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capricores · 3 years

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✨ the signs and work (careers, needs in workplace, work-mindset, etc)

♡ check your sun, mars, ascendant, midheaven and sixth house signs. keep in mind your entire chart, especially planets in the sixth/tenth house can hugely change the expression of this. sagittarius mars + midheavens tend to hate routine, but if you have a taurus sun/moon, you’re likely to prefer routine and be more comfortable with it. the aspects to these planets and your midheaven/ascendant can entirely change things too. this is a general post.

i also recommend checking the position of your midheaven ruler and the sign/house it is in (ruler of the midheaven is simply the planet that rules the signs of your midheaven: sun=leo, moon=cancer, mercury=gemini/virgo, venus=libra/taurus, mars=aries/scorpio, jupiter=sagittarius/pisces, saturn=capricorn/aquarius, neptune=pisces, uranus=aquarius, pluto=scorpio). so if you have a gemini midheaven, look to what sign your mercury is in and read for that as well.

reasons for choosing these placements: sixth house represents routine, habits and service; it will more-so highlight how you feel about and approach day-to-day work and serving others. midheaven is your ideal career and ambitions in the workplace; it’s also your image while at work. ascendant + sun both blend together to create one’s general temperament and personality; as well as outlook on life. these two placements highlight hobbies, desires, wants; and therefore influence career needs and work habits. mars is your drive, ambition, energy, etc; therefore showing up in the workplace strongly.

bite-sized version (see the read more for full sign explanations)

aries: careers that allow independence and decision-making. careers in the outdoors. high-energy, physical careers; careers that allow them to use their hands. entrepreneurship is ideal as they like to have complete control over their projects and schedules. jobs with competitive factors will be most motivating to them. they do really well in high-stress careers that require fast-action. sales, any sort of business ventures, management, directing, athletics, construction, welding, etc.

taurus: careers that offer consistency, stability and security. careers that allow for independence. entrepreneurship; taureans aren’t good at taking orders. anything involving the environment, animals, or children. coffee shops, bakeries, childcare, environmental activism, tree nursery staff, animal rescue, etc. taurus placements hold high levels of creativity and are very good at curating styles that appeal to wide varieties: therefore design (fashion, interior - even food/graphic design) based careers are ideal.

gemini: intellectual stimulation, flexibility and frequent change are absolute requirements in gemini careers. without frequent mental stimulation, gemini placements get anxious and want to quit. it’s hard for them to stick to jobs that don’t offer lots of change, variety and difficulties. engineering, computer programming, math-based careers, etc. geminis are excellent communicators are thrive in careers involving writing, public speaking, sales, etc. the environment and people gemini works with are as important as the job itself for them. gemini needs to do multiple things at once; careers involving multi-tasking are essential. routine, predictable careers are the enemy.

cancer: cancers need stability and control in their career. they’re very nostalgic and can often be seen carrying on family businesses or pursuing careers influenced by their families. research & history based careers are great for cancers (historian, librarian, scientific research, detective, etc). cancers do well connecting with others; careers that allow genuine interaction are great (psychologist, social worker, human resources, etc). careers that allow them control. the environment of a cancer’s work space is extremely important: they usually do best working at home. careers relating to food. careers connecting to childcare.

leo: careers need to allow them recognition and praise; attention via career is important (social media, tv personalities, etc). careers that allow a creative outlet with high-energy; but still offer stability and consistency. competitive environments are best for leo. working with children, athletic coaching, fashion, sales, marketing, and so forth are all great paths. management positions or running their own business is ideal for leos who don’t take well to criticism or direction. leos love being social and enjoy careers that give them a social outlet. analytical careers pair surprisingly well with leo; i’ve noticed they’re often drawn to and successful with paths relating to computer science & engineering.

virgo: similar to gemini, careers that are fast-paced and challenging are essential. mental stimulation is an absolute must, and the most important factor for a virgo. careers revolving around healing, health and nutrition fit well with virgo. working with animals and the environment. analytical, logic-forward careers that requirement complex solutions and quick thinking. careers involving communication, especially written, are ideal. virgos are excellent with small details and do well with careers that focus on these. writing, computer programming, chemistry, engineering, teaching, vet tech, dietician, doctor, surgeon, etc.

libra: careers heavily connected to aesthetics: libras require beauty in every aspect of life, especially career (fashion, interior & graphic design; any art-related field; music, etc). careers loaded with social interactions, libras get drained and bored in a career that’s isolating and lonely. ilbras are charming and do well in positions like sales that utilize this charm for personal gain. careers that require a strong sense of justice and morals (law, judge, detective, managerial positions, etc).

scorpio: competitive, target based careers that give them power. behind-the-scenes careers that give them recognition but still allows their privacy. creative -heavy careers such as writing, art, fashion. careers connecting to the occult (ie: astrology/divination). careers that allow them to utilize their unmatchable investigation skills (detective, lawyer, scientist, etc). careers that give them flexibility, yet stability; the only change they want to experience at work is self-controlled. scorpios prefer to work alone than in groups; careers of solitude or ones that allow them to control others are best.

sagittarius: careers that allow them to channel their natural educator & humanitarian role (teacher, philosopher, lawyer, philanthropist, etc). careers that allow them to travel as part of their job (pilot, travel guide, trip planner, translator, etc). careers with huge amount of flexibility, frequent change; careers that give them independence and allow for constant growth, learning and expansion. they never want to be fully “comfortable”. athletic, physical careers; careers in the outdoors (ie: athletic coach, sports teams, etc).

capricorn: careers that allow for complete autonomy and control. entrepreneurship was made for capricorns. careers that promise stability, security, and a laid-out climb to the top. careers heavily based in logic & analyzing; finance-based careers are also ideal. financial analysis, architecture, CFO positions, etc. working with animals and being connected to the earth are beneficial. management positions are ideal, although capricorns tend to do everything themselves regardless of who’s working for them. careers that involve a lot of careful planning and thinking ahead; routine.

aquarius: careers involving music and/or art (nearly every aqua placement i meet is talented in + passionate about some artistic outlet, channelling these interests into careers is beneficial). careers involving technology, science, and lots of analyzing/logic. computer science, engineering, mathematician, data analyst, etc. careers that give them longer periods of isolation with healthy amounts of socialization in between; they require a good balance. careers that give them independence, yet structure; careers that change on their own terms only.

pisces: careers with complete flexibility: routines, heavy structure and similar are the enemy. careers that allow a channel for healing and/or spirituality (divination, astrology, nutrition, psychology, etc). careers relating to philosophy, humanitarianism, teaching; much like sagittarius - anything that allows frequent growth and expansion. careers heavy with travel and new experiences. careers that allow a creative outlet are best for pisces (design, photography, filmography, music), they also do well in social based careers such as being influencers or tv stars. avoid careers with rough environments as they’re the sign most likely to absorb negative energies.

♡ mutable signs (pisces, sagittarius, gemini, virgo):

these signs have busy minds. they always need to be moving, and require constant mental stimulation. work without mental stimulation will quite literally drive them up the wall. if their work traps them into non-challenging (gemini/virgo) or routine (pisces/sagittarius) environments, they’ll not only want to quit, but likely be negatively impacted in terms of energy and mental health. if you have strong mutable placements, it’s important for you to find a flexible and stimulating career; a career with a lot of socializing is often preferable as well. they require lots of encouragement and praise in their work to stay committed and on-track.

the ideal careers for mutable signs are ones that allow for stimulation and change (virgo is more comfortable with routine, gemini is *okay* with routine; but both requirement frequent challenges in the workplace to stay satisfied, they need to be “solving” things). mutable signs don’t mind working behind the scenes, or under the direction of someone else, so long as they’re in an exciting environment that allows them to fully utilize their wit, creativity and quick problem solving skills.

it’s very important for mutable signs to become friends with those in their workplace (especially pisces and gemini placement individuals). because of their constant need for mental (and also social) stimulation, it’s vital for them to be able to form friendships (not necessarily deep/close friendships, but at least surface level) in the workplace and have a frequent social outlet while working. mutable signs are also extremely susceptible to their environment and those around them (as are the water signs), so a toxic workplace will have a significantly harsher impact on their well-being than other signs would experience. their mental and physical health can both be immensely affected when they’re in toxic environments around toxic people (of course this is true for anyone, but mutables are drained by this on a whole other level). mutable signs can easily love a job they would normally hate, if the environment is positive and fun for them; and vice versa.

✧ sagittarius and pisces: no matter how much these two signs love their job, they will still hate their job. pisces and sagittarians tend to hate work. this isn’t because they’re lazy, or incapable of putting in hard work; because they’re more than capable, and do it frequently. but to them, work, especially routine work (nine to fives, forty hours a week, etc), limit them. pisces and sagittarius share jupiter as their ruler; jupiter is all about expansion, growth and freedom. these signs hate being boxed in and tied down. they require living lives that allow for frequent growth. namely, pisces and sagittarius love to always be learning and bettering themselves, especially spiritually and philosophically. if they’re stuck in a career that limits their expansion; or lacks “abundance” when it comes to choices and growth, they’ll be extremely unsatisfied.

pisces and sagittarians are free spirits, and these placements (especially in the personal planets and as ascendant) love physical change; aka traveling. a job that allows them to travel, especially to other countries/long distances, will be ideal and fulfilling for them. creative outlets, educational paths, or any career relating to spirituality, philosophy or similar will be best for them. pisces do really well in careers related to healing and helping; sagittarians do really well in careers related to teaching. sagittarians, being fire signs, also require careers that keep them relatively physically active.

some suggested careers (pisces, sagittarius): travel-related (flight attendant, trip planner, etc), translation/interpretation, photography, arts, astrology, divination, food (chef, front of house, etc), teaching, medicine (namely naturopaths, nutrition, etc), motivational / public speaking, philanthropy

✧ geminis and virgos: being mercury-ruled, these two signs need intellectual stimulation more than anyone else. they do not do well in monotonous or “easy/simple” jobs. although these two signs might not be as bothered by routine as their fellow mutable signs, they instead require a constantly challenging and stimulating environment. fast-paced, high-stress careers where they’re able to problem-solve and think on their feet are best for these two signs. although they have to be careful of overly stressful jobs and burning themselves out, due to their tendencies of overthinking, nervousness and how easily stressed they can get. it’s best for them to work in challenging environments, with kind and encouraging management, as to avoid any possible burnout or anxiety in the workplace.

again, thanks to their mercury influence, these signs have a way with words. anyone with strong gemini or virgo placements is bound to be great when it comes to writing and/or speaking. being an author is something those with either of these placements would really excel at. also, working in sales (mainly with gemini, virgo shyness and hermit habits may put them off of this career lol) is something gemini & virgo THRIVE in. they’re very good at speaking to others and swaying their opinions, so closing deals with people is a very easy and satisfying thing for them to do.

some suggested careers (gemini, virgo): computer science/technology fields, detective work, writing, research-based fields, nutrition/dietetics (virgo), sales (gemini), something with a lot of public speaking (but this likely freaks them out and makes them nervous- they are amazing at it though), event planning

some mutable careers (all/mixed): teaching, international relations, politics (sagittarius and gemini), music (pisces especially), comedy (gemini and sagittarius), marketing & sales, law, medical fields (virgo and pisces), travel & tourism, librarians/working in bookstores

♡ cardinal signs (aries, cancer, libra, capricorn):

these signs thrive most placed in roles of leadership and entrepreneurship. directing others and having control over their own actions and projects is most satisfying for these individuals. cancers and libras don’t mind working under the control of others, capricorn and aries do not do well in situations controlled or directed by others. however, capricorns and aries can handle working under others as long as they have a means for doing so (ie: they have some power over others at the same time, they’re awaiting a promotion, etc).

these signs are ambitious, initiators, and go-getters. they are the ones with the big ideas and the detailed plans of how things will go. they enjoy motivating others and seeing others succeed, so they make for wonderful managers. managerial positions are great for these signs, since they can struggle a bit with following through/staying on task, having a role where they create the ideas/tasks and have someone else finish it is more ideal.

✧ aries and capricorn: these signs, far more than other cardinals, really do better working alone or in positions of power. entrepreneurship is more ideal for these two than probably any other sign. additionally, both aries and capricorn are very connected to the physical realm. aries does really well in physically-active careers (manual labor, athletics, etc), and they also really love the outdoors. capricorn, being so connected to the earth, also loves any sort of outdoors/earth-connected career. jobs that allow them to be outside in nature, or directly working with nature, will do them both great.

these two signs are very good at managing and directing, however their styles can be a little harsh. they also tend to have the attitude where they’d rather do everything themselves so that it’s done “right”. because of this, it’s best for them to work independently at their own business, or to have someone working as a buffer of communication between them and employees when it comes to instructing and critiquing. they do, however, do very well as trainers, since they’re very to-the-point and enjoy allowing others to shadow them/vice versa. being trainers allows them to let out their overly picky/specific side for the better.

these two especially thrive in any career that allows them to showcase their straight-forward and analytical natures. fields such as law, are so amazing for both of these signs. aries loves the challenge of a field like law, and probably enjoys the ability to “argue” for work. capricorn’s interest will be held by the analytical, research based aspects of law, as well as the ability to “argue” for work. both signs enjoy being right, competitiveness, and independence, so fields similar to law are perfect.

both signs can also handle high-stress and high-pressure environments with ease, quite possibly more than any other signs. they also need frequent challenge and competitiveness in careers, so any sort of job that hits these requirements would be best. if they don’t feel as if they’re climbing a ladder, or achieving a visible, measurable level of success (ie: hitting/exceeding targets), they won’t feel fulfilled.

some suggested careers (aries, capricorn): entrepreneurship, instructing/coaching (athletics, etc), athletics (aries), project managers/management in general, conservationists, lawyers, food service, finance/accounting, any analytical/logic-based careers (capricorn), architecture, computer programming, sales (aries; they have the energy + charisma for this), marketing, real estate (aries), physical therapy, chiropractor, personal trainer (aries)

✧ cancer and libra: one important thing to mention for these two signs is they require a comfortable, positive work sign; almost to the extent that mutable signs do. their work environments have to be comfort zones, much like their homes, or they’ll struggle a lot in their career despite how much they enjoy the job itself. the people they work with and space they work in are extremely important to them. if they work from home, it’s vital they have a comfortable, well-decorated home office in order to be fully productive and in their “zones”.

these two signs have a very unique way of managing. they’re very good at getting people to do things, without realizing they’ve been influenced to do something. both of these signs can get along with nearly anyone, and have very warm, nurturing natures; which makes them highly successful in roles ranging from management to sales and anything of the likes. their social skills are impressive, as are their problem-solving skills, which makes them well-suited for fields like human resources, law (mainly libra), psychology, social work, etc. both do well in customer service and marketing because of their people skills.

the difference between these two lies in their public preferences. libra is a very public sign, and also the sign of justice. journalist, social media influencer/tv personality, publicist, judge/lawyer, and fashion design are some potential careers that align well with libra’s needs for recognition and admiration. on the other hand, cancer much prefers a more private life, although still enjoys (genuine) interaction with others. due to their nurturing personalities and creativity, cancers thrive in careers relating to medicine, food, design (especially interior, architecture, etc - anything related to the home as cancer is the sign connected with the *home*), and so forth.

these two signs are also highly creative and thrive in roles that allow for this expression. libra specifically thrives in fields like fashion or graphic design, cancer thrives in fields like interior design or baking/cooking.

some suggested careers (cancer, libra): law (libra), fashion (libra), interior design, graphic design (libra), childcare (cancer), psychology, social work, medicine (cancer), chef/baker/similar (cancer), real estate, sales & marketing (libra), journalist (libra), publicist (libra), architect (cancer), customer service, social media (influencer, marketing, etc), acting, game design/development (cancers especially - they seem to be so good with video games)

some cardinal careers (all/mixed): entrepreneurship, design, development & research, finance/accounting, architecture, lawyers, judges, detectives (especially libra & cancer), real estate, sales & marketing, management, human resources (cancer/libra)

♡ fixed signs (taurus, leo, scorpio, aquarius):

these signs do best in positions of total autonomy. working under the discretion of others is not ideal for these individuals. with creative minds and a need for independence and power; these individuals also tend to do best in fields relating to art, or creation of some sort. aquarius and taurus can handle working under others without much power, but leo and scorpio do not do well when given directions (they can handle it, but they don’t like it). it’s against fixed sign nature to follow orders. however, fixed signs do generally enjoy routine, so they won’t mind working under someone if it provides them consistency and stability. they might even skip on desired promotions, new/better job opportunities and more due to their fears/dislike of change (especially taurus).

fixed signs have this unmatchable resilience when it comes to work. these are the people that will easily put in 70+ hours a week with minimal complaints. they’re excellent at following through with things and sticking to their jobs/tasks, even when they hate them. fixed signs are also the only modality that’s consistent and excellent with following through. these signs have a bit of trouble getting started, though, and often need a push and help to get things going.

leo and taurus need stability and consistency in their career, whatever it may end up being. these two do not do well with change; and don’t usually like jobs that require them to frequently adapt or start new routines. aquarius and scorpio on the other hand, thrive within change; and are more than used to adapting to sudden, significant changes. these two, however, still prefer a more stable routine; as they tend to fear/dislike change that is not self-inflicted. the biggest things for fixed signs are stable, consistent careers. they also need careers that allow them power and individualism. aquarius and leo specifically need careers that allow them to “show off” or get recognition, preferably from a larger audience.

scorpios & leos thrive with incentives and praise, so careers that offer bonus pays, targets, and promotions with set goals will motivate them a lot more in work. any sort of competitive work will get those two signs going. aquarians however are more indifferent to these things, they tend to be more detached with the material benefits of work. taureans usually dislike these types of careers, they want work with consistency: consistent pay, consistent hours, etc.

✧ leo and aquarius: these signs require attention and recognition for their work more than anyone. they’ll do behind the scenes work if they need to, but generally they enjoy being the center of other’s attentions (aquarius won’t admit this though). these two signs have very unique ideas, and are bustling with creativity. more than anything, they need a career that allows creative expression and individuality. they don’t do well being boxed in and restricted in their endeavors. most of all, these two need careers that are challenging, consistent yet flexible, and allow both social and creative outlets.

aquarius is the sign relating to technology, so of course they will naturally thrive in technology-related careers. aquarians have busy minds and the patience to work out complex problems; so a career in computer programming, or something similar, would do them well. graphic design and architecture are two other careers that come to mind. engineering (but something more like music engineering, that allows them that creative outlet) is another great choice. aquarians are also humanitarians at heart, so charity-related careers, or careers of similar nature (ie: social worker) would be great for them. careers with a lot of either problem-solving/complex issues, humanitarian causes, or music/art are best for aquarians.

leos are natural born entertainers and story-tellers. they also can fit well into many social environments, and are so naturally charming it’s easy for them to get on anyone’s good side. because of this, any social-heavy career is great for them (motivational speaking, writing, acting, sales, marketing, etc). leos also have big hearts and tend to love children and/or animals, so i always recommend childcare or animal care to these types of leos. at the end of the day, despite leo’s need to be independent/not heavily controlled at work, they do love that social interaction that can come with working. leos are also bursting with creativity, and tend to have affinities with art, so any art-field is a great career selection for them. as a fire sign, leos also thrive in physically-active careers (athletics, manual labor, etc) that keep them up and moving.

some suggested careers (leo, aquarius): music (especially aqua), fashion-related fields; especially design, ANY sort of artistic field (design, painting, acting, etc), childcare (leo), marketing, sales, engineering, charitable organizations (aquarius), computer programming/science (aquarius), writing (leo), social media (marketing, management, influencer)

✧ scorpio and taurus: these signs don’t mind being behind the scenes, so long as they still have significant power in their work environment and control over themselves. overall, they’d typically rather work for themselves than someone else, they truly hate answering to others and generally don’t like being disturbed/overly social at work (it drains them, and they usually find it annoying/disrupts their work flow). i suggest more independent-work type of careers for these signs, or careers that allow them to instruct others on what to do, not the other way around.

both signs are very intense and investigative, and once they start something they have a laser-like focus that will help them see through a project to the end. scorpios specifically need careers that allow THEM flexibility and the ability to enact change when they see fit. taureans, however, need careers with minimal change, including self-inflicted. taurus requires stability and consistency more than any other sign in the zodiac, especially at work.

taureans have a very nurturing energy, including at work, and they have a natural connection to the earth/environment. because of this, i always see taureans fitting so well into careers involving the environment (think anything from environmental law to conservationist to florist, etc). personally, both taurus and scorpio i can see running adorable little flower shops, crystal shops or cafes and it would be too perfect for them. these two signs are usually bookworms too so i feel like working in a bookstore would be so perfect for them both. scorpios really do need that power and slight competition in work. they need to be challenged more than any of the other fixed signs, or they will get extremely bored. i often find scorpios thrive most in unfamiliar environments, so sudden switches in work may be a comforting thing for them.

some suggested careers (scorpio, taurus): investigator/detective (scorpio), research-based fields (scorpio), interior design, fashion, food-related field (taurus), childcare (taurus), architecture, divination + astrology (scorpio), office jobs (taurus - but more a WFH environment), work from home jobs in general (they don’t like leaving the house), working with animals/rescuing, environmental law (taurus), law (scorpio), environmental activism (taurus), conservationist (taurus), librarian/bookstore jobs

some ideal fixed careers (all/mixed): tattoo artist (this career always comes to mind with scorpio/taurus especially), design, any sort of arts-related career, managerial roles, entrepreneurship, athletic instructor/similar (leo & taurus), farming (taurus & leo), florist/anything working with plants (taurus & scorpio), childcare (leo & taurus), competitive environments (leo & scorpio)

#astrology #midheaven #sun #mars #sixth house #ascendant #mine #long post #decided to try to finish all the half-done posts in my drafts before starting new ones lol #this is like half a year old i rly just. never finished #m:lp #career #anyway i quite like this post but its not perfect im sorry!! my brain is still a little ~#the mutable one i 1000% love but i feel like i could've wrote the fixed and cardinal better but #i've worked on this post too long im done lmao #ALSO i feel like i know 8.5 careers im sorry i repeated so many #pay more attention to my paragraph rambles than the careers maybe 😭#idk how i feel abt this post anymore i've been editing and rewriting it for the past 48 hrs and im sleep deprived and over it lmao #i wrote the i quite like this post tag when i only had the mutable one written i take that back partially <3

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nocompromise-noregrets · 3 years

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Oh I'd love to read your thoughts on modern thranduil, legolas, any character you like

Hi, anon! I couldn't see myself writing a modern AU, originally (I'm not very good at AUs) so I didn't have many thoughts about modern versions of the characters, but then the idea for a daft Christmas movie AU came to me, and then All I Want Is You-'verse happened. In which:

Thranduil is Lord Greenwood, widowed, isolated, very lonely when his kids are away at boarding school, and he's rattling around in his enormous stately home with only Galion the butler for company. He owns, if not quite 'half the county' as Sigrid off-handedly puts it early on, a large country estate, which he runs as carefully, ethically and environmentally-responsibly as he can; he is painfully aware of the ridiculous privilege he's inherited through an accident of birth, and he tries his best to do good things with it all, support local community organisations and so on. He is rather reserved and, I think, actually quite shy (that's the British aristocracy for you...) which can come off as stand-offish and forbidding.

Legolas is eighteen years old, in his last year at boarding school, outgoing and friendly, into things like athletics and archery and history, and the member of the family most likely to be getting into trouble at protest marches, seed-bombing patches of wasteland, and probably superglueing himself to railings/diggers/bridges etc, given half a chance.

Tauriel is seventeen, very quiet and reserved, was adopted by Thranduil and his late wife when she was small after her parents died in a house fire - her dad was the woodsman on Thranduil's estate and Tauriel and Legolas had been best friends since they were tiny so it made all the sense. She likes horseriding, and she often goes and sits on the roof of Greenwood Hall to think. She also likes Sigrid, very much.

Bard is an exhausted, widowed single dad who was made redundant from his job as a museum curator (specialism: medieval weaponry) a few years ago and has been barely making ends meet as a delivery driver ever since. He'd like nothing more than to get another museum job, but there's nothing on the horizon. His one priority in life is making sure his kids are okay.

Sigrid is sixteen, also likes horseriding (and Tauriel, very much), and books and spends most of her time studying, working at the riding school at weekends in exchange for lessons, and looking after her siblings. (Her Da hates that she's had to take on so much responsibility)

Bain is fourteen, likes football and computer games, and if he were any more laid-back he'd be horizontal. He's quick-witted and more interested in his schoolwork, especially history, than he likes to let on. He's the artist of the family, too.

Tilda is ten, massively outgoing, given to asking awkward questions, thinks Legolas is the cat's pyjamas, and is probably going to be going to demonstrations with him just as soon as Covid's over. Weapons-grade cuteness which frequently requires warnings in chapter notes.

Thranduil has been noticing the very handsome delivery driver who's been bringing his wine orders (and may possibly have been making more orders as a consequence) but hasn't quite managed to actually speak to him...until he does, and then they bump into each other, quite literally, in town a couple of weeks before Christmas. At which point the kids take matters into their own hands. And then three months later the first lockdown happens and things rather accelerate from there. :D

I actually work, part-time, in a stately home, so I've ended up channelling all sorts of things into this story from personal experience, and I've been having a whale of a time with it, although I'm rather stalled on it at the moment (then again, I'm stalled on pretty much everything at the moment...)

I did write another modern AU for Tolkien Secret Santa, in which Bard and Thranduil were friends as teenagers and never quite got round to doing anything about (or indeed understanding) what they felt about each other before they went off to uni and lost touch, and then run into each other 25-odd years later; in that one Thranduil is a very repressed (and probably demisexual/grey-ace) top-flight QC (Queen's Counsel, a top lawyer) and Bard is assistant distribution manager for a brewery in their home town, and the kids are more or less as above - I had to put my foot down with that one at 14k words or it would have turned into another massive series and I haven't the time or the mental energy for it at the moment XD

I do tend to take the movie portrayal of Thranduil as inspiration rather than the book one, which is probably why my versions of him are all rather more reserved than many others. Which is why fandom is so awesome - there's room for everyone! :D

Thank you very much for asking! <333333 I've never really sat down and thought about my headcanons before, much less actually written a post for them. I am wondering whether perhaps I should do something like this for Empty Vessel-'verse (my enormous sprawling Middle-Earth-set series)...it's certainly big enough, and I do have a large number of headcanons for it at this point...

#lotr #all i want is you #modern au #otp: bi widower dads #bard/thranduil #barduil #sigrid/tauriel #sigriel #bard the bowman #thranduil #bardlings #sigrid #tilda #bain #legolas #tauriel #my writing #headcanons

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swinterr · 4 years

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fic rec vii ♡

hi!

this is a another new set of fic rec and i’ll probably do a compilation of genre (?) just like the first ones.

read and support the fic and authors here: the fic rec ♡

made some changes like tidying up a bit and adding summary, for those that doesn’t have any summary i’ll try my best to add my own summary (it will probably be shit tho, i ain’t making a smut summary guys, i’m not confident in my describing a fic ability but i’ll try my best. if its in italic it means i made the summary hehez ) if the summary is shit, i made it okay.

a for angst

f for fluff

s for smut

// for series or list

kpop oc/s

1. jane by @baejiyeonz

2. bee by @purpleyellow

3. lian by @nct-lian

4. taehui by @jeontaehui

nct

sungchan

1. [10:47 pm] by @dont-look-down-on-me | f

- based on the nct relay cam.

haechan

1. [5:21] by @dont-look-down-on-me | f

- based on the nct relay cam.

2. you’re warm by @dreamystuffers | f

- a drunk hyuck can only mean a clingy hyuck.

