#what white trash boy is currently circling my thoughts

[sunwarmed-ash]

Get me out of my head and off my ex(s),

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[yuzukult]

from home 02 || jjk & reader

title: from home pairing: jungkook x reader genre: richkid!jk, baker!reader, fakedating!au, fluff, angst, e2l, smut in future chapters word count: 8.1k+ prompt: jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class? a/n: ;n; wishing this was longer than i made it... please expect the next one to take a bit of time! but you never know. i’m unpredictable.

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Waking up on an unfolded futon is no comparison to a deluxe California King bed with pearly white satin sheets.

For one, it meant that he wasn’t actually on the futon itself rather on the floor instead. Jungkook has been having an exertion amount of time trying to not fall off the limited dimensions of his now mattress. In addition to that, even after going grocery shopping, he feels like he’s spending an endless amount of money on a daily just to keep his fridge stocked because every time he pulls that door open— there’s nothing in the fridge. How is that even possible?

At times like these, he missed the personal chef. Sure, he couldn’t remember the gentleman’s name, but he made a mean grilled cheese sandwich. Instead, Jungkook enjoys a sad and limp piece of string cheese for breakfast.

For once, he’s grateful that the distance from home to work is short, really being an approximate 10 minute walk, meaning that he didn’t need to take an Uber or possibly buy a car? How did poor people transport from one place to another? He thinks of you on his route to work; the things you yelled at him the night on Hoseok’s yacht, how he purely innocently asked if he could pay for your future endeavors and the reaction he pulled from you that could only be described to be full of resentment. You really didn’t like him.

True be told, the feeling of hatred is mutual.

Jungkook dreads coming into work, mostly because the sight of you is a constant and the current impression he has of you is that you’re just plain mean and bossy. He hates that whenever he’s in the midst of a task, you manage to always slide in to critique every action he performs. How old did you think he was? Some thirteen year old with an adult job? While at the end of the line at the cashier’s station, Jungkook places the bread at the bottom of the brown bag but before he’s ready to drop the jug of milk on top, you shove his hand away. “You’re going to flatten the bread if you do it like that. Heavier duty items are at the end of the pile. Lighter and fragile items on top.” He scowls. Or when he’s in the parking lot, while lost in his thoughts, he nearly propels one of the carts directly into a moving car, and surprisingly enough, you’re standing outside beside him, swooping in with your fingers wrapped around the handlebars with sweat dripping from your forehead while halting the motions. “You almost dented that guy’s car!” He wants to tell you ‘and so what?’ but he refrains from saying anything because when he turns to look at you, you’re already halfway down the lot, making your way back indoors.

Then when he’s stacking the canned goods on the shelves, you approach him from behind and tell him that he’s doing it incorrectly. “What’s wrong about putting stuff on shelves?” He asks, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “The labels aren’t facing out. How are the customers supposed to know what it is?”

“Turn the can around?” He says matter-of-factly. 

“Yeah, so do it.” 

When you walk away, he’s tempted to grab the canned corn he’s restocking and chuck it at the back of your head, but he holds himself back. This is for his mom, for the development of himself, to prove to his brothers that he wasn’t just some useless, spoiled kid. You didn’t believe in him anyway which is probably why you’re being so difficult— oh how he wished he could ask for a replacement trainer. So why waste his time trying to please you when he really just needs to sway his parents? The main goal is to get the money back into his pockets anyway.

Once finishing his list of tasks, he advances toward Hoseok who’s in the middle of mopping a spill in one of the aisles. Apparently, someone had dropped a jar of pickles, filling up the place with the stench of vinegar, scrunching up Jungkook’s nose. “Is she always this mean?”

Hoseok glances up from the pile of pickles on the ground, chin resting on the handle of the mop, discouraged to clean the mess. “Who?” 

Jungkook skims the area to confirm that the coast is clear before he whispers your name discreetly. “I feel like she’s looking over my shoulder 24/7. It’s like she’s out to get me. Maybe she wants to catch me doing something stupid and get me fired.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes in response before finally crouching down to throw the scattered pickles into the trash bin beside him. “No, she doesn’t. You’re her responsibility, so if any higher ups saw you fucking around or fucking up and find out that she’s the one who’s supposed to train you, she’d lose her job. She can’t afford that, Kook.” Jungkook sighs, observing Hoseok as he’s trying to gently pick up the piece of glass that’s drenched in the juices. “Well? Are you just going to stand there and watch after what I just told you? Help me!”

Abiding by instruction, Jungkook still sighs heavily, bending his knees to grab the pickles cautiously between his index finger and thumb. This is rancid, and the way his face contorts in disgust when he flings it into the trash can says it all. He can’t believe that he’s in this position right now when he could be sitting in the middle of a golf course on a Wednesday morning, enjoying his fifth glass of merlot, with a pretty girl by his side, complimenting him every time he swings his golf club. “I miss the rich life. I don’t know how you do this everyday. Is this even worth it for you?”

Shrugging his shoulders, he grabs the last piece of glass on the floor as Jungkook tosses a handful of pickles he grabbed previously. “I just didn’t want my parents controlling where the money was going anymore. And I got tired of being called a prodigal. I wanted to be someone who could do things themselves without having my parents giving me money.”

“But how could you hate that! Isn’t that their job as parents? Taking care of you, giving you more than you need? That includes money. We’re just lucky because our parents are rich.”

Standing up from his position, Hoseok brushes his hands off on his apron as Jungkook follows in suit. “But that’s what I mean. Do you hear yourself? The ‘we’re just lucky because our parents are rich’ thing is getting old. Don’t get me wrong, I want to be just as rich but I want to be wealthy myself, not because my parents gave me the means to be.”

Hoseok makes a point but not one that Jungkook can fully grasp onto. He understood where the older male was coming from, but truth be told, Jungkook still wanted his parents’ wealth in the end. Hoseok had dreams he was chasing, ones where cutting ties from his parents would be beneficial but to Jungkook, he didn’t have any aspirations of his own to obtain like that.

“Anyway, I digress. She means well. She needs this and that café job too. Her parents don’t have any type of money, if anything, she purposely cut herself off from them so that they wouldn’t have to pay for her. Moving back home is her personal embarrassment, just like how being kicked out of your home is yours.”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

Hoseok pulls his lips into a tight line, dropping the mop into the bucket to extract the vinegary liquid out. “Work with it. Be better than what she’s asking for. I learned a lot from her and I’m sure you can too. Who knows? Maybe she’ll pick a couple things from you along the way.”

That’s when he tests the waters.

For the past two hours, that’s exactly what Jungkook does. He tries. Harder than usual. When you walk by, he is especially polite to customers with the brightest smile his cheeks will allow. Or when he’s back to organizing cans on the shelves, he’s attempting to show all the labels, but you’re back, questioning why he’s even stacking cans with dents in them. Then there’s the time he’s standing at the station for the self-checkout... but he gets distracted while playing on his phone and you nearly smack the living shit out of him. 

“Why do you freaking hate me so much?” He exasperates, arms dropping at his sides from frustration. The shift is finally over, thank god, but he’s still on edge as to why you always have something to say, so he chases after you into the locker room. “All you do is attack me the entire day and it’s already difficult for me to adjust to being here.”

“Listen, I get it. It’s hard. Well, I don’t really get it because I’ve been working most of my life, but this is completely new territory for you. Regardless, you still have to learn how to do this, Jungkook. Your parents aren’t going to be supporting you anymore.” Wrong. Wrong because in his mind, his parents are going to welcome him with open arms when he proves his capabilities. This situation is only temporary. “So, I want to help you. If you really need anything, here’s my number. Call me.”

“Is this a way for you to get my number?” Jungkook raises a brow suggestively. Clicking your tongue, you circle back into your locker, grabbing your bag of items. “Trust me, you would’ve known if I wanted to get in your pants. Plus, I’m giving you my number, not asking for yours, dumbass.” Flinging a crumpled piece of paper at his forehead that so happens to have your number on it, he pouts after rubbing his head. “Rude.”

“Jungkook,” You’re speed walking out of the supermarket with Jungkook trailing behind you as quickly as he can keep up with. Did you run track before? “I really don’t want to hear your excuses about why you were snooping on me while I was changing my shirt.” He didn’t see you changing, he merely caught a glimpse, but even so, it was only a bit of your tummy that he saw.

Nonetheless, he knows you’re just joking because of the light laughter that escapes from your lips afterwards that sounds like the melody of his favorite song. Maybe you weren’t so bad after all. Maybe it was just a facade you had to put up at work most of the time. “I wasn’t—“ 

“Jungkook.” 

You freeze at the sound of his name; Jungkook’s reaction is delayed as he bumps into you from behind while his head turns to the voice. “Jungsik Hyung.” 

Jeon Jungsik. Also labeled as the 3rd child or middle son of the Jeon Family. He’s known to be the philanthropist, the humanitarian of the Jeons, donating his percentage of the earnings from his family’s corporation to a different charity each time he’s the headline of an article. Jungsik in person is even more handsome than the pictures you’ve googled online; simply breathtakingly beautiful just like his personality and heart. Undercut hair with a navy blue suit that compliments his figure, he has a clean appearance with a demeanor that is nothing more than a calm and gentle nature. Despite all the greatness he possessed, he unfortunately had to go through the loss of his late wife, who the doctors had discovered she had cancer, later choosing to spend her last days in Africa, teaching the children English.

You may have looked up the prettiest Jeon brother on every search engine on a random Tuesday night, sitting on the floor with your laptop perched on the coffee table, glass of moscato in hand. Dating a guy like him would be a dream— yet, there you were, getting shit-faced drunk on moscato with a mud mask that was hardening on your face. 

Your thoughts are interrupted at the tail end of Jungkook’s introduction between you and his brother, bowing abruptly at the realization. “... She works here. Currently occupied with training me.”

Jungsik grins, pearly whites blinding your eyes. “Admirable. Thank you for looking out for our little Kook. He’s not the best at working, so I figure he must’ve made things difficult for you.”

“Occasionally,” You joke, replicating the contagious smile on his face. “But don’t worry, Jungkook will get there. Once his training portion is over, I’m sure he’ll manage.” That’s not what you said at Hoseok’s yacht, is what he wants to say, but definitely not in front of the angelic brother. Jungsik chuckles deeply at your response, tips of his ears flushing pink at your interactions, and it makes Jungkook cringe.

“That’s great. I’m sure that you two have had a long day, so is there any way I can treat you guys to dinner?”

You can feel Jungkook’s hot breath down your neck, fuming with anger with smoke probably whistling out of his ears. “Why, why, why did you agree for us to have dinner with Jungsik? This is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me!” He whispers aggressively beside you but you only ignore his reaction by flipping another piece of pork on the grill. “And why the hell would you suggest coming to this dump? He said he would take us out to a five-star restaurant!”

Admittingly so, a Korean BBQ joint located in some-what of an alleyway is far from a fancy restaurant, but this place was good, your favorite, and why not introduce Jungsik and Jungkook to food that doesn’t need caviar for it to be considered delicious? 

Jungsik excused himself, looking kind of out of place in this low-ceiling location, but he forced a smile anyway before looking for the bathroom. “We can just tell him that we have to go or that you’re not feeling so well. He’ll let us make a run for it, trust me.”

You glance over at Jungkook. “You can do that. I’m staying.”

“But why!”

“Because he seems nice.” You’re adding more meat on the grill again. “Plus, I’m starving. I was going to come here anyway.” Jungkook pauses, watching as you casually maneuver the food with the prongs. “... You were going to eat alone?”

Dropping the prongs, you pick up your set of chopsticks to grab yourself a piece of kimchi. “Well, yeah. Who else am I supposed to eat with?” You shake your head, jumping back on topic. “If you want to leave, feel free. I’m still going to be here.”

“Hell no. I’m not leaving you with Jungsik hyung.”

Tilting your head with narrowed eyes, you blink. “What’s wrong with Jungsik? He’s literally an angel. Like I actually can’t believe that you guys are brothers.”

Jungkook chews on his bottom lip anxiously as if he’s holding back. “I just think he’s not a good guy. So I’ll stay.”

“Sorry I took so long,” Jungsik places his blazer on the seat beside him, rolling up the sleeves of his white button up. “I just needed to wash up. So... how long have you been working at my mother’s supermarket?”

You hum in thought, counting the months from when you first started. It was during University, possibly around the time you were starting your second year... “Probably around three years? And the café... maybe two? I think I’m approaching two.”

Jungsik’s mouth gaps open. “Wait, you work at my mother’s café as well?” Nodding in response, you place a couple of the meats onto Jungsik’s plate as Jungkook eyes you carefully. “Tuition doesn’t pay itself. And I plan to start a business one day, so two jobs is the only way to get to that finish line.”

“I—I offered to pay,” Jungkook interjects into the conversation, feeling like he’s the third wheel suddenly. “I told her she didn’t need to work the two jobs and I’d help her pay for the bakery.” That’s when Jungsik’s gaze meets Jungkook’s; his stare is unreadable and Jungkook can’t place a finger on what’s running through his mind. “Are you two... dating?”

“Why does everyone ask that?” 

“Well, Jungkook is offering to pay for your business,” Jungsik begins, watching the expression on his younger sibling’s face who reciprocates the action, “and he never does that.” He pauses for a moment before breaking the staring competition with Jungkook, fixating back onto you. “But then again, Jungkook spends the family’s money heedlessly, so that’s expected. I’m sure your business is legitimate, but Jungkook probably didn’t even do any research before gifting you that proposition. And I don’t really see Jungkook in a relationship, let alone someone like you, anyways. No offense. I think you’re great, hence why I don’t think he could even land you.”

Cheeks flushing pink, you dip your head. “Thanks.”

There it was. Even when in front of a stranger, Jungsik is just like his other brothers, shamelessly speaking about Jungkook in a condescending manner. Jungkook confesses that Jungsik’s hypothesis is right— Jungkook did exactly do all those things he listed, but that doesn’t mean anything. It was a kind gesture, one that he figured Jungsik would’ve done himself, and he couldn’t see what was wrong with the decisions he had made. You were passionate about a dream, realistic with the expectations, and had mutual friends with him. He felt like despite the constant bickering, he still trusted you. More than his own siblings, at least.

The silence between the three of you was swelling, tension predominantly between the two males, so you shatter that glass by placing some beef on Jungkook’s plate. “Try that.”

“... You want me to try that? I don’t eat regular grade beef.”

“Well kid, you do now because you can’t afford any of the kobe stuff. Come on, Jungkook, just give it a shot.” Grabbing a bed of lettuce, you place a piece of garlic, swipe of gochujang paste, and drop a slice of beef onto it before wrapping and bringing it close to his mouth. “Here, try it like this.”

Jungkook can feel it. The way Jungsik studies the actions between you and Jungkook was a test. Jungsik traveled far and wide, spent time in first and third world countries, eating things that Jungkook can only imagine of eating... well, he doesn’t want to imagine some of those things, but ultimately enough, he’s testing the waters. Jungsik would go home later that night, report this to the other four siblings and to his parents in the luxurious dining room where they’d have their meetings, which meant one thing: he had to eat this concoction that you’ve created.

You lift the lettuce wrap up, gesturing him to open wide. Slowly, he parts his lips, just enough for you to thrust it into his mouth as he winces, the juices from the meat spilling out from the sides. As you wipe the spill with a napkin, his eyes dilate with a sparkle. "Holy shit. That's good."

Jungsik lets go of a breath he's been holding. "I didn't think you'd actually eat that. Don't think I've seen you eat anything without caviar, gold flakes or truffles."

Jungkook turns to his older brother, cheeks full of the lettuce that you've fed him. "Well, you thought wrong. I'm different now, hyung, and it hasn't even been that long since I've left home."

"Correction, since mother kicked you out." He retorts, attention turning back onto you. "Anyway, thank you. This amount on my plate should be enough for me tonight as for I already had a very large dinner before stopping by the market. I'm going to have to leave after this— but feel free to order as much as you like, I'll keep my card on the tab."

"Oh," Face crimson, you wave your hands in front of you in disagreement, "Don't do that. I don't mind paying."

"No, no," Jungsik says, taking a mouthful of the meat into his mouth. "It's the least I could do since you're looking after my little brother. After all, he needs all the help he can get."

When Jungsik says goodbye and exits the store, Jungkook found it inevitable to ponder why his brother decided to come by anyway. Despite his common reputation of being the sweetest and most caring Jeon, he was known to be devious to those who were close to him, shady majority of the time, and every step he made had a reasoning behind it.

The moment Jungsik steps out of the restaurant, he spits out the chewed up beef behind the door, eyes meeting with Jungkook through the windows before a mischievous smile stretches from cheek to cheek. What was he up to?

Inhaling sharply, he shoves it under the rug for future thought. "Enjoying the food?"

"Mmm," You hum, cheeks full of rice and kimchi, an unrecognizable amount of joy written across your face. "So good. Definitely worth dealing with you and your brother's weird relationship. Is this what it's like with all of your siblings?" In spite of the grain of rice stuck to your chin, he oddly thinks this sight of you is... cute. 

"Usually. They aren't really fans and disagree with almost all of my life choices except for going to University. I graduated with all honors and on the Dean's List multiple times yet I'll never be up to their standards."

"Well, to be fair, those gossip magazines talked a lot about your scandals." You grab a napkin to wipe the area around your mouth and he suddenly misses the rice that rested on your face.

"What? A twenty-three year old guy can't sleep around? What's wrong with that?"

You shake your head in response, leaning back against the metal chair that begins to bring discomfort to your tailbone. "Nothing wrong with that, but your choices on who you decide to bed is definitely controllable. You keep luring in those rich girls who do nothing all day but spread rumors and make it their life goal to assure your life is a living hell." Tapping your fingers against the table, your lips purse up in thought before resting your arms beside your plate. "Wanna order some drinks? It's on your brother's tab and you seem like you need to loosen up a little."

Five shots of charm soju in, Jungkook's supple skin is flushed red. 

"I only sleep with those types of girls because I think they have somewhat potential in dating me. But in the end, they're all the same. So I just end the night with a quick bang and go home." Strangely enough, even with Jungkook's history with drinking, he's actually a lightweight. You'd think he had a better tolerance with his constant intake but you've been proven otherwise.

Eyes hooded and face pressed against the palm of his hand while his elbows rest against the wooden table, he hums to an unfamiliar tune. "I just want to get through this part of my life. Bring home someone who's steady, realistic, and liked by my entire family where they actually have hope in me again."

"You can, just don't bring any of those girls home again." Alcohol doesn't hit you as hard as Jungkook does, or at least, five shots doesn't, but you admit you're a bit tipsy. "I'm sure someone like that will fall for you. You're like... pretty and with money."

He scoffs. "Hoseok would frown at that response. He hates when people associate him with his parents' wealth. I don't understand it."

"It's like when your family thinks you're incapable of working hard. People think he's incapable of working, too. In this case, associate him with his parents' money, and for you, they just think you won't make it out here alive because of your choices. You're both on the path of proving yourselves competent." 

There's silence between the two of you, Jungkook deep in thought. 

If Hoseok was on the same route as he was, why was Hoseok's approach entirely different? Why didn't he feel the same drive and motivation as Hoseok does, and why does it make him believe that there was another way to solve this issue? Instead of trying to make enough money to move out, he could just feed off of his parents' money and use it towards something else, earn money off of that and spend that newly collected money that was now truly his. Which brings to question, how can he hit two birds with one stone? Both introduce his parents to someone who was totally out of his league yet loved by them and demonstrate his ability to work?

Bingo. The answer is sitting right there in front of him. You.

You were a hard-working middle class citizen. From juggling two jobs to being a graduate at some University, you knew what it felt like to be poor. You hated people who bathed in wealth, especially when it's claimed to not be their own and stood for your beliefs. If Jungkook brought you home to present to his parents, they'd be so jubilant that he could imagine his stubborn, stone-cold face father doing cartwheels, mother's cheeks in pain from all the grinning, and brothers looking defeated, envied erroneously. 

"Tell me a bit more about yourself, I feel like I don't really know you." There. If he studies you enough, maybe you'd be willing to jump in on his plan. After all, he still has to determine what he can offer you in this portion of his scheme to convince you to deceive his family, especially since you seemed to be fond of both Jungsik and his mother. "... Why are you suddenly interested?"

He shrugs. "I just wanna know. Where did you go to school, why did you choose a bakey, etcetera. If I'm going to be working with you, I should probably get to know you a bit better. Maybe I'll feel more inclined to cooperate." It was like in mere seconds, Jungkook wasn't intoxicated anymore— completely sober.

So you play his little game, it wouldn't hurt, right? "Got a scholarship to study abroad, so I was in New York for a couple years. Don’t get me wrong though, since it’s the US, it wasn’t a full scholarship, but I didn’t have any other opportunities that I wanted. Then graduated with a degree in Food Science. Then parents needed some money so I had to come back right after graduation and pick up a job at your mom's supermarket, paid off their debt and now I'm just trying to pay off mine. I also needed to put some sense to my degree and well... I loved baking in my free time. It was all I did when I was stressed from exams."

"You studied in New York?" If he wasn't sober a couple minutes ago, he was now.

You nod in response, finishing the last portion of pork that sits idly on your plate. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-two."

"But you started working at the market three years ago?" He asks, the space between his brows crinkle, trying to count the months in his head. He also takes note that he's older than you and that it'd come in handy later. "It doesn't make any sense."

"I finished high school early." The sizzle of the grill dies down, the ventilator shutting off from the lack of smoke. "I jumped a couple grades."

"A... couple grades. A couple grades, it doesn't sound like just 'a couple,' you literally graduated college at the age of what... fifteen?" He heaves, completely taken aback by this new information. "And then graduated college at eighteen? Yet you're working at a grocery store and some coffee shop when you could be running an entire company." 

"Well, when you say it like that—"

"Okay, I have a proposition for you. Let's date." You nearly choke on the water you're drinking. "What?"

"Fake date, really. Be my fake girlfriend. You're a year younger than me, got a college degree at eighteen with attainable aspirations that I could cater to once my parents give me access to their money again. The entirety of this conversation is only giving me more reasons to invest in our relationship, to invest in you, and it'll benefit me in return." You squint your eyes at him suspiciously, but he continues. "My mom already likes you. Jungsik even thinks you're too good for me and that there's no way that you'd ever date me. If you actually did, imagine the look on his face!"

"Jungkook," You sigh, running your fingers through your loosen strands of hair. "I don't know. This seems wrong, lying to your family. They only want the best for you."

"Absolutely not. My brothers want to see me fail. If you agree to do this, I can show you what I'm talking about." 

Hesitant, you nibble on the hardened dry skin on your lips, heart racing in uneasiness. "But you'd be giving up a lot. No more flings, no more getting wasted... you'd have to be completely serious and on board if you do this. It has to be convincing. But at the same time, how long and how are we going to keep this up?"

"Maybe until you get your shop up and running so that you're able to stabilize it yourself. I'm sure that wouldn't take long anyway, and it would be a great business deal if we go through with this. You'd be out of debt, starting your own bakery, all in a shorter span of time than intended. And all you have to do is come home with me to see my parents occasionally, attend some events, hold my hand, maybe exchange a couple kisses— but nothing out of your comfort zone though, I respect boundaries."

With how his hand gestures move, and how the ideas flow from his mind so effortlessly, you could've sworn that Jungkook was a con-artist. His words were a shell of plausibles and credibility— up to the point you had to tell yourself to stop and take a breather because all this material was starting to sound reasonable, and from your lack of experience with Jungkook, he wasn't the most reliable person you've met. "I'm going to have to think about this. As great as it sounds for me, it doesn't seem like much of a character development path for you."

"But it would," he asserts, putting emphasis in the way he speaks, "I'm investing in something I believe in. A business, one that I see potential in, in a person that I see potential in."

"Jungkook, you met me last week."

"Which is why it makes it even more impactful!" He exclaims, arms thrown in the air. "I know you hate me. But you have the qualities of what would help me get myself back into the estate. I'm not even sure if I'm written out of the will yet, and I'm praying that this whole 'changing' thing won't take so long that the idea is going to be thrown out the window." 

"I really don't hate you, I just want people like you to be more aware of what's going on in the real world. They all view the lives of people like me through a sheer shower curtain with diamonds and pearls wrapped around their bodies, laughing away. It's like you don't see the problems we face everyday."

"And as much as I don't want to do that, let that be part of the deal. Get one 'ignorant' rich guy out of that stereotypical pool, and teach me how to be better. Then, I'll also be on the road to being a more... empathetic and educated man."

Puffing up your cheeks, you look away for a brief moment. “I still want some time to think about this.”

“That’s fine. But also, one more thing.” You turn your gaze to fixate back onto him. “Yeah?”

“Don’t eat alone if you don’t have to. Call me, I’ll keep you company.”

"... So I asked her to be my fake girlfriend." Jungkook ends the story of how your ‘fake love’ blossomed under the fluorescent lighting and smoke from the grill at a barbecue shack hidden in an alleyway.

Hoseok's jaw drops to the floor. "W-What?" He stutters, appalled by Jungkook's proposal for you. How could Jungkook just bring up an arrangement like that so effortlessly? Without even a second thought? "And what did she say?"

"That she needs to think about it a little more."

He sighs of relief, pushing his hair back through his fingers. "Good. Because she has a horrible history with guys. It always seems to go down in flames. I could only imagine what it means if she dated you."

"It's a fake relationship, what could possibly go wrong?"

"You might fall in love with her. Or worse, she'll fall in love with you. Literally every fanfic and romance movie trope that has to do with fake dating. Plus, imagine if she fell in love with you." He shivers at the thought.

“What’s wrong with me? Why are you making it sound like it’s the worst thing ever if she even so likes me like that? I don’t even think she’ll fall for me anyway. The mere thought of me seems to disgust her.”

Grabbing another box of cereal to restock, he rolls his eyes. "You really don’t get it, do you? It’s more like... you're not going to be serious about her if she did. You don't even know what it means to be in a committed relationship, let alone know how to handle a fake one. If she falls in love with you, she's done for. Then her guy streak really is horrible. You’re putting her in a tough spot, Jeon."

Tearing open another cardbox box full of inventory, Jungkook frowns in thought. What if you did fall in love with him? How would he go about that? Would he still invest in your business then? Taking a moment to let the ideas sink in, he’s already decided. "I'd still invest in her." He concludes. "Isn't that part of the journey? Learning how to be professional? If she falls in love with me, I'll give her space. But I still believe in her business and her goals to open one."

"But you don't even know her," Hoseok reminds him, stopping in the midst of his actions. "She really needs this. If you so much have any doubt of leaving this plan, she'll be devastated. Everything that she has worked hard for has to be halted because she trusts you. You can't play with people's lives like that."

"It's just a business," Jungkook clarifies, but Hoseok shakes his head in dismissal. "This is her life's work, Jeon. Have you even really talked to her about this? You need to either call this off or have a written contract or something because you're not only diminishing her love life, but her dreams too. So really think about this."

Jungkook slouches, body barely standing up against the shelves. “She still has time to decide. Trust me, Hobi, if she does fall in love with me, I’ll take care of her and make sure that she’ll still be able to have the business.” Hoseok eyes Jungkook in disbelief. “You found out she’s younger than you, didn’t you? I can already hear it in your tone. Don’t overlook the age, she’s still lightyears of experience ahead of both of us combined.”

unknown [6:22PM]: so, what’s the verdict? unknown [6:23PM]: my fault, it’s jungkook.

Letting out a large exhale, you shut your lids, phone in the palm of your hand after viewing the texts, allowing your body to fall against the wall behind you.

It’s another late shift at the coffee shop, one that ends around 2am before the cycle of waking up for an additional eight hours at the Jeon market. Although the bags and dark circles that begin to reside underneath your eyes are evidence to your exhaustion, gradually taking a toll on your body. The days were getting shorter, nights stretching longer, and you weren’t sure when your next day off would even be.

Then the thoughts of your loans come to mind. There was another email sent to your mailbox, reading that the next bill was approaching and due soon, causing the weight on your shoulders to inflate. If only the figurative load built your muscles because then you’d be able to pick up a job on a construction site, possibly making a bit more money than you do now with both jobs combined.

You glance at Jungkook’s text again. 

The belief that you were independent goes out the window if you cave into Jungkook’s premise. You were practically selling your body at that point... but your personality was part of the package as well. Then there was the lying— you admit, being yourself around the Jeons was easy, but having to lie to them about dating Jungkook seemed... difficult. They were relatively smart people, what if they’re able to see right through your act? And what about Jungkook’s past? Would it continue to haunt you during the relationship?

For instance, what about the women he dated? Rephrase: slept with. There’s pretty much a guarantee that scandals would arise with the announcement that Jungkook was going steady with someone who wasn’t an aristocrat, a child of money. What about you stood out that Jungkook would fall for you to convince other people that you were good enough to be part of their world?

But you go back to your debt.

The biggest regret yet also your biggest accomplishment was going to college in New York.

The expansion of knowledge you were able to obtain during your years there was irreplaceable. If anything, really, it molded you to the person you are today. But at the same time, the debt was like a dark, rainy cloud that followed you around wherever you went. 

Having to plan your every expense week by week was draining. 

Declining meetings with friends because you couldn’t afford to pay for your portion of the meal, let alone for everyone else.

Jungsik offering to pay for dinner despite your inclination to decline and pay for yourself was a blessing. Veritably thankful that he didn’t take your ‘no’ as answer and left his credit card, if you were being completely honest, you wouldn’t have picked that location if you knew he wasn’t going to pay for it. It’s been a while since you were able to afford KBBQ.

You weren’t poor, no, or at least, you believed yourself not to be. Just... all your money seemed to go toward your debt and savings account for the bakery.

Feeling demoralized, you’re tempted to text Jungkook to let him know you’re surrendering, but he beats you to it.

unknown [6:30PM]: i just want to be able to help the both of us. you can lead the relationship, i’ll follow. i know how much your independence means to you, so... i’ll bottom. unknown [6:31PM]: be mine? you [6:31PM]: 🏳️ (white flag)

Sliding your phone back into the back pocket of your jeans, you make your way back behind the counter with two girls who studied at the university nearby, giggling and slapping each other’s arms elatedly. You’re slightly envious of their lighthearted laughter, wishing that you could do so freely without this heavy feeling in your chest, yet you push those feelings aside anyway, a smile tugging on the edges of your lips. “What are you two laughing about?”

“Jiwoo has a crush!” Injae exclaims, pushing the aforementioned girl to the side with a cackle. “She saw him working at the supermarket you worked at the other day and I swore I saw her staring at him in awe, a river of drool coming out of her mouth. Should’ve put a wet floor sign—“

“Injae!” Jiwoo whines, bottom lip jutting out. “Stop embarrassing me in front of Unnie. She probably thinks we’re immature.” Not really. You kind of wished you had a crush too. The butterflies in your stomach, hands palmy and cheeks flushed pink. Eagerness to see the person; each touched exchange making your heart race faster... “Who’s the guy?”

