#I lose track of that sometimes because boy is the rest of that company kind of a mess

[waxwing-cedrorum]

I think one of my favorite things at the art store I work at is when old women come in who are textile artists but repeatedly tell me they aren’t artists and I get to be like:

Ma’am you are an artist, you have always been an artist, and I have seen some of the most insanely cool art that was made with quilts/costumes/embroidery/etc.

Because let me tell you. THE MINUTE YOU SAY THAT, THEIR EYES FUCKING LIGHT UP.

One memorable conversation was with a woman who came in looking for spray paint for quick coverage on some foam armor. At first we started out normal, just her asking for opinions on how to do it since she’s not used to such a shiny surface. She mentions a little bit in that she’s not an artist but that she works as a costumer at a local small theater.

I look at her straight in the eyes in slight shock because honestly the word “costumer” and “not an artist” do not compute in my brain, and tell her that she is an artist and that I think that’s an insanely cool medium to work in because I have NO CLUE how it works but I know costumes that are absolutely stunning work.

She immediately gets super excited and asks if I want to see some of her work.

OF COURSE I SAY YES

She proceeds to show me not only wonderful outfits from various productions at her local theater but also A WHOLE ASS TWIRLING BREAK AWAY TRANSFORMATION DRESS SHE MADE FOR ONE OF THEM.

I get extremely excited and ask if she has videos which she does and she shows me them while looking proud as fuck of her work. She tells me how long she’s been doing this (VERY LONG TIME) and all about various productions she’s done and how she did this or that costume.

It wasn’t that long of a conversation but it truly stuck with me.

I love this art store, I love the people that come through here more than anything else. Everyone needs a little boost in confidence once in a while and everyone is always at different steps of their artistic journey.

I will get hype for a child showing me their doodle in the large demo sketchbook we keep out. I will always say yes when anyone asks me if they can show me what they’re working on. I will enthusiastically tell you what part of your work is my fav. And yes I will most definitely tell you you’re an artist no matter where you think your skill level is at or whether or not you even believe you’re an artist.

This world is fucking bleak sometimes. Things are getting really dark. Reading the news is terrifying and I just did price changes on some items that jumped $20 in one go. You may think art isn’t important in times like these. But god if you can find the time to just pick up a pencil and give art a shot please do. I don’t care what skill level you’re at I love to see it and it’s worth making.

Make embroidery, make quilts, make silly doodles in the margins of your school notes, make costumes WITH BREAK AWAY TRANSFORMATIONS, make an OC, make paintings, use chalk, use pastels, use oils or acrylics or watercolor or gouache. Mess around and mix mediums together, do calligraphy or make pottery. Pick up a pencil and draw a shit ton of eyes because right now that’s all you feel confident in. Your art matters and I fucking love to see it no matter what it is. It makes every day brighter when people excitedly ask me if I want to see their work when trying to explain to me what they’re looking for doesn’t work.

Your art is your’s and it’s something so uniquely you that it always deserves to exist. I’m not good with words and never have been. But in dark times art is so important even if you never share it and you make it just for your own eyes. Its wonderful.

Please just keep creating and know you’re an artist no matter what level you’re at. I’m getting really sappy now and I’ll probably look at this post tomorrow wondering wtf I was doing but please know your art matters no matter what the world tries to tell you. That wonderful old lady had been making costumes for a significant amount of her life and deserves to be proud of her art just as much as you do. She didn’t even consider herself an artist and that’s a shame.

And if you aren’t sure if you’re an artist or if your art matter I’ll be here in my silly little store t-shirt standing behind the counter to tell you yes it does, and yes it is.

[yakuzacanons]

A little night goblin ask, ya know, for the boys 👀 how would they be with an s/o who is a major and I mean, MAJOR night owl? Maybe borderline insomniac? It's not from anything traumatic (or so they think) but hey, what's the deal?

(pls +thank oh gracious god)

As someone who is awake at almost 5 AM as in hasn't gone to bed yet, I FEEL THIS and yes I can. It won't be caused by anything dramatic, they just be up late. Maybe they gamin, who knows. Headcanons below da cut, mwah. Last one for today, goog nite.

Kazuma Kiryu

He's a morning guy so he tries to get to bed at a reasonable time. At first, he would be concerned for your health and wonder if something is wrong. Once he realizes you are just like THAT, he'll more or less return to normal but it'll take some getting used to for him. You might accidentally wake him up in the middle of the night if you're too noisy and that might startle him at first.

Majima Goro

ALSO a total night owl and will only encourage your bad habits. Total enabler and will use it as an excuse to spend time with you, saying things like "Well, since we're both up, may as well do somethin'!". Once he finds out you stay up late, he will take you out on at least ONE all night bender so watch out.

Akiyama Shun

This chronically sleepy dumb dumb cannot understand how you possibly stay up so late. The man doesn't go 5 hours without taking a nap so he'll totally sit up, yawn and stretch before saying "Ah, you're still up?" before getting up to do whatever he was about to do. You'll likely still be awake when he comes back for his next nap, to which he'll say "You're STILL up?! How??". Honestly he's just fascinated.

Saejima Taiga

He's not a night owl but he can be prone to the occassional night where he can't fall asleep, in which case he will simply join you in whatever you're doing. In these cases, he loves nothing more than to just drink some tea and read a book next to you in silence until the both of you get tired enough to go to sleep. Otherwise, he's unphased and just tells you to make sure you remember to turn off the lights whenever you're done.

Tanimura Masayoshi

Also a night owl but not by choice as sometimes it's just because he's getting dragged into work. In these times, he'll keep you company from afar by checking in on you via text or even dropping a quick phone call if he can. However, if it's an off day, he'll definitely be snoozing. If he's super tired, you being up won't disturb him at all but if it does manage to wake him up, he kind of wakes up as if he was startled by a weird dream and just goes "Huh??"

Ryuji Goda

He doesn't know the meaning of a sleep schedule and just sleeps whenever he feels tired. This means he's sometimes just up with you and sometimes he's in his bed spread out like a starfish going honk schnoo. When he does stay up with you, he usually asks what you want to do. He would definitely ask you what's up the first time he realizes you've stayed up super late but he won't act like something's wrong with you as he trusts you to sleep when you need to like he does.

Nishikiyama Akira

He has a pretty average sleep schedule. Typically, he'll only be up late if he's had a couple drinks too many or by losing track of time at karaoke, in which case you're probably doing the same with him. At home, he's a relatively light sleeper, so if you make a noise that wakes him, he'll kind of roll over and sleepily ask what you're doing without so much as opening his eyes while his blanket is pulled up to his chin.

Mine Yoshitaka

Probably the only one of the boys who's got your insomnia thing beat. Who knows if Mine ever actually sleeps fully, he honestly just naps strategically. Like Akiyama but with a plan this time. You'll find him resting intermittently through the day and night at specific times. If he happens to be awake at the same time as you, he kind of just goes about his business as this was already normal for him. He'll take the time to talk to you and see what you're up to though. Otherwise, Mine is just puttering about his day or night depending on what time it is.

Daigo Dojima

This poor boy is so sleepy exhausted. Running the Tojo Clan is difficult difficult lemon difficult. Doesn't really mind that you're a night owl though as it would take an earthquake or a Tojo Clan emergency to wake him up. Secretly loves falling asleep with his head in your lap while you read a book or tell him about your day. No matter how tired he is, he always manages to wake up before you do. You might stay up later than him but you somehow always get more sleep than he does.

Shinada Tatsuo

This man doesn't know what a schedule is, period. He can barely keep his job together so he just gets sleep when he can. You might catch him bolting upright in bed at 11 PM before he shouts "Ah I forgot to turn that in!" before he hasilty throws on his clothes and shoes before running out the door. Other times, he'll be conked out by 5 PM. It doesn't matter how long he's known you, he'll always be kind of impressed by how late you stay up, although you insist to him that it's really not an impressive thing. Always tells you to make sure you get enough sleep whenever you do decide to go to bed.

[eremiie]

Hi! I love your writing! Could you maybe do something for Eren where the reader is good friends with Jean and they hang out a lot, which leads to a heated argument with Eren, who ends up admitting his insecurities about losing her and it gets all fluffy and cute from there? Thank you💜🥰

futile competition;

❥ eren x reader | 3k words | fluff

❥ in which eren gets a little envious & reader has to reassure him

❥ hi! thank you sooo much<3, i hope i did this request justice aksjskak, enjoy :)

"jean, how did you even sprain your ankle in the first place?" you were sat idle on the wooden bleacher with jean next to you, the two of you conversing freely instead of jean being out practicing with the rest of the football team because of his sprained limb.

"i landed wrong during practice a couple days ago. when i went to the doctor they told me to sit out for two weeks."

"two weeks? so you're gonna miss next weeks game?"

"yeah but your boyfriend and reiner are two of the best players, they'll be fine without me for a game."

you shrugged your shoulders looking towards the field, looking for eren. during games you'd be able to spot him quite easily as he always adorned the large number five on his back, but of course like majority of the team he was shirtless, the only reason you could spot him being the way his bun was on the verge of falling out his hair and cascading over his shoulders.

"you're like the weakest link on the team, they're doing much better without you." you joked, causing jean to roll his eyes and shove you over in the slightest. "jean, i will kick you in the leg that's hurt, stop." your giggling made him break out into a smile, him putting his hands up in mock surrender.

jean and you were quite good friends, occasionally hanging out in and out of school, you having met him through your closest friends sasha and connie. the only reason that you two were hanging out during his practice was because you told eren you'd wait for him afterwards so you could spend this friday with him to his request.

"jaeger, focus!" the coach exasperated, flailing his arms outwards at eren's fumble. eren cursed under his breath, and wiped the sweat off of his brow, looking away from you and jean before picking himself up off the ground. "go run a lap and stop letting your girlfriend distract you. everyone else go get water then locker rooms!"

you chuckled at eren being disciplined, watching him make his way out the field to the track to run his lap, jean laughing beside you. "he's such a kiss ass, he's just trying to impress you." jean shook his head as he spoke.

"i don't know why, we're already dating."

jean nodded his head in agreement, grabbing his crutches and pulling himself up. "do you need help?" you questioned standing up abruptly to help him steady himself, a subconscious reaction if you must, as it was just in your nature to be helping.

"nah, nah, i'm good, i'm not disabled or anything, it's just a sprained ankle." jean shrugged you off, and it's true, he was of course fine for the most part, but he also didn't want eren getting angry at a simple gesture from you, as he tended to do quite often. "let's just go back to the gym."

୨୧

eren exited the empty locker rooms, clear irritation spread across his face. his lack of concentration during practice, and jean's stupid face flirting with you was fogging his mind.

"eren!" you called out to your boyfriend, him turning his head after nodding a small goodbye to his coach. you gave jean a small hug before he started waddling away on his one foot and you starting to make your way towards the brunette, eren struggling to suppress an eye roll. "hi baby," your arms wrapped around his waist and he hesitantly reciprocated, letting his circle your shoulders.

"hey." his tone grumbly and dry, but you didn't let your mind wander too much on it.

"i see practice wasn't the best today. was it because of me?" a mischievous grin graced your face as you and eren began to exit the gym, heading towards his car.

yeah, something like that.

"no, it was fine, i just slipped up a couple times." your thumb brushed over eren's hand a couple times before he pulled back to pull his keys out of his backpack that was hung over his shoulder. "get in the car," and then him unlocking it with a press of a button, his presence leaving your side as he went over to the drivers side of the car. you didn't like the way he so casually brushed you off, as eren was usually excited to see you after practice. he would occasionally shower you in kisses, and wipe his sweat all over you and have you shuddering in disgust, but the aloof personality taking place was never present to you, so of course you couldn't help but think it was strange.

you slid into the passengers seat with your own bag sat in between your feet on the floor, and initially decided not to converse with the boy for the rest of the car ride, leaning your head against the window and occasionally glancing at eren who you didn't even see look your way once. seriously, what was his problem? if you knew he was going to act like this while you were at his house the rest of the evening you'd would've went home faster than he could blink.

"______, c'mon." eren murmured before he shut the door to the drivers side, walking towards his front door leaving you still attempting to collect your belongings so you could follow him. you were so stuck in thought that you didn't even realize the two of you had made it to eren's house.

"_____, hi! it's been so long since eren has brought you home, how are you?" mrs. jaeger's (who many times has insisted you called her carla) cheery tone flooded your ears as you entered the household, eren shutting the door behind you and barely even uttering a 'hi.' to his mother or mikasa. despite this you couldn't help but smile at carla, the lady was so sweet and kind and you genuinely couldn't figure where eren got his temper, or stubbornness from.

"hi mrs. jaeger-"

"please, just call me carla." her figure danced her way towards you and her nimble fingers turned you around facing the stairs so she could shed your backpack off for you, and only then did you realize eren had disappeared from sight, leaving behind only the sound of creaky stair steps.

you sighed, and of course carla put two and two together, but not before mikasa who was sat on the kitchen stool facing the stairs as well, in the middle of helping eren's mom with kitchen work. "what's wrong with eren?" she brushed aside her ebony hair and made her way over to the stairs, carla placing a hand on her shoulder to halt her movement.

"mikasa honey, just leave him alone for now, he gets like that sometimes." carla gave you a sorry smile already knowing her sons antics. "i'm sure _____ will get through to him if that's what he needs, right?" mikasa's eyes flickered to you, an unreadable, almost blank expression on her face before she nodded and you let out a small, "right," her walking back over to her position at the stool.

"do you want any snacks, or anything? i know it's been a long day at school and all,"

"it's fine mrs. jaeger, i'm not hungry."

"alright, will you be staying for dinner, i could make your favorite?"

"i'm not sure yet," as many times as your answer would be yes you weren't lying, with eren's strange demeanor you weren't sure how long you could stay in the household even with carla catering to you, her joyous aura wasn't enough.

"okay well let me know, i'll let you go now," she leaned into your ear, her black strands tickling your face, "let me know if anything."

soon enough you were following in eren's steps on your way to his room. you slowly pushed the oak door open seeing eren wasn't in his room and assumed he went to take a shower. you had no problem sitting and waiting as it gave you a second to conjure your thoughts as well, you taking a spot on his bed.

it wasn't long before he appeared back though, him opening and closing his door, eyes flashing to you for only a second. he threw the towel around his neck that was stopping his damp hair from dripping onto his abdomen onto his desk chair and slid on only a pair of sweatpants before crawling on his bed. "scoot over," and you did, making space so he could lay next to you, the smell of his body wash evident on his skin.

the slight tension was unnerving as you played with your fingers where they sat in between your crossed legs, eren paying you little to no mind. "what's your problem?" you couldn't help but ask, as many times as you played the details of the day back in your head you couldn't find a bump in the road, anything that would make him act so distant.

"my problem? i don't have one."

you struggled to not roll your eyes, instead raising a brow. "seriously? you didn't talk to me in the car, you're barely talking to me now, didn't you want me to come and spend today with you?"

"yeah, but i'm sure you rather be spending today with jean, right?"

oh.

you pursed your lips, narrowing your eyes at the boy who's eyes were finally fixated on you. your arms crossed and you bit back an insult, since one was definitely a part of the options you were weighing in your brain. "excuse me?"

"you heard me," he sat up, his muscles flexing underneath his skin as he propped himself up on the bed. "you and him have been so comfortable lately. i'm pretty sure you hang out with him more than me anyways." he huffed, a fire blazing behind his turquoise eyes (which not to mention you always found mesmerizing, even through his anger.)

you grimaced, eren was clearly blinded by his frustration. he seemed to forget how you came over almost every weekend, not to mention a few times throughout the week as well, how you spent majority of lunches with him and how the two of you were a literal couple. it wasn't your fault you and jean had more than one class together, and seemingly got along. he was good company, you couldn't deny that, and you knew him before you even knew eren.

"eren i spend so much time with you, what the hell are you talking about? is that what's bothering you?"

"it doesn't bother me," and of course he was lying straight to your face. "i could care less. do what you want with horseface."

okay now he was being dramatic.

you stifled a laugh at the stupidity that escaped his mouth, how could he make such a vague assumption? "you could care less? so why are you acting all pouty and not talking to me? if you didn't care we'd be all good right now, stop being all mad for no reason."

"i have a reason to be mad,"

"so you admit that you're mad?"

"i mean-"

"and if you're mad then you obviously care?"

"can you let me talk, damnit? you always do that, just let me talk."

"then talk, eren, it's gonna be nonsense anyways. why can't you just trust me? i've been friends with jean before we even started dating, if i wanted him then we would've been a couple before me and you."

"that doesn't stop him from flirting with you and being all touchy and shit, i don't like that,"

"it doesn't matter what you like or not, it matters what's true, and whats not true is that he flirts with me, he doesn't, and he's not touchy either, you're literally being delusional."

"i'm delusional?" this time eren rolled his eyes, his voice raising in the slightest and he was now sitting straight up, giving you a small shove in demonstration of what jean did earlier. "when he shoved you like that he wasn't flirting with you? and when you two were laughing and shit he wasn't trying to flirt with you?"

"eren don't touch me," you pushed his hand away once it made contact with you, a crease in your eyebrow evident from your rising anger as well. "we can't laugh now? like what the fuck sense does that make to you? you're literally just jealous."

"jealous of what? of kirstein?" disbelief was evident in his tone.

“who else? nobody just acts like that for no reason, you’re jealous, eren.” you began to stand up ready to just leave, crawling over eren’s body to make your way towards the door. you couldn’t stand when eren couldn’t admit to his fault, i mean; it was his fault right? he was stubborn, and it was irritating.

but eren on the other hand couldn’t let you leave, he didn’t have time for his mom to scold him for upsetting you, or for mikasa to bombard him with aimless questions, better yet, for jean to find out the two of you were fighting, or worse, fighting over him.

before your hand could reach his doorknob his hand reached your wrist, eren pulling you backwards towards him in the gentlest manner he could muster, you turning towards him your expression still vexed. “eren, just let go of me, i get it.” but his grip remained, him using his other hand to turn your frame towards him by your waist.

"i’m not jealous, i just feel like i shouldn’t be having to compete with another guy for my own girlfriend!" he sputtered abruptly, and the hand on your waist clenched at your t-shirt, while the grip on your wrists tightened. you were caught somewhat off guard looking up at eren, curiosity brewing at his sudden outburst.

“what?”

“i just... i don’t want to lose you to some idiot,” he could no longer meet your eyes, his facade dropping and a new side of him he hadn’t shown being unveiled to you.

“eren..” your free hand rested on his shoulder and you slowly walked him back towards his bed until the back of his knees hit it and caused him to plop down on the covers, “baby, you’re not gonna lose me... you couldn’t lose me over something like that.”

eren’s gaze was still shy to meet yours, but his other hand made its way to your waist as well, pulling you down on top of him until you were straddling his lap, him pulling you close so his arms wrapped around you. “i know, but...” he struggled to get the rest of his words out, not even sure how to convey them to you regardless of how understanding you’d be with him.

“eren, look at me,” you grabbed his face between your palms, smoothing out his loose brown locks so you could get a clear sight of him, training your eyes on his. you loved the way blue swam across his green eyes, and the way his bottom lip jutted out slightly as if he was constantly pouting. he was so gorgeous to you, even through his anger. “i’m yours, i’m all yours, and you’re mine. nobody, not even jean can get between me and you, i love you, i date you. jean and i are just friends, and you don’t need to let him get in your head like that.”

eren pouted his bottom lip before leaning his head against your chest, you raking your fingers through his hair until the hair tie loosened around it. he relished in the feeling of your warm skin against his and your hands attempting to place another messy bun in his strands of damp hair. “i just feel like i’m not doing enough for you sometimes... like he could give you something that i’m not.”

“eren you are enough for me, like i said, i’m dating you, not anyone else, if you weren’t doing enough for me i wouldn’t be with you. i love everything about you baby.”

“you sure?”

“yes, why wouldn’t i be sure? even with how stubborn you are, and how angry you can get, and how jealous,” you lifted his head from your chest, pressing your lips to his forehead with a grin. “you can get, there are so many good aspects about you that i love and i won’t leave you because. you know... just don’t hurt me.”

eren couldn’t help but let a smile grace his own face as well, hands drifting up your back until they reached the back of your head, pulling you down to connect your lips to his fervently. you loved the way his lips felt on yours, his slightly chapped but so perfect when paired with your own. his attempt to deepen the kiss was futile as you pulled back with a giggle, eren shaking his head and laying back pulling you on top of him some more, his arm wrapping around your shoulder as he pecked a kiss to your hair.

“so i’m not gonna lose you?”

“no baby.” another peck to his chest.

“you love me? and my anger issues, which i don’t have?”

a roll of your eyes and another laugh let out from you as you kicked his leg from under yours causing him to laugh as well, subconsciously squeezing your body tighter on top of his. “i love you, and your anger issues which you do have.”

eren pinched your sides, smirking from above you. “i love you too, babe.”

a quick knock at the door made both you and eren turn your heads, but the door was open before eren could even utter a “come in,” carla’s figure with a worried expression on her face that quickly turned to surprise when she noticed the two of you cuddling. “oh! i’m so sorry, i heard the two of you arguing earlier and i thought she had left when i was upstairs, i-“

“mrs. jaeger, it’s perfectly fine.” you smiled picking yourself up off of eren awkwardly who sat up as well.

“mom! you could’ve waited after knocking!” eren groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“you guys are so cute,” her hand covered her mouth as she squealed, smiling sweetly at her son and you. “are you staying for dinner, _____, it’s almost ready, i’m having mikasa set the plates now so i want to know.”

there was no harm in staying a little longer. “sure, i can stay.”

“great! okay, i’ll leave the two of you alone now.” soon after, eren’s door was shut and the remnants of carla’s voice wandered as she walked down the hall, something resembling an “oh, they’re so adorable!” and you and eren couldn’t help but laugh.

[sugar-petals]

:: random things about boyfriend yoongi

↳ ♡ NOTE I saw this format floating around the fandom and thought it was cool and sweet (just like our honey boy so here it goes) 😊  includes an sfw and nsfw bit, both can be read independently.

words. 3k

SFW

First off, Yoongi is laid-back and casually sexy the way we know him. But he also has spikes of energy where he actually gets a little clingy. Any opportunity he will use to hold hands or jump around like a madman with his gummy smile because he got excited about something that you never could predict would make him so happy. He truly is an epiphany.

He’s your most eager personal chef but funnily enough a little unsettled by onions so you end up helping him. Yoongi hates to be crying in the kitchen because of some evil little vegetable but hey, perfect time and place to spend half an hour huddled together cooking or baking. And Yoongi is secretly longing for a cheesy scene, he finds it romantic when you wipe the tears from his face.

His way of speaking to you is a mix of mumbly Korean, high-pitched pouty cat speak, and old-school English slang phrases that he learned somewhere on social media or award shows back in 2018. Most of the time he takes things seriously but is up for some joking anyway. He is sure to giggle every now and then which is really adorable of him. Yoongi is also the person who gets every nuance of your humor and reacts to it.

After being single, you really have to get used to someone waddling around the house. Like— oh, he’s there! And it’s none other than him! Since Yoongi isn’t noisy when he concentrates on his laptop, it really stands out when he morphs from his unmovable rock-like being to a slow rolling stone headed towards the kitchen from time to time. You have to blink every time. And how could you not look up, he’s walking by with his cutest oversized sweaters and striped fluffy socks.

He cannot hide things that normal people would try to keep secret — because of their own discomfort, but he is good at blocking out things that serve your comfort. I’ll explain what I mean. If you have been keeping up with Yoongi postponing the reveal of his surgery until it was successful, you know what I mean. In short, Yoongi is pretty much an automatic filter for things that disturb you. Knowing the right time and place to inform you is the key. As is disregarding things that don’t concern you as a couple, unnecessary drama and opinions. He’s really good at that without ever trying to sugar-coat the important things because he remains a frank and honest soul.

Yoongi has an easier time giving random presents for simple occasions rather than making a big deal out of traditional festivities. So, big celebrations are often kept simple — unless the rest of BTS is there advocating their ‘a little party never killed nobody’ motto — while Yoongi focuses on getting you something attentive or useful every other day pretty much. He’s still a frugal type, you know him. It’s more about inexpensive things that catch his eye because he heard you likes this or that type of snack or want this or that sofa cushion. 

There’s always something new and surprising in the fridge and it’s hardly ever empty because Yoongs takes care of the groceries, really thinking it through. Just personal chef things. Being Yoongi’s partner must be the most destressing thing. He takes responsibility for the worldly things, the ironing clothes and the trash cans. He himself thinks that’s the easiest shit ever and is ready to put time into it (he sees the merit, it drives him) while thinking your side — the sheer act of being in love with him, being there for him — must be hard. Which it isn’t. 

Yoongi thinks emotions and relationships are tough and complicated while daily life runs smoothly at the snap of a finger. You think maintenance is a drudgery while love is not the maze your boyfriend assumes it is. Deep down Yoongi thinks he’s unlovable and a bad person, that’s why he believes he doesn’t have the burden but you have. That your affection then blazes past the barriers in Yoongi’s esteem is something that he finds incredible. It catches him off guard there, you burst the bubbles of the flaws he falsely imagines he has.

You bet your ARMY bomb you’re watching cat videos together.

Guess who’s the first person to hear all of Yoongi’s upcoming hit tracks? Even Namjoon gets the first sample ten minutes later. You gotta be really advanced at keeping secrets and avoiding accidental leaks with your phone or something.

Yoongi hesitates with the analogy because it’s a little funny and you’re evidently not a steaming liquid made of beans, but he claims you really are like his daily americano. Makes his every morning better. 

Now, in all seriousness. What means the most to him is that you take him how he is and are stable company. Yoongi is afraid of betrayal and stupid games so he has to be sure to have a safe bet going. I think that’s why he fancies marriage, it’s a sign of commitment and some degree of permanence to him. And yes, he is a bit jealous in nature since he’s easily invested in someone with a purity of feeling, almost in a naive way. Yoongi easily idolizes his partner and puts a lot of energy into a bond. He wants to protect that, take the risk, and he has watched for someone who radiates genuine trust and faith. He is sure to have found it in you without any illusions and he is right. Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty.

Playing the piano for dinner or date night is a must, he practices constantly to advance to a great standard. He secretly finds a lot of satisfaction in you cooing at his skills and melodies. Those ten bony fingers gliding over the keys with such a technicality and focus, and a passion that makes you hold your breath, it’s great to watch.

Did you see that one coming? He will compose and produce a designated mixtape only for you personally. Yes, with a little self-filmed, self-cut music video for the title track. 

