#and she just goes Oh Um Well. That's Just My Talented Little Boy Expressing Himself :) and asks him if he wants blueberries in his pancakes

[bylertruther]

so tickled by the idea of sweet cherubic will looking so adorable and focused while drawing but when you look over his shoulder to see what masterpiece he's working on now it's the most gory bloody detailed battle scene ever. hashtag duality of man!

#will byers #will #mine #thinking of his drawing of mike (i think?) getting his head eaten by a dragon and how a lot of his art is of the party in a battle and also #the iconic zombie boy drawing #joyce looks over his shoulder one day and sees will drawing like. a fucking severed limb or something like this -> 🍖 #and she just goes Oh Um Well. That's Just My Talented Little Boy Expressing Himself :) and asks him if he wants blueberries in his pancakes #modern au will byers would have the most questionable google images search history ever all in the name of accuracy for his art 😭 LMAO

[lebrookestore]

four years, one night

Pairing: Ten Lee x  female reader

Themes:  SLOWBURN, best friends to lovers, player! ten, fuckboy! ten, fluff, humour, angst, sexual tension, college au, some talk about music 

Warnings: angst, cursing, mentions of sex (?kinda), ten is kind of an asshole, reader calls herself a dumb bitch, bittersweet ending, three kisses, kissing, gets a little spicy in one scene but that’s about it, PG15

WC: 10.8k

Playlist: Dream Launch by Wayv, Never let you go by AleXa, Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift, Young again by Morgan Evans, Without You by NCT U, The Tempest by Beethoven (this looks so out of place eye-)

Taglist:  @danishmiilk @channoticedmeuwu​  @1-800-seo @sweetlyjaem @badwithten @blueprint-han @chicksung

Summary: Ten was a fickle person, he jumped from one person to another, breaking hearts, and getting his own heart broken. The one person who had to pick it up every time? You, of course, and it was exhausting, especially when you had to watch.

day break  [ extra piece based in this universe ]

A/n: hello! this fic is very much self indulgent, but i love it so much. I spent most of the last week working on it and half of it is me simping, and I hope you enjoy it. Thank you to @chicksung​ for beta reading and helping me throughout writing this. As always, feedback would be very much appreciated!

‘I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong’- Lemony Snicket

~

A loud slam of the door made you flinch, shutting your eyes in exasperation as you knew what was to come. The same thing over and over again, you were used to it. Honestly, it was nothing new, but his stupidity, the obvious was in front of him, but did he listen? Of course, he didn’t.

A figure walked into the room, a mop of messy black hair with brown highlights adorning his head. It was pretty long at this point, his bangs reaching his eyes. Those damning eyes, melting pools of chocolate brown that seemed to bore into your soul. Those eyes looked remorsefully at you now, as he plopped down next to you, wrapping his arms around your midriff and burying his face in your back.

You sighed. “Again?”, you asked, running your fingers through his hair as he hummed a response. “Again”, he repeated, confirming your suspicions. He looked up, his eyes meeting yours.

You hated his eyes.

He managed to make you do anything for him with just a look. They were undoubtedly your weakness, when they looked sad, or when they upturned into a smile, that instantly brightened your day.

“I can’t seem to get it right can I?”, he asked, searching your eyes as if you had all the answers to his turbulent love life. You scoffed, “You couldn’t have been serious about that chick, Ten, you met her three weeks ago, and she was simply a rebound for you” “Thanks for the support”

“I’m being real, not supportive”

He rolled his eyes, pouting. “But I liked her”, he whined. You gave him a pointed look, “Please, You just wanted someone to be with, if not to fu-” “Oh my god, shut up”

You smirked, turning your attention back to your laptop, where the essay you had been trying to write glared back at you. 

“I just want someone who understands me”, Ten continued, still looking at you. You looked at him. 

I understand you, you thought, I’m here

Ten had always been like this, he jumped from girl to girl, getting his heart broken several times because he was too forgiving with it. He wanted to love, he had always romanticized the idea. Honestly, you thought he needed love too, but he was going down all the wrong paths.

And you had to be there every single time to pick up the pieces.

“I know”, you said half-heartedly, biting your lower lip. He propped his chin upon his fist, observing you and your concentrated look. You typed away, desperately wanting to be done with this paper, one you had been working on for about three days. 

“Do you think I’ll ever do something right?”, he asked. You froze, pushing down what you wanted to say. It was hard, having to deal with Ten's endeavors of the heart’ as he called them. The right term would be- doing random shit and breaking girls' hearts', but of course, he refused that catchy title. Sighing, you shut your laptop, knowing you wouldn’t get anything done now that he was in a mood.

“You haven’t done anything wrong” “Haven’t done anything right either”

You took his face in your hands, “You haven’t done anything wrong, you’re amazing, now stop moping, I’m ordering pizza”

He pulled away from you, sitting up properly. “Can I stay over?”, he asked hopefully. You clicked your tongue, looking at him with an annoyed expression. “Don’t you have your dorm?” “My roommate said he has a girl over, and I kinda want to sleep, thanks” You rolled your eyes, but nodded, picking up your phone and walking into the other room to order.

You heard laughter and looked back to see the boy laughing at something on his phone. Probably a cat meme, or something of the sort. You admired his side profile for a minute, the slope of his nose, the way his eyes shone. He was okay, you supposed, annoying, but okay. No matter how much he tried to justify it, he didn’t care for the girl who broke up with him. He was just fine right now, and had moved on from the topic pretty quickly, and was already smiling.

You also hated his smile. Infuriatingly adorable, one smile would make you want to smile back. You hated it with every ounce of your being, the effect he had on you. 

You hated Ten Lee.

Scratch that, you didn’t hate the poor boy, you just, despised him?

Nope, you were close friends.

Ironic isn’t it? You had met Ten at a party, where the Dance major was having a lot of fun. You hadn’t seen him before but had heard of him. The boy who jumped from girl to girl as easy as one, two, three. You had no intention of even talking to him, you were content in a dark corner, with a drink.

Nothing ever goes your way. 

The meeting was by chance, he was dared to ask you to dance, you declined, he persisted giving you those puppy eyes. After glaring at him, he sighed, explaining it was a dare, and that he didn’t want to make a fool of himself, and before you knew what was happening, you were awkwardly swaying along to the music with him.

He, regrettably, stuck with you for the rest of the evening, and you ending up liking his company, to the extent where you invited him over the next day for pizza.

The pizza situation turned out to be a thing between the two of you, a tradition of sorts. He would come over with candy, in an oversized sweatshirt looking illegally adorable, you would supply the blankets, and movie nights would begin.

He had a sweet smile and sparkly eyes, which made you question if this was the guy who broke hearts, who was a player. He was like a puppy, it confused you to no end.

“Miss L/n?”, your professor asked, raising an eyebrow at your spaced out figure. Startling, you blinked rapidly, cringing at the situation you had put yourself in. “Sorry”, you apologized, focusing back on the textbook in front of you. You were majoring in Psychology, and while you love the subject, the teacher didn’t like you very much, probably because you had been so distracted the past few weeks, and you hadn’t done particularly well in the midterms.

Needless to say, you were stressed.

The class got over quickly, and you walked out of the lecture hall, deciding to get some coffee before your next class. The cafe was a well-loved one visited by almost every student, and was famous for its chai-lattes, so much so that others also visited it, and not just the students.

Turning towards the on-campus cafe, you spotted Ten already there. His glasses sat at the edge of his nose, giving him an oddly studious look, which was almost laughable. He stood there, holding two cups of coffee, eyes lighting up as he spotted you.

Ten Lee was going to be the death of you.

You walked up to him, taking the coffee which he handed to you, “What do you want?”, you asked suspiciously, taking a sip of the bittersweet drink. You noted the fact he had gotten your favorite, which only worsened the feeling of butterflies in the pit of your stomach. He looked mock offended, and grinned at you, “Nothing!”, he said, “Just wanted to see you”

You rolled your eyes in an attempt to thwart your initial reaction, beginning to walk back to the main campus, for your psych class. Ten walked beside you, holding his sketchbook in his right hand, and coffee in the left.

“Okay, um actually-”

“You want something don’t you?” “I need a reference model”, he said, “So, Y/n, could you please-”

“Oh my god no”, you said, without even letting the poor boy finish, “Last time this happened it ended up with a pain fight and my sweater destroyed.”

“I said I was sorry!”, he semi shrieked, “And this time I need it for a project worth half my grade.”

Sighing, you but your lower lip, nodded tentatively, to which he let out an almost inhuman sound of appreciation, “When are you free?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Nah, I have a date”

You blinked in surprise, and he smiled sheepishly. “Eun-hae asked me out and I said yes so”

“Of course you did”, you muttered bitterly, “You broke up with that other one yesterday”

He seemingly chose to ignore you, “Sunday?”

You nodded and took another sip of the drink you held. He smiled, his eyes forming those endearing crescents that you loved, or hated, depending on what you were going for.

“Thank you, Love you”, he called out, jogging away to his class. You watched him run-walk away, almost dropping his sketchbook. Shaking your head in amusement, you smiled somewhat sadly.

“No”, you whispered, “You don't”

You didn’t know exactly when you fell for Ten, only that it happened suddenly and you couldn’t deny it. He was idiotic, on many levels, but he was sweet and was there for you when you needed it. 

He was a dance major, and an art minor, talented in both these aspects. You had seen him dance, it seemed like his body moved with the music, it told a story every time. He would illustrate emotion with his dancing. He did that with his art too, each stroke equivalent to a sentence from a story.

Anyone could tell he loved both of them.

You let out a frustrated sound, bending down to pick up the pen you had dropped. You were in your apartment, trying to finish an essay that was due the next day. You longingly glanced at your keyboard, the one instrument that you loved.

Well actually, you loved the piano, but you couldn’t haul your piano from back home to your apartment that you had rented out for your college years, and so you settled for a keyboard. You had loved music ever since you were little, instruments making its way in and out of your house. Your jazz phase consisted of saxophones, and you played the guitar for a bit too. You even picked up the drums for a while, insisting that it made you cooler (because every thirteen year old needed that validation), but you settled back to piano eventually.

You took part in competitions and such, sometimes singing along with your playing as well. 

But you couldn’t afford to even think about playing, until you finished your assignments, which were all marked. They were extensive projects that made you want to scream at times. You didn’t care what Shakespeare meant, nor did you want to conduct a survey about emotions. 

Turning the page of your textbook, you switched tabs to your next resource, ready to jot down more notes for the essay, when you saw a notification at the bottom right of your laptop, which was an email. You clicked on it and let it open.

Your eyes widened, gaping slightly at the screen as you read the email.

 To: y/[email protected]

From: [email protected]

Good morning/evening,

            We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into The Royal School Of Music on a scholarship. We have received your application and are impressed by your talent and dedication. Please send us a follow-up email within a month's time to confirm your attendance at our institution.

      TRSOM

 You grabbed your phone, texting your mother about the scholarship, shaking in happiness. It had been your dream to get into the Royal school, but you had initially applied to it on a whim, not really expecting to get in.

You swiped through your contacts, ready to call Ten, who was regrettably your best friend, to inform him of the good news, until you realized-

The school was in another country altogether.

While you knew Ten would be ecstatic about the fact you got it, you had known each other for four years, the entirety of your college career, and leaving for the school would be a bit of a shock. It was definitely not the fact that telling the boy you loved you were potentially never going to see him again that was deterring you from telling him.

You placed your phone back down, telling yourself you would deal with that later, reminding yourself you had an essay to finish.

Ten tapped his finger impatiently on the table, trying to figure out a way to get out of this date. Initially, the girl he was out with, Eun Hae by name, seemed nice, but as time went on, it was clear she had no personality. 

Now, Ten wasn’t one to judge immediately. He tried to give her a chance, smiling and indulging in the bland conversation, he smiled and complimented her, and was sweet. It was going fine for a first date until of course, she suggested they share a fruit salad.

There were about fifteen other salads on the godforsaken menu, but no, she had to choose a fruit salad, above everything else.

Ten was not having it.

He excused himself, muttering something about an assignment, and went to the restroom of the restaurant, pulling out his phone and searching for your contact, clicking on it.

 [8:39 pm] 10: y/n

[8:39 pm] 10: y/n

[8:39 pm]10:  my precious friend

[8:39 pm] n/n : what now

[8:40 pm]10: I need help

[8:40 pm] n/n: I refuse 

[8:40 pm] 10: I am ofFENDED

[8:40 pm]10: please my date is making me eat fruit

[8:40 pm] n/n: sounds like a you problem

[8:40 pm] 10: I am quivering in fear and this is how you react

[8:40 pm] n/n: I have three assignments to finish

[8:41 pm] 10: I’ll take you for ice cream

[8:41 pm] n/n: deal

[8:41 pm] 10: why has our friendship been reduced to bribery

[8:41 pm] n/n stfu or I won't come and save you

[8:41 pm] 10: I LOVE YOU 

 He quickly sent you his location and put his phone back, getting back to the table and smiling as realistically as he could at the girl opposite him, who was still going on about one of her friends and their doings, while he tried to look as interested as possible.

“So, should we order-”

Right at that moment, you walked in, hair tousled because of the wind and a disgruntled expression on your face. He made an attempt not to smile at your appearance, ignoring the warm feeling he got on seeing you.

You looked around spotting him and storming over, “Ten Lee, what the fuck are you doing here”, you asked, ignoring the girl that sat right opposite him, mock angrily. He caught on, staring at you in bewilderment, noting the hint of amusement in your eyes, “How dare you to do this to me!”

“I-”

“Um, who are you?”, the girl asked, seemingly offended that you had interrupted their date.

You scoffed, displaying all your acting abilities in their full potential, “Who am I? Who are you?”

She blinked in confusion, and Ten used every bit of willpower he had to prevent him from bursting out into laughter. “I’m his date?”

“Un-fucking-believable”, you said, “Ten Lee how could you?”

At this point, Ten was invested in whatever lie you had somehow come up with to get him out of this date. It seemed like you had an entire explanation for it, either that or you were taking the opportunity to scream at him. Both seemed valid.

“How dare you lead this poor girl on!”, you continued, taking a turn, making the girl look scared, “You didn’t tell her did you?” “Tell me what?”, she asked anxiously, leaning forward. You fought to keep your straight face on seeing Ten lean forward too, apparently interested in whatever abomination he committed. 

“He’s gay”, you said with as straight a face as possible, which was hard considering the girl looked so embarrassed, you could see her face go red. Your best friend looked at you incredulously, almost as embarrassed as his ‘date’ was, and mildly amused.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us, I’ll be taking him”, you stated, grabbing Ten’s hand and taking him along with you, out of the restaurant and onto the streets.

“You really-” “Ice cream”, you demanded, smirking at his obvious embarrassment. He gaped at your indignance, but nodded, “At least you got me out of there”

“I’m an actress”

“Fuck off”

“Finals are in two weeks, I still come help and this is how to repay me? Ungrateful”

The two of you took Ten’s car to the Ice cream shop, leaning on the hood as you ate your ice cream, with Ten occasionally stealing bites. You smacked his hand away, glaring at his as he tried to take another.

“I’m literally the one paying for it”, he argued.

“This is payment for saving your ass”, you retorted. He slung an arm around you, ignoring you and taking his phone out, scrolling through Instagram. You leaned into him, the scent of your shampoo making its way to him. There was that warm feeling again, and he didn’t like it one bit. 

Deep down, he knew what it was, but he was too much of a coward to ever try, or even take a chance with it, because he wasn’t one for commitment, and even though he had thought about it, he was, as much as he hated to admit it, scared.

“So can I get another scoop?”

“You have assignments to finish”

THREE WEEKS TO GRADUATION

~

The lilting tune played through your apartment, your fingers running across the ivory keys in fervor. They clicked and clacked ever so often, which was the one thing you hated about keyboards. The keys weren’t as firm as an upright piano, giving the music an annoying clickity noise.

Most of the time, you could ignore it, but today you were tired, and this piece was particularly difficult. For some reason, you were having trouble playing the accessories, and keeping the piece in time. You played that part over and over again, but it wouldn’t work.

You switched off the metronome in annoyance, you stared at the music sheet in front of you, trying to figure out how the fuck you should play the piece. Your door clicked, and you did your best to curb your annoyance at the fact someone was interrupting your practise time, no matter how hard the piece was.

Like all keyboards, yours was smaller than an actual piano, and looked very out of place in your apartment, which was warmly decorated with all sorts of trinkets and such. One of Ten’s sweatshirts was thrown on the sofa, and for some unknown reason there were three candles sitting on your table.

It was confusion incarnate, to say the least.

You heard the door click, and a girl walked in, smiling at you. It was the only other person other than Ten who had the key to your apartment, Angie. She was shorter than you, but only by a little bit, had a fringe and brown eyes. She was pretty, and easy to talk to, which was probably what drew you to her in the first place.

“Hey”, she greeted, seeing you on your keyboard, “Whatcha playin?”

“An andante”, you groaned, “Why are you here?”

“I have nowhere else to be”, he said bluntly, “Renjun’s at Doyoung’s place or something”, she pulled out her phone, “I’m just here to chill dude, continue playing, I finished two projects and my brain in dead”

Renjun was her boyfriend, who was on the Dance Team with Ten. The two were ridiculously cute, but due to the fact she now had a boyfriend, the two of you spent less time together. You were okay with it though, you understood.

“Isn’t Doyoung with his girlfriend?”, you asked, and she shook her head, “No, she’s at her Chinese class”

You nodded, going back to your piece, placing your fingers on the correct notes when-

SLAM

Your door opened and closed again, and you closed your eyes, praying to whatever God existed that one day, you would get to practise without interruptions. Ten trudged through throwing himself on the couch, next to Angie, who paid him no attention. “Hi”, he greeted you, and you glared, causing him to give you a look of confusion.

“What did I do now?”

“Not your fault, sorry, I’m not getting this piece”

He perked up, walking over to where you were, “Can I help?”, he asked, gesturing for you to move to the side of the piano stool so he could sit next to you. He studied the notes, as you looked at him, admiring his side profile, wondering how someone could be so pretty. He placed his hand on the keys, playing it. He made a mistake but in the place you had gotten. He got the part you were struggling right.

“Here, do this”, he explained, “The notes are after the third but before the fourth count, so you have to play it quickly”

You nodded, trying to play it, not quite getting it but it was getting there. He smiled, his eyes turning into crescents as he grinned at you.

You hated his smile.

It was infuriating, the fact that he always helped you, he was always there. You kept finding yourself falling for him more and more, and you didn’t want to, because you knew how Ten was, and it was making the whole ‘telling him about the acceptance into the music school’ a lot harder.

You thanked him, pushing him off the stool playfully so you could finish your practice session before going back to studying. He made a mock offended look, retreating to the couch next to Angie, who was engrossed in texting someone, presumably her boyfriend.

His hair was messed up, sticking up in different directions making him look ridiculously adorable. You shut down the keyboard, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to practice anymore with the both of them around. You went to sit next to Angie, but Ten’s entire presence seemed to be in your way.

“Move”

“No, I’m comfortable” “Chittaphon Leechaiya-”

“Yeah I’d like some chai”, Angie said mindlessly, causing the two of you to look at her in mild astonishment. She seemingly didn’t notice your gaping looks, still scrolling through whatever she was looking at.

“Did you just reduce me to tea?”, Ten asked.

Angie looked at him, mystified. “It seems so”, you mused. A slow smirk stretched across his lips. He propped himself up on his elbows, his too-long hair falling over his eyes

“I’m flattered”

“What?”

“Tea is hot. I’m hot”, he drawled, waiting for the two of your reactions to his statement.

You smacked him.

It was your designated pizza day, which meant Ten was at your place. He was currently in the kitchen getting something to drink and ordering the pizza while you sat alone in your living room.

You looked up at your laptop screen, going over the draft of the email you were to send back the The Royal School of Music. Your parents had been extremely proud of you for getting in, and had called you the other night to congratulate you. You heard footsteps, quickly shutting your laptop down, looking up at Ten who walked into your living room from the kitchen.

“Pizza will arrive in a bit”, he said, handing you your drink and plopping down next to you, “Movie?”

“Uh Bridge to Terabithia”, you spouted, taking a sip. You were supposed to be looking for a movie while he was gone, but instead had begun writing the email, so you spouted the name of one of your childhood favorites, that never failed to make you cry. He nodded and you opened Netflix, quickly searching the movie and pressing play.

Ten wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as the two of you sat in silence. The movie played, and even though you had already watched it before, you still found yourself invested in it. Except you weren’t completely focusing. Ten was so close, his fingers brushing against your hips, his breath near your neck. It felt right, like you were supposed to be like this.

That was the thing, it never felt wrong when you were with Ten, it was like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. Except of course for the fact he wasn’t yours. You knew how Ten was, he was the heartbreaker, and you were the one who was always there to pick up the pieces. Still it was nice to pretend that he was yours, because that was all you could do.

Pretend.

He kept talking about how he wanted someone who understood him, who he could be with, not just some stupid fling. He kept repeating the same thing again and again, and it frustrated you to no end, because you understood him and you were right there, but he never saw you. He would flirt with you, he would do everything and yet, he would never even think of you.

You leaned into him subconsciously, biting your lower lip as you stared at the screen in anticipation. He started playing with your hair, twirling it around his fingers, his hot breath on your neck making hard for you to fully concentrate on the movie.

You hated the effect he had on you, he had barely even done anything, but had still managed to make you nervous. He pulled you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Are you even watching?”, you asked, semi breathlessly, “Yes”, he responded, “But I want to cuddle.” You couldn’t argue with that logic, so you relaxed into his embrace, as much as you could. “You’re warm”, he murmured against your skin, looking back up at the screen and humming a random tune. “I’m hungry”

“I think I have some M&M’s on the counter”, you mused, “I’ll go get them”, you jumped at the chance to get up and get away from Ten, who was positively driving you crazy at this point. However, your grand plan was cut short when he refused, “I can go get it”, he made a move to get up.

“Sit down idiot-”, you said, pushing him off you, but accidentally tripped over yourself, falling back into his embrace. He laughed, hands falling to your waist to make sure you didn’t fall. “Graceful”, he snickered, and you glared at him. “I hate you”, you grumbled, “You love me”, he teased, making you almost fall again.

Except this time, his face was dangerously close to yours, and you just stared at him, your mind going blank. His arms were still around you, preventing you from falling. His eyes fluttered down to your lips for a second before he looked back up. He opened his mouth to say something but-

RING

The doorbell rang, startling the two of you out of your trance. You pulled away from Ten, shakily walking over to the door and opening it.

“Pizza?”, the guys asked, handing you the pizza box, “Yeah thanks”, you paid him and walked straight into your kitchen, not giving Ten another look, because you knew that you wouldn’t be able to.

You sighed, shutting your eyes, and trying to collect yourself, before grabbing the M&M’s and walking back into the living room, where Ten was sitting, eyes trained on the screen.

“You missed an entire scene”

“YOU DIDN’T PAUSE IT FOR ME-?”

The music echoed through the studio, its melody harsh and striking. It was dark, no lights were on, but the mirrors reflected the only person in the room-Ten.

His figure moved with the music, choosing to do whatever it pleased, trying to portray the beautiful piece to its fullest. The higher notes gave it a sort of hopeful effect, a guide. It lead you to believe that it was alright, it was fine. 

The lower notes added depth to the melody, giving it a richer feel. The two played together made it a beautiful piece, with a sort of melancholic feel. He danced to it, telling a story with his body. Ten would do this sometimes, instead of choosing an upbeat song to dance to, he’d take a classical piece, something that he could feel.

There was something in this piece, the Tempest, that resounded within him. It reminded him of you, specifically your friendship with him if you could even call it that. He got that warm feeling again that day when you had almost fallen. He would’ve kissed you if not for the doorbell. 

Ten wasn’t one for commitment, he wasn’t one for standing up first and telling people about his feelings. He played people, he played them like he painted a picture, or danced.

Speaking of which, the piece had suddenly taken a turn for the turbulent, faster-paced, anxious even. It resembled his feelings perfectly, the random urges to tell you, the anxiety for the outcome. He somehow managed to gracefully enact these feelings, making it look like art instead of the confusion he felt.

Maybe he chose this piece not only for himself but for you too.

It was one of your favorite ones to play, you could and would talk about it for days, especially when you had just mastered playing it. It wasn’t an easy piece, with all the nuances and timing changes, but you pulled it off. He could almost pretend it was you playing.

And then suddenly it mellowed down, the piece sounding hopeful as if there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and you could finally see it. A solution, a happy ending to the harsh waves of the storm, a merry end. His moves became lighter and almost joyful, as he twirled and jumped.

It was all an illusion.

A lie to make you believe the storm was over, there was no hope for this story. The harsh melody returned with vengeance, striking down the sliver of longing, any dream of making it out. Ten did his best to keep up with it, but the sudden change of emotions was startling even to him. It had changed so quickly, he didn’t even have time to comprehend it.

It ended on a triumphant note, like a proud win over an enemy, a victory that shone above everything. Ten ended the dance with a pirouette, panting as he tried calming himself down from the intense session. He couldn’t help feeling triumphant as well, the adrenaline of the piece getting to him, yet, he was skeptical.

Because he had a feeling it was the Tempest that had triumphed, and not him.

You’ll admit: you were not having fun with Psych. You had been studying all day, trying to absorb some of the stuff you had been taught throughout the year. Even though studying human behaviour had always intrigued and interested you, the reason you chose Psych, you couldn’t care less about oxytocin and how attraction worked, nor did you care about how human behaviour was affected by it.

But you had been at it for the past 6 hours, and was tired, so when Angie came along and expressed her disgust and sympathy about your studying endeavors, she hauled you up from the place you had been sitting at for most of the day and instructed you to change and get ready to go or a party.

So you found yourself at a frat party, Angie's arm hooked in yours and music blaring all around you. It was hot and dark, and you could barely see anything with the terrible lighting. You couldn’t tell what song was being played at such high volume, but awkwardly swayed to it anyways, wondering if staying at home at falling down the hole of ice cream and Netflix would have been a better alternative to this.

There were couples making out, and random beer cans everywhere. Everyone was half drunk, and you took this as an excuse to go get a drink. You turned to Angie who was looking the other way. 

“Angie”, you whisper-screamed her name into her ear, causing her to jump, “I’m going to get a drink okay?”, you explained, to which she nodded. “I’m going to Renjun”, she said, walking away and leaving you alone.

Friendship.

You pushed through the crowd of sweaty adults, to get to the makeshift bar that was at the other end of the frat. You stopped occasionally to greet friends, or smile at a random cute boy, but finally made it to the kitchen. Johnny, one of your other friends stood there, inclining his head in a greeting. “Hey, what do you want?” “Are you in charge of the drinks or something?”, you asked, leaning on the island of the kitchen. He grinned at you, shaking his head, “No, but I’m so much I might as well be!”

You laughed, requesting for your drink of choice, which he went to fix for you. You licked your lips, scanning the area to find another friend to latch onto, since Angie had so kindly abandoned you.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here”, a very familiar voice said form behind you, and you turned to see none other than your best friend.

But he looked nothing like what you were used to.

Ten’s hair was slicked back instead of splayed out on his forehead like usual, his eyes seemed darker, probably due to the alcohol. He was wearing skinny jeans, and a blazer with most of the buttons undone, his chest in full view.

Ten looked hot.

“Uh-”, you started like the well read person you were, “Angie dragged me”

He smirked, “Of course she did”, he took a seat on one of the stools, legs spreading as he leaned back. You looked away, trying your hardest not to stare at the boy in front of you, who was making that mission increasingly harder with every little thing he did.

Johnny came back out, offering you a smile and your drink, which you took from him, returning his smile. He handed a glass of something you couldn’t make out to Ten, who took a sip, keeping it on the island. “You don’t seem to be having fun”, he observed, hands finding your waist and pulling you closer to him.

This was a normal thing, but this time it felt different. It wasn’t the same innocent gesture. “I just arrived idiot”, you scoffed. He smirked, “You can look at me you know”, he teased, and you could feel the heat rush to your face. You turned your gaze to him. Currently you were in between his legs, and your mind was a mess.

The first thing you noticed was his tattoo on his right arm which you had seen before. The next was one you hadn't seen before, and rightly so, since it was on his chest.

“Done staring at me?”, he said with a smirk, and your eyes snapped up to his, holding his gaze. If you hated the effect his eyes had on you before, you positively despised them now. He was staring at you through a half lidded gaze, licking his lips. Even without any alcohol in your system you felt dizzy, but not a sick way. Ten was driving you crazy, with his hands on your waist, eyes on you and just everything about him in the moment.

“You’re pretty”, he murmured, looking up at you, eyes falling to your lips, “Did you know that?”, his voice was deeper than usual, sending shivers down your spine. “I-”

“Hmm?”, he sounded absent minded, like he wasn’t even listening to you, which was great considering you didn’t even know what to say. He pushed you a little, standing up himself, now looking down.

“If you didn’t know, I think you are”, he said, face closer than any friend’s face should have been. You breath hitched in anticipation. “Ten?”, your voice was small, quivering almost under his gaze.

He was so close, painfully close. If anyone asked you how you got into this position in the first place, you wouldn’t be able to explain, not quite knowing yourself. 

“Y/n, I need you for a second”, Angie appeared from nowhere, freezing when she saw the two of you in that position, “Um- I can leave-”

“Hey Ang”, Ten greeted, moving away from you. You missed the proximity, as much as you hated to admit it. You blinked hazily at your friend who had so conveniently interrupted whatever you had going on with Ten. You silently cursed yourself for getting so out of it. “Here, I think Arya is calling me anyways so”, he pushed his hands in his jeans pockets. He glanced at you, before walking away and out of the kitchen.

Would he have kissed you?

You looked over at your friend, who was still staring at you like she had seen a ghost. “Did I interrupt something?”, she asked, eyes wide. You felt embarrassed, taking a step back as if you were trying to walk out of the whole situation. “I’m not sure”, you said, “What do you need me for?”

“I need you to hold my drink, I need to go to the bathroom, Renjun is drunk as fuck and I trust you”, she explained, handing you her glass. You nodded, “And maybe can you watch my dumbass of a boyfriend please?”

You snorted, agreeing and walking to the main area of the party that was unfortunately the most crowded. You spotted Renjun on top of Donghyuck, practically choking the latter boy who was laughing for some reason. You could see why Angie went to you for her drink. Walking over, you tried to help Mark, another one of your friends, in separating Renjun and Donghyuck from initiating the 77th hunger games on a friday night.

After somewhat succeeding in pulling the two away from each other, Angie had arrived, choosing to ignore her wasted boyfriends antics and taking her glass back from you. 

