posting my works, so if you think I should add more trigger warning tags, please tell me!

Marigolds -  Despair and grief over the loss of love;  The beauty and warmth of the rising sun

Peter was pacing through the store-turned-camp his and his boyfriend, Loki, had managed to set up in the abandoned mall. It’s been a few hours since Loki left for the supply run, and he should be back by now. He had only gone out to get to the pharmacy in the mall to get some water and whatever medicine he could find. He was never out for more than an hour too, and it’s almost been two hours since they said their goodbyes. The boy had to shake his head, doing his best to dismiss the grim train of thoughts. Loki would be fine. He had to be.

Loki was absolutely not fine. When he got to the pharmacy, he had found that a horde of infected had somehow found their way inside. The smart decision would have been to leave, go back to their safe house, and bring Peter with him. But he had never really been the one to make smart and well thought out decisions, more so when it implied that he needed help with something. It was only once the fight had ended and all the infected lay splayed around him dead on the floor and the adrenaline that had once flooded his system faded that he realized what had happened. An infected had managed to take a bite out of his shoulder.

He felt the blood dripping down his back first, and when he looked down he could see it drip down his arm. He stepped over the somewhat decomposed bodies, finding a place not covered in blood and sat down, pulling the gun out of its holster, letting it just loosely lay in his hand as he looked down at the broken watch, wanting to keep an eye on the time. He was honestly just waiting for the symptoms to hit him, knowing that it was just doomed to happen. They always came after an hour after the initial infection. An hour and a half passed at a snail's past, but they never did. There never was a fever, his skin never began to itch, his ability to focus wasn’t impaired, and somehow, even with the blood loss, he still managed to be conscious. 

The only logical thought was that he had to be immune, there was no real other way to explain it; unless the gods he didn’t particularly believe in thought it would have been hilarious to make him turn once he made it back to the camp. He managed to push himself up off the floor using his good arm and untied the flannel that he had tied around his waist and put it on. He didn’t want to scare Peter with the bite, even if the blood was already beginning to seep through the thick fabric. He packed his bag full of water, antibiotic cream, and a few bottles of painkillers before struggling to put her bag on her shoulder. He winced when the pressure was put on his wounded shoulder, and quickly just removed the strap; he would much rather deal with having all the weight on just the one shoulder than deal with that pain all the way back. He hurried, or tried to anyways to make it back to their camp, pushing the door open with his hip. He forced himself to smile through the pain when he saw Peter running up towards him. 

“Loki! You’re okay, oh thank god! I was starting to worry that you were hurt or even worse…” Peter was far too ecstatic at that very moment to notice the blood soaked flannel on his shoulders. Peter took the bag from his boyfriends, laying it gently on the floor before really getting a good look at Loki. It was clear that he had some sort of altercation, he was covered in dirt and had blood splattered across his face, but he didn't seem injured at first. That's when he saw it, the blood on his shoulder, and what blood managed to drip to the floor. Peter took a few steps back, nearly tripping over himself. "Oh god, you're bleeding! Loki what happened?!"

"Huh…? Oh… it's nothing you gotta worry about Peter." Loki picked the bag up off the floor and pushed past his boyfriend to lay the bag on the table. A quiet yet deep sigh escaped him as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a moment before turning around to look at Peter, leaning against the table so he didn't lose his footing. "So nothing happened while I was gone?"

Peter looked up at Loki like he had actually lost his mind in the two hours he had been gone. "Loki, your shirt is practically drenched in blood! You can't just try and change the subject!" While he might not be as observant as Loki, but he could tell in this dim light that Loki was seeming paler than normal, almost white, because of all of the blood loss. 

Loki glanced down at his arm, his mind drifting off into thought just thinking about what had actually transpired. "Well… One could definitely say that."

Peter started to pout, and his eyes started to water, his mind drifting to the unpleasant thought of Loki getting any weaker. "Can you just… please let me look at it? We can't just… leave it and risk it getting infected? We have to clean it Loki… please."

"I…" Loki tried to think of another excuse that he could use to prevent having to show off the bite wound. "Fine, fine…" He looked down to the ground as he pushed himself away from the table that he was using to hold himself up. He focused on his breathing, trying to ready himself for the movement of the flannel which would just send a new wave of pain through his body. He bit the inside of his cheek, another thing that he was doing to distract himself from the pain, while he reached to pull the fabric off his shoulder to expose the bite wound. "Tada…"

The first thing Peter tried to do was ignore the sight in front of him, though it clearly wasn't working. "You… you got bit… why'd it have to be you of all people?" Peter couldn't remember a time when he wasn't with Loki. They had been together since before they're last camp had over ran. 

Loki looked towards his shoulder, a throbbing pain going through it as the bite wound only continued to seep out more blood. "It certainly does appear that way doesn't it…" He took the flannel off completely, it making an unpleasant sound when it was laid down on the table. "There was this uh… horde in the pharmacy we typically go to… I was able to kill them but not before… well ya know…"

"Loki I… I don't think that I can… that I can actually kill you… how much longer do you have…?" Panic was quick to set in, causing Peter's body to shake.

"You mean until I turn…? I mean, unless the gods are feeling particularly cruel, I don't think that's something that you have to worry about Peter… it's been about," Loki looked down at his watch, his brain taking much longer than it should have to read the hands on the clock. "Just about two hours since it actually happened?" He just let his arm fall back to the side and looked back up to meet Peter's eyes. "I honestly feel fine… besides the blood loss, but that's whatever…" He took a deep breath, his body visibly shaking when he did. "Either way, you won't have to kill me. As late as it is, if I do start showing symptoms, I'm fine with effing me myself… you don't really think I would do that to you, so you?"

"Two hours…? How… how is that even possible? You should have turned by now, or at least showing some symptoms… at the very least."

"Do you actually think I have the answer to that question? Peter… Most of those two hours were just spent waiting for the symptoms to come. I wouldn’t have even come back at all if I actually felt any of them coming along… believe it or not, I wouldn’t have done that to you. It’s like I said… I feel fine for the most part… there’s the headache and dizziness from the blood loss like I said, but it’s not the infection… and while I am a good liar, I draw the line when it comes to lying to other people, you know that.” He looked between Peter and the chair near the table and let out an almost defeated sigh. “Fuck it, I need to sit down.” He muttered quietly under his breath and held onto the table he was leaning against as he walked around to the other side, slumping down into the chair when he got there. 

Peter couldn’t help but run over to him, nearly tripping over himself in the process. His imagination started to go wild again, thinking of the horror Loki must have been going through after he was bitten, and here he was tossing around accusations and throwing a fit when he had just spent two hours just waiting for the symptoms, all so Loki could protect Peter. “Well… we need to take care of it… even if you aren’t turning, we can’t just leave it open like that…” Neither of them had actually treated a bite wound of any kind, but the infection that could set in if it wasn’t cleaned and covered could prove just as deadly as turning.

“Peter, what… What is there for us to do? We don’t have enough gauze to cover it, we’ve been running low for a while. I know we don’t have enough rubbing alcohol, but we have plenty of water though it wouldn’t be wise for us to use it all on this since it’s all we have to drink.” Loki looked up to Peter, his face finally showing just how drowsy he was now that he wasn’t holding up the front that nothing was wrong. It really wasn’t bleeding much, the bite wasn’t deep enough to hit any arteries, but it was the amount of time the wound has been bleeding. “I mean really Peter.” 

As much as Peter hated to admit it, Loki was right, but that didn’t deter Peter any. “We don’t have enough to treat it on our own, but I know somewhere we could get more.” He walked closer to get a better look at the bite. It was bad, but it should be treatable with the right stuff. “There’s a vet place just down the hall, say it last time we went out to get food. It hasn’t been broken into yet somehow, but they should have everything we need to treat it, right?” 

“Alright fine, let’s go then…” Loki forced himself to stand up, putting all his weight on his good arm. “Get your bag goo, lord knows how it’s gonna take to actually heal.” He wasn’t about to let Peter go on his own to somewhere that hasn’t been cleared out, not after this happened when he went out on his own.

Peter immediately shook his head and pushed Loki back into the chair; it was a task that was far too easy for it to not be concerning. “Absolutely not Loki, you’re not going anywhere.” He could tell by just looking at him that the man sitting in front of him. “You’re in no shape to go out or get into a fight. I’ll do this myself, you could collapse while we’re out, or bleed completely out. I’ve got this, okay? This place was locked up, there won’t be many inside, if any.” 

Loki looked like he had a protest on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t like the idea of Peter going off on his own, locked or not it just left a bitter taste in his mouth. “Fine…” He took his handgun back out of its holster and laid it on the table. “Go on and go, but if there’s too many you come right back here. Do you understand me?” 

“I’ll run if there’s more than I can handle, you don’t gotta worry about it.” Peter rubbed Loki’s good shoulder, doing his best to try and reassure him. “I won’t be long, give me an hour at most, that’s all I ask.”

“Alright fine… but the moment you leave that door, I’ll be keeping an eye on my watch and if you aren’t back in an hour I will go after you.” It was an empty threat for the most part; Loki was well aware of the fact that he most likely wouldn’t be awake long enough to be able to follow through with it, mainly since he was already starting to feel himself fall asleep.

“I’ll be back, just you wait.” Peter poured the contents of Loki’s bag onto the table, some of the bottles rolling off and hitting the floor. He took it and his own bag with him as he hurried out of the room. He booked it to the vet, already pulling out his key chain that had the lock picks on it. He saw once he pushed the gate up that there was only one infected in the room, trapped under a shelf that had been knocked over for who knows how long by now, but it was an easy target so Peter didn’t complain. He spent half an hour packing what he could in the two large bags before running back to their camp. 

Peter came back to seeing Loki and panicked as he ran up to him. If you looked closely, you could have seen the rise and fall of his chest as his lungs tried to overcompensate thanks to all of the blood loss. Peter sat on the floor and quickly pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol. He took a second to screw off the lid and tore off the seal before quickly pouring some onto the open wound. Loki shot up out of the seat, a loud string of curses flying out of his mouth. He was clenching his hands in an attempt to calm himself down. After a moment he finally looked down towards Peter who was still sitting on the floor. “What the hell was that?”

“Oh uh… Rubbing alcohol.” Peter lifted the bottle somewhat in his hands. He, admittedly, only felt a little bit guilty, and that was only because he knew that he caused Loki pain, but he was awake now, and frankly that’s all he cared about. “I’m not sure how else I could have woken you up.” He sat the bottle down on the floor and looked up to Loki. “What I got from the vet is meant for animals I think, but they should work for now… If you start barking or whatever we can handle that another time.” Peter let out a nervous laugh and forced himself to smile when he looked back up to Loki. 

“Yeah, yeah whatever… Loki slowly lowered himself back down into the chair carefully, and laid his arms back on the table before resting his head back down to get himself in a comfortable position. He looked at the blood soaked fabric of his long past well worn flannel. It had at one point been his brother’s, but he wasn’t even sure if Thor had managed to make it out when their homes were overtaken, and if he was alive how he was supposed to start looking for him. He let out a quiet sigh before turning his gaze to look towards the door. “I’m gonna need a new flannel.” He wasn’t happy about it, but it wasn’t like he was gonna walk around wearing something covered in his own blood. “Might be a good idea to give me something to bite down on too…”

“I’ll get you a new one soon.” Peter rubbed Loki’s back gently, and pushed himself up off the ground finally. He went to where their clothes were put away, and grabbed one of his shirts to bring over to Loki. “I found this poster while I was there… talks about first aid for dog or cat bites…” He pulled the poster out, and rolled it out. “Said to uh… clean it i, put antibiotics on it, then put bandages on it.” He pulled everything that he would need out of the bags, and then pulled out the small sewing kit that he always carried with him. “Hopefully I won’t need to sew it, but we have the sewing kit we found a while ago just in case, and these strip things too.” He scurried off for a moment, running to get a chair so he could better see the bite while he worked on it.

“This is gonna be shitty… Just go on and get it over with.” Loki muttered quietly, mostly to himself, before just stuffing then rolled up t-shirt into his mouth so it could act like a makeshift gag, already biting down on the fabric.

Peter didn’t like being the one that was causing Loki pain, but he shoved that to the side cause he knew that this was something that needed to be done. He poured some rubbing alcohol onto the cotton pad and started to pad the area clean. After a few minutes he was done, and there was a small pile of bloodied cotton pads in front of them but at least the job was done. “There… I’ll let you rest up for a few moments before I continue patching you up.”

Loki pulled the shirt out of his mouth, and took a moment to blink the tears out of his eyes before speaking. “Remind me to never do this again…”

“Well if you wanted someone to bite you, you could have just asked me.” Peter forced himself to smile again, trying to just lighten up the mood.

“Peter, if you took a chunk of skin off me, you and I are gonna have to have a talk, just sayin.” Loki managed to let out a quiet laugh, and glanced up to Peter.

Peter barely kept himself from crying from just hearing Loki still being able to crack jokes at times like this. “Maybe I’ll just nibble a bit then… How… How are you feeling?”

“The stinging for the most part is gone, if that’s what you’re curious about. There’s some uh… tubes of antibiotic cream on the table. You probably saw them when you emptied my bag out but I got them while I was out… Figured you would want to know since you’ll need it.” Loki used one of his hands to point out one of them that had stayed on the table.

“I will, thank you for telling me.” Loki really wasn’t turning. He wouldn’t have been able to think like this if he was. Neither of them really knew how this was possible, but it was a gift, and was one of the few things neither of them would complain about. “Now I’m gonna have to poke around some… just to make sure that thing didn’t leave any teeth in you… and for future reference Loki, how about no more kinky biting games while you’re out, that sounds good enough for you?”

Loki didn’t like to think about just how lucky he was to have been immune, though he could thoroughly imagine that he was out of any good karma that he’s gained since he and Peter made it safely out of their last camp. “Well what can I say, I didn’t expect me brandishing my gun around to have been a turn on for them.”

Peter gave Loki a look that just screamed ‘you’re impossible’ before he leaned forward and pecked his lips carefully. “Alright, let me clean it out and bandage it before you get too cocky again.” He reached down and got a pair of tweezers out of his bag. “Come her, let me poke at ya.” 

Loki just grinned like an idiot when he saw the look on Peter’s face. “Oh shut up, you know damn well that you wouldn’t have me any other way.” He situated himself, moving his arm back to give Peter more access to the bite. “Go on, poke away.” He quickly put the shirt back in his mouth and bit down once more.

Peter took a moment to situate a flashlight in his mouth so he could see the bite more clearly.  He started poking around with the tweezers, pulling out a broken tooth and small shards of glad that he decided that it would be better left unquestioned. He took the flashlight out of his mouth for a moment, wanting to rest his jaw for a moment before finishing up. “Alright, that’s the worst part done and over with.” He reached over and grabbed a roll of bandages. He put the flashlight back in his mouth, and took his time carefully putting them on him, wanting to make sure they were tight. He took the flashlight out of his mouth and laid it on the able, smiling a bit. “Tada! All done.”

Loki pushed himself up and away from the table, and took the shirt out of this mouth, laying it on the table. He was holding himself up with his good arm before just quickly collapsing back into the chair he had been sitting in. “Well that’s certainly not gonna happen right now…” He patted the table softly. “I think I might just… stay here for a little bit.”

#tw gore #tw biting #tw fighting #tw zombie #frostspider #loki x peter #zombie apocolypse au

[kbstories]

Contingent

con·tin·gent (adj.) Dependent on; conditional.

There’s only one thing Trafalgar Law is truly afraid of.

(Or: Bepo will be damned if he loses Law just when he got him back.)

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Nakamaship, Amber Lead Syndrome, Medical Inaccuracies, Childhood Trauma, Medical Procedures, Bepo Needs A Hug, Recovery, Law whumps well and I have no excuse

Read Chapter 1 here. Content warning for discussions of medical procedures.

***

Two minutes.

That’s how long Bepo gives in to the panic building inside him, back pressed against engine-warmed metal and his head heavy in his paws. Two minutes in which his lungs struggle under the imperative to keep breathing, and guilt reaches for his heart with clawed fingers and squeezes. One beats, two, stumbling, unable to catch the inevitable fall–

Kikoku is with him, the red string slung across Bepo’s chest and its guard digging into the meat between his shoulders, an unkind pressure that’s not-quite-pain. Behind him, he can hear Law mumbling indistinctly in his sleep even through the closed door.

Two minutes since he sent the distress signal to the other two Pager Snails that exist on the Polar Tang and Bepo tries not to feel disappointed because nothing about this is fair. Shachi is just following orders, getting their guests settled on the other side of the submarine and Penguin knows it falls to him to keep an eye on the helm when Law isn’t there to do it himself.

Of course it’s Bepo who should’ve paid attention, who should’ve realized Law is walking around exhausted and near-delirious from fever – and who knows how long that’s been going on. It’s no secret that Trafalgar Law is a terrible patient for all that he’s a medical prodigy and it’s always been Bepo’s job to counteract that.

None of the excuses bubbling up his throat like bile can change the fact that Bepo failed Law.

And yeah, he’s going to have words with his captain once all this is dealt with: They might’ve spent the past few months apart but that doesn’t mean Law has to shoulder everything himself. Not anymore. Not ever again, if Bepo has any say in the matter.

For now, all he can do is drag in a breath that feels like it’s dripping fire all the way to his gut and–

Footsteps echo down the hallway, sure and carefree and unfamiliar, and Bepo’s gaze snaps to the sound with the intensity of a predator.

“Oh, it’s you”, says Roronoa Zoro with some relief, like he hasn’t wandered by at the worst possible moment. His lips twitch upwards, into something akin to an amicable smile. “That’s our room, right? No offense to your ship but all these hallways look the same to me.”

He wanders closer still and Bepo–

Bepo growls, low and rattling in his throat, fangs bared. With one harsh step, he’s between Zoro and the door, instincts roaring to life as Zoro’s hand immediately falls to his swords and a wave of something hits Bepo.

An eternity passes in the span of a second; Bepo huffs, loud in the icy silence, not to be cowed. Something softens in Zoro’s eye then, and the pressure eases.

“Something happened”, Zoro states, voice calm. His smile is long gone.

There’s concern there, though, meant to be read plainly like lines on a map. Bepo’s ears perk up first, rising tentatively where they had been pressed flat – he tempers the heat in his blood to a dull thrum, shaking the snarl off his face for good measure.

