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kemakoshume · 2 years

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「𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕪𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕦𝕝𝕖𝕤」 (bokuto x f!reader)᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘᠃ a/n; i wrote this to procrastinate from writing my other chaptered fics :'D i get overwhelmed with how much i wanna add to ch fics so i needed a crack fic break. enjoy! xox // network tag(s): @anime-central <3 @hanayanetwork <3 @hqintheclub warnings; actually more suggestive than nsfw i guess but minors DNI anyway. crack, frats/sororities, mentions of sex but no like big sex scene (imma be honest with y'all... i rly didn't feel like writing one just for the sake of having it in here lmao sry), choking... gone wrong (but no one dies). time skip spoilers (names of new members and teams and stuff) — sakuatsu & kagehina are in this [3.4k words] ~

There were originally three rules in the Sigma Phi Epsilon fraternity house:

Uphold the fraternity standards & bylaws* and hold your brothers accountable to these standards.

Honor the assigned quiet hours, chore wheels, & don’t enter people’s private spaces without asking. In summary: keep your shit clean and don’t be a dick.

A. School — stay at least part-time in your credit hours, keep up with whatever PhysEd major you’re taking, and keep your GPA above a 3.0; if you need any help studying please for the love of god speak up. B. Sports — Stay active in a team partnered with the Fédération Internationale de Volleyball (obviously MSBY—if you made it this year—go Jackals), or an accredited team in your sport of choice.

*Except for the bylaws about drinking. Fuck that noise. We’re all adults & we’re getting smashed.

Then, due to some extraneous circumstances, the executives had to add two more:

*** Per our landlord (yes she included the bold and all caps): “KEEP THE FUCKING TO A MINIMUM.” Apparently, our lovely Sigma Chi neighbors can hear us & we’re disrupting their quiet hours, so make it hard for us to know that you’re doing it if you’re doing it. Also, not a house rule just a moral reminder: consent is key gentlemen.

Please refrain from breaking the beds and/or bed frames (or shower doors, Atsumu). They’re expensive.

*Partners are still allowed, just be quieter if you can help it.

You and your boyfriend have some issues navigating the new additions.

Bokuto has been a member of Sigma Phi for about a year now. He’s been your boyfriend for about six months. Six long months that proceeded three months of “courting,” as your sorority house mom and your sorority president, Alisa, had put it—all of which culminated in lots and lots of raucous, euphoric, occasionally ethically questionable, noise-complaint inducing sex.

It was officially time for you, amongst some others, to pay the piper for that.

“Alright guys, thank you all for coming down. I asked both you and your partners here today to go over some changes to the house rules; since some of them also involve you ladies, and gentlemen—hello Kageyama, congrats on your team’s win last Friday—it seems right to have you all here for this at once. Plus, you’re normally here anyway so why not.” Meian walks to the side of the couch, changing the slide on the projector screen illuminating the blank white wall of the living room to the ‘Da Rules’ section.

“So, as you can see, we have two new rules on top of the old ones. Read them yourself—let me know if there are any questions after you do.”

You looked up at the screen, scanning your eyes over the words on the slide carefully to make sure you understood exactly what the fraternity president was saying via the changes. Bokuto sat next to you, his fingers slotted into yours. All of the other members of his fraternity, both single and non, gathered around you scrambled and laid across the living room furniture. Those that weren’t single had their partners cozied up to their sides as well, looking much like you and your own boyfriend did.

A few faces around you furrowed, including yours and Bokuto’s, as everyone finished reading the slide in full.

“Wait… so we can’t have sex here anymore?” Atsumu speaks up, cuddled underneath Sakusa’s arm. “I thought that was only a stupid rule for the sorority houses, just like that sexist “no booze for them but it’s okay for us” bullshit. When did this happen?”

His question is followed by a wave of voices all filling the space asking similar questions. With the better part of forty-odd people in the room, it’s almost deafening for a moment. “Oh my god, shut up,” Meian says, his temperate voice loud even without needing to yell. He began rubbing roughly at his temples. “Did none of you read the asterisk for the sex part? It literally says right here that ‘Partners are still allowed, just be quieter if you can help it.’ Okay?” the leader says, looking around the room for objections. All he sees is the dejected look of newly minted adults back.

You look up at Bokuto, batting your lashes softly in very visible disappointment. It wasn’t like you needed to be loud, you just couldn’t help it. He fucked you too good to not make noise; sure, there were ways to mitigate it, but having the option to be vocal for him all but taken away from you, solely because your other sorority sisters—give or take a few—were fucking lame, was not it.

“I’ll go over there and give my dear sisters a fat kiss with my knuckles,” you speak up, gritting your teeth. “Think that would solve their issues?”

The few girls in the room that you know from your own greek life nod, mischief painted on their faces just like it was on yours.

Meian sighs, “Look, we have to be respectful of our neighbors. Some of which house quite a few of you lovely ladies sitting here right now, so if you have an issue with the noise complaints, plural, then take it up with your Sigma Chi sisters, sans violence, and your house mom. Have fun with that argument when she makes you take it up with your executive board. I’d love to see how hard you push back on this if it comes to that.”

Atsumu groaned, throwing his head back against the couch with his hands rubbing at his eyes, rocking back into an upright position with his elbows on his knees.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” he says, talking more so out loud and to the rest of you than at the president. “We pay almost two-grand a year, each, to be in this frat and live in this house, not even including the day-to-day money stuff—and you’re telling me I can’t fuck my boyfriend as loud as I want behind my own closed doors? Please.”

“Ha,” Inunaki scoffs, chuckling to himself, “nice to finally get confirmation that Ku is the receiver there. Never would’ve guessed. You both sound like you’re taking it with how loud you are Tsumu.”

The twin scowls at the libero, his fingers twitching to flick the upperclassman in the center of his forehead. He relents, knowing that the older man could beat his ass if he tried. His years of training by fighting his brother would amount to nothing.

Bokuto clears his throat, sitting up straighter in his seat to address the chapter president. “So, not to be a dick about it but, uh, Atsumu has a point. We do pay to be here. We all follow the chapter rules, and besides, it’s not our fault the Chi girls—well, the other Sigma Chi girls, can’t hang. We don’t bitch about it when they have trivia night over there and scream shit about physics and mammals or whatever all night. Why do they get to tell us what to do in the privacy of our bedrooms?”

You nod along, jutting out your chin indignantly. You had plenty of love for your sorority and your sisters, but you were stifled enough within the insanely strict, explicitly sexist, utterly infuriating greek life bylaws that only seemed to affect the sororities, but not the fraternities somehow (even though they—other frats, not your boyfriend’s—were the ones that tended to be the cause of national news level scandals). Making the trek across the lawn to shack up in Bokuto’s bedroom was a whole different sea of freedom and opportunity that you just weren’t afforded as a sorer.

Paying money to be parented by a greek life system that didn’t understand that women could handle themselves with freedom, and to now have your freedoms oppressed even further in a house your boyfriend paid to keep running… man, fuck that. You joined greek life for the parties, the networking opportunities, and the community. You didn’t join for this shit.

Meian sighs, turning off the projector and flipping on the lights. He comes around the couch to sit on the arm, looking at all of you scattered around the large room. “Well, that’s the issue. The doors are closed, but the windows aren’t. Also, the walls are shit, the pipes carry noise outside, and all of you sound like you’re auditioning for America’s Next Top Pornstar during the weekends, and during the week in between practices—hello, again, Kageyama.”

The man shakes his head, sinking into his seat where Hinata is wrapped around him like a koala, grumbling something under his breath.

“Look, point-blank, keep the noise to a minimum, at least during the week. This isn’t just coming from me, we had a whole exec board meeting over this, and the landlord can and will kick us out of here if there are too many noise complaints filed on us with the city. Do you wanna go back to living in dorm rooms? Because I don’t. So, suck it up,” he says, a sense of finality in his tone. “You’re all dismissed.”

With that, the president leaves—stalking his way out of the backdoor and down the stone-step pathway out to the small man-made lake behind the fraternity house.

You all look around at each other in the room, small groans and whines coming from almost everyone in the space; well, those with dedicated partners at least.

“Well, sucks to be you guys,” Adriah said, lifting himself off of the floor. “Looks like there is more than one benefit to fucking older women that have their shit together already. See ya!”

He left as well, along with most of all the other single members of the frat. The rest of you loitered around the living room, talking and bitching about things amongst yourselves.

“I wonder if this whole thing will be on a recycle strike system like the other behavior-based rules,” Bokuto said, pulling you into his lap as you moved to sit on the floor. “Like… you can fuck up three times before getting your shit fucked but the strikes refresh every ninety days or whatever.”

A few of the boys hummed, some moving around the room picking up little trash things off the floor, while a few others handed beers around to those who wanted one.

“It might be,” Hinata said, his hair squashed by the weight of Kageyama’s chin resting on the crown of his head. “But, Meian probably won’t clarify until one of us breaks the rule so we can’t try to abuse the strikes beforehand. Fuck, he’s an evil genius.”

Inunaki chuckles, making his way across the room to go out the back exit door. “I don’t see why you’re all already trying to skirt around this one rule so hard. The board didn’t make this decision lightly; we know you’re all adults and deserve to have fun, but you did sign on and agree to rule changes, and at the end of the day this wasn’t really up to any of the admin. Just experiment with fuckin’ ball gags and embrace the wondrous world of asphyxiation or something if you really can’t keep it down—just, be careful! Be safe, don’t die.” The treasurer opened the door, only getting halfway out before he turned around again. “Just saying, you don’t have to alert the whole neighborhood that you’re fucking to prove to each other that it’s good! I promise.”

With that, he leaves, and you slump against Bokuto’s chest. Twiddling your thumbs together as you let your throats roam; pondering the older man’s words as you sit in their wake.

Choking. You’d never done that. What better time to try it?

“Hey Bo,” you whisper, turning in your boyfriend’s lap to whisper in his ear, “I think Shion might be on to something. Wanna go to your room for a little bit before dinner? Try some things out? Maybe… Youtube some stuff, watch some visual examples?”

His eyes darken to a medallion gold, looking down at you. He slides his hand along your jaw, gripping your face lightly to pull you into a mildly heated kiss. Through the slight daze of being kissed breathlessly by your partner, you do manage to note the sound of other kisses being shared in the room.

Looks like you’re all on the same page.

Bokuto breaks the kiss, his hand already underneath your shirt, caressing the smooth skin of your soft tummy. “Hey guys, we’re gonna—” he said, stopping in his verbal tracks as he looked over to see nearly every couple left in the room making their way off to separate corners of the house—some even opting to go outside. The quickly approaching darkness of early-winter nightfall and the glorious lack of summer bugs made it easy to have some fun outdoors as well.

Looks like you all were really on the same page.

Bokuto stood the two of you up, grabbing your hand to lead you up the side staircase to his upper floor bedroom. The only two left in the room after you’d gone were Atsumu and Sakusa, holding each other in their arms as they kissed and cuddled around the kitchen.

You pretended not to see Atsumu dipping down to balance on his heels in front of his boyfriend as you ascended the stairs.

So, Youtube does in fact not have all the answers. Porn, even less so.

A little protip in case you needed confirmation on this: having your boyfriend—your boyfriend with no pro-dom experience—choke you to keep you quiet during sex… not a great idea. Even with both written and visual examples under your belt on how to do the thing, experimenting with heavier dominant aspects of sex is always best taught slowly, and by a professional.

You did not do things slowly or watch anything that came from a professional.

You can hear your boyfriend panicking, running next door into Hinata’s room with insane urgency. Though, despite how his panic may have made things seem, you were actually fine. You felt the slightest soreness blooming around your neck— where his hands had just been—and from his yelling pre-bolting out of the room you could tell your lips had the slightest tinge of blue developing on them, but you were actually breathing completely fine; the oxygen just needed a moment to fully flood back into your brain and up through to the surface of your skin.

Five more minutes of that and then maybe things would be a different story. Though Bokuto, understandably, thought he had accidentally murdered you, despite seeing your eyes open and responsive.

“Help! She… I think she’s hurt, and—fuck, less important detail but I’m gonna go to fucking jail!”

You chuckle as you hear him running door to door, asking for someone, anyone of his roommates to come help, and to call the emergency services line. You feel the subspace—the little elevation of epinephrine, endorphins, and enkephalins in your brain—beginning to alleviate itself a bit as you manage to sit up in bed, draping a blanket across your body to cover up, sipping at the water he had sitting on his bedside table when he launches himself back into his bedroom, tears running down his incredibly handsome, perfectly himbo-ish, face.

“Baby!” he yells, dropping to his knees and wrapping his arms around your waist. His head is laid against your boobs, sobbing uncontrollably into your chest.

“Honey,” you say back, giggling as he continues with his tears. “Why are you crying?”

He sobs harder at your question, squeezing you just a bit tighter. Before he can answer, a few of his roommates come barreling into the room with an emergency worker in tow as they practically push the man into the bedroom. You can hear the sounds of basically everyone in the house running around trying to be of some assistance in the background.

“Hi,” the paramedic says, his voice soft and sweet, “My name’s Kenjiro. I’m just gonna take a look at you really quickly if that’s okay. Please remove the grown man from your front side and take off your bracelet for me please.”

Bokuto very reluctantly moves out of the way, sitting at the end of the bed by your feet as the healthcare professional starts to measure your vitals.

“So, can you tell me what happened in your own words,” he asks you, his eyes noticeably looking above your head to the slight indents forming in the wall from the (now cracked) headboard smacking against it—despite the little blocks you’d put in place to keep it from doing that.

You run through the tale of the evening, your cheeks and chest blooming with heat as you notice the small group of boys still standing outside of the room—some just standing ideally around while some are on the phone, and a few speak to the other paramedic that had come by as backup.

“I’m fine, honestly!” you say, your voice lower than normal from the strain you’d allowed your boyfriend to put on it. “We just tried something new and it didn’t exactly go as planned.”

“Something, meaning asphyxiation?” the paramedic asks, his face looking subtly smug. He places a blood pressure cuff on your arm, starting up the device as he puts a little clamp on the tip of your finger.

“Yes, that. I got a little… out of it, and didn’t tell him to stop when I got dizzy and I guess I was still making noise so he didn’t notice, and… yeah. Totally consensual, if that’s what you’re worried about. We’re just stupid and got a little carried away.”

The man chuckles, looking over at your boyfriend who’s three shades paler than he normally would be and looking like the human personification of anxiety.

“Well, that’s good. I don’t see anything that would allude to any unsavory actions. Nothing’s broken, you’re able to speak to me just fine, and your levels are back up. So, I think that’s all from me. Just be more careful next time. Maybe shelve the kinky stuff until you’ve researched it more.”

You slump against the pillows nestled behind your back in Bokuto’s bed as the healthcare team leaves, leaving only you and Bokuto—and all of his frat brothers—in the home.

“So, she’s fine?” Hinata quips, shirtless with messy hair that presumably meant you’d interrupted their fun. Atsumu comes up the stairs leading to your room two at a time, Sakusa close behind as he asks much of the same.

Bokuto explains for you that things are fine, and you both apologize for making everyone worry.

“Well, good. Meian and Inunaki both do know about this now though, so just FYI… I’d expect a little meeting about this later.”

You both nod, sighing and sinking into the sheets together again as the men all scatter back to their own little corners of the house, leaving you two to the silence of his room.

“Maybe we should stick to the ball gag idea next time,” you say, mischief clear in your eyes as you cuddle your boyfriend.

He chuckles, pulling you onto his chest to kiss every part of your face. “Not a chance in hell on that one.”

So, fast forward two days, and a lot of security camera footage review, later—the Sigma Phi Epsilon fraternity house has three more new rules.

6. From now on, you break it, you buy it. No more sponsor money will be allocated towards sex-related property damage.

7. The rooms will be soundproofed on Saturday. Obviously having sex quietly & not causing bodily injury is too hard for you for some reason, so we’re making it easier on you. Once the soundproofing is done, no more sex outside of your soundproofed rooms; not in the bathrooms, not in the backyard, not in the kitchen… you gross little heathens. Also, a reminder: close your windows and the blinds before you do it. The elders that walk the campus for exercise can see you & they have complained.

8. No more almost murder in the frat house. My heart can’t take this.

And all any of you could say in return was, "yeah, we deserved this.”

yaaay that was that. a little mental break from working on my chaptered fics bc they're all becoming their own little beasts. i crossposted this on ao3 — bookmark it if you'd like to have it in case something ever happens to this blog (god forbid). tyty for reading xox

#bokuto x reader #bokuto x chubby reader #bokuto x you #bokuto smut #crack fic #hanaya network #hqintheclub #kk.writes #kk.middleground #kk.haikyuu #time skip spoilers #hq timeskip #hq timeskip spoilers #pls dont flop

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midnightswithdearkatytspb · 3 years

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Pairing: MusicProducer!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Rating/Warning(s): PG-13; Alcohol Consumption, Fluff

Word Count: 2,037

Synopsis: Reader gets asked what is the most romantic thing she could dream of Bucky doing for them, Bucky pulls out all the stops with the help of their friends.

Info: This goes out to @imerdwarf who inspired this little work. One of my all time favorite songs and videos growing up was Take On Me by a-ha. I knew this had to be written. Thank you @jacobs-pup for some help! The dividers are provided by @firefly-graphics. Sorry this was written on my phone, and posted from my phone I cannot add not read more. (Laptop is broken.) I hope you enjoy this!

*Моя Маленькая звезда — My Little Star (according to google translation)*

Y/H/C = Your Hair Color

Taylor Swift's voice blared through the flat as the final coat of Berry Naughty was drying on Y/N’s fingers. Looking down at them, she was oblivious to Darcy, Wanda and Natasha talking with their eyes and sitting down at the coffee table around her, staring at her. Y/N was the topic of their non-existent conversation and Natasha, clearly getting annoyed, rolled her eyes, got her phone out, setting it on the table and finally catching the other girl’s attention.

“Моя Маленькая звезда, now that we have your attention, we have a few questions for you.” Natasha smirked as she set down four shot glasses, starting to fill them with premium vodka. Y/N felt a chill run down her spine, both trying to recall anything she had done since the last girls night and whether she had anything to do tomorrow. When the vodka came out, the wills and ability to do anything the next day were impossible.

“Way to scare her. Is it not yours and Bucky’s four year anniversary on Friday?” Darcy made grabby hands for the first shot as she looked at Y/N, one eyebrow up with a smile on her face. Y/N laughed as she took her shot from Natasha, clinking with Wanda. She was worried for no reason. She quickly downed the shot and the burn was felt all the way down to her stomach.

“Yeah, four years, holy shit, can you guys believe it? It feels like just yesterday we were at the cafe, studying for finals, and he passed me that note asking me to be his girlfriend,” she sighed dreamily, leaning her head on the palm of her hand with a smile.

She had kept that very note in every wallet she’d owned so those days when things got hard, when they fought, or when she just needed a smile, it was there. That note was a reminder of Bucky’s love for her.

“He’s always been a sap, no?” Wanda started to pour more vodka into the shot glasses, lifting hers and clinking with Darcy as Natasha shook her no.

“My brother did not become a sap till he fell for Y/N, before that he was more of a laid and ditch 'em type.” Both Darcy and Y/N found their jaws dropping to the floor, before Natasha shrugged and motioned for them to take their shots. Y/N tapped her glass on the top of the table and leaned back, the burn hitting fast once again.

“Anyway. Y/N, what is something so romantic you wish would happen to you? Like, something that you’ve always dreamed about, but would never dare bring up to Bucky because you think he would laugh at you or just brush you off?” Wanda passed out mini cans of Ocean Spray cranberry juice along with candy bars, while maintaining eye contact with Y/H/C.

Biting her lip, a habit of her which she had been trying really hard to break, she sat there, thinking, trying to decide if she would admit her main desire or lie. Natasha could tell a lie from a mile away and Wanda had always been able to read her, so there was no use in lying.

“Okay, so you know I have a thing for 80’s music? Well I’ve always wanted to have Bucky pick up his acoustic guitar and sing Take On Me by a-ha, nothing could be more romantic than that. Extra points if he wears that leather jacket his mom got him for Christmas, because that just does things for me.” Y/N started to pour shots of vodka as blood rushed to her cheeks and her body heated up from all the attention on her. She was so focused on pouring shots she didn’t notice Natasha fiddling with her phone.

“Interesting, now do you think we should have something to eat? I’m thinking we should order a little bit of something from all our favorite places and have a smorgasbord.” Clinking her shot glass with Y/N’s, Natasha pulled it to her lips, knocking it back in one go. The girls didn’t ask her to elaborate, and it was like that girls night was back to being a girls night, gossiping, talking about TV shows and complaining about work.

*6 Day’s Later Bucky P.O.V.*

Bucky stepped back and looked around the living room, the stringed lights Darcy had provided from her and Steve’s wedding hung from the ceiling, providing mood lighting. Candles that Natasha had found were burning all throughout the apartment, reminding him of that day when he had asked Y/N out. Sitting on the back of the couch was the leather jacket his mother gave him for Christmas, waiting to be put on till last minute.

His palms were clammy from nerves. He needed things to go perfect, because the past four years he had with Y/N had been the best four years of his life. She loved him, supported his dreams of wanting to be a writer and music producer, encouraged him when times were hard, looked at him with adoration, and she never gave up on him. He loved Y/N so much, it ached the days they were apart when she was working in DC for Senator Potts as her personal assistant, but, when she came home, he felt whole. She made the days worth it, she made love worth it.

“Bucky, Darcy said she just dropped Y/N off.” Steve, Bucky’s best friend handed him his leather jacket, along with his acoustic guitar that Y/N had gifted him for this past birthday. She has gotten it signed by the music legend Bruce Springsteen, when he had done a charity show thrown by Senator Potts and her husband Tony. Needless to say he cherished this acoustic guitar greatly and showed it off to anyone who stopped by the apartment for the first time.

Steve took a seat at the piano that sat under the TV, leaving room for his best friend to sit beside him. Bucky strapped the acoustic to his body as he pulled the guitar pick from his jean pocket before he sat down, he let out a long breath. Never before was he so thankful for the elevator being broken in the apartment building than he was in that moment.

Bumping shoulders with his best friend, Steve pressed a few keys on the piano getting his attention. “You got this, don’t sweat it.” Bucky just nodded his head before moving his neck side to side, cracking it, making Natasha who stood in the corner of the room with her camera chuckle. Bucky out of reflex, showed his middle finger to his adopted sister, she stopped when they heard keys go into the lock of the door and the key chains rattle.