Now those things never see the light of day, they’re all for you. But what about your couple life once it touches the social realm? As one might expect, Yoongi is very ‘eyes turn narrow’ with people who bring disharmony to your dynamic and the relationship in general. In fact, he is grumpy and disappointed, and should someone give him a reason, distinctly brutal. If someone even attempts to test you or plays manipulative games, Yoongi is relentlessly turning them from the inside out with his words that never miss the mark. They’re efficient. As I said, he hates playing annoying games, he’ll do any shortcut and be Yoongi.

I guarantee you can lean back and will never the fazed by stupid people and time wasters again. No need to lose face. Yoongi does the dirty work and is the best possible defender to have on your side. He handles that. Invasive opinions and useless phrases he will shove right up some trashtalker’s ass and leave. Let’s squarely say he is unafraid to be a armchair critic of your and his haters and doesn’t want any of that nuisance to disturb what you have together. He cuts very quick and makes sure not to get tangled up in trouble.

Yoongi will also debunk a whole bunch of weirdos on weverse asking about your private love while he’s at it. Prepare for some very entertaining snide remarks. Oh my god, so many entitled people will be pissed off. Many will also celebrate him for stepping up. What’s actually important to Yoongi is that nobody taints what is like a treasure to him.

It won’t be hard to overlook that Yoongi is very proud of you as well. He looks confident and revering when he hangs out with the group and you’re somewhere close by, even just doing something trivial.

He’s also pretty touchy, sometimes publically to demonstrate something, but mostly in the relative calm and safety of a hotel room. When the lights are out, all barriers crash, the utter romantic takes over. His favorite types of kisses besides those onto his hands are when you kiss his lashes. And yep. Yoongs is such a cozy little spoon. A very curled up one with cute shooky pajamas on most likely.

Talk about clothes. Believe it or not, Yoongi’s fashion goes through a significant change due to the relationship. He knows that you are touchy and thinks about what kinds of flannels are the biggest cuddle magnet, after all. And oh wonder, he will also show some level of skin when he accidentally hears your praises for his arms and legs and collar bones and glowy skin while talking to a close friend of yours. So, look forward to that in summer (he still dislikes the winter cold and wraps himself into scarves twice his size, mind you) though it’s still for your eyes only, he covers up when going out. Truth be told, he enjoys when you casually touch his skin. Especially the arms. Which hold up the firmament to you, and your world, too, and guard it.

BTS will know about how excited he is about you because he often boasts about for how long you’ve been living together by now. We all know this is Yoongi’s favorite way of bragging and it further shows that loyalty, dedication and longevity is the spice to his every meal.

Yoongi is probably going to quit the bottle because you naturally make him feel at ease and upbeat. In fact, he simply forgets about his wine. I don’t have to convince you that Yoongi will be very immersed in any interaction with you whether that be watching movies or discussing his latest tracks. 

Those discussions come with extra back massages for him because he spends a lot of hours in his chair. Especially around the neck, it’s no secret that this is in every cat’s top 3 favorite massaging areas. Yoongi is gonna make some really raspy, sleepy sounds and just melt in your hands. He’s gonna sleep like a baby afterwards every time. Sometimes, he says funny and cute things while he dozes. He looks very content.

Say goodbye to the 21st century adulting annoyances in your life because Yoongi has a grip on those without a word. Those six specific chores that always plague you take him only a dozen minutes and he is eager, the forms to fill out are already sent off, the list of people to e-mail is weeded through. The taxes are paid, the bank account is full, the meals are on the table, garnished to perfection. Roof over the head, and it’s a sturdy one, Yoongi bought a sound haven house to inhabit a lot of happiness for two. 

He’s probably the only person who doesn’t see it as a loss of dignity if you want to hold on tight to him during a dentist visit as a grown ass mf. Why all of this? Yoongi cannot not strive to feel needed in his actions. He wouldn’t like himself if he couldn’t contribute something reliable and useful. That you find things worthy of your time is priority. You complement each other, what you think is a waste of energy makes him work and strive and vice versa. That way, in the end all things are taken care of.

Giving is more important than taking in Yoongi’s world. He thinks of everything because he considers it an offense to have you in a pile of duties, that is, if you don’t like ‘em. It’s his form of dedicating his efforts and showing respect. He doesn’t need much in return. The things he expects if at all don’t feel like a duty: Much like he doesn’t consider doing those acts of services for you likewise.

Work horse he is, he needs something on his daily to-do plan. Which includes making you feel unbothered by the occasions of an incoming strict world when it’s getting to you. You’re supposed to do what you feel like doing just like him and not slave away at fifty deeds. That you torture yourself with daily life hassle is the thing he dislikes seeing the most. He enjoys doing these things so he’s happy to get going.

What’s not a daily life hassle: Holly is a big fan of yours. Instant friendship. Just wanted you to know.

He always knows how to preoccupy himself and finds something to improve. Getting on your nerves, and that’s no surprise, is the last thing Yoongi will ever do. In fact, you sometimes have to search for his napping spot because he got lost somewhere in the house. 

He either sleeps or works, his philosophy is simple. If you need him, he does appear seemingly out of nowhere. And, he spends as much time with you as you enjoy, not always prioritizing his producing unless it’s urgent or he’s on an inspiration streak. Which is great anyway, you can sit next to him listening. It’s the right balance of work and play.

Yoongi is not above blatantly showing off. Actually, he goes for an act of stunning pretty often. You know how cats parade around whatever they just caught. He wants to impress you with assets and accolades and appraisals, the boy can’t help it. That you only lightly nod at most of it with a little smile will confuse him but he will get the point later on. You wanna signal Yoongi that you anchor your love for him not in shifting numbers and chunky metal pieces. 

That you don’t confuse his signs of outward worth and fame with the core of the guy you find the sweetest in the world is very important to him. He will take some time to see through that because he’s used to being loved through status and its symbols by people close and afar. 

The way you throw yourself at him to give a big smooch in random situations — especially when he doesn’t feel great about himself— rather than only when he say gets a new car is sending him a message. Again, he has to grow into that. He will retreat at the beginning because he feels worthless of your affection on days where he doesn’t feel big and bold and successful. But since he sees you jumping on him because you need only his kind and squishy presence and see him as no different than usual because he’s always Yoongi underneath, your boyfriend will change his mind about it sooner or later. He learns that your presence makes him feel like a billion dollars yourself.

You don’t wallow in the regrets of other people missing the point of Yoongi and instead focus on always understanding him rather than enabling Yoongi into wrong directions. And there are many of those, his mental health can tell you a thing or two about it. He begins to get that you really know what you’re doing and are in it for the real him which makes him feel really loved far underneath all surfaces and images. You accept his fame and admire his work with music which is what he’s truly doing it for but also don’t forget that the most vulnerable Yoongi is the one that you’re there for and not a facade.

NSFW

I know you’re curious. That Yoongi’s sexual style is more than just interesting goes without saying. To give you an idea. Anything steamy with Yoongi means him taking his time. You know, for making it quality. Yoongi wants to grow into the right balance of activity and staying relaxed. He is good at keeping cool and bringing some focus to the madness. He wants to figure out how to be more casual instead of tense and overly preoccupied which he’ll be at the start of the relationship. But the fast learner he is, his nervousness fades way faster than you think. 

Yoongi is extremely afraid that he can’t please you or starts to become awkward slash clueless so he darts to the opposite of the spectrum and overperforms, even plays a character. You have enough cool yourself to tell him what to do in the pace that works best. That he stays centered in his body is important for you to teach him. When he gets grounded and juggling his confidence is out of the equation, he fucks the best.

His favorite position besides giving oral — with you on your back — will be doggy style. Man, we gotta talk about that. Slow to upper moderate pace, nothing too all over the place. Yoongi moans very slowly, too, all drawn out. Get ready for a frequent session of some anal to unwind. You heard that right. First, Yoongi will get the two of you into the right rhythm with his hands at the sides of your waist, then, ride it out in slow mo with his right hand properly stimulating you from the front. 

By habit, he will add some lube here and there but not use insanely dripping amounts so everything gets messy or he can’t touch you without sliding off anymore. Just enough to slide well. Yoongi is so good at this I swear, it’ll be your favorite thing to relax. He has the restraint and technique to pull it off rather than pulling out, huh. Yoongi is gonna stay inside you for ages. It feels like he’s massaging every spot for some extra time. It’s amazing to slack off your muscles, cool off, and get many a gentle but fulfilling orgasm. 

He’s not gonna put you through the hassle of dealing with an anal creampie cleanup so he keeps it wrapped, and mostly focuses on your movements altogether while keeping his own climax smooth and more relieving rather than something that relentlessly knocks him out in one go. Yoongi is good at observing and doesn’t feel the need to chase a violent high which is why he is so great at sex. Fucking with Yoongi leaves a wholesome feeling and you never feel ashamed or guilty, or a sense of being dirty and ruined. 

He enjoys having sex to make you feel really good and works his hands on you very respectfully. His goal is to have you wet and pulsing after a long while of getting you there, and putting you to a good night’s sleep. He’d feel terrible if he left you sore or disturbed. He is really passionate, especially with his kisses or when you ask him to slide into very deeply, but Yoongi being brash and controlling is an image out of sight.

Besides giving you the number one heavenly assfucks, Yoongi also likes to work his tongue as we know, and he’ll work it all over. Few body parts of yours have not made contact with that glorious mouth and I say that in the best of ways. You can instruct him to do whatever, Yoongi obliges with radiant joy. And here again, he takes minutes upon minutes. Kissing and kissing and licking and maybe even teasing once or twice to make you smile. You know, a little signature wink. Honoring your skin and every shape is not something that Yoongi has to talk about, he will physically show it and I swear it’ll finally get into your head with every little move, Yoongi has totally surrendered his tongue to your body and worships it.

[skzvibes]

It's not like you're in love

pairing: bang chan x reader

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: intense make out, mentions of nudity, mentions of sex (not explicit smut tho)

word count: 4,6K

a/n: sorry if you find mistakes or typos, English is not my first language so this won't be perfect <3

You met him because you started working on JYP as a staff.

You were almost always working with Stray Kids, so you got close to them and, after a few weeks, you were already friends.

But with Chan was different than with the rest of the members

You have always looked at each other in a different way

And even if you said that you were just best friends, even the members knew that you were just avoiding your feelings

"Are you still here? I need you in my studio." That was the text Chan had just sent you. Yes, you were still in the JYP building where you worked, and even if you were about to leave to go home, you immediately headed to his studio. You adored those moments when you two were alone because he wanted your opinion about his new song or maybe just some company while he was working. You had a special friendship with him even if you had not known each other for that long, and you did not expect that at all when you started working in JYP as a staff member.

When you got there, you knocked at the door, and you heard him saying that it was open. You smiled right when you entered the room. It was kind of cold and dark. The only light was from the computer screen, which let you see his silhouette. You got closer to him and sat in the chair next to his, knowing that he was probably finishing something and he would look at you in a few seconds. And that is what happened. He typed something, and then he took off his headphones to look at you. He smiled and hugged you quickly before handing you the headphones.

"Thank you for coming. Did I stop you from going home?" He asked, looking worried.

"Yes, but you know I don't mind," you smiled and put on the headphones. Chan smiled and played the track he wanted you to listen to. You had the same conversation every day he asked you to go to his studio, but he still felt guilty.

Chan observed you while you listened to the song. The first time he asked for your opinion, you were so serious while listening to the song that he thought you didn't like it, but now he knows that it's just because you want to listen to it carefully so you can say something more than "I like it", and, to him, it's the cutest thing ever.

When it finished, you took off the headphones and stayed quiet for a few seconds before talking.

"I think it's good, but... Don't be mad, but it sounds kinda similar to the last one." You said, and looked up to him, hoping that he wasn't angry at you. You knew he wanted your sincere opinion, but sometimes it scared you that he could get angry or hurt. But he sighed and nodded, resting his back on the chair backrest.

"That's what I thought," he said, staring at his computer. You felt bad for not being able to help him out.

"Maybe you could ask Jisung or Changbin for help. They're way better than me at producing songs, and I'm sure they can give you a better opinion." He looked at you as you continued. "Honestly, I don't know why you ask for my opinion." You laughed, making him laugh too.

"I don't know, it helps to have different points of view, you know?" He said, and you thought that was all but he continued. "And I like spending time with you, so it's kind of an excuse." He added smiling and observed how your cheeks turned pink.

"Me too." You said softly, and after that, you both stayed quiet, the only sound in the room was the buzzing of his laptop, and your eyes locked.

And then he leaned in, slowly. As he got closer, you could smell his cologne, and your heart started to beat faster, not knowing what his next move would be. And when all you could see was him, you stopped feeling your body, you couldn't hear the buzzing of the laptop, and the room didn't feel cold anymore, but warm.

And he kissed you.

His plump lips brushed yours softly and carefully, making you close your eyes. He tasted like mint. At first, your noses touched but then he tilted his head so he would be able to kiss you more confortably. But as he did that, he noticed what he was doing and stopped the kiss. You opened your eyes and took a deep breath. Your eyes connected.

"I'm sorry, are you sure you-" He started, and you answered by kissing him more. You placed your hands on his shoulders and made him rest his back on the chair again, at the same time that you stood up to sit on his lap. You started running your fingers through his hair, and he held the back of your neck to keep you close with one hand while he placed the other one on your thigh.

Your heart was about to explode, and you felt dizzy as you tried to process what was happening. But you just couldn't. All you could feel and think about was him. At one certain moment, his lips were around your bottom lip, and he bit it, taking you by surprise and making you let out a little moan. Then, you two needed to breathe, so you pulled away.

"We can stop if you-" He started again, and you rolled your eyes, placing your hand against his mouth.

"Can you please stop acting as if I don't want this as much as you do?" You whispered, and you felt his smile grow against your hand. Then you placed it in his shoulder again and leaned closer to him. "Because I do." His pupils dilated, and he connected your lips. His hands started rubbing your back and went further down to the end of your t-shirt.

"Take it off." You mumbled softly against his lips, knowing that it would lead to much more that night.

Two weeks later...

"Chan, we should get dressed." You whispered against his chest. It's not that you wanted to do it, but you were in his studio and it wasn't exactly private.

"Five minutes more, I promise." He said, and he kept drawing figures with his fingers in your naked back. You nodded and closed your eyes. You've never felt so relaxed and at peace in your whole life.

It had been two weeks since you and Chan started... whatever it was. And it was great, but you hadn't even talked about it, and you didn't know how to bring it up. Because you appreciated him so much and you didn't know how to tell him that you had fallen in love with him without ruining your friendship. Maybe, if you had noticed that you were in love with him earlier, you wouldn't have started this "friends with benefits" thing. But now you just couldn't help it. You liked him so much that you didn't want to lose what you had.

After a few minutes, you got up from his lap, making him groan.

"It's been like two minutes, not five." He whined. You let out a little laugh and hurried in getting dressed because it was cold without him hugging you.

"Chan, someone could show up here at any moment, and I don't want any of the boys to find out about us like that." He sighed but, knowing that you were right, he stood up too and started putting his clothes on. "Are you going to the dorms now?" You asked him.

"No, I think I'm gonna stay for a while. I got a bit distracted by you the last hour." He joked.

"And you dare to say that it's my fault. I will not come the next day you text me." You teased him. He smirked and got closer to hug you.

"We'll see." You locked eyes for a few seconds. You wanted to say it. I love you.

But you didn't.

"Goodnight, don't leave too late. You need to sleep too, superhero." You kissed his cheek and turned around to leave, but he held your wrist.

"What kind of goodnight kiss is that?" You laughed and pecked his lips. When you pulled away, he smiled at you. "That's better."

"You're unbelievable." You walked towards the door. "Goodnight, Chan."

"Night Y/n" he answered, and you closed the door.

When you got home, you took your clothes off and put on your pajamas. After that, you went to the bathroom to remove your makeup, and you saw yourself in the mirror. You were smiling widely, and you hadn't even noticed it. Of course, it was because of Chan. The last two weeks had probably been the best weeks of your life. And you wanted more of that. You wanted to know if he felt the same way you did when you were together. That's why you decided to talk with Chan the next day.

"Come on, you can do it." You encouraged yourself. You had been in front of the practice room's door for about ten minutes. You could hear them practicing inside. It's not that hard, just open it.

And you did it, making everyone in the room look at you. Chan smiled instantly, and the others were surprised but happy to see you too.

"Hey Y/n, what are you doing here?" Jisung asked you, and he got closer to you to hug you. Jisung was one of your best friends, even though you haven't been able to spend a lot of time together lately.

"Hi, everyone. I wanted to talk with you, Chan. If you can." You said, looking at him. He nodded and indicated the rest to practice the choreography while he talked to you. You walked to a corner where they wouldn't hear you, and he looked at you, waiting for you to talk.

This wasn't a good idea.

"Well, umm..." You looked down and started playing with your fingers as you got more nervous every second. "You know we've been... spending time together..." He chuckled at your way to call it but he let you continue. You took a deep breath and looked at him in the eyes. "What are we, Chan?" You asked, and his smile faded away as soon as you did it.

No, this definitely wasn't a good idea.

"Why are you asking me that?" He asked, frowning. He looked so confused, and you didn't know how to explain it. You started looking around, avoiding looking at him, wishing you never started that conversation.

"I... I just thought... I don't know, we're not friends but- " You tried to speak, but he interrupted you.

"We aren't?" he asked, and you panicked since he misunderstood you.

"That's not what I meant. I mean... We are friends, but we aren't just friends?" You tried to explain, but you didn't even know what you were saying.

"I swear I don't understand what-" He started, and you decided to go straight to the point.

"God, I like you, ok?" You let out, and his eyes widened. "I like you. And not just as a friend." You finished, and he sighed. He looked at the boys making sure they weren't listening, and then he looked at you again.

"Y/n, I don't know if you misunderstood but... I do like spending time with you but that's it..." You felt how your eyes watered, but you held back your tears. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you... God." He stopped talking and massaged his temples. "What I mean is... We aren't dating" And you hoped that was all he had to say so you could leave, but it wasn't. "And we won't. We can't have another type of relationship." He added, and you felt as if someone had just stabbed you in your heart. You waited a few seconds to answer because you were afraid that your voice would crack.

"No, I understand. It's fine." You finally said, but when he tried to reach out to you and hold your arm, you took a step back. He looked worried. "Umm... I have to leave now." You said, walking backward. You just wanted to get out of there.

"Y/n..." He tried to stop you from leaving but at that point, the boys were looking at you, confused.

"No, really, you never said you..." You stopped there, you couldn't talk with the boys listening, but you knew he had understood you. "It's okay. We're still friends." He nodded slowly, but he wasn't sure that you meant it.

"Then... We're fine?" he asked you again before you left.

"Yes, sure." You reassured him, and then you walked out of the room as fast as you could, leaving the boys, especially Chan, so confused. He tried to continue practicing, but he just couldn't stop thinking about your watery eyes. He couldn't take your sad expression out of his head. He tried to explain it to you without hurting you. But you said everything was fine, right? Maybe you just needed some time to think. Everything will be the same tomorrow. He said to himself.

Too bad he was wrong.

The next day he didn't see you for the whole day, and since he didn't want you to feel pressured, he didn't text you when he used to do it. But the same happened two days later. The third one he tried to text you, but you left him on read. The fourth one, you replied to his message saying that you had some stuff to do and you couldn't meet him. He started to feel worried. And he missed you a lot. Not only having sex with you but everything. Chan missed spending the evenings with you in his studio, listening to his new songs or recommending music to each other, or talking about weird and deep stuff he couldn't talk about with anyone else.

After one week, he thought that was enough. If you said everything was fine, why were you ignoring him? So he got out of his studio, where he usually spent the whole day, and started walking around. Of course, he had a million things to do, but he couldn't help it anymore. He needed to see you and ask you what was happening.

After about ten minutes of walking around, he spotted you talking with another staff member. As he got closer, he could see the bags under your eyes, as if you hadn't been sleeping well. What had happened to you?

You noticed him when he was a few meters away from you. You knew you would have to face him at some point, but you weren't ready yet. He said that you couldn't have another type of relationship, so what was the point? You couldn't act as if nothing was happening and keep meeting him in his studio. Because if you were already hurt, who knows how would you feel after a month. Or three. Or a year. You couldn't deal with that, and you needed to tell him, but you didn't know how yet. That's why you had been avoiding him. But you should have known he wouldn't let you do it for so long.

"Y/n, can we talk real quick?" Chan said, and Lena, the staff member you were talking with, left thinking that Chan needed something related to work. Shit, don't leave me alone. You thought, but of course, your friend couldn't have an idea of what was happening. When she left, you nodded slightly, and you two walked into one of those "focus rooms" that everyone could use. They were soundproof, so Chan knew you could talk freely in there. He let you in first and, when he was inside too, he closed the door. Then, he turned around to look at you.

"Do you need anything?" you asked, trying to act as if nothing happened. Chan sighed, knowing what you were doing.

"Yes, I need you to buy me an americano, and I think Jisung wanted cheesecake." He said sarcastically, crossing his arms. You tilted your head and sighed.

"Fine, what do you want?" You asked. You tried to act rough, but if he had held your hand, he would have noticed you were trembling.

“What do I- Did I miss something?” He asked, slightly annoyed. He couldn’t understand your behavior. “You’ve been ignoring me for a whole week, I thought you said we were fine,” Chan observed you, trying to figure out what was happening.

“It’s not that I’m ignoring you…” You started, and he raised an eyebrow. “I needed to think, I thought you would understand that I can’t just act as if nothing happened.” You replied. Chan shook his head.

“Then you shouldn’t have said we were fine. You should have talked to me.” He complained and raised his voice without noticing it, but you did. That annoyed you. Why was he mad?

“Sure, after you told me we can’t have another type of relationship. What a great moment to talk with you, Chan.” You said, loudly. You didn’t know at what point that conversation turned into an argument, but you wanted to end it. “Chan, you only want sex. I don’t want to have that type of relationship with you anymore, and, as you said, we can’t have another one. So I don’t think there’s anything to talk about anyway.” You said and shrugged. Chan looked at you as if you were saying nonsense.

Well, for him, it was. He only wanted sex? Absolutely no. Could he be only your friend after everything that happened between you two? Also no. Could he date you? No, it was forbidden. Did he want to? He didn’t know.

“I’m trying to be professional. I work here. I’m a staff member and you’re an artist. That’s it.” You finished the conversation and tried to open the door, but he stopped you by holding your arm.

“That’s it? What about everything that has happened between us?” Chan asked. He couldn’t believe you wanted to go back to the time you weren’t even friends.

“I don’t know, Chan. Find another girl. You’ll forget me soon. It’s not like you’re in love, right?” You smiled slightly, and he looked down without saying anything. Why couldn’t you understand he couldn’t love you? He would risk every single thing he has been fighting for during all his life. He just didn’t know what to say, so he stayed quiet.

And you interpreted it as a no.

“That’s what I thought.” You said, lastly. You moved your arm, and he let it go. He observed how you got out of the room and walked away without looking back.

Of course, he didn’t know it was because you didn’t want him to see you cry.

One week later

"C'mon Y/n..." Jisung complained. He wanted you to hang out with the boys at the dorms, but you didn't want to. Because of obvious reasons. "I know Chan and you aren't on good terms. I don't know what happened between you two..." If you knew... You thought. "... but we're still friends. I don't want to lose you because of this. And maybe you can talk with him too, I know he doesn't want to lose you either. You two are like soulmates." He said, and you sighed. You knew he wouldn't leave you alone until you agreed. But you weren't ready yet. And, talking with him? He said what he wanted, and you didn't want to do it, so that was it. You didn't need to talk.

Jisung noticed that you didn't want to talk with Chan by your facial expressions.

"And if you don't want to, it's not a problem. Lately, he's been in his room the whole day if he's not in the studio. I don't think he goes out." You were still doubtful. But you missed the boys a lot.

"Fine, I'll go." You said, and he clapped, showing you his heart-shaped smile, and hugged you.

"Cool, see you tonight." You nodded, and he walked away since he had practice with the boys.

After all, he was right. You couldn't just stop talking and hanging out with them because of what happened between you and Chan. That's why, that night, you were at the dorms when they told you. Hyunjin opened the door and smiled at you.

"Hi, Y/n! I'm so happy you decided to come." He hugged you quickly and let you in.

"Well, Jisung said there would be pizza." He laughed and, after closing the door, he led you to the living room.

"Y/n! Changbin-hyung wanted to start eating without you." Jeongin said, pointing at him. You laughed when Changbin raised his arms, trying to look innocent. You were so happy to see them that you almost forgot that Chan was just a few meters away, in his room.

Even if he had his headphones, he heard your laugh. Of course, the boys warned him that you were coming over, and even asked him to have dinner with them, but he excused himself, saying that he had a lot of work to do. He wasn't hungry anyway. He never was since you two stopped every type of contact. He did have work to do, but he couldn't do it anyway. He hadn't composed anything in that week either, and it was driving him crazy. One of the main reasons why he wasn't dating you was that he didn't want to get distracted from his work, but his world seemed to be upsidedown since you distracted him, even more, when you weren't with him.

In the living room, you all were having an interesting conversation about if birds had ears or not (Felix's thoughts sometimes amused you) when Seungmin talked.

"Should we bring Chan-hyung some food? He must be starving." He said. Minho nodded.

"I haven't seen him eat today," Minho added, and your eyes widened.

"For the whole day?" You asked, worried.

"It's not that weird. When he has a good idea, he stays in his room or the studio for days. We always bring him food, but he's been rejecting it lately. I don't know how he isn't hungry." Minho explained, and you looked at Jisung.

"You didn't tell me that." You said. It didn't seem that serious when he told you.

"I didn't? Sorry, I thought I did, But yes, he's been acting weird lately." He stated. Then, all of them started to talk about another topic, but you remained thinking. You weren't sure if he was like that because, as they said, he was working on something good... Or because of you. You didn't want to think like that, but you couldn't help feeling guilty, even if you didn't know if it was your fault.

That's why, a few minutes later, you took a plate and put in it one slice of pizza. Then you stood up, and everyone looked at you.

"Where are you going?" Jisung asked, even if he knew what you were about to do. Of course, he would have brought food to his hyung, but he hoped that you would do it. He wanted you two to talk.

"I'm gonna bring Chan some food... It's worrying me that he hasn't eaten today." You said and walked away toward his bedroom.

When you got there, you opened the door and saw him with his headphones on, the room completely dark except for the computer. Of course, it reminded you of the evenings you spent in his studio.

Since he hadn't noticed you, you walked toward him and tapped him on his shoulder. He turned around expecting to see one of the boys, but he almost choked when he saw you there. He immediately took off his headphones, but he couldn't say anything. He just observed you, there, in his room.

"Umm... The boys told me you haven't been eating well so... I brought you dinner." You said, placing the plate on his desk. You waited for a few seconds, but he didn't say anything, and it was getting awkward, so you decided to go back to the living room.