You remembered you had left your own drink back in the kitchen, and so you backtracked your steps to said place, when you saw it.

Ten was standing with a girl, her hands around his neck. He was saying something that made her giggle, throwing her head back in laughter as he grinned happily. You froze watching the scene unbeknownst to Ten. You didn’t know what you were feeling for an entire minute until it hit you.

You were hurt.

It was a pricking sort of feeling, like a rod prodding at your heart. It was like a warning, telling you to look away before it pierced your heart, but you couldn’t look away for some reason. It was like your mind was mocking you, telling you keep watching, to realize you never had the slightest chance with Ten.

You weren’t special, whatever flirting he did with you he did to everyone, anything that had remotely happened wasn’t even mentionable, because you were like every other girl in the crowd, and it fucking hurt. It hurt to see the boy you loved not give you a moment's thought, not even give you a chance.

That night you went back to your apartment alone, leaving Angie to deal with her boyfriend. You had never felt this horrible before, it had never escalated to this level of hurt. This type of hurt was different, a dull ache reminding you of what an idiot you were to have ever hoped for more.

You hated Ten for several things, his eyes, his smile, the way he could make you giddy by doing the simplest things. But in the moment, you hated yourself more.

You hated yourself for loving Ten Lee.

‘Don’t call me kid, Don’t call me baby, look at this godforsaken mess that you’ve made me. You showed me colours you know i can’t see with anyone else’

~

You sat on a colourful rug, holding a book up, and surrounded by several other books. You were in a sort of greenhouse, the walls and roof were made completely off glass, and the light streamed through, giving the scene a sort of whimsical aura.

This was the place ten has chosen to paint you, standing behind his easel and and focusing on the canvas, occasionally looking up at you. There were flecks of white and pale blue paint on his face, and he looked whimsical in a way as well.

You sat there, ignoring the warnings in your mind that told you to stay away from Ten for yourself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You showed up to the venue right on time, and did your best to not seem any different. You spaced out, eyes focusing on a random word on a page. Ten had promised he was almost done with it, since the two of you had been at it for quite a while now.

His lower lip was caught between his teeth in concentration, hair messed up from the amount of times he had run his hand through it. He stepped back for a second, inspecting his work, a dorky smile stretching out on his lips.

“It’s done!”, he said, “Some fixing, but I can do that later, get your ass here!”

You get to your feet, placing the book on one of the piles of them around you and walking towards him, biting down your own smile at this enthusiasm. You walked behind the easel, your eyes falling on the painting.

It was gorgeous, the colours complimenting each other. The depiction of the light rays was so soft, yet it was there shining down on the main part of the picture- you. He had painted you so prettily, almost fairy like in the midst of the scene. You stared at the painting in awe, unable to think of words to describe it.

“So?”, he asked hopefully, his eyes searching yours for some sort of reaction. You looked at him, then at the painting, then back at him, wondering how he could’ve made it look so fanciful, something out of a disney movie.

“It’s beautiful”, you whispered, your voice not daring to go any louder. He smiled placing his palette down and standing next to you. “It’s not hard when the subject is beautiful”, he said nonchalantly. You froze, silently telling yourself to calm down, to not react to it, that it wasn’t anything to be noted. Yet something in you clicked, shifted into place.

You were angry.

You were furious at Ten, with his pretty smiles and wishful eyes. You hated it when he flirted with you, because he kept leading you on, you hated it when he looked at you like you were the world, because it was a lie, it was all a fucking lie.

“Don’t”, you said, voice shaky. He stared at you in confusion, which only irked you more.

“Don’t”, your voice betrayed you, breaking. He looked alarmed, reaching his hand out, “Hey, Are you okay-”

“No, I’m not okay”, you hissed, slapping his hand away, stepping back. Your mind was clouded with a feeling of helplessness, helplessness at not being able to tell him how you felt, how you hated what he did, how all you wanted was something you definitely couldn’t have. He looked bewildered at your seemingly sudden outburst.

“Stop fucking playing with me”, you said, “I’m not this”, you searched for the words, coming back with nothing, “Stop complimenting me, calling me sweet nothings, making me believe-”, you sucked in a breath, feeling the tears build up in your eyes, years of pent up frustration finally making their way out of you. 

You looked up at him, he still seemed to not be following, “Y/n, I don’t-”

“I’m in love with you”, you choked out finally, the words seeming to tie you down, rather than set you free like you had once hoped. “I’m in love with you”, you repeated, Ten could hear the rage in your voice, washing down on him like the waves of the Tempest, harsh and real. “And I hate myself for it”

Your voice was softer, much more mellow now, like it was tired. A single tear trickled down your face, and you looked up to see a stunned Ten, eyes wide at your state. He said nothing, instead just looked at you, as if you were a different person all of a sudden. It wasn’t a pretty sight, you crying and him standing there like a statue, not a word escaping his lips. 

The air seemed to be colder all of a sudden, biting into the exposed areas of your skin. There was that aching feeling again, that pricking of your heart, the silent ‘i told you so’, that your mind seemed to be playing on repeat. You brushed the tears away from your face furiously, feeling stupid all of a sudden. 

“I’m going to go”, you muttered, grabbing your things and walking out, not caring if you looked idiotic, and not staying to listen to any pathetic response he gave you. 

Ten watched you leave, cursing himself for being such an idiot to you. He didn’t mean to hurt you, he was in love with you himself, but he would never admit it. He hated himself for it, because he knew what he had done. He had flirted with you, had played you, but it was only because he thought the two of you never had a chance. 

He hated himself because it was him, after all this time, who had destroyed that chance.

You sat in front of your computer, back at your apartment, trying not to cry again as you stared at the screen, fingers hovering over the send button. It hurt much worse than you expected it to, his silence had made everything all the worse. But you were tired of him going back and forth. You were tired of having to pick up the pieces every time when he broke another girls heart, or someone else broke his.

You had nothing to lose this time. So alone, in your room you pressed send, signing of your future, sending the email to The Royal School of Music.

Alone.

Finals week passed in a blur of stress crying, all nighters and excessive reading of things that you had read a million times before, and if they hadn’t already gotten into your head, they would never. Which prompted the stress crying.

It was a vicious cycle.

You barely stepped out of your apartment, other than to actually take the exam. All your time was taken up in studying, occasionally eating, and studying again. You also didn’t see Ten that much, other than a glimpse, but immediately swerved away, not in any mood to deal with that confrontation as of yet.

Somehow, you managed to make it to the end of the week, without completely going mad. You made it out of finals, and was technically done with your college career altogether, which was crazy to even think of. You had spent the last four years of your life in this hellhole to get to where you were, and you had made it.

So seeing yourself in front of the mirror a week later, donning your cape and cap over your clothes, you smiled for the first time in two weeks. It was the day you finally graduated and went out into the world as a person with a degree. 

Granted, you were slightly pissed at the fact you had spent four years, and paid an enormous amount of money for a sheet of paper, but at the moment, you couldn’t get the fact that you were finally done with it out of your head. You were happy.

The ceremony started off slowly, the principal calling the names of the students in alphabetical order. You saw Ten walk up and take his degree, a broad smile on his lips. You saw Angie take hers, almost tripping over her cape, earning a laugh from the principal, and fond looks all about. You saw Renjun and Donghyuck hugging instead of at each other's throats for once, and Mark randomly beat boxing for no reason.

You went up on the stage, taking the degree and smiling, realizing that your vision was hazy. Tears of happiness had made their way to your eyes, and you blinked them back, thanking the principal and smiling at the crowd. You walked off, going to stand with your little group of friends.

Later on, Angie went off with her boyfriend for a celebratory date, Renjun and Donghyuck decided to crash at Marks place, and you? You decided to walk through the campus one last time, before you never returned. You were done with college and this place wasn’t yours anymore. It held a sort of nostalgic feel all of a sudden, walking under the arches and admiring the architecture one last time.

You were holding your cap in your hand, after finding it on the ground somewhere after the throwing of them. Your cape was folded and hung from your arm as you walked through, deciding to go get some coffee after you were done.

Lost in your own thoughts, you bumped into someone, dropping the cap., “Sorry-”, you begun you apologize for your absent mindedness, crouching to pick up your cap when you saw the person you had run into.

Ten.

You silently scowled, cursing whatever above that had thrown the two of you together at the very moment, and cleared your throat uncomfortably, looking away. “Hey”, he said breathlessly, looking you up and down. He looked great, he always did, you couldn’t deny the fact no matter how much you were trying to hate him.

“Hi”, you said curtly, “I have to go”

“Wait”, he reached out, grabbing your hand, “Can we talk?”, his voice was tilting towards the hopeful side. It reminded you of your own foolish hope, and you didn’t like it one bit. “No”, you said, “I have to go”, you repeated for words, crushing any hope.

“No- Wait, please, Y/n let me explain”, he pleaded his case, his eyes striking through yours, stirring up some sort of sympathy. Your mind was telling you to go, to get out as fast as possible, but your heart softened, as it always did with him.

“Explain what?”, you chuckled bitterly, “You’ve made it pretty clear how you feel Ten. I was stupid”, your words were hurting yourself, but hurting him too, because he knew it wasn’t your fault.

“No Y/n, you-”

“I what?”, you hissed in question. He spluttered, discouraged by your disinterest in whatever he was trying to tell you. You wanted nothing more to get away from him in that moment, but he seemed to want to stretch out your time together as much as possible. It annoyed you, and made you sad at the same time.

The more time you were with him, the more you could feel your heart break.

“I love you”, he said quietly, “I know I’m a terrible person for leading you on and not realizing earlier, but I love you.” You froze, standing there and staring at him. He looked back, not daring to break your gaze. Instead of joy, which was what you had expected to feel if he ever uttered those words, you felt angrier.

“Please Y/n”, he said, “Just give me a chance?”

You stayed silent, contemplating your choices. “How long have we been friends?”

“What-”

“How long have we known each other Ten?”

“Four years, but I don’t see-”

“We have been friends for four fucking years. I was there for every heartbreak, every date, every girl. I stood on the sidelines, I listened to you, I have you advice when you needed it, I comforted you when you cried. But you? You never gave me a chance!”, you exclaimed, “Not a second glance, not a single chance.”

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, taking in your words and trying to think of something to justify them, but he couldn’t, he knew you were right.

“So yes”, you voice quivered, “You are an idiot. You’re an idiot for never realizing my feelings when i made it PAINFULLY obvious”, you took steps back, trying to calm yourself.

“I can't believe I”, you scoffed at yourself, your own idiocy, “I can’t believe that three out of four years I was in love with you, but I guess that’s what makes me the dumb bitch.” You looked away, the words you had wanted to say since forever finally out of your system. He stood there, just a few steps away from you. But then, why did it seem like he was miles away?

“I’m sorry”, he said weakly, “I hate myself for what I did, but Y/n I”, he paused, shutting his eyes in frustration, “I’m in love with you dammit, and I don’t expect you to forgive me for what I’ve put you through but, can we-”

“No”, you said, “We can’t”

“Y/n give us a chance, please”

“You don’t understand!”, you said almost feverishly, blinking back tears, “I can’t Ten”

“Why not?”, he asked, walking closer to you. You took a step back from him, looking at the boy you loved with remorseful eyes. “I’m leaving Ten. I’m leaving for a music school in another country.”

He blanched, any hope withering away, like a dead flower, dried with the summer heat, like a lone boat in the midst of a storm. You let out a pathetic sob, realizing that you couldn’t ever have Ten, no matter what.

“I’ll be gone before we could ever be”

The world was never fair. It came at you with things you wished never happened, you wished you could change, or would have handled better. Like a storm on an unsuspecting sailor, it’s waves crashed down on you, and you were unable to breathe.

Life was the tempest, with it’s harsh tremors, it’s sudden soft waves that lead you to believe things were going to be okay. It’s highs and it’s lows, the good times and the bad. You found it ironic, the fact you were playing your favorite piece of all time, and it reminded you of reality.

You had always viewed music as an escape from reality, but now you were starting to connect the two, using music to let both the worlds connect. Your fingers flew across the keys, the climactic melody thundering through your apartment.

Finishing the piece, you let out a sigh, taking the music sheets and placing them back in your folder. Shutting the keyboard down, you cleared up a bit, settling down on your couch. Cracking your knuckles, you pulled out your phone to mindlessly scroll through Instagram as one did to pass time.

You seemed to do that often, now that you were officially done with college and had a bit of time before you left for The Royal School of Music, approximately three weeks, you honestly had nothing else to do with your time.

And so, you indulged in the world of reels and other videos that didn’t necessarily add anything of worth to your being. Time seemed to trickle by slowly, much slower than you would have liked. 

Your flight to the country in which the school was in had already been booked, your registration had been completed, and you had even found an apartment to rent over there. Some of your belongings had already been sent for shipping, leaving you with the bare minimum. You had even sold some stuff, because cross country shipping was expensive, and you had gathered quite a few things over your four years staying in your college area that you definitely didn’t need.

It seemed as if everything was set, you were ready to leave everything behind.

Your doorbell rang, it's obnoxious ringing sound making you wince out of annoyance. You got up from your spot on the couch reluctantly, and walked over to the door to open it.

You were met with a slightly disheveled looking Ten on the other side, hair slightly messy. It had been yet another week since you had seen him, not have been in contact since graduation day, and suddenly here he was at your doorstep. Before you could even say anything, he pushed his hand out, thrusting a pizza box in your face.

“I know you don’t want to see me, and I don’t blame you but”, he took a deep breath, “You’re going, and it sucks, but I’m happy for you, so i brought pizza, for old times sake?”

You blinked in surprise, your hands on their own accord and taking the box. As if he could sense you were skeptical, he rambled on, “Just a movie and pizza, then I’ll leave I promise.” Everything inside you screamed at you to say no, but the words left you before you could even comprehend your mind's thoughts.

“Okay”

You opened the door more, walking back into your apartment, opening the box and taking your laptop to search for a movie. He closed the door after himself, taking a seat beside you on the couch, but not touching you. It was like there was a wall in between the two of you, and you couldn’t break it down.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to.

“There’s a new season of His Dark Materials”, you thought aloud, “We could binge that.”

It was so easy, being with Ten. Like falling back into a routine you had missed, a habit that had been cultivated. It was natural, him by your side, eating pizza and searching for a movie or series to binge. It was a tradition for the two of you after all, and even though you had stayed away from Ten for your own heart, it felt so good to do this again. You had missed it.

“Sure”, he agreed, taking a slice of the pizza, the stringy cheese not breaking, “We may need plates.”

You shook your head at his comical state, placing your laptop down and walking into your kitchen, opening the topmost cupboard to get the plates down, when you realized you couldn’t reach it. Now usually, you would just get a stool or something to climb on top off, but that would mean going back out there and admitting to Ten that you were short.

That was not acceptable.

Of course any grand plans of somehow getting the plates down without Ten knowing had been thrown out the window when he himself walked into the kitchen, “Are you making the plates or something? What’s taking so long?”

He spotted you, hands stretching up, leaning over the counter. Ten smirked, walking over and taking the plates down himself, “Someone’s short”, he snickered, to which you glared, “You’re short too dumbass.”

“You’re shorter”, he teased, taking the second plate down. He was standing in front of you, directly facing you as he placed the second plate of the counter top. You stared indignantly at him, and he caught your gaze, holding it. It was the same Ten you had known since you entered your campus, the same Ten you met at that party.

The same Ten you were in love with.

His eyes shifted from yours to your lips, realizing how close the two of you were. His hand raised up to your face cupping it. You subconsciously leaned into his touch, eyes wide, waiting for him to do something, anything.

His eyes searched yours for an answer, some sort of indication that he could go ahead. You knew that nothing good would come from this, but you couldn't help but nod your head a little too fast, and fisting the end of his shirt in anticipation.

He kissed you. 

His lips moved against yours softly, hesitantly, like they were scared you would disappear if he went any faster. It was nothing like you had ever imagined (believe me, you had imagined), but it was better. It was like a culmination of wanting had been poured into the kiss, and you didn’t want it to stop.

You could’ve sworn time had stopped when he kissed you, the world around you seeming to fade away. You could feel your knees going weak with the overwhelming feeling, the flutter in your stomach growing. If you hadn’t been holding onto the end of his shirt so hard, you would have collapsed into him.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered against your lips, pulling away, cupping your face, “I know I’m an idiot”, he confessed, and you resist the urge to agree, “I know I’m an idiot but,”, he stopped again, resting his forehead against yours. “One night”, he whispered, voice shaky now, “Will you be mine for just one night?”

There was something fragile in his voice, like he was afraid of your answer. You looked up, looking at those eyes you hated, but loved at the same time. You silently agreed, pressing your lips to his again, kissing him once more. His hands dropped down to your waist, your hands wrapped around his neck as you stole another long awaited kiss from him.

The plates were long forgotten about, instead the two of you stumbled back into the living room, hands not leaving each other. The back of his knees hit the couch, and he sat down, taking you with him. You sat on top of him, breathing heavily. 

He pressed his lips to your forehead affectionately as you leaned into Ten, not ever wanting the moment to end. “I’m tired”, you whispered, all the years of pining and wishing he was yours suddenly weighing you down. 

“I know”

“This isn’t going to end well is it?”

“I don’t know”, he mused, rubbing your back comfortingly. You looked at him once again, like you had done many times before, except this time he was yours, for how long? You didn’t know. You didn’t want the night to end, the prospect of losing him again already making your stomach pit.

“I love you”, he said, and you didn’t say it back. You didn’t have too, you had said it many times already, you had told him. Instead you kissed him again, getting drunk on him. 

The rest of the night was spent this way,lazily kissing, cuddling, and eating pizza straight out of the box since neither of you wanted to get up again. Ten held you like you were the world, and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face into the crook of his neck. The two of you forgot about the serial you were supposed to binge as well, too caught up with each other to even care.

He told you about how he got scouted for dancing by an entertainment company, you filled him in about The Royal School of Music, about how you were so glad College was over even though you would miss it. He made you laugh with his stupid jokes, and it felt like it had always been. Somewhere along the line, the two of you fell asleep in the dead of the night, or almost morning, tangled up in each others arms, happy.

You woke up on your couch alone, your apartment lonely and silent. You looked around sleepily, your eyes catching a glimpse of the clock on your wall, which told you it was already noon. You pulled your knees to your chest, feeling out of place. Something was missing.

Ten.

Ten was gone, nowhere to be seen. You tried thinking back, wondering why he was gone, until you realized - one night was over. Like he had promised, he was gone, not yours anymore, and you weren’t his. You shivered, realizing that there wasn’t any blankets or anything on the couch, yet you couldn't seem to get up.

It hurt. You wanted to cry and scream, the realization that he was gone, before you could even fully have him sinking it. It felt so unfair, the fact that you could never really ever have Ten, someone you had loved for four fucking years, for more than a night.

You took in a shaky breath, looking to the end of the sofa, which is when you saw it. It was Ten’s painting, the one of you in the greenhouse, supposedly reading the books. On the top a sticky note read ‘The Tempest’. You brushed your finger over the painting, taking it in. He had left it here for you, and it was the one thing you had of him. At the bottom, it was signed in his handwriting.

‘10’.

“널 다시 만나면 네 손을 잡고 말해줄 텐데 I will never let you go”

fin.

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[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 8)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

word count: 3k

warnings: smut (semi-public sex), possessiveness (some sexual, some not), jealousy, some fluff and some angst, also some violence (including a very small amount against the reader, proceed with caution), mentions of infidelity in a previous relationship

a/n: oh y’all thought it was gonna be smooth sailing from here on out? lol

You didn’t want to abandon Bucky to do carpetside interviews, but he refused to get anywhere near a hot mic so you let him go while you walked over to a reporter you recognized; she’d been nice before, probably would be again this time, so you were a little relieved to see her tonight.

She introduced you to the camera and you were slightly spaced out until she turned to you and got your attention again.  “So, you’ve been making a lot of headlines lately for your new relationship— what’s the scoop?  How’s it going?” she asked playfully, pushing the microphone into your face.

“Uh, great,” you breamed, “he’s my date tonight and he seems to have disappeared to…” you turned around to look for him.  “Oh, he’s talking to... is that... Laurence Fishburne?”

“James, is that his name?” she prompted, making you focus your attention back on the interview.

“Um, yeah,” you nodded, the name sounding a bit foreign, “legally, but he goes mostly by his nickname Bucky.”

“Aw, that’s cute,” she smiled.  “He’s, uh…” her eyes widened a bit and you laughed.

“Yeah, he is,” you smirked.  “I assume by that facial expression you mean ‘crazy hot.’”

“I mean, in the politest way possible… yeah,” she giggled.

“Yeah, no, don’t pretend not to notice for my sake, cause, yeah, it’s… apparent.”

“Apparently he was your driver first?” she pressed.

“Yes!” you beamed, and then heard the way it sounded and backpedaled slightly.  “I promise that’s not why I hired him.  I actually didn’t meet him before he was on my team, but, I mean, I wasn’t mad to have some eye candy in the front seat.”

“Eye candy, huh?”

“But he’s so much more than that, that’s the thing,” you explained.  “We became good friends first, because he’s so smart and funny and kind and… I mean, I know he looks tough, and he is, but he’s really very sensitive underneath the slightly intimidating exterior.”

“Hard shell, soft center, sweet— he really does sound like candy!”

“Indeed,” you nodded.  “Gotta run but it was nice to chat!”

You dashed over to Bucky and clung onto his arm.  “Oh, hey, we were just talking about you,” he beamed.

“Loved you in After Midnight,” Mr. Fishburne smiled and even you were totally starstruck.

“Oh, wow, thanks, I loved you in… everything…” you trailed off, internally scolding yourself for the vague and useless compliment.  He was about to respond but was pulled away by some member of his team, giving you and Bucky a quick wave as he began a carpet-side interview.

“That was Laurence Fishburne, wasn’t it.” Bucky mumbled to you in a stunned monotone.  

“Yes, what were you doing talking to him?” you asked, amazed at his bravery to approach such a huge star.

“He came up to me, to congratulate me on… on dating you, I guess…”

“Or he mixed you up with Brad Pitt,” you shrugged.

“Yeah, if Brad Pitt lost all his money, spent a decade in the desert, went loco and buzzed all his hair off,” Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on, you look great,” you soothed him, straightening his tie.  “Wanna go take some pictures?”

“I’m a little scared,” he admitted with a shy smile.

“It’s easy, just give them that sexy brooding look you do so well.”

Bucky smirked pridefully.  “You think so?”

“Totally.  You’re a natural,” you assured.

You tugged his arm and guided him to the carpet, letting him lead the way (or look like he was leading the way) as you found a clear spot and noticed how the cameras instantly flashed faster and brighter.  Photographers called your name to get your attention, and you waved and smiled and pulled Bucky closer.  The feeling of his arm around your waist was warm and comforting, and you hoped holding you had the same effect for him.

“Where are you looking?” you asked.

“At you,” he answered.

“Bucky,” you giggled, “you’re supposed to look at the cameras!”

“I honestly can’t, it’s blinding,” he frowned.

“Here,” you sighed, pointing out into the darkness just above the sea of flashing lights.  “Look out there.”

“I can’t see anything!”

“I know, but, look as if there was something there to look at, trust me, it helps.”

You adjusted slightly a few times, turning a little to show off the low back of your dress.  You almost gasped when Bucky held your face and kissed you suddenly, but you were happy to melt into it even as you heard the cameras flash even more aggressively, some whoops and hollers coming from the crowd on and off the carpet.

He pulled back and you wanted to chase him for more but you realized it wasn’t the right time.  

“Let’s go inside,” you offered, guiding him the rest of the way down the carpet— mainly because you were afraid you’d end up jumping his bones right here in front of everyone.

He nodded and followed close by, arm resting on your shoulder the whole time, and just as you saw one of your friends and thought you might want to go over and introduce her to Bucky, you saw who she was talking to.

Sam.  

Seeing him always made your heart stop.  At first, it was because you were starstruck by him, in awe of his talent, amazed that you were going to be working with someone you admired so much.  Then it was because you had fallen for him and he had gladly swept you off your feet, bringing you into a whirlwind romance that at the time had felt like the only thing that mattered.  But since the break-up, and now, it was something else.  Fear wasn’t the word, it’s not like you were afraid of him in a literal sense, but there was this anxiety, this tenseness to seeing him.  It always brought back memories— the best and the worst, all at once.  Nights laughing together, sharing secrets, stealing glances and touches and kisses; nights spent alone staring at a phone that never rang.  Limbs tangled together between the sheets, that warm brown skin encompassing and surrounding yours; laying side by side in a bed that isn’t empty but is still plenty cold, seeing the way he angles his phone away from you and wishing you had the strength to just leave because you already knew what he was doing.  The first time you said ‘I love you.’  The first time he said ‘it won’t happen again.’

“You alright?” Bucky asked, tearing you from your thoughts.  You looked away and met Bucky’s gaze, hoping he either hadn’t seen your ex or at least hadn’t recognized him.  

“Yeah, I’m great,” you answered quickly, “let’s go get some drinks maybe?  And then I need to show you off to some people.”

“Show me off?” he scoffed.

“Yeah, why did you think I brought you here, really?” you winked.

“Hey, if we’re showing each other off, does that mean you’ll come to my next high school reunion?”

//

You’d been antsy ever since the two of you had come inside; it was obvious from the way you were clinging so much closer to him, and yet it was clear that your mind was a million miles away.

“Hey, it’s starting to wrap up, wanna head out soon?” you asked, trying to act casual, but he saw the way your eyes were darting up to where Sam Wilson was mingling and he knew it wasn’t about getting home early.  Did you really think he wouldn’t notice that you’d seen him?

“Whatever you wanna do,” he shrugged.

“Okay, could you bring the car around for me then?  And I’ll meet you outside?” you offered.  “I should say hi and bye to a few people.”

“Sure,” he agreed, starting to walk away after giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

And he really did try to do what he said he was going to, but the further away he walked, the more he glanced back to watch you walk across the room, the harder it was to just let it go.  He knew you were going to talk to him, and before he really even decided to do anything about it he found himself circling back around the room, following you.  

He thought he’d lost you when he turned a corner and you were gone, but then he heard voices from a doorway and cracked it open slightly to see you inside with a few other people, nobody he recognized although one of them he’d definitely seen in something before.

He sighed with relief, about to turn and go get the car like he said he would, but then Sam Wilson just had to magically materialize out of thin air as he stepped up behind you and tapped your shoulder.

“Sam!” you blurted out, spinning to face him with wide eyes.

“Hey,” he greeted, acting all suave and shit, making Bucky’s blood boil.  “You look great.”

“Oh, thanks,” you mumbled, “you too.”

“You’ve been all over the internet lately, making quite the splash,” he recalled with a contemplative nod.  “You and this new boytoy you’ve got.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is boyfriend,” you corrected sternly.  

“Honey,” he scoffed as he rolled his eyes.  Bucky couldn’t decide if it was worse to hear him call you a pet name in earnest or with the derogatory tone that he currently had.  “Everybody knows you go through these guys like potato chips.  Especially when they’re not famous— how many PAs did you hook up with on your last set, huh?”

“I don’t roll like that anymore,” you denied.

“That’s not what Jake Friedman says,” Sam smirked.  It actually took Bucky a moment to remember that that was the guy you’d… entertained in the backseat of your car, or maybe it was more that he had entertained you; you seemed to tense up when Sam mentioned him, as did Bucky.  “I mean, sure, he’s not crew, but he’s not famous the way you are.  The way we are.  And neither is your new guy.  He doesn’t ‘get it’, does he?  He doesn’t get what it’s like.  Has he already started freaking out about all the hate online?”

Bucky regretted that he’d ever said anything about that; if he’d known it would come around to prove Sam Wilson right about something, he wouldn’t have done it.  “No,” you lied.

“Well, he will,” Sam assured you, stepping a little closer to you and letting his fingers languidly brush over your arm.  “I made a mistake before, letting you go.”

“Damn right,” you hissed as you pulled away from him.

“But I realized that, and now I’m wondering why we aren’t giving the people what they want.”

“That’s what I never understood about you,” you frowned.  “It’s always about other people with you.  It’s never about you, and it was never about me.”

“But it is about you,” he explained, “and me: us.  You’re forgetting how good we were together.”

You shook your head.  “I was single for years and you never called.  Now you’re all over me with all these regrets about ending it?  Get a grip, Sam.  This is about you wanting what you can’t have.”

“Can’t have?” he repeated incredulously.  “Baby,” he purred— and Bucky decided it was definitely worse to hear him call you that in earnest.  “You know you’re always gonna be mine.”

As you started to shiver, Sam’s arms slipping around your back and grabbing your waist, Bucky felt like he had lost control of his body.  He was watching himself from far away as he stormed across the room, nearly knocking a few people over on the way, and shoved Sam off of you and onto the ground.

“Bucky!” you yelped.  “Bucky, stop!”

“You’d better watch your hands, Wilson, before they get somewhere they’re not supposed to be,” Bucky growled, ignoring you completely even as you helplessly tugged at his suit.  

“Jesus,” Sam spat, “the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What are you doing?” you asked Bucky, irate and confused as you stared up at him with a furrowed brow.  He grabbed your hand and guided you out of the room and down the hall, barely managing to drag you into a random bathroom before he started tearing at your dress, leaving rough bites and kisses down your neck as you gasped and moaned softly.  

“Mine,” he mumbled against your skin, “all mine.  Did you forget?”

“No,” you sighed, “I could never…”

“That’s not what it looked like,” he sneered, hiking up your long skirt to run his fingers over your skin and expose the delicate, lacy panties you were wearing. 

“Bucky, please,” you sighed, rubbing your hips up against his leg, riding his thigh shamelessly.

“What’s got you so worked up, baby?  Is it me, or him?” he asked darkly.

“You, baby, just you, nobody else— I’m yours,” you assured him feverishly, “I’m all yours, please, I need you.”

“Yeah?” he breathed, fumbling with his belt and fly as he pulled his growing cock from his suit pants.  “You need it that bad?”

“Please,” you sobbed, “fuck me.”

He pulled your underwear aside and quickly shoved into you, groaning at the feeling of your walls stretching to welcome him.  “Fuck, angel, so tight,” he sighed, knowing how much little praises drove you crazy.

“Bucky,” you sighed, “oh my god… harder, please— n-need you deeper…”

His hips moved back only to slam back against yours, making you whimper; he smiled when he felt your leg wrap around his waist and try to hold him inside, but he couldn’t slow down now, not when he needed this so bad.