Injae glances over at you mischievously as you watch her prepare to get hit by Jiwoo. “Jeon Jungkook—” Slap slap slap. Injae’s arm is definitely going to be red tomorrow morning if not right now. But oh, Jungkook? The one you just agreed to date about 5 minutes ago over text?

“I think he has a girlfriend.” You respond uneasily, chewing on the nail of your thumb anxiously. “Who?”

“Hey,” The three of you turn to the customer, quickly straightening your postures and aprons until your eyes meet his, halting your breath. Jungkook has a knack for timing because there he stands, hair disheveled from probably rushing over, in a grey hoodie and baby blue jeans with tears at the knees. “What’s good here?” Yet his gaze doesn’t shift from you. Legs rooted into the ground, mouth parted in surprise, you finally shake yourself out of ice before clearing your throat. The girls seem to be just as stunned as you are because they haven’t moved an inch.

“Cold brew is my personal favorite. But if you want a safe option, americano is great too.” Logging into the iPad, you’re ready to tap in his order but grabs onto your wrist and you grimace. “Can we talk?”

“... You could just say that and not grab me, Jeon. Not everything has to be a K-Drama moment.” In all honesty, you were kind of embarrassed of the girls knowing your newly found relationship with Jungkook. He was definitely not your kind of guy, his brother Jungsik probably being closest to your ideal type and even the girls knew that.

Sitting by the window and across from Jungkook with your fingers tapping against the plastic cup with your cold brew inside, he continues to observe your face briefly while drinking a sip of the americano. You don’t even take a second to look at him, rather your attention is glued to the crescent moon out the window. “White flag? That’s all you can say?”

“How did you want me to respond?”

“Yes or no? Are you usually such a dry texter?” He rebuttals, prepared for anything you throw his way. He’s learning, you take note, because he usually just stands there dumbfounded whenever you’d shoot back with a response.

“Yes, it means yes, I surrender and I agree to your terms. We can date, I’ll be your girlfriend, you can be my boyfriend, blah blah.”

“Not my terms,” He says, rephrasing his text. “Your terms. You’re leading this relationship, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable just because I suggested the idea. I’m not a jackass, you know. I don’t even sleep with women who say no.”

“Are you supposed to get a ‘congrats’ or reward for that? Because that’s the bare minimum, Jeon.”

“You know what I mean,” He retorts back. “I respect women.”

“But lead them on and sleep with them even though you know that you don’t want a relationship with them but they want a relationship with you—“

“Now I have you.” Jungkook interrupts firmly. “I’m having a serious, committal relationship with you. No more of those girls anymore.” You nearly felt your heart swell out of your chest cavity but you remember that he’s just saying it to convince you to date him, despite the fact that you’ve already agreed to it.

“I don’t get where you’re going with this conversation. If you got the answer you wanted and expected to hear, I’m leaving. I’m still on the clock, you know.”

“Quit then.” You scoff at his swift resolution. He’s too impulsive. “I can’t just quit. I need the money.”

“I said I’d help you pay for those things, did you already forget? That’s what this arrangement is all about.” 

Rolling your eyes, you stand from your seat, snatching your drink along with you. “In case you forgot, you don’t have the money yet. I agreed to be your girlfriend, happy?” He looks like a puppy with his round eyes peering through his shaggy hair, grin stretching from cheek to cheek. “I am. This means you have to let me do boyfriend things for you.”

“Fine.” You respond through your gritted teeth. Truth be told, you want him out of the café as soon as possible because the college kids behind the counter were starting to whisper. “But you still have to treat this professionally when we’re at work.”

“Deal, love.” His teeth are peeking from his excitement. You squint your eyes at him. “Jungkook.” You warn.

“You’re at work, I’m not.”

You’re going to strangle him.

Walking out of the supermarket after another long night shift, you’re stuck between Jungkook and Hoseok as they exchange stories of parties they previously attended, emitting a sigh from you.

“Tired of our old shenanigans, baby?” Jungkook teases, tugging on the sleeve of your jacket. Hoseok shoots Jungkook a glare. “You’re going to die tonight if you keep that up, man. She’s scary when she’s mad.”

“Oh please. She likes it when I play around.” The innocent smile on his face makes you want to punch it in. “No,” Hoseok says, pulling Jungkook over to his side and looping his arm with yours. “She’s hungry. Let’s go tame this beast.”

Jungkook just stares.

The three of you are at a 24 hour convenience store just outside his house, three bowls of ramen prepped at the table while you all sit on the stools provided. “What’s this? How was it made so fast?”

“It’s ramen, dumbass,” You hiss, breaking the wooden chopsticks that Jungkook watches in reverence. “It’s literally called instant ramen. You’ve never had it before?”

“I’ve had ramen in Japan.”

“Oh, dude, you’re going to be so disappointed when you have this then.” Hoseok laughs then winces when you kick his shin underneath the table. Gesturing the bowl and Jungkook to Hoseok, he frowns, tearing the paper wrapping off the chopsticks and hands to the younger male. “Do what she just did. Break it.”

“Break... this? Chopsticks? Who invented these?”

“Does it matter?” You chime in. “Just break it. Hurry up, we’re trying to show you how this works so we can eat. Why are you acting like an alien? You’ve seen chopsticks before.”

“Well, honestly, at the Jeon estate, we only use—“

“Fuck what you use at the Jeon estate. We’re at the...” Turning to look at the sign above the store, you point to the logo. “... KTH 24 CONVENIENCE. They’re telling us to quickly break our chopsticks so we can go nomnom.” Rapidly, he attempts to snap the chopsticks, only for it to crack unevenly and you stifle a laugh.

“... Good try,” Hoseok shakes his head, tearing the rest of the lid off of the bowl. “Maybe you’ll be better next time. You’re stuck with your screw up now, but least you can still enjoy your shitty bowl of ramen noodles.”

Jungkook swallows. The sight of the noodles floating in soup that looks painfully diluted with water, the aroma from the bowl was still alluring. Stirring the soup, he finally picks up a portion with his wonky chopsticks, blowing on it before taking a bite.

It’s... actually not bad.

“How is it?” Your voice is calmer and much more soothing than it had been a minute ago, but he makes the assumption that it’s because you’ve finally gotten food in your stomach. He takes note of this for future reference. “Oddly enough, not bad. I kind of like it.”

“Well, get used to it. It’s cheap and efficient. You’re part of the broke squad now, Jungkook.”

Broke Squad. Feels nice to be part of something.

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts #bts smut #bts fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #gyukultfics

[junhuiste]

break the code (ex-wip)

pairing: soonyoung x fem!reader

wc: 1900

tags/warning: basketball!soonyoung, college au, slightly suggestive language, cursing

a/n: this was something i started way back in 2017 when i was 15 lol and i tried going back to it and finishing but i just can’t seem to continue it!! but i don’t want it to just sit in my drafts so i’m just going to post the unfinished wip! i might do this with a lot of wips i’ve had collecting dust over the years (and they’re like 99% svt lol); if i ever do find some stroke of inspo to finish it i might but for now enjoy the 1900 words i wrote when i was a sophomore

“But babe, you’ll sit on my side, right?” Soonyoung continued to pester you with countless little questions to which he knew the exact answers to.

You pursed your lips at your boyfriend; mild sorrow and guilt clouded your eyes. In return he pout your favorite pair of plush pillows to kiss, with dull bleakness and dismals fogging his irises. It was hard, really, to resist the pull of a magnet, who was trying every trick in the book to coerce you to sit on his school’s side of the bleachers for the upcoming basketball game on Friday.

Had it been that both of you were just your run-of-the-mill university couple, tachycardia would’ve caused you to blurt out “yes” instantaneously just by being gazed upon by Soonyoung, but alas, the big guy upstairs made it to be so that you technically couldn’t through the rulebook of the sibling code.

A flushed palm extended to your denim-covered thighs, with the utmost desire lacing his fingers.

“Pretty please? With a cherry on top?” His digits creeped towards your inner thigh, getting closer to the actual cherry he wanted on top.

“Soonyoung, no matter how well you do me, I’m still obligated to sit on my side of the bleachers.”

None of Soonyoung’s coercions could persuade you to decide about where to sit. You really would’ve preferred to sit on his side, but with your current situation, none of that was possible. It was a precarious oscillation between blood and water, and neither did you want to drown in with regret for embracing one over another.

“Fine. If you can’t cheer me on–which is a pitiful shame–let me take you out to eat after the game. And we can make out in my car or something so he won’t have to know.” Soonyoung’s gaze no longer held flashes of fervor, but rather a decadent gleam of sheer admiration.

“It’s a done deal, but you better promise me to dunk on him, or be prepared to get dunked on by him. As of right now, however, you owe me some kisses for making me wobble continuously back and forth between your side and his before I go,” you taunted, “come here you little rascal.”

Soonyoung gleamed at you piercingly, yielding you to lean forward against him as a shock of joy sparked up your back. His hand feathered along the back of your thigh, brushing it so longingly, with a tinge of impertinence here and there. You could feel the urgency radiating from him as he struggled to press you even closer to him, as there were no more gaps to be filled. He grasped your chin gingerly, before connecting his lips with yours, wanting to revel in dire coalescence he’d been awaiting upon your arrival.

Soonyoung is the warm bath you dip yourself into after constant exhaustion, the meager yet compelling and needed breeze as the sun beats down you, the red mark that’s actually relieving and boasts “A+” on a hard worked assignment, the last basket shot as the clock dashes away with the snickering seconds, and he is what has you torn on where your loyalty stands, but you can’t thank him enough for that strife.

You pulled away first because getting you two to separate would be a long ass haul, and maybe it was also getting late, just maybe. Your eyes glimpsed at the badgering hands that indicated 11:35 PM, and nothing but a sullen sigh managed to escape your lips.

It wasn’t fair, how time sashayed away, but there were no seconds left to spare to sulk about it, so you caressed the tranquility Soonyoung’s face possessed and left a lingering peck upon it. Knowing him, you’d expected him to grip your waist and pull you down with him into the waters of his joyous yet yearning ways but the coal haired boy enveloped you in an enticing embrace and with his lips hovering slightly above your ear, whispered, “Tell him to get ready.”

“I swear to God, I hate basketball,” your brother exhaled out in utter annoyance, to which you furrowed your brows at.

You always shifted in your seat restlessly, your heart palpitating at an ungodly speed of McQueen, eyes sought frantically to avoid meeting your brother’s, upon the dreaded word of “basketball” ringing in your ears. It wasn’t that you abhorred it, no, not at all; you absolutely appreciated the art of dunking and the pleasing note of swish through the hoop, but just not the people you knew personally who partook in it.

There’s always a Montague and Capulet narrative happening somewhere in the universe, always, and it just so happened that you were struck with the curse by some godforsaken entity of destiny of landing a role in your life as the fresh faced, ever so naive, youngest member of the Capulets–Juliet. And you dreaded the direction your supposed fairytale was headed the first time your boyfriend asked you to watch his basketball game, which oddly enough, was the same one your brother requested you to “bring all your hot friends” to.

As strange as it sounded, it wasn’t your brother’s undeniable libido for your friends that irked you and made you hesitate going to a basketball game, to which you’ve never thought twice about before, but it was the statement of, “God I am going to crush number 10’s ass.”

Number 10. Number fucking 10. Of course, it had to be the player that sweat through blue polyester and nylon, donning number 10 in white on the front and back. It could have been player number 13 or 17, for God’s sake it could have even been a negative number sported on the jersey, yet it all had to align in the cosmos to be player number 10.

You didn’t certainly deem ESP to be something legitimate, but on that day you swore to god your mind fucked you royally in the ass and placed you in Soonyoung’s dorm room the night before. It was nothing out of the ordinary, really, nothing but the sight of a teenage boy’s niche, because a lot of basketball players had to have chosen the number 10 for their jersey, right?

The environment malfunctioned instantaneously with the repetition of “I am going to crush number 10’s ass” circling about a short circuit in your mind. From that moment onward, the sight of the jersey was unquestionably more radiant that it could have ever been, with the blinding, white number ten atop Soonyoung’s chair cackling obstreperously at your oh shit moment. Tuning in to your brother slander your university’s rival, Soonyoung’s school, was always such a joy (not) to participate in.

Every “basketball” here and there snagged you by the ear and dragged you to hell and back with it, provoking the cracks of your palm to drench in sweat and legs to quiver more than you had felt around Soonyoung before dating him.

“Yeah I mean it’s not like you’ve worked your entire ass off the past 4 years or so to even set foot on the college court you've been dreaming of since you were 13!” Diverting your brother’s mental debate on his love of the sport, it was a necessity to pluck something else from thin air to talk about, and not your school’s rival when they had games against each other, which was seemingly a bloodbath in their perspective.

Trying to escape your brother’s trash talk of Soonyoung’s team was walking through an eternal, pitch black, underground tunnel, no goddamn escape.

“They only got us last time because of number 10’s foolery. Jesus Christ, the kid better slow down or he’s wasting stamina. Can’t believe he holds the title of captain, like me. I motherfucking swear to God if I have to listen to his loud ass winning chant–” yadah yadah, number 10 this, number 10 that.

You would have dozed off to your brother’s lovely lullaby of scorn towards your boyfriend had it not been for a text…from your boyfriend.

[spoonyoung]

hii hiiiii heyyyy hello bby Hhhii babe i miss youuuuu hi!

[y/n]

i can tell u’re tired :( don’t be

[spoonyoung]

he's going to crush me dang flabbit

y/n

so ur nervous ??? bby it’s just a game istg,,both of you treat it like warfare

[incoming call: spoonyoung]

Shit, what the hell? This bitch, right now? In this economy, at this time?

Inside your chest was a drumline pounding, giving it their all, threatening to burst out and announce to your brother that “Hey, your rival is dating your sister! They’re probably going to fuck later but you don’t know about any of it!”

You would plummet into poignancy if you didn’t pick up his call, because there was no chance you could see him everyday, so honestly fuck that you guys attended different schools, and resorting to calling each other did bring both of you to ease, but not at this goddamn, forsaken time, with one you love phoning you with 17,000 vibrations per second, and the other idiot you were practically forced to love, perched next to you, indignantly gripping the wheel with such force you couldn’t decide which one generated more turbulence within you.

Tensely clutching what was now a scorching piece of metal, you held it up conscientiously to your ear, and forced yourself to breathe out calmly and collectively. Every single mention, tidbit and strand, bob and fragment of Soonyoung that was mentioned around you when you were with your brother grabbed your trachea in its firm hold and forced the wind out of you.

“Hey, Hoshi,” you managed to choke out in a level headed manner.

Hoshi. That was what you and Soonyoung agreed to nickname him if you ever picked up a call from him around your brother or his teammates, but god forbid you were actually allowed to have a life of any sort!

“Babe,” Soonyoung mewled out from the other line, “I actually can’t do this. Don’t tell him, but your brother is really good...of course he is.”

Frowning because of Soonyoung’s lack of usual mirth and brimming confidence, you sighed, “If you let it get to you, then your thoughts affect your actions, and you don’t want that to happen right? You’ll be fine...and I’m not just saying this to say something, but you’re really good too, and you can’t let one person bring your entire mood down...even if...you know…”

“Will you at least come with me to my dorm after the game?”

“Oh you know I’ll be doing more than that,” giggling into your phone, trying to sound as enticing as possible, completely engrossed in this very conversation, as it was all the time talking with Soonyoung.

Both of you had a habit of drastically turning your talks from upside downs to those of obvious elation. They were conversations sometimes needed to be kept in the comforting privacy, selfishly not wanting to let anyone else in on the baby i missed you’s and the do you need anything from the boba shop’s and literally you don’t have the right to look this good’s.

Startled by the grunting and hacking oh so wonderfully expired by the total jackass to your left, you contended to the third degree, with the patience that was never really there starting to thin out, “Do you need something?”

It wasn’t uncommon for Soonyoung to call coincidentally at the times you were with—more like right next to—his rival, probably because his

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen #hoshi #hoshi imagines #hoshi scenarios #soonyoung imagines #soonyoung scenarios #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #hoshi fluff

[little-diable]

Rockstar - Luke Hemmings (smut)

Enjoy my loves. xxx

His eyes were wandering through the crowd, trying to catch her (y/e/c) eyes, the lyrics were burned into his mind, Luke didn’t have to worry about losing his focus on his music. “Tell me, would you pack up all your bags, stay true to North? You're the only one I'd do this for” a smirk tugged on his lips as he finally found her silhouette, she stared at him, admired him, the red light was dancing across his frame, sparks shot up her spine as his voice dropped, rasping out the first words of the chorus.

“I'd dive deeper for you, what a blessing to feel your love” memories from last night began to crawl back into his mind, Luke had to bite down a groan as he fell deeper into the memory.

Sweat was glistering on her chest, (y/n) took a deep breath, her wrists were pinned over her head, one of his hands was holding onto them, while he was snapping his hips against hers. His name fell from her lips, repeating itself over and over again, almost as if she was worshipping him, like he was a god, that had her in his claws.

“The demons we're running from, they're begging to stay” Luke managed to hold eye contact with her for a few moments, trying to be as discrete about it as possible. She bit down on her lip, couldn’t rip her eyes off him, her thoughts were just as ungodly as Luke’s, thinking back to the way he had devoured her, had wrecked her, made her beg for her release.

“Beg” he let go of her throat, his piercing blue eyes were boring into her soul, coaxing her deepest and darkest secrets out of her, “please - oh goodness gracious- let me cum, please Luke.” Her voice broke, a sob fell from her lips, she was trashing around underneath him, trying to stop her body from giving into the wave of euphoria that was about to overcome her.

“No, not yet.” He pushed two fingers into her mouth, almost automatically she wrapped her tongue around them, he was smirking down on her, Luke seemed to be testing the waters, trying to figure out, how long he could tease her, make her suffer, before her body would give up and break down the invisible walls she had build around her.

Luke was tightly holding onto the microphone, his knuckles were turning white, trying to push his sinful thoughts out of his mind, knowing that he’d have to make it through another thirty minutes, till the end of the show. Just as he started singing the first verse of “no shame” his eyes found hers once again, pulling him into another memory from just hours ago.

“Luke, we don’t have any time to-” he pressed her against the wall of his dressing room, he was nipping on her jawline, eyes closed as he intently  listened to the small gasps that made it past her lips. His hands were working on the buttons of her trousers, the ever so prominent bulge in his pants was growing by the second, aching for her touch, throbbing to feel her wrapped around -

Calum stomped onto Lukes boots, ripping him out of his daydream, just in time to start singing the chorus, he was smirking at him, only suspecting what his best friend was thinking about. Luke rolled his eyes, silently thanking his best friend for saving him from embarrassing himself, knowing that (y/n) would tease him about it all evening.

Unknown to him, she was still hanging onto the words he had whispered to her, just seconds before he had left her for his soundcheck, the way he had ever so slightly nibbled on her earlobe, hands grasping her behind, “this was just a little pretaste sunshine, the night is still young.”

(Y/n) could feel the wetness pool between her thighs, goosebumps were littering her skin, thinking about the different ways he’d make her suffer tonight, coaxing one orgasm after another out of her. She could feel his hands still wrapped around her neck, squeezing off her airway, the gasps that left her lips would only urge him on, get him to tighten his hold even further.

Her fingers were trembling as she followed the security guard to Lukes dressing room, slightly knocking on his door, smiling at the soft “come in” that left his mouth. “Hey Rockstar.” She stepped inside, leaning against the now closed door, eyes wandering across his naked chest, sweat was pooling on his skin, his cheeks were flushed, mascara slightly smudged, a satisfied smile on his lips. “Come here sunshine,” he patted his thigh, tightly wrapping his hands around her, smirking at the squeak that left her, “Luke stop it, you reek.”

Luke tried to savor moments like this, he loved to take her on tour with him, knowing how hectic his life would get, without her near. (Y/n) would always mange to keep him grounded, to calm him down, giving him a way out, to forget about their crazy lifestyle for a few moments. The Australian singer was head over heels in love with her, he wasn’t planning on ever letting her go, checking to see, if the shiny engagement ring was still with him, almost every day.

She ran her hand through his sweaty curls, pressed a loving kiss onto his lips, “You were amazing.” She murmured against his mouth. His heart was fluttering, missing a few beats, he loved to be praised by her like this, knowing how much she enjoyed watching him perform, made him feel proud of himself. “Luke, are you ready? We’re about to leave.” The tour manager knocked on his door, ripping them out of their little bubble of happiness.

The pair was grateful, that the hotel wasn’t too far away from the venue, (y/n)s head was placed on his shoulder, Luke was holding onto her thigh, joking around with the boys, trying to ignore the teasing gaze Calum was shooting him. “Goodnight boys.” (y/n) kissed their cheeks, fingers interlaced with Lukes, excited to finally be alone with him, anticipating the things he’d do to her body.

“Shower?” He whispered against her neck, smirking at her enthusiastic nod, Luke pulled her into the big bathroom, barely giving her any time to admire the luxurious marble tiles as he ripped her shirt off her body. A giggle fell from her lips at his overly excited movements, watching him undress himself, (y/n) couldn’t stop herself from admiring her handsome boyfriend, she was still mesmerized by him, in any way, even months after first meeting him.

The hot water was pouring down on them, loosening his tense muscles, (y/n) ran her hands up and down his sides, slightly massaging his skin. Luke groaned, his member was pressed against her thigh, making her smirk, (y/n) dropped onto her knees and ran her hand up and down his length. He placed his head against the cold tiles, hands tangled in her (y/h/c) hair, shamelessly moaning her name.

He slightly jumped as she kissed the tip of his length, her eyes were closed, she had every inch of his body memorized, didn’t need her eyes to find his trigger points, knowing where exactly she had to touch him, in order to make his knees weak. (Y/n) hallowed her cheeks, trying to swallow down her gag reflex, she relaxed her jaw, fitting as much of him as possible into her mouth.

“Fucking hell.” His moans got deeper, urging her on to pick up her pace, her nails were clawing into the skin of his thighs, her knees were still burning from last night, nothing to stop her in any way though. Luke couldn’t control his movements as he jerked his hips against her mouth, her nose was brushing against his pubic bone, making her gag, a motion that shot shivers up his spine. His length was twitching, telling her that he was close, he’d be pushed over the edge any second now.

A groan rumbled through Luke as he released himself into her mouth, his hot cum was dripping down the back of her throat, a taste she has grown to love.  He needed a few seconds to catch his breath, he was slightly hunched over, gripping her shoulders, a teasing smirk on his lips as his eyes found hers, already planning out the rest of their evening. Luke pulled her onto her feet, pressed a kiss onto her forehead and helped her clean herself before he pushed her out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her naked frame.

“Luke,” she giggled, he sucked on her neck, inhaling her fresh scent, “I love you.” He pulled her down on the bed, hovering above her. His eyes wandered across her features, admiring the love of his life, Luke dipped his head down and captured her lips in a loving kiss, he was tugging on her towel, desperate to feel her soft skin underneath his fingers. Impatiently he ripped the fabric off her body, he attached his mouth to her boobs, sucked on her nipples, making her toes curl.

Luke was grateful, that there were no other fabrics in the way, that kept him from exploring her body, he moved his hands down to her dripping heat, scooped up some of her slickness with his thumb and tasted her arousal. He tilted his head backwards, a groan left him, “you taste so sweet.” Something that made her blush in the heat of the moment. Luke kissed down her skin, circled her belly button with his tongue, kissed down further and reached his final destination, the place, where she was aching for him the most.

(Y/n) closed her eyes and gripped the bedsheets, trying to prepare herself, for what was yet to come. He didn’t waste any time, ran the tip of his tongue through her folds, up to her clit, where he sucked on the sensitive nub, a strangled moan left her, the sound made him shudder, urged him on. “Luke.” She whimpered as he pushed two fingers into her heat, her eyes snapped open, her back was arched, trying to keep herself focused on him and his movements. “Luke, I need more,” she rasped out, a smirk tugged on his lips the moment his eyes found hers, “oh, do you?” She could only nod her head “yes”.

He ran a hand up her chest, grasped her throat and pinned her down on the mattress, Luke crawled up her body, his eyes were glistering, teasing her. The moment he pushed his tip past her folds, (y/n) seemed to be pulled into another dimension, the pleasure he was currently providing her with, made her head spin. His name fell from her lips, (y/n) was holding onto his shoulders, eyes tightly squeezed shut as he shamelessly pounded into her heat, ripping her open for him and his throbbing length.

“Fuck, I don’t think, I’ll ever get tired of this.” He loved that she still felt that tight around him, his mind was completely focused on her and every aspect of her, the name (y/n) was burned into his thoughts. She was everywhere and Luke wouldn’t change that for the world. He squeezed her throat, made her eyes pop open, they were glassy, tears were welling up in them, the pressure was overwhelming, the smirk he had on his lips made her groan.

A whine left her as he pulled out of her, Luke hastily flipped her onto her front, slapped her behind and pushed into her once again, a relieved sigh rumbled through her. His hands were placed on either side of her body, he was set on a ferocious pace, releasing all the pent up pressure from his show earlier on, Luke was wrecking her, in the best way possible. She moaned his name, tightly holding onto the pillow her head was placed on, she could feel the all too familiar emotions coming over her, she was close, desperate to relieve herself.

“Not yet,” he murmured, Luke was chasing his own release, he was buried deep inside of her, (y/n) was able to feel every inch of him. It took the tall man a few more pounds, till he felt his own orgasm approaching, she was trashing around underneath him, biting into the pillow, to tone down the volume of her screams. “Cum for me,” Lukes eyes fluttered close, she was clenching around him, moaning his name, urging him on, to give into the heavenly feeling.

With a moan he released himself into her heat, giving it a few more pounds, till he collapsed on top of her, a satisfied smile on both of their lips. “I love you,” he kissed her shoulder blades and rolled off her, placing himself next to her on the mattress. A giggle rumbled through her, (y/n) turned her face sideways, admiring his sweaty features, “I love you too.”

#Luke hemmings #luke hemming imagines #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmo #Luke Hemmings smut #5sos #5sos imagine #5sos smut #5 seconds of summer #5 second of summer imagines #luke 5 seconds of summer #5sos 5 seconds of summer #ashton irwin #Calum hood #michael clifford #hemmo

[germgyuuu]

Flash mob | k.sy

shy dancer!kwon soonyoung x anxious!reader

genre: fluff, angst, strangers to friends au.

warnings!: certain sensitive topics, cuss words, anxiety issues, fat shaming, mentions of suicide, bullying, inhaler and pill use(?), if any other warnings please let me know.

word count: 8.6k+

In which, this random dancer in a flash mob you crashed unknowingly helps you overcome your fears and teaches you what it’s like to really be happy. 

A/n: I just wanted to let you know that I personally have never faced any of the issues mentioned here so I want to apologise in advance if in case this offends anyone for that was not my intention. This may not be exactly like how it works in real life but I just wanted to bring a bit of light on these topics that I’ve come across in my friend circle and just let people know that you’ll be okay and one day, either you will find someone to help you, or you yourself will overcome all this and become a stronger and better version of you. 

P.S- this is also my first time writing something like this so criticism is very much needed.

4 pm.

Sighing as you finally stretched, you placed the pencil in between the pages you were reading before shutting the book and placing it on the table. You glanced at the wall in front of you covered with paintings done from different shades of black and dark purple. You smile slightly as your paintings bring you a sense of calmness.

Pushing yourself up again the desk, you stood up straight, making your way downstairs to grab something to eat.

“It’s a Sunday. I can’t believe you’re studying. You really need to go outside, honey”, your mother smacks your arm as she hands you a plate of toasted bread. “At least for a walk, even if it’s just for ten minutes”. You groan as you take the plate while rubbing your arm.

You make your way to the living room peeking at your younger brother focused while playing something on his playstation.

Taking a seat, ready for your ten minute break before you had to go back to studying again, you grabbed the piece of toast but before you could take a bite, your phone began to ring. You glance at the phone screen that lit up with the caller ID, contemplating within whether or not to pick up. Knowing your best friend and the temper tantrums she put up, you eventually decided to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Y/n”

“Yeah?”

“Get ready”

“What?”

“I said get ready we’re going out”

“What? No”

“Yes. There’s a huge celebration going on downtown. We have to go”

“I’m not really interested”

“You never are if it’s doesn’t include something related to studying or painting”

You shrugged, not really caring enough to respond.

“Listen, I’m begging you. I’ve never forced you to go anywhere with me if you didn’t want to, but I really need you this time. Mom’s making me go with Kyla and her squad so that we could have some ‘sister bonding time’ but I honestly want nothing to do with that bitch-

Grimacing, you remembered your first encounter with Soobin’s step sister. You had never cried or hated yourself as much as you did that day for being so helpless and weak in front of her.

-but I have to do it for mum. I really need your support. You know how bad it gets for me to be alone with her. Please?”

You were a hundred percent ready to tell her no but the fragility and fear in her voice weakened your heart. You thought about it for a few seconds, neither of you speaking.

“Only for an hour”

“Yes, I promise. Oh my god, thank you!”, Soobin cried into the phone as you heard kissing noises. Slightly annoyed, you pull your phone away from your ear, completely ignoring your best friend.

“Okay, so I’ll pick you up in a half hour. I love you. Bye bye”, she laughed as she cut the call.

You sighed as you sunk deeper into the couch, feeling more annoyed that you actually had to get out of the house and that your toast had turned completely cold.

You handed the plate over to your brother, a human food dispenser, watching him gobble up the cold toast as if he hadn’t been fed for days.

“Good boy”, you patted his head as he smacked your hand away, his focus back on the game.

You made your way upstairs, freshened up and picked something to wear from your cupboard. Not really being in the mood to dress up for just staying out an hour, you threw on a pair of worn out jeans and a plain white T-shirt with a small tiger printed on one side of the chest.

The doorbell rang through the house and familiar voices could be heard downstairs followed by loud laughter. Giving yourself one last glance in the mirror, you grabbed your backpack as you wore your shoes while stepping down the stairs.

“Don’t do that. You’re going to trip and hurt yourself one day. Either wear it and walk or wait till you’re downstairs to wear”, your mom grunted as she sent glares towards you.

“But anyways, I’m just glad you’re finally taking a proper break. Have fun and genuinely enjoy it”, your mother squeezed your shoulders as she headed back into the kitchen, giving Soobin a small wave.

“Let’s go!”, Soobin grabbed you as she pulled you out towards the car.

“Home by 11”

“I’ll be back in an hour”, you shouted out to your mother before stepping into the car.

“Remind me why we’re doing this again?”

“Because my mom is getting married to that slug face’s father and she wishes that we spend some time together before the wedding. We both love my mom and want to see her happy and you love me more and want to see me more happy so you’re here to keep me company and support me”

“I swear to god, if you weren’t here, I probably would have already karate chopped her by now”

You chuckled as you watched your best friend bust out a few miserable attempts at karate poses.