*Y/N’s P.O.V*

Y/N pulled her key out and threw it in her open purse as she grabbed her suitcase from the hallway, it had been a really long 3 days in D.C. helping Senator Potts with her speech, of the announcement for the run for president. Pushing the front door open, she called out to Bucky but soon noticed the lights were out, minus beautiful sets of string lights hanging from the ceiling. Immediately soft acoustic guitar was playing as she hung her purse up making her turn around in a rush, where she found Bucky sitting at the piano bench beside Steve, whose back was to her.

“Talking away. I don't know what I'm to say. I'll say it anyway. Today's another day to find you. Shyin' away. I'll be coming for your love, OK? And… Take on me. Take me on. I'll be gone. In a day or two.” Y/N gasped immediately as she realized what Bucky was doing as she walked her way into the middle of the room.

“So needless to say. I'm odds and ends. But that's me, I'm stumbling away. Slowly learning that life is OK, and. Say after me. It's no better to be safe than sorry.” As Bucky serenaded Y/N, tears slowly started to weld up in her eyes.

“And… Take on me. Take me on. I'll be gone. In a day or two.” As Steve took over playing his piano solo, Bucky stole a quick peck on the lips from Y/N before quickly sitting back down at the piano bench.

“And oh, things that you say. Is it life or just to play my worries away? You're all the things. I've got to remember. You're shyin' away. I'll be coming for you anyway. Take on me. Take me on. I'll be gone. In a day or two. I'll be gone. In a day or two. In a day or two.” Ending the song with a smile on his face, Bucky looked Y/N in the eyes, who was looking straight back at him with adoration and a matching smile. Taking his acoustic guitar off, Bucky placed it behind as Y/N walked into his arms placing a kiss in his neck, breathing thank you to him.

When they eventually pulled apart Bucky wiped her tears, smiling at her as he got down on one knee. Y/N eyes starting to grow big, her hands again going over her jaw as she kept saying no over and over again.

“Bucky, are you kidding? This isn’t funny.” His hands reached up to grab Y/N’s from her face a dopey smile on his face the same one he gave her every morning they woke up beside each other, the same one he gave her when she made him a fresh cup of coffee, the same smile he gave her when she said I love you to him.

“Darling, it’s been four of the best years of my life, and I would like to think not just mine but ours. You make getting out of the bed in the morning not a chore, eating vegetables, worth it because I’ll live longer just to spend more time with you. You support my love for music and my career when some of my family had their doubts. It’s been an honor to watch you grow into one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met. So courageous, hard working, loving and charitable. I would be one lucky guy to get to spend the rest of my time with you, so I guess what I’m trying to get to is.” Bucky leaned on his left knee as he reached into the right front pocket of his jeans to pull out a ring box opening it up to show a beautiful sterling silver garnet ring.

“Y/N Y/L/N would you do the honor of spending the rest of our lives at my side whether it’s here in Brooklyn or Georgetown, I can’t picture it without you.” Y/N pulled Bucky up by the collar of the leather jacket she loved so much and kissed him on the lips. Natasha and Steve whooped at the couple making Bucky chuckle as they continued to kiss, tears of joy streaming from Y/N’s eyes. Bucky slipped the ring onto her ring finger as they pulled apart smiles on their faces.

“I would be honored to become Y/N Barnes. Who told you?” Y/N looked down at her ring then back at Bucky who motioned hand to his sister who stood to the far corner of the room holding the camera filming the engagement for their families. Natasha waved as Y/N laughed recalling the Saturday night where the girls had questioned her.

“You are right, the voice memo app really does come in handy.” Y/N laughed when she realized that Natasha had recorded the questioning and must have sent it to her boyfriend, now fiancé, to help plan this. Thanking her soon to be sister-in-law, Y/N turned to Steve and hugged him and thanked him for making her romantic dreams come to life.

Bucky pulled her back towards him and hugged her close to his body kissing the side of her face, “I love you, and I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”

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beamystar · 4 years

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Could you do a reader x Louis fic where maybe he falls hard for white fox with the fluffiest tail? 👉🏻👈🏻Like maybe he met them outside of school during the meteor festival before the anime ends or if that’s too hard you can come up with your own scenario..sORRY I HOPE IM NOT BEING COMPLICATED! Thank you !

A/N: thank you for the request !! I’ve definitely got a few in my inbox and I think what I’m planning to do is a louis insert/legosi insert/louis- back and forth like that, bc they’re basically the only requests I’ve gotten haha!

There will actually be a part 2 to this because it got a little long, so look forward to it! :)

Clouds— Or Something Along Those Lines (Louis x You)

The meteor festival was busy, like always. Every year the school helped participate in the event- all the clubs suddenly had their hands full of activities, regardless if they were a very popular club or not. Everyone had to chip in at least a little bit!

You were one of the students in your sort-of-elitist school who wasn’t a part of a club. You never really found a specific interest in anything that was offered, and your attention tended to waver between multiple things at once. So you really wouldn’t make a good club member to begin with- that was your reasoning for not joining. But, to counter that- you decided to be the helping hand if anyone found themself in need of one.

And no one needed a helping hand more than when it was the meteor festival. There basically wasn’t a moment that you weren’t on your feet, helping several of the clubs with their more tedious chores that they’d rather hand off to someone else so they could focus on something more important.

Not that you really mind. This is what you signed up for! You’re definitely not the fastest animal out there, or the strongest, but you think you’re a good enough compromise for most things. You’re in the middle of fast-walking through the park with multiple boxes in your hands- kind of towering over you so that it was hard to see, but it should be fine.

And then, of course, you had to run into somebody. Of course you did. Thankfully, whoever you bumped into was tall and fast, and they helped steady the boxes in your arms before any of them could fall.

“Whoa!” You exclaim before you laugh a bit under your breath. “Thank you- I’m real sorry about that!” Looking over the boxes, you see who you ran into-

And of course! It’s the most pretentious member of your pretentious school, Louis the red deer.

The deer actually looks frustrated- which is new- before he quickly fixes his tense features and tries to look undisturbed. “It’s fine,” he assures you. “But you should probably lighten your load so it doesn’t happen again.”

“Oh, is that an offer?” Your ears perk up and you can see the flash of irritation on his face. Your tail wags just a bit in interest.

You’ve never been this close to Louis before- you never had a reason to. You were never a big fan of plays to begin with and you didn’t like how everyone idolized Louis- and you especially didn’t like how Louis idolized himself. But seeing the deer struggle to keep his usual perfect composure intrigues you.

“...I suppose I have time,” Louis sighs through his nose and picks up the boxes sitting atop your stack with ease. “Where are we headed?”

“Just to that stall over there- I’m delivering some more supplies.” You take the lead, walking ahead of Louis as you walk down the path. You have to pace a little in order to be in the front- his legs are much longer than yours- but you manage. It’s easier now that your load has been lightened a bit.

“...Sound supplies. Are you a part of the music club?”

“Ah, observant. I’d expect nothing less,” your tail wags casually between your legs as you smile. “No, I’m not a part of any club. I just like to help out- ah, you can put them over here-“ you reach the stall and walk around it, toward the tall oak tree it’s next to. You huff as you drop the heavy boxes, Louis placing the others right next to it.

You sigh and stretch your back before you look up to him, meeting his eye as you smile. “Thank you, Louis. Is there anything the theatre club needs help with?”

The club president waves your offer off with his hand. You don’t miss the fact that he’s the first to break eye contact. “No, that won’t be necessary. Thank you for the offer, though.”

“So polite,” you eye him in interest. “And so well trained, too. No wonder you’re popular.”

You hold back your grin as you see him get angry again. It’s only a split second- but a second is all you need.

“Trained?” He sounds throughly offended, as he should. That was the point.

“I’m just tugging your tail, don’t worry,” you put your hands on your hips and shrug. “You’re very emotional today. Your nose flares when you’re angry, you know. I can see it.”

Louis doesn’t say anything back- perhaps because he’s dumbfounded or perhaps because he doesn’t want to feed your nonsense. Which is fair enough.

“I guess that’s just my foxy nature or something- being a little shit sometimes,” you chuckle. “I’m sorry if I offended you. But if you do need my help, give me a holler, yeah?”

You leave him alone beneath the oak tree, making a quick retreat as you have more music supplies to deliver. You know when you push your luck with some animals and you were definitely doing that with Louis- you can practically feel his glare on your back as you casually walk away.

Surprisingly enough, though- one of the club members for the theatre comes up to you eventually and asks for your help. “Louis said to find the fox with the fluffy tail,” it was a tall peacock who found you. He points to your tail with his feathered hand. “I’m assuming that’s you?”

You can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Apparently you had left somewhat of an impact on him- enough to actually tell his club members about you. And when you head over to the tall, impressive structure that you’ve honestly been eyeing the entire time it’s been here, Louis is standing nearby with his hands on his hips as he instructs several other animals about something or other.

You’re instructed by the peacock to help paint the large dragon, and you do so happily, though you can’t help but wander off eventually so that you creep up to Louis when he’s distracted. Silently, you get close enough so you can tickle the hand by his side with your supposedly fluffy tail.

The feeling shocks him and he looks down at you with wide eyes, and you look back up at him with a wide smile. “It’s you,” he barely manages to hold back what’s probably disgust in his tone as he holds his hand close to his chest. You laugh.

“Don’t act surprised, you’re the one who basically invited me here! I knew you’d eventually need my help.”

“Oh, you knew, did you?”

“Mhmm. And I wasn’t wrong.” You wave your little paintbrush around, circling it between your fingers. “Thanks for the compliment, by the way.”

Louis looks like he doesn’t know what on earth you’re talking about, making you snort. “Fluffy tail? That’s a compliment if you ask me.”

The deer’s mouth falls open- closed- and then open again- until eventually he gives up and looks away from you completely. “It’s not a compliment,” is all he manages to say.

Your tail wags. “Sure it’s not.”

His twitching brow and flaring nose tells you otherwise.

#louis x reader #louis x you #louis the red deer x reader #louis the red deer #louis #beastars louis x reader #beastars louis #beastars #beastars x reader #x reader

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kidmetsu-no-yaiba · 3 years

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What They Do When You’re Having A ‘Split’ And Become Angry

This includes: Tsukishima, Kuroo, Bokuto, Kita, Suga, Ennoshita, Ushijima

This is just how I perceive them as what they would do for a best friend/romantic partner that experiences BPD anger in a similar way as I do. Also I'm off my stabilizers haha..ha.

Also none of these are meant to be mean about the characters I literally chose my faves for this.

Uh TW for bpd I guess?

Gender Neutral reader bay bee

Tsukishima (Not the trigger):

Doesn’t even recognize it at first, thinks its just a normal bad day from work

After, like, 30 minutes of you just sitting there and glaring at your phone without talking or even changing your expression he starts to get a clue.

Goes about his normal chores that upset you, but he plays your “Calming” playlist out loud on his phone just loud enough for you to hear

If he’s exhausted every chore and you still haven’t talked, he purposefully looks for funny or interesting news articles about stuff you like and reads the headlines out to you to get you to look at him or talk

Once you start at least looking at him, hopefully talking too, begins trying to coax out what triggered you

Ignores if you make any outright mean or just passive aggressive comments towards him instead of answering but will get aggressive in return

If he manages to get What Happened out of you he immediately calls you an idiot. Regardless of what it is. Is a mean comforter.

“Getting mad over your best friend talking on the phone too long while you’re hanging out isn’t an excuse to be mean”

“You’re stupid if you think it’s your fault that your friends aren’t paying attention to you, not everything is about you.”

It hurts but, it works even if sometimes it feels like he’s going a Bit Too Far

Will watch comforting videos or shows with you if it calms you down but that's about it. Very big on “You’re an adult and I’m not your psychiatrist, figure it out yourself.”

Kuroo (Is the trigger):

Instantly recognizes the Shut Down while teasing you, when you stop responding, your face is blank except for your down turned eyes.

‘Oh I’ve Fucked Up™’ is his immediate thought

“Y/N you know I didn’t mean that right? We were just playing, I’m sorry!” “Don’t you have a proposal to finish.”

Immediate shoulder drop. Is also upset now but decides to wait a little bit before trying to calm you.

After 30min or so of you hiding under your blanket he decides it’s time to try and pull you out of your head.

Cooks your most aromatic favorite food so the smell wafts into your room

Blasts your comfort playlist on a speaker and loudly sings along to it

When you still don’t come out when the food is done, sits outside the door saying “oh FUCK this shit is BUSSIN’” comically loud, overexaggerates your favorite things about it outloud.

When you eventually give in, just to get some food, he corners you with his body

“What about what I said upset you?” As a genuine question, not a mean one

After you explain, he lets you eat and offers a sincere apology when you finish

Offers to draw a bath with your favorite scent if it’ll help you. It does.

Bokuto (Is the trigger):

You came home and Bokuto had the tv up high while watching tiktoks and listening to music. After a moment the tea kettle went off. Before turning it off he realized you had walked in and bounded over to you. There were Too Many Noises.

He tried to talk over the noise but realized your eyes were boring into his and you had The Look

Also a ‘Oh I’ve Fucked Up™’

Rushes to take the kettle off the heat and turn off his phone before checking on you only to see you’ve already gone in and shut the bedroom door. You didn’t even take your shoes off..

Big pouty, sulky fool. Mopes around for a bit after turning off all the noise in the house.

Eventually looks for other things that upset you and finds that the house is, kind of a mess actually. Decides to clean as quietly as possible.

Does all of your least favorite chores first incase you re-emerge from the bedroom too soon

When everything seems to be done he opens your door and finds you tucked into bed and scrolling on your phone, very quiet music playing from it.

It was only 5pm but he took off his street clothes and climbed into bed as well.

Absolutely gets up behind you and grabs you around your waist and snuggles in without saying anything even though he wants to

When you finally feel comfortable you look over your shoulder to see Bokutos already fallen asleep. Idiot.

You order takeout for when he wakes up because, even though he tried his hardest to be quiet, you could hear him washing the dishes and didn’t want to ruin the work he did for you

Kita (Not the trigger):

Very straightforward the second he realizes you are Not Good

"Y/N if you tell me what's wrong it'll end quicker"

When you don't even look at him he still continues talking "We both know you hate when you're like this. It'll make you feel better if you just talk to me even if you don't want to."

Is fairly stern when talking to you at the beginning. Not mean but just very much like 'this is going to get done whether or not you cooperate.'

If you don't cooperate then he begins to ignore you until you snap and eventually scream and air out everything that's wrong and what triggered you.

Goes through everything you said with you and gives you an objective perspective although it basically boils down to "I know you can't help it but your ego is hurting you. Not Everything Is About You."

Once your conversation on that is over he asks if you want him to watch tiktok or listen to music or something with you

Suga (Is the trigger):

He hadn’t meant to ignore you all day. He’d woken up before you and been so busy at work all day he didn’t get a chance to text. It was the club he advised’s meeting day and it was dragging on longer than usual, he hadn’t texted anyone all day to be fair

When he finally comes home he’s confused as to why you’re tucked in on the couch

“Hey Y/N you tired? Sorry I didn’t get a chance to talk today there was a lot of bureaucratic shit going on and then the club president decided we were all going to stay until the end of the activity. Kids am I right?” He laughs and smiles towards you but you continue to ignore him

After some physical encouragement, poking and whatnot, it dawned on him that you are Probably Going Through It

Jesus Christ

Immediately decides he is not having it and moves your legs off the couch so he can sit next you

“Y/N I looovvveeee youuuuu~~~” He says as he pulls you to him by the shoulders “I love you I love you I love youuu”

Just babbles honestly, goes on and on about how he didn’t mean to ignore you and how he was honestly busy but he’s here now

And like yeah, he is here now so eventually you level out and let yourself be coddled for a bit longer

Makes pinky promises that he promises to text you when he’s busy or going to be running late

Also runs you a nice bath just in case

Ennoshita (Not the trigger):

Knows what's going on because he’s been watching you stare at the tv for about 20 minutes but, the tv is off.

Is objective with his words like Kita but with more emotional appeal

“Y/N I know you’re in the middle of something but when you’re ready, I’ll be ready to listen to you,”

If, after a while, you don’t make any effort to talk to him he tries to point you in a better direction than staring at walls and moping around

“You don’t have to talk to me but I found a tiktok I think you’d enjoy” or “You know you haven’t tried that new nail polish you bought a bit ago”

Is okay with just letting you figure it out on your own so you can apply the stuff you’ve worked on with your psychiatrist but will feel a little guilty if he doesn’t say anything at all

Will do anything that you need to get done but aren’t because of your episode like dishes or tidying your room

Ushijima (Not the trigger):

First of all, calls your episodes “tantrums”

Literally has no clue when you’re in an episode unless you tell him, he is not very bright

If you do tell him that you’re having issues he defaults to trying to use physical affection against whatever it is that you’re feeling

May or may not make you angrier by doing that

Although he wasn’t the original trigger, him being so dense might override it tbh

Like you love him but oh my god oh my god oh my god how have you survived this long

Eventually decides “I do not know how to deal with this” and just leaves. He goes to the store and gets the shopping done for the next 2 weeks and gets some cool looking snacks.

Thinks ‘well I’m already out, I might as well get the car washed’ after, turns into ‘Oh Y/N needed to get their new prescription too..’ ‘I think I remember a discussion about their package getting stuck at the post office..’

Literally accidentally does every single errand that needed to be done for the next month because he didn’t want to go home and upset you more

When he finally comes back home with 50lbs worth of shit from errands you’re like ????? because how did he know that you were stressed about all the house stuff that needed to be done?????

It’s not an instant mood changer but you definitely go from seemingly uncontrollable rage to ‘Okay I was being a bit much’ but as you watch him prep veggies before storing them away the way you usually do it, you level out

He is unaware you’ve levelled out so he tries to remember the coping skills you said you talked about with your psychiatrist and you are deeply confused when he asks you to open your palm and places an ice cube in it

When you realize what’s going on you laugh and tell him you’re okay and apologize for how you were being earlier and explain what triggered you

He gives you the cool looking snacks

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laughing-with-god · 5 years

Text

Quarter Quell

Request; Yandere Jungkook, Hunger Games Au

Word Count; 11.2k

Every 25 years there is a Quarter Quell edition of the Hunger Games. Quells mark the anniversaries of the districts' defeat by the Capitol, and include special celebrations. The Games involves some sort of twist that makes them even more disastrous or difficult to compete in, or watch.

The pixelated screen depicted a zoomed-in image of a middle aged man, smiling glamorously towards the camera lens as he held the microphone to his face and proceeded to the next segment of the show.

His fake snake-like contacts glimmered as they briefly ran across the cue card. Then he refocused his attention back to the camera; opening his overly plump and artificially enhanced lips to announce-

“Next we have the infamous brute of a man, District Two’s treasure and voted most likely to win; Jeon Jungkook!”

The roars and cheers of the fashionably rich audience reached a deafening climax when they caught sight of the next tribute to waltz onto the stage.

It seemed that District Two had sent yet another beast this year, eager to slaughter and kill those beneath its’ impeccable strength.

His form was evidence to the intense training he had been subjected to, the muscles bulging with capability yet his body being slender enough to hint at agility as well. He was tall and practically towered over the small host as he extended his veiny hand for a handshake. His warrior like body was clad in black slacks, a white blouse and black suit that was complimented with the embedded images of white flowers, the assemble even had frilly handcuffs to add to a more ‘softer’ look.

This attempt was laughable given the man wearing it.

The host gestured for him to take the seat next to his, the tribute doing so and smiling wolfishly at the audience that continued their vocal support of him.

His face was a mixture of slender and round, all features above his lips being reminiscent of a boyish adolescence while his sharp jaw and smug smile suggested a more grown outlook. His skin was the same color of the fresh snow to coat the grounds during winter, an ode to his Districts’ chore of masonry and making of weaponry in contrast to the other districts whose work lied outside in the fields. Another trait of his home District was the size of his broad body and full face, clearly he had never had to suffer from food outages, a privilege that was starved of the later districts. His doe eyes were bright with life and glowed with the warmth provided by his caramel-colored orbs, framed by inky black eyelashes. His nose was fleshy but impish in nature, charmingly scrunching up as he humored the crowd and host. He routinely licked his lips, keeping them moist and berry red; at times pulling them back to reveal two rows of pearly white teeth. His hair was russet brown and neatly kept, greatly contrasting the host’s green and unruly hair to prove the difference between Capitol fashion and the Districts’ more natural trend.

“Okay. Jungkook. You are a man who needs little to no introduction this year. You’re handsome, strong and the Capitol’s favorite tribute to win the 100th Annual Hunger Games. You even scored the highest with an 11 during the personal assessment test. And your confidence was off the charts given you are the only person to volunteer this year. Please tell us, what was on your mind when you were reaped to join the fourth Quarter Quell game?” The host rambled, gesturing wildly with his spray tanned hands to express the thrill he felt of talking to such an idol.

Jungkook chuckled, pretending he didn’t hear the responding coos of the ladies in the audience at hearing his melodic voice, and proceeded to say; “It’s like a dream come true. I can’t wait to show everyone what I am made of.”

The host clapped his hands and leaned closer to him excitedly, mock whispering, “Between you and me, what do you think of this years’ twist?”

Jungkook indulged his act of ‘gossiping’ and leaned forward to seriously say; “I think it’s brilliant. It’s almost unfair to others how in the bag I have this win.”

“So complete and utter violence is not a problem to you?”

Jungkook smirked, and for a brief moment the innocent allure melted off his face as his eyes darkened. “Why would it be? I’m a natural killer. With or without the weapons.”

Everyone applauded his answer, chanting his name in approval of his bloodthirsty persona. Bets were already being made and the obvious choice was sitting right in front of them. This was, without any reasonable doubt, the winner of the 100th annual Hunger Games.

The Quarter Quell occurred every 25 years, the anniversary bringing a sinister twist to the Hunger Games to remind the Districts of just how much power the Capitol has over them. The 25th Hunger games had the horrendous twist of making each District elect their own tributes, turning citizens against themselves in order to save their own children from the games. The 50th Annual Huger Games had double the tributes, each District sending four kids instead of the traditional two to provide double the murder, the winner of that game being Haymitch Abernathy. The 75th game elected previous victors to make experienced killers the players, the winner was Katniss Everdeen. Now it was the 100th Hunger Games, and the twist was that the tributes would have no help of sponsors, mentors or even weapons.

It would all be hand-to-hand combat.

Bloody and viscous fighting would be the only way to kill.

Brute force and animalistic survival would have to make up for the lack of aid and guidance provided for in previous games.

It was already predicted to be the goriest battle yet.

“I love your personality Jungkook! So determined! May I ask you a question?”

“What is it, Declan?” The boyish tribute inquired the host, leaning back into his seat with suave as he raised one of his neatly plucked brows in anticipation.

