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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

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Title: Shadow & Smoke***

Pablo Schreiber x Reader x Lewis Tan

Warning: Cursing, NSFW, SMUTTTT, DO NOT READ AT WORK

Words: 5k

Summary: Eh. 🤷🏽‍♀️

Note: So this is a mixture of two firsts for me. This was inspired by the song Mr. Man by Alicia Keys. How did I do?

I hope you guys enjoy this. Thank you so much for reading! ❤️

If you enjoyed this, please LIKE, COMMENT and REBLOG. ❤️❤️

**Loosely Edited/Proofread**

The nights were starting to blend together. It wasn’t that you were bored, but there was a routine in place that you’d become—too accustomed to. You were the type of woman who liked routine and normalcy, but you also liked the unpredictability that life sometimes offered. Being the girlfriend of one of the most, if not the most powerful and dangerous man in the city meant that you were always on his arm.

Pablo liked to bring you along to business deals he needed to close. You thought it was to show you off, but it was really a more tactful reason than that. He did it to sift out who had the potential to be disloyal. His logic was if any of them dared to ogle you while he was there, then they’d have the balls to fuck him over in business.

“There’s a thin line between loyalty and disloyalty, and usually the deciding factor in it all came down to a pretty face.”

If he wasn’t bringing you to handle business, you were being whisked to surprise shopping trips, extravagant trips, delectable eateries that charged a ridiculous amount of money for their dishes. Usually, every night, you were on his arm at one of his clubs as he showed his face and ate up all the adoration and respect one in his high position brought.

You’d met him as a liquor sales rep almost four years ago. You walked into one of his clubs with the intent to convince him to purchase some of the alcohol you were peddling. From almost the minute he sat down, you were attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be? The man was almost seven feet tall, built like no one’s business, had haunting hazel eyes, and such a hypnotizing aura around him. He spoke, you listened, he smiled you gawked, he licked his lips, you shifted in your seat.

By the time you got up to leave the club, he’d bought you out of everything, easily meeting and exceeding your quota for the month. His reason was he had to have you free for him because he hated competition of any sort. That was when you got the first glimpse of the man he was—a force to be reckoned with. An hour after you left, he’d already called you and scheduled himself for dinner that night. One dinner led to lunch the next day, then dinner that night, and a whirlwind weekend trip to France where you found out just how much of a force to be reckoned with he was.

Flash forward four years later, and your role in his life had only increased, and your understanding of his role in the city among the mayor, governor, senator, and other heavy hitters had fully sunk in. Pablo “Shadow” Schreiber was at the top of the food chain. Everyone was either terrified of him or wanted to be with him.

“You look incredible tonight, sweetheart.”

Glancing to your left, you found Pablo’s eyes. Within them, there was a hint of mischief as well as a whole lot of desire. You leaned close to his face leaving barely an inch.

“You’re welcome to look, daddy,” you replied a little above a whisper.

At the mention of that word, Pablo’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip as his eyes dropped to yours. Deciding to tease him, you trailed your tongue over your bottom lip, knowing that the long-wear lipstick you wore would stay in place. Pablo’s groan sounded closer to a growl, and with the sound, the heat in his eyes intensified.

“Be careful, sweetheart.”

“Boss.”

Like clockwork, one of his henchmen interrupted. It was always a thing. The two of you would create this bubble of teasing and desire only to have it be popped by someone who needed something from him. You were attention-starved.

Pablo looked from you and to Leo, his third. When Leo got his attention, he leaned down to whisper business. Rolling your eyes, you looked away and around the club. That was when you saw him. he was across the club leaning against the bar. In one hand, he held a drink and clasped between his pointer and middle finger was something rolled and lit. You couldn’t tell if it was a cigarette, a blunt, or something else. Something said it was your second guess.

You watched him raise the crystal glass to his lips. The smoke danced around his face creating an element of mystery that completely intrigued you. From what you could see, he was checking out the club and the women inside. His eyes danced from one to the other, never resting long. Either none of them was what he liked, or he was searching for something—someone specific.

When he brought the rolled substance to his lips, you watched as he took a long puff. Before he released it, his eyes moved to your area of the club. Clutching your drink glass, you watched him, unsure if he were looking at you. The stranger turned his body in your direction and slowly blew out the smoke. If he was mysterious before, he was now ten times so. Slowly the smoke cleared, and it was then you got a good look at his face. He was gorgeous.

It had been a while since a face was able to stop you in your tracks. None had since Pablo’s. You lifted your glass to your lips and slowly drank down the Whiskey. The ice cubes in your glass gently bounced against your lip, giving you a slight chill as the heat of the alcohol deliciously burned you. As the liquid slinked down your throat, your eyes remained locked with the stranger at the bar.

Time seemed to stop. The air became thick, so thick it was almost difficult for you to get a full breath. When you saw his tongue snake out to wet his lips, your eyes dropped to his mouth. A small smirk spread across his lips, and you could feel the smug coming off of him.

Almost unconsciously, your tongue peaked out of your mouth and slowly traced the path around the rim of your glass. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip. Dipping your tongue into the glass, you used it to scoop up an ice cube to suck on. Gone was that small smirk. It was now a full-on grin. He was sexy, and though you knew you shouldn't be doing this, especially with Pablo right beside you, you couldn’t help it. He’d left you wanting for too long.

Once the ice cube had melted, you looked away. His eyes were too hypnotizing, and the longer you looked into them, the more you wanted to risk Pablo’s wrath. Pablo gently rubbed your exposed thigh before he got up and walked off with Leo and Laith. You’d learned early that he was always busy, and his free time was not as plentiful as one would think a boss’s would be. You’d also learned that everything in his life took balance. You must have gotten spoiled when you were his top priority for the first two years.

He went above and beyond, ensuring that you knew your value to him. He went to great lengths to make sure you felt special, loved, and prized above all else. He did this with small, romantic gestures as well as grand displays and deeply satisfying intimate moments. By year three, he’d incorporated more and more work, more and more business trips. Every month he was on a plane. Depending on the reason for the trip, you’d be right beside him on the private jet, but four out of ten times, you were left under the watchful eye of Levi, his brother.

Pablo looked back at you as he walked off. The look spoke volumes, and it was loud. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the glass he left behind and finished it. The music in the club and the patrons were your only entertainment for a while. When you looked back to the bar, the stranger was gone. You were left with an annoyed feeling that mixed with your slight arousal. You made a note to give Pablo an earful once you got home. If he was hell-bent on keeping you around, he’d better start acting like it.

After twenty or so minutes, you’d had six fingers of Whiskey, and you were feeling better than a little nice. You were still alone at your table under the watchful eye of two of Pablo’s henchmen. Every so often, when a song came on that you liked, you got up and made your way to the VIP dancefloor. This was where the girls of the men Pablo employed hung out. You never mixed with them. You always got the feeling they either didn’t like you, or they wanted to be you--literally. Whatever it was, it always made you uncomfortable.

“It’s both.”

You looked back and found Danika, Levi’s long time girlfriend. The figure-hugging white dress she wore clung to her like a second skin. It matched perfectly with her ankle strap silver heels. She winded her hips to the music and smiled widely.

“When did you get here?”

“Maybe five minutes ago. Levi couldn’t allow me one night of quiet,” she informed.

You closed the space to her. The two of you kissed cheeks like bougie wives did, only it wasn’t fake with the two of you. she and Levi had gotten together about the same time you and Pablo got together, and both of you found solace in each other because you both could relate to what the other was going through. When you were left alone because of Pablo’s trips, more times than not, she would be too because Levi would go as well.

“They don’t like you, and they want to be you. it’s the same with me.”

The two of you glanced at the group of girls huddled to your right and simultaneously rolled your eyes.

“They think if we weren’t in the picture that Levi and Pablo would fuck them,” Danika voiced louder then necessary. She was putting them on notice.

“Not knowing that even if we weren’t in the picture, they’d never look twice at them. There’s filet mignon, and there’s Kobe beef. Why chew on filet mignon when Kobe melts in your mouth?”

The girls were trying not to look at you, but you knew they heard her. Danika had no chill and always spoke her mind. Pablo always thought that when you were together that you wouldn’t get into too much trouble. Little did he know Danika was not the angel she pretended to be. She’d gotten you into your fair share of trouble—trouble he knew about and trouble he didn’t.

The two of you danced together when the song changed and played off each other. In no time, it was as if no one else in the club mattered. While you were wrapped up in the song and the buzz you were feeling from the Whiskey, you saw him again from the corner of your eye. This time he was in a shaded part of the club that was cloaked in dark color. The hues of red and purple decorated his skin but illuminated it enough for you to make out some of the detail. He was incredibly handsome.

Before you knew it, you were dancing with Danika while eye fucking the man. You didn’t know what the hell had come over you. Never in the four years had you behaved like this with anyone else but Pablo. He was the only one who could bring out this wanton side of you—or so you thought. When Danika shrieked out with the change of the song, you looked away from him. You began to wonder if you should make a move.

Glancing around the club, you clocked each of Pablo’s henchmen. His brother, Levi, his number two, was sitting watching Danika, who was now undressing him with her eyes. You knew any minute she’d go over, and they’d be practically fucking in the club. Danika pulled you close to her and whispered.

“You have an audience.”

Glancing at her, she coyly nodded her head over to the stranger. You tried not to smile, but it was useless.

“Ah, you’ve noticed. He’s cute.”

“D, stop.”

“Why? It’s true.”

You giggled and rolled your eyes but took a quick peek in his direction again. His eyes hadn’t left you.

“I can distract Levi if you want to--.” She winked.

“D! Stop it! That’s insane.”

“Why? You’re not dead. Plus, what Shadow doesn’t know--,” she trailed.

This was the kind of trouble Danika was good for. She was like the devil on your shoulder. You knew she’d fooled around on Levi and had heard stories of the fooling around Levi occasionally did when he felt that itch. Neither were stupid, but both were crazy, so they kept their misdealings on the low. You, on the other hand, had never fooled around behind Pablo’s back. You never had a reason to.

As your eyes met the gorgeous stranger’s again, you bit your bottom lip. Until now, you thought. You caught the eye of Pablo walking back to the table. Leo was still beside him, yapping away, but he also had two other men surrounding him. he was still talking shop. Annoyance flared through you with a vengeance. Danika walked to Levi and sat on his lap before her lips met his. You walked back to the table and sat. You felt his eyes on you with every step you took.

You sat beside Pablo and tried to get past the unexpected thoughts you were having. Five minutes passed, but still, the thoughts persisted. When you looked up, the stranger was again in the shadows. Fuck it, you thought before you stood and took a step.

“Where you going, sweetheart?”

Painting a sugary smile on you responded. “Bathroom, baby.”

Pablo nodded, but you felt him watching you. He was a secure man, but he was a possessive one. You walked through the crowd; all the while sneaking peeks at the stranger. You turned the corner and walked down the dark corridor that led to the bathroom. You knew this club like the back of your hand.

Once inside the bathroom, you stood in front of the mirror and focused on toying with your hair. By the time you got to twelve, the door had opened, and in walked the stranger. You locked eyes from the mirror, and you damn near buckled. He was even more beautiful than you thought. His eyes were so brown and so damn penetrative that you decided to have his face between your thighs then and there.

As if reading your thoughts, he locked the door and, in the same breath, pushed up behind you. You could feel his hardness pressing into your ass. His hands gripped your body, one at your breast, the other at your hip. The way he held you felt possessive like he owned you. The only one to have ever held you like that was Pablo. This was a man who knew what he wanted and took it. Pablo was that caliber of a man as well. It was intoxicating.

His lips fastened onto your neck and immediately found your spot. When you felt his teeth graze your skin, you pulled away and glared at him through the mirror. Another smirk spread across his face. In seconds he’d had you turned around so you faced him. When his lips crashed to yours, he wasted no time delving his tongue into your mouth. Almost instantly, he took control of the kiss, and almost instantly, your lacy thong was drenched.

As if sensing this, you felt his fingers graze your inner thigh until it connected with your sex. You gasped on his mouth, which permitted him even more access to your mouth. Fuck, you thought. You were losing control of this situation. Pulling your lips from his, you looked at him. The fire in his eyes had heat rushing through you. You watched as he slipped his fingers into his mouth and sucked your juices off. Once his fingers were clean, he moaned.

“You’re as sweet as you look.”

Grabbing his shirt, you pulled him to you, but instead of claiming his lips, you began pushing his head lower. He knew what you wanted. In seconds he hoisted you into his arms and began lifting you higher into the air as if you weighed an ounce. One he’d placed you on his shoulders, he used his teeth to pull your thong to the side before he began his feast.

“Fuck!”

Slapping your hand across your mouth, you groaned and mumbled another curse into your palm. It was clear from the start he had no intention of going slow. The fast flicks of his tongue had your back arching, and the soft nibbles he dropped in had your free hand tangling in his hair. When you felt your back press onto the cold surface of the bathroom, you moaned again. You didn’t dare remove your hand from your mouth. You didn’t trust yourself. The stranger between your legs used both his hands and pried your thighs apart, so he was holding you against the wall spread like French doors.

The thick pad of his tongue slowly licked you from opening to clit. When he got to your clit he sucked it into his mouth. He wasn’t gentle, and the increase in suction had you feeling the first stirs of your orgasm.

“Yes, yes, right there. Fuck! Oh my god!”

Feeling a scream coming, you plastered both your hands across your mouth to lessen the volume. He dipped his tongue into your core, and you lost your shit right then and there. When you began shaking, he didn’t slow down. He picked up the pace. You couldn’t believe someone could fuck a pussy with their tongue so quickly. After every three or four dips, he sucked your clit into his mouth as if he was a hoover vacuum.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you knew you were seconds from coming. Without warning, you gripped his head and hugged it to your sex as you came. He moaned and slurped your flesh, accepting every drop you gave.

“Shit, shit, Shiiiit!”

If anyone busted the door down, you would have the hardest time explaining this away. There would be no way. Slowly his lips and tongue slowed their devil work, allowing you to come down. As if to keep you on your toes, he nibbled your clit every so often. The action always had you gasping, gripping his hair tighter and arching back every so slightly to finish with a satisfied moan.

When he pulled his face back, his jaw was drenched, and there was a glistening layer of your juices outlining his mouth.

“A man could get drunk off this sweet pussy, sugar lips.”

Jesus Christ, you thought as new wetness with fresh arousal washed through you. His eyes dipped between your legs, and a grin spread across his face.

“Wet for me again already?”

Your gear watched vibrated, indicating you’d gotten a message. Glancing at it, you saw Danika’s message.

MSG D: You have twenty seconds to get back, or your cover is kaput.

“Fuck,” you groaned under your breath as you began wriggling in his arms.

He lowered you to the floor then stepped back, giving you a little space. You fixed yourself as best you could and tried to ignore the wetness between your legs.

“I take it reciprocity is dead.”

You looked at him and dropped your eyes to see him holding his crotch. He was mouthwateringly hard. Part of you wanted to see what he was concealing behind those pants, but if you were caught, you knew Pablo would beat him to a pulp or worse.

“Unfortunately, there’s no time. Thank you though, I really needed that.”

You walked to the door, and as you passed him, you gently tapped his cheek.

“Glad I could be of service.”

You quickly rushed out the bathroom, and down the corridor, you’d walked down back to the main hall of the club. As you rounded the corner, you met three of Pablo’s men.

“Everything okay?”

“Perfect,” you answered with a smile before you pushed past them to make your way back over to Pablo, relishing in the decrease of tension in your body. It had been too long, indeed.

The rest of the night progressed as it usually did. Pablo finished up the business thirty or so minutes before you left. The beautiful stranger with the skillful mouth was nowhere to be found. The two of you then made your way home. While in the car, Pablo’s hand found the space between your thighs.

“I’m sorry about tonight.”

“You know if work is the only important thing to you, then maybe we need to have a conversation about where that leaves us.”

His grip tightened, making you flinch.

“Y/N, come on,” Pablo began.

“You haven't touched me in almost two months. If you’re not fucking me, who are you fucking?”

Your words were laced with hidden poison. He knew it. Instead of speaking again, you both remained silent.

When the car pulled up to your half a block townhouse, you walked ahead of him as he got updates from his men posted around the property. You were still pretty relaxed from your bathroom tryst, but you were angry with him as well. Once you made it to your shared bedroom, you stripped and got into the shower.

A little less than halfway through, you felt Pablo’s hands around your midsection. Ignoring him, you continued soaping your body and paid no mind to his growing appendage that was pressing into your back. When you were out of heels, he towered over you like a giant. He kissed your neck and down to your shoulder then brought his lips back to your neck. He knew what he was doing, and he knew you knew as well.

Pablo’s hand crept down your stomach to where your thighs met.

“Pablo--,” you warned.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know I’ve been neglecting you. I’m sorry.”

Slowly his finger circled your clit, and it didn’t take long for your desire for him to unfurl.

“Let me make it up to you,” Pablo whispered before he turned you to him. he kissed you with heat, passion, and intensity, all of which you felt tonight in that bathroom. In seconds Pablo had lifted you into his arms to his height and lowered you onto his throbbing cock.

Both of you sighed, but the moment of savoring was short. Pablo took control of your body, moving you along his length with expert strength. People didn’t fear him for no reason. He was a beast of a man in stature and disposition. What started as slow deep strokes turned to frenzied shallow thrusts. You knew then this was not going to be a tender reacquaintance of your bodies. It was going to be the opposite.

Pablo pressed you against the tile of the shower and dipped his tongue into your mouth to entangle with yours. His kiss commanded your surrender. You knew when you gave in, you wouldn’t be disappointed, so you did. Pablo groaned once he felt your surrender. It was then he sunk into your heat to the hilt. The scream you let out was loud, and it only fueled him further.

Pablo pounded into you. Each time your bodies connected, the force of his stroke had your body bouncing up only to drop back onto his searing cock.

“Fuuuuuck, daddy!”

A growl escaped him before he turned and walked out of the shower to bring you back to your bed. When he dropped you onto the sheets, he flipped you onto your stomach and slammed back into you.

“Aaaah!”

“Mmm. Daddy missed you, sweetheart!”

His voice was tender, but the way he pummeled your pussy spoke of something else. He was on a mission.

“Don’t ever say that shit to me again. do you understand?”

No words. Not liking it, he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you back so your back had the perfect inward arch.

“I can’t hear you, sweetheart. Do you—understand?”

You vigorously nodded. He was so deep you couldn’t muster any words.

“Words, Y/N.”

“Yes, daddy. Yes!”

“Good girl.”

As if this was a reward for your compliance, he rotated his hips, so you felt every inch of his desire as it marked every crevice inside of you. You doubted anyone had ever made you feel this good.

Your moans, pants, and groans melded together. The sounds filled your room, and you knew anyone outside could hear you. It turned Pablo on even more to know that everyone could hear how good he was fucking you. You didn’t care who knew how good he made you feel. When he began jackhammering into you, you saw stars and clenched around him as your orgasm violently ripped through you.

“Fuck me!”

On command, he did just that to the point where you became hoarse, and you didn’t know what day it was. When you couldn’t take another orgasm, you dropped to the bed, but Pablo kept plowing into you. His stoked became sloppy, and you knew he was close. When he came, he grunted loudly, nearly terrifying you with the loudness of it. He thrust forward as if he were trying to rip you apart. The feel of his love inside of your canal nudged you over the edge to your final release. Pablo dropped kisses along your back before he rolled off of you to lie on his back. That was how the two of you fell asleep. Both too exhausted to even cover yourselves.

The next day when you woke up, your body hummed with satisfaction. After checking your messages and emails, you took a quick shower and wrapped in one of your robes, then made your way down to breakfast. You were starving. It was a regular sight to see several of Pablo’s men through the house; you never batted an eye to it. Often times, they spoke and nodded their heads in respect as you passed, and you always reciprocated that politeness. There was no need to be a bitch.

When you made it to the dining room, you saw Pablo already sitting there. When he saw you, he smiled softly. You walked over to him and bent, placing a sweet kiss on his lips. When you began to back away, he dropped his hand to your ass and held you there to deepen the kiss. You both moaned quickly, getting lost in each other. All was forgiven.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

“Good morning, baby.” Pablo kissed you once more, and as you were moving to the seat beside him, he pulled you to the space in front of him on the table. Your ass had the china clattering loudly.

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m hungry.”

That was all he said before he pushed you back onto the table and spread your thighs.

“Pablo--,” you began before the rest of your sentence fluttered away once his lips connected with your sex.

A soft moan escaped you, and any protest faded. You rested on your elbows and enjoyed the feel of him between your thighs.

“Mmmm, yes, baby. Fuck, that feels so good.”

Pablo knew just what to do to set you on fire and what to do to tease you. he was in the mood to tease you. After a few minutes of teasing, you wanted more and had no problem letting him know. You gripped his head, held his hair, and began rocking your sex across his mouth. Pablo moaned and allowed you to use his face to your delight. Every few swipes, he slurped your flesh, sending shivers through your body and bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

“Mmm, yes, daddy, right there.” You looked at him, and your eyes met. The man was temptation. His hand crept up to grip your breast as he forcefully sucked your clit into his mouth.

The action had you remembering the bathroom at the club.

“Mmm, shit, baby. You’re gonna make me come.”

You bucked across his mouth and closed your eyes to fully enjoy the pleasure he was giving you. In a matter of seconds, Pablo’s intent shifted from teasing, and seconds later, you were coming. He moaned and lapped up every drop.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Wow, when you said to come over for breakfast, I thought you meant pancakes and eggs, not sugar and spice.”

Your eyes flew open at the new voice. From upside down, you couldn’t believe your eyes. You closed them and opened again, but the sight was the same.

“Around here, sugar and spice is the only thing ever on the menu,” Pablo replied.

He kissed your inner thigh then tapped it. Snapping out of your frozen state, you sat up, fixed yourself, and chanced a look back. As sure as the sun was shining, the stranger from last night was standing at the other end of the table with a satisfied grin on his face.

“You took your time getting over here,” Pablo said as he walked over to him.

You watched the two men embrace as manly men did. The whole time you stood there, stunned and speechless. Your boyfriend was chatting up and laughing with the man you’d allowed to bury his face between your thighs.

“Come here, sweetheart.”

On shaky legs, you walked to the two men, all the while gripping the collar of your robe.

“Y/N, meet my best friend, the one man I trust with everything next to Levi,” Pablo informed. With every word, your eyes widened.

The stranger held his hand out to you with a smile. “Lewis,” he said.