“Oh my god. We’re in public. Could you behave more decently please? I have an image to maintain and I’m not going to let you idiots ruin it for me”

Soobin immediately stopped, clutching onto your arm, as she turned her head away from the devil girl that stood a few feet ahead of you with her minions friends laughing beside her.

They stared at you like you two were stinky pieces of trash thrown into a chamber of gold. Soobin huffed as she pulled you, walking past the girls that quickly jumped out of the way as if being touched by you would turn them into trash too. Ignoring them, you and Soobin looked through the stores that lined the streets.

You had to admit, maybe coming out her wasn’t too bad after all. The festival was grand. It covered almost the entire downtown area. The streets were lined with lights from top to bottom. Every inch of the stores were decorated and the purplish orange sky created a perfect contrast against the bright gold and red lights. You wished you could pause this moment. Just lie down right here in the middle of the road and stare up at the slightly starry lit sky. You wished you could make this place a reality within your mind. A place you could visit whenever you wanted to or needed to.

You were abruptly brought out of your thoughts when you felt someone push against you, causing you both to stumble to the ground. Surprised, you looked up only to see the person grabbing their things, mumbling out an almost inaudible sorry, not even glancing at you, before rushing again in the same direction.

How rude.

“Y/n, you okay?”, Soobin was at your side as she lifted you up and onto your feet. You dusted your palms before patting away the dust on your behind. You glanced up to notice that everyone around you was looking your way, at the commotion that had been caused and almost immediately you felt an overwhelming sensation to drop dead. Your palms become sweaty as you started to breath haphazardly. White light shined into your eyes and all you could hear was static as you felt your body go limp. Warning bells rang through your head as you saw only red. Your vision slowly started to blur as you felt your legs give way. Your mind felt disconnected from your body. Your body working as if it had a mind of its own.

Accessing the situation, Soobin immediately seated you on the chair of a store you were currently near. She blocked your vision as well as others vision of you. A few more people made their way towards you, worried and frantically trying to see if you were okay. She grabbed the inhaler she had for you in her bag, handing it to you before turning around towards the crowd.

“Everything’s okay. She’s alright. Sorry for the commotion. Please continue whatever you were doing. We’re all good here. Thank you”, she let out a panicked smile as she flung her arms around, desperate to get people’s attention away from you.

When the crowd finally began to disperse, she whipped her head around, her heart beat steadying a bit, watching you take deep breaths from the inhaler. She took out a water bottle placing it near your mouth, providing support for you to drink.

You gulped down the water. It felt like a flood against a decade of drought in your throat. You pushed your head away to take a few more deep breaths as you felt yourself calming down. Glancing at your best friend, you watched her smile, trying to hide the worry and fear behind her eyes. You held her hand, squeezing it softly as you gave her a genuine smile.

“I’m okay”

She dropped her head down at those words, her breathing so rough, you thought she was about to cry.

“Don’t scare me again like that, you bitch”, she smacked you softly over your head before helping you up once again. You laughed at her softly and she interlocked your arms together.

You began making your way down the streets, when you felt someone push past your shoulders.

Kyla glanced back over hers as she murmured loud enough for you to hear.

“Attention whore. What a fake”

You looked down as she and her friends giggled. Apparently this had gone unnoticed by Soobin so you glanced at her to find her typing away at her phone. You rolled your eyes as you realised she was probably texting your mom to inform her about the episode you just had. You chuckled randomly as she looked up at you.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to say thanks”

“Don’t. I’m your best friend it’s the least I could do”

“.... and here are your fries”, you smiled as you thanked the waiter for your food. You actually had a pretty decent time as you walked past a few stores, shopping for stuff along the way. Had it been only Soobin and you, you knew it would have been a memorable time but even still it was. Although you’d have preferred to not be insulted or ridiculed for every minute thing you did every two minutes.

You handed each person whatever they had ordered before taking your own. You unwrapped your burger as you held it, ready to take a bite.

“Ugh, I wouldn’t eat that if I were you. You’re already pretty fat. We don’t want you putting on more weight now, do we? You’re just making it harder for you to find someone to date”

“Shut up. You have no right to talk about her like that-“

Soobin’s voice was drowned out when suddenly people’s shouts could be heard from behind.

Temporarily forgetting about the conversation you guys were having, all of you turned your head towards the noise, when music started playing. It was one of your favourite songs. An unknowing smile embraced your face as you stretched your neck and body in all directions to catch a glimpse of what was going on outside of the restaurant. Upon noticing the huge crowd and movement, your eyes widened as you realised.

“A flash mob!”

With sparkling eyes, you nodded your head towards Soobin. Being mesmerised by it in movies and YouTube videos, you’ve always wanted to see one in real life. You had such love and admiration to those dancers who were just ready to dance anywhere and everywhere. To have the guts to dance in front of a bunch of random strangers who didn’t even ask to see you, to have such presence and confidence that you make anywhere your stage. To be able to perform so smoothly while still handling a whole crowd. As silly as it sounds, you’ve always wanted to be a part of one, to help make random unsuspecting people who were probably having a bad day feel happy in an instant but you knew you could never handle the attention of so many people on you, let alone the fact that you’ve never even danced in your entire life.

Upon noticing the huge crowd, your felt your anxiety rushing back a bit so you turned back around and focused on the food in front of you. Soobin noticed the way your eyes fell in an instant. She knew about your love for flash mobs when she was once forced to watch at least a few thirty of them straight when you had called her home for a sleepover. It was like a fairy tale to you, a happy place.

You quietly picked up your burger again as you took a bite. Kyla and her friends chuckled as they watched you. 

“What? Can’t handle that someone else is getting more attention. What a joke honestly”

“Such an attention seeker”

“As though anxiety is a real thing”

“Probably never even had a person look at you. Who would when you look like that?”

Soobin was about to speak up again when you banged your fits against the table, accidentally poking the fork into the side of your palm. You didn’t flinch as you pressed your nails into your arm. The sound deafening outside but seeming so soft against the silence of your table.

Obviously, a lot of the remarks hurt you. They hit you pretty hard and you had to try your best to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. You were always weak when it came to people speaking about your fears and anxiety attacks because you hadn’t chosen something like this, you were forced to be born with this, forced to deal with this everyday. People always insulted you for this. Bullied you so bad that you thought death could be a solution had it not been for your family and your best friend. All you’ve ever wanted and dreamed of. To have a friend group, to do silly and daring things with them, to go to parties and get drunk, to have a normal life. 

Was that too much to ask for?

But this time you had had enough. You were done letting others talk for you, protect you, take all the hits for you instead. You lifted your head sending glares to them as tears flowed down your cheeks freely. 

“Shut up”, You scream as loud as you could, somewhat glad that there were not many people in the restaurant. Everyone being too preoccupied with what was going on outside. 

“I’m strong!” You shout into their face as you grabbed the fork twisting it around in your palm and stabbing it into the table. You watched their eyes widen before taking off your backpack and placing it on the chair you were seated in a few seconds ago. You turned around stomping you way towards the doors of the restaurant, already regretting your decision. 

It’s too late to turn back now.

You paused at the handle of the door as you took a deep breath and pushed it aside, stepping into the crowd. Pushing past them you made your way to the front of the line. Your brain too fumbled up to understand and comprehend what your body was doing. 

Just do it. You can regret it later.

You took a few steps forward and were now in the smack middle of the back line of the flash mob. Few of the dancers gave you weird looks but you didn’t notice. You watched the line in front of you and tried to copy the moves they were doing. Key word being tried. 

Although failing miserably, you still continued. It took awhile but your brain finally snapped back to reality and you froze in place. It was a crowded street and you probably had thousands of eyes on you. The familiar feeling of someone’s hand around your throat came back to you as you saw red. You stood there helplessly, ready to drop to your knees, regretting this whole decision and just wanting to go back home and lie down in the comfort and privacy of your bed, away from all the privy eyes. 

You gulped as you felt yourself lose consciousness but you snapped back to reality in an instant when you heard laughter from beside you. You glanced behind you and saw a boy with slightly reddish-brown hair point at you while dancing and laugh at you.

“So cute”, he cheered out as he attempted to re-enact the way you tried to wiggle your hips. Laughing at himself at the cute attempt he made, he clapped his hands, temporarily forgetting about the flash mob. Unknowingly, a small blush had creeped up your cheeks as you watched the guy wiggle his butt at you. You laughed at him, immediately covering your mouth as though it were a sin. 

The people in the flashmob began to change their formations and the guy grabbed your arm pulling you along with him through the flashmob as he jumped to a stop on reaching his position in the most endearing way possible. You beamed at his adorableness as he made you stand next to him and showed you the moves. You hesitantly raised your arms and began coping everything that he did. 

You laughed along with him when you did a silly move or when he’d purposely be extra just to earn a laugh from you. You felt bad for ruining their flash mob but you needed this. You were allowed to be selfish this once but also made a mental note to apologize to everyone here once they were done. 

You had never genuinely enjoyed like this before. You knew you had a lot more eyes on you, laughing at you because you were messing up everything. But for once you genuinely didn’t care. You actually liked that you were able to make people laugh. Occasionally, the feeling of the attack would pass through your body but it would be immediately wiped away by the man next you. Both of you dancing like it was your own world. Your focus on him and his focus on you. Like it was just you two dancing together. 

Towards the ending you finally stepped away from the flash mob, having enough of ruining their hard work. The guy looked at you confused before realising and sending you a pout face. You chuckled at him as you stepped into the crowd and grooved a bit as an encouragement to him. He smiled at you as he continued with his dance. His eyes on you the whole time, a show he put up only for you. You focused only on him and before you knew it, the flash mob came to an end and the whole crowd erupted into cheers. 

Surprised, you glanced back at the crowd for a second before looking back at the dancers who were all gathered in a line and were bowing. You searched for the guy but you couldn’t find him anywhere. Realizing the situation, your heart beat sped up so you rushed to find your best friend. Pushing through the crowd you finally found Soobin making her way towards you. She pulled you into a hug. Her face showing pure shock. You pulled away from her as you gasped breathlessly.

“Inhaler”

She frantically searched through her bag as she grabbed the inhaler and placed it near your mouth, pulling you back into the restaurant. Kyla and her friends just laughed at you as they took their leave. You sat down taking deeper breaths. Soobin just stared at you trying to make sure what just happened wasn’t a dream. 

“Did you just-”

“Yeah, apparently”

“Okay, so that just happened. Are you alright?”

“Yeah I think so”

You felt a huge flick to my forehead as you held it and groaned in pain.

“Are you mad? How could you do something like that? Even if it was to prove a point. You need to be more careful, y/n. You should have at least pulled me in with you”, she sighed as she rubbed her temples.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”, you nodded.

“I’m mad at you but at the same time I’m so proud of you”, she clapped her hands as she gave me a tight hug. I laughed as I hugged her back.

“Oh, I need to go apologize to the flash mob dancers before they leave”, you turned around to watch the slowly dispersing crowd. You actually wanted to see the guy again and thank him. So you walked back to the street. Your eyes glancing at everyone to find a mop of reddish-brown hair. You were disappointed when you couldn’t find him among the crowd of the dancers who were packing up their speakers but still smiled and apologised to them while they waved you off saying that they were actually glad you joined. You didn’t really pay much attention to them, trying to calm yourself by gripping onto your bag while all their eyes were on you, as you continue your search for the guy through the crowd.

“Um, by any chance do you know where the guy with the reddish-brown hair went?”, you asked one of the dancers. They looked at you confused before you shook your head and waved at them.

“Never mind. Good bye. Have a nice day”, you smiled, heading towards Soobin as she gave you a sly one.

“Searching for a guy, huh?”, you rolled your eyes at her.

“I just wanted to thank him”, you sighed glancing around one last time before finally giving up and taking your backpack from Soobin. Tired and feeling a bit off mood all of a sudden, you asked Soobin if you could go back home to which she readily agreed, worried the effects of today's miracle would take place sooner or later.

You began walking towards the exit of the street when someone grabbed your arm softly, stopping you while they stood in front of you.

“Hi”

“Hi”, you blushed a bit at the guy that had his hand on his chest panting for breath.

“I saw....you.....leaving.....searching....talk....you”, he spoke between breaths. You smiled at him, handing him the water bottle as he thanked you before gulping it down. Once his breath steadied he turned towards you and smiled.

“Hi, my name is Kwon Soonyoung. You can call me Hoshi”, he stretched his arm as you did yours, making contact.

“I’m y/n, it’s nice to meet you”

He squeezed your hand a bit and you flinched. He glanced down at your palm.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to squeeze- oh my god, you’re bleeding”

You were bleeding, it was all dried up blood from the little dramatic moment you had at the restaurant. He pulled your palm to his face to examine it when Soobin produced a medical kit from her bag.

Hoshi looked at her in confusion.

“You carry a medical kit in your bag?”

You and Soobin glanced at each other before looking back at Hoshi.

“I just like to be prepared”, she smiled as she took out the antiseptic, cotton pads and a bandage. Hoshi pulled you to a table nearby, never letting go of your palm, placing it on the table so delicately like it were glass. You chuckled at him slightly as he looked up at you with an innocent look.

Soobin groaned as she glanced at the missed calls and text messages from her mother. She showed the screen to you and you could only give her a look of pity. 

“That bitch Kyla, I swear to god”, she pressed the bridge of her nose before standing up from the table you guys were at.

It had been almost an hour since Soobin bandaged your arm and she, Hoshi and you had decided to have a little chat under the lights while sipping on some iced tea.

“Well Hoshi, it was really nice meeting you but I think it’s time for us to go now”, Soobin gave him a soft smile as she watched both yours and his face frown slightly. She sighed as she mentally contemplated within herself.

Ah fuck it.

“Actually, I need to go. But I’m sure y/n can stay for some more time. Her mom said she only needs to be back by 11”, Soobin smiled at the two of you as she packed up her stuff into her bag. Completely shocked, you grabbed her wrist and dragged her to another corner of the street, a few feet away from Hoshi.

“Excuse me for a second”, he nodded softly.

“What the hell?”

“What?”

“What do you mean what? You can’t just leave me here alone”

“I’m not leaving you here alone. I’m leaving you here with someone”

“A guy”

“A decent guy who I think is definitely trustable. Plus he looks so harmless. You could probably karate chop him if he does something wrong”

“Will you quit it with the karate chopping?”

“Look, I’ve always been worried about you I’ve always tried to be by your side any time you step out of the house-“

“Because of you”

“Shut up, I’m talking. As I was saying, it’s time for you to be a grown up. You can’t keep having your mom or I run around behind you, scared of every step you take. I’ve seen what he does to you. You felt so at peace while dancing with him. Maybe it’s time to let someone else into your life, you know?”

“But I-“

“Y/n you need this. I’m not forcing you. It’s your choice. If you want we can go back home right now. But I would really rather than you try this out at least. I really like him and I think he genuinely is a good guy”

You thought about it for a while. You could go back home and get onto your bed and sleep. Or you could stay here and possibly get murdered.

“I’ll stay”

“Good. You have everything you need, right?”

You nodded as you checked your bag for your phone, keys, inhaler and water bottle. Soobin slipped you a pepper spray and a pocket knife as you raised an eyebrow at her.

“Just in case, you know”, she winked as you walked back to Hoshi.

She waved you both goodbye and you both watched her until she turned around a corner and completely disappeared.

“Soooo”, you stiffened at his voice, slowly turning around to look at him, an awkward tension filling the air.

You shuffled your feet while glancing down at your shoes. Not daring to make eye contact. The two of you were silent for a while before he decided to finally speak up.

“Do you want to, um, maybe walk around and, uh, look at stuff, I guess?”

He smiled as you nodded.

“Yeah, that seems fun”

He shook his head as he fell in line with you and you both began walking, no destination in particular. It was quite awkward for none of you knew what to speak about. You’d get so tensed every time his arm would brush against yours, or you had to push up close against him because it was too crowded.

“You seem like a really good dancer”, he broke the tension and finally started a conversation.

“You’re kidding, right? I have literally never danced in my entire life and I know it was terrible. You even made fun of me for it”

He scratched his head as his cheeks turned a tinge of pink.

“I didn’t make fun of you for it. I just thought you looked pretty cute doing it like that”, he spoke with a pout, thinking you took him in a wrong way and actually felt bad. You heart felt giddy listening to him.

“It’s okay. I was just joking”, you laughed at him as he smiled back.

“Wait. So you’ve never danced and still decided to randomly jump into a flash mob?”

You shrugged your shoulders, not really in the mood to explain today’s happenings.

“Ah, so you’re a daredevil”

You snorted at him as you lightly hit his chest.

“Daredevil? I just randomly joined a flash mob. It’s not like I jumped off a cliff. And trust I’m not a daredevil”

“Same thing. It takes just as much guts to do it”

“Oh by the way, I never really got to apologize to you for ruining what was probably loads of practice, like that”, you bent your head feeling very embarrassed in front of him.

He put his hands on your shoulder and you lifted our head. Your faces were centimetres away from each other and you saw him hesitate, feeling flustered at the distance. None of you backing away until a small kid crashed his plane on the side of his head.

He yelped as he fell to the ground. Rubbing the side of the head that was hit.

“Are you okay?”, you exclaimed as you kneeled down.

“Sorry, uncle”, the kid laughed as he took the plane and started running away.

“Uncle?”, Hoshi exclaimed. He immediately stood up like there was nothing wrong with him and pointed at the kid, shouting at him.

“Do I look like an uncle to you? Hey, I’m only 24 years old you know!” He screamed at the kid and you watched him in shock.

He glanced back at your shocked face and knew he messed up.

“I like kids”, he simply stated and you laughed at him, handing him the water bottle, as you turned his face to look at the bruise that was forming. From where did you manage to summon these guts to even touch him, you don’t know but for some weird reason, it felt normal to you. An everyday thing.

“Sure”, you huffed as you observed the bruise.

“There’s a slight bruise forming. It doesn’t look too bad. Just ice it and it’ll go in probably a day or two”, you nodded as your eyes turned to him. He was staring at you and you felt your face flush. You immediately backed away from him.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have touched you like that”

“No it’s okay you were just-“

He was interrupted by a low growling sound that erupted from his stomach. You watched him with wide eyes, wrapping his arms to cover his stomach as though it would hide the sounds.

“Do you maybe wanna get something to eat?”

“Yes please, I would like that”

“You’re going to choke”, you laughed at Hoshi as he gobbled up all the ramen that was placed on the table just seconds ago. He grunted, rubbing his palm on his tummy.

“You’re starving, I get it, but that doesn’t mean you choke yourself to death”, you roll your eyes as you handed him a tissue and poured a glass of water pushing it towards him. He drank a bit of the water, helping him easy down the masticated food. You grabbed your plate and poured some noodles into it, taking your peaceful time as you ate.

“There’s supposed to be a firework show and a campfire later in the evening. I was supposed to watch it with my friends but I kind of ditched them last minute. Would you want to watch it with me?”, you looked up at him, thinking about it. You’ve never watched fireworks before. At least not in real life. They’ve always seemed so surreal to you.

You nodded as you drank the soup in the bowl, “Sure, I’d love to. I haven’t really seen fireworks in real life or ever had a campfire”

He looked at you surprised.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’ve always just seen them on television. I’m not an outdoor person, and I don’t really like loud noises or crowded rooms or physical activity. I like isolation a lot. More like I’ve grown up in isolation a lot, so I’ve found peace in it and it’s my comfort zone. So I haven’t experienced a lot of these things, but I really would want to. I always keep imaging how s’mores would taste like. I’ve never had marshmallows either. Are they soft? I’ve heard they taste sticky but-“

You drone on and on. Not even realising that this was probably the longest you’ve ever spoken. Hoshi just watched you, your lips. A small blush creeping up his face when he glanced at them. They looked so soft and pretty, bright pink from the spicy noodles you just had, so perfect like they would fit so snug with his. He paid attention to everything you said as he sat and listened to your voice, it felt like silk against his ears, sending goosebumps through him. He loved the way your face lit up as you spoke, watching your cute little hands make all these movements to exaggerate your words. You seemed like a dream to him. Hopefully a dream come true.

You finished speaking as you finally glanced at Hoshi. He was leaning towards you, his elbow propped on the bench, his cheek pressed against his palm and a goofy smile adorning his face. You unconsciously smile at him and he suddenly reaches out to boop your nose.

“Adorable”, he cried out as he giggled, continuing to eat whatever was left over. You sat there shocked as you watched him eat. Your heartbeat racing in your chest. You pressed a palm against it, trying to calm it out. You felt your face heat up and you excused yourself to the washroom.

You stepped in and immediately rushed towards the basin. You glanced up in the mirror and saw that your face was a bright pink shade. You felt your cheeks and they were extremely warm against your cool palms. You collected some water before splashing it on your face continuously, to cool yourself down. 

You groaned in frustration as you leaned against the empty wall beside the basin, slowly sliding down and wrapping your arms around your knees. You softly banged the back of your head continuously against the wall as you let your insecure thoughts overcome you. 

This can’t be happening. I cannot be catching feelings for a guy I just met. I need to stay away from him. I am a pain to be around. He’s probably hanging out with me out of pity because my best friend had to go. I don’t want to get attached to him. I’m a mess. He shouldn’t have to be friends with me, even if he likes to hang out with me. I need to stop whatever is going on now. I should have just stayed home.

You groaned louder as you slowly started feeling anxious, placing your forehead against your knees. 

“I have to leave”, you said out loud to no one in particular.

I could just sneak my way out of here and leave him a text once i’m home. Wait, I don’t have his number. Maybe if I slip a note to the waitress and ask her to hand it to him? Yeah, that should work. Or would that be considered rude? The fact that I could write him a note but couldn’t just personally tell him? Why don’t I just tell him? No, I could never lie to him. I should call Soobin and ask her.

You groaned as you felt your head hurt a bit, making you feel dizzy.

“Hey, are you okay?”, you suddenly looked up, causing your head to hurt more and you let out a cry.

The person rushed towards you as she dampened one end of her dress and slightly pressed it against your burning face. She yelled something to someone, your vision slightly blurry as you felt your eyes get teary. You took a few deep breaths, just like your mom taught you and within a few seconds, your vision came back to normal but your head still kept hurting a little. 

“I’m fine, thank you”, you smiled at the lady as you attempted to stand up, the woman helping you. 

“Are you sure?”, she asked.

“Yes, I’ve been out in the sun the whole day, so I just felt a bit faint”, you lied to her.

“I think you should go to a doctor”

“No, it’s alright. I’ll be fine in a while. Happens often”, you smiled at her as you splashed some water on your face. Suddenly, the door to the washroom burst open. Shocked, you glanced through the mirror at the door behind you. 

“Y/n!”, a frightened and worried Hoshi ran towards you, his eyes wide, his cheeks puffy and mouth still filled with food. The sight of him seemed so funny to you and you unknowingly let out a loud laugh. Hoshi just stared at you, eyes wide before he looked at you through the mirror and then himself. He choked a bit, making you laugh louder, turning away from you, chewing his food and swallowing it as quickly as possible. He turned back around to you.

“Glad that me choking to death could entertain you”, he huffed fake angry as he placed his arms on his waist. 

“I rushed in worried that you fainted or something and here you are laughing at me almost dying”, he shook his head disappointed as he crossed his arm. 

You laughed at him completely forgetting about the situation. 

The person who had helped you previously laughed as she patted your shoulder. 

“I’m glad you’re alright now”, she smiled at you, leaning in towards you. 

“Your boyfriend seems like a great guy. I can see how happy he makes you. He’s a good one. Don’t let him go”, she winked at you before walking away. Hoshi grabbed your arm, looking concerned.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just felt a bit dizzy, probably cause I forgot to take my pills”, you accidently said out loud. You glanced at him hoping he didn’t notice but he did. You prayed he wouldn’t ask you more about it. 

He took a deep breath, turning towards you with a soft smile.

“Do you have your pills with you right now?”, you looked at him slightly confused. He stared at you, expecting an answer. You nodded your head still staring at him confused.

“Okay. Is it in your bag?”, he asked you. You nodded.

“Do you want me to get it for you?”

“It’s alright, I need some fresh air too”

He nodded his head as you both walked side by side, his arms still holding yours even though you were already feeling better. You glanced at his arm around yours and you felt goosebumps creep up your skin, a shiver running down your body. Hoshi noticed as he glanced at you.

“Are you feeling cold? I could give you my jacket”

“It’s pretty warm actually, thanks”

“Oh, I could help you take off your shirt then”

You narrowed your eyes as you turned to him, a sly smirk on his face as he gave you a pointed look. You rolled your eyes as you smacked his arm hard.

“Ouch”, he yelped holding his arm as you smiled, walking towards the bench you two were previously eating on. You sat down, rummaging through your bag and Hoshi took a seat in front of you a while later. You looked at him. He had gotten you a bottle of juice. You thanked him as you took your pills out of the packet and gulped them down with the help of the juice. Seven of them. Hoshi stared at you, confusion, shock and curiosity scribbled in red ink across his face as he watched your every move. Whether he figured from your expression previously or not, you could see he was dying to know but he still chose to keep quiet.

He smiled at you once you packed everything in. 

“You ready to head back home?”

“No”, your heart spoke before your brain could. He looked up at you from where he was throwing the trash in the bin.

“What?”

You mentally slapped your mouth, slightly mad that you lost an opportunity to head back home. But more glad that you could still have more time with him. 

“I kinda want to watch the fireworks. But if you need to head home then that’s okay too”, you looked towards him, your heart praying that he’d say no, slightly afraid that he’d give an excuse and take the opportunity to leave especially after all that happened ten minutes back.

“I want to watch the fireworks too”, he smiled at you as he dumped the last of the trash, he bowed forward, stretching his palm out to you. 

“I would love to accompany you, madame”, he tipped his fake hat forward. Playing along, you pretended to pick up your skirt, grunting and making very unwomanly positions as he glanced at you confused. You grinned at him.

“Sorry, this shit’s heavy”, he laughed out loud as he pretended to help you pick up the dress too. 

“Ah why thank you, noble sir. For your kind deed I shall accompany you”, you posed elegantly as Hoshi laughed again. You both laughed and made fun of each other’s cringy lines. Interlinking your arms together, you made your way towards where the fireworks were to be held.

“You two are such a cute couple. Would you like me to take a picture?”, you glanced at the man holding a polaroid camera in front of you.

“Um we’re not-”

“Sure”, Hoshi interrupted you as he pulled you towards the pier. Taking a spot in front the lake that currently had lanterns floating over it. Hoshi paid the guy as he glanced at you. He took off his denim jacket, handing it over to the guy as he walked back to you.

“Is it okay if I put my arms on your shoulder?”

You glanced at him as you nodded. He put his arms across your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. You hesitated a bit, scared he would feel the racing heartbeat that vibrated through your body. When you both settled, ready to take the picture, you felt your heart calm down and you felt so comfortable, almost tipsy. Taking a risk, you laid your head on his shoulder as you felt him stiffen before he immediately relaxed and placed his head on top of yours. A small smile playing on both of your faces.

You saw a flash and heard the buzzing sound of a camera. A flash like that would have immediately brought upon a panic attack but you felt so at home in his arms that you let your mind only focus on his touch. 

“I love your matching shirts, they’re charming”

You both glanced at each other’s shirt, noticing the little tiger on the side. You looked up at each other, shook, before you both burst out laughing.

“How did we not notice this before?”, you let out through breaths as Hoshi had his hands on his knees. You felt the flash go off as you heard the camera buzz again. The two of you immediately stopped as the camera guy handed Hoshi’s jacket and the two polaroids he clicked, to you. 

“The second one is on me”, he giggled before walking away from the two of you. 

You glanced down at the already forming pictures on the film. Hoshi and you patiently watched as the images darkened slowly. A similar bright smile forming on your faces. The first picture wanted to make you smile, you looked like a set, like you belonged to be in those arms of his, that they were meant especially for you and the second one made you cry, you could not believe that it was you. You had always imagined the day when you’d smile so carefree and seeing yourself like this in the picture was a dream come true. 

Hoshi watched as your eyes turned glossy. He patted your head softly, pulling you closer so that you could put your head on his shoulder. You did so, turning your face inwards to block anyone from seeing your tear stained face. 

After a lot of tissues and probably three water bottles later, you calmed yourself down as Hoshi giggled at your pink tinted face. You heard an announcement that the fireworks would start soon, so you both made your way to find a seat near the campfire. Finding one that was at a perfect distance from the campfire and was pretty empty considering the huge crowd that had gathered there.

“Take a seat I’ll be right there”, you watched as he walked away, taking a seat at the spot. You felt very lonely without him. It had only been a few hours since you’ve been with Hoshi but as soon as he was gone, you missed him already, feeling like you’ve been with him forever and he was suddenly ripped away from you. 

You sighed staring straight ahead at the campfire, feeling comfortable against its warmth. You stretched your palms out as an attempt to get a real feel of the campfire. It was a huge one, probably three feet high. Although it looked nothing like how a real one would look like, you found yourself imagining you and Hoshi at one, with tents sent up and cooking s’mores over the fire as you’d take turns trying to scare each other with stories. 

Just as you imagined, the image of s’mores had entered your eyesight. You looked up at Hoshi as he stretched it out to you. You thanked him as you took it, feeling happy that you could finally try one. You watched as Hoshi took a bite of his, moaning slightly at how good it tasted. You saw him lick his lips, your heart fluttering slightly at the sight and sounds he made. You glanced back at your own one, taking a bite of it. Your eyes wide as you looked back at Hoshi. 

“These are so good!”, Hoshi laughed as he watched your eyes light up. You watched him, as you saw his smile fade slightly at something behind you. You turned around and saw a bunch of guys taking a seat right beside you. They saw you, a few of them giving you a smile, waving at you and some even winking at you.

Feeling slightly anxious and uncomfortable, you gave them an awkward smile before turning around and scooching slightly closer to Hoshi. He let out a grunt as he stood up and walked to sit on the other side of you. His thighs touching yours. He shot a glare at the guys before looking back at you with a sweet smile. You looked at him confused and he shook his head.

“I like sitting on the right side”

You nod your head in understanding, surprised that people have such preferences too. You were about to say something when there was suddenly an announcement stating that there was a slight delay but the fireworks would start soon. 

Groaning you leaned back a bit with your palms pressing into the ground, raising your head to the sky.

A playback of everything that had happened today ran through your mind as Hoshi watched you in silence. A single tear slipped your eyes as Hoshi looked at you worried but did not want to intervene. You realized you owed him an explanation for so many things. So you took a deep breath ready to start explaining everything to him from the start, even though you could already feel it pain you to talk about. You completely turned your seated body towards him as he did the same to show you that all his attention was on you. By the look in your eyes, Hoshi figured out what was going on. 

“I-”

“You don’t have to”, you looked up at him. 