“Sorry, I– You startled me.”

Zoro merely blinks, waiting for more. There’s a careful edge to his gaze that wasn’t there before and Bepo really can’t blame him. It’s shameful, for a mink to lose themself like that.

Bepo rubs at the fluff of his cheeks and then his eyes, noting with grim satisfaction that they’re dry, untouched by the emotions whirling within him. Dragging any of their guests into this is the last thing Law needs right now.

“It’s nothing we can’t handle. This is Captain’s room, though. You guys bunk all the way across, over there.”

Zoro doesn’t track the direction Bepo points to. His look flicks to the door entirely blocked by Bepo, mouth going flat with tension.

“Traffy doing alright?”

A beat of silence follows the question and, well, Bepo never was the best at lying. “He will be”, he settles on, shoulders stiff and hackles ready to bristle despite himself. “Any chance you met Shachi on your way here? Penguin, maybe?”

It occurs to Bepo that Zoro might not have memorized all their names yet; before he can start explaining Zoro tells him, “No”, simple and honest. Then: “They’re coming, though.”

And perhaps Bepo should start believing whatever the swordsman says in that serious voice of his since, not a moment later, the two burst around the corner, all but running towards them.

“Bepo!”

“Sorry! We came as fast as we could.”

It takes everything Bepo has not to catch both of them in a hug and crush them close to his chest. Their presence alone makes the buzz of anxiety in his veins dim to a bearable level.

“You guys!”

Penguin practically crashes into him, followed half an instant later by Shachi. Tears jump to Bepo’s eyes but Zoro is there and so he blinks them away. The embrace is brief but exactly what Bepo needed – while Shachi throws a confused glance at Zoro (“Seriously? All you had to do was turn left once!”), Penguin ruffles the fur between Bepo’s ears and whispers, “You or Captain?”

Bepo gives him an unhappy frown and well, that’s an answer in itself. “It’s just a scare, I think”, he says vaguely, Shachi’s attention returning without a second’s delay and Penguin’s ever-present smile fading. “I hope. I have to do research, find out what’s– Yeah. Stay with him?”

“Of course”, Shachi promises without missing a beat, and Penguin nods emphatically. “Bart is watching Command and Umi’s keeping everyone busy with the suits. Just give us an update when you can.”

Gratitude swells inside Bepo, one big ball of love that makes his throat feel tight. He nods too, out of words to say but he knows there will be time for those. Later, when the desperation on Law’s face doesn’t haunt his every step.

Penguin and Shachi disappear through the door quickly thereafter. A few feet away, Bepo catches Zoro scratching his neck and turning to leave, and he’s taking a step towards the swordsman before he can stop himself.

“Zoro, wait.”

He does, one eyebrow raised. “Hm?”

“You guys – Franky, Usopp, Robin, you – you were there, right? At Dressrosa. You saw what happened.”

And Bepo knew that Dressrosa was a mess, but to see a warrior as infamous as Pirate Hunter Zoro grimace at the mere mention of it is… Well. Not a great sign, all things considered.

It only serves to solidify Bepo’s resolve, though. There, with his captain at his back, Bepo bows his head, ears folded to the side as he humbles himself before Strawhat’s first mate.

“I know you’ve already done plenty – you brought my captain back alive, and I can’t ever repay you for that – but… Please. I need your help.”

There’s a flash of surprise on Zoro’s face, then he shakes his head, slowly. Bepo’s heart clenches, paws turning to fists inside the orange sleeves of his suit.

“Raise your head, Bepo. Did you forget? Without you, Luffy wouldn’t be out there, off to fetch our idiot cook – and I wouldn’t be here. Alliance or no, it would be foolish of me to go back on a life debt like that.”

Bepo looks up and catches a glint of anguish, hidden deep in that singular eye of Zoro’s. It’s been years and yet, the question why the Strawhats didn’t follow their captain into war returns to his mind like an old acquaintance.

There’s a time and place for that, too. Perhaps one day, he will be lucky enough to hear the story from the source itself.

For now, Bepo swallows it all down. He whispers, “Thank you”, and he doesn’t apologize: There is no regret in his heart, for any of it.

*

“I need to know what happened. All of it.”

The Strawhat Pirates share a look among themselves, expressions ranging from mild surprise to sympathy, and Zoro nods at Bepo when their eyes meet. In that measured tone of his, he tells them, “Traffy’s sick”, and it seems to be all the context the others need to comply.

Franky says: “I wasn’t there for most of it. Luffy told me to go all out on that SMILE factory, so I did.”

Usopp says: “Same here. I saw flashes of them fighting their way to the palace and I helped where I could but… Well, I’m a sniper, y’know? ‘s not my job to brawl.”

Zoro says: “Law got shot by that bastard Mingo. Looked pretty gruesome. Lost track of ‘em after ‘cause Captain needed his back free.”

Robin says: “I know what happened afterwards”, and Bepo takes a moment to react because he’s still processing the information that Doflamingo shot Law. He shot him. After all he did, he shot–

Law is powerful but his Devil Fruit is a paramecia-type. Underneath it all he’s still human.

Law is strong but there’s a reason why he flinches at the sight of guns, and Bepo hates Doflamingo.

Robin’s eyes are calm, her smile small but kind. An exhale shudders out of Bepo’s mouth.

“Tell me. Please.”

The story, for all it’s full of heroics and victories all around, is not a pretty one. Bepo remembers Law’s voice when he told Bepo, pretty fucking horrible, he had said but there’s horrible and then there’s that.

Robin speaks, and Bepo detaches himself from the mental images rushing through his brain and focuses instead on the list Law gave him. Viruses, iron deficiency, infection– Amber Lead.

“Traffy was barely conscious for the part with his arm but he insisted on doing his own medical care, afterwards. Chopper wasn’t with us so there was no reason to deny him that.”

Chopper.

Bepo’s head snaps up from the blank-eyed stare he’d slipped into while listening, and Robin’s brow moves with subtle emotion. “Do you want to talk to him? They should be at sea still.”

There’s a choice to be made there, one Bepo never even considered because Law’s past is theirs and nobody outside the original three of the Heart Pirates should ever know, much less without Law there to consent to it. Even thinking about it feels dangerously close to betrayal and Bepo would rather run to the next-best hatch and let the ocean crush him into nothingness than go behind Law’s back on anything.

But.

“Did Law… Did he say why he wanted that asshole dead?”

Bepo is nervous the answer will be a resounding no, and all four Strawhats look a little puzzled by the question. Again it’s Zoro who speaks first, humming pensively.

“Luffy wanted the guy gone, too. That was enough for us but… Traffy told Luffy, I’m pretty sure. Captain was pretty vicious and that only happens when one of us is hurting.”

One of us.

It’s that that makes Bepo clench his jaws and blink rapidly, a few tears escaping regardless. Law didn’t just make allies, out there by himself. He made friends, and Bepo feels his doubts melt away inside him, heartbeat by heartbeat.

“Okay. Let’s call Chopper.”

Countless fathoms deep, the snail takes longer to connect. They use the customized one brought along by the Strawhats – a miniature hat is placed on its shell, crafted with a lot of care – and it awakens with surprised, brown eyes.

“Zoro? Is that you? What happened?”

Nami. Bepo motions for the receiver before Zoro can say much. The man shrugs and complies.

“Nami. It’s Bepo, navigator of the Heart Pirates.”

“Oh, Bepo. No need to be so formal, I remember you. We’re allies, you know?”

“Yes, of course. I apologize. Is Doctor Ch–”

In the background, someone asks, “Bepo?” and suddenly the snail’s expression shifts to one that’s unmistakably Luffy. “Future Pirate King here! Is everything okay with Traffy?”

Bepo’s fingers tighten around the snail. Damn Strawhat and his instincts. Around him, the Strawhats share a round of fond eye-rolls.

“Um. He’s not feeling too good right now. That’s why I’m calling, actually. Is Chopper around? It’s important.”

“Oi, Chopper! Traffy needs your help!”

For a third time, the snail adapts to a new speaker, eyes going round and curious. “Doctor Traffy?”

“Ah, no, sorry. It’s Bepo. I need to ask you something.”

“Oh! Sure, go ahead.”

All eyes fall on him. Bepo takes a deep breath, then: “Do you– Amber Lead. Do you know what that is?”

There’s a sharp inhale close to him and Bepo glances over to see Robin’s eyes go wide. That’s a yes, then.

“Amber–? I… think so. I read a paper about it once? It’s–”

“Poison”, Bepo says, voice flat and allowing no other answer. “It’s an ore that was mined at Flavence, North Blue. If… if you read about it then perhaps you know what happened there.”

A noise of protest, coming from Usopp. “Wait, wait, I’m out of the loop on history stuff. What–?”

“Flavence, also known as the White City.” Robin’s brow is drawn in subtle lines. “The town was rich but the population grew sick from being exposed to the ore for generations. The disease was said to be highly contagious and…”

“The Government locked everyone up and killed them all”, Bepo finishes, that old familiar heartache turning the words into a snarl. “All except for one.”

A stunned silence. Even Zoro looks a little pale at the implication, and Bepo closes his eyes and lets go of the tension in one breath, shoulders slumping.

“Amber Lead Syndrome, it… It shows as white blotches on the skin. The poison shortens one’s life span to nothing, and when I met Law, he should’ve already been dead but he wasn’t. He found a cure and lived.”

The snail is teary-eyed and Chopper’s voice is more wobbly than stable. “That’s… That’s incredible.”

“Bepo-bro… Why tell us all this?”

Franky had been so quiet that Bepo forgot he was even there. The cyborg is wiping his eyes furiously, mouth sloped downward but his gaze shines with the sincere need to understand.

“Because I need to ask. What are the chances of an illness like that coming back years later?”

It’s so quiet that the Tang’s monotone song is the only thing to be heard. Bepo’s vision goes blurry around the edges and he sniffs, the weight on his shoulder almost crushing him then and there.

“Don’t spare me i-if… Please. I just– I need to know. There aren’t any new spots but he’s running a fever and he can barely stand straight. Law said there’s no way to tell for sure without c-cutting himself open again and I won’t let him. Not unless there’s any other option–”

“Bepo. Traffy won’t die, okay?”

Even repeated by the snail, Luffy’s voice is strong, rock-solid with determination.

“I kicked Mingo’s ass so he can be free and live however he wants. There’s no way he’s dying after all that. Chopper, tell him.”

And Bepo knows, he knows that Luffy is aware things don’t always work out just because he wants them to; the man stormed a prison and fought a war and cried his soul out to learn that lesson. Hope lights in his heart all the same, flickering bright against the tears still rolling down Bepo’s cheeks–

“I’d have to examine him myself to say for sure but it is unlikely he’s still affected. Even dormant, chronic conditions tend to flare the worst under duress, not after.” Chopper hmms, pensive. “Did Traffy say anything else?”

Shaking his head, Bepo remembers belatedly they can’t see it. He rubs his arm across his snout, wiping away snot and residue tears. “No. Just that his body hurts and that he can’t focus.”

There’s a tap on Bepo’s shoulder and an hand next to his knee, gesturing for the receiver. Reluctantly, Bepo gives it away and watches it wander from palm to palm until it reaches Robin.

“Chopper.”

“Robin! Hey!”

She chuckles. “Hello. Could those symptoms be caused by an old or badly-healed wound? Traffy was already in quite a bad state before being dragged across the battlefield and fighting his nemesis to near-death.”

All Bepo can do is focus on his breathing. Still alive. He’s still alive. “Sorry ‘bout that”, comes from Luffy and he sounds genuinely somber about it.

Zoro huffs. “You did what you had to do.”

“Bepo”, Chopper talks over them without much hesitation, and Bepo straightens up, makes a noise of acknowledgement. “Traffy’s arm. Have you taken a look at it yet? The wound was healing okay last time I saw it but with those symptoms… Infections can always happen, especially given how the wound came to be. It would explain the fever, too.”

Bepo isn’t a doctor – and neither are Shachi and Penguin – yet all of them have served as assistants during difficult operations, the ones that take hours and leave Law wiped out enough to sleep through the night and the morning after too.

All kinds of things can happen to wounds, and Law’s arm was cut off by strings... It makes sense. The thought takes a moment to settle in Bepo’s mind. It makes sense. It’s not Amber Lead.

We can fix this.

“I haven’t but I will. What do I have to do?”

Through the snail, Chopper crinkles his nose. “You won’t like it. If it really is an infection, he needs a full dose of strong antibiotics and… Well, you have to practically re-do the stitches.”

Distantly, Bepo feels his stomach turn. “You mean…?”

“Yeah. If Traffy didn’t notice the wound festering it’s probably because the infection sits deep in the muscle. The wound needs to be drained and cleaned properly and that means cutting it open again. Sorry, I know it’s… not what you want to hear.”

All this time, Kikoku rested calmly against Bepo’s back but the mere thought of wielding it against its owner makes Bepo hyperaware it’s there. He swallows whatever complaints he might have and says:

“Okay. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it.”

Suddenly, Zoro is there, gaze hard as he murmurs, “Don’t be stupid”, and Robin is offering him the receiver before he can snatch it out of her grasp.

“Captain.”

“Hm? Zoro?”

“I’m gonna cut up Traffy.”

Oh, that’s an even worse idea than anything Bepo could come up with. “What?! No, no, absolutely n–”

“Okay. Be nice though.”

Bepo gapes at Zoro and the swordsman stares back. “Look. You can either try your hand at using that without any experience – or you can leave it to me. Besides: Do you really want to raise a sword against your own captain?”

“… No”, murmurs Bepo, eyes dropping to his feet. He wrings the front of his suit with his paws, unsure what to do with the mix of relief and guilt and hope pulsing in his chest.

“I’m in your debt. Thank you, all of you.”

Zoro just groans. “This again?”

Before Bepo can do more than shoot him a disgruntled glare, Usopp speaks up next. “Man, are you kidding?” He looks at Bepo like he’s grown a second set of ears, lips pouted and brow creased in concern. “Traffy’s our friend. And he saved Luffy.”

“Yeah!”, comes from the snail, its head bobbing enthusiastically.

“It’s in our interests to keep our ally alive. Chopper, how much do we charge for medical advice?”

“Nami!” Chopper is laughing, though. It’s a good sound, full of optimism. “Things will be okay, Bepo. Let us know how it goes?”

“We will”, Franky promises in Bepo’s place, an easy-going grin on his angular face. “It won’t do to cut our adventure short. I still need to figure out how the Tang can dive this deep without getting crushed!”

One of Robin’s hands pushes Franky’s mouth shut, another patting Bepo’s back gently. Robin smiles and despite himself, Bepo does too, taking the confidence he finds in her and making it his own.

“Go back to your captain, Mr. Bear. I’m sure he’s already waiting for you.”

*

It gets worse before it gets better. Those had been Chopper’s words, tinny through the speaker of the snail. The pills should help him sleep through most of it. His body needs to replenish a lot of blood on top of everything else but… The worst is behind him. You did it, Bepo!

A part of Bepo’s brain had soaked up the information like much-needed water in a desert: Chopper had sounded satisfied with their work, relieved even, and on some level Bepo had been aware his previous reassurances had perhaps been more optimistic than the situation truly warranted.

Okay, he’d said, and thank you, and he’d promised Luffy to call in a few days time – after the date of the wedding, but that went unsaid. With Law’s life on the line, Bepo had entirely forgotten the other time bomb steadily ticking towards zero.

Bepo sits at Law’s bedside, eyes unfocused and head filled only with the rush of blood in his ears. The room is virtually unchanged from when he carried Law out (barely conscious, questions a half-coherent rasp against Bepo’s neck) and brought him back hours later, deathly still and arm wrapped in thick layers of gauze.

To call the operation gruesome would’ve been a compliment to it. The image of Law’s blood spilling across the tiles of his own operating room is one that will follow Bepo into his dreams for weeks to come.

Lethargically, his gaze moves from pristine covers to Law’s face. His features are slack with unconsciousness, the rings under his eyes bruise-like against the pallor of his skin.

Out of the three of them, Shachi has the calmest hands and thus he was the one to sew everything back in place while Penguin stayed behind to clean up the mess. For a while after, the captain’s cabin had held all four of them: Bepo at his spot at Law’s side, eyes fixed on Law’s chest that barely shifted with every breath; Penguin and Shachi all anxious pacing at first and nearly collapsing when the adrenaline inevitably gave way to bone-deep exhaustion.

Bepo practically had to throw them out to catch some sleep. That was the second time in 24 hours he’d had to yell at those he considers family, and it didn’t move a single thing in him. His heart hangs limp in its tangle of veins, wrung dry of any emotion Bepo had to give.

Now it’s just him and Law again.

Reaching out, Bepo ignores the tremor in his fingers in favor of pushing back sweat-soaked hair. His mouth twists unhappily at the heat he finds there. The fever has yet to break, Law’s cheeks tinged an uncomfortable pink – his brows draw together at Bepo’s touch, and he hopes the cool press of his palm brings him some relief, at least.

This is exactly what Chopper’s warning had been all about. It doesn’t make any of it easier.

“It wasn’t Amber Lead, Captain.”

The words come unbidden to Bepo’s lips, a rough whisper that is lost to the suffocating silence around them. Swallowing heavily, Bepo keeps combing ink-black strands and imagines that it makes a difference, that it helps ease some of the tension around Law’s closed eyes.

“You hear me? You’re cured, and it’s not coming back. You’re gonna be okay.”

A drop of sweat trickles down Law’s temple; carefully, so carefully, Bepo wipes it away. He rests the back of his hand against Law’s pulse point. Lingering, just to feel the too-quick beat of Law’s heart.

“B’po?”

Bepo’s own pulse skips a beat. “Law?”, he asks, voice hushed with quiet hope. His thumb traces along the line of Law’s cheekbone, paw pad brushing shifting lashes until–

Law’s eyes are molten gold, shining with fever, not-quite-there.

“B’po.”

Bepo smiles so wide it hurts, eyes crinkling with it. “Yeah, ‘s me. I’m here. Welcome back, Captain.”

Law smiles too, the skin on his lips a little cracked.

“’m alive.”

Bepo nods and he’s crying, tears leaving moist dots on the sheets. “You are. You are.”

With a slow blink, Law reaches for Bepo’s face, the tips of his fingers brushing his nose clumsily. “Don’t… Don’t cry, Bepo.”