He sucked on your neck as he kept thrusting into you, your wetness coating his cock so thoroughly that he slid right home every time.  It was clear that he was hitting your g-spot from how you moaned with each thrust, your spongy channel pulsing and tightening in rhythmic patterns.

Overcome with the need to assert his, for lack of a better word, ownership over you, he found himself reaching up to hold your throat— not quite in the way to choke you, just to remind you that he could, if he wanted to.

“Did he ever make you come like this?” he asked with a gravelly whisper, lips right against your ear as he tightened his hand around your neck slightly.

“No,” you shook your head, “nobody has.”

“Nobody’s ever loved you this good but me, is that it?  Nobody else has ever fucked you like this?”

“Just you, Bucky, please don’t stop— I’m so close…”

“Do you think they can hear you out in the hallway?  Say my name when you come, princess, just in case they can— I want them to know who’s making you feel this good.”

“Bucky,” you whined, chanting it over and over with a few ‘yes’s and ‘fuck’s interspersed occasionally.  He thrusted faster and harder as he felt his own orgasm building; he needed to come inside you and claim you again, mark you as his one more time, and the flexing of your walls was only egging him on.

“I know you’re close, baby, just let go,” he whispered against your ear, “come for me, just like that, you’re doing so good— fuck, so good for me…”

You whimpered and clutched at his shoulders, a gush of wetness and a final, strong tightening of your inner muscles signaling that you’d reached your peak.  He couldn’t hold back any longer when he saw (and felt) that, groaning as he began to release thick streams of come into you.

The absolute second your afterglow began to fade, you pushed him off of you and grimaced as you adjusted your panties and dress.  "The fuck is wrong with you?"

"Wh— what?" he stammered, breathless and confused.  "What did I do?  Was I not supposed to come inside?"

You gaped at him in shock.  "Do you really not realize what you did?  Bucky, you assaulted my ex-boyfriend."

"I— he'll be fine," he dismissed, "he was putting his hands on you, what was I supposed to do, just let him do it?"

"You were supposed to let me handle it," you hissed.  "You were supposed to be pulling the car around and not spying on me!"

"Spying?!  I was protecting you."

"You shoved him hard enough to knock him over, Bucky, that's not okay."

"Hold on," he shook his head in disbelief, "so you're mad at me, when we just had sex?!  Why didn't you say something before?"

"Just cause it's hot doesn't mean it's okay," you explained, a little embarrassed.

"Tell me something," he frowned, "what is this—" he motioned to the space between the two of you— "to you?  Cause it kinda seems like I think we're boyfriend and girlfriend, and you think—"

"What?  What do I think?" you challenged.  "Go ahead, tell me."

"You think it's just a sex thing."

"Oh my god," you rolled your eyes.

"Well, what am I supposed to think when you get off on me dealing with your ex, and then tell me it's this big terrible thing?"

A sick idea clawed its way out of the back of Bucky's mind: was Sam right about her?  Was Sam right about us?

You crossed your arms and huffed, but didn't respond.

"Was everything that just happened just a fuckin' kink for you or something?  Cause I meant every goddamn word," he growled.

You sighed, like you weren't taking it seriously— like you weren't taking him seriously.  His fist tightened at his side involuntarily.  He'd never felt so used, so ignored; or, at least, he never expected it from you.  "We'll talk about this later," you dismissed quickly.  "Let's just go back there and put on a happy face, okay?"

"Oh, so you can let another guy feel you up?  Sounds like a fucking blast," he hissed.

"Fuck you," you snarled as you pushed him aside to leave the bathroom.

He didn't remember grabbing you, he didn't remember twisting your arm as he pulled you back.  He didn't remember you crying out, trying to wrench yourself away, clawing at his grip on you.  All he remembered was you looking up at him with watery eyes, expression twisted in fear.

"Bucky, you're hurting me," you whimpered weakly, and only then did he notice his metal hand was holding your wrist.  When he let go, he already saw a mark forming in the shape of his hand as you grabbed your freed wrist to rub the damaged flesh.

"I'm sorry—" he began to whisper, but you were already gone.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader series #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes smut

[yannowhatigiveup]

My One And Only - Chapter 9

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So this chapter is longer than chapter 8 and I think from next chapter, they got longer. As we get closer to the chapter I’m currently writing, the frequent updates will unfortunately die. Just letting you know so you won’t be too disappointed! Oh and my Wattpad name is the same, ‘yannowhatigiveup’. If you know any way I can improve my writing please do tell me!

Gabriel Agreste stood in his observatory after recently detransforming. 'She can control her emotions well but when she's angry, it's incredibly strong. This girl could be one of the strongest in Paris, she could be one that senses auras. I must find a way. I will use her to eliminate all of heroes. All I need is time'.

————————————————————

The bluenette sat in her uncle Jagged's hotel room, tapping a pen against her lips while watching the conversation, well it was more like an argument, between Jagged and his manager Bob Roth. Bob was stating that they should leave the song writing to the professionals while Jagged protested, saying that his niece was overflowing with talent and that she could do it no problem. Penny was on the phone with someone but Marinette didn't eavesdrop in her conversation. She stated at the blank notebook in front of her, eyeing it suspiciously. Then she got an idea and began scribbling down the lyrics she had in mind, not knowing that she had unintentionally gained the attention of everyone in the room. She managed to write the whole song in one sitting which was very impressive even for professional song writers at the time. "Did it" she said putting the pen down. Penny then came over to take the notebook and read what the bluenette had written. 'I hope it's ok'

"Wow Mari, this is great!" Penny said her mouth agape. She passed it to Jagged but Bob had snatched it out of his hands, only to give it back when Fang looked at him hungrily.

"Yeah, this is rock'n roll Nettie!" He praised her while giving his manager a 'I told you so' look.

"Yes this is exactly what we needed, a little change in the album. Thank you for this Marinette. We shall produce the song while you can sing the lyrics-"

"If that's alright will you of course" Jagged said, interrupting his manager.

Marinette nodded hesitantly. "I can give it a shot" she murmured.

Marinette walked home after visiting Jagged and showing Damian the designs she had in plan for his brothers, without showing the design she made for him. She was careful not to shake her purse too much as Tikki was sleeping, it was a busy day for the kwami as Marinette had let her go visit Plagg for some 'Kwami business'. Marinette didn't press for answers though. Soon she entered her parents bakery to find them already there, waiting for her.

"Maman, Papa what is it?" She asked.

"Your father and I are discussing if we should open a second bakery" Sabine answered enthusiastically.

"There's a few spots available in Marseille, we already booked a flight and a hotel to stay at" Tom answered, maybe even more excited than his wife.

"That's great! But isn't Marseille far away? It's closer to Italy than Paris" Marinette answered.

"Well surprisingly, we're already well known there" Tom replied.

"Oh cool! When will you be leaving?"

"On Saturday at 2 am" Her mother replied. "It's late but it was the next available flight. We'll be gone for a week maybe longer depending on all the paper work"

"Well you better start packing then!" Marinette said happy for both her parents. "I'll be going to bed now. Good night!" She hugged both her parents before going upstairs to change and finishing up her designs.

~~~

Adrien sat in front of his computer early before school, looking through all of Kagami's recent posts and he liked the photo that she posted yesterday, the photo was of when they went for ice cream earlier today. Alya and Nino were also in the picture, smiling for the camera but Adrien noticed someone else in the background. 'Marinette...' She was eating her ice cream, unbeknownst to the picture being taken, with the spoon still in her mouth. Adrien felt distracted by the way the sun reflected off her hair. He loved Kagami truly but his new love for Marinette shadowed it. "Plagg" Adrien said. "I think I have a thing for bluenettes".

"So your type is blue-haired girls? What makes you say that?" The kwami replied, not really enjoying the conversation.

"Well I like Ladybug, Kagami and Marinette and they all have one thing in common. They all have blue hair" Adrien sighed. "The last thing I need is another blue-haired girl to come into my life"

"Ughhh this is too cheesy, I much prefer actual cheese" Plagg groaned while looking around for Camembert.

Adrien sighed, smiling while going back to think of the girls he liked. He liked Ladybug for her quick, sly and smart nature. Kagami was incredibly skilled and very easy to relate to. And Marinette had a kind personality as well as unmatchable beauty. He couldn't decide which one he liked most as all the options were as great as the others. Then a notification on his computer distracted him from his thoughts. It was a notification that Jagged Stone had posted something. 'Huh, I wonder what it could be'

~~~

Jason was flicking through the channels on the TV, looking for something interesting to watch when a notification appeared on his phone. 'What's this?' He then realised that it was a trending post from Jagged Stone and went to view it. "HOLY SH-"

"Master Jason, language"Alfred reminded him.

"Oh yeah sorry" he whispered before shouting again. "HOLY MOTHER OF UM SOMETHING!"

Dick and Tim then entered the room, wondering what Jason was talking about. "What?" Dick asked.

Jason then connected his phone to the TV and showed the post he was talking about.

@official_jaggedstone

(Photo of a blue-haired girl with a medium long braid and her back facing the camera, writing on something)

Wonder what MDC is writing up for the bonus track? 🤔🤔🤔🤔

All three of the boys then fanboyed over finally being able to see what their favourite designer, and idol, looked like. Alfred then sighed while exiting the room.

"She's pretty!"

"She looks smart!"

"What's she writing?"

"I'm gonna call Damian, that room looks similar to the room he's staying in"

"Yes do, I want to pester him"

Dick then dialed a number on his phone. After a few rings, the phone finally answered.

"Tt, Yes?" A stern voice came through on the other side.

"HAVE YOU SEEN JAGGED'S RECENT POST!?" Tim shouted into the microphone.

~~~

Damian had already seen Jagged's post, he smiled to himself. He was about to go back to reading his book when his phone rang. He would've picked it up straight away if he hadn't see the name, it was Dick. He let the phone ring for a little while before answering.

"Tt, Yes?" He said in a stern voice.

"HAVE YOU SEEN JAGGED'S RECENT POST!?" Luckily Damian had the phone further away from his ear otherwise Tim would've exploded his eardrums.

"What about it?"

"He posted an image of MDC, the very first one ever on the internet!" Dick answered excitedly. "There aren't any pictures of her anywhere".

Damian smiled to himself knowing that he had seen MDC before his brothers, he had seen her smile. "There aren't?"

"Yeah! Weird right? She doesn't even show up to Jagged's live performances!" It was Jason's turn to speak now.

"Well I'm sure she goes to the performances, she's just never seen" Tim told his brother in a matter-of-fact way.

Damian rolled his eyes. "Tt, bye now" he said, immediately turning his phone off not allowing any of his brothers to protest. He then texted Marinette.

Me: Just got off the phone with my brothers, they were fanboying over you.

Surprisingly Marinette replied straight away.

Angel: They are too? Everyone is fangirling over MDC

Me: Because of Jagged's post, he posted a picture of you. The back of your head specifically

Angel: Oh hah I see it now, I guess that has to be my signature hairstyle as MDC now.

Me: It looks great on you though

Angel: You really think so?

Me: Mhm

Angel: Aw, thanks

~~~

Marinette had blushed when Damian said she looked good in that hairstyle. She really liked him. Then Marinette looked at the time, she was early for once. She decided to make use of this and get ready for school. She had finished getting ready quickly and she was able to walk instead of run to school like she usually did. When she entered, she noticed that there was barely anyone here. 'Perfect! I can work on my designs' that was until a familiar face showed up.

"Hey girl! You're here early wow!" The sound of her best friend made Marinette laugh until her facial expression changed from surprised to smug. Marinette was about to ask but Alya had brought her to the locker room where they were alone. "So girl, spill"

"What?"

"Do you like Chat Noir?"

Marinette giggled but she saw her best friend's face. "Oh you're not joking"

"Nope, now you can tell me so that I can get you both on a date." She blushed profusely. "And I ain't backing down, I've spent too much time on trying to find out who he is. Don't think I haven't noticed how you're jumping at anytime to be with this boy." She said the last statement with a soft voice.

Marinette sighed, grateful of her best friend but hesitant to tell her without Damian's permission as he never seemed like one for social interaction. "I'll ask" she said while taking her phone out.

Me: Shaytan, my best friend found out that I've been sneaking off to go see you.

Shaytan: Césaire?

Me: Yeah

Shaytan: You said she wanted to be a reporter right? Well then I guess this is expected, she did a good job.

Me: So should I tell her your name?

Shaytan: That's up to you

Me: Ok thanks!

Marinette put her phone away and looked at her best friend.

"So?" Alya asked. "Can you tell me?"

Marinette nodded. "So um, his name is D-Damian"

———

Taglist: @little-bluestar, @miracleofadisaster, @frieddonutsweets, @jjmjjktth, @genderfluidmoma, @starlit-dreaming, @icerosecrystal

#daminette #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #maribat #mlb x dc #ml x dc

[hologramband]

One Day p1

Alive!Luke x Fem!Reader Modern AU Word Count: 2.6k A/n: hehehe here’s the first part! I have it mostly planned out, there should be 3-4 parts! Lmk what you think! Summary: A shy girl is used to floating under the radar, keeping to herself most of the time, all was well until an opportunity fell into her lap, but what will these new people bring with them?

You were really good at staying right under everyone's radar at Los Feliz. You knew everyone, everyone knew you, but you didn’t have anything more than just a surface relationship with your classmates. You didn’t mind that, it was harder to get hurt this way. You got accepted to the Performing Arts High School with your ability to dance, but have always found your real talent lies within your visual art. Whether you were using paints, pencils, or a pen, you loved the way that your hand flew over the paper and created an image that represented your many different emotions.

In a way it made sense how you loved both dance and drawing, both sharing the flowing of movements to express things that words cannot. It was easier for you to express your emotions and thoughts in these mediums since social connection was hard for you. You had tried it once, really connecting with a person, but it ended up coming back and hurting you, causing you to shut down, so you weren't in a rush to try again any time soon. You floated down the hallways with ease, only having to stop at your locker to grab the remaining textbooks you need for the next few classes. While you were stopped you heard your name called from across the hallway, looking up to see Julie raising her hand in a small wave. “Hey, (y/n)! I like your top!” She came to a stop by your locker smiling. “Thanks! It was my moms, she just found this box of old clothes from when she was in school, this one just really stuck out to me.” You smiled down at yourself and looked back up at the girl to see three boys approaching. You felt heat subtly rise to your cheeks and you tried to focus your eyes on Julie. “Hey Jules, you ready to go to class?” Luke spoke as soon as they reached her side, sending you a nod of acknowledgement when he noticed you standing in front of them. Alex and Reggie both raised their hands with small waves in greeting to you. You smiled in return and turned back to close your locker, swinging your backpack on in the process. “Well, I gotta get to class too, see ya around.” You smiled back at the group and heard Julie call after you. “See you in Art!” You turned slightly and waved in return. Julie and you were pretty decent friends, you talked to her more than anyone else at the school, she had a good balance of how to get to know you without pushing you. You had met the boys a few times in passing, much like the previous occurrence, them not really speaking much more than a ‘hello’ here and there. There was something about Luke though, he never failed to send a storm of butterflies loose in your stomach. He probably didn’t even remember your name, but you could remember all the details of his face, not in a weird way, just in an artistic way, ya know? He had such a coolness about him, like he could totally embarrass himself but brush it off like it was nothing, like he meant to do it even. You thought you were getting better with your anxiety around people, but as soon as that boy was in front of you, it seemed as if your brain forgot how to function. You shook the boy from your thoughts as you continued through your day, classes went by like they typically do, all your general classes like math and english were in the first half of the day, the second half being taken by your dance class and then art. It was simple to say that you much preferred the second half of classes. In dance you went about as normal, running through a few routines and while wrapping up your teacher mentioned something about a new project that would be announced tomorrow. After changing you made your way to your final class where Julie had already arrived and claimed a table for the two of you. “Hi!” she smiled up at you. “Hi! How were your classes today?” You replied, starting a conversation that you hoped would carry throughout the class. You really did like talking with Julie, she was so sweet and really made you feel like she wanted to get to know you. The first day of class she noticed you were sitting alone and she took this as an opportunity to introduce herself, commenting on the particular band tee you had on, being able to strike up a conversation instantly. You admired her for this, the confidence she had when walking in a room was just astounding to you. The two of you went about the class in a way that you similarly would, talking about this and that while sketching away in your respective books, her only pausing to write ideas in her song notebook when an idea would hit. The class you were in didn’t have many actual assignments, just that you needed around 3 small pieces turned in periodically and one larger one for your final at the end of the semester, it made it an easy free flowing environment where there wasn’t too much pressure to stress on any one thing. Before you knew it the ding of the bell was going off overhead and you and Julie started packing up your things, she quickened her pace when she saw the boys waiting at the door for her. “You guys have practice today?” You giggled at her rushed movements. “Yeah,” she laughed as she zipped her bag closed, “Luke and I just finished up a new song too so I’m really excited to get back to the garage to figure out the music behind it.” She smiled up at you and you returned the affection. “Well don’t let me hold you up! Hope it all goes well! See you tomorrow!” You waved to the girl as she ran to the door, only pausing to throw a wave back at you. You laughed and shook your head at the girls' antics and went about your day as usual, starting your walk back home, you didn’t live too far and enjoyed the fresh air and time to recollect after the school day. After getting home you grabbed a quick snack and retreated to your room to finish a sketch that you had been working on in class today. Digging through your bag your heart rate increased when you pulled the red covered book to see the top covered in multiple stickers, this wasn’t your book, it was Julies song book, meaning she was currently in possession of your sketchbook. She must have grabbed yours on mistake when she was packing up quickly. You lightly sighed as you pulled out your phone to text her about the accidental switch-up. She replied instantly just realizing the mistake herself, then invited you over to switch them back and possibly hear some of the songs they were working on, looking for an outsider's opinion. You hesitated in saying yes, did you really need your book back that bad? Sighing, you sent back an okay and asked for an address, as nervous as you were to hang around the guys, more specifically Luke, you remembered how excited Julie was to go over the new song, the one that was probably sitting in the book you were holding in your hands. You threw on a light jacket and grabbed your backpack, for reasons unexplainable to you it just always just felt safer to walk around with a backpack on, and you were on your way to Julies. You could feel your nerves rising with each step you took towards her house, by the time you stood at the end of her driveway you felt like your heart was in your throat. “Calm down, (y/n), it’s just a little hangout to get your book back and hear a few songs, no biggie, nothing to fret about at all.” you whispered to yourself, taking one last deep breath before continuing your walk up her driveway. You had just come into view from the garage when you heard Julie calling out your name. “(Y/n)! How was your walk?” Julie ran out to meet you, now walking beside you into the garage. “It was good! You actually live closer to me than I thought, it was only like a 15 minute walk,” you smiled at her and you continued the small talk until you looked up and met eyes with the brunette guitarist. “(Y/n), these are the guys, Alex, Reggie and Luke,” she introduced them to you and you raised your hand in a wave. “Yeah, i’ve seen you guys perform before, you’re all really good!” you smiled and met each of their gazes. “Thanks! And that was all our old stuff, just wait until you hear what we have coming, um..” Luke stuttered realizing he didn’t know your name. You went to say it but Alex beat you to it. “(Y/n) you idiot,” he hit the back of Luke's head, while rolling his eyes. A blush rose to Luke’s face and he laughed it off. “I-I knew that, I-I just-” “You’re at the school for dance right?” Alex spoke again, interrupting and trying to take the attention off of the stuttering Luke. You smiled and nodded. “Yeah! I’m on a dance scholarship, so that's my main focus but my second is visual art, which reminds me,” You take your backpack off and pull out Julies song book, “here’s this!” She smiles and takes it from you. “Ugh thanks so much, I don’t know what I would have done if I lost this, Reggie can you grab her sketchbook? It’s on the piano!” Julie opened her book and smiled looking at the page. “Oh wow,” you heard Reggie mutter causing everyone to turn to him, “(y/n) this stuff is like, really good.” You blushed and looked down at your feet, you’ve never been good at accepting compliments. “Dude, boundaries!” Julie muttered reaching for the book, but Luke got to it first, taking his own turn looking through the pages. Your heart jumped when he started smiling at the pages he was flipping through, you didn’t have anything in there that you kept hidden, it was just that no one had ever gone through your work before. “You have so many different styles, this one is like a cartoon, but then the next one is like hyper realistic.” Luke looks up to make eye contact and you felt a blush rise to your cheeks. Alex took the second of him being distracted to pull the book away from him and hand it back to you. “I’m sorry for them, they still haven’t figured out what it means to respect someone's privacy.” He narrowed his eyes at his two bandmates. “You know,” you opened the book in your hands to search for a particular page, “I actually have something of each of you individually. I sketched them out the night after I saw one of your guys’ gigs.” You scrunch your face in concentration, you feel everyone rush to stand behind you when you finally find it. You look around at them to take in their reactions, their eyes were all glued to the papers you were displaying in front of you, Reggies mouth falling open. “Oh! Is this why you asked for the pictures my dad took of that night?” Julie looked up at you. “Yeah, I wanted to be able to add the details of everyone's chosen instruments and get some added information on where the highlights were from the lights,” you looked at each of their faces again and made a rash decision to gently tear the pages from your book, handing them to each respective person. Each person held them gently in their hands, then looked up to you in amazement. You just shrugged your shoulders in response, not knowing what else to say. “Well,” you looked out the window and saw the setting sun, “I better start my walk back to my house, it’s getting dark and I wanna get back before that happens. Enjoy the pictures guys!” You smile and turn to walk away, all the band still shocked to silence. “She’s never torn a page from her book before,” you hear Julie tell the boys as you walk further down the driveway, smiling to yourself. It was true, you never pull pages from your sketchbook, not this one at least, it was the better quality of all the other ones you had. You typically just used the less expensive books for class, you go through all the pages so quickly you didn’t want to waste the one’s in your higher quality notebook for the rough sketches, but the pages that you drew the band on were in the higher quality notebook, you had taken the time to really get them right, and they turned out fantastic. Your mother had always told you to spread joy where you can, and after seeing all their faces you knew that it was only right to let them have the pages that they were looking at. You arrived home and couldn’t wipe the smile off your face, there might be something there with them, an opportunity to make new friends, to open up. This idea makes you both nervous and excited, you let these thoughts and ideas later lull you to sleep. --- The next day at school you were walking to your locker when Julie caught your eye, she was waiting in her phone by your locker door. You would usually see her in passing in the mornings, but this is new. “Hey Julie, what’s up?” You greet the curly haired girl at your locker. “Hey (y/n)! Not much really, just watched to catch you this morning and run an idea past you…” She smiles and looks around her before returning her gaze back to you. “Okay? Is everything alright? You seem nervous,” you giggled at her antics and went back to putting the combination into your locker. “Yeah, yeah, I just know you take a while to open up and get close with new people, and I don’t wanna rush you into anything you aren’t ready for, but the boys and I were wondering if-” She gets cut off by a yell from down the hallway. “JULIE! HAVE YOU ASKED HER YET?” You turn to see all three boys running towards you, Julie facepalming at Reggies yell. “Geez Reg, she literally just got here. There's no need to yell,” Julie rolls her eyes at them and looks back to you. “Anyways, we were wondering if you wanted to make more designs and stuff for the band, like for posters and maybe album art one day.” She smiles at you after finishing. “You-you want me to… really?” Your eyes widen in shock. “Yeah! We all really like what you did with those portraits, and you’re pretty chill letting us keep them and all, we want you to be a part of our band, even if it isn’t you on stage with us, you’ll keep things looking cool.” Luke says as he leans against the lockers beside you. “Plus, then you’ll be able to hang out with us more!” Reggie pipes in. They all look at each other then back at you. “So,” Alex smiles at you, “What do ya think?” A million thoughts fly through your mind at once, they really want you to hang out with them more? They liked what you did? You looked at them all, looking back at you, and smiled. “I’d love to.”

tag list ✨

@gia-kerks​ @fangirlangioma​

#jatp #jatp imagine #jatp luke #jatp luke x reader #luke patterson #luke x reader #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson imagine #jatp luke patterson #jatp luke patterson imagine #jatp luke imagine #one day #luke patterson x fem!reader #mini series

[starrybethany]

I’m Sure - Adam Boqvist Imagine Part 1

Word count: 3.3K

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

I heard about Adam before I met him. The guys had hung around my office, claiming they wanted to catch up with me, but I really know it’s just because they want to gossip. Hockey players are like that. We were catching up on how their summers went.

“Hey, did you see who was drafted, Y/N?” Dylan asks, wandering around the small room and staring at various objects.

“Nope,” I pop the ‘p’, scanning over the email recently sent to me. “Who was it?”

“This Swedish kids with sick hands,” Alex gushes.

“Really? Is he gonna be the next Patty Kane?”

“Please, like anyone could be like Showtime,” he scoffs.

Dylan pulled up some videos of his highlights, showing them to me.

I nod in approval. “Looks like hockey.”

They give me unamused looks.

We’ve had this talk plenty of times- they think that since I work at the United Center, I should understand hockey more, I think that since I work for United Center and not for the Blackhawks, it really doesn’t matter.

Adam had spent that season in London with the Knights. I had heard about him sprinkled into conversations here and there but really, I just focused on my work as being the suites advisor and making sure everything went smoothly. It was a great year for bookings, and apparently a great year for him.

Alex tried explaining the kid’s talent to me when we were on a double date with our partners, but I still couldn’t understand hockey that well, so I just smiled and nodded. He let that slip by.

It wasn’t until he was here in Chicago that I got it.

For some reason I had been down at the rink, watching practice take place. He had spent a few weeks with the Hawks- weeks that I had taken off to take care of my boyfriend after his knee surgery- and was sent down to Rockford almost as soon as I had returned.

The boys were really upset that I hadn’t met their new friend, Kirby especially, who was a new addition to our group almost as soon as Dominik introduced him to me.

But then there he was, back on the ice. I squinted my eyes, not remembering a ‘27’ on the team. The last name clicks, and I watch as he flies around on the ice, joking with the guys and passing the puck skillfully.

I got it. I understood then why the boys thought he was so talented and why he was back in the NHL at the mere age of nineteen. He played with confidence and speed, a conscious defenseman- something the boys tell me they’ve been struggling with.

Then I un-got it.

Alex had invited a couple of us over for drinks one night and my boyfriend, as he did often, accompanied me.

“Oh, you guys haven’t met yet,” Alex comments, pouring glasses of wine for all of us. “Y/N, this is Adam, the defenseman we’ve been telling you about. Adam, this is Y/N, she works as a suites advisor for the UC.”

“Nice to meet you,” I reach out, shaking his hand. I thought he was attractive, I won’t lie. From the detailed tattoos to the messy hair, he was just my type. But my boyfriend was sitting right next to me, so that was a line I didn’t want to cross.

It didn’t matter to Adam, though. He winked at me as we shook hands, which I found distasteful, but allowed myself to send him a tight-lipped smile.

“And this is my boyfriend, Steven,” I emphasis, resting my hand on Steven’s thigh.

“Oh yeah,” Alex mutters.

Alex always tended to forget about Steven. In fact, everyone seemed to forget about Steven.

“So, suites’ advisor?” Adam questions, ignoring the man sitting next to me. I could feel my boyfriend freeze up at the clear dismissal.

“Yep.”

“What do you do? Just say hello to all of the rich investors?” By the smirk on his face and the small sip of wine, I can tell the dig is intentional.

He knows there is much more that goes into this job than that, so I don’t know why he’s trying to get under my skin. Especially when we just met.

“Um, no, actually, I schedule who books suites for when, what suites are available, who caters what suite. A lot goes into it, actually,” I send him a fake smile.

His smirk just widens, digging under my skin even more.

Steven and I had left early that night.

~

I ungot it again at the family skate. I’ve never learned how to skate- the guys tried to teach me, but I get frustrated easily so they stopped attempting. I’m stumbling around on the ice by myself, the boys stopping by once and a while to check on me but quickly rushing off to be with their significant others. Steven has work today and we had an argument a few days ago, so I didn’t even bother inviting him to the family skate.

A hard body runs into me from behind, causing me to become unbalanced and hit the boards, catching myself before I fall right onto the ice.

“Ow,” I turn around to glare at the person who pushed me, narrowing my eyes even more when I see the familiar blonde boy and the smirk that he’s always wearing. “What’s your problem, dude?”

“What do you mean?” His accent is thick with his words, making my stomach flutter but the irritation replaces the fluttering quickly.

“You’ve just been rude to me for no reason. What’s up with that?”

He gives me a surprised look, like he didn’t expect me to confront him on it. But I don’t know why he would think that- if you’re going to be a dick, I have a right to call you out on it.

He scoffs quickly, an annoyed expression quickly replacing his surprised one. “You’re overthinking everything.”

I watch as he skates away in annoyance, Kirby replacing his spot next to me.

“You two are close, right?” I question.

He nods.

“Why does he hate me so much?”

He laughs at that and I’m the one who’s shocked now. “Isn’t it obvious? He likes you.”

I give him an unimpressed look. “You’re saying he’s acting like an asshole because he likes me?”

“Hey, I didn’t say it was logical,” he puts his hands up in defense, skating away.

I’ve always thought that was ridiculous. If you like someone, just tell them. And if you don’t, just avoid them. There is no reason that meanness is needed, especially if it’s because you really like that person.

I try to avoid Adam after that.

~

It doesn’t last long. About a week of avoiding him goes by before I find myself out at a bar with him and a few other players. I had just broken up with Steven, discovering that I no longer did my ‘in love’ giggle with him or smiled when I saw his name pop up on my phone.

But just because I fell out of love with him didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. It hurt. It really hurt. So that’s how I found myself one, two, three, four drinks in at the bar, too drunk to remember what I was saying and too drunk to care about how I might feel the next day.

I went on the dance floor to blow off some steam, swaying along to pop songs and screaming the lyrics.

Arms wind around my waist and I look down at them, spotting a familiar sleeve. I turn around in his arms, careful to not move my hands. I’m worried of what I might do if that happens- even though Steven and I had just broken up, I’ve been touch-deprived for weeks.

“What are you doing, Adam?” I question, leaning closer so that he can hear me.

“You’re single now, right?”

“Yes, but did I give you permission to touch me?” I raise my eyebrows.

He takes a step back with amusement, raising his arms defensively to show me that he’s respecting my boundaries.

Then I can’t help but think: fuck it. After being in a committed relationship for years, why not mess around with some guy I have intense sexual chemistry with? He’s hot, he’s sexy, sure he’s an asshole but I’m sure that confidence would do wonders in bed.

So, I throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and tangling in his blonde locks as I pull him as close to me as he can get. One of his hands rests on my ass while the other rests on my hip, tugging me closer and closer to him.