“Is there anyone on your hitlist? You know….someone you’re just going to gun for when that cannon goes off?”

Jungkook bit his lip and tilted his head, seemingly pondering the outcomes of revealing this answer to the rest of the world. The camera panned closer and closer to his flawless face as his brows furrowed in concentration, eyes gazed down in deep thought.

Finally he looked up and bored his bottomless eyes into the lens, a fire in his irises and a killer scoff painted onto his face.

The audience waited with baited breaths for his answer.

“Honestly?” He licked his lips and took a pause, as if enjoying the way everyone hung onto his words with frenzied eagerness. “Anyone who messes with District Ten’s Y/n can expect a visit from me.”

A resounding gasp shook the building.

“Oh my! A-Are you saying that she’s your lover?” the host asked after finally getting his dropped jaw to function.

Jungkook laughed, “Something like that, I guess. I believe in love at first sight and trust me….she’s mine.”

You watched the show in horror from your place backstage.

Your eyes welled up with unshed tears as District Two’s tribute began to list off reasons why he loved you on live television.

Your body was frozen to the ground as you felt the already dim fire of hope die down in the depths of your chest.

Your distraught face was glued to the screen, you felt the piercing and ruthless stares of the other tributes as they studied the alleged ‘soulmate’ of the perceived winner, the metaphorical target already being painted on. But you paid them little attention as you watched your downfall play before you, caused by a man you have never even said a word to.

He was...obsessed with you.

It was an inkling suspicion you had before.

But now you knew it to be the dreadful and tragic truth.

(Flashback)

You eyed your costume with a barely concealed face of disgust, the mirrored image before you causing a grimace of disdain.

You were from District Ten.

The main source District Ten offered to the Capitol was livestock and farming, an unglamorous but useful chore that provided the citizens with humble livelihoods and the Capitol with luxurious foods. Unfortunately, this did not translate well into fashion.

The stylist had dressed you in horns and fur; believing it to be ‘refreshing’ to dress you as the cattle and not the ranchers that looked after them. You did admit that it was on theme, but it was embarrassing and even degrading to be dressed as an animal before being slaughtered like one.

You heaved a deep breath and exited your dressing room, approaching the chariot that already held your male counterpart from District Ten.

The Chariot Rides were the first look the Capitol would get of the groomed and dressed up tributes, ogling at their costumes, looks and personalities before the official betting and sponsoring could begin.

You had no mentor to tell you what to do during the ride, so you had prepared yourself for a lukewarm smile and half-hearted waves. You saw no point in acting overly cheerful or happy to be there, you already knew that very little could change your fate.

The horses slowly began treading forward, leaving you trying hard to balance your powerless form as the over-sized chariot pushed ahead recklessly, the roar of the audience welcoming you with a ring inducing ear ache. The colorful and outlandish faces of the ultra rich passed through your peripheral, giving you a glimpse of the monsters who would be watching and counting on the deaths that would occur in the next week.

The booming anthem continued thundering the giant arena as the final two Districts made their way from behind you, the horns and drums only stopping when District 12 finally took its’ place beside the others.

The cheers quieted as the President strode towards his golden pedestal, tapping the mic before leaning his aged faced towards it to begin his annual speech.

“Tributes, we welcome you graciously to the Capitol. We commend your sacrifice and strength to join us for the 100th Annual Hunger Games!”

A brief and boisterous applause.

“As you may know, this game is very special. Not only is it the 100th game, but it is also the fourth Quarter Quell. This game, like any other Quarter Quell, will have a twist that is unorthodox with the previous games we have watched before. Tributes are expected to rely on themselves for survival, meaning no aid shall be given in or out the arena. This means no mentors to guide the tributes, no sponsors to save the day, no weapons to kill and no supplies to help survive.” The President smirked down at the chariots. “Tributes will be expected to fight like animals to win. May this game remind any remaining rebels in the districts that the capitol is still lenient with our punishment, we still could take away much more to make the games brutal for your children.”

The President’s colorless and rumbling voice drowned out as he listed off the basic rules for the tributes to follow during their stay at the capitol. The rules being well known enough for you to feel free to space out. Your mind was swimming in far more doomful thoughts.

You knew that there was something off about this game, it happened every 25 years and the game changer was always the subject of interest for everyone; Districts and Capitol alike. However you as a tribute wouldn’t get the full details until you were at the Capitol to hear what it was from the President himself. But you had a suspicion that it had something to do with taking away tribute’s support system. When you had gotten on the train you were confused to see no mentors to welcome you, only the escort and other tribute were there. This was very disappointing given that mentors were different from anyone else you’d have help you along the way- they actually lived through the games. They were also a key role in creating tailor suited strategies for tributes and gaining sponsors if there ever was a dire situation in which you’d need one.

You foolishly hoped that this would be the only set back to face.

But you never knew just how much the game keepers were taking away.

No weapons or survival bags meant an even grimmer fate for the ones playing the game.

You would have to live off the land.

You would also have to beat someone to death with your own hands if you needed to kill.

You felt your weak form crumble beneath the imaginary weight of your inevitable death. You had no chance to live. The only thing that could possibly even out the scale between you and the other tributes was weapons, strategy, and survival know-how. Without that, this game was basically being given to the careers and any other huge kid who would have no problem bashing someone’s head in. In this horrendous situation you couldn’t even hope for a quick death, hand-to-hand deaths meant bloody and painful ends.

You felt a tear trail down your cheek. Images of faceless kids with huge bodies crowding in to kill you with their own bruised and bloody hands haunted your minds’ eye. Would they strangle you? Kick your ribs until one of them breaks and puntcures your lung? Maybe-

You felt a nudge break your concentration.

You quickly wiped the tear off your face and snapped your attention to your District counterpart; Taehyung.

He was tall, slender and sun kissed due to his job at the ranch of looking after cattle that so many kids had in ten. His face was gaunt and almost intimidating, with his piercing black eyes, bushy and intense brows, regal nose and plump lips that were always in a scoff or blank with indifference. You two had not said a word to each other, the only communication you could recall was him asking you, in a gravelly and bottomless voice, to pass the butter during dinner on the train ride over to the capitol. Other than that, he was silent. You didn’t take it to heart though, you were also not much of a talker given the circumstances you two were in. You figured he was also in a state of depression and acceptance of his death, soaking in the last stimulation of life he could while also drowning himself in his own thoughts.

His eyes dragged towards the spot you wiped off, but they quickly redirected themselves to meet your own questioning stare.

“This isn’t my business or anything but…” He licked his lips and looked out to the other chariots, seemingly seeking something out before he continued his statement. “Why is Two looking at you like that?”

You followed his gaze.

District Two was one of the closest to the stage where the President was talking, but you could spot a single figure who was twisted away from the speech and looking behind him.

District two’s theme was masonry, reflective of their chore of weapon making. Due to this job they had, most of the kids who came from district two had an advantage as they knew how to handle weapons and had basic training with combat. They were the core of the career pact, Districts One and Four usually teaming up with the trained killers to create a deadly alliance. Safe to say, you did not want anyone from Two to point you out in a sea of tributes.

But it looks like you had somehow already got their attention.

His costume was gladiator-like, the chest piece being made out of jagged pieces of metal meant to look like knives and other weapons. He also wore a crown on his head, the silver twisting to look like leaves and plants but was also stained with fake blood. District Two’s stylist always wanted to hint at their team’s brutality.

You studied this costume and finally met the stare of the person.

His eyes were pitch black, the color of a midnight sky free of stars. It wasn’t clear if that was the color of his eyes or if his pupils were just that dilated, as if he was fascinated by what he saw. This assumption wasn’t a far stretch given his jaw was slightly ajar, like he was in some state of shock.

It didn’t make sense but there was no doubt about it….he was staring right at you.

His eyes drank you in, leaving you breathless at the intensity of the gaze, it held a tangible weight that caused you to shiver. His attention on you was so blatant and fearless, you wondered how the other tributes hadn’t noticed yet or if they were simply pretending not to. All of his muscular body was twisted towards your direction, the president and his speech long forgotten as he ogled you up and down. It was like he had never seen such a person before, he was studying you like he would never get another chance to.

Taehyung shifted his body and suddenly you were blocked from the stranger’s line of vision, Taehyung’s much larger frame covering you.

You took a shaky breath, the bizarreness of the look on two’s face was so confusing and it left you questioning what it could possibly mean.

“He’s been looking at you like that since we rolled out of the entrance.” Taehyung said, still blocking you but also managing to keep his eyes on the ranting president to achieve an act of listening.

“.....Maybe it’s because we’re dressed like cows?” You bleakly offered, pursing your lips at your own weak explanation.

“No, there’s more to it. I don’t know what the expression on his face was but it can’t be good.” Your District mate insisted, leaving you with a sense of relief that you weren’t the only one to feel like there was something up.

You nodded in agreement and tried to keep your agony and fear at bay given so many eyes were on the tributes.

Finally the President concluded his speech with a promising but terrifying; “May the odds be ever in your favor.”

“His name is Jungkook, District counterpart is named Joy, he’s eighteen years of age and he volunteered as tribute.” Your overly colorful and dainty escort sing-songed as she presented you two with a tape.

After the chariot ride, both you and Taehyung agreed that you should attempt to figure out as much as possible about District Two. You guys didn’t have a mentor so this meant that you would have to rely on your Capitol escort to provide you guys with information of the other tributes’ reaping.

“So what?” You asked from your spot on the neon monstrosity of a sofa. “Careers from 1 and 2 almost always volunteer.”

“Not during Quells though. Even they are too scared of the unknown twists to just jump in.” Taehyung said from a sofa parallel to yours.

You two silently watched as Vesta began bringing the hologram-like screen to life before popping in the tape of two’s reaping. You were still amazed by the technology of the Capitol, it was far more advanced than anything you saw in the farmlands of Ten.

The HD hologram burst with color as suddenly a slender, skinny but fashionable man was facing the room with a bright smile. “And now, the male tribute.”

Mesmerized, you watched as the unnamed personality skipped to the humongous glass bowl to pluck a name. He held the paper up to his squinty eyes and made his way back to the microphone to announce; “Kane Stelen.”

Before a response could even occur, a boisterous voice interjected to holler, “I volunteer as tribute!”

The camera panned out to see a young man jogging up to the stage, brown hair bouncing with his movement as he bounded excitedly towards the escort. Almost immediately the rest of District Two applauded and cheered for this guy, some even screaming out his name with a sense of pride. He grinned ruthlessly at the camera and shook hands with the confused escort when he found his spot beside him.

“What’s your name boy?”

“Jeon Jungkook.”

He then held his arm up in the air in a victor stance, the crowd going crazier in response.

The hologram suddenly depleted into darkness, leaving you all silent as you tried to dissect what you have all just witnessed.

“He’s quite handsome.” Vesta said in between her sips of bubbling champagne. “I don’t get the big deal here. Why don’t you just form an alliance with him?”

“Because we’re not careers and his loyalty would only rest within One and maybe Four.” You heard the frustration in Taehyung’s voice as he attempted to explain it to the capitol airhead.

“Don’t treat me like an idiot! I may not be a mentor but I’ve seen my fair share of games to know that if a giant tribute from a strong District takes an interest in you, it’s for the best that you use that to an advantage.” The fashionista screeched.

“That interest could be good or bad….most likely bad.” You sadly mumbled, brain still playing over the scene of his reaping.

He was so bold to volunteer for one of the deadliest games. And by the way the rest of his District supported him, you could only imagine how strong his reputation as a trainee must’ve been. He was probably one of those killing machines that looked forward to the games, maybe his parents were the type to make him learn all types of fighting and survival skills. District two tended to make their kids believe that serving in the games was some type of honor, and the gleam in his eyes told you that he genuinely believed that.

“If there’s truly no weapons in the arena, that means the bigger tributes will have the best chance.” Vesta giggled before staggering away, heels clicking awfully against the marble floor. Her fake accented voice left you with one final thought; “Don’t burn your bridges, dearie.”

(Training Day 1)

The elevator was void of any sounds greater than the breaths of you and your District mate, the empty air bouncing off the walls of the enclosed space.

You silently watched as the digital number above the metal doors continued to downgrade, illustrating the passing floors as you two descended to the basement of the training center.

“Remember, today is only about scoping out the other tributes.”

You curtly nodded.

Over breakfast that morning, you and Taehyung made a semi-alliance. You both agreed that two heads were better than one and it would be the smartest course to help each other out to make up for the lack of mentorship. This would only last up until the arena, however. the goal of the Hunger Games was to have only a single survivor, this meant that all alliances would have a turning point of one killing the other (most likely in their sleep or when their backs were turned) and neither you or Taehyung wanted to put yourselves in that situation.

“No talking to anyone, lets just try to evaluate the others and we can see where we are by the end of it.” He had said.

This seemed to be the best option; to keep an eye out on who would be the biggest threats and assess your chances after that. Thus you agreed to Taehyung’s plan.

A sudden ding sounded to announce the arrival to the basement.

You stiffened up and squared your shoulders, plastering on a blank expression as the silver doors slid open.

‘Welcome to the Training Center. Only tributes from this point on.’ A robotic voice sing-songed as you and Taehyung stepped out in unison.

The training center was a giant gymnasium void of any color but grey and silver. The huge layout had multiple different stations for various skills ranging from camouflage, fire making, combat, weaponry, and survival know-how. In the center of such an area was a circle of young people, all dressed in the same fitness attire as you and eyeing each other up with paranoid gazes.

You took a deep breath and strode forward, barely holding back your grimaces as other tributes reacted to your arrival with guarded glances of scrutiny. You planted your feet by the outer section of the circle, far from the center but close enough to still be part of the group. Taehyung stood beside you, arms crossed and eyes staring straight ahead.

You discreetly counted sixteen tributes including you and Taehyung, which meant that four more districts still had yet to arrive. You couldn’t help but search for the odd stranger from Two, and realized with a strange sense of relief, that he had yet to arrive.

You took this time to study the others as you all waited for the remaining tributes. It seemed to be a pretty good mix, there was a lot of older teens but a couple younger ones to even out the scales as well. It couldn’t be helped; the look of utter dread on the 12-14 year old faces, they without a doubt knew that their short lives were coming to an end very soon. The smaller ones would be snapped like twigs by the bigger ones; a sad reality that replayed itself every year.

As time passed, more tributes made their entrance.

Currently there was twenty-two kids.

Only two more to go.

From District Two.

After what seemed like ages, finally the ding of the elevator rang once more, followed by the sounds of footsteps approaching the cluster of kids.

Your back was turned to the elevator and you knew it would break character to turn and face them, thus you stubbornly bowed your head and studied your shoes; ears picking up on the sound of their approach.

You almost choked when they paused directly behind you.

They were standing mere inches away from you.

He was standing mere inches away from you.

Suddenly the back of your neck began to burn as you felt the unnerving weight of his stare piercing into you. Without having to even look back at him, you somehow just knew that his behavior was the same as the day of the chariots; he was studying you with a mystery sense of awe that was beyond rational understanding. Except now he was doing it from a much closer range, you could practically feel the goosebumps on your skin begin to form as you let him inspect every visible cell of you. It was as if you were under some microscope and you had no choice but to let him dissect everything he could about you.

The thundering of your heart got louder and louder as it pounded against your chest, a foreign feeling of claustrophobia caving in on you. The panic was almost enough to make you turn around and confront the intense observer, but this instinct was interrupted as the head trainer began talking.

“Welcome to the training center. As tributes, you will spend the next three days here to prepare for your time in the games. Each station is a stimulation for some of the obstacles you will face in the arena. It’s easy to want to learn all the battle skills and tricks for hand to hand combat, but my advice is to not ignore the survival skills. Statistically speaking, most of you will die due to exposure, infection, starvation and dehydration.” She paused and scanned the faces of the fear-stricken tributes. “Furthermore, communication amongst yourselves is not forbidden but any fighting is and will be met with swift punishment.” An odd gleam glimmered in her eyes as she smirked, “Save those rivalries for the arena.”

And like that, you were all dismissed to begin training.

Before you could even think about where to go, Taehyung grasped his hand around your arm and promptly dragged you to the edible plants station.

The station was a small greenhouse area filled with many kinds of plants, each having a small place card as to what type they were and their status of poisonous or not. There were also books, memory cards and quiz-taking machines for any tribute willing to strain their mind on the process of adapting all this information.

“We can spend some time here, then go to fire and shelter making later.” Your District mate explained while picking up one of the books to flip through. “Plus we have a good spot from here to spy on the combat station.”

You looked directly across to indeed see numerous tributes lining up to take a turn with the trainer. There was open mats and the trainer would talk to them briefly before wrestling with them, you assumed giving them tips before putting them to good use. Then the tribute would be sent to the back of the line as the process repeated itself with another kid.

So for the next hour, you and Taehyung took turns committing the plants to memory and also scoping out the other tributes. From time to time, Taehyung would lean over and whisper District numbers of some tributes for you to keep an eye on. Other than the usual careers, there was a few brutes from other Districts that purposed a threat. District Six had a huge guy, he didn’t look older than 16 but he seemed to be one of the few who could hold his own in the hand to hand combat. You also spotted an athletic girl from Seven who was very agile, well-fed and flew through the rope course as if it was a walk in the park. Taehyung told you to keep an eye out for her and another guy from Eight, who was keeping a low profile at the hammock making station but seemed to be one of the few kids who had an air of confidence about him, most likely due to his strong built.

Due to the Quarter Quell, everyone was avoiding the stations with weapon training, given there wouldn’t be any in the arena so it was a certified waste of time. However you did catch some careers hovering by there, as if they were tempted to just play around with the expensive and new age knives, axes and spears. This made you scoff as their childish antics really pissed you off. What kind of psycho looks at weapons as if they were shiny new toys?

While most of the tributes were scrambling to absorb all the tips they could get, the careers seemed to be having fun. They rough-housed and conversed as if they were an over-hyper friend group. Their relaxed attitude hinted at their experience with training; they probably grew up with similar practices so they didn’t feel the intense pressure the others did. Still it was disrespectful and made the knots in your stomach tighten with anxiety.

Maybe they really were trained killers….

The odd stranger from Two was also in this group, but you tried your hardest not to pay any attention to him. You had a fear that he would take your temporary interest in him as some sort of invitation to talk. Because of this, you kept your focus on the plants but snuck occasional glances towards him. He seemed to be one of the quieter ones of the pack, yet the others followed his lead without question whenever he stalked off to other stations.

“I think it’s time we headed to the fire making station, don’t you?”

You turned around to see Taehyung as he approached you from behind, gaze already set on the suggestion station. You nodded in agreement, plants were already a very bland topic but you beared it your burden knowing that it could be the difference between life and death in a case of starvation. You just hoped that learning how to make a fire was a tad more interesting than this.

The instructor of that station directed you and your District mate to a make-shift camp area. As you sat on the fake logs and watched as the professional demonstrated just how to create a spark, a sight across the gymnasium caused your focus to come to a frigid stop.

The tributes of District Two were leaning leisurely against a wall and staring right at you. Well...he was staring right at you while his partner was turned to him, talking in a rushed fashion and making furious gestures in your direction.

Your heart plummeted.

His face was blank but his eyes were somehow both dazed and ultra-focused onto his target. When he noticed that you were looking right back at him, he raised a brow and tilted his head before pushing his tongue against his cheek.

His counterpart, Joy as you vaguely recalled, followed his gaze to you, her face dropping and posture stiffening in response to your equally stressed expression. She muttered one more thing to him and stormed off, leaving him to wolfishly grin at you, creepily indifferent to anything she had said to him, as he stalked forward.

You nudged Taehyung as the enigma of a man steadily approached.

Comfortable, elegant and seemingly determined, Jungkook plopped himself on a log parallel to the one you and Taehyung shared. The fire reacted to his arrival by bursting into life, the newfound flames painting an orange glow on his charming face and bottomless black orbs.

Apparently the instructor sensed that he should make his leave, he muttered a quick “I’ll go get some more sticks” and dashed off to leave you and Taehyung alone with the intimidating career.

“My name is Jungkook. I’m from Two. And you are?”

The fire cackled as a silence ghosted upon the trio.

He laughed, the sound twinkling and musical as he brushed his hair back to reveal a clear forehead. He propped his arm on his knee before raising a brow. “You know usually when someone introduces themselves the custom is for the person to respond back.”

“We’re from Ten.” Taehyung blankly answered.

Jungkook licked his lips. “Do you guys’ have any names?”

“Don’t see how that is relevant, we don’t even know why you’re here. What is it that you want?” Taehyung’s deep voice was almost as scary as the situation that was unfolding before your very eyes.

“Fair enough. I watched your guys’ reaping and know that your names are Taehyung and Y/n. I was just being polite but I suppose we could skip the formalities if you prefer.” Jungkook leaned forward, the fire causing a most primitive vibe as it highlighted his dark features and made his next words all the more barbaric. “I want to be allies.”

“No.” The reply was swift and brutal on Taehyung’s part, masking your splutter of shock at such a ludicrous request.

“May I ask why not?” Jungkook’s casualty didn’t falter at the answer, most likely expecting it.

“It won’t benefit us. Your motives are unknown and it makes no sense for you to even want us as allies. We’re not careers.”

“Maybe I’m not a muscle head and am thinking deeper about the games than just teaming up with other athletic tributes.” Jungkook argued, small smirk still evident.

“That still doesn’t explain why you’d want us. If you’re looking for smarts or underdogs, there’s plenty of other tributes that fit the bill better than us.”

Jungkooks’ eyebrow did a funny twitch as he smiled, rather fakely with dead eyes, at Taehyung. He without a doubt picked up on Taehyung’s stubbornness and abandoned any hope to convince him. Although he did seem rather pissed about this, he continued on with a forced tone of amicability. “Fine, I’ll count you out then.” He then bored his inky eyes into yours, turning all his attention onto you. “You however still have an open invitation.”

Before you could even open your mouth, Taehyung answered for you; “She’s with me. I’m not in so neither is she.”

Suddenly, Jungkook’s face dropped, lips morphing into a snarl-like manner while glaring furiously at your poor District mate. Long gone was the act of any friendliness, his frustration shined through with a sinister anger. The switch was so fast that you wondered for a moment if you were just imagining it, but by the way Taehyung shifted in his spot you knew that it was very much real. The career then gritted out, “She’d be far better of with me than you.”

“I doubt that.” You couldn’t help but agree with your District mate on this one. For the very short amount of time you had conversed with the odd boy from 2, it was already evident that he was prone to very unusual behaviors along with swift and gruesome personality changes.