3. you’re short too by @pastelsicheng | f

- 5 times hyuck teases u for ur height.

4. no title by @heychan | s

- dirty thought cockwarming haechan and johnny comes in to the room while you are trying to hide it but haechan doesn’t care.

5. wishes by @lucaswithnoshirt | a f

- standing on stage is everything you’ve dreamed of. except in the time it’s taken you to get there, you’ve been dreaming about other things, too.

jaehyun

1. moving in: the series by @jaehyun-ified | f

- after agreeing to move-in with jaehyun, you decided to curate a little series on your channel to both give in to your viewer’s request to have jaehyun frequently on your contents and to document your moving in process with the love of you life.

2. [8:14 pm] by @dont-look-down-on-me | f

- based on the nct relay cam.

3. boyfriend by @simpsiren | a

- a relationship with jaehyun wasn’t always perfect. there wasn’t a definite label on it, which only sent the relationship down a complicated pathway as we tried to find the meaning of our love once again.

4. best part by @okayoongii | f

- don’t know how to describe this tho, just read it. also 10/10

5. can i help you? by @sugarjaee | f s

- when working an extra long shift at work, your boyfriend surprises you with a visit.

6. stages of love by @biletdoux | a f s

- a playlist for the trials and tribulations of a beating heart.

7. [9:04 am] by @jeongvision | // f

- domestic fluffy blurb. 10/10!!

8. suds by @kim-taehung | s

- first person to move does the dishes for a week. nothing is off-limits.

9. promise by @bvbyxuxi | f a

- jaehyun has loved you since you were both kids, things were going well until he messed everything up; meeting again as young adults, he refuses to let you go again but would you give him another chance?

mark

1. one minus on plus one by @wonjaekook | f a

- in all of the years you’ve known jungwoo, you should have figured out to not take his words at face value because, though you haven’t even met, mark lee seems to hate your guts.

2. [12:03] by @dont-look-down-on-me | f

- based on the nct relay cam.

3. pretty boy by @epinebleue | f a

- fluff, the tiniest bit of angst, the reader is two years older than mark, jaehyun makes an appearance as the reader’s fuck buddy, use of alcohol and drugs (marijuana), mentions of violence (mark punches someone), smut (protected sex, inexperienced!mark, dry humping).

4. camera flash by @morkleemelon | f

- mark taking a picture but forgot to remove flash waking up oc, pretty fluffy and cute! 10/10!!!

5. retrouvailles by @kireimarkeu | f

- counting down the days until you finally see your long-distance boyfriend.

jungwoo

1. [1:14 pm] by @dont-look-down-on-me | f

- based on the nct relay cam.

johnny

1. man-icure by @haejunehui | f

- based on jcc ep. 26

taeyong

1. reverb by @lovingonrepeat | s

- taeyong + studio sex.

2. unspoken by @bvbyxuxi | f s

- you had never thought to see taeyong again after your one night stand with him until this year where he takes you by surprise; turns out he wasn’t the guy you sought him out to be after all.

ten

1. [2:32 pm] by @dont-look-down-on-me | f

- based on the nct relay cam.

lucas

1. [4:31 pm] by @dont-look-down-on-me | f

- based on the nct relay cam.

2. king of hearts by @raibebe | f s a

- a little bit of everything, a chef’s kiss.

yuta

1. [5:51 pm ] by @dont-look-down-on-me | f

- based on the nct relay cam.

doyoung

1. redamancy by @heavenlyhaechan | f

- this is just so fluffy! i wished to be doyong gf please.

2. fools together by @yongiefilms | f

- two fools in love with each other?

3. acedia by @jaeminscoffee | f

- a day in the life of yours and doyoung's love life.

4. our little secret by @haejunehui | f

- read to know their little secret. hehe.

5. caught red handed by @hannie-dul-set | f

- all you wanted to do was take a picture of the handsome law student during your train ride home. you did not expect things to end up like this.

jeno

1. i see red by @0097linersb | s

- pure filth 🥵10/10 tho.

2. addiction by @love-mi | s f

- you and jeno keep your relationship a secret to avoid backlash from your companies and fans; but keeping himself away only makes him want you more.

3. surprise visit by @nakamotonudes | f s

- you hadn’t seen your boyfriend for over a month because of his hectic schedule so when he suddenly shows up at your place one night for a surprise visit, you both have to make every second worth it.

bts

jungkook

1. the pitter-patter of the heart by @koorara | f s a //

- pieces of newlywed domestic moments with jungkook, your husband. the young film and literature lecturer and his wife, you, who works as a journalist of a web magazine. both of you managing the career, the time for each other and the new house. not to forget, chip, the cat that has been with you for years.

2. please love me by @ahundredtimesover | // f s a

- as the only unmarried jeon and kim children, your families propose a union to symbolize your unbreakable bond that spans generations. but despite developing an affection for jungkook growing up, he never returned it; he never seemed to like you, actually. you’re okay with the proposal, but surprise surprise, he isn’t.

3. first love, last love by @floralseokjin | f s //

- a collection of drabbles following the longterm relationship between jungkook and you...

4. second chances by @parkhabits | a s

- work. one of the most important things to him. It kept him company at night, it was all he thought about, all he put his attention to. his work had become the mistress within your marriage. years after you left him you’re back with only one goal in mind. get him to sign the damn divorce papers. yet you should’ve known that your husband wouldn’t let you go that easily.

5. crush by @jungxk | f s

- jungkook woke up with amnesia (?) he totally forgets that he has a wife and child. and he totally has a huge crush on his wife.

6. bare necessities by @gguksgalaxy | f s a

- when you ask your boyfriend for a relaxing vacation you don’t exactly expect him to take you to disneyland out of all places. luckily, jungkook knows just how to get you to relax — being needy is definitely not the way. or is it…

7. krampus for christmas by @ddaenysus | f

- when your daughter overhears your nightly activities close to christmas, jungkook takes it upon himself to convince her it was the sounds of the legendary demon goat.

8. a date with destiny by @imjustfanfictrash | f s

- you are a boss lady in the tech industry traveling to world for work. he is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

9. stranded by @gguksgalaxy | f s a

- jungkook’s offer to help you study for your exam is unwelcome. his entire presence is unwelcome. you don’t want help from the guy who passes all his classes without even trying. it’s annoying — he is annoying. from the way he grins whenever he catches you staring at him, to the way his eyes shine whenever he smiles at you. oh, and let’s not forget the way his tattoos shift when he stretches or the way his jawline sharpens when he’s focused. nope, you definitely can’t stand him.

10. sprout by @v-hope | f

- after a nice evening out with your friends, you find yourself coming home to your sleeping toddler and the new hairstyle she had tried on your husband.

11. friday nights and take-out by @ahundredtimesover | // f s a

- you meet pop star/idol jeon jungkook at the café, you get close, and as hyejin says, you’re like friends with benefits without the sex. but you’re bad at feelings and so is he.

12. jealousy by @ephemeralkookie | f s a

- jungkook’s closest friend, namjoon is getting married and he invited you three to his wedding. the only unexpected thing was jisoo, his ex, and we’ll just say that you were not too happy to see her flirting with your boyfriend right under your nose

13. a quarter past us by @jjiimin | f a

- when you break up with him out of fear of losing your freedom in university, he finds himself showing you why leaving him isn’t the answer.

14. pretty boy by @angelguk | // f s a

- alternatively known as the jock!jk universe drabbles in vague chronological order.

15. summer solstice by @boulevardk | s

- down on your luck and desperate for a successful harvest, you pray to the gods. you figure no one in heaven was listening to your prayers when nothing happens immediately. but one fateful night, your prayers are answered. are you willing to pay the price? the sacrifice might not be what you were expecting….

16. lilac wisteria by @blushoseoks | f a

- over the years, things change - but the one constant is your love for lilac wisterias.…okay, maybe jungkook’s been there too.or, alternatively:the first time jeon jungkook says that he is going to marry you, you are five years old sitting underneath a large wisteria tree.

17. obsessed with your ass by @kooklovesu | f s

- jungkook has an obsession with your body he cant get enough of praising you. he wasn’t comfy showing the world his affection towards you in public because he’s a private guy, but when he finally did, good luck.

18. from home by @gyukult | // f s a

- jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class?

19. black card by @minsprings | // f s

- black card fic and drabbles, also a chef’s kiss.

20. oh my god, they were (quarantined) roommates by @ot7always | f s

- what do you do when you’re quarantined for months on end with jeon jungkook - s tier cuddler, workout robot, and thirst trap extraordinaire? fuck him, you guess.

21. let the games begin by @venusiangguk | s

- just another fic where oc rides jk in his gaming chair pls still read it tho lmao its hot i promise

22. the probability of us by @jiminrings | f s

- jungkook’s the son of the university’s president, y/n’s cardigan is everyone’s favorite, and adjacent walls mean shared victories.

23. open when by @iluv-hobi | f

- jungkook likes to write letters to you, especially ones with purposes, like “open when ___”. one day, on a particularly bad day, you open, “open when you’ve had a shitty day”.

24. good day by @ilikemesometaetaes | f s

- his motive was made quite clear once he called you out of work. he just wanted to spend a nice day with his girlfriend. is that too much to ask for?

25. calculated by @whatifyoulivelikethat | // s

- some people would call you far too serious. some would call you stuck-up. and some would call you a bitch. but to freshman jeon jungkook, you’re the head calculus I TA noona – and he’s determined to fuck you.

26. brat taming by @sugasbabiie | s a f

- jungkook has been your roommate for almost a year. since the day he moved in he has acted like nothing but a spoiled little brat who is used to getting anything and anyone he wants. he eats your food, he doesn’t clean, he’s loud, oh and now he has colored his hair the exact shade of blonde as you. He’ll do anything to get under your skin. you’ve had enough of his filthy mouth and his fuckboy ways. it’s time to tame that bratty little roommate of yours. think you can handle it?

27. sugarplum energy by @bymoonchild | f s a

- you know no bounds nor depth with jungkook. while your fuck buddy loves sleeping in your bed and doing laundry for you with his favourite fabric softener, you are in love with a mysterious honeyed, velvety voice on soundcloud. all’s fine, until you find out that the voice that metaphors your heart to a sweet sugarplum melody actually belongs to the boy who has been taking up a special spot in your bed and in your heart, strumming at your heartstrings all this while. or, jungkook has one braincell, but it’s heart-shaped.

28. ancient history by @moononthejoon | a s f

- there is no way to deny that you and jungkook have chemistry. the two of you used to be a couple, after all. what happens when after a not-so-amicable breakup the two of you are cast as opposite leads of a movie?

29. that’s not daddy by @nochuobsessed | f

- jungkook comes home with a new hair color and his sons can’t tell if he’s appa or not. pretty cute! 10/10

30. no title by @himbojk | s

- jk got a blowie from his oc while on a zoom class meeting, like cam on with a whole set up but his oc under the table sucking the life out of him while he sits and tries to take notes .

31. dilf jk by @himbojk | // s f

- dilf jk drabbles.

32. no title by @himbojk | s

- blond jk with full tattoo sleeve who looks like the baddest boy but is actually baby and just wants a handie in the library while studying with his oc because she aspires to have those high grades.

33. no title by @noteguk | s

- bf!jungkook going down on the reader while they watch anime.

34. silent treatment by @blu-joons | f

- baby kook asking daddy kook to say sorry to mommy. 10/10 too!

35. getting railed by @dearlytea | s

- getting dicked by your boyfriend during a train ride.

36. the view by @koyamuses | s

- jungkook knows exactly what turns you on; every kink, every dirty fantasy that’s buried deep within your mind. he knows exactly how to make you beg for it.

37. let’s play: dirty by @jungkxook | f s

- on today’s stream, watch as the king of gaming jeon jungkook gets totally pwned by some newbie player on overwatch (he swears he was stream sniped)! to make matters worse, he can’t seem to focus anymore when you’re in the room but he promises that’s not because he’s in love with you or anything. use code ‘jungkook’ on any game purchase through steam at checkout for 25% off so that jungkook has something to feel better about! iloveyou btw!

38. more dilf!jk by @cutechim | s

- oc thirsting over jk, talk about finances, jungwoo is an innocent cock-block as infants are, disrespect towards a major film franchise.

39. you are inherently beautiful by @ggukachuwu | f a

- when y/n and jungkook accidentally reveal their relationship to the public because she walked in on him doing a vlive and now netizens and kmedia are tearing apart her appearance because y/n is chubby from struggling with pcos. jungkook takes it upon himself to cheer her up because he absolutely adores her.

40. morning with jk by @min-arya | f

- jungkook drabble of him catching his s/o admiring him in the morning with soft sleepy cuddles.

41. even a forest fire dies out by @9uk | a s

- it became from “grab a coffee with me?” to “why should I grab a coffee with you?” too fast for your liking. you had thought the both of you were so in love with each other—only to realise it was only you who had fallen into this trap of feelings. and as for jungkook, he might have just been as confused as you are.

42. all that we had by @starlightauroras-writes | a s

- four years, two months and five days ago, you lost the love of your life with no explanation. living with a failed marriage at such a young age without knowing why was impossibly hard, and when you’re invited to your high school reunion, knowing he would be there, you really don’t want to go. what happens when you do leaves you questioning fate.

43. aquarium by @whatifyoulivelikethat | // a

- life after jeon jungkook was grey. you had to find your own color, grow your own rainbow. but what would surprise you the most is the appearance of white cosmos, seven of them clutched tightly in kim taehyung’s hand.

44. contentment by @btsqualityy | f s

- oc’s using jk’s card to buy rug and the rest is history. 10/10!!

45. heartbreaker with a heart of gold by @filmflowersbangtan | a s

- love this!!! you know i love me some angst! 10/10!!!!!

46. the ikea test by @mercurygguk | f

- you and jeongguk face the IKEA test. successfully? sure!

47. before you universe by @ephemeralkookie | // a f s

- jungkook has taken a huge place in your life after he tattooed you, and you can’t even picture how life was before him. he has always been there for you since day one. but how will things change after you find out you’re pregnant?

48. christmas cream(pie) by @smoochkooks | s f

- a day before christmas dinner with your boyfriend’s parents, you discover another alternative way to use the chocolate cream you’re making. jungkook is more than willing to indulge in your little fantasy.

49. last minute by @moononthejoon | f s

- christmas day had gone by, and now you were back home after holidays with your family. your friends had agreed to have a late christmas party, but as always, you and jungkook procrastinated gift buying.

50. you go in knowing bros together by @blu-joons | f

- a cute fluffy knowing at knowing bros moment.

51. no title by @v-hope | f

- the way y/n would react when someone else flirts with jk and how he’d handle the situation.

52. hair dye by @mercurygguk | f s

- jungkook got his hair dyed while at work. you lose your mind the moment he steps through the door.

53. stay gold by @yeojaa | s

- blond!jk being a good boy?

54. crystal snow by @honeyj00ns | f

- when you join Jungkook and the rest of the guys for some fun in the snow, he can’t help but feel jealous.

55. 6:21 am by @sincerelyourfangirl | f

- in which he makes your morning extra special.

56. plan b by @btsracket | s

- dressing room quickie, unprotected sex request, use of Plan b pill

57. possession by @bngtanah | s

- jungkook is your boyfriend, sometimes you have to remind him what that means.

58. puffs and touches by @mintseesaw | f s

- “Stop doing that with your face, someone else is going to snatch you up”

59. the quiet things by @btsracket | s

- sleeping bag sex.

60. good boy by @ephemeralkookie | s

- secret, read to find out AHAHAHHA.

61. make it right by @jungkxook | a s

- you’re wholeheartedly, madly in love with jungkook and yet you shouldn’t be because it’s been almost a year since you broke up with him. worst part of it all is that you know he’s still in love with you too

62. it takes two by @junghelioseok | s

- struggling with the idea of your ex-boyfriend moving on, you enlist the help of your quiet roommate in a scheme that quickly spirals out of control.

jimin

1. picking petals by @cutechim | s

- you asked for a baby, so a baby is what you’re going to get.

taehyung

1. daddy by @btsracket | f s

- there’s only one choice when this happens on a date out.

2. love me or we both go down by @gukyi | f s a

- after going through with an arranged marriage to please his parents and secure his inheritance of the family business, kim taehyung thinks he’s got it all figured out. he doesn’t. apparently just being married to you isn’t enough, not when everybody and their mother can pick up on the fact that the two of you absolutely loathe each other. but taehyung wants his inheritance one way or another, so he decides that desperate times call for desperate measures: the two of you need to fall in love, and you need to fall in love fast.

3. saudade by @jiminssthetic | a s f

- a demanding idol lifestyle was something taehyung and yourself were all too familiar with. it wasn’t so hard when considering your unconditional love for one another, but lately, taehyung wasn’t the same anymore; and you decide it’s time to find out why.

4. ineffable by @99liners | f

- boyfriend taehyung takes care of his sick s/o.

5. tease by @caiuscassiuss | s

- you knew you were hot. you saw how the guys looked at you, how their eyes were drawn to a tight t-shirt or short skirt. and maybe this would fail epically—crash and burn like a failed experiment—but you wanted to get under kim taehyung’s skin the only way you knew how.

6. aquarium by @whatifyoulivelikethat | // a

got7

yugyeom

1. yugyeom as you boyfriend by @sunshinekookie | f

- i need more yugyeom fics in my life.

astro

eunwoo

1. rainy say saviour by @imsarahbum | f a

- upon seeing you getting bullied after school for being short, dongmin can’t help but step in and defend you - despite both of you not really knowing anything about each other.

anyway, thank you again for the writers please take care and be safe!

please free to recommend your favorite fic that i haven’t feature yet.

if the links won’t work and i labelled some fics wrong please let me know and i’ll try to fix it as soon as possible!

support the fic and the writers!

1K notes · View notes

xcrystalzero · 3 years

Text

all the things i believed

pairing: xiao x reader

summary: you've only seen the boy who lives in the apartment one over from yours a few times, but you knew the look of someone who wanted to seem intimidating when you saw one. so, why was his music taste so adorable?

alternatively, xiao thinks that the apartment walls are a lot thicker than they actually are and accidentally exposes the fact that he's not nearly as angsty as he wants everyone to believe.

note: soft xiao makes me way too happy. also, here is xiao's playlist! i recommend listening while you read :) if you guys like it, i'll make playlists for my fics more often!

"I'll miss you!" Your roommate had her arms wound tightly around your torso and it didn't seem like she planned on letting go any time soon. She was also squeezing just a tad too hard and it was starting to hurt.

Gingerly, you patted her on the shoulder, subtly attempting to pry her off of you with your other hand. "I'll miss you too... But remember, it's only two weeks and then you're back!"

That only served to make her pout even more as she finally pulled away "Two weeks is so long though! How am I going to survive without you and your brownies?"

"Hah, so you're really only worried about not having brownies huh?"

"You know that's not what I meant!" she whined, causing you to giggle slightly. Honestly though, there was no way anyone watching could possibly think that she would only be gone for two weeks. Your roommate had decided that she needed three full suitcases and the world's largest carry-on purse for her little trip, and you were honestly a little worried about it.

"Ahem..." Your bonding moment was promptly interrupted by a soft but very present voice directly behind you. Whirling around, you came face to face with a vaguely familiar figure.

It was the golden eyes that caught your attention first. Even in the strange fluorescent light of the hallway, they almost seemed to have a light of their own, a hypnotizing sort of gleam that you couldn't bring yourself to look away from. Of course, the rest of him was no less than stunning either. Dressed head to toe in black with his angular features and lean build, he was striking.

His eyes widened slightly as you turned towards him though they settled fairly quickly back into what you could only assume was his trademark glare.

"Just... trying to get through." His voice was gruff, but much softer than you had anticipated. Perhaps even gentle?

Oh yeah, that was how you knew him! Your schedules must have been somewhat similar since you were sure you passed him at least a few times a week. You had never talked but you were pretty sure you had seen him going into the unit one over from yours quite a few times.

So this was your neighbor huh? He was cute, if a little intimidating.

"Oh sorry!" your roommate chimed in. "We were just leaving, we'll get out of your way!" She began to scoot her bags to the side and you quickly joined in, wheeling one of the suitcases to the side, though you couldn't seem to keep your eyes off of the guy. Every time you looked away, it was as though your gaze was drawn back towards him by some unnatural force.

It helped that he seemed just as awkward with the whole thing as you did, alternating glancing between the you and your roommate, the floor, and his phone. As soon as there was enough space for him to squeeze by, he did, mumbling a quick thanks as he made his way down the hall, unlocking his door and disappearing into his apartment in what felt like a second.

After a moment of silence, your roommate piped up again. "He's cute!"

"He can probably still hear you!" you whacked her across the shoulder, causing her to pout in your direction again, though the teasing look never left her eyes.

"He's kind of your type too isn't he?" she all-but waggled her eyebrows in your direction to which you rolled your eyes.

"Aren't you already late for your flight"

"Oh shit!"

~~~

The apartment felt so strange when you were alone. Usually around this time of night, your roommate would have come banging on your door to join her for her late night rom-com marathon or to help her chose an outfit or the party she was going to. Tonight however, everything was quiet.

With a sigh, you slumped over onto your bed, scrolling aimlessly through your phone in hopes of finding some sort of entertainment.

That was when you heard it. The soft sound of an instrumental through the wall, slowly building in volume as you assumed whoever lived in that room turned up the volume.

"40 days and 40 nights... I waited for a girl like you to come and save my life..."

Aww cute, love songs! Had you been busy or doing literally anything else, you might have been annoyed, or at least a little worried about exactly how loud they had to be playing their music for you to be able to hear it. As things stood though, it was a welcome distraction.

"You were out of my league, all the things I believed, you were just the right kind yeah you were more than just a dream..."

Oh yeah, you knew this song too! There was a sort of second timbre to the sound and you wondered if the person playing the music was singing along as well.

Wait, who was playing that music. Judging by the sound, it was likely the unit one to your left where their wall joined with yours. The unit one to your left...

Multi-colored hair and golden eyes... The cute guy? Pulling yourself immediately up into a sitting position, you pressed yourself to the wall before immediately realizing how crazy you were acting.

He was just playing music, that wasn't anything weird.

"Romeo take me, somewhere we can be alone..."

Taylor Swift. He was playing Taylor Swift. At that, you started laughing. Wow, appearances really could be deceiving huh? You sighed as you leaned with your back against the wall, letting the vibrations from the music soak into your very being.

You were sure that you'd heard music coming from that unit before but he wasn't usually loud at all. Maybe something was different today? Maybe you'd ask him when you next saw him. And maybe, he'd actually want to talk to you when you did.

Or maybe not.

So for now, you let your head rest against the wall, letting the music and soft singing lull you into relaxation.

~~~

That was it, you despised public transportation. All you wanted was to get out of your apartment for one day and take your work to a nearby cafe. So of course, when you ran outside to catch the bus that came once every hour, the bus driver looked you straight in the eye as he closed the door right in front of you and drove off. And then for good measure, it started raining.

You sighed, burying your face in the backpack on your lap. If the bus app was right, which it rarely was, there was another bus you could take arriving in the next few minutes, so maybe this wouldn't be as awful as you thought.

The sound of footsteps entering the little bus stop booth got your mind off of your moping as you raised your head just enough to peer over at who it was that had just joined you.

Oh. Standing there, hood pulled up over his multi-toned hair and seemingly permanent scowl fixed on his lips, was your hot neighbor. Your hot neighbor with very interesting music taste if last night told you anything.

Since nothing could go right for you, the moment that you looked at him, he looked at you, meaning the two of you got to share a few agonizing seconds of awkward eye contact before he pointedly turned away with a soft "tsk". That being said, you were sure that you weren't imagining the slight tinge of shock you had seen in his gaze for a moment.

"You've got good timing, there's one coming in like 5 minutes." You had no idea how you had managed to get the words out without stuttering or blushing the moment he turned back to look at you.

"That's good..." Yup, that was an expected response, and yet, you really just wanted him to keep talking. So this was the end of your story with the gorgeous emo boy next door. Relegated to exchanging conversation about public transportation and nothing more. It was really the wasted potential here that was killing you. So many cute interactions that would just never happen. Ah if only the bus would come so that you wouldn't have to wallow in your despair any longer.

"I... thought you were leaving yesterday?"

Oh? You whirled around way too quickly to face the man, causing his eyes to widen as he shifted away instinctually.

"Oh, I was just helping my roommate move all of her stuff," you managed to get out, summoning what you hoped was a non-nervous smile to your lips.

"Those were all her bags?" he seemed horrified, enough so that you couldn't hold back your laughter.

"I said the same thing! She's kind of insane sometimes but I love her..." Well, it was no or never. "I'm [name] by the way!" You smiled and extended a hand out towards the boy.

He regarded you for a moment with a look you couldn't put into words. After what felt like an eternity however, he gently took your hand in his own, holding it for barely a moment before pulling back again. "Xiao."

Xiao. There was a strange sense of relief that came with this new knowledge. Know that you knew his name, was it couth to ask him what his favorite Taylor Swift song was? Probably not. But there was a chance that you might literally never be able to talk to him again... Meh, it was as you were thinking before right? Now or never.

"Hi Xiao. I liked your playlist last night by the way." The words came out more effortlessly than you had thought they would, carefree and teasing.

You were a little bit surprised though when you glanced back over at Xiao, only to find him eyes blown wide as a deep red spread quickly across his cheeks. "Y-You!"

"Honestly a pretty good curation! If a little unexpected..." You had no idea what it was about this guy but he really brought the snarky, teasing part of you out. Maybe it was the fact that while he usually looked cold and intimidating, blushing, embarrassed Xiao was strangely adorable.

"I thought you left!" Xiao blurted out. "I mean... There were so many bags... And your roommate said that you guys were leaving..."

You stared blankly at him for a moment before immediately dissolving into peals of laughter. Xiao had the gall to pretend to be offended for a moment before he looked away with a soft huff. "What..."

"You know, I kind of thought you were scary at first," you managed between giggles. "I guess not though!"

"Ugh, you're insufferable." Xiao rolled his eyes though you were sure that you saw the slightest hint of a smile as he did. "Why were you listening through the walls anyway?"

"Xiao, it was literally so loud."

"It wasn't that bad!"

"And I think I heard some singing too! Say, you in a band? Do you guys usually just write love songs?"

"I was not singing!"