Fighting the shock, you took his hand and shook it. “Although the pleasure is all yours, I’m glad to finally meet you,” Lewis teased. You knew his words had a double meaning. Instead of speaking of it being nice to meet him too, the only thing in your head was the repetitive thought.

You’re fucked.

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

Lee’s Note: Hopefully this was good, I’m still trying to find my groove again. How was this intro to Lewis and Pablo? 😬

#shadow & smoke fic #pablo schreiber #pablo schreiber fanfiction #lewis tan #lewis tan fanfiction #black fanfiction #smut

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another-rogue-trevelyan · 3 years

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If you liked Dragon Age Masterlist

If you’re anything like me, you’re into niche market, high fantasy, single player RPGs, preferably with a historical setting and romance options. So if you’re looking for a new game, here I am with some suggestions!

Sorted by studio:

Bethesda:

Oblivion (2006)

“In the shadow of evil, a hero will rise from the ashes of a fallen empire. The gates have been opened, and the battle has begun. Only one thing can save the world from Mehrunes Dagon and the demonic hordes of Oblivion. The true heir of the Septim line must be found and restored to the Imperial throne. The fate of the world rests in the hands of one. Find him, and shut the jaws of Oblivion.”

The Elder Scrolls series were my gateway into RPGs and hold a special place in my heart. Oblivion features a wide open world, immersive combat, and the ability to customize race, class, and gender.

Skyrim (2011)

“The Empire of Tamriel is on the edge. The High King of Skyrim has been murdered. Alliances form as claims to the throne are made. In the midst of this conflict, a far more dangerous, ancient evil is awakened. Dragons, long lost to the passages of the Elder Scrolls, have returned to Tamriel. The future of Skyrim, even the Empire itself, hangs in the balance as they wait for the prophesized Dragonborn to come; a hero born with the power of The Voice, and the only one who can stand amongst the dragons.”

I have sunk so many hours into this game and still have not experienced all there is to experience. Just like Oblivion, Skyrim offers the ability to customize your character and find a play style that suits you. A huge open world offers tons of opportunity for exploration and questing. You could play this game many, many hours and not even touch the main quest if you wanted to.

BioWare:

Mass Effect Legendary Edition (2021)

Just do it. Just fucking do it I’m still sobbing I’ve never had a game wreck me in this way. I might possibly like it more than Dragon Age which feels sacrilegious to say but it was so good. You follow Commander Shepard (customizable) for three whole games and the choices have serious consequences. Also, romance. Truthfully this might be the most well written storyline I’ve ever seen in a video game. Also, same studio as Dragon Age.

CD Projekt:

The Witcher III: Wild Hunt (2015)

I’ll let the website description speak for itself, but Witcher III was good enough that I didn’t mind being forced to play as a man (those who know me know that I exclusively prefer to play women and often dislike games where I can’t do so)! The characters that make up this story are captivating and suck you into their world, leaving you with some tough choices to make. Also, bonus points for romance! (Yen is one of my all time favorite characters, Triss never stood a chance for me. Sorry Triss fans 😂)

Larian:

Divinity Original Sin 2 (2017)

“The Divine is dead. The Void approaches. And the powers lying dormant within you are soon to awaken. Choose your role in a BAFTA-winning story, and explore a world that reacts to who you are, and the choices you make. With five races to choose from, and an adventure playable solo or as a party of up to four, lay waste to an oppressive order in a world afraid of magic. Become the God the world so desperately needs.”

Full disclosure, I have not finished playing this one yet and will update when I do, but what I’ve played so far has been great! A classic, turn-based RPG that allows you a wide range of character customization. I find this game incredibly satisfying to be a rogue (my preferred class) because it lets me live my dream of throwing knives at people. Also, romance!

Baldur’s Gate III beta (2020)

“An ancient evil has returned to Baldur's Gate, intent on devouring it from the inside out. The fate of Faerûn lies in your hands. Alone, you may resist. But together, you can overcome. Gather your party.”

Fair warning, as of my most recent update to this post (March 30th, 2021) this game is still in a beta phase, which means it is NOT complete and has aspects that are missing, glitchy, or subject to change. With that being said, I’m so obsessed. It’s so, so good already and is only getting better. Another wide open world to explore with a group of companions with strong and sometimes clashing personalities, choices are abundant in this game and will affect how your party members think of you. This game so far gives me the feeling that choices are complicated and aren’t always easy to tell which is morally right, which I personally love. Also, I can be a sarcastic ass with a good heart, which is always fun. Astarion basically owns me now, but if you can resist him there are plentiful other romance choices as well! Customization is already a wider range than I’ve seen in most RPGs and they haven’t even finished the character creator yet, which has me SO excited for the finished product. Also - good hair?!??!! I love it!

Lionhead:

Fable III (2010)

“Lead a revolution to take control of Albion, fight alongside your people, and experience love and loss while preparing to defend the kingdom against a looming threat. Your choices as ruler will lead to consequences felt across the entire land.”

I’ll be honest, this one isn’t my favorite on the list, but was good enough to still make it! This game allows you to choose between playing as the prince or the princess on a quest to save your kingdom from itself, and then a greater threat as well. The game takes place in a kingdom loosely modeled after industrial England, and what did score it some major points were (SPOILER WARNING - skip the purple if you don’t want to know!) that the last act of the game lets you play as the monarch, where you are forced to make some tough decisions in order to save your kingdom. It is very easy to back yourself into a corner, pinch pennies in order to fund the army and save the kingdom, but make your citizens hate you because of it. You’re gonna have to be very, very careful, which is something I did really enjoy about this game. (I’ve heard Fable II was better, and that’s also on my list to try, will update in the future!)

Nintendo:

Fire Emblem Three Houses (2019)

“War is coming to the continent of Fódlan. Here, order is maintained by the Church of Seiros, which hosts the prestigious Officer’s Academy within its headquarters. You are invited to teach one of its three mighty houses, each comprised of students brimming with personality and represented by a royal from one of three territories. As their professor, you must lead your students in their academic lives and in turn-based, tactical RPG battles wrought with strategic, new twists to overcome. Which house, and which path, will you choose?”

Currently playing this one and I’m so addicted! This one is slightly outside of my usual taste but it has made me interested in playing more games like it. The player controls Byleth (you can rename them if you wish), who becomes a professor of combat and battle tactics despite their young age at a monastery and finds themself in charge of a house of students. Battles are tactics and strategy based and classes are highly customizable. I sunk like 30 hours into this game in the last three days. I won’t say more about the plot to avoid spoilers, but it’s been a ton of fun and also has slow burn romance

Spiders:

Greedfall (2019)

This game destroyed my soul in the best way and when I finished it I immediately started a new game to play it again. You play as Lady or Lord De Sardet, Legate of the Congregation of Merchants and effectively the right hand of your cousin, who has been appointed governor of your new colony on the island. While I enjoy the combat in this game, which allows you the choice between one handed, two handed, magic, and pistols or rifles (save that ammo for when you really need it!), this game focuses heavily on diplomacy and relations. Be careful what information you give to whom and how you treat every decision. The enemies you make early on might be people you need on your side later. I also love that choices aren’t always clearly right or wrong, and often are more complicated than they first appear. Even the best intentions can sometimes go awry.

Ubisoft:

Assassin’s Creed, Syndicate (2015)

“London, 1868. In the heart of the Industrial Revolution, lead your underworld organization and grow your influence to fight those who exploit the less privileged in the name of progress”

Another one that I’ll admit, I haven’t finished, and is definitely the odd one out on the list because it’s set in Victorian England, but I was having fun with what I had played so far before Greedfall distracted me. In this game, you alternate between controlling twins Jacob and Evie Frye as you explore and liberate London while meeting famous historical figures and running a gang on the side.

Assassin’s Creed, Origins (2017)

“Ancient Egypt, a land of majesty and intrigue, is disappearing in a ruthless fight for power. Unveil dark secrets and forgotten myths as you go back to the one founding moment: The Origins of the Assassin’s Brotherhood.”

In the spirit of honesty, I haven’t started this one yet, but I am so confident that I’m gonna love it when I do that it’s here anyway. I’ve purchased it, and will get to it soon, I swear! In the meantime, I wanted to put it here because I’m confident some of you will enjoy it. Will come back with a review once I know more.

Assassin’s Creed, Odyssey (2018)

“Write your own epic odyssey and become a legendary Spartan hero in Assassin’s Creed® Odyssey, an inspiring adventure where you must forge your destiny and define your own path in a world on the brink of tearing itself apart. Influence how history unfolds as you experience a rich and ever-changing world shaped by your decisions.”

Y’all this game owned my soul for a while. I’ve sunk so many hours into it. You have a choice to play as either Kassandra or Alexios and navigate the wonders of Ancient Greece. The world is stunning, the choices are important, and this game took a big step for the assassins creed series in becoming a true RPG. I can’t recommend this one enough, you should absolutely go for it!

Assassin’s Creed, Valhalla (2020)

“Become Eivor, a legendary Viking warrior. Explore England's Dark Ages as you raid your enemies, grow your settlement, and build your political power in the quest to earn a place among the gods in Valhalla.”

This game is brand new, hot off the press, and has already been a massive hit. I have only JUST started playing it and am about an hour in, but so far so good! It’s here on my recommendations list because of its wild popularity and because I’ve already enjoyed other games in this series, so I feel confident that some of my fellow dragon age fans will enjoy it. Will update again once I get further in.

Other games on my To Be Played list (otherwise known as things I don’t want to recommend because I know almost nothing about them but will update here after I know more)

-Pillars of Eternity 1 and 2

-Horizon Zero Dawn

-Assassin’s Creed: Black Flag

-Fable 1 and 2

-Kingdoms of Amalur

-Breath of the Wild

-Crimson Desert (not out yet but I’m intrigued)

#will update as I find more #if you liked dragon age #dragon age #video games #video game recommendations #op #rpgs #masterlist

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ichigo-daifuku · 4 years

Note

oh oh oh i have a request! “I was just thinking about you.” with Satan, please! i love everything you write so thank you for opening requests!

Satan is the only demon brother I haven’t written for yet, so I’m glad you requested something with him! Thank you so much for your kind words. I hope you’ll enjoy this! 😻

Level 100 Celebration ☆

Affection [Satan/GN!Reader]

It was late in the afternoon when Satan finished checking out the books he had been eyeing for a while now from the library. There were several volumes in the series, and to his satisfaction, all of them had been available and ready for him to borrow. He planned to do some light reading until it was time for dinner, and then, some more before bedtime. With the books secured in his backpack, he strolled along the hallways of the academy and navigated toward the direction of the staircase. A few of his acquaintances greeted him and asked him about his day, and he answered each one of them and returned the question politely despite his mind wandering elsewhere.

In truth, Satan wondered if you were still at RAD. Since the two of you had made it a habit to study together during your free time, he had become familiar with your schedule, and it was around this time when the last of your classes would be dismissed. If you were still here, he’d like to ask you if the two of you could return to the House of Lamentation together.

As his conversation with Astaroth, a fellow demon he shared one of his classes with, concluded, Satan, who was leaning against the wall by the tall window, recognized your form coming out of the building. Leisurely, you stepped forward while staring into space, contemplating something. He speculated on the possibilities of what could be inside that mind of yours. Were you thinking of a lesson you were having a hard time with? Were you feeling homesick? Or were you simply thinking of dropping by somewhere before going home? Whatever it was, it would be nice if he knew.

And so, Satan found himself taking his D.D.D. out of his pocket and dialing your number.

You halted your steps, rummaged inside your bag, and pulled out your D.D.D., a smile lighting up your face when you read the caller ID and accepted the call.

“Satan!” you greeted. “I was just thinking about you.”

The sound of your voice coming from the receiver filled his ear, and it was somewhat different from your actual voice, he observed. Satan blinked, pleasantly surprised when the words you had said sunk in. Of all the matters you could have been thinking of, he least expected it to be about him. “You were?”

“That’s right,” you replied, your voice cheery. “Listen, I heard from one of my classmates that there’s this new cat café located along Silent Avenue, and apparently, they’re having their opening today. Would you like to go there together? As a date, perhaps?”

It had always been Satan who was asking you out on dates, right from the beginning when you were still new to the Devildom, back when your hangouts weren’t called ‘dates’ explicitly. Satan smiled, finding this a welcome change of pace. “Of course, I’d love to go. You know just what I like, don’t you?”

You laughed. “Yes, I gathered you’d be interested. You adore cats, after all.”

“Well, yes, I do,” he replied as he turned away from the window and began to traverse down the staircase, unable to wait for a second longer to reach you, “but I also meant getting to spend time with you.”

“Oh,” you trailed off, and he could imagine the blush coloring your cheeks. “I love spending time with you, too.”

“Is that so?” He chuckled. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Although the moment seemed trivial, it was honest, as he truly did enjoy being in your company. He was acquainted with so many beings from the three realms, but you were unlike any of them. With you, he was comfortable and nothing but himself, and to hear that you liked being in his presence as much as he did with yours sent a warm feeling through his chest.

Satan reached the first floor and exited the building. From afar, he spotted you as you stood still, fiddling with the strap of your backpack.

You asked, “Where are you? I’m still on campus. If you’re still here, I can go to you.”

“Turn around.”

In a second, you obliged and found him standing in front of the building, giving you a small wave.

“Satan!” you called, placing your D.D.D. in your pocket and striding toward him with a surprised smile. Once you were close to him, you ceased your steps and gazed at him with furrowed brows, confused. “How did you find me?”

“I came from the library and saw you from there,” he replied and pointed to the window where he had seen you from five minutes ago.

“What? You could’ve told me!”

“But it was more fun this way, wasn’t it?” he pointed out. “Weren’t you surprised?”

You shot him a playful glare and laughed. “I was. I know your classes ended earlier than mine, and we’re not scheduled to have a student council meeting today. I thought you’d already gone home.”

“I’m glad I haven’t,” he said. “So, about that cat café…”

“Oh, yeah! I heard they have cat-themed meals and not just pastries, unlike the previous one we went to. Of course, there will be actual cats around.”

“I see.” He nodded, recalling the last time you went to a cat café together and eagerly awaiting the different experiences this one would offer. “Sounds great.”

This date was spontaneity at its finest. The books inside his bag could wait. Even though he couldn’t follow through with his original plan for the rest of the afternoon, Satan had no complaints. The next few hours would be filled by a nice cat-themed meal, adorable felines, and of course, you. The prospect alone was infinitely more pleasant, and he couldn’t ask for anything better.

You regarded him with a small smile and cocked your head to the side, holding out a hand for him to take. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” He slipped his hand in yours and intertwined your fingers together. “Let’s go.”

I’m grateful to ReverberatingEchoes (AO3) for editing this work! ^ↀᴥↀ^

Thank you for reading! 💚

Obey Me! Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#obey me #obey me!#obey me satan #obey me! satan #obey me fanfiction #obey me fic #obey me fanfic #obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #shall we date obey me #shall we date: obey me #shall we date #swd #stn #ichigo lvl 100 #strawberry shortfics #moonlube

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

Text

Journey to Hogwarts// Chapter One - Home Sweet Home?

A/N: CHAPTER ONE to our new series! This was co-written with talented @kalimagik and edited by us all (@obsessedwithrandomthings @firewhisky-kisses @heloisedaphnebrightmore) - we so enjoyed the process of writing this, and we only hope you enjoy too! Any feedback would be so appreciated!

Warnings: Swearing

Series Masterlist

For all that the Ministry of Magic had suffered in its long and established history, it had never had to deal with five muggles landing in the office of the Headmistress of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Kingsley Shacklebolt thought he had seen it all; he had survived two wars, had suffered the deaths of countless friends and family, and had achieved the highest position of power in wizarding law. He had become the Minister for Magic.

Yet nothing could have prepared him for the letter from McGonagall, asking for his help with the muggles now sitting in her office. Kingsley rubs his temples before apparating to the grounds outside of Hogwarts; he didn’t need a seer to tell him that he would be ending this day with a headache.

--------

The tension hung thickly in the room as Professor McGonagall watched the 5 girls. Having taken their names already, there wasn’t much else to say. Kiara held her gaze firmly. She was astounded, but not going to look away until she got some answers. Ellie, Ana, and Des looked around the room in awe. Everything was exactly as it had been described in the books when it came to the Headmistress’ office.

Between the moving portraits, the ornate decorations, even the pensive floated in the open doors of the cupboard. It was so amazing. Mel, however, was fidgeting. As cool as this all was, none of them really knew what was going on.

“Excuse me, but what are we doing?” Mel finally asked. She even raised her hand. Professor McGonagall’s intense stare was enough to make anyone feel as if they were in a classroom.

“We’re waiting for the minister,” she replied solemnly. Kiara could just see McGonagall’s firm grip on her wand. She was weary of them all.

“Well, do you know how long this is going to take?” Mel pushed even further. “Who’s going to feed my fish? I only left enough food for a week!”

“I’m sure your fish will be fine,” Des turned to whisper to Mel, trying to calm the girl down.

“Bubbles McGee is my emotional support fish; I’ll have you know and I only left food for a week and didn’t tell anyone to check up on him!” Mel snapped.

McGonagall sighed through her nose, murmuring patiently, “The Minister for Magic will be here momentarily, then we’ll have some idea of when you will be back home to your… fish.”

Kiara could tell that Mel wanted to keep going, so she shot her a look, telling her to keep her mouth shut. None of them knew how much trouble they could potentially be in. A knock on the door caused everyone’s attention to snap from the awkwardness sitting in front of them.

“Uh, Headmistress, I hate to interrupt, but you’re needed in the great hall.”

Every single girl’s head slightly turned to peak at Ellie. Her cheeks were bright red as a result of Blaise Zabini’s sudden entrance into the room. The heads then swirled around to Kiara as Neville appeared beside him. Unlike Ellie, she was smirking and not embarrassed in the least.

“This is an emergency, Professor.”

The Headmistress nodded curtly, standing up from behind her desk. “There are charms and enchantments. I trust that you as young ladies in a strange place will not make a mockery of yourselves. Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Zabini, please stand and wait outside.”

Professor McGonagall’s emerald green cloak swept across the floor, it was almost as if her feet weren’t even touching it. Neville and Blaise stood aside to let McGonagall out of the room. The two looked over the group sitting in the office once before closing the door.

The moment that the lock clicked into place, Ana jumped out of her chair.

“Uhh, what are you doing?” Ellie questioned, swiveling around to watch as the blond hopped up the small stairs to where the Sorting Hat sat.

“Des, watch the door,” Ana instructed, looking at the hat closer. It was definitely old and musty, but it also sent something almost electrifying as she reached up to touch the brim.

Des grinned as she made her way to the door. She stopped in front of one of the portraits and met the eyes of Phineas Nigellus Black. “You look nothing like your descendant.”

Phineas Black snorted, breaking the silence of the portraits. “I shall be taking that as a compliment.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea…” Ellie pointed out. “What if something happens. We did just wind up in Hogwarts. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“But we have gotten to see McGonagall, Neville, and even Blaise,” Kiara wiggled her eyebrows as she got up to join Ana.

“We’ll be right here, Ana,” Mel chimed in. She didn’t necessarily want to go first, but she was intrigued. It wasn’t everyday that you could be sorted by the very Sorting Hat that you’ve read about for years.

Eyes were wide as Ana picked the hat up off the shelf. Its face appeared almost instantly. It let out a yawn before it began to speak in a sing-songy way.

Adventure awaits for those who choose to accept it.

Not everything is what it seems,

But you all have the means.

Don’t forget from where you came, the path is lit.

If you choose to remain here,

A life new for you begins.

If the choice thins,

Leave this world with clear air.

Your placement is just that,

You’re getting it from a hat,

I have seen things from the past,

But the future arrives fast.

Keep your friends close,

Don’t let them go.

They will be more important than you know.

If you forget, you shall be left morose.

Now try me on,

Let’s see where you fall.

With me in your head,

You will hear the call.

“Woah,” Ana’s eyes were wide. The hat was calling out to them. She had to try it on. Pulling the hat over her hair, it sunk down below her eyes. The talking sent chills down her spine and the hat’s words are something that she will always hold close to her heart.

“Gryffindor!” the hat called out. The grin on Ana’s face told her friends all they needed to know.

“Ki, here. I think it’s your turn.” Ana’s grin held steadfast as she plopped the hat on Kiara’s head.

“Slytherin!” that hat called a mere moment after touching the girl’s dark hair.

“Okay, it’s my turn! El, watch the door!” Des made her way to where Kiara and Ana were already standing, throwing the hat onto her head.

“Gryffindor!” Des squealed, passing the hat to Ellie by the door.

“Common, nothing bad has happened yet!”

Ellie slowly pulled the hat down over her eyes. “Hufflepuff!” It shouted.

“Mel, you’re the last one.” Ana took the hat from Ellie, carrying it towards the girl who still sat in her chair, not yet moving. She took the hat eagerly. It took a bit longer than the others, but ultimately the hat made its decision.

“Slytherin!” Mel’s smile rivaled Ana’s when she first tried on the hat.

“Brilliant! Now we all know which houses we really belong in,” Ana clapped her hands, taking the hat shortly after and carefully placing it on the shelf. The hat looked as if no one had touched it.

Ana had just taken her seat when one swift knock signalled the reentry of Professor McGonagall and the entry of the Minister of Magic. Kingsley Shacklebolt glides into the room, looking at each girl. “I got your letter, Minerva. You were right; I had to see this.”

His deep brown eyes ran over each of the women individually; not missing how they shrink slightly under his investigative gaze. “Ladies, welcome. I’m sure you know where you are.”

They each nodded. “Nevertheless,” Kingsley continued, “You must understand how unusual this is.”

“That’s an understatement,” Kiara whispered under her breath.

“Oh! You’re the Minister of Magic! I’m happy that was true!” Ellie turned giddy. Kingsley, however, chose to ignore her comment, no matter how odd it was that a muggle knew about his position.

He nodded in greeting before speaking. “As you all know, this is highly unusual. Muggles should not be able to access Hogwarts. We are going to have to ask you questions. The ministry’s aurors will take care of that. If you would please follow Headmistress McGonagall, we will begin your individual sessions.”

“Alone? We can’t be questioned together?” Des spoke up.

“It is customary,” Kingsley replied simply.

One by one, each girl followed Professor McGonagall through the corridors. Neville brought up the rear, so naturally Kiara hung back. Ellie and Mel were chatting about the school towards the middle. Gushing about all the points that were correct in the book and the aspects that were completely left out, like the skylights that allowed so much sunlight into the darker corridors. Des and Ana were right up front, each thinking about what Kingsley Shacklebolt had in store for them.