“I meant you don’t have to explain anything to me. I do need to know and I will be ready to listen when you feel like telling me about everything. I don’t want to know just because you feel like you owe me that. I don’t care if it takes forever for you to tell me because I’m willing to wait. This is the most fun I’ve had in years and you’re the only woman outside my family whom I’ve ever spent so long with” he scratched the back of his head, “I genuinely like spending time with you and I would really want to get to know you better. Whatever it may be, I will be there for you. I want to stay by your side and be with you. Even as just somebody you know”

You gazed at him as tears slightly filled your eyes, not knowing what to say, you just turned towards the front when bright lights clouded your vision. 

Fireworks.

You beamed as you watched the sky light up. The beauty it held while watching it in real life was nothing compared to what they showed in the videos. It looked like glitter splattered on the night sky. For some odd reason, it felt like you were watching Hoshi and your interactions throughout the day. Like how anytime he was around, you felt a splash of colour was added to your black canvas. Your eyes were focused on the colourful lights, but you could feel his eyes on you instead. You turned to look at him and your eyes made contact, staring into each other. You took this time to really observe his features that were lit by the fire, the colour of his eyes, the curve of his nose, the shape of his lips, the pink tint on his puffy cheeks.

Your eyes fell to his hands as you slowly traced your finger on his palm before looking back up at him.

“Thank you”, you mumbled out softly as he shot you the brightest teeth smile he could muster before taking your hand in his and interlocking your fingers as you slowly leaned on him. 

Just the two of you watching as he slowly colours up your life.

a/n: I kinda got the idea for the flashmob from the neocities prompt generator so credits to them. The rest is purely my work. And just a huge thanks to hoshi for existing because he’s always been the bright light helping me and keeping me happy during my darkest and toughest times. horanghae <3

#seventeen #svt #svthoshi #seventeenhoshi #kwonsoonyoung #hoshi #performance team #fluff #ansgt #anxiety #bullying #flashmob #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #hoshi imagines #hoshi scenarios #fireworks #dance #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #hoshi fluff #soft hours #hoshi soft hours

[whatwashernameagain]

Keep him safe - Chapter 34

You can read the previous Chapters here: Ch 1, Ch 5, Ch 10, Ch 15, Ch 20, Ch 25, Ch 30, previous chapter, Ao3 Link, Lo’s, Pat’s and Virgil’s aesthetics, You are Magical, I’m dying to be with you, The Dreamer

Pairings: Logan/Patton, Roman/Virgil

Words: 9.007

Warnings: Roman and Virgil’s horny thoughts (not explicit), slight mention of cross dressing, scratches, political criticism, cursing – let me know if I forgot one!                 

Summary: Detective  Logan Sanders and his best friend and dorky partner Roman Prince have  made a dear friend in the lovely pattisier Patton. Logan however, feels a  lot more than friendship for the sweet man, even though he knows he  cannot possibly have him. Their routine is broken abruptly when Logan  finds bruises on Patton’s fair skin and slender wrists he could hardly  have received from his costumary clumsiness.   Meanwhile his partner  Roman has his own demon to fight, which comes in the form of a little  delinquent who seemed to have been pulled into a street gang quite  against his will. Roman is determined to help the strange young man. It  would be so much easier though if he just stopped hissing at him!

Notes: Thanks to @sebthesnipe​ for proof reading even though she is the busiest person in the world and to @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2​ for being amazing and running the KHS Discord server for two amazing years now.

Chapter 34

“Hey asshole, pick your shit up! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Virgil screeched at the unsuspecting dog walker from his spot at the front door of their apartment building, already seething with anger. He’d just gotten back from his early morning training at Talyn’s place and had been looking forward to finishing it with Logan, who was currently on his run. And now this dirtbag was getting all up in this shit – or… Virgil was getting up in the dude’s shit. Well sue him!

The man startled, looking down at the cigarette butt he’d tossed to the ground carelessly.

“What’s wrong with me? You can’t just call me an asshole over nothing! Who do you think you are? Where I throw my fags is none of your business.”

Oh, that had been a mistake.

Virgil abandoned his attempt to unlock the door and got right into the man’s face, ignoring the bulldog happily yaping around his heels. He was so ready for this.

“Over NoThInG? Listen up, you hollow walnut!”

Before he could start ranting properly, a familiar tall man wearing a band tee with a ripped collar, no shoes and wild eyes materialized next to him.

“Oohh yay, are we throwing away our stuff???” He cheered, immediately emptying his pockets and throwing everything on the ground with glee. Bloody tissues, clothespins, a folding knife, crumbling dog treats (immediately slobbered away by enthusiastic dog) and a worn, tiny bible. Papers immediately started spilling out of it – some filled with scribbled thoughts or to do lists, others with faded printouts. In his back pockets he found a bunch of candy wrappers he immediately threw up to rain around himself, unintentionally tossing a pocket Quran along with it which he hastily fumbled with so not to drop it.

Virgil ducked out of the radius of his debris, as usual weirded out and awed in equal parts by professor Duke. The dog-walker looked at him like he’d just bitten off his own foot.

“The hell? Fags aren’t the same as your garbage, you crazy freak!” The man exclaimed, thoroughly disturbed.

“No, dude. They’re much worse!” Virgil growled, ignoring Remus trying to free his fingers from a distressed looking worm on a string he’d gotten tangled in. Quite a few people had stopped to watch them, yet with the professor cheerfully making a scene next to him, Virgil managed to keep his head high despite the heat and anxiety making his heart race.

“Cigarette butts contain over 4000 toxic substances and are virtually indestructible.” The young delinquent hissed. “The filters are made of a plastic called cellulose acetate and they take 10 years to decompose completely- just one of those fucks poisons one cubic meter of water and kills all the fucking fish in it.”

“You should pick it up, friend. Before I get ideas about where to put it out.” Remus cooed sweetly, before ruining the elegant subtly of his threat by becoming way too graphic.

“In your face!” He screeched, flailing grandly and wiggling his fingers, the bulldog distracting him by nosing at his pockets, hoping for more treats. Its owner used the chance to sullenly grab his cigarette stub and get away.

“You shouldn’t have a doggy-dog if you can’t handle being a clean boy!” Remus hollered after him, way too loud and shameless. “Do you not wipe your ass after you take a shit either? You naughty, dirty boy? Is it a sex thing? That is the one sex thing you keep in your bedroom!”

Virgil was blushing thoroughly, not enjoying the attention despite the righteous fire still fueling his anger. What the fuck was wrong with people throwing their garbage on the ground? What were they thinking? Not only did somebody else have to pick it up, it also fell apart to become microplastic and the nicotine, tar and heavy metals – all 4.5 trillion of them that were thrown away each year. Fuck smokers who did that! They were what was wrong with the word! Seriously, could you be any more of a useless human if they were not even able to throw their trash away properly? Full offense, Virgil wanted to kick them in the face.

People were staring and murmuring around them and though he didn’t feel bad about his reaction, his heart was still in his throat at all the attention.

“What? Are you not entertained enough, you mindless sheep?” Remus roared brightly, spreading his arms and bouncing up and down on his toes, placing himself in front of the younger man. “Would you like me to sing you a song about the misfortunes of little Jimmy who doesn’t pick up his litter? Spoilers – he gets eaten by an octoshaaaark!”

He struck a dramatic pose and drew a deep breath. People started fleeing.

“Aw dang.” Remus pouted.

Virgil chuckled, feeling surprising affection well up in him. Remus was scary, yeah, definitely, but he was also an ally to his cause, and that meant a lot to him.

Crouching down and using the opportunity to let his hair fall over his face, he started picking up the non-bloody articles Logan’s neighbor had scattered on the ground.

“Why do you have a bible and a copy of the constitution?” He asked, trying to shake the paper from his fingers and finding it disconcertingly sticky. Was that a cough drop? Ugh, he’d have to disinfect his whole body.

“For arguments with conservatives!” Remus answered happily. “I like slapping them in the face with the dick that is my arguments every time they go all bibly-christiany on me! They don’t love the fact that Jesus was a sandal wearing liberal that much – a lot like I am, actually! Not that facts work well with them – I found that barking and bending over backwards with your tongue lolling out works best. Makes an impression!”

He’d settled down next to Virgil cross-legged, bouncing his knees, and started munching on the dry little cookie thingies the bulldog had missed. “Dog treat?” He asked generously, holding one out.

“Why?” Virgil asked, completely bewildered. They were, indeed, little bone shaped dog treats.

“I like the way they crunch!”

“…okay.”  

Virgil still tried to make sense of the interaction he was currently having and found that using facts was indeed a lost cause with many republicans – which in this case was a generous euphemism for racists and Nazis, so one could just as well try what the crazy man did. Not everyone deserved to have a stage, after all.

Quietly, he examined the other. The ripped T-shirt made the wide collar slip down one of his skinny shoulders and the jeans he wore had definitely seen better days. His dark skin didn’t do much to hide the bluish shadows under his eyes. And also his naked, dirty feet were disgusting.

Dumping the stuff he’d picked up into the professor’s lap, he stood up. “Take a shower and come up at twelve, I’m making veggie burgers.”

There would be so much complaining once Roman found out he’d invited Remus.

***

Logan ran a hand through his sweaty hair, pulling the damp, raven locks out of his face. His muscles were burning pleasantly from his run and he was looking forward to his post workout stretch with Virgil. It would be illogical not to use the knowledge of an experienced gymnast for advice, after all. Though his little delinquent was still shy about it, the detective found he appeared to enjoy exercising together, as long as they were doing it in the safety of Virgil’s room where he could comfortably hide in his oversized sweaters.

His thoughts amusedly circled back to the way Virgil had to shake his hands free from his overly long sleeves whenever he reached for his feet while he fumbled his keys free from the little pocket sewn into his close-fitting trousers. As usual, Logan fetched the mail on his way up, sighing as a stack of colorful envelopes fell into his hands. Glitter rained down from one of them. With more gentleness than he felt inclined to, he beat the stack of bulging papers against the side of the building to loosen the shimmering plastic particles. Did this action constitute a case of littering, he wondered. He resolved to bring down his vacuum cleaner to deal with the mess after his shower.

On his way up, the detective separated the pile into his and Roman’s mail, ending up with sensibly sized, white envelopes in one hand, and a bunch of offensively colored, suspiciously rattling, sticker covered, perfumed fan mail his partner was greedily waiting for. He kicked the professor’s apartment door closed as he passed it, satisfied to hear him mumbling over the running shower in the also open bathroom.  

Roman was already lurking in the opened door to Logan’s own apartment like a silk-clad dragon looking to expand his hoard, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. Logan rolled his eyes. Despite having received letters for a week already, he was still overly enthusiastic about them every day. And he still refused to get them himself, instead he let Logan hand them to him exasperatedly like some strange ceremony.

The young detective snatched the pile eagerly, pouting as Logan held back two of them, not liking the powdery, sandy sound they were making when he tilted them. It was likely more beads or glitter, yet they still went into the box by the door to be checked in the lab (as they all should). He had ordered the post office whose address the fan-mail was sent to, to be extra vigilant before delivering the mail to his apartment, but he would most certainly not put the safety of his family at risk. He wondered, once again, whether he ought to borrow a service dog to check the mail for – preferably the rest of their lives actually.

“Look, Patton fairest, what the wind has blown in!” Roman sang cheerfully, twirling around the baker gracefully and then taking him for a spin and dip.

Patton giggled, stumbling and holding on to the tall detective, getting his lovely curls all tangled up in the frame of his glasses.

Smiling contently, Logan slunk into Virgil’s room to engage in what he hoped to turn into a routine. The young man was already waiting for him – playing on his phone curled up on the dresser between the planet lights he had kept, hair curling slightly with dampness from his private routine in Talyn’s gym he was slowly taking up again.

Meanwhile, Roman flopped onto the couch and yanked Patton into his arms enthusiastically, wanting to share his happiness and also maybe trying to distract him a little bit from his preparations for his return to the café. He wanted to support his friend, he really did, but he couldn’t help trying to put off unpleasant tasks for as long as possible instead of facing them. It was an issue he’d always had – one that had driven Logan half-crazy before he’d started to deal with many of those tasks himself and handed over others to Roman instead. They were making it work.

Roman didn’t actually have to do anything for the café, but the plan to reopen it, no matter how much Patton needed it, still made him antsy. Trevor-the-villainous-fiend could be lurking there. Who knew what could happen? After all, they had neatly avoided any contact, despite how often he had secretly talked the little baker out of calling him in the night when he’d been frightened and guilty. Which had been a lot of times. Better not tell Logan about that.

Well, distracting himself until the problem went away or got horribly unavoidable was a strategy that had gotten him through life just fine (now that he had Logan to read his paperworky-mail which he had an almost insurmountable aversion against dealing with), so he cuddled the baker close and settled in for some pleasant distractions.

Patton probably knew what he was doing, considering the way he pushed their cheeks together and hummed sweetly. Ugh, Roman felt so loved, it was too much for words. He squeezed Patton’s little body at his side closer to himself, just needing to hold on so suddenly. He loved him so much his heart was pounding with it. Feeling giddy with it, Roman jiggled and rocked them happily, delighting in the laugh he elicited.

“Alrighty, my most precious Patton, shall we discover the adoration of my beloved fans together?” The young man cheered, bright with eagerness.

“Yes! Now that I’m enveloped in a hug letters begin!”

Pulling his legs close to curl comfortably into Roman’s hug, and lean against his warm, broad chest, Patton selected the first envelope – a loudly patterned lilac one. Roman ripped it open with childish pleasure.

“Ohhhhhhhh!” He cooed, the sound almost too high for a man this large. “Isn’t this the most delightful thing you have ever seen, my fairest friend?!”

He was unfolding a drawing of himself in full superhero regalia, cape and sash and all, clearly drawn by a little child. Picture Roman was holding hands with a little kid each – a dark skinned girl in a princess dress and a blonde child of indeterminable gender due to the quality of the drawing. They were wearing a knight’s armor with a lightsaber as much as he could tell. It was adorable and Patton was putting it on the fridge. His eyes were watering at how cute it was.

“Oh.my.god. Virgil, my starry night, come here and see this!” Roman howled, very close to Patton’s ear.

The grumbling from next door indicated the delinquent’s feeling about the nickname as well as the interruption.

Roman waved the letter around with so much enthusiasm it nearly dislodged Patton. With a squeak, the baker held on to the tall man’s neck, even though the strong arm around his waist held him safely where he was almost pulled into Roman’s lap entirely.

Virgil, dressed in a mix of his old gymnastics’ clothes and his newer, oversized hoodie that hid as much as possible and fell all the way over his hips, didn’t really feel like being seen by the attractive detective right now. He didn’t mind Logan seeing him in his pants that fit his toned, long legs like a second skin, but with Roman, he felt a little more self-conscious. Especially about the combination with the ratty, overly long hoodie.

He used to wear tight fitting shirts that he now knew could look quite enticing when they slipped up his middle as he stretched or exposed his shoulders, but he didn’t feel confident enough to pick them out himself anymore. He wanted to look pretty for Roman more with every day, but considering the way the man had seen him in the past, he didn’t know if he could pull it off. Maybe Roman would feel like he was dressing up like a whore again - wearing a costume to seduce him. He didn’t know what made him so reluctant to dress better, it was just – such a big step and he didn’t know how to go about it anymore. So he wrapped his arms around his middle and hoped not to look too annoyed and uncomfortable. Especially considering how happy Roman appeared. So bright and innocent.

He was radiant.

And he was reading fan mail.

Virgil didn’t love the fan mail. Not at all. Remy had been forced to listen about it for a long time. He just hated the thought of those dirty minded, thirsty bitches getting to tell his man about all of the horny things they came up with while they drooled over his pictures. The fuck was wrong with them, trying to steal his- his- argh Virgil hated them with a passion, okay?! Who knew what ideas they were putting into that beautiful idiot’s head?

Remy was still patient with him thought, however the fuck he managed to do it. Virgil had the feeling he was being indulgently laughed at when he raged about the letters over the phone. So what if he hadn’t actually read any of them?! Roman kept singing their praise to anyone who would listen, why would he need to look at them himself? He was sure they were every bit as awful as he imagined.

Roman looked too happy with them. Fuck that.

He really looked quite happy, actually.

Virgil slowed his steps suspiciously.

Giggling, Roman flattened the paper before his eyes to read to Virgil. He even tried to do the voice. A voice Virgil immediately recognized.

‘Tell my anxious doll to, like, not to be such a moody diva and come look at some cute fan mail with his eye-candy detective.’ Roman took a break to preen. ‘I promise you don’t have to be scared, babe. Y’all are just making tasks bigger and scarier by avoiding confrontation with unpleasant chores and then they, like, build up in your messy little minds and that is not cool cause it makes me work for my not-money. So have a letter written by my precious little baby girl angels as a treat, okay girlfriend?’

“Awwwww so sweet!” Patton sighed.

Roman looked thoughtful for a moment as he pulled out the third sheet of paper written with a rainbow pencil, probably by Emile since the girls were too little to write themselves. The words were all enthusiastic little girl, though.

“How would you feel about looking at just one or two letters with us before returning to my dearest partner?” Roman asked sweetly. “They truly are quite entertaining. Just yesterday I received one from the utterly ravishing miss Van der Beek. All her other friends promised to write as well. It turns out I am quite popular with distinguished ladies with more experience enjoying the finer things in life!”

“What he means to say, kiddo, is that old ladies just love our dashing prince. Most of those are sent by the cutest grannies from retirement homes.” Patton explained with a warm smile that was just a little mischievous. “That doesn’t mean they’re all innocent, though.” He added cheerfully. Truthfully, he was already itching to get his hands on the hilarious letters. Those ladies really weren’t shy and Patton secretly wanted to be just like them someday. Enjoying the good life and making the best puns about butts.

Roman didn’t mind the fact that most of his paper-mail was written by children and elderly women (and grandpas, sometimes). He received emails and even digital art from younger fans as well, and he adored them, so, so much, but since he couldn’t keep them in a box with the pictures and drawings and ribbons and whatnot he enjoyed the letters even more. He just loved how creative they were. They really made him feel special. He should have known they’d make his dearest raven anxious, though. He really hoped to put him at ease with this gentle introduction Remy had created for him. And it worked! Of course it did – Remy’s children were the most precious things in the world! He could barely wait for their play date next weekend!

He was a little relieved to find the other letters they opened to be just as fun and cute. They usually were. Patton had a talent for selecting the nice ones from looking at the envelope alone. Not all letters were super sweet of course, but that was why he rarely opened his fan-mail alone. Both Patton and Logan made the creepy ones disappear quite quickly. Virgil could handle those, Roman was sure, but there was one person whose letters would just upset his dear wildcat.

They’d come in fine, yellow envelopes with pressed yellow roses inside and were written in the most beautiful calligraphy he’d ever seen. Recognizing the handwriting on the outside, Roman had squirrelled them away quietly. He hadn’t been able to stop running his fingers over the gracefully curved ink and flowing, tender words for a long time. Guiltily, Roman kept them in a separate box. He didn’t know how to contact his nemesis/admirer and wanted to let them down gently, after all. Before he caught them to lock them away, of course. He just wasn’t entirely ready to give up this feeling. He’d never been courted this way before and it had softened him towards his nemesis.

Virgil returned to Logan more relieved than he had been before, especially since Miss Van der Beek’s friends had come through and had written the most outrageous fan-mail. Roman huddled up comfortably, opening one last letter with Patton before lunch. It was a square, heavy envelope made from cream colored thick, expensive paper. The card inside was heavy and decorated with ornate, delicate gold finishing on the curved corners. It opened in the middle and admitted a view of a beautifully printed card. It read

Invitation

to the Morgan’s annual charity ball 2020

at the Ritz Carlton

 All the air seemed to have left the room. The paper tilted in front of Roman’s eyes and slipped from his numb fingers.

*

“I just don’t understand – after all those years…” Roman stared at the invitation, almost vibrating with nervous energy. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw his father’s face turn to stone as he refused to change his ways after nana’s burial. Even after such a long time, it was still crystal clear in his mind.

He wanted to jump up and pace frantically, yet he couldn’t bear to lose the grounding touch of the men gathered around him. Patton had pressed himself against his side as tightly as possible while Logan stood over him, tall and solid, keeping a firm hand on the back of his neck. Only Virgil was sitting with some distance between them since he was clearly too upset to soothe anyone. The golden embossed paper seemed to cause his fury to boil over almost entirely by itself. He looked pale and angry and… he snatched Roman’s sleeve with a thin hand, holding on tightly. His eyes were dark and so hurt on Roman’s behalf.

“They chased me away. Why would they want me there now?” He asked softy, looking at his family with a lost, helpless gaze.

The young detective agonized over the invitation for most of the day, carrying it around and reading it over and over again. Even the presence of Remus during lunch didn’t manage to get a rise out of him in this distraction, which clearly made the professor sulk. Especially since he had a few words to say about those republicans! Thankfully, Virgil and Logan made him some calming herbal tea after lunch (leaf piss, in his opinion but okay), and spent some time debating the advantages of actually murdering and eating the rich while nesting on Logan’s cozy balcony. Patton took Roman’s hand to go on a walk to help him clear his head. It helped.

“A Prince doesn’t shy away from a challenge. I owe it to my pride to go. I can and will do this with my head held high!” He proclaimed proudly at the dinner table the same night. Patton squeezed his hand in support, smiling at him warmly.

*

“I can’t do this! What was I thinking???” Roman wheezed, trying to calm his racing heart the next morning. “This is the height of hubris – I have fallen victim to the folly of man! There is no way I’m going!” He howled, pulling on his hair and staring at the letter like it would explode. What had he been thinking???

*

By midday, Roman proudly projected his voice through the entire flat from his perch on the coffee table. “I will be proud and gallant and dazzle everyone with my charming compliments and dashing appearance and my family shall be devastated to see what they missed when they threw away their most glittery offspring!”

His figure was bathed in the brightest sunlight. His fears forgotten, Roman was ready to take on anything!

*

“What if it was a mistake? Is this a mistake?” Roman wailed, flailing around with the mangled invitation in hand only an hour later. His eyes were wild. He’d been carrying the expensive paper everywhere with him, swinging erratically between nervous episodes of self-doubt and fear of his father and loud and boisterous assertions of confidence. His hair had become an utter mess from running his hands through it during dramatic monologues and moments of insecurity alike. The others were trying to allow him to come to a decision himself, but the lovely detective appeared to be coping poorly with the freedom.

Half an hour later, he was once again standing on the couch, posing heroically.

“Finally they shall see what a marvelous protector their son has become! A shining knight! A handsome hero dressed in blue!” He boasted, wide eyed and clearly trying to convince himself of his own worth – even as he was asserting his superiority, he was slipping into a pit of self-hate.

Virgil wanted to kill someone.

Seeing this beautiful, confident man spiral so deeply into mental instability because of a letter was ripping him open inside with nowhere for the blood and fear to go but the boiling maelstrom that was his protective fury.

That wasn’t what Roman needed now, though. Taking a deep breath, the barista reached for his man.

Virgil grabbed a hold of Roman’s surprisingly trim waist and pulled his heavy body down next to him. His mood swings between elation and terror were wearing the young man thin. Resigned and too tired to overthink, he yanked the already slightly worn invitation from the tan hands, chucked it on the coffee table, and folded his body onto the large detective’s lap in the wild, desperate hope to pin him down finally. He seemed to love when Patton did it.

The bold move made him sweat with anxiety, yet it was a much more comfortable form of comfort than talking about the issue and ending up insulting Roman’s family as he so desperately wanted. Physical contact had helped calm Roman down most so far, but Logan wasn’t here to grab his partner in a silent, firm hug that squished him against his chest until he grew quiet and Patton was on the phone with his staff, so no tangling his soft limbs with Roman’s now either.

Virgil had tried to keep his distance from the issue after Remy had explained that Roman needed to make his own decision. He probably hadn’t meant brooding in silent fury (while telling Patton what he was angry about and awkwardly reminding him that he loved him all the time).

He couldn’t help hating that republican trash that was Roman’s parents even more than before, though. He wasn’t confused about their motivations for a second. Those filthy pieces of shit were sensing an opportunity to improve their reputation with millennials who were rallying against billionaires who exploited the world – the environment as much as their workers – without even paying fucking taxes. Seriously, fuck Trump, fuck Jeff Bezos, fuck the Morgans! They would try to use Roman’s fame and honesty to claim him as a token to show off to liberals, to make themselves look tolerant and likeable with their beautiful, gay hero son. He was acceptable when it was useful to have a diversity card they could pull in debates, now that their homophobia and racism wasn’t as accepted as it used to be. Fuck them with a broken chair.

He couldn’t say all that, though. He’d just make Roman defensive in this terrible way that left Virgil nothing to work with. The taller man was never aggressive with him. Instead he grew quiet and sad and tried to make Virgil feel safe by being submissive and gentle and letting him have his way as he swallowed all of his pain and fear for everyone else’s sake. Roman didn’t need his anger. Logan had already gently told him about all of the fears he and Virgil shared and had offered his support, he didn’t need a reality check Virgil was desperately holding back. Roman knew they were using him – intellectually at least. Yet, his heart was probably hoping they were finally willing to love him.

So Virgil pulled himself together and silently leaned his lithe body against Roman’s broad chest and tried to gather the courage to say yes to the lovely man’s unspoken question.

The invitation contained a plus one.

Virgil had seen the way Roman’s gaze had sought him out hopefully. He wanted him there, which was astonishingly sweet, since Virgil was… well. Virgil. The fact that Roman, who was beautiful and elegant and charming to a dazzling degree wanted to show Virgil on his arm when he knew how judgmental this fucking crowd was, when he knew what they would think…

Yes, it was also completely and utterly terrifying.

Seriously. A charity ball. At the fucking Ritz? Even young and not so messed up Virgil would have hated the thought with the passion of any idealistic, liberal activist. Fucking corrupt money bags trying to look like they cared while they marinated in their arrogance and wealth while kids in America couldn’t pay for their school lunch and went hungry. While they supported putting fricking kids in actual fucking cages seriously what the fuck this really was the cursed time-line.

Also was there a person alive on this planet who fit the aesthetic of the fucking Ritz less than he did? He didn’t think so. Fuck he needed Remy now. He’d promised to help, thank Tesla. Virgil was clinging to that voice in his memory that had told him to ‘breathe, doll. Daddy has fixed lots of tiny girl hair and fashion disasters in his time. We’ve got this, okay, babe?’

Sure. Dressing a feral bat like Virgil for a FUCKING BALL was a piece of cake.

Well, first he needed to see if Roman actually wanted him to come or if that had all been in his head and Virgil was about to humiliate himself so badly, he would have to move out and change his name. Maybe Roman hadn’t asked yet because he wanted to avoid pressuring him with something he knew he was anxious about. OR he had recognized how badly Virgil would look on his arm.

Virgil felt like he couldn’t breathe for a terrifying moment. He used his position in Roman’s lap he’d chosen in a moment of courage to hide his face against the tan, smooth skin of the detective’s neck.

A deep breath left the taller man as Virgil curled close. He wrapped his arms around the thin body and sunk against him gratefully. The purple mane was so soft against his cheek. All thoughts drifted away – invitations as much as sunflower-yellow letters – leaving only the sensation of warm breaths against his skin and a gracefully curved back under his palms. Everything seemed to quiet, to slow down.

Virgil’s body moved slightly with every breath. He was so warm and alive, such a grounding weight in his lap. He arched against his chest willingly to press himself closer, letting Roman feel the way his ribs expanded on every inhale. The darkness behind the young detective’s closed eyes felt soft and safe. He gently moved his palm over the prominent spine, between wing-like shoulder blades. Stress flowed from his body like water. Slowly, their embrace lost its purpose and became lazy and comfortable, a hug for no other purpose than allowing them to exist so close to each other.  

After what felt like a long time of soft tenderness, Roman felt Virgil tense again, knowing he had to get it over with. He couldn’t keep hiding in a cute cop’s arms for the rest of his life because he was embarrassed.

“Listen, man…” He murmured quietly, pulling back slightly. Despite Roman’s hands still resting loosely on his hips, now that he wasn’t curled up and hidden anymore, he felt silly and out of place, suddenly. He really had just sat down in Roman’s lap, huh? What the fuck, Virgil? Heat rose to his cheeks and that just made things a lot worse. He pushed his head down and braced his palms on that hard chest and barreled on.

“Uhm, about- about that invitation. I know you’re anxious about it, and I’m really not good with that shit – I mean – that’s obvious, considering-” He gestured to – all of himself self consciously. “I really don’t know anything about your, eh, your social class and those fancy parties and shit. We’re from pretty, pretty extremely different backgrounds after all, and-”

Roman’s large hand rose to tip Virgil’s blushing face up in order to reassure him (and because it made him feel like a chivalrous knight). His fingers found the pale delinquent’s throat instead. Feeling the racing pulse, he curled his hand around the slender neck right under the jawbone with utter gentleness and brushed it upwards, pushing his chin up slowly.

Virgil’s breath hitched upon feeling the intimate hold he was captured in. It would be easy for the grip to turn punishing, yet he only brushed his thumb over the edge of his jaw and that felt very, very good. Vulnerable in all the right ways.

“What are you trying to say, dearest?” Roman rumbled softly, catching the younger man’s attention from where it had wandered to inappropriate places.

“Uh…” Virgil needed a moment. Roman’s eyes were so vividly green, like sunlight filtered through freshly grown, thin leaves. His mascara made his lashes so long and dramatic and so pretty.

I, uh…” He stuttered again. Roman was biting his lip in amusement, so pleased to have muddled Virgil’s brilliant mind and the barista felt like a useless, horny teenager for the first time in too many years.

A chuckle escaped the detective that was deep and rumbled under Virgil’s palms. He looked at the young man in his lap like he was the sweetest thing.

Feeling his blush flare up, Virgil ducked his head, allowing Roman’s palm to slip onto his cheek. He didn’t force his chin up as he was composing himself. Instead, the manicured hand moved across pale skin and scratched lightly across his scalp. A shiver broke out and raced over the delinquent’s entire back. His mouth fell open in a pleased sigh as he leaned into the caress.

Hell yeah, he could just keep doing that forever, please and thank you. His large palm rested on the pronounced bones of his hip, gripping gently, safely. Virgil could feel the detective’s intense gaze on him like a physical touch. He felt very warm as he leaned closer to that powerful hand in his hair that gave him so much pleasure.

His flush was still hot on his cheeks, yet the heat rising under his clothes wasn’t caused by embarrassment despite the intimacy of the moment. He’d never thought he would be able to let his guard down and be looked at this intimately when Roman made him feel this way. The detective’s other hand moved slowly, brushing up and down his back in the lightest of touches.

Virgil couldn’t help the breathy moan that escaped him. It was totally justified, okay? He felt those muscular thighs shift underneath him, adjusting their positions just a bit, so he was brought more securely into the hold of those strong arms and felt a warm breath on the side of his face.