He’s staying with Alex and Lyndsey, so we end up at my apartment in my bedroom. And when I wake up in the morning, I don’t regret it.

I regret it when I go to work the next day. He gives me a knowing look every time he passes me in the hall and even Kirby sends me a look or two.

It happens for a couple more days until one day he finds himself in my office with Dylan and Alex Nylander, another young rookie.

I’d been struggling with work all day, people bitching at me on the phone and numbers not adding up so all I really wanted was to finish the last hour of work and go home.

Then Adam gives me a look.

“What’s your problem?” I snap.

He gives me a confused expression, causing me to elaborate. “We slept with each other once and now you think you know so much about me? Do you think you can hold this over my head or something?”

Dylan chokes on his spit and Alex stifles his laughter, Adam flustering with words.

I organize a stack of papers on my desk, not even bothering to make eye contact with any of them. “I think it’s best if you three leave.”

They respect my wishes. An hour later I lock my door with a deep sigh, turning to make my way towards the parking lot. A body pushes me up against my door suddenly, causing me to gasp and dart my eyes up to see who my attacker is.

My eyes meet familiar blue ones and my body relaxes at the sight, then freezes up again when I realize I’m stuck in between his arms.

“You know, I didn’t really like that stunt you pulled earlier,” Adam breathes out, breath fanning over my face. His head leans down and he nibbles at the skin on my neck teasingly.

I hold back a moan at the action. “You didn’t?”

“No,” he bites down a little bit harder, causing me to wince. “I think you’re going to have to be punished for that.”

“You think so?” I whisper out.

“I think so.”

“Then I think we should get started on this now, don’t you think?”

“I agree.”

~

And that’s how I began sleeping with Adam Boqvist. Neither of us are looking for anything serious- I want to live the single life after being in a committed relationship for so long and he wants to enjoy his single, youth years in the great city of Chicago.

Plus, he would be the last person I would date.

He’s cocky, selfish, obnoxious, loud- I could keep going.

But either way, the relationship between us, or whatever you want to call it, isn’t end game. He isn’t the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. He’s not the one I want to raise children with or sit with on rocking chairs on the porch.

He’s just a guy I want to have sex with until I find the right person for me.

So, tell me why I’m sitting in my shitty apartment bathroom with two pregnancy tests sitting on the small basin of the sink.

I crisscross my legs on the toilet, fiddling with my fingers anxiously. They have to be negative. They have to be.

I can’t have a child right now. I want to focus on my career and build my reputation in the field. I don’t want to have a baby just a couple years into starting this job. I can’t afford a baby anyways; Chicago is an insanely expensive city and I can barely afford to live by myself.

Hell, I live in a loft.

Besides, I can’t be connected to Adam for the rest of my life. I can hardly stand the guy as it is.

As the minutes slowly pass by, I convince myself that I’m not actually pregnant. The ache in my ankles and lower back are due to stress from work and the vomiting is because my eating habits haven’t been as consistent as they usually are.

I’m just going to completely ignore the fact that I let Adam have sex with me without a condom while I was off my birth control for a while due to the weird side effects it was giving me.

It’s like I’m watching from outside of my own body as I reach forward, grabbing the sticks and holding one in each hand.

Positive. Positive.

My heartbeat fastens and I can feel my breath getting shallow. I try to focus my breathing, counting to four over and over and it slowly helps.

My eyes open back up as I ground myself and I can’t help but just stare at the sticks, switching between the two. I’m pregnant. I’m having Adam Boqvist’s baby.

~

I really didn’t prepare myself for the next time that I’d see him. I’ve already prepared myself to deal with this on my own- whichever way I decide to do that. I haven’t really decided that yet either.

“Hey,” he grins at me as he enters my office, shutting the door behind him. “I have about ten minutes before Kirby starts to look for me, let’s have a quickie.”

“No, Adam,” I sigh, swallowing the lump in my throat. The words are just begging to come out. I’m pregnant. You’re going to be a dad.

“Why not? Is it because we’re at work? We’ve done it in your office before,” he protests.

I set the pen down next to the pad of paper gently, crossing my hands on the top of the desk and turning to focus him with a serious expression. His mischievous grin fades when he notices that I’m not in the playful or teasing mood that I’m usually in when I see him.

“What’s up?” He questions.

“Adam, I’m pregnant.”

His reaction is not one I expect. His face turns to one of confusion, like he’s genuinely unsure why I would be telling him this.

“Congratulations?” He says it more like a question.

My eyes narrow into a glare at the word. He doesn’t believe that it’s his child. I feel hurt, disrespected, and angry. Who does he think I am, the type of girl who has unprotected sex with everyone who walks?

Not that there’s anything wrong with those girls, more power to them, it’s just- he knows me. We’ve been in each other’s beds most of the time for the past couple of months. I spend practically every night with him, and he has the nerve to doubt paternity?

“It’s yours, idiot.” I can’t help but let that dig slide.

“Well how do you know that?”

“Because if I’m not working, I’m having sex with you,” I say slowly, like I have to spell it out for him.

“Well how do you know it’s not- uh- what’s that guy’s name- Steven’s kid?” Adam inquires, his eyes showing that he’s searching hard for an excuse to not take responsibility.

I scoff, leaning back in my chair. “Whatever, Adam, I don’t care if you believe me. I’m going to figure it out.”

“You better.” And by the way he says it, I know what he wants me to do. I know that he doesn’t want to be a father- although actions do have consequences, there is a reason that abortion and adoption are options.

I can also tell that now he knows for sure that he is the father. And he sure as hell doesn’t want to be the father.

~

I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s just scheduling an appointment- I can always cancel or reschedule.

But my finger rests over the call button for a long time, ‘Planned Parenthood’ looking up at me, mocking me, taunting me.

Do you want an abortion or not? Do you want to be a mother or not? Do you want to go through this pregnancy or not?

There are so many questions flashing through my head. Quite frankly, I don’t know what I want to do. I have no one to turn to- as much as I love the team, I don’t want to cause a rift between them and Adam, and I don’t want to think that we’re closer than we actually are.

I cut out my family years ago.

My friends are all party girls, they wouldn’t know the first thing about a baby if it hit them.

Everything is telling me that I shouldn’t do this. I shouldn’t want to raise a baby on my own, I shouldn’t want to be a single mother.

But why do I so desperately yearn for it? Why did I feel joy when I looked at those sticks and why do I get excited at the thought of little footsteps running around on hardwood floors?

I press the call button.

It gets two rings in before I end it, knowing I’ve made my choice despite all odds.

I need to keep this baby. I know Adam won’t be there for me, but he doesn’t need to be. All this baby needs is to feel love and support and it’ll get that from me and me alone. I need to start fresh, though, to make sure that I’m the best mom that I can be.

~

“I can’t believe you quit, just like that,” Alex states with a disappointed tone.

I told the guys I quit because I want a change in scenery. That’s not a lie, I’m excited to be moving to the beautiful state of Colorado to start new. But I also hid the news about the baby. They don’t follow me on social media, so they’ll never know- unless Adam says something to them about it. But I doubt he will.

“We’ll miss you,” Dylan adds.

“I’ll miss you guys too,” I respond, closing the cardboard box containing all of my office supplies. Picture frames, pens, cool knick-knacks. All packed into a box ready to be shipped to the mountain zone.

“Hey Adam, Y/N was just getting ready to say goodbye,” Alex says, making me look up from taping up the box with wide eyes.

Sure enough, the blonde is leaning in the doorway, looking unsure for the first time since I’ve met him. It’s weird to see him so hesitant. It’s not him.

But I also don’t feel bad for him. A real dad would step up and want to be there for their kid. A good dad would do that. But clearly, and unfortunately, I was right. Adam Boqvist is and always will be selfish.

I say my goodbyes to Alex and Dylan, the box in one arm while I lock the office with the other hand.

“You’re really leaving?”

“Let’s just get this over with, Adam,” I start, turning to him. He winces when I look him in the eye, seeing all of the resentment and anger I feel towards him. “I’m keeping the baby. I’m raising the baby on my own. Don’t worry, I won’t put you down on the birth certificate. You’ll never see us again.”

His mouth opens then closes. “Are you sure?”

I scoff at the question, shaking my head in disbelief. I go to push past him. “Oh, trust me, I’m sure.”

#NHL imagines #Chicago Blackhawks imagine #Adam boqvist #Adam boqvist imagine #hockey imagines #bimsure

[honeypwark]

[ You're Important ]

  ↳ N.O era

     ↳ Yeosu goes to get coffee with Namjoon.  She has a run-in with some "fans."  Yeosu talks about Namjoon’s importance to the group.

m.list

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Namjoon waits at the counter for his name to be called, taking the two cups the barista hands to him with a smile and a thank you.  He takes a sip of the coffee in his right hand, walking through the tables of the cafe until he reaches a booth by the window. Yeosu sits in one side, chin in her palm as she looks out the window at the people passing by.

“Noona,” Namjoon calls to get her attention.

“Oh, thanks,” she says, taking the iced tea he holds out to her.

Namjoon sits down across from Yeosu and her gaze goes back out the window.  They both sip from their respective drinks.  Yeosu sighs and leans her elbows forward onto the table, holding her iced tea in both hands.

"I know why you asked me here, Joon," she says.

"I just want to make sure you're doing okay," Namjoon says gently.

She smiles at him softly, "I'm fine."

Recently, BTS has gained a little traction.  They've gained more fans and attention, though nothing exponential.  However, they're mostly getting attention for the wrong reason.

People have quite strong opinions on Yeosu that go one of two ways.  One: they believe she has a lot of idol potential but shouldn't be in a boy group, especially one with such hip-hop/badass concepts.  But most people fall into the second category: people who are fans of BTS but seemingly hate everything about Yeosu.  They believe she's untalented and a try-hard.  They judge her for minuscule things and constantly voice their distaste of her.

The second type of people made themselves known a few days ago while BTS was leaving Music Bank.  While trying to maneuver through a crowd of fans to reach the van that would drive Yeosu and the boys home, a girl grabbed Yeosu's wrist and dug her fingers into the soft skin of the inside of her arm.  She'd called her an untalented slut among other colorful insults.  She told her she should leave BTS.  And apparently she'd brought a friend with her because just after she'd called for Sejin, her manager, something cold and thick was poured over her head.  A smoothie.

The crowd went into an uproar but the girls were gone in an instant, replaced by Sejin's firm hand guiding her to the van where the boys were waiting.  The boys were furious, obviously.  Sejin locked the doors just in time to stop Yoongi from jumping out of the van to chase after whoever had done it, who cares if he doesn't know what they look like?  Yeosu showered when they arrived back at the dorm and spent the evening in bed.  Taehyung and Hoseok tried to cook dinner and she was appreciative but not talkative.  The next morning she was up before everyone else as usual and making breakfast as if the day before had never happened.

Still, Namjoon asked her to go to a little cafe he'd read about online with the pretense that she would like it and he needed someone to drive him.  So they sit across from one another now, in a booth up against the window that looks onto the street outside.

"I know that people have been pretty vocal about their opinions of you recently," Namjoon says, "There's been a lot of negative comments.  And then what happened after Music Bank on Saturday..."

Yeosu takes a drink of her tea and sighs again, "If I'm being totally honest, there's some truth to their words.  I get where they're coming from but it's whatever, honestly.

"No, not whatever," Namjoon insists.  "They don't work for the company.  They're not a part of our group.  They don't get a say in whether or not you should be a part of BTS.  Not to mention that they're completely wrong."

"I know that.  I just understand their reasoning."

"Yeosu-“

"I have to use the bathroom.  Be back in a jiff."

Yeosu escapes to the restroom, using those few minutes alone to collect her thoughts and think of how to explain to Namjoon her thoughts on the hate she's been receiving.  She exits the bathroom and starts back toward the booth.

"Hi, are you YB?"

Two boys in school uniforms approach her cautiously.  Yeosu immediately turns her expression pleasant and smiles at them.

"I am.  Are you two fans?"

"Yes," the taller one says.

"Very big fans," the shorter adds.

"Well, it's lovely to meet you," Yeosu says.  She gestures to Namjoon sitting by the window, "If you like BTS, Rap Monster is right there, too."

The boys look back at Namjoon when she motions toward him and they seem almost disappointed to see him.

"Oh."

"What?  Were you hoping to catch me alone?" Yeosu jokes, not entirely sure what to say to their reaction.

"Maybe just with anyone but him," the taller one mutters.

"Excuse me?" Yeosu says.

The shorter boy elbows the taller.

"What is that supposed to mean," she looks at the taller boy's name tag, "Jo Sangin?"

"H-He just meant that- um..."  The shorter boy searches for the right words, "We're part of ARMY that feels that Rap Monster is... a visual hole."

"He's not very handsome and that becomes more obvious being next to someone as pretty as you," the taller boy says as if that's supposed to some sort of compliment.

"We just feel that BTS would be better off without him," the shorter boy finishes.

"Hm."  She looks at the two boys for a few moments then takes a slow breath, "And ARMY would be better off without you two."

Without another word, Yeosu leaves the two boys standing there.  She walks back over to Namjoon, who'd seen her be approached but not heard anything.

"We're leaving," she says, grabbing her purse, rain jacket, and drink.

She doesn't leave any room for objection, immediately marching towards the door.  Namjoon quickly grabs his own rain jacket and drink before rushing to catch up to her, casting a glance over his shoulder at the two schoolboys as he leaves the cafe.  He looks either direction, spotting Yeosu walking dutifully away from the cafe to his left.  He runs to catch up with her, weaving between pedestrians as carefully as he can.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"It's ridiculous!  Honestly!  Literally don't even get me started on Korean beauty standards. You're seriously so handsome and just because you're not cookie cutter beautiful doesn't mean you're unattractive.  And how can someone who calls himself our fan not realize how important you are to the group?  You're our leader and main rapper.  You're insanely talented and we'd be left out to dry without you.  People outside of the group could never even begin to understand everything you do for us and how important you are.  I just can't understand-"

"You do realize how everything you're saying relates directly back to you, right?"

Yeosu stops mid-rant as Namjoon speaks up.  They'd found their way to a park, donning their rain jackets as it began to drizzle drearily and eventually sitting down together on a bench.  Yeosu just sat in silent anger for a minute, drinking her tea unhappily until Namjoon dared to ask what happened.  She'd told him what the two boys had said about him and then went on to rant about how stupid it all was.  She'd started pacing along the sidewalk in front of the bench.  Luckily the park is empty due to the dismal weather, so no one is here to witness Yeosu's irritation. During her rant, she's unknowingly voiced Namjoon's thoughts about her.

"You're not allowed to turn my words around on me."

"Watch me."

Namjoon sets his coffee cup down and gestures for her to sit on the bench beside him.  She does with a small huff.

"You're important to the group," he says.  "Even if you weren't the most amazing dancer I've ever seen or you didn't have an amazing voice, you're still a fundamental part of BTS.  You take care of all of us and you have to know how much we appreciate you and everything you do.  You are important to the group and there is no basis for people to think otherwise, so don't even consider it."

Yeosu is quiet for a moment.  Then she wraps her arms around Namjoon's shoulders.  He wraps his arms around her middle, the material of their rain jackets crinkling as they hold one another in a hug.

"You know I don't agree with them," Yeosu says.  "I know how lost you boys would be without me."

"We'd eat nothing but ramen and takeout, probably."

"Jin can cook."

"Not like you can."

"It's a hobby."

Namjoon laughs then rests his head in Yeosu's shoulder.

"You know how important you are, too, right?" Yeosu says.  "You may not be mother hen, but we need you.  And you are handsome, even though that's not what's important.  What is important is that you are talented and dedicated and such a good person.  Anyone who says otherwise can deal with me."

"I would never wish a protective Yeosu on anyone."

"You're one of my boys, of course I'm going to be protective."

When Yeosu pulls back, Namjoon ducks his head and wipes at his eyes.

He gestures upwards flippantly, "It's the rain."

"Uh-huh."  She fixes his hair for him, "Sure it is."

#bts #8th member of bts #bts 8th member #bts eighth member #eighth member #eighth member of bts #bts au #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts fanfiction #kpop #kpop au #kim namjoon #kim namjoon fluff #rm #rap monster #namjoon #kpop female addition #female kpop additions #kpop female oc #female kpop member #kpop female member #bighit #bighit entertainment

[capesandshapes]

The Last Resort: Chapter 1 (Adrienette)

Summary:

After an akuma attack goes wrong, Adrien finally learns Ladybug's secret identity and finds himself falling even deeper in love with his friend. He thinks he's finally gotten lucky when she declares to him that she's currently in the business of falling love with anyone but her previous crush... until that crush turns out to be him.

Now Adrien has to somehow convince the girl of his dreams to fall back in love with him, while keeping his own identity a secret from her. Well, if there was one thing his father taught him, it was how to multitask.

This Chapter:  Inconvenient Trunks and Really Convenient Dialogue Adrien visits Marinette to see whether or not she's decided to learn Chat's identity. In the process, he learns about fairytale plotlines and how inconvenient being shoved in a trunk really is. 

(There was a prologue as well)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I need to talk to you. Alya’s message came too late as Adrien was already standing outside of the Dupain Cheng bakery, having headed straight to it after school let out rather than the waiting car of his bodyguard. He’d end up regretting both decisions later on and he knew it, but that didn’t seem to matter too much to him at the moment.

He’d promised Marinette the weekend to think things over, figure out if she wanted to know Chat Noir’s identity at the moment, and really process what she’d done on Friday. That weekend was over, and he’d come to collect his answer right on time (though she would likely argue that he hadn’t considering that he’d been waiting for her at the school gates).

He let his hand run through his hair, trailing down his neck as he stared at the bakery, the building suddenly much more intimidating than it had been a little less than three days ago. A small part of him wished that he hadn’t insisted on dressing so ordinary today, wearing the same thing he always did to put her at ease. It felt like he should have done more, like when she inevitably said that she wanted to know who he was he should be wearing a suit or something more fantastic than a t-shirt.

But that was the romantic in him. That side of him was all too predominant lately, looking at the few photos he owned of him with Marinette and trying to put a finger on how he felt about the girl now. She’s ladybug, she’s the one, the thought made his cheeks warmer, far warmer than the idea of Lila or Chloe being the masked superheroine. Maybe it did matter who she was under the mask, just a little.

A flash of dark pigtails disappearing behind the shop door brought him back to the moment, and he knew it was time. “Ready to let the cat out of the bag?” Adrien asked, speaking down into the pocket of his shirt with a grin.

“Ugh,” the voice of his kwami replied, Plagg floating lazily out of his pocket with an unamused expression. “Do me a favor, Romeo, drop the transformation before you go in for the big kiss. Cats don’t like getting wet,” Plagg stuck out his tongue, “especially not from your sweaty palms.”

“Ha ha,” Adrien replied dryly, shooting an amused look to his kwami, “Who said anything about kissing? I mean, it’s Marinette, maybe she doesn’t want to kiss someone who…”

“Has model good looks and is the most famous guy in all of Paris?” Plagg asked.

“...Is me,” Adrien stated plainly after finding the right words. “Someone who is me, her friend. Ladybug already said she had a crush on someone, and I’m pretty sure that Marinette would have let me know by now if it was me.” A small groan exited him as he thought things over more, his hand returning to rubbing the back of his neck, “You know, maybe now that she sees that the homeschooled weirdo she’s friends with and the guy running around in a cat costume are the same person, she might not want to hang around me as much.”

Plagg’s eyes softened, the small cat drifting closer to his wielder, “C’mon kid, who wouldn’t want to be around you?” He reached a tiny paw to pat the boy’s shoulder, “You’re interesting, you’ve got spunk. Easy on the eyes, smells like camembert all the time, and you’re smart? Kid, you’re the whole package.”

Adrien snorted at his Kwami, “thanks, Plagg.”

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

“I don’t want to know who you are,” Marinette loudly announced as he opened the trapdoor leading to her room, and Adrien found himself missing a few steps on her stairs in response. Thank god he was Chat, otherwise he would have fell.

“W-what?” His hands gripped the handrail and his fingers dug into the railing. Out of all the responses Adrien had imagined, Ladybug stating that she didn’t want to know who he was without the slightest hesitation was not one of them.

“I don’t want to know who you are,” Marinette replied, sounding as if to her it really was that simple. The small black-haired young woman gave him only a sparing glance before continuing her project at hand, her hand diving in and out of the fabric as she slowly embroidered a piece of cloth.

She was obviously trying to seem nonchalant, but he caught a glimpse of pink dusted on the tops of her cheeks as she inspected her embroidery. It didn’t take much for him to realize what her project really was, another way to keep her eyes off of him. She was still embarrassed.

Oh, this was good.

“So you don’t want to know at all,” he tried, leaning over the back of her desk chair far too close to the young woman. “Not at all curious about who I could be?”

“No,” she replied, holding her embroidery a little bit closer to her face.

“Not even a little bit?”

“It’s an all or nothing question,” she retorted.

Well, she had him there. Still, there were other tactics. “I could be anyone, anyone at all,” He teased. “I could be Ivan, or Nathaniel, or… Chloe Bourgeois.”

Marinette snorted, putting down her embroidery to properly roll her eyes at him so he could see it. Pushing back from the desk and nearly crushing Chat’s foot in the process, she spun her chair around and began to poke holes in his suggestions. “Ivan is head over heels for Mylene, so I doubt he’d be flirting with me as much as you do. It’d be strange for Nathaniel to crash his own date, or even think of a plan that would result in it ending as badly as it did. And Chloe… is not only responsible for half of the akumas that have attacked Paris but is also a woman.”

“Okay,” he replied with a joyous grin, “so then I’m Nino.”

“Who not only has a girlfriend, but would also be dead to me if he were running around flirting with Ladybug?” Her face grew more unimpressed, “not to mention, Carapace.”

“Okay, so then I could be someone super famous, I could be Jagged Stone,” Adrien wiggled his eyebrows at Marinette, placing his hands on either side of her desk chair as he leaned in closer.

“You’re Jagged Stone?” Marinette replied with a laugh, and it struck Adrien just how different her laugh sounded out of costume. Maybe it was because she felt less like she had to play a character like this.

“‘Ello, Marinette,” Adrien imitated, his British accent so bad that it could have been a jailable offense, “you design an absolutely smashin’ album cover.”

It was evident that she tried to fight the smile, but it came in too quick to battle. “You really liked it, Kitty?” She asked.

“You’re really talented, my lady,” he admitted.

“Thank you,” she beamed.

It was easy to get lost in that look, far too easy. He took it in far too long, his cheeks burning when he finally realized what he was doing. He cleared his throat and continued his game, “You don’t know, I could even be Adrien Agreste.”

The color drained from her cheeks almost instantaneously. She stood up suddenly and would have toppled over instantly if Adrien’s hands didn’t quickly reach for her shoulders. She looked panicked, like an animal trapped in the headlights of a car with nowhere to go. Her eyes darted away from him and down to the ground, and Adrien’s stomach sank.

“Hey… Are you okay?” His throat constricted, “I-i didn’t mean to upset you or anything, I swear.”

“No, I um…” She trailed off, her eyes finally raising and finding purchase on somewhere other than him. He found himself turning his head over his shoulder to look as well, his heart dropping as he took in what she did.

They were gone. Every single photo of Adrien was taken down, replaced by pictures of her with Luka, Nino, Kim, Rose; Anyone but Adrien. The only image that his face peered out of was their class photo, and even that felt trumped by the absolutely immense photo of her with Alya. It was like he’d suddenly disappeared, consumed by everything else.

“My lady?” His voice couldn’t help but crack; what was going on?

“I’m sorry,” she said, “something happened, and I just… Of course I want to know you are! Just not right now, not for a while.” She looked back to him, liquid pooling at the bottom of bluebell eyes as she admitted, “I’m not ready yet.”

He gritted his teeth, “what happened--” He began, but found himself interrupted almost immediately.

“Marinette, Alya’s here!” Mrs. Cheng yelled from downstairs, her voice followed by the quick footsteps that no doubt belonged to one Alya Cesaire.

Marinette and Adrien’s eyes widened simultaneously, horror playing across their faces as they realized how completely and utterly doomed they were. Adrien tried to think of a plausible excuse for Chat Noir being in Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s room but came up emptyhanded. Thankfully, Ladybug’s problem-solving skills seemed to be a power not created solely by her costume.

Marinette threw open the large trunk nearest her Chaise almost immediately, grabbing Adrien by the hand and practically shoving him on top of the many blankets that lined the bottom of the trunk. “Stay here!” She furiously whispered as the sound of a hatch opening hit the air.

Adrien blinked as the trunk slammed shut, a small keyhole in it becoming his only source of light. A thump sounded above him and what he could only assume to be the pink of Marinette’s pants covered the hole. He swallowed to himself, hard.

“Marinette!” Alya’s voice called, and Adrien could only begin to imagine what the other girl’s face looked like as she tried to play it cool. “Big news, girl, big! Like you’re going to need to sit down for this one,” Alya’s grin was audible.

Adrien could practically hear his own heartbeat.

“Big enough that couldn’t send a text to me before you came here?” Marinette asked, her leg shifting against the trunk just enough that Adrien could finally see out of the keyhole.

Alya’s legs came into view, walking ever closer to Marinette as she spoke. “Big enough that it could change the very universe as we know it,” Alya replied in an ominous yet playful tone. But then, something seemed to click in her. All too suddenly, Alya stopped, never quite reaching her final destination. Adrien tried to shift his viewpoint in the keyhole to look at her, but Marinette seemed to have almost psychic abilities as her hand shifted to cover the hole once more.

“Oh,” Alya’s voice sounded, almost mingling with the echo of a groan that Adrien had unknowingly released. “You were serious about that.”

“I mean, I said…”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d do…”

He could hear Marinette’s exhale, picture her small frown; something was wrong, something was very wrong. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, but he couldn’t really do anything more than sit in the trunk, waiting for this all to be over. He shouldn’t have come, he shouldn’t have done any of this. He should have tried to find another way with Ladybug, another solution that didn’t put her life and his sanity in jeopardy. 

“I mean... I haven’t, not entirely.”

A thump sounded above Adrien’s head, accented by the clapping of Alya’s hands. The trunk creaked as he imagined she leaned closer, likely taking Marinette’s hands or wrapping her arms around her. “Good, because you are going to freak when you hear what I have to tell you!” Another creak, possibly Alya putting her head on Marinette’s shoulder? He didn’t know. “It’s just a theory, but it’s a theory with evidence!”

“About Ladybug and Chat Noir?” Marinette laughed.

“No!” Alya replied, “About Loverboy and the Pastry Princess.”

Loverboy…? Adrien stiffened as Marinette snorted, becoming a little too concerned with who exactly Marinette’s lover boy could be. “You’re reading into things too much,” Marinette replied.

Please be reading into things too much, Adrien thought.

“Did you see the way he looked at you today?” Alya breathed, by the sound of her voice, she was wishing for romance. “Or how he just lit up when he saw you this morning? Even Nino thinks something’s up!” She shifted, her hand grabbing Marinette’s and thankfully bringing light back into Adrien’s new humble abode. “Maybe you gave up too soon.”

“And maybe I should start facing reality,” Marinette sighed, finally standing up from the trunk. “Alya, I appreciate what you’re doing, I really do. You’re my best friend and I couldn’t ask for a better one. I’m lucky to have a friend who wants me to be happy so badly.” She paced the room, her full body finally coming into view for Adrien. “But I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” Alya asked, exasperated.

“Getting my head in the clouds,” Marinette replied, allowing herself to fall into her desk chair. “I mean it’s all nice in theory, it’s the fairytale that everyone wants to hear, but that’s not the way that the world works. It’s better to just accept that and open myself up to something else, falling in love with someone else.”

"Marinette,” Alya voiced at nearly the same time as Adrien, the girl finally standing up from the trunk as well. “C’mon girl, you don’t really think like that.”

“Alya,” Marinette sighed. And there it was, a look of utter defeat, one which he rarely saw his lad wear. Marinette Dupain-Cheng was tired, so tired. “Let’s face the facts, the prince doesn’t exactly end up with the baker's daughter in any of those fairytales.” She smiled, but it wasn’t one of her real ones. This was a half-smile, the ones that never reached her eyes. “Guys like Adrien Agreste don’t fall in love with girls like me,” she admitted.

And all Adrien could do in response was think one simple thing; Yes, they do.

#miraculous ladybug #adrienette #adrien agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #marinette dupain cheng #ml fanfic #mlb fanfic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #my fanfic #my fic

[pars-ley]

Until Tomorrow | Part one

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Genre: Romance / friendship/ comedy

Rating: M (mentions of sex)

Word Count:  7158

Summary: You’re a happily single magazine editor in London, that is, until you’re set up with a handsome musician, who’s not exactly forthcoming about being in the biggest boy group in the world. But with your days together numbered, will this blossom into something more or crash land, leaving your heart broken. 

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! Are you OK?” I ask mortified, eyes raking over him to assess any damage I might have caused from shoving into him. I put my hand out to help him up, he takes it; jumping quickly from the ground and putting a hand out stopping his friends from interfering, both of them fussing over him. “I’m fine, I'm fine, honestly, no harm done.” He says smiling, dimples appearing in both his cheeks as he dusts himself off.

I open my mouth to speak but no sound comes out; I suddenly notice how handsome he is and I'm slightly taken aback by it. And not the usual type of handsome either; when you see a good looking guy and once he’s walked past you turn to sneak another look at him. No, this is much more than that. He is almost ‘break your neck to turn and stare until he’s completely out of your sight’ handsome. For a moment I wonder if perhaps he’s a model.

“Are you OK?” He asks snapping me out of my train of thought.

“Yes, sorry.” I reply, shaking my head. “That guy walked straight into me and I just couldn’t steady myself in time.” The man in question was half way down the street, almost out of sight, no apology or even a glance in our direction after bowling me over and into this guy.

He puts his hands up towards me. “Hey, don’t worry. I saw what happened, I know it wasn’t your fault, you don’t have to explain.”

I breathe out relieved. Smoothing down my trouser suit and gaining my composure back, I have a thought. “Please, can I buy you guys coffee to apologise? They do pretty good ones here.” I point to the shop this had all happened outside.

He shakes his head. “No, no that’s not necessary.” He pauses for a moment. “How about I buy you a coffee to apologise on behalf of that rude man.”

I frown, that didn’t seem fair. “Oh no, I couldn’t.”

“Please, I insist.” He pushes with a gentle smile.

For some reason I found myself too polite to turn him down again. Even though I only asked out of being polite and genuinely wanting to do something by way of an apology. But there were worse ways to spend the morning than having a drink with a handsome stranger. I return his smile and nod. “If you insist, i’ll have tea please.”