It's not that he hadn't anything to say. He had so much to say that he couldn't even verbalize it. He was shocked to see you there, after one week of not having any contact. He couldn't help to stare at you and ask himself what he had done. You were probably one of the best things that ever happened to him and he didn't want to lose you.

And when he realized that, you were already about to open the door of his room to leave.

"Y/n" He called you, making you stop and turn around to look at him. Again, he didn't know what to say. He just didn't want you to leave again.

He stood up and took a few steps until he was right in front of you. He cupped your face with his hands and placed his lips on yours. It was so sudden, but as soon as you felt him kissing you, you kissed him back. At that moment, you felt like your senses were waking up. You didn't smell his habitual cologne, but you did notice the vanilla from his shampoo. And he tasted like mint again. His thumb started caressing your cheek, sending shivers down your spine. And after a few seconds, you felt your cheeks wet. He was crying. You stopped the kiss and opened your eyes to look at him. He opened his eyes too when you placed your hands on his cheeks to wipe away the tears.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I shouldn't have kissed you. I'm sorry." You ignored what he was saying since you were more worried about why he was crying.

"Are you okay, Chan?" You asked him. And he sighed before letting it all out.

"No." He confessed. "I can't sleep. I'm never hungry. I can't write lyrics. I can't compose anything good. Everything I do is think about you even more than before, and it's driving me crazy. I don't know what to do, Y/n." And he locked eyes with you, almost begging you for a solution.

"Chan... Do you love me?" You asked, risking it all. But afraid of being hurt again.

"I told you, I can't..." He started looking around, avoiding your eyes. You interrupted him.

"That's not what I asked." You said, and he stayed quiet. You decided to risk it all one more time. The last time. "I love you, Chan." You confessed, and he broke down in tears and pulled you into a hug, buried his face in your neck. "I love you too." He muttered against your neck. Then you held his face and wiped his tears again. You knew that the tears were just the proof of how much stress he had been going through.

"Then everything is fine. We can go slow and see what happens. I dont need you to take care of me or give me attention all the time, Chan. I know that music is your passion and that you need time for that. I'm okay with it. I understand it."

He just nodded and placed the softest kiss on your lips. "Thank you for not giving up on me."

Then, you told him to lie down on his bed. You knew how tired he was because of not sleeping. You took off his shoes and yours as well and lay down next to him. He hugged you and kissed your forehead. "God, I missed you so much." He muttered against your hair.

"I missed you too," you replied, and you two fell asleep, feeling safe and happy, knowing that the other would be there in the morning.

[thewritewolf]

Mari Christmas And A Happy New Adrien

Summary:

Lost in the aftermath of Hawkmoth's defeat, Adrien loses complete track of time and before he knows it, the holiday season is upon him. Will a Christmas visit to his girlfriend's house be just what he needs to move on?

Hello and welcome to my piece for the @mlsecretsanta event! My giftee, @lesslinette, asked for among other things, Adrienette, family bonding, fluff and just a bit of hurt/comfort and I aimed to please!

I had to do a good amount of research into French and Chinese Christmas traditions (including interviewing my long-suffering French friend - thanks @emsylcatac!), so hopefully I didn't get anything *too* wrong.

Read on Ao3

Enjoy!

Marinette 💖: You still up?

Adrien: Yeah Still not sleeping great House was always too quiet Never thought it could get more quiet tho lol Whats up?

Marinette 💖: :( Just wondering what u were doing 4 xmas Since You know

Adrien: Since father went to jail and mom died again? Haven’t thought about it Guess ive still got time to figure it out

Marinette 💖: … ..Its the 23rd of Dec Like 2am Not a lot of time left

Adrien: oh Guess uh Stay at home?

Marinette 💖: Adrien Its been like two months Youve been going crazy in there Youll just be stuck in there all by yourself Why don’t you come over?

Adrien: I don’t know… I don’t want to bring anyone down Or ruin anyone’s christmas

Marinette 💖: Adrien ‘Kindest Boy in Paris’ Agreste

Adrien: Oh no she used my middle name

Marinette 💖: You are coming over tomorrow And letting me pamper you And letting my family - your REAL family - love you And that is the end of that ...Is that okay with you?

Adrien: Whatever you say ma’am

Marinette 💖: Good Be here no later than fifteen hundred Let me know if I need to pick you up

Adrien: Will do

Adrien laid back down, his face lit up only by the glow of his phone and the only noise in the room being Plagg’s snoring. Putting his phone to sleep, he turned over, closed his eyes, and honestly smiled for what felt like the first time in a long time.

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

Adrien reached the door to his girlfriend’s house with a gift under one arm, an envelope in his pocket, and a weak smile on his face. The latter wasn’t because of a lack of feeling on his part - the exact opposite, actually.

It had been hard to go to sleep after their conversation that night, a swirl of mixed emotions keeping him from getting the rest that he craved. Last night wasn’t much better and he was left exhausted. He’d even been half tempted to call and say that he couldn’t make it, but somehow that only made him feel worse.

So here he was. He’d shambled his way to the car, driven himself there through blurry eyes and frequent yawns, and turned the doorknob. Maybe they’d understand if he just dropped off the present and headed home.

Well, maybe not home, but just where he lived.

The instant the door opened, a wave of hot air buffeted him. Not only did it warm his freezing face, it brought all sorts of wonderful smells on it. There were the expected scents - baked potatoes, salmon, chicken. But then was something else, something a little harder to place.

After puzzling over it for a moment, he shook his head and stepped into the house. No sooner had he closed the door behind him than he heard some voices calling out from deeper inside.

“Wait, was that the door? The family wasn’t supposed to be over until tomorrow, weren’t they?”

“Tom, that has to be Adrien!”

There was excitement in Sabine’s voice that warmed his heart, but not quite as much as when he’d taken a couple steps into the house and was blindsided by Marinette bursting out of the living room to wrap him in a hug.

“Worried I might not show?” Adrien whispered after they parted from their kiss.

“Not even for a moment, chaton.” She smiled up at him before her eyes wandered down to his arms, a suspicious look on her face when she saw the one present. “Looks like you showed some restraint this year.”

“Of course!” At her continued doubting look, he added. “Come on, I’m perfectly capable of giving reasonable gifts.”

“Last year you tried to give me my favorite restaurant.”

“But I didn’t!”

“Only because I hid your checkbook and credit cards!”

Adrien snorted. “Details.”

Rolling her eyes, Marinette tugged on his coat sleeve. “Follow me, you ridiculous man. You can put your gifts under the tree, we’ll open them tomorrow.”

She led him into the living room, where their Christmas tree had been set up in all its glory. There were red paper chains wrapped all around it and a huge variety of homemade ornaments - including a few that he’d made in years past. Ever since he and Marinette had started dating, he’d been welcomed into their household with open arms. And even before that, they’d been nothing but kind to him.

His eyes poured over the tree, looking for one specific ornament. It didn’t take him long to find it - with its poor quality, it stood out among the beautiful glass orbs and painted baubles. His fingers brushed over the patches of glitter, a nostalgic smile spreading across his face as he took in the patterns of melted wax inside it. His first ornament. They’d barely been dating a few months when he’d made that one.

Had it really been four years already?

Arms wrapped around him from the side and he looked down at Marinette’s chin resting on his shoulder, peering up at him with big blue eyes.

“What’re you thinking about, hot stuff?”

“Old memories, that’s all.”

“Hmm…” She leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek. “You just about ready to make some new ones?”

“With you? Always.”

“You two want to come in and help us finish cooking dinner?” They both jumped when Sabine’s voice reached them.

Blushing, Marinette reluctantly let Adrien go and headed toward the kitchen. “Coming, maman!”

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

A few hours later and the four of them were seated around the dining room table. Some things had been moved around from what Adrien remembered from the usual arrangement, and a long table had been set up. Most of the spaces were empty - with the four of them, only about a third of the table was occupied. But while the chairs were mostly left bare, the table was not.

Even though he had helped make some of it, Adrien was still amazed at how good the food all looked when laid out on the table like this.

Most of it was pretty traditional, at least from what he knew. A lot of the time his experience with Christmas dinners were meals allowed to grow cold until he gave up on his father showing. But the roasted chicken was still steaming when they cut into it, the smoked salmon and toast still holding the heat of the oven on them. Add in the gratin dauphinois and this was just about the ideal Christmas dinner he could imagine.

Naturally, it got even better with Sabine’s contribution - spring rolls.

As Adrien shoveled them onto his plate, he asked Sabine, “Is this the only Chinese dish for today, maman?”

“Just you wait, dear.” She smiled over her plate. “Today was Tom’s turn to make dinner. Tomorrow will be mine and you’ll definitely have your fill then.”

“I can’t wait!” Adrien took some of the chestnut sauce to pour over his chicken. Which reminded him… He glanced nervously toward the oven. “I don’t suppose you made foie gras, did you?”

Marinette made a face and shivered.

Tom quickly shook his head. “Oh no, son. Back when Marinette was… what? Eight, nine? She found out how it was made and made us promise to never have it again.”

“Eleven years later and we haven’t broken that promise yet,” Sabine finished. “There are plenty of other foods in the world.”

“That’s good.” Adrien breathed a sigh of relief. “It always made me uncomfortable when my father ordered it.”

“Ordered, dear?” Sabine gave him a confused look.

“Oh, we never really cooked our own dinners.”

Tom’s jaw dropped. “Not even Christmas dinner?”

“Nope. Sometimes he’d have to order the dinner prepared the day before and then we’d reheat it the day of, since no one wanted to come into work on Christmas day, you know?”

“I see…” Tom shared a look with Sabine, but the meaning was lost on Adrien. “Well, you make sure you have your fill, son! We’ll be making more for tomorrow, so this is all for us.”

“Thanks,” Adrien said with a grateful smile.

The conversation meandered and for the most part Adrien was just content to listen in, drinking in the company after spending so much of his time recently just by himself. Well, mostly by himself. Marinette would visit whenever she could get the time between college classes and internships. Nino and Alya were more elusive, if only because they were outside the city so often these days.

But there was one person who was his constant companion, Adrien thought with a smile as he peeked into the breast pocket of his T-shirt…

...Only to see that it was empty. Maybe he’d gone to visit Tikki and the kwamis of the miracle box? Adrien was drawn out of his thoughts when Sabine directed a question at him.

“Are you ready for the pre-dessert snacks, dear?”

“Oh! Sure, yeah. What do you have?”

“You’ll love it!” Tom excitedly got up and hustled over to the kitchen, Sabine right behind him. He raised his voice to be heard as he went to the room next door. “We know how much you love camembert so…”

Adrien’s eyes widened. They didn’t…

Tom returned with a platter of cheeses in his hands and a frown on his lips.

“Something wrong, papa?” Marinette’s eyes glanced between Tom and the cheese platter.

“No, no… its just… I could have sworn I bought more cheese than this. And I was so sure that I had purchased camembert.” He rubbed his chin. “Ah well, there is more than enough for the three of us anyway.”

While Sabine set down a large bowl of salad in the middle of the table, Adrien glanced at Marinette. At his side, Marinette was biting her lips and pointedly staring into the middle distance, trying her hardest not to laugh. For his part, Adrien was frustrated that he couldn’t go anywhere without Plagg making a noticeable dent in the food supply.

His annoyance with Plagg was so great he almost didn’t enjoy the Yule Log that Tom had made for dessert. Almost, but not quite.

Once they were done with dinner, they cleared the table.

“So, how’d you like the meal?” Marinette asked as she dried off the dishes while Adrien washed them.

“Definitely better hot. And homemade.”

Marinette chuckled. “I’m glad the bar was so high for us. Really makes us feel like we accomplished something here.”

“How about…” Adrien bit down on his lips and narrowed his eyes in thought. “It was the most delicious meal I’ve had in months.”

“Ooo, now we’re getting somewhere.”

“Years even.”

“Good, good, go on.”

“I had never known food could taste so delicious until you graced me with your heavenly meals.”

Marinette’s eyes gleamed with restrained laughter, the hint of a barely contained smile ruining her deadpan. “Glad I could finally weasel how you really feel out of you.”

“Yeah you’re pretty good at that, aren’t you?” Hands still in the sink’s soapy water, he leaned over and planted a kiss on her forehead.

“No fooling around now, we still have to help put up the last decorations before we relax for the night.”

“What sort of decorations?”

“Paper lanterns and paper chains. That sort of thing.” At Adrien’s politely confused look, she added, “It’ll help make mom’s side of the family feel welcome. Plus they look pretty cool.”

“Well what are we waiting for then? Let’s kick this into overdrive!”

Adrien suddenly worked in a flurry, Marinette scream laughing as she got splashed with some of the water thrown up by his breakneck pace. Marinette could barely keep up between her giggling, but she somehow managed.

With the last fork, plate, and glass sparkling clean and put away, Marinette shook her head and dabbed at her slightly damp shirt with a fresh towel.

“You’re a dork, you know that?”

“So my girlfriend tells me.”

Adrien relished the sometimes quiet, sometimes loud evening he spent with the Dupain-Chengs. When he went upstairs and cuddled Marinette in the cozy darkness, Adrien felt only excitement for the next day

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

Morning came swiftly, but Adrien rose to meet the dawn’s first light with a smile on his lips and a spring in his step. Marinette was… a little less eager, but he managed to coax her out of the bed, eventually.

When they finally got down the stairs and made it to the kitchen, Sabine’s eyes widened and she even froze in the middle of folding one of her dumplings.

“Marinette? I’m surprised to see you up so early.”

Bleary eyed, her daughter simply jabbed a finger toward Adrien and grunted. Adrien rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled.

“I knew you’d be a good influence on her, sweetie.”  Sabine patted his cheek with a warm smile. “Now, once you’ve had some breakfast I’d really appreciate some help out here. From you especially, Marinette, since you know exactly how to do it the way I like it.”

“Can’t Tom help?” Adrien made some toast for him and Marinette, doing his best to stay out of Sabine’s way. “Not that I’m not willing to lend a hand, but he’s got to be pretty good at it after all this time, right?”

Sabine laughed and even Marinette cracked a smile. “You’d think so, but no. The man can make almost any dessert known to French mankind, but I’ve yet to see him finish one spring roll or dumpling in all our years of marriage. Just about the only thing I’m trusting him with today is the roasted pork.”

“Not even the cheese plate?” Adrien asked, tongue in cheek. To his surprise, Sabine shook her head gravely.

“We don’t make one for Christmas day. After all, everyone that is going to be here is from my side of the family and we’re all lactose intolerant.”

“Oh.” Adrien glanced at Marinette, who shrugged.

“I got lucky and got papa’s tolerance for it, I guess.”

“Huh… well, can I help?”

A few hours passed, most of which Adrien spent doing vital but unskilled cooking like stirring and kneading. Although they did let him try to fold a few dumplings. It ended up nowhere near as well done as Marinette’s, but she still gave him a kiss on the cheek for the good effort. From what he gathered, Tom had never even managed to get it to stay together.

They had just put the last batch in the oven when they heard a knock at the door, Sabine quickly taking off her apron as she rushed to answer it.

Adrien’s ears perked up when he heard a conversation in Chinese start up, but between him being a little rusty and them speaking so fast, he couldn’t pick out much.

A few moments later, Sabine walked back into the room with an older Chinese couple. Marinette pulled him towards them. Sabine put a hand on Adrien’s shoulder and introduced them.

“Adrien, these are my parents. My mother, Ling,” she said, gesturing towards the grey-haired woman currently hugging Marinette. “And my father, Zheng.”

The older man’s grey eyes sparkled with excitement as he held out a red envelope for Adrien, who just now noticed that Marinette had also been given one. He froze, eyes widening. Was he supposed to have gotten them something too? He hadn’t realized that anyone would be getting him anything, except maybe Marinette. There was a moment where he was about to decline but he took a shot in the dark and accepted.

The moment his hand touched the envelope, Zheng spoke in Mandarin, “Best wishes for the New Year!”

“Thank you very much!” Adrien replied automatically in the same language. While the finer points might escape him, Adrien was fluent in niceties.

Zheng’s eyes widened before he nodded sagely to himself. “Ahh, I see you’ve picked up some Mandarin from my daughter, yes?”

“Oh, no, sir. I’ve been studying since I was fourteen.”

Once again, Zheng’s eyes widened before he chuckled and looked knowingly at Marinette. “This one is definitely a keeper! I approve.”

Marinette’s cheeks were almost as red as the envelope, but she still smiled.

The bright, enticing red of the envelope made him want nothing more than to open it right then and there. But Adrien took a nod from Marinette, who had very pointedly left it sealed even as she refused to set it down. He chose to follow her lead as they all made their way to the living room.

While the Dupain-Cheng parents and the Cheng parents were getting settled there, Marinette volunteered them to go make some tea. Once they were in the kitchen and out of earshot of the new arrivals, Adrien held up his envelope with a raised eyebrow and curious look.

“You can go ahead and look at it now, it’s just not polite to do it right when you get it.” She carefully unsealed the envelope. “It's this Chinese tradition - good luck money for the new year, you know?”

Adrien followed her lead and found one ten, one twenty, and one fifty euro note inside. Glancing over, it seemed Marinette got the same. He was half tempted to just give her his euros since he didn’t have any need for it, but decided that might be tacky. If she would even take them at all. After stashing the envelopes away in a kitchen drawer, they came back with tea for everyone.

Over the next few hours, more and more family members funneled into the house. Adrien, used to seeing maybe four people during the holiday season, thought the room would be close to bursting after the first aunt arrived with husband and two kids in tow. But then came the uncle and his family, then the second aunt with her boyfriend and by the end of it fifteen people were packed into the living room. For some reason apples in boxes became involved? Adrien thought that was a pun but that was more his pun sense than his linguistic skill.

Before anyone could get too settled in, they finally got to opening presents. Despite his fears from the red envelope, no one else seemed to have gotten Adrien anything.

At least, none of the extended family had. The Dupain-Cheng family, however…

“Here you go, dear.” While the rest of the room was chattering among themselves, Sabine placed a package about as big as a shoebox on Adrien’s lap. Before he could react to it, Marinette had shoved a bag stuffed with packing paper.

“Let me go get your-”

Adrien felt a tug on his arm and looked down at Marinette seated beside him. “Open your gifts first and then we’ll open the ones you got us.”

“Okay, okay.” Adrien looked at the box on his lap and tore it open. He tilted his head in confusion as he lifted the fabric that he found there out of the box. His eyes widened when he realized it was an apron with ‘Kiss the Chef’ on it.

“Its for when you come over to cook with us!” Tom beamed down at him proudly. “Now you don’t need to borrow our aprons any more - you’ll have one of your very own!”

Adrien felt his eyes get misty and he bit his lips to keep himself from crying. After a few moments of pulling himself together, he managed to say, “Thank you, guys. I’m really looking forward to wearing it!”

“Speaking of…” Marinette prodded the bag she left with him.

“Right, right.”

Adrien removed the paper and pulled out what turned out to be a sweater, cream colored and decorated with mistletoes and black cats in red scarves. It felt amazingly soft as he slipped it on over his head, embraced in a warm hug that - he lifted the fabric to his nose and took a deep breath - yes, smelled exactly like Marinette. For now at least.

“Do you like it?” Instead of replying, Adrien wrapped his arms around Marinette and pulled her close to him, nuzzling his nose against her neck. Giggling, she smacked his arms lightly. “I’ll take that as a yes, now let go!”

After he pulled his arms back, he stood up and stepped between the Cheng family members and made it to the tree before heading back to the little corner of the living room that they had claimed. He passed the envelope to Tom and the box to Marinette.

“A… gift card for an appliance store?” Tom said, his brow furrowing.

“I wanted to get you an actual new stove because you’re always upset at it,” Adrien explained in a rush, feeling embarrassed that his gift felt so… impersonal compared to theirs. “But when I went to the store I had no idea what actually made a good stove and searching it up on the internet only made it more confusing and… yeah,” he finished lamely.”

He glanced up at them and felt better to see them smiling back.

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Adrien! Thank you, we’ll make good use of this.”

Beside him, Marinette began opening her gift, which Adrien was much more excited for. Not because he had spent any less for it, but because that at least he knew exactly what to get.

He knew he’d done good when she gasped as she pulled out the expensive fabric she’d once stared at longingly from the otherside of a store’s window in Paris. Which, of course, meant that he was also expecting the smack on his arm from her as well.

“Adrien! This is expensive! You definitely shouldn’t have bought this.”

“Actually, you’ll remember that I get to spoil you exactly three times a year - birthdays, Valentine’s, and Christmas.” He gave her the most innocent look he could manage. “So you like it then?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You know I absolutely love it, you cat.”

“Then that’s great!” He continued with the overly chipper and oblivious tone, knowing how much it bugged her. He rubbed his hands together. “So… when’s dinner?”

-----------

After a Christmas dinner packed with Chinese dishes, they slowly returned to the living room.

Adrien sat in a corner of the room, taking in the warm and inviting atmosphere, the excitement and energy of so many people gathered together in such a small space.

Holding Marinette close, Adrien felt like he was part of a real family for the first time in a long time.

[theboyzuniverse]

Let's Dance

It has been the most wonderful experience working with The Boyz and their company. As soon as you graduated dance school you were lucky enough to land a job almost immediately. The pay isn't too much yet but it helps you get by, and you have the most amazing people to work with, everyone is friendly and respectful. The best part about your job, however, was the boys. Watching them work hard, slowly succeeding, and celebrating the little achievements. They were a big part of your life, and the reason you got to work everyday, you loved their humble and playful vibe. Most of all of course, you enjoyed dancing with them, and watching them dance.

Working on the choreography for 'Stealer' had been a fun time. It was by far the sexiest concept that the team had done, the group was becoming more well-known, and everyone enjoyed themselves. It amazed you how much they suited the concept because they had the softest personalities.

Every member is very attractive and talented, but you always had a soft spot for Sangyeon. You admired his leadership and how he sometimes acted as a secondary parent to them, but at times he would still goof around and be silly with them. He had a the brightest smile, was always polite and friendly to every one of the staff, it also helped that he was hella attractive. What didn't help was how fast your heart would beat every time his part would arrive for 'Stealer'.

"Are you drooling again? Why don't you just tell him straight out how much you're in love with him?"

You blushed red as your roommate and close friend Jun called you out. He was also a dancer and you both had been scouted by the company at the same time.

"Could you be a little more subtle? I don't wanna get in trouble." You hissed back.

"Well you couldn't be more obvious with your little heart eyes."

You rolled your eyes and playfully hit him.

"I just... Its complicated."

"What, because he's an idol?"

"Partly, but more so because I don't think the company would really like it, and I can't afford to lose this job."

"What? Not even for love?" Jun feigned shock and you rolled your eyes again, he always teased you but he also always made life a little more fun.

Jun and you, along with his girlfriend of two years shared a two-room apartment. Since the rent was split three ways, it made life financially more comfortable, so it was a win-win for everyone. If they ever broke-up it would be another story, but you were pretty sure they could get married soon. However, you wished it wouldn't be too soon, at least not until you could afford your own apartment.

"Do you think he could be interested though, even a little?" You asked.

"You know my answer," He sighed.

"Well, if we go by your logic, it would pretty much mean all of them are interested because they're all super sweet."

"Believe what you want, but Sangyeon doesn't give compliments and praises to the rest of us as much as he does you."

You always noticed it a little too, the sweet heartfelt compliments and encouragements he would send your way. Of course he always politely thanked all the staff but he somehow made you feel like you were a little more special, but you couldn't bring yourself to believe quite yet. It felt too unreal that he could actually like you back.

"Come on, they're having a final rehearsal before D-day."

You follow the rest of the staff to the bigger rehearsal room. All the boys were already at the center of the room, and obviously as you take a seat your eyes are immediately fixed on Sangyeon. The music starts and you watch closely, he has two main parts and you can't help thinking that both are just as seductive. The first part was when he stood with his back to the crowd, moved side to side with a smooth shoulder dance as he looked back seductively. The second part was when your heart almost jumped out of your chest because you were so sure he was looking straight into your eyes as he pulled himself forward. Luckily, no one else had noticed.

After they did the whole choreography two more times, everyone was free to do their own things as official work was done until D-day. You just sat there on the floor, debating whether to go home or not. If you go home, you would either just go to sleep or watch a movie and eat delivery food alone in your room. If you stay, you'd still be alone as everyone else would go home, but you'd be more productive. You somehow didn't feel like going home just then, Jun and his girlfriend would also appreciate having the apartment to themselves for a while even though they wouldn't admit it.

"You coming home?"

"No, I'll just stay for a while."

"Okay, don't be out too late though."

"Yup."

"See you at home."

Everyone left one by one and you waited for them to all be gone until you actually started to move. You loved having the practice room to yourself, being alone with your thoughts and being able to express the music with your body. Playing 'Heroine' by Sunmi, you started to dance according to a choreography that you made yourself. Having the freedom to express yourself while nobody's watching gave you a kind of thrill that kept you energetic. The song was ending when the door opened to a smiling Sangyeon, looking totally happy and amazed at what he just saw.

"Oppa!" You said startled.

"What the heck, that was amazing!"

You blushed shy and embarrassed, looking at the ground.

"Did you see the whole thing?"

"Yeah, I forgot my phone and I came back to get it, but I saw you started dancing and I was afraid to interrupt you."

"Ah, that's so embarrassing, you should've told me." You whined.

"That was nothing to be ashamed of." He told you as he held your shoulders with both hands. "Be more confident Y/N."

Sangyeon goes to the end of the room, puts down his bag and removes his sweatshirt and cap, and starts the music. 'Stealer' starts playing and your heart skips a beat as he walks towards you.

"Let's dance." He tells you, "Together."

At first you think of refusing but instead you just nod and follow him. You've been rehearsing with them so you already know the whole choreography. The two of you dance side by side, and he does little improv moves so it looks better since only the two of you are dancing instead of a group. You follow what he does. Your favorite Sangyeon part comes on and you get excited over it, the excitement turns to a mini heart attack when his second part comes on and he maintains eye contact with you through the mirror. Overwhelmed, you just stop in your tracks and sit on the floor with your back against the wall. He stops too and comes and sits next to you before the song is done.

"Its been a while since I've wanted to have some time alone with you," Sangyeon starts talking, and you hold in your breath. "You do know that I like you right?"

You breathe out the air you were holding in and slowly answer, "No... I didn't know."

He looks at you a surprised, "I always thought I made it pretty clear, and the members are always teasing me."

"I've thought about it, but I just never believed it would be possible." You reply.

"So that means you like me too."

You nodded once, too overwhelmed by what was happening. He takes your hand and holds it, drawing circles with the other hand.

"You always underestimate yourself, your talent and how beautiful you are." You felt like your chest was gonna explode with how fast your heart was beating. "I'm sorry Y/N, I should've just been clear and straightforward with my feelings."

"What? No, its not something to be apologetic about."

