#sometimes he spreads rumours about himself just for the fun of it because of how people will twist it into something unhinged | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hoony2k · 3 months

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HEART 2 HEART

I aint never seen two chill idols in a room, one of them is always obesessed with the other. Or

Idol!enha giving idol!you heart eyes in professional settings.

PAIRING: ot7

GENRE: fluff, crack, established lovers, secret lovers, idol x idol

WORD COUNT: 3k (help)

WARNINGS: mentions of innocent kissing that's it. I got possessed during hoon and hee's.

NOTE: hii this was so fun. I kind of wanted niki and sunoo's to be a bit longer but I yapped a bit too much in general. this is massive for a 7 member drabble but 1 para wouldn't do justice. hope you enjoy!

Part 1 -> we dating fr?

Part 3 -> cut the cameras

requested masterlist

★ HEESEUNG:

He thinks everything’s a game!!he thinks its funny! But mr lee who is laughing? Not him rn

You’re walking in the hallways after a quick trip to the washroom when suddenly someone grabs your arm and pulls you into a room. You’re ready to scream but he swiftly covers your mouth and chants “It’s me. It’s me” like that’ll help you understand why your boyfriend thought it would be a good idea to lead you into a small clothing room.

You want to get mad at him for a billion reasons but mainly because what if someone saw? and misunderstood! But his stupid smile tells you how he doesn’t care. Sometimes you want to have his optimism and confidence, maybe then you two could live a carefree idol life.

Heeseung wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer to fiddle with the bows on your outfit and hair. Your faux anger slowly crumbles as he stares at you like you painted the night sky and hung the stars on it. Still, you break eye contact just to dust your pride and Heeseung can not stop laughing, finding you cuter than ever.

“I have to go soon. We can’t get caught”, you remind him, the overwhelming time restraint burdens you every time you meet him outside his dorms and as usual, Heeseung doesn’t mind. He shrugs casually, then gives you a reckless smile, eyes hooded. “Who cares?”

Your heart skips a beat in the best way but you purse your lips and pretend to think it over. A hum escapes you, tapping your finger on his chin. He leans closer.

“Probably our managers, you know?”, you say knowing he’s far too busy admiring your eye makeup to even care about the consequences of what would happen if someone were to open the door. So, you do the most logical thing a person subjugated with love could do. Taking his smiley face in your grasp, you turn his head and press a chaste kiss on his cheek, intentionally pressing into his skin to leave a stain.

You pull back to inspect the pink gloss on his cheek, lightly smudged. Heeseung looks like he’s floating but before he can pull any stunts you clap him on the back as a goodbye and quickly scurry out of the room. Not even bothering to check if someone was in the hallway.

If Heeseung stands alone dazed for a while…no one needs to know. He fights his demons when he brings out a tissue to remove your gloss, sobbing internally.

★ JAY:

You will be my girl my girl my girl <3

Jay had told you about how he’d film the Sweet Venom TikTok challenge with you to prepare you beforehand. You had learnt the dance long ago, but the mental preparation to become a different person in front of Jay from Enhypen and a camera took some mental energy. Acting like you were strangers and not a couple filming a silly video wasn’t what you wanted but you were thankful no one spread dirty rumours.

His manager held the camera to film some behind-the-scenes footage of Jay “teaching” you what to do in the challenge and it was kind of funny. But when it came to filming, Jay did everything to be able to spend some extra time with you without seeming suspicious.

He’d get the timing wrong on purpose, he’d bump into you, with the smallest nudge and he’d quickly pause the challenge to apologise. Each time he’d falter or force himself to be out of sync, to have one eye slightly closed, you’d laugh it off, genuinely finding his actions endearing.

He’s excited to film it with you, he can’t wait to show how good you two look, and how his dance style compliments yours, and he can’t wait to see his fans react, gushing over you, throwing heart emojis for his girl.

It was rare for to Jay get so stubborn so you entertained it and laughed. The manager didn’t mind as long as she farmed enough footage but eventually puts her foot down when the behind-the-scenes videos turns longer than 2 minutes and the challenge hasn't reached its middle yet.

She politely tells Jay to rehearse once more and she’d film it after that. The rehearsed one goes by smoothly; the steps are muscle memory at this point.

Before the final take, Jay wants to tell you good luck but almost slips and lays it all out in the open as he parts his lips to call you “Babe”. At the utterance of the first syllable, you snap your head in his direction, eyes piercing his soul, not a hint of a smile.

Jay catches his tongue and switches it to another similar word and thankfully it isn’t noticeable nor is it understood by the manager who assumes Jay’s nerves cause him to slur over his speech. No big deal.

Slightly nervous, Jay glances at you and you offer him an understanding nod. Then the final take begins and everything goes smoothly. When the challenge ends, you turn to bow and he thanks you for joining him. As the manager gives you a thumbs up and taps away on her phone preoccupied, you turn to Jay with a raised brow and he blushes.

“I don’t wanna talk about it”.

★ JAKE:

Personal space? Never heard of her

It’s been hours since you’ve arrived and Jake has not stopped smiling for even a second. He’s over the moon he can’t believe how well you fit into his social circle (enha) like a puzzle piece he was missing this whole time. He’s not sappy but he could write an entire sonnet on how gorgeous you look lounging on his bed, eating take out and brushing your hair back as you watch the movie with him.

But when you announce it’s time to leave, he does not stop sulking and begging you. Literally on his knees. The moment you try to get out of bed, he grabs onto your arm and pulls you tight into his embrace, nose in your hair, he pretends he’s asleep when you ask him to let go.

“My manager just texted me”, you tell him but your hands find his free hand. He rubs a thumb over your hand and you feel like you just kicked a wet puppy into mud. He groans into your hair, slowly and subtly, his legs wrap around your own as if he’s trying to merge your bodies.

“Tell her your phone exploded”, his voice is muffled and immediately you stop feeling bad.

You whine his name and try again but he refuses to budge, and when he tries to pull his bed covers on your frame, you decide to threaten him, “I’ll scream for Jay I’m not playing. I’m overdue curfew”.

“Door’s locked”. HELLO??

You sigh and let your head rest on his pillow that smells exactly like him, ignore the flutter in your rib cage and rest for just a minute. Jake mistakes it as a sign of you surrendering, his grip loosening. You don’t waste a second and throw his caged arms off and jump out of bed and he begins to sulk and wail at the loss of contact. But as much as you love him, you can finally breathe without the weight of your chest.

“I like the idol you better. The one who acts like he doesn’t know me”.

“He wouldn’t treat you like I do”.

He’s ready to have beef with idol Jake if it is meant to impress you. When he’s tying up your shoelaces for you, he’s like “I’ll walk you home” and you tell him he cannot do that because people are always snooping so you’ll get a taxi and he’s like “I’ll walk you downstairs and wait until you sit inside”.

How could you say no to his puppy eyes?

★ SUNGHOON:

he’s on cloud nine because his wish finally came true. He’s radiating light wherever he goes.

He sat next to you, far too close for it to appear platonic but Sunghoon told you not to worry. He tells you not to worry when he’s facing you, knees brushing, you can feel his body heat despite the cool in the room. You’re trying your hardest not to stare at him or how he’s rolled up his dress shirt sleeves despite his stylist’s scolding, or how they slicked his hair back with gel but left one strand to dangle on his forehead, how it curves and makes his eyes seem sharper than they are.

You’re trying, ok?

It’s better than Sunghoon who cannot stop leaning in your personal space as he reads his lines off your shoulder for some reason, he giggles when you try to push him away but he clings like a magnet. The floor vibrates with heavy bass, you’re up again in ten minutes and you need him to get serious.

Unlike him, it’s your first time mc-ing and despite his hype boy attitude, your fingers still shake as you read your lines out loud. Sunghoon’s smile flickers until he remembers he can do something to help.

“Hey, just focus on me”, he says calmly, ironically the one thing you’ve been trying not to do.

But, with blind trust, you agree and your gaze lands on his. His eyes twinkle and crinkle, he stares back at you and you think you’ve started to smile like an idiot. You turn your eyes to soak in his outfit once more, he matches your formal dress, a deep red satin dress paired with similar gloves. He’s adorned in dark slacks that emphasise his stature, and a dark dress shirt with a maroon tie. His tie is crooked-

Out of instinct or perhaps it stems from the urge to hold his hands, feel his heartbeat under your fingers, you reach out, hands settling on his shoulders, then inch towards his neck to tighten and straighten the knot. Sunghoon’s eyes don’t leave your serious expression, a lovesick smile hangs on his face. Your hands press onto the material to flatten it and fix his collars like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.

Something clatters and smashes loudly.

You rip your hands off his shoulders and he suddenly feels cold. Sunghoon pouts but you quickly turn away, surprisingly less scared than before. You glance in front and see your stylist give orders, someone says another band is preparing for an interview in 5. Finally, you grip the cards tightly in your hands but don’t even spare them a glance. Instead, you lock eyes with your lover who had been looking fondly at you the whole ordeal.

“let’s go over this one last time for your sake”.

Sunghoon laughs.

★ SUNOO:

Therapists hate him. He’s a mastermind at manipulation.

Both of you are chosen along with another idol and actor to partake in a reality show where you all live together and go on an adventure it’s all a great experience and you get to interact with new lovely people but when it’s late at night, the crew has gone to their hotel, cameras have been turned off, you, Sunoo and the actor gather at the dining table.

Sunoo keeps smiling at you and the actor and he offers to peel mandarins. As he peels, the conversation flows smoothly, his fingers work quickly and skillfully. Even though his eyes are downcast, his change in expressions tell you he’s listening to the conversation.

Out of respect, he offers the actor a plate with the most mandarin slices and out of habit, he slides to you the plate with the juiciest and scrumptious slices, choosing the dry ones for himself. You shyly thank him and Sunoo brushes it off. He only realizes what he’s done and how much of a deal it is when the actor questions if he’s a good friend of yours.

Sunoo bursts into laughter, eyes crinkling, he waves his hand in dismal, he looks at you up and down. You refuse to make eye contact.

“Something like that”.

His open-ended answer renders you speechless and you pretend to be busy when the actor looks at you. You untie your hair for it to cover your heated ears and fake cough as you take another bite.

Sunoo offers you a napkin. His hand stretches over the table and all eyes are on you, the actor is on the edge of his seat as he observes you like a hawk.

As nonchalant as you can be, you roll your shoulders and take it from him. Despite your efforts to avoid skin contact, Sunoo flicks his wrist and his fingers delicately brush yours, sparks light up inside your stomach.

You quietly thank him and he shows off his charming smile. the actor next to you sighs loudly and glances at the clock before thanking Sunoo for the mandarins. Sunoo shines another smile at the man who glances between the two of you.

“Chemistry like this is hard to find. If you two end up dating, I’ll be supporting you”.

This time you choke on the juice and Sunoo springs up to give you a glass of water and pats your back for safety. The actor nods once more then leaves. When the coughing fit dies down, you ask Sunoo what all that was about, he tells you not to worry. He peeks at the camera as a precaution, it’s got a lid covering the lens. Then, he bends down to kiss your hair and brings your plate closer to him so he can feed you. Your heart attempts to jump onto the table when he affectionately begins to stroke your hair as well.

Friends be damned, you’ve hit the lover jackpot.

★ JUNGWON:

He loves his job but hates all the parts where he has to be too pretend his personal life doesn’t exist.

“I wish you were here with me”, he says the moment you pick up. You pout, shoulders sag immediately.

He notices this and almost feels bad as he caresses his phone screen like it’s a glass screen dividing him and the fish at an aquarium. The thought makes him laugh. He wants to spend the entire night talking to you, memorising your presence, pretending you're cuddled next to him but he can’t go through with his urges because you need to sleep.

Jungwon would never want you to disturb your sleep routine, no matter how many times you text or tell him that you want to do these things for him, it's only natural.

“I bought you a keychain”, you tell him, voice cracking over the call. He adjusts his camera, brows raised. You know what he’ll say so you answer, “You’ll see it when I give it to you”.

He pouts and brings the camera closer to his face to coax you into showing it, his tired eyes sparkle and almost distract you from his dark circles. Your heart sinks. What time is it there? You don’t need to calculate because you had already memorized the time difference by heart before he departed.

“Baby, it’s 2 am there”.

He shakes his head, hair flicking him in the eye, he squints up at you and unconsciously buries himself under his comfy hotel blankets. You stare at your lover, take in his appearance and admire how hard he works to achieve his dreams, how he wants to be a good boyfriend and tick all the boxes that make your heart soar. He looks like he’ll fall asleep in the peaceful silence so you grant him an offer.

“Would you like me to sing you to sleep?”

His dimple greets you and under the covers where you can’t see, Jungwon rubs his legs together, giddy like a child.

“Sing your next song for me”, he whispers and you gasp at him, taken back by the new information. It’s your turn to squint at him as you ask him about how he knew you were preparing for a comeback. He shakes his head and mumbles, “You changed your makeup”.

Makeup…that was only evident in pictures. You hadn’t met him all dolled up behind stage due to your schedules and could barely fit an hour with him at his dorm because you two were so busy. Yet he had noticed, somehow in a supernatural but very Jungwon way and your face heated up.

Your melody filtered through his speakers, it only took a minute for Jungwon’s breathing to even out, his hand going limp and the phone falling backwards to give you a view of the ceiling light.

Still, you finish the song and wish him a good night. Whisper a soft I love you in the dimly lit room, a saccharine confession that he’ll hear confidently soon.

★ NIKI:

Bro thinks hes in an edit‼️literally moves slowly like that when he sees you, r&b song playing in this head

On the encore stage, other bands including yours bow to Enha and in those 4 seconds, Niki decides to take a shot.

He thanks you with a bow and when you turn your attention to Jungwon, Niki speaks your name. It's far too gentle to be caught in the mic and he faces his head toward you so the back of his head is captured by the camera.

But like a compass, you always find his voice, when he calls for you in the hallways or when he's talking to other people in his makeup room, your ears seem to find him before your eyes do.

As you turn your wide eyes to him, unaware of his plans, Niki's boxy smile vanishes. He gazes at you through lidded eyes that appear striker more so than ever due to his bold makeup and he renders you speechless, cupid shooting you with several arrows.

You're paused mid-bow, face heating up under Niki's stare and smug smile, professional composure crumbling. There's a siren going off in your head, the cameras!

But what do they know? They can't even see your lover's expression, only the tilt of his head and dark wavy hair that tickles his neck. A part of you, a possessive side is overjoyed they can't. Swiftly, Jungwon covers your body and gives Niki a nasty side eye which finally manages to pull you out of the trance.

You return to thanking them and saying whatever nonsense comes to mind, Jungwon understands but Niki cackles loudly. As fast as this interaction happens, you fall back and merge with the crowd that walks off stage.

Thankfully, no one could figure out what happened but they made assumptions based on your expressions. That hype dies down in the fandoms but Niki can't stop replaying the moment on his end. It's a free amv for songs, he's never going to stop thinking about it.

Thank you for reading!

All rights belong to me. Please do not copy/translate/edit.

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watatsumiis · 1 year

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Ah, greetings, dear author.

I noticed that your work suggestions are open right now and since i love your writing, i thought about giving it a try. But if smth not to your liking, feel free to ignore. Ill respect your final decision regardless.

So, suggestion itself is, maybe you wouldnt mind writing for a tall reader that looks intimidating and acts like it, but inside they are really sweet? Im not sure about exact idea, but maybe how characters would defence/comfort reader when somebody says bad rumors about them? Or like, they say really mean things cause of their apperiance?

I wasnt been able to find any rules for such asks, so ill undertand if u would want to change smth here.

So, character wise, maybe for Albedo, Xiao, Aether(?) and Wanderer(?) ?

By the way, hope ull have a nice time of the day.

Hi there!!!

Thank you so much for your kind words about my work, it really does mean the world to me, every little comment does <3

This is such an interesting request, I’ve been sitting on it for a while and I just hope I can do it justice! Disclaimer though, I’m the shortest and least intimidating person ever, so let's hope I can channel my inner tallscary (/lh) and go off of that :3

I added Heizou and Venti too so this could just be a fun little Anemo boy (+ Albedo (and -Kazuha I forgot him I'm sorry)) miniseries (and since I know you also like Heizou!) :D I haven't really written for Aether or Heizou before (and very minimal amounts of Scara) so here's hoping I've done alright!

Content: Gender neutral reader who is described as being tall and intimidating. Nameless characters spread mean rumours/say mean things (nothing explicit is mentioned), some hinted violence in Xiao and Wanderer/Scara’s sections (because of course there is)

Aether is like a sweet little golden retriever from day one. Despite your intimidating looks and stature, he follows behind you and dotes on you until your hard outer walls crumble and he can waltz on in like he owns the place. He always believes in the kindness of people, so no matter how many times you push him away or try to intimidate him, he’s always back for more because he just knows you’re a softie on the inside - and he’s right! He’s delighted to have been correct and will be all smug and happy with himself because of it.