“I’ve trained my whole life for this. I think I’m perfectly capable of taking care of her in that arena.” Jungkook was persistent, bewildering you with his unknown mission in becoming allies with you. Why in the world would he want you instead of the other bloodthirsty careers? What did he see in you? And why was he willing to fight Taehyung and brag about his ability to protect you?

“Exactly, you trained your whole life for this. Focus on being the sole winner of this game and leave me and Y/n alone.”

The words hung heavy in the air, echoing in your eardrums as the severity of the situation once again entered the conversation with a pending sense of doom. The theme of ‘every man for themselves’ was all too glaringly obvious. If Jungkook was desperate to win, then how come he was breaking his back to get closer to a girl who he’d have to kill off anyway? Was this an insight to how careers viewed teamwork in the games? Did they approach each other like, “hey no hard feelings but in that arena I will chop your head off when it comes down to it but until then let’s be friends”? Why even bother gathering in a pack if you know that one of them was more than likely your future killer?

Jungkook’s face melted off any emotion as a hard mask of indifference overtook his handsome appearance. He stiffly nodded before standing up to his full height, taking slow but deliberate steps away from the camp.

He was barely out of the station when he halted his stride, glancing over his shoulder to set his somber eyes on you.

“Does he always speak for you?”

The question was clearly directed at you in reference to Taehyung and the fact that you had not said a single word during the whole ordeal.

Your system seemed to shut down now that Jungkook was directly asking you something, all you could do was open and close your mouth as your brain scrambled for what to say.

He grinned, although there was no malice behind the action. It was almost a fond smile as he watched you blush and stutter. Like he enjoyed you being caught off guard by a simple question on his part. This odd response was gone before you could study it, as he turned on his heel and went to rejoin the other careers.

The second day of training was a tad more bearable than the first.

The tributes were not required to round up and wait until everyone arrived to begin training, as soon as one got there they were free to roam to their hearts’ desire.

You had decided to split apart from Taehyung and experience a limited feeling of independency. This was brought upon by Taehyung’s paranoia of the careers.

“That Jungkook guy most likely gave the rest a heads up that we’re an alliance. We should try to stay apart in order to throw them off.” These were the first words to greet you when you stalked over to the elevator after awaking late and missing breakfast.

“Why? Are we in a really bad spot right now?” You had asked.

“Generally careers would want to gun down other alliances before picking off individuals one by one. And from what happened yesterday, I can guarantee that Two isn’t forgetting us anytime soon.”

You had just shrugged in weak agreement and continued the wait for the elevator in silence. The thing was, you didn’t know what you and Taehyung actually were. Sure, you helped each other out but it there was an understanding that come arena time it was every man for themselves. So could it be said that District Ten had an alliance? You weren’t sure. What you did know was that it was very generous for Taehyung to step in the way he had during the conversation with 2. Either that or he was very stupid...too speak so boldly to a career and deny him when matters didn’t necessarily involve him. But luckily he did...you weren’t sure what you’d do if you had to deal with that Jungkook guy all on your own.

So here you were; alone at the camouflage station, trying to paint a tree trunk on your arm whilst also deciphering if this station was even worth the trouble.

You had never been much of an artist so it was proving to be a difficult task to properly get all the precise details of the bark down. It surely didn’t help that you were only allowed to use natural ingredients as paint. You were currently mixing a mixture of dirt and water to create the ideal brown paint, but it was becoming increasingly hard to strike the perfect balance. Too much dirt meant a very flakey consistency while too much water meant a very liquidey one.

“Who the fuck has time to paint themselves when they’re in the middle of a blood bath?” you mumbled in frustration before shoving the paint bucket away in anger.

“I second that notion.” A small and shaky voice called out.

You turned around to see a young boy standing a few feet away from you, holding up a paintbrush as he gestured to his forearm. On said body part was a chalky and sloppily painted on flower, evidence to his shared hatred of the camflogue station.

His round and chubby face smiled nervously at you, most likely regretting having said anything to you in the first place. He looked to be 13 or 14 years of age, frame similar to yours except slightly smaller. His eyes were smiley but looked to be puffy, his plump lips were currently set in a childish pout as he awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Caught off guard, you just nodded and hastily grabbed the rag to wipe off your ‘masterpiece’. Logically speaking, you were aware that this little boy was little to no threat to you, compared to the careers and other scary tributes. However you couldn’t help the fact that your nervous system went into overdrive when talking to tributes that weren’t Taehyung. Call it paranoia but there was no way of knowing this boys’ intentions of speaking to you. For all you know, he could’ve been playing bait for some bigger tributes to reel you in.

An image of District Two flashed in your minds’ eye, causing you to shudder.

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you or anything. I just really need someone to talk to….” He whined as he watched you frantically gather to put the equipment away. “No one will let me near them because they don’t take me seriously as a tribute.”

You froze.

“I know I’m just a kid but...I deserve an ally too, right?”

You felt an involuntary tug on your heart strings as you heard the desperate plea of a literal child.

What was wrong with you?

He was so young and probably faced the lowest chances of winning this game, and here you were; dashing away from him as if he was the big black wolf when all he wanted was a friend. You felt a sudden feeling of disgust in yourself. Did this game really affect you that much that you were quick to turn your back on a helpless boy? Did you now have the same morals of a killing machine career?

You shook your head and turned back around to face the kid.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just been really...anxious lately.” You struggled to explain. “What’s your name?”

The boys’ expression of distraught melted into a somber smile as he sized you up and down. Then, when he knew for sure that you were serious about talking to him, he released a tiny giggle and jogged up closer to you.

“I’m Chenle! From District Three!”

The boy was overly friendly and way too trusting of you. But luckily for him, you weren’t kidding when you told him that you would also love an ally. He talked really fast, as if he had countless thoughts bouncing off the walls of his little head and they were all racing to escape his pouty lips. And when he did share a thought with you, a twinkle in eyes glimmered excitedly as if he was getting giddy from just telling you his little ‘secrets’.

You learned that he was thirteen years old and possibly the youngest one here. He was also a big brother to a little girl back at his home district. Chenle had a mother but no father and although he was very scrawny and small, he did very well in school and had more brains than most of the older tributes.

“Remember the 58th annual Hunger Games? The winner was Beetee Latier and he took out a whole pack of careers by electrocuting them.” He told you with a coy smile on his face as his eyes gazed off with a bleak expression. “I want to model my game after that, careers are usually all muscle and no brain. It’s my only hope; to outsmart them.”

You recalled that game. The winner as one of the last tributes standing and he looked to be at odds compared to how big and brutal the others were. Luckily for him, a sponsor aired in some electric wire and he used it to kill the remaining tributes.

You bit the inside of your cheek and avoided his gaze. You didn’t have the heart to interject and point out that the chances of coming across electric wire to outsmart muscle heads was very unlikely. Also this game being a Quarter Quell and it’s awful twist meant that this game was built very differently. Any strategy outside of pure strength was very flawed. There would be no equipment in that arena, and no sponsors either. Instead you focused on much lighter topic of discussion.

“The victor of that game was also from Three, right? Are all kids from your home District little whizes with technology?” you asked.

He giggled and rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess we have more of a knack for it than any other district. Our school lessons are built around it.”

“That’s really cool! You’re way smarter than any kid over at Ten. Lots of them don’t even continue going to school after elementary.” You praised.

“How come?”

“Most of them need to help their family on the farm so higher education isn’t really needed.” You shrugged half-heartedly.

Chenle nodded and got a thoughtful look on his face. “You know, I never really even gave much thought to other Districts. It’s a shame that I just now got an interest in them.”

You couldn’t help but agree that it was indeed a very awful irony. The very first time that he’d ever interact with anyone outside of Three was when he’d come face to face with the other tributes he’d be thrown into a bloodbath with.

“Oh! You have some paint on your lower back.” The young boy pointed out, interrupting your train of thoughts.

You cursed under your breath, twisting to try and catch sight of the paint but failing to do so. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Chenle grabbing a rag, he then approached you and offered to wipe it off.

You let him.

But this was apparently a very big mistake.

“DON’T TOUCH HER!”

The boisterous holler caused all the tributes in the training center to freeze and turn their attention to the cause of such war cry.

At first you assumed that a fight was breaking out in one of the other stations, but then it occurred to you that the words yelled would have nothing to do with a typical ‘tributes butting heads’ situation.

When you looked up, your heart dropped to your stomach.

Jungkook was hustling forward, head tilted like a bull as his steps vibrated the ground beneath him; like a gladiator approaching its’ final victim. His coal-like orbs were ignited with the flame of fury, and such eyes were set on you and your recent thirteen year old ally.

Instinctively, you pulled the boy behind you as you realized what was happening.

Soon the fuming tribute was standing in front of you and snarling at the innocent but confused babe that you tried to shield with your meager arms.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! You can’t just touch her like that!” He yelled, stepping forward as Chenle stepped back in fear.

“I-I was just helping her get something off.” The boy whined in defense, cracking and prepubescent voice trembling as he spoke.

“Oh please, I know how boys your age think! Tell me something you little freak, were you trying to cup your first feel or something before you’re eventually killed in that arena? Is that why you’ve clung onto her all day?” Jungkook held a spiteful scowl as he taunted Chenle, without a doubt trying to embarrass the boy as well as scare him.

“N-NO! It’s n-not like that.” The pitiful whines were ignored by the career.

There was a brief silence as Jungkook looked both you and the boy up and down, tongue pressing against his cheek in a tick of annoyance.

You held your breath.

“What district are you from?” Jungkook spoke after coming to a mysterious conclusion in his mind.

You felt yourself freeze in dread. You couldn’t bring yourself to say a word so you just watched in horror as this awful predator threatened to swallow this prey alive for no more reason than sheer paranoia and unfortunate misunderstanding. Your eyes began to water, you felt so worthless for not helping in any way. But it was as if there was a force beyond you that was causing you to halt all movement and logical thinking, manipulating you so you were left to watch this awful showdown. The weight of the collective gaze from all the other tributes watching had paralyzed you.

You were forced to watch on.

“T-three.”

Jungkook smirked, handsome face looking ruthless and somewhat satisfied.

“I’ll see you in the arena.”

It was a chilling promise, a signed deathwish from yours truly. Targets weren’t definite in the Hunger Games. Most people killed who they could whenever they crossed paths with someone weaker than them. It was a series of luck, stealth and strength. Very rarely were personal vendettas the cause of killings in the arena; unless revenge kills counted, when someone killed your ally and in return you kill them. But almost never, never, were such hateful rivalries formed in the short period before the games.

And having such a brute like Two promising to gun you down was as soul-crushing as watching your demise before your very own eyes.

With that, Jungkook turned around once again to storm away.

You pretended to not feel the piercing stares of the tributes, each trying to dissect why someone touching you would bring out such a violent reaction from Two.

You turned to console Chenle, only to see tears streaming down his face before he made a dash for the restrooms.

You promised to wait until he got out to talk to him, but the bell rang to announce the ending of the second day of practice.

You left the center in shame.

The third day of training was uneventful.

Everyone avoided you like you had the plague.

Including Chenle and Taehyung.

You didn’t necessarily blame them for putting distance between you and them. After what had happened with Jungkook, it was obvious that the career would target anyone and everyone around you. They were just doing the rational thing of saving themselves, yet it was still heartbreaking for you.

You just wanted to apologize to Chenle, to repay him in any way for what he had to suffer through yesterday. But whenever you attempted to close in on him, he’d become pale as a ghost before sprinting away.

Taehyung remained as stoic as he always had, yet he never pulled you aside or met you with notes in hand like you were hoping.

This was the clear breakage in the ‘semi-alliance’ and you took the hint with grace.

It wasn’t like your relationship with him was going to last long anyways.

Weak and dreary was how you spent the last day of training. You wondered around the stations, thoughtless, depressed and exhausted. You had one goal in mind; stay away from Jungkook. You kept one paranoid eye on him, always making sure to stay several stations away from whichever one he resided in.

Currently you were at the shelter making station, listening half heartedly to the trainer as they presented how to form a pile of sticks into an acceptable hideout. The reason for your lack of interest was due to the looming thought of ‘why bother?’ Any life-saving skill wasn’t going to be learned in a matter of three days, and being under the radar of a psychotic man like Two lowered your chances even further. Today you allowed the purgatory-like fog to overrule you.

Idly you wondered if there was life after death. It couldn’t be helped, the promise of death was right around the corner and your human mind was wrapped up in the unanswered question of if end was really the end. You desperately wanted there to be something, anything, to greet you when you meet your violent and barbarian end. But logically, you knew that absolute nothingness was more likely.

Long ago there was such thing as religion, people believed in a higher power and thought you were either rewarded or punished after death based on how good of a person you were in life. That was before the Capitol took over and erased all institutions that went against what they thought. You learned about it briefly in school but never gave it much thought. But now that you were nearing the end of your short life, you found yourself wishing that some mystical being from above could take mercy on you in the form of a oasis-like place to greet you after your murder.

Maybe there would be-

“Excuse me?” A melodic and womanly voice interrupted your thoughts, causing you to look up and see whom was now standing in between you and the trainer in action.

She wasn’t facing you, instead addressing the shelter-maker with a tone of politeness.

“Would you mind letting me and this girl talk in private?”

The trainer nodded and left the half-made shelter, getting up to approach another tribute who was yards away and attempting their own version of a hide-out. Whilst this happened, the girl finally turned to face you.

It was Joy.

From District Two.

Jungkook’s Counterpart.

Your eyes widened and instinctively you took a step back, hoping to create a distance just in case she was also crazy like him. She noted this paranoid behavior with an eyebrow raise and a roll of her dark eyes.

“Calm down. I’m not him.” she reassured.

You gave her a guarded look, filled with scrutiny and disbelief.

Sure, technically just because someone came from the same District as a douchebag didn’t necessarily mean that they were guilty solely on association. But, Joy still was part of the career pack and by no means should be trusted.

The gorgeous woman was also a visual counterpart to her handsome district mate. She was tall, curvy, with a mature face and sexy features that made you feel insecure about your own. You wondered how the hell she could be in the same age-range as you, she looked to be in her twenties bare minimum. Her smouldering eyes looked around you two, scoping out the area before she grabbed your hand and dragged you behind a fake in-door tree that’s width was large enough to shield you both.

“I don’t have a lot of time and trust me, I’ll be in more danger than you if he finds out I’m talking to you.” She leaned her pale face closer, eyes deeply gazing into yours with an intense seriousness. “Jungkook is obsessed with you.”

“W-what?” You spluttered.

“He’s fucking crazy! I don’t know what it is about you that makes him insane but he snapped the moment he saw you that day of the chariots.” She hush-screeched, extra careful to not draw attention to your guys’ secret conversation.

You couldn’t say that it didn’t make sense. Because frankly, it did make all the sense in the world. However it was still a leap think that someone who you’ve never said a word to could be obsessed with you. You thought he was probably just messing with you, playing mind games with one of his victims before actually killing them. Most likely trying to create an entertaining game for the viewers to enjoy and root for. But certainly not genuine interest.

“Look, when he’s not eating or resting he’s watching your reaping tape. He’s constantly asking our escort to get in touch with your escort so he can try to talk to you. He told all the careers to not touch you. He even asked me to keep an eye out on you during these training days so no one ‘gets too close’.” She said this all in a rush, her face morphing to show the true emotion she felt about her own ally; she was scared. “In the game, he wants to find you and have you join the career pack. He told us that first we have to find you before anything else. I’m afraid you won’t have a choice in the matter.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” You asked.

Any aid given from tribute to tribute had to be dealt with extreme caution. There was no absolute way of knowing that some sort of angle wasn’t being played with you. Strategically speaking, Joy could be acting like a friend to earn your trust by using her ally’s odd behavior to her advantage. You couldn’t allow yourself to be played even though every bone in your body told you that she wasn’t lying about Jungkook’s infatuation.

She licked her ruby lips and straightened up, gaining control of her expression and plastering on a look of aloofness. “I don’t know but don’t expect anymore handouts from me. I’m coming to you as a woman. If a boy was doing all that to me without my knowledge, I’d want someone to tell me.”

She peeked out from the tree to make sure the coast was clear before making her wordless leave.

A couple minutes of silence passed as you leaned against the tree and tried to process what had just happened.

Later you returned back to the trainer and asked for more pointers about making a hideout so hidden that tributes will unknowingly walk past it. A new motivation and need to focus ignited within you due to her words rang in your minds’ eye.

‘He wants to find you and have you join the career pack.’

Over your dead body would you ever join those monsters.

But, was Joy different?

By coming up to you to warn you, did she prove that perhaps not all careers were as heartless as you had suspected?

Or was she playing one of her own games?

(Back to interviews)

“And the next tribute we have is perhaps the one we all want to see most.”

The TV personality grinned excitedly at the responding roar the crowd released as they without a doubt anticipated the upcoming tribute.

“Coming from District Ten, coming straight for our hearts….” The man faked looking side to side as if to tell a secret; “And not to mention, District Twos’ heart….”

A brief laughter.

“The gorgeous and lovely- Y/N L/N!!”

You took one deep breath and tried to calm your racing heart.

Without your consent the backstage worker pushed you into the blinding limelight, causing you to stumble onto the platform.

Claps, cheers and screams welcomed you and rang in your poor eardrums as you slowly walked over to the waving host. Luckily you made it to the seat before your legs could give out, but you had to clutch at your overly expensive dress while doing so.

You smiled nervously and tried to mask your upcoming panic attack by focusing solely on the over-zealous host and not the thousands of hungry stares from the below audience. In return, he excitedly took your hands in his and asked; “You’re a sight for sore eyes, dear! I think we can all see why Jungkook is so enamoured by you!”

Your smile faltered for a brief moment before you forced it back on.

“T-Thank you.” You settled on taking the compliment without acknowledging the implications of Jungkook.

But you were a fool to think that there would be a chance that the host wouldn’t focus on the taboo subject matter and nothing else.

“You know Y/n, it’s been over 25 years since the Hunger Games has last seen a couple. Would you mind telling us the story of how you and Jungkook met?”

You gulped.

But maybe this was a blessing in disguise? Perhaps there was a chance that this was your opportunity to clear this whole mess up? Surely telling the truth in front of so many people could untangle the whole misunderstanding.

“The thing is Declan, I’ve never even said a word to him. We’re complete strangers.” Your meek voice sounded laughable even to you but you were glad it was finally said out loud and off your chest.

Declan’s face dropped as a look of shock took over his artificial features.

And then in a blink of an eye it morphed back into a wide smile that revealed his bleached teeth.

“Aww! You must be the coy one between the two of you. I’m guessing Jungkook does all the talking for you. How cute!”

The crowd cooed at this ludicrous conclusion.

“Y/n, I would ask about your strategy in the arena but with someone like Jungkook in your corner I dare say you’re going to be the safest tribute.”

The crowd laughed, amused with the guard dog you supposedly had watching over you.

“No, it’s a misunderstanding. I’m single and Jungkook is not an ally of mine in any way.” You protested.

Instead of addressing you, the host turned to the audience and placed a hand beside his mouth to fake-whisper; “She’s still denying it! We’re gonna get nothing outta this girl!”

There was mixed reaction from the crowd, some more ‘aww’s for you and laughs at the host. You were hopeless to the incoming blush that burned your cheeks, ducking your face in fear that people would consider it a blush of passion and embarrassment and not one of anguish and anger.

“Y/n, there’s no need to be shy. Young love is a beautiful thing! You and Jungkook make the perfect duo for this game, he has the brawn and you must have the brains, He’s the beast to your beauty. The Ying to your Yang!” The host squealed this all while excitedly flapping his hands like a thrilled school girl.

You pursed your lips in an attempt to not snap on live television at the delusional fool who was more concerned with ratings instead of the truth.

“But you know, there can only be one winner.” The solemn hush rang amongst the audience in an instant, the seriousness causing all crowd reaction to halt. “As we know, in the 74th Annual Hunger Games, Katniss and Peeta had to turn on each other.” The host continued while sniffling; “Y/n, aren’t you afraid of that moment when you and Jungkook will have to compete against each other?”

You licked your lips before saying with the straightest face you could muster; “No.”

Interviews with tributes only lasted three minutes.

After attempting to dodge the questions as best you could, you were soon waved off the stage as District Eleven began theirs.

Vesta excitedly escorted you down the narrow backstage hallway and into the Ten dressing room, all the while chatting your ear off about her personal thoughts of your screen time.

“You looked so cute up there! But oh dear, do your social skills need work. You’re lucky Declan knows how to carry one-sided conversations.” She rambled before stopping to open a wooden door marked ‘10’. “Anywho, wait here with Taehyung while I go get more drinks. Those damn Avoxes apparently don’t know the meaning of bottomless champagne.”

You rolled your eyes at the first world problems that occupied her little mind, whilst also feeling bad for the silent slaves that would face her bitchy wrath and irreconcilable alcoholism. You studied her retreating form for a brief moment before stepping into the room and closing the door behind you.

The dwelling was small but efficient; pressed against a wall was a long table filled with expensive finger foods and drinks, an animal-printed sofa in the center and a wall-sized screen that projected the current live show taking place on stage.

The only people in such place were the two designers, whom were talking quietly next to the table, and Taehyung who sat watching the rest of the interviews. Having reached your limit of capitol people for the day, you took a seat on the same couch Taehyung occupied.

He was as straight-faced and aloof as ever, barely acknowledging you in favor of fixating his coal-like eyes on the other tributes as they spoke of strategy with the enthusiastic host.

You couldn’t help but wonder what he thought of your interview, if he felt any sense of sympathy at the romantic propaganda that was pushed onto you. But you and him weren’t exactly on peaking terms either.

So thus you two sat, wordlessly dissecting the bland interviews of District Eleven.

It wasn’t until the entire show was over that Taehyung said something to you.

Vesta had returned and rounded you both up to go back to the suite.

When exiting the elevator and entering the tenth floor, Taehyung uttered a final thought before turning his back to you to head to his room.

These would later be the last words he’d ever say to you.

In his intimidating and bottomless voice he told you; “You’re either the luckiest tribute in this game, or the most doomed.”

(Couple things; I AM open to doing a part two but if I had this in my docs for a second longer I think I was gonna blow my brains out. I do know where I wanna take it in the arena but decided to post it as it is bc I need time to organize the actual battle. Hopefully getting some feedback on this first part can help my creativity. This was orginally a request for a joint blog I was apart of but I left it...however the anon who requested told me they were happy that I was gonna be the one who wrote it and I already had 10+k down so I said fuck it. The gif I had is really similar to the gifs I used for Pen Pal but pls don't drag me I cant find good yandere Jungkook gifs like he’s an actual ball of fluff. Also I need to hire an editor bc omfg this is so shitty it looks like a first draft. But anyway, Please do tell me what you thought of this story and well...issa wrap)

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claudiasjeancregg · 4 years

Note

38, CJ/Toby if you feel like it :)

38. “You fainted… straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” CJ Cregg/Toby Ziegler (1.6k words)

“You fainted… straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

CJ rolled her eyes at him, taking the water from his outstretched hand.