You bravely put your head on his shoulder, and you both stay that way for a while. Then he turns to you to go in for a kiss. You try your best to remain calm as he draws closer and you close your eyes. His lips touch yours as he softly cups your face, then deepens the kiss as he turns himself to face you. You don't know if its because you haven't had a kiss for so long but it gets you hot and turned on in no time. Sangyeon breaks the kiss as he connects both your foreheads, you both breathe heavily as the sexual tension gets undeniably high.

The whole place is quiet except for the sounds of your breathing. Sangyeon pulls you onto his lap, facing each other, bodies close, he pulls you in for another kiss. You reach out and run your hands through his hair, lightly grinding against him as he moans a little.

"Sh*t," He mutters softly as he breaks the kiss again, you could feel both of your heart beats racing.

You get off of his lap shy about the steamy make out session, then he stares at you with the same intensity as he did at the final rehearsal. Seeing it close up makes you breathless. He reaches for you and pulls you back on his lap, and starts nuzzling his face on your neck and giving you kisses. You could feel him hardening as you grind yourself against him, and you moaned as he left hickeys on your neck.

"Take it off," You tell him lightly tugging at his shirt.

"Getting impatient are we?" He smirks.

You blush and look down as he removes his shirt, softly running your fingers down his abs. Sangyeon inserts his thumbs in the waist of your pants, and slowly pulls them down to remove them. You dared not say anything, afraid that you would wake up and find out it was all just a dream.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" He asked.

You nodded. It was what you've always wanted, no turning back.

Sangyeon pulls down his pants a little, taking it out his length and pumps it a few times. You position yourself as you slowly slide it in. It hurts more than you thought it would so your eyes get teary, he wipes away the single tear with his thumb and pulls you in for a kiss. You're thankful for how gentle he is with you. Once you get a little used to him you start riding him, and an immense pleasure fills you up. He groans a little and that turns you on more as you get bolder and rougher, moving your hips against his. He removes your shirt and unclasps your bra, sucking on one breast as he squeezes the other. To add to all the pleasure you were feeling at that moment he starts rubbing your clit with one hand, you whimper a little. If you could die from immense pleasure this was it, yet you never felt more alive.

"Look at me," He commands you as he stops sucking on your breasts.

You look at him shy, but not embarrassed. He pulls in for another kiss, this time his hands on your neck. He's not really choking you but he put a little pressure on it and you could tell he was almost coming, you could feel yourself getting nearer too. Soon after one last kiss you feel your orgasm wash over you, a type of euphoria engulfs you. Sangyeon could tell from your moans. He pulls you close connecting his lips with your neck, and you grind a few more times as he came soon after.

You both breathe heavily recollecting your senses, and you rest your foreheads against each other. You smile at how soft he looked right after what you both had done, and stay that way for a while, without him pulling out.

"We should get dressed," You tell him.

He nods, as you both get up. You somehow feel a little cold and empty as you disconnect from his body. He looks at you and sees your disappointed face, giving you a peck on your lips.

"Will you go on a date with me tomorrow?'

"Yes, of course." You smile instantly.

The two of you get dressed quickly and gather your things to head out. Right before you were about to turn off the lights a breathless Eric rushes inside.

"Wait wait wait, I forgot my phone." He says as you and Sangyeon stare at him. "What?"

You just keep staring at him, shocked that you and Sangyeon had done it without locking the door. You then turn to Sangyeon about to say something when he cuts you off.

"Let's go home Eric."

"Wait, why are you guys so awkward? Did you finally tell her? What happened between you guys?" He shouts over Sangyeon pushing him out the door.

You giggle at how silly he was being. Sangyeon turns around before going out the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow at 8?"

"Okay,"

He winks at you as he leaves, and your insides do a little dance. You couldn't feel any more happier and content at that moment.

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @sassy-sara @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots @starmansander @theah0lt @zoenneforever @invisibleme @chibibanane @odi-et-amo85 @watermelonlover-123 @xiaomailab

~^~

Sunday, 16:38

Song: Troye Sivan - The Good Side

Jens stands at the window with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a mug of Lucas’s famous hot chocolate. He feels cosy, with the beverage and his own hoodie, freshly washed and still smelling somewhat of Lucas with the shared fabric softener. The rain outside has turned into snow, heavy enough to cover the pavement but just dusting the trees. It’s washed in orange tones under the streetlights, but there’s a frost on the window. It finally looks wintery, and cold, and it’s a little like being a kid, looking out with a vague stirring of excitement while being safely tucked away in the warmth. There are marshmallows in his hot chocolate and the lights on the Christmas tree in the corner are already twinkling. It’s homely. Cosy.

Jens can only bring himself to half-appreciate. It’s not exactly the same, when he can’t actually go home.

He’s warmed up further when a body presses up against his back. The arms that slide around his waist feel a little more familiar. He wonders if it’s possible, or okay, to make a little home of his own for a while.

Lucas presses a kiss to the back of his neck then rests his head between his shoulder blades, hugging him loosely. They’ve spent the past two days like this, in almost constant contact. Even while decorating the tree yesterday they had distracted themselves, stopping every few minutes to sidle up to the other and kiss an available patch of skin or tease them over their decorating choices. Lucas has been good at keeping the mood light, at making Jens feel somewhat okay and a lot less alone. Last night, Jens had spent more time watching him than sleeping.

“What are you thinking about?” Lucas questions.

Jens glances around at him, smiling slightly. “You.”

Lucas tilts his head up and raises his brows. “What about me?”

“Just you.” Jens shrugs, twisting around to pull the boy into his arms, careful of the mug in his hand. “That I’m lucky to have you. Be here with you.” He presses a kiss to Lucas’s temple. “In your bed.” Then his cheek. “In your shower.”

Lucas huffs, elbowing him lightly in the stomach and Jens calls a protest, quickly retreating with his mug held up in defense. He takes a sip and the marshmallows bump against his lips. He licks over his top lip when he lowers the mug and grins as Lucas tracks the movement. Lucas takes the mug and sets it on the windowsill before looping his arms around Jens’s neck and pulling him down into a kiss.

Jens goes easily, as he always does, unable to resist Lucas at any given moment. Lucas laps it up, as he always does, and provides accordingly, making Jens putty in his hands with just a few skillful brushes of lips. It’s the best way to forget. This is their little universe, just the two of them and their touch. It doesn’t matter where they are. It makes everything else in Jens quiet, too. It reminds him that he’s real, and needed, right here in this universe.

Wanted.

“Sometimes I really wish it could just be like this all the time,” Jens mumbles, mouths and noses and foreheads still brushing. “Just you and me. Is that bad?”

Lucas shakes his head, kissing him gently. “I wish for that all the time,” he whispers. “Just me and you, whole universe to ourselves, making out wherever and whenever we want.”

Jens snorts and shakes his head, squeezing Lucas’s hip. “Nice,” he mutters, and Lucas hums and kisses him again.

After a while, Lucas settles into a hug instead, tucking his face into Jens’s neck and sliding his arms around his waist. “I know what you mean, though. It’s been nice just being in our bubble.”

“Yeah. But that ends this evening. Then tomorrow, back to school and reality.”

“You don’t have to go to school,” Lucas says softly.

It would be nice if it was that simple, but it isn’t. Jens knows Lucas is definitely going to go to school, and he’ll feel weird if he has to stay in Lucas’s apartment alone. Or worse, with the boy’s father. He’ll likely fail the remaining exams, because he hasn’t even had any books to study, but he’ll have to take most of the resits already anyway.

“I should. I think it’ll be better than not going. That feels overdramatic, or something.”

Lucas leans away to look at him. “Jens, you aren’t being dramatic. In fact there’s been a worrying lack of reaction from you.”

Jens breathes out through his nose and rests their heads together, closing his eyes, wondering if it’ll be easier to say the words into the dark. “I’ve already spent a week thinking about nothing else. I just...I want to feel a little normal again. I’m so tired of having to react.”

Lucas rubs his side, unbothered by the occasional catch of his fingers against the hoodie. “It doesn’t match your usual chill vibe,” he allows. “Still. Trying to just ignore it...that doesn’t help.”

“It’s impossible to ignore. I’m not doing that.” Jens shakes his head, licking his lips. “I just don’t want it to be the only thing. I want to be able to be with you and to go to school and to sleep. I don’t want the world to stop spinning so I can wallow.”

“But would you mind, if the world stopped spinning and kept us like this right now?” Lucas bumps their heads together, and Jens pulls him closer, lips pulling up slightly. “See. It isn’t just time to wallow. It’s just time. To figure things out a little, and re-centre, and give yourself room to breathe.”

Jens opens his eyes and considers the boy in front of him, trying to figure out how to word his thoughts better. “It’s not like that, though. Whenever I’m just on my own, with too much time...I can’t breathe. It doesn’t work like that. With you, it’s different. But I definitely can’t just stay here all day waiting for you to come back.”

“Well, I could always stay with you.”

Jens shifts back and tilts his head, giving him an unimpressed look. “No, you can’t.”

“I am an adult, and I can do whatever the fuck I want.” Lucas raises his brows, smiling smugly.

“Is that so?”

Lucas jumps at the voice, and Jens’s heart quickens, but when they turn to look at the man in the doorway he finds a smile. He’s tall, probably around Jens’s own height, and a little broader, with hair the same shade as Lucas’s and a light scruff around his chin. His eyes are bright, and warm, and remind Jens of Lucas’s even though they differ in colour. The similarity is certainly present and overall there’s nothing entirely threatening about his demeanor.

Jens drops his hands from Lucas and shrinks back as Lucas flushes.

“I didn’t hear you come in.” Lucas raises a brow.

“Well, I didn’t want to interrupt,” the man shrugs. “But I couldn’t help overhearing your plans in passing and now you’ve made me curious.”

Lucas rolls his eyes, just slightly, and then grips Jens’s wrist, softly caressing the skin on the inner side. He steps forwards, towards his father, drawing Jens with him. Jens keeps just a little bit behind as the man’s eyes skim over him.

Lucas seems only slightly nervous as he says, “Dad, this is Jens.”

The man holds a hand out, and Jens takes it carefully, looking at the kind smile and searching for his voice. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr Van Der Heijden.”

The title is waved off as their handshake ends. “None of that. Just call me Hugo, alright? You’ll make me feel too old.”

It makes Jens relax a little as he nods, managing, finally, to return the smile.

“I wish we were meeting under different circumstances, but I’m happy to have you here all the same,” Hugo says. Then he gestures at his son. “And I’m happy to see this one smiling.”

Lucas flushes again, and Jens decides he quite likes this interaction as he offers Hugo a shrug. “I like that better, too.”

Hugo grins. Lucas grows redder, but said smile is working its way onto his lips. “I should’ve realised how awful it would be to put up with you both.”

“We’re excellent company,” Hugo waves him off. “You certainly didn’t seem too eager to leave it, before.”

“He was just joking,” Jens says hastily, regretting it when he earn’s the man’s attention. “We’ll both be going to school. I wouldn’t let him miss the exams.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t, but I’m not sure this one would listen to you,” Hugo gestures at Lucas with a huff, still smiling. He softens as he looks at Jens, skimming his eyes over him again, lingering on his tensed shoulders and where Lucas is still loosely gripping his wrist. His tone gentles, but loses its fond teasing to take on a more serious note. “You don’t have to be scared here, Jens.”

Jens’s throat closes up, but he shakes his head. “I—no, sorry. It’s just been a long time, since I did the ‘meeting-the-parents’ thing,” he admits, then instantly blushes.

Hugo’s smile returns and he laughs, carefully settling his hand on Jens’s shoulder and gives a squeeze. “Well, this is the first time I’ve ever done the ‘meeting-the-boyfriend’ thing. So there’s still no need for nerves, alright?”

Lucas squeezes his wrist, and Jens nods, and after another small consideration the man steps forward and captures him in a short hug. His grip is tight, but not forceful, and beyond the surprise Jens finds himself sinking into it. He closes his eyes when they start to water, after realising it’s so surprising because he has never experienced it. He can’t help but wonder if this is how it’s supposed to be, or if Lucas is just really lucky.

Hugo releases him too quickly, and Jens quickly and quietly clears his throat to get rid of the emotions clogged there. The sudden absence of contact is mended by Lucas pulling him back against his side, hand now clearly gripping Jens’s with their fingers interlocked.

“Come on, let’s sit down first,” Hugo beckons, setting his hand on his son’s arm this time as he pushes them back inside the room and lets Lucas guide the way to the sofa. Lucas sits down and pulls Jens with him and Hugo takes the armchair, leaning forward with his hands clasped between his knees. “Do you want to talk about your options, Jens?”

Jens licks his lips, leaning closer to Lucas. “My options?”

Hugo nods. “Now, before you worry, you’re staying here for as long as you need. No arguments. You were always welcome.”

Jens relaxes, nodding gratefully as Lucas sets a hand on his knee.

“I’m just talking about what could help. There are measures you could take, over what happened,” Hugo says softly.

“I don’t want anything like that. It’s not—I didn’t even think about it. I’m not doing that.”

He worries that it’s too harsh, but Hugo is already smiling and nodding again, working to put him back at ease. “Alright. Feel free to stop me, any time, if you don’t want to discuss it, alright?” He waits for Jens to nod before continuing. “I mostly want to know if you have any concerns. Lucas mentioned a younger sister?”

Jens swallows. “Yeah, Lotte. I don’t think that I have to worry. It’s never been like…” he trails off, searching for the words, avoiding both their gazes. “He isn’t violent, or anything. Not really, not like that.”

Hugo purses his lips, but accepts the explanation without pushing any further for now. “What about your mother?”

“I don’t actually know. I thought that...that she agreed with him. She usually does. But then I realised she wasn’t even aware of what he was doing, and she was the reason I got out. She doesn’t—I never actually got to tell her anything. I don’t know what she thinks.”

“Then is it possible that she’d be on your side in this?” Hugo asks gently. “I know if, like you say, she usually supports your father, it can seem like the obvious answer to everything. But this is a very specific situation. You’re her son, and very often that counts for something more.”

The back of Jens’s eyes prick, and he does his best to blink the sensation away, tightly gripping Lucas’s hand again. Jens had returned his ring, and it’s there now on Lucas’s finger for Jens to run his thumb over, a point of focus. “I don’t know. I can’t imagine she would kick him out and that’s the only way…”

“I see. When are you eighteen, Jens?”

“Uhm. Next month. The nineteenth.”

Hugo nods. “Would it be suitable, then, to work towards other living arrangements? I understand the finance can be scary, and having a job in your final year is an additional layer of stress. But there are supports available, and I could give you a helping hand.”

Gosh, no. Jens can’t be any more of a burden. He quickly shakes his head. “I couldn’t accept that. It’s kind enough of you to let me stay here for a few weeks, but I promise I won’t be that much of a bother.”

“And what happens in a few weeks?” Hugo raises a brow. Jens stays quiet. “Jens, you’re really welcome here for as long as you need. Until you graduate if necessary. I just understand that it might not be the most comfortable feeling for you. But we don’t have to worry about it right now, alright? It’s just something we’ll work towards thinking about.”

After a while of hesitation, Jens nods in acceptance and hears Lucas’s quiet breath of relief. Jens squeezes his hand and relaxes slightly as Lucas squeezes back.

“What about your belongings? I see you had some of your clothes stored for you, but I’m assuming it’s not quite a full wardrobe. What about school supplies, even?”

“I didn’t take anything,” Jens admits. “I don’t even have my phone.”

Hugo hums. “Alright. Would you like me to go collect some things for you?”

Jens’s eyes widen. “Oh, no, you don’t have to do that.”

“Well, I would prefer it to sending you on your own, or with Lucas,” Hugo points out.

“No, really. I can manage without for another few days, then maybe get another friend to come with.”

“Of course, you can do what feels best, and take someone closer,” Hugo nods. “My offer still stands. Even if you just want someone to drive you, so you have a boot for the luggage. At any time.”

Jens nods again, overwhelmed with the generosity. His gratitude has rendered him speechless, and he’s almost relieved when Hugo claps his hands against his knees and then rises from the chair.

“Alright, I’ve done enough pushing and prodding at you. Tell me when I’m too much, kiddo. How about I make us some dinner to make up for it, hm?”

“Do you still know how to do that?” Lucas asks dubiously.

Hugo scoffs, looking over his shoulder on his way to the door. “Just for that, you’re waiting longer for a gourmet meal.”

Lucas snorts as the man winks at them, then tilts his head against Jens’s shoulder once he’s out of sight. Jens sinks against him and releases a shaky breath.

“Are you okay?” Lucas questions, voice quiet even in the silent room. There’s distant movement, the sound of knocking cupboard doors and clanging pots and pans. Everything about it holds an intimacy Jens doesn’t feel entirely familiar with.

“Yeah,” Jens says honestly. “I actually can’t believe how cool he is.”

“For my sake, you’ll never tell him.”

Jens snorts.

“You’re right, though,” Lucas says quietly. “It’s good to have an actual adult who knows what they’re talking about, I guess.”

Jens hums, turning to press a kiss to the top of Lucas’s head before resting his cheek there. “By the way, the clothes thing. Does that mean he saw you in my hoodie?”

Lucas huffs. “Of course, that’s what you’d pick up on.”

“That’s kind of adorable.”

“Shut up.”

Jens laughs, about to say something else when the buzzer to the apartment sounds and he and Lucas pause to look at each other. After a few seconds, Hugo appears in the doorway with a furrowed brow.

“Were you expecting anyone?” he asks. They shake their heads, and he gestures for them to stay where they are. “Alright, I’ll see who it is.”

When he disappears into the hallway, Jens rises to his feet. He shifts his weight anxiously, staring at the door, and then Lucas is up and pulling him along. They creep out of the room quietly, though not enough to avoid Hugo’s notice, who shoots an aggravated look back at them before there’s a knock on the door. Lucas and Jens remain mostly concealed around the corner as Hugo cracks the door open. There’s a pause, and then he pulls it open fully and looks back as two boys are revealed in the entryway.

Jens steps out and Robbe barrels into him instantly, knocking the wind out of him as he winds his arms tightly around Jens’s waist. Jens comes out of his shock quickly and returns the hug, pulling Robbe into his chest with arms wrapped around his shoulders and face buried in his curls.

“Fuck, I missed your dumb face,” Robbe croaks, clinging to him, and Jens tightens his own hold with a hoarse laugh.

“I missed your dumb-ass,” Jens returns, completing the old joke. Robbe just keeps hugging him silently, pressed as close as he can get, and Jens eagerly accepts the affection of his best friend. It’s even more familiar than Lucas, and while it doesn’t incite quite the same reaction, it’s just as comforting.

“I know you didn’t invite us, but he got impatient,” Sander says apologetically, presumably talking to Lucas. “I did send you a text.”

“My phone’s in my room,” Lucas says. “Don’t worry about it.”

Robbe finally loosens up and steps back as Hugo speaks up, most of his attention on the new arrivals. “Wait, don’t tell me,” he holds a finger up to Lucas, before pointing it at Sander, still hovering in the doorway. “You’re Sander,” he guesses, leaving the boy nodding awkwardly as Hugo turns to his boyfriend. “So you must be Robbe.”

Instead of agreeing, Robbe blushes, one of his hands still curled in Jens’s hoodie. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have barged in.”

Sander hums in agreement, nodding at him. “He’s usually the polite one,” he tells Hugo.

Hugo waves them off with his already-familiar smile. “Understood. These are special circumstances, I imagine. I was just about to start on dinner, if the two of you would like to join?”

Sander’s lips part as he and Robbe share a bewildered look and Robbe quickly shakes his head. “No really, we didn’t mean to intrude—“

“Nonsense,” Hugo scoffs, ushering Sander inside along with them. “Come on, come in, sit down. It’ll be a while, anyway, so you can catch up while it’s cooking. Finally, I’m getting to meet you. I missed having a group of boys to feed.”

“Dad, you’re being weird,” Lucas says, exasperated, but Hugo merely flaps a hand at him and makes his way back to the kitchen.

“No allergies?” he calls back to them.

They all confirm the negative, and he offers a thumbs up before disappearing, leaving them all staring after in silence. Sander is the one to break it, looking to Lucas with raised brows, teasing smirk already in place. “Personally, I think he’s swell.”

Lucas groans, and Jens laughs, and Robbe beams at him before gathering him in another hug.

Jens accepts it with a growing warmth in his chest.

[musedblues]

Call It Fate Call It Karma

summary: In which your band gets signed to the same label as Queen, and Brian May takes a whole bunch of fun out of your new musical journey.

a/n: Here’s what to know… There’s an age gap! This takes place sometime in the 1980s and reader is in her twenty’s. There are also mentions of sex / sexual situations. (Not 18+ just be aware!) Here’s what’s been dubbed as The Bitchy Bri Fic! Title from this song!

w/c: 10k

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Everything changed as you’d started to lose hope. And you owed it all to Jim Beach.

It was the afternoon you and your bandmates managed to sneak past the receptionist desk at EMI and present the reel of tape you called you an EP to a bored producer called Watts; Jim Beach was already occupying his office. By then, you’d been to every other record label in the city and were prepared to be kicked out of this one all the same.

But then the producer agreed to listen to your tape. Watts sat with his feet on his desk and a glazed over look in his eye as two of your only three songs played. Jim spoke up from the back of the room when your third and final song started to crackle to life.

“Well, aren’t you going to give them a shot?” He asked, in a warm, gentle tone.

“What are you three called?” Watts asked.

“Loba.” Wilda piped up, picking her nails in place of her guitar.

“It means ‘she wolf’ in Spanish.” Joane pointed out, twisting strands of her pale fringe as she perched on the edge of the bench at your side.

“Can you lot throw together the couple hundred bucks it takes to record, by the end of next week?” The producer asked.

“Yes.” You spoke up, though you weren’t sure how you’d get the money, this was the opportunity of a lifetime.

“Beach! Manage these lady wolves, will you?” Watts dragged his feet back to the floor with a thud.

“Me? I-I well,”

“You’ve got Queen, and who else? No one.” Watts exasperated. “McCartney has half our staff on lockdown this month and Iron Maiden has already gotten our three best workers to quit. You liked this mediocre garage rock well enough to say something…” The producer gathered your tape and tossed it to the manager with kind eyes and a smile under his furrowed brow. “Now everyone leave my office.”

You’d barely processed the life changing news as Jim turned toward you and your band with a grin that just kept growing.

“What do ya say, girls? Wanna make a record?”

///

You worked overtime and Joane got a second odd job to come up with the money to make a real-life record. And in a matter of a couple of months, you had an all new stage show, a new shiny Fender bass, and your very own album.

Well, almost. The record was in the final processes of being pressed. Watts helped put it together with his feet propped on the soundboard he manned. Past his usual cigar, he mumbled suggestions and even some encouragement; as you Wilda and Joane perfected the songs from your EP and threw together a couple more. Joane was praised for tightening her drum kit and bringing back up sticks. Wilda’s method of retuning her prized guitar worked without a hitch. You sang all your worries away with your bass playing in time. It was as easy as ever to work together, and one thousand times more terrifying all the same.

Jim lingered by on days like those, and on nights you’d booked gigs at local pubs and places of the like. On tea breaks, and in storage closets turned green rooms, Jim helped you and the girls make plans for the future. He carried around a pad of paper to jot down every time one of you thought up a new goal or two.

You went on and on about the sounds you heard in your head, and how you dreamed of bringing them to life. Of the words you longed to share with the world, and your favourite old tunes that never failed to inspire and excite.

Wilda dreamed of parties and people and places, the things she’d say on guest appearances and press tours. She dreamed of stages much more grandiose than the rickety old ones you were so familiar with now.

“We’d quite like to be as big as that other band of yours, one day.” Joane quipped, to a smiley Jim Beach. She was always going on about Queen. Bet she never dreamed of being graced with the assistance of her favourite band’s very own manager.

“No worries there.” Jim chuckled. “You ladies are a well-oiled machine compared to those four old bats. You’ll see for yourself tomorrow at the party.” He seemed to raise a brow like an omen but you couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear.

///

Your first ever album had been slowly climbing the charts since it’s release at the start of the week. When your single aired for the first time, Joane parked her old beaten down truck outside of your flat and turned her car’s radio up all the way. You dismissed your neighbour’s pleas for peace and quiet by hopping in your drummers ride and speeding away to EMI, squealing along to your very own song the whole way there.

You met your guitarist outside of the company’s biggest office. Inside, the three of you hurried through a few pages of papers, and scribbled your signatures along odd dotted lines. Just like that, you were signed.

Even though Loba was gifted a bottle of champagne and a couple of snapshots to prove it, the label decided a proper party was in order to welcome you. Apparently, EMI liked to use every excuse they could to make use of their loft and it’s impressive bar top that wrapped around nearly every wall.

So no sooner than you’d shuffled into the head office, you were escorted out and up to the very top floor. The party, Jim said, was already in full swing.

And that’s when you met his other band. Though he never said so outright, you could tell Jim was most excited to introduce you to the only other group he’d had the pleasure of working with till now. Behind poorly placed streamers and the backs of people too busy carrying on conversations to notice you, there was Queen. All lazily huddled together against a spot at the long and winding bar.

When Jim made his presences known, you and the girls stopped in your tracks and traded a few nervous glances.

Freddie Mercury was all of a sudden shifting his weight before the lot of you, casting a sweeping gaze across each of your faces.

“Miami, are these the children you’ve adopted now that we’re all grown up?” Freddie asked, greeting the manager and turning his oxen eyes to your band. His champagne sloshed in the glass he held near his chest as he threw one arm around Jim’s shoulders.

“Awe, you talk about us?” You jabbed an elbow toward the manager though you couldn’t quite reach where he stood. As his grin only grew, the rest of the band shifted closer.

“Boys, meet the girls.” Jim smiled, introducing you each by name.

But you couldn’t be sure if Roger even heard the manager’s introduction. The blonde floated up to your guitarist like he’d been supernaturally dragged across the room to meet her. Wilda stood before him, trying desperately not to pick at her nails, and smiled. You wanted to laugh, but you wanted to hurl. It was just too much, the way Roger seemed to drool at the simple sight of her, like Pepe Le Pew.

“What are you lovely ladies called, again?” He asked in a voice just as rasped as you’d come to recognize over the radio. Wilda blanched and seemed to go shy all of a sudden, but you weren’t.

“Loba.” You shrugged speaking in the drummer’s direction.

“What?” John asked, stepping closer to the other side of you, standing taller than you expected him to be.

“It means she-wolf.” Joane piped up, reciting her favourite and well-practised line. It always saved her from going too quiet, that fact.

“Uh-huh.” Roger seemed to agree, shifting to stand at Wilda’s side instead of ogling her head on- holding her gaze all the same.