Bepo holds his hand and presses it against his cheek, nodding weakly. “Okay, Captain.” He feels Law’s fingers twitch weakly against his, trying and failing to hold on to him, too.

“Hey, ‘s okay. I’m gonna be okay.”

“I know. I’m sorry, so s-sorry.”

It’s like he can’t stop saying it, apologizing over and over against the back of Law’s hand that’s wet with his regret, his guilt. There’s a quiet noise of distress and Bepo looks up to see one, then two tears drip from Law’s lashes, trailing down his face in glinting lines.

“I dreamed of Cora, Bepo. I saw ‘im. He… He looked so happy.”

Bepo whines in his throat but Law shushes him, smile growing, showing a glint of teeth.

“I’m glad. I missed his stupid smile.”

“Law”, Bepo breathes, because Cora is dead and so was Law, almost, almost. “Please. Please.”

What he’s asking for, he doesn’t know – Law understands him all the same, like he always does, like he always will. “Bepo”, and his name is so much more coming from Law’s mouth.

“Don’t be scared. Not leaving you behind, remember? I promised.”

And Bepo has long forgiven him for almost going back on his word. The important thing is that Law came back, just as he returns to him now too, rosy-cheeked and glassy-eyed but there, alive. “Honest?”, Bepo asks him helplessly, nuzzling close to Law’s wrist.

Feeling his pulse against his lips, beating, beating.

“Honest”, Law tells him, soft with affection and it sounds like always, like forever. A promise that paints the Polar Star in Bepo’s sky, ensuring he can bring them home each and every time.

#one piece #fanfiction #trafalgar law #bepo #one piece fanfiction #whoo boy this one got long #anyhow team wano took a nice long vacation after this 'cause gotdamn they deserve it #this fic is also on AO3! #my stuff

[football15-7fics]

Little Princess - Chapter 11

June 24, 2017

After having a medical stay at the clinic for three days, Adrianna was finally allowed to return home.  The doctor had signed her medical release form in the morning, but she still had to be cautious about her health and the baby.  She was prescribed some pain relievers for her painful hand and arm, and tons of pregnancy supplements that should be taken on a strictly daily basis. Now that she decided to get the baby, her lifestyle would change drastically, as well her food habits, physical activities should get monitored as well.  Adrianna agreed to follow her doctor's advice carefully.

Despite of the fact she had her medical stay at Dortmund's best private clinic with all of the VIP treatment, Adrianna couldn't wait to get back home. Her dad being off the city due to another business commitment, her mother Ericka and Claire would come to pick her at the clinic. The nurse had Adrianna's stuff already packed in her bags.  These have been so nice to her during her stay, Adrianna couldn't complain at all.  The medical staff of the clinic was known for its efficiency and the wellbeing of their patients were their top priority. The patients had a meal menu card of their choice, as the clinic had a four star cooking chef.  With all of that luxury, the clinic had more the aspect of a hotel which seemed to be well appreciated by the richest Dortmund's people.

During her hospital day, her phone had been her dearest companion.  It allowed her to keep in touch with her friends, family, the boys and her fans. As the daughter of Philip Braün, Adrianna was a nice aim for the local press.   As they spread the news that she was implicated in a car accident, Adrianna received comfort and support from her fans on Instagram.   Pictures of her wrecked Porsche SUV looked terrible, questioning herself many times how did she survived this. Mats has called her since the moment he found out about the accident, he promised he would come to pay her a visit. BVB'S boys had her phone buzzing with tons of messages and comments via her Instagram.  Their sweet words made her melt with happiness, she just couldn't wait to see each of them.

Sitting on the bed, her phone in hands, she had called her mom for the tenth time as she was supposed to come at one in the afternoon and the clock was showing half past one. "Come on, well the hell are you mom!" She grumbled.  Impatience was starting to get on her.

"Hello baby…" Claire erupted in the bedroom, exuberant with joy, as her mom followed behind.

"Hey… oh gosh where have you been, I Was getting worried!" Adrianna sighed with relief, her lips curved with a gorgeous smile.

"Aww boo, I'm sorry, my phone battery died… you feeling good?" Ericka bent over to kiss her daughter's forehead.

"My wrist is still in pain and I feel tired, but I'm okay, can we leave already?" Adrianna made her puppy eyes that none of her parents could refuse anything.

"Yes love, I just need to get the medical bills paid and we can go!" Her mom said as she looked up for her wallet in her black Chanel bag but didn't find it to her bad surprise.

"Damn, I can't find my wallet, I think it's in the car, I'll get it then head to the billing office!"

"Wait, I'll get it for you, just hand me the car key, then you head the billing office because this procedure takes ages!"

"Alright, here is the key, and I won't be long Adri, just hold on for a few minutes and you'll be home!" Ericka smiled as she and Claire left Adrianna on her own again!

"Really, thank you for leaving me alone!" Adrianna pouted with a childish face expression.

"Thank you very much!" Adrianna shouted in annoyance.

"Thank you for what?" A familiar voice to Adrianna echoed in the room, she could recognize his voice anytime and anywhere.

"Roman…" She screamed with excitement as she threw herself in his arms for their friendly hug.  He had her so tight against his chest.

"Hey baby, you okay?" He asked caressing her hair.

"Now yes!"

"I brought a friend, he really wants to see you!"

"Who?" Adrianna asked curiously until her voice cut off.

"Hey Adrianna!" She recognized Jadon's sweet voice which made her smile.

"Jadon, what a surprise!" She shook her head.

"I have wanted to see you at the moment I knew you had your car accident!"

"Aww yes, did you!"

"Yeah, but I thought you might need some rest first, and I'm really sorry about what happened to you!" Jadon spoke with the sweetest voice ever.  Adrianna could feel all of his honesty through his brown eyes and his voice.

"Thank you Jadon, really thank you, you are being too nice!"

"You deserve it!" He smiled, his eyes never went off Adrianna.

"So, are you free to go home?" Roman asked.

"Yeah, mom and Claire are paying the bills, and I should be okay and free to go!"

"Great, well Jadon and I are heading off to Brackel, the Champions League game is on Tuesday and we're fucking stressed to play against Madrid, gonna be a tough one!"

"Oh gosh, is it on next Tuesday? Shit I totally forgot about it!" Adrianna exclaimed foolishly.

"It's okay, after what happened it's alright to forget some memories!" Roman tried to reassure his friend, his hands on Adrianna's shoulder.  Unknowingly, Jadon witnessed that friendly moment of theirs, but was fuming inside.  He just hated the idea that other men had the right to touch her. He tried to maintain his coolness by checking his phone notifications.

"Really, no way, but anyway, I'll come to the stadium, not a few scratches and a painful wrist won't make me stay home, I'll come!"

"I wouldn't advise it, you need rest, but that's my point of view, you decide!" Jadon introduced in between Roman and Adrianna conversation.

"I do feel good Jadon, but thanks!"

"Bae, I think I'll agree with Jadon on this one, you still need plenty of rest, and a stadium to the fullest won't be of any help!"

"No, I'll go to the stadium, even with a fever I'd come!!!" Adrianna bragged herself, shrugging her shoulders.

"Damn, you way too much stubborn Adri!" Roman gave in, earning a laugh from Jadon.

"Blah blah blah!" Was her response to Roman.

"Miss Adrianna Braün?" A nurse invited herself to the conversation.  She had several pills boxes in a white tissue bag with the Clinic symbol printed on it.

"Yes…" Adrianna answered politely.

"So here are your medicines, the painkillers, iron tabs and the pregnancy supplements, make sure to take them, and read the prescription please!"

Adrianna remained mouth opened, she felt a cold running down her spine.  The word pregnant had her to feel the creeps. She stared at Roman with big eyes, sending him a message to get help from him on this one, then stared back at Jadon then back again to the nurse.  Jadon looked extremely confused, his eyes never ceased blinking. The tension grew to its peak, Adrianna felt she was losing her own shits.

"Oh, eum, there must be a mistake with the prescription, I'm not pregnant!" Adrianna smiled idiotically.

"Euhm, but it's written down here Miss, read and signed by your doctor!" The nurses looked carefully again at the prescription.

"Are you insinuating that I'm lying Madam?" Adrianna fumed aggressively at the nurse.

"No, no, I'm just reading what's written down…"

"I don't give a shit what's written on that damn paper, do you need me to have a pregnancy test just to prove I'm not pregnant!" Adrianna was totally yelling.

"Miss, please calm down, please, I'll ask your doctor again, maybe there is a mistake, someone will come to you shortly!" The nurse's hands were shaking with fear, her face turned pale, a completely astounded left the bedroom with tears down.

"Wooow, you went hard on the nurse, she is just doing her job!" Jadon exclaimed eagerly, with awkward eyes staring at Adrianna.

"Well, she is not doing her job that well I guess!"

"It's a… it's a mistake, and mistakes do happen, remember that!" Jadon said as he left the bedroom with unhappy feelings.

Adrianna could breathe again, the heaviness on her chest eased off, but left with mixed feelings.  She did feel so bad for the manner she had spoken to the nurse being conscious she was so wrong.

"My godness Adrianna, what was that?" A puzzled Roman asked.  "That was fucking close, fucking close!" He insisted on the two last words, blinking his eyes constantly.

"Gosh… fuck!" Adrianna said, shaking her head.

"Oh yes fuck Adri, do you realise what just happened here?!" Roman asked straight.

"Yes, I'm not that dumb, I realize it's uneasy for you!"

"Do you, really, do you!!!! When the fuck are you going to tell Jadon he is the father of that baby!" He said straightly pointing his finger to her belly.

"I don't know!" She yelled, raising her voice.

"Adrianna, listen to me, I don't want you to get sick with all this stress going around you,   but, Jadon is young but far from stupid, hiding your pregnancy forever is never going to work, your bump will get bigger, and he will know, today was a reminded, have you seen his face expression when the nurse told about your pregnancy supplements?"

"I know!"

"He should know, he's still so young but he's a great guy, try to get to know him better, spend some time together, it's not like you're gonna get married, you must tell him before it's too late!"

"What do you mean by too late?"

"He likes you, a lot, you better tell him he's going to be dad while he's still liking you, instead of telling him when he'll found out by himself and hate you for good, think on it and quick because time is running out, excuse me but I have to go now, take care of you!" Roman kissed Adrianna's forehead and immediately walked away from his friend.

"But I'm too scared to do this on my own, I'm so afraid to go through this again!!" Adrianna mumbled under her breath, swiping off the tears with her finger, flowing from her eyes.

#roman bürki #roman burki #jadon sancho #jadon sancho-little princess #jadon sancho fanfiction #football fanfiction #non football stuff

[demaury]

boys online. chapter 1. (social media influencers au)

7916. 124. 10. These are the numbers that define Eliott and Lucas’ relationship, either they want it or not. 7916 kilometers between them, from Paris to Vancouver. 124 days since they first said ‘I love you’ last spring. And nearly 10 hours, until… well, until they meet for the first time. (ao3)

It’s around 8 at night, and Lucas is already halfway done packing when the truth hits him square in the face with the strength of a truck launched at full speed. “I’m going to be sick,” he stammers, wide eyes falling on the two folded pairs of boxers he’s holding.

Oh boy. He’s so going to be sick. He can feel it, the way his stomach is churning painfully and his eyes are flickering from one corner of his vision field to the other. The worst part is that he has no idea why it’s hitting him now, but all of a sudden there’s a fucking precipice opening in the middle of his bedroom and threatening to swallow him for good.

From the bed, Manon peers above her phone. She’s sitting on a pile of wrinkled clothes that he was absolutely sure he had already packed up. “I already told you there’s nothing to worry about taking a plane. You’ve done it before.”

Lucas’ eyes snap up at her. “I’m not scared about taking a plane,” he huffs, trying to ignore the way his heartbeat is suddenly thrumming behind his ribcage. He’s taken tons of planes before, and he never gave it so much as a second thought. “I’m scared shitless about Eliott.”

Manon quirks a brow. “Eliott,” she repeats flatly, almost in a deadpan, “the guy you’ve been in love with for at least six months and that you’ve been dating for three of them.”

Lucas glares, throwing his pair of boxers in the mess that is already his suitcase. “Eliott, the guy who’s seen me in person only fucking once.”

Fuck he thought he was handling it well, the whole ‘I’m meeting my boyfriend for the first time’ thing, but apparently he isn’t, and it had to dawn on him the night before he’s set to leave for the other side of the ocean to spend two amazing weeks with the one person on Earth he’s been dying to touch and kiss and hug for six fucking months.

“You’re facetiming like, six times a day, and you guys met once already, as you said,” Manon waves. “He knows what you look like, relax.”

“It’s not about-,” he snorts, but his voice trails off.

It isn’t about what he looks like. He’s not self-conscious, he knows he’s cute and he knows he can be hot when he sets his mind to it — even back when he was in the closet he had more game with girls than his straight friends. It’s just that he’s suddenly terrified. Terrified that maybe, justmaybe, they might not be as compatible as they think they are.

“What if I’m a bad lay,” he blurts out, hands falling to his hips.

“Did you ever get any complaint?” Manon asks bluntly.

“No,” he scoffs.

“Then you’re not a bad lay,” she shrugs. It’s a fucked-up logic and he’s dying to speak his mind about it, but she’s already leaning forward to glance at the content of his suitcase, her phone dropping between her crossed legs. “Honestly, it sounds like you’re just trying to find excuses to worry at this point.”

“Like you weren’t a mess when you met Charles after IFYE last year,” Lucas retorted, “and you guys were just hanging out back then.”

Their manager had shipped him and Manon to Toronto the year before to attend IFYE (the International Forum for Young Entrepreneurs) and they had met a bunch of people there, including Charles and his buddy Alex who had launched an app putting together companies and students looking for summer jobs. Manon had immediately awarded Charles the ‘biggest self-entitled jerk’ title, only for them to start dating six months later — something that Lucas isn’t anywhere near to let die down.

Manon squints her eyes at him but doesn’t bother replying, settling for rummaging through his suitcase instead. She exhumes one of the pair of boxers he stashed there two minutes before, a camouflage-patterned one he hasn’t even meant to take with him in the first place. “I don’t think there will be any problem with him peeling the clothes off you,” she says, “but let’s put all chances on our side.”

Lucas gives her a look and snatches the underwear from her hands, before shoving it back in the safety of his underwear drawer. “You’re not helping,” he grits out, scowling, as Manon laughs entirely too long at her own joke. “I’m freaking out because, like, what if he doesn’t like who I am? Or what it’s like being with me? What if he’s just too cool for me?”

Manon rests her elbows on the edge of his suitcase. “It’s going to be just fine. You’re freaking out, and it’s okay, but I can assure you it’s going to be alright. Eliott loves you, the real you, and you’ve been sharing stuff and caring for each other for months now.” She tilts her head. “So what if you two never kissed yet? You guys want to be with each other, and trust me, plenty of people who do kiss and do tons of other stuff beside kissing don’t want to be in a relationship nearly as much as you.”

Lucas purses his lips, running a hand through his hair. “Damn, what is it like when you don’t take it seriously,” he mutters.

Manon huffs a laugh. “Alright. You know what? You’ll want to do a lot of things when you’re there and none of them is ironing your wrinkled clothes,” she says, frowning at the amount of clothes he shoved haphazardly in his luggage. “Bring me something to drink and I’ll see what I can do with your pathological inability to fold clothing items.”

It takes him a second to nod and decipher whether he can trust her with his stuff, then he goes to the kitchen. It’s not like he’s got something to hide from her, they’ve known each other for four years now — as long as he’s been in Vancouver, give or take three months — but he blames it on the everlasting side-effect of being in the closet for a bunch of time and having to watch his every move even at home. To this day he still isn’t sure if his dad is okay with his sexuality and just doesn’t speak about it with him because they are an emotionally constipated single-parent home, or if he’s just acting like nothing happened — like Lucas never came out to him — out of sheer denial. Even the fact that his dad’s the reason he hasn’t been able to fly to France sooner doesn’t quite provide a defined answer.

“You’re not flying to the other side of the world just because you met someone on the internet a month ago,” his dad had decreed when Lucas had first brought it up, last spring, and that’s when Lucas had been reminded how bad being 17 sucks. He’d been making money, meeting people, flying for business purposes, signing contracts, and yet up until last July and his 18th birthday he was unable to meet with his very own boyfriend simply because his dad wasn’t willing to allow him to leave the fucking country.

No need to say he wasn’t thrilled when Lucas told him he was leaving a few days ago, but he didn’t make an attempt to prevent it either. “Just promise me you won’t see your mother without me,” he had said. “If you want to go, I’ll go with you, but I’ve got too much work right now to leave everyone hanging, so we’ll see about that next Christmas.”

Lucas had shrugged, because going to see his mom wasn’t really a part of the plan, but he had promised anyway and that was left to that. His dad is a notoriously very busy man and so the amount of time Lucas is spending with him in a week is generally narrowed down to a quick hello and a quick goodbye every now and then, so he can’t say living with him is terrible by any means. He mostly lets him do the things Lucas wants to do, and in exchange Lucas doesn’t ask him too many stuff and certainly not to be overly present at home — it’s a good compromise, and certainly better than Manon’s parents not giving two shits about her.

Since he’s good at multitasking, he dedicates his right hand to opening the fridge and picking up a soda can for Manon, while the left one automatically reaches up in his back pocket to retrieve his phone. There are loads of notifications from Instagram and several from YouTube, but he ignores them and goes for the whatsapp conversation he has with his boyfriend instead. Eliott went to bed about an hour ago and up until now he wasn’t even angry at their six-hour time difference (like he usually is), because for once it allowed him to focus on the matter at hand (packing everything), and not on his (incredible, amazing, adorable) boyfriend.

Yeah. That was ten minutes ago, before he started getting fucking anxious. He sets the soda can on the kitchen island and starts typing.

you're just going to make fun of me, but, like, i’m panicking

He looks up and nibbles on his bottom lip, eyes trailing around in the kitchen as if the pieces of furniture could give him answers. All of a sudden he’s glad he didn’t start packing up before, because otherwise the freak-out would have happened much sooner and the last thing he wants is to make Eliott feel guilty or concerned or whatever emotion that is not happy for too long at a time. Maintaining their relationship through the last couple of months wasn’t the easiest thing to manage, but they resolved early on to be honest towards each other. Is that something that is worth getting Eliott concerned about?