“I did not faint,” she reminded him. “I fell asleep. And if I wanted your attention, I’d have it.”

Toby quirked an eyebrow at her teasing, trying to maintain the playful tone in the room. But he couldn’t hide his expression- it was painfully obvious how he felt. He was worried about her. She hadn’t slept in days, and as much as she tried to hide it, it was obvious to see she wasn’t doing well. He watched her sip the water, pretending not to notice her hand shaking.

“You need to sleep, CJ.”

His voice was soft but firm- taking care of herself was the one thing she couldn’t push to the bottom of her priority list. Not under his watch.

“I’m fine!” she insisted. She set her glass down with a thump, needing her hands to make her point.

“I’m not a child. I can take care of myself.”

“But you don't,” he pointed out.

She picked up her things with a deep sigh, and started towards the door of his apartment. She hated when he treated her like this, like some inept little girl who needed help. She was fine. She was the Chief of Staff to the President, damn it. She had to be fine.

“What, am I wrong?” he called after her.

She paused, not turning around.

“You fell asleep standing up! Then, you fell straight into me. What if you had been in the Sit Room, or a meeting, or-”

“Jesus, Toby, I get it. I get that I’m not handling this job well, that I can’t do it all like you or Josh. But guess what? I’m still the Chief of Staff, whether you like it or not. It’s not your job to take care of me.”

Toby’s eyes were wide and incomprehensive. How had this turned into an argument so quickly? How had she so clearly misunderstood the meaning of what he was saying? How could she believe that he thought those things?

He watched CJ recover from her outburst. All the pent up frustration and all of the exhaustion had burst out of her at once, and he knew she needed a minute. Still, all he wanted to do was wrap her up in his arms and hold her until she fell asleep. But he knew that wasn’t what she needed- well, not right now. For now, she needed reassurance, though she would never admit it. She needed his support, something he had been embarrassingly bad at giving her recently.

“Well, someone needs to.”

She laughed bitterly- “Oh, so I’m a chore.”

“You’re not-”

Toby sighed. There was no reasoning with her when she was like this, especially not about something this sensitive. But he had to try, right?

“I’m not saying you’re not handling the job well. That’s the exact opposite of what I’m saying, and you know that.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but he kept going.

“You’re working too hard, CJ. You’re doing a- a phenomenal job as Chief Of Staff, but that’s all you should be doing! You shouldn’t be dealing with the press, and going down to the Hill, or negotiating. What you have to do is a million times harder than what Leo had to do, and you’re doing it. But you need to delegate, okay? Hire some people, promote some people, I don't know. And, uh-”

His voice was softer now, and surprisingly gentle.

“If you need help, you should ask.”

CJ rubbed her neck, which he knew meant she was stressed. And sore, he bet- he had seen her sleep on her couch too many times in the past week.

He kept going, needing her to understand what he was saying.

“It’s not my job to take care of you. But I do it because I-” he swallowed, looking at the floor.

“Because Leo had a heart attack, and Josh got shot, and Donna got blown up, and the President has MS.”

He wasn’t sure how to say it in a way that made sense. All he knew was that everyone had left, everyone had gotten hurt- except them. She couldn’t leave him too. He wouldn’t let her.

When Toby looked back up, CJ was staring at him.

“Leo had a heart attack because he was an addict-”

“Leo had a heart attack because he didn't sleep for six years!”

Her eyes glistened as he yelled, and for a minute he was worried he had scared her. Then CJ walked back over to him, placing her hand on his cheek. Her lips were pressed tightly together and her hand was cold. He let himself wonder for a moment if he should be worried about that, before remembering that they lived in DC and it was December.

“Okay. I’ll sleep.”

He knew she was saying more than that, that those words meant that she was listening to him. But he couldn’t resist.

“And you’ll drink more water? And not that crappy, calorie infested coffee you make Charlie get you. Actual water.”

She huffed, moving her hand from his cheek.

“Yes, Dad, I’ll eat my vegetables.”

He tried to glare at her, but couldn’t manage it. CJ smiled at him, looking happier than he’d seen her in weeks.

“Can I stay here tonight?”

Her voice was soft, like she actually thought he was going to say no.

“Just so, you know, you won’t have to install secret cameras in my apartment to make sure I’m sleeping.”

He ignored the dig, knowing she was just nervous about asking him. They’d been doing this, whatever this was, with each other for so long, Toby would think it shouldn’t feel awkward anymore. But that wasn’t how it worked, and he knew it. And she wasn’t propositioning him, or asking him for anything- she was exhausted.

Toby nodded quickly- “Go get some clothes. You know where everything is, right?”

She didn't bother to answer, already halfway to the bathroom.

He changed quickly before grabbing a few pillows and sheets, and heading to the couch. A few minutes later, CJ waltzed out of the bathroom in a towel, not noticing- or caring- about his reaction.

“Why are you making up the couch there, honey?”

He ignored the nickname and responded, pointedly looking away from her body.

“I’m going to sleep here. And didn't I say you could grab some clothes?”

She smiled teasingly. “Can’t restrain yourself?”

“Claudia Jean, we both know I’ve seen you in outfits less conducive to restraint,” he scoffed.

She swatted at him, walking away- presumably to steal some of his clothes. She came back in a Berkeley shirt and his boxer shorts, hair up in a knot. He felt himself staring, but couldn’t seem to look away. She raised her eyebrows at his reaction.

“That’s not mine,” he noted. “You keep old college shirts in my closet?”

CJ nodded amusedly, like she was waiting for him to say something she didn’t already know.

Toby wondered if she enjoyed driving him crazy. The answer was probably yes, but he didn’t dare ask- he was too worried he would grab her mid-sentence and kiss the life out of her.

He cleared his throat. “Good night.”

He walked over and gave her a kiss on the cheek, too intimate to be casual but too chaste to be anything like what he wanted to do. As he was turning to leave, she grabbed his arm.

“Jeez, CJ, what?”

“Where are you going?” she asked simply.

“Release your death grip on my arm, then I’ll tell you!”

She let go abruptly, a sheepish smile on her face.

“Sorry. Old habits,” she trailed off.

Toby shook his arm out. “I feel bad for your brothers,” he muttered.

She cocked an eyebrow at him, reminding him wordlessly of the original question.

He gestured lamely to the couch. “I told you, I’m sleeping on the couch.”

CJ sighed deeply, a “why do I put up with this man” kind of sigh that Toby knew well.

“You idiot, why would I sleep in your bed?”

He blinked at her. “I mean, you’ve slept in it before. I figured you wouldn’t want the couch-”

He was cut off as she grabbed his arm again, dragged him to the bedroom. She ignored his cries of pain- which, to be fair, were fake. For the most part.

Toby shifted awkwardly, pretending to think over the decision.

“CJ, I don't know if I feel comfortable being in bed with my boss- hey!”

Toby ducked to avoid the pillow hurtling towards him.

“Come here,” CJ groaned. “I’m sleeping in a bed for the first time this week, don't ruin this for me.”

“This week? CJ!”

His protests were muffled by her lips on his, kissing him deeply. CJ knotted her fingers in his ratty t-shirt, pulling him closer. She savored the short kiss, the first one they’d shared in a while. God, she’d missed having him this close to her. She leaned back with a satisfied expression on her face.

“Good night,” she said firmly.

“Good night,” Toby replied, still dazed.

He’d known this woman for as long as he could remember, but somehow she still managed to amaze him. He snuck a look at her- sprawled next to him, her legs intertwined with his. She would steal all the blankets and take up half the bed, just like always, but he didn’t care. Toby took a deep breath, trying to commit this moment to memory. He didn't get these moments of peace often- neither of them did. He’d make this one last as long as he could.

this was SO FUN!! sorry it took so long! it was supposed to be some short fluff and i ended up with this, lol. thank you so much for the prompt- i hope you like it! i love doing these, so send me more anytime- i reblog prompt lists WAY too much. these two are the best agh i love writing for them<33333

#tww #cj x toby #toby x cj #the west wing #aleena answers #tww fic #fic tag #my fic

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mcheang · 4 years

Note

Bustier salt(you don't have 2 if its 2 mean) Bustier use to be like Chloe and Lila and Mari reminded her of her old rival who defeated her she only singles out Marinette out of misplaced retribution and tells that to her smugly alone where Mari record the whole conversation and give it to Nadia (guest star Bustier's rival) Bustier gets busted down on her knees defeated

Petty Grudge

I made up the surnames from snow. If I had to make Caline a mix of Lila and Chloe; I’d say she have the wealthy background and snobby attitude; but she plays nice, hiding her true feelings. Post-Ladybug episode. I claim this as a rough draft!

“Marinette, could you come down for a moment please? There are some people here who would like to see you.”

“Ms Bustier, may I speak to you for a moment? In private.”

Ms Bustier put down her pen. “Of course, Marinette.”

They walked outside the staff room and found a deserted corridor.

Bustier: What seems to be the problem?

Marinette: I’m not sure this whole forgiving method with Chloe is working. She hasn’t really changed for the better.

Bustier: of course, she has. Even Ladybug has noticed and given her a miraculous.

Marinette: She loaned Chloe a miraculous, and that was only when the situation was dire or the akuma was someone close to Chloe. But Chloe’s attitude hasn’t improved. She still bullies. Yesterday, she purposefully ruined Nathaniel’s sketchbook!

Bustier: Marinette, I appreciate your concern, but I believe i am the teacher here.

Marinette: Then what makes you so sure Chloe will improve? You’re just indulging her and she knows it!

Caline stiffens. “Watch your tone, young lady.”

To her surprise, Marinette doesn’t back down. She just holds her gaze with her own steely blue stare. Oh, how Caline hates that look.

Calming down, Caline said gently, “Let me tell you a tale of a girl I once knew.”

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Caline. She had been the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in Paris. Caline had it all at her school. She was the A-list girl. People deferred to her. She was even friends with the most popular boy at school. Thomas Neige was a very cute boy and a local movie star.

Then she came. Tessa; the new girl. Tessa came from an ordinary background but she had dared to challenge Caline. She claimed Caline wasn’t doing anything to help the class and ran against her for class presidency.

To Caline’s shock and outrage, the class actually backed Tessa. She implemented ridiculous changes like a shared class chore list and added more bins in their classroom to encourage the class to recycle.

The next thing Caline knew, Thomas and Tessa were blushing around each other.

Caline tried to help Tessa fit in, but Tessa rejected her assistance.

Caline had been young then. She let her emotions overwhelm her to the point that she sabotaged Tessa’s dance recital.

Tessa caught Caline and exposed her. And when Caline apologized, Tessa still insisted Caline face the consequences of her actions and Caline was suspended.

Caline tried to rouse her friends to the problem that was Tessa, but they all ditched her now that they found a “real class president.”

Caline knew she could not win and suggested a truce with Tessa when she returned. Tessa had accepted.

Caline is ashamed to say she couldn’t handle the truce. Tessa had taken everything from her. Her crush, her kingdom, her impeccable record. It had only been minor bullying; a trip here, an accidental food spill there. But Tessa didn’t understand Caline’s sadness and punished her again.

Caline had been left alone, outcast by the class. She graduated into a teaching college because no one wanted her with her school record. While Thomas and Tessa got married and went on to act and dance to stardom, Caline had been stuck with a teaching job. Money couldn’t help her now. Her Father had made some bad investments and lost most of his fortune.

“So you see, Marinette, I know that punishing bullies never leads to coexistence. It only leads to separation.”

Marinette just stared at Caline. “You’re just letting your feelings get in the way. You were the bully at your school, and because you didn’t change your ways, your class decided to give up on you. It had nothing to do with whether or not you were punished.”

“Now Marinette...”

“No!” Marinette refused to listen. “You’re just living vicariously through Chloe, aren’t you? Because she gets to bully others without reprimand. You let her bully Ivan; bully Nathaniel, bully me, for years. And you’ve never stopped her. You’ve never done anything to dissuade her beyond a trivial sentence now and then for the class’ sake.”

“The principal has insisted we do not anger Chloe, considering her father’s position.”

“Don’t you dare blame other people! Regardless of Chloe’s threats, you could have at least tried to talk to her. But you didn’t. You just kept forgiving Chloe when it was not your place to forgive, but us!”

Marinette paused. “And if Chloe is meant to be the new you, I’m guessed I’m the new Tessa. That’s why you’ve ignored me when I called out Chloe on her misdeeds. That’s why you let Lila organise a massive seat change. And that’s why you blindly believed a note that I was cheating when the test answers were stolen after the exam had taken place!”

Bustier: What does Lila have to do with this?

Marinette laughed. “I recognised your style. You may have had the wealth, but you were like Lila, pretending to be nice all along. Do you dare to look me in the eyes and tell me honestly that you believe Lila has a dubious disability from saving a kitten on the tarmac, somehow bypassing security in the process and never purchasing the necessary hearing equipment? You and I both know she just wanted to sit next to Adrien. And you were willing to let me sit in the back alone because of your petty grudge.”

Caline shrugged. “Lila just wanted to make some friends. Her methods were dubious but harmless at the end.”

Marinette groaned. “Ugh, you sound like Adrien. But harmless? she framed me, and you knew it and you let it happen.”

Caline stared at Marinette for a long time. “So what? Who’s going to believe you Marinette? The whole class adores me. They already didn’t believe you about Lila. Why should they believe your accusations about me?”

Marinette glared at her teacher. “You shouldn’t be a teacher. Teachers are supposed to want to help their students.”

“You’re right,” Caline agreed. “I shouldn’t be a teacher. I was not born to teach rowdy teenagers. But this is where life has left me. I need to make the best of it.”

Caline straightened her back. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Marinette, I have some papers to finish grading. Rest assured, I never sabotaged your grades. I do have some morals.”

Marinette shook her head as Caline smugly went back.

The next evening....

“Good evening Paris, I’m Nadja Chamack and I have here with me, world renown choreographer Tessa Neige on her new campaign to stop bullying. Bonsoir, Tessa.”

Tessa, a pretty brunette in a fabulous dress, greets Nadja and takes her seat.

Nadja: before we begin, may I compliment you on your wardrobe?

Tessa grins. “Thank you, i decided to hire a school designer with massive talent to custom design it for me. This is a Marinette Dupain-Cheng original.”

“I know Marinette. She’s a sweet girl. But we’re here to discuss your stance on bullying.”

Tessa takes a breath. “Yes. I’ve been bullied before and i want to help stop this problem. The best defence we have against bullies are the teachers, which presented me with a problem. What happens when we have a faulty faculty?”

Nadja: Like Teachers who overlook bullying?

Tessa nods vehemently. “Exactly. One of the girls who bullied me became a teacher. I decided to check in on her by asking Marinette about her.”

Nadja: Marinette’s teacher used to bully you?! Who is she?

Tessa: Caline Bustier. I had heard she was a popular teacher and had hoped she had learned her lessons. I went to see Marinette about this when I went to commission my dress. What I learned instead shocked and saddened me.

Nadja: Why? What did she say?

Tessa: Marinette told me that Caline asks her to be the bigger person and forgive her bullies instead of making sure they get punished for their misdeeds. Basically if Marinette is bullied, she shouldn’t complain about it and just forgive the bully.

Nadja: that’s horrible. Do you mean to say the bullies are never in trouble?

Tessa: exactly! It’s the other way around instead. It’s the victims who are unfairly blamed and punished.

Nadja: But this is one girl’s word against a teacher’s. Do we have any reason to trust Marinette? I know Marinette and I believe in her, but the rest of the world does not have any cause to.

Tessa: I’m glad you asked. I asked Marinette to do a small favour for me and she did a marvellous job. She sent me the recording already.

Nadja: Let’s watch it then!

Cue recording on screen.

Nadja says softly. “Shocking. I’ve never been more appalled in my life.”

Tessa looks sadly at the screen. “It’s a shame that the class has to suffer. Bullies have to be reprimanded and punished or else they might never change. I’m sad to see that Caline hasn’t changed at all.”

“No, she hasn’t. I’m sorry for what bad memories this must have brought back to you, Tessa. Thank you for coming here to inform us of this heinous error in the educational system.”

“Not at all. I made a promise to myself to never let a bully get away with their wrongdoings; not if I could help it.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, Tessa Neige.”

Needless to say that airing finally exposed Lila and Caline. The school board interceded and fired Caline. They threatened the principal to either punish Chloe or get sacked. Chloe was suspended. Lila was expelled.

The class apologized to Marinette for not believing her or being sensitive to her feelings. They also thanked her for standing up for them.

Adrien apologized to Marinette for his dumb advice. She accepted. The boy was still new to the world of making friends.

Bustier’s termination of employment was a sad affair because the class did thought she was a teacher who cared for them. But the victims of Chloe’s tyranny knew better. When Ivan tried to protect Mylene from Chloe’s insults, he was sentenced to detention for disrupting the class. When Chloe stole Nathaniel’s sketchbook, Caline accused him of drawing in class. And for crying out loud, everyone knows Chloe never does her homework or projects. It’s not a wonder she gets As when Sabrina is doing all the work or her Father bribes the principal.

#miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #ml fic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #adrienette #lila gets exposed #lila karma #lila salt #bustier salt #ml salt fic #lila is exposed #post ladybug episode #post episode ladybug

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stardust-walker · 3 years

Text

High Hopes: Chapter 15

Previous Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

word count: 3897

_______________________________________________________

Julian didn’t know what to think of the new group that had just come onto the farm. He didn’t trust the one guy, that was for sure. He’d gone into the city with Otis and had come back without him. Otis was a good person, but it didn’t sound right. He probably would’ve done anything to save a little kid but the guy seemed sketchy. He felt sort of relieved when it seemed like not everyone bought his bullshit either.

He was jumpy as he waited for Maggie to get back from her run to the store. Since Otis, the thought of people leaving the farm felt like they were marching off to their deaths. A smile was on his face as he finally spotted Maggie riding up on her horse with Glenn. That guy didn’t seem too bad, at least. Unable to contain himself, he leapt off the porch and had the reins of Glenn’s horse in his hands before the other man could say anything. “Let me help you put the horses back,” he said brightly.

Maggie and Glenn exchanged a look before Maggie replied. “Sure thing. Thanks for all your help out there, Glenn.”

Julian looked over his shoulder as the other man hurried off to join the rest of his group by the tents as the dark haired woman from before and her redneck companion came out from the trees. “What do you think,” he questioned Maggie before he clicked his tongue and began to lead to horse to the stable.

“Nothin to think. They find that little girl, odds are my daddy’s gonna make them leave,” Maggie shrugged her shoulders from atop the horse.

Julian nodded his head slowly, “You see anything out there?”

“We didn’t see her out there if that’s what you’re askin me, Jude.” Maggie shook her head before she let out a long sigh.

Julian’s shoulders slumped. He couldn’t help but stare out at the barn in the distance as he opened the door to the horse’s pen. A shiver ran down his back before he averted his eyes. “Better than the alternative, I guess.”

Dove rested somewhat easily that night, she felt some comfort in the fact that the next day would mean the search was in full swing. She still hated doing the laundry, though. She would rather be out there in the woods looking for Sophia, but Carol had roped her into her chore. “C’mon. No one wants to help me with this. Andrea’s off tryin’ to play Annie Oakley somewhere and Lori’s still sleepin.”

“I wish I was still sleepin,” Dove grumbled as she picked up a basket of clothes. She squinted her hazel eyes at the closest well. “Jesus, what happened over there?”

Carol shook her head. “You missed it. They sent Glenn down into the well. Apparently there was a walker down there.” Dove opened her mouth to reply but Carol cut her off. “I know you woulda raised all types of hell if you were here, but Glenn’s fine. You’ve seen him.”

Dove huffed and blew a stray hair out of her eyes. “I’m gonna give that little bastard a piece of my mind for not tellin me about that. When I’m done with him, he’ll wanna go back down that well.” She let out a chuckle.

It felt like hours, but it wasn’t too long until she was sitting on top of a picnic table, basket of wet clothes next to her. She handed Carol a wet shirt to hang up as Lori stepped out of her tent. “Mornin, princess,” Dove called over cheerfully, “Nice of you to join us.”

Lori managed a weak smile as she walked over and greeted the two sisters. “Can’t believe I slept in.”

“You probably needed it,” Carol smiled at her.

“Yeah, I think we all need to take turns sleeping in. It feels amazing,” Dove yawned as she ran a hand through her ponytail.

“You feelin ok,” Carol scrutinized Lori carefully as the other woman nodded. “I have an idea I wanted to run by you two. That big kitchen of theirs got me thinking, I wouldn’t mind cooking in a real kitchen again.” Dove smiled as she thought about Carol’s cooking. She definitely wasn’t a five-star chef by any means, but Carol was a good cook. There was no doubt about that. “Maybe we all pitch in and make dinner for Hershel and his family tonight. Kind of looking for things to keep my mind occupied.”

Dove leaned back on her hands with a heavy sigh as she looked up at the sky. She really wanted to be out there. She wanted to help look for Sophia, but she knew Carol would fight her on it. Maybe the right place for her to be was here on the farm; she needed to be with her sister.

“Seems like the least we could do,” Lori agreed.

Dove nodded her head, “Yeah sure. I’ll try to help. I’m not real good in the kitchen, but I’ll try my best.” She flashed her sister a quick smile.

“You mind extending the invitation,” Carol smiled at Lori. Would feel more right comin from you,” Carol reasoned.

Dove eyed Lori. “You’re like our unofficial First Lady,” Carol joked.

Lori and Dove both rolled their eyes but Dove let out a snort of laughter. “President Rick Grimes? I don’t remember votin, but that sounds about right,” she raised an eyebrow at Lori and raised a hand quick enough to block a clothespin from hitting her face.

Meanwhile, Julian had made his way over to the group by the car. He felt like he should be trying to help them look for that little girl. Every person out there could make a difference in finding her or not. He would want people out there looking for his sister like this if he had any idea where she was.

“She might have gone further east than we’ve been so far,” Rick stated as he laid the map out in front of them.

“I’d like to help,” Jimmy spoke up first and Julian narrowed his eyes at the younger man. Hershel would kick his ass for trying. Jimmy was just a kid, but Julian was grown enough to make his own decisions. “I know the area pretty well and stuff.

“I think I know the area better than you, Jim,” Julian spoke quietly as he approached the group.

“Hershel’s okay with this?” Good question. Julian would like to believe Jimmy, but he couldn’t help but think the kid was full of shit trying to look cool in front of his girlfriend.