To my surprise his two friends don’t join us; sitting at a separate table, which then has me worrying they all believe this to be a date. I hadn’t thought of it that way at all, but am now wondering if that’s how I came across.

“So, you don’t sound like you’re local to here?” I ask, taking a sip of my strong tea. “Your accent is slightly American, no?”

He laughs, dimples deepening. “No, I’m from South Korea but I taught myself English by watching American TV shows.”

“Seriously?” I chuckle, leaning back in my chair with surprise.. “That’s quite impressive, any I might know?”

“Thank you. Um, friends?”

I nod enthusiastically. “I love that show, could it be any funnier.” I quote Chandler's character, hoping he gets the reference. He does thankfully and laughs.

“Chandlers the best.” 

I agree. “So, what’s it like in South Korea? I’ve heard some parts are beautiful. It’s on my list of places to travel to.”

He nods, swallowing a gulp of his coffee. “You should definitely go. I mean, I think it’s pretty amazing but I’m biased.”

“True. Are you on holiday over here then?”

“No, I’m here for work actually.” He doesn’t elaborate and so I'm intrigued what this handsome stranger could do for work.

“And what is work exactly, if you don’t mind my asking?”

He hesitates for a moment and stares at me, searching my face for something. “I’m a musician.”

“Ah,” It all makes sense, someone as good looking as him would of course be in the entertainment industry. “That must be exciting.”

He gives me a one sided smile. “It’s a lot of hard work but it’s very rewarding, the travelling is a plus too. What do you do for work?”

“I’m an Editor at a magazine. Not as glamorous as your job, but i enjoy it.” I take another long sip of my tea. 

“That must be interesting, do you get to see lots of celebrities?”

I shrug. “Not really, I’m more behind the scenes, telling people what to do. I’m mainly in charge of what goes in the magazine and making sure my team has done their part. Occasionally, I might get to attend a photo shoot or an interview but it’s rare.”

“Is that the job you always wanted to do?” He asks curiously.

I smile. “No. When I was little I wanted to be a singer actually,” I laugh, “but unfortunately I wasn’t blessed with that talent. Then I actually wanted to be an artist.”

“Oh really?” He perks up, eyes on me, focused on my answers. “That’s interesting. So how did you end up being an Editor?”

“I couldn’t afford art school and I needed a job. I had an English degree and I started off as an assistant straight out of college. I proofread my way up to Editor, so to speak. Luckily, I still get to be quite creative so it keeps me satisfied.”

He nods, understanding. He studies me with avid interest. 

“So are you sightseeing at the moment?” I ask, looking away from his curious gaze.

He nods, “Yes, we were just exploring. It’s not the first time we’ve been here but there’s so much to see in London.”

“That is so true. I’ve lived here my whole life but there’s always new things to be discovered. Museums, galleries, art exhibitions, if you’re into that kind of stuff.”

He sits up a little straighter, eyes eager. “Actually I am. Is there anywhere you could recommend?”

I think for a moment before inspiration strikes me; slightly unsure if this is a good idea but willing to give it a shot. “There’s an art exhibition happening, it starts this evening actually and it goes on for two weeks. I have a membership to the gallery so I get in regardless and two of my friends were supposed to come tonight, they can’t make it unfortunately but they gave me their tickets to try and find someone else to take their place... if you’re interested that is?” I offer. 

Doubt creeps into my mind when I see his impassive expression and after staring at me blankly for a few moments, he then says, “Interested in what?”

I smile, amused. “Coming to the art exhibition?”

He laughs and shakes his head, as if at his own stupidity. “Oh, of course! I would love to and I have just the friend that would appreciate it also. Please, let us know how much to give you for the tickets.”

“Nothing. My friends got a deal on the tickets and they weren’t expensive so they don’t want anything, don’t worry.”

He looks at me quizzically and then raises an eyebrow. “I’m sure I’ll think of some way to repay you.”

“Why don’t we just call it even for me bumping into you and knocking you over. And then you buying me coffee.” I laugh. “Sound fair?”

He thinks about it, pursing his lips, then nods. 

“Good.” I give him a run down of where the exhibition is so we can meet up there later. “If you give me your number, that way I can let you know when I’m on my way and where to meet me?”

He nods and types it into my phone as well as his name. Realising only then that I hadn’t even asked for it.

I read it from my phone. “Kim Namjoon?” I ask, making sure I've pronounced it correctly.

He smiles and nods. “Namjoon is fine.”

“I’m Y/N.” I say standing up and pulling my handbag over my shoulder. We shake hands; my grip much firmer than his.”I’ll see you there later, nice to meet you.”

He smiles and bows to me. “You too, Y/N. And thank you again, you’ve been very kind.”

We gave each other one last wave as I left, continuing on my journey to work. 

Luckily, I only had a late morning meeting to attend, getting to leave work early on a Monday is a reason to get up and face the day if ever I heard one. 

After two hours of sitting there listening, making notes and nodding, the meeting was done and so was I. I head out to the local shops uptown, running a few errands like picking up two new trouser suits for work. I opt for a pale blue one and concrete grey, cooler tones or black have always been my preference. I then pick up a new pair of black heeled sandals which I saw advertised in our own magazine and instantly loved. I grab some more of my face wash, moisturiser and some shampoo; everything running out at once and my shopping spree is done. As I stroll down the streets of Central London, I look around at the tall buildings, the lines of shops and the crowds of busy people and a feeling of appreciation swells inside me, living in such a thriving city. There’s so much beauty to see whether it be in the buildings, or the views, or the entertainment that scattered the streets. There’s nowhere like London and I couldn't imagine living anywhere else. I walk past a young woman busking, playing her guitar and singing, I pause and listen to her for a moment. Her voice is pretty incredible; she had a very soothing tone. I watch the emotion in her eyes as the song she’s singing about love and loss clearly resonates and means something to her. For a moment it resonates with me too but I push it away, not delving into the memories. I take what change I have in my purse and place it in her guitar case, she smiles at me and nods thanks, i return it before continuing on my travels.

Freedom on a Monday, just who did i think i am; gallivanting around town instead of being at work. If I’m being honest, my workload is so huge I probably should have stayed in my office, or at least been heading home to attempt to do some work. But the idea of being swamped for the next couple of weeks while my colleague, Amy, is away on bereavement leave, had me wanting to enjoy it the best I could. I felt awful for Amy; losing a parent is devastating but I hate instead of getting someone to temporarily replace her, it’s split between myself and Chris, an assistant Editor. It must be harder for him however as he typically has a lot of work bumped down to him from more senior members. Who knows, maybe there’ll be a promotion in it for him.

I’d missed lunch so I decided to pop into my friend's Japanese restaurant which is only a couple of tube stations away. He’s the head chef in the small, family run business and always accommodating. He greeted me with his usual warm smile as I entered. I head over towards the stools at the counter where he’s cooking in plain view.

“Y/n! And to what do I owe the pleasure of the most beautiful girl in town?” He calls loud enough for everyone in the restaurant to hear.

I wink. “Lunch, with the biggest flirt and the best chef in town, obviously Yoshi.” I beam at him taking a seat directly in front of him.

I’d met Yoshi at college; I was studying Art and English and he had been studying hospitality and catering. We hung out nearly everyday on campus and with one of the most wicked sense of humours he had quickly become my best friend. There was a time, at the start of our friendship, where he had tried his luck like a typical teenage boy and asked me out on a date but thankfully, my refusal had not affected our blossoming camaraderie, thankfully and he’s flirted with me for laughs ever since.

Since starting work we’d seen less of each other but still made sure to talk frequently.

“I sincerely hope you’re not using and abusing me?” He asks feigning shock. “On second thoughts, I sincerely hope you will.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively as he leans over the counter, making me chuckle.

“In your dreams lover boy.” I slap him playfully on the arm. 

“You’re usual, petal?” He asks, preparing ingredients to cook my favourite dish.

I nod. “Yes please. So how have things been?” I ask glancing over the menu anyway. 

“Pretty good. We’re getting steady customers, busy afternoons and evenings and we’re making all our payments on time, things are improving and looking up.” He hesitates. “...And did i mention i’m seeing someone?”

My head snaps up at this information. “As in a singular person? Just one?”

He pulls a face at me. “Yes just one, it’s not a big deal y/n.”

“On the contrary.” I cut him off. “This is huge news. My little slut of a friend actually liking someone and becoming...dare i even say it...monogamous.” I gasp, placing the back of my hand across my forehead, mock fainting. 

He grimaces. “Alright, I wouldn’t go that far, we’re just taking it slow and seeing how things go. But yes...i do like her...at the moment.”

I laugh at that. “And how long have you been seeing her?”

He shrugs, “About a month.”

My mouth pops open and makes a silent ‘wow’. “How is she? You know....in the sack?” I tease.

His cheeks blush. “What’s with all the questions, am i under interrogation?” 

He is and he knew full well this was our usual back and forth when one of us mentioned a date. The fact he’s dodging my question completely means this is a lot more than he’s letting on. My jaw practically hit the counter. “You haven’t slept with her yet!? In a month? That’s very uncharacteristic of you.”

“Yea well, it just hasn't happened yet, OK?” He sighs giving into my questioning.

“Hey Yoyo, stop being so steely.”I give him a playful glare. “It’s OK to have feelings for someone, it’s bloody normal. So don’t be embarrassed, at least not with me.”

“You’re right.” He relents, sighing. “I just really like her and I don’t want to mess it up. I’m in uncharted territory right now, some advice would be appreciated.”

I look up at him. “My advice? It’s not complicated, just be yourself, who wouldn’t love you.”

He rolls his eyes at me and laughs.

“Hey, I'm being serious. Just be honest, women appreciate that. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with who you are, so don’t pretend to be someone you’re not. I know you do that a lot.”

He nods slowly, agreeing. “That I do, OK you got me there. Be myself, OK. I can do that.”

“Does this mystical lady have a name?” I ask.

He smiles to himself. “Jenna.”

I nod. “And...is there a picture?”

He looks up at me and pauses, I raise my eyebrows expectantly. He sighs again, relenting, shoulders slumping as he takes his phone from behind the counter. He places it down in front of me, taps a few buttons then turns it round to face me. He washes his hands and continues cooking my meal whilst I look at the illuminated picture on the screen. She is gorgeous; tanned, freckles, with shoulder length, dark curls and perfect soft features. She had a nose stud and what looked like no makeup, she’s a natural beauty. 

“She’s beautiful, Yoyo.”

He grins proudly. “She’s fun too. You’d really like her.”

“Well then I hope to meet her soon.” I reply as he hands me a glass of water. “And I can give her the best friend ‘don’t you hurt him’ chat.” I put my fist up in warning and he laughs.

“God, please no. So what about you? Seeing anybody?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

I roll my eyes. “No. Next question please.”

He shakes his head at me but doesn’t argue, as he hands over the steaming bowl of Pad Thai. “Fine. How’s work?”

I shrug, tucking into my perfectly presented meal. “Same as usual, except busier. I’m covering for Amy for the next two weeks, so I have double the workload. “I pull a face. “So my social life is going to take an immediate dive.”

He laughs. “What social life?” He steals a bit of chicken off my plate and throws it into his mouth. I glare at him, unamused. 

“That exhibition tonight is going to be my last bit of fun for a couple of weeks.”

“And not everyone would call that fun. Interesting, definitely. Educational, for sure. Compelling even...but fun? No.” He retorts.

I stick my tongue out at him. 

“Oh speaking of,” he says, grabbing another piece of chicken while I swat him away with my chopsticks. “Did you find someone to have those tickets?”

“Actually I did, this morning as a matter of fact.” I chew what’s in my mouth and swallow. “I met a guy, quite literally bumped into him and we got chatting over coffee. He’s a tourist and asked about any recommendations for museums and art so I offered the tickets to him.”

Yoshi looks at me, suspiciously. “That sounds a lot like a date y/n.” Raising an eyebrow at me, he leans his elbow on the counter, resting his face in his palm.

“I can assure you, it wasn’t. We just had a friendly chat, over a friendly beverage, that’s all. Nothing more to it. He’s bringing a mate with him tonight, so it’s just going to be a very friendly evening.” I accentuate the words on purpose hoping he’ll back off.

He raises his hands in surrender. “OK, if you say so, let's just hope mystery man is on the same page you are.”

I roll my eyes. We continue catching up for a little while after I finish my meal. We make plans for the coming weekend to hang out at his place for a movie night, to give me a break from my work. We say goodbye and I'm off home thinking about what to wear tonight. 

I remove my jacket as soon as I'm on the tube, the summer heat sweltering underground. I stand by the window at the back of the carriage, welcoming the slight breeze I feel. I truly hated being on the underground, the hot sweaty bodies packed tight in each compartment, it was unbearable sometimes and we weren’t even at the height of summer yet. Luckily, I only had a few stops to go before exiting as quickly as I could, back on the streets.

It’s only a short walk from the station before I’m climbing up the steps to my apartment, wiping the sweat from the back of my neck. The summer evening air is muggy making wearing work attire quite uncomfortable. As soon as I’m in and the door shuts behind me, I strip out of my trouser suit completely.

I turn on my laptop to check my emails before starting some of the workload. Once I’d sent a few urgent emails and documents off, I opt for a nice, cool shower, hating to admit the nerves that were creeping in at the idea of meeting two strangers tonight. My stomach was in knots. I was mostly a confident, friendly person; engaging with people is something I had no problem with, especially in a work environment but in this kind of meeting it was easy for me to get nervous and clam up. I can sometimes struggle to keep conversation flowing with new people which was the main reason I hated dating so much. I just find it all so awkward; the conversation, getting to know each other, asking the same mundane questions. Let alone the first kisses, first time you have sex, first time meeting the parents, it was all just a little overwhelming for me nowadays. 

I quickly dry myself off, the cool air on my damp skin feels welcoming but I don't have time this evening to relax and enjoy it. I dress in a thin, black maxi dress; something light and comfortable. I add my silver moon necklace and my little silver studs that decorate my numerous ear piercings. I quickly brush my teeth, add a touch of mascara and a sweep of lip gloss. I pull on my converse, chuck my phone in my handbag and grab my denim jacket and keys before heading out the door. I double check I still have the tickets in my bag and I decide to send a quick text to Namjoon just to check if they’re still coming.

Unknown [18.34]: Hey Namjoon, just checking we’re still OK to meet tonight at the museum?

Realising I didn't give him my number, I quickly type out another message.

Unknown [18.34]: It’s Y/n btw. In case anyone else is giving away free tickets to a museum today

I cringe at myself and how not smooth I am, then remember this isn’t a date so i shouldn’t be worried. As I walk toward the tube station I feel my phone vibrate in my bag, my stomach turns as I pull it out and read the message. 

Namjoon [18.37]: LOL! Of course, we are on our way. See you soon

I breathe a sigh of relief that they are coming, then my shoulders get tense and my stomach knots again. I’m meeting up with two strangers in a museum...this won’t be awkward at all. 

I walk along the back streets I know so well to get to the museum. When I’m around the corner from it, I take a few gulps of water from the bottle I brought with me and return it to my bag. I use these few moments to take a breather, wiping my sweaty palms on my dress. Taking a few deep breaths I head to the entrance of the museum and scan the small crowd outside. I spot Namjoon a mile off. He stands out slightly, not only because he’s handsome but also because he’s so tall. One might even use the word gangly; all limbs but in an endearing sort of way.

I start to head over as my eyes sweep the faces of the men he’s with. The two men I saw him with outside the coffee shop this morning are here and I wonder how they’re expecting to get into the exhibition. I start replaying the conversation I had with Namjoon about the tickets. I did say I only had two, right? I’m sure I did. Just like I was sure he had only mentioned bringing one friend with him tonight. I can see he has someone else with him, a third person with dark, slightly dishevelled hair and wearing a long brown coat but he has his back to me.

Namjoon spots me and waves me over. As I begin to close the distance between us his friend turns to face me and it takes everything I have not to stumble as I walk. I thought Namjoon was handsome but his friend...his friend looks like an Adonis. He had the type of face that should be carved into a statue. His features; smooth, straight and perfect. When he looks away from me and back at Namjoon I feel slight heat in my cheeks as I approach them. He turns around and stands next to Namjoon, watching me as I approach.

“Glad you guys could make it.” I say, surprised my voice actually works. My mouth feels so dry suddenly, it’s hard to swallow.

“Glad you invited us.” Namjoon replies. 

I look at the two friends who were with him this morning and give them a polite wave. They smile and nod. 

“Don’t worry, they’re not joining us, they’re just our ride home.” Namjoon says as if he’s reading my mind, or perhaps my worried expression. “Y/n this is my friend Taehyung.” He looks at his friend. “This is Y/n.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” I say, the back of my neck prickling with heat and not just from the weather.

He stares at me long enough for me to start to feel embarrassed, until Namjoon nudges him in his side. That seems to snap him out of it, as he quickly bows, spluttering an apology. “It’s nice to meet you.” He says softly with a deeper voice than i was expecting.

I smile but look away as I feel a flush of crimson creep up my cheeks. I could feel his gaze on me which didn’t help. Never had I seen a man who’s looks and aura alone could hold my interest. 

“Thank you for inviting us.” He spoke slowly.

I meet his gaze again. “You’re welcome, it’s actually nice to be able to share this place with someone for a change.” I instantly want to tell myself to shut up and stop rambling.

Taehyung’s eyebrows rise, seeming surprised. “It would be a great place to bring a date, no?” 

I chew my bottom lip. “I don’t really date much to be honest.”

“Why not?” He frowns. His cheeks flush slightly as Namjoon nudges him in his side and he averts his eyes away from mine.

I hesitate for a moment, not wanting to sound any more pathetic than I feel. “I...I just don’t find that many people interesting. So many men I meet seem to be the same.” I shrug and play with the fabric on the skirt of my dress.

He nods, processing my words. “I understand.” He continues to stare at me, making my heart race a mile a minute.

“Maybe you’re looking in the wrong places.” Namjoon cuts in. I tear my gaze away from Taehyung to meet Namjoon’s amused expression. He raises an eyebrow at me, then darts his eyes between me and Taehyung, being about as subtle as a machine gun. I instantly feel hot at his implication, as I realise why he was so interested in bringing his friend here. I hate blind dates, hell, I hated dates so this was going to be nothing short of disaster.

“Shall we?” Namjoon gestures his palm towards the museum. I nod and lead the way. The two drivers stay where they are, as we walk up the large stone steps to the glass doors.

I show my membership card to the receptionist; Judy, and give her the pair of tickets. After our usual pleasantries she waves us in and we turn into the exhibition. Every wall had at least one piece of art whether it be paintings, photos, projectors. There are statues in the centre of the rooms, people surrounding them and studying them intently. I hang back a bit, letting Taehyung go ahead, ensuring he was out of ear shot as I slow my pace to meet Namjoon’s. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to set me up with your friend.” I ask side eyeing him.

He smirks. “See, pretty and smart.” He jokes, walking with both his hands held behind his back. “Go easy on him, he doesn’t date much either nowadays and he’s a little shy around women.”

“Wait,” I cut him off. “What makes you think he’s even going to be interested in me?” I wonder out loud.

He stops in front of me, his face serious. “One, I can’t see any reason why most men wouldn’t be interested, you've already caught the attention of quite a few men in here.”

I glance around, suddenly feeling self conscious, feeling as though all eyes in the room are on me.

“Two, I’ve known Taehyung for a long time, I know his type and I know what he likes and you are it. And three, you seem like a genuinely nice woman and I think you’ll be kind to him.” He shrugs.

I could feel my ears pink with embarrassment at everything he just said and I’m not sure what to say or do in response. 

“I don’t know much about you or your type,” He continues, “but I can already tell that you are attracted to him, so I’m checking that off the list. What I can tell you about him is even though he’s a little shy at first, once he opens up, he’s kind, gentle, funny, caring, fun, artistic and pure hearted. Any of those qualities unappealing to you?”

I shake my head unable to say anything; my mouth so dry from nerves I could hardly swallow, let alone speak. 

“Good, so you should go and talk to him and i’m going to look at this painting right over there.” He quickly disappears, walking backwards off through the crowd with a dimpled smile on his face. 

What on earth just happened? Was I just part of a drive by set up? I glance at Taehyung over by a set of photos, our eyes meet for a moment before he quickly looks away and focuses back on the portraits. Feeling awkward just standing here, I take a few deep breaths and stroll over to him. I fix my attention to the images in front of me, letting my eyes roam over each of them, before glancing at him out of the corner of my eye.

We stand there quietly before I’m the one to break the silence. “So, have you also been to London before?” I roll my eyes at my own mundane question. 

He nods. “Yes, this is my second time here.”

“Are you enjoying it so far?”

“Yes,I love London. I love the fashion, the art and the architecture. There’s so much to see.” 

“Yea, that’s true.” I fiddle with the hem of my dress. “Are you here for work also?”

He nods. “Yes, we don’t get much time to enjoy it though. I want to come back as a proper tourist someday.”

“Good idea, you probably still wouldn’t get to see everything you want; I’m still finding things all the time.” I smile and he mirrors it.

“Yes I can imagine, it’s a big place.” He leads me to another piece of artwork, a sculpture of a female face this time.

“Are you a musician like Namjoon?”

I see him tense up slightly from the corner of my eye. “Yes I am.”

“That’s pretty cool.” I can tell, like Namjoon, it’s something he doesn’t wish to divulge any more about.

“Yea it is, I guess. Namjoon tells me you work for a magazine?” He asks as we wander over to a projector piece, hundreds of images of faces flashing in a story like a flip book. 

“Yes, I’m an editor. Not as exciting as your profession but i enjoy it.” 

He turns his attention to me more. “That must be a lot of hard work?”

I nod slowly. “Yes, it can be very stressful at times but there’s something quite satisfying in it. Knowing that i’m putting together a form of entertainment and knowledge for people, I like that.”

He looks off thoughtful for a moment, “I’ve never thought of a magazine like that before but that’s a nice way to look at it.”

“Let me guess, you usually think of the celebrity tabloid gossip mags?” I ask, raising a questioning eyebrow. 

He smirks, “OK you got me there, i was.”

I laugh and tut at him. “I’m offended.” I mock, clutching my chest. He laughs at me, the breathy sound pleasing to the ear, distracting me to the way the veins in his neck bulge slightly as he does. 

“OK, my apologies.” He bows, teasing. 

“You’re forgiven, you may rise.” I laugh at his serious expression, unable to stop myself. 

We continue to stroll around the exhibition, Namjoon trailing behind, allowing us to talk. The conversation flowed easily, mostly random chat and art talk. I learned that like me he’s quite interested in art, he enjoys photography and Van Gogh’s starry night is his favourite painting.

“Have you been to the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam? That was my favourite part of my trip there.” I recap.

He nods eagerly. “Yes! I went last year, it was my favourite part too. I did a lot of photography in Amsterdam actually, the views and structure of the place make it very easy to get good shots.”

“I’d love to see some of them sometime.” I say, my cheeks feeling warm as I fiddle with one of my fingernails

He turns to me, surprised and hopeful. “Does that mean you’d like to see me again?”

I thought about making a joke and teasing him but didn’t know him well enough to know how he could react, so i decided against it. 

“I would, yes.”

He has a boxy grin that spreads across his face and I can't help but let my gaze rake over him, taking in every detail. The way his dark, hooded eyes shrunk when he laughs, or how they looked around with so much awe and innocence any other time. The way his nose was perfectly straight and just a little bit shiny. The moles on the end of his nose and one on the edge of his bottom lip; the thought of kissing that mole on those flawless, angular lips crosses my mind but I push it away. I needed some air...and some holy water.

Once we’d looked at all the pieces, we make our way to the exit.

“I really enjoyed this exhibition, this museum is nice too.” Taehyung says as he rakes a hand through his dishevelled brown locks.

“Yea, I come here a lot. It’s where I come to think. Looking at the art helps me to clear my head. Helps me figure out my next move.” 

“Next move to what?” 

I shrug. “Just in life, you know, what i’m going to do next.”

“So what is your next move?” He raises an eyebrow at me and my stomach clenches at the sight. How can he make something so simple look so sexy?

“That was supposed to be my task for tonight.” I say unable to stop myself from smiling.

“And I'm distracting you from that?” He asks, smirking clearly knowing the answer.

I swallow nervously before saying. “You’re a welcome distraction.” I can hardly hear myself over my thundering heartbeat. I can’t believe I just said that. I’m about ready to run to the bathroom and flush my head down the toilet out of sheer embarrassment when I can feel his gaze on my face and I catch a glimpse of a smile and flushed cheeks as he turns his face away from me.

Once outside the cooler air hits and I slip on my jacket whilst we wait for Namjoon. 

“It’s a nice night.” Taehyung says as he leans on the wall, looking up at the now inky sky that mirrors in the river stretching out in front of us. 

“Yes, it is lovely.” I sigh after taking a deep breath of the cool night air. I hear a shutter sound in the silence, my eyes flicker over to him as I see his phone aimed at me.

He smiles, looking bashful. “I’m sorry, do you mind?” 

I shake my head, feeling my cheeks turn crimson and look back out over the still waters. 

A few more shutter sounds as he continues to take pictures of me. I’ve never been a model for anyone, in any way, shape or form so this concept is hard for me to grasp and not feel like a complete idiot. 

“The light is so perfect here, and you look very beautiful. I couldn’t not take the opportunity.” He says quietly as he leans across showing me his phone screen. His arm touches mine, the scent of him swirls around me, woody and yet floral. I focus back on the phone. I have to double take, the photo is breathtaking, it looks like it was from a professional photo shoot. The way the lighting touches my face, the reflection of the sky and the buildings in the river, it was the perfect portrait and something I'd gladly have hanging on my wall.

“Wow, that looks incredible.” I gasp. “You’ve made me look gorgeous.” 

“No, you do that on your own. Nothing to do with me I promise you. I just wish I had my proper camera with me.” He says quietly to me, only inches away from my face. I stare up at him, our eyes lock and I feel myself getting lost in his ebony pools. His fingers reach up and tuck a stray strand of my hair, blowing in the gentle breeze, behind my ear. I almost mechanically reach into his touch but manage to stop myself. What is it about him that makes me feel like I’m losing control over myself? I could feel the walls I've spent years building, falling down around me. What is it about this stranger?

“Can i see you tomorrow?” He says almost a whisper. His eyes still not leaving mine and his face still within reaching distance of my lips. 

It takes me a moment to realise what he’s said and as I think about his question, I can already feel like tomorrow is too long to wait. “Yes.” I let out a breathy reply, my heart pounding from his proximity. 

“Would you like to go out for dinner?” He asks hesitantly.

My stomach flutters with excitement. “Yes I would.” Unable to stop the smile spreading across my face I force my eyes away from his and down to the ground. He takes a step back, giving me a little more clarity. 

Namjoon comes bouncing down the steps outside the museum and over to us. “That was incredible. Thank you, y/n. You must let us do something to repay your kindness.”

I shake my head. “Absolutely not. It was my apology for knocking into you this morning. You agreed we were even.” 

“Namjoon, I’m going to make sure Y/n gets home safe.” Taehyung cuts in. 

“OK, sure, let’s go.” He replies looking over at they’re two escorts.

My heart drops, as lovely as Namjoon is, I was looking forward to the alone time with Taehyung. The two of them look out over the river, there seems to be a quiet exchange between them both, then Namjoon says into the silence, “You know, I'm actually feeling really tired.” He does an incredibly obvious fake yawn. “I’m just going to go back to the hotel, you guys go on. I’m really jet lagged.” He does a big noisy stretch; definitely over acting.

“Rest up Namjoon.” Taehyung says patting him on the shoulder.

“What about the car?” He asks.

“You take it. Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.” He replies and Namjoon nods, worry creasing his brow.

“Lovely to see you again, Namjoon. Maybe I’ll see you soon.” I say my goodbye.

“Yes, I hope so. Get home safe.” He smiles, dimples deepening.

“Sure thing.” I wave as I turn to Taehyung, who seems eager to get moving; his eyes wide and glistening. We head off to the main road and hail a cab. Once we’re in I give the driver my address and we set off.

“So where would you like to go tomorrow?” I ask.

He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not well versed in food over here. Is there anywhere you’d recommend?” 

One place instantly comes to mind. Could I bring myself to take a date there knowing the embarrassment I would suffer? I thought of Yoshi and his delicious food, I thought of his annoying flirtatious personality and knew his cooking talent would outweigh anything negative about the experience. 

“Yea, I know a place.”

He smiles. “OK good. Shall I meet you there or come and pick you up?”

I think about the route from work and it would definitely be quicker for me to go from there. “I’ll send you the address later and meet you there, if that’s OK?” 

He nods. “Sure. I...don’t have any way of reaching you though.”

I smirk at his hesitant way of asking for my number. We exchange numbers and before I know it, we’re pulling up outside my apartment all too soon. He asks the driver to wait as he gets out and escorts me up the stone steps. 

“Thank you for tonight, I had a really lovely time.” He says into the quiet, his eyes burning into mine.

“So did I, thank you for coming.” I reply slowly, unable to hold his intense gaze for long.

A large part of me was hoping that he’d kiss me but I had to remind myself that this was only a first meeting, could I even call it a date? It felt like a date but we weren’t the only ones on it. A small part of me wanted to invite him inside and see where the night took us but I scowled at that and ignored that part. 

“Until tomorrow.” He says as he takes my hand in his and slowly brings it up to his mouth, eyes never once leaving mine. He gently presses his soft lips firmly onto the back of my fingers. My heart hammers in my chest and I have to control my breathing so not to embarrass myself and reveal the effect he has on me.

With that, he turns and he walks back to the cab and climbs in, as I stand there watching until the car is completely out of sight. I could still feel the heat from his lips on my hand, the breeze highlighting the slight wet mark that was left behind. I couldn’t stop the grin plastered on my face as I walk into my apartment, locking up behind me. In a daze, I hang up my coat and bag, taking out my phone and bringing it with me to where I collapse onto the sofa, clutching it to my chest. 

I already couldn’t wait to see him tomorrow, the thought of seeing him again bubbled in my stomach. I felt like a silly teenager. It had certainly been a long time since I had felt anything like this for anyone and did not intend for it to pass me by. Who knows how long he was over here for, it was a question I had avoided purposefully, but I planned to make the most of it, however long it may be.