If others were to insult you and talk badly about you behind your back… Aether will take it personally. He can be a bit overly-empathetic at times, and if he ever catches anyone saying something mean about you, he'll tell them off, only to get himself so worked up that he ends up in tears as he continues to scold the person who did it. He doesn't care about his reputation or causing a scene, he only cares about defending his friend from some big mean bullies. Once all is said and done he'll reassure you so many times that you're one of the kindest and loveliest people he's ever met and anyone who says otherwise is obviously someone so miserable with their own lives that they take it out on others.

Albedo may approach you with some caution at first - not because of your appearance, more because the signals you give off make it seem as if you don't want to be talked to. Once he's realised that's just one of your normal mannerisms, he disregards it entirely and will happily work to befriend you. He may sometimes ask you to help out around the lab (usually getting things off high shelves for him) and will use that time to get to know you better, away from prying eyes and people that may try to interrupt your budding friendship. It fills him with accomplishment to realise that you're letting your guard down around him and exposing your softer side - it may not seem like it, but he does keep note of a lot of your actions and behaviours and documents any changes.

At first, Albedo is rather puzzled when he hears about the unkind rumours going around about you and your 'unfriendly' demeanour. It's just not something that's ever occurred to him and he simply doesn't understand why people would be wasting their time spreading such obvious lies. He doesn't hesitate to point this out, blatantly calling people out in such a deadpan and genuine way that there's not much anyone can say to him that will convince him otherwise. He'll go into this psychoanalysis of why humans tend to gossip and encourage them to take up more productive hobbies instead while they just stand by, gobsmacked at his audacity. Once all is said and done, his way of 'comforting' you is still rather detached. He'll just smartly inform you that these assumptions people make based on your appearance are 'illogical and shallow' and encourage you not to worry about it. If you're still upset

Heizou often sees people as a puzzle to be solved, a mystery box to be poked and prodded at until they give up all their interesting little secrets, and you're no exception. He's not put off by your appearance in the slightest, approaching you almost every time he sees you to ask questions and try to find out more about you. No matter how you react or push him away, he bounces back nearly immediately and continues to test your patience as he tries to get you to let him in. He knows there's an aspect that you're hiding, and he wants to know what it is. Once you've revealed your softer side, he may lightheartedly tease you for it, but never in a mean way, and if you seem upset, he stops right away. He revels in being one of those stubborn enough to have befriended you.

Heizou hears a lot of rumours in his day to day life - most he tends to disregard unless they're useful to him. When it comes to you, however, he will matter-of-factly correct each and every person he overhears speaking about you, backing his arguments up by citing times he's noticed you being nice to others (and to him of course), refuting every argument that people may make until they're stuttering and stumbling over their words, absolutely turned around on themselves because of how thorough he is in his dressing-down of them. It's like watching a court case. If the person continues to be nasty, he might just dig up some unpleasant dirt on them and pass it on to a known gossiper and watch it pan out from there. One way or another, he'll make sure your pride is avenged, and will always comfort you if you happen to hear anything that upsets you.

Scaramouche is flighty around you, especially at first. He isn't quite sure how to act, and vacillates between trying to antagonise you and essentially clinging to you. He'll push your boundaries time and time again, waiting for you to snap, but you just… don't. It frustrates him to start off with, the fact that you seem so unshakeable, but eventually it becomes a source of comfort for him, especially once he picks up on your softer side shining through. Of course, he's as stubborn as anything and will completely deny the fact that he draws any comfort from your presence, but there's no mistaking the way his shoulders relax and his breathing slows when you're nearby. He quite likes having a tall, 'intimidating' friend to scare off all the goody-two-shoes that seem to be drawn to him.

Upon hearing the rumours about you circulating, Scaramouche is furious. If there is no one there to stop him, he is throwing hands the moment someone says your name in a vaguely disparaging way. He'll puff his chest out and walk right up to them, growling at them to repeat what they said one more time. There's no doubt at all that he'd be ready to fight someone on your behalf and kick up a huge fuss. He’ll make a big scene and is probably more upset than you are by the whole debacle. He has his own signature way of comforting you if any of it gets you down that consists of him grumpily insisting that none of this should get to you and that you should ignore all the idiots.

Venti has no qualms about approaching and befriending you - he’s not one to judge based on appearances or outward attitudes. He’s very good at reading people and picking up on how they’re feeling, so from day one it feels like he understands you on a deeper level than most people do. He sort of hangs off of you in a way reminiscent of how birds linger around tall trees, and will use you as a springboard if he needs to get to something higher up, just grabbing you and pulling himself up easily. He’ll also ask you to carry things for him so often that it just becomes second nature for you to hold your hand out the moment it seems like he’s unsure of what to do with something he’s picked up.

Venti isn’t really one to police people on what they can and can’t say, but he just can’t stop himself when it comes to you. They’re so obviously wrong and just being mean for no reason that it makes him physically hurt if he doesn’t correct them. There’s just such a sense of wrongness that seems to claw at his chest and throat that even if he’s long since passed by he’ll do a 180 in the middle of the street to go talk to the people he heard. He’ll keep the tone of the confrontation pretty light and jokey, but to anyone who has known him for some time, it’s not hard to tell that he’s genuinely pretty upset on your behalf. He may get carried away and say some pretty coldhearted/downright cruel things to people (still in that same light and airy tone) if they continue to insist on spreading mean rumours.

Xiao is wary of anyone and everyone, so of course this includes you too. Your height and general demeanour mean nothing to him, he’s more focused on whether or not you’re an impending danger to him or anyone he cares about. He methodically observes you on and off for a while (sometimes you can catch glimpses of him following you, or perching on high places near your usual haunts to keep an eye on you), peeling away your tough outer layers until he’s able to get a look at the softness beneath. Once he’s deemed you to be of no threat, he drops it for a while and disappears back to his usual duties, but soon begins to notice that his days feel almost… empty, in a way. It doesn’t take him long to gravitate back towards you, but now he’s keeping a lookout for you, not because of you. It’s a little flattering, really, and he’s much like a bird in the way he may pick up things you’ve dropped or lost and leave them at your doorstep for you to find. He’s much too shy to approach on his own, but if you catch him on a good day, you might be able to exchange a few words, and he won’t immediately dismiss you if you come to visit him while he’s keeping watch off of his favourite balcony in Wangshu Inn.

Though Xiao doesn’t directly interact with humans unless the situation directly calls for it, sometimes he does listen in to their conversations, just so he has a good idea of the goings on in the areas he guards. If he happens to hear your name, he might just go out of his way to figure out why. With all of his observation of you, it doesn’t take him long before he figures out that they’re just spreading nonsense rumours. It’s not something he really takes into consideration as something that would be upsetting - he’s had plenty of rumours about him passed around. But the moment you express any discontent at people saying these things about you, any future offenders may just happen to find themselves in a rather… misfortunate situation the next time they’re wandering around the wilderness. Nothing lethal, of course, but enough to scare them out of their wits. Xiao isn’t very good at comforting people, and the most he can offer is his company and some reassurance that those people are wrong and that they likely have many more skeletons in their closet than you ever have or will.

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagarise my writing! This includes posting translations to other sites (without credit + permission).

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josefavomjaaga · 6 months

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I *need* to see Soult in the cat enclosure in the animal shelter AU. That sounds amazing. I want to see a cat brush up against him and do the “please pat me” flop and he has no idea what’s happening, or him trying to talk to cats like he would a subordinate.

You do of course realize that I had no intention of actually ever writing that, don't you?

Anyway, I tried. The usual disclaimer: Me German, me bad English. If not make sense, me sorry.

»What's the matter, Bonaparte?« Josephine knew her husband well enough to recognize the worries behind his annoyed demeanor. »Problems at work?«

»Nope«, he answered a little too quickly. »No problems. Everything under control.« His steps echoed on the floor as he was walking up and down in the living room, trying to keep whatever bothered him to himself. He failed, as Josephine knew he would. »It's the guys. They're out of control. Murat and Lannes spreading chaos. Davout and Bernadotte constantly at each others' throats. Masséna and Augereau on their crooked ways as always. As to Soult and Ney, rumour has it that they were ready to duke it out in the open, in the company parking lot, in front of our customers! Even old Lefebvre has been in a fight with Mortier... I really do not know what to do with them anymore.«

Josephine had expected something of that kind. She wondered briefly if any other boss on this planet had to deal with a similar bunch of unruly employees. »Maybe it's because you don't give them enough leeway«, she suggested. »They do work hard.«

»Sometimes. Most of the time, they do anything but. They’re a bunch of lunatics with the craziest ideas, ready to get themselves into trouble as soon as I turn my back on them.«

»But other than that«, she insisted, »they do work hard, right? Lately, you have kept them on a very short leash. Maybe they need to do something fun together, to ease the tension? Something that is not about sales numbers and accounting and opening new markets … oh, I know! Sainte-Esperance!«

»I don't think religion will do it for them, Josephine. They are not the spiritual type, as a rule.«

»No, dummy. Sainte-Esperance is an animal shelter. Or rather, a large farm turned into a shelter and a sactuary, where old animals can live out the rest of their lives in peace if nobody wants them. Eugène and Hortense used to go there during their school holidays. The staffers are always looking for helping hands. To feed the animals, to walk the dogs, to clean the barns...«

»Stable work, eh?« Napoleon was surprised. For once, Josephine's idea seemed interesting. »Truly, an afternoon of shoveling manure into wheelbarrows might serve them right. Come to think of it, we could turn this into a charity event. Bonaparte Inc. helping poor animals, doing pro bono work... that's great PR. I need to talk to Berthier about it.«

Of course the task to organize it all in the end had safely tumbled into Berthier's lap. But for once, he was lucky. As it turned out, the animal sanctuary received this kind of requests with a certain frequency and had developped standard procedures. Including standard application forms that they would mail out immediately, as James, the guy on the phone, happily assured him.

Berthier had foreseen doom pending over the whole enterprise, but now suddenly felt a lot better. Nothing could be truly bad, he told himself, if there was proper paperwork and documentation for it. As a matter of fact, James did sound pretty chill about the idea of dealing with a group of moody, inexperienced and potentially rebellious helpers.

»No need to worry. We likely have seen worse. You know, we often work with police and local judges, providing resocialisation opportunities for juvenile criminals. So we have staff on hand who know how to deal with most kind of delinquents. How old are yours, by the way?«

»In their 30s and 40s, mostly.«

»Repeat offenders then, presumably?«

»Incorrigible.« Berthier sighed.

The man chuckled again. »Just wait. Sainte-Esperance is not named like that for nothing.«

The animal shelter turned out to be a vast estate, a real labyrinth of old farm buildings and new stables, interspersed with fields, gardens and pastures. Cows and donkeys were grazing peacefully in the open, some employees could be seen walking a large group of dogs, and those figures on the meadow somewhere in the distance - were those … ostriches?

»This is a zoo!« Lannes announced happily. »We should all have brought our kids!«

The mere sight of the estate had already significantly brightened the mood when the bus with Berthier’s grumpy volunteers came to a halt in front of the main gate. The most chipper among the group (Murat and Lannes, who else?) could not even be held back long enough for Berthier's assistant Lejeune to take the obligatory promotional photo. Before anybody had a chance to rally the group, they had already eagerly run off. Berthier called after them but saw himself, as usual, expertly ignored. When he tried to follow, he soon got lost between the buildings. Through a large fence he briefly caught a glimpse of Lannes giving some mongrel a bellyrub, then saw him and Murat round a corner, Murat waving a large backpack through the air.

»Hi, we’re here for the dogs. I've brought, like, a ton of dog treats.«

Before Berthier could react or at least look for a gate in the fence, an employee of the shelter took care of the pair and led Murat and Lannes away. They disappeared behind a door, and Berthier recorded this as the first defeat of the day.

»Don't sweat it, boss«, said Lejeune when Berthier returned alone. »We'll take a photo of the rest of the group. Noone will notice those two are missing. Besides, I'll be back in a few hours, so we can have another shot of the whole group before they get back on the bus. It's gonna be a 'before - after' thing.«

That was probably the best they could do. Still, the day had not started out well. After all, this event was to serve a purpose, it was supposed to resolve conflicts and boost team spirit. To that end, Berthier had wanted to group together those of his subordinates who had not gotten along well lately. However, Lannes and Murat had just successfully escaped his plan. But they would be the last, he told himself, while Lejeune took some group photos.

»Everybody halt«, Berthier shouted as soon as Lejeune pocketed the camera, because several more of his remaining subordinates seemed ready to disperse. »I will now distribute your tasks, according to this list. We’ve talked it all over with the staff of the shelter. You all have pre-assigned jobs. Let's see ... Lannes and Bessières were supposed to go to the cat enclosure. Well, so much about that. Bessie, we'll find something else for you. Soult, you and Ney will take over for Lannes and Murat.«

Ney shrugged, but Soult scowled. »This seems highly unreasonable«, he said. »I place great value on docility and obedience. Cats are diametrically opposed to those principles. I am decidedly a dog person.«

»Who cares? You'll only clean out cages and litterboxes, so stop whining.« To Berthier's relief, Ney grabbed Soult by the arm and dragged him along in the direction Berthier pointed. Discussions with Soult, this unbearable know-it-all, tended to be long and fruitless.

»Alright...« Augereau and Masséna were next. They did not have any particular feuds with each other, as far as Berthier was aware. But both of them had protested vehemently against this project, or rather this »waste of a weekend« that kept them from conducting »important business«. Business that, Berthier suspected, was better not to be talked off publicly. In any case, it would be easiest to group them together, to better keep an eye on them. He would even throw them a bone.

»As to you, you will go to the section with exotic animals.«

»Exotic?« Augerau seemed sceptical. »How exotic could anything be in here?«

»Quite a bit. There’s some former circus animals, also some from dissolved zoos, and several illegally held pets that were seized by police.«

Masséna’s eyes lit up. »Is there ivory … I mean, elephants?«

»No«, Berthier said firmly. »But you can start with feeding the ostriches. Bessières, please join them.«

»Bessières? Cool.« Masséna grinned. »If there’s any carnivores to take care of, we’ll at least not run out of food.«

»Maybe I should join them, too«, said Lefebvre. »Want to tag along, Mortier?«

The group strolled away, and Berthier hoped that he had misheard when he thought Augereau and Masséna were discussing the price of ostrich feathers and eggs.

When he finally had distributed the last task (to that impertinent whiner Thiébault who would take care of the bunnies), Berthier decided to spend an hour or so in the cafeteria.

An excellent cafeteria that James already had gushed about on the phone, a cafeteria offering a macchiato to die for and a cake buffet stacked with eclairs, macarons, madeleines, chouquettes ... to go with it.

A cafeteria the overworked staff manager had carefully neglected to mention to anyone. Berthier placed his cup and plate on a small sidetable, leaned back into one of the comfy seats, turned off his phone, and closed his eyes.

He allowed himself two full hours of heavenly peace before his sense of duty took over again. After all, he had left his subordinates in the care of the unsuspecting employees working for this animal shelter! He better check on them immediately.

Berthier started where he imagined the greatest danger: in the cat enclosure. Ney and Soult had been nothing short of vicious to each other during the last months. Leaving them alone could be fatal.

To Berthier’s surprise, he found Ney sitting on a chair in the sun outside the building, a large grey cat on his lap.

»I’m done«, he said. »They allowed me to bring this one outside as she’s so well-behaved and affectionate. She’s quite the charmer, truth be told. I have half a mind to keep her. Just not sure what Aglaé will say about it.« He scratched the cat under her chin. »How about I name you Ida, hm?«

»No problems with Soult?«

»Not as far as I’m concerned. They have two large enclosures for the cats, so we made a convention. I took over one, he the other. Cleaning, feeding, and if possible petting and a quick check, just to see if they look healthy, don’t have any scratches. Easy.« He chuckled. »For me, that is.«

Berthier had a bad feeling when he entered the building. As expected, he found Soult in one of the enclosures, croached in front of a large cat tree. The enclosure held plenty of toys, cat beds and places for the animals to hide in. Berthier also noted that the space Soult had taken care of sparkled with cleanliness and that all litterboxes and feeding dishes were lined up with geometrical precision.

»But it seems you are quite done here?«, he asked.

»Obviously, I am not«, Soult bellowed back. He seemed in an even worse mood than usual. »There are several small kittens in there. I am supposed to check on them but they refuse to comply. All my orders to come out for a proper inspection are ignored.«

Something stirred behind Berthier. Ney had followed him in, the grey cat sitting on his arm.

»Just leave them be, man. The staffer said to check on them if possible. These little ones are shy, you scare them.«

»I have been told to check on their health, and check on their health I will. And if it’s the last thing I do.«

Ney sighed, shrugged and looked at Berthier. »I tried.« He went back outside, and Berthier followed suite.

Checking in on Augereau and Masséna also had high priority. When Berthier reached the entrance that led to a section »For staffers only«, according to a sign on the wall, the door abruptly swung open, revealing the back of some employee carrying one end of a large chest. The chest seemed to contain some living being, as there was lots of rattling, growling and hissing. The chest’s other end was supported by Masséna, and Berthier’s eyes widened.