There was a strange warmth in your chest as the two of you went back and forth. So things could go right for you after all?

~~~

Sadly, you and Xiao hadn't been going the same way, so when his bus came - before yours you might add - the two of you had parted ways. The sun had been going down when you made your way back home, satisfied with a productive day, though the memory of your conversation with Xiao was still taking up a lot more headspace than you would have liked.

So this is what it was like to simp for a guy? You weren't sure you liked it.

Setting down the takeout you had picked up on the counter, you crashed onto your living room couch with a low groan. Sleep would be nice right about now, but also, you had to eat and shower and clean...

"I wonder what Xiao's doing?" The thought appeared in your head suddenly and you almost smacked yourself right then and there. Why were you always thinking about him? You'd literally spoken to the guy once, and it wasn't anything special! Just some teasing and his little retorts... And his cute blush... And his little smile... And the way he pretended to be annoyed when he was clearly enjoying it... Wow, this was worse than you thought.

"CAN YOU FEEL MY HEART?"

You yelped, jumping up in your seat at the sudden noise, coming once again from the wall separating you and Xiao's units. You paused for a moment but before you could stop yourself, you were back up on your feet, making your way over and banging against the wall.

"You're not fooling anyone Xiao!" you yelled, not sure if he could even hear you. Apparently he could since the music stopped as quickly as it had started. There was a moment of silence as you pressed your ear to the wall, waiting for his next move. What you did not expect was to hear sound in the other direction. A knock on your door.

Confused, you made your way over, unlocking the door and pulling it open to reveal, Xiao? He was still wearing his giant black hoodie, though the glare was missing.

"Did you run out of sugar or something? Or fake angsty songs to play?" you questioned with a grin.

As expected, he let out a soft huff, turning his head away in fake exasperation. "You're a menace."

"So what I'm hearing is that you want me to send in a noise complaint!"

"You idiot... I'm just here to-" For whatever reason, he was blushing again.

"Here to?" you prompted, wondering if you should invite him in or offer him water or something. He was tugging at the collar of his hoodie too...

"J-Just here to say that if you're going to sit there listening through the walls, you might as well just come over..."

Did you hear that right? You stared at him for a moment longer, blinking slowly. This was probably a dream right? You were so tired when you got home that you fell asleep and now you were dreaming.

"I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to..." Or maybe not.

"You know, normal people just invite people over without pretending to be edgy right?"

"Shut it, are you coming or not?"

"Yeah yeah I'm coming. Oh yeah, I got takeout, I'll bring it. It's from that new place down the street, Wangshu Inn. Have you ever had Almond Tofu before?"

"... you're unbelievable."

note: i want a hot neighbor like xiao... i did have a hot neighbor who i did hit on, but then i found out that he had a girlfriend so i stopped... but xiao would be better.

#genshin impact #genshin impact fic #genshin impact au #genshin au #modern au #xiao #xiao genshin impact #xiao x reader #xiao genshin x reader #alatus

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animeomegas · 4 years

Text

Omega!Sasuke - Domestic headcanons

Anon: I love your omega sasuke writings!! Their sooo cutee!Could I ask for fluffy domestic headcannons with omega sasuke and his mate pleeasee!

(Thank you so much! My omega!Sasuke writings have become something of a feature of this blog heehee. This ask is the oldest one I have, so I apologise for the wait <3<3 Enjoy)

Warnings: None.

Sasuke is not the most domestically skilled (although he’s not bad either), but he is definitely a homebody.

Sasuke is just the happiest when he’s at home. There’s no pressure, no judgement, no expectation, and for those reasons, it’s his favourite place to be.

And to share that space with someone he loves and cherishes makes him very happy.

I want to write this by taking a look at a perfect day at home when neither Sasuke nor his mate has to work.

Morning

Sasuke has always been an early riser. Never in his life has he been able to sleep in. Whether it was following his brother around, training, nightmares, or missions, Sasuke considers 7:30 am a lie in. Most people disagree with him.

But something that has changed compared to all those times, is that now he likes to spend a few extra minutes in bed, taking in his alpha’s scent, and revelling in the warmth of another person. (He also sometimes leaves a few kisses on his alpha’s face but will deny it if he’s caught.)

Sasuke gets out of bed, gets dressed and goes downstairs silently. He always makes a pot of tea.

Sasuke finds a great interest in tea as he gets older. He enjoys finding rare blends and brings back tea whenever he goes travelling.

He sits and enjoys his tea on the porch in the peace and quiet of the early morning.

When he’s done, he waters the plants in your garden, mainly tomato plants.

He had started a small tomato garden after prompting from you and his therapist. Sasuke thought it was stupid, but you convinced him to give it a shot. After experiencing so much death, curating life was like a breath of fresh air.

As an introvert, Sasuke enjoys spending this time by himself in the mornings.

When he’s done, he heads back into the kitchen and starts to cook breakfast for the both of you.

And he can never keep the smile off his face when he feels your arms snake around his waist.

“Morning,” you whispered, leaning you head on Sasuke’s shoulder and watching him fry some fish.

“Morning.”

“Did you sleep okay?”

Sasuke hummed in the positive as you started to place kisses on his neck. You buried your face into his neck and took a deep breath. Sasuke huffed and pushed your face away.

“Go be useful and lay the table.”

You laughed and pulled away from him to do as you were asked, but not before giving him a slap on the behind. Sasuke rolled his eyes at your behaviour and swatted you away.

Sasuke is the sort of cook who is very good at cooking a small collection of meals and as such, tends to lean towards traditional meals, the kind his mother used to make for him. For breakfast, he always makes fish, rice and miso soup.

You both always eat breakfast at your dining table. If you ever suggest eating it in bed or on the sofa, Sasuke will judge you heavily. He’s a dining room table only kind of guy.

Sasuke is very traditional in a lot of ways, and his mother and father always taught him that meals were eaten at a table.

Afternoon:

The afternoon, the perfect time for errands and cleaning. According to Sasuke, anyway.

As long as he doesn’t bump into anyone he knows, he actually finds running errands pretty relaxing.

Unfortunately, he almost always bumps into someone he knows, so you’re on errand duty, and Sasuke will stay safe inside his own house and clean.

He gives you a list of things to pick up. The list is very extensive and specific. And Sasuke will be grumpy if you buy the wrong kind of thing.

While Sasuke doesn’t have the largest repertoire of meals he can cook, he’s very good at cleaning.

He likes to keep a minimalist, traditional style, very similar to the style of the house he grew up in. This style only works with a tidy and clean house.

Sasuke gets stressed if his home space is messy, so he tidies and cleans every day unless he’s on a mission.

If he is on a mission and the house isn’t at least mostly clean when he gets back, he gets salty about it.

“Sasuke!” you called out. “I’m back, can you help me with the bags?”

He immediately shunshined next to you.

You swore in surprise, dropping the bags that you had cradled in your arms.

Sasuke was unperturbed, catching them smoothly with a muttered, “Don’t drop the bags,” before sweeping them into the kitchens.

You stared after him from a moment.

“’Don’t drop the bags’,” you mocked him under your breath.

“I heard that.”

You ignored him, walking into the perfectly clean kitchen. He managed to clean everything before you were done shopping? You shook your head in disbelief. Before you lived together, you would never have pegged Sasuke as the neat freak type, but he absolutely was. You can still remember the horror on his face when you spilled wine all over the tatami mats in your bedroom. You laughed lightly at the memory.

“Did you pick up the aubergines?” Sasuke asked, rifling through the bags.

“Yes, of course.”

“And the green tea?”

You huffed out a laugh and rolled your eyes.

“I got everything you put on the list, Sasuke, I promise,” you put your hands on his shoulders, leaning down to kiss him to shut up his nagging.

Sasuke sighed quietly into the kiss, bring his arms up to wrap around your waist. Eventually, you broke the kiss, but continued to rest your forehead against Sasuke’s.

“The house looks amazing by the way, thanks for cleaning it,” you whispered.

“If it was up to you, we’d live in squalor, so someone has to do it,” he grumbled, trying to cover up the pleased blush covering his face at your compliment.

You just shook your head, leaning down to steal another kiss from your grumpy husband.

Evening:

Evenings with Sasuke are very calm.

He enjoys an evening of coexisting while working on different tasks.

Maybe you’re sewing something and Sasuke is reading a book, his head on your lap.

Or perhaps you decide to do some writing while Sasuke gets some work done, shoulder brushing together.

He’s not one for talking, but casual physical affection with his alpha is something Sasuke loves.

Evenings like this after long missions, Sasuke often falls asleep on your shoulder, leaning instinctively into the warmth and comforting smell.

If he’s in a good mood, sometimes you can hear a few purrs escape, which is the cutest thing ever of course.

Sasuke’s purr is very quiet generally, but it’s a lovely sound. Every time he does it, it just fills you with a warm feeling.

Peaceful coexistence really it Sasuke’s bread and butter.

You sat as still as possible on the sofa, supressing a smile as you felt Sasuke’s head get heavier and heavier on your shoulder. He was falling asleep.

When you had first met, he wouldn’t have trusted you to tell him the time correctly, but now? Now, simply being in your presence put him at ease enough that he simply fell asleep.

You turned ever so slightly to press a gentle kiss to his head. His hair was still slightly damp from his bath. He smelt clean and a little sweeter than normal. Sasuke had tried out a new shampoo when the shop had run out of his favourite one. You made a note to tell him that you preferred this one; it mingled much better with his natural scent.

You looked out the window briefly, noting how dark it had become. You had to get yourself and Sasuke into bed soon, but you just didn’t have the heart to wake him up.

The silence was suddenly broken by a quiet purring sound.

Sasuke was purring into your neck.

Well, now you definitely couldn’t wake him up.

You could feel the vibrations from Sasuke’s chest on your arms, while his steady breathing tickled the hairs on your neck. You sighed in resignation. Guess you were stuck here for a little longer, not that you were complaining, of course.

You grabbed a book from the side table to entertain yourself while Sasuke slept peacefully on your shoulder. Peaceful rest didn’t come often for Sasuke, so you weren’t going to be the one to ruin it.

#sasuke uchiha #omega!Sasuke #alpha!reader #gn!reader #alpha x omega #abo #omegaverse #Headcanon #imagines #reader insert #naruto #sasuke x reader #purring #scenting #sasuke really is adorable

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bandaigaeru · 3 years

Text

song of the summer - bang chan

→pairing: ceo bang chan x gn reader

→genre: kinda strangers to lovers

→synopsis: he runs one of the biggest music companies in the country, yet he inducts you to help aid him and his friends, each of them deemed as representatives of the ‘big three’, for their next official comeback.

→word count: 12.5k

→ warnings: swearing, shitty father figure

A single question hangs over the dim conference room you’ve somehow scored a seat in. Does the general public want to see 3Racha? Bluntly, the answer is right in front of you. Glowing against the whiteboard from the overhead projector, the carefully curated slideshow answers the rhetorical question.

One of the dance representatives from the back of the room twirls his pen between his fingers. Leaning back in his chair, he apathetically wonders aloud, “So it’s true, then?”

“What’s that, Mr. Lee?” the marketing representative, a Mr. Choi, holds his remote between both hands as he leans toward the table. The word ‘full’ dances across his face as he steps in front of the projector’s path.

“That they’re making a comeback. A full one?”

Mr. Choi nods, scanning the rest of the patrons’ reactions with squinted eyes as he says, “That would be correct.”

Of course, the three who would walk onstage and perform aren’t here. Mr. Bang is probably running around, abiding by his role as the professional CEO who never skips a beat. Regarding the other two, you’re not sure. They’re not as predictable.

The project is pretty tight in terms of what needs to be met. Summer is around the corner, and everyone and their mother will be fighting to hold that mere title of having the temporary greatest hit. When the general public awaits their yearly easily digestible, flowery songs.

“Keep in mind that we are all under Bang! Entertainment,” Choi remarks, clicking to his next slide displaying headlines questioning the company’s next move. “It should go without saying, but all eyes will be on us as the season turns.”

You stare at the bolded words, trying to digest each of them. Joining the company was likely the best decision you’ve ever made, outside of adopting a cat named Loba. When you got scouted as a producer, you were under a different company. Bang! offered a contract, but didn’t require an interview because they ‘didn’t want to invalidate or question a talent they’ve already seen.’

It was an ego boost.

“I’m sure you all know what your roles are in this,” Choi says, taking glances around the room to make sure each face isn’t lost or distant. This is 3Racha we’re talking about. Everything must be perfect.

You take a glance of your own. A few belong to the dance department, some to hair and makeup; however, you are the only producer here.

You raise a low hand to garner Mr. Choi’s attention. “Why am I here?” you subsequently ask, dropping your hand and crossing it against your chest as before.

“The team personally requested you,” he says.

Connections, you instantly understand. In a place like this, in a time like this, they’re a necessity. Nepotism is practically required in the world of music, hence why it sucks for most aspiring indie artists. You didn’t choose to befriend a guy who happens to be best friends with one of the big three here. So, you cast a blind eye.

It’s all a game of luck.

The meeting doesn’t run much longer. A concluding statement with hints of a threat if anyone messes up rings through your ears. A project end date of July 20th, when the album is supposed to go live. You’re not nervous, per se. Simply blindsided given the lack of information. What’s the song about? When’s the due date? Will 3Racha come to you first, or do you have to take time out of your day to the CEO’s harrowing office? The uncertainties aggravate the impulse of opening a new document on your computer and delving into your producer rituals. You can’t create someone else’s project out of blankness. And that irritates you to no end.

Someone throws their arm around your shoulder in an attempt to throw you off your purposeful stride.

“Congrats,” the belonger says.

You glance over to look, even though you know the voice well. He is your connection, of course.

“Thanks.”

Minho pulls you back to a slower pace. Familiar faces from the meeting pass you to the elevator, a majority in a meaningless chatter. They expected an appearance on this project.

“What are you doing tonight?” he finally asks, stopping altogether and dropping his arm from your shoulder.

You shrug, looking curiously at him. Minho’s not one to beat around the bush.

“Hypothetically,” he starts, “how would you feel being invited to bro night?”

“And actually witness you or Felix puke on the lawn instead of hearing about it? No thanks,” you scoff, making an attempt to abandon the situation by following the distancing crowd.

He grabs your wrist, spinning you back to him. “Please?” His eyes are pleading, glaring back at you like an innocent kitten.

You tip your head and sigh. “Why?”

Instead of cutting to the chase, he sucks in a deep breath and says, “I’ll pay you.”

An eyebrow cocks. Regardless of your amusement—a desperate Minho doesn’t appear often—worries consume you. “What’s up? Why are you acting like this?”

Wary eyes jump around the hallway before they land back on you. “Follow me,” he mumbles.

His steps are calculated as he guides you to the elevator and presses the floor his office resides on. The ride is silent, as is the walk down the hall. You step into the room first, and he closes the door behind him. Despite the urge to ask if he’s about to murder you, you bite your tongue and take a seat on his upholstered couch. Identical to the one in your office.

Gently, he lowers himself into his chair. A few minutes pass of you simply staring at each other. Nerves crawl up your spine and you disguise them with a snarky comment. “Are you going to tell me why you’re willing to bribe me into spending time with your friends?”

In the time he takes to respond, you think about how the only mutual friend you have is Jisung. Sure, you know everyone on a name basis; but it’s not like you’ve known them as long as Minho. He doesn’t have other, more qualified, friends to drag to bro night?

“Chan’s kinda in a mood right now,” Minho’s words are slurred by the breath he releases as he speaks.

“And?” you press.

“I want you to see it before you work with him. And for him to understand you in advance. Y’know. You’re a little,” he hesitates, “forward sometimes.”

You should take this as an insult, but you can’t because words’ owner knows you too well. Minho never speaks unjustly.

“Touche,” you nod. It’s better to own up to your flaws. If you don’t, that’s how you end up walking into a carefully curated narcissistic personality.

His features loosen as he presses his forearms on his thighs. “So. You in?”

“I don’t really have a choice,” you emit a wry laugh. All in one sentence, you’ve managed to prove his point. It’s simple, really.

“You see, I’ve already told the boys you’re coming. Either way, I would’ve gotten you to go. The only other option would have been to threaten you with a knife,” he admits. As you gawk at him in awe, realizing you stand in the same boat, a proud grin grows on his face. With time, you begin to mirror the ones you admire. Friends, for example.

“I think Seungmin will like you,” he adds.

“Why do you say that?”

All you know of Kim Seungmin is that he’s in the vocal department, along with his younger counterpart Yang Jeongin, and that he’s a menace. Minho’s words.

“You’re both evil.”

That’s the last straw. You stand up without a word and stomp for the door.

His laugh echoes behind you, striking a quieter one of your own. Still, you stay in character and slip out into the hallway. Minho has won too many of these scenarios.

ii.

Loba sneaks into the kitchen as you wait impatiently for Minho. Thirty minutes. That’s how late he is. You consider texting him, but acknowledge the possibility he’s stuck in traffic or something. Agitation tells you to do it anyway since he only lives two blocks over.

The orange cat paws at your calf for attention, momentarily distracting you as you set your phone down on the counter. Minho’s chat is wide open. She, too, finds excuses for him.

Her head nuzzles against your palm as you scratch behind her ears. She meddles successfully enough to trick you into feeding her a few treats. While you reach for the top shelf of your pantry, a pair of footsteps sneak up behind you. Heavier than Loba’s.

“Did the cat convince you to spoil her again?”

“Son of a-” you recoil, whirling around to greet the man, the myth, the late bastard.

The familiar appearance of a sly smirk, mischievous eyes, and an outfit that makes him look like a casual runway model, pierce your vision.

“You’re late,” you mutter, stepping past him and scooping Loba up. You rest her head on your left arm, cradling her like a baby. She tilts her head up to stare back at Minho. Traitor.

Minho grabs the bag of treats for you.

“Sorry, I had to pick up Jisung. He’s in the car,” his voice trails as he slips his thumbs between the plastic fold and focuses on opening the difficult seal.

“Damn it,” he curses. Karma arrives faster in deserving situations.

“It took you thirty extra minutes to pick him up?”

He deadpans, “You know he likes to be presentable for the boys.”

When you don’t give him the satisfaction of a single laugh, let alone a change in emotion, he whines, “Oh come on, that was funny.”

“You trick me into going to your stupid hangout, and now you have the nerve to show up late?”

He sneaks a few treats to Loba. “You’re really not mad at me right now, are you?”

“Irritated, at the least,” you admit.

“Well, then I’m sorry. Jisung got off late so I had to wait at Bang! for him.”

The words sink into your skin, but you don’t acknowledge them further. The anger fades on the walk down to the car, a great distance separating you and Minho. It’s practically dissipated by the time you climb into the backseat of Minho’s Kia Soul.

Jisung turns in the front seat and offers his hand at an awkward angle. “It’s a pleasure to be working with you.”

You hold your seatbelt in one hand, accepting his with the other as you force a measly smile. “Same for you. Thanks for suggesting me to Mr. Bang.”

Confusion warps his face, twisting his eyebrows in a weird knit as he shakes his head. “It wasn’t me. Must’ve been Chan.”

Minho drops himself into the driver’s seat, suspending any further questioning.

Jisung returns to his original poise as when you approached the car. Eyes focused on his phone, actively typing something out.

You click your seatbelt into locking. An unnatural feeling plagues your gut. Mr. Bang wanted you on the team? It feels unlikely, but you know Jisung wouldn’t joke like that. Even if he were the type, his acting of unawareness gives away the truth.

Minho glances back at you in the mirror. “Ready?” he asks as his hand rests on the gearshift.

You press your lips into a line as you nod. “Mhm.”

You stare down at your hands carefully folded in your lap. For the first time since before producing, the itch to create is drowned by an intense, overwhelming brew of something lingering in your veins.

The expectation of you has pierced through the roof and is shooting out of the stratosphere.

Chan—Jisung quickly advised you to drop all formalities, so you’re rewiring your thoughts—has a home in Gangnam. Fitting for his status, but smaller than you expected. It’s still able to fit at least four of your apartment in it, though.

Jisung and Minho walk ahead of you up the stairs. The elevators in rich apartments on this end can only fit two people if you really scrunch together. What’s the money for, then?

“Today’s Monopoly night, right?” Jisung examines Minho’s side profile as he cautiously lifts one foot after the other. The stairs here are steeper than any you’ve seen. Hiking sounds better than this.

He hums in approval. “I guess we’ll sort teams later. We probably won’t live through the night with last week’s.”

A brash laugh escapes Jisung’s lips, subsequently echoing against the walls and bouncing back to your ears. “Right.”

You tune out their conversation for the rest of the climb, settling for watching your shoelaces sway with each step.

Jisung pushes on the door for the fourth floor, holding it open until you’re fully into the hallway. “Chan’s the second door on the right,” Jisung nods to one of the identical doors along the hall—appearing more expensive than your monthly rent with its rich stain.

Minho doesn’t bother knocking, instead opting for trying the doorknob. It allows access to the gigantic living space and the loud chatter previously muffled by walls.

You must be the last to arrive, but you probably could’ve guessed such.

“Hey,” Jeongin looks up from his conversation, inspiring a round of greetings from all the others.

“You all know each other enough so I’ll skip the introductions,” Minho glances between you and the group, starting for an empty end of the couch.

When Jisung follows his lead, you take a headcount. It appears everyone’s present except Chan—his birth name still feels awkwardly informal in your thoughts. You glance down the dark hallway to your right, counting one, two, three closed doors. Nature drags you into curiosity.

Seungmin, your alleged evil twin, waves you over.

As you take the empty spot beside him, he says, “Sorry, you looked a little awkward just standing there. Thought I’d save you before Hyunjin said something.” He shoots a pointed nod at the long-haired blond lounging between Changbin and Minho.

“Oh. Thanks,” you force a little smile that imitates gratitude. You didn’t feel awkward observing, but maybe your aura screamed otherwise.

Jeongin leans slightly over Seungmin’s shoulder with an inquisitive eye. “How did Minho convince you to come?”

“Blackmail,” you nod. Not attempting to summon a laugh, but managing so in the process.

“That’s Minho for you,” Seungmin tips his head in a slightly disbelieving manner.

“It’s okay, though. We’ll make tonight fun for you,” Jeongin raises his hand, and you meet it with a high-five.

Bro night might not be as bad as you thought.

“If only Chan comes out from his room,” Seungmin mutters, particularly to himself, as he leans his arm on the back of the couch and twists his body to look back into the hallway.

Questions. You want to ask them, but then Minho’s words return in full, blaring effect. Forward, he said. Meaning: blunt. In your face.

You bite your tongue. Redirect the temptation, you think, as your eyes scan the room. Admittedly, it’s odd seeing all these people away from their respective passions. However, Changbin’s phone is cradled in his hands, and his fingers are typing away potential lyrics. Felix, too, is hiding the fact his fingers are mirroring the directions of his recent choreography. Maybe passions are always a shadow of you.

“Should we just fix teams?” Minho says above the impatient silence.

“We can,” Hyunjin leans his forearms on his thighs. His hair falls in front of his shoulders like he’s some kind of Greek god.

“Team captains?” Seungmin asks.

“Let’s do the oldest of each unit, but since Chan’s God-knows-where, Changbin can represent,” Minho nods, glancing around for looks of satisfaction.

“Sure, rock-paper-scissors for who goes first?” Seungmin pushes a strand of hair out of his eye.

Short story short, Minho wins the first round with a victorious cheer of, “Easy!”

“You only say that because you know they always pick scissors first,” you accuse.

Minho points a finger at you, “Allegedly.”

You land a spot on Minho’s team since he got the first pick of the litter. Then, by Minho’s attempt at matchmaking, Chan lands on your team.

As you’re moving spots, you shoot Seungmin a sad, unmoving look.

He laughs, pushing you towards Minho. “Maybe next time.”

“What?” Minho glances between you. “Are you planning a coup against me?”

“You wish, Lee Minho,” you sigh, falling into the empty space beside him.

After a few beats of silence, for good measure, Minho leans down to your ear and says, “I told you you’d like him.”

“Yeah, he’s like a better version of you,” you turn to see the predictable look of offense on his features.

“Fine then, get Seungmin to drive you home,” he pouts, crossing his arms against his chest and pushing his back into the couch.

“Oh come on,” you nudge his elbow, laughing at his exaggeration.

You see a smile tug at his lips before he breaks, letting a chuckle break through his barrier.

In the remaining meantime that you wait, Minho calls dibs on the cat. Seungmin’s team claims the dog, with an offhand comment from Minho going, “You would choose the dog.” Finally, Changbin’s team chooses the hat.

“Is that a joke because you’re so short? So you can gain a few inches with the hat?” Hyunjin jabs.

Changbin reaches over the couch to try and hit him.

From this end of the couch, you can look directly into the dark, mysterious hallway. You watch as the second door knob slowly turns. You focus on it, and the shouting dispute fades out in your ears.

Chan steps out from the room, carefully closing the door behind him so as to not bring all the eyes on him at once. You fight your facial expressions to remain neutral as you take in his appearance—which is shockingly normal. Suits are his workplace fashion, and consequently, all you’ve seen him in. Now, he wears black basketball shorts and a black tee. His hair is even loosening into curls. Is this the same man who runs a massive music company? Are we sure?

His cover is blown the moment he steps into the light of the living room. Jeongin warily points a finger in your direction, “You’re on their team.”

Chan presses his lips into a makeshift smile as he approaches you and Minho. He pushes out a small ‘hey’ before taking his spot on the other side of Minho.

His reclusive figure makes your heart wrench. You wish you could have talked Minho out of going. To him, you’re just an outsider he has to put a front up for. But, the thing is, he isn’t trying to build a barrier. It appears that he doesn’t have any more energy to try.

You catch yourself staring when Minho nudges your knee with his. “You take the first roll.”

Collecting the die, you notice your hands trembling a little. Not good. You manage, somehow knocking Seungmin’s dog in the process. He feigns shock, whining in an accusatory tone, “You’re no different than Minho.”

The choir of laughter shuffles you back into reality when you glance back at your accused teammate, catching the look of the other. The corners of Chan’s lips are slightly turning up into a smile.

Whew. You’re amazed by the amount of relief that little smile gives you.

iii.

The game trails into the early hours of the morning, and a few times a boy will point at Chan and say, in an attempt to be lighthearted, “This is all your fault.”

To the dismay of the rivals, Changbin’s team manages to win. Jisung, a member of Seungmin’s team, flips the board twenty turns too late at the news. “This game is stupid!” he laughs through his words.

“You’re cleaning that up,” Changbin says as the money flutters to the rug beneath the glass coffee table. A cue for the group to laugh blinks above their heads, each varying in intensity. Hyunjin even claps a few times, for his vocal contribution pales insufficient.

Jisung slumps to the ground, “I know.”

Chan lifts himself from the couch to aid him with a lingering smile from all the laughs. As the night progressed, he seemed to slowly inch into his ‘normal’ state, as Jisung had referred to in the car.

Minho slips his phone out from his pocket. At the single-digit time, nearing close to sunrise, he heaves a sigh and pushes himself up. “Guess I should get you home.”

He extends a hand to help you up.

“You’re leaving already?” Seungmin asks.

“Uh, yeah. It’s like three A.M.,” Minho squints at him, turning his lit home screen at him for proof.

Chan snickers as he stacks all the thousands. “That’s early for me.”

See? He’s even making jokes now. This is a weird normal, considering all you know of him is his status, but admittedly better than whatever funk he was previously in.

“See you on Monday, I’ll just spend the night,” Jisung lifts his hand in a semi-wave.

Chan doesn’t protest. Instead, he looks up at you and sticks his hand up. “Can’t wait to work with you,” and smiles. Dimples indent his cheeks in a way that makes your stomach churn.

You take his hand and mirror his smile, though it’s rather genuine in comparison to the one you offered Jisung.

Minho has the decency to wait to call you out on it until you’re in the soundproof safety of his car.

“I saw that,” he says.

“What?”

“The smile. Don’t like Chan. That’d be way too awkward for me.”

You laugh, examining his twisted face of disgust as he starts the car. “Why?”

You’re not asking out of curiosity. You don’t like Chan, and you don’t see yourself liking him anytime soon. Or in the far future, for that matter. It’s just so easy to mess with Minho.

“Uh, my best friend dating my other best friend? That’s third-wheel central. I’m too hot to be a third wheel.”

Later, as you’re unbuckling your seatbelt to venture into the apartment building, Minho mumbles, “But, I mean, if you like him it’s whatever. I don’t want you feeling like you have to hide anything from me.”

You punch his arm.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You’re getting all sappy on me again. You don’t have to worry about stuff like that, dude,” you frown. Above anything Minho can say to you, his insecurities taking over his words hurts the most.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” you say, then adding, “Unless you want to come over sometime this weekend. I’ll be home.”

He smiles, though you sense the differing thoughts behind his eyes. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” you say before shutting the door.