“Anastasia? Follow me.” Ana entered the Great Hall first, no students to be seen anywhere yet. She exited in a little over half an hour, head still held high. “Kiara Jones.” Ki went next, exiting with the same grace that she’d held up through the entire journey so far. “Eloise Vienneau.” “Desiree Leighton.” “Melanie Hunter.”

Each girl in and out. Only consoling smiles could be provided in passing, no one daring to say much of anything at this point. They all endured the same rigorous questioning and felt as stressed as the one before them. Waiting in the hallway, students began passing by, whispering as they saw the girls years ahead of them.

Mel was starting to get anxious. The Aurors, Kingsley, and Professor McGonagall seemed to be taking ages in the Great Hall, no doubt discussing what to do with them all.

“Do you think they’re going to tell us what’s going on soon?” Mel asked, breaking the silence.

“If we don’t know what’s going on, I highly doubt that they do…” Kiara picked at her nails.

“They are well versed in magic though. They could have some ideas!” Ellie pointed out, taking Mel’s hand in her own.

“This is all just too unbelievable! When are they going to tell us something?” Mel hopped out of her chair and began pacing. The ground beneath her feet almost seemed as if it was heating up as her thoughts spiralled. Then, the candles began flickering.

“Uhhhh, Mel?” Des seemed to notice the change first. “Mel?!”

“WHAT?!” BOOM! The momentary outburst was just enough for an explosion. The side wall of the corridor cracked and a hole appeared...almost as if it was a way out.

“Woah.” Kiara’s jaw dropped.

“D-did I do that?” Mel asked, stepping away from the wall.

Before anyone could even begin answering her, the Great Hall doors swung wide open. “What is happening out here?!” Professor McGonagall’s eyes widened when she saw the hole. “WHO did this?”

Each girl stood in front of Mel, willing to stand with her to the end. Kingsley stood behind Professor McGonagall, with a small smile on his face. “It seems to me, Headmistress, that these young ladies may have magic. We shall figure out what their appearance means later, but I think we must see if they all possess a gift. Perhaps we should make arrangements?”

“You mean they are going to stay here?” Neville asked from beside McGonagall.

Kingsley turned back to the girls. “We’re unsure how you arrived or how to send you home, so we will have to find you places to stay. Mr. Zabini and Mr. Longbottom will escort you back to the Headmistress’ office. Wait there for further instructions.”

--------

For a while, they all felt comforted by the very presence of each other. If they were to stay here for an unknown amount of time, they were all in unspoken agreement that they would have each other to lean on through it all.

McGonagall remained seated at her desk. Blaise and Neville returned to flanking her as if bodyguards. Though they stood behind McGonagall their eyes were on a girl each. Blaise ran his eyes over Ellie, appraisingly, clearly happy with what he found when a slow smirk graced his lips.

Kiara watched Neville; each in a game of stalemate. Their conversation from the corridor played in both of their minds. The first of many, they both hoped.

The atmosphere in the office became charged as a knock sounded on the heavy wooden door. McGonagall’s voice rang out through the large office, granting those waiting outside permission to enter.

A small crowd of adults made their way into the room in a single file line. The five girls stood from their seats, following McGonagall’s lead. Upon the sight of the younger Malfoy, Mel brushed down her clothes and hair, making herself look somewhat presentable despite her sudden outburst of magic a moment ago.

Des’s eyes followed the lithe figure of a man each girl is familiar with. Sirius Black strutted into McGonagall’s office with the air of someone who had walked into their second home. Des’ eyes ran over the man, resisting the urge to shout ‘I told you so’ to his ancestor to the right of them. Remus Lupin accompanied Sirius into the office, Tonks not far behind. They had been aware of a situation in the castle, but they didn’t expect to see five supposed muggles standing a few steps behind McGonagall, each looking as if they’d fallen asleep expecting a dream and had instead, woken up in a nightmare.

The famous red hair of the Weasley family entered last; closing the door to the office behind them. Molly Weasley led the pack with Ron, George, and Fred following close behind her; Ron’s wary eyes running over the group of girls.

All families stood in the foyer to the office, all eyes on the five girls. The five girls eyed them all back, not sure whether to be star struck or nervous.

“Is this what Bubbles McGee feels like?” Mel wondered quietly. An amused snort left Kiara but both girls quickly fell silent with a look from McGonagall.

The silence was heavy, no one really knowing what to do, but Ana couldn’t hold it in anymore. She’d been looking at the twins for a moment too long. “FRED! YOU’RE ALIVE!” she squealed, feeling the excitement and relief flood over her.

Ellie quickly elbowed her in the ribs, knowing it would be better to keep their knowledge about the Wizarding World a secret. Des, Kiara, and Mel were no help though as they joined Ana's outburst. Ellie was relieved too, but she couldn’t help but shake her head while Fred just looked at his brothers with a massive smirk on his face. He could get used to five girls being happy that he was alive and around.

McGonagall cleared her throat, bringing the girls’ rambling to an end.

“We’ve encountered an unusual situation. These five girls landed in my office over two hours ago now and we have no idea why. Minister Shacklebolt questioned them and they’ve been determined to have magical powers though to what extent, we do not know.” McGonagall fixed her gaze on the five girls behind her, “Would you introduce yourselves to our guests?”

Individually, they introduced themselves for the second time that day.

“Desiree Leighton.”

“Melanie Hunter.”

“Eloise Vienneau.”

“Anastasia Weston.”

“Kiara Jones.”

Narcissa Malfoy stepped forward, a smile painted across her vivid red lips, “What would you like us to do, Headmistress?”

“As I stated in my owl, I’d like you to house these girls. They are to report to me each morning before their lessons here, but they need a place to stay where they can also come to terms with this extraordinary situation.”

Sirius stepped forward, grey eyes on Des, “I’ll take Desiree, if she’d like? She’d be very comfortable at Grimmauld Place.”

Des beamed, “I have a feeling I’ll be very comfortable there too, thank you.”

Remus stepped forward, clapping Sirius on the shoulder, “Would Kiara like to come with us? It would help with the trip to Hogwarts, and I have a feeling you’d like to start Herbology early.” Remus, as observant as ever, had not missed Kiara’s quick glance at Neville when introducing herself.

Molly Weasley raised her hand in the air, “We have room enough for one. We’re housing Harry at the moment until he finds his own place to stay so it’s only Bill’s room that’s empty as of right now.”

Ana smiled at the matriarch of the Weasley family, “I’d like to stay with you if that’s okay? I like the idea of being with a large family.” Ana played with her fingers shyly as she waited for Molly’s response.

Molly beamed, warm eyes crinkled at the corners, “Of course, dear.” Her eyes individually meet those of each girl, “Though you are all welcome at the Burrow any time. And Ana, I’ll take you to Diagon Alley to get whatever you may need for school.”

All of the other families nodded in agreement, letting a wave of relief float over the girls. They now had a little peace of mind knowing that they didn’t have to worry about buying robes, books, wands, and potions ingredients themselves.

“Would any of you like to stay with the Malfoys?” McGonagall prompted, a hand outstretched toward Narcissa and Draco.

Mel stepped forward as if propelled by a deep instinct, hand in the air. “I volunteer as tribute.”

Ellie smirked, “Of course you do. I’ll also go with the Malfoys.”

Mel grinned at Ellie, “Eager to see another Slytherin, Ellie?”

Ellie laughed, “Just as eager as you, Mel.”

McGonagall clapped her hands together, calling the room's attention to her. “Now that that is settled, I’ll let you go with your respective families – please don’t cause too much trouble.”

McGonagall watched the girls walk away with a familiar feeling settling deep in her gut. Minerva McGonagall had survived the Marauders, had survived the Weasley twins and yet she had a feeling these five girls were going to cause more trouble than the Marauders and Weasley’s put together.

******

Journey to Hogwarts taglist: @just-an-outstanding-auror @jenniweaslee @the-hufflefluffwriter

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sushiandstarlight · 3 years

Text

“Feather Duster”: NaNoWriMo 30 Days of Prompts

Today’s Prompt from @hellandholywater

Personal note: the first ~800 words are in Crowley's perspective while the rest is not. This was not a stylistic choice. I literally wrote that much of the wrong perspective before I realized my mistake. But, as this is nano, I've decided to leave it as is. *narrowly avoids the editing abyss*

Rated G

Summary: Your home is my home because my home doesn't have you.

Read this story on AO3

They spent most days following the failed apocalypse at the bookshop. Aziraphale was always happy to be amongst his books and Crowley was just happy to be where the angel was. There were countless hours spent there before the world didn't end and, when the bookshop was miraculously restored in the aftermath, they saw no reason not to enjoy it. So, dinners out. Theater, sometimes. Museums by day (to critisize the assumptions on the plaques- it was hard sometimes watching humans piece together history when they had been there, but mostly it was funny). When the sun dipped low and places of interest and amusement closed, they found their way back to the bookshop for a drink or seven and a good laugh.

Most of the time, Crowley didn't even go home. His eyes would droop and he would eventually stop laughing. He would wake in the morning to find a tattered throw blanket draped over him and an angel that didn't even mention it.

It wasn't that he hated his own flat, really. It was nice enough: modern, with amenities. Minimalist. He did visit it to water and threaten his plants. It was just that... it was cold. He hadn't furnished it to be a home, not really. It was a base. He put some of himself in it, sure, but not a lot. The other demons were constantly dropping into his life and the idea of having himself laid bare for them to see was not appealing.

The bookshop, on the other hand, was like being surrounded by Aziraphale.

The books- “in a very particular order, Crowley, honestly!”- and the trinkets collected- “there's nothing wrong with keeping material objects that remind you of things!” all around. Everything was imbued with meaning and memory and knowledge. It was an extension of himself. For Crowley, there was nothing more comforting than being with Aziraphale, surrounded by all the things Aziraphale loved. It made him feel like part of the collection, something treasured and sat on a shelf all his own. He felt worn and used and a bit dusty, but here he was wanted, treasured even, for those things.

“Why don't we go to your flat today?” Aziraphale didn't even look up at him, peering through the tiny spectacles on his nose at the book in his lap.

“What for?” Crowley tried to keep his voice flat, but incredulity crept in anyway.

“Well, we've spent plenty of time here and I've enjoyed that immensely... But, it doesn't have to be all about my comfort. We can spend time in your home, too. Surely, there are things you have been neglecting there to be here with me,” he glanced up and met Crowley's eyes and then back down at the book, “unless there's some reason you don't want me there. I wouldn't want to intrude on your space.”

“Neh, no. There's not- Angel, you're always welcome in my spaces,” the sentence, if it could be called that, came out wrong. He could make sentences, really he could. Just. Maybe not always with his angel. His. Hmm. And, that was part of the problem, wasn't it? It was all good and well to dwell in Aziraphale's world. That's how they had always done things. Crowley visited Aziraphale's life. Popped in and out. He was a fixture there. But, Aziraphale rarely visited his world. That had once been a purposeful choice on his part, to keep the angel safe. There was no real reason for that, now, was there? It made Crowley wonder if he'd had other reasons all along, buried under all that protective instinct. Though really, he admitted to himself, he didn't need to wonder. His home might not be quite the extension of himself that Aziraphale's was, but it was still his home and it would speak about him, he was sure, in ways he wasn't even aware.

“That settles it, then,” Aziraphale smiled down at the book, eyes still scanning as he spoke, “we'll head over after lunch. A little bistro opened up just down the street from there and I've been positively dying to try their soup- I've heard such good things!” He turned the page, absolutely unaware of all the turmoil going on over on the couch across from him.

“Okay, Angel,” because when had he ever had an ounce of will to deny him anything he asked for, “after lunch then.” Crowley sunk down into the sofa cushions and wondered when he'd last even considered cleaning his flat.

Normally, Crowley would be watching him enjoy his soup. It seemed a strange thing to miss, but here he was missing it. Crowley was preoccupied with staring at the table between them, somewhere between the salt and pepper shakers and the napkin holder. Aziraphale had tried to draw him out a few times, mentioning how good the soup was. What was in it that made it so good. The yelp reviews that he had read. The one he was planning to write tonight. Usually Crowley hung on his words, but he wasn't right now. It seemed a selfish thing to want, but it was their normal.

“Ready to go to mine, then?” Still, Crowley smiled at him as he dabbed his mouth with his napkin. Maybe he was just having a quiet kind of day.

“Yes, of course!”

The trip from the bistro to Crowley's flat wasn't long- less than five minutes- but the quiet was a bit strained. Aziraphale sat with his satchel (full of a few choice books to pass the time) clutched in his lap and wondered, for the first time, if Crowley really didn't want him in his home. But, surely he would have said when Aziraphale asked, right? Maybe not.

The elevator up was just as quiet and he followed Crowley down the hall from there, watched the demon wave the locks open and then went in when he was ushered with a hand on the small of his back.

“Er, make yourself at home, Angel,” Crowley shifted from foot to foot for a moment, “tea? Something stronger than tea?”

“Yes, perhaps a bit stronger,” Aziraphale put his satchel down beside Crowley's sofa and sat, deciding immediately that it was chosen for it's looks and not for comfort. In for a penny, he thought, he would make do. He was becoming stubbornly fixated on making Crowley feel accepted in his own space.

The demon returned with two tumblers of whiskey and handed one to him, taking a gulp from his and wincing as it went down.

“Should I come sit with you here, then?” Crowley didn't look very enamored with the idea. Perhaps, Aziraphale thought, because he was absolutely aware of how uncomfortable this sofa was. He wiggled down into the unforgiving cushions and smiled.

“You can if you like, but I can entertain myself. I'm sure there are things you need to tend to, yes? You're not here much. You sit on my furniture while I organize my books. Just... do whatever you would do if I wasn't here.

Crowley stared at him for a moment and then nodded slowly and shrugged, downing what was left in his glass and then turning and walking out of the room. Aziraphale listened and heard the sound of spray bottle in the other room. Then some disgruntled grumbling about leaf spots. There, see? They could cohabitate in Crowley's space. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a book. Turning to the page with a ribbon holding his place, he slipped on his spectacles and started reading.

He heard Crowley putter around the atrium for a while, and then further away in the kitchen. For a time, he heard nothing and wondered if the demon had crawled into bed for a nap. That would certainly be acting like no one was there. But then he head more puttering in the atrium and Crowley reappeared.

He had changed his clothes. That was something Aziraphale had not been expecting. A deep blue hoodie and a pair of worn, black sweats. And he'd removed his shoes and replaced them with fuzzy blue socks. They looked ridiculously soft. Aaaand, he realized he was staring. Dragging his eyes back to the book in his lap, he pretended to keep reading. No reason that Crowley should know this move had made him... what, exactly? Nervous? Excited, maybe? Confused, certainly. Curious, yes.

Crowley never let anyone see him- even Aziraphale- in less than impeccable clothing choices, the kind that somehow looked both expensive and also thrown together. This was Crowley being actually comfortable. How... how was seeing LESS of him somehow more fetching than when he wore the skin-tight trousers and shirts?

He turned a page, thinking it would probably be good timing for that. Really, he hadn't read any of it. He glanced up just in time for Crowley to cross in front, back turned to him. His eyes were immeditatly drawn to the feather duster that was tucked into the top of his joggers. It... wiggled when he walked, making the feather sway with his hips.

“Alright there, Angel?” Crowley was plucking up the feather duster and flicking it along the painting on his wall.

Aziraphale just stared. He could feel his jaw hanging down, but there didn't seem to be a thing he could do about it. Crowley stopped when he felt the silence and walked back over to him, standing over the sofa.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

“... fan worms.”

Crowley was staring at him blankly.

“They're, uh, well they're oceanic filter feeders. Nice big fans that spread out and catch little things floating around in the water. Very clever way to keep the oceans clean, I think...”

“Did you miracle your glass full while I was cleaning the other rooms?”

“What? No!”

“I mean it's one thing when I'm spouting off about kraken and dolphins, but what are you going on about filter feeders for?”

“I'm a bit nervous!”

Crowley stared some more then, “since when do you talk about- wait, what have you got to be nervous for?” He was standing with his hands on his hips, feathers still floating around the hand holding the duster.

“Well, right now it's that you're towering over me asking me lots of questions!”

Crowley looked struck for a moment and then he laughed. He sat down on the other end of the sofa, angling towards him, feather duster now laying across his right thigh. He ripped his eyes away from the feather duster and back up to Crowley's face.

“Is this better?”

“Is what better?”

“Are you absolutely sure you didn't fill the glass a few more times? It's okay if you did, I just need to catch up.”

Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably. Maybe this was all a terrible idea. He wasn't sure how he could have seen it going this way, but he should have. Somehow. He shook his head slowly.

“Do you just... not like it here?”

“What? Of course I like it here.”

“Aziraphale, here is nothing like the places you enjoy inhabiting.”

“It is, too!”

“Angel, it's uncomfortably warm in here for anyone who's not me. It's spotless and I'm making it moreso at the moment because I clean when I'm nervous- nono, this is about you!- it's spartan, to say the least and the only books in sight are the ones that you brought. What is it about this place that would make you want to be here? I hardly want to be here and it's my home.”

“Why wouldn't you want to be in your own home?” Aziraphale watched Crowley as the man looked away from him.

“I asked you first.”

“Well, I asked you second.”

“That doesn't count!” Crowley picked up the feather duster and shook it at him.

“I just...” Aziraphale sighed, “I'm not used to seeing you in this state of undress.” He could feel his cheeks heating up and he tried to suppress it. His capillaries would not listen.

“My...” Crowley's jaw worked for a moment, hanging open and then closed and then hanging open again, “I'm wearing more than I usually do when we're out, though.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale toyed with his own fingers nervously, “but you look so comfortable, dear. I'm not used to you looking comfortable, I think. Your fashion isn't built for it.”

“I could change.”

“I wish you wouldn't.” The words were out before he could stop them. He kind of wished he could grab them from the air and eat them. His face was flaming now and his ears had joined in the game.

“Hmm, you're not nervous because you dislike my clothing,” Crowley leaned toward him, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “does that mean you do like them?”

“Oh, stop.”

“You like me dressed down?”

“Crowley, really.”

“You're always so layered and buttoned up, I wouldn't have thought.”

“You look... snuggly.”

There was another stunned silence in which Aziraphale was sure his face found a whole new, heretofore unknown, shade of red to turn.

“You want to snuggle with me?”

“I didn't say that.”

“You're also not denying it.”

“... no, I suppose I'm not.”

“You could, you know.”

“Co-could do what?” The air was getting a little thin, he was sure of it. Definitely not enough air in this room.

“Snuggle up with me.”

“You,” Aziraphale chanced a glance at him, “you would like that?”

“From you? Yeah, I think so. You pretty much look snuggly all the time.”

“Well, that's... something.”

“Maybe not here, though.”

“Oh, you really don't like me being here, do you? Do be honest with me.”

“Already told you, Angel, I don't much like it here. I would rather be at your shop with you.”

“But it's not as warm.”

“You have blankets.”

“And it's dusty and cluttered and there's a television but it's decades old. I don't even have the internet.”

“I mean, I'm pretty much used to all those things... But the things aren't why I like it there better than here.”

Aziraphale stared at him. He could feel the shoe about to drop, he just wasn't sure what brand it was.

“You,” Crowley said, “I like it there because you're there. And it's your space. You're happiest in your space. I'm happy if you're happy.”

Aziraphale continued to stare, digesting that.

“Also, you're furniture is way more comfortable to use than mine.”

“This is a dreadful couch.”

“Hey! It looked good in the magazine.”

“Crowley, would you like to take me home? And stay... with me?”

“Will there be snuggling involved?”

“If you want.”

“Yes, Angel,” Crowley's smile was lopsided and filled with warmth, “I think I'd like that. I'd like that a lot.”

Previous Ficlet Prompts:

Scarf / Family / Hearth / Frosty / Ribbons / Wrapping / Cardinal / Coal / Unwrap / Blustery

#aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #good omens #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #star light-reads #30 days of prompts #hellandholywater #nanowrimo #nanowrimo 2020

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creative-poptart · 4 years

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He was doing it again.

You let out a soft sigh, pretending to ignore the giant skeleton hovering nervously in the corner as you “read” your book. In all honesty, you had stopped reading once you noticed him blatantly staring at you. It wasn’t that you blamed him, you were carrying some precious cargo, but this was getting a little ridiculous.

“Sans,” you said softly, not missing the way he flinched at being caught. “You’ve been staring for the past thirty minutes again. Is everything okay?”

There was a slight hesitation, no doubt that your skeletal husband was trying to come up with a good answer for why he was staring. His single red eye light was fixated elsewhere but as he spoke, he recentered his vision to you.

“i just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay, the last couple of days were pretty rough on you.” Now if that didn’t warm your heart and soul in all the best ways, you didn’t know what would. You let out a soft noise of appreciation and opened up your arms to Sans, inviting him into a hug that he came over to accept immediately.

For the past five days and counting, morning sickness in all its glory had set into your body. You had barely been able to keep anything down and thus had been confined to bed. Papyrus did his best to keep you hydrated and such, but even healing magic can only stretch so far and his nursing expertise wasn’t centered around expectant mothers. As of a few hours ago, however, you’d managed to eat and keep some crackers and water in your stomach, so you ventured downstairs for a small change of scene.

Now that you were thinking about it though, Sans did come from the Underground, where starvation was high and food was hard to come by. Every portion and morsel of food would be cherished and coveted down there. Being unable to eat and keep sustenance down would be...

You didn’t linger on that train of thought too long, but you did understand a lot better now why he was concerned.

As Sans sunk into your arms, very carefully minding your stomach, you traced small shapes on the back of his skull. He was always so sweet to you, even more now that you were pregnant. Every day you had been sick, he was hovering nearby, fiddling with his phalanges and asking every twenty seconds if you needed anything or if he could help.

It was to the point where you had requested that he go out of the room for ten minutes so that he could catch his breath. However, as Papyrus had later informed you, all Sans had done was sit outside the door. According to the taller skeleton, he was “Staring At The Door Like A Little Lost Puppy, Begging To Be Let In!” So, of course, you had to let him come back in, as worried as it made you to see him worry.

“how far along are you again?” came the low mumble from your skeletal hus-bone, his face settled right next to your stomach. “i’m tryin’ to remember, but it’s slipped again.”

“That’s okay, Sans,” you hummed, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his skull. “I’m only nine weeks along, so you and I have plenty of time to get ready for the baby. They won’t be going anywhere any time soon.” He visibly relaxed a little more into you at your words.