»What’s going on here?«

»Just getting your purchase on a truck, sir«, said the staffer. Masséna went a little pale at the sight of Berthier, then sent him an innocent smile.

»What purchase?«

»Well, your little gator. These two gentlemen have just arranged everything with our management. I’m so glad you approached us. It’s quite rare to find people with a special permit to keep these kind of animals...«

Berthier tried to say something, but was at a loss for words. Augereau, talking in hushed tones into his phone, showed up behind Masséna, bumped into him and almost caused him to drop his burden. Then he saw Berthier.

»Oh shit«, he said. »I almost had it sold.«

»Turn around«, said Berthier. »Get that poor animal back where it belongs. There will be no purchase. What have these gentlemen told you anyway?«

»Why, that your CEO had sort of a private zoo…« Scowling and puffing, they carried the chest back into the building.

»You know how Napoleon always says that Josephine has so many pets it’s like a zoo at Malmaison«, mumbled Augereau.

»But surely there must be papers if one wants to keep an alligator«, said Berthier.

»So?« Masséna shrugged, as far as that was possible while manoeuvering a chest containing an alligator backwards into the house. »All my papers are top notch. Guaranteed to pass every first check, even by the police.«

The alligator seemed rather disappointed that the deal had failed to materialise, it growled and hissed as it was released back into its little pond. And Berthier realized somebody was missing.

»Where’s Bessières?«

»Don’t worry«, said Masséna. »The alligator wasn’t hungry.«

Augereau laughed. »He, Mortier and Lefebvre went outside, to see the ostriches.«

The ostriches lived in a wide, open enclosure, but the gate was locked, and the animals apparently had already been cared for. Another staffer showed Berthier where to find his missing subordinates: in a pasture next to some stables, amidst a bunch of farm animals.

»These are mostly seniors«, explained Mortier and laughed as one of the cows licked his hand. »Some have a really sad story. Mindy here ran from the butcher.«

»She’s a tough girl«, said Lefebvre. »A survivor, aren’t you, lady?« He was followed by a couple of goats pushing each other out of the way for the bread crusts Lefebvre dropped for them. Similarly, Bessières was sourrounded by sheep and donkeys; he waved at Berthier and clearly seemed to be enjoying himself.

»So, I guess you two have gotten over whatever trouble you had with each other?«, asked Berthier. Both Lefebvre and Mortier looked at him.

»What trouble?«

»Do you mean that little misunderstanding at the elevator door?«

»But that was nothing.«

»I was a bit in a hurry, admittedly. Shouldn’t have pushed you, Morty.«

»Already forgotten.«

Well, at least here there was some tangible effect. Maybe not all had been in vain.

There was little chance for a similarly relaxed atmosphere in the aviaries where Davout and Bernadotte were helping with all sorts of feathered residents. Though the two of them seemed mostly busy insulting each other, as usual.

»Ah, Berty! Good you're here.« Bernadotte was sweeping up bird droppings near a feeding place. »Go find Davout for me. I suspect I accidentally locked him up with the owls in the first building. My bad. But in my defence, it's truly hard to tell him away from a tawny owl.«

Davout, only a couple of feet away, surrounded by a group of silver pheasants and chicks eagerly picking food off the floor, did not miss a beat.

»Really, Berthier, this has been an awfully insightful afternoon. I never imagined how clever parrots can be. The big one back there«, his thumb pointed at Bernadotte, »the one with the huge beak, really has quite a vocabulary for the dumb beast that he is.«

Bernadotte briefly turned his disproportionate nose in Davout’s direction. »Speaking of parrots«, he said, »I believe somebody still has to clean their aviary.«

»Yes, that somebody being you.«

»Me? I told your lazy arse to do it like an hour ago.«

»And I told you to do it yourself. What's the matter, can't find the place where your work is, as usual?«

»Alright, gentlemen, that’s quite enough!« It was in moments like these when Berthier wondered whom of this pair he could stand the least. As usual, he did not come to any conclusion. »Apparently, you both have received the order to clean the parrots’ aviary, so you will both do it.« He took a deep breath. »And in order to make sure it’s done properly, I will supervise it in person.«

He regretted his tone immediately. Both Bernadotte and Davout turned around to fix him with the stare of a predator who has just noticed fresh prey.

»Now look at that.«

»Look who’s getting all puffed-up and authoritative.«

For a brief moment they seemed ready to join forces against Berthier’s order, then they realized with whom they would have to make common cause and decided both that obeying to Berthier was the less disgusting option.

Berthier spent twenty exhausting minutes in the next aviary watching his two subordinates clean, grateful that the parrots’ constant squawking kept him from hearing most of the equally constant bickering. Some of the parrots obviously had been kept by humans before, as Berthier occasionally believed to hear words among the squawking, things like »Good morning«, »prrretty boy« or the occasional »stupid fool«. Though maybe the last had been uttered by one of the two cleaners.

At some point, Bernadotte turned around and looked at a grey parrot sitting on a tree nearby. »What did you just say?« The parrot repeated whatever it had just uttered. Berthier could not make out any words in it, but Bernadotte started to laugh.

»You understood that?« Even Davout looked impressed.

»I think he said: Hur mår du, dummskalle?« Bernadotte chuckled. »Which in Swedish means: How are you doing, stupid? - I guess we can tell that his former owner was Scandinavian.«

»And that this clever parrot recognizes a fool when he sees one«, Davout added. »How come you speak Swedish?«

»I don’t. Yet. I’ve been studying it for two weeks now.«

»You have? Why?«

Bernadotte glanced at Berthier, then he shrugged. »I guess it won’t hurt to tell as I’ve already informed Napoleon. I have received a job offer. From a Swedish company.«

»What?« Davout seemed almost hurt. »Why would anybody want to hire a dimwit whom even a parrot immediately recognizes?«

»Maybe not everybody ignores my talents the way you do.«

»And you actually want to go?«

»I’ve not quite decided yet.«

»But you’re thinking about it.«

»Yes.«

»Enough to try and learn the language…« Davout grumbled. »Well, it’s not like anybody would miss you here.«

»Mutual, I assure you.«

They worked in silence for a bit, before Davout started again. »But if you just pack up and leave… that’s so inconsiderate from you. I mean, whom am I supposed to call a dickhead every morning then? Whom to prank? Who can I send all those insulting e-mails to? Just so you know, I even signed up on howtobesttrollyourworstcolleague.com, all because of you. And now you will just leave?«

Bernadottes stared, then turned round to face Davout, leaning on his broom. »Wait. Those impertinent, occasionally obscene e-mails you’ve sent me over the last years – they were from a website?«

»Sure. Did you think I could come up with something like that on my own? Aimée would not let me anywhere near the children if I could. And I never would have checked that site out except for you. - Though«, he added thoughtfully, »that’s not entirely correct. I originally signed up because I wanted to find something to insult Murat. Didn’t work though.«

»Why not? - Oh, let me guess. Murat wrote back?«

»You bet. And he had help from Lannes. I stopped immediately. Lannes comes up with stuff that would even make the guys from that website blush.« He hesitated a little. »So… if you really go to Sweden, would you mind if I keep sending you those mails? It’s kinda part of my morning routine, you know. You could answer in Swedish for all I care. Your mails immediately go to spam anyway.«

»So do yours in my mailbox. Do as you please.«

»Cool!« Davout beamed. »I’ll text you if there’s a mail you actually need to check.«

A little confused, Berthier left the aviary to see if Lejeune had already returned. Instead of Lejeune, he encountered Lannes and Murat, each of them holding the leashes of several yapping dogs.

»Berty!« Murat almost dropped the dog leads in an attempt to wave at Berthier. He beamed at him as if to outshine the afternoon sun. »This has been your best idea ever! Tell Napoleon we have to do this again soon. - Just look at all these adorable furballs!«

»We’re taking them for a walk«, Lannes informed Berthier matter-of-factly before being dragged away by his excited charge.

»Don’t be too long«, Berthier called after them. »We’ll have to leave soon. I can see the bus already coming.« He found himself ignored. Well, what else was new?

The bus moved into the parking lot, followed by Lejeune’s shiny red convertible.

»Where is everybody?« asked Lejeune, getting his camera out of the trunk. »We’re already ten minutes late.«

Excellent question, thought Berthier. When after another ten minutes his subordinates still would not show up, he resigned himself to the inevitable: another long walk across the grounds in order to pick his men up one by one. By the time he finally had found Masséna in the terrarium, Bessières and Mortier happily chatting in the cafeteria, Ney asleep in the sun with one cat in his lap and another at his feet, Lefebvre and Augereau trying to teach swearwords to the grey parrot Bernadotte had admired before, and the latter sitting astride a fence next to the cow shed, telling Davout about his possible move to Sweden, the rest of the Bonaparte team had also decided to show up. Even Lannes and Murat had gotten back from their walk.

»We only have to get the dogs back. We’ll be here in a moment.«

The moment turned into another twenty minutes. Then they returned – and each with a dog.

»My wife is gonna kill me«, said Lannes ruefully. He croached in front of a medium height mongrel of indefinable colour but very fine features and a decidedly clever look. »The last thing she said when I left was: Don’t you dare bring home a dog.« The dog started to lick his face, Lannes laughed. »But who cares. The kids will love you.«

»And Caroline will love this beauty.« Murat had brought an almost fully white borzoi. He petted her head lovingly. »Isn’t she marvellous?«

»She’s bound to succumb under the weight of her beauty before we’re on the bus«, sneered Lannes. »Actually, she reminds me a bit of Bessières. Dumb as a box of rocks...«

»Okay, folks«, called Lejeune. »Everybody line up for some more photos!«

Presumably, the photos Lejeune took now would turn out a lot better than those he had taken on arrival. When the employees of Bonaparte Inc. entered the bus again, they were happily chatting away about whatever they had done or seen during the last few hours. Berthier barely dared to think it: this idea actually might turn out to be a success.

Until he realized that something was wrong.

»Stop!«, he called out to the bus driver. »We’re one man short.«

»Can’t be«, Murat shouted from the backseat. »All seats are full.«

»Yeah, and the gator wasn’t hungry«, added Masséna.

»All seats are occupied because your Bessiedog has taken one, you git«, commented Lannes.

»Soult is not here«, announced Ney.

Berthier looked at him. »He would not still be in the cat enclosure, would he? It’s been hours!«

Ney shrugged.

He accompanied Berthier to look after his missing companion. Maybe he felt a bit bad for having left him alone.

On entering the cat section, they found Soult indeed still in the enclosure. He was sitting on the ground, his back leaning against a cat tree, his legs spread wide. One black-and white kitten, maybe a couple of months old, was sleeping in his lap, another, red-furred, he was holding on his arm, a black one was busy climbing from a platform of the cat tree onto Soult’s shoulder and back, occasionally tugging at the human’s hair, and two more seemed to play hide and seek between Soult’s feet. They also had opened his shoelaces.

»Soult!« Berthier was exasperated. »Have you not heard? We’re leaving.«

»I can’t«, Soult said. In a tone as if he didn’t know if he wanted to sound defiant or apologetic. »The little one in my lap has only just fallen asleep.«

»So? Push the kittens off and get up.«

Soult seemed to ponder the idea, then shook his head. »I can’t.«

Ney smirked. »You wanted to see if they’re healthy. They look healthy to me. Mission accomplished. Time to leave.«

»But I can’t do that to them. They’ve only just started to trust me.«

Berthier had enough. »Okay, then stay here for all I care. We’re out of here.«

He turned and left. Ney hesitated before following.

»Want me to phone your wife so she can pick you up later?«

»That’d be very kind of you.« Soult petted the red kitten in his arm. »I think I’ll be done in an hour or so.«

#shitposting #marshalate fun #napoleonic modern AU writing #thanks for the Ask!#if somebody else wants to take the idea and run with it please do so!

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writerunblocked · 8 months

Text

Bullet Proof Heart: II. Out of the Bag

Synopsis: Rumours spread like wildfire in Birmingham. Even more so when it's Tommy Shelby getting married to the most beautiful woman in Birmingham. Abe goes to talk to Tommy to see if he can talk with Tommy, man-to-man.

Trope: Arranged marriage trop. I know it's old, but I like it.

TW: Death and dying, drinking, swearing, prostitution

WC: 3575

Bullet Proof Heart: Read Part 1: The Agreement here. Read Part 3: Acceptance here

It didn’t take long for the news about Anya and Thomas Shelby to get out in Birmingham. Anya had gone to the bakers on Thursday to get some things for her family and everyone had cleared a path for her to get to the register. In the queue, her niece Gal’s friend’s mum, a woman by the name of Danielle, didn’t even look Anya in the eye. Anya had been on good terms with all of her niece and nephew’s friends' parents, and now one of them wouldn’t look her in the eye. She got her things quickly and left.

On her way home, the creepy men who harassed her left her alone, kids would avoid her, and one mother told her daughter not to stare and that it was rude. And how she was the fiancée of Thomas Shelby. People who normally would’ve ogled now acknowledged her presence. It had been almost two weeks since Anya found out the news about her and Tommy and her life had changed drastically and that night at Uncle Sam’s pub had spoiled it for everyone. If she hadn’t gone out for multiple drinks then she’d be able to be Anya Rosenthal a bit longer and not Anya Rosenthal Shelby.

Someone was always trailing her as well. A different person every day, but she knew who they were and who sent them. She never had a moment alone, someone was always watching her. These men wore tweed caps that had blades sewn into them. These men ran the streets of Birmingham and were called the Peaky Blinders, the footmen of Tommy’s gang. She was now deemed ‘important enough for them to protect.’ She just wished they wouldn’t be there when she was picking up Gal and Noam from school every day. They scared the other kids and the parents. They were making her life harder for everyone. Especially her since she was a teacher as well. She hoped she’d be able to keep her job.

The wedding planning was going as smoothly as it could go. Tommy’s Aunt, Polly Shelby, someone her father had known for a long time, and her mum were doing their best to collaborate. It didn’t help that her mother’s first language was Yiddish, not English, and sometimes had trouble speaking English, especially when she was upset. Anya thought that having to help plan this wedding was rubbing salt into the wound for her.

Her sister-in-law had also been trying to plan the wedding as well. Anya had suggested that they just go down to the courthouse and skip the whole ceremony (and her great embarrassment and fear when Isaac and Dan conspired to pick her up and do the Horrah with her, as Anya was terrified of heights and when she would go on to kiss Tommy in front of everyone), she had been denied by everyone, including Tommy himself. She thought he wouldn’t care since he was getting married a bit older. Apparently, he did care. And that was his right, it was his wedding as well. Even though the last thing Anya ever wanted was to get married at this current moment in her life. But things changed and as much as that scared Naomi, she couldn’t control it.

The engagement didn’t just affect her life, but also her nine-year-old niece, Gal, and her eleven-year-old nephew, Noam’s lives as well. Kids had stopped talking to them, teachers were scared of them, and their parents did their best to stop their kids from associating with them because they were so scared of Thomas Shelby and the Shelby family in general. She felt terrible at the fact her niece and nephew were suffering because of what was going on in her life. Why should they miss out on the fun because of her?

The only place where Anya actually felt comfortable now was at Uncle Sam’s pub. That seemed to be the only Tommy Shelby free of influence place she had. Tommy was over practically every day now much to her mother’s horror, and she was over a Tommy’s place if he wasn’t at hers. Sam had also had a gag rule on any talk of the Shelby brothers, and was now thinking of ways to keep Thomas Shelby out of his pub. So far, no Shelby brothers had come back into the pub since Thomas Shelby. Sam was pleased with this.

When Anya arrived back at her parents’ place from her errands, she silently hoped that Shelby wouldn’t be there. When she walked in the front door, there was no smell of cigarettes, she was free of Tommy Shelby. She walked in and saw her mother sitting at the kitchen table, with her brothers Abe, Dan, Jakob, Asher, and Isaac with her. “Anya!” She heard Dan say. “gut, ir zent heym.” (Good, you’re home).

“vas tut zikh?” She asked. (What’s going on?)

Her father came out of his office and took a seat at the table large enough to hold everyone and took a seat. His laboured breathing was still there though. “Anya” he wheezed, “zitst.” She took a seat.

Her mother put an envelope on the table and passed it to her. She took the envelope and opened it, and she bills. She looked at her family, how they were able to afford what was in her was something she’d never understand. “Nemen dem bilet. gey keyn niu yark vau aunzer mume aun feter vartn aoyf dir. zey veln nisht kenen tsu bakumen ir dort,” her brother said. (Take the ticket. Go to New York where our Aunt and Uncle are waiting for you. They won't be able to get you there.)

“Es iz keyn antloyfn fun zey. Zey zenen aumetum,” she whispered. (There’s no escaping them. They’re everywhere.)

“Run,” Isaac pleaded. “Run, run get out of Birmingham.”

“There’s nowhere to go,” I whispered. “There’s nowhere to go.” Anya felt a deep pit of despair and felt ill. She was getting married to Thomas Shelby and there was nothing she could do with that. Tied to him like a dog.