“Nothing about what Daryl found screams Sophia to me,” Shane spoke from the car.

Shane gave Julian the creeps. “They found Elizabeth Smart nine months after she went missing on pure chance of someone noticing the people who took her,” he remembered seeing something about it when he was younger and it just stuck with him. Shane might be a cop, but it seemed like he wasn’t too invested in the search.

“Whoever slept in that cupboard was no bigger than yay-high,” Daryl held his hand out to about elbow height. Definitely seemed like a little kid and unless Georgia was suddenly overflowing with feral children, Shane was full of shit.

“Maybe we’ll pick up her trail again,” Rick sounded hopeful.

“No maybe about it. I’m gonna borrow a horse,” Daryl pointed at the map. Hershel won’t be happy about that, Julian thought but didn’t speak. He didn’t want to get on the bad side of this guy.

“Good idea,” T-Dog spoke up, “Maybe you’ll see your Chupacabra up their too.” A short laugh echoed from behind Julian and he turned to see Dove, still perched on the picnic table, shake her head.

“Chupacabra,” Rick inquired.

“You never heard this,” Dale sighed. “Our first night in camp, Daryl tells us that the whole thing reminds him of a time he went squirrel hunting and he saw a Chupacabra.” Julian shuddered at the thought of the goat sucking monster; Jimmy laughed. Julian gave him a quick slap to the back of the head as Daryl spoke again.

“What are you braying at, Jackass?”

“You believe in a blood-sucking dog,” Jimmy questioned.

“You believe the dead walk,” Daryl sneered.

“He’s got you there, Jimbo,” Julian shrugged his shoulders as he rested his hand on the hood of the truck. Jimmy reached for a gun, man that kid was really trying it today.

“Why don’t you come train tomorrow,” Shane offered. “If you’re serious, I’m a certified instructor.”

Andrea spoke up, “For now, he can come with us.”

“If it’s alright, I’d like to go with Jimmy.” Julian turned his attention to Rick. He didn’t feel like going in a car with Shane. The last man to go with him somewhere didn’t exactly seem to fare too well. Even if it meant going with the woman that he didn’t really know and someone who’d made fun of someone for believing in a Chupacabra.

Rick nodded his head and held out his hand to the younger man, “Alright. Thanks for helping us, kid.”

“Julian, sir.”

“Rick is just fine,” the sheriff smiled a little.

“Right, sorry. Not used to bein too friendly to the police. But, no problem, Rick. It feels right to help. Just hope we find her,” Julian nodded his head. The others didn’t notice him tense up as he turned his attention away from the barn and focused on the search plan.

Dove let out a heavy sigh as she turned her attention from the parting group to the house. She couldn’t keep Carol waiting much longer or she might send out another search party for her. As she ascended the steps, Glenn caught her attention. He seemed out of it. “Yoo-hoo. Earth to Glenn,” Dove waved a hand at him.

The man jumped slightly as he turned his head to look at his friend. The smile on his face fell slightly as he realized who was standing in front of him. “Hey, Dove. You not heading out today?”

“Nah, decided I might as well tend to my womanly duties,” she flicked her hair behind her shoulder in an exaggerated manner. “You alright, bud? You see kind of out of it since you got back yesterday.” Dove frowned as she leaned against the post.

“I’m fine. Just…a lot going on in my head, you know,” Glenn smiled sadly as he rested his hand on the guitar in his lap.

A sly look was in Dove’s eye as she spoke. “Well channel all of that emotion into a song and I’m sure you can woo yourself a farmer’s daughter in no time,” she wiggled her eyebrows at him.

The blush that shot up into Glenn’s cheek answered any questions she might have had. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothin! Just that I think a blind man all the way in Korea can see what I’m talking about! But that’s none of my business,” she shrugged her shoulders and took a step closer to him. “But if you do happen to want to talk about it, just let me know! I’m your friend and I’ll always be here to listen. Plus, no better person to go to for girly advice than a girl.” She chuckled as she ruffled Glenn’s hair.

Glenn smiled at the woman as she took a step back towards the door, “Thanks…”

Dove thought that Hershel’s house was nice and she made sure to tell them so. “Well thank you,” Patricia nodded her head politely.

Dove bit her lip as she looked around the hallway. “I just want to thank you,” she turned her attention back to the older blonde. Her expression seemed to be unreadable. Something about these people was off to her. They all seemed nice, but something wasn’t right about any of them. “For letting us stay here while we look for our niece. It’s not something you have to do especially now, you don’t know any of us from those walkers in the streets.”

Patricia held up a hand to stop her, “It’s not a problem. I just want to make sure that Rick and Hershel have made it very clear to you…”

“Once we find Sophia, once Carl is good to roll, we’re gone,” Dove nodded her head. “But still. Thank you,” she smiled as she turned on her heel to walk into the kitchen. “Just hope you don’t mind your mashed potatoes with a little crisp,” she called as she entered the room, “I suck at cooking!”

Carol shook her head at her younger sister as Lori laughed. “You can measure the ingredients,” Carol patted her arm.

“Listen, we all have skills. I was not made to be a house wife,” Dove raised her hands in surrender. “You, however, were a better housewife than any man ever deserved.” She winked at her sister.

Slightly uncomfortable, Lori changed the subject quickly. “You know you weren’t made to be a housewife?” She looked over her shoulder at the younger brunette as she began to peel a potato.

“Sure do. I was a few months away from trying it out, but let’s just say I had to cancel the subscription before the free trial ended,” Dove popped a piece of carrot into her mouth.

Carol clicked her tongue disapprovingly, “Still think you were better off. He seemed unstable.”

“Who? Owen,” Dove questioned her sister with a raised eyebrow. Carol just turned her attention to her. Dove rolled her eyes as she picked up a bigger carrot and started to peel it. “I mean he was a little…quirky.”

Lori let out a small groan at this, “Honey, we all know what quirky means. Quirky is code for ‘you’re unstable but I love you’.” The older brunette elbowed Dove lightly.

Carol let out a quiet snort of laughter at this, “You got that right. The one time when we went up to visit, we stayed in DC so-”

Dove cut her off with a panicked laugh, “Alright listen, I get it! Owen was unstable and I have terrible taste in men, but it’s over now so…we don’t have to rehash that story! Alright.”

It was quiet in the kitchen for a moment before Lori whispered, “You’ll tell me later?”

“Oh, you bet,” Carol whispered back as Lori picked up a bucket to go collect more water.

“The hell you will,” Dove shouted as she picked up a carrot shaving and whipped it at her sister. “Be serious and cut up your god damn carrots,” Dove laughed and shook her head. Still, her thoughts went back to her life before everything went to shit. Actually, this was more like her life going to shit take two. Carol was right, she was way better off.

“Bout time you strolled on up here, Dixon.” Daryl’s attention snapped to the side, back to the direction of the farm.

“Hell do you want,” he snapped at the figure in front of him even though he knew she wasn’t real.

“Should really be getting home,” the figure spoke as she twirled a small pendant between her fingers. She wasn’t really there, but her hazel eyes stared right into his soul just like if she were there, “getting dark out.”

“Shut up,” Daryl snapped as he started stomping back towards the farm. The figure was a few steps ahead of him as he shuffled forward. “Don’t give a shit anyway.”

“Like you said. Merle wasn’t there for you, so why should you listen to him,” the voice was further ahead now and he glanced around before he spotted it a few yards ahead between the trees. “So man the fuck up and use you head for once, asshole.” When Daryl blinked, she was gone.

Dove had decided to take a break from the kitchen, but she didn’t seem to be able to find anyone that she wanted to see. Glenn seemed even more miserable than before, the other men were back without much news, and Daryl still wasn’t back yet. The last part made her feel uneasy. It was getting dark out. A creek on the porch made her turn her attention. “Julian, right? You find anything before,” she stepped towards him.

The young man lowered his binoculars before he shook his head, “Not a thing. Sorry. Maybe your friend found something?”

“Who?”

“The redneck guy. Daryl?”

Dove scoffed, “I don’t think that you can really say that me and Daryl are friends but…”

Andrea’s panicked shouts about a walker cut through the relative silence. Dove felt her pulse quicken and Julian shook his head, “we don’t get many walkers out this far.” He stepped quickly off the porch to help out and shoved the binoculars into Dove’s hand as he went.

Something in her gut told her to look through and when she did, the binoculars fell from her hand as she took off at a run. “Wait,” she shouted as she ran faster than she thought she had in years. She didn’t even realize how quick she was running until she was about halfway across the field.

“Is that Daryl,” Glenn said.

“Holy hell, man. You look like shit,” Julian shouted.

“That’s the third time you’ve pointed that thing at my head,” Dove heard Daryl reply and she slowed down to a walk as a relieved laugh left her lips. “You gonna pull the trigger or what?”

It was silent for a few moments as Dove continued to approach the group. Glenn turned and noticed her but as Dove opened her mouth to call out, a gunshot rang out. What left her throat instead was a panicked scream as adrenaline took over and she took off again. She didn’t even realize what she’d done until her knees hit the ground. Rick was screaming back at Andrea and there was blood on her hands. “Jesus Christ, what the fuck,” Dove turned her head back in the direction of camp before she turned her head back to the sight in front of her. “Dumb fucking bitch, cmon don’t be dead please.” Dove muttered as Rick dropped to the ground next to her. “She shot him in the fucking head,” Dove’s voice shook as she reached a shaking hand out and turned Daryl’s head slightly.

“Good thing she’s a bad shot,” Rick mumbled as Daryl let out a pained groan. His eyes fluttered open for a moment and Dove felt relieved as she realized that he might look out of it, but he wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t dead yet. A hand on her shoulder pulled her to her feet as Glenn wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

Glenn gave her shoulder a squeeze as they watched Rick and Shane haul Daryl to his feet. “I was kidding,” he growled before he passed out.

Anger flared through Dove as Andrea approached them asking if he was dead.

“He’s wearing ears,” Dove heard Glenn’s panicked voice over the pounding of her blood in her ears. Her gaze fell to T-Dog as she fought to control her anger. How could you be so stupid Rick told you not to do it, she raged internally. Even the sight of Sophia’s doll couldn’t calm her down. All she could think of was how, if Andrea had killed Daryl, they would never know where Sophia might be.

She reached a boiling point as they crossed over into camp. All of the bullshit thoughts and prayers about Sophia. All of the wanting to save people and act like she was big and tough. On top of losing Sophia, it was too much. “I’m so sorry,” she heard Andrea say again as Glenn finally released her arm.

“You’re sorry,” Dove rounded on the blonde woman. The few people who hadn’t rushed into the house froze, Carol put a hand over her mouth and shook her head. “You’re sorry that Sophia’s missing. You’re sorry that you wanted to blow yourself up. You’re sorry that you fucking almost killed the one person who might have the best shot at finding Sophia,” Dove’s voice was eerily calm as she stepped closer to the blonde.

“I thought he was a walker! I was just trying-,” but Andrea didn’t get to say what she was trying to do. There was a shout and all of a sudden, both women were on the ground. Dove only managed to land two punches to the woman before she was wrenched away from her.

“Bitch,” Dove shouted as she was pulled back towards the house. She watched with narrowed eyes as Dale helped Andrea back to the RV.

“Holy shit,” Julian mumbled as he held the squirming woman tighter as he tried to pull her towards the porch. It was quite a task, but once it was accomplished, he sat her in a chair and hurried off into the house.

Dove’s attention finally turned from the RV as she winced. A quick look down showed her that a cold washcloth was being placed on her knuckle by Carol. “You shouldn’t have done that,” Carol mumbled.

“Yeah well, she shouldn’t have shot someone,” Dove closed her eyes and shook her head.

There were quiet footsteps as she heard Carol walk back into the house. She sat like that for a while before the door creaked open. She opened her hazel eyes and her shoulders slumped as Rick walked out. The sheriff knelt next to the chair and she felt her shoulders tense as she waited for him to reprimand her.

“I’m not here to yell at you,” Rick sighed as he ran a hand down his face, “I very well should be for the stunt you pulled. I don’t wanna have to hear about you tryin to fight like that in front of my son like that. I’m sure you understand,” Rick glanced over at her.

Dove nodded her head before she turned her gaze over to Rick. “Sorry…I just got,” she took a deep breath, “I got real angry like I haven’t in a real long time.”

Rick frowned and nodded his head, “I understand the last few days have been real hard on you and Carol, so you don’t need me to be hard on you too.” Dove sat up a little straighter and faced Rick fully. “But I just wanted you to know that Daryl’s just fine. He’s resting, we didn’t tell him that you punched Andrea.” She raised an eyebrow. “I think that’s a discussion that you should be able to have by yourself. But he did tell us where he found Sophia’s doll. Pointed it out on a map and everything so we have an even better grid to look for her,” Rick smiled and Dove felt the corner of her mouth quirk up into a smile.

“Thank you, Rick,” Dove whispered.

“Not a problem,” Rick patted her arm.

Dove moved the washcloth from her hand and flexed her knuckles, “Guess it’s best if I don’t sit next to Andrea at dinner, huh,” she joked and Rick chuckled quietly.

“I would advise you not to do that. Just in case,” he rose to his feet and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I want you to know that I’m gonna do my best to find her. I promise.”

@crossbowking @momc95 @chaotic-gary-king-stan

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #Daryl DIxon fic #daryl x oc #daryl dixon x oc #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader #The Walking Dead #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #twd #twd fanfic #twd fanfiction #rick grime #lori grimes #carl grimes #my writing

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reyescarlos · 4 years

Note

48 for Buddie :)

#48. “I took your hoodie, and you’re not getting it back.”

Thank you so much! <3

“Whoa, you weren’t lying when you said you had a ton to do today, were you?” Eddie says aloud, surveying the wreck that is Buck’s bedroom.

The loft is practically bursting with unruly piles of clean clothes that have yet to be returned to their proper home inside of Buck’s closet or his dresser. It’s a sharp contrast to how the space ordinarily looks but the recent run of 24-hour shifts down at the station bumped cleaning down on Buck’s list of priorities in favor of food and rest.

“Nope. This week kicked my ass and now I have to spend my day off doing chores,” Buck replies, the disdain ringing clear as day. “Thanks for helping me though. I owe you one.”

Eddie shrugs. “Eh, there are worse ways to spend the day. Alright,” he says, clapping his hands together. “Game plan’s as follows: we work through putting your clothes away and then we start on vacuuming and all that. Then we move on to the kitchen and that sink full of dishes. I think I saw two pots trying to make a break for it when I came in,” he jokes.

Buck nods in agreement. “Copy that.”

They set to work, moving about the room. Eddie folds with such precision while Buck’s style is far laxer, his pile not looking nearly as kept as his boyfriend’s. Buck chalks it up to both Eddie’s time in the military and Buck’s own haste to get this over and done with. They work in a comfortable silence for a while that’s broken about fifteen minutes in when Eddie speaks up.

“Hey, I thought I lost this thing,” he remarks.

Buck turns from the dresser and glances over at Eddie who’s holding up a gray hoodie. It’s non-descript enough but if one were to look closely, they’d see the tear in the cuff on the left side and a similar hole in the hem on the right. Eddie’s eyes drift to these spots, instinctively identifying the hoodie as his property.

“Oh yeah, I took your hoodie,” Buck says. “And you’re not getting it back,” he adds on quickly, refusing to give Eddie even a moment to make his case for why he should return the sweater.

“I didn’t realize I was seeing a klepto,” Eddie muses, fiddling with the drawstring before folding the hoodie back up. “What, did you want a souvenir?”

It’s a joke but it tugs at something in Buck’s chest because, perhaps, that’s part of the reason why he stole Eddie’s sweater in the first place.

“Kind of, I guess,” he replied earnestly.

Eddie’s smile wavers a bit and he looks to Buck curiously. Buck appreciates him giving the space to work out his thoughts and for a moment, he’s quiet as he tries to piece it all together.

“I mean, it’s nice having something of you here.”

Inwardly Buck cringes at how vulnerable the statement is but the confession is as genuine as they come. As much as he doesn’t like to think about it, he hates just how lonesome he can get inside of his apartment. Everyone else in his life has someone they can return home to at the end of the day. On those instances when he’s away from Eddie, the desolation creeps up. That isn’t the type of company he likes to keep. But having a piece of Eddie, even with something as mundane as a hoodie, helps to stave off the feeling.

“On a scale of one to ten, how much would you judge me if I said I sleep with that thing next to me?” he asks, lifting a brow.

Eddie lets out a chuckle and shakes his head. “This is a judgment free zone. Actually, I think it’s pretty cute. You’re the president of my fan club,” he teases.

Buck rolls his eyes and laughs. “Let’s not get carried away now,” he rebuts but it’s futile. There’s no denying the fact that Buck can’t get enough of the guy across from him.

Eddie moves from where he’s folding clothes on the bed to Buck’s closet, fishing around for a bit. Buck’s brows furrow in confusion.

“What are you doing?” he asks but Eddie just tosses an arm backwards and shoos him without a verbal response.

“Ah,” he says after a beat. In his hand is one of Buck’s burgundy shirts. Eddie presses the fabric against his face and breathes in deeply. “This’ll do.” Buck can’t help the wide grin that breaks across his face.

“It’s only fair,” Eddie says. “You steal one of my favorite hoodies. I nick one of your favorite shirts.”

“Fair is fair,” Buck agrees, a mischievous grin on his face.

Eddie walks back over to him, mirroring his expression. He bends down and kisses Buck softly on the mouth, wiping the smug grin off his face with the sincerity of it all. Buck gets lost in the feel of it, his hand sliding up Eddie’s chest and tugging at his collar to draw him nearer. Eddie’s mouth is a terrain he’s all too familiar with but this isn’t a road he’s ever tired of going down. He breathes Eddie in, a heady feeling rushing over him as he breathes the other man in. He loves Eddie’s hoodie. He sleeps with it damn near every night but nothing, absolutely nothing could ever be a substitute for the real thing.

#bighimboenergy #911 fanfic #buddie #buddie fanfic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie fanfiction #kimmy writes #ask #message

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stonecoldjerseyfox · 4 years

Text

Jersey on my mind (part 30)

“It’s gonna be a great day.”

Daryl turns his head from the robin, sitting on the ridge of a roof, further away and that he’s been fixing his gaze on for the past half an hour and observes Rick. His friend lets down his shoulders and relaxes his spine, takes a deep breath and lets himself take in the silent calmness of the morning surrounding them. He’s right. It’s gonna be a beautiful day.

The breeze hasn’t even bothered to wake up today. It’s the two of them, the robin, who sings his morning song, to announce that a new day has begun, and the walkers.

“Yeah.”

“Gotta continue working on the wall.” Rick proclaims, as if to create a to-do list in his head of today’s chores. “Check blueprints, find materials. Gotta go on a run.”

“Great.” Daryl replies and nods at Rick. He’ll get to go, he knows it, and he doesn’t mind. As if he were a tame fox, who no matter how domestic it may seem, constantly needs a certain degree of freedom and nature. But he doesn’t mind returning back here either. Not anymore. “I’ll go.” He continues. “Just tell me whatcha’ need.”

“Yep.” Rick takes another deep breath. “What a day.”

His sudden discovery of nature, the surroundings and an overbearing serenity hasn’t sprung from nothing. He watched by Carl’s side for days. Didn’t sleep, didn’t eat properly, not until Carl sat up in bed and ate himself. The eye was completely destroyed and had to be removed. Thanks to Denise, Rosita, Tara and Mila, who, thanks to her previous profession as a dental nurse, knew how to sterilize scalpels and tools, as well as use sedatives and anesthetics. Thanks to their care, Carl got better, as did Rick.

“What time is it?” Rick says. “Seven, or eight?”

“Prolly.” Daryl looks at the sun. He watched it rise, heard the birds wake up. Rick joined him shortly after. “Early.”

“Ya’ wanna go back to the house?” Rick asks. “Get some rest?”

“Nah.”

Rick fixates him with his gaze, very ‘nice cop’-like, yet friendly and somewhat cheeky.

“When I first met Lori-” Rick says, then smiles faintly, chuckles. “Boy, I was- Couldn’t eat properly. Couldn’t sleep. Like I went around in a haze and just thought ‘bout her.”

Daryl nods a little, smiles very faintly, but inside of his chest, his heart takes a skip.

Has it been two days, forty-eight hours ago he went downstairs holding hands with Jersey when everyone was eating breakfast at the big table?

After their escapade in the shower, resulting in soaking clothes that had to sundry at the porch roof, they stayed in the bedroom for the entire day. Juri wasn’t in bed when they came out from the bathroom, holding their soaking wet clothes. The smell of breakfast toasts was enough for Mila to understand that Juri was downstairs. Daryl left late in the afternoon, to join a group that has started to create a temporary barricade at the broken wall. Carol brought a late dinner to the working group.

“How strange, I think I saw these particular clothes sunbathing on the porch roof earlier.” She said cheekily and bumped his hip, while he took a bite of a sandwich.

“Shut up.” Daryl scoffed softly.

“Pookie.” Carol grinned and shook her head.

He returned late and when he entered the bedroom again, both Mila and Juri were asleep, spooning each other on the bed surrounded by books, soft toys and cassette tapes. He sat down in the comfortable chair, didn’t feel like waking ‘em up by laying down next to them, where he fell asleep.

Their presence downstairs the morning after that was a silent, visual proclamation that yeah, it was the two of ‘em now’. Or the three of them, including the kid wedged at Mila’s hip in his pajamas, barely awake, but determined to not skip breakfast. Daryl’s heart pounded harder than ever in his chest as they settled on the ground floor, next to each other in front of the entire Atlanta group at the table. Harder than when he stood in the yard as a child and saw the house, his home, burn down to the ground with his mother in it. But it was different. As if his chest was flooded with a warm, deep sense of pride, a sense of belonging. The group hadn’t, thankfully, made a big scene of the silent announcement, which was as big of a deal to him as if he’d announced he’d become the president of the whole damn united states of whatever. It was clear to him, when they sat down at the table, set with pancakes and toast, that the others had already put two and two together. Was it Carol who blabbed, or was it by any chance Rick? Anyway they took it without any fuss. Thankfully. He’d never pull through such a questioning.

But Rick’s right, to some extent. He’s been in a constant haze for awhile now. He can’t put his finger on when the haze was inevitable, must’ve been during their walk to the gas station, but might just as well be earlier. She had a special impact on him from the start. Those blue, piercing eyes looking at him over the barrel of the gun after they’d saved him and Aaron. He can’t get enough of ‘em.

“Guess ya’ right.” He therefore says. Why would he lie? Apparently they’re the talk of the town now anyway. Jeez. As if the townies don’t have else to talk about?