Nah, he decides as he erases the text. Instead he sends a few heart emojis, because that’s something Eliott deserves to wake up to — and certainly not his boyfriend freaking out —, grabs Manon’s drink and goes back to his bedroom.

Fifteen more hours.

He’s got this.

*

Thirty minutes already.

It’s a fucking nightmare.

It’s not like Eliott is throwing the words at any given opportunity, but he’s literally running in the airport like a lunatic, slowing down and slightly ducking his head every time a member of the security or the staff is squinting at him a little weirdly. It takes forever to make his way through the crowds of people coming back from vacation, and he nearly loses his calm behind an old lady babbling with her husband after she stops for the third time to fish god knows what in her purse.

It all started wrong, in complete honesty.

Thing is, he’s had trouble sleeping for weeks now, mostly because his mind is constantly racing with project ideas, and editing has been taking so much time lately that he always ends up going to sleep at ungodly hours. It’s already a problem in itself most days because he’s getting up at 6.30 to get to work at 7.30 — not to mention that he’s been trying to hide it from Lucas not to worry him —, but when he ends up oversleeping because he forgot to plug his phone in before falling asleep, it’s an even bigger mess.

Truly, waking up to Idriss slamming his flat hand on his front door until he wakes up isn’t how he envisioned one of the most exciting days of his life to begin — not that the follow-up has been any more exciting so far. Six hours a day, five days a week, for four months now, he’s been selling frozen yoghurts in the same restaurant where Idriss is waiting tables, and after a few weeks of freezing cold AC and rude people, word spread out that Eliott, aka srodulv on YouTube, was apparently available for a chat during his work hours — after that it had been three more months of tiny skirts and cheeky doe-eyed customers refusing to take no for an answer, Idriss making too many jokes and his boss being entirely too satisfied with the idea of whoring him out in order to get more customers.

His contract ended two hours ago, and the prospect of being able to squeeze in two weeks between that moment and the schoolyear starting off at the Fémis school, two weeks with his long-distance boyfriend, has been enough to survive one last day selling stupid banana flavored frozen yoghurts —until Idriss whined enough to drag him home to celebrate with a beer, that is.

“No plane ever landed on time, relax,” Idriss huffed when he said that Lucas’ flight was supposed to land in two hours.

Well, Idriss would fucking hear from him, because not only Lucas’ flight is on time, but the asshole who refused to buy a fucking bus ticket and insisted on walking by the front door anyway well and truly delayed Eliott more than what his nerves could handle at the moment. Hence the running. You’d think that reaching the airport would be the end of the nightmare, but no, he found out exactly five minutes ago that he can’t get a wifi signal for the life of him, and that the flickering crumbs of 3G (3G for god’s sake!) aren’t enough to send Lucas a whatsapp text to tell him he’s on his way.

He stops running as soon as his phone dings, relief washing over him when he reads Lucas’ name on the notification.

i'm waiting at starbucks 💖💗

Eliott looks around. He’s in the hall K. If he’s guessing right, Lucas is probably not gone wandering in another hall just for the sake of it, so he scrupulously follows the signs indicating various newsstands and airport shops until he spots the familiar logo, in all its green glory. There are a few customers waiting in line and others spread out, sitting at small tables. His eyes are trailing over the unknown faces a couple of times before he has to admit Lucas isn’t one of them.

It’s a mess. Last time, when Eliott went to Vancouver, Lucas had been waiting for him right after the customs area and they didn’t even have to text each other — it was literally that simple. And, alright, he indeed was pretty excited to meet Lucas for the first time back then, even though they were just friends, but it wasn’t anywhere near as exciting and stressful as it is now. He turns around, ready to get worried and upset, and starts searching the crowd of passing strangers. A family of four eventually leaves his visual field at a snail’s pace, and that’s when his eyes stumble on him, almost on accident.

Him.

Lucas.                                                                              

Eliott’s left paralyzed for a solid minute, drinking in the sight of his boyfriend, his Levi’s shirt, his skinny-jeans, his messy hair, and he feels shy, almost too shy, to make the four or five steps separating them. Too shy, to get over the way his heart is beating and his teeth are digging into his bottom lip long enough to call out the only name he thought about for the last few months, to everyone else’s dismay.

Turns out, he doesn’t need to. Lucas looks up, a little blankly at first, then they make eye contact, and his eyes widen comically, and fuck if they aren’t the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen-

Before he can even think about it his feet are surging forward, without a single care if he bumps into other people on the way. Lucas’ jacket drops from his hands, falling half on the ground and half on his suitcase, and it lasts a second, barely, between the moment Eliott finally started moving and the moment Lucas jumps in his arms, but it’s both the shortest and the longest second of his life. Lucas throws his arms around his neck, and Eliott lets out small laugh as he’s forced to take a step backwards not to drag them both to the ground, hunching a little forward so that Lucas can stop tiptoeing despite it being the most endearing thing in the world.

He can’t even remember how many times he’s been thinking about this, the simple feeling of Lucas’ weight in his arms, and he isn’t sure if he’s ever going to find the right words for that — but he doesn’t care, Eliott decides as he buries his face in Lucas’ neck, not when his boyfriend is here. He allows himself one last sniff of his new favorite drug, taking one more second to breathe Lucas in, before he pulls away, and reaches up to cup Lucas’ face with his hand — he’s not sure, but he thinks Lucas’ eyes are suspiciously bright.

“Damn,” Lucas whispers, voice rough, letting his hands rest on his chest as he relapses his embrace, “I forgot you’re so tall.”

Eliott smiles, chuckling a little, and lets his thumb graze over the sharp edge of his cheekbone. “And I almost forgot how beautiful you are.”

“Aren’t you the cheesiest,” Lucas huffs, grinning.

A few months ago, when Lucas started planning this trip to Paris, they briefly discussed the fact that plenty of influencers took opportunities like these to make some views out of meeting their loved ones in tearful reunions. Frankly, putting himself out there wasn’t Eliott’s strong-suit and he was relieved when Lucas said he wasn’t planning on making someone film them.

“You aren’t going to regret it, right?” he had asked, a bit nervous.

“Nothing about it is worth making you feel uncomfortable,” Lucas had replied with a casual shrug.

Yeah. Now he regrets it though. He wishes he could have recorded it somewhere, just to replay it whenever the distance gets too much. He, the cinema student, in the most prestigious cinema school in France, didn’t think one second to put his embarrassment aside for the sake of filming.

The irony.

Lucas is staring up at him, blue eyes a shade as deep and dark as the ocean, and Eliott feels his heart swell. He doesn’t quite know who leans in first, and if they both did, how on Earth they knew it was the right moment, the perfect second even, but they do. They lean in and Lucas’ lips meet his own in the softest manner, gentle and warm, somewhat cautious in the pressure he puts into them, but it’s more than enough to make Eliott’s heart burst and the last couple of months seem more bearable.

He’s right.

He’s in love, and he’s right, and nothing else matters — not even the sick pleasure of knowing how fucking wrong they all are.

[ladyseidr]

I want one headcanon for every muse. :)

@notanoutlaw ( ask me about headcanons )

fkjsaldflds you really answered the call & i love it. okay. so this gonna be under a read more because it’ll be long. inactive muses won’t be done + Simon or Harley because they’re testing muses that i’m considering removing

Maria Lewis

There’s absolutely nothing Maria enjoys more than spending time with her daughter Susan, but, in particular, she enjoys playing outside with her. Once Susan is older and Maria is happy married they have a small garden back behind the house that they both tend to together. It’s all produce and, towards the end, it’s one of the few times during the course of a week where Maria sees Susan happy.

Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton

When Eliza was little she loved to climb trees. She especially liked to rope Angelica and Peggy into it, although neither was willing to go quite as high as she. Her parents weren’t too keen on it, especially considering she never fully grew out of it. Ask her if she wants to climb a tree and there’s a pretty large chance she’ll say yes unless she’s very, very busy.

John Laurens

John tried to convince his father to let him stay in Geneva longer, and not just for Francis and Louis. For the first time in his life, he had met a small group of people like him. Men who were interested in other men, men in committed relationships with one another. But also he knew he would probably never see Louis again and that Francis wouldn’t return to America for at least another year. At the time he was convinced that they were The Ones.

John “Jay” Church

Jay is never particularly liked by his father-in-law, who sort of sets out to find a reason to dislike him after the elopement. Despite this, he gets along with most of the rest of the family. In fact, he’s very close to the Hamiltons, particularly after the move back to New York. He puts up with Philip Schuyler because he loves Angelica enough to put up with pretty much anything.

Cornelia Schuyler Morton

Cornelia was never very close with Angelica considering how young she was when Angelica married and later moved to London. On the other hand, she was very, very close with her brothers and younger sister growing up. As for Eliza and Peggy? They got along pretty well, although the two sometimes had a habit of babying her because of the severe age difference.

Martha Manning Laurens

Completely not a fool and could pretty much guess that John was, at best, not attracted to her at all, but totally did consider that he might not be attracted to women. She was not particularly in love with him and was more so playing the part of the wife that she learned growing up. She did desperately want him around for his daughter, especially because she was scared to be a single mother in a time so damning to single mothers. But deep down, she knew she’d be lucky to ever see him again.

Margarita “ Peggy” Schuyler Van Rensselaer

Angelica and Eliza both knew about her planned elopement and might have been involved in helping her get out of the house (though she’d never admit it). She went to them in a state of devastation when she realized she wouldn’t be allowed to marry Stephen and they practically fed her the idea. It wasn’t shocking coming from Angelica “literally just eloped with her husband recently” Church and Eliza “will end up planning to elope before her parents even reject Alexander” Schuyler.

Angelica Schuyler Church

I’ve touched on her inability to comfort people many times, but here why: she doesn’t care for comfort usually. No, Angelica needs to solve her problems. How will a hug or crying or pretty words fix her problem? They won’t. Obviously, this is deeply unhealthy and when faced with situations that can’t simply be “fixed” she has a massive breakdown, but that’s another story.

Rachel Faucette

Rachel kept a collection of every little trinket, pretty rock, or other gifts that her sons brought her. It sat all across the top of her chest of drawers in her room. To anyone else, it was useless clutter, ugly. To her, it was covered in the greatest gifts she had ever received… besides the boys themselves.

Alexander Hamilton

Here’s a headcanon that no one on the planet but me has: Alexander had never really been with a man before John, in any sense of the word. He didn’t even really recognize his attraction to men as an attraction. But between falling for John, finding out John was attracted to men, and then realizing that maybe he didn’t exactly see John as just a friend, it put a lot of his past in perspective.

Anne Boleyn

Historically Anne didn’t necessarily love Henry at first. In fact, she didn’t particularly want his attention at all. She was not inclined to be a mistress and thus there were no advantages to being chased after. She did slowly grow to feel something she considered to be love for him as time went on—part genuine and perhaps part survival. That only made it hurt more when he turned on her so easily.

Catherine of Aragon

In the musical verse Catherine is, naturally, very uncomfortable around Anne at first. She struggles with the entire concept of having been followed by so many women, but she and Anne didn’t end on good terms. The show brings them together, though, and she is actually the first to begin reaching out to heal things. How does she start? She brings Anne an after-show snack one night and silently walks away.

Anna of Cleves

Historically she was actually very close with Katherine Howard despite their short time together. They became close when Anna was still queen and Katherine was one of her ladies, finding in her a companion to match her own German companions. After her divorce and Katherine’s marriage, the friendship remained. Upon hearing of Katherine’s death, Anna collapsed.

Katherine Howard

Historically she was much more politically-minded than thought. She understood that, as queen, she had duties. She was politically intelligent, generous, and empathetic. She was well-liked by those who came to court and harsh judgement came only after the news of her past rang out.

Jane Seymour

Musically she opens up as the realization strikes that she can speak without harm coming to her. She is far from being a “Mom Friend,” actually being sarcastic and fairly snarky. Though still not reckless and very anxious, she learns to speak her mind and damn well does. Often.

Mary Tudor

She had some very, very complicated feelings towards her father. On one hand, she loved him deeply and believed he was owed respected as the King, chosen by God. On the other, she never forgave him for many of his actions, particularly against her mother and her faith.

Arthur Morgan

This is obviously based on my own style of gameplay, but Arthur tends to dress well. It’s not a matter of pride or vanity, but more so because he grew up without nice clothes and didn’t particularly get a chance to have otherwise until he was into his adulthood and able to earn money and keep his share.

Javier Escuella

The knife’s a defense mechanism that he’s only half-conscious of. People are, to be blunt, less likely to fuck with you if you sit around playing with a blade. He used to be worse for it when he first joined the gang, before he trusted them. The knife kept the ones he trusted least or the ones who wanted to insult him (cough Bill cough) at bay, particularly once he proved that he wasn’t afraid to pull it on someone. He wouldn’t have actually hurt anyone in the gang, though, unless they had actually turned on him.

Samuel Farley

Not as trusting and innocent as he lets on, he has plenty of reason to doubt others, particularly in America. He’s Irish and Catholic in a country that, at the time, was very anti both. He grew up experiencing the worst of prejudice against people like him in his own country, his family not even able to own land due to them being openly Catholic.

Rosemary Levine

Rosemary pretends not to be bothered by killing—in fact, she can be overly quick to kill her enemies—but it bothers her. To be wanted dead or alive for murder when she had once been just another daughter of a wealthy, high-class family stings. In many ways, she feels she has less excuse for her actions. And because she feels so damned, she has a lot fewer qualms against committing more sins.

#notanoutlaw #death mention tw #murder mention tw #discrimination mention tw #this took forever and i LOVED it lmao #[headcanon]

[jimlingss]

Jungle Park [11]

Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 11.5 OR Chapter 12

➜ Words: 7.7k

➜ Genres: Fluff, Light Humour (?), Slice of Life, Workplace Romance!AU

➜ Summary: The equation is simple. Hoseok needs to hire someone. You need a job. Except like any actual equation, it’s not fucking simple at all! Not when you have to add the fact that he was forced to hire someone he doesn’t want in his office, he has little respect for your job in general, and oh yeah...once upon a time you might have—*CENSORED*.