“He’ll kill you,” she said. “He’ll kill all of you and then Noam and Gal grow up in orphanages. He’ll only spare the children and they’ll be forced to grow up without us. I’ll never be able to step foot in England ever again.

Anya's mind pictured Noam and Gal in an orphanage most likely run by a church. She was terrified of what they could go through, she’d heard stories from friends about the Catholic priests, and one of her friends wasn’t allowed to be an altar boy. She pushed those thoughts down.

She couldn’t run, she couldn’t flee, she had to stay in Birmingham. She had to stay in Birmingham and go on to marry Thomas Shelby. She’d be the Queen of Birmingham, but her life would never be the same. Be with Tommy and risk being killed by one of his many enemies. Flee the country and figure out a way to get Noam and Gal to go with her saving them from an orphanage and being an ocean away from her family and be with people she hadn’t seen in years living in New York. Could she even recognise her Aunt and Uncle, Anya didn’t know. But the Shelbys had eyes everywhere, nowhere was safe. Flee and risk getting caught by Shelby’s men in New York, get caught trying to board a ship to the New World, and face not just her family’s certain death, but her death as well. She didn’t have a choice in this matter.

“I’m staying,” she said pushing the money toward her family. “I’m not leaving. I can’t leave.”

“We’ll be okay,” assured her father.

“You’ll be dead in the coming months and the money you have isn’t enough to keep Mum off the street,” she stated. “There’s nothing more we can do. I can’t put her out on the street.” Anya paused as tears threatened to spill out of her mother’s eyes, “I’ve made up my mind,” she choked, tears now threatening to spill out of her eyes, “I’m staying here. I’m not running.”

“Anya,” her mother whispered. “You’re just as stubborn as I am. It’ll be the death of you.”

______________________________________________________________

Tommy Shelby sat at his desk in his home and looked over the picture of Anya he had. He’d found it when Abe and Dan had come into the Garrison and the photo fell out of one of the men’s pockets. He hadn’t seen the then eighteen-year-old in a while, not since she was thirteen when he and her brother had received the medal, and had realised that the men around town were right, she was the most beautiful girl in all of Birmingham. Her curly blonde hair was down, her blue eyes smiling as she wrapped her arms around her Isaac. He at that moment felt a strange affection for the woman and had offered her a job at the Garrison two years later as the new Barmaid after Grace’s betrayal. Though he did love Grace, there was always a special place for Anya.

He remembered the day she’d come into the Garrison for the job. She was wearing a new dress that her sister-in-law had hand-sewn for her, it was black, but it fit her perfectly. Her curly blonde hair was down and her blue eyes were nervous as they darted around the pub. He’d been sitting at the bar drinking a bottle of Irish whiskey when he realised she was even prettier in real life and the short glances he’d see of her around town getting bread for Shabbat. “Hello, Mr Shelby,” she said.

“Hello, Anya,” he responded. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to apply for the job as the barmaid,” she said. “I sing, I can play the piano, I can make a good drink.”

“Why are you applying?” He asked her. Anya Rosenthal, Abraham Rosenthal’s sister, the most beautiful girl in Birmingham, couldn’t be applying for this job.

“I’m applying because my father’s sick,” she sighed. “I don’t know how much longer he has left and what he has. We need the money so he can go to the doctor and my pay as a teacher doesn’t help.”

Tommy was shocked to hear the news. David Rosenthal, the man who sold and grew Cannabis, and had done business with Tommy, was sick. He’d always liked David and thought he was a nice man. He was saddened by the fact he was sick. “I can give you the money,” he said.

She looked shocked. “I don’t need charity!” She snapped at him.

“I’m not saying that you are,” he responded to her. She reminded him so much of Abe at that moment. “I’m saying I can give you the money.”

“Without doing some sort of work?” She asked sarcastically. “That’s charity, Mr Shelby. We can survive on our own if I get this job.” The inflexion in her voice reminded him of Abe when they were both in the trenches. The seriousness and determination in it was something he never thought he’d hear again. He remembered what Asher had told him: “Rosenthals have a nasty habit of being stubborn”. “What do you need me to do? Bend over, up against the wall? On my back or on top? I know what you usually ask of your female employees, Mr Shelby. I can offer that.”

“There’s no need to make yourself a whore,” he said.

“I know what men think of me,” she said sadly looking down at the floor. “I’m just a body to them. And as much as it disgusts me to do what they imagine, I want my father to live a bit longer so he can see Abe’s children grow up. Even if he never meets mine.”

Tommy smiled slightly. She was right about what men think of her, but he was lonely after Grace’s betrayal, and she was offering to help keep him company by being the barmaid. She was also the only one who was aware of what the other side of that job entailed, the other women who applied when they realised what the other side of the job entailed ran out of The Garrison. “You got your brother’s brains,” he said. “You’re the only one out of the interviewees who knew what the other side of this job is.”

“That we inherited from our mum,” she responded. “I’m willing to do all the job entails, where and how do you want me.”

“My office is right this way, love,” he responded. She was bent over the desk and the two were fucking. He would finish inside of her and she’d leave. Anya knew she’d gotten the job.

Tommy couldn’t help but think of the next few times they fucked. The sex kept on getting better and better, but something changed after one round.

Anya had stayed the night at his place and passed it off as staying at a friend’s place when Anya had a flashback. Apparently, she’d dated a guy who was incredibly abusive and choked her from behind after she walked away from an argument. He’d followed her around town until Abe got involved and threatened to seriously hurt him. And though he didn’t interact with her, Anya could see him following her around Birmingham, stalking her.

“I saw him today,” she sighed. “At the pub.”

“He was?” Tommy asked.

“Only popped his head in, but I can recognise those hazel eyes. After our final argument, I thought those would’ve been the last thing I’d see,” she shivered at the memory. “They still haunt my nightmares just like the war haunts yours and my brothers.”

“He was a tunnler,” he said. “Your brother saved my life. It’s how he got the medals.”

“Same as you,” she said. “I remember going to your award ceremony. The two of you looked absolutely awkward.”

Tommy scoffed at the memory. She was only eleven then, but she still remembered how much the war affected her brothers and father when they got home. She passed him a cigarette and a lighter and lit it for him before lighting one for herself. Something changed in Thomas Shelby when he saw her laying in his bed smoking a cigarette. Something inside of him forgot about everything and looked straight at her. He realised then and there that Tommy Shelby was completely in love with her and would do anything to get her to be with him.

“What’s your ex’s name?” He asked her.

“Nick,” she sighed. “Nick Boyle.”

He was determined to kill Nick Boyle and to get the man out of her life for good. She deserved that and for her, he’d do anything.

Tommy was pulled from the memory when his Aunt Polly came into the room. “Thomas,” she said her eyes filled with concern.

“What is it, Pol?” He asked her.

“Abe’s at the door,” she said. “I’d put that picture away.”

Putting the photo of Anya away, he wondered what Abe wanted that he’d visit at this time of night. “Let him in.”

A few moments later, Abraham Rosenthal came into his office. He was fuming and took a seat. “You, Thomas Shelby, will be the death of my family.” He announced.

“What is it, Abe?” He asked. “I don’t think it’s to catch up on war memories.”

“You saved my life and I saved yours, but now I’m regretting that I did,” he hissed at him.

“And why’s that?” Thomas asked offering Abe some Irish whiskey. “Is it about your sister?”

“MY LITTLE FUCKING SISTER MARRYING INTO YOUR FAMILY BECAUSE OF ME!” He shouted.

Tommy looked at Abe in shock. He had thought it was her father that had short-changed him, not Abe. Knowing Abe, it must’ve been an accident. David had taken the fall Abe and had told Tommy that he'd do anything to make it up to him. Tommy had said marry his daughter and David reluctantly agreed. Knowing it was Abe, a man that Tommy liked and admired, was something new. “I had accidentally miscounted the money,” he said. “It was an accident. Break off the engagement with my sister. She doesn’t deserve to be dragged into your life. Let her go, it’s me you want. Take me, kill me instead.”

“I’m not going to kill you, Abe,” he said. “But your sister’s still mine. I care for her.”

“Thomas Shelby’s never cared for a woman besides Greta in his life,” he snarled. “She’s too young for you. She’s 22, and you’re in your 30s, Tommy. Leave her alone.” The fear in his blue eyes showed that he cared for his sister. He remembered in the trenches he wanted to make it back to her so that he could continue teaching her how to read and how to write. His parents couldn’t afford to send her to school so he was teaching her how. Tommy remembered how happy he was when his sister wrote a letter to him on the front, her handwriting was illegible, but it was still handwriting.

“What makes you think I don’t care about her?” Tommy asked.

“You sleep with anything that walks, Shelby,” he snarled. “I know what everyone thinks about my sister and everyone in my family is disgusted, but it’s different when the most dangerous and the most powerful man in all of Birmingham takes an interest in her.”

“I’ve never done anything to hurt her, Abe,” he said. “I don’t have any intention to.”

Abe rolled his green eyes, the same green eyes he’d inherited from his father. Abe was the spitting image of David but often acted more like his mother Chaya. He could see the protectiveness and the ruthlessness that he’d inherited from David though, and that was something that Tommy liked about him. “You’re you, Tommy,” he scoffed, his voice shaking but still filled with rage. Rage that his father for selling her like a piece of land and for taking the fall, rage at himself for getting Anya into this mess, and rage at the world for everything it seemed to do to him. “She can’t walk down the street without people looking at her, and not how they used to look at her like she was a conquest, but as something to be feared. My own children are now affected by this, her job at the school is now on the line. And it’s all because of you.”

“She’s a wonderful woman,” Tommy said. “She’s kind, she’s considerate, and she’s incredibly smart. Especially with words and numbers. She loves kids and wants them later on in life. She loves Jazz. Her favourite food’s chocolate and her favourite ‘food group’ is ice cream, even though she doesn’t have it often because she can’t afford it. She likes to cook as well. She also refers to you guys as ‘morons 1-5.’ She also likes to sew and knit. She loves sports and she’s terrified of heights. You threatened to murder her ex-boyfriend and she was the one who witnessed your neighbour being murdered in Poland.” Tommy said.

“What?” Abe asked.

“Do you want me to repeat everything?” Tommy questioned.

“How’d you know she likes all that,” Abe whispered in shock. “How do you know about what happened in Poland?”

“I might’ve been young when the Pogroms happened, but I know the look of someone who’s witnessed death at a young age,” Tommy responded. “She’s spent several nights here.”

“Don’t remind me,” Abe grumbled. “Everyone knows she’s sleeping with you. But she opened up to you. She doesn’t open up to anyone.”

“I care for her,” Tommy sighed.

“You love her,” Abe corrected. “You love my sister.” He muttered something in Yiddish about Anya and their mother. Abe sounded exacerbated as he gritted his teeth.

“You hurt her, I’ll kill all of you and murder you!” He snarled at Tommy pointing at him. Tommy didn’t expect anything less from Abe Rosenthal. “She’s a human being, not something for you to oggle at. My dad might not live to see the next month, and as the oldest, I know that I need to step up. I love her, Tommy, she’s my little sister, and if something happens to her, I’ll take you to the gates of hell.”

“What happened with the money,” Tommy asked. He knew it was unlike the Rosenthals to short-change him, they were very good with their payments to the Blinders, something had to have happened.

“Normally Anya counts the money,” he sighed. “Anya was so tired, and we got the money in later than we normally do because some of our customers short-changed us, and I thought we had it all. I didn’t realise that I miscounted and when Anya dropped the money off, it was too late.”

“All your debts to the Blinders are forgiven. There’s no need to pay for our protection,” Tommy said.

“Is my sister off the hook?” He asked.

“No,” he said. “She’s not, that’s the nature of the deal I made with your father.”

“Shite,” he whispered. “There’s no getting her out of this, is there?”

“And I have eyes and ears all over the world so there’s no running,” Tommy said.

With one huff, Abe turned and left and Tommy was left alone. All he could think of was Anya, and that scared him just as much as it scared Abe. And he felt sorry that it came to this.

#peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby arranged marriage

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rayan12sworld · 5 months

Text

💙Never Again

By:Hauntcats

Summary:

Wen Qing finds herself back in the past right when she is removing Wei Ying's core. She changes her mind and changes the future.

Or Wen Qing and Wei Ying take no prisoners.

(Not Jiang Cheng friendly - if you don't like that, please don't read it.)

Chapter:24/24

Words:67,198

Status: completed

“What if he means what he says? What if it’s not just a matter of being drunk, or unable to share his feelings properly? What if that’s how he really feels? Should I just smile and take it? I’ve done that all my life. I’ve taken his temper with a smile, his cutting comments with a laugh; I’ve taken the blame for every time he’s caused trouble or every time any other disciple did something to make Madame Yu unhappy. I’ve moulded myself to smile and joke and write it all off as though I’m made of stone and nothing bothers me, like I don’t have any emotions. During all that time, no one stopped Madame Yu’s whip. No one stopped her from punishing me for the smallest thing, until I gave up trying to please her and did what I wanted because if I was going to get punished, I might as well have fun first. Soup and meaningless attention only heal so much.” Wei Ying tried to stop himself from spilling out everything, but he couldn’t. It was like he had detached himself from his body and someone else was talking while he floated around. “When Madame Yu was willing to cut off my right hand to satisfy Wen Chao’s leech, was it right for me to think, ‘Fine, I’ll just learn how to use my left hand,’? When Jiang Cheng nearly choked me to death for saving Lan Zhan and Jin Zixuan in the cave, and I let it go because Jiang Fengmian and Madame Yu told me to take care of him even if it cost me my life, did I not have the right to be angry? I have run interference for Jiang Cheng since almost the moment we met. I have allowed myself to play the fool to pull attention from his terrible temper and social skills. I have brought him friends, teased him out of sulking, and let go of every scathing word out of his mouth. Almost every day, I have listened to him and his mother make snide comments about my parents, who I barely remember. I have avoided asking about my parents, in case it started an argument and made Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli sad. I have pretended not to hear the gossip spread throughout the cultivation world, gossip that shamed my mother and her relationship with my father. It doesn’t matter that my parents hadn’t been back to Lotus Pier for a long time before my mother got pregnant. Doesn’t matter - where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Well, sometimes, the fire is the burning resentment of the person who started the rumour. According to Madame Yu and Jiang Wanyin, I owe the Jiang sect for existing. Answer me this, honourable Sect Leaders, when you take an orphaned child into your sect, do you expect them to pay you back for feeding them, clothing them, keeping them safe, and training them? Do you expect any child of your sect or clan to do the same? Do I really owe them for this golden core that I worked for, sweated for, and took beatings for? If so, then rip it from me and give it to them because my life has no value.”

(Not Jiang Cheng friendly)

#wangxian #wangxian recommendations #mdzs #mxtx mdzs #wangxian fanfic #ao3 recs #the untamed #wen qing #mdzs fanfic rec #mdzs lwj #lwj x wwx #wen qionglin #wen yuan #Never Again

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honeylikesyanderes · 1 year

Note

the yandate characters are so interesting :000 can i learn some more about icarus and ren? — 🫧

(18+ mdni)

you swiped right on icarus!

icarus - half fairy, half angel

age: looks 24ish

birthday: march 6th

physical attributes:

6'5

chin length green hair

purple eyes

tan skin

broad af shoulders

semi-muscular build

birthmark underneath his right eye

sharp canine teeth

wings are ab 5'4 in height, and has a large wingspan

personality traits

is either deathly silent or is the life of the party

no in between

isnt necessarily the most charming but gets away with a lot because of his good looks

is probably the most subtly toxic yandere that you would ever meet

is extremely observant of people and his surroundings

is lowkey a perfectionist

are they aware that they are a yandere? does it bother them?

icarus is aware, but he's in denial about it, so it doesn't really bother him.

yandere! icarus:

yandere type: possessive

icarus is the type of yandere that'll give his darling their space

like he'd let you go out and whatever

but if he gives you a particular time to be back home, you better be back exactly on time

he's also the type to subtly manipulate darling's feelings just to achieve his goal

and he's so so subtle about it

darling won't even notice his toxicity until they find themselves crying alone in the bathroom because of something icarus said

regardless, icarus is extremely loving

and he shows it like 99% of the time

his major love languages are words of affirmation and gift giving

can and will write down love letters detailing his obsessive and compulsive yandere love for you, and seal it with hearts drawn in red ink (the blood of his love rival).

icarus fun facts

his day job is as a florist and professional gardener

he absolutely loves flowers (his favourite are carnations)

he owns a couple of vineyards in France and Italy

he enjoys making and tasting wine

also owns a popular wine brand

you swiped right on ren!

ren - ? tailed fox

age: looks 26

birthday: nov 9th

physical attributes

has variable height but is usually 6'7

waist length white hair

red eyes

has multiple piercings on his body

lightly tanned skin

birthmark underneath his right eye

slim yet muscular build

has 2 red birthmarks on each of his eyes

personality traits

looks like a dick, is probably the nicest guy you'd ever meet

is mostly introverted but is extroverted when necessary

is genuinely a wholesome and caring person

he's very truthful tho and doesn't sugar-coat

so he may come off as a bit rude or aloof sometimes

uses the 'dick' façade to chase away bad people or people who'll take advantage of him

but he's actually such a sweet guy (mostly to only his darling)

are they aware that they are a yandere? does it bother them?

ren doesn't really consider himself as a yandere; he just thinks that he's extremely caring.

yandere! ren

yandere type: protective

ren is a sweet guy

gives off he/they energy ykwim?

but uh

you're his mate babe

so he doesn't really want to see anyone around you

whether they be male, female or enby

you're his and his alone.

ren is most likely to be his darling's stalker

and he'd most likely isolate you from your friends and family

even if it means getting his hands dirty and spreading rumours about you

anything that'll get you isolated from the world and seeking comfort in his arms-

he'll do it.

on the other hand,

if y'all go out together, you can literally dress however you like

''i can wear whatever i want cause my bf can fight'' :)

ren doesn't mind getting violent with love rivals

and even with people who hurt darling.

ren is also the type to ensure that darling witnesses one of his fist fights, just so he can use it as a means of intimidation against darling.

ren fun facts!:

his day job is at a bakery

he's head baker

his speciality is japanese and italian pastries

his actual job is as a bounty hunter

no one knows how many tails ren has and he's never told anyone

ren is over 300 years old

he has been married before (its a long story)

he can grant wishes at a price and he used to do it a lot when he was a bit younger

#honey's anons #honey answers asks #yandere oc #male yandere #obsessive yandere #yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #manipulative yandere #my oc icarus #my oc ren #honey's ocs #yandate #yandere exophilia

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i-write-hurt-not-comfort · 10 months

Note

Are you comfortable with writing/talking about smut? If you are can I ask you something?