“Better than their almost name. Guess what it was, lads.” Jim raised a brow to Freddie. Oh no. With Joane likely having shut down at the mention of her old idea, and Wilda entirely preoccupied with whispering to Roger, everyone turned to glance at you- Left with no choice but to bury your embarrassment and answer.

“Doin’ Alright.” You admitted through a smile, because if you didn’t laugh, who would? It was your drummer, resident Queen fanatic’s idea, one you talked her out of shortly after joining.

“How bloody un-o-fucking-riginal,” Brain huffed and crossed his long arms over his chest.

You had barely officially met the guy. He loomed near the back of the gathering and stood in silence, till then. And you might have thought he’d only been joking if it wasn’t for the way his stoic expression remained unchanged when your eyes met his for the first ever time.

“Hate to break it to ya, but your name was already sort of taken, too.” You pointed out, giving a weak mocking curtsy at the vague mention of her majesty. Queen’s guitarist’s glare remained.

“Oh, I like this one. Good ear, Miami.” Freddie sauntered over and nudged you away from Brian’s burning gaze. Roger was pointing Wilda out to the balcony, where a rowdy group grew larger every time you glanced out beyond the open glass doors.

“Don’t mind him.” John cocked his head toward the sulking guitarist, and handed you a bubbly drink. “He’s in the middle of a divorce and a midlife crisis, it’s really quite the combination.”

“Poor thing.” You stuck your lip out on your turn in Brian’s direction, as Freddie yanked you toward the balcony, laughing all the while. The wild-haired guitarist watched you leave with an expression you couldn’t quite understand, though you wanted too.

But before the lot of you could spin your separate ways and dance until sunrise, one of the men from the head office stopped in front of everyone with a smile.

“Nice to see you’re all already so well acquainted.” He said, in a sickeningly posh tone. Roger draped an arm across Wilda’s slim shoulders as the rest of you hummed in agreeance.

“So how would you like to tour together, then?” The man grinned. Freddie flourished, making a grand gesture and saying something about how that was the best idea he’d ever heard in his life. Joane turned to you, not even attempting to hide her squeal of excitement. Jim shared a look with John, like a proud father.

“Good. Because that’s what the label wants.” The man nodded and turned to Jim with instructions to phone him to start planning. Freddie swept you away to kick off a night of fun, and when you turned to see if Brian cared at all, he was gone.

///

Your single topped the charts in the US. Jim came into your work, feigned an emergency and gathered the rest of your band to share the good news over a celebratory brunch. You might have won over the yanks, but Queen had stolen the hearts of billions long before you’d written your first tune. So it was naturally decided your band would open for the much more renowned group.

You turned your two weeks notice into your job, and blew your last paycheck on an all-new wardrobe. If you were going to prance around America with the likes of Queen, you had to look the part. Some platforms and a few dazzling dresses found their way into your suitcase a week before it was time to go.

By the time you met up with the other band at the airport, you knew Roger well enough to stick out your tongue as a greeting. He’d come around your flat once, trailing behind Wilda to crash a night out you’d been planning all week. And again to steal her away from your last band meeting. When you, Joane and Wilda sleepily trudged through the waiting gates, he stole your guitarist away for the third time, and you wondered what might become of them.

You were still dazzled by Freddie, charmed by his laugh and stunned when he insisted on sitting next to you on the plane ride over, to share gossip. All of his friends seemed just as taken with the ethereal singer, too. John sprung up from his catnap to go help Freddie find the best snacks the airport had to offer. And while Jim sat going over the schedule with Joane, Brian sat across from you with his arms crossed and his legs a mile apart.

“Are you excited?” You wondered because you really wanted to know if someone who’d done this a time or two was still thrilled by it. But mostly, you wanted to get the lanky guitarist to open up a little. If you were going to spend a whole month and a half near each other, wouldn’t it be nice to get to know the guy a little?

“I’m tired.” Brian nodded, his hazel eyes fluttering toward the windows.

“Lighten up Mr. May. You could have my job. Was just sent to phone Fred’s cats and we haven’t even left home.” A man as gangly as Brian shuffled to sit at your side, adjusting the sunglasses on his head that did little to hide his thinning hair.

“I’m Crystal, that’s Ratty.” The guy pointed across the lounge to another slim, long-haired fellow bent over an open acoustic guitar case.

“We’re everyone’s personal lackeys and will be glad to lend you ladies a hand all the same.”

You thanked the guy with a chuckle and felt charmed enough by his sudden kindness to admit your growing nerves. But then Freddie and John were back, and the plane was ready, and it was time to go on tour.

///

The first week flew by in a flash. You were jarred by the size of every new arena and crowd that filled the seats. You lost yourself entirely to the music that blared from the speakers at your band’s command; but never got used to hearing the songs you once plucked away at in your bedroom, fill stadiums.

Going from entertaining grotty pubs to seas full of people wasn’t something you ever expected to happen. The sound of their collective cheers directed to your band didn’t seem real. All you could do was play on, and sing with your friends until the time came to rush to another green room, catch your breath, and a glimpse of the headlining act.

You usually only saw Queen in passing- in revolving hotel doors or shuffling about the same backstage halls. If you weren’t on stage, your band was hauled off to radio stations for interviews while Queen partied on. And if your band had an afternoon to do as you pleased, Queen was off signing records and privately touring art museums.

But there were the rare occasions your paths crossed for longer than a minute or two. John would always make a point to ask after you, from time to time. He said you and the girls seemed to be handling the road like old champs.

“I’m too busy to be bothered with stage fright.” You laughed, when John asked how you looked so at home in front of the crowds that had started to sing along to the songs you played.

Where most of Queen felt like friends your parents warned against staying out past curfew with, John felt like your older brother; who waited up to sneak you back home with a kind word.

Freddie always invited you to the after parties and nights out, even when he knew Loba was meant to do a photoshoot one city away. And when you failed to show up, the singer would always say he’d missed you. And you believed him, because of the nights he’d sneak in your hotel room to share the last of the liquor that had knocked the rest of his bandmates cold. Freddie went out of his way to include you and the girls more often than not.

But Roger seemed to include himself in your groups circle any chance he could get. He trailed behind Wilda, sure, but he seemed genuinely fond of chatting away with you and Joane all the same. And when your guitarist and Queen’s drummer partook in their weekly game of playing hard to get, you were awarded tiny moments with just Roger.

Like the time everyone crashed before midnight, and the two of you stayed up by the quiet hotel poolside, with an acoustic. It wasn’t long before your goofing around turned into some kind of jam session, and you were writing a song together. Roger insisted you keep it to use, and left the cocktail napkin full of scribbled lyrics tucked between the strings of Wilda’s guitar that you’d been left in charge of.

Then, there was Brian.

He strolled ahead of you off of the riverboat where both of your groups had been invited to enjoy a day off, cruising around somewhere in America’s deep south. You couldn’t help but watch Brian’s figure move as it seemed to tower just over all the people at his side. It was time to head back to the hotel, or at least, time for your freshwater adventure to end. Everyone was glad for the easy-going ride, still tired from the night before.

Maybe that’s why he was so quiet all afternoon. Brian usually was, but there was something more to his silence today. And you didn’t know the guy well enough to figure, or dare ask why. The weather was nice, and Queen was received with reverence every place they went. Brian had no reason to sulk- none you could possibly understand.

A slew of people with cameras and questions flocked to the boat docks as the one and only Freddie led the way, pretending to introduce Crystal as some kind of rockstar in his own right. The roadie ate up the attention as Brian’s pace set your own. You couldn’t move until he did. And while he stalled, cameras flashed and a desperate middle-aged man held a skinny microphone toward the band.

“Brian, how are you finding America?” They asked in a mousy pitch.

“Oh, it’s lovely here, as always.” Brian politely grinned, curling his fists in his jacket pockets, from what you could see.

“How’s touring with another group? Queen usually don’t need the support of an opening act.”

“Right.” Brian seemed to agree in a curiously cynical tone.

“They’re called Loba, and we quite like having them around.” Roger was suddenly shaking your shoulders like an overzealous coach. You chuckled at his antics as Brian dared to glimpse at the commotion.

He turned his gaze over his shoulder to look at you for a moment. It might have been the most exciting part of your whole day, considering how Brian hardly ever looked your way till now. But why did it have to be like that? What did you ever do to the guy?

The best you’d ever gotten from Brian was an empty hum when asked if he cared if you sat in the only open seat at his side, during some dinner. And over that meal, he chattered away with the likes of his band, and even yours. And maybe it was because you became utterly paranoid by his silence to break it with all of the questions you had for the guy. But he never spoke to you. The seat at Brian side seemed a void in his peripheral. And you were growing a bit anxious by the thought of actually being invisible to Brian. So you started speaking up.

When Freddie asked you with help on matching one of his many jackets with a pair of trousers, you’d already made up your mind, but twisted around to ask what Brian thought. His brows upturned in a painfully confused expression as he hesitantly gave his answer to Freddie’s clothing debacle. You got your own answer too, that at least Brian heard a voice coming from the space you existed in.

When both tour buses stopped for gas one random midnight; Roger raced you into the convenience store and distracted you from buying anything in place of dancing to The Cars tune crackling from the overhead speakers. Your spontaneous party was broken up when Brian breezed by with his freshly purchased candy bar in hand.

“We are on a schedule you know?” He glared your way on his turn to leave.

“I’m sorry you weren’t invited to the dance party Bri.” You mused, stopping the guy in his tracks, who turned to look at you in the way he did. “We’ll let you sulk in the corner of our next one, since it would obviously kill you to actually join in the fun.”

But all that got you was a roll of Brian’s hazel eyes and a cackle from Roger. That was the norm. Brian either seemed to pretend you weren’t there, or traded you bone chilling glares like you’d wronged him in a past life. But you’d never known less of a person than you’d known of Brian May, and you were beginning to wonder if going about finding out more was worth it.

///

By the time your next soundcheck came, Queen had nothing better to do than bop about the stadium to wait their turn. You and the girls rushed through your usual set up but decided to change things around for your second to the last song. And while you started to unplug it was decided Joane would have to turn a certain drum fill into a solo while Wilda rushed off stage to retune her only electric guitar to properly close out the show.

Brian overheard, from the place he stood arguing over an amp with Ratty, who’d kindly agreed to stick close by your band during times like now. The roadie shuffled over to take your bass away, while Brian issued a complaint.

“You’re going to retune? Just use a bloody capo and don’t waste everyone’s time.” Brian shifted his weight, furrowing his brow your way. Though you weren’t the guitarist in question, you seemed to be the one and only person Brian felt most comfortable yapping at.

“There’s more than one way to do things, you know?” You pointed.

“Yeah,” Brian shrugged, agreeing with you in a breathtaking turn of events. But then again, not really… “The right way and the wrong way.”

“Christ no wonder you’re divorced.” You shook your head in the guy’s direction. His eyes might have been pretty if they weren’t burning into yours with such disdain. Then you both made a show of storming past each other. You were getting really sick of his attitude, and what it did to yours.

///

“Oh no. Oh no, no, no!” You cried, cradling your bass that had fallen from the stand to the concrete floor below. The neck was ever so slightly cracked and a tuning peg was bent and your heart was near stopping. When you looked up from the ground, you saw Ratty cursing out one of the stadiums impish young stagehands. The kid had blown an amp and sent it smoking, and your guitar flying off the stage in his rush to run from the trouble he’d stirred.

You clutched your one and only instrument to your chest and hurried away for help. Ratty was wrestling the broken amp, Crystal was nowhere to be seen, and John was off phoning home. You recalled the sights of the city from yesterday’s afternoon off. There was a guitar shop across from the Chinese place where you stopped for lunch.

So you raced past Joane and shouted that you’d be back in an hour. The exact amount of time you had until it was time to go on stage.

You ran down the city streets with your bass in your arms like a wounded child. The guitar shop appeared like a beacon.

Inside was blaring a song by Led Zeppelin you might have wanted to sing along too if your heart wasn’t in your throat. There was a mass of teenaged boys crowded the counter. You waited, held your breath and checked the clock as it ticked away at a frightening speed. By the time the boys buying strings and straps shuffled away, you threw your broken baby to the older man behind the counter. He assured you the fix would be a breeze and tried to sell you an overpriced Gibson while you waited. You stood drumming beats on the sales counter and tried not to scream when the clock showed you’d only had ten minutes left to waste. A couple more later, your bass was in your grasp. You threw an extra bit of cash to the guy and ran off in a flurry, praying to make it on time.

You’d never ran so fast, certainly. You didn’t even have time to apologize to a kid on a bike who had to swerve out of your way. You burst through the back doors of the stadium, much to the shock of the doorman. When he shouted at you to take it easy, you ceased running to walk as fast as you could toward the green room.

Brian was the first familiar face to greet you after the nerve-wracking scene.

“So nice of you to finally show up.” He let out a mocking cheer from the place he kicked back on a torn leather sofa. So relaxed in his gloom. Your heart used to ache at the thought of his troubles. At the sight of his far off gaze as his friends joked on around him. When Freddie would drunkenly whisper to you details of Brian’s trying year. But the guitarist’s sneers your way were getting old, and the ache in your heart for him was slowly growing cold.

Freddie spun to greet you, let out a sigh of relief like an anxious mother, reaching out to adjust your shirt collar skewed under the strap of your instrument.

“Well, my guitar had to get fixed one way or the other. And unlike you, your highness, we haven’t got a gaggle of roadies to call upon.” You swatted Freddie away and snapped toward Brian.

“No, but what’s ours is yours. Next time ask for help.” John spoke like a stern father, tossing you a bottle of water and pointing toward the clock on the wall. You had about a minute to run out on stage.

“Let her learn the hard way, Deacy. She seems to like it that way.” Brian rang. You dashed away before you had time to curse him.

“Brian, stop being such a bitch, I mean, my God.” Freddie whined as you stormed off, glad for once that someone else seemed fed up with the guitarist’s sharp tongue, too.

///

When the show was over, John insisted you hop along his band’s tour bus back to the hotel. The other two-thirds of your band were still enjoying the amenities of the afterparty, and you were in the middle of trading bass themed horror stories with Deacy. So he kept on talking as you walked to follow him, settling near the front of the ride as it travelled to your latest hotel.

As Queen shuffled to cross the bleak lot to get to the grandiose lodge, Brian was the last to leave. He shouldered past you with that same old sullen pout. His eyes caught yours for a moment before he took another step, but something about the usual interaction was the final straw for you.

“What the hell did I ever do to you?” You demanded to know, as Brian’s bandmates disappeared inside the hotel. Brian stalled reluctantly and turned to face you with pursed lips and the smallest shake of his head.

“Look,” He began, as you stood ready to get to the bottom of whatever this was. “I’ve really never meant to be so cross with you. And I’m sorry my temper’s been so easily getting the better of me. I am sorry.” Brian nodded. He looked exhausted, like this was the millionth time he’d had to give a similar speech, but he did so in such a genuine manner- that you could only stand and trade a perplexed gaze to the lanky guitarist.

“It’s… it’s best if we just keep to ourselves, yeah?” Brian concluded, turning away with one final nod. You didn’t get the chance to agree, or disagree, or understand what just happened before Brian was on his way, and you were on your own.

///

After the tour was said and done, a new year was just kicking off. And the label was pushing for another album right out the gate. You and the girls had two months to throw together a collection of new songs, and were struggling for most of the time to do just that.

The song Roger helped you write was the best one you had to offer, and Joane was nearly crippled under the stress of being creatively confined to a certain amount of time. You’d never had such a hard time working together before, and the pressure was building up between each of your bandmates in a way you were afraid of.

When Watts strolled in to take control of the soundboard you’d been fiddling with all morning, you couldn’t help but to warn him against changing any of your settings. You and the girls were finally making some kind of progress, albeit bickering along the way. Poor Jim could only sorrily sigh each time one of you turned and ask for his help. This bit of work was a little outside of the managers league.

And Watts only seemed to egg you on, pressing the few buttons you asked him not to.

“You want to control this soundboard so bad, have at it.” He stood in a huff, “I only strongly suggest you don’t fuck this up.” The producer hissed before slipping out of the door. He smiled a smile that made you queasy, and you nodded knowing full well you were on thin ice.

Jim left you and the girls to fight over tempos and key changes and came back from the studio’s kitchenette with an unexpected announcement.

“Brian is coming.” He said, matter of factly.

“What’d you call him for?” Joane groaned from the floor, where she laid fiddling with her kit.

“Because Queen is the best help I know. But Freddies in Barcelona, John’s with his family, Roger is MIA and Brian is right down the road. You lot have a day left, and I’m running out of helpful ideas. And quite frankly, you girls are in need of a lot of it.”

“Yeah, maybe, but now nothing will get done.” Joane countered. “Not with the way he and y/n square off like old alley cats.”

“He’ll be here in five. Come on lady wolves… Claws up, plugs in.” Jim pointed as he sat back down on the studio sofa, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Wilda shot into a speech, begging you over and over to keep it cool. The sooner you started, the better. She was right, and you wanted nothing more than to get this record finished. So with a nod, you accepted your fate.

Brian strolled in the studio right on time. His eyes looked desperate for sleep, and his already wild mane seemed even more unkempt. His small smile Jim’s way made you want to reach past the wall Brian put up, and shake his shoulders, and tell him it was okay to be actually happy once in a while.

Maybe it was the time that had passed since the tour. Maybe Brian forgot that he’d cared so little for you, and that’s why his faint grin lingered when his eyes met yours, past the glass of the recording booth. You willed your own weak smile his way, weary of this new civility, but just as tempted to take it in stride.

“Hello, ladies. Let’s see what you’re working with so far, shall we?” Brian leaned in and spoke just to you, it seemed. Maybe it was because you were closest, front and centre before the guy in a little glass box.

You’d felt more vulnerable than ever, under his forest coloured gaze. There was no place to run off and hide. You were right in Brian’s line of sight, right under his thumb, as he pressed a button stopped your band from playing to suggest a few dozen changes.

You knew he was here to help. And Jim looked so hopeful, tapping his foot to the beat in the corner of the room. So even though your throat was going dry as Brian settled his eyes on your bass- you played on. When he stopped you again, your blood began to boil.

“Please tell me you plan on adding a keyboard? A harmonica, something else?” Brian grimaced.

“We only play on the record what we can play on stage as a three-piece.” Joane raised a drumstick to make a point.

“Yeah well, it’s sure sounding that way.” The older and wiser musicians voice crackled through the speaker.

“Fuck you, that sounded good!” You hissed into the mic, wielding your bass like a weapon. That might'a been the best take you’d done all day.

“Yeah, but it didn’t sound great. If I turned my car radio on to that I’d fall asleep at the wheel. Joane, try using your snare on the bridge, instead of the cymbals. Y/n… from the top.” Brian sighed, sitting back in his chair like an exhausted parent.

You sighed too, adjusting your headphones and tossing Wilda a glare, a sign that you couldn’t keep your cool much longer.

You tried harder. But Brian kept stopping you. And every time he did, you couldn’t be stopped from cursing him just a little. If he’d only give you just one chance to find your rhythm, you might’ve made a whole record by now. When you told him as much, he let you play on for almost half a song before he’d stopped you again. When he did, you nearly exploded. But Joane snapped first. She got up from her kit, chucked her headphones, and stormed away. You slung your bass away to follow after her, but Wilda was quicker and raced out of the back to chase Joane down.

That left you with time enough to break out of the glass box and give Brian a few choice words.

“Way to fucking go, drill sergeant.” You gestured toward the guy who was slow to rise from his place before the soundboard.

“It’s not my fault she decided to-”

“Yeah, it is. Thanks for showing up and doing fuck all.”

“I came here to help you, and I could do if you’d stop acting like a damn child.” He pointed a finger your way, and the fire in his gaze sent a chill down your spine for the first time ever. You weren’t afraid of him. You were only stunned by the way he spoke to you. The way he always had. Why did Brian bother showing up here tonight?

“We might be able to take some of your suggestions if you stopped stopping us! Why don’t you just stick to pissing your own band off? You do it so well.”

You’d heard him trade sharper words with Queen. Roger told you that Brian was just working through some things. John said he’d always been like this. You just couldn’t understand why you got the worst of it.

“Well, it’s clear you’ve got more than enough hell to give your own group. You might sound less like the second place winners of your primary school’s talent show if you learned to stop making so many executive decisions.”

“I have a suggestion for you.” You decided, “Why don’t you take all your bleeding suggestions and fu-”

“Yeah, alright, let’s all take a break.” Jim intervened as you let out an exhausted sigh that doubled as a frustrated cry. The manager waved Brian over and the two men started to share a word as you stormed out of the back from fresh air and a clearer mind.

“He’s right you know. We sound like a washed-up wedding band.” Wilda shouted your way as she stayed leaning back against the hood of her car with a cigarette in hand.

“Where is Joane?” You asked, already knowing the answer. Wilda glanced at the empty parking spot where your drummer’s new mustang was earlier today. Great. Just what you needed.

“Right. Let’s forget everything, and finish. We’ll just… get it done.”

And so that’s what you did. Brian was gone when you ventured back in, and his absence left a familiar little ache in your heart. You didn’t like shouting at each other like cross siblings. You’d wanted to be his friend more than anything, at the start of all of this. The stars that might have aligned for that chance were all askew by now.

Jim left you and Wilda to go fetch some takeaway. Then he sat around the small table in the studio and shared dinner and some words of wisdom with the two of you. You thanked your manager for being so kind, and forgiving of your antics thus far. He chuckled and said something about having witnessed and dealt with much worse. Jim stayed a while longer, while you and Wilda worked together, and it was you who had to encourage the guy to go home and get some rest.

He entrusted the key to the place to you and your bandmate and left you to finish up for the evening. And you did, eventually. You and the eager guitarist listened back to the tapes and added in riffs and fills, and even a few of Brian’s suggestions; until well past midnight. But right on time for the label.

You could sleep soundly knowing you’d finished when you were meant to. But your dreams were full of worry that the record still wasn’t good enough.

///

“You did what?” Joane shrieked in the hall of your flat.

“We had to finish, Joane. You never came back, what else were supposed to do?” You yelled back, worry saturating your tone. It was far too early to be having this fight.

“You were supposed to wait for me!” Joane shouted, looking to you with big sad eyes. You rushed to remind her that you were out of time, and she could have shown back up and helped you finish, but she didn’t. And in her typical fashion, the drummer spun on her heels and stormed away, fringe flying far behind her shoulders as she shouted something about never coming back.

The girl had been known to fly off the handle on occasion. There was the time she drove your van away from a sketchy Welsh pub you travelled miles to play in, because Wilda called the drummers shoes ugly. Or the time she nearly chucked her cymbals from your third story flat window. You prayed that this episode was like the others you’d endured as you shut your door and rushed to get ready. It was time to take your record to the head office.

No one was particularly happy to find your three-piece only consisted of two when you showed up with Wilda to present your latest creation. Jim flashed a couple of smiles as the tracks played on, but all you noticed were Wilda’s shrugs. The record was done. But under unexpectedly trying circumstances and lacking a lot of help from your drummer. It wasn’t what you’d envisioned. The label still decided it was good enough, and sent you to fill a couple of talk show slots before the week was up.

You went with your guitarist to a couple of press junkets, and watched as your dazzling friend gave away answers she’d been practising since before you’d played your first gig. The only thing that made her umber eyes glow brighter was the sight of Roger Taylor waiting up after a certain interview. He invited her back to wherever it was he’d run off to, and Wilda had the decency to look toward you with a furrowed brow.

With a sigh, you agreed to handle the rest of the press on your own. Because she deserved to have the fun she’d been wishing for with the capricious drummer.

Four talk shows, three guest appearances, and one very hectic game show later, it was time for your record release. Roger phoned to assure he’d bring Wilda back in the nick of time. But Joane wasn’t answering her phone. You’d hoped after a bit of space that your drummer would come back around. But she wasn’t any place you’d gone to look. You spent until the witching hour driving to the places you knew she might have been and came up short.

When the time came to get ready for the party, half of your time getting ready was spent trying to hide the dark circles under your eyes. Before you left home, you took a couple of shots and prayed tonight wouldn’t crash and burn around you.

///

The mansion belonged to the head of the company, a place he’d invite people to when celebrations were too grandiose to fit in EMI’s loft. You wondered if you were the last to arrive when you opened the massive carved doors to find the stunning home littered with faces most of whom you didn’t recognize. One you did finally emerged from the crowd.

“Thank God you made it, I feared I’d have to put on a show instead.” Freddie chuckled, greeting you with glee. You ruffled the boa around his neck, thanked him for showing up, and wondered where you could find the drinks.

“I’ll take you round back dear, but you’d better hurry. The old important men are tired of waiting.” You could have explained how you’d waited up in hopes that Jonae would phone. And how when the phone did ring, it was Wilda worrying that she’d missed the only flight back home. But you only gave Freddie a sorry smile and spun into the garden. There was a bar in the veranda, where a handsome man made a show of mixing you a drink, making little passes along the way.

The time you thought you were stalling by answering all of the dude’s dumb questions was very soon interrupted. All of a sudden a towering guitarist was casting a shadow over you, and swiftly excusing the man behind the minibar.

“It’s about bloody time you showed up.” Brian rang in a mockingly sweet timbre. And as your stomach fluttered with nerves, you knew time was up. But how could you release a record without the rest of your band?

When you started to argue as much, Brian clamped his fingers around your arm like a vice and yanked you away from the bar and the drink you didn’t even get to try.

“Saving the day again, are you?” You rang dryly, as he towed you away. Brian’s face was set in its usual frown, one you’d become so familiar with that his smile on magazine covers made you look twice. He said nothing as he marched you out of the yard and into the mansion. You figured he’d part ways from you once you passed through the doors, but his grip didn’t loosen on the way down the empty marble hallway.

“Let me go.” You struggled, huffing out the words as you fought his grip and won. Before you had time to storm away, Brian spun to face you.

“Would you grow the fuck up? There is a room full of people depending on you and you’re acting like a fucking child, like always.”

“I’m not a child.” You hissed, curled your fists and glared up at Brian as he loomed over you. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest. His feet and fiery eye’s pointed to back you into the corner. But you wouldn’t let him get to you. “I’m trying my best it’s just not fucking good enough.”

A bit of a waver passed through your tone, as you targeted the words through your teeth. You watched Brian bend at the knee to look right in your eye, and pretended not to hold your breath.

“No, you aren’t.” Brian pointed a finger right at you and spoke in a low, unnerving rumble. “I’ve seen you at your best and I can guarantee you’re far from it, tonight.” He snarled, glaring you up and down with those dangerous hazel eyes. They raked over the span of your figure before landing on yours once more. “You look a bloody mess.”

“Because I’ve been running around till two in the damn morning, trying to find Joane! And when I couldn’t, I had to finish everything all on my own again. Because Roger took Wilda away and bought her nice pretty shoes and put her in good graces with all the higher-ups, and unlike her, I have to earn that shit myself.” You yelled, the dam holding back your bottled up emotion had crumbled in the overflow. You could feel the threat of tears stinging the backs of your eyes as Brian stood gaping at you in your outburst.