He had been so anxious about forgetting something important about the baby as of late, such as an item they needed. Sans’ memory wasn’t the greatest it had ever been, but you reassured him that you weren’t bothered by his asking. After all, it wasn’t just your baby, it was his too. That never failed to put a smile on his face and a heart into his eye socket.

Sans leaned forwards enough to nuzzle up against your cheek, making you grin. One of his hands wound carefully around your waist, his hand coming to rest against your stomach. Both of your gazes came to rest on the spot the bones covered, watching it for just a moment.

“i can almost feel their soul in there,” he murmured against your skin, awed and quiet. “it’s perfect. you’re perfect.”

The rest of the day was spent with quiet cuddles together, both of you trying to agree on names for the little baby. It was just as Sans said, perfect.

~~~~~~~~~~

Another installment in the baby series inspired by and written for @popatochisssp!!

The first part is here if you missed it! Thanks for reading!

Edit: Part three is here and part four is here!!

#undertale #horrortale #horrortale sans #horrortale sans/reader #reader is female #it's not explicitly mentioned #but implied female/female bits #horrortale papyrus #tarts writes #drabble #pregnancy

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gamerwoo · 5 years

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[Tales from the Pack] Seungcheol: Stubborn (Part Five)

Characters: Seungcheol x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, angst, slight fluff, mentions of eating people

Word count: 3,811

Summary: You’ve heard the stories your relatives told you about werewolves when you were younger, but you always thought it was just a scare tactic to make kids behave. Well, up until you woke up in a den full of werewolves.

a/n: so if anybody read the original tftp, they probably recognize most of the middle as a part from Wonwoo’s part, but the pov is switched. I might have missed a few pov edits in there so if I did uhhhh just ignore it dksfhjds

Previous | Next | Stubborn Masterlist

Seungcheol had tried to kill you again. He trapped you under his body and sunk his teeth into your forearm, his fangs threatening to rip a chunk of flesh out. You managed to punch him in the nose with your good arm before you escaped.

As you wandered through the woods, cold, bleeding, and crying, you could hear that soft, familiar voice from the night before. She was calling to you by your name, and you followed the voice. You found her standing in front of a tiny cottage, so you assumed it was hers.

“_____, it’s me, Jia,” she smiled warmly at you, holding her arms out for you to stumble into them. “Are you okay?”

“Th-the wolves…” you sobbed into her shoulder.

She shushed you softly, stroking your hair as she held you, “No, you don’t have to fear them. These nightmares are only because of the stories you were told as a child. I promise you, your mate will not harm you.”

“My…” you pulled away to look at her, “my mate?”

Instead of elaborating, she opened the back door to the cottage and allowed you inside. However, as soon as the two of you were in, she froze, staring off somewhere else. Her light eyes widened like she realized something awful.

“_____…” your name came out as something just above a whisper. “Something…isn’t right…”

“W-what?” you stammered, gripping onto her hand for dear life. “What do you mean?”

She turned to face you, pulling her hand away from yours to place both her hands on your shoulders, “Yes, I’m sure of it. Something’s going to happen, _____; something very bad. You need to gather the pack, and hide the mates. Keep them all safe, okay? All of them.”

“What?”

“Hide.” she instructed, spinning you around in the opposite direction.

You turned to ask her more, but she was gone.

Soomin was awoken by a loud knock on her door that had her eyes flying open with a gasp. She hurriedly got out of bed and rushed to the door. Looking out the windows, she could see the sun had just risen, so she didn’t really know why any of her neighbors would be banging this loudly on your door at this hour.

Rubbing one eye to get the sleep out of it, she opened the door. She saw Seungcheol, Joshua, and a wolf she hadn’t met yet standing outside her door. Seungcheol quickly pushed his way into Soomin’s home, making Joshua roll his eyes as he followed inside at a much more relaxed pace.

“Good morning, _____,” Joshua turned his head to smile at you before gesturing to his alpha. “May we come in?”

“Apparently, yes,” Soomin deadpanned, although she was quite happy to see the wolf she hadn’t seen in years. “What’re you doing here? Is it Mingyu? Those suppressants have worked with unmated wolves so if they’re not--”

“You said she was here,” Seungcheol stated as his sharp eyes landed on the wolf you didn’t know.

“Who’s here?” she asked.

“No, I didn’t say,” the wolf you didn’t know said, “Jia said--”

“Same thing!” Seungcheol groaned.

“Hold on!” Soomin interrupted, holding her hands up to silence the pack in her house. “It’s hardly sunrise, you three barge in here yelling about someone being in my home, and,” she paused to point at the mystery boy standing beside Joshua, “I don’t even know who this is!”

“But--”

“Ah!” she held up a finger to the alpha, putting on her stern voice that she’d picked up from Beom. It always kept the wolves in check. “Joshua speaks first. Josh, who is that?”

From the corner of her eye, she could see Joshua smirking. She assumed it was because she made his alpha listen to her without any issues. To him, that was a feet nobody was able to accomplish. Well, except maybe his mate, but according to Soonyoung whom Soomin saw not too long ago, that wasn’t going very well.

“So this is the girl Beom raised,” the mystery wolf nodded approvingly at Soomin with a genuine smile. “I like her.”

“_____, this is Minghao.” Joshua told the girl, gesturing to the boy beside him.

Soomin nodded, remembering that Beom had told her about him. He was the other wolf that was from China, and he could mimic other powers. She was always interested in meeting him since you found his power to be so unique.

Minghao gave her a polite greeting, which she returned, before she turned back to the alpha, “Alright. Now explain calmly. This isn’t about the medicine for Mingyu?”

“No, _____ went missing again,” he began slowly, although she could see the panic clear as day in his eyes, “and Minghao’s mate, Jia, said she came here.”

Hardly any of that made any sense to her, but she had too many questions to actually ask all of them. Instead she opted to just answer what he probably wanted to know, “Nobody else is here except for the woodland mice that live in the floorboards.”

Seungcheol just shook his head, looking around the room again, “No, I can sense her. She’s nearby…”

Joshua sniffed the air carefully, his brows pulling together, “Yeah, he’s right.”

Soomin sighed, deciding it was best not to resist when it came to a werewolf and their mate, “Alright, then let’s just find her and make sure she’s okay.”

“I’ll search the bedroom,” Seungcheol said, already moving to go look for his mate.

“Josh and I can search around here, and you can check the bathroom,” Soomin instructed, pointing down the hall as she spoke to the foreign wolf.

As Minghao went down the hall, Soomin and Joshua took to the den and kitchen area, looking under every piece of furniture, in every nook and cranny, and behind every curtain in search of you. Soomin wasn’t entirely sure how you could’ve gotten into her house or how you even knew where it was, but she figured if you did get in -- which the wolves were adamant that you had -- it must’ve been because of the forest. It was always very kind to strangers and lost folk, and typically guided them here for help.

“Has Seungcheol been this on-edge the whole time his mate’s been here?” Soomin wondered as the pair searched around.

Joshua shrugged, “More or less, yeah.”

At least this time wasn’t the first time Seungcheol woke up with you missing. It definitely didn’t concern him any less than it did the day before, but it was still scary. Still, he was more calm when he asked for help, going to Minghao before anybody else. Joshua was less enthusiastic to go, but he figured if you got hurt this time, he may as well help so Seungcheol would be less of a pain to deal with.

“Guys!” Minghao called.

Seungcheol was running out of the bedroom and across the hall before the pair in the living room could even get off your hands and knees from looking under the sofa. The two met the rest of the wolves in the bathroom where Minghao had been searching. He had the shower curtain pulled back to reveal a girl curled up in the tub, mumbling to herself in her sleep.

You.

“Good Lord…” Seungcheol sighed in relief, bending down to scoop you up.

As he got closer, your whining got louder, “Danger…danger…danger…danger!”

You shot up with eyes wide, looking around in fear. Your eyes needed to adjust to the bright light streaming in through the windows, so you were a little panicked since all you could tell was that you were in an unfamiliar place, and you weren’t sure how you got there. When they seemed to finally adjust and you recognized who was in front of you, you cowered back toward the corner of the bathtub. Your eyes scanned behind them as you tried to find something in reach for a weapon. You were out of luck in that department.

“D-don’t come closer…” you said, your voice shaky.

Jia’s warning was still ringing in your ears, and you could only think she’d be talking about the werewolves.

“_____--”

“Don’t!” you repeated sharply, cutting off Seungcheol.

You heard him whine softly as he stood and backed away behind Joshua. Instead, an unfamiliar girl stepped forward. Her kind eyes watched you carefully, making sure she didn’t scare you too badly. But since she was a girl, you assumed that meant she couldn’t be a werewolf. You’d never seen or heard of female werewolves before.

“_____, right?” she asked softly, crouching down to be level with you. “I’m Soomin. I’m not going to hurt you, okay? I’m just a human.”

“You’re...that girl, right?” you asked, recalling that you’d heard the pack mention her name before. “You... Your...mom or something... You and her help them...”

The gears were a little slow turning in your head since you’d just woken up -- and in a panic at that -- so it took some time realizing what that meant. Soomin liked the werewolves; she was on their side. That was bad.

Your hands reached for the first thing they touched -- unfortunately, there aren’t many toiletries that could be used as a decent weapon, but the sponge on a wooden handle would have to do if needed. You gripped just below the sponge, holding the handle part out almost like a sword.

“I don’t want you near me, either!” you warned, staring her down.

“No, look, I won’t hurt you,” Soomin insisted, holding her hands up in surrender. “I just want to know how you got here.”

That’s when you remembered you had no idea. You still didn’t even know where you were or why Soomin was even here.

“Where…am I?” you wondered slowly.

“This is my cottage,” Soomin replied warmly, showing a small smile. “You’re lucky you wound up someplace safe rather than a stranger’s home.”

‘You are a stranger to me,’ you scoffed in your head.

"But…” you said slowly, your eyebrows pulling together as you thought about what Jia said. They all kept insisting you were safe, but... “Jia said that there’s danger near…”

“Jia?” Minghao pushed past Joshua and knelt down next to Soomin by the tub, causing your guard to shoot right back up as you aimed your sad excuse for a weapon at him. “You saw Jia last night? She never came back to me; what did she say?”

“Easy there,” Joshua advised, placing his hands on the younger wolf’s shoulders, “let the girl breathe.”

But Seungcheol couldn’t help but want to press for answers, too. What did Jia mean there was danger near? He knew the odd mate was well acquainted with the sprites of the forest wherever it was she lived, so maybe they told her? But then why weren’t any of the ones around Soomin warning her? Why did she seem just as clueless to all of this?

Unless the danger wasn’t involving her, or it wasn’t anything immediate. Maybe it was coming from where Jia was and moving closer.

Luckily, you continued speaking, pulling the alpha from his thoughts, “She said…to gather the pack, and hide the mates…”

“Were you trying to hide, _____?” Soomin asked quietly.

You nodded, “But from something else at first.”

“She has nightmares,” Seungcheol explained in a sad murmur. “Yesterday, she had a nightmare, too. Wound up in a tree that time.”

Soomin looked back at you again, resting the back of her hand on the edge of the tub, “What was your dream about?”

Warily, you eyed her palm. As a thief, you’d always been one to listen to your instincts, and they were telling you that Soomin wasn’t a threat. Besides, even if she was, she was just a human. You could take her.

You rested your cold hand in hers. Soomin’s hand was so much softer and warmer than yours, so your fingers seemed to wrap around her hand on their own. Soomin gave a little smile.

“They tried to hurt me…” you told her, “just like my last nightmare. I’m starting to think it’s a sign…”

You heard Seugcheol whine but you tried to ignore it.

“What if I make you some tea and we can talk it through?” Soomin offered, giving your hand a soft squeeze. “It might make you feel better.”

“But…what about…” you paused, looking behind Soomin at all the wolves, “them?”

“They’ll leave for now.”

“But, _____--”

“Seungcheol,” Soomin turned to her head and looked up at the alpha, “she’s afraid. I promise I’ll let you come back when she’s feeling better.”

“C’mon,” Joshua grunted as he stood up, patting Seungcheol’s back and guiding him out of the bathroom with Minghao following behind them. You could hear Josh complaining about his knees while they left, saying something like, “I’m too old for this.”

“Is she okay?” Seungcheol asked, standing from the couch.

Soomin nodded, gesturing back down the hall with her head, “She’s taking a quick shower to clean up. Wandering around in the forest got her pretty dirty.”

“Did she elaborate on what happened?” Joshua wondered, staying put on the plush chair he sat in.

“Jia just said there was danger near. She didn’t say if it was physical or time-wise or even who it involved,” she shrugged, taking a seat beside Minghao on the sofa. “She said she was running away from the house because…well, she was being attacked…but then she said Jia showed up like the night before to calm her down. Then she said to ‘gather the pack and hide the mates’, and I think that’s why _____ was hiding in my bathtub.”

“But isn’t it a little too coincidental _____ wound up here?” Minghao wondered, staring at his lap with a look of concentration on his face. “Could Jia...lead her here somehow...?

“I don’t know if it’s possible that Jia’s leading her around,” Joshua said, running a hand through his hair, “but if _____ didn’t sleepwalk before meeting her, then maybe, I guess. We’ll have to ask.”

Minghao suddenly jumped up from the couch, “Maybe _____ can lead us to Jia!”

“Okay, calm down,” Soomin chuckled, gently tugging on Minghao’s wrist. “Let the poor girl rest for a while; we’ll handle one thing at a time. In the mean time, you should all leave before she’s done. I need her to trust me.”

Seungcheol frowned. He didn’t want to leave you when he’d barely gotten to see if you were okay under all that dirt on you, but he knew his best bet on getting you to calm down was Soomin. Maybe she could convince you he wasn’t dangerous since she was a human, too.

“You gonna be okay, Cheol?” Minghao asked, noticing the sad look on Seungcheol’s face.

The alpha just sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, “Yeah. Let’s just go before we make things worse.”

Soomin gave a quiet goodbye as the three members of the pack left, leaving her alone in the house with you.

After you’d dried off and changed into the clothes Soomin let you borrow, you opened the bathroom door and wandered down the hall into the den. You followed the sound of two girls talking to the kitchen, where Soomin and Danbi were chatting together.

“_____!” Danbi smiled when she noticed you come in.

Even though you knew Danbi lived with the wolves, you didn’t see her as a threat. She was there after your last nightmare, and she seemed a lot kinder than her brother, even if they shared a lot of the same features: same sharp eyes, same slim face, same prominent nose.

Soomin turned around to look at you, a mug in her hands. As she walked up to you, she handed the mug over to you, “How’re you feeling?”

“Sort of better…” you mumbled, taking the warm mug between your hands. The hot steam rising from it warmed your face. “I apologize…for breaking in, and for causing trouble.”

Apologizing for breaking and entering was definitely a first for you.

Soomin just laughed softly and shook her head, “No, don’t worry about it. I’m glad you’re safe.”

“You should’ve seen Seungcheol this morning,” Danbi chuckled, perching herself on the counter as she looked over at you. “He was losing his mind trying to find you. Then he woke Minghao up, and he said Jia might’ve talked to you, so Seungcheol woke up Joshua and dragged him along to search for you in case you were hurt.”

“That boy really does care about you, _____,” Soomin smiled, bringing a few pieces of your hair over your shoulder, almost like a mother or sister would. “It’s understandable that you’re afraid, though. Nobody will force you to get used to it.”

“That’s the problem,” you sighed, staring down into your mug. “Part of me...wants to get used to it. I don’t know what it is, though.”

The two girls looked at each other, seeming to have a silent conversation between them. You just sipped at your tea and looked around Soomin’s house. It was small but cozy. She had a few paintings, knickknacks, and strange things you’d seen in the wolves’ house strewn about, but it was all still tidy and clean.

Your eyes landed on a picture with a woman you had seen in one of the pictures back at the wolves’ house. It was of Soomin with an old, short, round woman holding a walking stick that was taller than her. Around them were the three alphas: Soonyoung, Seungcheol, and Jihoon. All of them were smiling, including the grumpiest alpha.

“Has anyone mentioned mating to you?” Soomin asked, breaking your gaze away from the picture to look back at her. The twinkle in her eyes that she had in the picture was missing now. “I mean, has Seungcheol?”

You shrugged, knowing he’d mentioned the word, “He said it’s a strong bond between a wolf and his mate or something. Jia keeps mentioning it, though.”

“What else has Jia told you?” Danbi wondered, taking a sip from her mug.

“She keeps referring to me as someone’s mate.”

“She’s much more talkative than Minghao, isn’t she?” Danbi giggled.

“We should wait for them to get back for anyone to explain…” Soomin sighed, looking to Danbi for conformation. “You don’t think Seungcheol will be mad at us, do you?”

“Why would he be mad?” you wondered.

While you could pick up on bits and pieces of what their conversation meant, there were still parts missing.

Soomin sighed, wrapping an arm around your waist and leading you over to the den, “Please don’t worry about that right now. What you should do now is rest. You didn’t sleep very well last night, and the circles under your eyes are worrying me.”

“What about the pack?” you asked, letting her sit you down on the couch.

“If they come back, we’ll keep them outside,” she promised. “They won’t come near you unless you’re okay with it.”

She took your mug and placed it on the coffee table, then gently pushed you to lay down before covering you with a blanket. She walked away, going back into the kitchen and leaving you to sleep. Unable to fight the exhaustion, you let your eyes close.

“-Going to do?”

“You have to just tell her now.”

“What if she runs away?”

“You can’t force her to stay, Cheol.”

You woke up to talking, and you could hear the voices coming from outside the front door. Through one of the windows, you could see Soomin. She seemed to be looking between other people, talking from time to time.

You did recognize the other voices, especially Seuncheol’s. While you didn’t like that the wolves were back, you were glad Soomin at least kept them outside and away from you like she promised.

“We should go inside.” Soonyoung advised, making you sit up and curl your legs to your chest. “If anyone from town sees us, they might get suspicious. Soomin’s known to live alone.”

“But what about _____?” Soomin asked. “She’s still afraid.”

“Jia was able to calm her yesterday, why couldn’t she last night?” Seungcheol wondered.

“Maybe it had to do with the fact she warned her about oncoming danger?” Chan suggested pointedly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if _____ has interpreted the pack to be the danger. Jia did tell her to hide the mates, right?”

That wasn’t necessarily true. Jia didn’t really say much to calm you after your awful nightmare, so that was part of it. However, the thing that was scaring you the most was the fact she said you were someone’s mate. You didn’t want to be a mate. Being a mate meant getting marked, and getting marked meant getting bit, and getting bit could lead to your nightmares coming true.

There was still that part of you that was drawn to the wolves. Seungcheol usually made you feel oddly safe, even though you hardly knew him. However, it was difficult for you to get passed all the stories and tales that were in your head. You were raised to fear these creatures that weren’t even supposed to be real. How could you ever fall in love with one?

“She’s awake,” Seungcheol stated, making you realize just how fast your heart was beating because of your thoughts. “We should just go. Soomin, do you mind...keeping _____ with you for now?”

Even you heard the hesitation in Seungcheol’s voice when he asked that.

“Not at all.” she replied warmly.

“We’ll come back soon,” Seungcheol promised. “Let us know if she disappears in the middle of the night and we’ll come bring her back to you.”

“Of if she decides to go home,” Soonyoung added.

“Yeah…that…” Seungcheol didn’t sound too happy, but you knew he knew he couldn’t keep you here forever. “Have a good afternoon, Soomin.”

“You too!” she waved as the pack left. Then the front door opened, Soomin already smiling since she expected you to be awake. “Did you sleep well?”

“I’m staying here?” you asked.

“Only…if you want to,” she said, carefully picking her words as her expression started to look more worried than bright. “If you really need to go home--”

“No,” you said so suddenly, you even surprised yourself. You didn’t even know what compelled you to reply so quickly. You just blamed it on the fact you didn’t really have a home. “I…promised I would think about it, so I guess I’ll think about it.”

Soomin’s look of worry melted into a warm smile, “Great! We’ll be roommates! But I’ll need you to sleep in my room with me because if you wander off, I can’t go out by myself to look for you. I’m no werewolf.”

‘Good,’ you thought to yourself, but you decided not to say that out loud.

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autisticalbert · 4 years

Text

the clothies

part two of my the office au! nearly 3k of race being love with a very drunk albert. this is based on 2x01 of the office, ‘the dundies’.

A studious person could say there were four types of managers. Jack Kelly was an exact combination of all of them.

The man wasn’t unlikeable, not in the slightest. In fact, he was almost funny whenever he wasn’t trying too hard. He cared for his employees and co-workers and gave his life for the company he worked in. He was determined to make a family out of the workplace, even if no one felt the same way. No one at all.

It didn’t come as a surprise that the New York branch was one of the youngest-employing ones in the company. Race was about to turn twenty-four and most of his co-workers rounded that number.

All except Les, of course. The kid missed out on all company parties and the blessed opportunity of alcohol. Such a shame.

Every February brought upon the New York branch the most dreaded celebration of all. The Clothies. That was its name. They didn’t even sell real clothes.

The mind of the great Jack Kelly worked wonders. In his first year as a manager, he got around the idea that if his employees got rewarded with worthless pieces of plastic once a year named out to ridiculous categories, then that would be an incentive for everyone and it would turn the New York branch around for magnificent results and numbers to come.

He thought it to be a success. People really just took every chance they got to get drunk.

Race didn’t even like the idea of getting drunk around his co-workers all that much. There were only a few people in there he’d actually call friends—there was Charlie, there was Smalls, there was Jojo…

“Hey, Racey!”

There was Albert, of course.

An arm was slung around his shoulders and he found himself smiling before even stopping himself. He tilted his head and saw a sea of freckles in a dangerously pale face.

“Hey, Red,” he said. Albert grimaced at the name and let go of him. “Excited about the Clothies?”

“Not really,” they said along with a long sigh. “Can’t possibly imagine what my award’s gonna say.”

For two years in a row, Albert had gotten the same award—World’s Longest Engagement. It wasn’t as funny as Jack thought it was. Race was sure Albert hadn’t even laughed the first time when it had only been six months. Now, it just seemed cruel.

Race nodded and patted their shoulder.

“Wanna watch the marathon with me? Twelve hours of footage,” they said, wobbling their eyebrows. “For free.”

Every year Jack made Albert watch through footage of his own video recorder of the many, many editions of the Clothies through the year. Albert and Race usually made popcorn and tried to guess the year by the number of layers Jack was or wasn’t wearing or how thick his New York accent sounded.

This year, however, Race had something in mind.

“You’ll have to live without me,” he said. Albert put a hand on their chest and gaped. “Gotta sort some things out with the boss.”

Albert shook their head, but stood up and headed to the conference room regardless.

“Traitor. Don’t get fired,” they exclaimed over their shoulder. Race smiled.

The closed door that lead to Jack’s office read a sign that said “all my gates are open 24/7”. Race couldn’t help but think, as he knocked on it, about how many levels of wrong that was.

This time, he was putting together a Rubik’s Cube. Literally. Piece by piece.

“Hey, boss,” Race said, peeking through the door as he opened it. “Got a second?”