So in 'I will find any way to your wild heart' Yuma is asexual but he and Shu are doing it sometimes right? I kinda wanna know how they started doing it like was Shu surprised about that Yuma's asexual or how Yuma reacted when Shu wanted it?

Also that fic was awesome I loveeed it thank you for writing it <3

thank u so much!! i'm glad you like it, it's one of my favourite fanfics i've written.

yes i'm very comfortable with smut - you can find a number of diabolik lovers smut fics on my AO3 such as reijiruki [1] [2] and subakou [3] [4].

nsfw discussions under the cut, obviously.

so yuma is asexual in this fic, confirmed here. he doesn't experience sexual attraction and him and shu only have sex on rare special occasions (well, in a way). such as when shu watched yuma beat up shin, and when all of yuma's other brothers got laid the same night.

at first, shu would've been pretty reserved in the relationship, especially since it was "his fault" reiji spread the rumours about yuma in secondary school which tore shu and yuma apart when they were friends (and shu had a crush). so i imagine that despite making out and cuddling and stuff after they became official, the topic of sex didn't come up for a while.

shu would be scared of pushing yuma away for a while so even if he felt up for sex, he wouldn't being it up. yuma, on the other hand, hasn't even thought about it.

it's amusing imagining them having a heavy make out session and then when shu thinks they might get somewhere, yuma just pulls away and is like "a'ight that was neat. want a joint?"

eventually shu is going to think he's doing something wrong and it'd get to the point where he's now avoiding contact so yuma asks what's up, shu admits he doesn't know why he's not being intimate, and yuma is gonna have an enlightening moment where he's like "oh, shit. you want that? i didn't notice"

as long as shu knows it's nothing against him personally, i don't think he'd mind yuma being asexual. i mean, sex IS a hassle, yknow? and shu is lazy. so i think he'd be pretty content with just chilling until yuma decides he wants it, and then it's a fun one-off. besides, shu has a hand. if he's horny, he'd be happy getting himself off.

outside of sex though, i think they'd be relatively big on PDAs once they get there. i never wrote it a huge amount because shuuma was always kind of a side pairing (since they were already long together when it started) but they'd definitely walk around college holding hands, and shu's gonna be pressed up against his shoulder whenever they're sitting in the canteen together.

hope that helps! i'm always happy to talk about this AU more, there was a ton of lore and headcanons which i have established but didn't make it into the fic itself.

#ask #anonymous #i will find any way to your wild heart #seriously i have soooo many random headcanons for this AU #also planning a special sequel for it <3

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waiting-on-a-dream · 10 months

Text

𝐎𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

Love was a mystery to him. But for the most part, it was more of a fairytale, sweet and fabricated.

Love. romance, starts at home. When you’re a kid, observing (and learning) whatever your parents do. Are they all over each other, or not at all? Are they warm and loving, or cold and detached? Are they partner or rivals, enemies even?

His parents weren’t always hopeless. His father would greet his mother when got home from work, sometimes going into the kitchen while she cooked to give her a hug. They would go out for their anniversary, returning home with blissful smiles and some new flowers to display. Sure, they still fought a lot. Every week in fact. But so long as everyne could gather at the table for dinner the next day, it would be alright.

And then he’d gotten older and their fights had gotten worse. Dinner became a warzone, and he’d alays scarf down his food and leave as soon as possible. Looking back on it now, maybe they tried to keep their marriage afloat when he was young simply for his sake.

His classmates in high school talked about relationships a lot. People started dating here and there. Rumours and the occasional scandal spread like wildfire.

He had good connections so he heard everything. But everyone was only interested in who and not why, how. What does love feel like? What makes being in a relationship so appealing? He often wondered why no one else spoke of those.

But he never asked, and politely rejected the one or two confessions he received after graduation.

Flirting was a fun activity for him, a hobby even. It still is now. Some didn’t give him the time of day, some reciprocated just as playfully.

His first time had been with an experienced woman. Which was great, because she did most of the work and he had a mind-blowingly good time. He woke up next to her in the morning and searched deep within himself for something, anything he might feel towards her. Perhaps the thrill of winning a gamble, or the calm content of settling onto his couch with a bottle of sake.

Nothing. He felt nothing.

He can’t remember much of what happened after that. They went their separate ways and he hasn’t seen her since.

So he’s back to square one on the quest for love. Even if no one could ever truly want his rotten and greedy self, surely he could bring himself to love someone.

He joins an organization, makes some new friends and lets the days bleed into one boring life as usual. Then he sees a man sitting by his favourite bar one day, nursing a fancy glass of bourbon. His heart stops. A restarts itself with a jump.

Its not love at first sight, no. Not something unrealistic like that. But he knows from the way that pretty face turns towards him, violet eyes painted grey by the orange lights meeting his, that he’s about to make his most interesting friend yet.

As usual when befriending an introvert, he has to make the first move. The man doesn’t react when he abruptly takes a seat next to him, but grows confused and a little wary when he whips out his best pickup lines. He can’t help but laugh (awkwardly). What is wrong with him? He’s forgotten how to talk to people.

Everything worked out in the end, because the man turned out to work for the organization he joined, and they had many more meetings at that bar. (He swears its a lucky charm place for him.)

He’s kissed plenty of people before. But he considers the kiss from the man his very first. Perhaps he’s a romantic after all.

He goaded the man into drinking more than usual, while he only took two shots for himself, barely enough to get him tipsy. Its early in the morning when they leave the bar, a few hours before sunrise, and they’re both practically dozing off as they stumble back to his apartment. The man can hardly walk in a straight line, and he finds himself supporting the other as they walk.

Maybe it’s the fluorescent streetlight up ahead, or the fact that he leaned in too close to the man’s face. (He had applied some mascara to his eyelashes before leaving for the bar. A part of him hopes the man notices, another part of him combusts at the thought of the other knowing that he put on makeup for him.) Then they’re kissing. With tongue, still tasting of booze.

It’s a hot summer night. He’s sweating from the heat and alcohol in his system. The man holds his face in place gently, as if he might ever want to pull away. Even with his eyes closed, the streetlight glares demandingly from beyond his eyelids.

But he swears he can hear dramatic music floating in the air. His heart beats frantically in his chest, light and airy and drunk on elation. So this is love, a fairytale.

Sweet and unobtainable.

The man claims not to remember anything when they wake up at half past noon, sprawled over each other with their clothes still on because they’d both collapsed when they reached the bed. His heart hurts but he agrees. He got absolutely hammered last night.

He brings the man a glass of water and makes him an omelette for lunch. (Its all he knows how to cook besides instant noodles.) The man leaves at 2 o’clock.

Daisuke often thinks logically but is quite sensitive to other peoples’ feelings. He doesn’t know what its like to feel “love”, so his perception of it comes mostly from the people around him. His parents obviously weren’t good examples, and his high school peers weren’t exactly mature…

Part of Daisuke's sexuality (demiromantic) is hinted in this piece. He doesn’t feel “love” until the friend he makes at the bar. They share one (1) kiss and he loses his mind.

Daisuke is more focused on his senses compared to his intuition, and the way he experiences love reflects that (more of a physical touch guy). He has a one-night stand and hopes it’ll blossom into something more the way it goes in some movies. Also, he pays attention to his surroundings even when he’s kissing his crush. Taking note of the weather, the light above him, as if he’s suddenly become hypersensitive. I thought it’d be a fun way to demonstrate the way he experiences the world.

The Japanese have this phrase: “Koi no yokan” which translates to 'the premonition of love'. It basically means knowing that you’ll come to fall in love with someone eventually upon meeting them. So that's basically what Daisuke felt when he saw Ryuto.

#“I'm not biased” I keep saying #who am I fooling at this point?#🤡 behavior #prisoner 003: iwamoto daisuke

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pearthery · 1 year

Text

i have a gintama fic draft that i’ve been working on for a while (it was intended for gintoki day, but ahaha, i have not yet finished it, so it is for a very very belated gintoki day). it started out as a takagin zuragin joui war crackfic! it started out with kurokono tasuke as the primary POV character because i just thought it would be fun! now it is a fic where gintoki and kurokono discuss their favourite ultraman protags. it is a fic where kurokono does a beautiful ukiyo-e style drawing of gintoki as a catboy whose husband has recently passed away (this will make sense in context) (the context is that a catboy widow is zura’s ideal type)

choice excerpts:

1. A couple months ago, some rumours started brewing at the bottom of the Generals' crusty rice-pot. No one knew who had started them, but everyone knew something about the source of them. The men in question weren't subtle, after all. They tried to be, yes, perhaps for the sake of their pride, probably because they didn't even know what was going on ( one of them in particular definitely didn't know what was going on), but their efforts weren't much compared to the constant current of tension that underpinned their every interaction.

Tasuke could count on five hands how many times a new recruit had nudged his more experienced friend and stared with confusion. "What's up with those guys?" they would ask, befuddled. Sometimes it was Katsura-san they were looking at, ankle-deep in guts and cutting his eyes in disapproval as he complained about how hard it was to scrub Amanto blood out of white haoris. Other times it was Takasugi-san flying his hand to the hilt of his sword, or crossing his arms as he lashed his tongue, chest puffed up like a posturing schoolboy as Sakata-san all the while made faces at him and obnoxious sounds, increasingly ridiculous the more he was rebuffed. "Who the fuck knows?" their veteran friend would say. "But whatever's wrong with one of them probably goes for all of them."

The rumours started out small, likely. Tasuke hadn't heard them in their infancy but it was easy to suppose what they might have been like. Just quiet comments about how close they were, how few soldiers looked at each other like that, how it was perhaps unnecessary for General Katsura to so carefully take Sakata's head in his hands to tie his headband before every new battle, like, the guy can probably fend for himself, but isn't it kinda funny that he does it anyway, lol? This was because Sakamoto-san was capable of subtlety, and the sort of word he spread would never be so overblown at the start as they had eventually become.

"Huh? Rumours? Lies? Me?" said Sakamoto-san. "I would never! In fact, I have no idea what any of those things even are! What's a rumour?" he laughed, "What's a lie? What's a me? I don't even have a clue! Ahahaha, ahahaha!"

If Takasugi pissed at a rate of 22 ml per second and Katsura pissed at a rate of 17 ml per second, but Takasugi's bladder capacity was only 300 ml compared to Katsura's 400 ml, and Takasugi's temper occasionally got the better of him and he became snappish and prickly, though Katsura wasn't known as the Rampaging Noble for no reason, and Tatsuma'd been at the receiving end of a scolding enough times to be wary of that guy's temper as well, and if both of them were competing to piss a heart shape on the shoreline as a love confession to a guy who's probably seen too many actual flesh-meat-body hearts in his lifetime to be ensnared by a piss heart or anything like that, then who among them would win?

"They're pretty even," said Koroka. "For everyone who thinks that Gintoki-san is repulsed by Takasugi-san's habit of smoking weed and gazing soberly out into the sky, there's someone who thinks that Gintoki-san is entranced by Takasugi-san's pensive and poetic nature the way a lonely yet kind-hearted boy is drawn to the rebellious yet intelligent troublemaker. He is apparently the ideal of a beautiful tortured warrior."

"They're all beautiful warriors, Koroka," said Tatsuma, not as bitter as he could be. "Beautiful warriors with ugly personalities. Underneath those youthful looks, the Shiroyasha is nothing but vomit, I tell you. Vomit and bad personality."

"It's Kurokono, Sakamoto-san," said Koroka. "Besides, I thought you were the one who threw up on Gintoki-san at your first meeting."

"Ahaha, Koroka-kun, where did you hear about that? I was only making sure his outsides matched his insides," said Tatsuma. "Wow. Our guys are really horrendous gossips, aren't they? I feel like I'm only starting to realise this."

"You aren't wrong," said Koroka, cocking his head. "But in your case… Well, you threw up in front of everyone. It was a big crowd. I think everyone who was there will never forget it."

"Huh," said Tatsuma.

"I'm glad most people overlook me," said Koroka, thoughtfully. "It means I''ll never experience what you did."

#pear #gintama fic #i must emphasis this fic is very silly

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hattrickprincess · 10 months

Note

Loml angst prompts

Based on ney’s recent saga with Instagram but with less cheating and dubious morals.

Ney and Kylian are happily spending time in Brazil during summer- being a little too sappy and in love when one day, old screenshots of Ney sliding into model’s DMs resurface. This was way before Ney even met kyky - he was just having fun as a single and young man who was in his prime youth and fame.

Ky sees these screenshots and tries not be affected since rationally, he knows that Ney sent these before they met and it was perfectly fine. But he can’t help feel jealous and insecure regardless, esp after seeing some of the flirtier messages. When Ney notices how affected kylian is- he tries his best to calm him down by showering him with attention and love. It helps but there is still a sprinkle of tension between them. But ney’s really trying his best here.

But given how shit Ney’s luck is sometimes, one day, he accidentally butt-likes some random model’s photo. Basically his phone has instragram open, he was on his explore feed and unfortunately he kept his phone in his pocket without locking it and somehow he accidentally ends up double tapping some random model’s photos that he doesn’t even follow.

Next day, social media explodes saying that Ney is dating this model and it starts a new rumour mill. Fans are eating it up because it’s been such a long time since Ney has had a rumour about his dating life (since him and ky were keeping things on the down low). So this really blows up.

Of course, Ney explains to kylian how it was all an accident but this following the recent resurfacing of those old screenshots kinda sends kylian into a spiral. He thought that he had moved beyond his jealously phase after the bruna’s episodes and their relationship going through a healing phase. He was constantly in Ney’s center of attention and love. So he really despises himself for feeling this insecure still. But Ney explains to him that change takes time and kylian can’t expect to be perfectly ok with everything overnight.

To reassure kylian further, Ney finally plans the romantic date that he promised him initially (menioned in LiSM). He sets up the cutest romantic candle light dinner in their own house, he buys a bouquet of flowers, spreads out rose petals everywhere and puts out an expensive bottle of champagne. During the date he mentions that he may had slid into some model’s DMs but kylian had slid right into his heart. And he keeps making corny jokes throughout the night to make kylian laugh. His final touch is him asking kylian to check his Instagram. When ky opens the app, he has a notification of Neymarjr sending him several messages. It’s essentially Neymar sliding into his DMs with all kinds of pick up lines to chat him up.

Of course we need to add some smut to this so Ney makes sure that night when they make love slowly, kylian is constantly reminded how he’s the only one Ney has eyes for and how soon he wants them to get married.

it's the way i had to think about what lism means 💀

i'm obsessed. give me the pickup lines pleaaaase

#loml prompts

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dat-town · 3 years

Text

not gonna miss this chance

Characters: Han Seojun & soloist!female reader

Genre: fluff

Setting: true beauty au, set a year after the tv show’s ending timeline

Summary: Your career is on the verge of ending, hence your management puts you up to do a duet with the infamous Han Seojun. You have heard too many rumours about him to keep track of and yet, none of them could have prepared you for the feelings that came with meeting him.

Words: 4.1k

Self indulgent little snippet because he deserves happiness too.

You had heard of Han Seojun before meeting him, of course you had. Everybody who was in the industry had heard of the hot trend of a Newstagram star-turned idol and his band's shining debut from a year ago. They were told to have snatched teenage girls hearts all over Korea with their good looks and soulful music. You had heard their title track and you had to admit it was nice but nice wasn't enough in a cut-throat industry like entertainment.