Suddenly, Roman yanked his hand back as if Virgil had electrocuted him, yelping like a frightened dog. His whole body jumped, jostling Virgil.

“The fuck- Cat, what the actual fuck?” The younger man screeched at the ball of gray fur that had wedged itself between them and was furiously hissing and biting at Roman’s hand. The detective flailed and squirmed, unbucking Virgil in the process and dumping him on the cushions as he tried to escape over the back of the couch from the vicious raccoon. He landed face first with a ‘thump’ and an unmanly whimper.

Patton peeked in from the kitchen, phone between his cheek and shoulder, kitten purring in his big cardigan pocket and mixing bowl in hand. Finding Roman trying to twist into a sitting position while his legs were still sticking over the back of the couch and Virgil being slobbered over by an overly affectionate, possessive raccoon, he shrugged and closed the door behind himself. He and Nugget were not getting involved in that particular jealousy triangle. His kiddos would just need to make do.

“Oh shit, Roman, are you okay, dude?” Virgil asked and he knew, he knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help the laugh bubbling up his chest.

Cat was squishing her fat butt all over his lap, pawing at his shirt and lovingly gnawing on his fingers, looking fucking pleased, fricking narcissistic levels of proud and awed at her prowess, like she’d owned the biggest, baddest villain of the kingdom, like she’d saved the princess and gotten the whole cake. While Roman – well…

The young detective/tragic victim heaved himself up on the backrest and was immediately hissed at fiercely. He snatched his hands to his chest to protect them from more scratches. Peeking over the couch just enough to look over it, his precious hair a mess and his lovely hands badly wounded, donning his best, hurt puppy dog eyes, he found no sympathy from his beautiful wildcat.

Virgil snorted helplessly.

“I’m sorry-” The barista gasped, really, seriously feeling sorry and knowing he shouldn’t be rewarding Cat, he was creating a monster here, but Roman looked so messed up. All of that magnificent hair that usually made him look like a prince falling over his face in messy, fluffy tufts – that betrayed, gorgeous, hilarious face-

He doubled over, snickering turning to wheezing laughter the more he tried to suppress it, and felt Cat purring up a storm from where she was throned on his lap, Queen of the couch, breaker of horny cuddle sessions, bane of Roman’s existence.

Since the purring somehow seamlessly turned to spitting, frothing hissing whenever Roman got too close, the poor, beaten hero had to settle into the armchair facing the love of his life (stolen by a villainous adversary), where he tried not to mope too much. He felt a very justifiable pout coming up.

However, tears were now streaming down Virgil’s face while he made himself lightheaded trying to scold Cat and repress his laughter. He only succeeded in making himself hiccup and devolve into a new peal of giggles.  

Roman melted into the armchair.

*

They were quietly folding blankets and putting away pillows, comfortable with each other even though Cat was still sitting in Virgil’s hoody, occasionally touching the back of his head and neck and gurgling threateningly.

It was alright.

Roman wasn’t a malicious man.

And he would get her back for this…

Glaring secretly at the bristly beast whenever Virgil wasn’t looking, the young detective finally remembered that they had started a conversation before their mutual attraction had overwhelmed them like swooning lovers in a romantic novel.

Giddy at the memory, he briefly amused himself with imagining them on a paperback cover – his own shirt open halfway over his gleaming, muscular chest, even longer hair flying in the breeze, Virgil fainting in his arms, pale and lovely in a Victorian dress – oh my lord. A flush rose hotly to his cheeks, especially as he imagined that trim waist encased in lace and possibly even a corset.

This time, he felt Cat was justified in hissing at him while she reached for him with sharp little paws, trying to take a swipe, craving destruction.

Thankfully, Virgil took his blush as a sigh of anger as he twisted around and saved the enthusiastically violent racoon from tumbling out of his hood in its quest for blood.

“Sorry, Dude. I’ll figure something out.” He promised.

Roman thought he didn’t look nearly alarmed enough. However… his little bird deserved all the valiant defenders he could get. The beast might make him feel safe while Roman wasn’t there to watch over him like the tireless defender he was. In principle, the young detective would not mind prospective rivals to be scared off. Just not himself, did this beast not have any taste?

Perhaps he’d just have to invest more effort in his quest to win over the scraggly protector of his dashing not-damsel’s honor! That he could surely do!

Filled with a new sense of determination, he maturely stuck his tongue out to the raccoon.

Virgil snorted. He was happy.

Roman liked that a lot.

“Before I forget…” He started casually, remembering how important the question had seemed to Virgil. “You wanted to ask me something before we were torn apart so viciously?”

The barista startled, his heart missing a beat with nervousness. Right. That.

“Um, yeah. Yeah, I was just- you don’t have to say yes – obviously! It’s just if you don’t want to go alone- though you probably have plenty of people to go with- I know you have friends and coworkers and… fans… and Logan could go too so you really don’t need me to be in the way but if you want, I – uh…”

“Virgil,” Roman interrupted him gently, hoping with a fluttering heart he wasn’t misinterpreting the stuttering proposition. “Are you offering to go to the ball with me?” He asked gently, quickly adding for his lovely raven’s nerves benefit, “Because while I don’t want to pressure you in any way, going with you on my arm would make me the bravest and happiest man in the world.”

His words were very, very honest. Having Virgil there, as his date, as his to hold in his arm and show off, showing that the gay failure of the family had captured the most beautiful, smartest and strongest creature in the whole word – he would feel like the king in his castle. Nothing could make him feel like he’d succeeded despite being ashamed of his sexuality for so long than to show Virgil as his beautiful prize. Having him would validate all his struggles and make all the suffering worth it.

So no pressure to say yes. Roman was cool with whatever.

Virgil flushed brightly, ducking his head in a familiar gesture to hide under his hair. His heart beat a mile a minute, filling him with awed elation.

And a little bit of terror.

Looks like he was going to the ball after all.

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

AAAAnd it looks like Virgil will finally need an outfit for the ball. I wonder who will help him???

As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated! If you want to support me, here is my Ko-fi page. Love you guys! Take care and treat yourself to something nice <3

Next Chapter

#Keep him safe #Detective AU #Sanders Sides #my writing #Prinxiety #Logicality #Roman Sanders #Logan Sander #Virgil Sanders #Patton Sanders #Remus Sanders

[zwiezraczek]

Could you do a Ben fic where him and reader are going through a divorce after being together since they were like 15 and married for like 6 years or something but the divorce is quite messy like all angsty but reader ends up breaking down and crying to him because they still love eachother and you can decide the ending on whether they get back together or go through with the divorce :)

We Were Too Young [Request]

 Note: I'm currently living for the angst. This ask was absolutely great and challenging! I tried to not make it too angsty but I don't really know if I succeeded haha ^^" I hope you'll enjoy it 💕

Your relationship was jinxed since the very beginning. People had told both of you that you were too young, too inexperienced, too infatuated to make it last. They were probably right.

At fifteen, you had everything with Ben. You recalled it while sipping a glass of wine on your kitchen floor, all alone on the tiles. You still remembered being the high-school sweetharts in the yearbook, every-fucking-year. You had your picture printed on the special page, you sitting on his lap happily as he had his arm around your waist. The yearbook was under your bed now, hidden in a cardboard-box. It was everything that was left from high-school and the years you had spent together: memories. Memories of the play Ben had been in and you sat in front row and he winked at you and you fell in love with this cute drama-boy at fifteen. Soon after, he became your boyfriend. You still had the small paper that made it to you during chemistry class with two small boxes to tick, it was lovely and once framed on your nightstand. You used to look at it every morning for the past ten years. Now, it's at Ben's place, or even in the trash. Or the beautiful pictures you had on the walls, the polaroids you took thanks to your friend on that gingham blanket with flowers in both of your hair, the pictures you printed from evenings you spent together and parties you've been at, the red carpets and the after-parties hanging on the fairy lights. All gone, you wouldn't ask him what he had done with these since you left. You just wished you could erase all of these memories.

You married him when you were only twenty, he was your first love and you were his. Your love was all against the odds and against everything Ben should have been as an actor. He was young, beautiful and had a wife, you were the dark spot on his beautiful resume. He never minded this, he loved you more than everything and told you that no matter what he was proud of having you as his wife, by his side. And then Eastanders came. For three years you were here without being with him. Luckily, you still had your job to keep you busy and friends, otherwise you would sink into something you didn't want to – and were currently sinking into. They tricked him into some public relationship with his co-star, and both of you hated that deeply. He wasn't allowed to show you, and when he finally freed himself from there it was hard for you to step up. But you made it, you made it and you relationship grew stronger, or weaker as you noticed now. You got used to the distance and the long calls, you got used to not seeing your husband that much, you got used to women being around him, you got used to all of this.

He made great friends on the way that became yours too, you loved Oscar Isaac and called him often, Lucy Boynton quickly became one of your best friends and Gwil was an adorable block, and his wife too. Ben had Joe as a colleague-friend, and his friends from high-school, and you loved all these people the same. But the wider the circle, the longer the distance.

A distance that made you think about divorce. At first, it was just an idea, but then it became clearer when Ben came back home for three days before going back to film another movie or on a press tour, you refused to leave your job for sanity's sake and he couldn't drop his dreams for your pleasure only. Then, you noticed the fights, the cries and the shouting occurring more often when he was home, the times you didn't bother to wait for him to eat, the moments he didn't bother to call you to tell you that he wouldn't be back home early. You were hurting yourselves and you weren't even sorry about it.

People told you that a love like yours would never last, and they were probably right. You took another glass of your red wine, the stain on your white shirt wasn't only wine, you were bleeding too.

~~~

You had planned to meet during the week, but the party you had to attend was earlier and you couldn't meet him earlier. So there you were, with your almost ex-husband looking at each other from across the room, not knowing how to act while surrounded by a bunch of people you knew. How awkward it was for you to look at him talking with these people, how awkward it felt to not be able to hold his hand while his arm was around your waist. You could almost hear his voice through the veil of conversation, not listening to the one you were currently in.

You tried to loosen up by drinking a bit more – way more than you should – but nothing seemed to help you: you just couldn't avoid his pearly green eyes as much as he couldn't avoid looking at you. And the moment you dreaded the most had come, your favorite song. The one you fell in love to during prom, when he kissed you. You couldn't forget the tune of it, and you also couldn't refuse Ben's hand when he offered it to you so you could slow dance, like you used to.

Together, you swayed, your head resting on his shoulder as the music grew louder and sadder, carrying all you once had together. You felt tears up in your eyes, the pearls beginning to roll down your face. You sniffed, and he pushed you back a little to have a better look at you, you noticed his glistening eyes.

“All of this because of this song,” you told him faking a smile through your tears.

“Yes, it still does trigger something in me too,” he admitted and looked away as you looked at him for a longer moment.

You missed him. You missed his smile in the morning and his messy hair, you missed his voice and his cuddles, you missed when he spoke about a new role or rehearsed in front of you. You missed him more than ever.

“I miss you,” you finally mumbled and rested your head on his shoulder again as he pulled you a bit closer.

“I miss you too, y/n, I miss you a lot. But we know how all of this will end, we know that whatever we say now it won't repair what we broke.”

“We broke a lot of things,” you whispered. “You broke everything we had, if just for a moment we were more mature, if we had the guts to speak about what we felt... If I had the guts to tell you how much it pissed me off to see you this far from me...”

“If I had the guts to stop all of this madness,” Ben continued as his hands wandered on your back, “if I could go back in time to stop all of the errors I made, sacrificing our relationship over my career, I would, believe me.”

“Why are we realizing it now Ben, now that we know we won't ever be together, even if,” you stumbled on your words, “we love each other?”

“I wish we could have seen it sooner, but I think that our love was fated to fail,” he sadly said and you felt a tear falling on the top of your head. “We gave up to the pressure we created, we cut everything off...”

“We were too young,” you finally stated and hugged him even more. “We had everything and... We lost it all.”

“This is why we're splitting, love,” he whispering and you felt your knees becoming weak as he called you by your pet name.

“You're right,” you said and looked up at him, “we weren't made for each other. We thought we were, we loved each other, we love each other but... Something doesn't click, because me and you is all I've ever known, that's probably the reason. We know nothing about relationships.”

“You were my best first relationship y/n,” he said and kissed your forehead tenderly.

“You weren't that bad either,” you replied with a soft smile.

He pulled you closer for a moment, and you thought that even if you weren't destined to be together, fate had linked you somehow, by hurting each other and discovering yourselves.

~~~

It has been two years since you had seen his face in person. You were right, you were too young to notice you had everything. Your divorce wasn't as messy as the beginning of the procedure, it still did hurt. Sometimes, before you fell asleep, you thought about him and googled him to find out that he was with another woman. You were thinking about this relationship, if it was fake or not and sighing. Benjamin Jones, your first love, your first husband and first ex. He really did collect the places in your heart after all these years. Red wine again on your shirt, divorce wasn't as messy, but your mind was. It was difficult to find your place in this world, without him, and you had to find a way to cope. Sadly, it didn't help and you blamed him for it, even though you still loved him deep down in your heart.

#ben hardy #ben hardy blurb #ben hardy imagine #angst

[beautiful-de4mity]

[Alice Nine Fanfiction] ASYLUM (Chapter 2)

Hiroto feels a faint twinge in his chest as he notices the gleam of admiration for the doctor named Amano in Shou’s beautiful eyes. He says nothing more and lets Shou back on scrutinizing the notebooks and journals he has been reading after promising Hiroto to have lunch together. Shou looks so excited despite being exhausted, thought Hiroto, surely Shou really admires that Amano guy.

Chapter 02 [Vulnerable]

Author: beautiful-de4mity

Fandom: Alice Nine

A/n: I’m happy to be this productive and excited on writing again! I actually overdid the research on this theme and one of my readers told me not to put too detailed things since this is only a piece of fanfiction 😂 in the next chapters, I’m trying to focus more on the relationships between characters. Ganbarimasu!

Inspired song: ASYLUM from PLANET NINE Album

Disclaimer: Can we all agree that Alice Nine’s bonds are so wonderful we can literally ship every member with anyone? /I’m talking trash lol

The wall clock in his office points at ‘one’ in the morning but Amano Tora is still enjoying the online game The Last of Us, which he plays with some friends through his customized PC. It was a tiring day in fact as the hospital research team was running a series of tests and monitoring on Saga and the poor boy doesn’t seem to be in a good condition. Saga was being a handful today; kept fighting back and trying to escape from the running procedures. Finally, they had to completely sedate Saga and put him to sleep forcefully after his attempt to strangle one of the doctors. Tora exhales instinctively as the scene flashes through his mind, distracting his focus from the game until his friends’ panic yelp are heard through the headphones.

“Warui, warui,” Tora picks back his focus on the game.

Tora finishes the game thirty minutes later, placing the headphones on the keyboard and taking off his glasses. The young doctor leans back on the chair, massaging the bridge of his nose and exhales for the umpteenth time. The corner of his eye catches Saga’s assessment chart, which is still empty since this afternoon since everything went off plan. Tora somewhat feels relieved for Ohara Shou, the psychology student he was involved in researching Saga’s case, reported that he couldn’t come because of a group assignment today. Tora doesn’t want to scare Shou by seeing Saga went berserk and change his mind. Tora is really fond of Shou’s research proposal, it is very potential and promising.

The hospital corridor in the psychiatric ward is deserted, of course, it is almost dawn. Only a few people from the night shift remaining, chatting in the administration section sipping coffee. Tora smiles when several nurses greet him and giggle, making him shake his head as he enters the toilet. It is a public secret that Amano Tora becomes the idol of the female staffs in the psychiatric ward, even staffs from other departments throughout this hospital know him. Even so, Tora is not interested in dating anyone at all. Currently, work and games are two aspects of his life that he can’t abandon.

Tora pauses for a moment at the turn of the corridor upon returning from the toilet, staring at the door of Saga’s room several meters ahead where the young man is still sleeping under the anesthetic effect. Tora’s wondering if he should check on the poor boy’s condition even though he could just go to the monitor room to look through the CCTV. The young doctor finally walks over to Saga’s room and peeks through the glass window. Tora’s forehead frowned when he finds out Saga is writhing restlessly on his bed as if he is struggling to escape from something. Was he tied up earlier? Tora hurriedly pasts his ID to unlock the door, he then darts next to Saga’s bed and more surprised to find Saga’s shaking drenched in sweat. The young man seemed to be trying hard to fight something in his sleep but could not scream for someone to wake him up.

“Saga,” Tora kneels beside the bed and tries to wake his patient. “Saga, are you okay?” as slowly as possible, Tora shakes Saga’s body so that he won’t be startled or terrified.

Saga is trembling badly that Tora feels the need to grab onto Saga’s thin shoulders to prevent him from falling off the bed. Saga looks like he is trying to fight something terrible in his sleep, Tora can see clearly the expression of fear even though Saga’s eyes are closed. Saga clenches his jaws tightly, holding back the screams while both of his hands groping for the air almost punch Tora’s face. Just when Tora decides to force Saga to wake up, both of Saga’s eyelids opened. In the dark. Tora catch the glint of tears pooling down his dark irises. With a broken breath, Saga jolts up and immediately grabs Tora’s neck, hugging him very tightly as if he intends to break the young doctor’s neck. Tora tries not to make any sudden movements that can trigger Saga to panic even though his neck starts to ache.

Cautiously, Tora got up from his kneeling position and sits on the edge of Saga’s bed while Saga still clinging onto him like a Koala. Tora can feel Saga’s ferocious heartbeat, so fast that it might explode at any moment even though his body gradually stops shaking while his white clothes are soaked with sweat.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” Tora pats Saga on the shoulder awkwardly.

Saga buries his face in Tora’s shoulder more deeply, not making a sound.

“You had a nightmare?” asks Tora, followed by a small nod as the answer.

The young doctor fixes his position so that Saga can calm himself faster, while Saga himself feels a little confused about his own reaction: clinging on Tora as if Tora is a magnetic field. Come to think of it since the beginning of his arrival at this hospital’s psychiatric ward, Amano Tora is the only person who makes him feel safe and Saga doesn’t mind at all having any kind of contact with him. Even at this moment, Saga can clearly smell the faint scent of Tora’s perfume mixed with trail of tobacco, oddly helps him to calm down.

“I’ll leave when you can sleep again,” Tora breaks the silence when the sound of their breaths is the only sound heard in the room a few moments later.

Saga quickly shakes his head, gripping the front of Tora’s shirt to indicate the young doctor not to leave him. The response makes Tora’s brows furrowed in surprise. Indeed, all this time Saga has always shown a rather sweet, cooperative-good boy attitude to him, but he does not expect Saga to be this vulnerable with him when Saga usually guarded and distance himself from people. Tora takes notes carefully in his mind about Saga’s current behavior to be written later on the assessment chart he left on his desk.

“Okay, I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep,” again, Tora strokes Saga on the shoulder awkwardly.

For the first time in three months under his specialist care, Saga shows signs that he is starting to trust Tora. If Saga could tell Tora directly about how the young doctor make him feel safe and at ease whenever Tora is around, maybe Tora wouldn’t have been wondering this much. Saga manages to go back to sleep around three a.m. in the morning. Tora’s body feels so beaten up and he almost gives up temptation to fall asleep beside Saga. But he can’t let people find him sleeping while having his patient on his arms like that afterall.

***

Ogata Hiroto, a petite-built art student with flaming blonde hair, is pacing back and forth with a confused look of a typically lost child in the psychology faculty library building in his search for Shou. For several days, he had gone back and forth to the psychology faculty to find his senior, but the results were always to no avail. Shou didn’t reply to his LINE, didn’t update his YouTube channel, and didn’t update his Instagram for three days in a row, Hiroto was worried. Hiroto’s gaze finds a flash of Shou’s somewhat disheveled brunette hair on the desk next to “Journal Publications” section shelves, appearing star-like sparkling effect in the cute young man’s eyes.

“Shou yaaaaaan!” Hiroto’s excited voice and the sight of him running happily towards Shou, drawing all of the library visitors’ attention. “Ah, sorry, sorry,” Hiroto gives a shy bow as people stare at him with blasphemous looks.

Shou looks up from his notebook and journal print outs that are scattered on the table, he smiles sweetly at Hiroto. Shou’s face is slightly pale with trace of dark circles under his eyes, and overall he looks unusually scruffy. Hiroto is anxious and astonished as he sits next to Shou.

“Shou yan, are you okay? Shou yan sick or something?“ Hiroto’s eyebrows knitted, observing Shou’s unusual appearance from head to toe.

"No, I’m just having bunch of assignments,” Shou replies softly, putting down the pen he is still holding and now focusing on Hiroto completely. “What brings you here?”

Hiroto pouts, “I’ve been looking for you for the past three days, you know! Shou yan didn’t reply to my LINE, didn’t post anything on SNS even though usually you upload something regularly,” the cute young man sulks.

Shou ruffles Hiroto’s blonde hair exasperatedly, “Sorry, I’m really busy lately because the midterm exam right around the corner and Amano sensei has just invited me to join his research team,” explains the beautiful-eyed young man, his face flushes with joy when he mentioned ‘Amano sensei’.

“Who is Amano sensei?” noticing the unusual glow in Shou’s face makes Hiroto feel uneasy.

“Oh, him,” Shou’s face which was slightly pale now beamed. “He’s a neuropsychiatric at the private central hospital in Shibuya. When I was a freshman, the faculty invited him to be one of the speakers and since then I have been interested in doing research in neuropsychiatry. A few days ago I sent my research proposal on mutism and asked him to be the instrument validator. Surprisingly, he then recruited me to the hospital research team that currently is handling a case of mutism,“ Shou explains enthusiastically.

Hiroto feels a faint twinge in his chest as he notices the gleam of admiration for the doctor named Amano in Shou’s beautiful eyes. He says nothing more and lets Shou back on scrutinizing the notebooks and journals he has been reading after promising Hiroto to have lunch together. Shou looks so excited despite being exhausted, thought Hiroto, surely Shou really admires that Amano guy. Without Shou noticing, Hiroto is now watching him closely with his chin rests on his hand. Hiroto plays the memory where they first met inside his head. Shou was his two-year-older senior in high school. Shou is popular, student’s committee president, and also worked as a model for several local magazines. He’s always been so charming and stylish plus having brilliant personality that no one can resist.

It could be said that Shou saved Hiroto’s high school life. Being so shy, Hiroto found it difficult to make friends with other people. He always ate lunch alone in the school grounds until Shou accidentally found him and they have always had lunch together since then. Shou even helped Hiroto joining the photography club because Hiroto was too shy to do it himself and encouraged him to be the student committee. Shou has a huge role in shaping Hiroto’s current personality and Hiroto has always clung to Shou like a stray puppy.

Seeing Shou being highly motivated because of someone else like this, somehow brings up a feeling of reluctance even though Shou’s attitude hasn’t changed towards him at all. Hiroto lets out a sigh.

#alice nine #アリス九號. #alice 9 #alice9 #fanfiction #alice nine fanfiction #A9 #ASYLUM #shou #tora #saga #hiroto #tora x saga #shou x pon #ToSa #ShouPon #boys love

[nitrateglow]

Favorite film discoveries of 2019

Every year, my new-to-me favorites list always shocks me in some way. This year, the sheer amount of movies made in the 2010s on display is INSANE by my standards. Of course, most of the modern movies here are throwbacks or tributes to older styles of cinema, so maybe it’s not that shocking in the long run.

Another running trend this year: movies that are old but not as dated as we would wish. Many of the older films here deal with xenophobia and political strife in ways that still feel shockingly prescient today-- the more things change...

ONCE UPON A TIME... IN HOLLYWOOD (DIR. QUENTIN TARANTINO, 2019)

I never thought the day would come where my favorite movie of the year would actually be made after the 1970s, let alone by Quentin Tarantino. Then again, this movie is all about the end of Old Hollywood as well as a big love letter to the 1960s, so maybe it’s not that shocking a state of affairs. I adored this movie, the level of detail, the laidback yet elegaic vibe, the comedy and the relationships between all the characters. It was one of those movies where I loved even the scenes where nothing seems to be happening at all-- I mean, who knew Brad Pitt feeding his dog and watching TV could be entertaining?? But it is and I can't wait to see this one again!

INTENTIONS OF MURDER (DIR. SHOHEI IMAMURA, 1964)

Intentions of Murder has an insane premise, one that runs the risk of being tasteless: a housewife in a miserable, exploitative marriage is raped by a sickly burglar during a home invasion. Even worse, she can’t shake him, as he’s suddenly infatuated and wants her to run away with him to the city. And weirder still: her current existence is so miserable that she’s TEMPTED. While abuse and rape are grim subjects for any story, Intentions is actually about a woman coming into her own and finally standing strong against all these men trying to use her. It’s a weird blend of drama and dark comedy, a truly savage satire on patriarchy and class-snobbery.

JOKER (DIR. TODD PHILLIPS, 2019)

I went into this movie expecting to think it was overhyped and when I first left the theater, I was all ready to say “it’s good but not THAT good.” But it ended up haunting me for weeks afterward, and I found myself thinking about how everything just tied up so well together, from the grotty urban hellscape which serves as the setting to Phoenix’s brilliant performance. It reminded me a lot of A Clockwork Orange in how intimate it lets you get to this violent man while never pretending he is someone to be glamorized or imitated.

SIMON (DIR. MARSHALL BRICKMAN, 1980)

How do I even describe Simon? Alan Arkin is brainwashed by a group of overpaid intellectuals into believing he is descended from an alien toaster. Then he gets a messiah complex and starts gathering disciples as he rails against television, condiment packets, and muzak. It’s a little uneven at times, sure, but the satire is really inspired. The whole thing is like a combination of Mel Brooks, Stanley Kubrick, and Woody Allen’s styles, and it is quite hilarious for those who thrive on cult oddities.

PEEPING TOM (DIR. MICHAEL POWELL, 1960)

Though it came out the same year as Hitchcock’s Psycho and has been nearly as influential for horror cinema, Peeping Tom remains underseen by everyone save for film theorists. And what a shame that is, because this movie is more frightening than Psycho. Sure, that may be because Psycho is so predominant in popular culture and just so influential that it no longer has the same shock value, but there’s something about Peeping Tom that gets under my skin, something sad, even disgusting. I felt dirty after watching it-- and this is 2019!

MIDNIGHT MARY (DIR. WILLIAM WELLMAN, 1933)

Loretta Young got one of her juiciest roles in this pre-code crime drama. Her Mary Martin is more than just a good girl forced into criminal circles-- she’s a complicated creature, compassionate and desperate and lonely and bitter and sensual all at once. This movie is a fast-paced, beautifully filmed ride, cloaked in that Depression-era cynicism that makes pre-code Hollywood of such interest to movie geeks the world over.

WILD BOYS OF THE ROAD (DIR. WILLIAM WELLMAN, 1933)

Wild Boys of the Road is a quintessential Depression-era movie, relentless in its bleakness and rage. That the main characters are all starving kids only looking for work makes their struggles all the harder to watch. William Wellman is quickly becoming one of my favorite directors: his gritty style and compact storytelling are just perfect for a ripped-from-the-headlines drama such as this. And the “happy” ending has one little moment that just knocks any smile you have right off your mug. Absolutely see this.

THE RUSSIANS ARE COMING, THE RUSSIANS ARE COMING (DIR. NORMAN JEWISON, 1966)

Sometimes, when you watch a movie only because a favorite actor is in it, you get subjected to pure trash like Free and Easy (oh, the things I do for Buster Keaton). Other times, you get cute gems like The Russians are Coming, The Russians are Coming, which, as you probably guessed, I mainly sought out for Alan Arkin. But the whole movie is hilarious, the best kind of farce comedy, populated by enjoyable characters and a sweet-tempered humanism that grounds the wackiness. While a little overlong, this movie is quite underrated-- and sadly, its satire of American xenophobia and Cold War panic is not as dated as we would like to believe.

ALL THE PRESIDENT’S MEN (DIR. ALAN J. PAKULA, 1976)

Who knew a political thriller where most people know the twist could be so intense and riveting? It’s about as nonsensical as feeling suspense when you watch a movie about the Titanic and hope the boat won’t sink-- but damn, it’s magical. All the President’s Men is real white-knuckle stuff, with Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman projecting both youthful excitement and deep panic as they proceed with their investigation. It scarcely seems to have aged at all.

WHISPER OF THE HEART (DIR. YOSHIFUMI KONDOU, 1995)

There’s a scene near the end of Whisper of the Heart where the protagonist Shizuku shows the finished first draft of her fantasy novel to her first reader, the grandpa of one of her schoolmates. She weeps because it isn’t the perfect image she had in her head, despite how hard she worked on it, but the old man tells her that it takes polishing and discipline to make the work come to its full potential. Few movies about artists are so honest about how hard it can be, how unsupportive others can be in their demand that everyone be “practical.” As a writer who struggles to create and constantly doubts herself, this movie spoke strongly to me. I recommend it to any creative person.

THE PHANTOM OF THE PARADISE (DIR. BRIAN DE PALMA, 1976)

I’d been wanting to see this movie since my high school phan days. Holy crap, is it WEIRDER than I could have ever imagined, a true camp masterpiece. I’m shocked it was never tuned into a stage show actually, but then again, we would miss those trippy camera angles and we wouldn’t have Paul Williams as one of the greatest villains of all time.

DUEL (DIR. STEVEN SPIELBERG, 1971)

When people talk about the best movies made in the “Hitchcock without Hitchcock directing” tradition, why is Duel so seldom mentioned? The scene in the cafe, packed with paranoid tension and tense camerawork, alone should qualify it. Duel is most known as the movie which put the young Steven Spielberg on the map. It’s quite different from his later work, grittier and less whimsical for sure. Even the ending seems almost nihilistic, depending on how you view it. But damn, if it isn’t fine filmmaking.

CAROL (DIR. TODD HAYNES, 2015)

This gorgeous throwback to Douglas Sirk melodramas is also one of the best romantic movies I’ve seen in a while. Cate Blanchett and Rooney Mara have the sweetest, tenderest chemistry-- it was like seeing Lauren Bacall and Audrey Hepburn as love interests in a film. Unlike Sirk, there is little in the way of ripe melodrama here-- everything is underplayed, aching, mature. And I can say this is an adaptation that is better than the source book: it just feels so much warmer.

12 ANGRY MEN (DIR. SIDNEY LUMET, 1957

All I can say is that this was every bit equal to the hype. Common movie wisdom says people sitting and talking in a room is going to be boring on film, but movies like 12 Angry Men prove this is not so when you’ve got an excellently tense atmosphere, an inspired script, and a stable of fine actors to work with. Like The Russians are Coming, the Russians are Coming, this movie has not significantly aged-- much to society’s discredit.