With both feet on the desk, Jack perked up to see Race and immediately waved him inside, discarding his little do-it-yourself quickly.

“Anthony,” he smiled. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Still not my name,” Race said as he sat down in a chair in front of Jack’s desk. He looked at his hands for a moment and looked for the easiest possible way to formulate his request without messing it up. With Jack, one really never got a second chance at asking the same thing. The man had a surprisingly small attention span for a branch manager.

“Let me guess—“

“No,” he put a hand up. “See, tonight are the Clothies—yay, again—and I was wondering if you could maybe, I don’t know. Switch things up a little.”

“Yes,” Jack said.

“Because—” Race stopped and frowned. “Yes?”

The man in front of him nodded and shrugged. “I’m an entertainer. I gotta give the people what they want—I’m starting to think my Harlem Shake number is getting a little outdated.”

Race blinked his urge to sigh away. “That’s not—Yes, I mean, I think taking that number out would be good. But I meant something more specific.”

“Oh, sure. I’m always up to suggestions. What’s in your mind?”

“Well, some of the categories. Albert’s, in particular. Maybe you should change their award.”

Jack squinted at him. If it was anyone else, Race would feel busted.

“Why?”

“You know, man,” he sighed, glancing back at Albert’s empty desk through the blinds. “The whole thing with their engagement… It’s getting old.”

The man stopped to think for one moment. Race looked at him, expectant.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“No, Jack, you have to—“

“Woah, look at the time. I have a meeting in exactly—five minutes ago. Thank you for this, it’s been great talking to ya, I really need the room right now. See you tonight!”

And he was up on his feet and brushing Race out the door before any of them could get another word out. Race looked at the closed door before him and sighed thoroughly. He was feeling the trademark defeat and exhaustion that any conversation with his boss made him swim in when, from the room closest to him, Albert’s laugh filled his ears.

He sighed again. Fuck.

If anything could make the day before the awards ceremony worse, it was that by some silent agreement everyone had to stay an hour later than usual. As Race watched the clock strike five, he glanced at Albert with plead.

“I wanna leave.”

“Leave, then,” they said, not looking up from where they were typing out a form on the computer. “And lose your job.”

Race pouted. “You’re no fun today.”

“Not ‘til I get drunk, I’m not. Or drunk enough to miss out on the award, at least.”

That was hard to believe. Albert was never really one to drink in office parties—not that Race knew them all that well outside of office-related life and events. Which wasn’t the point. The point was that picturing Albert drinking their head off just to avoid having a human reaction to Jack’s jokes later in the day was an amusing idea. It would also be entirely justifiable.

Still, Race didn’t quite buy it until later that night, when Albert landed by his side with a tray of empty shot glasses.

His eyes went wide.

“Wow. Hey there.”

He’d been fashionably late, which was a fancy way of excusing himself into missing the first minutes of the ceremony. It didn’t do him any well in the end—he arrived in the middle of a fight between Jack and the audio system.

“Hey,” Albert smiled. “You’re late.”

“You smell like college.”

They shrugged. “I didn’t go to college.”

Race bit his tongue, but Albert just burst out laughing. The night seemed promising enough.

“Where’s—”

Oscar appeared into Race’s field of vision as if summoned. He sat next to Albert and put an arm around their shoulders as another man whom Race only recognized as one of Oscar’s coworkers from the warehouse sat next to him.

“This is Albert,” nodded Oscar before planting a kiss in their cheek. “And that’s Albert’s friend.”

Classy. Race turned to the stranger. “I’m Race,” he extended his hand.

“Snaps,” the man greeted.

“That’s your name?”

“No,” he smiled. “Is Race yours?”

“Ah, touché.”

Race didn’t have to put too much energy into ignoring the couple in front of him because just when the night seemed to never take off, Jack found a way to plug in the right wire and a buzzing sound made everyone cover their ears. As the noise faded away, Jack stepped up on the platform and tapped on the microphone two times before speaking.

It was like a car wreck. Race and Albert had talked about this many times over the years. The Clothies were awful, but they weren’t a thing one could look away from.

“Alright, New York, let’s get this party started!”

On company events, Les was usually Jack’s right-hand-man. Or, right-hand-boy, rather. It was on company parties, when Jack was all by himself, that the delivery of his jokes got more painfully awkward to watch.

As he narrated a story about some clearly invented hot date with an HR representative, Oscar turned to Snaps.

“This is lame. Let’s go to Jacobi’s,” he said.

Snaps nodded. “Yeah, man. I’m out of here.”

“Uh,” Albert looked between them. Race looked at them and saw conflict in their face. Part of him wished they’d stay. Part of him knew they wouldn’t.

Jack seemed to take notice of this interaction, for he stopped his skit to face the table. In the way, he nearly tripped over his foot, nearly knocked someone off with the mic stand, nearly poured his drink over his shoes. Because he was Jack Kelly.

Race sunk in his seat as Snaps stood up beside him and Oscar and Albert mirrored in the seats in front.

“Um, guys, where’re you going?” Jack asked. Oscar and Snaps walked towards the door and Albert glanced at Race before looking at Jack. “Albert, the party’s just getting started.”

They shrugged apologetically. Race felt something burn in his chest.

“Sorry,” they said before running after Oscar.

Jack blinked two times before nodding and resuming his job as an entertainer to a very unamused crowd. Race looked at the door for a moment before turning to the table next to his. Finch and Charlie were immersed in conversation.

“Is that seat taken?” He asked.

Finch smiled at him. “Nah. You’re staying?”

As he stood up to sit back down in his new table, he sighed. “Gotta eat somewhere, right?”

It was one of those nights where time flew by slowly and quickly all at once, and Race wasn’t exactly paying attention. In either fifteen minutes or an hour, Jack managed to tell thirteen jokes, wear two different pairs of fake teeth, and give out exactly one award—Busiest Beaver to Buttons Davenport. She didn’t seem especially flattered when she got up to receive an award that read “Bushiest”.

Race was waving at the waiter for another round and accepting the failure of the already fairly tough night he was facing when the door flung open.

Albert walked in, brushing a hand through their hair. Their entire face was red and their jaw was set, and they ignored the number of inquiring eyes as they made their way to Race’s table. He moved to the side just in time to leave a place for Albert to drop their full weight down.

Jack thankfully didn’t seem to notice their mood, and simply continued with the evening as Albert planted both elbows in the wooden table and stared at a fixed point in it. Finch and Charlie looked at each other and then at Race before slowly standing up and moving to find a new table.

Speaking to an upset Albert was something to be done carefully. Race was a master at the skill, or so he liked to think.

“I thought you’d left?”

Albert looked at him with words behind their eyes, but they dissipated quickly as the tension left their body only enough to let them rest their back against the seat. They shook their head.

“No, Oscar just—I decided to stay.”

“Oh,” Race said.

They reached out for Finch’s abandoned half-empty drink and gulped it down in two movements.

“I’ll get a ride from Jojo.”

“Oh—kay. Okay.”

Albert didn’t move from Race’s side even after the seat in front of them was freed. They just turned to watch Jack’s impressions and ordered a full new round of drinks, successfully ignoring Race’s worried glances. There was a science to drunk Albert—the more they drank, the funnier Jack seemed to them. Which showed how out of it they really were.

In the following hour and a half, Jack made two slightly-out-of-line impressions, gave out the award of Hottest In The Office to Finch, and the award of Tight Ass to Katherine, their HR rep. Neither seemed really excited and their speeches were awkward, but Albert cheered both of them on like there was no tomorrow.

The clock was nearing 11 PM when Jack gave Race one knowing look that made him want to drown in his glass of beer.

“This next award,” the man started. Race anything but hid his face behind his palms. “It goes out to our own little Albert DaSilva. I think we all know what award Al is going to be getting this year.”

Even with Albert not facing his way, Race could tell when the drunken elation in their moves faded and left way for realization. He almost wanted to throw something at Jack to stop it, but he didn’t. Mainly because smacking his boss in the head with bar snacks seemed like a bad decision, no matter how much he had it coming.

They watched in silence.

“It’s the Plant Junkie award—‘Cause their desk always looks like a goddamn botanical garden, ha,” Jack announced. Race’s eyes went wide, and the man winked in his direction.

For a second, Albert scrambled for a reaction inside their brain, but with a little push from Race they stood up and marched enthusiastically to get their award.

Jack stepped aside as Albert stumbled their way up on the platform. From his seat bare meters away Race could see the shine in their eyes and the flush of their cheeks—they wouldn’t remember any of it in the morning. Which only made the following speech more amusing for the sober bystanders.

Albert stood in front of the microphone and shook the award in their hand.

“Wow, um. I have so many people to thank for this award,” they said. Race laughed and shook his head. He wasn’t sure how much of his love was filtering through his eyes as he watched them. “Okay, first off, my plants. Because I couldn't have done it without them.”

People clapped. It was easy. Everyone liked Albert, they were a likable, genuinely nice person. Race cheered along.

“Thank you,” they continued. “Also, um, let's give Jack a round of applause,” they exclaimed. Race perked an eyebrow and Jack looked at them, surprised. “Y’know, for hosting this tonight. It’s a lot harder than it looks. And also because he deals with Les every day.”

Race laughed out loud as people cheered again. Albert was about to step—or fall—out of the platform, but then they faced the microphone again.

“Right. I wanna thank God. God gave me this Clothie,” they said, solemnly looking at the piece of plastic with their name written. “And—I feel God in this Chili’s tonight.”

They mimicked a mic drop and yelled a loud “woo!” in celebration. People cheered again as Jack took their place and they excitedly jumped off of the platform and nearly lost balance. Maybe to make sure they didn’t fall on their head and get a concussion, Race stood up and went to their encounter.

When Albert seemed to extend their arms towards Race for a hug, Race went to catch them and was surprised by a kiss on the lips.

It was short-lived, for Albert fell out of balance moments later and had Jack and Jojo on them immediately. Jack was rambling about killing Albert with his jokes, and Jojo was more worried about checking for a swallowed tongue.

Race blinked and shook himself out of his thoughts immediately. His mouth tasted like alcohol and he grimaced a little at it. He also felt something close to guilt set on his lower stomach. He looked at Albert and sighed before smiling and brushing everyone away to help them stand up.

Albert just laughed and let themself be carried to a stool by the bar.

“It wasn’t that bad,” they said. Race was sitting next to them when he turned and waited for them to continue. “This year, I mean. It was kinda great.”

“Yeah,” Race smiled and shrugged. He intercepted Albert’s reach for a refill of beer and they pouted. “It was actually cool. Jack outdid himself with the impressions, and he called Finch hot—very publically—which was touching. And, we didn’t have to hear him sing his rendition of Tiny Dancer.”

As he spoke, Albert looked at him and nodded with a small smirk. Race looked around, then back at Albert, and they were still staring. He laughed awkwardly.

“What?”

“Nothing,” they said.

“Okay.”

“What?”

“I don’t know,” Race said, frowning. “What?”

Albert bit their lip and started laughing with their head thrown back. They balanced forward and hit their head on the counter. Race started laughing as well.

“Oh, my god. You are so drunk.”

As his best friend flipped him off, Race stood to grab Albert by the shoulders with one hand and get their coat with another. He glanced back at where Jack seemed to be setting up a karaoke machine and then made his way towards the door.

“C’mon, let’s get you a cab home.”

#the office au #newsies #ralbert #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #ENBY ALBERT #jack kelly #oscar delancey #snaps #(chaz's brooklyn newsie!!)#jojo de la guerra #finch cortes #crutchie morris #buttons davenport #the dundies ep is so :D

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fortheloveoffanfic · 4 years

Text

I Hope You’re Happy Now (pt3)

Keanu Reeves x reader (Part 1 Part 2)

Y/n sat on her made bed, trying to slow shuddering breaths, warm tears streaming from her eyes. Just the thought of the occurrences of earlier in the day replying like a stuck record in her head. When they had broken up, Y/n had longed to hear those words, or anything like them. That Keanu still loved her, that he was just scared, but together they could get through it. Anything. But then, a couple years after, she met Eli at a beach party on a chance encounter. He hadn’t even been at the party, but she had wandered off, and he had clumsily bumped into her while chasing his sister’s dog. To ‘apologize’, Eli had offered to walk her back and they had talked for hours over drinks. It was slow build to what they had; Y/n was overly cautious but Eli had been patient, and eventually, Y/n let him in.

Y/n loved Eli, she did, but Keanu......Keanu had been her everything for five years, her first phone call, the man she longed to go home to. He knew her almost as well as she knew herself and for a while, Y/n had convinced herself that they’d spend the rest of their lives loving each other. But then, it came crashing down and he told her to go, so she did. The events of the day had left her feeling like their break-up had just happened, the scab of a long healed wound reopened.

Did she still love him?

After everything? The wrenching heart break, the nights spent up, crying and days wasted missing his smile? The pain that came when he slammed the door, told her to go like it meant nothing?

Maybe. Maybe she was still gripping onto something had imploded in her face, nursing four year first degree burns as if they were still new.

For hours, Y/n stayed on the bed, sobbing quietly, completely forgetting that she had made dinner plans with Eli. The sun sunk into the horizon, day morphing into night. Eventually, she slumped to her side, weary head hitting the pillow, tears botching the cotton near her eyes as she slowly, unintentionally fell to sleep, still in her skirt suit, handbag discarded at the foot of the bed.

Keanu hung his keys on one of the little golden colored hooks that, for years, maybe seven or eight, had remained planted on the wall near the front door. Putting it there had been Y/n’s idea; she was always losing her keys and thought that it would be helpful to just put them there after walking through the door. There were even labels, two hooks for him and two for her. Hers were still there, one with her keys to the house, with a little colorful key ring attached to it, hadn’t been used in years. And the one for her car keys, that had remained empty and neglected.

With a heavy sigh, Keanu dragged himself to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge for anything that might take his mind off of her; how happy she was to see him, how distraught she was when she left. “Why do you always have to make her cry?” He mumbled to himself, shoving the fridge door closed when there was nothing of interest.

Why’d he have to tell her?

He plopped onto the sofa, slouching down, his head leaning back into the cushions. It had taken him a while to miss her, a year almost, but the minute he started, Keanu had never stopped. Sometimes, the slightest of things could easily bring back a memory that, for a while, had sat buried in the back of his mind. That night, it was the short bookcase to the left of the television. When they lived together, it had been filled with a combination of both their favorites, her old English classics and his historical fictions. But after she had left, Y/n had taken most of hers, only leaving one behind, a first edition copy of Pride and Prejudice. He had gotten it for her as a birthday gift. Sourcing it had been hard, and it was certainly pricey, but Y/n was worth it. She had always been worth it, even when Keanu had stopped seeing that.

And now she’s gone.

Closing his burning eyes, Keanu covered his face with his hands. He could have tried to not think about it, but it would have been no use. Y/n was everything, he had thrown her away and could probably never get her back.

A hand on her shoulder had roused Y/n awake, quietly groaning as she sat up, only to realize that she had slept the evening away in her chic skirt suit. Swallowing thickly, she squinted at the light, growing a little confused when she found that it was actually coming from the room’s central bulb and not outside.

She hadn’t slept through an entire day, she couldn’t have.

“Hey baby,” Eli greeted tentatively, and with puffy, red eyes, she turned to him, shoulders slumping at his evident concern. His hand smoothed over her back affectionately in a quiet though necessary reminder that this was the man that loved her. Eli had taken care of her, wanted a future with her. He was sweet and considerate, he put her first and never gave her the chance to doubt his love. She loved him.

“What’s going on? What time is it?” Y/n asked, proceeding to bite her lips and run an anxious hand through her messy hair.

Eli smiled sadly, “It’s a little past midnight. Is everything okay? Are you sick?” The back of his palm went to her neck and then forehead, her paled features grossly misleading, “Were you crying? Does something hurt?”

“No,” Y/n sniffled, shaking her head, “I thought you were working tonight, what are you doing home?”

“You missed dinner, and then you didn’t pick up the phone. I was worried,” Eli pressed a soft kiss to the side of Y/n’s forehead, hugging her close.

“What about night float?”

“Fuck night float, you’re what’s important,” he squeezed her shoulders affectionately and Y/n felt her heart warm a little. Just the thought that she might still have feelings for Keanu when Eli was right there made Y/n feel guilty. “Now, can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Y/n’s eyes teared up and she looked away, sucking in a loud breath, “It’s nothing, just a long day.”

Not missing a beat, Eli probed, “It’s him, isn’t it?”

“Who?”

“You’re ex; Keanu,” Eli licked his lips, eyes questioning.

“Why would you assume that this,” she gestured to her disheveled form, “Has something to do with him?”

Eli took Y/n’s left hand in his right one, his thumb barely ghosting over the diamond of her engagement ring, looking down at it as if he could barely believe it was there. “You haven’t been the same since you two spoke at Tracy’s party. And you tell me everything, but you never talk about him,” Eli swallowed nervously, hoping that he wouldn’t upset her more the she had already seemed, “Do you think, that maybe, you’re still in love with him?”

“What?” Y/n’s voice shook. She didn’t even know. “I.....he’s....we broke up years ago. It’s history, in the past. I......” Y/n trailed off, not just trying to convince Eli, but looking for the words that would convince herself, “I love you Eli.”

“I know,” he nodded, “But you’re in love with him,” he cast his head down, mulling over his next words. It was painful for him to think about; losing Y/n to someone else, someone who had failed to see her worth, but Eli knew that keeping her would just be holding her back. Especially, because even after everything it was plain to see that Keanu still loved her too. “You love me, but you’re in love with Keanu. And that’s okay.”

“Eli,” her voice broke, and she laced her fingers with his, finally admitting he was right- there was nothing left to do, “I never wanted to do this to you, I just...”

“I know,” he caressed her fingers with his thumb, his eyes glassy and lips quivering ever so slightly, “But I don’t want to hold you back.” Sniffling, he tried to not join in on her quiet tears, she already felt bad enough, he thought, there would be no use if giving her the guilt of his heartbreak. “I know you gave us everything you could, and I’m so grateful for your love, and the opportunity to love you back, see you smile and make you laugh. But if you think that you aren’t ready to let him go, that you two can make it work, then you should go for it. It was just for a few minutes, but I saw the way Keanu looked at you, he loves you Y/n.”

“I’m so sorry Eli,” she sobbed, taking her hand away from his, slipping her engagement ring off, it was the first time that she had removed it since he had given it to her. Silent tears slipped down Eli’s cheeks as she put the ring into his hand, offering him one last kiss at the corner of his lips, “You are an amazing man, and one day, you’re gonna find someone who can love you the way you deserve. There won’t be anyone else for them, just you, and I hope she can make this worth it.”

“Thank you,” he tried to smile, pulling Y/n into a lingering hug. Afterwards, he left the room, giving Y/n the opportunity to pack alone. All she took that night was the majority of her clothes, promising that she would be back at some point for everything else.

It felt so final as she left their house- his house. But not in the way it had when she and Keanu had broken up, no, instead, Y/n felt like a page had been turned. Like even if they were never really meant to last, that her time with Eli had been a necessary chapter in her life, one that taught her that though people make mistakes, there was always room for things to be mended. That the worst of wounds could be healed and that not every great love lasts for ever, but the ones that are meant too, aren’t ever really over.

The bar was crowded, as it always was on Saturday nights, though, even if Keanu loved the place, he could never seem to get used to going there alone. It was where he had met Y/n, so long ago. She had been sat in a corner booth with a group of friends and he had just dropped in for a beer, expecting to unwind by himself. He wasn’t even looking for company, but when she had gone to the bar, trying for about fifteen minutes to get the bartenders attention, her efforts to no avail, Keanu had stepped in. Y/n had blushed and smiled shyly as she thanked him. Their interaction had lasted no more than a few minutes, but something about Y/n drew him in; Keanu wanted to know her, jumping at the opportunity when she had invited him over to join them.

That night, Y/n and Keanu had lingered in the booth, long after her friends had gone, talking about things that no one else felt mattered, getting to know each other, everything from hometowns to pet peeves. Keanu swore that he had fallen for her that very night, asking her out right before she got into a cab, leaving him wonder-struck on the curb.

As their relationship had developed, Y/n and Keanu had made visting the place, near the pier, something of a habit. A Saturday night tradition, one that they had upheld until the very end. Even when things were absolutely terrible between them, Keanu and Y/n would sit in their regular booth, unspeaking, and just for an hour, things wouldn’t be so tense.

After they had broken up, it had taken a while before Keanu could find his way back there, and even then, he could normally only bring himself to stay for one drink. Usually, it was just a beer, or a finger of his preferred whiskey, but sometimes if he could stand it, Keanu would scour the drinks menu, eventually, opting for one Y/n’ s favorite high ball cocktails.

That night, Keanu sat at the bar, on a worn stool, his fingers circling the rim of a gin and tonic. His eyes were trained on the stage where live music usually played, but Keanu couldn’t bring himself to pay attention to the no name indie band playing. Instead, he found his thoughts travelling to ones of Y/n. Did she still go there? If she didn’t, did she miss it? Was it just a bar to her, or had it just become another painful memory?

The thoughts weren’t new, but with what had happened between them a couple days before still fresh on his mind, they were hard to ignore. Taking another long sip of his drink, Keanu tried to push them down, thinking that he might have to leave soon, before the memories consumed him.

“Keanu?” A voice called from behind him, barely loud enough to combat the music.

Putting the glass back to the counter, he turned still on the stool, taken aback when he saw who it was. He opened his mouth to speak, but found that he didn’t actually know what he wanted to say. “Y/n?” he finally breathed her name, “What are you doing here?”

Her pink tinted lips quirked into a half smile, her eyes glued to his, “I heard you still come here on Saturdays. I just.....can we talk?”

Again, it took him a couple minutes before he summed up the courage to say; “Sure,” accompanied with a stiff nod.

A short while later, they were secured in their booth, well, what used to be their booth. Being so far away from the stage, stationed where the music was much softer and the commotion was a little distance away, that booth had never been too popular among other patrons, but to Y/n and Keanu, it was like their own tiny alcove.

They sat with a little space between them; Y/n swirling a red cocktail straw around her cranberry vodka as Keanu took tentative sips of his drink, trying desperately to busy himself until she spoke up, “What happened?” Y/n turned to him, sad eyes questioning and Keanu had to do a double take, wanting to kick himself for not realizing sooner that her light make-up had barely covered the red rim around her eyes, a tell tale sign that she had been crying.

“What do you mean?” He took his bottom lip between his teeth, knowing exactly what she meant, but not wanting to cause another scene.

Four Years and so many mistakes later, and his pride still got in the way.