Look at you, starting training at twelve, debuting at fifteen and now barely twenty-one you were on the verge of becoming a thrown away doll. Once you had been called cute and the it girl of your generation and now? People were saying you got boring just because your music had matured. Gosh, you couldn't keep singing about first love like your hit song had been for the rest of your life for god's sake. Your last album had been a flop, your company had been losing money and you were still afraid that even with a year left of your contract, they would cut you. But your manager had begged them for a chance and here it was: a collaboration with the newest love of Korea.

But the thing was, Han Seojun had quite a reputation and you didn't know who to believe. Some said he was well-mannered and hard-working. Others gossiped that he was always flirting with his makeup artists and Chen claimed he had been rude to her even when he had just been a ‘nobody’. Not that you were particularly fond of Chen either but as a fellow solo female singer you were a tad bit worried how the infamous singer would treat you.

Well, standing in front of Move Entertainment, you were just about to find out. Taking a shallow breath you followed your manager's lead, bowing to the receptionist and getting into the elevator after taking your visitor's badge. You had heard the company has gone through many changes after the executives were replaced due to the revealed Seyeon scandal but everything looked expensive, shiny and new, unlike in your small agency.

“Hey, I’m Lim Heekyung, nice to meet you. Seojun will be in a minute, too,” a woman in a pantsuit walked up to you on the right floor with a confident smile as she introduced herself. She led you to a meeting room which was apparently customized for a few people only and started preparing papers. She looked excited which was a relief and nice to see, at least someone from Move Entertainment was happy for this project apparently. You were a bit afraid they would see you like a leech, trying to cling onto their new star’s popularity.

“Shall we start? Seojun is a fan of dramatic entrances anyways,” Miss Lim laughed joyfully as if it wasn’t new to her that the idol didn’t make it on time. Ah yeah, you had heard rumours saying that he had something on the company and that was why they were so lenient with him.

You sat in silence, let your manager do the talk about the collaboration project. Seojun could play the guitar, you could play the piano, apparently it was perfect for a ballad duet, though if you used instruments yourself it added to the preparations time. But luckily, there was a songwriter named Leo at the company who had already sent in a few samples specifically for Seojun, so you didn’t have to start from zero.

“Ah, I see you started without me. What did I miss?” A tall boy opened the door wide and flipped down onto the chair across you casually. He had grown into his lanky limbs and with those wide shoulders hugged by the leather jacket, helix earrings in one ear and soft brown hair brushed to one side, it wasn’t a surprise how many female fans swooned over him. But there were a lot of handsome boys in the business, just his looks – no matter how confident he was in them based on the way he carried himself – wouldn’t make a difference.

Miss Lim patiently let Seojun know about the advances and only when she mentioned your name, did the boy glance at you. His dark brown eyes had a sharp form, just as piercing as his gaze, but the cunning smile spreading over his lips softened it a bit. He looked at you as if he wanted to see through you, to figure out how he should have approached you. You expected a snarky or arrogant comment, but in the end, he just flashed a blinding smile at you, one you could see on his posters, before turning back to Miss Lim.

“What’s the schedule?” he asked simply and you both were notified about the deadline of deciding and finalizing the song, the dates of planned recording sessions and the photoshoot. Since there would be no promotion period, it all would be done within a month and half from start to finish. You were a bit relieved hearing that and leave Move Entertainment without any confrontation.

You thought you were good at masking your wary feelings since the further meetings went well and the first recording session went okay-ish. Although both of you had been a bit scolded by the producer for not putting enough feelings into your singing. He claimed that the demo sent by Leo was much more emotional which made Seojun scoff and mumble under his nose. The PD called it for a day, making you promise to practice for next time and one by one they all left. Your manager told you that he would bring the car while you refresh yourself in the bathroom, so you really didn’t expect anyone to wait for you when you stepped out of the restroom, much less Han Seojun.

"Spit it out," he bit out barely glancing your way as he leaned against the corridor’s wall.

"What?" you spluttered as you were really taken aback by his out of blue appearance and question. The guy let out a tired sigh at your obliviousness and pushed himself away from the wall just to walk up to you, towering over your height with his.

"You look at me as if I killed your hamster or something. Which rumour about me bothers you? I fucking can't keep walking on eggshells around you, especially when it's just the two of us," he tsked and you gulped at the sudden called out. You didn’t think it bothered him, or that he was considerate enough to ‘walk on eggshells around you’, you merely thought he was so distant from everybody. It was still better than what Chen had told you.

"Oh, I… nothing. It's stupid. Sorry," you mumbled, feeling embarrassed for your your actions but Seojun apparently wasn’t satisfied without a real answer as he carried on:

"I didn't bully kids in high school but I threatened ones that deserved it, I didn't only get a pity chance from the entertainment, one of our makeup artists is actually one of my best friends, I'm not…"

"Chen told me you are rude and arrogant and have no respect for girls," you blurted out to stop him from speaking because you felt like you didn’t deserve to hear all that. He didn’t owe you any explanation for the way he was. You were just co-workers for a project after all, you had no place in his life, nor he had in yours, so he shouldn’t have been that bothered by your opinion but you understood that he felt uncomfortable due to your silent accusations.

Hearing your hasty interruption, the singer scoffed, a laugh-like sound leaving his mouth.

"Well, I have no respect for girls like Chen who harass my friends and turn their lives into hell just to go on a date with me," he said and it made you blink slowly.

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. Check your facts before you go around believing such crap," Seojun stepped back with a roll of his eyes.

The whole situation made you feel made about how you acted, so you wished to apologise but it fell from your lips all too carelessly: "Sorry, I was just worried. This is my last chance, so–"

"Last chance?" the guy quirked a brow at you, curious but you quickly waved his question away.

"Nevermind, I just need this song to do well."

"Of course, it will. I'm Han Seojun, it will turn to gold under my hands," he grinned and made eccentric gestures as if he was about to do magic. You couldn't help a smile. “Or well, vocal chords.”

And turn it to gold, he did.

The rest of your recording sessions went smoother, even the previously grumpy PD complimented your for the development in your chemistry. Funny, you wouldn’t have thought that the wall pulled up between the two of you mattered that much, but at least you didn’t have a knot in your stomach, nor did you worry about every small thing you did around Han Seojun. He also acted more casual, more playful, joking around when both of you had a bit of time to take a breather. He snapped silly pictures, showed off with his height, smirked when he got too close but despite all his bravado and lowkey flirting, you believed even he wouldn’t have jeopardised his career over something like this.

Maybe that's why wrapping up the recording felt a tad bit weird: you got used to his presence, his jokes, his beautiful, deep voice that you could have fallen asleep to. Sure, sometimes he was cocky, a bit rough around the edges but he was a great singer and a fun guy. The project seemed to work out well and you loved it a lot, so you hoped the listeners would appreciate it as well.

But before all that you had one photo shoot together for the promotional pictures and the single's cover. You were grateful for the simple pastel colour background and elegant setting. The warm light latte colour and the clock in the background really fit the song's vibe. Luckily, your dress was decent and pretty as well, you didn't have to feel uncomfortable in it at least. However, you didn’t expect that happy yelp coming from one of the makeup artists stepping into the dressing room. You turned to face the girl, wondering whether she was your fan judged by her excitement.

"Oh my! I'm so happy to finally meet you! Seojun told us about you so much!" she beamed at you which obviously took you back. Well, that you didn’t expect at all. He spoke of you to others? Ah. Apparently to the makeup artist who was most probably that certain one of his best friends he had told you about?

"Don't exaggerate, Imju, I mentioned her like what… once?" Seojun walked in on cue. He rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, trying to avert the topic. "How's Suho?"

You had know idea who that said guy was but after a moment or two you could breathe properly once again while listening to their chatting.

“Just the usual. He’s excited about your duet.”

“Of course, he is,” Seojun grinned, a bit snarky but you could hear the proud undertones of it. When he looked at you, you were surprised by him leaning close though as he quieted down until only you could hear it. “Don’t worry, Jugyeong is really good and just stop her if she gets too gossip-y.”

“Are you talking about me behind my back, hah, Han Seojun?” The pretty girl called Jugyeong raised her fist as if she was about to hit the idol but he just laughed it off and left you two alone when he was hurried onto the set to start with his individual shoots.

“Have you known each other for a long time?” you couldn’t help but wonder as you were seated to get your makeup from her.

“Ah, almost 4 years, I think. We went to high school together. Plus, he’s best friends with my boyfriend. Though, they are always bickering like a married couple,” Jugyeong chuckled joyfully as she started with the cushion. You closed your eyes, listening as she kept going on about the time when Seojun had been obsessed with his motorbike, getting into trouble with his mother. It was strange hearing about a whole other side of him, mama's boy but the image tugged on your mouth, making you smile even though you weren't sure you had the right to know all that. You also learned that Seojun's sister was dating Jugyeong's brother and you felt so involved with the girl's trust albeit it was your last meeting, you were sure Seojun must have only told good things about you.

Hence, you felt shy under his knowing gaze when you walked out of the dressing room. He must have known that Jugyeong couldn't shut up for the life of her, so he looked a bit uncertain, too, stretching the back of his neck, forcing a cunning smile onto his smile when you took your place next to him.

To fit the ballad's theme, the setting was a piano decorated with flowers and you were instructed to sit beside him as if you were about to play a four hands piece. As you did what you had been told, you were very much aware of the way your arms brushed, his long fingers over the keys close to yours, his smile small but genuine.

"Great, great, guys! Someone help her onto the piano and Seojun, stand in front of her," the photographer directed the next scene but before any staff members would have rushed up to you, the singer next to you shushed them.

"I can do it," he insisted as he stood up and looked you in the eyes, silently asking for permission. You nodded while holding your breath back before Seojun put his hands on your waist above the fluffy tulle skirt part and counting on three, he lifted you onto the lid of the beautiful instrument.

You crossed your legs, watching in awe as your pink skirt fell down on waves but your breath hitched for an entirely different reason when you looked up, gaze meeting Seojun's feline eyes trained on you. You had never seen him look at you like that, lacking playfulness or suspicion or curiosity. He looked open, vulnerable, outright starstruck. Your lips parted meaning to ask something but your brain shut off when you heard the shutter of the camera go down and the director yelling compliments at you. It made you snap out of it and later, you blamed the evident blush on your cheeks on the makeup. Seojun blinked too, his guarded expression back in no time, finishing the photo shoot professionally, always lingering close to you, but never touching you. Even though you wouldn’t have minded.

"Hey," Seojun peeked into your dressing room just as you were about to leave, packing up, with a smile on his mouth and sparkles in his deep brown eyes. But unlike half an hour ago when he wore a fancy suit and looked at you like a prince would have looked at his princess, he acted just as casual as he looked in his denim jacket over dark tee. "Wanna grab something with me if you finished for today?"

His question took you back but first thing first you glanced towards your manager, eyes begging for permission which you had gotten with a sigh.

"Just be discreet and call me if you need me to pick you up," your manager shrugged, leaving you two alone with a knowing look that told you to be careful. You didn't need to be told though, you knew how much depended on the current public response to your image.

"Seems like a green light. Have you thought of anything specific?" you turned back to the boy with a subtle smile.

"Not really but I know a few less frequent, secluded places to avoid much talk about us," he said and you nodded, following his lead. Masks, caps and hoodies on, you barely talk on your way to the tent with the lovely ahjumma who welcomed Seojun (two heads taller than her) with a pinch of his cheeks and told you to get seated.

"Are you a regular here?" you inquire, carefully pulling down your mask since not many people are around.

"You could say that," the boy hummed letting you adjust to the place at your own pace, not pressuring you with extra reassessments about how safe it is there. Yet, he is so casual as if he wasn't afraid of a getting mobbed by Dispatch out of the blue. Not that it happened to you a lot of times but you heard stories and at such a crucial time in your career, you feared something like that more than anything.

"Do you want to come up to mine instead?" Seojun blurted out suddenly which made you wide eyed in a span of a moment as you splattered out a surprised yelp. "Come on, I don't mean anything by it. You just look really nervous being in the public," the singer said, his deep voice softening, soothing by the end and you needed to take a breather before answering. You didn't think it was so obvious but apparently you had never been a good liar with him.

In the end, you decided on going over to Seojun's place, so he asked the ahjumma to pack your food to go and you headed towards his flat a few blocks from the company. It was a small but cozy place, much softer and brighter than you expected, lots of pastels and photos of friends and family. While the boy busied himself in the kitchen, getting you plates, chopsticks and beer, you were encouraged to look around and you couldn't help but smile at his photos with not only his band members but high school friends, too. You had seen photos of his graduation with Jugyeong, then another one of his debut with her and another guy. He was a recurring person on a lot of pictures, so you assumed that he was the so-called Suho.

"He's Jugyeong's boyfriend," Seojun affirmed as he walked up to you which you acknowledged with a hum and smiled at his photos with his sister and mother. The makeup artist was right when she said he was only tough on the outside.

"You knew Seyeon?" you whispered as your gaze shifted of a picture of three boys smiling widely into the camera. The middle one was the talented boy you had known from the news of his committed suicide. Such a tragedy.

"Uhum. We were best friends. Him, Suho and me," Seojun nodded and without having to ask, he told you how they had gotten to know each other, what were their favourite past time activities and how they fell apart when he died. You could see he was hurting even now as he was talking about it, so you grazed your fingers against his knuckles as though to say you were there for him to listen, or whatever he needed.

Talking about his best friends and how a group of guys including someone named Chorong stuck by his side over the years warmed your heart. It was nice to know that not everyone had it as lonely as you who basically missed out on high school and memories from that time to be able to turn your dreams into reality. Your only friends were also in the industry but it made things both easier and harder.

"What about you? What did you mean by this being your last chance?" Seojun asked like a loaded gun but after everything he had just told you, you knew you could trust him with this and being in the industry for a while now, he must have understood, too.

You told him about the rising expectations, about your image and your company's ultimatum. It actually felt nice to talk about with someone other than your manager. Especially since Seojun seemed to understand exactly why you felt conflicted over the matter. You have given your youth to this dream of yours, so giving up on it would have felt like betraying yourself and everyone who believed in you but you weren't sure you could give it another 10 years of your life no matter how much you liked music. You had decent CSATs result, maybe you could have applied for a university program. Seojun even offered to arrange a meeting between you and Suho who was studying to become a proper songwriter.

You talked for hours and ate the tteokbokki even though it had gotten cold long ago and you couldn't remember when was the last time you had felt so light. You felt giddy even with just the tiny bit of alcohol in your system by the time you knew it was time for you to go.

Once you had felt relieved knowing that promoting your duet would be only one performance but recently, you started dreading the moment because that meant that you wouldn't have any more excuse to see Seojun. In the backstage, this time around you greeted Jugyeong like an old friend and teased to give Seojun a funny makeup before walking up to your own assigned staff members. Your look was full of sparkles and glow fitting the silver colour of your dress, completing the ethereal vibe off the stage you were going to do and the beautiful song you had grown to love so much you held it close to your heart. The last rehearsals went smoothly and if you noticed Seojun's gaze lingering a bit too long, you didn't comment on it.

"Are you nervous?" he asked before the final recording and you knew it would have been unreasonable to deny it, so you replied with a small smile.

"A bit."

"Don't be. You're pretty and you'll do amazing," he reassured you and the way he said those words oh so easy. As if they were natural. As if he believed in you and maybe this was all the reassurance you needed because when you walked up onto the stage, not taking your eyes off his, it felt like it was just the two of you there. All the stress about not being good enough, about being judged for who you were and what you wanted to do with your life was subsided as you focused on the moment, just to sing this one song with one while trying to fight your heart's crazy beating.

You didn't really have the luxury to have crushes. You had always been concentrated on your work, you couldn't let yourself have distractions, especially since love scandals always affected girl worse than guy. At least that was what you told yourself for always putting up a wall around you and guarding your heart all too well. But during the past few weeks, between playful or flirty remarks, between smiles and ruffling hair, Seojun took apart your wall brick by brick even if he wasn't aware.

So it might have been only a few days since you had last seen him but in that rare moment of boredom, alone in your room, you realized that you missed him. Hell, you liked him and the feeling made me want to scream into your pillow as if you were a silly teenager. As if on cue, your phone buzzed with a new message and seeing the KakaoTalk ID made you shy.

duet partner, han seo jun

so...

i've been thinking

you

sounds dangerous but ok

duet partner, han seo jun

don't get sassy with me, miss

you

what have you been thinking about?

duet partner, han seo jun

that i don't want to miss my chance

there's this girl i like

i thought of asking her out

do you think she would say yes?

you

oh. well... why wouldn't she?

i mean, you are talented, handsome, funny and reliable

duet partner, han seo jun

and what about my job? it's busy and a bit crazy

don't you think it would be unfair of me to ask?

you

I think you should let her decide that

duet partner, han seo jun

okay

are you free on friday?

you

um, sure?

duet partner, han seo jun

cool, then go on a date with me?