The sound of wheels rolling over the ridges of tile follow with the parade of steps. You grip onto the handle of your luggage, dragging it behind you as you follow the signs to the gate. It’s bustling, crowds shuffling together, trying to get to their destinations whether it’s a vacation spot or to home. There are children chasing after parents or running off, couples holding hands to their honeymoons, businessmen and women adjusting their ties as they go off to their business trips.   But never once is it suffocating. It’s spacious with modern architecture, plenty of light coming through the large windows that allows you to see white aircrafts parked right outside and those descending onto the runway. The intercom blares above you every so often, giving last calls for boarding flights. Thankfully, you don’t hear any calls for your own flight and you make it to the gate right on time.   “Was everything alright?” Sunyi asks as you appear, joining the group. “Security took a while for you.”   “Yeah, it was nothing.” You look around to see if you missed anything, but Yoongi is texting on his phone, Seulgi is at the gift shop, and Hoseok is preoccupied on his laptop, typing away. There’s nothing out of the ordinary.   “Jungkook’s in the washroom and Jimin went to get coffee or something. We’re boarding in about fifteen minutes.”   “Sounds good.” You sit down with her, settling in your seats and preparing for a three hour long flight. “Is there anything I should know?”   “Not really. It’s just a conference on child welfare. So just sit and listen to presenters, and eat free food and mingle and network.” The lawyer softly smiles and sighs. “It’s actually kind of boring.”   You nod, still unable to dispel your anxiousness away, curious as to what will happen and worried that you’re not prepared. “I’ve never been to anything like this before.”   “There’s nothing too difficult, don’t worry.” She leans closer, dropping the volume of her voice. “If there was, I wouldn’t go. Neither would Seulgi.” Sunyi’s not wrong, especially considering that Seulgi isn’t a lawyer and is a paralegal, but personally volunteered to help take notes and be everyone’s assistant.   You weren’t supposed to come either. It was only a three day conference business trip, but Naul couldn’t make it because her son was in town and Taehyung had to stay back since he had already booked appointments with his client, so you took the invitation. And here you are, sitting at the gate before lining up to get onto your flight.   Jimin sips on his coffee, staring at the ticket in his hand before he leans over to glance at yours. Slowly, the line was shuffling forward, all those in business class coming after first. “I think our seats are switched,” he tells you. “They must’ve had an issue with printing. You’re sitting with Hoseok now. Do you wanna switch back?”   “I..uhh…” Right as you’re about to speak, you notice Hoseok glancing up from his phone screen, giving you the briefest of peeks. You don’t want to give the wrong impression and you respond with, “It’s fine.”   The lawyer nods and chimes out, “Then I get to sit next to Jungkookie~”   Said student lawyer appears disappointed, doe eyes becoming puppy-like, mouth drawing downwards and you plop a hand on his shoulder to appease him while promising, “I’ll sit with you on the way back.”   His cute smile returns instantly. “Okay!”   Sunyi lifts her hand next to her head like she’s waiting to be called on. “Can we switch too? I don’t want to sit next to him.” Her thumb hitches towards Yoongi who seems even more exhausted, eye bags going to his knees.   “Can I get some aspirin? She’s giving me a migraine.”   “No,” Jimin shoots down the plea. “That’s too much of a hassle. Just keep things the way they are. You guys need to learn how to cooperate with each other anyway.”   “But—”   “Don’t argue with each other,” you step in to reprimand and then you turn to Sunyi, reminding her of the technique that you both established many complaint sessions ago. “Deep breaths.”   She doesn’t seem amused.   The line up doesn’t take long and by the next few minutes, your ticket is scanned, passport glanced at, and you’re on your way inside the plane. The two pilots greet you, the pretty head stewardess that seems to glare at the female pilot for some unknown reason, and you make your way down the narrow aisle towards business class. Your seat and Hoseok’s are the first ones, extra leg room when there are no seats in front and just a plain wall with tiny televisions.   Hoseok helps lift your luggage into the overhead bin without you needing to ask and he offers the window seat which you take to spare the debate and argument. “Are you still working?” you ask him in disbelief and awe when he pulls his laptop out.   “Just getting as much done as possible,” he mutters, eyes trained on the document and you don’t bother him further. Instead, you watch the other passengers shuffle their way through the aircraft, energetic children and cooing babies to the elderly holding onto seats as they pass.   Jimin and Jungkook a few seats down appear like they’re getting along, but Yoongi and Sunyi who are behind them not so much. They have enough dignity to not rip each other’s heads apart in public, so you’re not too concerned. From across the aisle, Seulgi has her own seat next to a handsome stranger and she shoots you a wink before returning to the conversation with her new friend.   You also look out the window, watching as air traffic control brings luggage on the plane and checks around the craft. With the white noise and low stimulation, you become increasingly drowsy. Your lids become heavy, vision hazing over, mind blank, and you’re about to fall asleep, except your lull is interrupted when Hoseok finally shuts the lid of his laptop and stuffs it into his bag.   He glances at you. “Comfortable?”   “Very.” You inhale a deep breath, body relaxing even more. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in business class before.”   He hums. “It’s better than economy, that’s for sure.”   Hoseok moves to push the buttons on the monitor in front of him while you keep one eye open, leaning back in your comfortable seat, watching him browse the entertainment selection. “Are you going to watch a movie?”   “Maybe. I’ll probably do more work after take-off, but I want to see what they have.”   “Why are you on the thriller and horror section?” A sleepy smile pulls into your cheeks and you know that looking at the movie poster and reading the title is enough to make him scared. “Comedy’s to your left. Right there.”   He presses on it and shifts in the seat. “How did you know I like comedy?”   You shrug, too drowsy to find some kind of explanation. “I know a lot of things about you.”   A snort of air leaves his nose. “Is this a confession from a stalker?”   You laugh as he returns to browsing and your lids become heavier and heavier against your will, even when you’re fighting to stay conscious. “You wish….”   “Hmm, this looks good.” He’s chosen a romantic comedy that’s at the top of the selection and skims the description. It’s an older one called ‘When Spring Meets Autumn’ and he recognizes a person on the cast list, a fairly famous actress that also happens to be his secret celebrity crush. “Has decent ratings.”   “We already watched that,” you mumble, recognizing the movie.   His brow lifts and his neck cranes towards you, expression incredulous. “We did?”   “Yeah, in theater,” you hum underneath your breath and if he wasn’t right next to you, he wouldn’t be able to hear. “It was really bad.”   It’s quiet. The white noise drowns into the back. For an extended moment, his breath hitches in his throat and he doesn’t make a single sound. Eventually, the intercom flares to life above him, the pilot greeting the passengers and the flight attendants make their rounds to check trays and overhead bins. As they do the safety demonstration, Hoseok finally returns to his senses and turns back to you in a gentle whisper—   “Y/N?”   But then your head slumps on his shoulder and you don’t make a single movement. He can’t help but stare down at you, how peaceful your features have become, without the frown or the expressions of fear or surprise. From the proximity, he can see each of your lashes, the dip of your cupid’s bow, the rise and fall of your chest. He traces his eyes against the slope of your nose and he lets you sleep. You seemed tired these days and he didn’t want to stir you awake.   “Excuse me.” He lifts his free hand slightly when an attendant brushes past. “Can I get a blanket?”   “Certainly.”   Hoseok adjusts the arm rest, putting it up so the metal isn’t digging into your ribs. Thankfully, you’re both already seat belted in and he just has to take the blanket the attendant gives him and drape it over your body. He secures the warm wool up to your shoulders and carefully reaches up, turning off the air conditioning above him and pulling down the cover of the window.   Takeoff is smooth and when it’s over, he reclines both your seats back. You still use his shoulder as a pillow, cheek smushed on top of his sweater — though Hoseok doesn’t mind too much, even smiling after a second of staring. He doesn’t pull out his laptop or phone to work, fearing that too much movement would wake you up. Instead, his arm extends, finger pressing on the movie that you watched with him…..   The movie he doesn’t remember.   You’re right. It’s bad. The actress that he likes gets killed off in the first ten minutes in some stupid car accident. Jung Hoseok can’t even finish the darn thing as his lids become heavier and heavier. Against his will, he dozes off too, head resting on top of yours.   Your hands nearly brush one another.   //   The landing of the plane, getting your baggage from the overhead bin, bidding the pilots goodbye, cutting straight through baggage claim to grab a cab is all a blur. The world seems to be moving faster than you and you’re left dazed, dragging your body along as your mind is left behind. The seduction of sleep is still lingering and you’re not sure if you’re dreaming or not. It isn’t a surprise considering how you were completely knocked out during the entire flight.   Hoseok is in a similar sleepy state, being oddly quiet and rubbing his eyes every so often as if he can dispel the drowsiness away. You wonder if he fell asleep too.   In the meanwhile, Seulgi is super excited about arriving, as is Jimin who insists a sight seeing event is crucial. Yoongi and Sunyi are busy bickering about who took up more space on the plane and how they couldn’t even get a wink of sleep while Jungkook discusses the movie he watched and how great it was.   Once you’ve arrived at the hotel, everyone makes their way to the front desk to grab their key cards. There were three rooms booked in total, Hoseok and Yoongi rooming together, Jimin sharing with Jungkook while you, Sunyi, and Seulgi shared another. You’re more than happy with the arrangement considering that you’ve always liked the two girls and your desire to get closer to them was flaming.   “Did you end up getting that stranger’s phone number?” you ask Seulgi and her hand goes into her pocket, two fingers taking out a slip of folded paper.   She throws her hair behind her shoulder and gives a cocky smirk. “Right here.”   “Wait.” Sunyi swipes the card at the door and takes off her shoes as she enters. “Who?”   “Seulgi sat next to one hell of a handsome stranger on the plane.”   The lawyer groans in jealousy and sets down her luggage while you also slip off your boots. “You’re so lucky. I had to sit next to Min the entire time. Wanted to blow my brains out.”   “He isn’t so bad,” the paralegal comforts her.   “He’s an ass,” she counters.   Seulgi shrugs. “Still better than sitting next to Hoseok.”   “Right.” The lawyer remembers and as if to share her sympathies, she turns to you with a sorrowful expression. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”   “Did he nag you the entire trip?”   “No. He’s actually not that bad, you guys,” you murmur in discomfort, trying to keep it positive. They’re entirely mistaken about their boss and you don’t know how to explain yourself or defend him. “Hoseok’s nice.”   Sunyi hangs her head and the corners of her lips quirk. “He’s not here right now, you don’t have to pretend.”   Before your mouth can even part and you can say something in return, Seulgi pushes her way out of the foyer of the hotel room and enters with a gasp. “Oh my god, this is so beautiful.” The two of you follow after her, eyes scanning the modern aesthetics of the room, the small kitchen, the open living room, and the bedroom with two impressive queen beds side by side.   “I’m sharing with Y/N.” Seulgi grabs your arm, hugging it, and she tells Sunyi, “You can have that one bed to yourself.”   “What?” The woman narrows her eyes, having thought that they’d be fighting for the empty bed. It’s suspicious for her to offer like that. “Why?”   She shrugs with a pout. “I sleep in my own bed every night. It gets lonely. While I have the chance, I’d like to fill the empty side with cute Y/N.”   Sunyi’s brows raise and you wonder if this is reverse psychology or if she’s being genuine. Either way, she’s either a genius or super sweet. It’s a win-win situation. And the lawyer takes the bait with her hands on her hips. “Okay, no. I call sharing the bed with Y/N.”   You laugh, having never been fought over before. “Who said I want to share with any of you?”   In the end, you get the empty bed and they get to share.   //   It doesn’t take long to get settled in, change clothes and get comfortable. Everyone washes up before getting back to the internet after being absent for so long and you also take the opportunity to stare at the city view for a while until your eyes are satisfied. But it’s not long before there’s three rapid knocks on the front door and the bell ringing throughout the room.   You open it, finding Yoongi on the other side in a plaid flannel and wearing a reserved smile that you return. “Hey, where’s Sunyi?”   “I think she’s in the bathroom.” You lean back, shouting her name and telling her there’s someone at the door.   “Oh no, it’s fine,” he says a bit too late while scratching the back of his neck. His voice remains low and raspy. “Just wanted to let you girls know we’re thinking of going out to dinner.”   “What.” Sunyi leaves the bathroom and stops in her tracks when she sees who’s standing by the doorway. Her expression falls and her eyes become dead. “Oh. It’s you.”   Yoongi grins. “It’s me. Get dressed.” His eyes skim down her frame, obviously judging at her choice in attire, oversized hoodie and sweatpants. “We’re all going out for dinner.”   “I thought we were getting room service,” Seulgi comments as she pops her head from the other room.   “Nah. Hoseok and Jimin changed their minds,” he says and Sunyi nods, grabbing her flats to slip into. His brow lifts. “Wait. Are you really going to go out wearing that?”   “Okay, fuck off. Is there a dress code for this too?”   The lawyer lifts up his hands, palms facing out like he’s being arrested. “Hey, I never said it was bad. Just looks like your pajamas.”   “Yoongi, eat a—”   You clear your throat and the hostile environment is brought down at once. Sunyi’s choice of comfortable attire causes a train reaction and everyone ends up in clothes that reminds them of a time when they were in university preparing for finals. And while walking on the sidewalks of the unfamiliar city with the rest of them, you really are brought back to the carefree years of uni.   “Where are we eating?” Jimin asks, twirling around to address the group.   Seulgi pipes up in surprise, “I thought you guys decided.”   “No.” He matches her frown. “We didn’t.”   “Okay.” Yoongi takes a deep breath. “So where are we walking off to?”   Everyone looks at each other. There’s a long silence.   Sunyi whirls her head over. “I was following Jungkook.”   The boy’s shoulders are tense and he looks like a toddler who got into the cookie jar. “I was following Yoongi.”   “I was following Jimin.”   “I was sightseeing,” he responds with a shrug.   “Oh my god.” It’s a bit humorous when a swarm of intellectuals with fancy degrees on their belts and years of working experiences on their shoulders find themselves completely and utterly lost.   It’s a bit of a pathetic sight when all of you pull out your phones, pulling up GPS and doing google searches to find out where you are and the nearest place to get food in your systems. Indeed, it was reminding you more and more of your university years...especially when you end up in a McDonald’s.   There’s a sea of complaints, but everyone’s too tired to keep walking and too hungry to waste time filing in a taxi, navigating the streets, and waiting for food. Plus, everybody is in their sweats and going into a proper restaurant would garner nothing but odd glares and odd looks.   Jungkook and Jimin make a ginormous order for the entire group and Hoseok says it’s his treat since it’s not that expensive anyways. You grab a long table in the corner, finding it funny how a high end law firm has swarmed into an empty McDonald's at nine at night. It’s not high end or modern, but cozy and intimate, and you like it that way.   “They didn’t have it.” Jimin sets down the tray and everyone begins dividing the food up.   Hoseok glances up at him. “Didn’t have what?”   “Hulk.” He plops down into the booth seat with a long sigh. But Jungkook looks worse for wear, pouting with his bottom lips slightly jutted out, doe eyes glossed over like a child sulking. As if trying to explain why he looks that way, Jimin continues, “Didn’t have Iron Man either.”   “Do you guys seriously collect those superhero toys?” Sunyi asks and Jimin gasps while Jungkook makes the most offended expression of all. It’s amusing to see the usually timid boy act so passionately in anger towards his senior. “Hey! I’m not judging, I think it’s cute.”   “Didn’t you collect rocks as a kid?” Yoongi’s brow shoots up, clearing his throat.   “Yeah. So what?”   “Isn’t it kind of pathetic to have a pet rock? Couldn’t get any real friends, Lee?”   Her eyes narrow onto his smirking face. “At least I have friends now, you son of a bi—”   “Can we have one meal in peace?!” Jimin interrupts their argument and they immediately shut up while everyone around the table releases a snort through their nose, continuing to eat. Instead of stepping in like usual, Jimin takes control of the situation this time around to give you a break and he scolds the two lawyers for always making it about themselves. He nags their ears off, and in the midst of the chaos, you turn to Hoseok who’s sitting beside you in curiosity.   “Do you still collect those bear figurines?”   The lawyer blinks at you. He’s in a simple black hoodie and white tee, dark jeans that are ripped at the knees, and if you didn’t think too much, you’d get whiplash from the nostalgia of a decade ago. “Y-yeah...I do.”   “What?” Yoongi from across the table intervenes in your private conversation, doing anything it takes to shut Jimin’s mouth.   “I collect those bear figurines,” he explains while the group listens. “The brick ones?”   “Oh, those.” His friend nods. “I have a few of them too.”   “I’m surprised,” Sunyi comments and swallows down her mouthful of food before speaking again towards her boss. “I thought you would collect books or something like that.”   Hoseok frowns, finding such an idea strange. “No, I don’t really collect books. I think Namjoon does.” As you sit quietly and observe the interaction, you muse how sad it is that his employees don’t know a single thing about him. It’s especially heartbreaking since they’re pretty much the only people he interacts with and you know how much he cares for them.   “I would’ve thought you collected spiders,” Jungkook mutters out of nowhere and you can sort of trace his thought process since Hoseok does come across as intimidating.   But the mere idea of it has you bursting out laughing. Jimin’s also smiling, but everyone turns to look at you like you’ve gone crazy. “God, he would never collect spiders. Hoseok’s scared of anything with more than four legs. He’s scared of anything with wings. He’s scared of all bugs and tarantulas and—”   “That’s enough.” His lips are sealed, though the corners are pulling and he pushes french fries in front of your face, stuffing your mouth with them as you giggle and he laughs. The two of you don’t notice how everyone’s staring with slight frowns, surprised at how close you both seem.   “I never knew that,” Sunyi murmurs in slight astonishment. “I thought Jin was the only one in the office scared of bugs.”   “I scared him once with a ladybug.” Jungkook has a shit eating grin and he laughs cheekily. “He was screaming so much.”   “Yeah, and it accidentally made him spill coffee all over me.” Seulgi dips a french fry into ketchup, grimacing at the memory before a thought passes through her mind and a feeling akin to missing her chaotic coworkers nudges her. “What do you think the others are doing?”   Jimin bites into his burger. “Others?”   “At the firm,” she clarifies.   “Probably home by now,” Yoongi says after glancing at the time.   Jimin laughs and nudges his partner. “I wonder if Taehyung and Seokjin stole our offices.”   At the reminder of her two colleagues, Sunyi leans back in her seat. She takes a sip of her soft drink and hums. “Thank god they didn’t come. They’d be a headache.”   “They don’t act their age,” Seulgi further disses them and the lawyer agrees.   “Sometimes I wonder how Taehyung made it through law school.”   Jungkook giggles, bunny teeth exposed in his cute grin. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he talks trash about his mentor, a once in a lifetime opportunity. “It’s a miracle.”   “But whether we like to admit it or not, they’re entertaining,” you add mid-chew, trying to chase away the gossiping behaviour. You know it’s in all good fun, no one meaning any harm, and the insults are more playful banters. But you’re still striving to create a more friendly environment. That and you know you’re right. “They’re fun.”   A few of them agree, but then Hoseok scoffs. “We can have fun too.”   “I don’t know,” you tease with an expanding smile. Your pupils glance at each person around the table who was just nagging how the others don’t act their age and they’re too loud. “We sound pretty old, don’t we?”   And that’s how the entire group ends up at some hip club.   The music is blaring, strobe lights flashing, burning the back of your eyeballs and nearly making you go into a seizure. All of you are dressed in rags compared to everyone else in tight shirts or sparkling dresses. You only managed to get in after the guys had pushed you, Sunyi, and Seulgi in front of them. Apparently increasing the female count was the only important thing to the bouncer, regardless of your shabby attire.   But even when all of you fork over a hefty amount for some stale drink, you lean against the bar and stare out at the dance floor in distaste.   “Why did we think this was a good idea?” Seulgi asks and no one has an answer.   Yoongi sighs and takes another sip of his whiskey. “I feel too old for this.”   Jungkook’s eyes stray off and he catches a couple in the corner, a male younger than he is slipping his hand up the girl’s skirt while her head is thrown back. His face scrunches in disgust and he looks as if he ate an entire lemon. “This is kind of gross….”   “The drinks are overpriced,” Hoseok comments after doing a few calculations in his head, knowing full well he could get more bang for his buck if bought an entire bottle himself.   “They’re all a bunch of babies grinding on each other.” Sunyi shudders, unable to imagine joining the dance floor to be pushed up against children who have barely become legal. She’s a professional for god sakes, not some rebellious young adult. The music was also horrendous with a beat that she can’t find the rhythm to. The music was bad, the drinks were bad….   “Maybe we really are old,” you admit with a smile, trying to uplift them a bit more.   “Don’t be such party poopers, guys!” Jimin spins around in his stool, lifting his arm to call the bartender towards him. “Times like these I miss Jin and Taehyung. Come on, I’ll pay for all your drinks, let’s enjoy ourselves!”   Park Jimin is the only one who’s lost his sensibility and tries to retain onto his lost youth, and act like he isn’t already a stable businessman who owns his own divorce law firm in the sea of struggling students and wasted young adults. Still, no one minds the place or the time when it’s free drinks.   Jimin orders a round of shots and there’s some kind of drinking game that takes place before everyone just downs the little glass they were given. In between working at the office and driving a cab at night, there’s not many opportunities to drink, so your drinking tolerance is naturally lower than the others. But when you turn beside you, you burst into another fit of giggles.   “What?” Hoseok stares at you, his lips parting into a heart shaped grin when he watches you laugh.   “I forgot you can’t drink at all.” You point. One shot in and he already looks like this. “Your entire face is already red!”   “I can drink fine!” he defends himself to no avail, voice moving up a higher pitch that you can hear over the deafening music. The blue back light of the bar casts its shade onto his visage, painting his sun kissed skin in a cooler shade. Jung Hoseok should look excellent here — hot shot lawyer in a sleek suit, dark locks neatly styled in a comma hairstyle, silver watch on his wrist and one leg thrown over the other, holding a drink in hand while wearing a cocky expression.   But here he is instead, casual hoodie and jeans, tuft of hair ruffled like a cloud, cute cheeks puffed out and skin flushed pink, pouting at you like a baby. You wonder if the others see what you do. Maybe they wouldn’t be so afraid or mistaken of him if they got a close look or paid any attention. Or maybe the real problem is that you pay too much attention to him.   “No one’s going to carry you back when you fall asleep!”   “Who says I’m going to fall asleep?!”   You can’t resist the laughter that bubbles up your throat. “I know you’re a sleepy drunk!”   Hoseok’s mouth downturns, though he’s being nothing but cute towards you. “Says who?”   “Me!”   He scoffs, noticing another drink held in your hands. “And what kind of drunk are you?”   Your smile becomes more playful and you lean closer towards him, everyone else preoccupied in their conversations and no one noticing your private little bubble created in the chaotic nightclub in some unfamiliar city. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”   //   After that, everything becomes a blur.   The rest of the night melts together until all you hear is the music throbbing in your ears and skin vibrating from the drinks. The details become a mess inside your head. There are snapshots and handfuls of seconds that you recall — laughing, dancing, drinking, being brought to the cab, swaying in the hallway, collapsing on the bed.   It’s only when the bright sunshine pierces past the glass windows and stabs you through the slits of your eyes that you throw your body upwards, experiencing the worst of headaches and falling back onto the mattress. It takes one second, one deep breath before your eyes are shooting open immediately.   Right away, you turn beside you. No one.   Your hands touch your torso. Clothes still on.   And when you look to your left, the two ladies you’re rooming with are snoring side-by-side.   Thank god. You’ve watched enough rom coms and chick flicks to be afraid of drunkenly sleeping with someone you’re not supposed to. Even if you feel like absolute shit, at least you still have your dignity. Mostly. You don’t recall saying or doing anything inappropriate, never doing anything that would have the HR representatives of the world crying out in agony. And on the brighter side, you’re not the only one who’s suffering under a massive hangover.   “Oh god, I feel horrible,” Seulgi wails out while she hugs the toilet bowl in the bathroom, having just expelled her stomach.   Sunyi looks downright awful even if she didn’t need to throw up, and she’s mentally preparing herself to jump into a cold shower. “Well, we have a conference to go to in two hours.”   Everybody gathers in the lobby of the hotel in business attire. They’re dressed crisply, dress pants and shirts, pencil skirts and ironed blouses, leather shoes and kitten heels. It would look like a really cool advertisement if your faces were cut out. Each person is suffering in their own way, your dark circles that makeup can’t save, Jungkook who keeps yawning every other second, and Jimin who appears to be having it the hardest. The usual chirpy male stays quiet and you all grab breakfast to feel better.   “I remember why I don’t drink anymore,” Yoongi muses and runs a hand through his untamed hair that sticks up in all directions despite watering it down earlier.   It’s even more amusing that Hoseok is the only one who seems completely fine. Even when he was bright pink last night and the biggest lightweight of the group, he’s made a fine recovery. Compared to the rest of you, he’s trotting along like the ultimate happy ball of sunshine.   “I hate him even more,” Seulgi mutters in jealousy, glaring at him from afar and you hold back a laugh.   //   The conference hall is a fancy large room, a ceiling that would require three ladders to reach. There are rounded tables and chairs, placements already assigned through name tags, an open stage that’s currently playing music to fill the background. There aren’t just lawyers around, but also social workers and counselors as well. Despite the differences of occupations, people still shake hands and mingle with each other, networking and expanding their contacts.   You meet a few people here and there yourself, but for the most part, you hang at the back near the table of refreshments. There’s a cup of water permanently glued to your hand as you force yourself to keep hydrated and dispel the hangover away.   “These events can be so boring,” a raspy voice pipes up beside you, causing your body to turn. A man has a reserved smile, blonde hair pushed back, skin glowing and arms muscular even in a dark dress shirt. He’s familiar, but you’re not sure from where.   “Really? I don’t think it’s so bad.”   “It’s the people who make it better.” He smiles. “People like you.”   You shake his hand, mirroring the way his lips quirk upwards. “You don’t even know who I am.”   “But I can learn.” He’s smooth, flirting openly with you, and you’re absolutely flattered. You can’t remember the last time someone expressed interest in you — Seulgi’s teenage brother doesn’t count. “My name is Jackson.”   It rings a slight bell in the back of your mind, but you still can’t put your finger on it. “Y/N.”   “Beautiful name for a beautiful woman. What do you say? Would you like to grab dinner with me so we can learn about each other?”   “I….don’t know.” It’s been too long since you’ve been approached like this and you’ve forgotten protocol. Though you give a more mischievous smile, deciding to skirt around the idea. “How can I trust you?”   “Because I wouldn’t waste your precious time,” he states confidently, but still hesitates, not wanting to pressure you into anything. The man digs into his suit pocket. “Then at least take my phone number. In case you change your mind—”   “What’s going on here?”   An arm is slung around your shoulder and you jolt in surprise before easing when you see who it is. The close gesture doesn’t mean anything. You already know that Hoseok is naturally affectionate.   “Jung?” The man’s eyes flicker to you and then back to the lawyer. His jaw drops until a fly could accidentally wander into his mouth. “You two know each other?”   Hoseok scoffs, eyes slightly rolling. You remember now. You’ve met Jackson on the mountain, his entire firm actually, BTS. They’re the top competitors with Jung and Park. “Do we know each other? She’s my employee.”   Jackson points to the person beside you who still has his arm around your shoulder, eyes wide and ogling at your features. “You work for him?”   You offer a sheepish smile. “I’m in HR.”   Jackson’s hand removes from his pocket, digging into his pants pocket instead. He stands back, somehow becoming repulsed and uninterested in the split of a second when you revealed your workplace. He eyes you both carefully. “Are you guys...together?”   Your blood runs cold at the implication. Yet, Hoseok remains impassive, except for the cocky smirk gracing his visage, recalling your exact words from last night to mock the man, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”   The two males are absolutely childish to each other, and Jackson is the first to back down, scoffing and turning away. “I’ll see you later, Jung.”   “Was he bothering you?” Hoseok asks once the other man has disappeared from sight. The lawyer turns his head and when he realizes your face is a mere inch away, he lets go and puts more distance between you both.   “No. He asked me to dinner,” you admit quietly. “He was about to give me his number.”   “Trust me, you don’t want to go to dinner with that jerk. It would be a waste of your time.”   “I don’t know…” You shrug, letting the opportunity go with strange ease. Your shoulders lose their tension and you decide to tease him, “He’s the son of a rich mongol, right? Maybe you just made me lose my only chance of being the trophy wife to a business tycoon.”   “You deserve better than to be some asshole’s trophy wife.”   It’s things like this. Little things like this that have you smiling too widely.   And it doesn’t help when he also smiles and tells you, “If you want to live luxuriously, stick by me.”   You’re all too painfully aware that it means nothing, but it doesn’t fail to send a lump in your throat. Hoseok continues, “Jung and Park will let you retire early and then you can go take vacations at any resort or villa you want.”   Your voice cracks slightly against your will and you mask it with a scoff. “Be careful what you say, I might take you up on that offer.”   “I might have to negotiate with Jimin, but don’t worry.” He pats his chest, standing straight with the sweetest of smiles. “Rely on me. Your pension plan will be beautiful.”   It’s hard to imagine what the next thirty years of working together would be like. Is it possible to last that long? The question remains unanswered inside the hollows of your mind.   //   The conference proceeds without much delay. There are a variety of presenters and inspirational speakers, from social workers to retired lawyers and judges, all speaking about how to help kids when they’re put in difficult family situations. There are also people who speak from first-hand experiences and they explain how to minimize trauma to general welfare issues of children.   It’s fairly interesting and you enjoy yourself, listening, clapping, eating food, mingling and networking.   “That wasn’t too bad,” Yoongi comments outside the hall.   The lawyer had thought it would be boring, like that time he went to a conference about social development and it turned out to be entirely about the environment and had little to do with him. He knows going to these things looks good for the firm since it shows that they care, but good god, he wanted to cut down a tree that day and let it topple down on him.   “I’m stuffed.” Sunyi pats her stomach in appreciation. “Food was great.”   Seulgi stretches out her arms, feeling the knot in her neck. “One more conference tomorrow and then it’s home.”   “What did you think?” Hoseok asks you privately, curious since you had an outsider’s perspective, the least engaged with the law out of all of them.   You tip your head to the side, not taking long to come up with an honest answer. “I liked it. It was touching and informative. It was good. I’m glad I went.”   He smiles and nods in satisfaction, turning forward again. At the same time, Jimin spins around to address the group. “Should we go back to the hotel? Or do you guys want to do something?”   “Let’s not go drinking.” Seulgi casts her opinion and the rest agree that they’ve done enough of that for the rest of the month.   In the meanwhile, Jungkook is distracted by flashing lights, doe eyes glazed over, and he lifts his arm, pointing a little beyond the horizon. “What’s that?”   “Over there?” Jimin squints. “Looks like an amusement park.”   Sunyi gasps. “Let’s go!”   Jungkook is as equally excited as the female and while the rest of them are rather apathetic to it, Hoseok has gone visible pale and strangely quiet.   The flashing lights, children running past, screams echoing in the night sky, and overall cheerful atmosphere doesn’t seem to improve his mood. Sunyi points and goes running off with Jungkook to buy tickets as Yoongi slowly follows behind. Seulgi and Jimin try out a carnival game, shooting down bottles on a shelf and the female wins a toy monkey with three bullets. Jimin fails every shot and begins sulking until the paralegal ends up giving her prize to him, placating him immediately.   You eat cotton candy, offering some to Hoseok and he pulls out a tuft before letting it melt on his tongue.   “Are you okay?”   “I’m fine. Why?”   “I know you don’t like rides. I won’t tell the others if it bothers you that much. And you don’t have to go on any if you don’t want to,” you tell him and he remains quiet for an extended second.   Hoseok’s mouth parts to say something, but then the group gathers again. “We got enough tickets for everyone to ride three rides!” Jungkook cheers, holding the long tickets in his hand, and you’ve never seen him happier. At this rate, he’s jumping up and down like a jackrabbit and his adorable grin might cause his rosy cheeks to burst.   “They were going to get enough for ten rides, but I stopped them,” Yoongi declares like he wants praise.   “What should we go on first?” Seulgi asks and Jimin points.   “Let’s go on that roller coaster!”   The ride in question goes up at a height that causes your neck to knock back in order to see the top. There are screams as it loops around, a drop that seems steep, and while Jungkook replies to his boss with an enthusiastic ‘yeah!’, you have other plans. “I...I might sit this one out, guys.”   Hoseok looks at you, knowing that you’ve given him an opportunity to opt out.   But then Jungkook’s doe eyes sadden and Sunyi pouts. The two of them have been reduced to being kids. “Aw, I thought we could all go. We could get that photo. The one they take half-way? Rub it in Taehyung’s face when we get back.”   “If she doesn’t feel well, then she doesn’t need to go,” Yoongi chides and lightly karate chops the top of her head. He looks at his friend. “Are you going, Hoseok?”   “I….I’ll go.” The man builds up courage and shifts to you with a tiny smile. “Wanna come, Y/N?”   “Are you sure?” you ask him when he should be asking you. But your concerns are lessened when he nods and smiles.   “Yeah. It’ll be a good memory.”   “O-Okay, I’ll come too then.”   The man forces a calm facade, channeling bravery for the sake of his employees. Jungkook cheers and a bunch of them go running off, but despite what Hoseok says, you can still tell that he’s scared. He remains deadly silent at the lineup, face falling, hands shaking. Jimin comforts him, only for him to brush his partner off. Still, Hoseok manages to shuffle his feet forward, stepping and sitting down in his seat when the time has come.   Jungkook and Sunyi are sitting all the way up at the front, screaming their lungs off already in excitement. Seulgi and Jimin are behind them, getting hyped up. Yoongi is sitting by himself behind you, staring out at the scenery and grumbling every so often, while you are beside Hoseok.   “Are you alright?” you inquire for the millionth time, gazing at his profile and how he’s grabbing onto the hard lap bar that’s strapped over his shoulders and across his torso.   “Hhmph...mmh…”   “It’s not that bad. Just scream and close your eyes and it’ll be over.”   “Yeah…”   The entire ride jolts. The cart begins to move ahead and the attendant wishes you all a fun experience, something you’re certain Hoseok won’t have.   Everyone’s cheering and hollering, being loud and rambunctious. Hoseok screams a few times himself like he’s trying to release the tension in his muscles and no one hears except for you in the sea of noises. You’re leaning back as the roller coaster begins to climb up the steep incline at practically ninety degrees. In the next blinks, you’re high up.   The wind cards though your hair. The entire amusement park is beneath your feet. The lights of the carousel and rotating ferris wheel twinkle with the stars glittering above. It would be quiet if not for the music of the ride and the screams of the surrounding people.   The coaster stops right on the edge after climbing its hill, moments from teetering and plunging downwards.   “I’m scared,” Hoseok admits in cute squeals and he’s trembling. “I’m scared, Y/N.”   You lift your hand, not wasting one second to latch onto his. Instantaneously, Hoseok laces his fingers tight through yours, twining his hands to hold on for dear life, like his existence depends on it. And you squeeze your palm with his to tell him that you’re here. “It’s okay! Just scream!”   “Y/N!” Hoseok shuts his eyes tight and you keep yours wide open.   The roller coaster teeters and then dives straight to the ground. There are a hundred screams of happiness and fear. Hoseok screams too, bloodcurdling, while you shout at the top of your lungs. The ride goes in for quick turns before looping around and the lawyer becomes absolutely hysterical.   “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” He sounds like he’s giving birth. You can’t help but laugh and giggle the entire time in between your own screams. For the entirety of the ride, Hoseok holds your hand, simply frightened for his life, intimidation all lost.   He shouts your name somewhere in the symphony of shrieks and no one hears except for you.   When it’s over, Hoseok slumps in his chair, defeated and drained, like a computer logged out. You’re more giddy than ever, still giggling and laughing while Hoseok never lets go of your hand. It’s there that he decides not to go on anymore rides and you join him in eating candy apples for the rest of the night. Jimin orders the picture and you do as well for your own personal keepsake.   The image is snapped right when the coaster began to fall, when you took his hand.   While sitting on the bench, hearing Jimin’s screams on the swinging pirate ship, Hoseok is pouting and childishly sulking at your teasing. You can’t stop looking at the picture, no one else noticing that your hands are wrapped around each other’s, and Hoseok chews on his candy apple before leaning his head on your shoulder. He tells you that he wasn’t scared at all.   You turn your head, unimpressed, though you’re reduced to speechlessness at how cute he’s acting towards you, trying to gain your favour so you don’t tell others what happened. The intimidating, strict lawyer is nowhere in sight. There’s only a bright young man with hope glittering in his brown irises, the epitome of sunshine, making you realize that you don’t need to see the stars in a light-polluted city like this one when he’s beside you. And that’s when you decide—   You’re going to make the people in the office see what you see in Hoseok.