“So now I’ve lost my voice from all the interviews and the lack of sleep and I probably won’t be able to sing on tour to promote this shite album with a single you’ll switch off when it comes on the radio, anyway!”

And before you’d even stopped shouting, it seemed, Brian had his hands on either side of your face, and his lips pressed to yours. Your back was pushed to the wall and it took great effort not to melt down it with the way you were consumed by an all new kind of fire; mixed among the usual. But above it all, you were too shocked to kiss him back. Then you parted from each other, and past his unbuttoned top you watched the rise and fall of Brian’s chest while he caught his breath and stared at you.

“What the bloody hell was that?” You asked in a stunned hush. Brian blinked and shook his curls.

“I’m, I- I don’t- I didn’t mean-”

“You think you can just kiss me and, I don’t know, that everything is just magically going to be okay?” You wondered in a fluster, knowing there was nothing that could be done about the blush burning your cheeks. After months of frowning every time the two of you passed each other he kisses you?

“No. No I- I’ve always wanted to kiss you and I just thought I knew better than to do it.”  Brian held up a hand like he was swearing not to come closer. Talk about some seriously mixed messages.

“What?” You asked in an embarrassingly high squeak.

“I wanted to kiss you before I even knew your name. And it just seemed like the entirely wrong thing to do. So I shut you out, and my ire kept getting the better of me, and that’s not an excuse, just the truth,” Brian sighed, at what seemed like a sudden loss for words as his eyes searched yours.

“Well, you’ve gone and done it now.” You pointed out with the faintest laugh despite everything. Brian shook his head, asking, in a way, to understand what you were on about.

So you shook your head too, and latched onto his loose collar. You yanked Brian closer because you weren’t angry. You were actually feeling fine all of a sudden about everything. Only sure that you had to kiss him again good and proper. It was your first kiss with him, really, as your mouths moved together. Brian’s fingers were wrapped around your arm again, less claw-like than moments ago. And he didn’t seem too keen to break away from pushing you a little closer to the wall, a second time around.

But just as you lost yourself to the feeling of Brian’s frame moulded against your own, your name was hollered from somewhere down the hall. Music grew louder over the speakers that reached out to the sparsely decorated hall. Brian let you go, and you released your latch on his shirt to wipe your lips in a hurry.

But before you could scurry away, you watched Brian watch you prepare to bolt, and couldn’t help the small smile blooming across your face. He smiled, too.

You looked a mess. You were a mess. And you might’ve been one step away from fucking this whole thing up. But for the first time all year, you accepted it.

///

Your second record, somehow, was praised by the label and adored by the steadily growing following you’d gained. The old burnt out hippie man who ran your home town record store stood from his torn leather stool and applauded you, the day you came in to buy the Talking Heads new record.

“You’re really finding your sound, man.” The old hippie grinned. You told him to sit back down and thanked him despite your embarrassment. He asked you to autograph the cash box and gave you a discount on the album you bought.

After your single reached the top five in the charts, you talked Joane back around. It wasn’t easy. You had to promise you’d keep a cooler head, and she did too. She started stopping over every Sunday with a book of songs for you to think up a tune to, and turned the radio up every time one of your hits came on air. You laughed when she danced around your coffee table like it was the first time she was hearing your band name on the lips of a local dj.

Wilda cut all her hair off and wore the shoes Roger bought her everywhere. She talked about him after every breath, but you knew she hadn’t talked to him in months. Queen were busy planning a tour of Europe and trying to save the families that hadn’t already slipped through the cracks at the homes they bought but hardly visited.

You knew because you called Freddie to ask after Brian.

“Why are you asking about Brian?” You could hear the smile in Freddie’s voice, after he’d finished gabbing about the others.

“I want to know how all you boys are, naturally.” You panicked, realizing how lame your excuse was as you spoke it into the receiver. Freddie only hummed after a beat, and let another silence linger before speaking up again.

“I know you both secretly care for each other. Just give him time love, he’ll come around.” Freddie chirped before giving you a sweet farewell and hanging up.

Throughout your ever-changing year, Freddie had been more than kind to you. He’d become your friend. He gave away secrets like a kid at a slumber party. And when Brian came up in his conversation, Freddie always got serious. When the singer told you about the rough year Brian had been through, and the state of his well being, Freddie seemed to look at you with all of the seriousness in the world. Like he was desperate for you to understand. Did he know you were desperate to understand? Did he know Brian kissed you?

You could have phoned Brian. But you were too busy secretly hoping he’d ring you.

///

Your only notable call came from Jim, who gently nudged you to agree to being Queen’s opening act, once again.

“It’s what the fans want, according to the label. It’s what the label wants.” Jim explained, in the soft, kind, way that protected the guy from ever receiving a glare or harsh word from you, or Brian, you realized.

“We’ll do it, if the royal court isn’t up in arms.”

“Freddie said, and I quote, 'Beg her on my behalf and tell her I’ll fly home from Barcelona to do it myself if she even thinks of saying no.’”

So you called your band, packed a bag and showed up to the airport at five in the bloody morning with a smile on your face.

And then you were off. For the first week, a local band had been chosen from each new city, to open for Loba. By the time you, Wilda, and Joane took the stage, each audience of what seemed like billions were more electric than the last. You’d never had more fun, jumping around to the music you’d worked your ass off to create with the girls. You each ran off stage, changed in a flurry and ran back to the sidelines to watch Queen light up the black ink night. And like the last time, that was about the only time you’d see much of them- till one show got delayed when a wicked storm showed no signs of passing.

Roger took Wilda to dinner, and she followed his burning trail after about a minute of pretending she wasn’t at all interested. Joane made a speech about everyone catching up one sleep, before she crashed in your bed with her shoes still on. After unlacing her heavy boots and tossing them aside, you went to find your favourite band of boys gathering in the lobby with plans to go out.

“Now the party can really start.” Crystal grinned, reaching to wrap a strong arm around your neck as he pulled you to follow the gang to the limo in waiting. You broke loose of the roadies hold and shoved him into the back of the car before crouching in yourself.

A couple of girls you’d never met sat on either side of Freddie, and cast their doe eyes to John who scooted over to make room for you. And holding the bassist’s attention was Brian, who had yet to look your way all week. Ah, just like old times. You both had been busy. But you couldn’t stop from wondering if there was something more to it…

Had you upset Brian beyond your wildest dreams, when you kissed? Did he smile at you after it happened in the way people who were so angry did, that their furry appeared in a mask of calm?

Or… did you finally get him to shut up for good? Did he realize how unremarkable you were? That you weren’t even good enough to bicker with any longer? Pushing his buttons was one thing. But you always hated the times you and Brian paired harsh words with those deadly glares. Now that you were getting the silent treatment though, you’d take his arguing with you with a relieved smile.

Freddie pulled you along into a club adorned in sickening green uplighting. The purple-tinted insides held a crowded bar and a dance floor where patrons overflowed toward the restrooms. Some tune by The Velvet Underground was pulsing through the speakers as Freddie spun you around, dancing you both closer to the mass of people doing the same.

You noticed members of your group beginning to lose themselves in the crowd when you decided a drink was in order. The bar was packed, so much so that you nearly couldn’t turn to see who you’d wedged yourself against until you felt him tense up.

Brian kept his eyes on the wall decorated with drink options and dared not move as you shifted to notice him. His hip jabbed into your side, his white knuckles rested on the ledge of the bar brushed against your arm as he drew his hands together.

“Aren’t we going to talk about it?” You asked all of a sudden. If it were up to you, you would have cornered Brian like he’d cornered you, that night. But the tour had been so busy, and this was the closest you’d been since the night he pushed you against the wall… And you couldn’t take it anymore.

Still, Brian kept his eyes pointed front and said nothing.

“You kissed me first, ya know?” You spoke plainly, desperate for a response.

The barman shoved a tall drink toward Brian’s chest just then, at the same time Freddie reached past a few strangers to yank his guitarist toward the dance floor. As he was pulled away, Brian’s eyes swept over yours, and they were prettier than ever.

///

You’d nearly forgotten all your troubles that weekend, as everyone rushed to make up the cancelled show with two in a row, and one another city away with no time to sleep, not really.

After a montage of screaming crowds, ringing guitars, and squirming in and out of too-tight clothes, a three day break awaited the lot of you at long last. You trekked behind familiar faces down a lime green hotel hall, and dreamed of sleeping until you were good and ready to wake up.

Freddie waved as he twirled into his room, and Roger followed Wilda all the way down the hall. And while you watched your feet move toward your room number a few dozen doors away, you were stopped in your tracks.

You grinned when you recognized the feeling of the fingers around your arm, and the way Brian dragged you in his tow. You didn’t have far to go, just behind the door he was already closing in one swift move…

And in a flash, the door was shut and he was kissing you like how he did before, without a word, all of a sudden. Like he was trying to suck the life out of you. You kissed him right back, like you’d been dreaming of doing since you knew how nice it was.

And then you shoved him away. Because you wanted this, but not like last time.

“You’re not going to leave me in the quiet after tonight are you? I might at least be able to stand the radio silence if I knew what it was all about.” You searched Brian’s face in the dark. All the while, you kept ahold of his shirt sleeves and slowly found your way to his haphazardly made hotel bed.

“I was afraid.”

“Afraid?” You couldn’t help but chuckle. He’d treated you with all the interest of a passive-aggressive house cat since the day you met. Brian went quiet as you guided him to sit on the mattress, leary to close the space between you until he spoke up again. Though his long fingers fell feather-light against your hips, you only kept yours on his shoulders and held his gaze, silently hoping he’d speak up again.

“Of how desperately I’ve always wanted you.” He whispered while his fingers curled to grip you the slightest bit closer. “There were about one thousand reasons I was afraid of ever kissing you, and they all seemed even scarier after I did.”

Brian let his eyes rake up your figure before meeting your own. His lips were close enough to brush yours now. It made such sense, now. All those looks weren’t really glares. All those bitter words weren’t so malice. The tension that lied between you and Brian was all to do with how badly you’d wanted to be this close all along.

Maybe he was afraid to cross that line, because of all the love he’d so recently lost. Or maybe it was because of how young and dumb you really were. And maybe it was because of something you wouldn’t come to find out for a while, yet. You decided there wasn’t time to worry over why, tonight. That could come later.

“I hope you realise now, there’s nothing to fear.” You wrapped a hand around Brian’s neck and watched his eyes search yours in the dark. Then he nodded, softly bumping his head against yours. He pulled you closer between his legs and kissed you. You pushed him to lay down and started on your mission to show Brian just how fond of him you really were.

“I’m still pissed that we could have been doing this ages ago.” You breathed a laugh as Brian’s teeth grazed your neck.

“Never could handle not getting your way, could you?” He hummed against the skin you’d started to expose.

“I mean it.” You chuckled, tugging at a few of Brian’s highlighted curls. His head lulled until he was looking at you again. Brian stayed perfectly fitted against you while his eyes peered into yours. You recognized the uncertain look on his face, but it was different than before. Softer. Sadder, maybe. 

“You really want this?” He asked in a soft timbre.

“Yes.” You nodded, tracing the length of his nose just because. A bit of quiet lingered after your assurance.

“But do you want me?” Brian asked in a hush. His sweet voice saturated in a worry you didn’t realize he had.

“Yeah,” You nodded again, searching his pretty hazel eyes as you placed both of your hands on the sides of his lovely face. “I want you Bri.”

The kiss you shared then was one that meant more than you knew a kiss could. There was something about Brian, a part of him you’d always longed to know. You felt closer than ever to that side of the guitarist now, when he deepened the kiss, and you felt him smile.

///

You woke up with a song in your head.  A melody left over from a dream. But instead of rushing to find a pen and paper, you rolled over to covet the warmth of your unexpected company.

Brian draped an arm across your middle and hummed in delight when you nuzzled closer. You stayed like that, perfectly content in the tangled up sheets, watching the patterns of the sun through the window on their slow shift across the room.

“We’re going to have to leave this bed at some point you know?” You sat up a little after dozing off for the third time in a row. Brian stayed happily tucked close to your side. “And someone is more than likely going to figure this out.”

“That’s fine by me.” Brian shrugged, peering up to you from the pillows you leaned against.

“We’re supposed to hate each other.” You reminded through a sleepy chuckle. Brian only grinned and blinked, conjuring up a thought.

“I never hated you. I might always be sorry for picking such fights. I did always want the best for you, I just had a nasty way saying so.” Brian murmured thoughtfully.

He caught your eye once more and the corners of his mouth turned up when he looked to find you were already staring at him, trying to memorize the perfect outline of his profile against the bright sunlight. You inched lower to meet his gaze, and said,

“I think we might’ve finally figured out what’s best for both of us.”

And the way Brian looked at you then sent a chill down your spine that raced back up and shot through your heart in one go.

“S'Just, sometimes you’re a real bitch.” You joked to fight the way your heart was beginning to beat like a drum. Because you weren’t quite brave enough to fall all the way in love yet. But you decided just as quickly that Brian was probably worth falling for.

“I know. And sometimes you’re fucking unbearable.” He countered with a smirk.

“Yeah, I guess so.” You noted with a laugh. You had it real bad for this guy. And that kind of scared the shit out of you. How could this have happened so quickly? How had you failed to see it coming? What if it was over no sooner than it began?

“But…” The only thing that broke through your hesitancy was Brian’s long fingers slowly trailing across your jaw.  "Do you want me?“ You echoed his statement from the night before, in a hush. You’d only just realized the depth in asking so.

"Yeah.” Brian said, wrapping a lean arm snug around your middle without a moment’s hesitation. “I want you.”

And he said so like he was trying to encapsulate all the things that made you whole and wonderful and unbearable all at once. And even then, you giggled before leaning in for a kiss.

You spent the rest of what was left of that morning doing all the things you’d done the night before. And when you decided to finally get dressed, you and Brian hopped into your clothes while squabbling over what and when to tell your friends.

You hoped you’d get to hear his maddening whinging on for the rest of forever. Because if it ever became too much, at least you’d finally discovered some pretty effective ways to shut each other up.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

[hobihobihoe]

Unruly - Part one

Obey me! + Mafia BTS + 0T7 au x reader                                                                

2.5k ish 

Warnings : 18+ slowwww burn ~ eventual smut ~ descriptions of blood and violence ~ cliche city ~ alsooo uhh if you care about grammar this is not 4 U cause imma dumb bitch <3

Andd ahh this is the first thing i’ve ever written so its probably kinda shit.. :)

Great. Just great. Why did you agree to this again? Oh yeah because you’re a good person, or at least you’re trying to be. You’d just agreed to cover Rosies shift, apparently she was sick, but what you hadn't taken into account when you’d agreed to work was that Rosie had been booked to a private venue, well I guess now you had been booked to a private venue. You hated working private venues, as a bartender people would sometimes assume you provided the drinks or that because you weren't working at your company bar you would join in with shots or maybe give them a discount as you were a lone ranger incharge of yourself and providing alcohol for the night. One thing a private venue did mean though was money, getting paid nearly twice the amount you usually did as well as hopefully generous tips from wealthy clients. But still you weren’t quite sure three times the work was worth only double the pay, but well… fuck it you’ve gotta be a good friend/colleague and well person to Rosie so you just have to suck it up.

Thankfully it was a Saturday night so you didn't have to work it after being at university all day. So you bid farewell to the library you had been pretending to study at and headed home to get changed into something more presentable because a hoodie three times your size and leggings covered in dorito dust probably wouldn't fly at this kind of event.

As you opened the door you heard the crocky meows of your little baby, Zuki. He was an all black rescue cat that you'd adopted two years ago, when you’d started university, as a companion and partly because as soon as you saw his cute little face you were screwed and had to bring him home. You bent down to stroke his head and scratch behind his ear just the way he likes, which results in him vibrating with loud purrs that soften your heart. “Okay baby I love you but I gotta go get ready” Zuki looks at you with annoyance now that you've cut his pampering session short, he's such a spoiled little brat you think to yourself, but as he follows you into your bedroom with his tail high in the air and a slight sway in his steps you can't bring yourself to care. He is just too damn cute.

Now donned in your crisp white shirt and black dress pants you tame your hair enough so that it resembles a neatish bun, you say goodbye to your fur baby and head off to your car on your way to hopefully a nice paycheque.

When you arrive you're greeted by Jae. He leads you to the bar and tells you to ask him if there's anything you need. Okay so far so good, you've just gotta make yourself familiar with any specialised drinks on the menu and the rest should be smooth sailing. About 10 minutes after you arrive a large group of men appear, they sit down on two separate sides of the long table that takes up most of the room, they then send two men from each group respectively your way. Game time you think, the man that reaches the bar first is sweating noticeably, his black hair sticking to the front of his forehead matting the hair that it encompases. “sweetheart get me 6 doubles of gentleman jack over ice and 2 dry martinis”, you smile at him, so thankful that you wouldn't have to make any cocktails. They were time consuming and required a lot of faf essentially and a lot of cleaning up, “of course sir” you say as you smile at him, he barely acknowledges you as he goes to sit at one of the stools that lined the bar. As you get to making his drinks you hear the clearing of someone's throat, you look up and realise it was the other man that you had been coming over. You nearly choke on your spit at the sight of him. His pastel pink hair is delicately framing his cherub-like face, “Miss?”, oh shit you’d zoned out, “Oh i'm so sorry I missed what you said completely '' you admitted shly, he just gave a cute little chuckle. “ Its okay angel” you started to blush at the use of such an affectionate nickname “I asked if I could have 6 manhattans and a sex on the beach” great fucking coacktails you signed internaly, “Of course sir” that earned a smirk from him, you were just being professional, shit professional you had to remind yourself to focus on making the drinks as your traitorous eyes kept lingering in the area surrounding him.

As you finish preparing each individual drink you place them on the bar so the men can take them to booths. Just as you were setting down the final cocktail you brush fingers with the pink haired man, “oh... um” you say prepared to give him an apology but as you look up and meet his eyes you seem to lose your ability to form any kind of cohesive sentence “Jimin, angel, my names Jimin” he states  “oh uh, Jimin I hope you enjoy your drinks'' you feel like a pathetic teenager again unable to talk to the pretty boy at the party. “I'm sure I will angel” he throws over his shoulder as he walks back to the group of men he’d emerged from, what was it with him saying that nickname that just made you giddy. God I really need to get out more you thought, maybe you could go out tomorrow as you wouldn't be working since you covered rosies shift, maybe then you could get some real action and should hopefully suasiate you for a bit. Ugh it's like Jimin had awoken something within you, which usually you’d be interested to explore, but considering that you were at work you were gonna just have to put his beautiful face to the back of your mind for when you got home later and could relax properly. Zesh should you feel creepy? No its not your fault that what was practically sex on legs was going about all unobtainable, thats what your imagination and your trusty vibrator were for anyway.

An hour later and you've made exactly three more drinks, wow, maybe if you stare at the champagne flute for another 10 minutes you'll unlock its secrets and it will be more interesting. Just as you were debating wiping down the bar for the hundredth time you hear chairs being pulled out and moved loudly. You look up to see that both groups of men which were previously amicably sat at the table now have guns aimed at each other. You freeze. You haven't ever seen a gun in person before and there must be well over ten now all presumably aimed and ready to fire. You dunk under the bar as you hear yelling start. You weren't able to focus on what was being said by the men, too busy trying to focus on controlling your breathing. Fuck. that sounded like a gun shot. And then another. You've lost track of how many shots you've heard, lots is the amount you settle on, maybe if you just stay behind the bar and stay quiet they'll forget you’re there and leave you alone. There is a long silence in the room, you try your best to mimic it when you notice the movement in one of the wine glasses that are stacked up behind the bar. Someone pushes the staff entrance to the bar open and strides towards you, gun in his right hand. You start to push yourself backward but are soon met with the edge of the bar, the man is dressed in all red and if it weren't for the specks of blood covering his face you would consider him unbelievably attractive. You seem to have been consumed by these thoughts because you suddenly come back into your physical reality, met with a gun now pointed only inches away from your face. You search his eyes for any kind of mercy or empathy you could try to appeal to, what shocks you is you only see a smoldering fire. You see his finger move on the trigger and close your eyes, you don't want the last thing you see to be a stranger. Just as you were going to try to think of pleasant things and the ones you cheriouish you hear a voice. “Hobi stop” Jimin said rather nonchalantly given your current situation, “Chim just let me tie up this loose end then we can get going” the other man, you guess Hobi? Sneered. Wow he just thought of killing you as an inconvenience, what a dick. “Hobi I think we could use her for something else” “what?” Hobi questioned sternly “well even Yoongi mentioned how good his drink was and we always have to get a new bartender every meeting and it would be easier if we had one who knew who we were so when this kind of shit happens again we haven't got any loose ends” Jimin points out. Hobi seems to consider this for a minute before he moves away in a different direction to Jimin, you try to follow his eye line but because of your placement on the floor you can’t see over the bar. “Joon, obviously the call is yours to make” Hobi announces. “It does seem to be a practical suggestion and Jimin must have taken a liking to her if he stopped you, so I don't see why not” the ominous voice declared. After a second of those words sinking in you realise that they have just decided to take you with them, to take you captive.

You start to shake, turning your head to meet Jimin's eye “no uh..um.no please don't take me” you sniffle “I promise I never saw anything, I won't say anything p-please just let me go home” you can barley make out your own words as they are effectively smothered by your tears and your small gasps for breath as you aren't able to regulate your breathing. Jimin elegantly slides over the bar and bends down to your height “Angel don't be so silly, you're coming with us. You should really be thanking me” he gives you a small wink. That causes a fresh wave of panic to settle over you, you know there's a fire exit further down in the bar hidden within the sinks and stock area, with the spike of adrenaline you start to run towards the exit. It looks like it's going well until you hear a loud bang, then the feeling of the side of your head being hit registers, lastly you notice your eyesight unfocusing before darkness seems to override and then suddenly, nothing.

~JIMINS POV~

“Yoongi was that really necessary?” Jimin akses with a slight frown on his face. The older man shrugs “someone had to do something” Jimin sighs and looks at Jungkook, “it will be easier if you carry her.”

~YOUR POV~

When you open your eyes again you see white, adjusting slightly, you realise your laying on a bed. You sit up and look around the room. There are 5 other beds that you can see, they are all small single beds with a chest at the end of each. You look over your surroundings for a few minutes before you remember the circumstances leading up to you being here. You touch the back of your head and wince when your fingers meet a small swollen bump. You decided you should probably try and leave, poor Zuki is probably waiting for you to fill his food bowl. Wow, you realise in this situation you think of your cat's mortality more than your own, well you guess that's what your life has amounted to. Just as you stand up the door opens. “Oh you're awake now” You look over to see the small older woman who was speaking “Umm.. where am i?” The lady gives you a small smile “You're in the maids room sweetie.” Great that's cleared up nothing, you think bitterly. “Can I talk to whoever's in charge? Please?” You think this is probably your best bet, explain to them that you just want to go hope and hopefully they'll be humane enough to agree with that. “Yes, he wanted me to come and get you anyway” She states as she turns around walking away from the doorway, you start to follow her. As you continue walking through the hallways and up the stairs of this seemingly huge mansion you notice several men standing guard with guns rested in their hands, ready at all times. You start to wonder if maybe your idea is ridiculous as you realise wherever you are and whatever you have gotten yourself involved in may be larger than the small group of men you'd seen at the bar. Your worrying is cut short as the women raises her hand and knocks at a door you have stopped outside off, a short “Come in” is what is answered from the other side of the door, the older women looks to you, “You should go in alone, i'll be waiting for you here” You look at her and then to the door “Uh... thank you?” You’re not really sure what the appropriate response is in this situation but you don't want to be rude, she gives you a short nod and smile.

Once you open the door you're faced with one of the men you'd seen before. He regards you with a very slight smile before he gestures to a chair placed in front of the desk he is sitting behind, you walk over to sit at the chair before you look at him directly. You aren't sure if the bang to the head you had received had caused temporary delusions, but as you look at him you swear you see light radiating out of him. You meet his eyes for a second before you decide they are too intimidating and look away, “You wanted to see me?” you ask meekly, deciding to for now abandon your plea for freedom. “Yes, I did, i'm not sure if you remember why we brought you here so i’ll just go over your role again” he starts “You’re going to be working as our personal bartender, this means you will joins us on outings that we deem appropriate and also make our drinks whilst we are here, at the base” he then moves his face into your eye line so that he can make eye contact “And in return of your services we’ll let you live” he finishes his small speech with a slight smile, as if he had just offered you a job and you weren't being threatened and held captive in this place. You take a few minutes to think over what he had just said, you come to the conclusion that for now faking compliance is probably the safest thing you can do until you are able to find a window to escape. “Who do you mean when you say we?” you enquire, you weren't sure if you should be questioning the leader of this organisation?, but your curiosity had won over any of the other responses you considered.

[kitty0boy]

Marichat May Day 7 prompt: Secrets.

I think we can all agree that we were robbed in Shanghai. So I’m rewriting it because I can. This time though, the Shanghai special takes place somewhere in the middle of season 4 (probably after Guiltrip because that’s the episode I just watched) So there’s that.

————————————

Marinette was so excited to go to Shanghai about a day ago. She had taken to reading more about her Chinese heritage and, having learned that her parents wanted to surprise her with a trip to Shanghai, she was ecstatic to go. Her uncle happily provided his home for the visit and, to her great surprise, Adrien had come to Shanghai too. His father had coincidentally had business here.

She had worked hard to get over Adrien and at this point in time, it had nearly worked. She had taken down the pictures and erased his activities on her calendar. Unfortunately, the sight of him still sent her heart racing and made her tongue tied, but she stopped losing her head whenever he was around, which made conversation much easier.

She had strolled around Shanghai earlier in the day. Her uncle was concerned for her safety of course but she promised she would stay on the same street. She had looked in shop windows at the gorgeous antiques, clothes, and even more. Her sketch book was soon filled with new inspiration for her designs. When she turned to head home, she spotted a familiar mop of blonde hair and waved to Adrien. He didn’t seem to notice her though.

All these events felt like they happened years ago now as she stood a top a building with a distraught Fei. The sounds of Chat Noir taking great swings at the akuma rang loudly in her ears. Fei was the only one who could defeat them and she knew it deep down, but she still couldn’t bring herself to.

The next moment, she was falling. The events of a few minutes previous had quickly left her mind. She remembered learning to crawl, and falling off her bike, and drawing her first every design, matching t-shirts that said “Paris’ Greatest Parents”. She remembered capturing Tikki in a glass cup the first time they met, and standing under an umbrella that Adrien was holding. Master Fu was making her the new Guardian and Alya held her when she found out she was Ladybug.