“That hurricane of- I dunno, feelings. They’re good. Validation that everything’s just- perfect.” Rick says and by doing so, puts his finger on something Daryl have felt some kind of guilt for, not always, fuck no.

But it’s a feeling he struggles with from time to time, if just for a second or a minute. He’s not good for her, or more correctly; not good enough. But that feeling’s swept away as soon as he notices her looking at him. The blue eyes smiling at him, as a lagoon of homeliness and deep affection.

“Never done this before.” Daryl says husky.

“No one has.” Rick replies while looking at the robin. “There’s a first for everyone. Ya’ just- gets a hang of your own mind. The rest goes by itself.” He makes a movement, and gets up from the boards. “I’ll go get some water.” He announces.

Rick climbs down the ladder and Daryl looks after him as he strides over to the store. He smiles faintly to himself, lets his experienced gaze wander slow and steady over the closest surroundings at the other side of the makeshift wall. A few walkers have miraculously managed to remain on the site since they made a raid and eliminated most, after the great battle. One of them seems to have ended up in a loop; over and over again it crashes into the hood of an abandoned pickup, whose tires have almost grown stuck in the asphalt, which has been taken over, slow and steady, by mother nature.

A soft tapping on wood gets his attention. He turns his head, and happens to see something at the lower end of the ladder.

“Mornin’.” He greets Juri, who’s small, soft hands squeezes the second step of the hard, wooden ladder. “Wanna come up, kiddo?”

Without hesitating, Juri climbs the tall ladder, with the walkman in his pocket and the headphones around his neck. The big blue eyes are determined, curious. Almost at the top of the ladder, Daryl grabs the boy by his armpits and lifts him up to the platform. The three and a half year old is an early riser and has managed to dress himself this morning too, except the shoes that Juri wiggles in front of Daryl, to tie for him.

“Ya’ gotta learn to do this on ye’re own someday, kiddo.” Daryl says and ties the tiny Chuck Taylors.

A small index finger is pointed right at him. Juri looks at him with a clever grin, as to say: ‘Well, until then, you’re doing it for me’. Yeah, that’s probably true. Daryl lets out a faint chuckle. Being bossed around by a kid is something new.

“Ya’ mom’s asleep?”

Juri nods. Daryl smiles. Before he left the night before to join Abraham at the watchtower he checked in on Mila and Juri. Juri was tucked in for bed and Mila had curled up next to him, supported by at least four pillows, with two books about bunnies in her lap; The Velveteen Rabbit and The Naughty Bunny.

“See ya’ in the mornin’.” Daryl said, stroking Mila’s hair. “Night, kiddo.”

The smile he received from Juri, all wrapped up under the covers with his soft toys was priceless and also followed by a thrown, open-palm kiss.

Juri settles down next to him on the platform. He’s dressed in a pair of rust colored dungarees with a black jumper underneath. On top he wears a flannel to shield himself from the still awakening sunlight, looking very proper. The blonde hair looks half combed, as if he got tired with trying and decided to leave it be. He fiddles on the walkman, while peering out over the wall with squinting eyes.

“Ya’ had breakfast?” Daryl asks.

Juri doesn’t answer, obviously, but he puts his hand in the front chest pocket of the dungarees and pulls something from it. A pack of two Reese’s cups. Daryl grins.

“Ya’ mom won’t like that.” He says, but gets an authoritarian index finger in front of the mouth, followed by a ‘shhh’ from the boy; ‘I won’t tell if you don’t tell’. “Go ahead, kiddo.” Daryl therefore says.

He watches as Juri peels the packaging open and takes out a peanut butter cup and hands it to him. They eat the chocolate-peanutty-goodies under silence. He’s amazed at the little boy, who seems to have the intellect and the ability to think like a child who is twice as old. Mila hasn’t coddled him, except smothered him with infinite amounts of motherly love, no doubt ‘bout that, but he can dress himself, make decisions on his own. He’s curious rather than scared and calculating rather than impulsive. He likes to collect stones, feathers and sticks, picks flowers, investigates bugs and likes to draw and listen to music while jumping on the bed or running around in the streets. And Daryl adores him. He’s a great kid.

“Whatcha’ listen to?” Daryl nods at the walkman between the small hands.

Juri removes the headphones from around his neck. He holds them up in his right hand as he pushes the ‘play’-button and turns the small ‘plus’-volume button on the side of the device, increasing the volume, leaking an old rock song.

“Sounds great.”

Juri gesticulates with his hands. It makes him feel both dumb and sad over the fact that he actually can’t understand the kid. Not that it stops Juri from trying, but he can’t understand no matter how many times he repeats his gestures.

“Sorry kiddo.”

The kiddo ain’t let down that easily. He opens the walkman, takes out the tape and shows him. Daryl reads ‘Boston - Boston, 1979’, written in black marker at the thin line on the orange paper label at the black plastic tape.

“Okay, here we go-” Rick appears at the edge of the platform, but pauses and bursts into a wide grin at the sight of Juri. “Hey, little guy.”

Juri waves at Rick as he climbs up and sits down at his left side.

“Here-” Rick hands Daryl the bottled water and then looks at Juri. “You’re up early.”

The blonde boy nods proudly, as to say ‘yup, before my mom’. Daryl unscrews the cap from the plastic bottle and offers it to Juri. He takes it and takes two small sips, before handing it back and continuing to look out over the wall. But soon the little nose begins to search in the air. Daryl and Rick can smell it too; breakfast. Toasts and waffles.

“Ya hungry?” Rick asks Juri. Juri turns and peers up at Daryl, as if he had an answer for it. He then turns back to Rick, and shakes his head. “We’ll be replaced soon. Then we’ll eat.” Rick says, very dad-like. Authoritarian but still nice.

Juri nods and returns to his walkman, puts the headphones over his blonde hair and disappears into his own world of Boston, 1979. Daryl looks down at the toddler sitting between him and Rick, nodding his head to the beat of the music, so carefree and at ease. He looks so much like Mila, except the blonde hair. But his constant cool is something else, a hybrid between Mila and whoever the man who biologically is his father. Mila’s a hothead by blood, with impressive self-control. Like the calmest water which in an instant can blow up into a raging storm. Juri, on the other hand, is calmness personified whatever the situation. Maybe because he relies on Mila entirely. He never has to be scared or worried.

“Now, that’s a sight for sore eyes.”

Daryl’s interrupted in his thoughts. He turns and looks over his left shoulder. Carol is standing on the ground, shielding her eyes from the sun, smiling up at the three of them. Juri waves happily down at her with a proud smile on his lips. He’s with the big boys now.

“Hi, darling.” Carol waves at him before turning her eyes to Daryl. “Ya’ boys hungry?” Juri sniffs in the air and nods. “There’s honey and waffles for you, darling.” Carol smiles at the blonde boy. “What about you two?”

“Sounds great.” Rick says. “We’ll be replaced soon.”

“Great.” Carol replies. “You’ve been up there all night.” She continues. “We’re planning a barbeque tonight. Why don’t you get some venison later?”

I’ll be damn Carol, Daryl thinks to himself with a faint, but thankful smile. More things to do today, except collecting materials for the wall.

“Sure.” He calls back at her.

“I’ll thank you later, when you’re back with some meat.” She replies in a cheeky smile. “I’ll bring you three something to eat before you leave if you’d like?”

“Set up three more plates.” Rick says. “We’re done here soon.”

Carol nods smilingly, turns and starts walking back towards the houses. Daryl and Rick look at each other. Huh, a barbecue.

“Could be fun.” Rick says. “Gotta chop some wood then. You wanna help?” He looks at Juri, who nods eagerly with the headphones around his neck again, excited to help out with grown-up stuff. “Great. We’ll start right away, after we’d had something to eat.”

Juri nods and looks at the two men on each side of him, rubbing his tummy, showing them that now he’s hungry. Especially when there’s waffles. He then gets up on his knees and, without warning, climbs into Daryl’s lap. The small hands start to fiddle with his vest, then with the cord of the headphones. Daryl doesn’t tense, but he becomes instantly aware of his body, as if a baby deer had climbed into his lap; he can’t scare him away. But Juri’s calm and relaxed. In the corner of his eye, Daryl sees Rick smile.

“What?”

“Nothin’.” Rick says and blinks. “Just, everything’s kinda fine, right?”

Daryl turns his gaze from Rick and looks down at Juri, who meets his gaze and smiles sunny, then out over the area on the other side of the safe-zone, contemplating his friend’s words. Yeah, he thinks. Things are actually kinda perfect. Fuckin’ hell, he feels great. Everything’s calm. No breaches and no herd of walkers approaching. There’s a three and a half-year old in his lap that looks at him like- yeah Daryl can’t figure that one out. But he seems happy. And there’s Mila, probably half awake by now, back at the house. Holy shit, he’s got his shit together at last.

“Guess ya’ right.” Daryl replies.

“Yep.” Rick says, also turning his head out over the surroundings. “I’m happy for ya’.” He sighs. “It’ll be fun. Barbecue. Bonfire. The only thing’s missing is a harmonica, or a guitar.” Rick turns his head to look at him. “Ya’ play?”

“What? Guitar?” Daryl shakes his head. “Nah.”

But a faint smile spreads upon Daryl’s lips as an idea forms inside his head, accompanied by the muffled sound from Juri’s headphones, which leaks a guitar solo. Nah, he ain’t playing. But he knows someone who might. Inside his head, he adds another task to his mental to do-list.

Taglist: @lonewolf471 @twdeadfanfic

#jersey on my mind #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl x oc #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #twd #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fandom #the walking dead fanficition

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deermi · 4 years

Text

Pink Roses | Part 4 (Final)

Summarry: Chanyeol was coming everyday with his pink hair and a bright smile. You didn’t even bother asking what he wanted because he always bought one type of flowers. And one day he didn’t.

Gnere: Fluff, angst if you squint

Warnings: literally one suggestive comment

AU: Florist

Pairing: Park Chanyeol x Reader

Word count: 4,5k~

Author’s note: I have a love-hate relationship with finishing a series, haha. And I will really miss cute Chanyeol and the lovely flowery vibe this fic has. I hope you enjoyed it and thank you for staying and reading the whole series!

My phone started to ring on the other side of the room interrupting me softly humming to myself as I was watering the succulents standing next to the entrance to the florist. I took a quick glance at the counter from where the sound of the ringtone was coming and put the watering can on the floor. I swiped my hands into the apron I was wearing and quickly moved to the back of the store to check who was calling me.

I reached the counter and grabbed my phone in a swift motion. A smile appeared on my face immediately after I saw Chanyeol’s name showing on the screen. I ran my hand through my hair and quickly picked up.

“Hi.” I greeted him as cheerfully as I usually did

I got really used to Chanyeol calling me everyday - sometimes he called me once, but usually it was at least twice. This routine of him dialing my phone number whenever he finished his lectures, or just at any other time of the day when he felt like doing so, became in a short notice something we both got used to. From time to time he called me with a bigger issue he wanted to talk about, but our talks were mostly chit-chats and him saying that he’s just ‘checking on me’. Actually almost every time he did that, he’d right away come to visit the florist, and after helping me close the shop he would walk me home. It was some kind of mini habit we shared together.

“Hi.” he answered with his, now so familiar, deep voice “I was wondering whether you’re free this evening? Baekhyun is inviting some of our friends over for his mini birthday meet up.”

“Are you sure that he wouldn’t mind if I came over?” my brows furrowed slightly at his words

It wasn’t like Baekhyun and I didn’t like each other or something like this. Actually, now that Chanyeol and I were spending much more time together, we got really used to the other’s presence and we began to get along well. The thing I was concerned about was that if it had been Baekhyun's party, he should’ve been the one suggesting that I come, and I didn’t want to intrude. What if he just wanted to spend time with his closest friends?

“Of course not.” Chanyeol reassured me “He told me to tell you to come over if you want and have some free time this evening.”

Another small smile appeared on my face.

“Well…” I let out a sigh of fake annoyance to tease him “Since I don’t have anything planned for today, I guess I’ll come.”

“Damn, I didn’t know you were such a busy person, Y/N.” his laugh from the other side of the phone filled my ears “It’s probably easier to schedule a meeting with the president than one with you.”

Him cracking another one of his jokes, to which I got so used to, made me laugh quietly and I could almost picture him smiling proudly in return as if he had been standing right in front of me. I had noticed that he had this habit of grinning after pulling off a good one-liner. It was this sort of satisfactory sign he was sending to himself unconsciously as a reward for cheering the other person up.

“Okay, but now seriously.” I leaned myself on the counter as I spoke “What time can I come?”

“Whenever you feel like it. You know you’re welcome at our place at any time.”

My visits to their apartment also became more frequent. I pooped in every now and then during the weekends when I didn’t have work, but most of the times it was Chanyeol coming to ‘The Twisted Tulip’. Usually he would help me with some chores I had to do at the shop when I was serving the customers, or when there was nobody else but us we would just sit behind the counter and chat.

“I’m supposed to be closing the florist at five.” I said “But I think that I’ll go home after. You know, just to grab a snack, change and stuff. But I promise I’ll be quick.”

“Yeah, sure.” Chanyeol was never the type to put pressure on me or anybody else “Take your time. I’ll pick you up at six if you want.”

My heart skipped a bit at his proposition.

“I’d love that.” the smile on my face was growing even wider with each passing second

“Great!” he exclaimed a little too excitedly, but by that time I was used to his unstoppable outbursts of enthusiasm at the smallest matters “See you later than!”

I answered him with a quick ‘bye’ and hung up. With a loud sigh I put my phone in between my palms. The breaths I was taking were so deep that probably if someone walked inside the florist they would’ve thought that I’m having an asthma attack or something of this kind. I remained leaned against the counter andey the scent of freshly cut flowers fill my nostrils.

My doubts about my own feelings towards Chanyeol started to run through my head. He was the kindest person I have ever met and he always made sure that I was smiling. And the fact that he was extremely good looking wasn’t helping at all. Chan was probably the only person in the whole world I could never say no to whenever he asked me for something. The problem was, that he didn’t really act like only a ‘friend’ with me. I had a feeling like the relationship we had was that one type of relationship in which you know that something’s going on between the two of you, but nobody wants to admit anything. Most probably because they’re scared of rejection or having simply misunderstood the other’s friendly actions. And I hated this weird stadium of our even weirder relationship with passion.

But perhaps all of those things were just what my imagination wanted me to see.

“Coming!” I shouted when I heard the sound of the doorbell coming from outside the kitchen. I put the empty mug that was filled with coffee just a few seconds before down on the counter and rushed to open the door.

The next moment Chanyeol was standing in front of me with the usual grin on his face. The colorful, flowery shirt he was wearing and messed cotton candy hair made me feel like his smile was even brighter as he leaned against the frame and slowly scanned my body.

“Ready?” he asked me playfully

“Yeah, just let me grab my bag and we can go.” I turned around and started to walk to the small sofa where I had left my purse, but on my way I snapped my head back at him “I like your shirt by the way.”

“Thanks.” he looked down at the piece of clothing he was wearing “I knew you would like it.”

I grabbed my purse and swiftly hung it over my shoulder before facing Chanyeol again with my eyebrows raised.

“Because it has flowers on it?”

The boy just shrugged at me and moved so I could walk past him “That was supposed to be the main reason.”

We got out of my small apartment and I grabbed the keys out of the bag to close the doors behind us.

“You know that if something has flowers on it doesn’t mean I am going to instantly like it, right?” I teased him, still focused on putting the key in the lock and turning it around in a quick motion

“Yeah, but you own a florist and seem to like plants in general.” now Chanyeol was leaning on the wall right next to me

“A thing doesn’t need to have flowers on it to make me think that it’s at least decent.”

The keys landed back in my bag right next to my phone and my wallet with a muffled jingle.

“And what if I told you that I had put the shirt for you? Because I had thought you’d like it?” he raised his eyebrows at me playfully, but they almost completely disappeared under the fluffy locks falling down on his forehead “What would you say than?”

We began walking towards the exit of the building and I felt his fingers gently brushing against mine with each move. For people watching from afar it would’ve looked like something accidental, but it wasn’t the first time Chanyeol did that. And despite the fact that I should’ve been at least somehow used to this kind of affection, there was no way I could’ve hidden the pink blush slowly spreading on my face from him. So I just looked down at myself pretending to be very occupied with the non existent folds on my dress.

“I would say that I really appreciate the fact that you consider my opinion important when it comes to your outfit choices.” my tone was steady, but it was extremely hard to keep it that way with the beating of my heart and the feeling of blood running to my cheeks “And I probably would also say ‘thank you’.”

He chuckled and opened the door for me The first thing I saw after exiting the block of flats was a black car parked in such a messy way, that there was not even a small chance somebody else but Chanyeol could’ve been sitting behind the steering wheel before.

“So the limousine has arrived.” the boy just hopped in front of me and presented the vehicle proudly

I shifted my weight and crossed my arms over my chest.

“I thought we would be taking the bus or a taxi. I didn’t know you had a car.” I said with a gentle shake of my head “And especially such an expensive car. Or just one looking like an expensive.”

Chanyeol walked up to it and held the passenger’s door open for me so I could take a seat inside.

“It is expensive, I can’t lie. But it’s not mine.” he declared as I sat down putting the bag on my knees “It’s Junmyeon’s. He told me I could use it to pick you up. So, no, I don’t have a car. The only thing I have is a driving license, but my parents told me they are not going to get me my own car after I bumped their into a fire hydrant the other day.”

I laughed trying to picture the scene he had just described in my head, when he closed the door and walked around to the other side to sit behind the steering wheel.

“Is Junmyeon that one friend you told me about?” I asked when he jumped into the seat next to me “The one who’s parents are growing money on trees in their garden?”

“Exactly.” he sent me a nod and started the engine while we both fastened our seatbelts “And putting the jokes aside, I’m almost sure that they really do own money trees.”

I sunk into the leather seat at his words.

“God, now I’m scared of meeting him.”

“I swear to you Junmyeon is normal.” Chanyeol’s eyes were focused on the road as he spoke “He’s not like one of those rich, spoiled kids you read about in books. And he’s definitely not the type to show off.”

I put my elbow next to the window and looked out of the it, watching the city passing us as we strolled down the streets.

“You’re lucky I trust you.” the sigh I let out was loud and deep

For the next ten minutes of our ride we just chatted about random stuff that came up to our minds just like we usually did. Talking with Chanyeol came so easily for me - for some reason I felt like I’ve known him for much longer than I actually did. It was like I could tell him everything and I perfectly knew that he wouldn’t judge me regardless of what my word would be. Maybe it was his personality, his general attitude towards everything, and how effortlessly he was making other people smile, but it also might’ve been because of the feelings slowly boiling inside me. Every single day I had spent with Chan made them grow stronger and harder to get rid of.

I wasn’t exactly scared of them. Yes, having a crush can be overwhelming eventually, but it wasn’t quite my main concern at that time. The thing that worried me the most was how Chanyeol’s previous relationship had ended and how he had almost broken down in front of me after it had happened. Also I really didn’t want to ruin what we already had. I was torn apart between enjoying and getting slowly fed up with it.

“Y/N?”

His voice made me snap out of my thoughts so I turned my head abruptly to face him.

“You keep spacing out more often these days.” he chuckled at the surprised expression on my face

“Sorry…” I mumbled, looking away “What did you say?”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s kinda cute when you do that.” his eyes were looking at everything but at me “Anyways, I said ‘let’s go’.

Only then I noticed that the car had stopped and I couldn’t hear the engine working anymore. Chanyeol parked the vehicle in the same messy way as he had done it before in front of the building I was living it and unbuckled his seatbelt. I quickly did the same thing and and we synchronically got out.

After walking inside the building and taking the elevator, we stood in front of the door I had become so familiar with in the past weeks.

Without any warning Chanyeol opened them and loudly announced startling both me and the rest of the people inside “We’re here!”

The soft, chill beat coming from a small speaker reached my ears and the smell of something sweet mixed with a hint of alcohol filled my nostrils. Baekhyun had been previously sitting on the couch, his arm lazily thrown over the shoulders of a black haired girl next to him, but swiftly got up to greet us. I looked around the apartment and noticed two more guys and one more girl.

I felt a knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach as I realized that the only person I only knew one more person expect Chanyeol inside here.

“I hope my car is still working and it won’t require taking it to the mechanic.” another boy walked out of the kitchen and handed both of us glasses filled with black liquid

“Yeah, yeah, nothing happened as I promised.” Chanyeol rolled his eyes “So, Y/N, this is Junmyeon the owner of the cool car.”

I smiled at him and shook his hand gently. Junmyeon was exactly like Chan had told me - completely normal without even a small touch of unnecessary fancy vibe coming from him.

“Okay, guys, this is Y/N.” my friend placed his free hand on the small of my back, pushed me smoothly further into the living room and started pointing at his friends, one after another, with his glass almost spilling the drink inside “This is Kyungsoo, Jongdae, Yoojin and Nayoung.”

My eyes darted from one of the guests to the other with the speed of light as I tried to remember all the names and match them to the faces.

“Hi.” I sent them a small wave and awkwardly shifted my weight, unconsciously moving closer to Chanyeol whose hand didn’t leave my lower back for a second

We moved to take a seat on the couch, next to Baekhyun and the girl Chanyeol had introduced as Yoojin. My friend rested his arm on the usual spot, on top of the couch right behind my back, and I automatically leaned into him to the point our knees were touching. I took a sip of the drink Junmyeon had given us before and immediately felt the familiar sweet frizz of coke on my tongue along with the bitterness of whiskey.

“Don’t act so shocked.” Chanyeol whispered into my ear with a small grin on his face when he noticed my furrowed eyebrows “Jun always provides that the drinks are the highest quality.”

“To be honest, after what you had told me, I should’ve been expecting it.” I murmured quietly so only the two of us could’ve heard it while looking at the liquid inside glass

As time passed by and all of us sat in the living room together laughing and chatting casually, I learned that Chanyeol and Baekhyun’s friends were almost exactly like them - they were absolutely hilarious and treated me like we had known each other before. My previous doubts vanished as quickly as they had previously appeared.

“Y/N, you own a florist, right? Baek told me that.” Yoojin, who was sitting right next to me, turned her head in my direction

“Yeah.” I nodded and put the now empty glass on the table next to Chanyeol’s “It’s the one near Chan and Baekhyun’s uni.”

“You mean ‘The Twisted Tulip’?” she asked me and when I sent her another nod, she broke into smile “I know exactly where it is. Baekhyun got me flowers from you for our third anniversary and they were all so pretty. I kept the for as long as it was possible.”