iv.

In all the wrong ways, Monday comes too fast. Faster than you can process Friday night, essentially.

You try to scramble your remaining thoughts into order as you walk into the lobby.

Is Chan going to be normal today? Hoping so. Why was that relief so astonishing? Did Minho catch onto something-

“Hey, Y/N!” Jisung intercepts your thoughts.

Your eyes involuntarily widen as he pops out from seemingly nowhere. Your gaze drifts to his outstretched hands, offering you one of the drinks each brandishes.

“I didn’t know which you’d prefer, and Minho wasn’t awake so I couldn’t text him. So, I got coffee and tea.”

You take your pick and nod a ‘thank you.’

“How was your weekend?” you find yourself asking as he leads you to the elevator.

He shrugs, “I did absolutely nothing other than a brain detox for this project. You?”

Despite his back being to you, your chin twitches into a nod. “Same as you, pretty much.”

“I think Chan’s in a good enough mood,” Jisung glances back at you as he reaches for the up arrow on the elevator’s panel.

“Sweet.”

Minho is your gateway to an easy conversation. Of course, he’s not here, but you slightly wish he was. You’re forced to meander in an abrasive silence until the elevator takes you up to the eighth floor.

Eight, because Chan detests the idea of being too close to anyone. He doesn’t want his presence to divide anyone’s attempt at creating their best. An icon in distancing, Minho joked as during your first week under Bang!

Jisung sucks in a deep breath as he turns into a room whose door is partially cracked. “Here goes nothing.”

On the far side of the room is an L-shaped couch. Resting upon the vertical side as if he were in his own bed is Changbin. A laptop sits in his lap, closed, but his phone is inches away from his face as he types.

“It’d be more effective if you used that laptop,” Jisung comments, resting his drink on the coffee table and sitting by Changbin’s feet. Giving Changbin the perfect opportunity to wedge his foot between the younger’s ribcage. A cry of pain shoots out of Jisung’s mouth. Truly, he should have seen that coming.

“Dude!” he shouts, jumping to his feet and clutching his side.

“I told you not to mess with me,” Changbin’s eyes narrow into a warning gaze, but Jisung laughs anyway.

“You are not scary, bro.”

You start for the opposite end of the couch, pressing your back into the armrest as you watch the scene unfold. Cupping your drink with both hands, you’re unsure if the warmth stems from it or the sibling-esque fight before you.

Changbin slides the laptop off of his lap and pulls himself to his feet. He stands before Jisung, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. Then, as his eyes flutter open, he brings his fists up.

“Come on. Fight me.”

Jisung takes a step back. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Changbin shakes his head. “I’m not.”

Jisung’s eyes flit around the room for help. It would be that when the muscle man wants to fight, the only person physically capable of pacifying him isn’t here. Pure, unadulterated luck.

“And when you break my arm, then what?” Jisung’s eyebrows raise in taunting interrogation.

“Then I break your arm? What about it? You can perform with a shattered humerus. Right, ace?”

By chance of a higher being granting Han Jisung a break, Chan enters his office with a manila folder in his hand. Only a few steps into the room, he has to halt. His hand finds his hip, releasing a big sigh as he clutches the folder. To no surprise, he’s wearing a perfectly tailored suit. Black, of course. But with a surprising navy undershirt, which you give him credit for.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to cause injury in my office? Can you imagine the lawsuit? Would you do that to your beloved friend?” he asks a stream of questions.

He seems relatively happy.

Changbin drops his fists to his sides, gaze dropping back to his abandoned laptop. He scoops it up before reclaiming his spot. To fully conclude the argument, he opens the laptop’s lid. “Jisung started it.”

The accused boy looks at Chan and silently pleads his case. His hands clasp into a prayer.

Chan waves him off with a smile and a breathy laugh before starting for his desk. He acknowledges you with a small raise of his hand.

“Ah, where to begin?” he asks, to no one in particular, as he tosses the folder onto his desk and sinks into his chair.

“Han, can you turn the projector on?” Changbin takes the initiative, reaching over the couch’s back to grab a white USB cord.

He does as told, warily trying to avoid another pseudo-fight, before rushing to the light switch and fading the room into a mass of darkness. Chan must not like having his blinds open. Black world he lives in.

Changbin’s screen presents against the vacant wall across from him. A pre-written document appears, with the title ‘TT Ideas’ and a dashed list. 1.5 spacing, you admire.

“Okay, I did my homework,” he sighs, dragging his cursor over the highlighted ideas for the title track. “These are my personal favorites, but I’m up to debate.”

Jisung shivers at those words. Debate. Meaning: duel.

In the darkness, Chan steps in front of you. He sits halfway between you and Changbin, resting his elbows on his knees as he studies the list. You notice that his lips pout as he focuses, and his eyes squint a little.

You shift your own attention, for you’ll lose pacing if you stare at Chan the whole day. Changbin has highlighted unrequited love, turning the aura of summer into a song, unique abilities, and simply ‘flexing our equities’.

“Yeah, I definitely think that last one will go over well,” Jisung sardonically comments.

Changbin sighs in defeat and drags his cursor over his beloved idea, hitting the backspace in pity, “I knew you’d say that.”

“Can you elaborate on the unique abilities?” you ask, quieter than anticipated but still reaching its aim.

“Not to tute my own horn,” Changbin starts, running a hand through his hair, “but we’re sought after. When people see our names on tracklists, they immediately know the song is going to be good. They don’t sit and wonder if they’ll be disappointed, because they know with 3Racha that’s unpalatable. Hell, I saw someone tweet the other day that their favorite artist was spotted here, and the fandom went fucking crazy.

“People know what they expect from us, and that’s excellence. We deliver. You can’t say the same for a lot of producers. Doubt is inevitable for a lot of them, even if it’s only personal.”

“Couldn’t have said it better,” Jisung smirks, leaning his extended hand out to Changbin for him to high-five.

“What if we did it with an,” Chan hesitates, tilting his head at the screen to try and ease out the right words, “unnatural sound.”

“An experiment no one else could attempt,” you mumble, not expecting him to hear. His head snaps over to you, snapping, pointing a finger, and nodding.

“Exactly.”

The boys look between each other, bobbing their heads in agreement. “We can do that,” Jisung grins.

“You know, I had a feeling you would say that,” Changbin slips his phone out of his pocket, swiftly unlocking it and opening his notes app. “So I’ve already written my verse.”

“No way,” Jisung cocks his head at him.

“Okay,” Changbin mutters, “I had verses written for all the highlighted ones.”

“You are insane,” Chan chuckles, but not in an insulting tone.

From here on out, it’s smooth sailing.

Until Jisung pats the pockets of his jeans two weeks later. “Shit,” he mutters, glancing back at the elevator you had just come from.

Midnight was around the corner and Jisung had promised Minho they’d go see the late-night showing of the latest horror film.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He turns to you with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. “I think I left my phone in Chan’s room. I’m gonna be late. Minho’s gonna kill me.”

You cease his rambling by putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll go get it. Just tell Minho to text me when you’re done so you can pick it up. ‘Kay?”

So what if Loba’s waiting for you at home, probably pawing at the front door and meowing like, “I’m hungry”? You have a profound soft spot for Jisung. And not because Minho threatened you if you ever showed any disliking. Plus, Loba’s spoiled in all other walks of her life. She can handle you coming home a little later than usual for one night.

He breathes a sigh of relief, looking up at the high ceiling in some kind of grateful manner. “You are a lifesaver, Y/N.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you smile, starting back to the elevator as he continues his path.

The company is rather unsettling without its daytime bustle. It’s even worse on the eighth floor. A usual ghost-town, except with an increased darkness and an odd chill trailing down your back.

The hallways feel stuffy as you get close to Chan’s office, your gaze set ahead. A sniffling sound seeps into your range of hearing, though you don’t think much of it. You can get colds in summer.

Naive to think a man as esteemed as Mr. Bang would succumb to a measly cold.

As you sneak your head between the cracked door, placing your hand around its width and slightly pushing forward, the view sends your heart crashing into your stomach. Chan’s head is lowered, either hand cupping his head as incessant tears drip from his nose.

Awkwardly stepping forward, you clear your throat.

His glossy eyes, rimmed with red and slightly puffy, jump up to you. Instinctively, he attempts to discard the evidence.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he croaks, pulling his sleeve over his hand and gliding it across his damp cheek.

That’s something he could learn. If someone’s a witness, you can expect them to ease into questions. It’s only nature.

“Do you need a hug?” you attempt. Don’t be forward, don’t be blunt, don’t be mean. Minho’s reminder blinks across your vision.

He laughs, “Maybe.”

A pitiful smile creeps onto your lips as you step around the desk. Your arms link semi-awkwardly around his shoulders. He presses his cheek against your collarbone, silently crying a little. You take careful breaths, trying to stabilize your chest for him.

“Does anyone know?” Your hand rubs soft circles against his back. He shakes his head against your body. A small hiccup shakes his frame.

“You can tell me if you want.”

“I don’t want to burden you,” he manages through his tears.

You pull back a little for him to look at you. “I will smack sense into you if you say some stupid shit like that again.” In spite of his eyes crinkling into a smile—looking at you like you’re a childhood friend who he knows like the back of his hand—you try to recover. “I swear, you won’t burden me.”

He takes in a shaky breath. A blaring thought curses the forefront of your eyes. “Do you mind if we go to my apartment, though? I have a hungry cat waiting for me.”

Your arms retreat to your sides as he nods and drags the back of his hand across either cheek. “Yeah, no problem.”

You glance over at the couch, and the object of your mission stares back at you. For a second, you swear it’s glowing gold and screaming, “Your quest ends here! Bring me to my owner!”

You shuffle for the couch and scoop it up. When Chan looks at your hand in confusion, you offer, “Jisung left it. I’m the delivery service.”

“Right.” And he smiles. Comfort engulfs your body when you notice the flood has stopped.

Since you normally walk or ride the bus to work, Chan drives. His shiny sports car looks rather alien beside your used, well-used, car.

“I should warn you,” you turn to him as you push your key into the lock, “Loba’s a cuddler.”

“Sweet. I’d feel bad asking you for more hugs,” he jokes.

Sure enough, Loba is lying before the door. She scrambles to her feet and stares up at her guardian and the new intruder. Conveniently misplacing her cries for food, she scopes out the new man.

“What’d you say her name was again?” Chan asks, squatting in front of her and scratching behind her ears.

“Loba,” you say, opening the fridge to dish out Loba’s expensive special food. Adopting a cat with stomach issues, am I right?

“Loba?” Chan repeats, stifling a laugh.

“I didn’t name her,” you turn to him in defense.

Chan lowers himself, crossing his legs as Loba climbs into his lap. The love-hungry cat doesn’t even notice when you set her ceramic bowl next to her water station. She’s too absorbed in her newfound friend.

Rather than forcing them to relocate to the couch, you sit offset from them on the tile. Smiling down at the orange cat, you admit, “She’s not even like this with Minho.”

“Really?” Chan’s amused face stuns a vibration in your chest.

You appeal confirmation.

“That’s crazy. I’m a dog person, normally,” he coos down at the lovebug.

Don’t let this distract you from the task at hand, you remind yourself.

“So,” you drag. How do you say this without tempting the tears again? Admittedly, it would be nice if you had an ounce of insight. You’re walking into a minefield without a blueprint of where they lie.

Chan sighs, acknowledging his cue. “My dad doesn’t really like me all too much,” he wryly laughs.

“He seems stupid then,” you offer, not thinking further than trying to comfort him, “You’re very likable.”

“Thank you,” Chan drags his tongue against his bottom lip.

He continues, “Moreso, he dislikes his father. The one who skipped a generation when trying to continue his legacy. By association, I kind of take the brunt of it.” He looks at you through blurry eyes as he bites the inside of his cheek.

“If it makes you feel any better, I think you were the only person who could have continued the company. Your dad seems,” you hesitate, “insolent. You, on the other hand, are an ace.”

“I try to tell myself that. He makes me go to all of his business parties to keep his reputation up, as well as mine in a way. You don’t want the broken family running a huge corporation,” he mimics what he’s been told.

“So you can’t tune him out,” you echo.

“Yep,” he drags the word out, prompting a heavy sigh.

“I’m not really good at the whole comforting thing,” you study the creases of your palms. “But I’ll say that you are, by far, the most amazing person I could work for. You’re really admirable. Plus, Minho really likes you. You’re kind of like the brother he never had.”

“God, you’re gonna make me cry,” he laughs, staring up at the light as he pulls a hand away from Loba to wipe at his waterline.

“I’m serious,” you chuckle. “Would I blow smoke up your ass if you’re crying on my floor with my cat in your arms?”

When he hesitates to respond, you do it for him. “The answer is no. I don’t even do that for Minho.”

“That’s comforting,” he admits.

“I’d hope so. Now, hand me your phone,” you stick your hand out.

“Why?”

“So I can give you my number. Text me if stuff goes downhill, now that I’m in the loop.”

He looks at you quizzically.

“What? Do you think I’m going to let you suffer in silence now that I know?”

He leans to the side, cradling Loba protectively, as he draws his phone from his pocket. Unlocking it before he hands it to you.

As you type in a new contact, you say, “Do you want something to eat? I can order a pizza.”

vi.

Unfortunately, peace is temporary. Always and forever.

When you enter Chan’s office a few weeks after the father debacle, prepared to start the official recording of the album as decided on the previous day, you’re met with two confused men. Admittedly, you’re a little late, but not enough for them to be lost.

Changbin looks up at you as you cross the threshold. “Have you seen Chan?”

You shake your head.

“Heard from him?” Jisung follows.

Again, you shake your head.

“Shit,” they both fall back against the couch cushions in defeat.

“What’s wrong?” The grip on your bag tightens. Despite your inquisitive words, your gut gives you a fair answer.

“We haven’t heard from him since five this morning,” Changbin looks at Jisung for confirmation on the details.

“No one’s seen him?” you follow up.

“No one. He won’t answer our group chat either.”

Your foot taps against the floor as you try to remain composed. He texted you last night about his dad’s upcoming gala but was sparse about details. Or about the fact he would straight up disappear. Obviously, you can’t offer this information to them. A promise is a promise, even if half unspoken.

“Should we work through it? Get his parts whenever he decides to show up?” Changbin speaks.

“We can’t exactly meander anymore. Tracklist goes out at noon,” Jisung shakes his phone as annoyingly clear evidence.

“And you still need to learn the choreo for the title track,” you add. There’s only a month left. You bite your tongue, allowing the pain to slightly calm you down.

“God, what horrible timing,” Jisung laughs, but no joy laces through his tone.

You point harsh eyes at them, heavy steps leading you to the microphone stand designated for recording. “Come on then. Let’s get ahead before we can fall behind.”

vii.

You leave work the moment recording is done for the day, a discovery pulling you from focusing on anything else. Chan shared his location with you a few days ago when he offered a reciprocal to what you’ve done for him. “So you can always find me,” he said via text.

Though not for the right purpose, per se, you’re going to find him. And when you do, you might have to smack sense into him this time. With love, you convince yourself as you pull up to the stadium.

Who in their right mind rents an indoor stadium for an evening party? Rich people, evidently.

You find Chan’s car, among its shiny counterparts, and park as close to it as you can. As you get out, you pull your phone out of your pocket and call him. Not expecting him to answer, honestly.

“Hello?” his voice penetrates your ears.

“I’m outside,” you say, fighting the heavy heartbeat echoing in your head. Your hands tremble at the thought of him here, all dressed up and acting like nothing’s wrong.

“What?” he mumbles.

You look up to the big screen above the gate. “Gangnam Public Stadium, right?”

The background noise slightly fades as he says, “Wait where you are, I’ll come meet you.”

“Parking lot,” you offer before he hangs up.

You step into the shade and lean against a brick wall.

Today’s one of the finer days of summer. It’s mid-June. The solstice is just around the corner. A light breeze brushes against your skin and gently ruffles your hair. It probably helps that you’re surrounded by wealthy cars. A mood booster, in a weird way.

Quick, heavy steps draw closer. You turn your head to the source.

Chan drops his hands onto his knees as he pants. “You shouldn’t be here,” he manages.

“You should’ve told someone why you wouldn’t be at work. We all have our regrets,” you nibble on the inside of your cheek as you stare at him.

“God,” he mutters, straightening himself before standing next to you against the wall.

“You’ll get your suit dirty,” you comment, but he doesn’t care.

“You should leave.” His eyes, heavy with an emotion akin to irritation and sadness, scan over your face.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me why you did this,” you stand your ground. Just like Minho would hate in a moment like this. “To get to a person, you have to ease them into it,” he guided at one point. Frankly, you couldn’t care less right now.

He avoids your eyes as he tries to flatten his staggered breathing. In due time, he composes himself and finally looks at you. His features have loosened, and you note his brow is no longer creased.

“I didn’t want to lose my cool in front of them,” he admits.

“Scared to?”

He nods. “It was scary enough having one person see me cry.”

The place between your heart and ribs begins to pulsate heat.It begins to spread across your bones and through your muscles. For once, you have to think about what to say next. You can’t be mad at him, for his reasoning makes more sense than it had before. God, this is irritating.

“Let’s make the song of the summer, then,” you reassure him with a curt nod. “Pull you out of this monster field around you and let’s make history.”

The dark surrounding encasing him cracks away as an unbelievable smile finds its place. One like you have never seen. One that pierces your heart with its joy. “Let’s do it.” And he drags you into a hug. Despite the roles taking a quick turn, you feel comforted. But he’s squeezing the life out of you.

viii.

You’ve done all you can do for 3Racha within the next week. The album is complete, as far as instrumentals and lyrics. All that’s left is promotion, along with all the theatrical elements left to be discussed. But that’s separate from you.

It feels bittersweet that it’s come to an end. You know that sometime in the future you’ll return to the studio with them, working alongside creative geniuses to invent a piece. Together. That’s the key. But it feels so far away.

You sit in your empty office, staring at the broad window as raindrops fall down the glass. Recounting the process in your head with distant gratitude. Title track: God’s Menu. You’re proud of it, viewing it as your child. Watching it grow into a real song, with real words and sounds attached to it. Wow. You catch a glimpse at the meaning of life as you watch two raindrops race down. It’s this: blossoming art from a tiny idea. Admittedly not entirely your own, but the principle remains.

The other tracks enlist an equal amount of precious memories for you. Late nights felt normal with the unreal energy coursing through your veins. You notice the products of effort as you consider all those extra hours. Admiration shoots through your body, leaving it numb.

It was all them, though, you acknowledge. You were only there as a caretaker, offering your own hint to mark the music.

3Racha is like a shooting star. It's fantastic, in a sense. Not everyone can say they’ve seen a shooting star in the same way not many can say they’ve witnessed the production process with three of the most talented producers in the game. They’re unreal.

A knock against your doorframe shocks you out of your thoughts. You drag your foot against the floor to turn your chair.

Chan, dressed in an outfit similar to that of boys’ night, awaits your attention. Sweat lines his forehead, glistening his skin. You can guess where he’s been.

“Hey.”

“I need your help.” His words were trailing your simple greeting so close you could say he interrupted you. Seriousness brings his face into a dimness, slightly intimidating you.

“With?” you prompt.

He leans against the frame with his arm, replaying his words in his head over and over before spitting them out, “I kind of told my dad I’d bring a date to his next party.”

“Oh?” you say, slowly realizing. “Oh.”

“Will you do it?” His features twist into a nervous reflection.

“Sure, if you pay for my outfit.”

You say this as a joke, but he fails to convey it this way. “Deal. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Does Loba need a cat tree by any chance?”

He doesn’t await your answer as he slips back into the hall. Was that conversation even real?

An indistinguishable whiplash conquers your body into a sudden realization. You turn to your desk, scooping your phone into your hands and texting Minho, beginning with, “When you see this…”

ix.

Certainly, Chan is a man of his word. From the mere month you’ve known him, you should have gathered this. But as you stand in his living room, decked out in some outfit he carefully chose for you, it blares against all of your senses in bright, evident clarity.

Minho’s message buzzes against your palm.

Lee Knows: Loba’s conked already, two minutes after she ate. Have fun ;)

You: Lol thanks again for taking care of her.

Lee Knows: Of course. Anything for my bestest friend in the world. Now, a night of yearning!

The only way to describe this feeling rooted in the base of your stomach are the words: raw emotion. It’s a cluster. Jitters mixed with a blend of uncertainty and a weird elation? To be fair, you are about to lie your way through expensive drinks and hors d’oeuvres. What even are those?

Regardless, one thing is certain. Minho was right. It’s...discouraging to admit. Frankly, you’d ignore it for as long as possible if you could. But adoration is difficult. In your face. Forward, some would refer to it as.

God, this is all Minho’s fault.

“Ready?” Chan’s shoes click against the hardwood as he departs from his dark hole of a room. He looks stunning, though his attire isn’t much different from his office wear. A small sign of rebellion appears in his appearance, which ignites a flame in your chest.

Chan brings a hand to where your eyes are burning a whole into—his hair. The curls are there, less accentuated than bro night, but evident. “Ah, I didn’t really want to straighten it. I’ve already had fried hair one too many times in my life.”

“It looks nice,” you smile. Your throat tightens as you swallow. “You look nice.”

“Same for you,” he allows a prolonged scan of you. Sheepishly, you do one of those cheesy twirls you always see in the romance movies before Prom night or whatever expensive evening the protagonists are attending. Sincerely, with all the love rampaging through your chest, you’re going to kill Minho for cursing your life like this.

He snaps out of his trance, starting for the door. “We should get going.”

Aside from the quiet hum of the radio, the ride to the venue is silent. It wouldn’t be complete without hitting every redlight, either. Jisung’s luck must have rubbed off on you when you had that group hug.

You sit at one now, red gleaming against your face as you stare out at the sidewalk vacant of pedestrians. No one’s even at any of the other lights.

“You okay?” Chan asks.

“Yeah,” you turn back to him.

“Good,” he nods, instantly averting your eyes.

Perhaps you should have found a way to decline. Even Loba would have been a better date option. At least she has chemistry with him.

To no one’s surprise, the venue is huge. Potentially larger than the stadium. From ceiling to the carpeted floor, decorated properly with the black tie theme.

Chan reluctantly grabs your hand before you tackle the crowd. If you were cold, the warmth radiating against your palm is sufficient for heating the rest of your body. Unluckily, though, you aren’t cold. Your hand feels clammy in his. If he wasn’t attracted to you before, he certainly isn’t now.

You stare at your shoes as you follow.

“Just a heads up about my dad,” he glances over his shoulder to make sure you’re still there, despite the tether between you, “he most definitely thinks we’re dating, so be prepared for questions.”

“Oh great,” you mumble. How do you cure a lovesick heart? What an ambiguous question offering up to a plethora of potential answers. One incorrect answer, though: acting out romance. In real time, too.

“Sorry, I probably should have told you sooner. Kind of slipped my mind,” he squeezes your hand in apology.

Even when you break out into a free space, his hand doesn’t pull from yours. Instead, he slightly tightens the hold as he approaches an older man. Without any prior knowledge (ie. not Googling his dad after he cried on your kitchen floor over the bastard), you could guess this is his dad. They practically have the same face. Striking differences, however, given some context.

“Hey,” the man grins, eyes shifting curiously between you and his son.

You dip your head in respect. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Bang.”

His hand claps your shoulder as you look up. “You don’t have to be so formal with me.” Silence hangs onto the end of his sentence as he glances at Chan for help.

“Y/N,” Chan offers. Your name sounds pretty coming from him.

“Y/N,” his father repeats. You want to sock him for saying your name.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Would have been nicer if Chan had given a little notice,” he laughs for you, alternatively offering a subtle, but not unnoticeable, glare to Chan.

Reflexively, your unoccupied hand clenches until you feel your nails pressing sharply into your skin. Discreetly, you nudge Chan’s arm with your elbow as a sign that you’re here. Slightly, his hand loosens in yours as his nerves slowly ease.

“Sorry, it’s kind of recent,” Chan laughs. His eyes crinkle into a faux delight.

“Of course,” his father nods. “Haven’t seen any articles about it yet, which is good. You might not want this being exposed to the GP.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” Chan manages through gritted teeth, albeit hidden in a way only you could notice.

Then, as if the attack didn’t have a cooldown, he reaches up and tugs at one of Chan’s curls. “Your hair looks...interesting.”

It’s really difficult trying to remain neutral in the face of backhanded advice and compliments. Especially in front of this man, who shouldn’t even be given a title as esteemed as that. He’s scum stuck to the back of your old, rusty car that won’t go away in spite of however many power washes.

“Mr. Bang,” a waiter appears behind him, stealing his attention long enough for you to drag Chan in the opposite direction. He’ll find his way into a business conversation soon anyway. With no recollection of what he said to his son whatsoever. Considering his words will always stick with Chan, your face heats up.

You ignore Chan’s repelling tug, and his words that go in one ear and out the other. A hidden area near the bar is the only place where he has enough courage to stop you. But only because you let it happen.

“If we stayed there much longer, I would have caught an assault charge,” you huff.

“You handled it well, though,” he admits, “Even if you were about to break my hand.”

In the face of anger personified, he manages to smile and crack a laugh.

“Sorry,” you mumble, finally pulling your hand away from his.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asks, glancing back at the bartender serving an established looking woman a margarita. Likely strawberry from its tint.

You shake your head, “I’m good. Thank you.”

“Well, then, I’ll be back,” he reaches out to rub your shoulder before slipping back into the crowd. You’re jealous of the effect he has to just become invisible.

You pull your phone from its hidden spot and open Minho’s awaiting text.

Lee Knows: Has he made a move yet?

You: Why would he?

Lee Knows: Idk you’re kind of obvious.

Before you can answer, an incoming notification from Seungmin pops up.

Seungmo: Is it true that you like Chan?

Minho. Lee Minho. You grimace.

You: No comment.

Seungmo: Sweet. Jeongin owes me twenty bucks. But ew. Who would romantically like Chan?

The text really ties together with the barfing emoji.

“Who’s that?” the subject of both text logs peeks his head over your phone.

You snatch it back, instinctively turning it off. “Seungmin.”

“I didn’t know you were friends with him,” Chan observes, placing the black straw between his lips. His drink is also tinted pink, but not in a margarita glass.

“Minho built the bridge during bro night. Now we plot behind his back,” you joke, promptly making Chan choke. He coughs, covering his mouth with his sleeve as he sputters.

“Don’t do that when I’m drinking!” he laughs.

Your chest heaves as you try to stifle the laugh building up in your chest.

“Oh come on, you’re even gonna have the nerve to laugh at me?” he tips his head to look at your quivering frame. He finds this funny, but he can’t just not tease you. That’s not in the rule book.

“I’m not laughing,” you try to convince him, lips pressed into a fine line as quick breaths leave your nose.

“Right,” he rolls his eyes.

If he were being honest with you, he was doing this as a ploy to take your mind off of his dad. Honesty isn’t one of his finer points, though. So he stays quiet.

“Do you want a sip?” he offers the fruity looking drink to you.

“What is it?” you ask, but accepting the glass anyway.

“Just a strawberry mimosa.”

Again, if he were honest, he’d tell you he only got it to share with you. It was a shot in the dark, neutral enough. But, again, not one of his stronger urges. Minho would refer to this as him ‘making a move’, unbeknownst to you.

You take a quick sip. Humming in approval, you hand it back to him. “It’s good, I can barely even taste the alcohol.”

He fixes his hair absentmindedly as a passing conversation arises. Subject: Minho. Goal: offering both parties ammunition for his next offhand comment or prank.

“Did you know that Minho talks in his sleep?” you laugh.

Chan pulls at a curl, pulling it straight. “He seems like the type.”

You reach up and flick his wrist.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“Stop thinking about what your dad said,” you scold. The nerves in your stomach dissipate as your hand ruffles his hair, fluffing it out. He looks more relaxed as you pull away.

“Sorry,” he whispers.

“Don’t apologize, or I’ll punch you next time.”

“I can see why you and Minho get along so well.”

xi.

By the time you’re set free from the hell of socializing with all of Chan’s dad’s friends who last saw him when he was ‘this high’, the effects of the single mimosa wear off. Luckily for Chan, you drank most of it, so he’s set to drive.

“My feet hurt,” you complain. Maybe it would have been smart to break in the fancy shoes Chan invested for you before the event.

“Do you want me to carry you?” Chan asks, turning to you.

Against all voices inside of you screaming to decline, your pain receptors answer for you. “That’d be great, since you're offering.”

He bends his knees slightly and holds his arms slightly out. When you jump onto his back, he doesn’t even react.

“Do you religiously workout or something?” you joke, though true curiosity shines through your words. You��re pretty obvious.