Note: I do not own the photos. Credit: BTS Twitter and visitlondon.com

#bts #bangtan #bangtan army #army #bts taehyung #taehyung #fanfic #bts fanfic #namjoon #bts namjoon #BTS jimin #bts jungkook #BTS jin #bts yoongi #bts hoseok #suga #jimin #jin #jungkook #rm #jhope #bts jhope #taehyung fanfic #v fanfic #BTS v #bts rm #BTS suga #bangtan seonyeondan #bantangarmynet #taehyung x reader

[suhnandmoon]

new friends | neighbor!felix au

description: your new neighbor was definitely someone you wouldn’t have expected. what happens when her brother starts to catch feelings for you?

pairing: felix x reader

genre: neighbor!au, fluff

word count: 3k

inspired by this post

moving into a new apartment is always,, how would you put it?

interesting

take that as you will,,,

sometimes it’s fun !! and exciting !!

your last apartment could’ve been sucky,,

maybe your neighbors were too loud, you had a bad roommate never washed the dishes, or there was a dog that never seemed to shut up

moving out meant you were free from all of that !

other times,,

it’s not as wonderful :(

your landlord could’ve left a bad impression upon first introduction

or you nearly stepped on a spider as you just walked through the door

but let’s escape from the hypotheticals

you needed that fresh start,, you wanted to look at the positive side of things!

you already moved in so set yourself up with a fresh cup of coffee, ready to start the day ahead of you

you were about to get up when you heard a knock on the door followed by an excited giggle.

the voice came from a young child, who you assumed to be a neighbor of yours coming to introduce themselves.

making your way towards the door, you hear the voice speak up,

“excuse me mam? are you our new neighbor? if so, i’m haeun !! ”

you had to laugh

you were a day into your new home and you were already greeted with a cute surprise

you wouldn’t say you adored kids, but they definitely weren’t horrible

as long as they aren’t in big numbers, that is

but that’s a story for another day,,,

opening the front door, you looked down to see the girl, haeun, bouncing up and down in place waiting for you to engage in her conversation

“hi haeun, i’m y/n! how are you doing?”

you crouched down to meet her height, preparing yourself for a longer conversation

kids love to talk.

“i’ve been soooo bored! but now i’m not because you’re now my new friend so i can play with you, right?”

you smiled, it’s endearing that she considers you her friend after meeting you ten seconds ago

“of course! i’d love that!”

“soooooo…..”

…..

….

“do you have a boyfriend?”

what?

you forgot that children don’t have the best attention spans so the conversations might range from their favorite foods to whether or not you have a love life,,

“no-”

“oh! how about a girlfriend?”

“i um- i don’t?”

“wow! you’re so lucky~ all the boys in my class keep asking me to spend recess with them! it’s so tiring, you’re lucky!”

you spent another fifteen minutes talking to her before she skipped back to her apartment humming to a tune she mentioned was her favorite song

you had a feeling that this wasn’t the last time you’d talk to lee haeun

you’re feeling was correct

she showed up the next day

and the next

and the n e x t

not that you were complaining, she was definitely made your day better !!

she showed up one day and she immediately asked you:

“do you have a job?”

“yeah i do! it’s kinda boring,, i don’t think you’d enjoy it”

“i don’t care about jobs but my grandma does! she keeps bugging my brother to get one. he’s sooooo lazy!”

>:(

:/

:)

:D

those were the faces she made right in front of you

“y/n i have an idea !!!!”

“you should be my sister! switch places with my brother, my grandma already loves you!”

it was true

earlier, her grandmother was upset at haeun for sneaking away every morning

once she found out she was with you, she lightened up and invited you inside her apartment

you knew that she was raising haeun and her brother, who you had yet to meet, all by herself

she thanked you for looking after haeun

apparently she’s been talking about you, but their family though you were just her imaginary friend

you thought that was funny

anyways,,, speaking of her brother, you heard him call out for haeun:

“haeun where are you?? you can’t keep sneaking off!”

“gosh felix, don’t me mean !! all you do is sit in front of that tv of yours and play video games! don’t complain about me!”

it’s always interesting to hear sibling’s banter, but you were sort of hoping they didn’t take very long…

you were lucky because felix stomped out into the hallway only to see the two of you seated in front of your door, with you staring up at him

his eyes widened when he realized that there was someone with haeun

especially someone as cute as you

“see look at felix, y/n! he looks like he just woke up, but he’s been awake since four in the morning just to play fortnite with his friends!”

looking at his disheveled hair and pajamas, you giggled along with haeun, even though he didn’t even look bad

is it even possible to look that good without even trying?

how does his hair not look horrible from not even checking it ??

what’s his skincare routing ???

um

that’s not the point

,,,

felix also looked embarrassed

that’s maybe not the best first impression to have with someone you would like to impress,,,

what else had haeun told you about him?

“haeun, i- um,,, grandma wants to ask you a question!”

he blurted as he ushered his sister out, cheeks glowing red

before leaving, he turned to you:

“sorry if haeun starts to bother you, let me know if she is!”

you laughed

w o w

felix thought your laugh was absolutely beautiful that he accidentally stopped paying attention to what you said after that

so he just nodded, smiled, and turned around, hoping that you didn’t think he was a total fool

now let’s fast forward a few months,,

haeun’s daily visits hadn’t stopped ever since you met her

so imagine your surprise when you see felix standing there in place of haeun one day

he was actually dressed up today, you assumed he had to go somewhere important

maybe he had a job interview because haeun always complained about her brother being unemployed

maybe he had a date !!

that’s unrelated let’s not think of that :((

sooo

why is lee felix standing in front of your door today?

“hey y/n, i know this is out of the ordinary, but i wanted to thank you for being friends haeun. i live with her so i know how annoying she can get, but ever since we started living with our grandmother, she hasn’t been her usual self around us. i don’t really want to get detailed but now that you’re here, we can see a big difference in her. thank you for doing this. we really appreciate it”

“also”

“please don’t tell my grandmother or haeun that i said this, they’ll never stop teasing me about it”

….

…

..

you didn’t know what to say

you weren’t aware how much of an effect you had on this little girl’s life

you were touched, you would’ve started to cry if he didn’t add that last part

thank goodness he did, because you didn’t want to cry in front of him

“you looked like you were about to cry?? are you okay?”

HOW DID HE KNOW

….

“no”

“okay good because i don’t know if i would be about to comfort someone when sad...”

“thank you for letting me know, i appreciate it”

you weren’t expecting all of this information to come out of felix of all people

you were touched that you had that effect on haeun

but to hear felix telling you this,,,

lee felix

the boy who you hear stories about him locked up in his room playing games with his friends

the boy who constantly argues with his little sister over who has to fold laundry that day

the boy you barely knew, yet heard so much about from his sister

“it’s fine! i’m sorry for dropping that all on you… i just thought you should know, even though i don’t really talk to you.”

laughing, you realized you haven’t seen his sister today:

“speaking of which, where is haeun? she normally stops over around this time”

“oh !! haeun has the flu, i heard it was spreading around her class… luckily i’m going out of the house for an interview so that’s two hours of me away from her!”

it wasn’t a date !!

why were you so happy?

soooo

he does have an interview!

“hey! what’s so funny? why are you laughing?”

he feigned annoyance, but he was glad that you weren’t sick of him talking to you too much

“it’s just that haeun always complains about you not having a job that i’m surprised you’re actually going for one!”

“she told you whAT”

“nothing~ you don’t want to be late for your interview felix!”

he shouldn’t have been surprised that haeun was telling you this about him honestly

before leaving, he asked you something:

“when i get out of my interview, is it okay if i swing by? i don’t want to risk my sister getting me sick and i realized that we don’t even know each other that well… if it’s okay with you we could um,,, maybe talk more?”

your eyes widened, but you welcomed the idea

“of course! i hope your interview goes well!”

….

you found felix easy to talk to

conversation flowed easily and you two actually shared many interests

he expressed that he enjoyed dancing and showed you a few dance videos he was trying to learn

you were able to get some recommendations on who to watch since you were interested in the art of it

not actually dancing

but you found yourself constantly watching different choreographies, wishing you had that talent

before you knew it, it was already late into the day and felix found himself not wanting to leave

“i think it’s time for me to get going,,, we should do this again sometime?”

“felix you act like we aren’t neighbors, feel free to stop by whenever! your sister already does it!”

and with that, the two of you parted

felix forgot to tell his sister and grandma that he was at your place so when he came back, they were surprised he was away for so long

“felix, do you actually have real friends you’re hanging out with!?”

haeun would’ve jumped up around him if she wasn’t currently laying on the couch since she was sick

“hey! i was just with y/n next door! we were talking about how annoying you are~”

“y/n would never! waiT- Y/N?”

her eyes widened, like she thought of something,,, but she continued with her conversation:

“why were you with y/n, felix?” ;)

“haeun did you forget we’re neighbors? we were just catching up since we haven’t formally met”

“whatever you say~”

for a nine year old, she sure was nosy

and felix was sure she would continue to talk about y/n to him now

after felix left your apartment, you couldn’t help but look forward to your next meeting

he was a charmer

and not at all what you expected him to be

no offence to him

to be fair, you only knew about him from his sister, who seemed to have an obvious slant in her opinion

you hadn’t expected to get along with him that well, you’ve never connected with someone as much before

you couldn’t seem to shake the thought of you two being together

no

he’s your neighbor, you’ll make things awkward if you catch feelings

but then again, how could you not?

you groaned

why is this so hard???

you’ll probably end up pushing these feelings to the back of your mind until you moved on only to have the process repeat with someone else

you go to sleep that night planning on visiting haeun to see if she’s feeling better

and

if you just so happen to run into felix, it would be an extra bonus…

once you woke up, you went to the grocery store to buy ingredients for soup

once that was out of the way, you showed up in front of her apartment

her grandmother (who’s turning into your own grandma, too) opened the door:

“hi y/n! i’m sorry if haeun hasn’t visited lately, she’s terribly sick!”

“oh felix told me! i brought some soup for her so she’d feel better,, do you mind if i see her?”

“of course not! but you didn’t have to do this, honey! but im sure the kids will be excited to see you”

the kids? does that mean she thinks felix would be happy to see you too?

nonono stop that

she probably didn’t mean it that way and you’re overreacted

but what if you’re not?

haha,,,, unless?

so you went inside and found haeun on the couch with blankets piled on top of her looking miserable

the poor girl has been cooped up in the same spot TOO long for someone as energetic as her

“haeun, i came to visit you!”

as soon as she heard you, you could feel the energy in the room shift

“y/n!!! what are you doing here!”

“your brother told me you were sick, so i made you some soup! i missed your visits so we need to get you feeling better!”

she seemed to miss the whole point of what you were telling her when she heard you talk about her brother

“felix told you i was sick???”

she had an innocent smile on her face but you knew

you knew she was going to tease you about felix just from the tone of her voice

and to make things sooooo much easier for you

lee felix himself stepped into the room

you feared this would only fuel her ambitions even more…

were you wrong?

nope

“felix, we were just talking about y/n’s new boyfriend!”

b o y f r i e n d ? ? ?

who does this girl think she is !

looking to felix, you tried to read his expression

how would he react if you hypothetically did have a boyfriend?

just curious !!

you could’ve sworn felix looked upset, but was that just your mind playing games with you again?

“haeun i don’t have a boyfriend! what are you talking about?”

you were trying to shut down this conversation before she kept going with it..

“oh nevermind~ i was just thinking about that time you were telling me about that cute co-worker of yours…”

you most definitely never said anything about a cute coworker,, but before you could protest, felix was already out of the room

“haeun why’d you do that!”

“i just wanted to see how you two would react !”

she said that cheekily and she was lucky she was cute or else she wouldn’t have been able to get away with that…

“anyways,, do you actually have a boyfriend ??”

“no! you don’t need to be worrying about that stuff yet!!”

you were hoping she’d change the subject soon, but even if she did, you knew she would bring it back up later

and that’s exactly what she did

a week after that encounter, she started to visit your doorstep again pushing that topic

all of her questions seemed to be aimed towards felix too

haeun thought she was being subtle, trying to convince you to talk to felix but she was acting the exact opposite of that

felix never heard the end of those questions, too

he honestly felt embarrassed that his sister kept bothering you,, you must be tired of hearing about him

is it going to be awkward between the two of you now?

let’s pray it isn’t

he needed to set the record straight

also,, opening your door to reveal a flustered felix wasn’t something you expected but you’ll take it!

“hey i seem to only visit now because of me telling you something about haeun but i really should apologize. she’s been very set on the idea of the two of us together,, it must be annoying hearing her talk about that 24/7…”

felix wasn’t making eye-contact with you, making the tension rise

you attempted to lighten the mood by laughing, but that only made him look up at you

your laugh trailed off as soon as saw him

could this situation be any worse??

“no, no!! it’s fine,,, she’s just a kid, she’s just looking out for her brother.. even if it’s not in the most predictable way! let’s not make this awkward for us since you don’t even like me,,,”

you tried to not sound disappointed in that last sentence, though you’ve already come to terms that he didn’t feel the same

“i wouldn’t say that,,”

he mumbled the last part so you almost didn’t hear

but you did !!!

“wait,, what did you say?”

were your ears deceiving you? did felix like you or were you starting to turn delusional?

“nothing, sorry y/n i need to leave”

his face was a deep shade of red, but you were too shocked to notice

he swiftly turns around, ready to leave

“felix, get back here! i like you too!!”

he was already halfway to his apartment where he freezes

“huh?”

“i like you back, idiot! i thought it was obvious…”

after saying that, you ran back to him

felix was still surprised from your last statement, but he still slowly took your hands in his

“you actually like me? are you sure haeun didn’t force you into anything??”

you laughed

“felix, how many times do i need to tell you? i really really like you,, if i say it anymore times, i’d be repeating myself”

“i’d be fine with that”

you rolled your eyes, but matched his grin

felix was truly something...

“so, what would you say to a date tomorrow?”

his request made your smile bigger

“i’d love that”

needless to say, a nine year old girl managed to score you a date

something you’d never imagine to happen, but you’re glad it did

walking back to your apartment,, you thought of something

“hey felix?

“yes?”

“so,, do you think we should tell haeun?”

“nah”

#lee felix #felix x reader #felix imagines #felix scenarios #lee Felix x reader #stray kids #stray kids fluff #Felix fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids felix #kpop #kpop x reader #stray kids x reader #neighbor au #felix

[spiderman-homecomeme]

Day Two - Remember Me

AN: Y’all we made it!! I’m so excited to share this one with you guys and to see what our talented fandom has done! Here is my contribution to day two! It’s all kinds of sappy, soft, sweet, sad (peep the title) and just emotional in general, and I hope you guys enjoy it. <3

Again, thank you @spideychelleweek for making this all possible!

Prompt: Meet the Family

Here is some 2.9k odd of fluff and hurt/comfort! 

.

.

“Listen, I know you’re a huge nerd and everything, but..." Michelle’s voice holds a teasing, slightly judgmental edge as she struggles to hold three DVDs in one hand, hastily catching one as it falls out of her grasp. “Do you really need more than one copy of The Force Awakens?”

“Okay, first of all,” Peter starts, defensively holding one finger up, “One of those is Ned’s.”

MJ blinks slowly.

“Second of all, May bought me one as a random gift after I’d already pre-ordered it, and I couldn’t just… you know, give it back,” He reasons. “So, yeah. To answer your question: I do need three different copies.” Peter turns his attention back to organizing the box of various electronics hastily thrown together by past-Peter.

MJ still seems less than impressed with that explanation. “Okay. Why?”

“Well,” Peter shrugs, mouth pulling into a slight frown. “What if I lose one?”

When she doesn’t respond, Peter glances up, not surprised to find her staring blankly at him, her expression as impassive as it’s ever been.

He relents, letting her toss one of the three into the “give away” bin before promising to give the second back to Ned.

MJ, out of the kindness of her own heart— or out of boredom, either one— has been helping Peter, in her own words, “get his shit together,” for most of the afternoon. Too many times has she tripped over a stray book, his backpack, a hoodie or even a lone pair of boxers on the floor of his bedroom; times where she’s been unable to find the spare iPhone charger through all the spare papers, pens, and God knows what else in that mess he calls a “stuff drawer.”

Now, none of this is to say that Peter is the messiest person in the world, per se. He can be a relatively tidy person when he needs to be; his room is never littered with trash or the general grossness that comes with some teenage bedrooms.

But...

The cluttered state of Peter’s room is often a reflection of his own mind.

Which is why Michelle is there.

Plus, she’d seen one episode of Tidying Up with Marie Kondo one day when she was home sick from school, and with her room already pretty damn organized-- if she could say so herself-- she has to have some kind of outlet.

So, in a way, they’re really helping each other.

“Oh, hey,” Peter’s voice cuts through her internal monologue, his attention drawn to an ancient— by today’s standards, at least— video camera at the bottom of his second ‘random tech’ box. “Uncle Ben’s camera!”

For a moment, MJ’s ready to go into full-on Comfort Peter in the Best Way She Can Mode at the mere mention of his late Uncle, and she’s trying to decide whether she should do a full or half-hug when his fond, distant smile stops her.

“Wow, really?” She inquires cautiously, craning her neck slightly to get a better look at the artifact. “What’s on it?”

Again, Peter shrugs, flipping the screen open as he examines the device. “I dunno. Old home movies. Probably embarrassing videos of me.”

And he immediately regrets that last part, not having to see the cheshire grin that stretches across her features and the playful quirk of her brow to know that they’re there.

His shoulders sag as he rolls his eyes, fighting back a smile. “You don’t wanna watch any, do you?”

“Um, of course I do.” Her brows furrow as she glances side-to-side. “Are you kidding?”

“It’s not even charged, though.”

“So charge it.”

A beat of silence passes between them.

“Okay, fine,” Peter gives in, though he seems to be far from annoyed, searching for the charging cable near the bottom of the tangle of wires.

MJ cracks another smile at him before continuing to sort through his DVD collection.

--

The old camera feels strange in Peter’s hand, heavier than today’s technology, screen casting a faint blue light as it turns on for what may be the first time in a decade. He’s surprised they’ve even been able to charge it, judging by how old this thing is.

MJ sits on the bed beside him, head resting against his, watching as he navigates the almost laughably ancient menu, an audible, very dated beep-click sounding at every push of a button.

Neither of them know what to expect as Peter clicks “play” on the first video.

The screen flickers slightly, the lens focusing on what they assume to be the old dining room. A man and a woman are setting the table, chuckling quietly to themselves as they joke with one another. They continue to chat idly as they place the plates and cups down, the context of the conversation lost.

They’re at first only vaguely recognizable to MJ, but the feeling is fleeting, the realization almost instantly dawning on her when she sees the mop of curly brown hair and dark eyes on the man, the cheery smile on the woman’s face.

Richard and Mary Parker.

The date at the bottom of the screen reads: August 4th, 2005, 6:07 PM

Her eyes pass a quick glance to the boy next to her, gauging his reaction. There’s a faint, barely-there grin pulling at the corner of his mouth as he watches his parents interact, neither of them paying any attention to the person filming.

“I wanna help!” A tiny voice sounds from behind the camera, and the view shifts quickly, showing a much younger Peter bounding into the room, napkins in his tiny hands.

Mary turns, beaming as she talks to her son, crouching down to show him how to fold the napkins.

MJ feels herself mirroring the expression on his mother’s face.

Peter is still silent beside her, and she can only wonder how he’s truly feeling as they both watch. While she has certainly experienced loss in her near seventeen years of being on this earth, she’s never gone through the pain of losing a parent, much less two biological and one emotional.

“My mom and dad,” Peter finally speaks, as if introducing them to her, his voice quiet.

Under normal circumstances, she might tease him for pulling a Captain Obvious, but she refrains.

She hums in acknowledgement.

“It’s crazy…” He starts, eyes never straying from the screen. “I— I don’t really remember much of them, you know? They… Well, they died when I was really little, so I didn’t really get a chance to make very many memories with them, and everything I did remember I kinda forgot. But—” He pauses, a fond smile playing on his lips. “Hearing their voices… Even though it’s not really something I actually remember… It’s almost like… like it all comes back. Like, it’s so clear, you know?”

It’s said that the the voice is usually the first to go, the first thing one forgets about someone else after they’ve gone. And the more she thinks about it, the more MJ realizes just how true it is. She remembers, very specifically, the last time she heard her grandfather’s voice, but it had been so long since then. In that moment, right then and there, she can just barely recall it in her memory.

She knows, however, that if she were to hear it in a recording— or in this case, a home video— she’d remember once again.

Memories are funny like that, she guesses.

“Yeah,” she nods, gently knocking his shoulder with hers. “I get it.”

The video goes on, with the cameraman— who Michelle can only assume at this point to be Uncle Ben— having moved to the kitchen.

A younger Aunt May stands in the room, poring over a recipe on the counter. “Damn, May,” MJ jokes appreciatively, laughing as Peter gives her a playful shove.

“Don’t even!”

The lens zooms in on May’s face, and she turns, an exasperated grin breaking across her features as she rolls her eyes. She swats at the man behind the camera with a dish towel.

“Hey, how ‘bout you put that dang thing away and make yourself useful around here!” May teases, her eyes sparkling as an immature-for-his-age giggle is heard from the cameraman.

The video ends as the screen pans down, the next playing with only a second in between.

The date reads: August 7th, 2005, 3:36 PM

“Whatcha got there, Pete?”

This time, Aunt May’s voice can be heard from behind the camera, the smile in her tone infectious as the little boy beams up at her through a mop of curly brown hair. A slightly-too-big cowboy hat sits on top of his head. He proudly holds up the pinto hobby horse, jumping with excitement.

“It’s a horsey!”

Aunt May oo’s and aw’s. “What’s the horsey’s name?”

Little Peter pats the neck of the toy with semi-gentle, reverent hands. “Shunshine!”

“Shunshine?” MJ asks incredulously, doing absolutely nothing to hide the snort that had escaped.

MJ can hardly blame the kid though; she’s pushing seventeen and she still has trouble with consonant digraphs every once in a while.

“Hey!” Peter laughs along with her, though there was no stopping the red tint that settled over his features. “It’s a great name!”

“Very creative.”

“Shut up.”

Their joined laughter fades as the next few videos play, falling into a comfortable silence as the old Parker living room shows up on the screen. Red and blue streamers adorn the walls, dozens of balloons in the same shades touch the ceiling, a comically large Happy Birthday! is strewn across the banister.

The date reads: August 10th, 2005, 4:14 PM

The camera circles the room, showing off the decorations, before finally landing on the birthday boy himself.

“What’s your name, sir?”

A new voice full of mirth and humor asks from behind the lens; his father.

Young Peter looks up, a toothy grin stretched across his chubby face. “Peter Benjamin Parker,” he answers, emphasizing each word with a firm nod.

“And how old are you today?” His mother asks, tone laced with hushed excitement.

The boy smiles again, eyes wide, holding up four fingers.

“Four years old!” Both of his parents gasp-cheer.

August 10th, 2005, 5:23 PM

The birthday cake is simple; funfetti with chocolate frosting and red and blue sprinkles, a giant “four” candle placed in the center. Peter wiggles in his chair, eyes wide with wonder as he watches his mother light the wick.

“Are you ready, Peter?” She asks him, and he nods happily.

Happy Birthday is sung as it should be; full of enthusiasm, each singer being in a different key by the end of the song, cheers filling the room as the candle is blown out.

His mother plants a loving kiss on top of his head before smoothing down his unruly curls.

August 10th, 2005, 6:16 PM

The lens briefly goes in and out of focus, showing young Peter as he sits among torn wrapping paper and discarded boxes, his mouth stretched into a toothy smile as he looks at his presents. He jumps up, running around the room to give everyone an enthusiastic hug, thanking them over and over again for the toys.

August 10th, 2005, 7:02 PM

“Happy Birthday, Pete!” His family cheers in a happy chorus.

Peter responds with an excited, “Thank you!”

Aunt May briefly glances up, flashing a smile at her husband behind the camera, before looking back at the young boy in her lap. Her arms surround him in a loose, but loving embrace.

“Did you have a good day?” May asks.

Peter’s answer is an excited nod, followed by an appreciative hum.

Though the snippets of this past life are brief, they’re still able to elicit a familiar warmth from within present day Peter, and he huffs out a quiet chuckle at the way his younger self babbles on and on about how cool his brand new cowboy boots are.

And it’s infectious, as MJ feels the stirrings of the same, incandescent feeling.

The next clip starts from a whole new perspective, it seems.

Seeing as now they’re much closer to the ground, and the excited giggling coming from behind the lens, it seems as if young Peter, at some point, had gotten a hold of Ben’s camera.

August 12th, 2005, 5:50 PM

The view is shaky as the little boy darts throughout the apartment, pausing every few feet to film one of his relatives— though he only gets their legs in the shot; he’s only just pushing 3’1”, after all.

“Whatcha doin’, Pete?”

A new voice can be heard as a pair of work boots come to a stop in front of the boy, one they hadn’t heard yet.

Michelle can feel Peter freeze at the sound, and she glances at him through the corner of her eye; his gaze is still trained on the small screen, his smile tightening.

Uncle Ben himself crouches down, his tall body barely fitting into the frame, the top of his head partially cut off. A broad smile is stretched across his kind face, green eyes looking over the lens and at the boy holding the recorder.

“Filming,” young Peter says simply.

“I can see that! Got anything good yet?”

The camera moves as the boy nods proudly. “Uh-huh. Just like you!”

“Just like me?”

“Yeah! Are you proud?” Though the word comes out more, “poud.”

“Of course,” Ben chuckles gently, reaching over to ruffle the boy’s hair, eyes crinkling as his smile widens. “I’ll always be proud of you, bud.”

The video pauses, the screen frozen on the happy scene.

Present-day Peter hasn’t relaxed, his lips pressing together into a thin line, releasing a weighted breath as his thumb hovers over the play button.

MJ’s stomach churns with a new sense of guilt. “We don’t have to watch anymore… if you don’t want to.”

He nods quietly, slowly closing the screen, gripping the camera in his hands, knuckles nearly turning white at the pressure. Michelle sits, arms folding across her chest as she faces the internal struggle of what to say next, still unable to shake the unease festering in her gut.

“It’s just—” Peter starts, his voice cutting off. He sniffs again, glancing away as he preemptively wipes at the corner of his eye. “Hearing him again… his voice… seeing him actually talk...” He shakes his head. “It just— It got to me, I guess…” He trails off, his gaze still trained on the wall in front of them.

MJ places a hand on top of his, watching his face as he continues to speak.

“And I thought I was… good now? I don’t know. I mean,” he swallows, trying his best to keep his voice even. “I know that you never really forget them, that you never really move on… And everyone always tells you that it’ll get easier but it doesn’t... But, I guess I just thought that I was actually doing better. That it really had gotten easier. Maybe I was the exception... I stopped thinking about him every second… I had some voicemails— that he’d left me, before he… you know… but I’d never listened to them, I guess… because I was too afraid. Of what? I don’t know...”

She gives his hand a comforting squeeze, her own heart pounding in her ears.

“Like, I know that it makes sense that I don’t really remember what my parents sound like, their voices. ‘Cause, you know, I didn’t get the chance to. But I never—” His voice is caught in his throat, the shakiness making it harder and harder to speak. He finally turns to look at her, bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes clouded with tears.

“I never thought I’d forget his.”

At that, without a second thought, she opens her arms, and he falls into them easily. She wraps him in a warm embrace, his face burrowing under her chin. He doesn’t weep, tears falling silently instead as she rubs soothing circles on his back.

And she doesn’t know how long she holds him like that, how long they sit there. No words are exchanged between them, though none are really needed.

“Sorry… For making you watch that,” MJ’s voice is nearly inaudible as she mumbles into his hair. “I shouldn’t have pressured you.”

“No, uh—” This time, he shakes his head, the quiet sniffle between words not going unnoticed. “No. No, it’s okay,” he reassures her, finally pulling back, though he still stays in her arms. “It’s actually really nice… seeing my parents. Seeing Ben. I’m not gonna say that it’s like they never left... But it’s like they’re still with me, he’s still with me, in a way.” His lips quirk into a sad smile, his hand reaching up to wipe at his eyes again. “And… I’m glad you got to see them.”

Michelle finds herself easily returning his bittersweet expression.

While she’d never had the chance to meet his parents, from the short clips she saw, she could tell that they loved each other and that they truly loved their son. She’d also never properly met Uncle Ben, only seeing him in passing as he’d pick up Peter from middle school, or come to decathlon meets in their Freshman year. It wasn’t much, only snippets of their actual lives, but even the smallest glimpse made her feel closer to Peter, to his family.

It was a feeling she’d treasure for years to come.

Perhaps in a more emotionally stable state, she’d make fun of herself for being so cliche, so dramatic. But at this point, right in this moment, she didn’t care.

Her lips press together into a small, faint smile as she takes his hand in hers again.

“I’m glad I got to see them, too.”

#spideychelleweek2k19 #spideychelle #spideychelle week #petermj #peter parker x michelle jones #peter parker #michelle jones #fic

[a-second-hand-sorrow]

Live, Baby Live (Otis Milburn X Reader)

WC: 2091

Warnings: A bit of swearing, so many music references that I made a playlist

Summary: Y/N spends the weekend at Otis’ house in very close proximity with Otis

A/N: Ok so I’m in love with Otis Milburn so this fic is the result of that. Hope y’all enjoy it!

“Hey Otis, can I ask you a favour? I promise this is not a clinic thing, just one friend to another.” Y/N said, sitting down opposite Otis at the table in the library.

“Yeah, of course. What is it?” Otis replied, setting his book down so he could look at her.

“Well my parents are going out of town with my sister and they don’t want me to be alone all weekend, so I was wondering if it would be ok for me to stay with you? It’s just that my parents trust you and your mum, and I’ve not really got anyone else.” Y/N said, trying to keep her voice low as she rambled.

Otis went a soft shade of pink, but he nodded nonetheless, causing Y/N to smile. “I’ll have to check with mum but it should be fine.” He said, and Y/N gave him a wide smile, picking her bag up as she stood.

“Thanks Otis. Also, I know Friday nights are rom com nights at the Milburn house so I’ll bring some DVDs and maybe some microwave popcorn. See you tomorrow!” Y/N said, waving at Otis as she walked out of the library. 

“What did Y/N want?” Eric said, causing Otis to jump slightly at his sudden appearance.

“There is a very high chance that she will be staying at my house for the weekend.” Otis said meekly, and Eric’s jaw dropped, a shocked sound escaping his mouth.

“Um Otis this is big! Haven’t you been crushing on Y/N since we started secondary?” Eric said, causing Otis to frantically shush him.

“Keep it down, Eric. I don���t want to mess anything up, and I’m happy just being friends with her.” Otis said, but it seemed he was more talking to himself than Eric.