#bts fanfic #hoseok fanfic #hoseok fluff #jhope fanfic #bts scenario #BTS JUNG HOSEOK is rrly not that scary??? /pikachu shocked meme/ #also OC who looks like she finally has friends in the office! let's get some high fives!!

[jae-bummer]

Immortal (Jay Park Fae!AU)

Request: I really love your writing, especially the scenarios/ imagines you’ve done for Jay Park😍 I was wondering if I could request a Jay Park fluff? The story is up to you❤️             

Pairing: Jay Park x Reader

Genre: Fluff

.

“Damnit, damnit, damnit,” he whispered beneath his breath. 

You stirred in the passenger seat, unable to keep your eyes open for long

“You can’t afford one of those dumb ass, little pine tree air fresheners? The scent of rotting iron and rust is fucking up my sinuses. I feel like I’m going to burst into flame,” he complained. “Remind me why I’m doing this? Remind me why this shit-” 

“I’m sorry,” you coughed, hardly even conscious enough to follow his one sided argument. “Who are you?”

“Who am I?” he gasped, looking at you with wide eyes. “If I were you, I would offer some sort of thanks before questioning who the hell I am.” 

“Thanks?” you coughed, easing up in the seat. You rubbed a hand through your hair, noting how greasy it felt. Your whole body hurt, and you were uncertain of what exactly was wrong. “Why are you driving my car?” 

“Good question!” he gasped. “Because I’m pretty sure it’s going to kill me.” 

“The question, or my car?” you winced. Was he a kidnapper? A carjacker? You couldn’t remember meeting him or how exactly you had even ended up here. 

“The car,” he huffed. “Iron kills people like me.” 

“People like you?” you questioned. Your head pounded too loudly for you to be fearful. You knew if you were completely of sound mind, you would be terrified in this moment, but you just couldn’t manage the energy for it. 

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “Like me.”

.

.

You weren’t sure if you were carsick, hungover, or had the flu. It could have been a mix of the three. It was tough to figure out considering the sound of the blood pumping in your ears had become thunderous.

Clinging tightly to the man who was previously driving, you felt as if you were a ship stranded in rough waters as he walked you toward your apartment.

“Am I too heavy?” you squeaked, resting your forehead on his neck. Still moderately unsure of his identity, you were ashamed as a thought crossed your mind.

He smelled wonderful.

Calming. Like earth; fresh dirt and berries. You hadn’t smelled anything like it before.

“Too heavy?” he scoffed. “Mortals, always worried about their damn weight.”

“M-mortal?” you stuttered. “You mean like human? Aren’t you-”

“It’d be best to keep the questions to a minimum for now,” he sighed, hauling the two of you up the stairwell. “Belinda has her hearing aids in.”

“Belinda?” you choked, recognizing the name of your elderly neighbor. “How do you-”

“I can hear it,” he grumbled. “The crackling and static. She really needs to get that shit fixed if she plans on keeping the gossip game on lock around here.”

“You can hear it?” you said quietly. At this point, you had begun to believe you were experiencing a very vivid hallucination. Maybe it was something you had eaten at that party last night.

The party.

You groaned as fragments of the night began to piece themselves together. Starting off at a seedy bar with your friends, it didn’t take long for you to become mildly intoxicated. It took even less time for you to begin dancing with a man so good looking, that you became even more drunk on his aura alone. Throwing your inhibitions to the wind, you allowed yourself to leave the bar with him, his breath in your ear and his hands roaming your body.

Much like the man you were currently dealing with, he was an otherworldly type of beautiful. High cheekbones and slim features, you had never seen anything like him.

And he wanted you.

You should have known better as he coerced you into the park, as he pulled you toward a circle of trees. Before you could even realize, you had stumbled upon another party, but this one more strange. People just like him, just as crushingly beautiful, danced and drank to music you had never heard before. You danced beside them. You stared in wonder as they laughed at you. They cackled as you filled your stomach with their liquor and food. It was incredible. Every bite was better than the one that proceeded it. But people kept laughing, and you kept trying to blend in. The simple memory was haunting, so you weren’t sure how you managed to stomach the actuality.