“Duh. Every breathing moment I’m not working or crying over my dad. It’s a stress reliever.” Your arms, hanging from his neck, feel each vibration in his chest as he laughs.

As he readjusts his hands beneath your thighs, maintaining a steady hold of your body against his, your body grows warm and you can envision your cheeks glowing red. Minho was so right. And the field day he’s going to have with the upcoming weeks until the joke grows stale. You shiver at the thought.

“Are you cold?” Chan asks.

“Oh, no, I was just thinking about Minho.”

“Scary,” Chan mimics his own shiver at the mention.

You press your cheek against his shoulder, his steady steps drawing your eyes shut.

The silence you find is unparalleled to the one in the car earlier. This one is comfortable, homely even. So much so that you feel yourself fall asleep.

xii.

When you get to his apartment, he nudges your shoulder.

Your eyes slowly open, fighting against the dull light from the roof of his car.

“You can spend the night at my house. I’m not confident in pulling a sleeping body out of a car. Putting you in was hard enough,” he chuckles.

You manage a smile and hazily push the passenger door open. From the rest, your feet should be fine walking to the elevator (since there’s one less body than bro night, you’ll fit) and to his apartment. Still, he wraps his arm around your shoulders to steady you all the way up to his front door.

“I’ll grab you some clothes,” he says as you fall onto his couch. You didn’t acknowledge how comfortable it was just from sitting on it. Honestly, it feels like a normal mattress.

He returns from his room quickly with a pair of sweatpants and a shirt. Both black, as you could have guessed.

You walk to the bathroom and sleepily tug your fancy outfit off, careful not to ruin it. As you pull his shirt over your head, a rush of his cologne hugs you. You fight off the ‘I could get used to this’ comment that floats through your head.

You don’t remember walking back to the couch. But you remember Chan pulling a blanket up to your chin.

xiii.

Chan pokes your cheek, drawing you away from your precious dream of living in a cottage on the seafront—conveniently with him. You whine, pulling the blanket over your head in an attempt to ward him away. Dream Chan is waiting for you.

“Y/N, come on. You can’t sleep on my couch all day.” The worst part is: you can hear the faux pout in his voice. And potentially worse: you definitely could sleep on this couch all day if your life depended on it. Even if it didn’t, to be honest.

“Go away,” you grumble.

He sighs. His presence beside you disappears for a few moments, long enough for sleep to momentarily return. The bubble of peace pops eventually.

“Hey, Minho,” his voice returns, slightly muffled by the distance and the cloth pressed against your ear.

This is enough to spring liveliness into your bones. You sit up, hateful eyes shooting in the direction of the voice. When you see him laughing, his dark phone pressed against his ear, you reel. “One of these days, I’m gonna leave your company and then your stocks are gonna plummet,” you groan.

“Is that the best insult you can come up with?” he counters, dropping his hoisted arm to his side.

“I have more, but they're still closed off. You know, since you’ve rudely interrupted my sleep.”

“I’m sorry. Not really, though. It’s like noon.”

“And?”

“I can’t leave you here alone,” he laughs.

“What, do you have a date to attend?”

Awaiting his response, you reach for your phone on the coffee table. Two missed calls. A few Snapchats from Seungmin, likely pictures of his new puppy, but no matter.

“I wish. I have to meet up with Jisung. Pressing news he has to tell me, too confidential to be told over text.”

“He’s gonna confess,” you shoot him a look.

“Yes, because Han Jisung would be in love with me,” he starts for the kitchen. An extended arm pulls at the fridge, and he pulls two waters out.

“To be fair, if I were Jisung, I’d probably be in love with you,” you say, obviously without much thought behind it.

Okay. In your defense, you were a little too focused on reading Minho’s latest string of confusing messages. Trying to decipher the code, Chan’s response passes right through you like a ghost.

Lee Knows: Y/N you won’t believe this.

Lee Knows: Loba’s gonna be so happy.

Lee Knows: I know you’re probably cuddled up with Chan or whatever but call me ASAP.

Chan lowers himself beside you, tossing the cold water in your lap. He peeks over your shoulder. “Huh. That’s pretty much what Jisung said to me.”

“Why are you invading my privacy?” you glare at him, considering elbowing him precisely between the ribs. Ultimately deciding against it, of course. Through tense internal conflict.

“Really? You’re sitting on my couch, in my clothes, refusing to leave, and you wanna talk about privacy?”

Just because he has a point doesn’t mean he should voice it. Plus, he offered the clothes. And the couch for you to sleep on. It really just seems like a self jab to you.

“Should I call him?” Your finger glides across your bottom lip as you look at him for an answer.

“Sure, why not?” he throws his hands up in defeat. “Let’s see what Jisung and Minho have conspired this time.”

The ring echoing sparks a nervous pit in your stomach. You pick at the sticker of the water bottle. It feels like forever by the time he answers.

“Morning, sunshine,” Minho’s sweet voice reeks of sarcasm.

“You’re on speaker, by the way,” you close your eyes to avoid looking at Chan’s burning eyes.

“Oh perfect, you are too,” Jisung joins in, a dry laugh escaping his throat.

“We have some questions,” Minho begins, but fails to continue.

“Such as?” Chan prompts.

“Are you guys dating yet?” Jisung bluntly jumps to the case.

Your heart rams against your chest. That ‘yet’ tugs at your insides.

“Uh, no,” you draw out.

“The media sure thinks otherwise,” Minho jabs.

Chan’s already searching for the articles by the time you can react.

“Fuck.” He throws his head back against the couch in frustration, tilting his phone towards you so you can see.

CEO Bang Chan Lands a Date Weeks Before Comeback.

Bang Caught With Employee?

Bang Chan, CEO, Makes a Striking Appearance at Dad’s Gala.

“What? Did you really think there wouldn’t be journalists there? Come on Chan, do better.” You never knew Jisung had this cutting edge to him. If the words were aimed at you, you know you’d break down. It’s a miracle that Chan is this composed.

“Can you calm down? My god,” you say without realizing. “It’s not like we can’t fix this.” How, though, you ponder?

“If it makes you feel any better,” Minho reluctantly says, like this sentence could put his life on the line, “you looked cute.”

“Thanks,” you mutter. In any other circumstance, you’d be quick to mock him. Well. At least he’s not outwardly making fun of you. Another one of Minho’s late night insights seeping into your thoughts: see the positive.

A text notification drops down against your screen. Despite having the luxury of using his voice, it’s Minho.

Lee Knows: Would now be a bad time to out you?

You: Horribly.

“Well,” Jisung draws in a sharp breath.

“Good luck,” Minho finishes for him.

After he hangs up, promptly after letting you know he fed Loba this morning, you pick up the water bottle and place it against your cheek. The shocking chill redirects your nerves momentarily.

You try not to look at Chan, but you know he’s looking at you.

After a moment to catch your breath, he sighs, “I have an idea.”

It takes an effort to pull your attention to him. A war against yourself.

“Play along with me for a second,” he says, pulling his leg beneath him as he repositions himself beside you. Fully facing you, taking in your entire being—which doesn’t help your burning skin. You’d give anything to be invisible right now.

“What if,” he starts, “we go along with it?”

You laugh in his face. “Are you sure that wouldn’t blow up even worse? Imagine people finding out we faked it. That wouldn’t be good for you.”

He messes with his fingers, suddenly finding an intense interest in the linework of them. He rubs his thumb against the crease of his ring finger. “I don’t think anyone would have to find out it’s fake, per se.”

“How are you so confident?” You look at him in awe. Even when he’s spewing absolute nonsense and under pressure, he looks like a god. Calm as ever. It’s horrifying for your heart. And for common sense, but that’s not as important right now.

“I don’t think Minho would lie to me.”

“What does Minho have to do with this?”

His dimple shows itself as a measly smile crosses his lips. “He may have told me.”

Regardless of what he may have spilled, you know instantly. “You’re kidding me,” you huff. What was the point of his dramatic message, then? A distraction, maybe.

“I mean it’s okay. It’s not like it’s not reciprocated or anything.”

“You are unbelievable,” you shake your head. “How did you know and not say a single thing?”

His hands shoot up in defense. “To be fair, I didn’t find out until after you fell asleep last night. For the second time. He texted me with this whole ‘I know something you don’t’ facade. I wasn’t going to act on it until I had a stupidly romantic plan, but then this happened,” he gestures around the room, as if it’s the decor’s fault. He’s quick to add, “And I couldn’t do that as soon as they said anything about the articles. That’d kinda ruin the mood, don’t you think?”

So Chan’s probably not good with looking amazing under pressure—he very well could be, but you wouldn’t know that right now. Which slightly irritates you, but no matter.

“Well,” you sigh. “I guess that solves the problem.”

He nods, looking at you solemnly.

“Your dad’s gonna be pissed, though,” you comment, and he laughs.

“I know.”

Funny. As soon as the problem jumped at you, the imminent solution scared you just as fast. Your head hurts from the whiplash. That must be a pattern with him.

“You know what’s kinda perfect about this?” he says after a moment.

“Tell me.”

“We can write love songs together now. Isn’t that cool?” The sheer joy in his face shatters any aggravation left in your veins. A smile creeps up on you.

“You’re such a nerd.”

“And you’re madly in love with a nerd so I don’t see what your point is.”

You pull the pillow out from behind your back and chuck it at his head.

“Oh so you’re trying to kill your beloved love interest? Real classy, Y/N.”

“Please just shut up and kiss me already,” you lean over halfway and wait for him to meet you.

Kissing a major CEO doesn’t feel much different than kissing a normal person, but there’s a striking flare of passion to it. Maybe that’s a personal thing.

His lips fit against yours in a way that makes your soul instantly tethered to him. You hope he can’t feel your heartbeat against your lips, for it’s pulsing rather loud and antsy for you.

Chan radiates warmth in every piece of his body, extending all the way to his aura. If it wasn’t for your pesky lungs running out of air, you’d never pull away.

xiv.

In spite of his idea for a romantic confession going down the drain as soon as he decided to think one up, he makes up for it with incessant gestures. Bringing you snacks when he should be in meetings. Buying you sweets when you get stressed. Purchasing Loba a huge cat tree, even though she doesn’t need to be spoiled further. Spending the night at your house even when his is way more comfortable for the sheer reason that Loba would feel lonely.When you mention taking her with you, he’d say, “I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable with the new environment.”

He even postponed bro night because you got sick and wanted to be the one to take care of you.

You don’t need reminders that he loves you, but it’s all the while heartwarming when he says it.

Even now, with his arm wrapped around your waist and his chin propped on your shoulder, he’s thinking aloud in romance land. “What if we went on a vacation to France for Christmas? Isn’t Paris the city of love?”

You watch the TV, but his voice drowns out all of the dialogue. “I don’t know, Chan. Why can’t we stay here?” you shift in his arms to roll over and face him. This close, as you’ve grown accustomed to these past months, you can count all of his eyelashes. And you can see tiny freckles scattered across his cheeks. It must be an Aussie thing.

He presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. “We can stay here. I’m fine with that.”

Loba jumps onto the bed, her collar jingling with her sudden movement to warn you she’s arrived. You pull away from Chan a little to make room for her between you. “Here comes the princess,” you feign disappointment with a sigh.

She claims her spot between your chests and curls herself into a ball, burying her face in Chan’s chest. Per usual. She often forgets who feeds her around here.

“Anyway,” Chan leans over her, kissing your lips gently, “I’m okay wherever. As long as you’re with me.”

After a beat of silence, you cup his cheek delicately and say, “Let’s go to the moon.”

“Yeah,” he grins, “Let’s go to the moon.”

xv.

He leans over and presses a kiss to your temple, setting a bottle of water in front of you.

Jisung gags from across the room. “Get a room,” he complains.

“You are a grown man and you can’t handle a couple being affectionate?” Changbin criticizes. “Get a life, dude.”

“Yeah,” you chime in, “Just ‘cos you live a poor, single life doesn’t mean you can hate on us.”

“Jeez, I didn’t sign up for slander on this Monday morning.”

“You definitely asked for it, but let’s get to work.” Chan draws his phone from his pocket and prepares for the official meeting regarding 3Racha’s next comeback.

God’s Menu was well received from the public, sending Chan’s dating scandal into the shadows. Minho basked in the compliments on the choreography. Seungmin whined when no one on Twitter noticed he was the vocal coach—and Minho didn’t make it much better by rubbing his glory in Seungmin’s face every chance he got. And you couldn’t get Chan to stop showing you funny Tweets and praise for nearly a month. Likely longer.

Here you sit in Chan’s office at the beginning of the new year. A lot of things can go south during six months, but things can shoot north too. Generally, for you, it’s been pretty north.

This time around, Jisung has calculated his homework and broadcasts his thoughts onto the wall.

“I already know what you’re gonna choose for the title track, so let’s choose B-sides,” he adds the disclaimer before anyone can mutter a peep.

“I don’t know about you all,” Chan dips his hands into the pockets of his trousers and leans against his desk, “but I’d say I’m pretty confident in writing a love song right now.”

You groan alongside Jisung. “Stop talking.”

Here we go on the hunt for the song of the new year. Conquer the competition before anyone has a chance. Like you did in creating the song of the summer.

#skz au #skz imagine #skz chan #skz #stray kids chan #stray kids imagine #stray kids x reader #chan x reader #chan au #bang chan x reader #stray kids au #stray kids scenario #bang chan #skz bang chan #chan oneshots #skz oneshots #stray kids oneshot

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creweemmaeec11 · 3 years

Text

My favourite prompts:

A list of my favourite prompts that I’ve posted in the past, all curated into a huge list just for you guys!

Finally, the day has come. The villain is thought to be dead. The hero has won.

Until suddenly the hero learns the villain left them EVERYTHING in their will. Made them the owner and operator of all their illegal business.

Obviously, the hero plans to shut everything down immediately. But they quickly realize just how many people the villain employed… how many family’s they fed…

“You kissed me,”

“I did… and?”

“What-!? What do you mean and!?,”

“What more do you want?”

“An explanation would be a good start!”

“…or I could just do it again…”

*other person turns bright red,*

“Or… or that, I suppose,”

“What the hell are you doing here!?”

“I think the better question would be what in the hell are you wearing,” the villain replied, amusement clear on their face, like they were struggling to keep from laughing.

“What- it’s-” the hero blushed, remembering what they were wearing, “their pajamas! What are you-!”

“Oh my god…” the villain replied, like they were struggling to come to terms with what they were seeing, “the hero of the city not only own, but wears a onesie,”

“Excuse me!” The hero snapped in defence, “They’re comfortable!”

“They? You have more??”

“I gotta say hero,” The villain mused as they casually moved toward the cell bars, “I’ve been called many things in my life: monster, villain, outcast, loser, scoundrel,” they tilted their head, examining the hero before them, “but ‘our last hope?’” *clicks tongue* “that’s a first,”

You live in a world where anyone born with superpowers must become a super hero. It doesn’t matter what the power is, or how small it is, it is mandatory. It was deemed that having anyone with superpowers work alongside regular people was “unsafe” and “unfair.” Every year, dozens of superhero’s with powers useless for fighting are killed. You’ve managed to make it this long with nobody finding out you have a superpower. But how much longer can you hide in plain sight?

The city’s villain mysteriously disappears and hasnt been seen in a week. The people are celebrating, but the hero is worried. What if the villain is planning something big? Determined to stop whatever evil plan is brewing, the hero tracks the villain down, but they dont find what they expected. Instead of evil plotting, the villain:

-Has been taking care of a sick pet -Come down with the flu -Been helping arrange a friends wedding -Found out they were pregnant -Is getting married themselves -Mourning the death of a loved one -Has adopted a young pet and been occupied taking care of them -Has been helping one of their lackeys who’s in a desperate situation -Has been feeding the homeless and offering blankets

You’re the most wanted villain by all highest ranking authorities, but all the heros “just can’t seem to catch you” (they always let you get away) because all your crimes are things like stealing expensive medication and then donating it to hospitals, robbing toy stores and donating to orphanages, robbing banks and giving to charity, robbing grocery stores and feeding the homeless, ect

A hero/villain with the power to materialize their own tattoos. Got a wrench tattoo? Now you’ve got a wrench. Got a tattoo of wings? A bomb? A get away car? Well…

Dragon tattoos have always been popular, havent they?

Write about a genius inventor villain who, while watching the news, learns about a sick child in hospital doctors arnt sure they can cure. The villain realizes something theyve invented could cure the child. Now the hard part is convincing them to let the villain help.

The villain starts to notice the hero is feeling more down the usual, so they start leaving the hero little notes to cheer them up. All is going well until the hero figures out who is sending them.

In a world of magic users where everyone is divided into the 6 eye colours, and the colour of your eyes represents what your powers are. Each colour has an elemental power, can talk to a certain type of creature(Invertebrates, fish, amphibians, reptiles, birds, mammals), and has 3 other powers. For example, blue eyes control water, can commune with fish, etc. Everyone in the world has either red, orange, yellow, green, blue or purple eyes. Except for you, you were born with black eyes. Everyone is afraid of what your powers will be, but they should be more worried about the kind of creatures you can talk to…

A hero and a villain (and maybe their sidekicks, up to you) trapped in a haunted house or haunted location.

-One is scared so the other comforts them. They are both scared but trying to act like they aren’t. -One doesn’t believe in ghosts, and the other has the power to communicate with them or see them. -Ghosts aren’t real, but one continues to try and freak the other out, who claims they aren’t scared. -Ghost wingman. I need’ d say no more -One gets possessed, so the other has to do the whole ‘kiss to break a curse’ thing to bring them out of it. -The classic Person A thinks ghosts aren’t real so they prank Person B to scare them. Then shit gets real, but person B doesn’t believe person A, thinking its just another prank.

“I trusted you! You promised!”

“I kept my promise! I got you your results! Don’t question my methods from a top that high moral horse or yours, especially when the only reason you made a deal with me in the first place was because you were too much of a coward to do what needed to be done!”

The local wildfire has been growing out of control, forcing the city to have to evacuate. Suddenly, the villain with water powers shows up to lend a hand to fire fighters.

“Tell me hero,” the villain spoke, chains jangling from where they hung on the villains wrists as they walked up to the bars of the jail cell, “If you wanted to skip a press conference, could you?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re sisters getting married, but your needed for a big event at the hero academy that day. Would you be allowed to attend the wedding? What about if your brother stole a pack of gum. Could you let it slide? Not would you, but could you?”

The hero paused. Could they? They had responsibilities! They had commitments to the city, and to the serving of justice!

The villain laughed at the heros silence, “I may be in jail, but you’re more chained then I’ll ever be,”

“So tell me,” the villain drawled, dragging a finger across the heros skin, making them shiver, “what changed your mind?”

Hero discovers the villain has a day job. It isnt at all what they expected. (Day care, animal shelter, etc)

“What are you going to do if you beat me, and suddenly the city dosent need a hero? What are you going to do if you get hurt and can no longer fight, and the city forgets about you just like all the heros before you? Who will you be when your legacy crumbles under the weight of all those who follow? Will you take up knitting?”

The hero stared unblinking and frozen as the villain took a step forward.

“Sure, your a hero. But what are you without that?”

The villain took another step forward.

“Your nothing, heroism is all you have. That pathetic title you curl up to every night. But without it?” They looked the hero up and down, “Absolutely nothing…”

A villain retires from villainy and gets plastic surgery (or simply never showed their face) so they can live a normal life without being recognized. While living their new life, they bump into the hero, and the two start falling for eachother. But the villain is terrified of the hero finding out the truth

The hero slammed their front door as quickly as they could, eyes wide, heart pounding.

The villain. The villain was outside their door.

“Well that was rude,”

A hero with magic powers, in a world where magic is unheard of. They have always kept their powers a secret, fearing they would be shunned, or tested on. They never use their powers in battle.

One day, while practicing their magic alone in the woods, the villain appears out of nowhere.

Before the hero can explain, the villain asks, “you have powers too?”

A hero dies. Or at least, they think they do. The next thing they know they wake up at their own funeral. And the only person there? Is the villain.

“The worst part, is you had the nerve to call it love”

#hero x villain #prompts #prompt #writing prompt #writing prompts #story prompt #fic prompts #hero x villain prompts #hero x villain prompt

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after-witch · 3 years

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Emotional Loan [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Title: Emotional Loan [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Synopsis: You shouldn’t be this nervous about telling your boyfriend that you want to transfer to a college out of state. Ransom is nothing if not generous with you--so why is your stomach in knots?

Word Count: 3144

notes: yandere, sexism, emotional abuse

You shouldn’t be this nervous. Really. Ransom has been nothing but generous with you, and in turn you’ve been patient--maybe too patient, maybe too forgiving, sometimes--with him. It’s only fair that he extends that patience to you, especially with something as serious, as important, as your future.

So why does the thought of telling him about your plan to switch to a new college make you feel like you’re going to throw up?

You puff out your cheeks and stretch your arms across the breakfast table, leaning down and wishing you could ask someone else to tell him in person. But the thought is ridiculous, and you push it away in favor of rehearsing what you’re going to say for the millionth time since you made up your mind.

You will tell him about the need to change your degree if you want to ever be in the contending for a museum curator position in the future. You will tell him about the fact that the best place to get this specific degree, the one that will put you right in the open arms of the internship that leads to your dream curator field, is in California. You will tell him about the apartments you’ve already inspected. You will tell him about the fact that he can visit anytime, that you will visit him, that you can text and video call and vacation together. You will tell him that you love him and you want to make this work.

You will tell him all these things… and yet. Yet while you can rehearse the words, rehearse how you’ll push your printed out papers showing exactly what you need to do and why towards him so he can see you’re telling the exact truth, you can’t rehearse how Ransom will react. You try to imagine, but all that comes up is a blurry, grey blank.

Is he going to freak out? Get pissed? Or worse--not care at all? Maybe you’ve overestimated how much Ransom has invested in this relationship. Maybe he’d rather cut you loose than deal with a long distance relationship. Maybe the second you mention that you’ll be moving to California, he’ll be mentally checking a list for someone local to hook up with the minute you’re gone.

You’re not sure which reaction would scare you more.

But you don’t have much time to think about it, because you hear him padding down the stairs, hear the din of some video he’s still watching, probably whatever he put on while he was in the shower. You can’t bear to look up, and you thumb aimlessly, nervously around your phone’s apps while you listen to the sound of him scraping the eggs and bacon you’d cooked onto a plate.

He plops down in the seat across from you and you glance up. He catches your eye and gives a tight-lipped, tired smile. He was out late. But he’d texted you about staying out late earlier in the evening, so you didn’t feel you had the right to be mad--that’s the condition you’d given him, after all, when he’d accused you of being controlling. When he’d called you a nag and accused you of being jealous of other women, women he had no feelings for.

“I just want to know when you’re going to be out late so I don’t stay up half the night thinking you’re dead somewhere.” And so he did--let you know--and you swallowed down your feelings of suspicion at his late night adventures.

Maybe… maybe this is a bad time to tell him. Maybe you should wait for a day when he’s had more sleep. Maybe you should run your thoughts by someone else, get a second opinion. You’re focusing on the table, on the light from the phone screen, anything to avoid looking up and starting the dreaded conversation.

“What’re those papers for, babe?”

Shit.

Your hands tremble just a bit when you set the phone down, and the way it vibrates against the table mimics the way your stomach feels right now. You suck in a breath and look up, but you can’t make eye contact just yet and you push the words out, stumbling and breathy and rapid, without stopping to breathe until you’ve said your peace.

“Ransom this is really hard for me but we need to talk about something and I don’t want you to be mad but I need to change schools if I’m ever going to get a shot at a curator position and the best school for this is in California and I know it’s going to be hard but I love you--I love you and we can make long distance work if you want and if you don’t want well--well I don’t know what I’ll do then but I just wanted to let you know now because I’ve got to turn in my application next week and please please try to see this from my point of view because it’s all I’ve ever wanted and you know that.”

You take a shaky breath and hold your hands together on top of the table, clasped and shaking from the adrenaline and anxiety coursing through you. You look up at Ransom with trepidation, hoping that he’s not mad--or indifferent.

But he’s neither. He simply looks… confused.

He simply stares at you for a moment, a dumbfounded expression on his face as he processes all of the words that just came rapid-fire out of your mouth.

“California?” Is all he says, finally.

You take the opportunity to push the stack of printed papers towards him. “These are… it’s… well, emails from people in the industry, some important articles about getting positions at museums. About where you have to go. Oh, there’s apartment listings there, too.” You even printed out detailed information about the qualifications for acceptance, and put them in a neat little table next to your own academic and experience record. You were a shoo-in, and you didn’t feel the need to be humble about it.

He grabs the stack and starts thumbing through, not saying another word as he seemingly thoroughly reads everything you’ve printed out. Your stomach feel like floating lead, heavy and flipping. You can’t tell what he’s thinking or feeling, and he’s not giving you anything but a concentrated look at he looks through the statements, the listings, the plan you’ve outlined so neatly.

He finally sets the stack back down and simply stares at it for a few moments. Taking it in. Taking his thoughts in. Finally, Ransom looks up at you and the intensity in his eyes makes your stomach drop. He doesn’t look mad. He looks--and you hate it--disappointed, sad even.

“Look…” He sighs, eyebrows lifting as his gaze drifts away before settling back on you. “I’m not going to lie and pretend I’m okay with this. I’m not. Jesus, babe. California? Four years?”

“It’s no--” you interrupt, but he holds up his hand and you stop.

“But. But, but,” he lightly pounds his fist on the stack of tables, an almost nervous gesture in your eyes. “It’s what you want? What you need for your career? There’s no other way for you to get this--” he waves his hands around, “museum gig you’re after?”

You nod, unable--no, afraid--to speak, in case your voice is too tight with emotion.

“Then I guess I can deal with it.”

“What?” You blurt the words out. You expected… an argument. Or for him to blow you off, make it seem like you weren’t serious. Or, as you’d admitted to yourself earlier, for him to throw you away and find someone who wouldn’t make him wait around. Not… acceptance.

He laughs at your reaction and your stomach feels lighter, the tension in your body starting to fizzle away. “

“It’s not like I have to worry about getting the money to come visit, right? And hey,” he continues, “if you need someone to put in a good word to this school… maybe throw some cash at a dean or something…” He raises his eyebrows, wiggling them a little in a way that makes you snort.

You lean forward and nab one of the lukewarm pieces of scrambled eggs from his plate and pop it into your mouth. “Since you’re offering to help, I could use someone to check over my application…”

The envelope is too small. It’s way too small. Why did they make the envelope so damn small? Maybe the acceptance letter was sent on its own, and all of the other information--the giant packet telling you where to send payments and sign up for courses--would be sent to your email. But the thought of checking your email and seeing nothing makes you feel sick, so you keep your phone next to you on the table.

“You gotta open it,” Ransom says, soft and casual. He doesn’t move from his place beside you on the sofa, watching you with a neutral look. He probably knows why the envelope is too small, but he won’t say the words out loud--just like you won’t. If you say it out loud, then it’s true.

There's nothing else for you to do except confront the truth, and you rip open the envelope and pull out the folded paper with far too few printed words on the page.

Rejected. Outright. Completely. Not a fit for the school or the program.

If you weren’t sitting on the couch, you would have fallen over. As it is, you feel like the world is collapsing, like the sofa underneath you is melting into the floor and taking you with it.

“I don’t understand.” You can only manage to whisper, voice small--reflecting the way the rest of you feels. Small and falling and stupid.

Ransom takes the paper from your hand, and you don’t bother keeping a grip on it. You register the fact that he’s put an arm around your shoulders, but you can barely feel it through the numbness of rejection.

“What the fuck,” he says, voice louder next to your ear. It makes you shrink in more, even though his anger isn’t directed at you. “What the fuck.”

It’s you want to say, what you would say, if you had the strength. The energy. But the absolute, complete way that your future has suddenly become an unknown blank has left you stuck and heavy.

It doesn’t make sense. Your transcript was perfect--should have been perfect. You should have gotten in. You got top grades and references from professors and a list of relevant experiences that most students wouldn’t have until the end of their degree.