“I’m glad you liked them that much.” I mirrored her grin

“And how long the two of you have been together?” Jongdae pointed at me and Chanyeol with his chin putting me completely off “Since we’re talking about anniversaries and stuff.”

I felt Chanyeol stiffen in his place and remove his hand that he had previously placed on my thigh, as I shifted nervously next to him. His eyes landed on my figure for a brief second before he turned his head away from me, but I didn’t have enough courage to face him as well.

“Um…” he started and cleared his throat before continuing “It’s not-”

“We’re not dating.” I interrupted him suddenly, surprising everybody in the room including myself

My whole face was burning and I curled my fingers on the fabric of my dress nervously. For a moment I had a feeling like the beating of my heart along with my heavy breathing were the only sounds inside the apartament.

“Really?” Nayoung’s said with a shocked tone “You two seem extremely close. I actually also thought that you’re a thing.”

My body reacted on it’s own as I stood up and took a deep breath. With my shaky hand I grabbed the empty glass I had previously put on the coffee table in front of me “I’ll refill it and be right back.”

All eyes followed me as I stormed into the kitchen, leaving everybody in the living room dumbfounded. I took the half empty bottle of coke and poured the drink inside the glass, but I didn’t even bother taking a sip.

With everything almost boiling inside of me I placed both of my hands on the kitchen counter. I hated how freely Chanyeol had been acting with me on the couch. And I hadn’t even bothered stopping him. No, I had even responded to that and done almost the same thing. Perhaps I just wanted it to become something more than just friendly actions? Maybe I wanted us to stop beating around the bush and clear everything between us up? But what if he hadn’t felt the same need?

“Hey.”

I jumped in my spot, almost spilling the drink in front of me, when I heard Chanyeol’s voice as he entered the kitchen.

“You looked like there was something bothering you when you stormed out like that.” he said and took a few steps closer to me “You okay?”

I wanted to shout at him. Scream that I wasn’t okay at all because I didn’t know if he wanted the same things I did. Because I hated the fact that I wasn’t sure who we were for each other. But I couldn’t do that. Not to Chanyeol. He was just too precious for me.

“Yeah.” my voice was barely a whisper

I sent him a sad smile, perfectly knowing that he could’ve seen in my eyes that I wasn’t exactly fine. But he didn’t dig deeper into the topic. Instead he grabbed my palms and pulled me into his chest, his familiar scent hitting me. My arms instinctively wrapped around his waist, as his circled around my frame, and my hands began rubbing his back soothingly.

A few seconds ago, I had just wanted to scold him and scream at him for all of his actions. But now all I wanted was just to stay forever in his embrace, listen to his steady heartbeat, and forget about my feelings. Maybe we were just meant to stay the way we already were?

“Can I ask you something?” he asked me quietly

I hummed in response, giving him a signal to continue.

“Does the thought of dating me scare you that much?”

I moved away from him just enough to look at him. My brows were furrowed because I wasn’t sure if I had heard his question correctly. But the pink blush dusting his cheeks and his eyes that were piercing into mine were enough evidence for me to know that I couldn’t have misheard it. I didn’t know wether it was my heartbeat that had sped up or his.

“No…” I murmured “Actually, it doesn’t scare me at all.”

“So why did you run away when they asked us about dating?”

I hid my face in his chest once more feeling the embarrassment and anxiety grow inside of me.

“I don’t know… I was just afraid it would turn out weirdly awkward if any of us had answered it.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be ‘weirdly awkward’ next time.” he suggested still holding me close, but I leaned back in his embrace connecting our eyes again “Maybe we could have an answer next time somebody asks us a question like that?”

For a few seconds I didn't respond because I wasn't sure if I was reading well enough between the lines to know what he meant.

“Maybe we could give it a chance? Give us a chance, I mean?” his voice was getting quieter with each word “Only if you want to though.”

“I…” I breathed out softly and smiling at him genuinely “I’d love that.”

Chanyeol stared at me in disbelief for a bit and let out a sigh of relief right after. I felt his chest slowly fall down. We just looking at each other for a moment with grins on both of our faces before breaking out into fits of laughter. Chanyeol placed his forehead on mine, holding me even closer to his frame and stared deeply into my eyes.

“I wanted to say that I really like you, but I guess it’s not the case.” his warm breath fanned my cheeks “Because I actually love you.”

I giggled at his words and said “I actually love you too.”

Catching me off guard, he dipped his head and captured his lips with mine. I quickly collected myself and responded to the kiss with my eyes closed as I let the feelings take control. His kisses were gentle as a feather and I could feel the taste of the drink we had before in them. Chanyeol’s lips moulded into mine perfectly as both of our bodies worked in synch. My hands moved up to his shoulders and I wrapped my arms around his neck. My fingers tangled in his pink locks and I felt him tilt his head slightly to deepen the kiss.

“Okay, it’s the second time I’m walking inside the kitchen when you two are here alone and next time I’ll just scream before I do it.”

Baekhyun’s annoyed tone made us quickly pull away from each other and immediately look at the floor with our cheeks flushed.

“I wanted to check what was taking you so long, but I guess I should’ve known better than to casually walk in.” he crossed his arms over his chest “Hand holding in the kitchen - fine, kissing in the kitchen - I can live with that. Just don’t go any further.”

My face started to burn even deeper shade of red at Baekhyun’s words, but the boy didn’t comment on anything else and just turned away to go back to the living room, leaving me alone with Chanyeol again.

Breaking the moment of silence I let out a short laugh and threw my head back. Chanyeol wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me into him again, both of us completely forgetting about Baekhyun and his comments.

“You know, I think I figured out what flower is my favourite now.” he said, his thumb rubbing small circles on my waistline

“Yeah?” I raised my eyebrows at him “What is it than?”

“Roses.” he announced “Especially pink.”

I hit his chest playfully.

“Hey, but that’s my favourite flower!”

“And you’re my favourite person in the world so it’s only natural that it’s my favourite flower too.”

His cheesy comment made me giggle in the spot as I leaned in to peck him on the lips once more. And one more time. And another one, letting the third kiss last for a little longer. Chanyeol’s hand cupped my cheek and he caressed the skin of my face with my thumb.

“I can accept that explanation.” I teased him after we pulled away reluctantly

The moment I had met him, I knew that he was somehow different from anybody else I had known throughout my whole life. Because actually Chanyeol and I were like pink roses - full of sweetness, joy and pure happiness. And I knew that we would stay like that for longer than forever.

#exo #exo k #exo scenarios #exo fluff #exo angst #exo imagines #exo series #exo chanyeol #exo park chanyeol #Park Chanyeol #chanyeol #chanyeol scenarios #chanyeol fluff #chanyeol series #chanyeol imagines

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katemarley · 3 years

Text

Priority One

Fandom: Mó Dào Zǔ Shī /Chén Qíng Lìng/The Untamed Pairing: XiYao Characters: Niè Huáisāng, Jīn Guāngyáo, Lán Xīchén, Niè Míngjué Rating: T

Summary: Whenever the vice president of the student union has a task for the union’s secretary, it becomes his top priority. The president’s younger brother notices.

Also available on AO3 (see the link in my profile).

Note: The student rep system in this story turned out vaguely British, I suppose… Anyway, MDZS is set in a fantasy world, so why not keep this Modern AU in sort of a fantasy setting, too?

“Oh, hello, Huaisang-xiong. Break between lectures?” Meng Yao entered the room with a cardboard box on his hip and his characteristically dimpled smile on his face. The trousers and waistcoat he wore were cheap but elegant, Nie Huaisang noticed with a practised eye as he looked up from his place on the sofa.

Huaisang was painting a fan for the theatre group. There was never enough time to unpack art supplies and get something done in between university work and performances, but his big brother was the president of the student union. That allowed him to use the union’s office rooms, leave his art supplies on the table next to the sofa and work in between lectures.

“Yep. Making a prop for our next performance.” He turned the fan in his hand, showing the ferns and flowers he had drawn. Meng Yao put the box on his desk and stepped closer to admire the decorations in more detail.

“Beautiful!” he exclaimed. His dimples became even deeper. “Seeing this, I’m sure all the props you have made will be extraordinary once again!” Huaisang acknowledged the flattery with a smile. Meng Yao’s words didn’t mean much. They were often casually flattering.

Returning to his desk, Meng Yao started to unpack the contents of the cardboard box.

“Forgive me if I don’t stay here to chat,” he said, “but I’ve only got an hour in between lectures, too. I needed to pick up these posters from the university print shop and will try to put up as many as I can now.” He took one of the posters from the box and unfolded it so Huaisang could see what was on it.

“Oh, it’s the next performance of Lan Xichen’s ensemble!” Huaisang exclaimed. What he didn’t say was Now I know why you’re so eager to sacrifice your off-work hours to some student union-related task again. He was in the union’s offices often enough to be familiar with Meng Yao’s schedule, and squeezing in an hour of extra work in between lectures was not his normal way of handling things. Meng Yao’s usual planning was too meticulous for last-minute troubleshooting to even become necessary.

“The printing process took a little longer than estimated.” Meng Yao rolled his eyes. “I already filed a complaint with the administration, but it’s likely nothing will come of it. Anyway...” The polite smile was back on his face, dimples included. “I’m off now. Will you be here this afternoon, too?” During your regular work hours, Huaisang added in his head.

“I guess so,” he said out loud. “This isn’t the only prop I need to make.” He waved Meng Yao goodbye with the painted fan. “See you later then!”

“You put up all the posters already?” Lan Xichen exclaimed incredulously. “How—” He paused and a frown appeared on his handsome face. “Wait. A-Yao! You didn’t skip lunch in the canteen for this, did you?”

“Don’t worry, Vice President,” said Meng Yao with a smile that was just that tiny bit wider when he looked at Lan Xichen. “I had lunch.”

Huaisang looked up from the forest he was painting on canvas. He knew he was the only one in the room, apart from Meng Yao, who had seen the box of cheap noodles in the bin. His brother was sitting behind his desk, too focused on his work to notice such things, and Lan Xichen was too honest to realise that his question about “lunch in the canteen” and Meng Yao’s answer didn’t necessarily match. Meng Yao, Huaisang had noticed, was a master in the art of not exactly telling the truth while simultaneously avoiding an outright lie.

“Still,” Lan Xichen insisted, “you shouldn’t have done this all on your own. Putting up posters is so much easier with a second person and I wouldn’t have minded helping you. After all, these were the posters for my ensemble.”

That, Huaisang thought, is exactly why he did this for you. Don’t you see how he’s looking at you? That soft glow in his eyes?

But Lan Xichen, the ever chivalrous, seemed to be oblivious to acts of chivalry done for him. And that, Huaisang pondered, even though it had been him who had started this by being pointedly kind to Meng Yao where others were not.

It had gone around that Meng Yao was the illegitimate son of the university president, Jin Guangshan, as soon as he had started his first year. Huaisang had only heard it from his brother, but there seemed to have been some nasty attempts at bullying Meng Yao, mostly by those of the rich folks who tended to look down on scholarship boys anyway. These attempts had all failed spectacularly, however, after Lan Xichen had made a point of sitting next to Meng Yao during lunch … and after Nie Mingjue had yelled at the bullies, telling them he’d break every single bone in their bodies if they didn’t stop. (That, Huaisang was sure, was also the reason why no one had ever attempted to bully him. His brother could be quite scary if he towered over you and yelled.)

From that moment on, Meng Yao had been part of the in-group. Some people were still talking badly about him, but never within earshot of his protectors, the two most popular students at the university. And when Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen had run for the student council, the ever well-organized and hard-working Meng Yao had managed their election campaign. When they had won, it had only been natural for him to apply for the position of student union secretary – and get chosen not out of familiarity or favour, but because he was actually the applicant with the most credentials.

Meng Yao treated both Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen with the utmost respect bordering on devotion, but with Lan Xichen, there were certain … differences.

Unlike his younger brother Lan Wangji, who was Huaisang’s age and seemed to hate any sort of physical contact, Lan Xichen would occasionally put his hand on Nie Mingjue or Meng Yao’s arm when he was looking over their shoulder at a computer screen. It was almost imperceptible, but whenever he did that with Meng Yao, Meng Yao would lean into the touch.

The moment when Huaisang had become convinced Meng Yao had a thing for Lan Xichen had come when he had seen them practice the guqin together. Lan Xichen had put his hand over Meng Yao’s to show him some finger movement, and the flush on Meng Yao’s face had been unmistakable… Had Lan Xichen looked up in that moment, he would have seen it, too. But he had only had eyes for the instrument.

While Huaisang had been pondering over his observations, the conversation between Lan Xichen and Meng Yao had moved on.

“…need to consider how to arrange the seating this time,” Meng Yao pointed out. “There are some new staff members – I sent them an invitation already, but since I’m not in the arts department, I don’t know their exact hierarchy and who gets along with whom.”

“Don’t worry, A-Yao!” Lan Xichen gave him a reassuring pat on the back – and again, Meng Yao leaned into the touch. “We can look over the seating arrangement for the invited guests later this afternoon.” Lan Xichen took his phone to check his schedule. “Well, early evening. There’s a meeting I have to attend at five, but after that, I’m free. It shouldn’t be more than an hour.”

“That would be perfect,” Meng Yao said with another dimpled smile. “I’m just going to wait for you in the office then. There’s still plenty of work to do anyway.

“Speaking of meetings,” Nie Mingjue made his presence known for the first time during their conversation. “Xichen-xiong, shouldn’t you be on your way to the master class now?”

“Oh dear…” Lan Xichen glanced at his phone again. “Thank you, Mingjue-xiong. You’re quite right.” He grabbed the bag with his xiao in it and rushed out of the office.

“As for you…” Nie Mingjue stood and strode to Meng Yao. “You shouldn’t say ‘yes’ to each and every task someone gives you,” he scolded. “The number of your overtime hours is already higher than what we can pay you. Take a day off, Meng-xiong.”

“Thank you, President,” Meng Yao said with a polite bow. “I will follow your advice. However, please allow me to help Vice President as promised.”

“You already confirmed the appointment.” Nie Mingjue nodded. “That means you must keep it.” Then he glared at Meng Yao. “Still, stop taking on so many chores. You don’t have to prove to us that you’re capable. We know that.” Saying this, he gave Meng Yao a friendly pat on the shoulder that almost brought him to his knees. Huaisang winced in sympathy. He knew how that pat felt.

Huaisang kept Meng Yao company as he waited for Lan Xichen’s meeting to be over. It hadn’t been a conscious decision – it was just that it took very long to thread the beads for a tiara on the metal frame he had made for this purpose.

“Huaisang-xiong, don’t you think it’s enough for today?” Meng Yao asked after Huaisang had yawned for the second time. “I think you should go home and rest. You’ve made a lot of props on one single day.”

Look who’s talking, thought Huaisang, but when he yawned for the third time, he admitted to himself that Meng Yao was right.

“Fine,” he said, almost yawning once again. “I’ll leave everything as it is, alright? Let me just collect the spare beads and put them back in the box, and then I’ll be off.” He gestured at the beads he had taken out of their box because he had expected to use them up within the next couple of minutes.

“Sounds good to me.” Meng Yao nodded. “Meanwhile I’m going to check if Vice President’s meeting is still going on. It’s past six already. Have a nice evening if we don’t see each other anymore today!”

“You, too!” Huaisang waved again, this time without a fan in his hand.

When Meng Yao had left the room, Huaisang picked up the beads he had put on the table, throwing them back in the box. And then it happened. He might have been too inattentive or too tired – in any case, the box tipped and most of its contents spilled across the room.

Oh no, not that!

Huaisang accepted his fate with an acquiescent sigh and kneeled down on the floor, picking up the spilled beads and putting them back in the box.

It took a while for him to clean the linoleum floor as best as he could – Meng Yao didn’t return in the meantime – but just as he thought he had finally found all the beads, he noticed one of them half hidden under the sofa. He pushed the sofa from the wall, collected the beads underneath, and pushed it back.

Then he realised that there might be even more beads under the roll cages beneath all three desks in the room. He checked them quickly – but then he noticed a bead that had found its way behind the partition that sectioned off the large printer and a small desk with a cutting machine, a punch, a stapler and scissors on it.

With a sigh, he took the bead box and checked under the small table. Sure enough, he found two beads and spotted another that had rolled in the gap between the floor and a part of the printer that didn’t carry its weight.

Huaisang was fishing for the stray bead when the door opened. He lifted his head to tell Meng Yao about his mishap – and immediately ducked. Then he had to look up again or, he thought, he would forever doubt what he was seeing with his own eyes.

Meng Yao had pulled Lan Xichen inside and was now pushing him against the door, kissing him with what Huaisang could only describe as hunger. He was standing on tiptoe, fingers digging in Lan Xichen’s shirt both to pull him close and to make him stoop enough for Meng Yao to reach up to him.

Lan Xichen’s eyes were closed and he responded to the fierce kiss with an expression of reverent abandon. One of his hands was wrapped around Meng Yao’s shoulders, keeping him close; the other still held the bag with his xiao.

After a while, Meng Yao broke the kiss. Huaisang ducked again, mind whirring. He had thought Meng Yao’s yearning was unrequited – or unfulfilled, at the least – but this…

“My apologies,” he heard Meng Yao whisper. “I … just couldn’t wait any longer. Being close to you without being able to touch you is torture.”

Lan Xichen gave a quiet laugh. Then there was another lapse in the conversation.

Huaisang peered over the partition – and ducked his head once more. Now Lan Xichen was kissing Meng Yao. He had put his xiao on the nearest desk – Meng Yao’s, as it happened – and was holding Meng Yao’s chin in his fingers. From this angle, Huaisang couldn’t see Lan Xichen’s face, but he had never seen Meng Yao with such an open and vulnerable expression.

Huaisang clenched his fists, staring at the floor with burning cheeks. He had to find a face-saving way to get out of this situation. Nothing of this was meant for him to see. Especially this expression … Meng Yao would kill him if he knew Huaisang had seen it.

“Now, A-Yao,” Lan Xichen said in a teasing tone, “we’ve still got work to do, don’t we?”

“As if I could ever forget!” Meng Yao replied with false indignation. Lan Xichen laughed.

When there was another silence, Huaisang dared to take another look over the partition.

They were sitting on the sofa now, far too close to leave any room for doubt about their relationship. Lan Xichen had wrapped an arm around Meng Yao’s shoulders, who leaned into him, a tablet in his hands.

Meng Yao’s tablet.

Huaisang remembered his surprise when Meng Yao had come to the office with that tablet the day after his birthday. His brother had told him he and Lan Xichen had gifted Meng Yao the economics textbooks he needed for his finals that year, so the appearance of the tablet had been mysterious… Until now, that was. If the tablet was a special present for Lan Xichen’s boyfriend, it all made sense.

The following conversation was incomprehensible to Huaisang because he didn’t see the tablet screen. There were murmured sentences like “How about seating them here?” – “No, I think over there would be better.” – “Then what do we do with… Ah, yes, good idea!” and “No, no, better place another person in between…” Huaisang inferred that Meng Yao had a digital seating chart on his tablet and probably a list of the invited guests as well. He made a mental note to ask Meng Yao about it for the theatre performance … if he made it out of the office without embarrassing himself.

“…and that’s it!” he heard Meng Yao exclaim in pleasant surprise. “That’s really it, isn’t it?”

“It’s the best we can do,” Lan Xichen replied. “We’re finally done, so…” There was a hint of uncertainty in his tone. “Will you come to mine tonight? Stay with me?”

“We shouldn’t do this too often…” Meng Yao said uncomfortably. There was a short pause. “Yes – yes, I will. And believe me, I want to – I’d love to stay with you forever! It’s just that…” He paused again.

“I know,” Lan Xichen said in the gentlest tone. “You want to gain the recognition of your father and everyone around you all by yourself, and I admire you for that attitude. Still…” His tone changed again, turning emphatic and almost pleading. “Please let me help you at least a little bit. Let us help you – Mingjue-xiong and me.”

“You’re already helping so much,” Meng Yao replied. His tone was gentle and fragile as glass. “But you must understand … If people knew about you and me, they would accuse me of sleeping my way up to the top of the social ladder. They say that about my mother, too. I don’t want…” His voice cracked. “I couldn’t bear it if they talked about you as if I was only using you. Them talking badly about me – I can take that. But not about you. Never about you.”

“Oh, A-Yao…” There was a rustle of fabric, and Huaisang didn’t need to be a genius to figure out that Lan Xichen was taking Meng Yao in his arms. “I still think we should tell the Nie brothers about us,” Lan Xichen said. “They won’t spill our secret.”

Huaisang’s heart started to pound in his chest at the mention of his own name.

“I,” said Meng Yao in a muffled voice. “I don’t want to burden them with the knowledge. I’m already selfish as it is, because…” There was another pause. Then Meng Yao whispered: “Because I want you for myself. The sensible thing would have been to keep my distance from you, but I can’t. I can’t…” His voice cracked.

“And that is a good thing,” Lan Xichen said earnestly, “because I couldn’t keep my distance from you either.” He paused. When he spoke again, his voice was raw and vulnerable. “Now let me be selfish, A-Yao: I want you. I’ve wanted you since I first laid eyes upon you, carrying on as if it was nothing even though everyone was saying such bad things about you. I would be an unhappy man if you hadn’t reciprocated my feelings.”

Huaisang inwardly rolled his eyes. He hadn’t known Lan Xichen could be this soppy.

When there was another pause, Huaisang didn’t check what was going on. He was glad about his decision when he heard someone moan – he forbade himself to think about who it was – and was about to put his fingers in his ears when he heard Lan Xichen laugh.

“If we continue like this,” he said, “we’re not going to make it to my flat today.”

“That would be a pity,” Meng Yao said in an equally amused tone. “Your bed is far more comfortable than the sofa.”

“Then take my hand!” Lan Xichen laughed again. “Let’s go home!”

“Let’s go,” Meng Yao repeated. There was a timbre to his voice, a slight waver. “Home,” he continued eventually.

At last, Huaisang heard the door open and close again. He didn’t move.

He was … shocked. Yes, that was the right word for it. Meng Yao’s love for Lan Xichen … it was so obvious because Lan Xichen was the only person he treated differently. Lan Xichen’s love for Meng Yao, however … it was literally hidden in plain sight, Huaisang decided. It didn’t attract anyone’s attention because Lan Xichen was kind to everyone. That was what had fooled him. But now he knew, and he was bursting with that knowledge.

Please rethink your decision, Meng Yao, he pleaded inwardly. I don’t think I can keep that secret from my brother for long.

#xiyao #lan xichen #jin guangyao #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #mdzs #cql #mdzs fanfiction #cql fanfiction #fanfiction #my fanfiction #katemarley

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