But you couldn’t remember much after that.

Which was fine because your current reality was confusing enough.

You attempted to hide your wonder as the strange man carrying you made easy work of your apartment door and shouldered it open.

“I...I didn’t give you my apartment number,” you said quietly. “And where are my keys?”

“Those aren’t the important details, babygirl,” the man chuckled, striding through your living area and toward your bedroom.

He gently placed you on the bed before backing up and leveling you with a curious gaze.

“Fine,” you sighed. “I’ll ask an important question then...who are you?”

You bit your tongue before you let the next question cross your lips. “What are you?”

“I’m fae,” he said casually. “And I saved your ass last night.”

“Fae?” you questioned, easing up in your bed. “Like...like a fairy?”

“No, like fae,” he grumbled.

You glanced up and down the man’s tattooed frame. Plenty of muscles, but no iridescent wings or flower crowns.

You had to have been going insane...to even consider this man was something...something so unlike you?

“Excuse my ignorance, but what is the difference?” you sighed, attempting not to entertain the idea.

The man rolled his eyes before plopping on the edge of your bed himself. “If we’re getting technical, fairies as a whole are known as the fae. I never liked the term. When people picture fairies, they picture wings and sparkle and laughter that sounds like bells. When people picture fae, they picture something to be feared. Which they should.”

“Oh?” you coughed, lifting your brows.

“We’re kind of like the magical mafia,” he sighed. “We have a lot of rules, quite a few of which your broke last night-”

“I didn’t mean-”

“Of course you didn’t,” he muttered. “No one intends on being the lunch of a high fae warrior, it just happens, and the rest of us have to deal with the screaming later. You’re just lucky I’m a softie.” 

A cold shiver ran down your spine at how easily he said the words.

“Lunch?” you croaked, thinking back to the devilishly handsome man you had danced with. “He...he...?”

“Fairies don’t seem so cute and kind now, do they?” he smirked. “He would have tore you apart, just because he felt like it.”

Your mind was reeling. Certainly he had to be screwing with you. He was just a friend of the guy you were dancing with. That was it, he was a friend tasked with taking your hungover self home, and scaring you into never contacting any of them again.

You could play the game.

“So...so...” you trailed, furrowing your brows. You were uncertain how you should continue. “He was a high fae warrior? So what does that make you? If you were allowed to-”

“Let’s get this straight, doll face,” he grinned. “I’m not worried about what I am allowed to do, and I do as I please. I know my place in my court. Luckily, you do not.”

“You won’t tell me your name, you won’t tell me what you are,” you sighed, trying to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “I thank you for your help, but if you want to be shrouded in mystery, you can feel free to leave.”

And more importantly, leave behind this weird situation.

“You thank me?” he chuckled. “Damn, that’s considerate of you, but I’m comfortable right here.”

“Like hell,” you grumbled. “I’m not afraid to call the police.”

It was time to end this. Time for the charade to come to a close.

“We’ll be gone by then,” he sighed. “With that thanks, not only do you admit to me that you are in my debt, but all of that wine and food from last night? You ate that in the land of the fae, baby.”

“Meaning?” you sighed, sick of his riddles already.

“Meaning, just try to eat something around here,” he nodded. “Human food will make you sicker than shit. You’d have to ask that hottie from last night to release you of your bonds in order to eat a slice of pizza again, and I don’t think he’s looking to do that anytime soon.”

The feeling of being doused in cold water hit you again. Your mind attempted to scream at you, he was a lunatic.

But in your gut, you felt a pang of truth.

“So...so what’s the point in bringing me home?” you whispered, unsure if you even wanted to hear any more. Certainly this had to be a bad dream.

“Figured it was humane,” he murmured. “This way you could pick up some personal items, tie up any loose ends.”

“And then?” you asked, unsure if you were ready for the answer.

“We go back to the ring of trees,” he said, unabashed. He glanced down to his cuticles before looking up at you. “Under the oak. Back to my lands, kickin’ it in my court.”

“In...in your...” you trailed, looking at him in earnest. His smile was growing more mischievous by the second, just as his ears seemed to elongate into pointed ends. The tattoos covering his body also began to grow with every stretch of his muscles, their previous black sheen turning into something more iridescent. 

While he was gorgeous before, he slowly turned into something impossibly striking. It was clear that he was as far from human as your neighbor’s cat.

“Mine,” he said slowly. “We’re going to have to be homies down there, so I’ll fill you in. I was allowed to take you because I am the prince of the damned realm, and I plan to keep you. Why? Because I like you. I’m not sure why, and it’s definitely not because you threw up on my shoes when I carried you above ground, but I like you. And I hope you learn to like me too.”

“It’s that simple to you?” you winced. “You’re plucking me from my life because you like me?”

“Nah mami,” he chuckled. “I’m plucking you from your life for your own safety. Please do a mental rewind and listen to the part about the food again. If you don’t come back, you’ll die of starvation. I mean...that is if my warrior doesn’t find you first. This is my protection, and my way of driving him a little crazy in the process. It’s a win, win.”

You opened your mouth to speak, only to shut it again. 

“So you ready?” he grinned.

“You’re crazy,” you managed.

“You think this is crazy? We’re just getting started,” he laughed. “But it’s okay, you can admit it. You’re scared.”

He wasn’t wrong.

You stayed deathly still as he stood and took a few steps toward where you were sitting up in bed. He slowly sat down again beside you, placing his hand lightly on your knee. “It’s okay, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“How do I know that?” you whispered, feeling the tears already fluttering to your lashes. You didn’t want to cry. You couldn’t cry. This wasn’t real, it couldn’t be.

“My name is Jay,” he said softly. “My name is my word. Fellas in the fae world don’t just offer up their name to a human. We know the consequences.”

You nodded slowly, the reality slamming into you with little poise. It was all true. “What are the consequences?”

“I suppose that’s for me to know and you to abuse,” he smirked. “Under my watch, I promise you, you are safe.”

“You promise?” you choked. From your little knowledge of the fae world, you knew they didn’t make promises lightly.

He nodded with a small smirk. “On my immortal ass.”

#jay park #jay park fae #jay park au #jay park fluff #jay park scenario #aomg #jay park oneshot #jay park drabble

[thetriggeredhappy]

8 and 55 Speeding Bullet, please? Thx!

wasn’t sure if you meant both #8 and also one for #55 or if you meant one drabble encompassing both of them so i just went ahead and did the second one. strap in fellas we’re about to get Angsty

8.) “This isn’t what I wanted.”

55.) “Just smile. I really need you to smile right now.”

Sniper’s hand was cold and clammy, alternating between lying very, very still, and gripping back hard enough to nearly hurt. That said, Scout preferred the second one. It helped him convince himself that Sniper still had some strength left despite the shivers that wracked his body and the inability to keep food down, as well as him not quite managing to properly fall asleep, never for more than ten minutes or so and never too deeply, the pain or the fever shaking him conscious all too soon.

It was supposed to just be a simple contract. Out in the jungle, taking out some business rival of their boss, Mr. Saxton Hale, who’d invited him to the area under the pretense of a hunting trip to “make amends” between them. The hit itself was relatively easy, but extraction had taken a turn for the worse.

The team had consisted of Scout (playing the role of distraction), Sniper (who would be making the hit itself), Demo (to take down the building the target was in, to destroy evidence), and Pyro (to help with the evidence destruction and to be there as backup if something went pear-shaped).

But then when they were on their way out, Demo was delivered a shotgun round into the back, and they were forced to use almost all of their meager supply of medical fluid to try and get him walking again. And they’d managed it, and gotten out safely.

But Sniper, quietly during the worst of the chaos, had taken a bit of fragmentation to his leg. He stopped the bleeding, wrapped the wound. Assumed he would be fine until they could get to a supply cache and raid it for more medical supplies, or until they could get back to the base. All he’d need is some crutches until he got there. Nothing major.

And then it’d gotten infected.

Scout listened to the shaky, raspy in-and-out of Sniper’s breathing, the way it rattled around inside his chest far too much. Either he would survive the night and be well enough to travel by the next day, or he’d…

Or…

Scout rubbed over the back of Sniper’s hand with his thumb. To bring things around all the more, it wasn’t the most opportune time for part of the team (and by extension, probably all of the team) to find out that he and Sniper were… involved. There wasn’t really much excuse for the way Scout had been acting, with them being “best friends” only explaining so much. Somewhere around the point that Scout started holding Sniper’s hand and sitting at his bedside all hours of the day, the excuse (no matter how true) had kind of fallen apart.

Sniper jerked suddenly, pulled awake from his almost-sleep, and stared up at the ceiling for a few moments with obvious confusion, clearly trying to re-orient himself.

“Hey,” Scout said quietly, squeezing his hand once.

Sniper’s fingers twitched in what Scout sincerely hoped wasn’t Sniper’s best attempt at reciprocation. “Hey,” he replied, voice weak and raspy. He cleared his throat lightly, wincing at how raw it still was. Scout had almost needed to leave the room when Demo had taken the shards out. He really, really didn’t like listening to Sniper in so much pain. The changing of his bandages was easier, but only barely.

Scout didn’t look down at his leg. He just looked at Sniper’s face.

That wasn’t great either. His expression was all twisted up in a grimace, and he shifted his head slightly, clearly unwilling to do much else. “What time’s it?” he asked, voice a creak.

“Just after nine,” Scout lied, award that Sniper couldn’t see the clock very well from his position and his lack of glasses.

“How long was I out?”

“About an hour,” Scout lied.

That left Sniper to sigh, gritting his teeth. “I suppose Demo’s not back with painkillers yet?” he asked, hopeful.

“Not yet. Said he’d radio when he was on the way back,” Scout said.

A second sigh. “Damn.”

Scout watched a series of expressions flit across Sniper’s face as he shifted his weight minutely.

“Why did two of us have to get fucked up?” Scout asked, dropping his head to press his cheek into Sniper’s forearm. “Seriously. Why do we suck at our job?”

“It happens. Just bad luck is all,” Sniper said, hand twitching again in a weak attempt at a squeeze. “Can’t help bad luck, or bad intel.”

Scout looked at him quietly for a few moments. He turned his face down. “This isn’t what I wanted,” he said softly.

Sniper didn’t reply.

“I wanted to…” He drew shapes on Sniper’s hand with his thumb. “…I wanted to go and, and head out and sightsee when this mission was over. We were supposed to have a layover in New York, an’ you’ve never been on the East Coast. Not with me, at least.”

A weak attempt to squeeze his hand. Scout squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

“And, I wanted to… one’a these days, maybe, we…” He needed to swallow back a lump in his throat. “You’ve never met my family, and my, I’ve got all these nieces an’ nephews and stuff, and hey, what kinda uncle would I be if I didn’t bring over a genuine Australian to meet them? A shitty one, that’s what.”

The slightest intake of breath. Scout didn’t look up. Couldn’t.

“And—I wanted to meet your folks too,” he said, feeling himself rambling but not caring enough to stop it. “See your house. All the dogs you were tellin’ me about. I’ve never been on a farm before, if you can believe that. Born-and-bred city boy, all that crap. Maybe I’d like it. I dunno.”

His eyes were burning. So was his throat.

“And—and I wanted to,” Scout tried, and his voice was rough, but so was Sniper’s, so it was probably okay. “I wanted to, travel with you. Go out and see stuff, maybe, when all this was over. It wasn’t supposed to… you weren’t supposed to, to get all messed up an’…”

His voice finally broke, and now he was the one gripping too-tight on the other one’s hand.

“It ain’t fair,” he choked. “It ain’t fair.”

“I know, Roo. I know,” Sniper said softly. A beat of pause. “Get up here. Hurts seein’ you all broken up and not bein’ able to hug you. C’mon. Breakin’ my heart, ‘ere.”

Scout only paused for a moment before he complied, moving to wrap his arms around Sniper, pulling him in close. Sniper gave a grunt of discomfort as he managed to force his own arms up around Scout despite protesting muscles, and they remained there for a good moment.

“Who says we can’t still do all that, aye?” Sniper asked after a moment. “C’mon now. I thought you were supposed to be the optimistic one. Can’t have you goin’ all grim on me now. Bad for morale.”

Scout pulled back enough to look at him, and Sniper winced as he forced his arm back around to cup his face.

“Go on then. Perk up,” he said, trying for a little smile. “I can’t look that bad, can I?”

Scout’s eyes were watering in earnest. His voice caught in his chest, grating against his ribcage. Sniper’s expression faltered.

“Really. What’s that look for?” he prompted.

Scout reached up to cup Sniper’s hand to his face, sniffling, furiously blinking back tears. “I just, I feel so fuckin’ useless,” he admitted. “You’re lyin’ here sick an’ hurtin’, and I—I can’t do anything. It’s killin’ me.”

Sniper gave him a little smile. “Hey, now. You’re doin’ plenty,” he corrected gently.

“Cryin’ like a baby isn’t helpful,” Scout said with a huff.

“Maybe not. But you’ve been here,” Sniper said, thumb rubbing over Scout’s cheek, “at my side, watchin’ out for me. Helps put me at ease, otherwise bein’ as helpless as I am, I’m sure I wouldn’t sleep a wink. And you’ve been holdin’ my hand, helpin’ keep me distracted from the pain. Telling me I’ll be okay. Not laughing at me for being such a useless lump. Or complaining about how bloody gross my leg looks, because I know it looks gross, I’ve seen an infected wound before, they’re nasty buggers.”

“Are you really tryin’ to comfort me right now?” Scout asked disbelievingly.

“A bit,” Sniper confirmed. He tilted his head, ever so slightly. “Roo. What I’m getting at is that… you, here? This helps me. It really does.”

Scout sniffled again. “But what can I do, to make you feel better? Other than that?”

Sniper’s face was pale, and shiny with sweat, but his eyes were surprisingly clear. “Just smile. I really need you to smile right now,” he said, voice wobbly.

Scout blinked at him.

Sniper took a breath, exhaled. “Scout, I’ve gotten hurt before—par for the course—and I’ve gotten pretty badly sick as well. But this is…” He had to take another breath. His voice was weak, shakier than Scout had perhaps ever heard it. “Roo, this is scary. I’m… I’m scared right now. I just need you to tell me it’s going to be okay. Just a little smile, that’s all I’m asking.”

Scout looked at him, swallowed hard. Leaned in and gave him a little kiss on the cheek. When he drew back, it was easy to bring a smile onto his face.

“Yeah. You’re gonna be okay. It’s gonna be alright,” he said, and managed to believe it, at least for a second, seeing the relief on Sniper’s face, the way the tension melted from his shoulders.

“I’m gonna be okay. It’s gonna be alright,” he repeated back.

It would be alright. It had to be.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #speeding bullet #sniperscout #shut up me #does he live? good question #my fanfiction #my writing

[allonsysilvertongue]

Ignorance Is Bliss. Or Is It?

The Ballad of A Drunk & His Lady: Ignorance Is Bliss. Or Is It?

Effie stirred, taking awhile to accustom herself to the unfamiliar surroundings. Slowly, the memory trickled in and she turned to look at the man sleeping next to her. Haymitch was a dead weight with his arm slung across her stomach and his leg hooked over hers.

Being here in his house, in his bed and the rarity of such occasion made it feel so much like a one night stand except Effie knew it wasn’t. Her heart grew heavy, knowing that they would never have more moments like this in his house.

Her stomach grumbled, reminding him of the reason she was awake in the first place.

She tried to push him off her carefully, finding a way to wriggle out of his embrace without waking him up.

It was futile. With a sigh, she shook his shoulder gently, quite aware of what could happen if she were to startle him. Thankfully, his knife was not within his reach.

“I have to go,” she whispered when he groused in annoyance.

“No,” he tightened his hold on her.

She loved it when he was in this state; half asleep to be truly and fully conscious of his actions. He was often more affectionate and clingy, so very unlike him when he was sober and alert.

“Stay,” Haymitch insisted.

“I’m famished. I should get back to the train in any case. I cannot be seen coming from your house. What will people say?” she tried to rationalize.

Katniss might be oblivious but Peeta and Mrs. Everdeen certainly wouldn’t be, and she would have to face the lot of them for the Reaping. Although, to be fair, the issue of her sneaking out of Haymitch’s house would be the least of everyone’s worry.

“There will be something to eat in the train,” she continued. “I’m hungry, Haymitch. I haven’t had anything since lunch.”

He opened an eye to look at her and then rolled on his back, freeing her from his hold.

“Me too,” he grumbled, pushing himself to his elbows. “The things we did… It makes a man hungry, sweetheart.”

She couldn’t help but smile fondly at him. Almost without thinking, she brushed her fingers through the lock of his hair.

“Stop it,” he caught her wrist with a frown.

The sudden rough movement threw her a little off guard but she matched his frown with one of her own.

“I might never get the chance to do this again,” she told him. She saw the look in his eyes and almost wished it back but the words were already out there. “We may never – “

“Stop that,” Haymitch rebuked. “We’ve talked about this. It’s got to be me. I can’t let Peeta go, Effs. I thought you understand this.”

“I know, I do,” she nodded. “And you’ve promised Katniss to keep him safe. I know, Haymitch.”

“Good. You gotta be stronger than this, sweetheart,” he said tucking her hair behind her ear.

When he had told her about his promise to Katniss, she had been upset. She had been angry with Katniss even; angry that she dared to ask that of Haymitch. But when she had calmed down – after he had fucked her and calmed her down – Effie realized that this was the only way. He had saved them once so if there was a way he could save them both again, he would never let the children go through what they went before.

“Alright, come on,” he tugged on her wrist, this time rubbing his thumb gently over the spot where he had grabbed earlier. “You said you’re hungry, yeah?”

She laughed at that.

“I am but I am not eating anything from your house, Haymitch,” she teased but followed him out of the bedroom anyway. “Who knows what had gone bad without you being any the wiser…”

“I’ll have you know, sweetheart, that since Katniss put Hazelle on housekeeping duties, nothing has gone bad around here,” he assured as they entered the kitchen.

He grabbed some bread and cheese from the cupboard and a bottle of wine from another. Effie made to take two glasses for the wine but realized that she had no idea where they were being kept. He nudged her towards the fireplace. He had a fire going the night before but it was dying and she wondered why he was kneeling in front of the fireplace to start the fire once more because she was leaving soon anyway.

“Sit with me,” he requested over his shoulder. “Come on, just relax. It’s at least two more hours or something before the sun comes up. It’s still dark out there – plenty of time for you to sneak back to the train.”