“Marinette!” A desperate cry came from above her and she saw her partner. Was this another flashback? Without control of her body, her hand reached up to touch him, she wanted to hug him and thank him for everything. His hand latched around hers and pulled her flush towards him, then they weren’t falling anymore. She snapped out of it when she felt a shudder come from him. He picked his head up off of her shoulder, his face was stained with dried tears as more threatened to spill

“I finally found you.”

Fei, being fuelled by rage that Marinette had almost been killed, had become a dragon at last and easily defeated the akuma. She bounded towards Chat Noir once the pair of them had reached ground level. In the mouth of the bear form she had taken, was the butterfly. “Excellent job Fei, you really saved us.” Chat sniffed. His eyes were slightly puffy, which could have been from falling head first about 20 feet. “Marinette,” he turned to face her, his eyes watered almost instantly, “I need you to go and hide for now, Hawkmoth was taken by the akuma and I don’t want you to be anywhere near him when he reappears.” Marinette, thinking that it would be better to just follow instructions, began to walk away. Chat caught her hand.

“Just wait for me to come get you alright? I’ll bring you to your u- uh wherever you’re staying.” She looked at him puzzled. “But,” he waved a finger at her. “No buts, I’m making sure you get back safely. And don’t even try to leave without me, I will know.” She nodded and walked away towards a nearby, deserted alleyway.

“Marinette, what’s that on your shoulder?” Tikki flew from her purse. Marinette felt behind her with her arm before her fingers closed around a small disc. She pulled it off.

“That cat put a tracker on me. What a sly little,” Marinette recited but Tikki cut in. “He’s worried Marinette. You heard and saw how he reacted when you were falling.”

“No I didn’t, I just remember one minute I was with Fei, the next me and Chat were dangling from his baton in midair and he was crying.” Tikki smiled. “Yes he was crying, he screamed in terror when he saw you fall. It was quite frightening actually, that’s probably why Fei didn’t say anything.”

Marinette thought about this for a moment before realizing that she had somewhere to be. “We’ve got to go meet Chat and Fei now, there’s an akuma to cleanse and hopefully a Hawkmoth to catch. Tikki, Spots On!”

As she made her way to the alley where Chat thought she was, she couldn’t help feeling satisfied. She sent Chat to get Hawkmoth and although he didn’t catch him, she was still glad to see that the run had calmed him down a little. That was until he realized that Marinette was still alone in that alleyway. She was able to persuade him to wait and calm down before going to get her though, which gave her time to get back to her hiding spot and, with Tikki’s help, put the tracking device back where it had been moments ago.

A soft thump was heard beside her before she was being suffocated under arms that were magically stronger than the average person. “You’re alright, you’re alright.” He chanted over and over again before realizing that Marinette couldn’t breathe. He released her almost immediately and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. Marinette who wanted to comfort him, wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head and his chest. She could hear his heartbeat steadily speed up as he hugged her back and rested his head on hers.

“I was so worried when I found out you were missing. I thought maybe you had lost track of things, being how clumsy you are.” Marinette looked up at him and pouted. How long had he been searching for her exactly? Because it was about 9 pm now and she had started running around with Fei at about noon. He chuckled sadly and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Then you were missing for hours and I didn’t know what to think. I was scared you were robbed or kidnapped.” She smiled.

“The first answer was right. Fei stole my purse and I had the location of my uncle’s house on there. So I got scared that the thief might try to rob him later so I chased her down the street and got lost.” He gapped at her. “Are you crazy? You should had gone to your uncles and tried to contact me! That was so reckless and careless and-“

“What like how you throw your life away for Ladybug?” She didn’t have to say this loudly to have an effect. He immediately stopped and stared wide-eyed at her. Against her will, her vision started to blur. “You really need to stop doing that you know. I hate it when you do.” A tear ran down her cheek but Chat brushed it away and held her again. “Well I don’t think I ever want to see you fall off a building again so I’ll try to stop if you do.” She chuckled and buried her face in his shoulder.

“Hey, do you mind if we take a detour home?” He broke the silence a few minutes later and she nodded, allowing him to pick her up and carry her towards a darker part of the city. Unfortunately, Shanghai being as bright as it was, they couldn’t see many stars but all the same, they lay down on a rooftop and tried to find some.

“I like being Chat much better than my civilian life.” The comment came out of nowhere but Marinette still turned to listen.

“One of the many joys of being me, is a tightly packed schedule and endless amounts of responsibility. Many people regard me as this kind of statue that has to stay highly polished at all times. I think I’m too good at leaving that impression on people, my first girlfriend had flat out rejected me when I showed her my silly side. She said I was acting like a clown and that it wasn’t who I really was.” He had never told Ladybug any of this, she hoped that he wouldn’t hit too close to home.

“Sometimes I think that I don’t know who I am anymore. I know that I feel happy being funny and when I protect people, but,” he turned to look at her. His face was soft. “Right now is different.” She was confused. “Different how?” She questioned.

“It’s a good different. I know it’s kind of random but I just wanted you to know that, I feel like myself right now, which isn’t something I get to feel often. So thank you.” He smiled.

She would be lying if she said that her heart wasn’t doing backflips right now. “That sounds nice, but, why me? I mean, I’m not really anything special or different. I thought that you would be happiest with Ladybug.” He smiled. “I don’t get to hang out Ladybug very often, and when we do hang out, it’s more of a patrol. Everything is work with her, being with her is easy but we don’t really get the chance to just relax and be in each other’s company like this.” He frowned slightly.

“And don’t say you’re nothing special. I don’t really understand it but you have this magnetism that I can’t explain. I’ve seen it before. People are just naturally attracted towards you, I myself feel more attached to you than any other civilian I’ve met, and yes that includes the other superheroes.”

She gaped at him. She never knew how much influence she had on Chat Noir. I mean they’ve only met a few times. “I just, how? We aren’t around each other often. I mean sure you’ve saved me a number of times but other than that one time, we haven’t spent time together.” He shrugged, “I don’t know either. I just get the feeling that you’re someone who I can be myself with.” She smiled. “Well since we’re sharing secrets I might as well share one of mine.

He rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows, smiling down at her expectantly. “Well, there was a boy.” He tilted his head in confusion. “Was a boy?” She nodded. “I’ve liked him for forever but I could never get the words out. I stammer in front of him so much that he thinks everything I say doesn’t make sense.” He smiled. “Well you make sense to me.” She grinned. “Yes well I’ve been trying to get over him for a while now, but every time I see his face I just melt all over again. Not that I don’t want to love him, because I do. He’s one of the best people I know, but I know he’ll never feel the same.”

Chat looked confused again. “How do you know he won’t feel the same way?” She frowned. “Because I’ve always been just a friend to him. He makes that very clear.” Chat’s eyes went wide, but Marinette didn’t know why. “It wouldn’t happen to be Adrien Agreste would it?” Now it was her turn to go wide eyed. “How did you know?” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh lucky guess I suppose.” A tinge of pink was prominent under his mask. They needed a change of subject. She sat up and put on her best smile.

“Can I draw you?” His ears perked up. “Uh what?” He blushed again. “Can I draw you?” In what seemed to be a great effort, he screwed up his face and looked at her in a teasing sort of way. “Draw me? Or paint me,” he threw an arm over his forehead and posed in a, supposed to be seductive pose. “Like one of your french girls.” He swooned. She burst out laughing which, she noticed, created a sort of twinkle in his eye. “I mean we are french but I meant just draw you. You know, you pose and I draw you. I could even give you a cool outfit to wear.” He stood up and walked around so he was in front of her.

She crossed her legs and rested the sketch book against her knee. “Ok now strike a pose kitty!” He looked suddenly sheepish but posed like a model worthy of a magazine. She went to work drawing him out in a messy sketch that she could tidy up after. They went through a few poses before she stopped him.

“Hmm yes yes these are great model poses. Now how about a different kind of pose.” His face went ridged. She panicked and waves her arms in front of her. “I mean you don’t have to if you don’t want to, I just want to try to express a different part of your personality.” He walked over and sat down in front of her confused.

“A different part of my personality?” She blinked. “Well yeah, you’re not just some perfect statue are you? Your also a silly cat, and a protective superhero, and a caring person, and a flirt.” He blushed then laughed. “Nice way to end it princess.” She crossed her arms. “Well it’s true, you’re a flirty person. You flirt with people all the time, whether it’s on purpose or not.” He blushed. “Do I really flirt with a lot of people.” She nodded.

He fidgeted a little. “Come on Chat, strike a pose, but not one worthy of fashion weekly.” He screwed up his face in contemplation before standing and apparently coming to a decision. “Ok then, how about the cat!” Then he struck a goofy pose. She laughed and he looked crest fallen for a second before she said, “Yes kitty that’s purrfect.” She started sketching away.

Little did she know. Chat Noir was displaying the biggest grin he had ever produced. A smile so bright, it could rival the blinding lights of Shanghai.

——————————

Thanks for reading.

[writefightandflightclub]

Would you maybe like to write some headcanons for tony and a female s/o who often speaks with friday when she is bored or talks to him whem she thinks tony wont listen? Of course tony can hear all this talks she just doesent know.. maybe she even talks abourt her insecures (being not enough for tony) with friday..

F.R.I.D.A.Y, I’m in Love (Tony Stark x reader)

GIF by @ruinedchildhood

Warnings: brief mentions of alcohol, food. One swear.

A/n: thanks so much for this HC request, Anon! So excited to write a lil sthg for Tony and this concept is so cute! Actually, I have a lot of unpublished Tony fics I might blast out one day. I can’t tell you how much I love this man. Really.

You don’t know why you started talking to Friday, exactly. One day Tony had been riling you up with his antics, and you made an off-hand comment -under your breath to yourself- after he stormed out of the lab. You had been shocked when Friday replied to you, but the dry humour in her response had made you chuckle. Plus it had felt good to vent to someone.

Since then, in your first few months of working for Stark Industries, you formed a habit of venting to Friday. Not all the time- only whenever Tony was irritating, snarky, drunk, annoying, hangry, self-destructive, hungover, reckless, infuriating, stubborn, rude, or selfish... which, ok, you vented to Friday a helluva lot, actually.

Sometimes, Friday felt a bit like a friend. You justified it because you objectively knew she was “just” an AI, but you had formed a weird attachment to her. It could be lonely in the city, and, turns out that eccentric billionaire superhero bosses aren’t always the best company.

One day, as you sat yabbering to Friday on your lunch break, you had a terrible thought which felt like a stone dropping through your stomach. “Wait, Friday- you don’t tell Tony what I say about him, do you?” Your nails dug into your palms as you awaited her response- some of your words had been less than kind, in the heat of the moment, but you needed this job. Loved this job. You certainly didn’t want your boss to discover your track record of insults and fire you. Friday replied “Technically, I can’t keep anything from the boss, but he’d have to ask me a very specific question if he wanted conversation transcripts.” You had smiled. You were safe then, because Tony was never going to ask Friday anything about you. You were just his lab assistant, after all.

Over time, though, you saw a different side to Tony. You still thought he was annoying, reckless, and snarky, for sure, but you also discovered he was good. He was generous, he was giving. Funny. Heroic. Loyal. And boy, he was a flirt. You had grown to care deeply for him. So, sometimes, in idle conversation with Friday, you would chat about how much you missed him, if he was away. About how he made you laugh. About how hot he was. About how worried you were at the thought of losing him if he never came back from a mission. It was good to vent to someone. After all, you could never tell Tony how you felt about him. Not ever.

Sometimes, you must have forgotten that Friday wasn’t really your friend, and you told her a little too much. Told her about your feelings for Tony. Told her about your insecurities and how he’d never be interested in a woman like you anyway. How he flirted with everyone and that you were sure he could never see you as anyone special. Certainly not special enough for him.

One day, you are eating lunch like usual, and Tony waltzes in earlier than expected, catching you mid-sentence in conversation to Friday. You jump when you spot him standing behind you. “Look at this. Both my girls getting on,” he jokes, drumming his fingers over his arc reactor as his face splits into a slightly mocking smile, a little crinkle in his nose and crow’s feet radiating from around his whiskey eyes. “You always talk to Friday?” You had become good friends with Tony, but you still got shy around him sometimes, and you fluster your words and grab up some papers, making excuses to take your leave.

Curiously watching you go, Tony straddles a chair backwards and begins chewing on a pen, one arm resting on the chair back. Then a thought occurs to him. “Hey, Friday. Does she talk to you a lot?” “We’re firm friends, boss.” “Huh,” he replies. “Then does she ever talk about me?” “You’re not going to like it,” Friday warns.

Interest piqued, Tony asks his AI what you’ve said about him, and asks Friday to run an analysis of her logs. Turns out, Friday’s not your friend after all, because apparently she can’t keep your secret. “Sentiment analysis of our conversations suggests she has romantic feelings for you, but doesn’t think she’s good enough for you to reciprocate, boss. Which is contradictory data, because she also thinks you’re a bit of an arsehole.” “Hey!” Tony defends. “She’s not wrong” the AI sasses.

Tony is shocked to find out you like him too, but even more shocked to find out that you don’t think you’re good enough for him. It’s the other way around. He’s just some schmuck with a laundry list of mistakes and a Tom-Ford-pocket-full-of nightmares. He doesn’t deserve you. The most perfect woman this playboy has ever encountered.

The next time you’re in the lab, eating lunch, Tony arrives early again, and greets you by throwing your lunch abruptly in the bin. “You know, in some cultures that’s considered rude,” you state, looking at him agape. “Got something better,” he promises with a sniff which tugs on lip- his nervous tell. He produces a gourmet lunch for two, from one of the fancy Italian restaurants down the street. You’re a little shocked but you smile as he takes a stool on the other side of the lab bench to eat with you. He looks into your eyes, squinting at you through those stupid designer frames he hasn’t taken off yet.

You don’t know it, but in that moment, Tony resolves to let you know just how wonderful you are. Over and over again, until you believe him. And then some more.

You enjoy your lunch, and Tony is significantly less obnoxious than usual. It unsettles you. Clearly he’s up to something. “This was fun, right? I’m not always an asshole?” You look at him curiously, with a gentle, teasing smile. “You have your moments.” “Great, you’ll be up for date two then. Happy will pick you up at nineteen hundred hours. This Friday. Wear something slu... you know what, wear whatever you want, you’ll look great.” He barrels through his words, adjusting his tie, then he barrels out of the lab before you can even comprehend what happened. Did... did that just happen?

You gotta ask. “Friday, was he joking? Did Tony Stark just ask me on a date?”

Friday is supposed to keep Tony’s secrets... but she’s also supposed to act in his best interests. That’s what friends do... or at least, programmed AIs. “Sentiment analysis tells me he’s serious. Which makes a f*cking change.” Wow. When did Tony add those language mods?!

Well. Wow. That’s it then. You have a date with Tony Stark. On Friday. You. You didn’t think you were good enough for him, but clearly he has other ideas.

[op-peccatori]

blooming devotion | MLQC Gavin

Fandom: Mr Love: Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Gavin/Reader

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 5k

Summary: He sees it as the ultimate expression of his love, pure and unselfish in nature. His thinks his life is a fitting price to pay, one he never intends for you to be aware of. But things don't always (rarely) go according to plan, and you have a lot to say when you find out. The real question is–will you make it in time?

A/N: this was meant to be sad but I’m too soft. also need to fine-tune it because I wrote it in a bit of a rush so can I run back to Gavin smut lmao

Warnings/tags: (chronic) hanahaki disease, minor campus date spoilers, blood

Nimble fingers fly over the piano keys, spinning a web of nostalgia and longing, trapping their audience with ease. 

Even as you’re engrossed in playing old melodies, eager to share them with him, his eyes stay riveted on you.

A memory, old yet vivid, flashes through Gavin's mind. He can see it clearly in his mind, ginkgo leaves swirling fiercely around him, heralding his rebirth, his awakening; your arrival a watershed in a life he had thus far lived without purpose, piano chords striking at the wound up agony in him until it gave in to your light.

He had no one to live for, not since he lost the only person who ever loved him. He had his own code to follow, but it wasn't enough. The itch beneath his skin grew with each passing day, roaring for him to be noticed, to be cared for. 

Falling to his demise brought him to his salvation.

You became his purpose.

Gavin believes in forging one's own path, but he secretly thinks fate had a hand in bringing you into his life. It felt right. 

At first, he had just been grateful and had committed himself to your protection in the name of that gratitude. But you had hooked him in, heart and mind, and with each passing day, his young heart throbbed harder for you. His eyes sought you out the moment he stepped foot onto campus, his attendance in classes rising with that strange yearning in his belly. 

To be the kind of knight you deserved, he needed to change. He needed to be better. For the first time in so long, he had hope. He had something other than the bitterness and rage that had been drilled into him, he had a chance to be more.

He watched over you; you liked to eat lunch outside, and you had a terribly sweet tooth. You almost always had your homework finished on time. You were unaware of his presence outside the window to the music room while you played, and you were oblivious to the way he burned when he watched hopeful teens ask you out.

He had thought that, perhaps, he should talk to you, or thank you, to make this tight feeling in his chest fade. 

Gavin had tried to speak with you then, an attempt he's sure you don't remember. But that one unsuccessful conversation had been a pivotal moment; banal in the eyes of everyone watching, but as he had watched you trip, watched you close your eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath before sinking down to one knee, he came to a quick decision. He had walked over and bent down to help you gather your things; you had glanced at him appreciatively, your small smile quivering, but something in Gavin bloomed.

The curious sparkle in your eyes, the rebellious strands escaping your bun, the subtle shine of your lips–captivating. The hint of bags under your eyes, the pensiveness in the twist of your mouth, the two fingernails that had clearly been victim to nervous chewing. It was the beginning of the end for Gavin, the moment the true purpose of his life became clear, the first drop of water to this new love that took root in him. 

It wasn't all that uncommon, for people his age. And so when Gavin sprinted away from you, rushing to the bathroom with his hand clamped over his mouth and leaving you to stammer out a thank you, acceptance had started to set in. And when the first petal dropped into his palm, sunny and ironically cheerful, he held it to his chest as if clutching the most precious gem in existence. He vowed to give everything to his new purpose. The wretched, crashing waves of his existence met your steady cliff. 

He was a stranger to you, but you became his world.

He never told a soul.

There weren't a lot of people in his life that could be trusted with something of this much importance, even then. His father was out of the question; even estranged as they were, Gavin knew the man, and he knew that he would be strapped down as soon as his father found out, and his purpose would be carved out of him. The man would look at his flowers and see weakness.

Gavin would die before he lost the only light in his life.

He never told a soul, but that does not mean no one ever found out. Mr Keller suspected, as did his brother. He never admitted to anything, not at the concerned questions, nor the aggressive yelling. 

But the one eventually caught him was Minor.

Minor, who insisted on following him around, who had been observant enough to figure out who had caught friend's eye, who cheered him on, praised him, shook off his attempts to push him away. 

Minor, who had trembled as Gavin had succumbed to a sudden attack. Gavin remembers the warmth of his palm on his back, comforting even as he had hacked uncontrollably. The attacks weren't frequent back then, but he had watched you play the piano earlier that day, had indulged himself in fantasies he had no right to dream up, and he had paid the price. 

His devotion was fierce and pure, and every great thing demands a sacrifice. It was a way to prove his will, his love, even if only to himself. In his eyes, this was tangible proof of his devotion; quiet and invisible in its expression, yet raging and fervent in its depth.

"...Why haven't you gotten them removed?" Minor had asked, teary-eyed and terrified. Gavin debated not answering before slumping back to rest his back against the fence. His...companion sat next to him, hugging his knees as he waited for his answer. 

"I can't," Gavin had said simply. "I can't lose this. The surgery messes you up, it takes away your ability to feel and this is what I live for now. If need be, this is what I'll die for. I’m okay with that."

Minor had looked at him like he was insane.

"It's not a this, it's a person. Have-have you even told her?" Because it could only be you. Minor had looked furious, then, imagining that you had turned your back on his friend. That you had looked at this beautiful boy with his jagged edges and guarded eyes and looked away.

"Told her what?"

"That you love her."

It was the first time it had been put in those words. Gavin had never thought of it explicitly, had never thought I love her. He had just felt, and he had let the feeling consume him so deeply he felt it in every breath he took. It wasn't very painful, not then. 

"Not yet," he had said, various scenarios swimming through his mind at the very thought of telling you. Of the expression on your face when you found out. You didn't really know him beyond what you'd been told, so he had a lot to work on. "I'm not ready."

I'm not good enough, not yet. But I will be. And then I'll tell her.

He made Minor swear he wouldn't tell. Minor agreed on the condition that Gavin keep him updated on the 'situation.' 

Even as the years went by, and you were no longer in his sight, the flowers grew, and his love for you continued to grow in the tiniest of ways. All he had was a yearbook, but it was enough. His memories were enough to nurture his love. 

All throughout, he tried to avoid Minor as much as he possibly could, but the other boy–man, now–tracked him down every now and then and demanded updates. He also took it upon himself to give Gavin updates on you. College, your father, and your new job. 

He struggled with the need to go to you, and to offer whatever help he could. Not yet, he told himself. You’ll be of no use to her as you are.

It seemed that your absence, while not enough for the flowers to wither, was enough to keep them at bay. He grew stronger every day, forged himself a body and mind of steel, a man who would protect you for...for as long as he could. 

And, once again, your reappearance in his life turned it upside down; he loved you all the more for it, and it wrecked him. With each droplet of blood that dribbled down his chin, with every beat of his heart, he loved you.

When you came back to him, Gavin found out why his condition could be considered fatal. 

God, but you had grown even more beautiful. 

You no longer looked at him with barely hidden fear, only wary surprise. You were more confident, running your own company, and you needed his help. 

He felt it, constricting in his ribs, and he prayed– not now. He felt his heart race, felt the tips of his ears heat up, tried to keep his eyes from glancing at you again and again and again. 

Gavin had been quite amused by your uncertainty at his willingness to help. But you couldn't have known the lengths he was willing to go for you, had been going to for years. He had never told you. But he would.

He had hoped to get the chance to do it, to tell you how deeply he feels for you. And so he had allowed himself this luxury of growing closer, of really getting to know you. Of letting you see the man he had grown up to be, scarred and powerful and as just as he could be, hoping that you would love him, never really believing you would.

It ruined him. 

Because now you smiled at him. You clung to him as he flew you home, and he could always smell the faint traces of your perfume, could feel the softness of you against his body. Now, you cared for him. You cared about his diet, his missions, his burdens. 

You allowed him to come to your rescue, and it made him want to dance. It also had him on his knees, coughing up flower petals with more frequency.

He almost hated it. Sometimes he wondered if he should’ve stayed in the shadows, if only to keep that worried expression far from your face. 

But he had to stay close, because there were forces in the world around you, stirring awake, ready to make their move and sink their claws into you.

He loved his flowers, fiercely and protectively. One would think they would be a certain kind of leaf that symbolizes so much in his life; but this was a symbol of his love for you. It would only make sense for it to be your favourite flower. 

But now, they grow faster. 

You finish playing the last notes of the symphony, smiling up at him, and he smiles back almost helplessly. 

‘I love you.’ 

He...can’t die now. But it hurts to breathe, and it means his feelings have grown deeper. A part of him feels satisfied–it’s the ultimate show of love. Pure and unselfish. 

It happens as you’re leaving the campus together; he can barely breathe, and the tip of your little finger brushes his. Gavin nearly doubles over, turning his back to you and coughing violently. He can hear you, frantic and worried, and he can feel your warm hands. His vision swims with the tears in his eyes.

He shakes you off, struggling to get the words out. He doesn't look at you, pressing your handkerchief to his mouth. He knows it's stained with blood. Don't let her see, don't let her see, please don't let her see. “It’s...it’s from...the mission.” The wind picks up, and his feet lift off. “Sorry...you’ll...have to go on...” He’s gone before you can say anything, desperate to find a safe place to ride it out. 

He doesn’t dare to look back at you, and so he has no idea your attention has been snatched by something else in the wake of his departure. He doesn’t see you bending down to pluck a bloodstained petal off the ground, doesn’t see the sorrow that steals your breath away. 

He doesn’t see you for a while, after that.

Business is booming, and the work keeps pouring in. You've been working hard to fulfil your father's dreams and your own, and you hope he's proud of you.

You can’t bring yourself to devote yourself to any of it today, weighed down by the accidental revelation brought to light in your last meeting with Gavin. You've been cursing yourself for never noticing, for daring to think that you had a chance. 

He's loved someone for a long time and it's killing him. 

You’ve been trying to reach him for nearly two weeks, but there’s no response. You can’t eat, you can’t sleep, you can’t breathe until you see him, until you ask him why. 

Anna worries. Kiki and Willow try to make you talk, but this isn’t something you can discuss with anybody else. This is a secret you will have to shoulder alone, until you can talk to Gavin. 

Minor takes a day off, and he comes in the next day looking like the life has been drained out of him. You track him down to the break room, but stop and step to the side when you see him by the coffee machine with Kiki. A quick glance around ensures there’s no one to witness your attempt at eavesdropping.

“Minor, are you okay?” Kiki asks, whispering loudly, utterly unaware of you hovering nearby. 

The man nods, more miserable than you’ve ever seen him. 

“Aw, cheer up! Whatever it is, it’ll be fine.” Kiki pats him on the back. “Where’s Gavin? Why don’t you go grab lunch with him? You’ll feel better.” She walks away with that suggestion given, greeting you cheerfully, and so she doesn’t see the way he crumbles.

But you do. And you’re hit with another realization–Minor knows. 

His eyes meet yours and he freezes, caught in your fierce gaze; before he can flee the room, you act. Silently, you apologize for cornering him, but this isn't something you can just move on from.

“Minor, in my office please.” 

He doesn’t say anything as he falls into step behind you, nor when he closes the door behind him–not that you expected him to start confessing. He fidgets, hesitating when you gesture for him to take a seat, before sinking into a chair. 

You let the silence stretch on for a moment, collecting your thoughts and weighing your words. 

“How long?” 

Minor looks startled, peering up at you in confusion. You reach into the drawer in your desk, withdrawing the single withering petal from it. A sunflower petal, from what you can tell. Your heart aches with something bitter. From the look on the man’s face, he’s seen it before. 

“How long has Gavin had it?” 

“Since...since high school,” he rasps, wincing at your quick, sharp inhale. That's too long. And the man has been continuing with his duties like literal flowers aren't growing in his body. 

You're angry, you realize belatedly. Because Gavin is one of the most important people in your life, and he's always treated you with just as much care, but apparently you're not...important enough to be told this.

“How bad is it?” The words taste like ash in your mouth.

He stays quiet, staring down at his sneakers.

“Minor. How bad is it?”  You expect him to try and hide it.