#han seo jun x reader #seojun x reader #han seojun #han seo joon #true beauty #stories #i just wanted to give him a happy end after ep16 #that's what this is about

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spiderlilyserendipity · 3 years

Note

Hey Violet, could you do some soft nsfw yoongi scenario occurring after they make up from a fight?? Loved your previous yoongi pieces

Thank you <33 I had a lot of fun writing this one so it got long haha. Enjoy! This one is called I Need You. (*Cis female reader for this one*)

WC: 2668

Warnings: some arguing (nothing intense), explicit nsfw content

Genres: angst, fluff, smut

You wish you could be stubborn when it comes to Min Yoongi, but both of you know it’s impossible for you.

You are both relatively calm people, but sometimes Yoongi gets on your nerves. You hate how nonchalant he is sometimes, how he pushes people away that he knows care for him. You hate that after all these years, he insists on handling his problems on his own, never confiding to you.

When a nasty rumour spreads about Yoongi, you don’t hear about it until it hits the news outlets. And you don’t even realize it’s on the news until you visit Yoongi at the studio one day for lunch and all the staff give you pitiful looks.

Everyone knows about the slander against Yoongi. Everyone knows it’s all lies and that the company will handle it. Yoongi tells you it’s not a problem, to not worry. But how can you not, as his partner? Why do you have to find out from the fucking news about the problems your boyfriend is facing?

It leads to an argument where both of you say things you don’t really mean. Yoongi says you’re too emotional, that you’re going overboard when even he isn’t that bothered. You get sarcastic with him, saying “oh I’m sorry for caring about my boyfriend.” You tell him if he wants to keep being the man, he can handle his worries on his own from now on, that you won’t bother him anymore like you obviously have been doing.

You storm home and lock yourself in the bedroom, crying into a pillow that you wish was Yoongi’s chest instead. You cry for so long that you fall asleep, still on top of the blankets.

When you wake up, it’s ten p.m. You wake up to the sound of the shower running and realize Yoongi must be back from dance practice. You briefly wonder if he’s eaten when your own stomach rumbles.

You get up and go to the kitchen, looking for last night’s leftovers. But then you find the container on the counter, with a pair of chopsticks still in it. Yoongi had eaten them, and there was nothing else to eat in the house.

Do I really mean that little to him? You wonder, fighting tears for the second time that day.

“Y/N.” Yoongi’s voice calls you back. He’s standing in the hallway that adjoins the kitchen in a tee and sweats, towelling his wet hair.

“Let’s break up.” You say, crossing your arms over your chest. Yoongi’s eyes go wide.

“Baby, what are you talking about?” He asks, stepping closer. He holds your arms, looking you in the eye. “Y/N, we’ve been together so long. You’re my--”

“Just because we’ve been together a long time I have to stay with you?” You spit back. “You want to pretend to care about me now? What about when your staff and your friends were all looking at me like I grew a second head because I didn’t know anything. When that happened you just wanted me to leave you alone. I’m giving you that and it’s still not enough? What do I have to do to be fucking enough for you, Min Yoongi?” You raise your voice and it cracks.

Yoongi pulls you into a tight hug. You fight his hold but he’s stronger than you are. He cups the back of your head with one hand and wraps an arm around your waist. You are crying now, loud and ugly sobs wracking through you. You take your breaths in sharp gasps, angry that whenever you breathe you smell his shampoo. Everything in your life seems to be connected to him, but he just doesn’t feel the same. In fact, he likes keeping you away from his work life. Why? Was it embarrassing to date a noncelebrity like you?

“That’s not true, Y/N.” Yoongi says. You’re confused for a second until you realize you said your last thought out loud. “I’ll never be embarrassed by you, baby. I love you.”

“Then why don’t you ever tell me things?”

Yoongi takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Because I know how much you care. I know you would do anything to protect me. I know and I feel the same, but this isn’t your burden. I’m the one that chose to be a celebrity. Of course people are going to hate me and spread rumours, that’s part of the job. I know that and I’m used to it. I don’t want you to get worked up and cry over something some asshole said.”

You keep crying as he explains. “I understand, but I still want to know. Even if I can’t fix it, I want to be here for you.” You insist, holding him at arm’s length. When a new tear rolls down your cheek, Yoongi thumbs it away. His eyes are stormy and sad when they meet your own.

Yoongi guides you into the living room and sits you down on the sofa. He takes a few tissues from the box on the coffee table. He wipes your eyes for you even when you mumble that you can do it yourself. “I’m sorry.” He whispers. “I didn’t mean for us to fight. I just want to protect you because I’m your boyfriend.”

“I’m sorry, too.” You say, taking his hand. “I didn’t want us to fight either. I just felt bad because it felt like you didn’t trust me anymore. Kind of...like you didn’t want me around.”

“Never.” Yoongi says immediately, squeezing your hand. His dark eyes fix you in place. “I trust you more than anyone, Y/N. Please believe me.”

You nod, pulling him into a hug. This time, you’re the one that is hesitant to let go. Eventually, Yoongi is the one who pulls back first. “I wasn’t sure if you ate because we didn’t pick up groceries this week, so I bought this on my way home for a late night dinner.”

You turn, noticing the takeout container on the table. It was jajangmyeon, your favourite. Suddenly, you feel guilty. “What about you?” You ask.

Yoongi shrugs. “I ate the leftovers in the fridge.” You get up, but he grabs your wrist. “Where are you going?”

“To get two bowls. This portion is a bit bigger than I can eat anyway. Let’s both eat.” You say, ignoring Yoongi’s protests as you go to the kitchen. You grab two bowls and pairs of chopsticks.

You separate the portions roughly in half, giving Yoongi the bowl with more. Noticing right away, Yoongi swaps, taking the bowl with less from your hands. “I already ate. You can have the one with more.”

The two of you smile at each other fondly.

You and Yoongi take turns telling each other about your days (minus the drama). You sit back against the couch when both of you are done eating, smiling as Yoongi tells you about the song he worked on today and the choreography for their new title track.

Suddenly, he stops talking. His eyes move down to your lips. He leans in and his thumb swipes over your bottom lip. He grins as you get flustered, licking the bit of sauce off his own thumb. He leans back, starting to talk about choreography again when you cup his face. You pull him into a kiss. He reciprocates instantly, and the two of you melt into each other. He leans back, laying down and you climb on top of him. Yoongi kisses like how happiness feels, warm and honest. One hand cups your face and the other rests on your lower back as you lay on top of him.

Eventually, both of you are panting. Yoongi’s dark eyes peer up at you, full of lust and love. His lips are swollen and his voice is deep and rough when he says your name.

Before you know it, clothes are off. The living room feels cold, but Yoongi’s skin is burning hot against yours. He kisses you gently, along your neck. He trails down your collarbone and you tighten your hand in his hair, making him groan. He makes lovemarks on your collarbone and lower, on your chest and just above your breasts. Places no one else will see except the two of you.

He takes your breasts in his hands. He licks at one nipple until it gets hard, rolling the other between his fingers. Then, he alternates and does the same to the other. You’re whining now, grinding down on his bare thigh. You’re sure he can feel how wet you are through your soaked through panties.

“Lay back.” He tells you.

You pause. “Can’t I ride you?” You ask breathlessly. Yoongi usually lets you do that, enjoying watching you get worked up and teasing you. But tonight Yoongi has different plans.

“Let me take care of you.” Yoongi whispers, placing small kisses all over your face. He lingers when he kisses your lips, no tongue this time. Something about it makes you feel electrified, the tenderness of the moment despite your mutual desperation for something more. You know Yoongi is holding himself back tonight for you. To ease your doubts and worries.

You let Yoongi press you back against the sofa and work your panties off. He works his way down your chest, kissing along your tummy and on the sensitive stretch of skin just above your mound. He laughs under his breath when you shiver at his delicate touches. His hands push your thighs up and hold them. He presses a kiss to each knee. He kisses the insides of your thighs, working down further towards the place you need him most.

“Yoongi.” You breathe, shaking under his delicate touches.

“Relax, baby. I’m right here.” He says. You wriggle, but his strong hands pin you down. He looks up at you, waiting for your consent to go all the way. You nod.

But when you notice Yoongi lowering his lips there, you stop him. “C-Can we go faster?” You ask, blushing. The truth is you’re not sure if you’ll last if he eats you out for too long. Some nights Yoongi does that, teasing you until you’re almost crying, begging for him to give you the relief you need. Those nights are fun because they’re all about power and play, and you like that side of Yoongi. You don’t think tonight will be one of those nights, but you’re not taking your chances. Tonight, you don’t want Yoongi to play any character. You just want him the way he is.

Understanding what you’re saying, Yoongi nods. He sits up to get his own underwear off, leaning over to kiss you. You melt into his touch and he strokes your hair gently. “I won’t make you wait, but I still have to prep you, okay?” Yoongi asks. You nod, knowing the stretch will be painful if he doesn’t prep you first.

Yoongi sits back on his heels, watching your expression for any wariness or discomfort about going all the way. When he finds nothing but your needy expression, he smirks slightly. Then, he eases a finger into you. The middle one, and the longest. You groan, hating your boyfriend’s cheeky tendencies. “Ugh.” You complain, making Yoongi laugh breathlessly.

But then you start to ease. Yoongi continues pressing kisses everywhere and playing with your breasts. He doesn’t let you do anything tonight, doesn’t even let you touch him. You suppose that should make you feel frustrated, but it doesn’t because you know he’s looking after you. Even at his own expense, Yoongi makes sure you know how much you mean to him.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He says, interrupting the string of needy whines and moans you’ve been letting out. You look down, surprised to find he can already pump three fingers in and out of you with ease.

He takes one of the sofa pillows and places it under you to angle you comfortably. You spread your legs, pushing your thighs back towards your body to give him room. He plants his hands on either side of your waist and lines his cock up to your entrance. “Y/N.” He says, making you look at him. He kisses you deeply as he eases into you. You bury your hand in his hair, the other gripping his wrist.

Wet sounds fill the room as the pace picks up, desperation starting to take over. You whimper Yoongi’s name and he lets out yours in deep moans, continuing to kiss your body whenever he can. “Fuck, how did you ever think I wouldn’t want you around? Look at you, you’re fucking perfect.” He growls, picking up the pace.

“Yoongi, ah fuck.” You groan, burying your face in his neck.

“Almost there, baby. You’re doing so good.” He praises, caressing the space between your shoulder blades lovingly.

“Nnn, please Yoongi.” You plead, knowing the two of you are close. He reaches down, rubbing at your clit. When you come, you squeeze your eyes shut, clenching hard around Yoongi. You shiver, hips lifting off the pillow to get him closer and closer. You are almost crying in pleasure when Yoongi comes a split second after you, filling you up.

Yoongi collapses on top of you, holding you close. The two of you pant against each other, skin sticky with sweat. Yoongi holds you like you are the only woman in the world. You hold him like he is the only man in the world.

Yoongi sits up after you both catch your breath. He grabs more tissues and pulls out carefully, making sure no come ends up on the leather sofa. He cleans you first, then himself. He reaches down and grabs your panties off the ground, putting them on for you. You lift your hips as he helps you. Then, he leans over and kisses you.

“Don’t ever doubt that you’re mine, okay?” He asks, eyes full of sincerity. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” You say, sitting up. You grab Yoongi’s shirt off the ground instead of yours, tugging it over your braless chest.

“Ah, I was gonna wear that.” Yoongi grumbles halfheartedly, but he’s smiling at how cute you look in his clothes.

“Like it matters now.” You say, smiling back. “We both need a shower.”

Yoongi makes an ‘O’ shape, which makes you laugh. “Ugh, my girlfriend is such a genius. Shall we take it together, m’lady?” He asks you, wiggling his eyebrows.

“We can take one together but no second round.” You say, grabbing the empty takeout container. You toss it in the trash as Yoongi puts the dishes in the sink. You stand at his side as he quickly washes them, helping to dry and put them away.

“I think you kind of broke my hips just then.” You whisper in his ear when you get to the bathroom, making him laugh. You strip of your panties and Yoongi’s shirt, tossing them in the laundry basket.

“Oh no, that’s no good.” He says as he takes his boxers off. He places a hand on your lower back as you get in the shower together.

“Can you pass my loofah? And the body wash?”

Yoongi takes your puffy bath tool and spreads your body wash on it. “Turn around.” He says, scrubbing your back for you.

You giggle. “Taking care of me because you broke my hips?” You tease.

He giggles back. “Of course. It’s no good if my precious girlfriend isn’t in good health.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I need you.” He says. The way he switches from joking to serious makes you turn around to look at him. He smiles down at you. “I need you, Y/N. You’re my forever.”

You kiss him sweetly. “I need you, too.”

#bts fic #bts x reader #bts smut #bts angst #bts scenarios #bts imagines #yoongi x reader #yoongi x oc #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #yoongi smut #yoongi scenarios #yoongi imagines

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woogyu · 3 years

Note

fluffy idol!woozi with 13+30 please~

13. Stop being so cute

30. I'm not jealous! It's just... you're mine!

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notes; I took this one in a slightly different direction, but hope you enjoy!!

Thank you for requesting!!

wc; 1151

Drabble Game Requests | OPEN | Drabble Prompts; fluff | angst | funny

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Having a world-famous K-pop idol as your best friend wasn’t always easy… actually, it was rarely easy. There were so many different ways that things could go wrong, from dating rumours to drama to really a whole collection of bad situations. That being said, you really wouldn’t change it for the entire world.

When Jihoon started training you feared that you would never get to see him again, your best friend since the two of you were in diapers. You worried that he would change, move on and forget all about you. But that didn’t happen, he was still your best friend and idol on the side.

It was really by chance that you started helping him with songs, offering a comment here or there. Eventually, you started writing them on your own on top of working with him. Sometimes the songs were just for fun, sometimes he would use them in their albums. You loved being able to contribute in any way you could, and the extra time spent with him down in the studio wasn’t half bad either. You spent a lot of your nights down in his studio, either just hanging out or working on music. You loved time with Jihoon because of how calming it was, he made you feel like you were at home. Though, sometimes you did enjoy spending time with his other friends.

It was impossible not to get to know them from the amount of time you spent around Jihoon. While at first, you were a little shy around the new, and loud, pack of boys, you quickly grew to think of them as family.

“Kim Mingyu if you throw that blue shell at me, I’m.” you started, gritting your teeth as you struggled to keep yourself in first place.

“You’ll what?” he challenged, sending the shell flying straight toward you just before the finish line. You went from first to sixth in an instant. You looked over to the tall boy sitting next to you, shoving him as you fixed him with a glare.

“Now that was just cruel.” You mumbled, pouting as you watched his character do a victory lap.

“All is fair in Mario Kart,” he shrugged, hitting a few buttons on the screen to bring it back to the main screen.

“Let’s go-“ you started before the door opened behind you, cutting off your statement to play around round.

“y/n, I thought we were going to work on that new song?” Jihoon’s voice questioned. You looked back at him and checked the time, you hadn’t even realized how late it was.

“Sorry Ji, I totally lost track of time” you admitted, standing up and gathering your things. Before leaving the room, you glared at Mingyu.

“This is not over.” You promised the male, earning only a chuckle and roll of the eyes in response.

“Since when do you and Mingyu hang out?” Jihoon asked as you followed him down into his studio. You weren’t expecting that question, he never seemed to mind when you hung around the others in his group.

“Ever since we argued over who would win in Mario Kart.” You explained, face souring as you thought about him beating you. “We are currently 20-22 and I can’t let him win.” You grumbled, fist-clenching as you slid into the familiar computer chair. He picked at his nails, watching you but didn’t respond.

“Sorry I was late, I got caught up in the game…but why ask about me a Mingyu?” you wondered, pursing your lips as you watched your best friend. You could tell from his stiff body language that there was something bothering him. “Mr. Lee Jihoon isn’t jealous of me hanging out with someone else, are you?” you questioned teasingly, figuring that might force him to tell you what was on his mind. You had known him long enough to know when you had to push him to share his thoughts.

“I’m not jealous!” he exclaimed, his eyes flashing to yours as he grimaced. You raised an eyebrow in question. “It’s just… you’re mine!” he mumbled, looking away as your eyebrows shot up. Well, you were not expecting that.

“You looked like you were having so much fun and I just… I don’t want to lose you…” he whispered. You could tell how hard it was for him to admit that.

“You’re not going to lose me Ji” you reminded him, bumping his shoulder as you gave him a grin. “You’re still my best friend,” you said, watching as his eyes flicked over to yours.

“I know I’m busy most of the time, but I like having you down here.” He said, running a hand back through his hair.

“Sorry… for lashing out like that. It wasn’t your fault, I’ve just been stressed out lately and took it out on you...” he mumbled, sighing as he ran his hands over his eyes. You smiled watching him. Jihoon didn’t open up easily, he didn’t share his feelings if he could help it. You hated when he closed in on himself.

“I’m sorry too, for pushing you to talk about it.” You admitted, he had only lashed out because of your comment.

“It’s just… you’re allowed to talk to me when something is bothering you,” you told him. The last thing you wanted was there to be some invisible wall between the two of you.