“Whatever, man. You should totally ask her out, because I think that she really likes you.” Eric said, clapping Otis’ shoulder earning a slight huff from the boy.

“Just ask her out. How hard can it be?”

Otis stood in front of his mirror, picking at his outfit as he observed his reflection. Suddenly the familiar sound of the doorbell hit his ears and he stood up straight before rushing downstairs.

“That’s probably Y/N, I’ll get it!” Otis called, moving past his mother as he made it to the door, opening it to reveal Y/N. She was dressed in jeans and a jumper that Otis instantly recognised as one of his old ones.

“Hey, Otis.” Y/N said, waving her free hand at him. He waved back, gesturing for her to come in. She shut the door behind her, dropping her bags near it. 

“Hi Jean. Thank you so for much for letting me stay.” Y/N said, watching as Otis’ mother smiled at her, waving her hand in a nonchalant way before pulling her into a brief hug.

“It’s my pleasure. Otis and I are both more than happy to have you here. Now, I heard you brought DVDs?” Jean said, pulling away from the hug as Y/N chuckled, nodding her head.

“Yes, I’ve got Music and Lyrics, and Notting Hill. I’ve got a bit of a thing for young Hugh Grant, sorry.” Y/N said, smiling sheepishly as Jean laughed. Otis’ eyes boggled as he watched the interaction. His mum wasn’t a hugger and never had been, so why did she hug Y/N like that?

“That’s understandable, Y/N. Maybe it’s something about the awkward yet adorably endearing tall brunette that you like?” Jean said, her eyes flicking very briefly to her son as Y/N stammered, her cheeks going a brilliant shade of red.

“Can I put my stuff upstairs, please?” Y/N said, suddenly feeling incredibly awkward. Otis nodded, stepping forward and picking up Y/N’s bag, gesturing for her to follow him.

“I’m so sorry about my mum. She’s the queen of overstepping boundaries, trust me.” Otis said once the pair were in his room, putting Y/N’s bag down at the foot of his bed. Y/N sat down on the bed, swinging her feet back and forth as she smiled at Otis.

“It’s ok. In other news, have you ever heard of INXS? Because my dad’s been telling me to listen to them for ages and I finally got around to it. They’re so good!” Y/N said, changing her position so she was sitting cross legged as Otis stood opposite her.

“I think I’ve heard some of their songs. They’re an Australian band, right?” Otis said, and Y/N nodded as she suddenly stood up, pulling out her phone and plugging it into Otis’ speaker.

“Yep. Their lead singer, Michael Hutchence died in ’97 which is a shame because he was really talented. One of the last great front men, my dad likes to call him.” Y/N said, scrolling through her phone before nodding her head, pressing play on a song.

The familiar opening to New Sensation began playing, causing Y/N to start dancing. Her dancing was far from perfect, and Otis chuckled at her awkward and somewhat off-beat movements.

“Come dance with me, Milburn! Live baby, live.” Y/N said, saying the last part in time with the opening lyrics. Otis gave her a hesitant look, but his heart fluttered at the thought of dancing with Y/N so he gave in, joining her in the middle of his room.

The pair danced along with the music, Y/N laughing when Otis nearly tripped over her bag. Suddenly the song was over and they were panting, smiles etched onto their faces.

However, another slower song started and Y/N let out a content sigh. “Never Tear Us Apart. One of my dad’s favourites, and one of mine. Do you maybe want to dance? Like properly dance?” Y/N said, rubbing the back of her head as she met Otis’ crystal blue eyes.

Otis gulped, his hands growing sweaty at the thought of being so close to Y/N. “Um, yeah? Sure.” He said, and Y/N smiled widely as she took a step closer to the boy.

She slowly placed her arms around Otis’ neck, having to reach up a little bit to do so. Otis took in a shaky breath, bringing his hands to sit on Y/N’s lower back. He swore internally, cursing his awkwardness but little did he know Y/N was feeling the same.

They slowly swayed to the music, Y/N humming under her breath once the lyrics started. She looked up at Otis, inhaling sharply when she realised just how close their faces were. His eyes sparkled like diamonds, and Y/N felt her stomach fill up with butterflies.

Otis looked at her, taking in how her Y/E/C eyes were full of life and just how beautiful she looked. Their eyes met and Y/N swallowed nervously, beginning to slowly move her face closer to Otis’. Otis felt his heart speed up as he matched Y/N’s movement, his eyes beginning to flutter shut.

“Otis, Y/N are we watching… oh I am so sorry!” The pair broke apart at the sound of Jean’s voice, the air around them rapidly becoming tense. 

“I’ll, uh, go put the DVD on.” Y/N said quietly, tucking her hair behind her ear as she pulled Music and Lyrics out of her bag, quickly heading downstairs.

“Otis, darling, do you want to talk about what just happened because it’s clear that.” Jean said, but she was cut off by Otis storming out, a dark red blush on his face as he made his way downstairs.

“Hey.” Y/N said softly, looking up from the TV as she heard Otis’ footsteps. He gave her a reassuring smile, tentatively sitting down next to her on the couch.

“I need a fucking lock on my door, honestly.” Otis mumbled, and Y/N let out a chuckle, nodding her head. 

“Should we wait for your mum?” Y/N asked, clutching the remote in her hand as she gestured to the menu on the screen.

“No, you can put it on.” Otis said, and Y/N nodded, pressing play. Y/N glanced at Otis and moved so she was closer to him, fiddling with the blanket that was draped over her lower body.

Y/N began humming along with Pop Goes My Heart, bopping her head in time with the rhythm. Otis chuckled, looking over at her as she did. She was a bit of a dork, yes, but he loved how unafraid she was of being herself, at least around him.

As the movie progressed Y/N and Otis moved closer to each other, even after they were joined by Jean. Eventually they ended up sharing the blanket, their legs touching under it. 

It was late by the time the movie had finished, and Y/N and Otis decided to head to bed. Jean wished them good night, looking at them with some knowing expression that confused Y/N.

Once they were in Otis’ room Y/N moved to the speaker, almost like a nail drawn to a magnet. She connected her phone up and scrolled through, selecting a softer David Bowie song. The piano to Life On Mars seemed to calm Otis, and he took in a deep breath before speaking.

“You can, uh, you can take my bed. I’ll just sleep on the couch downstairs.” Otis said, and Y/N shook her head immediately, pulling on the sleeves of her borrowed jumper.

“I’ll take the couch, Otis. I don’t want to kick you out of your bed. I’d feel bad.” She said, and Otis let out a shaky breath, shaking his head as he took a step closer to Y/N.

“I will take the couch. You can have my bed.” He said, and Y/N let out a defeated sigh, narrowing her eyes slightly.

“Fine, but only if you do something for me.” Y/N said, and Otis furrowed his eyebrows, looking at her suspiciously.

“What do you want me to do?” Otis asked, and Y/N took in a deep breath, gently taking Otis’ hands in hers. His eyes widened and he inhaled, looking at Y/N intently.

“Not freak out when I admit that I really like you, and I want to kiss you and have wanted to for a while now.” Y/N said, her voice shaking from nerves. She glanced up at Otis, who had gone silent, but she felt her heart flutter at the dumb grin that had spread across his face.

“Can… can I please kiss you?” Otis said, and Y/N nodded eagerly, her hands moving to gently cup Otis’ face as he leaned down, his lips meeting Y/N’s hesitantly.

Y/N leaned into the kiss, stretching up on her tiptoes to meet Otis’ height. His eyes flew open slightly when she applied a bit more pressure, but he quickly caught up. Y/N pulled away to get a breath, and Otis unconsciously chased her lips.

She giggled at his action, stroking his face gently. “Feel free to kiss me again, Milburn.” Y/N muttered, and almost instantly Otis’ lips were back on hers, his hands trailing down her back and settling on her waist.

Their kiss came to a crescendo with the music, and Y/N swore that somewhere she heard fireworks going off. When they pulled away for the second time Y/N moved her hands down, resting them on Otis’ chest. 

“That’s my jumper. Sorry I know we just kissed and trust me it was mind-blowing, but I really quite liked that jumper and I had no clue where it went. Now I know, I guess.” Otis said, lightly tugging at the jumper as he spoke.

Y/N laughed, pecking Otis on the lips as a means of reassurance. “Sorry, you leant it to me once and I kept meaning to give it back. Eventually it just became part of my wardrobe, but you can have it back if you want.” Y/N said, and Otis gave her a dazzling smile, shaking his head.

“No, keep it. Suits you better anyway.” Otis said, his loving smile causing Y/N to flush and glance down at the floor.

“So, do you still want to sleep on the couch, or do you maybe want to share your bed? If you’re ok with that of course.” Y/N said, slowly untangling herself from Otis’ embrace to open her bag and grab her pyjamas.

“I, uh, oh, well that should be alright, yeah.” Otis stammered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Y/N smiled, walking past Otis to go to the bathroom and change.

“I’ll be right back, Otis.” Y/N said, and Otis nodded, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding once the door was shut behind Y/N.

He was going to have to tell Eric about everything.

#sex education #netflix #otis milburn #otis milburn x reader #otis milburn imagine #asa butterfield

[myheadisinvaded]

On With The Show… chapter 1/heaven (part1)

Word count- 1,581

Warnings- sexual talk (?), mention of drugs, idk what else to list

A/N- feedback is appreciated, thanks for giving me a chance (if you read it) There will be multiple parts, this is kind of presenting everything.

This will be a romantic Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx x Oc, there will be some Mick Mars x Oc as a best friend/mentor 

Present

His glossy blue eyes reflect the raindrops rolling down the window, the clouds are grey and they seem to be crying with him. The guilt and regret is building up inside his body, feelings he never wanted to feel again are starting to come back. Now they seem to be against himself, he never wanted to cause someone he loved the same pain his mother caused him.

Past

Blair is the dream daughter, in college, studying every night, doesn’t really party, doesn’t date around. She’ll drink every once in a while but she’s never done drugs, smoked, she’s a good kid. Her single mom has always greatly appreciated her daughter. Blair indulges in her music, hard rock, glam rock, punk, anything heavy, full of guitars and drums she’s there for it. She plays some music herself, she’s learning guitar, piano and her voice has always been something she’s proud of. The genres she loves don’t match her at all which always creates interest in her. The innocent child like vibe she gives off is charming and has kind of made her the sweetheart. She’s not by any means the most popular but anyone she meets, likes her.

October 1983, she has just turned 21

Her arms are up, her hands in devil horns, she is feeling happy and full of excitement and energy. Motley Crue is her favorite band and she was able to come see them, finally! She made sure to put on her cutest black dress with her best black heels, her hair in her natural loose curls and light make up. Not the most rock of outfits but she feels pretty and that’s what matters. She hopes to catch his attention, after all she had heard it wasn’t too hard, but somewhere in the back of her mind she knew there was no way it would actually happen. She decides to just enjoy the music, front row, and not worry about it. Her eyes focus on Nikki first, he seems focused on the music and having fun on stage. She moves them over to Vince and then to Mick, and finally to Tommy. Watching them rock out and feel the music was amazing, she had always hoped that one day she would be able to do that but she doesn’t feel any where near talented enough, her eyes go back to Mick. The way he plays the guitar, its mesmerizing. The smile on her face becomes bigger and her eyes lock with Mick’s. He smiles and keeps on playing, sending her a small wink before moving around the stage with Vince and Nikki. Her eyes move back to focus on Nikki, the adrenaline coursing its way through her body from being noticed by Mick, or at least she hopes she was. The songs are all equally as fun and energy filled, Shout at the Devil, Live Wire, Take Me To The Top,Looks That Kill, Helter Skelter, etc.

The concert comes to an end, the crowd screams for more but to no avail, the energy is still high and everyone is buzzing. Girls are flooding to the backstage area, she follows the crowd, partying with Motley Crue would be a dream come true but right now she wants to at least meet them. Blair is able to get past to the backstage area, not a hard task at all, she sees everyone heading towards the back but when she glances to her left there is a hallway leading to the dressing rooms, the hallway also contains something that makes her heart flip, their guitars and basses. The ones they used tonight are roughly hung on there and she can’t help but walk in that direction instead. She immediately spots the black guitar, scraped all over and Mars in white on it. Her eyes dart around, she isn’t going to steal it but she also assumes no one would want her to play it either, who cares, it's quiet and no one seems to be here, they are all probably partying anyways. Her heels click against the tile, her black baby doll velvet dress flows around as she tries to tip toe. 

When she has the guitar in front of her she gingerly picks it up and holds it in front of her eyes for a minute, the strap is still warm and sweaty. With shaking hands she puts in on, adjusting it a little, since she is shorter and her arms are short as well. She starts playing something quietly, it sounds a little weird, given that its an electric guitar and its not plugged in but its still super cool that she’s playing with Motley Crue’s guitar. Blair begins to get a little carried away, jumping around and pretending to be giving a whole show, whisper singing Live Wire. Eyes closed, head thrown back, rocker face on, she doesn’t realize when Mick appears in front of her, arms crossed, unamused eyes, and eyebrow raised. She does a little kick and jump and finally opens her eyes. Her body freezes when she sees him, he holds her stare, trying not to smirk. “I-i-i’m so sorry” she manages to stutter out. He huffs “Fucking teenagers... “ as he shakes his head but he recognizes her from the front row, her soft features and school girl look stands out.. Her arms start shaking again and when he notices that, he feels a little bad, “Give it here kid, you're holding it wrong”. Taking the guitar off of her she shakily hands it back to him and he gives her a half smile. He makes sure shes watching as he puts it on, readjusting the strap “Damn, you’re short” and places his hands on it, “If you want to be able to rock out comfortably you have to learn how to hold it, you had it on too tight too, i know you have short arms but loosen it up a little and you can slide it around” he looks at her face, she's watching him intently. He spends the next 5 minutes showing her different tips and tricks.

“So… we’ve been here for a minute and you haven’t said a word, I normally don’t like to be the only one talking, much less talking  this much” he chuckles lightly “Tell me, what’s your name?” She smiles, finally having calmed down after the initial shock of having one of her idols teaching her. “Blair Storm” she states proudly. Mick raises his eyebrow once again “Stage name?” he questions. She shakes her head, “Pretty cool, huh?” she's still smiling. He gives her a grimace and nods “yeah, sure kid” He looks around and sighs ‘Hey, how about we go sit in my dressing room, we can keep talking there.” his back was beginning to hurt so he was glad when she quickly agreed and he let her in through the door that was right beside the instrument rack. Once they're both inside he motions for her to take a seat on the couch in his dressing room, he sits beside her and looks at her, his regular unamused expression on his face, he can’t help but let a small smile crack through when he sees the excitement in her eyes, the sweetest smile on her face. “Why aren’t you out there partying?” he asks curiously “Well that was my plan but then i saw your guitar and just came in this direction” she shrugs her shoulders and he just nods slowly, reaching over to the table and getting some Jack Daniel’s “drink?” he asks, she nods so he pours her some over some ice and hands to her. Little does he know that she’s never had whiskey before and her heart begins pounding.

 He just takes a swig from the bottle and watches her slowly take a drink, her cheeks become bright red and she begins coughing. Her throat is burning and she screams “Oh my god!!!” Mick tries to not laugh but he can’t help it, he does stand up from the couch and goes over to her “Just breathe, its ok” he rubs her back as she gasps. Embarrassment fills her small body up.

Nikki and Tommy had been making their way down the hall, coming to get Mick and see if he wanted to come drink with them when they hear the screaming, assuming he’s got a girl in there they start laughing and acting like silly teenage boys. “Duuuuude he’s finally getting some!” Tommy jumps in excitement as they make their way to the room. When they get closer it’s quiet and Nikki wiggles his eyebrows, his hand on the doorknob, ready to bust in and catch their friend in action.

Mick had given her water and she had calmed down, not only was it her first time drinking whiskey but she had also been so nervous that it went down the wrong way. Mick was laughing at her as she slowly started laughing as well, her cheeks were flushed pink. “Damn, kid, it sounding like I had given you straight up rubbing alcohol!” As they are both laughing it off the door slams open, making Blair jump and almost spill the whiskey she had been able to start sipping on. Tommy sees Mick and some hot chick sitting like 3 feet apart on the couch and sighs, making a frowny face “aww man! Did we miss it?” Nikki looks at Mick and then at the girl, she's way too pretty to be a groupie and not drunk enough. “Miss what, drummer?” Mick asks with his monotone voice and a frown on his face. “You getting some pussy man!” Nikki laughs, his eyes focused on the girl. Mick shakes his head and before he can say anything Tommy does a facepalm ‘We interrupted it right before it happened didn’t we?” Mick sighs and rolls his eyes, shaking his head. Nikki looks at him “You mean to tell me that you’re just sitting here boring this girl to death?” Blair lets a small laugh out and finally speaks “Um actually we were just hanging out and he was teaching me things about guitar” Nikki rolls his eyes and confirms  “So boring you to death. Why don’t you come party? We’ll go have some fun” he says, a devious smile on his face. Her face immediately goes back to a deep pink shade but she stays quiet, she looks over at Mick and her gives her a nod. 

“I’ll go party” Blair stands up, fixing her short dress. “We’ll finish later, kid” Mick says as he lays down, arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses on. “Bring me more booze” he demands. “Oh here, i’ll leave this bottle with you” Tommy sets it down on the table beside Mick. Nikki smirks and takes Blair by the hand and leads her out of the dressing room. Tommy follows behind them and runs past them, yelling loudly “Wooooooohhh” Nikki laughs and starts walking faster. “Wanna do some blow?” he asks as he pushes the door open, a brand new world before her eyes.

Tags: @triplehaitches

#motley crue #nikki sixx #douglas booth!nikki sixx #nikki sixx x reader #mick mars #the dirt #netflix #motley crue imagine #motley crue fanfiction #douglas booth #nikki sixx imagine

[lilith-lovett]

Found Families - Home is Where the Hart is - Chapter 5

Chapter five, another long one. I’m sorry. I hope you continue to enjoy this series and thank you to all who liked, reblogged and left supportive comments. I appreciate them.

Masterlist

Summary: Patton learns about Logan’s past and Logan goes to Maggie to talk about his new and complicated emotions.

Word Count: 5027 (This is a long one)

Warnings: Child abuse, Abuse of power, Implied panic attack, Self-deprecation, Crying, Bullying, Description of physical injuries, Physical violence. (If there is any I have missed please let me know).

“Mr Hart I do believe young Logan has taken a shine to you, will you be scheduling another session?” Mrs Davis asked from behind the front desk, pen already in hand.

“Yes, for tomorrow please,” Patton responded unable to quell the excitement bubbling within his stomach, praying to the gods for tomorrow to come sooner.

“Tomorrow? So soon,” She inquired quirking a brow at Patton in surprise, the pen halting in it’s position on the page.

“Of course. And if you don’t mind I have some questions I’d like to ask you about Logan’s background,” Patton said, some of the bubbles dying within his belly as he broached the serious topic.

“Ah yes I’ll be happy to answer any of your questions to the best of my ability. Though I do warn you his past is not a pleasant one,” She said he voice dropping as if to prevent any of the other matrons mulling around to overhear. Patton’s heart dropped, he’d suspected Logan would have come from a difficult background but that fact being confirmed made his skin crawl.

“I want to hear it,” Patton said without a hint of hesitation but concealing the slight tremble in his voice.

“I guess I’ll start from the beginning then. Well how to put this, Logan came from an abusive household. His parents were quite well-known actually and when it was revealed around four years ago it was big news you may have heard of it yourself, on the News and everything. The Baxter Case. That is what they called it both received ten years sentences and Logan was put into care, now I don’t know much about his first Orphanage but I did hear from the last place that it was a nightmare he barely lasted a month there until they sent him away. The second place he was there for a couple of years but by then he had gained his…um…reputation and nobody would even look at the boy so they sent him here but I’m afraid we haven’t had much luck with him either until of course you came along. Well I’m sorry that is just about all I know we matrons don’t get told very much and Logan refuses to open up to anyone except for that teacher but oh well boys will be boys I suppose. Does that answer any of you questions?”. Mrs Davis concluded leaning against the desk arms folded across her chest.

Patton had been stunned into silence by the causality in her voice as she spoke about such horrible acts when he himself felt sick to his stomach. The Baxter Case, he had heard of it and the case had been the first time he questioned his morals regarding prisoners. Ten years, though he was a believer in the rehabilitation of prisoners that was much to short a time for the years of anguish their child would be forced to endure because of their inhuman actions and now knowing that child was Logan. The brilliant, kind and considerate Logan who did not deserve what he went through.

“Mr Hart, are you alright?” Mrs Davis’s asked presumably growing concerned as a result of Patton’s vacant expression and prolonged silence. He quickly snapped out of it returning to his bubbly self.

“Oh yes, it was just difficult to hear,” Patton responded plastering on the most authentic smile he could muster to avoid drawing any more concern.

“It is quite the tragic tale,” A voice cut through the air like a knife, high-pitched holding a hint of mockery in her tone which Patton could easily detect having a knack for observing the subtle changes in a persons body language or voice others would simply overlook. “And you must be Mr Hart,”.

“I am and you are?” Patton replied stretching out a hand in a greeting towards the plump woman having come into view, dressed in rather extravagant clothing one would not consider appropriate attire for an Orphanage but Patton wasn’t one to judge. Ebony locks striped with streaks of silver twisted into an elaborate up-do secured with a bejewelled hair pin and a her face made up. Honestly surprising Patton slightly by her appearance.

“Madame Claire, the owner of this fine establishment, it is a pleasure to meet the man who has shown such interest in our dear Logan,” The woman Madame Claire said manoeuvring herself in between Patton and Mrs Davis, presumably signifying the other matron to return to her work, leaving very little space separating herself and Patton. “Such hardships have changed him over the years I do warn you, he has a tendency to be problematic and being so young and inexperienced yourself do you really wish for such a troublesome child?”.

Patton couldn’t quite believe his ears. Was she attempting to deter him from adopting Logan? He had experienced people assuming he was much younger than he actually was. No surprise there but he had never in his years of visiting care homes and orphanages ever had someone advise against a particular child. He couldn’t comprehend why all of the matrons held such disdain towards Logan, speaking only of his faults instead of his numerous good qualities and talents. Patton tried desperately not to allow his true frustration and irritation to display on his face, he hated confrontation and did not wish to start a fight with the owner of the Orphanage who could easily throw him out and forbid him for seeing Logan so he bit his tongue plastering on one of his best smiles before eventually responding.

“Actually you are mistaken ma’am, I have three kiddos at home all adopted,” Patton explained smiling as he corrected her.

“Oh well, you and your wife certainly have your hands-full,” Another frequent assumptions that Patton was not a single father and his ‘wife’ was at home with the kids which bothered him a lot more than he’d like to admit and though he didn’t openly display his sexuality for the world he hated when people would assume he was straight.

“There is no wife I’m afraid, no husband either It’s just me,” Patton said giggling internally at Madame Claire’s wide-eyed, slack-jawed expression before returning to her former composed state though a trace of surprise still remained.

“You have quite the unconventional home life Mr Hart,” She replied a tight-lipped smile spread across her lips.

Patton didn’t respond only nodding not quite trusting his voice or his steadily wearing patience, he prided himself on being forgiving and it wasn’t often that people tested that self-control but on occasions such as this one he found it easier to keep quiet.

“Please take my warning into consideration, it seems to me you already have quite a chaotic home-life you do not need a difficult child such as Logan to add to your worries,” She continued berating Logan in every available opportunity but it made Patton want to adopt him all the more.

“Do not worry about me I think I’ll manage, and-” He paused turning back towards Mrs Davis who was typing away on her computer, eyes darting up every so often so to listen in to their conversation presumably to relay to her fellow co-workers later on. “I would like to confirm my session with Logan for tomorrow,”. One of his best smiles stretched across his face, watching Madame Claire’s priceless expression through his peripheral vision.

“Of course, Mr Hart,” Mrs Davis replied.

“I do hope to see you again sometime Mr Hart,” Madame Claire said before disappearing down the corridor, the sound of her heels striking the floor echoing through the hallway.

Patton nodded before turning and leaving as quickly as he could, revelling in the cool air flooding his aching lungs as his erratic breathing began to ease and he no longer gasped for air. A sickish feeling sunk deep into his stomach as he recalled Madame Claire words specifically those regarding Logan and how she suspiciously didn’t want Patton to adopt him. His hands shook, there was little chance he could drive himself home safely in this state so after waiting a short while until he was certain Emile would be on his lunch break he removed his phone from the pocket of his rain jacket and selected Emile’s name

“Hey Emile,” Patton spoke into the phone “Can you come pick me up?”.

Logan immediately went in search for Maggie once Patton departed figuratively bursting with excitement, wishing to relay every detail about Patton to her the pleasant weight of the headphones around his neck. Maggie’s office door was left a jar as per usual indicating he could enter however though he found himself knocking before pushing the door aside just in case she was engaged in a task and he was interrupting. As he entered he was met with her welcoming smile, setting aside her papers to invite him in.

“Hello Logan, I was wondering when you would drop in as you didn’t yesterday afternoon or this morning. Honestly, I was getting a little worried,” Maggie said as Logan settled himself on the armchair, fingertips tracing the curve of the headphones which still hung around his neck.

“I apologise, I was merely occupied during those times,” Logan said. Which was only partially true but he did not wish to disclose the reason he missed their typical afternoon meeting because he was in Madame Claire office until he could hardly walk back to his room.

“So I’ve heard, though I am disappointed I had to find out through Mrs Gossip Queen. I am so proud of you Logan,” Maggie praised, perplexing Logan unaware of what he had done to earn her praise but he did not question her. “I’m glad you haven’t given up hope just yet,”.

Logan simply nodded unable to find the correct words to respond. Patton was so unlike previous potential parents he had met in the past, searching for a well-behaved child with a tragic back-story so they could believe they were helping society but he listened, didn’t pity him, didn’t treat him like an orphan which in all honestly Logan struggled to comprehend. He was supposed to deter Patton from visiting him but yet Logan felt himself becoming more and more attached to the man who appeared like the sun in human form quite the opposite of Logan.

“Yes Patton is quite unusual, I find I do not understand his actions sometimes. He is kind even when I am undeserving of his kindness, persistently optimistic and possesses an aura of calmness that I can’t describe. I…I do not understand him,” Logan admitted releasing a sign. He loathed not understanding. He was smart he always had been surpassing those around him with ease onto more difficult work. Arithmetic. Chemistry. Physics. Human Anatomy. Facts and processes always constant, never changing unlike fickle emotions. Most were controlled by them allowing them to influence their every decision but feelings were illogical and the very bane of his existence. But they heavily impacted the human mind so he had to master it and maybe then he would finally understand his chest fluttered whenever he was in Patton’s presence or why it felt so natural simply talking to him.  

“I believe I can help with that,” Maggie said decreasing the proximity between Logan and herself “ Now I assume that you struggle to understand why someone like him would choose someone like you. Am I correct?”.

“He is so kind-hearted, forgiving and selfless all of the things I am not, so yes I cannot comprehend why he would waste his time conversing with me when there are several other children more suitable,” He confessed releasing a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding, the pressure that had been steadily building upon his chest lessening slightly but it didn’t cease the trembling of his fingertips he attempted to conceal behind his back.

“Have you stopped to think that maybe he might like you?” Maggie suggested drawing Logan out of his spiralling thoughts. Why would Patton like Logan? He was too quiet, too standoffish, simultaneously too much and not enough. He wrinkled his nose and scoffed at the thought. “I’m serious Logan, why would he speak to you if he did not see something special in you? You just need to believe it,”. Logan opened his mouth to respond, to retort back but no words came out. Maggie manoeuvred herself to kneel in front of Logan. “Tell me about him,”. That Logan could do.

Logan rambled on and on about Patton sparing no details, dissecting every single one of their interactions. How they first met, Patton’s children, his lack of a romantic partner. Went into depth describing his appearance: his surprisingly youthful appearance, unkempt golden curls which often held several pieces of stationary, his rather eccentric clothing choices. Bright colours, flashy patterns but never without his signature grey cardigan tied around his shoulders. he could still describe the sensation of the feather soft fabric against his skin.

“He sounds like a stereotypical dad,” Maggie said with a laugh still positioned on the floor which Logan thought was rather unsanitary but didn’t question it. He cocked his head to the side puzzled by her statement. What was a ‘stereotypical dad’? He knew the definition of a stereotype: a widely held idea or image of a particular type of person or thing. Did Patton fit the stereotype? His own father surely didn’t, wearing predominantly suits and ties, without a hair out of place, severely lacking the warm and comforting demeanour Patton had. So what made a true dad? What made a real family?

“It sounds like you like him also. So, what does he make you feel when you talk to him?” She asked leaning an elbow on the arm of the armchair well aware of Logan boundaries and aversion to being touched but close enough to make him feel secure. Logan wrinkled his nose and furrowed his brow at the subject of…feelings.

“I…I do not know…I do not understand it,” Logan whispered his gaze fixated upon his hands as he burrowed them deeper into his shirt crinkling the material. The sensation which flowered within his chest whenever Patton was near was foreign to him, his words flowed freely no matter how much he tried to shut it off and that terrified him. Not knowing. Knowing things, that is what he excelled at. He held pride in the fact his intelligence was heightened beyond his years for all things logical that which emotions and messy feelings are not.

“That’s okay. Not knowing, not understanding your own feelings is okay,” She assured a soothing smile stretching across her rose tinted lips. “You are still young and have time to figure everything out but it does sound to me that this Patton is pretty special to you,”. Logan scoffed once again retreating into his cold and unfeeling shell.

“You deserve to be loved Logan,” That caught Logan off guard. Not trusting his ability to formulate words instead he merely nodded reaching his hand up to stroke the smooth plastic of the headphones still positioned around his neck.

Maggie stood stepping back allowing Logan to process what she had said returning to her position behind her desk as Logan mulled over her statement in his head…did he? He didn’t deserve anything, something his parents reminded him of daily. Love was not necessary for survival…so he did not require it.

“You should be getting back now Logan, lunch will be served soon,” Maggie stated as Logan stood preparing to leave “But I have something for you…I found this in Madame Claire’s office,”. Maggie reached into her desk withdrawing a familiar book from one of the drawers returning it to Logan’s possession, he traced the thankfully unscathed front cover with his fingertips before holding it close to his chest. He offered Maggie a small yet sincere smile in thanks.

“Your welcome and I will see you tomorrow Logan you can tell me more about Patton then,” Maggie said flashing a smile focusing her attention back to the pile of unmarked papers as Logan exited book still pressed close to his chest, his day significantly improved from Patton’s gift and promise to visit him again this morning too procuring his precious novel. Maybe today wouldn’t be as awful as he first anticipated, a minuscule smile appeared on his face at the pleasant thought.  