“I’m going to call them and find out what-the-fuck,” Ransom says suddenly, getting up with a jerking motion and walking towards the kitchen, where his phone rests on the counter. “No,” he says, clicking his tongue. “Better yet. I’ll call my grandfather. He’ll know how to convince this so-called top school that they made a big mistake.”

The thought makes your head spin. “Ransom, don’t.” You’re not a child. But you feel like one, like you just failed a math quiz and your dad is calling to find out why the teacher doesn’t know the quiz answers from his ass. “You can’t just call a school and make them accept someone.”

Your legs feel wobbly when you stand up, and Ransom practically swoops back to your side to hold you steady. He leads you back down on the sofa and you feel yourself accepting the loss, accepting that your dream is gone, or at least altered.

He squeezes an arm around you when you finally begin to cry, and for the moment you feel better, less worthless, less hopeless. It was just one rejection. One egg. You can’t put every egg in one basket, as they say.

You rest your head against his shoulder and sigh into it, enjoying the warmth and closeness. A feeling of luck pings at your heart. You’re really lucky to have a guy like Ransom. He’s not perfect, and sometimes you fight, and sometimes he does things that hurt you, but--are you perfect? Do you do things that hurt him, too? Don’t put all your eggs in one basket, and don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

With comfort comes clarity. The world isn’t ending. Your future isn’t blank. There are other options.

You feel almost perked up when you speak: “I guess I can apply to other schools. Maybe it won’t be the exact one I wanted but… there’s some in Chicago, even Michigan, that might work.”

Ransom’s arm tightens around you, slightly but firmly enough to notice.

“Babe, you’re not serious.”

You pull back enough to look up at his face.

“What do you mean?”

You can see Ransom fighting with his annoyed expression, trying to soften it up. You dimly recognize that you should be grateful--you know how snarky he can get with others when he’s not putting on a filter.

“Your transcript was fucking impeccable. I saw it! I sent it in for you! And you still didn’t get in. You think these other schools are going to accept you….” He trails off, leaning his head back, looking disappointed of all things. Disappointed in you? Or the school? You can’t tell. All you know is that it makes you feel low again, like you’re nothing, falling into the floor with a sense of worthlessness.

“I’m not tryin’ to be an asshole,” he says, and there’s a flicker of doubt in your mind about the truth of that statement. “I’m just trying to be honest. I don’t want you to have to deal with getting rejected from all those other schools, too. You know what I mean?”

You swallow down against the tightness in your throat. “Their standards might not be as strict. I know they’re not as strict. I could get in.”

He looks down at you, the same intense gaze from the morning that you told him about your plan on his face. The gaze that let you know he believed in you and would do anything--even go long distance for almost half a decade--for you. A gaze that let you know he was serious, honest, giving you his thoughts with an open heart. “Keyword. Could.”

It’s like a slap to the face.

“Are you saying I’m too stupid to get in anywhere?” You start to pull away, but his arms don’t let up and so all you can do is turn your head away, cheeks hot with humiliation. “Don’t you support me?”

“Jesus, no--and Jesus, yes.” Annoyance is bleeding into his voice and you wish you’d just ripped up the envelope and avoided the entire conversation. You keep your eyes on the floor, humiliating tears blurring your vision as you stare at the sliver of a stain from soda that you never got out of the cream colored rug.

“You are the smartest chick I know,” he says, voice a little softer, now. At least he’s trying to stop being an ass. “Seriously, you are. Maybe you’re just a--a different kind of smart. A kind of smart these schools don’t give a shit about. Do something here with that smartness, then. Stay where you’re at. Fuck, talk to the dean and tell them you want to to an independent degree or something. But don’t get your heart broken a million times when you could just make the most of what you’ve got here.” He squeezes, affectionate. “What we’ve got here.”

It’s not what you want. It’s not viable. You can’t get to where you want to be if you stay where you are. But he’s right--he’s right, isn’t he, because if you can’t get into a school with a nearly picture-perfect record and recommendations and experience oozing out of your ears, will there be any school that accepts you?

And if you stay here, Ransom is here, and you’re already in school here, and maybe you won’t get anywhere near a curator position (but you want to, it’s your dream, why give up on your dream?) but you can do something else, surely. Ransom will help you, like he always does. You might fight and argue and sometimes it gets intense but he always lends you a shoulder to cry on, doesn’t he? He’s always honest with you, even when it hurts. Even when it hurts like this, crushing and disappointing and sharp.

He pulls you closer to him, and this time you don’t fight as you rest your head back on his shoulder.

“So?” He starts to gently stroke your hair, the way he knows you like it.

You nod, sniffling against the last of the tears, unable--afraid--to say anything.

“That’s my girl,” he says, before gently flicking your forehead and reaching for his phone. “Hey, let’s go see a movie tonight. My treat.”

You nod against his shirt, unable to do more than mumble back, “Okay.” Okay, okay, okay. It’s a soft, unceremonious end to your California dreams.

#yandere ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom x reader #yandere #afterwitch writes

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simsadventures · 4 years

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Gilded: Chapter 2: Our House (The Mess We’ve Made)

Mobster! Steve x Reader

Summary: Steve doesn’t like to be questioned, and you learn that the hard way. When he wants something, he gets it, and now he wants to have everything over with as quickly as possible. But there are a few bumps on the road.

Warnings: mafia au, swearing, violence, blood, threats, violence on women, slight mention of a rape, fluff, I mean, Steve is very demanding here, but it’s a theme so…

Word Count: 6087

A/N: I’m beyond excited that you guys liked the first chapter so much and are giddy for the next one. So, here we have it. More of our arranged couple and more mafia stuff. Let me know what you thought, and again, thank you for reading! xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

“You did what? Are you fucking kidding me right now? Y/N, I love you, but you must have hit your head real hard because this is not like you, at all,” Caroline reasoned, but you could see she was close to losing it completely.

They were both waiting for you to come home that night, and you first had to make sure neither of them would talk about anything you were about to reveal. You trusted both of them with your life, that wasn’t the issue, but you were afraid that if they talked outside of your apartment, Steve might know and the things he could do to them would be the core of your future nightmares, you were sure of it. When they finally agreed, you got to explaining. But you didn’t even get a full sentence out before they started jumping in it, asking questions and wildly swatting their hands, trying to make you see just how stupid of an idea it actually was.

“Do you think I don’t know it sounds insane? I do, but also like, it’s gonna take care of so many issues, and, I mean, all he needs from me, as far as I understood it, is to go to a few events with him, go to some vacations with him and that would be all. I mean, I can still have the job I actually enjoy and don’t have to slave in that fucking pub with all those weirdos, and I won’t have to worry about money,” you tried to sound reasonable and sensible, but from the looks on your best friends’ faces, you weren’t doing too good of a job.

“Right, right, cool. So, you wanna tell me that the most notorious fucking mobster in America will let you live here, with us, while he parades you around the city at night? Or that he doesn’t have enemies you should worry about? Or what about the fucking police, Y/N, huh? Have you thought of that? You will be affiliated with a known criminal, and they will start to notice you and your life won’t be as easy as you picture it,” Aidan sighed and massaged his temples, the stress of it all getting the best of him.

You sat down next to them and smiled at them fondly. It was sweet that they worried so much about you, and just the mere thought that there were people on this planet who gave a shit about you, even to the point of yelling at you at 11 PM on Wednesday night was heartwarming. You understood their reservations, you really did, but you also knew this all before you said yes to Steve. You knew it wouldn’t be as easy, and while you weren’t sure whether you would have to live with Steve in Manhattan or somewhere else, or if he let you just be on your own, you knew you could take it. The police didn’t scare you, you’ve had enough training in diverting the police from yourself, so the police was the last thing on your mind. Besides, you were signing petitions left and right to defund them, so… You were pretty sure they already knew your name from the demonstrations in front of their precincts.

Enemies were a bit more challenging to handle, but you were sure Steve wouldn’t want his new wife to die on his watch. How would that look for him? So really, all that was at stake was your sanity and your integrity, and thinking about it, Steve didn’t ask you to do something illegal. The only thing he wanted from you was to be a good girl, marry him and be by his side. And you could do that. And you were only human, Steve was a sight to behold, so you didn’t mind being connected to him, even though he specifically told you he wasn’t attracted to you.

That one still stung, but maybe it was for the better. You wouldn’t have to worry about doing something stupid when the other party was completely uninterested, and knowing it, you could just never let your body have even a minor crush on him, so the situation really resolved itself even before anything could have happened.

“I really think I can gain more than I can lose, you guys. I didn’t imagine my life being like this, far from it, and maybe Steve and his money can help me get where I want. And I won’t even have to sleep with him or anybody else. He even talked about putting a no-sex clause in our contract so that I would be safe even on paper. You always tell me that I’m not taking enough risks and that I stay rooted in my comfort zone. Well, this is quite the improvement, isn’t it?” You laughed, and they both just shook their heads but chuckled nevertheless.

“You are a psychopath, babe,” Aidan muttered but gave you a side hug, and Caroline soon joined.

“We love you and worry about you, that’s all. But if you feel good about this, then so do we. I just hope he’s ready for our wrath if anything even remotely bad happens to you,” Caroline said, and the three of you started to laugh. You would bet somebody like Steve would be scared shitless from two 20-something-year-olds who, one who was scared of wasps so much she almost fainted every time she saw one, and the other having a hard time peeling a grapefruit. Yup, they were the combat duo you would bet your money on in a fight, for sure.

Waking up, you had a good feeling about the decision, even more so than the night before. You had mulled it over and over in your head, seeing that this was the way out of everything and also your way to a lot of those things you wanted to have by now. You even thought of the saying, sometimes, the only way out is through, and this was your through. There was no foreseeable way of getting out of debt, of getting out of the depression caused by your hectic and unsatisfying life. Your way through it was accepting Steve’s money and his help for a year, freeing you from the shackles of your current life, in a sense.

That it would come with a different kind of shackled you were sure of, but everything was better than your life now because you really couldn’t even call it a life. You wanted so many things, see so many places, but the world wasn’t made for the people playing by the rules, slaving in their ordinary jobs. No, this capitalist world was made for sharks, and you had been disguised as a sheep for too long.

When you got to the gallery, you were welcomed by a sight that surprised you, and not in a good way. Where you were used to sitting every day for the past two years was another girl. She was pretty, and you bet she was wonderful, but at that very moment, all you saw was that somebody replaced you.

You swiftly unlocked the door and walked in, the girl standing up immediately to greet you with a shy smile and a wave. You couldn’t be a complete bitch to her, after all, this was way above her pay grade. So, you just nodded and strode towards the offices where the director sat.

“Good morning, Ms Y/L/N. I see you have met Laura, our new receptionist. And before you say anything, I just wanted to tell you that we appreciate everything you had done for this gallery for so long and that we thought it was time for you to learn some other skills, as you are more than capable of that,” he smiled warmly, and you weren’t sure if it was a nice way of saying you were let go of, or if you were promoted.

“What does that mean, Mr Jones?” You asked incredulously, not really in the mood to search in between the lines.

“You have become my personal secretary, Ms Y/L/N. Congratulations! I know you have the aspiration of becoming a curator, so, this way, you could get a little closer to art even though there is still some way to go, naturally,” he winked and chuckled, and you let yourself relax with the news.

Wow! Your life was already taking a turn for the better, and all you had to was to go with your gut and risk a little. You wanted to laugh out loud at the universe and its mysterious ways of working. But, thinking of mysterious, your mind suddenly pictured Steve and his devilish smirk, and your smile faltered.

“And may I ask, why now? Don’t get me wrong, I’m extremely grateful for the chance, and I will do my best to succeed in expectations. I just wonder what happened that the chance has come now?”

Mr Jones scratched the back of his neck, and you gritted your teeth. You already knew that it wasn’t the universe praising you for your bravery. No, this had nothing to do with the universe.

“More things have come together, to be quite honest, Ms Y/L/N. First, my long-time secretary left for her maternity leave a few weeks ago, as you might remember, and I have been looking for her replacement ever since. And I forgot what an amazing student we had here, who is already established with the clients and with our partners, and that this will be a win-win situation for everybody. And your fiancée was quite adamant that your resumé is remarkable and that I should give you a chance,” he smiled and piled gathered in your throat.

How Steve managed to persuade Jones to do this was beyond you when you left him only a few hours ago, most of which were during the night, so there wasn’t much room for negotiation between the parties. You just hoped people wouldn’t start treating you differently when they realised your affiliation. That was the only thing you obviously didn’t think through: the opinion of the society. And since the New York society had been one of the most judging and selective ones even back in the 19th and 20th century, you knew not that much has changed since. People were afraid of Steve, with a good reason too, and now they might become frightened of you too. Fucking awesome.

“I want to assure you that my fiancée won’t be present in my work life, however notorious he is,” you tried to sound as confident in what you were saying as you could, but you weren’t sure if you were doing a good job. But Mr Jones just smiled and sat down, signalling for you to sit down opposite of him, and he started talking about business and about what the job actually was. And while you tried to give him your full attention, there was this angry voice in your head, ready to bite Rogers’ head off. He would meet your famous wrath sooner than you thought, but it was all his fault anyway.

The job was, actually, quite impressive. As your boss told you, you got to meet several artists already, you could sit in the meeting where they decided what kind of art the gallery was interested in, and you soaked all that in like a sponge. You were radiating by the end of the day, and the wrath subsided a little, but only till the moment, you saw a black SUV parked in front of the gallery and one of the turtlenecks standing beside it.

You decided that if Steve could do what he wanted, so could you and so you walked in the opposite direction than was the car, leaving the turtleneck yelling your name and running after you. But you ignored him completely, even when he reached you and patted your shoulder, slightly bewildered that you recognised him and still decided not to do as he said. Oh, these obnoxious mobsters needed to learn that they couldn’t get everything they wanted.

“Miss Y/L/N, please, you need to come with me. Mr Rogers is waiting for you in the car,” he said, and you finally stopped and looked him deep in the eyes while you folded your arms across your chest. You hoped you looked intimidating, but since the guy was wearing a pair of sunglasses you couldn’t be entirely sure whether it worked. But you didn’t relent and just stared him down, and when he shifted uncomfortably, you knew you were winning this contest.

“Would you please come with me? Mr Rogers hates to wait,” he mumbled the last thing, and you would have snickered if you weren’t so determined to be the tough guy there. It was only when you heard other footsteps somewhere behind you, and the guy in front of you actually flinched that you realised the big boss himself was there to get you.

“No, Mr Rogers really doesn’t like to wait, Y/N. Is this the way to treat your fiancée?” Steve asked when he reached you, and you shuddered from the poisonous undertone in his voice. Safe to say, it might not have been the best strategy to try and walk away from him, but you had decided for it once, and now you were gonna stand by your decision.

“Oh, I don’t know, darling,” you hissed but continued before he could comment on your behaviour, “is intimidating my boss to give me a promotion a way to treat me? You really think you have control over everything and everyone, Steve, but let me tell you something. This is my fucking life, and you have no fucking right to march in and do as you please!”

He just raised a brow, and his nostrils flared before you felt his hand on your upper arm, squeezing it so tightly you were sure your arm wasn’t getting any blood. But you didn’t want him to win, which would definitely happen if you pleaded with him, so you just gritted your teeth and stared him down. Steve nodded at the guys around him to leave you two, and they took a few steps back, sure enough to protect their boss but to give him at least some privacy with you.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, talking to me in that tone, huh? I think you’ll understand soon enough that disobedience is punished greatly here, honey! So, stop acting like a brat who gets off from causing scenes in public and come with me. And, for your information, this is a fucking order, and I dare you to move from me again,” Steve spat in your ear, and you trained your eyes on the ground.

Well, not your best idea, you had to admit that, and you valued your own head enough to just shut up and follow him. And by following him, you meant walking beside him because Steve obviously didn’t trust you enough to let go of your arm, even if his grip loosened slightly.

He thrust you in the car with a force that could scare many, but it only just slightly surprised you. When he finally sat down next to you, he bid the driver to just go and stared out of the window, not addressing you in any shape or form, and you huffed in annoyance.

“Look, Steve, you brought me here for a reason, so what do you want? I thought we agreed to meet tomorrow and not today, in broad daylight in front of my job.”

“Show some respect!” He roared, and you saw the eyes of the bodyguards, or whatever they were, flick towards you in fear. It was funny how such huge men were clearly so afraid of one of them. You remained calm, however, and just remained looking at him. Then you realised something. He didn’t mind your mouth the night before that much when the two of you were alone, but he couldn’t stand it when people were around. He needed to be the man, his people needed to know that nobody treated him differently and that not even his future wife could disobey him, let alone publicly. You swallowed your pride and shifted your gaze elsewhere.

“I’m sorry, Steve, I’ve had a long day, and I’m taking it on you now. I just wished you spoke to me before you called my boss, but still, thank you for the opportunity,” you muttered meekly, and the triumphant look on Steve’s face spoke volumes. He just hummed and patted your shoulder, his own shoulders slacking and relaxing. These people were so easy to read, you were actually quite astounded that they weren’t played like violins by some secret agents or something like that. Well, you thought, at least you could play them, and it would make your life a little easier if you did it well enough.

“I came because we needed to discuss more things, honey. I had a pressing matter to attend to yesterday so I couldn’t stay longer, but I have the whole afternoon reserved just for you today, so we can go over all the parts of our agreement in great detail and that we can start planning our wedding,” he flashed you a smile, and it was your time to tense up because if you were to have a wedding soon, which was clearly something Steve wanted, you needed to get a move on and that stressed you out. The arrangement might have been just for a year, but you knew that Steve’s wedding was supposed to be magnificent, showing all that he obtained and all that the mere mortals couldn’t have. You included.

But then you realised something.

“Sure, but I need to take care of something first if you don’t mind,” you added quickly seeing the mobster next to you tensing up again. “As I no longer work at Joey’s pub, I need to get my things from there. My boss called me this morning telling me that I still had my work shoes and other stuff there and that I should pick it up or they’ll throw it away.”

“Just give the address to the driver, we’ll get it, and then we’ll go to my place- oh, excuse me- our place and discuss what we need,” he said simply, and you followed his orders.

The rest of the drive was silent, and you could unwind a little, reminisce about the 24 hours you have had. From taking the subway anywhere you needed to, to driving in an armoured SUV with the most prolific mafia boss of the USA, your life took quite the turn. You needed to set some boundaries with Steve, but you needed to do it tactfully and, most importantly, alone. You hadn’t known him at all, but you knew the type. There would be reasoning with him as long as he thought he had a free choice and knew that his position wasn’t neither threatened nor questioned.

This was a part of your agreement that you actually didn’t mind. Joey’s pub was not the fanciest of places in New York and while some of the customers were lovely and tipped well, the weekend sort was made of sleazy assholes who would touch you without your permission and not having to be around them would definitely be something you could get used to.

The boss who’s name wasn’t Joey, surprise, surprise, but Thomas, nodded your way when you came in. The pub was only half full, but the odour of mixed sweat, beer and vomit was ever the same. Gosh, how you couldn’t wait to be out of there.

Taking the places of the little box by the box with beer cans, you scanned the supply closet one last time and nodded as a goodbye. However, when you turned around, you bumped into somebody, and it sent you flying back a bit as you didn’t expect anybody to be there with you. You looked up to see Thomas standing there, looking pissed.

“Funny! I never knew you were on the market, pussycat. And now I find out you are newly engaged and to Mr Rogers no less? I thought you said you didn’t want a relationship,” he sneered as he neared you and you instinctively took a step back. That he had a crush on you, you knew, and you told him multiple times that you weren’t interested, that you weren’t looking for a boyfriend and that you just wanted to be left alone. You scoffed at his immature behaviour now and tried to push around him without saying a word because you knew there was no talking to people like him. But he wouldn’t let you go, of course.

“Maybe if I fucked you, you would see that I deserve you just as much, huh?” He hissed and took your already sore arm, yanking you towards him till you were pressed tight against his chance. You still remained calm, knowing that trashing and screaming would get you nowhere.

“Let me go, Thomas. Steve is outside, and he is waiting for me, so I suggest you take your disgusting hands off of me and just let me go,” you tried to reason, but, again, there was no such thing with dumbasses like him. What was more, he probably didn’t like your remark about his disgusting hands, and so, without warning, he slapped you right across your left cheek.

That made you gasp for the first time because till then, you really thought he was just playing and that he would let you go, but now seeing the bewildered look on his face, you suddenly realised that maybe you didn’t have the upper hand in the argument.

“Like fuck he is, what would Rogers do in these parts, huh? I bet it wasn’t even him who called me last night and that you were just trying to get the upper hand. But guess what, you fucking whore, you are not getting out of here until I fuck you unconscious,” he roared and you gulped, trying to think of possible escape routes. But you were in a fucking supply closet, so there was literally just the one door, and Thomas was occupying the whole space in front of it. So, you’d just have to fight your way through. You were a little rusty, but this big-bellied idiot would stand no chance.

But before you had the opportunity to execute your plan, the door behind him flew open and revealed one fo the turtlenecks (you made a mental note to actually learn their names because this was just awkward) and a very angry-looking Steve.

Thomas faltered in his movement towards you and checked who had the audacity to interrupt him. The shock and fear on his face were priceless.

Steve didn’t waste any more time as he lunged himself at the man and punched him straight in the nose, and the sickening crack you heard must have meant Steve broke it. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care enough to pity Thomas. You warned him, even though you didn’t expect Steve actually coming to your rescue. There were some advantages to being tied to him, it seemed.

The turtleneck then took Steve’s place by Thomas, probably so that he wouldn’t escape and Steve marched towards you, still looking too pissed for you to stand calmly under his searching gaze.

“Did he hurt you?” He sneered but didn’t wait for your reply as he checked your face, seeing your puffed left cheek which told him all he needed to know. The bruise already forming on your arm was both from him and from Thomas, so he didn’t comment on that, but Steve wiped the trickle of blood in the corner of your mouth before he turned around and now calmly walked towards Thomas.

“Next time that degenerated brain of yours even thinks of her, I will come and slice your throat. Am I clear?” Steve spat into Thomas’s face who just nodded, probably glad that he got out of it so easily. What he didn’t see coming (and to be honest, neither did you) was the turtleneck suddenly pulled out a big-ass knife out of somewhere and the air filled with the bone-chilling cries as he cut Thomas’ finger off as if it was the most normal thing to do before he wiped the knife on Thomas’s shirt and tucked it back in his pocket. The blood flowing from the wound was thick and almost purple, and you had to shut your eyes at the scene. But the image was already seared into your brain forever.

“Fucking rapist,” Steve said and kicked the already laying man, motioning to the turtleneck and you that you were to follow him. But your legs weren’t listening to your brain, as you were just watching Thomas writhing in pain, wailing and sobbing, and all that because he dared to touch you. An involuntary shudder shook your body, and it as only when you felt an arm around your torso, pulling you to the person’s side that you woke up. Steve didn’t say anything as he came back and wrapped his arm around you, walking you out of there, probably used to that people were dazed when they saw that much blood. And that was just a cut-off finger, how would it look if a person actually bled out there?

“Here, have a piece of chocolate, it should help you,” Steve whispered into your ear as he handed you a little piece when you finally made it to his car, and you took it without question, savouring the sweet taste on your tongue as it streamed into your system like the most delicious medicine. You took a deep breath, your brain recognising that it was a different environment and that the stench of the pub was long gone as was the blood.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you heard yourself saying meekly, but there was no reprimanding him, there was no anger in your voice and Steve heard that. He knew it was the shock of the scene talking because you weren’t one of them. You didn’t see blood on an almost daily basis as he did and you had the right to be surprised.

“I actually had to, Y/N. He touched you, he hurt you and nobody hurts what’s mine. And you are mine now or will be very soon, and I can’t have dickheads like him running around the city thinking they are invincible. You are under my protection, and the whole world has to realise that,” he tried to make you see his point, and when you nodded solemnly, he saw you understood it. You might not have been ok with it, but that was another thing, and that would take time. Steve hoped people wouldn’t be so dumb and try anything on you, but, the truth be told, inwardly he knew he would have to protect you more often than not because some people had a death wish.

“Are you up to discussing our marriage, or do you want me to drive you home?” He asked, and you looked at him for the first time since the pub scene. You shook your head and chuckled a little, not understanding where was this coming from. It was apparent that there were many layers to Steve Rogers, but his mood swings were giving you a headache already. One second he was the infamous mobster and the other he impersonated a caring boyfriend?

“I’m fine, Steve, thank you. I was just taken by surprise because I thought I would have to take him down myself, and I probably wouldn’t cut off his finger in the process, but we all do our things. I’m good for a discussion, if you are,” you gave him your best encouraging smile and Steve stared at you in disbelief for a moment before he averted his eyes towards the driver and gave him a signal that he was to take you two to Steve’s mansion.

Three hours later, you regretted your decision greatly. Steve and you had been talking the whole time, trying to reach a compromise that would be suitable for both of you considering your marriage and your wedding. You were quite surprised when Steve came up with things that were up for discussion because you really thought he would just come with a set of rules for you to follow, and that would be it. Well, the set of rules was there, but so were other things, like where you’d like to live (it was either the New York mansion which he called the apartment or some villa he had in Hamptons, apparently), what were the countries he could take you (which was actually a nice touch) and others. You didn’t give a damn about a lot of the stuff, but the countries were something that caught your attention.

“I would love to visit different places, that’s beyond doubt, but I do not wish to be taken to California, ever,” you insisted, and while Steve tried to inquire why it was that California was on your hard-no list, you wouldn’t budge. You just told him that you weren’t a fan of the hot weather and the swarm of people you heard was in LA and that it was the only place where you wouldn’t go with him, under no circumstances. After a while, he gave up and just jotted it down with a nod.

“Now, to the sex thing, do you want it on paper that I don’t want you in this way or are you good with my word?”

You felt your cheeks heating up, but you tossed your pride away again. This was a business meeting, and Steve was actually extremely honest with you, so the best you could do was to be frank with him as well.

“I’m good with your word, thank you for asking. What I’d like on paper is that you won’t trade me with information. I don’t wanna wake up one morning to be chained by some of your pistol-buddies who wanted to fuck Steve’s wife,” you raised a brow, and Steve chuckled and licked his lips, which was something that got your attention. You snapped at your brain to stop the thought flooding your brain, and a part of you considered putting licking his own lips around you on the hard-no’s list for a second.