He was already settled on the floor and the warmth from the fire was far too tempting for her to argue too much so she sat next to him.

Effie reached out for the bread only for Haymitch to slap her hand away. “Wait,” he rolled his eyes.

He toasted the bread over the fire which made Effie frown. He could have used the toaster in the kitchen, couldn’t he? It seemed a little archaic.

She was about to make a remark when he took the bread away from the fire, tore off a piece and blew on it to cool it down. Her eyes widened in surprise when he pressed the bread against her lips, his intentions clear. He was trying to feed her. It was odd for her. Haymitch had never done anything like this before.

But he was patiently waiting, watching her quietly so she parted her lips for the bread and the cheese that he gave her next.

“I believe it is only right that I return the favour,” she said as she looked at him.

There was a look in his eyes, intent and contemplative. It made her shiver to be looked at that way, as if she was the only one that mattered currently.

“What’s gotten into you?” she asked, wiping the crumbs off his lower lip.

He blinked, looking away before finding her gaze again. She could get lost in the greys of his eyes, she thought.

Could die in the next few days, sweetheart,” he whispered, lips inches away from hers.

His hand rose to the back of her neck and he curled his fingers on her nape, pulling her slowly forward until he could kiss her.

“I’m scared, Haymitch,” she admitted in the cover of the night. “I’m scared for you. I – I don’t want to –“

He didn’t let her finish and he didn’t answer her. Instead he let his hand wander under her blouse again.

XxX

“I do apologise for my tardiness,” she said, taking off her scarf and coat as she entered Katniss’ house. “What’s this about?”

Since she was late, through no fault of her own but the train was delayed in District Eight, nobody answered her question.

It would seem that she had arrived in the middle of the ceremony. Peeta and Katniss had invited her two weeks ago but wouldn’t say what it was for except that it was important to them. Of course, whatever was important to the children was important to her as well. She had tried asking if there was anything she could help with but the children had assured her that only her presence was required. She wished she had taken an earlier train, even if it meant arriving a day early. She could have checked in into one of the motels or guesthouses.

Katniss’ living room was clean and cozy. It felt homely with the picture frames, paintings and vases of flowers decorating the room. The fireplace was lit up and there were rugs as well as cushions on the floor. Each of the guests invited was holding a glass of wine.

The atmosphere in the room was peaceful. Those in the room seemed relaxed even if there was an air of anticipation. Effie chanced a glance over at Haymitch to see that he had cleaned up well. His beard was neatly trimmed and his hair which was usually in a mess had been combed. He even made an effort with his clothes, Effie noted. She had not seen him since the day he left for Twelve with Katniss and he had filled out a bit since then. He looked healthy. Life seemed to suit him well.

Life after the war seemed to suit every one well. Even Johanna was smiling, with Finn seated on her lap. The boy was quiet, distracted by a long piece of string Johanna keep spooling and unspooling for him.

“Katniss, it’s time,” Peeta said, holding his hand out to her.

She took his hand and joined him in front of the fireplace, the both of them knelt on the red cushions. To his right, Haymitch handed each of them a steel skewer with a piece of bread skewed to its front and stepped back. They held it over the fire.

Effie smiled, even as she tried to hide the sudden feeling of discomfort that had creeped in. The scene was oddly familiar, like a memory from the past.

With the bread now off the fire, still kneeling, the kids turned to face each other. Peeta was smiling and Katniss… Effie had never seen Katniss that way; looking at Peeta with a glimmer of fondness. She was calm; shoulders relaxed and her gaze focused solely on Peeta instead of darting everywhere for any signs of danger.

Annie stepped forward to hand them each a glass of wine, and just like Haymitch had done before, she stepped back.

“Here,” Johanna pressed a glass into her hand.

Smiling, Katniss and Peeta raised their glasses, as did everyone.

“To the newly wed,” Greasy Sae’s said, startling Effie. “May a thousand years of happiness shine upon you both and your union be blessed with children.”

Katniss reeled in surprise.

A wedding?!

She had just attended a wedding. Had she not been in this exact situation in front of a fireplace, and the bread, and the wine, just three years ago on the morning of the Third Quarter Quell’s Reaping?

“To Katniss and Peeta,” everyone toasted.

Her gaze darted to Haymitch, eyes wide in shock and panic. He caught her gaze but promptly looked away, keeping himself busy by refilling everyone’s wine glass.

He avoided her. She was well aware that he was avoiding her because each time she tried to move closer, he moved away, immersing himself with the surrounding conversation which Effie knew from all the years spent working together was not something Haymitch enjoyed.

She seized her chance when she spotted him making his way to the empty kitchen. Effie excused herself from the conversation with Annie and went after him. He was searching the top cabinet when she walked in, fingers curling around the neck of the whiskey bottle when Effie closed the cabinet door.

He turned towards her to see her glaring at him, arms folded.

“Would it be wrong and presumptuous of me to say that you’ve been avoiding your wife?” she said coolly.

“Yeah.”

“Which would that be? The part where you’re avoiding me or the part where I’m your wife?” she crossed her arms.

“Listen,” he raised his eyes to meet hers briefly. “Now’s not the time to talk about it. The kids – “

“Are married,” she finished him off. “Apparently, so did we three years ago. We had a marriage ceremony by your district’s customs and you did not even think to tell me?

“Wouldn’t make a difference,” he muttered.

“What was that?” she demanded. “It wouldn’t make a difference?”

She wanted to grab the nearest thing and hurl it at him but she refrained herself. She was furious. How could he have kept her in the dark over something so important and life-changing? It felt like he had robbed an important decision and aspect of her life.

“We’ve been married for three years, Haymitch,” she hissed. “Three years!”

 “It’s just some stupid custom and tradition, alright,” he murmured. To his credit, his voice had a hint of guilt.

She sputtered, truly lost for words.

“A tradition is not stupid,” she countered. “It is rooted in – in … Oh, you are so unbelievable, Haymitch! I have half a mind to strangle you until you’ve regained some shred of common sense.”

“We didn’t register it,” he tried another point of argument. “Relax about it already.”

“No, oh no,” she laughed. If anyone were to walk in now, Effie was sure, she was the image of the mentally unstable. “I will not relax about it. I spent that last one year angry at you and another after that trying to piece my life together which by the way, involved me thinking hard about where I want you in my life. We spend the last one year being cordially civil with one another and you didn’t say a word about this, Haymitch. Not a word.”

“Exactly why I didn’t,” he thundered. “Because you’re finally talking to me, Effs. I finally felt as if I had you back. Look, you have a right to be angry with me. I gave you a lot of reasons to be furious and if you ain’t ever gonna forgive me, it’s right too.”

He rubbed his face tiredly.

“It doesn’t matter. The toasting and what it symbolize…. I don’t hold you to it. Truth is… I was selfish,” he chuckled derisively. “I thought I was gonna die, yeah? And I – I wanted to make you mine.”

Despite herself, Effie shivered at that word. She had never thought Haymitch would ever want her that way she wanted him.

“I wanted to have something,” he said.

“Why didn’t you tell me then? Why didn’t you tell me what we were doing?”

He shook his head and for the first time since they started this conversation, he took a drink from the bottle he was holding.

“Because if you knew, and if I died after, you’d be broken, sweetheart.”

There was some truth in that.

“I would still be broken whether or not we were – are – married,” she told him.

He raised his head, giving her a pained smile.

“I know,” he admitted quietly. “I’m sorry. Shit,” he cursed. “What I did, it wasn’t fair to you so … In all honesty, I know you’re tryin’ to get on with your life. You’re tryin’ to find your footin’ and move on. I want that for you, sweetheart. And if there’s a guy in the City,” he seemed almost visibly in pain just trying to get that word out, “that you know, you’re seeing… It doesn’t – What I’m tryin’ to say is, I don’t hold you to that sham of a marriage we had. It ain’t binding in the eyes of the law. You’re free. You were never tied to me.”

“That is true. It might not be legally binding but you heard them out there. No one feels married until they had had their toasting. Which means to the people here, and you by that extension, the toasting carries a heavier meaning and weight than any legal document.”

“And I’m telling you that I’m not holding you to it,” he growled in frustration. “So go.”

“Don’t do this, Haymitch,” she pleaded, reaching out to touch him. “Do you want us to be married? Tell me the truth, please. Do you still want what you wanted three years ago?”

He looked affronted, as if he had never expected to be asked that question. When had anyone ever asked him what he wants?

Effie studied him, waiting.

“What do you want, Haymitch? More than anything else in the world, what do you want?”

“Come on,” he tugged his hand free from her grip. “This is stupid.”

“It’s not. Answer the question, please.”

“A proper shot at life,” he told her truthfully once he realized that she would not budge. “And it wouldn’t mean shit without you, sweetheart.”

“So… What does that mean? Do you – Do you want me?”

“Yeah, course I do,” he nodded, looking down at his boots. “Every single day.”

“Okay,” she said. In a declarative tone, without giving him much room for argument, she told him. “I want to give this a try.”

“Being married?” he blinked.

She shot him a glare, and if looks could kill, he would have been dead.

“Being together,” Effie said. “We give that a shot and then we’ll do the toasting. Properly this time.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he repeated and he must have seen that she was about to argue because he pulled her close, a hand resting on her hip. She could feel his thumb drawing random, soothing circles on her hip bone. “It doesn’t matter to me if we’re married or not as long as you’re here.”

#hayffie #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #filed under: the ballad of a drunk & his lady

[soullessfeline-blog]

Flirting with death // AU

Pairing: Zoe/Kayn (Zoyn)

Rated: PG

Source of Characters: League of Legends

A childish yet so old of a goddess planned to go on a disguise. Pretending to be an 18 year old lady, with quite of a short height. Which she doesn't mind at all! It's just like how her real height is as a god anyway. She did all of that just to set foot on worlds. Toying with creatures' lives and homes, ironic isn't it? A goddess supposedly to be doing her business, and not playing tricks with mortals. She is an unguided goddess after all, or should I say hard to be guided? She has a companion- rather a senior, someone older than her that teaches her lessons about being a god and whatnot. Yet she just won't listen, childish as she is. She'd prefer mind games anytime—or just games. Well, she just sees her senior as a mere pet dog. As he takes a form of an ancient dragon.

In this planet called Runeterra, she took a stroll aimlessly. As she stumbles upon... a mortal if she would describe him. Before making any approach, she followed him until he sensed that someone's stalking him.

"You can show your self, lady." The man growled at the hiding goddess.

"You're quite keen, aren't ya?" She giggled and jumped up and down around him.

"Are you perhaps lost little girl? You're on the wrong side of the forest." He asked, looking up and down at the girl, observing her and judged her look.

"Little girl?!" She screeched, kinda pissed by the first impression. "God dangit, I should've improved my height after all." She whispered to herself, not allowing the man in front of her to hear it.

"Excuse me?" He asked for her undivided attention.

She cleared her throat, "that was quite insulting but... ugh, forget it.—I'm not a little girl, just for your information."

The man looked at her intensely, trying to observe more. "I don't know you, I haven't heard of you... that's weird, I'm pretty sure I should-" he stopped himself from mumbling nonsense. "Pardon me, then how old are you? You look like a kid to me."

"I'm a... uhm," she forgot about her desired age, trying to take grasp of her memory. For not much a couple of seconds, the thought hit her. "Eighteen."

"Why were you following me?" He finally pulled out his scythe that was just resting on his back, putting his guard back up.

"Woah, getting aggressive? I just wanted to chat, you're quite interesting looking for a mortal. Bringing a scythe anywhere too huh?" The disguised goddess swung her hair to her back, just a meaningless gesture.

"Mortal?" He asked. "Why are you... emphasizing that? And how can you be sure that I am?"

"Because you are?" Realizing about what she said, she tried to compensate for it. "I mean... haha... a-aren't we all mortals here? I guess I really am weird to call humans- us, a mortal."

He frowned at her, swinging his scythe in front of her, suggesting for her to back off. "I don't have time for such mortals."

"Playing the hard-to-get type? I like it!" The clueless goddess reached out for both of his hands, making him take no hold of his scythe, releasing it unwillingly to the ground. As soon as she got firm grip on his hands, she pulled him into a few steps of dance. The adventurer sure is shocked, it happened so quick that he didn't have any time to react at all. The mischievous lady let go of him as soon as she got to the part of the dance where she isn't much sure of the next step. She was just free styling yet she felt like ending the sudden dance at that moment.

"Are you pulling tricks?" The man accused as he got enraged by her silly actions. She just giggled as a reply. "You're just like flirting with death!"

She stopped from giggling because of that statement, tilting her head a little to the side she gave him a skeptical look.

"Don't you know what I'm capable of? I can easily swing my scythe," and so he grabbed his scythe from the ground. "And cut your head off in an instant! And... and let it fall on the ground just like how you made my scythe fall! I can easily kill anyone who dares to annoy me, and-"

"Hold up mister, are you death? I haven't heard of him or know of what he looks like but... are you?" Suspicions arise from the goddess.

The enraged man's eyes widened, his furious look turned into a nervous one. As if he was caught on an act. "N-no! I'm a mortal! Just like what you said."

"Go ahead and chop my head off then." She dared.

The nervous man wasn't so sure if he'll do just that, trembling as he held his scythe tightly. He let go of the tension soon enough, finally making a decision as to what he should do with her.

"Whatever, I'll let this one slide, just don't ever cross paths with me ever again." He then turned his back and gives her a death glare to scare her off, eventhough he felt threatened; because he was almost caught off his appearance. Still not sure of what this girl really is, but he decided to just go. Although the girl was able to say one more thing before he completely does:

"Sure, can't promise though. Because, just like what you said, I'm just like flirting with death. Name is Zoe by the way. See ya." She fled before him. Sprinting away from the man she just danced with, giggling all to herself as she jumped from tree to trees.

The name Zoe didn't have any ring for the man. He tried to recall if he has known any mortal with that look, an age of 18 years, and Zoe as a name. None, nothing came to hit him. He doesn't know every immortal being either, so it really was of no use to just stand there and think. Instead, he went to his realm to do some research, and look for the name Zoe. By first, looking at the list of names of mortals, and every mortal with the name Zoe.

His scythe finally woken up, not like he was really asleep, he was just pretending to be. Thus, he still knew what happened even if he wasn't really showing any sign of being conscious. "Interested with this girl, Zoe was it?"

"No, Rhaast. I'm just curious... and confused, too. It's weird that I can't recognize such a mortal like her." He said as he flipped through books. “It should be part of my knowledge to be aware or at least be familiar about every living human.”

"Stupid Kayn, then of course she is an immortal, try researching and read about immortals and stop convincing yourself that she is a mere mortal." He insulted his holder.

"It's just kind of impossible, what business could she have here to set foot on Runeterra? This is the first time I have come across another immortal being except for the ones that I had business with, or the ones that actually has business on Runeterra!" Kayn just got over one list, flipping through books and pages. As he continued blabbering. "And I've met all of them. If there are going to be new comers, I should've been given knowledge about it."

"Ugh, therefore, it's still possible. It's not like you know every immortal." Rhaast, the scythe, pointed out, rolling his eyes. "What? Why were you scared and dared to flee just exactly? Is it because she's an immortal or what? You should know she isn't a threat if she really is an immortal like you."

"No... no, no! Just shut up Rhaast, I can't focus!"

"What? Are you panicking now? Just answer the damn question you fool."

"Fine!" Kayn said slamming the book he was just holding onto the table. "It's because she might really be a mortal! I'll be doomed if I'm found out that I am death, by a mere fucking mortal!—Of course unless, she's dead and met me when her time comes."

He wasn't thinking much, he could've just killed her if she really was just a mortal. Yet again if she is an immortal and he caused death upon such person, then he'll be doomed too. It would be too hard to risk either way. But killing an immortal of such high positions can give him worse punishment compared to letting a mortal know his identity. Therefore, he let the girl go.

"Well, it wasn't like I admitted that I really was the god of death but she already suspects it. So I better retreat before the worst is yet to come." He added, Rhaast was fully aware of Kayn's denial not too long ago about being death, but he just have to add that to make sense.

"What was her name again?" Rhaast asked, who just forgot about the said girl's name.

"Zoe." Kayn simply answered.

"Hmm, her age is 18, isn't it? It's probably fake if she's an immortal so, how about... I'm not sure but try looking at the section of the aspect of twilight?" The scythe suggested, not entirely sure of it.

"What? There's a plenty of them? Not that I know any of them though."

By looking into it furthermore, he finally found the one.

"A goddess?!" Kayn, the god of death, exclaimed after finding out her identity. He gave more attention to it, looking for more photos of her. "She looked more human a while ago compared to her pictures here, it really was a disguise! Less flashy hair, not so long and not so... sparkly. Eyes were just both blue, her outfit was more of human's."

"So? Does she look better as a goddess?" His scythe asked, teasing Kayn who is getting flustered by this revelation.

"Oh shut up, Rhaast!"

While in Zoe's realm, she was able to search his name. It was easy as she got a clue on what he is, god of death. Although he did deny about it, she can still see for herself which is the truth. It was just the name that was missing anyway. She just have to find out who the current god of death is. To see if the one she encountered and the current profile of the death will match.

And there you go, the name is there, face and appearance matched. How careless of him not to put any disguise in the human world. She chuckled sweetly on her thoughts.

"He sure doesn't play any games huh? But still, he was able to made that an exquisite experience, unknowingly though." She sighed, releasing all the tension. "He was probably afraid that I may be a mortal and get him in trouble."

Zoe crossed her legs from her seat, looking around her realm, bored again from the usual stuffs. So she distracted herself by thinking back about what happened.

"He does have an admirable job, just like he is! Job: admirable, personality: admirable. I'm digging his braids, too. Quite catchy." She let out a dreamy sigh. "Then I've decided! I'm going to meet him again one of these days! I didn't promise to Kayn after all—that I won't cross paths with him anymore, that is."

"Zoe! Stop slacking off, if you're bored then you still have stuffs to do! Go do your responsibilities-"

"Stop being so whiny, you space doggo!" She yelled back to her senior, standing up from her seat as she stretches. Deciding to obey him, maybe just this once again. Since she has been on a good mood lately.

#honestly im too lazy to get thorough with posting this #zoyn #zoe x kayn #kayn x zoe #lol #zoe lol #kayn lol #fan fiction #alternate universe #jff #my writing