A STAR IS BORN (DIR. GEORGE CUKOR, 1954)

Another movie I went into not expecting to love as much as I did. When movies from the 20s or 30s tended to get remakes in the 1950s, I always find them too garish and big, victims of glossy Cinemascope and overlong runtimes. Compared to the lean 1937 classic original, I expected sheer indulgence from this three-hour remake. Instead, I got my heart torn out all over again-- the longer runtime is used well, fleshing out the characters to a greater degree. Judy Garland and James Mason both give what might be the best efforts of their respective careers, and the satire of the celebrity machine remains as relevant and scathing as ever.

BLANCANIEVES (DIR. PABLO BERGER, 2012)

Oh, it feels like this movie was made for me specifically. It’s shot in gorgeous, expressionistic black-and-white. It’s set in the 1920s. It’s a clever adaptation of a classic fairy tale. It’s as funny and charming as it is bittersweet and macabre. Instead of more superhero movies, can we get more neo-silent movies like this? PLEASE?

THE FAVOURITE (DIR. YORGOS LANTHIMOS, 2018)

I’ve heard The Favourite described as a “bitchy lesbian Shakespeare play,” but this description, while a little true in terms of general tone, does not get to the heart of what makes this film brilliant. More than love or sex, this movie is about power-- particularly the corrupting influence of power. And it corrupts not only morals but love itself. Innocents become Machiavellian schemers. Lovers become sadomasochistic enemies. Good intentions turn to poison. This certainly isn’t a happy movie, but it is moving and, strangely enough, also hilarious. I was reminded of the chilly, satirical world of Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon more than once-- and for me, that is not a bad movie to be reminded of.

ON THE WATERFRONT (DIR. ELIA KAZAN, 1954)

Another classic that’s been on my list forever that I was delighted to find worthy of its reputation. It’s a classic tale of redemption and social justice, perfectly acted and shot. While I still prefer A Streetcar Named Desire as far as Kazan is concerned, this might be a better movie in the objective sense. Actually, more than even Brando, Karl Malden is the acting highlight for me-- he plays a priest torn between staying silent or truly speaking for the Gospel by demanding justice for the poor parish he serves. Just brilliant work.

KLUTE (DIR. ALAN J. PAKULA, 1971)

A perfect thriller, just about, and a great example of the “NYC is hell on earth” subgenre of the 1960s and 1970s. Jane Fonda is a revelation: she feels so real, not at all like a starlet trying to seem normal if you know what I mean.

KISS KISS BANG BANG (DIR. SHANE BLACK, 2005)

As far as subversive noir goes, this is the most entertaining. I would put it up there with The Big Lebowski as far as goofy takes on Raymond Chandler are concerned-- I don’t even really know what to make of it, but I laughed my ass off anytime I wasn’t going “WHAT???”

What were your favorite film discoveries in 2019?

#thoughts #peeping tom #simon 1980 #kiss kiss bang bang #intentions of murder #once upon a time in hollywood #joker #a star is born #blancanieves #the russians are coming the russians are coming #all the president's men #whisper of the heart #carol #the favourite #12 angry men #klute #the phantom of the paradise #on the waterfront #wild boys of the road #midnight mary #duel

[enigmatist17]

Pen to Paper (Uncharted)

I need to stress how much a good big brother Sam is.

Like

Pls NaughtyDog

More Sam and Nate pls

-------------------

Nathan had started drawing young. Even as a young child the art fascinated him, clumsy fingers wrapping around crayons and pencils. Various books throughout the Morgan household, as well as walls and curtains within reach. Sure, being yelled at by a father that was hardly around wasn’t fun, but Nathan just wanted to share his art with everyone. The child was beyond ecstatic when his brother came home with a notebook one day, happily handing it to Nathan.

“You practice in that, ‘kay? This way, you can keep ‘em forever.” Nathan had nodded, giving Sam a tight hug before going to cover the blank and waiting pages. The notebook had been the first of a small set before their world came crashing to a halt. The loss of Cassandra had been hard on the household, a stoic father ordering the boys to prepare to be taken to an orphanage. Nathan had protested, Sam quietly gathering up keepsakes as child yelled at father. Sam wasn’t sure where the idea came from, but after locking up their keepsakes in a forgotten chest, he spent the better part of an hour burying them in a deep section of the garden. It was a sturdy chest, remaining hidden for dozens of years in its hiding spot. Family after family moved in and out of the house the Drake brothers had called home over the years, and still the chest remained.

The current family received a visit one day, a man answering the door with twin girls peeking from behind his legs. A man was standing on the porch, in his late-forties and quickly stubbing out a cigarette with an apologetic smile. He introduced himself as the brother to Nathan Drake, being invited inside after explaining it had once been his home. Sam spent the day reminiscing, the little girls warming up to him as their parents asked him curious questions. The mother and father helped Sam, later that evening after insisting he stayed for dinner, dig up the chest he sought. It had weathered in the soil, the lock falling off with a simple strike of Sam’s shovel. Doing a minimal cleaning of the outside, they helped load the chest into the back of Sam’s truck.

“Thanks for this, I’ve been meaning ta come an’ visit.” Sam glanced back at the house, a pensive look on his face.

“Well, you and your brother are always welcomed back.” The mother gave him a small hug, nearly throwing Sam off. She hugged him as Cassandra did, Sam certainly not wiping away a tear as he drove off. For a good week, the trunk sat in his car, carefully covered by a tarp as Sam kept wavering back and forth. Sometimes he would grip the handle, ready to pull it up and open, but every time something would stop him. He awoke one night, mind made up as he grabbed his phone with a slight curse. Sully to his credit didn’t ask much, just cursing the dirt that stained his newest shirt, Sam just grinning when he offered a bill. The flight to Hawaii was surprisingly calm, the two chuckling when little Cassie saw them from the beach. The little girl jumped up and down, Elena keeping up behind her as the girl ran for Sully’s dock.

“Hey, there sweetheart!” Seeing the bright-eyed blonde always lifted his and Sully’s mood, the pilot scooping her up as Sam watched from afar.

“I didn’t know you were coming!” Cassie gave them a bright smile, hugging onto Sully tight.

“Yep, this is a surprise visit.” Sam grinned, finally walking over and ruffling her hair. The girl laughed, swatting away his hand as Elena finally joined them. “Hey Elena, how’ve ya been?”

“Pretty good, all things considering. I thought you were taking it easy for a while?” Sam shrugged, watching as Sully wandered off with his niece. 

“Hey, is Nate around?” Elena nodded, pointing towards the secondary building that doubled as her and Nathan’s office. “Warning, he’s deep in research...again.”

“Then I taught him right.” Sam chuckled, looking back at the plane. “Can I borrow ya for a second?”

“Sure.” It didn’t take much effort for the two to lift a trunk from the back of Sully’s plane, carrying it up to the office as they chatted amicably. Nathan was startled from his work when something was placed on his desk with a loud thud.

“Hey, what gives! I was...Sam?” The way Nathan would brighten at seeing his older brother never got tiring for Sam.

“That’s my name.” He laughed, leaning against the desk as Nathan moved to hug his brother. The smile vanished when he saw the object on his desk, looking at Sam with slightly wide eyes.

“Is that…?” Sam nodded, resting a hand on top. “I finally got around to getting it.” Nathan gave out a shocked laugh, circling the chest before looking up at Sam.

“I...have you opened it?” Sam shook his head, stepping back.

“Nope, all yours little brother.” Nathan stared at him, the two sharing a conversation in a glance before looking at the chest. Placing both hands on the lid, the younger Drake pulled the lid up with surprising ease. A trash bag was the first thing he saw, covered in dirt and some leftover moisture. It all but fell apart with a simple tug, the bits of weathered plastic gathering on the ground around the desk.

The top of a white box met his eyes, the lid carefully removed to reveal its contents. The first thing he saw was a small wooden carving, a figure from one of their mothers’ past digs. Slightly trembling hands lifted the figure, remembering how Cassandra had treasured it and how she had taught the tale to her sons late at night. Nathan stood staring at it, Sam reaching forward to grasp the next piece he had scuttled away years ago. It was a heavy disk, inset with numerous runes of some forgotten people. Nathan had found it on the last dig their mother was able to go on, Sam smuggling it out of the sight.

“You found your first treasure Nate!” Nathan had often wondered if the small act had been the reason he sought out small and forgotten treasures over the years. Currently locked away from Cassie, many of those lay in its cabinet, awaiting the day he and Elena would explain all. The disk, made of steel, sat heavy in Sam’s hands, the elder brother smiling as he gave it a close inspection.

“I remember when you found this...man that seems like a lifetime ago.” Sam chuckled, setting it down as Nathan lay the figure beside it.

“I just remember how mom almost caught you.” Sam rolled his eyes as Nathan snickered, pulling up a small cloth bag. “Holy crap...I thought I had lost these…” 

“Go on, see if they still move.” Nathan carefully opened the bag, five small stone-like objects falling into the palm of his hand. At first, they just glittered in the sunlight from outside, making Nathan pout a little. About to set them down, Nathan grinned when the stones began to rattle, a glow emanating from the center of each one. In front of their eyes, each stone took the form of some variant of ancient dragons, their bodies rattling as they stretched and took in the room. Elena watched with wide eyes as the creatures seemed to recognize the brothers, Sam laughing as two jumped onto his outstretched hand. For a few minutes, the brothers let them do as they pleased, Sam eventually reaching into the chest again. He re-emerged with some sort of helmet, Nathan looking surprised as he reached out to touch it.

“You stole that from his collection?” Sam nodded, setting it right on Nathan’s head.

“Reminds me of that lady’s house, when you kept that samurai helmet on.” Nathan gave a shrug, reaching up to rub the side of the helmet. His mood seemed to be shifting, taking on a slightly sorrowful look as Sam dug around some more. A shawl was handled like it was made of glass, two of the little dragons nesting on top. The elder paused at the sight of neatly stacked books, the faint stench of mildew rising up when one by one they were pulled out. Some were white journals, the two silent as they were carefully stacked aside. Others were leather-bound books, sixteen-century Spanish inscribed on the sides among varying other old languages. Whatever Sam seemed to be looking for appeared to be on the very bottom, six books pulled out and sat beside the white journals.

“Oh my god...you saved them?” Nathan sounded touched, eyeing the stack as Elena slowly entered the room.

“What are they?”

“These are the sketchbooks of Nathan Drake, circa ages four to about ten.” Sam announced proudly, holding one out to his sister-in-law. Elena took it with a bit of a smile, opening it halfway through. A drawing of some sort of church met her, looking surprisingly detailed despite the smudge here and there. Notes were scrawled in the corner and ledger, something that Nathan still did to this day.

“This is amazing for someone that young.” She flashed her husband, who looked fairly uncomfortable, a smile.

“Nate’s always been good at drawin’, ever since I can remember.” Sam boasted, clearly proud of his brother. Elena chuckled as she flipped through the pages, the brothers beginning to talk about past experiences.

Elena had never pried into Nathan’s, then later Sam’s, past life. Sure, she had been skeptical of his claim as the unknown heir to Sir Francis Drake, who wouldn’t be? Whatever they did to start over had been top-notch, Elena’s contacts coming up only that they had begun their lives at the age of 13 and 18 respectively. To see Property of Nathan Morgan scrawled on the cover was fairly jarring to say the least, Elena taking a closer look.

Fisher-Drake suited her just fine if she was honest. Looking up, Elena smiled at the sight of her boys animatedly chatting about some theft, one stone dragon nestled up in Nathan’s hair while another rested upon Sam’s cigarette case. 

 Questions could come another time, for now two brothers laughed over artifacts spilled before them.

#uncharted #uncharted 4 #uncharted spoilers #spoilers #nathan drake #nate drake #sam drake #samuel drake #elena fisher #cassie drake #victor sullivan #sully #you can't not tell me they didn't find some magic artifacts #there are 500+ year old spaniard zombies #and whatever the things in shambhala were #and not have magic be canon #100% sam stole them #but #to be a good brother #pls naughty dog #i need more brother interaction

[ohvalleyofplentyyy]

Merlin’s Blood - Chapter 3

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ch.1   ch.2

Chapter 3: A Memory

Okay so I can either let the Bard drown and the Witcher die from water in his lungs… or save them.

Gross.

“Help! Oh please have mercy on me gods above! I’ll be good I promise, I’ll, I’ll pick up trash with I see it, I’ll pay for beer next time Geralt and I are at a pub! I’ll change my underwear daily—“

“Okay please stop I don’t need to know any more details about that!”

“AHH!”

Jaskier’s grip slipped as your voice surprised him but he clung onto the log for dear life again. He looked relieved to see you but then his face dropped. “Y/N you need to get out of here! I mean, putting me on the bank would be helpful but I don’t know when Geralt will wake up and… I don’t want him to do something he’ll regret.”

You moved your hand across the top of the water, dipping only your index and middle finger into the liquid. His shirt detached from whatever it was caught on and he started flowing downstream on the log. You then waved your arm and the current turned him to the bank. He climbed up onto the shore, panting from all the swimming.

“Alright,” you turned to leave but stopped and let out a big breath, “hold on, one more thing.”

You walked off the water and over to Geralt, Jaskier started crawling faster over, as if trying to block your path.

“Relax, I’m not going to kill him.”

Even though I should, but mom would never forgive me.

“Darling! What on Earth are you doing to the curtains?!” Your mother came rushing into the library, catching 9 year old you staring in terror and embarrassment at the satin curtains that were now on fire. “Mommy! I didn’t mean to! Rhean was teasing me about my lineage and I—“

Rhean was your older brother, well, adoptive older brother. His family and the kingdom he was from perished in a horrible war with the neighboring kingdom. The king was your father’s best friend and they had both made a vow that if something happened to the other, they would take in their children as their own.

You were only two when this happened and since you were the only child your parents ever had (i.e no boys) your father decided that it would be easier to just pass the throne to him.

Your mother had fought for you but in the end, to quote your dad, ‘it might be easier to just have a human rule a human kingdom instead of… whatever she is.’

Yeah, ouch.

Rhean, once he was old enough to understand that he would become king, made it his destiny to torture you with the fact that you had been passed up to rule and he was going to be in charge. You didn’t know why he punished you, maybe because of the fact that he had no family?

Honestly, it didn’t matter cause in the end, he died.

Your mother wrapped her arms around you and moved her right hand down in a straight line, ceasing the fire that raged in the room full of books. “It’s alright darling, look everything is back to normal.” You sniffled, “I’m not normal.”

She smiled sweetly at you but with a bit of sadness behind it. But you didn’t notice, you were 9 and the most important thing to you in that moment was what would happen to the now ruined curtains.

“It’s good to not be normal, being normal would be boring, you’d be like everyone else.” The queen picked you up and carried you up to your room, leaving a few maids to deal with the curtains.

Once in your room, your mother and you sat on the bed, looking out of the window watching the stars twinkle in the edge of evening. “Mommy, what’s Rhean always teasing me about? I’ve looked through almost all the books we have here but I can’t find any answers. What’s the matter with my lineage?” She took your hands in hers, “There’s nothing wrong with our bloodline, it’s just different from others and that makes them scared.”

You climbed farther up on the bed and wrapped your arms around your tiny kid legs, “How does Rhean know more about it than me?” “Your father thought that it would be better if the,” she swallowed, “future king knew about our… abilities.”

You scoffed, “He’s not the rightful heir, but he’s been chosen to precede father, how is that fair.”

She continued, “Y/N I need you to know that you are very powerful. Forget anything that Rhean says, just believe in yourself and be careful who you tell things to, the important things.”

She climbed up next to you snuggling down into the comforter. “The important things?” You questioned. “People can be cruel, you have a magic that some could only wish to imagine. Don’t tell anyone what you can do, unless you’re sure.”

“Okay Mommy.”

You moved both your hands each one starting from the top to the bottom, creating a circle. Then you moved both hands up, index fingers pointing at Geralt. Immediately he started coughing up water.

“Alright, since I just saved the man who wants to kill me, I’m going to leave and try to get a head start.” You turned to leave when the white-haired man rasped, “Wait.”

“Why should I?” You exclaimed, whipping around to see the two companions propped up against a tree. “Because I want to know if you know this name.” You crossed your arms, “Okay, shoot.”

“Nheanr.”

You searched your mind, eyebrows scrunched together.

Nheanr?

Doesn’t ring a bell. Hm.

“Nope, sorry. Can I go now?” The Witcher stood up on jelly legs, grumbling incoherent words to himself. Quickly, you moved into a defensive stance not knowing if he was tricking you or not. Moving your hands out to the water, you made an icicle form and come float at your side, pointed and ready to strike.

“I’ve decided not to kill you.”

You made a sarcastic grin at him, “Gee thanks, what a relief.” Jaskier now staggered up and walked between you. “Alright, so Geralt has said he means no harm, can you lower the ice dagger please?” You shot him a look, “You really think I’m going to believe him?”

The tall man leaned against the tree, “Why would someone be trying to kill you?” He said. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, “Hmm, I wonder why someone who wants to kill a person powerful enough to wipe out an entire order of mages and start a dictatorship over the entire continent.” The musician scrunched his face, “she’s got a point there.”

“Well whoever they are, they seem pretty determined to take your bloodline out.” You sighed, slightly lowering the icicle, causing Jaskier to let out a small breathe of relief.

“I just don’t know who has the records to know who’s a descendant and who isn’t, the books of my family tree were burned so long ago to keep us safe.” “Well, apparently some knowledge of your abilities didn’t go up in flames.”

You laughed and sunk into your left hip, dropping the hold on your dagger and propping your hand on your right hip. “You think?”

Time is of the essence, I need to go.

“I guess thanks for deciding to not kill me but I gotta go—“ “Wait!” Before you could teleport to anywhere but there, the bard shouted out. You looked at him, hand in position to leave, “What?” He shrugged his shoulders and walked over to Geralt, suspiciously mouthing something to him with his back turned you determined from the change in the Witcher’s face. He, with all his strength it looked like, wrapping an arm around the grumbling man and pulling him over to you.

“Why don’t we accompany you?”

You can never get things done simply can you Y/N?

You chuckled and started walking away, “Sorry boys I don’t feel like babysitting while on the run for my life.”

At your statement, the Witcher seemed to gain a bit of confidence and snapped back, “What do you mean babysit?” The two travel companions started following you into the forest, decidedly leaving the flooded river behind. You sighed and slowed your pace to walk between them.

“Didn’t I just save your life back there?” “Actually—“ “And didn’t I get your precious bard out of danger in that town— “Hey I was helping you—“ “Didn’t I have to take over the reins of, what’s his name, Roach?” At that statement, Geralt cackled surprisingly. “You never mentioned that Jaskier.” The musician now was a lovely shade of pink.

“Speaking of, where is your horse?” “Traded him for extra money I’ll get him later.” You raised an eyebrow at the odd statement but let it go, seeing as it wasn’t the strangest thing about this whole ordeal.

“Alright so where are we going, any plan?” Jaskier asked.

You bit the inside of your lip, debating if you could tell them your emergency idea you were thinking about the moment you watched that arrow embed itself in Branson. “Yeah, sort of.”

“Go on then, what’s the first step on this journey?”

“I’m going to find Merlin’s Tomb.”

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#geralt of rivia #the witcher #geralt x reader #the witcher jaskier #geralt x jaskier x reader #jaskier x reader #jaskier #the witcher geralt #merlin #the witcher fanfic #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x y/n #plentyyywrites #oh valley of plenty

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Next Caller Pt 5

* A couple hours earlier *

Still mid call with Dain in his try to figure out who was behind the show Gorgo sat in her office that Gimli and Gloin had stopped in the office across from to give her some privacy. Admiring the new art on the wall Gimli kept busy while Gloin glanced at his still buzzing phone deciding to silence the guys in their constant requests for updates. Calling Thorin he said, “Thorin, none of you mentioned the Lass worked for Findis for 12 years.”

Through the line he could feel their moment of looking at one another around the phone on speaker before Dwalin asked, “She works at Findis? We never got that far.”

Thorin, “Only came up how long her shifts were. She had a good review then?”

Gloin, “The Dominic fiasco, she fixed it.”

Balin, “Impressive. No doubt they will have ample tales to share on our young Lass.”

Gloin, “Well, tomorrow is her day off, I’ll be there with all the details for her.”

Dwalin, “What did she settle on? We caught you mentioning she could afford a home.”

Gloin, “Cerulean  Circle. Perfect for her to grow into.”

Thorin, “Better deal than her current expense?”

Gloin smirked, “Around 500 cheaper a month.”

Thorin, “Good. It was what she wanted all around?”

Gloin, “She expected a closet I assume. Seemed nervous, assuming it would all get pulled out from under her. I don’t know what she’s faced before in backlash for her relatives, this house is exactly what she deserves right now. So no spooking her tomorrow with any comments on anything going wrong or foul weather or any omens, nothing, I don’t want to risk startling the poor dear she’s had a rough few centuries so far.”

Dwalin, “We wouldn’t dream of it. The boys will behave we’ll see to it.”

.

They couldn’t even begin to imagine what to expect of Beryl. All the news shared was that it was this ghastly place, but with the fact that you had lived there each of them had a hint of hope that it wasn’t as terrible as others had let on. An hour and a half drive from their familiar city to endless interstate flipped suddenly to what they could only link to a sort of resort style decor. Bright but empty buildings that would seem like they would be lovely and ready to open up for the day yet the empty flowering cacti lined streets were bare of any customers. Word apparently had passed on and if someone would be taking over the city it seemed easier as all the Troll, Orc and Uruk-hai citizens were driving opposite ways from where they were headed with loaded trucks of their own leaving just the gleeful goblins strolling by between groups of Easterlings glaring at each truck passing by.

Up to the lot behind your building they pulled in and Thorin exited the van with his cousins and Nephews while the Driver stayed in the truck watching the group of Uruk-hai teens loading up more boxes into their own while their mother nursed their sister. Peering up at the oddly cheerful yellow shingled building with ample windows, balconies and a glass roof for the very top floor surrounded by sectioned off planters with clearly dug up plants a trio of Trolls were potting to transfer to their owners in their group upping arrival. Fili, “Not what I pictured.”

Bilbo, “Certainly not what the news says it’s like.”

Gloin eyed the building saying, “17th floor.”

Thorin glanced at his cousin and sighed joining Dwalin on leading the way into the stunningly picturesque apartment lobby with crisp white and gold accented wingback furniture and cherry tables topped by gold lights filling the place. Into the massive elevator they all squeezed and Kili said, “There’s no floor 17.”

Gloin cleared his throat feeling eyes on him and said, “A renter refused to sacrifice space to aid in continuing the lift shaft.”

Bofur couldn’t help but snort behind his hand and Kili hit the button and the men sighed hating they would have to take two flights of stairs. Only at the 15th floor they noticed the ceilings for higher and in the stairwell they realized there was four flights they would have to trek to get to your floor. Groaning on the whole path they finally reached your floor eyeing the hand carved doors each with stunning tunes and images etched into the wooden slats on the metal doors.

The one on the end sticking out by the much older wood and firefly accented door above the yellow and black diagonally striped mat outside drew them to it. The opening of the one across from it however halted the men who eyed the massive pair of Uruk-hai brothers standing at over eight feet tall who looked them over in return only to nod their heads and shift allowing the bubbly blonde half Troll women through. The last who said in a thick accent, “Good to see ta Bun has moving hands.”

Her mate grunted in return, “Not much to move,” shifting to grab an armful of ukulele cases his brother grabbed the rest of.

The other male said with a point, “Trash chute is silver, big shaft, take that to 15, how we moved couches.”

Thorin nodded, “Will do, thank you.”

His wife grinned and passed Dwalin a decorative pan in the shape of a flower, “For ta Bun, luck and safe for move.”

Dwalin nodded in their path to the stairs leaving their empty oblong apartment open, “I’ll give it to her.”

“You help ta Bun?” A voice behind them boomed and it seemed more and more doors opened up with the same question being asked until all five doors around them had been left open and empty apartments sat open in the families heading down to their vehicles.

Pulling the lever in the wall next to the door frame Bilbo drew the focus back to your apartment at the muffled buzzing sound followed by a muffled thud narrowing eyes at the door. Suddenly it swung open and with a panting grin you eyed the group of Dwarves behind the Hobbit who flashed you a quick grin once his eyes had trailed the lightning streak like scar along your collar bone in a telling white on your olive skin revealed in your sideways slanted baggy tank top over ink stained jean shorts and bright green converse. “Hey, um, wow you brought a group, I pictured like, three of you.”

Thorin smirked and rumbled back, “What use would three be in emptying a house? Your neighbors gifted, ta Bun, a bunch of tins.”

In their flashing you the tins you grinned, “Aww, so sweet of them they didn’t have to.”

Dwalin, “Can we ask why?”

“I’m the elder on the floor. You always gift the eldest before you leave a territory.” When you stepped back you said, “Guess we can see how many of you fit.”

Peering inside Dwalin asked eyeing the floor to ceiling piles of books with cubbies filled with knickknacks, sketches and mini framed portraits. “You didn’t pack?” All across the walls around the cubbies and cabinets acting as your closet surely showed little effort towards moving past the laundry basket with blankets, sheets and pillows on top of the blood boiling twin sized mattress on a four inch platform.

Turning around from your path to the kitchen you eyed the shelves and giggled approaching one. At the base you tapped your foot on the blue slanted square pattern all at once causing in a ripple the cubbies to drop into the base until in a line of trunks the bare walls were revealed. Some with a few collapsing trunks resting one on top of the other or even more behind the first row parting their lips. “Sorry, keep forgetting only Trolls make them.” You said stepping around your troll sized armchair and round end table clearly acting as your dinner table on the lone patch of tile acting as your dining area against the jut out spot where your shelves for the open pantry was.

Bofur said, “Very handy.”

“Packed up the kitchen should be room for the gifts still.”

Splitting up the men divided to grab the trunks to fill the carts they brought for the trash chute. Just leaving a bed sheet coated object and the bed Kili tapped the triangle on making it snap up too luring a smirk across his lips while holding the laundry basket of sheets to carry down with the rest of it all until the room was empty except for the sheet coated object Thorin and Gloin were staring at.

Pointing at it Fili asked, “Miss Pear, what’s under the sheet?”

Gloin, “It’s not your bird cage, is it?”

You shook your head, “No, they’re up top. That’s my piano.”

Unable to help it Thorin smirked and purred, “You have a piano in all this?”

Firing back with a playful smirk you walked over and pulled back the sheet dropping their jaws seeing the partial geode carved piano with stone legs and crystal revealed top housing the keys and compartment for the strings and mounts. “Where-,” Gloin rasped out.

With a smirk you replied, “Gift from my Gran.”

Dwalin, “That’s singing stone.”

“Yes it is.” Still smirking as it registered that it was crafted from stones known to him along to whatever tune you played harmonizing to even the simplest of tunes. “Lighter than it looks.” You said guiding the Dwarves to lift the instrument and set it on the cart. While that went down you led Bilbo, Thorin and Dwalin upstairs. Right behind you Bilbo wondered just where this supposed garden of yours was only to let out a gasping squeal in seeing the stunning oasis under the golden light refracted into dozens of rainbows around the planters of various flowers, small fruit bearing trees, vines and bushes beside the trunks you closed holding your potatoes, carrots and green beans. “Now it shouldn’t be too heavy to manage, those are Uruk planters, fairly light for most races though a bit cumbersome and I’ll get the swings.”

Thorin muttered to himself, “Swings..” eyeing the Elven rope contraptions laced between support beams with bells and nipping decorations showing signs of being pecked at and adjusted.

Fili begins his uncles climbed up next saying, “I thought they said you had birds.”

“Be nice Kuu,” you said and his gaze followed yours to his left. With eyes widening at the once thought odd shimmering silver white speckled bush with a silvery green eye aimed right at Dwalin in the head turning around revealing the face of the turning three foot Great Owl chick from his being woken by the scent and sounds of the strangers.

Kili let out a breath of air, “You have a Great Owl..”

Moving past the Dwarves you shifted the hamster carrier like cage packed with woven tufts of grass and soft clover holding the egg carton like holder with the shimmering galaxy humming bird flock seated in and around the nests watching those around you. Curiously Thorin moved closer to a yellow and orange crystal box with a slot in the top filled with coins he shifted sideways to read the word ‘Rent’ across the top on a piece of painting tape. His smirk however fell at the sudden appearance of the nearly two foot tall zebra striped raven now dangling sideways on one of the swings squawked at Thorin who whispered in Raven tongue, “Hello.”

Belly replied, “Hello, that is my rent. Mind the box, it is heavy.”

Thorin smirked deeper and nodded as you said, “This is Balakavallatagh, but only I can call him Belly.”

Belly nodded, “Only Jack Rabbit.”

Bilbo after touring the mini garden helping the Dwarves on how to close or carry each planter asked, “Jack Rabbit?”

Grinning at him you said, “My name is Jaqiearae.”

He nodded, “Ah, what does ta Bun mean?”

Weakly you chuckled adjusting your sleeve to sit on your shoulder again only for it to slide off once more calling eyes back to your scar, “Trolls and Uruk call you by the meaning of your name. Jack Rabbit is a slur in their tongues. They call hare, bun. So, the Bun. You add ‘ta’ to alert others that it’s a name.”

Bilbo nodded, “Makes sense.”

Dwalin asked noticing the stained glass wrought iron panels, “What is that glass there?”

Your head turned and Belly said, “Houses stripped for travel.”

Fili looked at the Owl as he stretched his wings and shivered fluffing up his feathers mumbling, “We were told it was a long distance.”

Smirking to yourself you brought over a wicker basket with a lid you carried between the confused men saying, “Alright Kuu, lets get you down the steps and you can nap in here.”

Hopping off the short perch the men watched his strut to the steps only to slide down the railing and land with a clack of his talons muffling. Bofur chuckled seeing you crouch to raise him on your arm that lowered into the basket he nestled into as you added the lid, seen to close his eyes again through the open slot in the side. To join his friend Belly slid next halting the Dwarves there gawking at the impossibly rare breed of Raven looking each of them over with his pale green gold flecked eyes while you went up again. Each planter was being brought down while you reached up giving simple tugs on the swings that came free and filled the second basket. From downstairs you heard Belly call out, “Travel tunes!”

“I got it.” You called back making the men around you chuckle again.

Dwalin, “Travel tunes?”

Weakly you chuckled, “Insisted I make a mix tape of their favorite songs to pass the time. Never been in a car before.”

Gloin, “Can’t wait to hear what their choice is,” holding a small pear tree following Bifur with the orange tree.

Bilbo asked, “How did you manage all this? I don’t mean to insult you, but this isn’t exactly prime condition for crops.”

“I’m half Vanyar, we’re a little bit impossible.”

Dwalin rumbled, “Other half Hobbit no doubt.”

“No, Teleri, Hobbit and Maiar.” Halting him for a moment to look you over, “His Mom was half Hobbit, so, close.”

Thorin, “Maiar?”

You nodded, “Only like an eighth? I think, hard to keep up the math. I’m a mutt.” Looking to Bilbo you said, “It’s not that hard, just have to find the right mix for the soil and add in extra minerals and adjust each to fit the best sunlight positions.”