She chuckled dryly and he had to push away the voice in his head that insisted that she might start crying soon, “You know what I mean. You were so eager to talk about it last week and now all I get is your half assed confusion,” she sniffled, swiping hastily at her eyes with her left hand. She wasn’t wearing her ring.

The huge fucking diamond that taunted him, glittering in its place, for everyone to see. The one that had left him wondering if Eli was that good of a doctor or if it had some kind of insurmountable sentiment. The same one that remained Keanu that he had blown his chance and let someone else do what he should have a long time ago. She wasn’t wearing it!

Did they break up?

Was she not wearing it to spare his feelings?

Maybe she forgot to put it on, on her way out.

Say something and stop acting like an idiot, he tried to break himself out of the thoughts, returning to the moment. “It’s.....complicated,” he shook his head, even then, it was hard to put what he had felt back then into words.

“Then un-complicate it,” she returned bluntly, “Because its been four years, and if you still can’t just tell me, then maybe coming here was a mistake,” and just like that, she was slapping her hand to her clutch purse on the table, ready to get up when he grabbed her hand.

“Wait,” he pleaded and after a moment of hesitation, Y/n relaxed into the seat again, “I’m sorry,” Keanu began after a deep breath, “Not just for tonight or the other day at the coffee shop. For everything; being a shitty boyfriend, for shutting you out without an explanation, for breaking up with you and telling you to leave, for walking out on us.”

His hand still lingered on Y/n’s wrist and she looked at him with the anger gone, replaced with the same one he had seen on the night that he made the biggest mistake of his life. “I was scared, because........because you wanted everything. And you wanted it with me. I had spent so much time alone that I didn’t think I could do it. And I was so mad, so fucking pissed off, but not with you. I was mad at myself. I just took it out on you, maybe it’s because you were there, maybe it was because it easier that getting my shit together; either way, it was wrong. And I’m so, so sorry for it. I went it into some kind of self-destructive mode and you got caught in the crossfire, cleaning up the messes I made until I pushed you out the door.”

“Keanu,” Y/n breathed, her voice breaking and her eyes shining, “I....” she trailed off, before Y/n had reached the bar, she had planned out everything that she’d wanted to say. Planning for another fight, but ready to lay her heart on the line one last time, because even if it was barely held together by flimsy threads, she hoped it might still be worth something to Keanu.

“I’m so sorry,” his fingers slipped from her wrist to hold the tips of hers, “I was too much of a coward to deal with my own issues, so I ruined us. And hurt you, probably more than anyone else ever has and I know I don’t deserve a second chance, if you can even call it that. And I know it’s probably too late, and that you’re-”

His rambling was cut short by a pair of soft lips on his. Keanu’s eyes slipped closed and for about a minute or two, sharing a juvenile, closed-mouthed kiss, her hands right under his jaw, his holding her forearm awkwardly. The second Keanu moved to deepen their affections though, she pulled away, wide eyed, going to let the tips of her fingers touch her lips. “Why didn’t you say something?” Y/n asked, seeming a little shocked by her action though not yet ready to address it, “I was always there, even when you didn’t want me to be. All I wanted was for you to let me in, to help you work things out. We were in it together.”

“I know,” he sighed, “But being mad was so much easier than admitting that I needed help.”

Y/n chewed on her lip, shaking her head, looking away for a minute, thinking on her next question, “Do you still love me?”

“I never stopped,” Keanu didn’t miss a beat, his answer came without thought. Of course he did, even when it felt like they hated each other, and anger above everything else clouded it, Keanu loved her, he didn’t think he could stop even if he tried.

“I didn’t either,” Y/n glanced down at her hands, “That’s why we broke up,” her smile was small and hardly even there.

“You and Eli....” That’s why she wasn’t wearing the ring.

“Yeah, he thought...that maybe I was still in love with you. And he’s right, I am,” their hands joined cautiously below the table, marveling at the perceived second chance of a love that once seemed lost.

“Y/n I-”

“Can we not do the teary reconciliation thing? I’m tired of crying,” she tried to smile, “But I do want to try to fix this,” Y/n finished drawing closer to Keanu.

“I’d like that,” Keanu agreed, tucking a lose strand of hair behind Y/n’s ear, going in, that time, for a more adult kiss.

As Keanu’s lips melted against Y/n’s, the rest of the bar seemed to fade away, leaving them in their own little bubble and for the first time in years, Keanu felt like things were exactly the way they were meant to be; Y/n was in his arms and after all of it, the tears, the arguments and the lonely nights, they had found a way back to each other. And if they were looking for whatever would make them happy, they wouldn’t have to look much further.

*******

Tagging: @hisdeadwife @contanto-que-voce-me-queira @ficsnroses

#Keanu Reeves #Keanu Reeves x reader #Keanu Reeves x you #john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #Keanu Reeves fanfiction #Keanu reeves fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #john wick fanfiction #I hope you're happy now #part three #john wick fanfic #angst #fluff #reconciliation #keanucharlesreeves #this took forever but its here now

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 4 years

Text

House Fire | Writing Update

Hey People of Earth!

Today I’ll be sharing an update for chapter ten, called House Fire, from my novel Moth Work.

I wrote this chapter in a bit of a funk between coasts. The first half I wrote toward the end of my semester that just ended, and the second I wrote back home in Toronto. Despite how disorienting the writing process was as I made my way back home, when I got back to the chapter and sunk my teeth into it, I managed to create something I *don’t* dislike!

This chapter is a bit of a bridge that covers many *large* events, and I believe clocks in at the longest chapter in the book (about! 6300 words). The chapter takes place a few hours after the ending of Beautiful Place (chapter 9). Here’s a breakdown of what it looks like so far (CW: drug use/addiction for all of this):

Scene A:

Not a full scene, just a short beat that describes Lonan and Eliza’s (drunken) attempt at getting back to her apartment

Here, they come across a familiar fountain in front of the house Lonan wandered into in chapter 6 (Holy Queen)

Scene B:

Clearly this house has something Lonan wants (and that something is Harrison’s iconic jacket + guardian angel necklace that he got stolen in chapter 6 ahahaha)

This is then intercut with a memory he’s reminded of (that I wrote about a year ago and cut out and reinstated in this chapter) regarding a fire him and Harrison start

This reveals Lonan’s fear of houses (particularly referencing the cabin they’ve been staying at)

When we’re brought back into the fictive present, Eliza’s walking toward the house (stealing that shit backkk) and Lonan can’t remember if/what he’s asked her to do

Scene C:

Lonan sees Eliza taking prescription sleeping medication in her room and this image sorta sticks with him (he’s been dealing with an on-off addiction since about book 3)

This scene is then intercut with his hypothetical of what happened when she went into the house that at the time, was hosting a party

He then goes to her room in hopes of finding that prescription and we shall! leave! it! at! that! Things occur! There are many descriptions of traffic light on faces! Apparently I just describe that a lot!

Scene D:

In the middle of the night, Lonan finds that prescription and heads back to the “beautiful place” in the previous chapter. This is the only location he’s felt grounded in and heads to it hoping to “unground” himself/hopefully fall asleep as I think the last time he slept was about five books ago he’s coming out as a vampire!

What he does with the sleeping pills is unclear. The reader is supposed to feel disoriented though I probably haven’t hit that mark exactly right. What you need to know: He doesn’t end up taking anything and heads back to her apartment.

Scene E:

Eliza is waiting up for him by the time he gets in. She knows he’s taken her prescription (she suspects this early on as she is a mental health professional!!), and this leads to the first time Lonan ever really readily accepts help

I didn’t fully finish this scene and I do think it needs some fleshing out!

Looking back on it, I think this could be a great place to put/flesh out a breaking point, but I’m kind of over writing Lonan having a bad time so I moved on (though I will come back to this)!

The entire chapter has a sleeplessness I quite like (and hope to push more of in edits)! I’ve found myself losing the purpose of POV in this book recently, but I think I managed to rekindle it a bit in this chapter (I’m a hoe for third present I will say).

Excerpts:

Here’s a descriptor of this party (hypothetically):

Eliza stabilizes them both against a lamppost, and links their fingers together. A couple walks past them and through the gates, iridescent steel and dauntingly pretty like Peter’s. He imagines what it’s like to be in the belly of that house—what happens at parties in Vegas mansions. Drinks the colour of washable markers, artificial women like wolves in nice dresses. Starry photoflash, a bad smell like fruit punch and bile somewhere in the bedroom. Something in the air is bitter, and it’s not the leftover wine on his tongue. It tastes richly alkaline. It tastes like sucking on a quarter.

This excerpt delves a bit into the core of Lonan’s headspace, almost like the thesis of his character in this particular story (aka it’s superrrr angsty also so much bi energy) (CW for dissociation):

“Where did you go?” she asks after a moment. Her gaze remains fixed on the window, the flutter of traffic blotting her ceiling. She holds herself up by the elbow, and every few minutes, it trembles. Something unfamiliar to him, something haunted and blurry, passes over her face; cars whirl over pavement below, a man shouts for a taxi, a dog barks something hungry, something that makes him think it should be a wolf, and her expression remains the same. Makeup creases under her eyelids, forks at the corners like kohl lightning. He’s tempted to smudge it away, to see what that would look like, when she says, “Tell me it’s someplace nice.”

Lonan blinks. He doesn’t know where he goes, he should say. He doesn’t go anywhere, but goes everywhere, he should say. He goes to a church sometimes. He meets a woman sometimes. He goes home with her sometimes, drinks her wine, memorizes each stitch in her skirt, forgets himself there, sometimes. He’s in the middle of the water sometimes, with a boy sometimes, rowing to the horizon, because moonward is the only direction he knows. He adores him sometimes, he dreads him sometimes, he hurts him sometimes, he sinks his wolf teeth into his mouth sometimes, because there’s nothing else to do when he feels this way; unloved, sometimes. Maybe just unlovable.

This is a bit of a nod to the title (also I just like the idea that houses are deadly?):

He thinks of houses. How deadly they are. He thinks of fires. How maybe Eliza is one.

And here’s a final line about me just hoeing it up for the moon this is a complete self insert line (also excuse me using blots multiple times as a verb I ran out of words in my brain and am currently reloading):

The moon is a pretty woman, he thinks. The moon is a pretty woman carved out of alabaster. Ahead, in the stone’s clearing, calling for him, something tempting. Water guzzles through his ears until the ocean blots them of sound, and the whir matches the movements of the moonlight—cutting his chin, his eyes.

So that’s it for this update! I was going to update on chapters eleven and twelve as those are basically ready to go, but I haven’t named either as of yet, and am still tweaking! However, I hope y’all enjoyed this one!

--Rachel

#writing #amwriting #writingupdates #writeblr #mothwork #fostered #writerblr

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jemej3m · 5 years

Text

leisuring

directly caused by by @mini-minish‘s andrew in jenna marble’s leisuring suit, i present to you this:

a stupid short fic where andrew is jenna and neil is julien

(based loosely on her videos i want to be tall, i try hot glue crafts, cooking vegan thanksgiving food, giving my boyfriend acrylic nails and how many balloons does it take to lift my dog off the floor and maybe a few others)

Andrew frowned at the video. He almost ignored it: He ignored a lot of things on the internet, except for the video suggestions that truly stuck with him. And Neil’s texts.

Even then, sometimes he found himself so lost that spiral that was the internet that even Neil didn’t draw him out.

He’d seen shit like this all over the place already: Shane Dawson, all those pathetic beauty gurus, where edits brought their best (worst?) moments all together for a ten minute long shitshow.

And here was Andrew’s ten minute long shit show. Appropriately titled “andrew and neil annoying each other for ten minutes straight”, it was posted by some random person. Nicko. Weird.

Andrew almost didn’t click on it. Almost.

Then he did, and it unfolded like this:

“Andrew,” Neil said, exasperated. “What are you doing.”

Andrew was sat in a dark corner of the house, playing the electronic keyboard. It had a choral overlay, like a church choir was humming along to him. He said: “I want to be tall.”

Neil snorted. “Neither of us have grown since sixth grade.”

He played another chord. “I want to grow a whole eight inches, Neil.”

Neil arched an eyebrow, holding the camera in front of his chest. Andrew looked up at him instead. “You want to grow a whole eight inches.”

“Then I will be average height.” He played his third and final chord. “I want to be tall.”

Neil sighed. “Fine. Come on.”

cut screen

[andrew and neil annoying each other for ten minutes straight]

“Neil.” Andrew leaned into the study, where Neil was curled into a ball with a hood drawn over his head. He probably had woken up at six-am to go for a jog and hadn’t bothered to shower since, considering Neil was disgusting and nothing Andrew did would ever change that.

Neil looked up from the computer screen and immediately frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that.”

Andrew thought he was looking pretty dead-pan. Fuck Neil for being able to see right through him. “How would you feel - ”

Neil put his head in his hands. “Give me the sweet release of death already.”

“- about me giving you a full set of acrylic nails.”

Neil’s head dropped to the desktop with a loud bang.

“Neil.” Andrew snapped. “Neil. Quit that. You’re making a mess.”

“It’s fine.” Neil grinned, flipping a glass bowl and snatching it mid-air with his hand. The camera zoomed into Andrew’s eye twitching, every time Neil threw and caught that infernal bowl. “It’s fine. What’s wrong? Everything’s fine.”

“I fucking hate you.” Andrew growled.

“How many times did we have to go back to Party City to get these balloons?” Andrew wondered aloud.

“Six times.” Neil informed him, looking at how his cat (Sir, not King - King was way too hyperactive) was relaxing about three metres above the ground. She was suspended with seventy-two helium balloons, because Andrew wanted to know how many balloons it took to lift their small cat.

“She’s sleeping, ‘Drew.” Neil murmured grinning behind his hand. “Oh my god, she’s so relaxed. She’s sleeping.”

“It’s because King can’t reach her, and thus, can’t taunt her or wake her up.” Andrew looked at the dozens of balloons that now filled their living room with satisfaction. “It’ll be her safe space.”

Neil slung his arm around Andrew’s shoulders, still filming as their cat spun meaninglessly through the air.

“Ow!” Neil hissed, inspecting his now inch-and-a-half long acrylic nails. “Ow. What the fuck. What the fuck!”

“Calm down.” Andrew berated him, finishing the acrylic on his second last nail. “You’re being a wuss.”

“I want these off, now.” Neil moaned.

“Well, I don’t have pure acetone, so we’ll see if we can get them off at all.”

“Wait, what?” Neil yelped, glaring at Andrew. He widened his eyes. “What?”

“I’m going to give you a Brazilian Blowout.” Andrew menacingly waved his hairdryer around. “You’ll look like you’re compensating for a lack of an emo-phase in your teenage years.”

Neil grinned up at him from where he was sitting. “You never moved on from that phase, did you?”

Andrew almost stabbed him with the hairbrush. “I’m compensating for you.”

Neil settled into the chair. “Do what you want. Just don’t bring the FBI running.”

Andrew snorted.

Andrew walked out from the corridor in eight-inch heels, hair sprayed upright.

“Oh, damn.” Neil said, softly, looking at the leather boots and purple trousers that were tight around his thighs.

“Keep it in your pants, Josten.” Andrew said snipily. “Eyes are up here.”

“Don’t worry,” Neil grinned, craning his neck up to look at him. “That orange jacket is really turning me off.”

Andrew stared dead into the camera with a hat made out of hot glue to his head. The camera zoomed in. He slowly help up a different piece of hot glue.

“See, Five-Minute-Crafts? I can create random shit out of hot glue, too.”

It read fuck you.

“Neil, that’s too much cinnamon.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Neil.”

“Yes?”

“I fucking hate you.”

“I’m angry.” Andrew said.

“Well, no shit.” Neil remarked. “You just spent six hours making a chair out of jeans, with nothing but staples to put it together.” He threaded his fingers through Andrew’s hair as his boyfriend looked up at him in misery. “It’s completely rational.”

“Should we bring her down?” Neil whispered. Sir hadn’t woken up from where she was napping, mid-air.

“Why are you whispering.” Andrew said flatly.

“She’s asleep. Don’t wanna be rude.”

“It’s a cat floating in midair. Somehow, I don’t think it cares.”

Andrew slowly turned his face towards Neil as he glittered with rhinestones. He’d never felt more itchy in his life, and he’d put on a hundred layers of fake eyelashes once.

“Pass, pass, pass, pass, pass, pass, pass, pass, pass,” Andrew winked at him and Neil grinned. “Smash.”

Neil stabbed a banana with his terrifyingly long nails and grinned at Andrew as disgusting banana goop got stuck under his nails. Andrew wanted to retch.

Then he bent down and tried to feed it from the cats, and Andrew hated his boyfriend so much.

“Are you satisfied, now?” Neil looked up at Andrew, who was a little unsteady in these eight-inch boots. His head hurt with the amount of hairspray they’d used to stand his hair up, even though his hair wasn’t even that long.

“This is now my permanent state.” Andrew replied.

Neil rolled his eyes.

“Guess who’s man isn’t here to be the idiot?” Andrew pointed at himself. “My man. Guess who’s going to compensate for Neil’s idiocy by dyeing his hair bright red?” He pointed at himself. “This bitch.”

“Neil.” Andrew said, voice on the absolute edge of losing it. Neil fucking threw a piece of cannoli dough into the deep fryer, getting hot oil everywhere. “If you’re going to go and be a tornado all through the kitchen, then fucking tornado your way out to the living room.”

Neil coughed in his ear on purpose, and Andrew grabbed him by the sleeve.

“Aw,” Neil was laughing too hard to be taking Andrew serious. “You’re no fun!”

Andrew shoved him onto the couch. “Stay there till the deep fryer is off.”

Andrew gazed out the window. “The sun has set since I started doing this.” He then turned, gazing straight into the camera. “The sun’s setting on the opportunity for me to do something with my life.

Sir lazed on the chair that Andrew sat beside, reading out the mean comments that the internet had spared her. She was the ‘dead’ one, an old cat who barely moved or even blinked, whilst King was the more challenged one, to say the least.

“Oh, look.” Andrew said icily. “It’s a comment from Allison Reynolds herself. Keep talking up your cats, Reynolds. We all know they can’t manage anything more than purely aesthetic function, just like yourself.”

Neil whistled lowly. “Not sure your best friend would appreciate you calling her girlfriend a trophy wife.”

“Is that not what Reynolds is?” Andrew snorted. “My mistake.”

Neil made kissy noises. “You lookin’ like a snack.”

Andrew brandished a kitchen knife. “Say that again, I dare you.”

Neil just grinned and mouthed love you.

cut screen

[thx for watching]

Andrew slapped his laptop closed.

“Neil,” He called over his shoulder. “I’m quitting Youtube.”

His boyfriend leaned over the back of the couch to loop his arms around Andrew’s shoulders and press kisses to his cheeks. “Uhuh. Because I’ve never heard you say that before.”

Andrew grumbled, grabbing Neil by the arms and throwing him over the back of the couch. He partially landed in Andrew’s lap.

“I’ve been jiu-jitsed!” Neil rolled off the couch with a melodramatic thud. “It’s all over. Tell my father I love him!”

“He’s dead and you hate him.” Andrew said flatly. Neil grinned up at him.

“You know me so well.” He sunk into the couch beside Andrew, curling into a ball against his side. “Will you show me this video of us?”

Andrew sighed, opening his laptop. He let himself droop his head down to Neil’s shoulder, somewhat nuzzling into the familiar scent of his shirt.

He’d quit another day.

thx for readin lmao

#andrew minyard #neil josten #andreil #youtube au #jenna and julien au #all for the game #jem writes

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gerryconway · 5 years

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Burton's Revenge.

After a miserable time at the movies last night, I've come to the conclusion that Tim Burton's grim and joyless "Dumbo" is an auteur triumph.

SPOILERS AHEAD. (Though for this movie, "spoiler" is descriptive as well as a warning label.)

I don't recommend "Dumbo," but I admire it. Burton has accomplished something almost startling with this film: he's made a movie that is about as unsubtle a "f**k you" to both his corporate sponsors and the audience as one could get without actually superimposing "F*CK YOU!" on every frame. Contempt for Disney and for the audience that gobble up the company's live action remakes of classic animated films oozes from every shot, every scene, and in particular, from the entire second half of the movie. If some films are a love letter, this is hate mail. Tim Burton clearly hates how Disney is exploiting the animated films he cherished as a child, and "Dumbo" is his bitter revenge.

Why am I sure "Dumbo" is the angry vision of a furious auteur and not a well-meaning misfire? Because I respect Tim Burton as a filmmaker too much to believe this movie isn't exactly what he wanted it to be.

Burton has been making films for thirty-five years, and though the films he's made lately haven't been quite as quirky and strange as his earlier movies, they still display the control of a man who knows what he wants to achieve, and how to achieve it. You might not like where he goes, but he knows how to get you there. So, "Dumbo," with all of the issues I'll mention below, is exactly the movie Burton wanted it to be.

The question is, why? Why would Burton want to make a movie so driven by rage against audience and corporate sponsors both?

And why "Dumbo"?

If you've seen Burton's interview with Ray Harryhausen, available on some of the Blu-ray reissues of Harryhausen's films, you're reminded of how much of Burton's vision of filmmaking is informed by his still-childlike appreciation for simple wonder. As he sits with Harryhausen and plays with the saucer models from "Earth vs the Flying Saucers," Burton looks and sounds like a five year old kid gawping in awe at a shopping mall Santa Claus. He still loves the things he loved as a child, and he becomes a child again in their presence. His joy is sincere.

The man who felt joy and wonder in the presence of Ray Harryhausen could never have produced the grim, joyless, misery-soaked downer that is "Dumbo" unless he was trying to say something about the destruction of his own childhood sense of joy and wonder.

I think "Dumbo," in its not-so-thinly veiled critique of the cruelty of corporate exploitation of children and nostalgia, is Burton's attempt to tear down the structure he helped to build.

It was Burton's own remake of "Alice in Wonderland" that set the current live-action remake frenzy in motion, remember. Whatever you may think of that movie (I like it for its weird and subversive charm), there's no question it was enormously successful and clearly inspired the corporate minds at Disney to authorize a wholesale ransacking of Disney animated classics as fodder for subsequent live-action redos.

As a loving fan of those original classics, I think Burton must have been horrified by what he'd unleashed. He couldn't have felt otherwise. Again, look at his interview with Harryhausen. The kid in him cherishes joy and wonder. Whatever virtues the Disney live-action remakes have, with the exception, I'd say, of Burton's own "Alice," joy and wonder aren't an apparent high priority for the filmmakers involved. If anything, most of the remakes are drained of wonder by the translation from the imagined to the tangible.

Which brings us to "Dumbo."

The original "Dumbo" is a slight, one-hour fairy tale, centered entirely on a baby elephant with big ears who can fly, and cast almost completely with talking and singing animals. With the exception of a thoughtless racist element, it is a film of charming childlike innocence with a simple message about the strength of mother and child love and the power we gain when we let go of emotional crutches. ("I need a feather to fly.")

This is not a movie that demands a live-action remake, or even, in its story elements, supports the possibility of one.

And, in fact, Burton's "Dumbo" isn't a live-action remake-- it's an angry, passionate argument *against* such a remake. The baby flying elephant is a MacGuffin in Burton's "Dumbo"--not the emotional core of the story. There are no talking or singing animals, no other fantasy elements, not even a hint of fairy tale atmosphere. From a character point of view, I'd argue, there is no emotional core: none of the "live" characters in Dumbo have any emotional resonance at all. They are all bleak and joyless and broken, emotionally dead, barely responsive to the world and the story supposedly taking place around them. One of them, a little boy, has no character existence at all-- I'm not sure he's even named, and he could be removed completely from the film without any discernable impact. For a filmmaker with Burton's skill set such a failure to develop even marginally interesting characters with a vital stake in the story is inexplicable-- unless it was intentional.