“Alright, I will never do that, and I will put that in our contract. Now, have you decided where you want to live? And no, your own apartment isn’t an answer. I’m willing to pay the expenses so that your friends can stay there, but you are coming to live with me, either here or in Hamptons. So, which one is it?”

“Here,” you answered after a while, “I have my job here so I can’t be going back forth to Hamptons every day. Speaking of my job, will you require my presence at every meeting? I’m just asking if I even have a chance attaining my job as is, or if I should quit now because you will never let me go there again.”

“I would have let them fire you if I thought about not letting you work there anymore, now, wouldn’t I? Most of the meetings that I will need you are at night, so your work is fine. I hope your boss will give you enough vacation days because we will need those, but other than that, I think you will be fine at the gallery. Besides, I’ve assigned a personal bodyguard for you who will go everywhere with you, so you won’t have to worry about anybody attacking you,” he concluded, looking proud of himself. You, on the other hand, were bewildered.

“A personal what now? Steve, I can’t just show up at work with some huge guy in all black following me everywhere I move. I saw the looks from some of my coworkers, and they would never accept me if I had a bodyguard, c’mon,” you were desperate now because just the thought made you shudder.

“This is not negotiable, so just learn to live with it. Alright, I think that’s all from that, and we will both sign it before the wedding. Now, the wedding will be next week. I already hired planners, so that the only thing you need to care about is the wedding dress. It’s just for a show, and if it were up to me, we would just go to the city hall, but the world needs to see this wedding, so we’re doing it in the Weylin. Write down your favourite colours and flowers, the cake will be red velvet, and that’s not negotiable, but everything else you want, you write down, and the planners will do it. Also, write down all the guests you’d like to invite, family and all that, so we know how many guests we’re having,” Steve rambled on, but your mind wandered towards your family.

None of them would be attending the wedding, and your heart gave a painful tug at the thought. You had always wanted your dad to walk you down the aisle, and he was so excited to do so, but now that wasn’t possible. And your beautiful mother… The memories made your eyes water, but you blinked the tears away quickly enough so that Steve wouldn’t see them. But he was used to reading people, so he saw your reaction to him mentioning a family very clearly, he just decided against commenting on it. Yet.

“Alright, I’ll send you all the lists by Saturday, if that’s good enough, and I’m actually good with red velvet. It would be a problem if you said some cakes with loads of nuts because I’m extremely allergic to a majority of those, you should know about that, but red velvet is fine enough,” you nodded, and Steve did as well, glad he didn’t have to fight you on that one. Not that it would be a fruitful fight since the red velvet was his favourite type of cake on Earth.

“I want you to move in before the wedding, I’ll have a room set up for you tomorrow, and you can bring whatever you want from your home. You will have access to my credit card, but I’m warning you, excessive spending will not be tolerated, alright?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes but bowed your head in mocked understanding. Steve had obviously spent his life with women only caring about the sum on his credit card, while you couldn’t care less. The card would be good for the wedding dress, but that was about it. You realised a long time ago that the fashion industry was one of the most dangerous ones for the environment, and while you still shopped from time to time, you tried to reduce it to a minimum. And if you did shop, you loved local stores and fair-trade manufacturers, who vowed to keep the well-being of the planet their number one priority.

“I’ll take it that you understood it. Fine, so, you’ll move in tomorrow, I think my people can manage it till that. So, they’ll pick you up, let’s say, around 8 PM? That enough time?”

You blinked and took the information in. He wanted you to move in tomorrow. Not in a week so you’d have time to actually pack and say goodbye to your friends, even if you still planned on meeting them every other day or so. You wanted a goodbye sleepover where you’d just laugh and drink and hope that the year would be a good one. Or, at least, not a disastrous one.

“That’s definitely not enough time, Steve. Can’t it wait till next week? I need to say goodbye to my friends, and it’s already late, so we can’t do it tonight and just… Give me at least till Saturday evening, Steve, please,” you tried to bargain, and while you saw he wasn’t the greatest of fans, he agreed eventually. That ended your discussion, and you were soon driven away from the house you would soon call yours.

/ Next Chapter >

Taglists in reblogs :) xx

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

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holly's august extravaganza day 4: a friend in me

📍 anon - I don't know but I feel like Carlos and Nancy can have such an awesome best friend dynamic. Maybe something sad/scary regarding Nancy happens where she has to make a report at the precinct and Carlos doesn't tell anyone as she made him promise so he starts to just check on Nancy and they just develop this caring, supportive, beautiful, fun, full of banter friendship to the amusement of TK and the 126.

kept this separate from your original ask because i want to keep those other prompts you sent alongside this one for later 😊

ao3 | 2k | hurt/comfort, brief references to gun violence, mostly just carlos and nancy being besties

Carlos has never seen Nancy look so small.

She’s sitting hunched over in one of the interrogation rooms, shock blanket around her shoulders, hands seemingly moving of their own volition to tear the empty styrofoam cup in front of her to shreds. As soon as Carlos had seen her being escorted into the precinct, shaking like a leaf and clutching her coat like a lifeline, he’d persuaded the officer with her to let him take over the case. His association with the 126 is well known so the officer had been reluctant, but Carlos had managed to wear him down, saying that he doesn’t really know Nancy that well.

And it’s—it’s not exactly a full lie. Through their hangs and TK’s stories, he’s coming to see Nancy as a force of nature, a woman who will let nothing and no-one stand in her way, whether that’s out on the field or during a game of Monopoly. But of her personal life, Carlos knows next to nothing; she mentioned a sister a few weeks ago, and TK delights in teasing her about her growing crush on Marjan, but that’s about it.

He needs to make more of an effort, he decides. When they’re anywhere else but a police station.

Carlos knocks lightly on the door to announce his presence before entering the room, sending her what he hopes is a reassuring smile. Nancy visibly relaxes at the sight of him and she drops the remains of her cup, though Carlos doesn’t miss the continuing tremble to her hands.

“Hey Nancy,” he says, sliding into the seat opposite her. “How are you doing?”

Nancy’s lips twitch, the corners barely curving into the beginnings of a wry smile. She breathes out shakily, meeting Carlos’s eyes for the briefest second before staring back down at the table. “I’m not great,” she answers, and for her to admit to that… Well, Carlos suspects it’s not a regular occurrence.

He nods, reluctantly pulling out his notebook and pen, hesitating before flipping to the next blank page. Nancy tracks his movements, resignation clearly etched all over her features. Carlos glances at the two-way mirror—not that it does him any good—then reaches across the table to take Nancy’s hand.

“We don’t have to do this right now,” he murmurs. “If you need more time, just say the word and I’ll leave. Or if you’d prefer to talk to someone you don’t know, we can do that too. Anything you need.”

The sudden tightness of Nancy’s grip is unexpected, as is the flash of panic in her eyes.

“Please, don’t go,” she whispers. “I don’t—” She cuts herself off, shutting her eyes and breathing slowly for a few seconds. Slowly, her hold on Carlos begins to loosen until her hand is slack in his, then she draws both hands into her lap and straightens in her chair. When her eyes reopen, she seems more like the Nancy Carlos knows—strong, confident, assertive—though there’s still clearly an undercurrent of fear underneath it all.

“I’m fine. Let’s do this.”

Carlos bites back an are you sure and settles for clicking his pen, his smile unwavering. “Can you run me through what happened, exactly?” he asks. “Take your time.”

A second or two passes, then Nancy nods, her voice steady when she speaks. “I was restocking the bus at the end of shift. I was alone; Captain Vega was in her office and TK was with the others in the showers—he did try to help but he’d had to go into a fire on our last call to help a patient and the smell of smoke was giving me a headache, so I told him to go.”

Carlos pauses in his note-taking, mentally filing that last piece of information away for follow-up as soon as he sees his boyfriend again. Judging by the amused quirk to Nancy’s eyebrow, she’s fully aware of where his mind has gone, so Carlos clears his throat and motions for her to continue, forcing his thoughts back to the present.

“Like I said, I was alone. I didn’t mind it; it was kind of relaxing, you know? Then this guy appeared from nowhere and pointed a gun at me, saying if I called out or turned on the siren or anything, he’d shoot. I thought—” She inhales sharply, her knuckles going white on the tabletop and her jaw clenching tightly. Her voice sounds different when she next speaks, more controlled, as though forcing each word out. “I thought it was happening again. I thought he was going to take me somewhere, make me his personal pet paramedic, something like that.

“Turns out, he just wanted drugs. I gave him what we had on the rig and he seemed satisfied, so I figured he’d shoot me anyway ‘cause I’d seen his face, right? He didn’t—obviously—but it looked like he was considering it.” Nancy pauses and flicks her gaze up at Carlos, biting her lip. “I think he might have done it,” she admits quietly, “but he got spooked by one of the guys making noise so he just bolted. I’m not sure how long it was between that and TK coming back and finding me. I’m sorry.”

Carlos shakes his head. “It’s okay. We can check the cameras at the station. With luck, that should get us an ID, maybe a license plate if he drove. I think that’s almost everything; just one more question, if that’s okay. Can you tell me what you gave him exactly?”

Nancy nods. “Morphine, Ativan, tramadol… I’d have to check stocks for the exact amounts.”

“We’ll do that, don’t worry about it.” Carlos taps his pen on the pages before flipping his notebook shut and leaning across the table again. “Are you okay?” he asks softly. “Speaking as a friend and not a cop, if there’s anything you need, anything I can help with, let me know.”

She smiles wanly. “I’m okay. I just want to go home and forget all this ever happened.”

“Fair enough. I’ll walk you out to your car.”

Carlos half-expects her to brush him off, but she just nods and allows him to escort her back through the precinct and out to her car. He dithers awkwardly, shuffling his feet as Nancy turns to him, one hand on the door handle.

“Thank you, Carlos. For real. I have the feeling it wasn't a coincidence that you were the one in that room with me.”

The tips of Carlos’s ears go pink as he finds himself caught out. “That, uh… That would not be inaccurate.”

“Well, thanks.” She pulls open the car door and Carlos takes a step back, wanting to wait until she’s safely away to go back inside. Nancy ducks as if to get in, then pauses and straightens again, biting her lip as she looks back at him.

“Hey, Carlos?” she says. “Can you do me a favour and not tell the others? Not even TK. They— They know vaguely what happened, but I’d prefer it if the details and, uh, some of the other stuff I told you could be kept between us.”

He agrees immediately, just grateful that she trusts him enough to handle this for her. “No-one will know any more than they need to,” he promises, which seems to relieve her. She thanks him again, then gets in the car and drives away, Carlos watching after her with one hand raised in farewell.

It grows from there.

It’s not intentional exactly, but one text to check up on her soon turns into a steady stream of messages, stories and jokes and even the occasional meme passing back and forth between them. Carlos especially appreciated Nancy's carefully curated collection of dirt on TK, which, as a concerned boyfriend, it is his duty to know. Many a conversation has been spent griping about TK's accident prone ways or sighing over his latest mishap.

Lovingly, of course.

Nancy, 15.48: you’ll never guess what happened this time

Carlos, 16.22: ?

In answer, he receives a picture of a dejected-looking TK sprawled on the floor with Buttercup’s front paws squarely resting on his chest. Buttercup’s tongue is lolling out, a wide grin on his face, and in the background stand the rest of the crew. All of them also seem to have their phones pointed towards TK—probably the reason TK looks so down, as Carlos knows his boyfriend couldn’t be upset with Buttercup to save his life.

Nancy, 16.26: he thought he’d try to teach buttercup some tricks. turns out, dog trainers exist for a reason

Carlos has to stifle a laugh—technically, he is supposed to be working—but his attempt at being subtle is thwarted when his phone repeatedly pings with similar texts and photos from Paul, Marjan, and Mateo. He screenshots the sudden influx of notifications and sends it to Nancy before saving every single photo.

Nancy responds with a laughing emoji and a promise to keep him updated.

Not all of their conversations are about TK, naturally.

Carlos, 19.10: I don’t understand why you don’t just talk to her

Nancy, 19.12: i do talk to her. every shift, actually

Carlos, 19.13: Nancy

Nancy, 19.13: carlos

Nancy, 19.14: i don’t even know if she’s into women, alright? it’s not like i can just march up and ask, that’s like waving a banner saying ‘hey, i’m in love with you’ in her face

Carlos, 19.16: Oh, we’re talking about love now, are we?

Nancy, 19.17: can it, reyes

Carlos, 19.20: Noted. Look, take it from someone who’s been navigating gay relationships in Texas his whole life. Sometimes you just have to go for it. Ask her for coffee, test the waters, see where it leads. You never know, it might work out. I mean, look at me

Nancy, 19.24: wow, way to rub your happiness in my face 😑

(Carlos doesn’t find out if she follows his advice, but he does notice her and Marjan showing up to their hangs together)

(Nancy does not appreciate his smugness)

Without even realising, they become a formidable team. This fact is highlighted one game night about three months after the incident, when Nancy and Marjan blow into his and TK’s house, a determined glint in both their eyes.

“We’re switching up the teams,” Marjan declares, much to TK’s outrage.

“What? Why?”

“Because,” Nancy continues, “we’re tired of losing to you guys. You’re like, freakishly good at board games and it’s not fair. Plus, we have to watch you both being all lovey all the time when you’re on the same team and it’s exhausting. We want to see you being competitive for once.”

TK pouts, but Carlos just shrugs when he looks to him for backup. “It’ll be fun,” he says, smiling at Nancy and Marjan. TK still looks put out, so he leans in close and half-murmurs, “C’mon babe. How about a prize for the winner?”

TK perks up considerably at the suggestion, and, going by the twin looks of despair on Nancy and Marjan’s faces, they caught both the comment and the innuendo. Marjan groans and Nancy raises her eyes skyward, as if pleading for divine intervention.

“This was a great idea, actually,” TK says, grinning. He quirks an eyebrow at Nancy. “You and me, Nance?”

That seems to shake Nancy out of her silent prayers for strength. “Uh, no. I’m with Carlos.” To emphasise the point, she strides forward and grabs Carlos’s arm, dragging him to the couch. He nudges her gently when they sit, smirking at the disgruntled way she digs into the snack bowl.

“You did say you wanted to see us being competitive.”

“Shut up.”

In the end, TK ends up paired with Mateo, and Marjan with Paul. It’s clear from the outset who’s going to win—Nancy and Carlos dominate the board, and not even Paul’s master strategy is enough to catch up with them.

They win by a comfortable margin, fist-bumping in celebration. There’s a general air of bemusement in the room, and when Carlos looks round at the others, he finds four pairs of eyes fixed on them.

“What?”

“Since when have you two been such a good team?” Paul asks, leaning back in his chair and raising an eyebrow.

Carlos shrugs, sharing a smile with Nancy. “Guess we just are.”

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #carlos reyes #nancy gillian #marjan marwani #tk strand #tarlos #lone star #911ls #holly's august extravaganza #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #📍 anon

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duuhrayliegh · 3 years

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Fuck Misogyny

request: Bucky uses his newly gained knowledge of feminism to squash misogynistic interview questions. @ptrs-prkrs

warnings: language, creepy men, feminist!bucky

a/n: hey babes!! i hope this lived up to what you wanted! i couldn’t find the exact video you were referencing but i know what you’re talking about, so i drew inspiration from a few others.

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open!!

xoxo ray

full m.list

The set up was simple. A long row of fold out tables covered in black fabric, microphones in front of each seat. Black papers were taped to the backs of the microphones with each team member's name. Bucky had told Evie that he wasn’t going to be able to work out with her today because of this so it better be worth it. The PR manager for the team, Amanda, had set everything up. Hired the mediator, notified the press, everything. Ever since they announced that they were going to be hosting an Avenger’s Q&A Panel, the internet quite literally broke.

Of course Bucky had been doing lives on TikTok with the group of five for the past couple of weeks now, so he was becoming quite comfortable in this format. He’s become increasingly active on his social media accounts, gaining more and more followers everyday. Granted, there were still haters, as Freddie called them, but Bucky ignored them for the most part.

Bucky was actually excited for this press meeting. He was finally gaining traction in the media and he knew how to correctly answer their questions. As Amanda had explained, there was going to be several questions from the mediator, tons from the press that they had invited, and then some fan questions as well. They apparently were going to be live streaming the conference on YouTube allowing them to read the comments and questions as it went on.

“Okay, everyone. You have two minutes until we start.” The team was in an empty board room in the Hilton hotel. Tony didn’t want everyone on the compound’s grass because he just had it fixed. Bucky scanned his fellow teammates. It was impossible for everyone to dress for the same event. Steve was wearing a shirt that was almost bursting at the seams with a pair of jeans and sneakers.

Tony was wearing a lovely Tom Ford, three piece, two-button, of course. Natasha and Wanda were wearing ripped jeans and casual tops. Vision was wearing a sweater vest and slacks, Bruce was clad in slacks as well a jacket covering his shoulders. Sam was wearing a button-up shirt and pressed jeans and he couldn’t find Clint anywhere, probably hiding in the rafters again.

Bucky had his iconic leather jacket donning his shoulders, a pair of slightly ripped jeans. His outfit was picked out by Cassie and Penny. “You need to look like you care but like you don’t at the same time.” Is what they said, the phrase made Bucky shake his head. His hair had finally started growing back and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it.

He had gotten help from Evie before he left Cassie’s apartment. She had pulled back the top half, braiding back two sections into the bun at the back of his head. There were pieces dangling in front of his eyes, “to accentuate the facial features, trust me they’ll love it.” Was Evie’s explanation as they pushed him out of the apartment, so he wouldn’t be late.

“Alright guys! They’re calling your names!” The team filed out of the board room and into a large ballroom. Bottles of water were placed beside each placemat. Tony went out first, followed by Steve, then Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Wanda, Vision, Sam and ending with Bucky. They all settled into their seats, Bucky peeled his jacket off himself, placing it on the back of his chair. His black short sleeved shirt highlighted the gold inlays of his vibranium arm.

“Oh, I see we’re showing some muscle today huh, Buck?” Sam teased as Bucky took his seat next to him. Bucky groaned in realization, covering his microphone so it didn’t pick up what he planned to say.

“Good God, is this what it’s going to be like the entire panel? You just bugging the shit outta me?” They shared a laugh making the rest of the members look at the pair. The audience clapped as they were introduced and continued clapping as they assembled before them.

“Thank you. We would like to welcome everyone to the first, of hopefully many, Avenger’s Q&A Panel.” The female mediator, Stacey, read the assigned lines off the sheet on her podium. “We are going to start with questions we curated for the team and then open it up to the members of the press. After that we will turn to our live stream and answer some viewer questions.” The press rustled in their seats, pulling out pens and journals as well as their phones to record. “Okay, starting off with a question directed at the Avengers in general. How are you feeling about coming before the media in this type of format?” Glances were exchanged between the members, not sure on who was going to start.

“I feel that this is a great way for the general public to learn a little bit more about each individual team member.” Vision was the first to respond and Steve added on.

“Yeah, I definitely think that there’s a common misconception that we don’t want to engage with the media or the general public. We do, unfortunately due to the amount of research and training that we are doing behind the scenes, it just goes to the back of our minds.”

“Right. So Tony and Bruce, we all know that you two are geniuses. What are your feelings on expanding the teachings of STEM courses to not only high school, but as far back as elementary school or even kindergarten?” The pair thought about the question before answering.

“Well, I definitely think that offering STEM-based classes at a younger age would be beneficial, especially if we were to allow the kids to continue to switch what they want to focus on.” Bruce started. “It’s incredibly anxiety-inducing for teenagers to have to decide what they’re going to do with their life right before they are thrust into an unforgiving world.”

“Yeah, I’ll never understand why we do that to our future leaders, it’s honestly baffling. Why do American schools wait until high school to require our children to learn foriegn languages, they aren’t going to retain that information. The same applies for such comprehensive courses like STEM-based ones. If you wait until their brains are already developed so far, then they’ve already decided what they think is interesting and if they don’t find those courses interesting then they aren’t going to pay attention.” Tony finished Bruce's thought before nodding to each other smugly, obviously proud of themselves for answering the question so well.

“Interesting that you see it that way. This last one goes out to everyone and then we’ll open it up to the reporters. How do you deal with the stress and anxiety that comes with being an Avenger? Do you feel a certain amount of pressure to always do the right thing?” Stacey shuffled her papers, tapping them twice on the podium.

“We all have our own routines and ways that we decompress after missions so that really just depends on the person. Like I think that Bruce listens to opera music, and Wanda mediatates, Tony tinkers. It depends on the person.” Natasha answered concisely, making Bucky nod his head. He could recall all of those things to be true.

“Oh definitely, and it doesn’t hurt that we have a former VA Trauma Counselor on board to help us work through the harder stuff.” Steve added a gesture of his head to Sam.

“Speaking of that Sam, just a quick question before we open it up. How difficult was it for you to transition from regular Air Force missions to Avenger level missions?” Sam made a face at Stacey before answering.

“Um, I mean, it’s not that different. You’re always fighting one of the Big Three-- aliens, androids, or wizards, no matter what department you’re working with. The only transition I had to deal with was the Tony Stark-erized suits. Now that I think of it, Tony, can we make it tighter?” Sam quipped making the room laugh with ease.

“Alright, well now we’re going to open it up to the reporters. Starting with this gentleman in the front and then if we could also give a microphone to someone on that side of the room. Okay, thank you.” The first reporter stood up, holding the microphone in one hand and his phone in the other.

“Hello. John from Huffington Post. The Avengers inspire almost everyone around the world, so we would like to know who inspires you? Who do you look up to in terms of your idols?” He sat back down as the team contemplated their answers.

“Gandhi.” Bruce said, Tony snapped his fingers and pointed at him then added. “Pepper, she’s so amazing.” Steve looked down to Bucky, who shrugged.

“I would probably have to say that my sister, Sarah, inspires me. She raised her two sons, Cas and AJ, by herself after the Blip and was able to keep the family business going.” Sam’s answer made Bucky smile. Sam had brought him to their house in Delacroix, he remembered waking up to Cas and AJ playing in the kitchen, happy giggles filtering through reminding him of his time in Wakanda. By the time that Bucky had refocused on the conversation they had moved on without his answer. Several different questions went by, all directed to the team at large, until Chad.

“Hi, I’m Chad for the Daily Mail. My question is for Wanda and Natasha.” The pair of women perked up, excited to have a specific question. “Do you find that your equipment hinders you in doing your job as well as your male counterparts?” Stunned expressions settled over the womens faces, then annoyance. Bucky’s brows shot up to his hairline, appalled that someone had the balls to ask that. Wanda and Natasha handled the question with grace and much more restraint than Bucky would have.

“Well for me, I am able to move things with my mind so I can throw things randomly at people even if I’m not in the room. I’ve been very fortunate to work with Natasha who has Widow training, so my hand to hand combat is improving immensely. And being able to work with Princess Shuri in Wakanda to learn how to fully control my powers. It’s an ever evolving process that I’m always excited to take on.” Bucky nodded and turned his attention to Natasha.

“My favorite thing is training with either Steve or Bucky because they push me to do my best. We all have our specialties here and it’s nice to learn new skills or improve old ones with people who support you.” Natasha sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, throwing daggers with her eyes at Chad in the audience, waiting for him to say something else. Chad stood again, yelling so he could be heard over the crowd’s commotion.

“That’s great, ladies, but forgive me, you didn’t answer the question I asked.” Bucky pushed forward in his seat, leaning into his microphone.

“I’m sorry, I think I misunderstood what you asked them then. I would like for you to clarify what you mean by equipment.” Chad balked, not expecting a male’s voice to respond.

“You know what’s implied by equipment, sir.” Bucky’s jaw clenched at the man.

“Did you just ask two of the most capable women that I’ve ever known, if their equipment, which I’m assuming you’re referring their breasts, made it to where they couldn’t do their job as good as the rest of their male counterparts. Just to be clear, that’s what you’re asking?” Chad stuttered as he answered yes.

“Right, well first off that’s disgusting. Just a bit of background for you, Wanda is the strongest Avenger here, plain and simple. As for Natasha, she’s the smartest woman I’ve ever met and she can take down every single male here.” Bucky took a breath before continuing. “So, what I think you really want to know is how they encourage their teammates to keep up with them.” He dropped his head to look at the two women down the line.

“Don’t worry Chad, I’ll ask them the right question, since you can’t quite seem to understand how to respect women.” The team was holding back snickers at Chad’s reaction. “Wanda, Natasha. Chad wants to know how the hell you push your male teammates to be just as good as you are. What are your strategies to keep us on our toes while training?” Claps sounded from the women press members and Bucky awaited the pair's response. The next press member stood and asked a question.

“Hi, I’m Chloe from Vanity Fair. This question goes to everyone on the panel.” Bucky settled in for another question that didn’t matter. “How do you continue to be aware of things happening in our society today? Do you keep up-to-date through new channels, or social media?” The answers were rather generic from the team, all of them rather uncomfortable from the tension that Bucky and Chad had created. Stacey interrupted after Chloe’s question.

“Okay, we’re going to open it up to viewer questions from our live stream.” An iPad was placed on the podium in front of Stacey and her eyebrows rose. “Okay, there’s quite a variety here. Here’s one for Steve and Bucky.” Bucky perked up, nervous to answer because his adrenaline had worn off.

“One viewer asks, ‘Steve and Bucky, being from the 40’s, women were treated like second thoughts and were talked about like objects. Now, you’re in the 21st century, not much has changed. What have you been doing to support feminist causes?’”

“I just want to say that everyone should be answering this. It’s true that during the 40’s women were not treated the right way, and they still aren’t today. An 18 year old can’t walk down the street at nine o’clock at night without being catcalled. I am a proud feminist, as everyone should be. I think that as a team we are doing pretty well in that department. As far as what I’m doing to support feminist causes, I’m doing as much as I can. I actually recently enrolled in online classes to expand my knowledge on many subjects, seeing as how I am from the 40’s and all.” The crowd laughed along with Bucky.

“Almost all of my classes have to do with either psychology or gender studies, it’s a fascinatingly haunting subject. One book that I’m reading right now was suggested to me by my friend Cassie, it’s called Hood Feminism: Notes from the Women that a Movement Forgot. The author doesn’t let up and I’m only halfway through it. Look, I’m still educating myself, but I’m a strong believer in doing what is right for everyone, so I’m trying. Thankfully I have a few people keeping me in check as far as my actions.” Bucky thought his response was well thought out for being an on the fly question. He was new to the concept of feminism but that didn’t change the fact that it made total sense.

“I’m with Bucky on this. The 40’s were a rough time. I remember the first time I met Peggy Carter, I was astonished that a woman could be in such a powerful position. One of the first things she did after I met her was punch out someone who made a sexual comment to her. I’ve been supporting feminist causes ever since working with Peggy.” Steve added, a sad smile spreading on his face reminiscing Peggy.

“This one says, ‘As a total fan of all of you, I love seeing what you post on your social media accounts. When are the rest of the Avengers going to follow Bucky’s lead and download TikTok?’” Bucky’s head flew back into a full body laugh. Tony shifted forward in his seat, pointing his finger at the laughing man down the table.

“I would just like to say he didn’t get that approved before doing it. However, it did go over really well, so we’ll consider it.” Wanda’s mouth rolled inwards, stifling her laughter.

“We’ll consider it, you’re such an old man. Most of us have TikTok already, we just don’t make content on it like Barnes over here.” Sam said, tossing his head in Bucky’s direction.

“I’ve got like three videos on there!” Bucky and Sam began bantering back and forth.

“Yeah and one of them is dancing to a Cardi B song! Who even showed you that? I thought you only like 40’s music?” Bucky made a face at the man.

“Uh, just because I didn’t like your suggestions for music doesn’t mean I don’t have taste. My Spotify playlist is filling out quite nicely, Wilson.” Bucky and Sam didn’t quit fighting from then on, just little jabs at each other under the table.