On the other end of the room Kili asked, “Miss, um, what happened to your bike?”

You turned looking at the half of your bike left by the remnants of your homemade washing machine, “That was my washing machine that also hooked up with the sprinklers.”

Bilbo, “Sprinklers?” You nodded and showed him the bucket of hoses you had used to link up to the part of the roof that flooded you used as a makeshift water well for the plants emptied by the force of the pump you had made.

Bofur, “How did you come up with all this?”

You looked at him, “Had a lot of time to myself in Ruun. You pick up a lot on how to work with scraps.”

The men collectively repeated the name of the now destroyed island prison the Dark Elves from past the Smoking Cinders Forest below Orcarni had held thousands of Elves captive from the forces they faced in the wars centuries back. “Ruun?!”

You nodded, “Service was mandatory in Nuunife, 50 years. 2 years in our freighter was hit, again, my name had me snatched up from the wreckage, even though I was an engineer. Wasn’t that bad, past the first couple months…”

Again Bilbo’s eyes fell to your shoulder at the stroke of your fingers along the scar, “They did that?”

“Um, the carrier got hit by something, the reactor surged, caught me, but they have uv markers, to brand their prisoners. It’s there, and on the back,” you shook your head, “You don’t need to look at me like that. Staged a coup and stole one of their carriers we managed to get to Numenor. Discharged, with honors outstanding.”

Lowly Gloin said patting your other shoulder, “No doubt in that.”

Bilbo wet his lips, “I only mention, that is, I’m a tattoo artist, if you like we work with uv often, it is fairly easy to cover if it is old.”

“Well it was seven centuries back.”

Bilbo grinned at you, “I’ll leave you my card, we can set up an appointment to think up a design you might like whenever you like. No worries on the cost, we always offer free for jobs like this for former service men and women.”

You nodded and turned to help gather the rest of the odds and ends until you were joining the guys down. Holding the hummingbird carrier with Belly on your shoulder nuzzling against your head to keep calm at his first and last time out of this apartment with you while Kuu tried to sleep riding on the cart in his basket. Through the slot on the locked office wall Bilbo slid the envelope holding the key to your open apartment and joined you all on the walk to the waiting van beside the locked up truck.

In the back of the trunk Kuu was settled while Belly and the carrier were with you in the front seat you buckled into. Into the slot the mix tape was eased and your fingers rose to smooth against your forehead as the first song popped up. For an hour the songs would play and for the embarrassment you had assumed to feel the singing and bouncing Dwarves joined the birds bopping along to ‘Safety Dance’ to start off the long voyage.

.

There was no time for sentiment, no time to take a lingering stroll through the tiny apartment, not while your mind raced at all you had shared in these past few days. No one had ever asked about your scar before, a stunning fact stinging at you. No one had asked why you were so fine with being alone and living in such cramped quarters, were used to going without. Or how you had grown to be so comfortable with the supposed rougher races who mainly had a lifetime a third of all the others explaining why they would use surrogates from the race of Men every other generation to hopefully extend that precious time they had together. No one had cared to try and help you like this before, and it was highly understated that you were beyond baffled as to how to behave after this.

As fast as you had been moved out your things were moved to the equivalent of the rooms they had been taken from and a call from the owner of the truck had the guys off again. One lingering awed gaze at the greenhouse was what Bilbo got to take with him before managing to slip you his card to come up with your tattoo idea. And with the closing of your forest green door you turned with a grin to Belly with his head cocked on top of one of your trunks only to join you in a giddy hop while you let out an excited squeak.

Through the house you showed the birds then got to assembling their homes again in the greenhouse while they flew around inspecting the arches and domed ceiling praising the home you had found for all of you. From above between glances off the arches they helped to guide you in laying out the planters to better spots. All sharing their eagerness to see how the earth would take their plants once you had moved them from their planters finally. Their swings were next with Belly helping to guide the ropes and swings under them with much more space this time around for their bells and dangling perches. Carefully you helped to resettle the nests for the hummingbirds back in their home they thanked you for then nestled on top of again to nap from their tiring day ensuring their favorite flowers were taking in all the sunlight they could before they had drifted off.

Though on your walk back to the kitchen you paused hearing your doorbell ring. With your head cocked you walked through the house to your front door. Opening it you found Thorin holding Belly’s tape, “Forgot this.”

“You drove all the way back to give me this?”

A moment his lips pursed and he replied, “No.” Your brow inched up and he lifted a bag from his side, “I brought food. It needs to cool, so I thought you might need help unpacking your kitchen?”

“I knew you were up to something.” His brow inched up, “Trying to subtly hide my dishes too high up for me to reach.” Earning an eye roll from him as he walked in easing the door behind himself shut then followed after you to the kitchen. On top of the counter he set the bag and watched you open the trunk you had filled with the things from your kitchen. Cubbies rose slowly and on the counter you set the open topped boxes of food you had pulled from your pantry he helped to take back to your new pantry. “You could have waited on the tape till tomorrow.”

Lowly he rumbled back, “Didn’t feel right. One call and you were just alone. Well, not alone,” his eyes scanned over your face in setting the empty boxes back and joining you in grabbing the next set with cups he followed your lead in where to place them to your liking. “How are they taking it?”

“Well, the hummingbirds are napping, thoroughly exhausted by the whole ordeal,” making him chuckle to himself, “It’s such a big world to them. And the greenhouse is amazing.”

“Yes it is.” His eyes scanned over you again from the side of his gaze.

“Kuu is finding his favorite spots to hide, and Belly is taking a lap over the block.”

Thorin smirked, “No wonder your neighbors seemed to be buzzing. They are rare you know. Hardly ever seen out of captivity due to their status. Where did you find him?”

“Old neighbor bought his egg, wanted to eat him, I told them a lie and bought him. Still trying to perfect my Raven tongue. Bit rough, but I am not the worst student.”

“It is impressive, few other races can master the sounds.”

“Exactly. Part of why he’s patient. Plus Kuu had a talk with him when he was young, I had a hard week and started crying halfway through a lesson. It was bad, worse than bad, but he understands. I tried to get him some raven buddies but apparently I looked a bit shady in the shops or something, wouldn’t let me buy one.”

Thorin chuckled again, “You’re not shady. Few shops sell unless given an event one of their clan are holding. Ravens are meant to bond with their keepers, I am sure you know. To hear you have one,”

“Ya, no doubt I’ll pluck it and eat it.” Making him chuckle again in your move to the silverware trays you eased into their new drawers you left cracked to remember which they were in. “Maybe he can find one or two around here to chat with.”

Thorin chuckled saying, “Perhaps I could bring by my raven, Roac, he loves meeting new birds. Should have heard him the last time a pigeon landed on our balcony.” In a curious glance over you he asked, “You like it here? I mean, you bought it, but, was it what you hoped for?”

“Always liked the Hobbit style, I do have to admit the Dwarf touches too, especially in the greenhouse. Let me guess, something, modern for you.”

With a smirk he turned with you to your round dining/end table you set plates on and slid a pair of trunks over to for seats, “My brother picked the style. It was available. Plenty of rooms for the pair of us, bit cramped with our nephews there.”

“Gloin can’t help there?”

Thorin chuckled, “Trust me, he wants to, but none of us can agree on a place or find a day we’re all off for hunting. Plus the boys have terrible taste.”

Looking in your fridge you said, “Apple juice or cranberry juice?” his brow inched up, “Or I have a water bottle left? Guess I’ll have to shop.”

While he carried the bag of food over he answered, “Apple, please.” You brought him over a small 8 oz bottle of juice deepening his smirk as it nearly vanished inside his fist the same size of your bottle of cranberry juice you set down while you sat down on the trunk behind you. “These are adorable,” he teased and you rolled your eyes.

“I reuse them, get the bigger bottles and pour them in these so I can use the bigger ones for making soaps.”

“Do you need help with furniture?” he said setting out the final container of food noticing your fork being pointed at him.

“I’ve got it, I’ve known you a few days you’ve helped me with a review job, to move and brought me dinner, you do not get to redecorate too. I got it, gotta plan.”

“And how long will that take?”

You shrugged, “Who knows.” Making him roll his eyes next watching you serve yourself from the containers to fill your plate before he did the same.

“Well if you-,”

“Need help, I know, I will contact my local Mug Dealer.”

“I-,” you smirked at him and he rolled his eyes and looked to his plate again. “You must be pleased most of my family is calling me that now.”

“It’s adorable, plus it gives you a bit of mystique to add to your daily life in that shop of yours.”

“So you assume I need mystique in my life?”

“Everyone does,” you said filling your fork, “My main job’s mostly watching other people live their lives from the background. You have no idea how many stories whiz right by you, no doubt having a shop is like that too. People buzz in and out without ever really interacting with you as a person.”

Through your next bite he looked over your face and asked, “Gloin did spill the beans, you work at Findis, do you like it there?”

“It’s nice. I’ve got a nitpicking thing, I’m good at cleaning. Did get bumped up to the top floors so I also do errands and such, within reason of course. But it’s one of the best jobs I’ve had. Now I’m just a stop away from it. How bout you, you like the shop?”

“We opened the shop, it’s our baby. I love the shop. Not the baby sitting hassles from time to time, I have nothing against mothers but the ones who plan poorly taking advantage of those who try to help them, I have little compassion for.”

“I’m not-,”

He shook his head and gave his hand a slight wave in front of his chest after taking a bite of his food, “You are not taking advantage. And if you were I wouldn’t blame you.”

“My past doesn’t forgive being cruel. It demands the opposite.”

“I get that.”

“But thank you for the permission to take advantage of you.” Coughing through swallowing his mouthful he glanced up at you seeing your puffy cheeked grin, a sparing sip of his drink later and you got back to eating talking about possible ideas you could use for filling your empty rooms and companies to help.

Chatting playfully back and forth eventually in your shared history of wishing for castles with hidden hideaways and treasures came to a halt as he said, “I have books on how to build secret doors in bookshelves.”

You lowered your drink and pointed at him making his brows inch up, “I have a secret study!”

Chuckling lowly he asked, “What?”

Up you popped taking hold of his wrist pulling him to his feet excitedly spreading his grin in his trot behind you passing through your bedroom into the hidden study through a hidden door earning another chuckle from him. When you let him go he looked around and stopped to see you pull the door open in the atrium revealing the second hidden door there. “It’s so cool!”

He chuckled again and stepped closer to you only to pause at the alarm sounding on his phone he pulled out. “Oh, wow it’s getting late. Let me help you clean up.” While you turned his hand clenched a moment in realizing just how close to you he had been standing.

Quietly through lingering chuckles you both cleaned up and into the trash can you brought out of another trunk the containers were put while he rinsed the dishes and set them to dry on the rack in the washer. Closing that had him turn to see you flashing him a rapid grin and shift to guide him to the door, through the forest green door you eyed his sporty black car he walked to saying, “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” Waves were traded and you closed the door in his lowering into the car. Exhaling slowly you leaned against the door and turned your head to flip the lock feeling the locks inside the door shifting to latch into the frame at several points. “Why does he have to be so amazing?” you sighed out in a push off the door to head to your bedroom to try and get some sleep.

Another kick to your bed case had it expanding to full Troll size in the center of the room with a cushioned head and footboard now fully expanded. Onto the bed you crawled and plopped down hugging your pillow in the softly rising light of the crystal lanterns on the walls that would give off a soft glow through the house so it was never fully dark inside.

A sudden pop up had you also ensuring the garage and back door were locked as well before coming back again to lay across your pillow again. To the sound of Kuu singing a song you fell asleep smiling to yourself in planning the letter you would write to your mother, sisters and Cirdan. Breakfast would come soon enough and after a shower you could start a draft of it all to send off while you ate, surely the first of dozens until you could get the wording right and add pictures of your new home.

Pt 6

A rough sketch of the Dwobbit Home I made up. :)

@himoverflowers​, @theincaprincess​, @aspiringtranslator​, @sweeticedtea​, @ggbbhehe4455​, @thegreyberet​, @patanghill17​, @jesgisborne​, @curvestrology​, @alishlieb​, @jogregor​, @armitageadoration​, @fizzyxcustard​, @here2have-fun​, @lilith15000​, @marvels-ghost​, @catthefearless​, @imjusthereforthereads​, @c-s-stars​, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​, @mariannetora​, @shesakillerkween

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim​, @jotink78​, @pastelhexmaniac

#Thorin x Reader OC #Hobbit #lotr

[hoovii]

If You Only Knew, You'd Hate Me Chapter Three

Pairing: Bucky Buchanan x OMC (Zebediah Kaskitt)

Summary: Bucky and Zebediah had a fleeting interaction years ago and Zeb has been hung up on the boy ever since. Even with his arrogant and dismissive exterior, Zeb still tries to make a connection.

Warnings: swearing, shitty parents, as per usual, bucky gets pumbled, it's bad, I guess I just hate my main characters, but wait, theres fluff, yep, hurt comfort baby

Tags: @lykenbcrn @btrmuffins @diagnosed-crazy

As always ask if you'd like to be tagged

Part One Part Two

_

When Bucky stepped into the kitchen his mother was in her usual place at the island. What worried him was that his father was behind her chair. Bucky knew well enough to take his seat across from his mother. His father eyed him the entire time, a look of disdain on his face that was reserved specifically for Bucky. Bucky's father was better than him in every way. Taller, stronger, more handsome, smarter, and infinitely more talented. A silence hung in between the three, the kind that pulled tighter the longer you held it until you reached a point where it would be painful no matter how it was broken.

"I can't believe you. Right now, I honestly could care less if you were found dead in a ditch. In fact, that might be an improvement to our current situation."

A glob of spit landed on Bucky's face. He didn't dare wipe it off. He felt the telltale sting of his father's slap across his face, then again on the other side of his face. His father's rings digging into his cheek and brow bone. He knew there would be blood. There was always blood when his father punished him. Especially now. Last night's fresh wounds would easily be reopened.

"Stand."

Bucky did as he was told, moving far enough away from the chair to give his father room enough to be able to circle him comfortably if he wished to. Bucky would be cleaning the floors later. They were lucky the tile was brown. A white tile would be much more difficult to clean.

"You were with that fucking zombie again."

His father accentuated each word with a blow to Bucky's face.

"They are disgusting."

A fist.

"You are disgusting."

A knee.

His father's rings stamped images onto his body. They would resurface later in the form of bruises. He grabbed Bucky's wrists, nails piercing the skin.

"I thought you learned your lesson after yesterday boy."

He threw Bucky on the ground collecting the skin of his wrists under his fingernails. He slammed his foot into Bucky's back as a preventative to stop him from getting up.

"Don't lie to me boy. If you tell me you learned your lesson I don't want to see it again."

A series of kicks fell onto his back and sides. The beating couldn't have lasted more than a couple minutes, but it felt like hours. It felt like it would never end. His mother didn't participate. She merely watched, sipping her martini and occasionally checking her watch, as if this was just a slight inconvenience to her. In all likeliness it probably was.

"Stand."

Bucky again did as he was told. Any other time he would've submitted. But he didn't want to not see this zombie anymore. He wanted that kindness. He needed that kindness.

"May I speak, sir?"

His mother and father exchanged glances before he gave a curt nod.

"I wish to explain the reason I am associating with the monster."

His mother's eyebrows raised, eyes widening.

"You mean you did not wish to create a friendship with it?"

"No ma'am. Of course not. I just have him do tasks for me. He's like a servant. That's all I'm using him for. He is a filthy zombie. I would never want to be around him otherwise. I promise."

His mother looked to her husband. Being the reasonable one out of the two he had hoped that she took to what he said. She could convince his father of anything.

"You know, dear. That isn't a terrible idea. That's very resourceful of you son."

His father laughed. A rare sound coming from him. It was deep and loud. It wasn't happy. It induced no joy, hearing it. Quite the opposite. The rumble instilled a deeper fear into Bucky.

"Why didn't you say that before we taught you your lesson, boy? Now clean up and do whatever it is you do. God knows you're never home. Just be quiet; we're going to bed."

"Yes sir."

His mother and father left the room. Bucky was able to let out his breath. The first thing he did was clean the blood away from his eyes as best as he could. He made quick work with the mop, disposing of the end and replacing it once he had cleaned the pools on the floor.

_

The sounds of the night filled the air. Homemade windchimes hung outside. They didn't sound good or look particularly impressive, but they were an important part of zombie culture. Art deco in general was a huge aspect of zombie culture. They turned trash into something creative and beautiful. It decorated their houses and their lawns. It was a thing of pride. The windchimes currently jingled unceremoniously. Crickets sang their songs, exchanging melodies with the frogs and the cicadas. Although there technically wasn't a curfew the Z Patrol would still chastise zombies for being out at night so Zombietown was always quiet after sundown.

Of course, on such a beautiful night it would have to be disrupted. The sound of something hitting the chair that served as a window cover rang out. Zeb turned over, covering his head with his pillow. The metal tang continued.

"What the hell." He mumbled.

He threw his blankets off and shuffled to the window, pulling the chair off its nail. In the dirt, down by his stoop stood Zebina. She beckoned him to come down. Zebina never went out after dark. She didn't even go to mashes. Zeb didn't even think she stayed up past ten o'clock. He swung his legs over the railing and hopped into the ground.

"Bina, what are you doing here?"

"The wolves, they're having a campfire. They invited us."

Zeb wrinkled his eyebrows. Zebina, most likely sensing his confusion continued.

"We hung out while you were at your cheer stuff. So are you coming or not?"

"I- yeah."

They hurried to the outside of town where they were met by a wolf named Wynter. The two seemed close, sharing inside jokes as they made their way to and through the forbidden forest. As they approached you could hear howls and laughter. A large fire raged in the center of several wolves. Zebediah didn't love fire. He wasn't scared like some zombies, but he tended to stay away from it. Zebina, on the other hand, was fascinated; she loved fire. She went immediately toward it, greeting other wolves. She was uncharacteristically social. Zebina didn't have a lot of friends; she and Zebediah had been friends since elementary and had just stayed close. She didn't have time to make friends; she had to study. Yet, she already seemed close to them.

Now alone, Zebediah looked around, spotting a semi-secluded spot away from the fire to sit. He decided he'd wake up a little bit before joining the group. Before he got the chance, a wolf came over to him. He remembered her name was Willa. She was kind of scary, but Zeb smiled at her anyway.

"Diah right?"

"Zebediah, yeah."

Zeb moved over to allow her to sit.

"Bina talks about you a lot."

"Oh God, what does she say?"

"Bucky? That asshole?"

Zeb sighed. "Zebina doesn't understand why I like Bucky so much."

"Neither do I."

Willa raised an eyebrow. She looked bewildered. People usually were. He got side eyes whenever he called to Bucky. Zeb shifted into a more comfortable position. This would be a long conversation; he could tell.

"She doesn't pay attention. Nobody does really. I don't blame them. We're all so caught up in our own lives; we don't take the time to look at what's happening with people. Nobody looks behind the brash exterior. He's either a monster or he's a cheer god."

Willa's face wrinkled into something between anger and confusion.

"He is a monster though."

"No. He's not. He's not a cheer god either. He's just a person. A person with thoughts and feelings. A person who makes choices based on things that have happened to him."

"Don't you ever just feel like all your kindness is wasted?"

"Sometimes, yeah, but everyone deserves kindness."

Willa didn't seem happy with his answer at all.

"But he treats everyone, including you, like crap."

She stood, throwing her arms in the air and pacing.

"Kind of, but also kind of not. It's an act. Next time your around, pay closer attention to his facial expressions, to how he words his sentences. Just look closer, I implore you."

Willa stopped to look at him and chuckled.

"You're so nice. Forgiving. You're just like Wyatt." She shook her head, then looked back up at him. "I don't like Bucky, but your decisions are your own. I think whatever this is will go down in flames. I do wish you the best though, you seem like a good kid."

"I'm older than you." Zeb jested.

"I'm wiser."

"Are you though?"

Two shared a grin before Zeb thanked her.

"I am quite tired and I certainly wasn't expecting this conversation tonight, so I think I'm gonna head out."

"Do you need walked back?"

Zeb shook his head before walking over to Bina, informing her of his departure. She managed a 'later loser' before resuming her conversation. The wind was comfortable compared to the humid heat the season brought. Instead of going home, he decided to head into Seabrook.

Willa wasn't wrong. Before this week, Zeb had only his speculations to go on that Bucky wasn't as bad as he seemed. It was childish of him to hope for something more with him. But he stood by his decision that everyone deserved kindness. Especially the people who didn't get it.

He wandered for a couple minutes before he saw a familiar form. It was Bucky. He looked awful. Something was wrong.

_

He supposed adrenaline was the only thing keeping him from passing out. He staggered through the streets. The streetlights blurring together into streaks of light. The houses and trees blurring into paint strokes. He didn't know why he didn't dress his wounds before he left. He needed to get out of the house.

Bucky ran into a solid object. Zebediah.

"We have to stop meeting like this."

Bucky needed to tell him about him helping him.

"I need to talk to you."

Zebediah looked him up and down. There was worry in his eyes, the same kind that Addison gives him.

"You need to get fixed up. Come on, we have stuff at my house."

He started to walk away.

"No, I'm fine I-"

"Bup bup bup. We are going to fix you up and then you can say whatever you needed to say."

Zebediah softly grabbed his fingers, urging him to follow him. He complied.

He didn't know why he was surprised when they walked through the gate. This was where all zombies lived. Zebediah would be no different. He had been here several times before, never really looking at the scenery, just thinking about how to impress his father. It was all trash. All of it. The house they walked in was barely put together. It was such a contrast to what he was used to. Even inside of Zebediah's room it wasn't much better. Everything in it looked as if it had been taken out of the trash. His nose wrinkled when he realized most of it probably was.

He didn't complain that the bed was uncomfortable, although it definitely was. Zebediah stood in between his legs. He had rags, tape, cotton sheets, a bowl, and a bottle of alcohol.

"It's the best I can do. We don't have any antiseptic, so I'm so sorry. This is going to hurt a lot. Tell me if you need me to stop."

Zebediah cradled the back of his head, wiping the blood from his face. He was soft. The rag dusting over his skin. His eyes fluttered closed and he was calm. Nothing could happen to him.

"Grab my arm if you need to."

Bucky didn't need to grab his arm. He wasn't a baby. Then the sting came and Bucky's eyes snapped open. He squeezed Zebediah's forearm. Hard. Zebediah looked into his eyes to make sure he was okay to continue, then covered the cuts that were still bleeding.

"I need you to take your shirt off."

Bucky started to, but he struggled. He couldn't get his arms over his head. Zebediah reached to help him, grabbing the hem of the collar.

"I can do it myself."

He didn't mean to snap. He just- He didn't need anybody's help. Zebediah removed his hands. Bucky messed with it for a couple of minutes before getting it off. Zebediah began to wipe the blood off of his abdomen. He kneeled in front of him, one hand on Bucky's lap. As he assumed, there were bruises everywhere. Little stamps imitating his father's rings. It stung again. Bucky grabbed his arm. He was certain he was hurting him. Still, he didn't complain. He simply circled to his back.

"There's nothing on your legs, is there?"

Bucky shook his head. The air was freezing when Zebediah took his hand away. He handed Bucky his shirt and left to put everything away. He did feel better, not great, obviously, but better. He wasn't covered in blood. That was good.

Bucky's eyes looked to the doorway as Zebediah entered. He sat on his bed and Bucky turned so they were facing the same way.

"Who did this to you?"

Bucky didn't answer. He knew the question would come up. He wanted to answer, but he knew what would happen if his parents ever got wind of it. To be fair he'd be dead meat if his parents knew where he was right now. Before he could decide Zebediah spoke up again.

"Were you in a fight?"

Bucky shook his head.

"Was it- Was it your parents?"

Bucky didn't say anything. He didn't nod or shake his head. He just stared at his toes, hands fiddling in his lap. It was a while before Bucky built up the courage to say anything at all.

"Please, don't tell anyone."

"But we need to help you. I can't just sit and do nothing."

"Just, please."

Zebediah's face worked, but he nodded. Neither of them spoke for some time. Bucky thought about what he said earlier, and the building curiosity forced him to ask.

"Earlier, you said we have to stop meeting like this. What did you mean? How do I know you?"

Zebediah chuckled, although Bucky couldn't think of what could be funny in this situation. Was it obvious? Was he forgetting some huge event?

"A couple years ago I was out past curfew. I heard somebody knock over a trashcan."

Bucky remembered the night he was talking about, not necessarily what he had done wrong, but certainly the punishment. Thinking back on it, Bucky should have known that the boy was a zombie. He hadn't gotten a good look at his face but he had been staring at his hands. Which were gray. And his clothes, no Seabrook citizen would go out dressed like that, even at night. Even then, he still thought about that encounter every now and then. He remembered his voice. It had lowered since then but it still had that same quality. This beautiful melodic tone that sucked you in, made you listen. How in the hell had he not recognized it?

"It's getting kind of late."

Bucky stilled at the thought of going home.

"You could stay if you like."

He let himself sink back into the bed, nodding his head gratefully.

"I don't have extra blankets or anything, but you can take the bed."

Zebediah went to leave the room and Bucky panicked. He couldn't be in here alone.

"Wait," Zebediah turned to look at him. "Could you sit by me?"

His eyes widened. Bucky shied away from his gaze, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. It was his turn to be surprised when he felt the bed dip. Zebediah sat at the head of the bed, leaning against the wall. Bucky hesitantly moved to sit next to him. They sat silently for a while before Zebediah started talking.

"You know, you're gonna be great someday. Not that you're not great now. You're gonna get out of Seabrook. Find a big house, probably like four bedrooms with a pool in the backyard.  You'll get a membership to the gym down the street."

It was soothing. So soothing that Bucky couldn't help but let his eyes close and his mind shut off.

_

Zebediah was in the middle of his story when Bucky fell on his lap. He pet his hair. This is why he did it, why he was so ceaselessly nice. Because you never knew what someone was hiding. Aware that his position was not the best for his back he tried to shift Bucky as best as he could into a lying position. He was going to sleep on the couch, but Bucky grabbed his arm. Zeb could've pulled away if he wanted, but he didn't want to hurt Bucky in any way. He laid on the bed, careful not to bump him. He was hyper-aware of every single move he made. He didn't want to do anything that could further injure him or make him uncomfortable.

Zeb had settled into a half-sleep when he felt an arm wrap around him. He startled awake before remembering Bucky was here. This was a dream come true. Zeb managed to settle back into a comfortable dream state.

_

Part Four

#disney zombies #z o m b i e s #disney channel original movie #disneys zombies #disney #z-o-m-b-i-e-s #bucky buchanan #bucky zombies #if you only knew you'd hate me #buckediah #chapter three #tw: swearing #tw: abuse #tw: violence

[j0hnj4ej3n]

mean it - jeno au

jeno × fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

warning: angst :")

It was close to midnight and jeno was preparing to go to sleep, his roommates, jaemin was already asleep and hyuck was still out partying somewhere, who knows? He changed into a clean, white, comfy shirt and black sweats as he went to wash up for bed. He sighed as he finally got to relax onto his bed, the muscle aches from basketball training yesterday became more sore today and all he really wanted to do was sleep till 2pm. 

That was when his phone started vibrating on his nightstand. He groaned, he thought it had to be hyuck annoying him into picking him up from wherever he was. So he picked up without a second thought, ready to scream at hyuck to get his ass home by himself. “Hyuck, i am NOT picking you up,” he spat out before even saying hello. His heart momentarily stopped when he heard sobbing instead of hyuck’s complains about how he was being a bad friend. 

“y/n, where are you?” jeno said as he shot up from his lying position, now wide awake, his sleepiness washed away by the thought of you crying and alone. “I-i’m outside your door, can you please let me-” you said in between sobs and before you could complete your sentence, the front door swung open and there jeno was, glasses perched on his nose. You dropped your phone into your bag and hugged jeno as you ugly sobbed into his shirt. 

Here he was again, standing behind his front door that was now closed, holding you as you cried over the same asshole who never knew how to treat you right. He was angry, at the number of times this exact scene has occurred over the course of 3 months and he doesn’t know why you won’t just leave him even when you said you would time and again. But he was also tired, tired of watching you get your heart broken over and over again. Tired of only getting to hold you this close when he can’t. Tired of you calling him when you’re heartbroken and crying over this boy. Tired of being your comforter and nothing more. 

Yet, all he does is hold you close and rub comforting circles on your back as his clean, white shirt continues to get drenched in your tears. Because he knows after tonight, you’ll be running back to your boyfriend like he didn’t just hurt you, like you didn’t cry over him for hours the previous night, in someone else’s arms. 

After you’ve calmed down, he brings you into his room and brings you a cup of water to calm you down even more before you start telling him what had happened. He had to fight the urge to hold your still trembling hands, giving you the time you needed to calm down and come to terms with how you were feeling. So he left you fidgeting and playing with your fingers, the expression on your face pained him, to see you so broken once again. You didn’t know what to tell him, there was nothing more to tell him but the fact that your boyfriend went out drinking again and came home smelling like sweet perfume and marks planted on his skin that was clearly not from you. It was a never-ending cycle and you can’t believe you let it happened again. 

“What did he do this time?” jeno asked, and you remained silent, the feeling of crying came rushing back to you. “He was messing around again wasn’t he?” all you could do was nod. Jeno sighed and pulled you into him as tears began to flow down your face once again. “What am I doing wrong? Am I not good enough for him?” you asked as you let yourself break down again. You should be numbed by now, from the sheer number of times your boyfriend had been unfaithful but it still hurts. The first person you always thought of running to was Jeno, he never failed to make you feel better. But you knew it was wrong too, it doesn’t take a genius to know that Jeno liked you. He still does, and it’s so cruel of you to use his feelings to your advantage. It wasn’t like you haven’t considered leaving your toxic and messy relationship to be with Jeno, who would treat you right, who you knew would never have you running to someone else for comfort. But it was easier said than done, because at the back of your head, you believed that your boyfriend loves you, that it was just his way of life that he has yet to get out of. That one day, he would realise that you were all he needed. 

“You are more than good enough, you’re too good for him. He’s just too blind to see how lucky he is to have you, he doesn’t deserve you.” Jeno whispered loud enough for you to hear. You were now lying on his chest, his arm draped naturally over your waist and his other at the back of his head. “If only he would treat me as well as you do…” you said snuggling closer to Jeno if it was possible. You could feel him stiffen under you when you said that, like he was holding back, wanting to say something but deciding against it. “You should… talk things out with him, stop letting him get away with it,” was all Jeno muttered out. When in reality, he’d wish you would just leave him for good and let him love you like you deserved. 

“I’ll try… thank you Jeno, I wouldn’t know what to do if not for you,” you said as you looked up into his eyes. He was looking back at you, the look in his eyes unreadable. It felt like a mix of love and pain, but all he did was smile back at you. In this moment, you had the sudden urge to close the space between both your lips. Maybe it was an attempt to fill the current void you felt in your heart, or to ease the pain you felt. Or perhaps, you just wanted to feel the love you know Jeno was so ready to give. 