I think it was intentional.

I think "Dumbo" is an act of auteur subversion, one of the most breathtaking acts of creative defiance since "Citizen Kane," though certainly far less successful as a piece of entertainment. In fact that may well be the movie's most defining artistic characteristic-- its complete unwillingness to entertain.

It really is a remarkable achievement. To trick Disney into financing and releasing a major motion picture which savages everything about the company's approach to its classic films, and, in addition, to its entire corporate raison d'etre, is a stunning accomplishment. What a trick. I imagine the script reads very different from what Burton shot-- it's possible to describe something one way, shoot it another, and edit it all together to produce the opposite effect from what the screenplay suggests. Because there's so much CGI involved, Disney executives probably never realized what Burton was doing until final cut. And that, in itself, is part of Burton's savage attack on Disney's corporate methodology. The further film executives get from true hands-on creative involvement in the films they make-- through increasing dependency on CGI and post-production manipulation-- the less they really know about the movies they're making. The very power to ham-handedly rework a mediocre director's work in post allows a master director to hide his intentions until it's too late to reverse them. By the time Disney executives possibly realized what Burton was up to, if they ever did, they'd sunk too much money and time into his version of the film-- and had no choice but to either scrap the movie entirely or release it as it is. Given the exigencies of corporate finance, and the apparent belief on the part of Disney executives that the appetite for live-action versions of beloved animated classics is insatiable, releasing Burton's hate mail movie was ultimately the only logical thing to do.

In the end, "Dumbo" isn't a good movie. It probably was not intended to be. It's Tim Burton's angry rant against making movies like itself. It's a slap in the face to the people who financed it and the audience who shows up for it. As a work of protest it's kind of admirable. As a film-going experience, as I stated above, it's a miserable two hours.

You've been warned. At least now, if you see it, you can "enjoy" the movie for what it is-- a scream of contempt, an artist setting fire to the gallery displaying his work. Personally, now that I've defined it... I think I like it.

YMMV.

#dumbo 2019 #Dumbo

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royaljeongin · 6 years

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Les lettres d’amour

les lettres d’amour (the love letters) / one shot

pairing: yuta x female!reader

genres: angst, fluff, fuckboy!yuta, college!au, roommates!au

word count: 3.5k

warning: alcohol, language, drunk sex (no smut though srry)

summary: “you should have never read this.” or when everything goes downhill after your really hot roommate finds your love letters one day.

a/n: proud of this one, probably one of my best works. (kinda inspired by tatilb, i just love the book series so much!) last edit: 18.09.16

[ masterlist ]

your apartment was a mess, boxes were scattered all over your old apartment because it was moving day. you were helping the movers put the boxes in their truck. you were forced to leave the apartment because the rent was getting impossible to pay. thankfully, you found another one, it was perfect. it was spacious enough, closer to school and the rent was significantly cheaper because you split it with a roommate which was perfect for the typical broke college student.

you only met the landlord, an old lady who owned the complex for over thirty years. she had strands of animal fur on her clothes because of the stray cats that hung out around the building. she had a bright smile so you weren’t worried about the landlord. you were more worried about the owner of your new living space that you still haven’t met.

you hoped that they would be nice and respectful, obviously. you wish that your roommate would study in the same field of science as you so that you guys had at least one thing in common. ideally a girl because you really did not know how to interact with people of the opposite gender. yes from your twenty something years of your existence, you still were clueless about how to keep up a conversation with a guy, let alone befriend them.

it was not rare for you, though, to develop crushes.you never did anything with them because you were always hoping that they would magically notice you and fall for your “quirky” personality. your current one was nakamoto yuta. yes, the captain who got a scholarship because of his outstanding soccer skills. the japanese guy with the charming smile. he was also in the same major as you, biotechnology. every time you saw him in class, he exuded with such confidence that made him extremely attractive. and honestly, you would die for his smile. you loved it. rumours said that he hooked up with a lot of girls, ranging from freshmen to seniors. it was not in your habits to develop crushes on “players” but you really couldn’t help yourself.

you crushed so hard that you let your feelings flow through words on paper. you weren’t too good at writing, your word choices weren’t always the fanciest but it perfectly conveyed your feelings in a simple manner. you wrote five total. all stored in a shoe box where you put all of your precious belongings. if the building was burning down and you could only save one thing, it would be the shoe box.

you entered the apartment. it was squeaky clean. the smell of cologne was subtle and wasn’t overpowering (just like you liked it). you walked around and visited every room. you went into the bathroom. you opened the cabinet and found shaving cream, razors and skincare for men. you were now more curious about your roommate and wondered who could it be.

you quickly settled in. you didn’t like when things got messy and laid everywhere on the floor. you unpacked as much as you could. after three hours, you were practically done. you just had to organize your clothes by colour. while you hung the last piece of clothing on your rack, you could hear the door getting unlocked. you hurried to greet your roommate to make a good first impression.

you heart was beating from excitement and nervousness. when the person entered, you introduced yourself with a “hello, my name is-“ and before you said your name, you were shocked at who was standing in front of you, he was holding the apartment keys. you blinked twice to make sure it was him.

the long messy hair, the intense gaze, it was definitely him. his arm were around the waist of a girl you never saw, probably an art student. you heard he was a sucker for art girls. one eye contact exchanged with him made you understand that you should be leaving. embarrassed, you bowed, took your bag and left.

the moment you stepped foot out of your entrance, you received texts from your best friend, yerim, to meet up at a place to catch up. you were so caught up by the moving and the endless assignments that you basically did not have a social life.

you joined your friend at a cute trendy restaurant and ordered your food. it didn’t take long before she asked you who your roommate was.

“it’s yuta,” you said while taking a bite of that cheeseburger.

yerim almost choked on her milkshake.

“yuta as in nakamoto yuta?”

you nodded your head. she knew of your huge crush on him. you were always gushing about this boy.

“i wasn’t even able to greet him! the moment he entered the apartment, he was holding some girl.”

“do you wish to be that girl?” she teased. you hit her shoulder and yerim winced in pain.

you unlocked the door, hoping that the girl would be gone. it’s been literally 6 hours since you left. you placed the shoes on the mat. the heels from the girl were not there anymore. you checked the clock.

12:23 am

“hey princess, i’m nakamoto yuta.” he was at the dining table eating some fried chicken. you tried to be calm when he called you princess. you told yourself that he probably set that nickname for every girl and that it didn’t mean anything.

“hello! i am y/l/n y/n,”

“sorry about earlier.”

you shrugged, you didn’t really care but it was kind of a dick move to bring a girl when you just moved in. you sat in front of him, took a piece of fried chicken and ate it. yuta looked offended that you took a piece of his chicken without permission.

“you gotta make up for earlier, that was awkward for me.”

he took your excuse.

silence.

“ok so let’s set some ground rules.”

he nodded his head.

“don’t bring home girls when i’m there, at least, don’t let me see the face of the girl you are gonna hook up with.”

“ok my turn, i do the laundry and you do the folding!” he smiled brightly.

“wait let me take a piece of paper, i need to note that down,” you said while grabbing a pen and cute paper from your stationery collection. you loved collecting pens, washi tapes, paper, sticky notes...

twenty minutes later, you finally settled on some ground rules.

1. yuta needs to be subtle when he brings girls home.

2. yuta is in charge of the laundry.

3. y/n does the folding.

4. both are responsible for cleaning the shared space.

5. y/n and yuta take turns for the cooking because they both suck at it!

both of you were happy with the rules and even shook hands to seal the contract. when you both touched hands, it finally sunk in. yuta, your crush, was your roommate. you thought this only happened in books or movies but here you are.

that night, you could barely sleep. you were thinking of when yuta smiled at you brightly. you never saw it up close but gosh was it ten times more beautiful. you liked how his eye lit up. you even wrote another letter that night and carefully putting in the shoe box.

a few months passed, you guys got a lot closer because of the time spent together. on friday nights, you guys frequently watched movies and anime together. cozied up while catching up to hunter x hunter together. when you both got tired of it, you either watched sci-fi films (his personal favourites) or rom-coms (your favourites). you couldn’t help yourself but get bored while watching sci-fis so you always ended up sleeping on his lap while wearing his hoodie that you stole from folding the clothes. the next morning, he wasn’t there because he always woke up early every day to practice at the soccer field.

college was still kicking your ass, so it wasn’t rare now to see you in the library finishing a last minute assignment or studying for the next exam. thankfully, yuta and you both had the same majors, so you guys always encouraged each other with several cups of iced coffes and forced yourselves to not procrastinate. contrary to a lot of people’s beliefs, he took his studies at heart and worked incredibly hard.

if you weren’t watching tv nor studying on fridays, yuta dragged you into those college parties. he made sure that your social life wasn’t stagnant. it pushed you out of your comfort zone. going to a lot of them forced you to interact with other students and you were even able to befriend some. you eventually ended up becoming friends with yuta’s best friend, sicheng also known as winwin.

you enjoyed drinking cheap beer but you always passed out because you were a really light drinker. your roommate always carried you on his back and you always woke up the next morning feeling extremely hungover but with a clean face; the smudged eyeliner and concealer disappeared. he would take the time to clean your makeup off and you appreciated that so much.

the amount of time you spent outside of school sparked some rumours that you guys had something special going on. at least, on the stage of seeing each other. yuta always posted some pics of you on his instagram and you carelessly wore his hoodies to class. but it was also because he also brought a significantly smaller amount of girls at home; it’s been maybe a month since he did and you were happy about it because hearing girls moan and scream his name wasn’t the most pleasant when you were just trying to study. the guy always denied the rumours while you were wishing that he, at least, would have a small crush on you.

spending that much time with him definitely made you fall for him deeper. you found out a lot of quirks that made him endearing. like how he was always fed the stray cats. the fact that he didn’t sleep with any pillows made him even more unique than what he already was. you also liked it when he put on your favorite earrings of his. and him calling you princess never failed to make your heart beat.

you were currently completing your eye makeup look while listening to a random playlist. yerim was still deciding on what to wear. you let her choose her outfit from your closet because she claimed that she didn’t had anything to wear anymore (her closet was huge though). she was trying to find the perfect pair of boots to match her clothes when she found a shoe box. she couldn’t help but open it and found the letters.

you were still focused on getting your eyebrows even so she rapidly shoved them in her handbag then, excused herself to go to the bathroom. yerim locked the door and started reading your letters. amazed would be an understatement for how long you had feelings for the campus’ japanese prince. one of the letters were even from freshman year! your best friend didn’t want to let those letters go to waste so she sneakily slid them under his bedroom door, a smirk plastered on her face.

there was a change of dynamics between you and yuta and you had absolutely no idea why. he was distancing from you. he didn’t let you fall asleep on his lap anymore nor was he much excited about watching anime together with you. you didn’t know where you screwed up and you badly wanted to fix things but didn’t know where to begin.

you told yourself that you just had to let him alone for a while and everything would be back to normal again in two or three days.

after a whole week, things were still the same. you became so desperate that you naturally drifted away from him. no more movies on friday nor going to parties together nor studying late at the library. you hung out with sicheng more though. it didn’t take much time before you confided all of your feelings to him. he assured you that yuta appreciated you and suggested that you should talk to yuta. you were probably exacerbating the whole situation by not talking to him but you couldn’t understand his actions and it felt too overwhelming thinking how you guys currently acted like strangers living in the same space in a short amount of time, to the point, you did all of your own chores. you eventually ended up giving back his hoodies, even though you were emotionally attached to them due to their smell. it exactly smelled like him and you loved it.

he also went back to his old habits, he brought home girls but he was respectful and tried to do do it as discreetly as possible and avoided doing it when you were around. it wasn’t rare that you had bad nights of sleep because of how much noise it got during the night. thankfully, it never lasted too long.

your didn’t go to parties nor friends to meet up (yerim is always busy) so you didn’t have anything to do of your friday nights anymore so you cleaned your room, especially your closet. you thought it would be a good time to do spring cleaning. it made you think of things other than yuta. he was only a being lingering in the back of your mind.

when you got rid of those platforms that you never wore, you saw the shoe box. you slowly opened it, you swear that you could’ve let out a scream right now. you were internally freaking out because there was nothing in the box.

and everything added up.

the way yerim encouraged you to talk to yuta. the way he ignored you. it all made sense. your best friend probably shoved the letters under his door when you were busy doing your makeup. you tried to get get mad at her because it kinda ruined your relationship but you couldn’t bring yourself to it, she was probably trying to make this work.

you wailed all night under your bed sheets while listening to meaningless exchanges out of pure lust through the thin walls. he was never supposed to read those letters because you were scared that this would happen, that you would lose him.

never in your life, you thought you’d find yourself in the bedroom where a party was hosted, completely drunk, sucking someone you only vaguely knew the name of. it was something like jaehyun, you had no idea. what you heard were only grunts and fucks. you honestly didn’t know what you were doing, and why you were doing this. the effect of alcohol was taking a toll on you.

when you and jaehyun were done, you didn’t feel anything. you only thought of yuta. you were only reminiscing him feeding the stray cats, him holding the cup of iced coffee for you and him playing with your hair when you were studying because he wanted to take a break. it was always him and he was always on your mind.

sicheng probably sensed something wrong when he didn’t see you for a whole hour. and he finally found you in the bathtub, crying, your mascara was ruined. to be honest, it wasn’t a pretty sight.

sicheng texted yuta. your roommate quickly came over to bring you home. yuta’s gaze softened when he saw you crying, he felt bad that he wasn’t here to emotionally support you.

“come on princess, let’s go home,” he said softly.

you nodded. he successfully dragged you out of the bathroom. he was carrying you on his back, your chin was rested on his shoulder. his cologne felt like home. you were barely able to, but still mumbled words like “i miss you.” and “i love you.” under your breath. he quietly walked to the apartment complex. he tensed up when you said something about you sucking jaehyun’s dick and how you didn’t feel anything afterwards but it filled the hole of your heart, that represented yuta, for a short while.

he took off your makeup and put you to bed, when he was about to leave the room. you let out a wait! come here please. he got closer to you.

“what princess?”

you took clumsy steps and could now feel yuta’s breath on your skin. you tiptoed to be able to kiss him but he stopped you and made you lay in bed.

“yuta, am i that repulsive? is that why you don’t want to kiss me?” you asked while whimpering.

“no, no, i just don’t want you to regret your actions because of the effect of alcohol. i don’t want to take advantage of you. i am not that type of guy. let’s talk about this tomorrow okay princess? dream well.”

he turned the lights off and you doze off.

you woke up with a huge headache. last night was a blur for you. you checked your phone. you received tons of texts from jaehyun and everything was crystal clear now. you wanted to crawl under your bed forever due to embarrassment. you couldn’t believe you said all of these things to yuta.

you forced yourself out of your bed. you prepared a simple breakfast: toast and orange juice. yuta had practices on saturday so you didn’t really see him. you received a notification from yerim.

yerim: girl, are you okay? i heard from sicheng that you drank a lot yesterday.

you: yeah, i did. yuta brought me home so we are cool but i did embarrassing things...

you told her all of the events that happened yesterday from beginning to end.

yerim: y/n, you should just tell yuta in real life that you like him. what are you so scared of?

you: have u ever heard of the word rejection?

yerim: you are so dumb to think that he isn’t head over heels for you.

you: how do you know that huh?

yerim: full offense but everyone knows that he is whipped for you. it’s been the talk of the school for weeks. he smiles so much around you. AND he posts about you on his instagram when y’all aren’t even dating??? you guys basically acted like a COUPLE. just square up bitch.

yerim: and even if he rejected you, it wouldn’t hurt as much..

yerim: i am coming over btw, soccer team is in the finals and we need to cheer for them. he’ll be very happy to see you in the crowd tonight, i assure you (;

you smiled, you loved watching him play soccer. he was so focused and you admired that.

you and yerim arrived at the field ten minutes before the match started. thankfully, you were able to get two seats at the front, where you could see them the best. yuta saw you and waved. you asked your best friend to keep your stuff safe and walked up to him, a letter in your right hand.

you felt your heart beating faster every time you took walked closer and closer to him.

“hey yuta! i u-urm have something to tell you,” you said shyly.

he raised one of his eyebrow, waiting for what you had to tell him. you were obviously nervous and before you could even utter a word, the coach yelled at you for disturbing practice time.

fuck it, you thought. you gave the letter in his hands.

“only read this when you guys win! promise me.” you couldn’t let him answer because you quickly ran back to the bleachers. the match was about to start so he put the letter in his bag and got in line, ready to bow. the whistle started blowing.

all of the players were somehow moving gracefully and the ball was always moving smoothly. you were always amazed at how yuta was so concentrated, there was determination in his eyes and you really admired how serious he got when he wanted something. this time, he wanted to win, badly. the match was intense, both of the teams had similar skills, so it was hard to predict who would take home the trophy. there were only five minutes left and there was a tie. your heart was beating, you were seriously hoping that your uni would win.

your team currently had control of the ball and were trying to pass to the offensive part. yukhei, one of the teammates passed the ball to yuta and literally two seconds before the end, he was able to shoot the ball to the net. everyone held their breaths back until the score board had its final buzz, changing the score from 2-2 to 3-2.

all of the crowd went crazy, they were all cheering loudly. your college team just won the nationals! the teammates all shook hands with every opponent. when the trophy was handed to yuta, team captain, his teammates all stood around him. they were celebrating between themselves, all of the blood, sweat and tears were suddenly worth it and the trophy was only the tip of the iceberg.

when yuta saw you, he ran to you. hugged you. he was overjoyed.

“now you can tell me what was in that letter.” he whispered into your ears.

you broke the hug, and were finally able to admire his face. sweat was dripping from his hair, making his skin extremely dewy. he had the smile where his teeth showed. he was literally glowing.

“dear yuta, i love you for an infinite amount of reasons and i hope you feel the same.” you never thought in your life that you would be confessing to a boy.

“dear y/n, i am in love with you. i always brought girls home because i wanted to get over you but i couldn’t because you drive me crazy y/n. especially yesterday, you looked like a mess but you were still pretty.”

he didn’t need to say more because your heart was ready to burst from happiness. you tiptoed and kissed him. he held your waist. he was excellent at this. when you finished, yukhei yelled “finally! they’re officially together.” followed by the team cheering.

“oh and i am taking your hoodies back.” you murmured in his ears.

#yuta imagines #yuta scenarios #smtownnetwork #yuta #nakamoto yuta #nct imagines #nct scenatios #nct #nct 127 #yuta imagine #yuta scenario #nakamoto yuta imagines #yuta nakamoto #yuta x reader #yuta nakamoto imagine

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musicandmusing · 5 years

Text

Metanoia - Chapter 5

Description: Namjoon lives a double life, if you will. He teaches high school Literature and enjoys it. But in the safety of his apartment, he has his hobby, creating music under the pseudonym RM. His meddlesome friends push him where he stubbornly refuses to believe he can go and clings to the safety net he has created. But how strong can a safety net be when it’s full of holes?

Genre: Fluff and Angsty

Pairing: none, (Namjoon and his self-esteem?)

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: Swearing and drinking.

He could barely keep his hands from shaking in his adrenaline-induced craze to bring his broken dam of thoughts out before one of them could be lost in the flood of too much and not enough. Tae leaned so close now that he had pressed himself into Namjoon’s shoulder. Yet Namjoon still couldn’t feel bothered by the lack of personal space, so intent on tearing down his half completed work to rebuild it stronger than before.

A/N: This chapter has been sitting and waiting for a good day to post. It’s been done for months and I just haven’t hopped on a computer to get it posted and I apologize. TBH I’ve had a cursed week (car died, phone’s dying, hit my head at work) so it felt right to show myself all the hard work I’ve put into this story. It’s a bit of a technical chapter but it felt right. Enjoy! - Cinder

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

I sit in darkness waiting for your storm

The flash of lightning quick as it fills the black that consumes me

I keep my eyes closed to keep me tethered to the reality of you

All shadows and bruises, cuts and rough edges, words sunk deep in my back

A broken rumble shakes my bones out of their slumber

Waking me up to a new view I can’t recognize

Your hands covered my eyes, blindly led by you

Your soft words rattled my heart and tilted my world

Chasing the white rabbit your fictitious words created, I fell through your looking glass

Missed the signs that shouted at me to turn back and listen to the reasons why I shouldn’t

He listened carefully to the sample he’d just added behind the first verse. Feeling unsure about the necessity of it, he muted the track and listened again. Half way through the verse he unmuted it so that the heavy synth beat loop came in on “a broken rumble” and Namjoon smiled. But now that he was building on the bass line with the synth, it felt a little... like he could add more. He went into a folder of his preferred samples and found some hi-hat options and a few snare effects he liked. If he spliced the snare and hi-hat options together, cutting the sound off in the middle and creating an off beat rhythm maybe it would give that sense of off-balance the verse needed. He caught his tongue in between his teeth as he set his plan into motion.