“Here’s a good one,” Stacey had a smile on her face, “Are you allies of the LGBTQ+ community?” Bucky responded quickly with no hesitation.

“Yes, many of my friends are members of the Alphabet Mafia. Why wouldn’t we be?” Wanda nodded at his question, laughing at his use of the phrase Alphabet Mafia.

“Yeah, absolutely. I mean, I’m dating a fucking android, I’d be pretty hypocrictal if I wasn’t an ally. Nat, Clint what about you?” Clint bobbed his head in response.

“Oh yeah. We all are, even the Star Spangled Man with a Plan.” Steve’s shoulders shook with laughter at Clint’s nickname for him. The team broke out into laughter, joining Steve. Stacey cleared her throat, commanding the attention of the room again.

“Alright, everybody! That’s it for today.” She glanced down at her papers. “We would like to thank everyone for coming out today and joining the Avengers Q&A Panel. At this time we are unaware, if we will be conducting another one of these, but the odds look good based on the response.” The team filed out of the ballroom and into the empty boardroom. Bucky was the last to get into the room and he was approached by Natasha and Wanda immediately. Wanda wrapped her arms around him in a bear hug.

“That was so sick, Bucky!” She stepped back and Natasha offered him a side hug as well. “Where’d you learn all that? And since when are you taking online classes?”

“That guy was being an asshole, he needed to be put in his place. I hope you guys didn’t feel like I overstepped or anything.” Bucky hung his arm over Wanda’s shoulder, leaning his weight on her. “And I started about two months ago. They’re going really well, I’m learning a lot and enjoying it surprisingly. It’s a good thing to do in my free time since I’m not always on missions.”

“I’m proud of you James, that was impressive.” Natasha complimented him, she wasn’t usually a woman of many words so that was a lot. Bucky smiled at her, nodding his head. His phone began buzzing in his back pocket, so he excused himself from their conversation. His screen displayed one of Evie’s senior pictures, signalling that she was calling him. He pushed the green button and brought the phone to his ear to answer her call.

“Hello?” She ignored his greeting with a squeal.

“Check your Twitter! Bucky, you’re trending! Here I’m putting you on speaker, we’re all here Buck!” Shuffling noises were heard through the speaker as Evie began reading the tweets to Bucky. Laughs from Cassie, Freddie and Penny could be heard behind Evie’s voice.

“Oh my gosh Eve! Just let the man get back to what he was doing!” Freddie yelled at an excited Evie, who retaliated with a scoff.

“Okay, okay! Just remember we have a movie night tomorrow! It’s Penny’s turn to pick so we don’t know what to expect.” Evie mumbled the last part into her phone speaker. Bucky heard the impact of a pillow hit Evie, causing her to grunt in pain. “Okay! We’ll talk to you later, Buck! See you soon!” She hung up the phone before he could get a word in edgewise. Bucky shook his head as he shoved his phone back into his pocket. Amanda approached Bucky asking to speak with him privately.

“So we’re getting a flood of interview requests from networks and papers. We would like to start running with this. We’ll have to go over everything with our PR guy, Ryan, but it should work out. As long as you’re comfortable with all of this.” Bucky smiled and nodded, following after Amanda as she continued explaining what would happen going forward.

He was nervous, of course, but he could tell these nerves were coming from a place of excitement instead of fear, which was a new sensation for the man. It wasn’t unwelcome, it was the same as when he first started hanging out with Cassie, Penny, Freddie and Evie. It was the same when he went on his first mission with the team. Bucky was ready to tackle this next adventure, whatever it would entail.

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plant-flwrs · 4 years

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(2/2) Everyone treats her badly and there is angst because she hates that people can't see her as more than a Malfoy and assume she's like Draco because they’re so close. And then kind of go with that? The background is kinda detailed 😂 sorry. I just had this idea stuck in my head and well I suck at writing and you write Draco as a brother amazingly.

similar shadows // george weasley

entire request: (1/2) okay I'm finally here sending the ask. So can I have a reader x George (idk who else to ask for). So the reader is Draco's twin but in Ravenclaw. Her and Draco are really close and Draco is very protective over her but not overbearing. She's shy, book nerdy and socially awkward so she tends to stay with Draco; Draco understands her (cue sweet brother). (2/2) Everyone treats her badly and there is angst because she hates that people can't see her as more than a Malfoy and assume she's like Draco because they’re so close. And then kind of go with that? The background is kinda detailed 😂 sorry. I just had this idea stuck in my head and well I suck at writing and you write Draco as a brother amazingly.

masterlist!

a/n: ugh i love writing draco as a brother even if his characterization is completely inaccurate for it, he just has such little brother energy to me (and a warning, i took a lot of creative liberties for draco’s personality in this, i couldn’t resist it. it just made the brother/sister dynamic sm better in my opinion). also included flirty!george in this just bc i love it. i hope u like this, tysm for the request!!

summary: Living in the Malfoy shadow conditioned you to behave a certain way, avoid certain things. But, once your able to use the Quidditch pitch to finally prove you are something different than your last name, everything seems to fall into place. You even catch a certain Weasley’s eye.

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The air in Malfoy Manor was always thick; thick with unsaid words, hateful tension, and awful regrets. It was a blessing for you to leave and go to Hogwarts every year.

The train ride was something you looked forwards to. Curled up in the window seat, because Draco always let you have the window seat, with whatever book you were reading at the moment. You tuned out Draco’s usual complaining to Pansy and Blaise, indulging yourself in the novel perched on your lap.

The trip never lasted long enough, though, and soon you were shuffled into Hogwarts. Draco gave your shoulder one last bump and a weak smile before you went to sit at the Ravenclaw table. You tilted your head back, gazing up at the ceiling with wonder in your eyes. The Ravenclaw table was filling up, and you managed a seat closest to the professors’ table. Your eyes scanned the Slytherin table until they found the familiar head of platinum hair you were looking for. Even if he wasn’t with you, just seeing Draco made you feel a little safer.

Dinner went quickly with your head shoved in a book, and soon you were excused to your common rooms. Draco slid away from the mass of green ties, walking with you to your common room. The two of you walked slowly, falling from the crowd to stroll by yourselves.

“I heard that the Ravenclaw Quidditch team needs a new seeker this year,” Draco started, shoving his hands in his pants pockets, “maybe you should try out.”

“I don’t know,” you clutched your book closer to your chest, “Quidditch was always your thing.”

“You’re a great flyer, Y/n,” Draco glanced at your hesitant expression, “look, it can’t hurt to try out.”

“Maybe,” you offered him, enjoying the way he smiled proudly once you gave in.

He wrapped a brotherly arm around your shoulders, marching you up the endless amount of stairs to the Ravenclaw common room.

The next day of lessons came far too soon, and your timetable clutched in your shaky hands was giving you a headache. You looked up, seeing a familiar room number, but upon looking back at your timetable, you realized you were on the completely wrong side of the castle.

You turned on your heal, starting down a new corridor. Glancing at your watch, you saw you were already late for lessons. While your eyes were off the hallway in front of you, you hit the hard chest of someone coming your way.

“In a hurry, Malfoy?” the voice said as you both stumbled back.

George Weasley stood in front of you, a playful and happy expression on his handsome features. You knew he was only joking when he called you ‘Malfoy’, but you really did hate it. People called Draco that, and you didn’t often like to be associated with the reputation your father had curated with the last name.

“You two!” someone called from the end of the hallway.

George groaned, looking over your shoulder, “Great.”

“Detention, tonight, my office,” Filch told the two of you, pointing a finger in your faces.

You pulled back, eyeing his finger suspiciously. You didn’t realize you were doing it, but as George looked at you he noticed you were doing the signature Malfoy sneer.

“Thanks,” George said sarcastically, bumping your shoulder as he passed you.

You took a deep breath, starting off to find your class again.

“How were your classes?” Draco slumped next to you on the bench, pulling out a piece of what you thought might be pumpkin bread.

He tore off a chunk, eating it slowly. He held a piece out to you and you accepted it gratefully.

“Awful,” you said simply, putting your head to rest against your hand, “I couldn’t find half of them.”

“You should have told me, I could have helped,” Draco said, looking a little annoyed at you.

“You had your own classes to worry about,” you defended, taking another piece of pumpkin bread from him.

Draco rolled his eyes, looking around the courtyard until his eyes fell on Harry Potter sitting with a few other Gryffindors.

“Given any other thought about Quidditch? Tryouts are next week,” he mentioned, tearing his eyes away from Harry.

“I don’t know, depends on how hard my classes are,” you made up an excuse.

“Your classes are never hard for you,” Draco teased, giving you the rest of the bread, “and besides, I think you have a real chance of being a better seeker than Potter.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to contain the surprised laughter that bubbled from your chest.

“Yeah right!”

Draco scoffed, joining in your infectious laughter. You finished off the bread in your hand and reluctantly went to serve your detention with Filch.

You had never had detention before, so nerves racked your body. You looked around anxiously, twisting your hands behind your back.

“Malfoy,” George called to you from the end of the hallway.

You turned around to look at him, and waited while he jogged to catch up with you.

“You’re actually going to the detention? Figured you would have thrown a fit to Dumbledore to get out of it,” he said rudely, giving you a critical glance.

You ignored him, biting your tongue. You walked a few paces ahead of him, also ignoring his scoff.

You opened the door to Filch’s office, not bothering to wait for George. You sat on one of the old chairs in front of the desk, waiting for Filch’s sneer to turn into words.

“You two are going to polish the frames on all the portraits in this corridor,” he growled, placing two toothbrushes and one rag on his desk.

“All of them?” George repeated, sounding bothered.

“All of ‘em,” Filch said, his mouth turning up in a smile at the sight of misery.

You took a toothbrush and the rag, standing from your seat. You wordlessly walked out into the hallway and went all the way to one end. You kneeled, getting to work on a low hanging portrait. The portrait was a family sitting at a dining room table, mounds of food piled in front of them. There was a mother bouncing a baby on her knee, lifting food into it’s mouth. A young boy sat across from her, shoveling mashed potatoes into his small mouth. The father at the head of the table watched them both happily, cutting the large chicken at the center of the table. They all stopped what they were doing at the sight of you crouched in front of them, but once they saw you begin to clean, their cautious looks were replaced with thankful ones.

You watched the family, smiling faintly as they began eating again.

George had went to the opposite side of the hallway, and you began moving towards each other as the sun dwindled from the sky and candles dimly illuminated the hall. Soon, you were a few feet apart, both scrubbing with heavy hands. You moved onto the next portrait, craning your neck to look at it’s place much higher than you could reach.

You stood on the tips of your toes, extending your arm as far as it would go. You couldn’t even reach the bottom of the frame. Suddenly, George’s taller frame was hovering next to you, watching with an entertained smirk as you balanced on your toes.

“Need some help?” he drawled, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

You fell to stand flat on your feet, nodding your head shyly. He chuckled, moving past you and effortlessly cleaning the frame.

You watched him for a moment, noticing the rise in his shirt that exposed the beginnings of his toned stomach. You watched the way his biceps flexed under his sleeves as his hand moved back and forth against the portrait. Your eyes drifted back to the wall, sitting with your legs crossed to clean a portrait closer to the floor.

“You don’t talk as much as Draco does,” George said suddenly, looking down at you from his position above you.

You didn’t respond, only giving him a quizzical expression.

“Every time I see him he’s ranting or complaining about something or other,” George continued, playfully smiling.

“Complaining is one of his hobbies,” you teased, smiling at the sound of George’s chuckle.

“So you’re his twin?” he asked, dropping his hand from the portrait and leaning against the wall again to look at you.

“Yeah,” you said, still focused on the portrait.

“You guys don’t seem too similar,” he said, furrowing his brows.

“Well, are you and Fred too similar?” you quipped, and he chuckled again.

“ ‘Spose we aren’t,” he said, turning back to the portrait, “good thing really. Gives me the opportunity to be the better one of us.”

You giggled at George’s joke, and stood from your spot on the floor.

He handed you the rag and you gave one last swipe to the portrait you just scrubbed. You placed your hands on your hips, looking down the hallway and admiring your work.

“Guess that’s it,” George said, twisting his brush in his fingers.

“Guess it is,” you said sheepishly.

You turned to walk back to Filch’s office, George trailing behind you.

Something about that little interaction made your spirits higher for an entire week. You didn’t know why, but the idea of making George Weasley laugh gave you some confidence that you lacked before. Your entire life at Hogwarts, people assumed you were like Draco. You fell in Draco’s shadow and people associated you with him and his mean tendencies. When you spoke with George, you knew he could relate to you. You knew he fell in Fred’s shadow some times, everyone knew that. Fred was the louder one, the one who usually had a girlfriend cheering for him at his Quidditch matches. George was quieter and thoughtful. You felt drawn to George.

You riding the coattails of that minor interaction with George was the only thing willing your legs to move towards the Quidditch pitch. Well, that and Draco’s firm grip on your shoulders making sure you didn’t turn and run away.

Draco had written to your mother after his first mention of Quidditch to you, and she sent you everything you needed with no hesitation. You gripped your new Firebolt in your shaky hands and tugged at the heavy pads wrapped around your forearms. Once you stood in front of the Ravenclaw team captain, you bent over slightly to adjust your knee pads. Draco’s hands left your shoulders.

“Good luck, you’re gonna do great.” he mumbled into your ear, glancing around to make sure no one else heard his kind words. He flashed you a thumbs up as he walked to the elevated grass near the goal posts, sitting down to watch.

You pulled your gloves on tighter, afraid they would fall off and affect your playing. You gulped as the captains eyes scanned you critically.

“Malfoy?” he asked, not hiding the surprise in his voice.

“Yes?” you squeaked, gripping your broom tighter.

“Oh,” he said, a pleasantly surprised look on his face, “nothing, just didn’t expect to see you here.”

You faked a smile at him, biting your tongue. You were already here, why not try to make a good impression?

You followed all the directions. The drills they had you do were nothing compared to what Draco and you used to do in the garden during the summer. You easily flew laps around everyone else, a combination of your impressive broom, and your skills alone.

The captain had reservations about you, eyeing Draco suspiciously as he cheered for you from the ground. However, after your third successful time catching the snitch, he didn’t care much about your last name.

He told you that you made the team a few days later, telling you when to show up for practice, and when the next game was. It was Ravenclaw vs. Hufflepuff, and your captain sounded quite confident about it. So did Draco.

“You’re going to kill them!” he said enthusiastically, not hiding any of his excitement as you two walked alone along bank of the Black Lake.

You giggled at his enthusiasm, unable to stop the confidence bubbling in your chest at the thought of you catching the snitch during your first Quidditch match.

“Well, it is Hufflepuff,” you joked, shoving his shoulder with yours, “I doubt they’ll put up too much of a fight.”

Draco made an ‘ooo’ noise, his shoulders jostling with laughter.

“Trash talking already? Before your first match?”

You smiled sheepishly, not often getting to talk this freely with anyone. You enjoyed your private talks with Draco. He didn’t have to put on a hard façade, and you didn’t have to put on a painfully nice one. You were both free to be yourselves, and you hoped one day you would have someone, who wasn’t your brother, to be yourself around.

You had gone over the plays tirelessly with your captain. You didn’t eat for three days, too nervous to find food appealing. You had to force down some eggs and toast before your match, just so you wouldn’t pass out.

You pulled at your gloves uncomfortably, fidgeting with every detail on your perfect broom just to make sure it was all in order. You stepped onto the field, hearing the roaring crowd. Everyone in the school was there; it was the first match of the year.

You felt your eggs and toast fighting their way up your throat, but you swallowed hard, willing them to stay put. Your chin shook with the intensity in which you clenched your jaw, eyes darting everywhere at once.

“You’ve got this,” your captain slapped you on the back, jolting you forward a bit. You stumbled, using your broom as support to catch yourself from falling on your face.

Once on the field, you hovered easily face to face with the Hufflepuff seeker. Your entire body was shaking with nerves, and just before the whistle was blown, you heard the entire Slytherin and Ravenclaw student section joined in chanting your name. Your first name.

You smiled widely, enjoying the change. You were being recognized for more than your last name, for more than your family crest. You weren’t the girl who bore a striking resemblance to the meanest boy in your grade, you were more than the Malfoy’s blonde hair and grey eyes. You were you. You were Y/n.

The game was over faster than it started. The chasers in blue had only scored four goals on the Hufflepuff's before you caught the snitch, diving down to the ground with your hands wrapped tightly around the little golden orb.

Lee Jordan screamed from his spot on the teacher’s balcony, and you thought it would have made the ears bleed of anyone within 100 feet of him. Your team huddled around you, lifting you from your feet and throwing you into the air. You never let go of the snitch, keeping it clutched in your hand until you spotted Draco strolling over to you on the field. You tapped the shoulder of your captain, and he told everyone to put you down. People jostled your shoulders, clasping your back and sending varied praises your way. You nearly felt like crying, you were so happy.

You ran to Draco, tossing your broom cautiously on the ground. You jumped into his chest, his unsuspecting hands still tucked into his pants pockets. He made a disgruntled noise, stumbling back as you wrapped your sweaty arms around his neck.

“Oh my god!” you screamed, your face a flushed pink.

“I know!” he screamed back, smiling at your enthusiasm.

“Let me see it,” he said, putting you on your feet and picking up your hand with his.

You let his palm hold yours, opening your fingers slowly. The snitch stayed put, resting still in your gloved hand. Draco’s mouth cracked into a smile, his pale face illuminating with happiness and pride. He was proud of his sister.

“I knew you would do it,” he said, wrapping his arms around your shoulders again and bringing you into a suffocating hug.

You trekked up the hill to the castle, blue surrounding you in a huddle. The only thing out of place was Draco’s all black suit he wore, but it didn’t matter. You walked side by side, and no one questioned his presence, because you just caught the snitch.

“Nice game,” you heard a voice from behind you, falling into step with you.

You looked to your left, seeing the tall frame of George Weasley. He wore a knit beanie over his ginger hair, and a sweater with his initial on it. You beamed at him, your cheeks still flushed from the excitement.

“Thanks,” you said, not taking your eyes off of him until he looked away, laughing.

“Who knew you had it in ya?” he joked, bumping his shoulder into yours.

“I did,” Draco mumbled from your other side. You turned to him, sending him a warning glance, and then looked back at George.

“Well, the Hufflepuff's certainly didn’t,” you said, referencing the way their seeker had barely even glanced at you when the game was starting.

George laughed again, and you felt your knees go a little weak. Who’s wouldn’t at the sight of an older and handsome boy laughing at a joke you made?

“Not looking forward when we have to go against Ravenclaw in a few weeks,” George said, an impressed and admiring look on his face, “you’ll definitely give Harry a run for his money.”

Draco snorted from beside you, and you sent a sharp elbow to his side. He groaned, moving a hand to nurse the spot. You kept your dazed eyes locked on Georges. George’s eyes flickered to a semi-hunched over Draco, his smile widening.

“I’ll talk to you later,” he said, smirking at you.

You watched his long legs carry him away, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Don’t tell me you fancy a Wea-” Draco started, but you winded your elbow up as a warning and he stopped suddenly.

“Shut up,” you said, still watching the way George moved through the crowd as if he was untouchable.

It was in that moment that you felt normal. You didn’t feel ostracized or different. You felt like a normal teenager with a normal annoying brother, playing a normal sport, and having a normal schoolgirl crush. Your smile felt like it would never leave you that night.

And it didn’t, it only managed to grow larger. You felt two large hands clasp around your shoulders at breakfast. You were stuffing your face, finally finding food appealing again, and with cheeks filled with food you turned and locked eyes with the always handsome George Weasley.

You stopped chewing, food sitting docile in your mouth. Your eyes widened, and you brought a hurried hand to cover your mouth as you began to chew again, ducking your head slightly as George looked at you, amused.

“Just wanted to check and see how the post-win glory was treating you,” he said, straddling the bench next to you.

You swallowed hurriedly, taking a sip of water from your goblet to wash down the food. You smiled nervously at him.

“Well, I don’t feel too different,” you said, grinning.

He laughed, resting an elbow on the table and pushing his hair back slightly with his large hand. You gulped as you watched his biceps flex at the movement, admiring his strong jaw as his head turned into his hand.

“Really?” he teased, a crooked grin on his lips as he shamelessly looked you up and down.

“I got my appetite back,” you said, buttering up your third piece of toast and putting it on your plate, “couldn’t eat for days before the match.”

“Harry gets like that,’ George said casually, “Fred and Ron eat more than ever before a match.”

You giggled, and George smiled at the sight.

“What about you?” you asked him, meeting his brown eyes with your grey ones.

George seemed taken aback, like no one often asked about him.

“Oh,” he said, smiling shyly at you, “I don’t know. I guess I eat less before matches.”

You nodded your head, and George cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Alright,” he began to stand, looking down at you, “just wanted to check in on ya.”

“Thanks,” you said, blushing wildly as he sauntered back over to the Gryffindor table.

Practice only got harder and longer, and soon, you barely had any time to sleep. You managed to get most of your homework done in class, but you still had some extra assignments creeping up on you. You spent most of your nights on the pitch, and the evenings grew colder. Every night, though, you could glance to the green student section and see Draco huddled in some type of fur, watching you practice. He often brought his own homework up there with him, using it to pass the time when you weren’t doing anything particularly impressive.

Draco met you on the pitch as the moon illuminated the grass around you. You drank some water, sweating under your thick robes.

The two of you walked back to the castle, and Draco slid you a roll of parchment from his bag.

“What’s this?” you asked, unrolling the paper.

“It’s your potions essay,” he said, “I knew you’d forget to do it, so I took care of it for you.”

“Thank you,” you sighed out, feeling tremendously relieved at the thought of one less assignment to to, “I feel exhausted.”

“You look it,” Draco mumbled, and you hit his arm with the tightly rolled parchment.

You made it into the castle, the halls squeaking with the sound of your teammates walking to the Ravenclaw dorm. Draco followed you, the two of you breaking off from your team. He carried your parchment for you as you untied all the pads and equipment hugging your body.

“Both the Malfoy’s in one place? To what do I owe this pleasure?” you turned, seeing George Weasley slipping from behind a tapestry hanging on the wall.

“Where did you come from? Is there something behi-” Draco lifted the tapestry carefully, and while he moved, George replaced his spot next to you.

Draco felt the hard wall behind the tapestry and you watched him with a smirk on your face as his hands continued to inspect where George had managed to come from.

“Hello,” he said, bumping his shoulder into yours with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Hi,” you said shyly, painfully aware of your wind-thrown hair and sweating face.

“What are you two up to?”

“He’s just walking me back to my dorm,” you said, still fiddling with one part of the pad on your arm that always gave you trouble.

“Well, I’m sure he needs his beauty sleep. Think I could manage getting you back safely?” George purred from beside you, speaking so Draco couldn’t hear him as you watched your brother hit his knuckles on the hard stone wall.

“Could you? Pretty big shoes to fill,” you joked, pointing at Draco’s fancy dress shoes that were obviously smaller than George’s.

“I wouldn’t be caught dead in those shoes,” George joked back, and at the sound of your loud giggle, Draco stopped looking at the wall.

“What’s so funny?” he snarled, sending a foe intimidating look at George.

“Draco,” you said sternly and warningly, “George is going to walk me to my dorm, you can go and get some rest.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at you, weighing his options. He could give up easily and leave you to a presumably awkward walk alone with George, or he could embarrass you a little. He chose the latter.

“Alone? Are you mental-”

“I swear to god Draco,” you cut him off, the sheer tone of your voice making his eyes widen a little in fear.

Draco cleared his throat awkwardly, adjusting the tight sleeves of his dress shirt.

“Fine,” he said, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” he cast a glance at George, looking stern, “In one piece?”

George was smiling like a fool, suppressing a giggle at the interaction. Draco shoved your parchment into your chest, and you held onto it as he stalked off.

“Thank you, Draco! Love you!” you called after him in a sing-song and sisterly voice.

He waved his hand, back still towards you, and you and George laughed.

You two started walking again, falling easily into step with each other, You struggled holding your parchment without crushing it as you still worked on that one part of your arm padding.

“Do you need some help?” George asked from beside you, offering his hand out.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, handing him the parchment as the two of you began up the stairs.

He watched you for a moment, your delicate fingers struggling to untie a complicated knot.

“Here,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder to cease your walking.

You stopped, and he took a step down so he was on a lower level of the stairs. You were eye level, and his brown eyes bore into yours as he waited for you to hold your hand out. You did, and he crouched to place the scroll on the step next to him. He returned to your height, his strong fingers going to your arm.

He held your hand for a moment, pulling it to the side as he looked at the knot. His hand slid down your wrist, over the padding, and to the knot near your elbow. You kept your eyes on his hands, afraid that if you looked at his face you might explode.

“Thanks,” you whispered, feeling like your lips would crack and fall off if you said anything more.

“Of course, darling,” he whispered back, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

You felt your legs tremble, your entire body seemed to have fireworks shooting through its veins. You did everything in your power not to throw your head back and start giggling manically.

Soon, the padding was looser on your arm, and George held it as it fell off. He gave it to you, placing it gently in your outstretched hand. You took it, holding it by some of the string at the top. He turned you by your shoulders so you stood directly facing him. You felt your throat close a little.

He was bending his knees suddenly, crouching at your feet. His face was by your hips, and you felt your face burn red at the close proximity. You felt his long fingers working on the knee pads you still had on. One of his warm hands lay flat against your shin for support, as the other pulled easily at the string holding your kneepad on. Your fingers tightened around the arm pads you were holding, and once again you were willing yourself not to let out some sort of desperate giggle.

He rose, meeting your eyes.

“All better,” he mumbled, his voice deep.

He held your knee pads for you with one hand, and the other held onto your parchment. You both stood for a moment on the stairs like that, face to face at the same height. If you took a slightly deeper breath, your chest would have expanded and brushed against George’s. You took shallow breaths.

“Let’s go,” he said, but made no effort to move. He sounded entranced and dazed, and you caught his eyes flicker to your lips. You licked them nervously, not realizing what you were doing until George’s eyes followed your tongue gliding against your mouth. You saw his adam’s apple bob in his throat, and your eyes widened a little.

You turned suddenly, going to take another step up the stairs. George’s strong hand wrapped around your wrist, steadying you as you stumbled back to the lower step. You nearly fell, but his strong chest was there to catch you. You were pulled against him and his arm wrapped around your lower waist. He looked at you for a second, and then pulled you down another step so you were on the same one as him. He bent his neck down, and you tilted your head up, your lips meeting in the middle.

One of his hands moved to wrap around the back of your neck, willing your face closer to his as if there was any space between you two. You heard the clatter of you knee pads as he set them aside a few feet away, and you dropped the arm pads you were holding. Your hands slid to rest on his chest, feeling the soft material of his sweater beneath your cold fingers. You pressed a little against him, his toned chest not that far from your touch. He smirked as you ran your nails down from his collar bones to dangerously close to the top of his belt. You pulled away, resting your forehead on his. You both breathed deeply, lips parted.

“Draco’s gonna kill me,” you whispered with a small smile.

“You’re thinking about your brother right now?” George joked back, tucking a piece of your blonde hair behind your ear.

“Should I be thinking about your brother?”

George pulled away from you completely, his hearty laugh filling the small staircase you were in. You laughed too, picking up your padding.

George held the padding and your parchment in one hand, and you held both of your arm pads in one hand. He slipped his hand into yours, and the two of you walked up the stairs.

As you went, neither of you felt like you were in the shadow. George was his own person apart from Fred, with his own interests and his own jokes. You weren’t the brooding Malfoy, you were the girl who laughed and kissed boys in stairwells.

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