And so, you leaned in and before closing your eyes, you saw Jeno’s expression change from his smiling one to one of confusion. You could feel how close you were to him, his breath brushed against your lips and you could almost feel his lips on yours before he pushed you away. The warmth that surrounded you for the past few minutes was replaced with the cold as Jeno pushed you out of his embrace. “We can’t.” was all he said as he sat back up and ran his hand through his hair, looking down on the floor instead of at you. “It’s bad enough that you’re here at my house instead of talking things out with your boyfriend. What’s the difference between you and him if you just kissed me as if he didn’t exist?” he said, frowning at the floor before he looked back at you. 

“I’ll leave him, I don’t want to be with him anymore.” you said as you moved closer to Jeno, hating how you knew he was right about how wrong all of this is. “That was what you said the last time. And you know you’re just going to run back to him once he apologises, so stop saying things you don’t mean.” and all you could do was stare back at him. Now you see it, the exhaustion and pain you’ve brought to Jeno. You felt like crying again, not over your boyfriend but now, because of Jeno. Your lack of response caused Jeno to chuckle coldly, “See? You don’t mean it,” he said so matter-of-factly it scared you a bit. “But I need you Jeno,” you muttered out, so softly you wondered if he heard you. Jeno stood up and took your bag off the floor beside his bed, “I think it’s time for you to go,” he said monotonously, handing you your bag. 

It hurts Jeno to have to push you away, but he knew he had to. It was wrong and he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from falling any harder for you if he were to give in to you trying to kiss him just minutes ago. He was tired from running round and round, hoping that one day you would really leave that  trash of a man when he knew it wasn’t going to happen. It was all messing with his head so much that he couldn’t have you around anymore for tonight. For tonight, because he knows he’ll still hold you in his arms nights to come when your boyfriend broke you again. He knows he was always going to be there for you, when you tell him you need him, even when you don’t mean it. 

#nct #nct dream #nct jeno #lee jeno #jeno au #jeno imagines #jeno scenarios #jeno angst #mean it #lauv x lany #j0hnj4e

[theolddarkmachine]

Imaginary - Chapter Eleven

Midoriya Izuku’s life was turned upside by fate.

Eri’s life was turned upside down by circumstance.

And Bakugou Katsuki is about to learn that even imaginary friends need to grow up.

Also on AO3

A/N: Lord, let me tell you, it was like my boss lady and he husband both knew when I was trying to work on this, cuz damn near every time I opened the word doc they came up with some new task for me to do lol Here’s to still getting this bad boy knocked out!

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

The shiny silver gleam of the elevator doors seems to taunt Katsuki as he stares at it, anticipating the sound of its arrival as he waits, steaming cup of green tea in hand. Even by his own standards it’s pretty damn early, leaving him wanting for just a bit more time to enjoy his tea alone, but the Administrator had requested he come in first thing in the morning.

Which couldn’t mean too much good.

Toshinori never was much of a morning person.

Sipping some of his tea, Katsuki enjoys the slightly too hot burn of the liquid in his throat as it pushes back the last dredges of sleep down deep into his chest. It lands beside the soft and tempered memory of Midoriya’s eyes as they’d shone a bright, brilliant emerald beneath the sun, looking toward him with wonder and appreciation.

They’d been the crowning jewel of his dreams the previous night after he’d finally made it back home from their outing. It would probably piss him off if he took the time to think about it, but the elevator dings, pulling him back roughly to the hallway and away from the gemstone gaze.

Stepping through the metallic doors after they slide open, Katsuki settles his back against the cool steel of the lift. Pulling another long sip from his cup, he watches as the door begin to close slowly before their stopped by a hand being thrust between them.

The hand pushes gently at the door and the space between them widens, revealing Kirishima and his all too bright smile. Katsuki grumbles low as he scoots to the side to accommodate for the second body in the elevator.

“Hey, Bakubro!” Kirishima boasts, eyes crinkling at the sides as his smile grows impossibly wider around his sharpened teeth. “It feels like it’s been forever! How have you been?”

Looking over his shoulder, the redhead punches a button before turning his attention back to Katsuki. The door quietly close behind him, leaving Kirishima outlined by shiny silver as he awaits his reply.

“Been busy,” Katsuki gruffs, eyes burning as he watches the numbers Ono the floor counter rise painfully slow.

“Yeah, me too man,” Kirishima chuckles, finally moving forward to settle into the space beside him. Placing his hands against the metal railing that wraps around the car, he folks his fingers around it, gripping tightly as he leans back into it as he lets his head fall back against the wall with a soft thud.

They both stand there in silence fo a moment before the redhead turns his head slightly, his grin sharp and troublesome as he eyes his companion. Ignoring the weight of it, Katsuki takes another long drag from his paper travel mug, emptying it of its contents.

“You must really like your current assignment though,” Kirishima says with a wicked tone darkening his words. Almost dropping his cup, Katsuki chokes on the last dregs of his green tea.

“What the fuck makes you say that, asshole,” he coughs, glaring at Kirishima as he laughs loudly and smacks at his back with an open palm.

“Ah, it’s nothing really, man,” he replies, voice tilting up like his smile as he pulls his hand away and shrugs. Katsuki would believe his words more if he hadn’t just made a very blatant attempt on his life.

And here he had thought Kirishima was a friend.

Dick.

“You’ve just seemed a lot happier than I’ve ever seen you is all,” Kirishima continues, gaze going soft in the wake of Katsuki’s hard stare. Dopey grin still spread wide across his face, he shrugs once more as the elevator car shudders to a stop.

“Well, this one’s me,” he says, pushing away from the wall and crossing the short expanse of the lift. Stepping out into the hall, Kirishima turns back to wave as the doors close.

In return, Katsuki gives him the finger.

“Fucking, Stupid Hair,” he hisses as the elevator continues its ascent. Crushing his fingers around his emptied cup, the paper gives to the pressure with a soft crumpling sound as he groans and drops his head back to stare at the ceiling.

“What does he know anyway,” Katsuki says up to the bright fluorescent light before the elevator fills with its soft mechanical hum.

The last few seconds of the ride is filled with a damning quiet before it shudders to a stop once more, this time at the top floor.

Stepping through the threshold, he locks eyes with the receptionist, who doesn’t even bother asking if he has an appointment before waving him towards the Administrator’s door.

Without knocking, he pushes the door open, eyes immediately finding Toshinori in the quiet space. The older man sits there silent as he stares into the distance, mug stalled just before his mouth.

If Katsuki was being honest, he looked like he had been hit by a fucking truck.

“Hey old man,” Katsuki bites out, kicking the door closed behind him and dropping his disposable cup into the trash beside it. He watches as Toshinori startles, putting down his own mug and eyeing him as Katsuki drops down into the bean bag before his desk.

The dark circles beneath his eyes seem a bit darker, highlighting the hollowness of his expression before it flickers to something warm as he smiles.

“Good morning, young Bakugou!” He cheers loudly, dipping his chin in quick greeting as Katsuki rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, cut the crap, what do you want?” Katsuki growls, sinking so low into the bean bag that his knees jut out and his spine curls into a tight c.

“I can’t want to check-in with you?” The Administrator asks, eyeing him closely, a single blonde eyebrow creeping up towards his hairline in silent question and challenge.

“With anyone else? Sure. Me?” Katsuki says, leaving the rest unsaid as he returns the look. Crossing his arms across his chest, he waits, watching as Toshinori’s expression eases into a look of tired resignation.

“You’ve always been far too perceptive, young Bakugou,” he relents before taking a sip from his mug. The quiet thickens in the air, clinging to him like a second skin as Katsuki traces his gaze over the bright smiley face on the mug’s surface.

“So, what is it?” He finally prompts after the Administrator resurfaces. Setting his coffee down with the gentle tap of porcelain on wood, he turns his gaze back to Katsuki.

“How is your assignment going?” He asks with a forced casualness. It’s just a question, one that he’d ask for any case, but something about it now makes unease zing through Katsuki like a spark of lightning. Toshinori’s bright blue eyes seem to cut straight through him as he fixes his own gaze just over the older man’s shoulder, finding a grounding solace in the off white paint of the office wall.

“It’s going fine,” Katsuki says, voice damning in its earnestness. A muscle twitches in his jaw as he grinds his molars against the taste of his sincerity before trying to rectify it with a dry laugh.

“Who do you think I am, some extra? Of course it’s going great.”

Humming low, Toshinori nods as he steeples his fingers, resting his chin against them as he leans forward into his desk.

“Would you say Eri is progressing well?” He asks, ignoring his quip. Unable to help the proud smile that stretches wide across his features, Katsuki gives a quick nod as he sits up straighter in the bean bag chair.

“Hell yeah, that little shit is probably one of the best kids I’ve had,” he exclaims, chest puffing out just slightly. A light sparks in the depths of the Administrator’s eyes as Katsuki speaks, his chin dipping slightly with a small nod as his smile softens.

“Is she happy?” Toshinori asks quietly.

“Of course she’s fucking happy,” Katsuki scoffs, glaring at the older man. “I wouldn’t be doing my job if she wasn’t.”

Toshinori’s booming laugh shakes the room, causing him to jump slightly at the sudden sound of it.

“You seem to be happy too,” he says simply, answering the unspoken question in Katsuki’s stare, and it causes him pause. The administrator’s words echo that of Kirishima’s not even 15 minutes ago, and he isn’t quite sure how to wrap his mind around the fact that they were right.

He was happy in a different way than he’d ever been, and if he was being honest, he didn’t know what to do with that.

Didn’t even know who he had to thank for that.

A small voice at the back of his mind quips that he might have some idea of who might be the culprit.

Crossing his arms across his chest, Katsuki’s vision narrows as he imagines burning a hole at the center of Toshinori’s forehead with his stare.

“Yeah, I guess. It’s nice to have such an easy case, what’s it to you?” He says slowly, ignoring the collection of sweat at the nape of his neck. The early morning meeting suddenly feels like a sentencing as his mind wanders to Eri, and to Izuku.

He had had his suspicions that administrators knew everything, and could see everything, but he’d never gotten the chance to confirm that. Now, sitting there pinned beneath Toshinori’s stare, Katsuki isn’t sure he wants it confirmed.

Friendship terminated.

Silence bleeds into the cracks and spaces of the office as they hold each others gazes. Moments pass in silent standoff before the Administrator looks away first, gently shaking his head before ducking behind the lip of his mug for another sip.

“It’s just nice to see you loosening up, young Bakugou,” he says, tone full of meaning as he resurfaces from behind his cup.  

“Yeah, yeah,” Katsuki brushes off, cutting his gaze down to his knees. “Is that all?”

“You tell me,” Toshinori replies. “Is there anything else I should know about this case?”

It draws lines of goosebumps across his skin as he bites at the full of his lip, swallowing down the sudden burn at the back of his throat before shaking his head.

“No, that’s it,” Katsuki says lowly. “The kid is doing great, as they always do thanks to my amazing work.”

Another loud laugh echoes through the room as he looks up to the older man in time to catch his kind smile. Rolling his eyes, Katsuki tsks softly before pushing himself out of his seat.

“Then that’s all I need to know. You’re doing well, young Bakugou,” Toshinori says warmly, gaze set on him with silent amusement as if he knows he’s ready to bolt. “It shouldn’t be too much longer that you’ll need to be with her.”

The statement goes through him like a lance, cutting through muscle and bone before catching deep in his lungs and stealing his breath. With his eyes wide, his mind flits from Eri’s bright eyes to Midoriya’s small smile before landing back heavily in the office with Toshinori and his expectant stare.

No, he wants to say. I need more time.

Instead, Katsuki nods curtly before turning on his heel and walking slowly toward the door.

“Next time pick a later time,” he growls as he pushes the oak door open. “You’re shit with mornings.”

The Administrator’s laugh follows him into the hallway, but any retort Katsuki might have is cut off as the door clicks shut.

***

A sense of deja vu twists around Katsuki as he finds himself glaring at door. Carving shapes into the boring white paint with his gaze, his fingers curl into a fist but it stays stubbornly at his side.

He doesn’t know why he’s here, if he’s being honest. He’s Bakugou fucking Katsuki. He doesn’t need anyone to help him untwist the tangled heap of confused emotions settled low in his gut, put there by the Administrator’s words.

This was all part of the job, after all. Katsuki was meant to show up where he was needed, to help while he was needed, and then to leave once he wasn’t.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

That much has never bothered him. Why would it?

But now, the thought of leaving Eri has left shrapnel bits of dread running through his blood.

Swallowing down an annoyed sound, Katsuki clenches his fist tighter, focusing on the bite of his nails at the meat of his palm as he wills it to move. Instead, it stays frozen at his side.

After several moments of crushing immobility, he takes it as a sign. Growling in defeat, Katsuki turns over his shoulder to head back toward the elevator. He doesn’t even make it two whole steps before he hears the lock of the door click, and then open.

“If you leave now, I’ll spend the rest of the day wondering what you wanted,” Todoroki’s voice is dry with the barest touch of humor. It causes Katsuki to freeze, mechanically turning his head to look to where the other man stands in his doorway. Tucked into an oversized cardigan and a pair of faded jeans, Todoroki is a picture of comfort as he watches Katsuki, waiting to see what he’d decide to do.

Honestly, it pisses him off.

“Like hell you’d give that much of a fuck,” Katsuki snarls, glare tightening as he sees the smallest beginning of a curl at the edges of Todoroki’s mouth.

“You’re right, but I’m sure no matter what I’ll end up dealing with your bad attitude, so might as well get it over with,” he replies with a small shrug before stepping to the side and ushering him forward. Flicking his gaze to the entryway of the apartment, Katsuki feels the unmistakable tug of curiosity deep in his gut.

“Well?” Todoroki prods, arching a brow.

“Fine,” he growls, pushing by Todoroki as he stomps loudly into the apartment. Turning his back to the man as he carefully shuts the door, Katsuki kicks his shoes off at the shoe rack before making his way further into the home.

He’d only ever been to Todoroki’s a handful of times, but it still looks the same as ever. Tidy and sparse, with a worn leather couch, matching armchair and coffee table, it feels less like a home and more like a stopping spot.

“Can I get you anything to drink? You’ve been out there so long, you must be parched,” Todoroki asks as he passes behind him, sliding into the kitchen just off the entryway.

“Hah hah, funny, IcyHot,” Katsuki says low, moving into the living room and looking over the counter that stands between the two rooms. “If you knew I was out there so long, why didn’t you open the goddamn door?”

Todoroki shrugs again before opening the fridge and grabbing a pitcher.

“Wanted to see if you’d swallow down your pride and finally knock,” he says smoothly, shutting the door with his hip and moving toward the counter. After grabbing two glasses from his drying rack, he flicks his mismatched gaze to Katsuki as his mouth stretches into an all knowing grin.

“Surprise, surprise, you didn’t.”

The sound of water filling glass fills the room as Katsuki moves to the couch, dropping down into it with a soft, squishing thud.

“Fuck you,” he says without heat as Todoroki appears at the side of the couch, putting down one of the cups on the table before him before sitting in the armchair. His gaze never leaves him as he takes a sip from his own water.

Ignoring his look, Katsuki keeps his attention focused on the plain wall ahead of him, all to aware of the weight of his hands where they sit on his thighs. Somewhere, a clock ticks loudly, counting the seconds of silence for an undetermined amount of time.

“So,” Todoroki finally says, breaking the silence, “not that I dislike the company, but I can’t help but feel you aren’t here to pretend like we’re friends.”

Sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, Katsuki chews at it, letting the seconds tick further by before letting out a long, growling sigh.

“What would you do?” He asks, hoping Todoroki understands what he’s asking, if only because he isn’t sure he can force himself to elaborate. It had already taken all he had to make it this far. Hesitating for a moment, Todoroki cocks his head to the side and studies him. Staying like this for a handful of breaths, a look of realization finally eases across his face.

“Is this about that other person seeing you?” He asks, curiosity bright in his voice. It grates at Katsuki’s nerves as he gives a sharp nod as his foot starts to jackrabbit impatiently. A thoughtful sound escapes Todoroki as he leans forward slightly.

“Have they seen you since?” He pushes, interest thick and evident as his eyes spark with intrigue.

“Yeah,” Katsuki huffs, looking down to the coffee table and his untouched water before adding, “a lot.”

With his attention turned away, he misses the way Todoroki’s brow arches high.

“So, there’s no way to avoid them,” it’s a statement, not a question.

“If there fucking was, do you think I’d even be in this situation?” He bites out, heated stare cutting back to Todoroki in time to see him hold up his palms in show of acquiescence.

“Have you talked to the Administrator yet?” Todoroki asks then, echoing his question from that night as he intertwines his fingers and braces his forearms on his knees. Blanching at the question, Katsuki shakes his head.

“Fuck no.”

Another thoughtful hum fills the space.

“So you like them.”

It’s another statement, one that makes Katsuki’s blood burn, the epicenter of it right over his heart.

“The hell did you say?” He snarls, trying his best to swallow down the scorching ache as he jerks halfway out of his seat. Hands fisted and teeth clenched, he glares down at Todoroki waiting for the excuse to fight.

“If you didn’t, you would have told the Administrator,” Todoroki says, matter-of-fact. And dammit all if he wasn’t right. Katsuki knows that, no matter how much he wishes he didn’t. Sigh heavy with the weight of defeat, he falls back down into his seat as his companion continues.

“Maybe you wouldn’t have told him first, but you would have told him after your curiosity was sated. So, you must like them.”

Fucking Peppermint Head.

“Yeah, well even if that’s the case, fat lot of fucking help that will do me as his kid’s imaginary friend,” Katsuki growls lowly, running a hand over his eyes. As his fingers press into his eyelids, a flash of green sparks across the darkness, making him growl again.

The quiet settles over the living room again as they both fall into the silence of their separate thoughts. Todoroki is the first to break it again, speaking slowly, carefully.

“If he can see you, that must mean he needs you.”

He says it with a small lift of his shoulders, as if the simple statement hasn’t just upended Katsuki’s thoughts. Distantly, he hears the echo of Eri’s own words the other day, when her words had amounted to something very similar. The burn explodes, racing out across his chest and through his veins as the two voices twine together.

“Imaginary friends are meant to help those who have forgotten how to smile,” Todoroki quotes, eyes gleaming. Katsuki hears his teeth audibly click as his mouth snaps shut.

Another lengthy pause wraps itself around him as he stares down at his hands, tracing the length of a scar that runs across his knuckles. Reveling in the way fire licks along his ribs, his mind gets caught on the brambles of Midoriya Izuku. He had been a fool to ignore the amount of space the other man had preoccupied, and with those words twisting and turning between the spaces that he didn’t, Katsuki found himself wondering if maybe, Midoriya wasn’t the only one that needed someone.

Tearing his attention away from his hands, he looks to Todoroki to see the curious glint still captured in his stare as he watches him.

“Well thank fuck you know the friend motto,” Katsuki finally says, grabbing for his water and throwing the whole thing back. Without waiting for a reply, he slams the glass back down onto the table’s surface before standing.

Making his way to the front door, he doesn’t bother to check if Todoroki is following him, instead focusing on tugging on his shoes. After making sure they were secure on his feet, Katsuki pulls the door open before stopping.

Coolness eases across his palm as he stands there at the door, hand on the knob as he counts three breaths before turning a look over his shoulder. Leaning against the entryway wall, Todoroki has his arms crossed over his chest as he watches him.

“Thanks,” Katsuki growls begrudgingly, only waiting long enough to catch Todoroki’s acknowledging nod before stepping over the threshold and slamming the door shut behind him.

Shoving his hands deep in his pockets, Katsuki frowns down to the ground as he watches his feet step one in front of the other in the direction of his own apartment. All the way, his thoughts spin precariously around what Todoroki had said.

If he can see you, that must mean he needs you.

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

#bakudeku #bkdk #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #did i break the alternating chapter pattern? maybe #was it worth it? #uh hopefully lol

[tommynikkivincemick]

three way call — part 3

Summary: Tommy Lee and Nikki Sixx find themselves in the frustrating predicament of being infatuated with the same woman. This calls for a competition.

Author’s note: Y/N is a whole mess in this part, so sorry in advance. She gets a little too cozy with both of the boys. Lotta angst in this chapter, lotta fluff, lotta alcohol.

Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption, no smut but sensual moments, messy drama.

Y/N leaned her head back and closed her eyes momentarily as the Twins bickered about something in the kitchen— they always acted like an old married couple, but something had been going on between them as of late that she just couldn’t figure out. It was obviously important, seeing as they nearly killed each other over it, and it seemed to be top secret because for the first time in a long time, they lied to her. She knew damn well that they weren’t being extra sweet to her out of the goodness of their hearts (though she did like it and would prefer if the affection didn’t stop) and she knew that they didn’t get in that big of a fight just because Tommy was talking shit; Tommy was always talking shit and if that’s all it took to get the living hell beat out of him, he would have been dead by now. But she knew they wouldn’t tell her— after all, you couldn’t make the Twins do anything they didn’t want to do.

“Man, what the hell has been going on around here? Is there something in the water? You guys have been acting so weird lately,” Y/N thought out loud.

“What ever do you mean?” Mick asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Tommy and Nikki constantly fighting, you and Vince being extra quiet around me; and that’s a feat because Vince never shuts up. You guys are just being... weird,” She shrugged.

“Oh, kid, if only you knew,” The guitarist chuckled, shaking his head.

“If she knew, she’d kill them for having this big plan and kill us for keeping their secret!” Vince laughed.

Y/N was floored. Since when did the guys keep secrets from her? Was she spinning off into an alternate dimension?

“What plan? What secret? Y’all are killing me!” She cried, pleading for answers.

“Can’t tell you; bros before hoes. If we told you, I’m more scared of what Sixx and Tom would do to us than what you’d do to us,” Vince said, hiding this big secret behind a wide grin.

“But she might be flattered— we haven’t considered that,” Mick commented.

She couldn’t stand this anymore. She couldn’t take the rhythm section fighting like cats and dogs and she couldn’t take the rest of the band talking in circles. Around her, anyway, Tommy acted the most normal, so she figured she’d just spend some time with him until the dust settled in the apartment.

“Tommy!” She yelled into the kitchen.

“Yeah?”

“Mama needs a drink. Let’s go,” she invited, putting on her shoes and grabbing her purse.

Tommy followed, grabbing his wallet and closing the door behind them with a wink to the other men. He followed her to her car and got in the passenger seat, moving it back and reclining it to accommodate his long legs. He loved this car— it was a perfect 1966 Ford Mustang, black with white leather seats. He loved even more the woman who drove it, especially right now in the summer sun, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on her chest from the heat and the lack of air conditioning in the apartment and the hot air currently blowing from the vents in the car. He loved her tight daisy duke shorts and her red tube top and matching mule heels; he loved her big feathered hair that made it look like she was still stuck in the 70s and her glossy red lips and big curves of winged eyeliner. She was the most beautiful girl in the world.

“So what’s the problem, babe? You look stressed,” Tommy asked as she reversed out of her parking spot.

“You guys are just... ugh. I’m tired of the fighting and being sneaky. Mick and Vin keep talking in circles around me and Nikki’s being really sweet— which is nice, it’s just a little weird for him. You’re the only one acting normal with me but around Nikki you two have been fighting constantly for the past couple of days. What the fuck is going on with you guys?” Y/N ranted.

“It’s complicated. Guy stuff. Nothing we would wanna burden you with,” Tommy answered shortly.

It broke the drummer’s heart to have to keep secrets from her; he trusted her with his life and liked to think she thought the same. But in his mind, this competition was necessary to prove that she loved him more than Nikki. He was tired of seeing the bassist’s hungry eyes whenever he looked at her in one of her form fitting outfits like she had on today; and of seeing him slip his hand in her back pocket whenever she leaned against him at a party; and of him having her sit on his lap. She did those things with Tommy, too, but he wished it was only him. After a while of being lost in thought, she pulled the car up to the Rainbow, grabbed her bag, and got out of the car. He followed suit and held open the door of the building for her and took a seat next to her at the bar. She ordered a drink comprised mostly of vodka and he ordered just a beer for himself. It took a few hours and many drinks later for Y/N to be leaning against Tommy, spilling her soul on the bar.

“I just— I love you ‘n Nikki so much, y’know? Y’all are my favorite people, you’re both so han’some and s’ sweet ‘n funny... I’d fuckin’ wife both y’all up, put a ring on it,” She slurred, “Where’s a phone? I wanna call Nikki ‘n tell him to come to the bar. Need both of my bitches here.”

Tommy laughed and helped peel her off of the seat of the booth they had moved to and carry her to the phone booth.

“Tommy... Tommy, dial Nikki’s number, I can’t read right now.”

Tommy smirked and dialed the number, handing her the phone.

“Mötley residence, Vince speaking,” The singer greeted.

“Gimme Nikki!” She yelled into the receiver.

“Fuck, okay. How many drinks have you had?” She could bear the smirk in Vince’s voice.

“Vince. Nikki. Now,” She demanded.

“Alright, alright,” Vince laughed and yelled into the apartment, “NIKKI! PHONE!”

“WHO IS IT?” Nikki yelled back, his voice muted in the background.

“Y/N! SHE SOUNDS HAMMERED, SHE WANTS TO TALK TO YOU!”

“FINE!” In a few moments, Nikki was handed the phone, “Mötley residence, Nikki speaking.”

“Nikki, my love!” Y/N slurred excitedly.

Tommy pretended it didn’t feel like a knife to the chest to hear her call him her love.

“Yes, beautiful, what’cha need?” Nikki chuckled, smiling at the term of endearment.

“I need youuuuu—” She drawled, “— to get your ass over to the Rainbow! I want both my bitches!”

“Who’s the other bitch?”

“Tommy, obviously. The loves of my life!” She grinned, leaning against the younger Twin with most of her weight, “Tom-Tom, talk to Sixx, tell him to come over.”

Tommy took the phone and grunted as he shifted both his and her weight.

“Hey, Sixx,” He greeted.

“How’s the kid doing? Aren’t you taking care of her?” Nikki smirked.

“She’s trashed, but she tries to fight me every time I try to tell her no more. Besides that, she’s in a real loved up mood, wants both of us here. I think we’re gonna get a VIP room, we’re tired of being around the general public, so just grab a bottle and meet us back there when you get here,” Tommy explained to the best of his ability, himself slurring just a little bit, “You got some catching up to do, dude.”

Nikki rolled his eyes.

“I’ll be there in a minute, don’t get in too much trouble without me,” The bassist said, “Later T-Bone.”

“Later, Sixx.”

“BYE, NIKKI! I’LL SEE YOU IN A MINUTE!” Y/N yelled into the phone before Tommy hung it up.

“Alright, hot mess, come on, steady as she goes,” Tommy instructed, trying to guide her to a VIP room.

“Carry me. Don’t wanna walk no more,” She groaned.

“Fine, but you ain’t gonna like it,” Tommy shrugged and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

She groaned like she was sea sick, hooking her fingers through his belt loops for stability. He patted her ass, which was currently bent over his shoulder.

“You’re lucky you’re so pretty,” He sighed before letting her down onto the sofa in the VIP room, “I’m gonna go get us a couple of bottles, what do you want besides water?”

“Mmm... Rum. And I don’t need water, I’m not a little bitch,” She slurred, laying down on the sofa.

“I’m not letting you drink anymore until you get down a couple glasses of water. I’ll be back, you sit tight,” He said, turning to make a trip to the bar.

“Wait! Come here,” She drawled, drawing him near with a ‘come hither’ motion of her finger.

He did and knelt beside her. She took his face in her hands and pulled him closer, kissing him slowly and deeply. His eyes went wide before closing— he was officially ahead of Nikki in the game, and god she was a good kisser, even when she was wasted. She tasted like hard liquor, which he didn’t mind, and the strawberry lip gloss she layered on top of her lipstick. Heavenly.

“Now hurry back, ‘kay?” She grinned dumbly up at him.

He gulped and nodded, hurrying out of the room; the faster he got their drinks, the faster he could return to her. Y/N heard him exchange greetings with another man outside of the room before the door opened again to reveal Tommy’s partner in crime, Nikki.

“Nikki!” She squealed happily, “Come here, I missed you!”

He smiled and joined her on the sofa. It took her a minute, but eventually she pulled herself into his lap and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Mmm, I love you Nikki, so much,” She hummed, pressing soft kisses to his exposed neck, “You and Tommy, my favorite boys, y’all would definitely be my sister wives if it was legal in the state of California.”

“Well, you and Tommy both ought to know how I feel about sharing,” He said lowly, sliding a hand into her back pocket like he always did.

“But I love you both so much!” She pouted, “You’re both so... so good to me, y’know?”

“We both love you, too, sweetheart. But I’m sad to say you can’t have both,” He sighed.

“Not even on my birthday?“ She asked, her soft kisses moving closer to his mouth.

“Maybe on your birthday,” He chuckled, tilting his head to look her in the eyes, “But you want more than that, don’t you?”

She nodded and glanced between his eyes and lips as her breathing grew shallow. He rested a hand on the back of her neck, somewhat as a caring action and somewhat as a show of dominance. He observed her leaning into his touch and her eyes fluttering closed and her lips parting. Fuck it, thought Nikki, and took the plunge, kissing her deeply, with a little more force than Tommy had. She sighed against his lips before he pulled away.

“I can give you that. That something more,” He murmured.

“But Tommy can too,” She whispered, “You’re so different but so... the same. You both have so much to offer, it’s why I love both of you so much.”

Nikki could swear you could hear his heart crack a little more when she said the other Terror Twin’s name, but it was interesting to know that she had the same conflict that they did. He sighed and moved her off of his lap, onto the couch just beside him so she could lean against him.

“You’re drunk, pretty girl. I could never force you to make that decision when you’re like this. But just... keep in mind that you’ve never been truly loved by either of us. As a lover I mean— you haven’t experienced how I love, and you haven’t experienced how Tommy loves. You can’t make an informed decision, you know what I mean?” The older Twin explained.

She nodded and her gaze shifted to the door as it opened. Tommy returned with three bottles and a waitress carrying a pitcher of water behind him, as well as some glasses.

“Thanks so much,” He smiled at the waitress as everything was placed on a table and the girl left.

“Hey, Nik, hows she holding up?” Tommy asked, placing himself on the other side of the girl.

“She’s good,” The bassist said and motioned the drummer closer for a more private conversation, “She kissed me,” He whispered to the other man.

“Yeah, me too. She’s drunk, we can’t hold that against her,” Tommy hissed.

“I feel bad making her choose, man,” Nikki groaned, voice dripping with angst.

“Me too, but she’s gotta,” The younger man shrugged.

“Are you two talking about me?” Y/N piped up.

“No, baby,” Tommy shook his head, pouring a glass of water, “Drink. We gotta sober you up.”

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