Thankfully, Emile arrived a short while after their initial phone call not having another appointment scheduled until the late afternoon. Patton piled into the passenger side immediately hurling himself into Emile’s open arms burrowing his tear stained face into Emile’s chest, he released a choked sob as tears spilled down his cheeks and Emile stroked his curls whispering sweet nothings into his ear. They remained like that for some time until Patton ran out of tears and finally pulled away from Emile’s hold wiping at his red-rimmed eyes with the sleeve of his cardigan now damp with his salty tears.

“I-I’m…s-sorry,” Patton stuttered his voice hoarse from crying, winding his arms around his stomach, leaning into Emile’s hold on his left shoulder slightly. “For…c-calling you out here,”.

“It’s okay Patton and I will always come for you when you call just as you have done for me,” Emile said gently squeezing Patton shoulder with one hand and the other took his hand tenderly rubbing his thumb over this knuckles. “Now do you want to tell me what happened?”. Patton nodded. Inhaling once then exhaling before starting.

“Everything was going okay. I think. Logan was acting strange when I first arrived, more closed off than he was yesterday. He wasn’t even reading, he answered all of my questions with one word answers. He looked so…lost,” Patton exclaimed pausing again to breath but Emile’s attention never wavered fixated on Patton, his comforting touches never ceasing either. “I gave him the gift…he seemed so shocked as to why anyone would get him a gift. He gave it back almost instantly saying how he couldn’t accept it and he didn’t deserve it, I managed to calm him done and he did eventually accept it but the session ended before we could speak any more. They are so horrible to him Emile…the other children I couldn’t believe how they talked about him and he just stood there and took like it was normal for him. I…I asked about his past…I expected it to be difficult to hear but…Oh Emile. Do you remember a few years ago a child abuse trial named The Baxter Case?”.

“Yeah, yeah I do. They both got ten years, far too short in my opinion. Why?” Emile questioned his grip tightening as Patton breath hitched and a lump formed in his throat, fighting with himself to get the words out.

“The child from the case was Logan,” Patton exclaimed newly formed tears burning his eyes but they weren’t tears of sadness or regret, they were tears of anger he refused to let fall. Patton hated that there were people out there capable of such horrible, inhuman acts against children no less. Children who deserved love and affection and that was what Logan deserved and Patton was going to be the one to give it to him. “I need to get him out of there. I spoke to the owner, she is horrible Emile she didn’t have a nice thing to say about him and even tried to persuade me against adopting him. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I had to get out of there before I snapped so I made another appointment and left. Oh Emile, how could anyone do something like that?”. Emile didn’t know quite what he was referring to the actions of Logan’s parents against him or of the owner who certainly deserved a piece of his mind but the more pressing matter at hand was Patton.

“I don’t know Patty,” Emile said pulling Patton close to his chest once again as his sobs faded to sniffles and to exhausted from his outburst to plaster a fake smile across his face wishing for nothing more than the security of his own home and bed.

“I have to get him out,” Patton murmured into Emile’s shirt stained with his tears. He couldn’t allow Logan to stay there but he knew better than most how long and complicated the adoption process was, not only the mountains of paperwork and background of checks but building a relationship could take just as or even longer.

“I know and you will, just give it time,” Emile assured cupping Patton’s cheeks wiping away stray tears with his thumb, he appreciated the small comforting touches Emile provided. Patton had always felt a lot more deeply than most, he loved quickly and often suffered the consequences but once he made his made a goal he worked until he achieved it and adopting Logan was his new goal.

And no matter what challenges he faced he would achieve it.

Once Logan had departed from Miss Maggie’s office the remainder of his day had been relatively quiet, no rambunctious children to annoy him, no meddling matrons to disturb him and especially no Madame Claire to torment him. With the return of his precious novel, he found himself much more at ease than he was this morning but life tore those few hours of contentment as quickly as they granted them, forcing him back to the harsh reality of his existence which everyone seemed to despise no matter what he did. In the beginning it hurt. So much he couldn’t understand why everyone hated him, the matrons, the other children, even his own parents. He had never once felt loved. After a while, he grew used to their glares of disdain, cruel whispers in passing. He didn’t need love…but then Patton arrived, though he didn’t and still didn’t understand the man’s intentions or motive when he approached Logan and spoke to him for the first time without a hint of pity. He felt something he had never felt before, despite not knowing exactly what it was, it was like nothing he had ever experienced before. A single glimmer of hope for him, but the flickering flame was snuffed out of existence, letting the blackness fester and grow.

All good things had to come to an end, they often did in Logan’s case. Patton’s gift had been a constant for the remainder of the day, hanging around his neck, he reached up to stroke the cool plastic every so often as a reminder. He had kept to his room, headphones on blocking out the world, book in hand losing himself in its pages. Logan hadn’t known how long it had been until the unwanted arrival of his room-mates indicating it was nearing lights out. He shared a dormitory with seven other boys, aged between eight and fourteen himself being one of the eldest and the most despised but he had long ago accepted that fact and avoided them in every possible situation. That seemed to quell them for a short while but most seemed to be determined to make his life a living hell.

They barrelled into dormitory, stripping off their clothes, discarding them onto the floor leaving the room in a state of disarray. Logan clenched his jaw, his grip on his book tightening at the sight but he fought to ignore it, not wishing to start an argument instead adjusting his headphones curling in on himself praying they hadn’t noticed his presence yet. But alas his prayers went unanswered and seven pairs of eyes all turned on him at once, their expressions dark and unforgiving, lips curling upwards into a wicked grin.

“Hey Lobot,” Logan didn’t need to look up from his book to see who the delightful nickname came from. He despised it. Being compared to a cold and unfeeling automaton was not an uncommon experience but it did not make it hurt any less. Until he took on persona, playing the role of the emotionless robot they all believed him to be, praying it they would grow tired of the merciless teasing and taunts but to no avail they persisted perhaps even worse than before.

Logan forced his eyes from the page onto the figure in front of him. Brandon Hunter. Aged fourteen, had lived at Madame Claire’s for three years, the reason being that his parents were both drug addicts, his explosive temper had gotten him rejected by four families in total and he was Logan’s most persistent bully. Ever since he arrived Brandon targeted him, beginning as daily taunts and teases mocking him for everything under the sun from his appearance, to his personality, to his interests. Later developing into physical altercations, tripping him in the corridors, cornering him after mealtimes to in his words ‘teach him a lesson’ leaving him beaten and bruised for days after. Night time was the worst. When no matrons patrolled the corridors in search for troublemakers, when he was surrounded by people who would love to see him hurt. Logan had been spared these past few night facing other…issues but tonight he suspected he wouldn’t be so fortuitous.

“Hey nerd! Don’t ignore me!” Brandon bellowed tearing the book from Logan’s hands tossing it carelessly across the room. Logan winced when it made contact with the wall, thinking only of the crumpled papers he would surely have to smooth out though would never be as pristine again. He adjusted his headphones moving them from over his ears so they were hanging around his neck, glancing up at Brandon’s unsightly face with a vacant expression. “So, now that someone has finally shown interest in you, you think your better than me. Freak!”.

Logan again didn’t responded allowing his gaze to wander. All seven boys were now encircling his bed, Brandon at the head and the rest stood behind him like henchman awaiting orders from their boss having been brainwashed pretty early on, not that it took much convincing for them to join Brandon’s side much preferring to be on his side than the alternative. They left him no possible escape path and even if he were to somehow make it out of the dormitory he wouldn’t get very far as Brandon and his cronies would be on him like a pack of feral dogs in a single heartbeat. Brandon was clearly growing increasingly frustrated with Logan’s unresponsiveness, he nearly cracked a smile at the sight of his red face but such an action would undoubtedly result in a burst lip so he restrained himself from doing so.

“Hey, I’m talking to you! And you’re going to listen to me,” Brandon growled grabbing a fistful of Logan’s hair yanking it towards him, forcing Logan to look at him. He winced at the sharp pain but refused to let it show on his face but his fingers wound tightly into his shirt praying nobody noticed their tremble. “Now that’s better, it looks like someone needs a reminder of their place,”.

A wicked smile stretched across Brandon’s lips as he released Logan with a sharp shove causing him to lose his balance toppling backwards onto his bed, provoking a chorus of sadistic laughter from the others. Logan quickly regained his composure, brushing down his outfit, glaring at the group some of whom stepped back, averting their eyes from his intense glare but Brandon simply laughed seemingly unaffected unlike the other who cowered behind him.

“Well, well what do we have here?” Brandon asked reaching out to touch the headphones still positioned around Logan neck, his calloused hands narrowly missing his throat. Logan jerked back from the contact wishing to get as far away Brandon as humanly possible but had reacted to late, the headphones already having been plucked from his neck and his precious gift was now in the hands of Brandon Hunter.

Tag List:

@i-do-not-dislike-fudge @poems-art-darkness-n-more @alex-cain @amber1594

@darkrainbow333 @unofficialweatherguru

If you would like to be added to the tag list or have any questions about the au please do not hesitate to ask me.

#sander side au #sander sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #deceit sanders #Logic sanders #Morality sanders #anxiety sanders #creativity sanders #thomas sanders #Adoption AU #original characters #My writing #My fic #TW child abuse #tw anxiety #tw bullying #home is where the hart is #found families au

[spidergwenstefani]

@claraxbarton I heard you were having a long day so I wrote you some unrepentant fluff. Idk anything about professional costuming, but I do know some stuff about school theatre. So here’s college AU winterhawk where Bucky is also having a long day. Sorry in advance for all the typos that are definitely in here.

Bucky swears, pulling the seam ripper through the next stitch just a shade too viciously, catching his thumb with the stabby bit as thread gives way.

“Fuck,” he shouts, because the costume shop is empty save for him and this dupioni nightmare. Even the other student employees went home sometime after the witching hour, each classmate shooting Bucky a look of tragic sympathy as they individually decided witnessing Coulson’s stress hurricane wouldn’t be worth the sheer amount of caffeine they would have to chug to get through the day tomorrow. “Motherfucking shit. God damned son of a fuck. Fucking Christ on a-”

“Um,” somebody says from the doorway.

The headrush Bucky gets from looking up tells him that tomorrow will be another Gender in Shakespeare lecture skipped. There’s a guy hovering in the doorway, a small pink purse wedged under his arm and a look of… fear? Maybe? Probably fear on his face.

“What do you want?” Bucky snaps, because he doesn’t have time to spare on conversation. He still has the shoulder seams to undo, still needs to open up the sleeves, and the basement of the theatre building is drafty on the best days. Bucky’s a little worried his fingers will freeze stiff if he pauses for longer than a minute.

“Oh,” the guy in the doorway says. “Well, I came to get Bobbi’s purse for her. She said she left it here during fittings.” He gestures to the sparkly clutch under his elbow, and Bucky realizes he’s on the way out, not in.

“Okay?” If this is another one of Bobbi’s boys (pretty, fratty, and not a singular brain cell,) Bucky’s in danger of getting ensnared in a friendly conversation. He keeps his voice cold, putting on what Natasha calls his Fuck Off Face. The guy does a sort of shuffle in the doorway, physically swaying with the weight of whatever mental battle he’s having about staying or leaving.

“It’s just,” he says, stepping a little further into the fluorescent lights of the costume shop, and fuck Bobbi sure can pick them. “You seem a little. In distress?”

“In distress?” Bucky repeats, and the ice in his voice impresses even him. “In distress? Well, I have to seam rip the rest of these sleeves and salvage what I can for reworking the waist of the jacket, which was a bitch to make in the first place. I also have to take off the appliques that I put my blood, sweat, and tears into stitching on not even a week earlier. Even if I get that done before sunrise, I still have a fucking obscene amount of buttonholes to hand make, and I’ll probably have to modify the appliques for the new jacket. All because the actors are over-dramatic children who throw fits and drop out halfway through a show, and our costume shop assistant is an idiot who ruined half our dupioni right off the bat by steam pressing it. So yes, I’m a little bit fucking in distress.” The frat boy winces a little at the venom in the final word, and Bucky actually feels a twinge of regret, especially when he speaks again.

“I just meant, you look like you could use some help.”

Bucky narrows his eyes, straightening up and ignoring the way his spine pops in protest. The guy is greek life down to his toes, probably never handled anything more delicate than a football. He’s dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, a battered leather jacket thrown on to keep out the January chill.

“Can you sew?”

“I can’t make you a new jacket, but if most of your work is just cutting threads I can offer an extra set of hands.”

He makes a fair point, and if the seam ripping goes fast enough, Bucky can probably make a dent in the buttonholes before morning. He probably can’t fuck things up worse than anyone else has already.

“Okay,” Bucky says, and frat boy breaks into a crooked smile that has Bucky’s stomach feeling kind of fluttery. Maybe he should do more acting next year, see if Bobbi knows any other pretty frat boys.

The jacket is still technically in one piece, so frat boy takes the stool right next to Bucky, his thigh pressing against Bucky’s and reminding him just how much body heat he’s lost to the chill that creeps into the costume shop. Bucky hands him a seam ripper, holding up his nearly-separated sleeve.

“You just cut the threads with this. You have to work to find the stitches at first, but once the seam is cut a little more, it’s easy work.” Frat boy nods, examining his weapon. He looks incredibly serious about the weight of the whole thing, and suddenly Bucky finds himself biting back a smile. “I’m Bucky, by the way.”

“Clint,” frat boy says, sticking his hand in the small space between them. Bucky shakes it, and the warm, callused skin makes him notice how icy his own hands have turned. Clint catches his hand before he can pull it back. “You’re freezing,” he says, frowning like he’s actually worried.

“It’s a little cold in here,” Bucky agrees, not sure exactly what to do about Bobbi Morse’s boyfriend holding his hand in the wee hours of the morning.

“I guess gloves would get in the way,” Clint says, taking Bucky’s other hand and wrapping them up in his own. Clint is warm, and Bucky can tell that feeling is already creeping back into his fingertips.

“We have a lot of work to do,” Bucky points out, his voice not quite as commanding as he wanted it to be. Clint hums in agreement, like he’d already forgotten what he sat down to help with, and lets go of Bucky’s hands.

They work well together. Somehow Bucky manages to keep a semi-steady conversation through his sleep deprivation, and Clint doesn’t seem to mind when a particularly tricky part makes them lapse into silence. Bucky fights through the distraction of Clint’s thigh still pressed against his own and gets the rest of the shoulder seam cut through. They switch pieces, Clint working on opening up the sleeve while Bucky separates the other shoulder. It’s comfortable silence, and Bucky’s running on too little sleep to get very panicky about the way Clint’s foot will brush his or the quick glances he keeps shooting him.

They’ve been working for close to two hours when Clint sits back, tugging his jacket off by the sleeves. Bucky surveys their work, noting with surprise that almost all the seam ripping is done.

He feels a sudden weight on his shoulders, freezing up as Clint’s breath tickles the back of his neck.

“What are you doing?” Bucky says flatly.

“I’m giving you my jacket. You keep shivering,” Clint says, like that explains it. Bucky frowns, staring resolutely down at his work and nothing else. He hopes his cheeks aren’t as pink as they feel.

“You’ll get cold,” Bucky points out, because it’s true. Clint’s got nothing more than a worn t-shirt on under the jacket, the collar stretched out in a way that’s a little distracting. Clint just shrugs.

“I run hot. And you’re the talent here, right? Hypothermia can get me first. I’m expendable.”

Bucky doesn’t laugh, finally looking over at Clint and immediately regretting it. It’s a struggle to keep a scornful expression when faced with bright blue puppy dog eyes. Not to mention the shoulders.

“I bet Bobbi doesn’t think so. She’d probably like me to return her boyfriend in one piece.”

Clint blinks once, looking surprised. Surprised, but not guilty. Bucky’s frown deepens.

“I’m not her boyfriend,” Clint says. “I mean, we dated for a while last year but I’m not- I came to get her purse because she had a hot date and didn’t have time to come by. Maybe that makes me kind of a loser, I don’t know. I kind of can’t resist pretty damsels in distress.” Clint laughs a little at himself, then. “Also, Bobbi definitely thinks I’m expendable.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, pulling the jacket tighter around his shoulders. He blinks, Clint’s words slowly worming their way through his sluggish brain. “You think I’m pretty?”

Clint lets out a huff of air, like he was holding his breath as Bucky parsed through the conversation.

“I was hoping that’s what you’d get from that.”

“I am a little tired.”

“Take a break,” Clint says, putting his hand over Bucky’s seam ripper like that would do anything to stop him. “I think I’ve proven I can work without supervision. At least for a little while.”

“I’ll supervise you,” Bucky says, although the salaciousness is lost a little as he yawns hugely. Clint winks at him anyways, his lopsided smile coming back full force. Bucky lets him reach across the table, sliding his work away and into Clint’s space. He crosses his arms on the table, using them as a pillow so he can watch Clint work with minimal physical effort.

“You should volunteer here sometime,” he says, a little entranced by the way Clint’s blunt fingers move almost elegantly. Maybe his sport of choice has a little more finesse than football. Clint shoots him a grin.

“You trying to get more free labor out of me?”

“Oh, you have a price now?”

“The distressed damsel discount is single-use only,” Clint says, smiling down at his work. Bucky falls silent for a moment, biting his lip and enjoying the way that exhaustion has bled all his typical nervousness out of his flirting.

“What’ll it cost me?”

“A date,” Clint says, glancing sideways at Bucky, kind of anxiously. Bucky knew the words before he said them, but his heart still flutters a little now that they’ve been said. Bucky hums like he has to consider it.

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“I would settle for food, too,” Clint says hurriedly. “Or, like, if you had a dog and you let me pet it-”

“If we make it a dinner date, will you volunteer twice?”

“Okay,” Clint pauses, turning to Bucky with a small furrow in his brow. Bucky bites back a smile at how worried he looks. “I was really just trying to be cute with the whole free labor thing. You don’t owe me a date. Or food, or anything. I just want to make sure you know that, because I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not.” Bucky snorts, burying his face in his arms to hide his laugh. When he glances back at Clint, there’s a dopey expression on his face. “I would like to go on a date with you, though.”

“Does this count as a date, or volunteering? Who’s tab does this go on?”

“Bucky,” Clint groans, and hearing his name out of Clint’s mouth sets Bucky’s heart hammering again. “You’re stressing me out.”

“I would like to go on a date with you too,” Bucky says, and his face is probably about as dopey as Clint’s is.

“Cool,” Clint says, soft and a little surprised. He turns back to his work with a shy smile. “Cool. Awesome. Cool.” Bucky hides a laugh in his arms again.

“Clint?”

“Yeah?” Clint looks up immediately, his cheeks a little pink.

“I’m going to nap for a little bit.”

>>==========>

Bucky wakes up to sunlight shining directly in his eyes, and Steve shaking his shoulder belligerently. He bats at him uselessly, wincing at the crick in his neck.

“Fuck off, Stevie,” Bucky hisses, grumbling when Steve switches to sharp pokes.

“If you keep doing this, you’re going to have a hunchback by the time you’re thirty. How long have you been sleeping?”

“What time is it?” Bucky asks, petulantly not opening his eyes.

“Eight”

“At night?”

“No, Buck. What the fuck?”

“Oh. Like three hours then.”

“Well, at least you finished those buttonholes you were griping about.”

“What?” Bucky shoots bolt upright, almost falling off the stool in the process. The costume shop is marginally cleaner than it was when he fell asleep, and the jacket is flat on the worktable, the fabric from the former sleeves pressed and lying on top of it. There are other garments on the table, too. The vests Bucky had piled on the end of the table are now next to the jacket, his viciously scribbled ‘needs buttonholes!!!’ note added to in sloppy purple marker.

“I can’t sew a jacket,” Steve reads out loud, giving Bucky a very layered look, “but buttons I can do. Tried to wake you up, but you’re kind of mean when you’re half asleep. You can bring the jacket to our date.” Steve crosses his arms, wrinkling his nose a little. “He also put his phone number and a little heart with an arrow through it.” Bucky feels himself blush, biting back a smile. Steve narrows his eyes at him, doing an impeccable impression of Sarah Rogers moments away from a scolding. “Bucky. Did you give someone a blow job for buttonholes?”

“Not yet.” Bucky grins, feeling a little like he’s floating.

#my fics #winterhawk #buckyclint #claraxbarton #rated: g #but like college g #so there's a bunch of swearing

[timeisacephalopod]

Snapshot

A lil Ned/ Peter AU because these boys don’t get enough love! They’re aged up, so they’re in their twenties rather than teens, but still. Its a celeb AU also- Peter plays Spider-Man instead of being him.

“Oh my god I can’t go out there,” Ned hisses at Michelle. She looks nonplussed but she always looks like that even when there are celebrities here. Ok, there are always celebrities here but Ned doesn’t really care about most of them its just that he happens to be a huge Spider-Man nerd and Peter Parker is the best person he’s ever seen cast as the character. Toby Maguire was a travesty, and Andrew Garfield is pretty but not the perfect fit. Peter Parker though, Ned has never seen someone bring the character to life the way he does. Everything about him is absolutely perfect and now he’s sitting at a table with Tony Stark and okay this is... this...

“Ned, get your head out of your ass, he’s in your section,” Michelle tells him.

“You’ve got this!” Liz tells him over the little half wall that separates him from the kitchen area she’s in.

Yeah, he’s got this. He’s totally got this- Peter Parker is just a regular dude looking for food and Ned happens to know the food here is good. He probably eats too much of it, though to be fair he works a lot. Celebrities give good tips and he has school bills to pay for and also rent.

He starts walking over and okay never mind he does not got this he’s a lowly fat boy in school walking towards a person who plays one of the most iconic characters on television right now he is not worthy. He goes to turn around and give his table to Michelle when Peter god damn Parker notices him and smiles, waving a little excitedly and Ned has no choice now he has to go over.

“Uh, hey. I’m waiter, I’ll be your Ned this evening. I mean I’m a waiter, my name is Ned. I will be waiting. On the food. With the food, on you. Um. I’m going to shut up now,” he says, wishing he could banish himself to the shadow realm forever for that. Holy Christ he managed to embarrass the hell out of himself in less than two seconds this is the worst day of his life he hopes the earth gets hit by an astroid large enough that he’ll die long before he has to deal with poor Peter.

*

Yeah, Peter knows Ned is embarrassed but it was cute, watching him flounder a little. “Do you ever get used to that?” he asks Tony.

He shakes his head, “not really. I mean you get used to it in a way that you kind of expect it, but not in a way where you can really accept why people treat you that way. Or I didn’t, I know a lot of people who kind of let that kind of treatment go to your head and we’ve all watched what happens when child stars leave Disney. It really does fuck with people to have everyone treat you like a god only for them to turn around and get pissed off that you act like one now too.”

Shit, yeah Peter has seen that happen plenty but that’s just... not him. He grew up in Queens and didn’t even think he had a shot at landing the role of a lifetime. Hell, he would have ended up working a shitty dead end job because he couldn’t afford to go to college if not for Tony finding him at an improv group and deciding he had enough talent to fund his education. He’s always loved acting, putting on a show, and boy that has come back to bite him in the ass in really weird ways but in the end things worked out really well. Except for the part with the crazy fans, he doesn’t care for that, but that’s part of the job so.

“Hm. It wouldn’t be like... creepy to ask a fan out, right? Like because they’d be way less likely to say no to you? Would that be weird? I think that might be weird I won’t say anything,” he says, sealing his own fate.

Tony laughs, “depends on the fan and that one isn’t the type to worship you and also isn’t the type to stalk you. Keep in mind that consent goes both ways and fans are just as likely to ignore your boundaries. Maybe more, actually, since totally ignoring our privacy and personal space is considered normal and kind of encouraged. But that guy- just flustered. Probably a comic book nerd too,” he says.

If he’s a comic nerd Peter doesn’t see why he’d like Peter much. He can’t even believe the amount of blowback he got from the comic fandom over the fact that he’s trans and playing Spider-Man. Yeah, he obviously expected some blowback because that’s... well, normal not that he wants to admit that casual transphobia is alive and well. But it is, and he expected it, but the sheer amount of people that thought just that part of who he is should disqualify him from playing the character was nuts. Thankfully Peter Quill happens to be a crazy bastard and basically told everyone and their dogs to shove it because he knows what he’s doing. Which, to be fair, he does. And casting happens to be a skill he’s especially good with.

“Think you might be wrong about the comic nerd thing,” Peter says. Comic nerds are bird brains, he has decided.

“If you say so, kid,” Tony says and Peter can tell Tony thinks he’s right but he doesn’t say it.

*

Tony is trying to explain how he and Arthur Curry of all people ended up in a relationship when Ned comes back with food. Poor guy already suffered through drinks and Peter tried to talk to him to try and make him feel more comfortable but it didn’t really work. So when he comes back over Peter grins, “that smells so good,” he says and he is starving. Being stuck under film lights all day is actually exhausting work contrary to popular belief and obviously he gets fed but he’s like a bottomless pit with food. Can’t ever seem to get enough, but he’s always that way. The bonus is now that people read him as a guy no one asks if he should eat that much they just kind of assume he’s a glutton. Which, yay, because pastries.

“Um yeah, its pretty good. I’ve tried basically everything here except the caviar and the escargot because I draw the line at rich people food that sounds like it should be poor people food,” he says and Tony snorts, laughing into his hand.

“Yeah, guess fish eggs kind of do sound more like a thing poor people would eat than rich people. Weird. Also, not good- I’ve tried it and I don’t get the hype,” he says, shrugging.

“Tastes like spunk, I don’t get it either,” Tony says and the response obviously surprises Ned because he looks at Tony with a shocked expression on his face which, in hindsight, is probably why he doesn’t notice Peter’s food go overboard and into his lap. He jumps up before the hot food can do damage, then winces when the plate ends up in several pieces on the ground and Ned looks horrified.

“Its okay!” Peter says fast. “Things happen!”

“I am so sorry!” Ned says, eyes wide in horror.

“Its fine! I’ve had worse things thrown at me,” he says fast. Which is true, but also.

Ned rolls his eyes, “all those people who decided you couldn’t play Spider-Man because of some comic book inaccuracy or whatever bullshit need to look at those comics again because in issue 1034, which was released eight weeks before you even got the role, Gwen Stacy asks if you can lay eggs. Tom Holland, not you, you just play him. Whatever. Anyway, Gwen Stacy is a genius so she’d definitely know that only lady spiders can lay eggs. Also, Spider-Man is well known for his slightly high pitched voice and sure, people can argue that’s because he’s a teenager but I was sixteen once too and by then my voice was normal, so for Tom Holland to have hit puberty that late its totally acceptable to consider the effects of T on his voice and also- wait, no, oh my god. You don’t give a shit about any of this, people suck. They’re transphobes and also you have the perfect frame for it and lets be real, Christian Bale would have been a better choice than Toby fucking Maguire,” he says, flapping a hand around and wincing at his rant.

Peter raises an eyebrow, “there’s actual comic text evidence for trans Spider-Man?” he asks and Ned shrugs, cheeks turning a little red.

“I mean, you kinda gotta dig but if they can randomly make Captain America HYDRA and then unmake him HYDRA when everyone hated that shit trans Spider-Man is much less controversial. Actually, its totally inconsequential because why would that affect being Spider-Man, it just means you gotta take T and you- Tom Holland not you- got bit by a radioactive spider. Is being trans really more unrealistic than that? Because any idiot who claims realism probably need to pull their head out of their ass because the real world ain’t got super soldier serum to give you a shredded bod. Which, by the way, is my kind diet plan- just taking some experimental serum and come out hot. You don’t care about that either, oh my god, I’m getting comic nerd on a celebrity and also your food and-” Peter cuts Ned off to save him from himself.

“I think I might be in love with you, Ned,” he says and then winces, looking to Tony in a panic. Why the hell would he even say that!

“What he means,” Tony interjects smoothly, “is that he thinks you’re adorable, and he wants you number. Maybe a date, if you’re comfortable.”

Ned stares for a long moment. “Oh my god this is exactly season two episode four where MJ asks Gwen out for you even though that’s dumb because MJ and Gwen clearly belong with each other,” Ned says, eyes wide.

“Yeah I know right? Peter- Quill-” he clarifies when he remembers too late there’s two Peters involved in Spider-Man, “keeps pushing for it but stupid TV people won’t let him. So now he’s writing them as gay as possible to piss everyone off, except its kind of backfiring because now everyone thinks he’s queerbaiting but he’s not he’s queer expliciting as much as he can before someone fires him. Also yeah, I just don’t think Gwen is a good match for my character anyways, I mean she’s nice and all that but they’re kind of... platonic. Oh, um, do you know what a Miles Morales is?” he asks because Quill mentioned him and Peter has no idea who that is.

Ned does because he lets out a loud noise that’s halfway between a huff and a squeal and Peter is sure he’s never heard a noise like it before. “Oh my god they’re introducing Miles Morales! Yes!”

Tony throws a dinner roll at him and it bounces off his head, “you shit head, don’t give away spoilers!” he says like it isn’t a meme that Peter consistently gives stuff away. At this point they’ve started using it as marketing material it happens so often. Like that time he opened a supposedly internal poster on his Instagram and faked being shocked when he realized it wasn’t supposed to be public. Everyone ate it up even if they all knew it was fake- obviously it was considering the video was never taken down, but the fans loved it anyway.

“Give me every single spoiler now!” Ned says, excitement written all over his features.

Peter considers saying no but he’s not good at peer pressure, its how he got talked into doing shrooms when he was thirteen and that was a bad plan. “The multiverse explodes and one of the spider people dies but I can’t tell you which one,” he says quickly. Tony throws another roll at him for it but he can’t help it.

Ned lets out a loud screech, “oh my god if Peter Quill kills you I’ll go kill him!” he yells way too loud. People turn to stare and Peter waves them off.

“Talking about a TV show!” he assures people and Ned, to his credit, looks like he kind of wants the earth to swallow him.

“Peter doesn’t die,” Tony says, “and we’re going to leave before Dipshit McGee lets any more spoilers loose. You might not want to tell anyone any of that stuff, people will find you and I really wish that was a joke but its not. You’ll get like twelve cease and desist letters.”

“That’s true, I have like fifty of them in frames and also I’ve been banned from reading scripts until shooting schedule because I really am terrible at keeping things secret and this is really Quill’s fault for telling me any of this stuff and hey wait I don’t have his number yet,” he says and Tony drags him off.

“I’ll get his number and pay, you stop spoiling Quill’s hard work before he decides to kill you next,” Tony says.

#peter parker x ned leeds #fanfiction #alternate universe #writing