“I’ll work on it” he relented, leaning back into his chair as he stared up at the ceiling. “I just don’t want to say the wrong thing and push you away” he admitted, closing his eyes. He was always worrying about something; he had been like that since you were kids. Most people thought he was just quiet and cold, but you knew he just got caught up in his own thoughts a lot of the time.

“Stop being so cute” you grinned, watching as he cracked a smile and turned toward you. “Do you want me to kick you out of here? It is my studio you know” he teased. You huffed and crossed your arms, turning your head away from him. “You’ll have to drag me out” you declared, sinking lower into the chair.

“You’re on a chair that rolls” he deadpanned, watching as you quickly grabbed the edge of the desk. “And what about it?” you shot back, laughing as he used his foot to try and push you toward the door.

“So… we’re okay?” he asked after a few moments, his eyes a little hesitant.

“Lee Jihoon you’ve been stuck with me since we were kids and I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon,” you told him definitively, watching as an amused smile spread over his features.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way” he responded. You knew no matter what life decided to throw at the two of you that you would always have each other.

#caratwritersclub #woozi imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #woozi x reader #seventeen x reader #woozi #lee jihoon #jihoon imagines #seventeen fanfic #woozi fanfic #jihoon fanfic #seventeen #svt #seventeen drabble game #seventeen fluff #woozi fluff

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t-o-m-hollands · 3 years

Text

Summary: Some months after the breakup you show up at Tom’s doorstep.

Word count: 3k.

Warnings: A very messy relationship. Mentions of alcohol and drugs. Bit angsty but turns out alright. SMUT. Unprotected sex. +18

Inspiration: blink twice – joy oladokun

We’ve been coming undone We broke the last thread Learning to pick my battles Or I’ll be the only one left

I only know you’re home when the door speaks

Blink twice if you still love me

I’ll never know unless you tell me

Did you ever really love me?

“‘ello?”

He doesn’t look at the caller ID as he answers. With his voice hoarse and eyes closed he presses the phone to his ear. Laying back against the soft pillows again he’s already one foot back in a dream where everything turns out alright at the end.

“Tom”

His entire body freezes. Swiftly opening his eyes he’s at once fully aware of his surroundings (the large bed, the gentle but persistent sound of rain against the windows; the complete darkness outside revealing the lateness of the call) and perhaps even more painstakingly aware of his own body (the sudden tightness in his chest, skin unnervingly warm and prickly; heart beating like it’s trying to escape his chest).

“Tommy, are you there?”

Your voice is so soft in his ear, gentle even, albeit slurred at the edges. It is as if you’re somehow unaware of the effect you have on him, the pain you cause.

“What do you want?” He asks, and where your voice is like warm smoke his is hardened ice.

Silence for several heartbeats then,

“Can you open the door, honey".

He wonders if you use the old familiar endearment deliberately to hurt him, or if the old pet name falls off your lips by old habit.

“It’s raining Tommy, I don’t have a coat. Please open up”.

And so,

you’re on the floor in the man you love’s apartment. He hands you a glass of water, even though you asked for vodka, and he instructs you to drink up. He won’t look at you and you swallow down the water but the guilt stays stuck in your throat. You wonder what he feels for you in this precise moment, what it is that makes him turn away from you; as if looking at you hurts. If it is hate or love.

Or maybe just lust.

You’re on the floor in your ex boyfriend’s apartment, and even you know you shouldn’t be here.

He sits down in his armchair, leans back with his legs spread, and avoids your eyes; choosing instead to look at the ground in front of him. You know, because despite all that has happened between you two, you know him. You know that he’s trying to look relaxed, to hide his anxieties with an actor's expertise.

It’s raining, the sound of the raindrops crashing against the window loud like the beating of a drum, yet it’s somehow managing to make the silence between you two feel even more deafening. The only light between you two is a small side lamp by the TV, leaving most of the room in darkness.

“So” you say in the end, and in contrast to him you divert your eyes, but look straight at him instead with uncompromising focus. “How have you been, honey?”

He sighs, and still looking down at the floor he drags a hand over his shaved head. “Fucking fantastic” he mutters.

"Wonderful” you say, and you don’t mean for it to sound sarcastic, honestly you don’t. Don’t want this to turn into another argument. You’re just not as good as feigning nonchalance as he is.

“I was at Park Chinois last week” you begin, looking at him while he’s looking at his clasped hands. “Funny how that place never seems to change, like it’s stuck in time. Remember when we went there for Haz’s 21st? Remember the bathroom?”

His hands twitch, but it’s the only sign he gives that he’s even heard you.

“Remember how I went down on my knees for you? That was fun, wasn’t it? And then later that night when you fucked me into the mattress and you told me that you’d wanted to-”

“Why are you here?” he interrupts you, voice hard as steel. For the first time that night he looks directly at you, his warm brown eyes meets yours in a glare. He looks hurt.

“It’s my birthday”

Silence falls between you. Outside it keeps raining.

“No, it's not,” he says in the end. “Your birthday was two weeks ago”

“How sweet of you to remember” you say with a sweet smile. "But the celebrations were tonight”.

He scoffs “and how did that go?”

“Well, I’m here aren’t I?”

“Yes” he says, sounding aggravated now. “Here you are. And why exactly is that, darling?”

You don’t answer, truth is - you don’t know.

“How come” he continues, contained anger clear in his voice “how come you show up here, at 3 in the morning on the night of your birthday party, Champagne drunk and wearing,” but words seem to fail him here and so he just waves his hand at you, gesturing towards your barely-there sequin dress. “That”. He swallows, before looking away again.

It takes you a while to answer, but in the end you do.

“I feel like I’m drifting” you confess, and you sound small and frail, even to your own ears.Pathetic even. “I feel like everyone else is settling down and getting married or engaged or having babies and I’m just-” you hesitate off for a second. Tom’s looking at you intently now, eyes intense and fixed on your face. “And I’m just drifting, you know? From one thing to another; one place to another, without it adding any value to my life. And all the while my friends are so revoltingly happy with their spouses and their babies and I’m just doing coke in the bathroom at family gatherings and trying to drink until I forget why I’m sad and kissing strangers in nightclubs wishing they were you”

“I thought this was what you wanted” he says in a low voice, eyes not leaving your face now.

You had been the one to end the relationship seven months ago. It had, at the time, seemed like the best way out. The only way out. He’d spent months on end away filming and when you were together all you seemed to do was argue.

And the awful thing was that sometimes you started arguing with him on purpose. That way it hurt less when he left you again for yet another project.

In the end it had felt intolerable, being without him, being with him. All the rumours about him dating co-stars kept swirling in your head each night and you kept doing stupid things like getting high with people you didn’t know in nightclubs – just to get his attention.

You had found yourself in bed with him one morning, the day before he took off for several months of shooting, and you had thought to yourself that no, somethings gotta give. One of you had to be brave enough to break things off. You knew it wouldn’t be him, Tom has too much loyalty and tenderness in him to leave where he knows he was needed. And you, well you have too much pride and strength to stay when you know you are a burden or a duty.

So you had swallowed your pain and you had told him that there wasn’t any need for him to come back to you when filming was done. .

Yet here you are, on his floor, in a ridiculously revealing dress. Yet again trying to catch his attention.

“Maybe I shouldn’t always get what I want” you say in the end, voice hard and sweet like caramelised sugar.

“No, maybe you shouldn’t” and his voice is just as hard, but a lot less sweet. “And I thought you liked drifting? It’s what you do, isn’t? Drift in and out of people’s lives. Leave, and then show up at their doorstep when you feel like it; when you want to feel loved or admired, or wanted or whatever the fuck it is that you want out of this”.

“And what do you want, Tommy?”

He doesn’t answer, but averts his eyes from yours again.

You stand up then, and walk over to him. In the dim light the sequins of your dress throw reflections all over the room. You place yourself in front of his armchair, in between his spread legs. Slowly you begin to remove the thin straps of the dress off your shoulders. Then you drop the flimsy material to the ground, leaving you completely naked - part from a minimal pair of thongs.

A sharp intake of breath.

You move closer still until you straddle him, and then you’re on his lap, and he’s trying to look anywhere but at your nearly naked body. But he doesn’t try to push you off. You lean backward, and as if on instinct his big, warm hands move to your hips to hold you in place. You smile, because you had known that he wouldn’t have been able to help himself.

“Tommy, honey”

He closes his eyes, and you wonder if he’s in pain.

“Honey, look at me”.

A sigh deep from within escapes him and then, reluctantly, he opens his eyes again and he fully takes you in. You can feel the effect it has on him underneath your crotch.

You smile, unkindly. “You never did know how to say no to me, did you?”

His fingers tighten around your hips, digging into your flesh and you move against his growing bulge. You move your face closer to his, lips mere centimetres apart.

“Are you hurting, honey?” you say in a quiet, sweet voice. Outside there’s lightning, and then thunder roars.

He’s full on moving you backwards and forwards over his crotch now, making you dry hump him. Your flimsy thong creates hardly any barrier at all, and so his thin, dark sweats seem to be the only thing really separating you.

“You are, aren’t you? You’re hurting. I hurt you”

You don’t know why you’re trying to edge him on, trying to rile him up. Except that this controlled version of him that barely even looks at you feel so out of reach from you, so far removed, and you just want him – closer, The only way you know how to achieve that is by pushing all of his buttons.

“Yeah” he admits, eventually, “yeah, you really fucking hurt me”.

You kiss his jaw, and you sense how hard his muscles are underneath you, how tense his jaw is - how tightly he’s holding himself together. In a low voice you ask, “want me to kiss it better?”

“Stop playing games with me” he says in a low voice, but he keeps grinding you over his erection

You circle your hips slightly and a low hiss escapes him. “I’m not” you say, lips just brushing against his. “I just offered to kiss it better”.

“Maybe you should kiss one of those strangers instead”.

“What’s the point? I always want them to be you. Besides” and you move against him harder, wondering if he can tell how wet you are. “You must have had your fair share of kisses as well since I-”.

But you don’t get to finish. One of his hands moves up to your face and cupping it he strokes your lips with his thumb as if to silence you in the gentlest way he knows.

“No” he says, and his voice is gentler now too. “There’s been no one else”.

You’re struck silent for a moment, freezing in your movements over his hips. It strikes you then, how you’ve been trying to push his buttons, but he’s the one that’s crept under your skin.

His face is so close to your own, but you don’t kiss him.

See, it all comes down to this. The first to kiss the other is the first to give in. And the first to give in is the loser in this game.

“Do you still love me, Tommy” you say in the end; voice low and sickly sweet, your crotch moving against his again, his hand still cupping your face. “Blink twice if you do”.

Seemingly instinctively he does and it throws you both off-guard. Your breath catches in your throat and he stills underneath you. Suddenly you hear the rain crashing against the windows again, feel his heartbeat beating rapidly under your palm, the heat from his hand on your hips, the shape of him underneath you. Then -

“Oh, fuck it”

And you’re mid-air, and he’s carrying you to the bedroom.

Three months ago, when he got back from filming, he’d bought a new bed. The phantom smell of you still lingered in the old one, no matter how many times he washed the sheets with bleach. He could only take it for a week before he dragged Harry along to the store to buy a new one. Harry had convinced him to go for the biggest, most expensive one available. This, it turned out, had been a mistake. The bed was simply too large, too ostentatious, for one person. He’d find himself reaching for you in the middle of the night on more than one occasion, thinking that you’d just drifted away from him in the sea of tangled sheets but alas - he was alone.

Now, as he lays down your beautiful nearly naked body on the white sheets, your hair spreading out around you and eyes dark with lust, he finds himself thinking that if whatever this is between you doesn’t work out, he’s going to have to get another bed again. Hell, he’s going to need a new apartment and a new city to live in to rid himself of reminders of you.

A new goddamn heart.

He removes his sweats and t-shirts and any lingering reminder that this is a terrible idea and leaves it all on the floor before he joins you in bed. Seeing you like this, naked in his bed again, as if all that heartbreak had never happened, fills him with equal parts lust and love. There’s anger in there too.

With a hand on either side of your face he traps you in place and lowers himself until you’re skin against skin, his erection pressing against your lower stomach. His body is warmer than yours.

“Cold?” he asks in a low voice.

You nod, seemingly unable to tear your eyes from his lips. So he kisses you. It is slow but heated; teasing and tender in equal measures. Both your hands are feeling each other up, rediscovering familiar territories with eager touches. And god, your skin feels so soft, he can’t stop touching you. He kisses his way down your jaw, leaves your lips swollen and wet from spit. His hand makes it down toward your core and he slips a finger inside you, hears your soft gasp in his ear. He can feel just how wet you are already. Tearing himself away from you he sits up and helps you remove your underwear. Tossing them aside he bends down, and with a wicked smile on his lips he kisses your clit, sucking on it gently.

“Fucking tease” you moan, and you’d pull his hair if it wasn’t so short at the moment. He smiles up at you before making his way up to meet you, to kiss your lips again. Kisses that leave you both breathless. His hand makes it down your cunt again.

“Fuck you’re wet darling” he says, voice rough, “guess grinding on my dick will do that to a girl”.

You want to tell him to fuck off, but two of his fingers are moving in and out of you now, curling just right, and you don’t want him to stop. He always knew how to touch you just right. Always knew how to handle you.

So, you literally bite your tongue to keep the words back. Instead you kiss him just below his ear, a soft spot that always made him lose focus. True enough he halters and a moan escapes him. “Fucking devious, you are” his says, voice even lower now, his pupils wide blown, his entire body affected by lust.

He removes his fingers from your cunt and kisses your lips when you protest. “Wanna be a good girl and actually listen for once?” he says as he lines himself up to you and then, he pushes himself inside you.

The pleasure of it, of being inside you again, so intense it nearly hurts. You’re so warm and tight and he lets out a guttural and dragged out ‘fuuuck’. You try to buck up against him, but he’s forcing you to keep your hips still by holding them down, making sure you adjust yourself to him before he starts really fucking you. Intent on not hurting you, even if you’re intent on the opposite.

“Easy, easy” he hushes in your ear as you moan in complaint, trying to wiggle up against him, wanting him to just take you already, fuck you as hard as he can against the mattress.

And maybe it’s love, or maybe it’s spite, or perhaps a fair share of both, but he moves your legs until they are wrapped around him, and then he starts moving, as slowly and as gently as he possibly can. Deep and slow. Kissing that soft spot behind your ear that has you bucking up your hips to meet his. He knows you want it rough, so he gives it to you tenderly.

“Know you only say those things to get a reaction out of me” he mumbles against your jaw, kissing you wherever he can. “Know why you do it”

And just as you’re about to answer he bucks his hips forward, hitting that spot deep inside you and even though you meant to answer something clever, quite possibly rude, all that comes out is a strangled moan.

“See,” he continues, and even though his breaths are laboured his words come out even, albeit with a lot of emotion behind them. “It was never enough that I told you I love you. Anyone can say that, doesn’t mean anything, does it? Words come cheap”. Your hands are on his back, nails digging into and down his skin, egging him on to fuck you harder. He takes your hands and presses them down against the mattress instead. Grinding himself against your sweet spot over and over and over again, and you throw your head back, moaning continuously, unashamed.

“But anger” he moans, finding it more difficult to keep his voice even now as you clench around him. “You know anger is a real emotion and you trust it more than love. No one fakes anger. If I’m angry with you or worried about you because you do stupid shit you know you shouldn’t do then that means something. That means I care”

He moves your hands over your head, and uses one of his to hold you down. He takes your legs wrapped around his hips he presses them wider apart, thus giving him access to fuck you even deeper.

“That’s why you always did stupid shit to piss me off, isn’t it?” and he starts fucking you harder now “and fucking worse, worrying me. You wanted to see if I would care”.

“Fuck Tom” you whimper, face pressed against the arm that’s holding onto your hands, back bent into an arch as pleasure shots through your spine.

“Fucking love you, yeah?” he confesses in your ear, speeding up the pace of his hips. “Need you to trust me when I say that, can’t keep fighting with you just to convince you of that”. His words come out strained and hoarse. He knows that if he slows the pace down now, he could drag this out, but the sounds that leave your mouth are somewhere between moans and sobs and he can feel your need to come. Knows that this is almost too intense for you and you need release.

He takes his hand from your hip and takes it to your core. You’re so wet and slippery and he wants nothing more than to taste you but that will have to wait. He just hopes you’ll stay the night. That you won’t just leave once you've gotten what you came for. Finding your clit he rubs it in just the pace he knows will send you over the edge.

“Honey” it’s a half-strangled endearment that falls from your lips just as you’re about to come, you clench around him and fuck if it doesn’t send him over the edge too.

You’re lying beside him in bed, both your chests still heaving. You lean your head against his and the familiar scent of him, the comfort of just being near him. It all feels so achingly intimate.

“Please still be here in the morning” he begs, though his voice is thick with sleep. You turn around so that he can spoon you and he drapes an arm around you, holding you in place. It hits you, as you listened to his slowing breaths, that it has stopped raining outside.

“I will” you tell him, and he sighs contentedly before drifting off to sleep, holding you in a firm grip.

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