He was nearly done carefully crafting the somewhat complex concept in his editing software when his mattress dipped unexpectedly causing him to let out a less than manly squeal and lean harshly to the right. He whipped his head around to see what had caused the movement and his heart rate immediately began slowing back towards normal. He could only send his best withering stare at his asshole of a roommate who grinned wildly at him while Namjoon continued to clutch his laptop for dear life. Tae had already settled into his pillows like it was his own bed, propped against the headboard next to Namjoon and legs casually crossed in front of him with his left arm thrown across his stomach. Namjoon stared at Taehyung, not having quite recovered from the shock he’d received while Tae had the gall to just take his headphones wordlessly from him. He couldn't even bring himself to react when Tae slid the laptop from his lap and started clicking around, clearly starting the track in its incomplete state. Namjoon couldn’t bring himself to get upset at Tae’s absolute disrespect for his privacy and work preferences as he watched his roommate carefully listen to the track. Letting out an exasperated sigh, he sank into his pillows and stared at the ceiling in resignation.

The whole situation really wasn’t even that unusual. Taehyung had interrupted his work on songs before so it’s not exactly a problem that he was listening to the track unfinished. But he could’ve at least found another way of barging in rather than startling him some like horrible jumpscare in a B-list horror movie. Outside of his already reducing frustration for his friend, he patiently waited for the verdict. As he slowed his breathing into a rhythmic pattern, counting slowly while he waited, Tae began to hum. What surprised him was that the snippets were a melody separate from any existing part of the song. Tae seemed to search for the notes as he paused and Namjoon heard him click the trackpad, to presumably back up the track and try the line again.

Namjoon immediately wanted to pick Tae’s brain on his thoughts but he patiently waited out Tae’s own creative process as he worked his way through the song. He had an idea of what Tae might say though, a backing vocal line or even a duet would maybe add some additional emotional depth. He could already imagine it. Tae’s husky tone could compliment the lyrics in a way Namjoon couldn’t quite capture alone. When Tae finally pulled the headphones down around his neck, Namjoon wasn’t surprised by his first words since he’d crashed into the room.

“I think I can add some vocals to the track.” Namjoon turned his head to see Taehyung’s eyes were shining with barely contained excitement, looking the same as he had just hours before while secondhand shopping. Humming, Namjoon nodded in understanding of the rush of creative possibilities.

“I figured that’s what you were working out.” Tae scooted closer to Namjoon and pulled the laptop to sit more in between them. He started clicking around the trackbar, one headphone pulled over his left ear, clearly looking for a specific part of the song.

“Well I was thinking about adding a chorus-like sound here if you think that could work and maybe a doubling here...” Tae played the song and gestured to the portions of the sound waves displayed on the screen as he described his ideas.

Although Namjoon could just almost make out the music coming through the neglected right side of the headphones, he couldn’t hear the song and so Tae’s words made little sense. In these moments he needed the song in his ear, listening for the potential hidden within the notes already laid out. Namjoon stopped the track and unplugged the headphones, forcing Tae to remove them with a slight look of confusion. He plunged his hand under the pillows beneath his back until he felt the tangle of earbuds he was searching for and pulled them out. Gently, he placed one half of the earbuds into Tae’s right ear as he took the other and scrubbed back to the beginning of the track on the computer. At least he hadn’t added any panning yet so the sound would be completely balanced between the two of them.

“Show me.” He looked at Taehyung with a seriousness that had Tae sitting up straighter, losing the slouch he’d until then been sitting with and adjusting his earbud to sit just so. Tae’s eyes glazed into complete focus on the screen full of soundwaves as Namjoon started the song again. They listened through the song again and Tae sang the parts he had pointed out before. It was just a skeleton of the sound, no words yet, and no additional voices to fill the chorus sound he talked about but Namjoon heard the idea. His brain was filling in the sounds he knew he needed to round out the arrangement and the wheels began to turn.

It dawned on him this could be a full-fledged duet and pulled his notebook out from under the pillow Tae was leaned against and started analyzing the lyrics. He ignored the look Tae gave him for probably his questionable storage technique while he worked, judging by the timing. It was effective and sort of weird but who was he to judge. Tae certainly had plenty of weird habits that Namjoon was privy to but he let slide on an almost daily basis.

His first instinct was to begin by sectioning off the second verse, a possible echo, bouncing the words from himself to Tae. His brain had gone into complete hyperdrive, imagining the possibilities of different breakdowns to include a vocal part, determined to include it now that Tae had convinced him. How will the lyrics change with the vocals. Should the verse slow down to give Tae more time to sing the lines. If he did slow down the verse, would he extend the loops or add new material. On second thought no adding more material. Relooping what was already there should work. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered Tae having crowded his space, leaning into his left shoulder with his head clearly in his peripheral but not enough in the way to disrupt the notes he made to accommodate the changes.

It was an adrenaline rush as he reworked and considered the changes in sound. The familiar heavy thrumming of his pulse took over the longer he dove into his work. He eventually decided to just give Tae the whole second verse and he would take the first verse. Then Tae would double him on the first chorus and they would split the second chorus into the bridge and then back into the repetition of the chorus with Tae backing while Namjoon covers the chorus alone.

You came through like a thunderstorm

You took me over and ran, ran, ran me down

Your symphony of sounds

Drowning out my reason

Gonna go take my shelter and weather your storm

He scribbled over all the original notes for the second verse and started noting his final ideas in bold strokes, solidifying his intention. Tae made a small noise of surprise but nothing that could shake Namjoon’s focus. It had only taken maybe five or so minutes to work it all out and he brought his laptop forward so he could start manipulating the track again. He began clicking around his recording program, sectioning off the areas of his recording where he needed to mute his raps in place of where Tae would sing. He could barely keep his hands from shaking in his adrenaline-induced craze to bring his broken dam of thoughts out before one of them could be lost in the flood of too much and not enough. Tae leaned so close now that he had pressed himself into Namjoon’s shoulder. Yet Namjoon still couldn’t feel bothered by the lack of personal space, so intent on tearing down his half completed work to rebuild it stronger than before.

“Tae grab me my MIDI controller.” Namjoon pointed blindly in the direction of the mini MIDI controller he knew sat on his desk to Tae’s left. Even in the chaos of his desk cluttered with loose papers, empty cans of various drinks, a few mugs of various rounds of coffee or tea, he knew the mini MIDI controller would be easy to spot. Namjoon could perfectly picture it sitting in it’s usual nearly neat nook where it barely managed to keep from tangling with a charging cable for his phone, his charging cable for his laptop, and another pair of earbuds. Tae clearly had no difficulty finding it as he was back on the bed in less than 30 seconds, navigating the disaster zone of his desk easily. He even had the forethought to wrap the cord around it.

Plugging it in, Namjoon started setting up as quickly as he could, wanting to continue running on his creative high with Tae’s now seemingly ever-present weight against his shoulder. His roommate continued to silently watch and, normally, Namjoon didn’t let Tae in when he was in the throes of writing and composing but as he was an integral part of the inspiration it felt too trivial to force him leave while he edited the song to fit the new structure.

He started adjusting the settings in his software, trying to find a synth tone to that would suit Tae’s somewhat rough timbre. It needed to be easy for Tae to hear so probably an alto range to double his baritone as his guide. They'd just make a first draft recording with his cheaper microphone that sat on the shelf above his desk. They could really get fancy another time when it wasn't possibly already the next day.

Recording at home was less than ideal but he didn't have the expendable income to go and rent a studio full time. Just a couple hours here or there was the best he could do for recording any audio clips he needed. Besides for the purposes of a rough draft he had enough cloth in his room to help dampen any reverb anyway, what with the thick carpet and long window curtains. The mic was good enough it wouldn't pick up too much else outside of whatever was directly in front of it anyway. He'd gotten it second hand so it hadn't even been too out of his budget.

Namjoon spent 30 minutes, give or take because he didn't really pay attention to the time while he was composing or producing, experimenting with the melody. Occasionally he would wait for Taehyung to give some input, a slight shake or nod of his head if he liked the changes made.

“Taehyung can you grab the mic?” While his roommate grabbed the microphone from his desk shelf, he swapped the earbuds back for the headphones so Tae could hear the song better. They swapped microphone for headphones and Tae settled into a cross-legged position next to the laptop while Namjoon set up the microphone quickly. He didn't have to tell Tae what was happening next. It was clear it was time to record. He didn't even ask for Tae's permission but if Tae hadn't wanted to be a part of this he should've said something when he saw the notes scribbled all around the pages of lyrics. To Tae’s credit, he took everything Namjoon threw at him with ease, not even slightly flustered as he was pushed into the metaphorical spotlight in the privacy of Namjoon’s bedroom.

He pressed play and waited. Namjoon could just hear the song playing as Tae kept one ear of the headphones cocked partially off his ear in order to hear himself better. A technique Namjoon had taught him which he had learned through trial and error. He held his breath as he watched his roommate inhale and focus on the guide Namjoon had just carefully crafted for him. He began to sing, his voice a little rough from the day but it gave grit to the lyrics. Namjoon slid his eyes shut and let the rough yet smooth timbre wash over him. He couldn’t stop the goosebumps and pounding of his heart if he tried.

The world a tinted yellow

The rain hits my face and I think it feels like you

It’s hard and soft, soothes and frustrates

It slides over my skin like your fingers trying to pull me closer

But I’m not sure I want to stand in this rain anymore

To be broken into an unfamiliar form, just the way you wanted

Melted into your desired shape, cracked and glued back into place

Nothing quite the same as before, I won’t be rearranged no more

Want to recognize myself when I look in the mirror

His voice perfectly captured the shattered kind of feeling Namjoon was trying to describe, the loss of your own self due to the destructive power of another. Although he hadn’t truly felt that loss but the feeling of losing himself was always on the precipice of his thoughts, always a worry that never quite let go, no matter how hard he tried to suppress it. Confronting it meant facing choices he didn’t want to second guess.

Taehyung had just finished the last line of the verse when his phone started vibrating angrily from his pocket, light shining through the thin fabric of his old sweats. He paused the recording and pulled out his noisy phone. Namjoon could see that Jimin was trying to FaceTime, a photo of him with Yeontan covering the lower half of his face filling the screen. Even with the poor lighting in the room, just the bedside table lamp and laptop filling the room with battling warm and cool tones, Tae answered. He angled the phone so that Jimin would get an unflatteringly close view of his nostrils as Jimin’s pixelated face filled the screen. Jimin was clearly in his own apartment, possibly in his bedroom judging by the multiple pillows he seemed to be leaning on.

“Hey Jiminie what’s up?” Tae repositioned the phone into a slightly more flattering angle as he moved back towards the bedside table lamp so he wasn’t washed in near darkness. Namjoon noted that Jimin had completely ignored the strange way Tae had answered the call, his face neutral as he spoke.

“You’re not in your room.” Jimin frowned at the screen, clearly confused. “Where are you? Are you busy?”

“I’m in Namjoon-hyung’s room.” Namjoon leaned in onto his roommate’s shoulder so that he came into frame and gave a little wave that Jimin returned. “We were working on a song.”

“Oh! Can I listen to it?” The screen blurred as Jimin seemed to shoot up from his relaxed position and the volume at which Jimin had exclaimed startled both Tae and Namjoon into knocking their heads together. As the video refocused, he was clearly waiting like an excitable puppy for a treat and sat in anticipation against the wall he’d been casually leaned against previously. Namjoon glared at Jimin while rubbing the top of his head, although he was pretty sure he wasn’t in shot anymore as Tae settled back against the headboard again. He grabbed the phone to pull himself into frame again to respond to Jimin’s over-enthusiastic question.

“It’s still in the works. We just made some major changes.”

“I have a great idea then.” Namjoon raised an eyebrow and Tae leaned closer to the phone, as if he’d be able to hear Jimin. Even though the only thing that could possibly cover the sound of Jimin’s clear voice was the low hum of the heating in his room and the muffled sounds of the occasional car driving by their apartment building. “I was going to suggest it before. I’ve been playing some of your stuff to the producer I usually work with. He’s co-written a bunch of my stuff and I really like working with him. He’s super talented.”

Namjoon would say that Jimin is super talented too because he co-wrote a lot of his own music and can dance the pants off a koala but he kept his mouth shut. Jimin was clearly on a verbal roll and he didn’t want to interrupt him or turn down his plans, yet. Although he’d have to hold his tongue about playing his music for everyone and their cousin like some proud parent.

“I have a session with him tomorrow and you should come and get his opinion. Might have some interesting suggestions.” Jimin finished excitedly, beginning to slowly rock side to side and causing the video to sway. Namjoon opened his mouth to ask more questions about what he meant by ‘get his opinion’ and ‘interesting suggestions’ but his roommate butted in.

“Is that the grumpy guy you work with?”

“He’s not grumpy!” Jimin pouted at the screen, thankfully stopping his swaying in his effort to look put out. “He’s just tired most of the time. He pulls a lot of extra hours.”

Namjoon turned to Tae with a look that hopefully portrayed his distinct lack of understanding where this conversation had just made a sharp left. Tae just rolled his eyes and clarified his statement to Namjoon, pointedly ignoring Jimin’s pouting face. “I’ve met him a few times while sitting in on Jimin’s recording sessions. He’s like a cranky cat. Should have a sign saying ‘Do not touch.’”

“He’s nice.” At Tae’s incredulous expression to his boss, Jimin huffed. “I think I’m making progress befriending him.”

“Jimin. You call him your friend but he pretends he doesn’t hear you.” Namjoon raised both eyebrows at this and watched the exchange unfold like a tennis match, eyes shifting from Jimin on the screen to Taehyung next to him.

“Yeah but he always gives me appropriate breaks before I even say I need one and his constructive feedback is always helpful. He’s never rude when I make mistakes. He always has the mini fridge stocked with bottled water.” Jimin defended, clearly offended with Tae’s brush with the truth. At least Namjoon, assumed it must’ve been the truth since Jimin didn’t deny it.

“Sounds normal to me.” Tae said flatly while inspecting the fingernails of his unoccupied left hand while Jimin scoffed in retort. Namjoon felt like they had definitely forgotten he was even there. The experience was turning out to be incredibly enlightening though. He’d seen them interact in person quite a few times now but didn’t usually hear much of their conversations over FaceTime because he was not a nosy friend. Well, okay, a little nosy but he never went out of his way to be nosy. It was like they’d been friends for as long as he and Tae had known each other, the way they bickered. He let them forget his existence for the sake of his curiosity.

“Right! That’s progress! He used to not make eye contact at all!” Well that’s a bit strange, Namjoon thought. Not making eye contact at all? If he went in to meet this guy, he hoped he’d actually get some feedback, which sounded dubious from what he was hearing so far.

“Yes.” Tae just rolled his eyes. “Progress.”

“You do not roll your eyes at me young man!” Jimin’s voice hitched up a few pitches in his indignation at Taehyung’s antics. This was fairly familiar territory for Namjoon, scooting slightly further away from the phone for the impending shouting that was coming. He hoped his neighbors slept like the dead.

“You are only a FEW MONTHS OLDER.”

“You will NOT DISRESPECT ME, KIM TAEHYUNG!”

Namjoon could only see this going downhill from here if he didn’t intervene soon. He had to say that they certainly didn’t let the separation of a screen stop them from squabbling like two angry parakeets. Better to cut them off before there could be any serious repercussions. Like noise complaints. He’d like to keep his clear track record with the landlord.

“So what time should I show up tomorrow?” He plopped his head onto Tae’s stiff shoulder and whatever the two had been ready to throw at each other evidently died in their throats. Jimin’s eyes widened in surprise seeing Namjoon suddenly appear in frame and sat still for about ten seconds before he seemed to register Namjoon’s question. Namjoon had been planning to ask a few more questions about this producer but this would be a once in a lifetime opportunity to get an unbiased opinion on his music. Until… Unless he was signed. And if that happened, then he’d probably get a lot more opinions than he needed.

Jimin’s face turned from ready to kick ass to delighted so fast it gave Namjoon mental whiplash. “Tae will be able to bring you along. He’s supposed to come work on sketches for the music video while I’m recording. You can sit in while I work and see what he’s like.” The swaying of the screen started again and Namjoon tried not to feel motion sick from Jimin’s inability to control his physical manifestation of his emotions. Jimin looked at Namjoon expectantly as he leaned from one side to the other, head tilted slightly to follow his body’s momentum as he waited.

“Are you going to let him know I’m coming?” Namjoon questioned slowly when Jimin didn’t say anymore. If the guy was like a cranky cat, Namjoon would rather not make a negative first impression by crashing a recording session. He didn’t need any scratches.

“I guess I should do that shouldn’t I.” Jimin mumbled as his video cut out and the artificial sound of quick keyboard clicks crowded the small speaker of Taehyung’s phone. Tae had yet to make any comment, his frustration with Jimin apparently deflated from the reminder of the original purpose of the conversation about the producer. The two of them waited, holding very still when the clicking suddenly paused but Jimin didn’t come back. Tae shifted his legs from their crossed position to stretch them out and wiggle his toes and Namjoon continued to lean against him, staying as quiet as possible to not miss anything. Finally they hear a distorted buzz but the idol still didn’t say anything and Namjoon deflated, hoping this wouldn’t take too much longer. To pass the stretching time, he fiddled with the knobs on his MIDI controller, twisting one back and forth around the original position before moving on to another. The sharp sound of clicking filled the silence again and Namjoon couldn’t help but release a sigh, settling in to wait for a while.

They both startled when Jimin’s face finally popped back up on the screen, a big smile on his face. At least this time they hadn’t hit their heads together. “He’s cool with it.”

Namjoon smiled and gave a silent thumbs up, deciding to hold off on any other questions for now. He’d rather mentally prepare for presenting his stuff to a real producer. With a wave and a brief goodbye, he ducked out of Tae’s personal space and opened up a document on his laptop to begin a checklist. His creative high had definitely disappeared by this point but now was replaced with a simmering nervous energy as he typed out what he would want to bring tomorrow. Focus renewed, he didn’t even manage to acknowledge Tae as he left his room to wrap up his conversation with Jimin, only half hearing something about what they wanted to cover tomorrow but tuning out any more than that.

In his effort to make sure nothing would be accidentally left behind as he tended to do when packing, he didn’t register Tae’s sign off with Jimin. The next thing Namjoon picked up was the thundering footsteps towards him and looked up in time to see Tae mid-leap, throwing himself at the space he had just recently vacated. Namjoon quickly pulled his laptop and MIDI controller to his right so Tae couldn’t possibly break them but with his hasty movements meant his phone launched across the bed and at his dresser. All he could do was watch as the corner of his phone case smacked the front of a dresser drawer and land on the floor with a dull thunk. Tae bounced into the bed and Namjoon couldn’t even face him but he knew that his roommate was fully aware of the potentially destructive scene he’d just caused.

After a few beats of silence, he slowly turned towards his still frozen roommate, his frustration taking over his nerves. Tae refused to make eye contact as he looked to where the phone had landed. Eventually he hesitantly met Namjoon’s eyes and flinched because Tae may be many things - hyperactive, nosy, meddling, spoiled, air-headed, brilliant - but destructive was usually not an adjective attached to him.

“Go get it.” Namjoon demanded, not willing to look at the state of his phone, and Taehyung had the sense to not question him and rushed over to go pick up the phone. This phone had yet to sustain any damage to the screen, with the help of some heavy duty screen protectors, and Namjoon was not having his new record ruined from his best friend’s stupidity.

Tae cautiously and slowly turned over the phone, clearly just as worried that something may have happened. Namjoon almost felt the need to cover his eyes so as not to see the damage from the bed but his morbid curiosity kept his hands firmly planted on either side of his body, palms pushed against the mattress. When Tae had crouched with the phone for a good 15 seconds, Namjoon decided to clear his throat and snap him out of whatever daze he was in. His roommate finally clicked the power button to light up the lock screen. A triumphant smile spread across his face as he proudly showed off the phone.

“No cracks!” The air Namjoon had been subconsciously holding in released all at once like a popped balloon.

“You are incredibly lucky, you excuse of a friend.” He glared at Taehyung but there was no heat behind it, more relieved that he wouldn’t be replacing his phone yet. But Tae suddenly moved like he was going to chuck Namjoon’s phone at him, frowning, and Namjoon shielded his face in fear. Only seconds later Taehyung was full out laughing, making Namjoon glare at his roommate as he came back and sat next to Namjoon once more. He dropped the phone safely into the space between them. Namjoon could only manage to smack Tae’s arm in a half-hearted attempt at a silent reprimand as they sank back into a comfortable quiet.

“This is really happening.” Namjoon stared at the wall in front of him, photos of his family and friends, mostly Tae and Jin, covering a large portion of it. He lingered on the ones from his college graduation, the one of his parents grinning as he stood between them with his diploma proudly displayed. Next he looked at one of Jin, Tae, and himself all crowded in a photobooth making the most ridiculous faces they could, aegyo and just general silliness, from the time they had gone to the beach together. Namjoon remembered breaking his sunglasses thirty minutes into the road trip and neither of his friends would let him hold anything of value for the rest of the trip. He’d also almost lost his wallet and frantically had turned over the hotel room they’d stayed in only to find it sitting in his shoe. He was pretty sure Tae had done that just to get back at him for stealing his earbuds and then promptly losing them. He’d later found them in a pants pocket but only after they’d gone through the washing machine.

Tae nudged his shoulder and Namjoon looked at his friend, sure he was unable to hide the uncertainty he felt.

“Yup. You’re really meeting a producer tomorrow. You’re getting professional advice on your demo tomorrow. And I’ll be there with you. And Jimin too.” His small smile helped soothe some of the nerves that sat next to his uncertainty, the two trying to create a monster of anxiety. “You’ve got this. Wanna finish the song?”

A glance at the clock on his laptop read half past midnight but Namjoon couldn’t help but smile back. He looked back at the wall of photos, settling on two he’d recently added. A selfie of his closest friends and himself at karaoke, clearly in the middle of belting whatever song had been on, sat taped next to another from Jimin of the three of them, all crowded on the couch just out in the living room together laughing as Jimin gave the camera a less than impressed look.

“Yeah. Let’s do this.”

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