Minor bursts into tears instead. You reach for him instinctively, a hand on his shoulder and the other reaching for a tissue, but Minor grabs your wrist. He looks devastated but his grip on you is secure.

“It was okay, before, but Boss,” he stumbles over the words, tears flowing freely down his cheeks, as if they can't be stopped. “He was in the hospital. It’s...it’s not looking good.” 

You can barely speak through the numbness spreading through your limbs. Your mind spins chaotically but you'll be damned if you leave this conversation without getting your answers.

“He won’t...why won’t he remove them?” The words feel pointless even as you choke them out, because if Gavin loves someone this much there is nothing in the world that will make him sway. He's not a man who changes his mind, or his heart Your heart burns at the thought. “Has he told them?”

“N-no.” 

“Why the fuck not?” 

“I don't know. Every time I ask," Minor blows his nose noisily. "He says not yet. I feel like, like he thinks they'll reject him?"

You take a deep, unsteady breath. “Who is it?” Who could look at this fierce, beautiful man and not want him? Who is it that has everything you want in the palm of their hand, and not even know it?

Minor stares at you, an odd look on his face. You're seized by impatience, shaking him lightly. There’s no time.

“Minor, this is no time to keep secrets. We need to do something. Who is it?” You'll talk to Gavin. You'll help him talk to them. This can be fixed.

Something like pity flashes in his eyes, and his fingers slip down to curl around yours, hesitant yet meaningful. An unpleasant feeling curls along your insides. “Boss...” 

You can’t breathe. 

He’s had it since high school.

The I’m sorry hangs in the air. The it's you tightens around your throat.

You vomit all over Minor's shoes.

The sky looms with the promise of rain, grey clouds drifting and arranging themselves to conceal the sun. 

Your entire body aches with regret, even as hope sprouts in your heart. You don't think you've ever run this fast. You don't think you've ever had a reason to.  

As you had suspected, Minor had gone to see Gavin yesterday, escorting the man home once he was discharged. He told you that the doctor was very clear about how severe Gavin's condition had grown. That there isn't much time.

It hadn't come as a surprise to Gavin.

You told Anna you had to leave, and you took off, refusing to waste another minute of his life. The answer lay with you all along, it's you. Even as a part of you rejoices, the tears spill over. It's you. You've been the cause of his suffering all this time. 

The sunflowers. 

There's a stitch in your side by the time you reach his apartment. You hit the button outside the elevator urgently, again and again; the trip up is nearly unbearable. You see your reflection in the doors–sweat drips down your face, and your dress feels damp in several unfortunate places. Your skin is flushed unattractively, your eyes swollen from all the crying you had done on the way over. 

It all falls away when he opens the door, eyes wide and bleary from sleep. He looks awful.

And it's your fault. 

"Y/n, hey," he lets you in without question, and the sweet concern in his eyes makes you nauseous. Even now, even when he's dying he's thinking of your well-being. He looks gaunt, like he hasn't eaten or gotten proper sleep in months. "Is everything okay?"

You're nodding automatically, used to responding to that question, before you stop forcibly. "No, actually, I'm not."

He looks worried now. "What can I do to help?"

You had considered just bringing a ring. "You can start by telling me why you never thought to tell me about your illness."

You spot the moment he connects the dots, his shoulders tightening in that endearingly and exasperatingly defensive way that comes so naturally to him. "Illness?" 

You reach into your pocket, and worry that he's stopped breathing when he sees the petal in your hand. "Looks familiar?"

He reaches for it, and you watch with sickening fascination as he holds it reverently. "It's...not an illness." You hope that the slight quirk of your brow is enough to convey your demand for him to elaborate. "I mean, I know it's considered a disease, but I've never really seen it that way." 

"For someone so devoted to his work, you're rather accepting of something that hinders it," you remark casually, trying to resist the urge to put your hands on your hips. You don't want to push too hard, but you're not leaving without letting him know how you feel.

"I guess my devotion to something else trumps it," he closes his fingers around the tiny petal. "It's a price I'm willing to pay."

The urge to do something drastic takes hold of you when he smiles at you so softly. You step closer to him, your hands rising to cup his, before you pry open the cage of his fingers to reach for the petal.

He watches you carefully. 

You crush it in your fist. 

"What if it's a price I'm not willing to pay?"

He swallows heavily, retreating until his back hits the wall. You follow him without a word. It could be almost funny, the way you're both standing in this little hall at the entrance, but there's no urge to smile. You don't think you've ever been more serious in your life. 

"...Unfortunately, there's not much you can do about it," he replies evenly, and this time you do almost smile at his nerve.

"Really? That's odd, because Minor believes otherwise." Your words are delivered casually, but with the way his skin pales one would think you've dropped a threat.

"It's not his business–"

"But it is mine," you cut him off, before wavering. "I...isn't it?" Because, maybe, Minor had gotten it wrong. 

You stare at each other, studying, hoping, trembling on the inside. And then the fight leaves him. He looks defeated, ashamed and you begin to think that isn't going to be as easy as just telling him how you feel.

"Yes, it is," he shrinks in on himself, and you've never seen him look so small. "I...I love you." 

You stare at him, wondering why he's looking at you with so much anguish.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, and you snap back into reality. 

"Why? I feel the same way," you say, sure and gentle, and reach for his hands. "I love you, Gavin." 

His hands slip from your grip, and he's stalking away from you before you even realize what's happening.

"This is why I never wanted to tell you," he says roughly, taking a seat on his couch to rub his temples in agitation. He looks deeply upset.

"What do you mean?" You follow him, baffled, and sit down next to him, rubbing his back comfortingly when he coughs wetly. "Gavin, please–"

"The last thing I wanted was for you to find out and feel pressured to do exactly what you're doing." He sounds miserable, and you feel helpless in the face of his abject refusal to accept your feelings. 

"What, confess my own feelings?" 

"There are no feelings," he tells you, insistently. He sounds so sure and it hurts. "You're just...you're too nice."

"I'm really not–"

"You don't have to do this, y/n," Gavin tells you gently, ruffling your hair in a bizarre attempt you comfort you. "I'll be fine."

You smack his hand away. 

And when he looks hurt, your fingers curl in the neckline of his cotton t-shirt and yank him towards you, your head tilting just the slightest to fit your lips against his. He tastes like iron and gatorade, with a hint of something floral that sinks into your tongue. It's brief, and soft, and when you pull away he looks stunned.

"I love you," you whisper, and he trembles.

"No, you don't." It's barely a whisper, so faint you nearly miss it, and you don't know what to do. “I know that this...this is unpleasant–”

“Yes. Yes, it is,” you cut him off, tears springing to your eyes and this time, you don’t stop them. You don't swallow your words, allowing them the taste of freedom. You feel weak, impuissant. “I hate this. I hate that you’re so willing to die. That you’ve known for years, suffered every single day with the knowledge that you will die for it. I h-hate that you never even thought to live for it instead. You never...you never...”

He looks at you, mutely and pleadingly, robbed of words. 

You breathe in forcefully. "What I'm here to do, is to tell you how I feel, and to knock down the pedestal you seem to have placed me on." 

There's that familiar defensive look creeping into his eyes, and you rush to continue.

“It’s selfish, Gavin.” Your anger subsides, suddenly and dizzyingly, and the longing that rushes in is tinged by sorrow. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

His head hits the back of the couch with a soft thunk, eyes sliding shut as if he's got no strength left.

“I’ve loved you for so long,” he finally whispers, and a part of you trembles at the way his voice shakes. “And all this time, it’s been the one true, pure thing in my life. I loved you. I love you. I always will. And then one day, my always was...uncertain. You would never feel the same way–that was also a truth I’d come to accept.” He shakes his head when you open your mouth, ready protest, and the sight of him trying to hold his tears back stops you. “I’ve loved you so much it’s killing me and I’d accepted that. How do I go back from that?” 

You reach for his hand, bringing it up to your face. “By giving us a chance. Give me a chance, please, Gavin–I’ll show you, every single day for the rest of our long and healthy lives because I refuse to consider any other alternative.” You press your lips to the tip of his index finger, and the flush on his cheeks spreads further.

“You deserve–“

“Love,” you emphasise, kissing the pad of his middle finger, “is rarely about what we think we deserve. It boils down to what we want. And I want you.” 

“I want to kiss you before we leave for work. I want to kiss you when you come back from your missions. I want to kiss you goodnight every night.” You nip at the flesh of his thumb lightly, suppressing a smile when he jumps.

“I want to use every bit of my limited knowledge of first-aid on you, although I dearly hope those occasions will be sparse; I want to share every secret I have with you, I-I want to wash your hair when you’re too tired to do it.” You bring his other hand to your mouth, holding it carefully. 

“I want to get mad at you for not eating your vegetables, and for having the audacity to disapprove of me doing the same. I want to go to bed with you, I want to hold you, I want to love you.” 

Gavin stares at you, dazed and on the verge of tears.

"Is it because I don't have flowers growing in me?" you ask softly. "Is that why you don't believe me?"

"No. No, that's not," he stammers as he pulls you to him, holding you tightly. Your chin rests on his shoulder as he struggles to process your words, and get his out. "I would never wish this on you. I couldn't bear it."

"Then why do you expect me to be okay with it?"

He doesn't have an answer.

“I know it’s taken me too long to get here, but I don’t want to lose any more time. I don’t want to lose you.”

You press the curve of your lips to his jaw, relief coursing through you when he melts against you.

“I want you to live. With me. For me. And I won’t give up. So, please–give me a chance.” 

By the time to finish you’re both struggling to breathe, sniffling messily; you’ve pulled Gavin halfway onto your lap, stubbornly holding his weight, arms wrapped around him in a silent declaration–you won’t be letting go. 

His head is tucked into the cradle of your neck and shoulder, his fingers curling into the fabric of your dress. “Y/n, I...” 

“I love you.” 

You crane your head down, a little awkwardly, as he looks up. There’s a spot of crimson on the corner of his lips and before you can think it through, the pad of your thumb is there, rubbing it away. Warmth blooms through you at the contact, at the way Gavin stares at you, and it’s alarming how your mind quietens when you’re with him. 

Your lips brush his, achingly soft, and the breath he sucks in is quick and sharp. But his fingers curl around your neck and his mouth slots against yours firmly; a distant part of your mind is concerned by how hard your heart is throbbing, determined to burst out of its confines and reach Gavin, its true keeper. 

He tastes like iron, and you vow to ensure Gavin will never taste bloodstained flowers again, no matter what it takes. 

“Gavin,” you murmur, mesmerized by his flushed cheeks and glazed eyes. “Gavin, I love you.” 

He doesn't say anything, but he buries his face into your hair, and he doesn't let go.

And so you drift off feeling more content than you have in days, hopeful and determined to keep Gavin in your arms, snoozing adorably. 

You’re pressed closer than ever, curled around each other, and Gavin wakes up feeling warmer than he has in years. 

The sky seems to have cleared up, sending the last eager rays of sun through the glass before it sets for the day. 

He's nearly on top of you, and wonders how you're breathing, before the thought has him trying to pull away in alarm. You make a sleepy noise of complaint and follow, holding onto him even in your slumber. 

The force of the affection that seizes him nearly sends him tumbling back into oblivion. And then you're stirring awake, mumbling his name tiredly, smiling up at him when you spot him staring at you like a man starved. 

There's love in your eyes.

The thought has him tearing himself away from you, stumbling from the couch to fall to his knees on the floor, coughing more violently than he should be. He can hear you crying, your hands rubbing his back as he nearly throws up on the carpet. 

Well, he does throw up, but something he hadn't expected to see. 

A fully bloomed sunflower lies on the ground before you both, more vibrant than any other flower he'd ever seen. He lets you fold him into your arms, allowing himself the comfort of your warmth, slowly, finally believing that it's for him. Your smile, your laughter, your complaints–they're all his. 

Everything will be okay. And for the first time in his life, with your arms around him, Gavin begins to believe it.

[drumboydowoon]

Woof Woof | Stray Kids Au

Chapter One / Misunderstandings in Kinkshaming

Werewolf!Chan au

Warnings / swearing, kink and sex mention, this isn’t smut I promise, mature themes

Words / 4k+

---------

Working at the convenience corner store wasn’t the most ideal place to be, but what else is a broke college student to do? So the only thing you can do is suck it up and deal with another unpleasant night of boredom. 

Nothing exciting happened, only what you would expect to happen in an almost unknown store. The customers would avoid any kind of small talk, so they could get out of there and on with their lives. 

There were a few exceptions, however. Every once in a while, some drunk or other douche waltzed into the store for more booze and a phone number from the very unlucky cashier, which happened to be you. Of course, you’ve had to tell them off and from time to time, threatened to call management if they continued to harass you. Adventures in working the evening to night shift were always a joy. 

The only highlight of your night was when two of your favorite idiots walked in. Suddenly the room lit up and it became a party. A very sad pity party of three. 

Once they’ve come through the sliding doors, the sensors ring throughout the building. You greet them with a small smile and wave of your hand. Jisung was the first to wave back happily (and a little too enthusiastically). Minho stuck with something more simple and opted for a quick glance and smile of his own. 

Usually they only come in for snacks and other “boy’s night in” necessities. But every once in a while, they come for some things that are very… odd. At least for college boys that never go out and do anything. It seemed normal at first, but the more it happened, the more you began to question it.

Each month, the two of them would stride in and grab one of the carrying baskets. Completely normal. Watching them head straight for the freezer section and then proceed to struggle to pack their basket full of meat was a little weird, though. Afterwards, Minho strayed away from Jisung to come back with some cheap doggy bowls, which you didn’t even know you had in stock. And to bring their shopping trip to a conclusion, they both came to the cash register by slamming two cases of water bottles onto the counter, along with their basket that’s nearly overfilled.

“Doing weird shit again tonight, boys?” you ask as you begin the long process of scanning their seemingly endless items. 

Jisung chuckles and scratches the nape of his neck, “Well, you know how grandma is… She just always craves a good steak and gallons of water to wash it down,” he answers with his smart ass attitude. 

“Alright, little red riding hood. Make sure you tell ‘grandma’ hello for me, or should I say the big bad wolf?,” there’s a sarcastic tone in your voice, but you end with a small laugh anyways. 

Every time you dared to ask what they were doing with these things, they managed to come up with some ridiculous answer (or excuse) that somehow amused you. Of course it would only increase your curiosity about what they were actually up to every one day in the month, though. You can only wait for the day that they finally tell you what they're doing. 

Jisung momentarily chokes, “I-I’m sorry wolf--?”

Minho elbows the side of his friend and clears his own throat, “That’s just some silly fairy tale,” he rolls his eyes, “Jisung just has some really weird relatives,” he jokes. His voice is a little darker than before, “Trust me, you don’t want to meet them.” A shudder is sent down your spine. Sure his words seem lighthearted, but something in his tone makes you believe that he really means it. 

Jisung nods and agrees, “Yeah, my family’s just-- Hey, wait!”, he cuts himself off as he realizes he’s being insulted. Laughing at the both of them, you finish scanning the rest of their things and ring up their total.

Minho glares at Jisung, then looks back to you. Minho pulls out his wallet and hands over the amount that was due while his murderous intent was still focused on his poor Jisung. You wondered what he could’ve done wrong to earn the wrath of the older boy, but it’s best you don’t interfere. After that, he quickly gathers the heavy plastic bags and makes Jisung carry the water cases. 

“We have to get going now,” he announces just when he’s about to start walking away. But Minho pauses for a moment in thought. He takes a few steps back and glances at you with a coy smile, “Hey, do you maybe want to hang out sometime soon?” he asks.

The request catches you off guard at first. Mr. brooding and quiet, actually asking you to hang out? Unheard of. “Uhm… sure,” you respond a little awkwardly and unsure. It’s not like you didn’t want to, you’re just surprised is all. Not only that, it was also strange since you’re literally going to see him and everyone else later tonight. 

Jisung snorts loudly as Minho shyly averts his gaze (most likely internalizing the cringe). “Okay, nice… ” Minho blurted out before rushing out with a laughing Jisung in tow, who was sure to face the death penalty as soon as they were out of eyesight. Poor poor Jisung. 

“See you later!” you call out to them, but the sliding glass door already slid closed by the time you were able to fully get your words out. Sighing deeply, you shrug your shoulders in indifference. They’ll see you later at the house. Then maybe you can ask about their activities and what was up with the weird farewell. 

For now, all you can do is wait for the time to pass by and pray you don’t lose your mind. 

--------

By the time your shift ended, the sun was already going down. Letting out a long tired breath of air, you look at the time and wonder if you should really stop by Felix’s, or if you should go back to the dorms and give him the notes he missed in the morning. 

You silently debated in your head as you grabbed your backpack from the break room and proceeded to head out to the back of the building, where your bike was locked up. One thought, two thoughts, three thoughts...

It’s decided a moment later that you would ride over to Felix’s place. It’s not like you had anything better to do on a Friday night, anyways. It wasn’t ideal to pedal all the way to the house considering that he and his friend’s live quite a distance away. But if you’re lucky (and if he values your friendship) he’ll let you stay the night. And in the morning, perhaps he can convince his oldest roommate to drive you home. 

After unlocking your bike, you begin riding off towards Felix’s house. Before you took off, you texted him, telling him that you were on your way, but he never responded. Maybe he was doing something at the time, which isn't a big deal. He knows that you’re coming over anyways. 

Even if he doesn’t answer, one of his roommates is bound to be home. He lives with three other guys that hardly ever go out. Jisung and Minho moved into the almost mansion sized house at the beginning of the year. One day, out of the blue, they decided not to live in the student housing anymore. Instead, they wanted to live with Felix and their sugar daddy, Chan, who lets them stay by barely paying for anything. 

Chan is the oldest roommate, who you’re the least close with and hardly know whatsoever. He’s also the owner of the house they all live in. He’s nice enough, but you’ve only spoken with him a handful of times. Sometimes it feels like he avoids you, but you try not to let it bother you too much. You have the other three boys to keep you company when you’re over.

You didn’t even realize that you were lost in your thoughts at first. It’s just that the bike ride was taking so long, that you had nothing better to do. Pedaling for over an hour was exhausting, but since you’ve done it nearly everyday, you were used to it by now.

Before long, you could see the gates that lead to the property the house is on. Each time you saw the fenced off private property, you couldn’t help but be in awe of it. In short, the area is huge. So huge that you can’t even see the house yet because you still have to go through their forested front yard that was a mile long, before you actually reached the house. How anyone could afford such a massive place that was also gorgeous, was beyond you. 

It took a couple of minutes until you finally made it to the house’s driveway. The first thing you can recognize is Chan’s beat up car sadly parked in front of the garage. Then your gaze drifts to the unidentified motorcycle sitting next to the van. As you can recall, no one here owned a two wheel vehicle, except for Felix’s red bicycle that’s been thrown haphazardly thrown into the bushes. 

After walking up to the door, you knock, then wait… then wait… and wait some more.  You knock again, this time louder.... There’s still no response. It’s a little strange. Clearly someone’s in the house. Everyone looks like their home and there’s lights on.

Sighing, you tap your foot impatiently. Finally you decide to look in the flower pot that sat alone next to the door. There the spare house key was found, that was supposed to be used in emergencies. This isn’t necessarily an emergency, but if no one’s home and Felix made you ride your bike all the way to Nowhereville, then you’re going to be seriously pissed off. In that case, you’re leaving a very harshly worded note. 

As you unlock the door and enter the house, you notice that it’s eerily dark in the front room, which is unusual since the boys are almost always still awake lazing around on the couches. You quietly click the door shut and slowly move through the unlit room and towards the stairs where the lit up bedrooms were.

About to walk up the stairs, you’re stopped in your tracks as you begin to hear a strange noise. At first, you think you hear someone, who sounds almost exactly like Minho, telling someone, who also sounds almost exactly like Jisung, to shut up very loudly.

Following shortly after, there’s something that sounds somewhat like a rumbling, or perhaps it’s a growl. You’re pretty sure the boys don’t own any pets. It must be the darkness and the quiet messing with your mind. Maybe it’s the boys and they’re playing video games or something. 

It sounds like the voices are coming from the basement, so you step down from the stairs you were previously about to walk up, and head to the basement door by the kitchen. Once the door opens, you take one step down and call out, “Hello? Anyone home?” Then you take another step down and the staircase creaks along with it. 

It must have caught someone’s attention because in an instant there’s shoes thudding hastily towards you. Soon the familiar head of lightly dyed orange hair belonging to none other than Han Jisung, rounds the corner of the staircase. As soon as his eyes lock on you from below, he’s jumping in surprise. His face is pale and his forehead is covered in sweat, so his hair looks messily matted. Your heart beats a little faster at the sight. Him looking scared for some unknown reason, was making your own anxiety peek around the corner.

Jisung’s sudden appearance makes you pause and stare at him. Before you could even say a word or take another step forward, Jisung rushes up to you, making you flinch back at the unexpected movement. His arms spread out to either side of the walls to completely block you off. 

Out of breath, he chuckles nervously, “H-hey there, Y/n! When did you get here??” his voice is jittery. It’s suspicious. 

You furrow your brows at his behavior. “Hey..? Just got here… Is everything okay down there?” you ask, trying to find a way past him. There’s worry lacing itself into your words. Something doesn’t seem right. 

Jisung’s voice cracks, “Yeah, everything’s fine here! Why wouldn’t it be?” He’s too quick to answer. His gaze keeps wandering from you and hastily down the stairs, even though you can’t see anything from here.

“Jisung...” you warn in a stern voice. It’s clear that he’s hiding something from you. He’s not exactly the best at lying, unfortunately for him. 

“Y/n…” he says back in a mocking tone that makes you frown at him.

Then another odd sound resounds in the room and up the stairs. Even when listening closely, it’s difficult to precisely make out what it is. It almost sounds like a person, but it almost doesn’t at the same time. The noise is deep and rumbling, like before when you first heard it in the front room. 

The gutturaling shoots a strange sense throughout your body. Suddenly your chest pounds more than when you first entered. There’s unease going through your mind. You wonder if it’s actually a good idea to go downstairs. But then there’s a throaty whimper that follows shortly after, which affirms your determination to see what it is making the noise. 

“Alright let me through,” you demand, trying to push past Jisung, however each time you try to advance, he moves to block you from going any further. You scoff at his childish behavior, “It sounds like someone is hurt. Get out of my way.” 

“I can’t let you do that,” he struggles to say as he tries to fight against you. 

“Get out of the way,” you repeat, attempting to pull his arms down and out of the way. 

“No!”

Finally, you overpower him and push his arms out of your way. Roughly, you shove past him. You descend down the steps quickly before Jisung can make another effort to stop you. 

Jisung hurriedly follows after you. Alas, his attempts proved fruitless when he realized that you already reached the bottom of the stairs before he could get to you. Though he couldn’t stop you from getting past him, he could try to save your innocent eyes before it was too late as a last effort. 

Seconds before you can even glimpse at the scene, Jisung hurries to cover your vision with his hands. Like when he tried to stop you from going downstairs, he failed to keep your eyes covered for long. Immediately you shrug his hold off of you and give him a disappointing frown.

Once you’re able to see what’s in front of you, it takes you a couple of moments to fully process it. After blinking once, then twice, you almost wished that Jisung still was protecting your vision. This was just flat out disturbing. 

First there’s Felix to the left, then Chan to the right. A little further away, sat a long dark haired boy that you couldn’t identify yet. Metal chains wrapped around their wrists and connected to the concrete wall behind them. With each pull from one of the boys, the chains rattled and clicked against each other. They pulled against the chains as if they were trying to escape, but it was impossible. 

Each one of them looked utterly exhausted as sweat dripped off of them and onto the cold grey floor. Dark bags were formed under their eyes as far as you could tell. You were mostly basing this off of seeing Chan’s face and part of Felix’s downturned gaze. The third member was unreadable since his head hung low and his hair covered most of his expression. But overall, they look like shit. 

Their eyes… looking closely you slowly begin to realize that they don’t look normal. Chan’s usual dark brown eyes were no longer there, and were instead replaced with a shade that surely wasn’t normal. They were the brightest yellow you’ve ever seen before. It’s almost like they were glowing in the barely lit room. The little golden glow reminded you of the stars, and nearly captivated you. 

What snaps you out of your trance is steel smacking down onto the ground. When you search for the source, you see Minho standing in the corner of the room. Had he always been standing there, or were you too busy trying to process what was in front of you to realize that he was there? 

Looking down, you notice one of the doggy bowls he purchased earlier. The contents spill out of the bowl while the bowl continues to settle down. The meat flops onto the floor and stains the concrete beneath it. It smells raw and appears raw. 

Looking back to Minho now, you see his expression. He looks like he’s just seen a ghost, and that ghost happens to be you. His jaw drops as he stammers to say something, anything. It must’ve been an illusion right? Minho was sure that he was just imagining you and that you’re not actually here right now. There’s no way that you’re currently witnessing the secret that they’ve all been trying to keep from you and the rest of the world, right? Nope, no way. Impossible.

He blinks once more. You’re still standing there. He’s freaking out, Jisung’s freaking out, and you’re about to start freaking out yourself. Everyone’s freaking out. So before you can fully freak out, Minho hurryingly marches up to you, “Y/n, it… it’s not what it looks like. I can explain. I-”

“You guys are into some freaky shit…” you breathe out in a barely audible whisper. You continue to stare on at the scene. It hardly registers in your mind the chained up boys are snarling and staring right back at you now. 

Minho keeps rambling excuses, but he pauses once he hears you. He backtracks, “I’m sorry, what?” He glances at Jisung momentarily. In return, the younger boy just shrugs tensely. 

This time you stare at Minho with a blank expression, “I said you guys are into some freaky shit… If this is some sex dungeon, it’s really fucked up…” you inform him. You swallow anxiously. 

Both Minho and Jisung look at each other, then back to you. Standing directly in front of you now, Minho blocks your view from the three chained up boys. He places his hands on your shoulders tightly. He’s ready to explain a few things then make you go back upstairs until they can get everything sorted out. 

You had different plans, however. Instead of listening to what he had to say, you pushed Minho’s arms off of you. It was your god given right to blow up over what’s in front of you. Sweat drips down your forehead and each breath comes out uneven. Your heart accelerates in, not only fear, but pure, untampered rage as well. 

“What the hell is all of this?!” you screech in his face unintentionally, which immediately panics both parties standing around you. You were so calm before, so your sudden explosion took them by surprise. 

Jisung is quick to hush, “Y/n, be quiet, please…!” he raspingly mumbles. He continues to eye both you and the three boys warily. The rattling metal from the wall becomes slightly more frequent and louder. 

You being in such a frenzied state, did not listen of course.

Instead your voice is louder than before, “What is this?!” you repeat, “Is this really some weird freaky sex dungeon?!” you question angrily, confused, and among other things. 

You glance to wearily three behind Minho. It was hard to believe what you were seeing. You kept praying that you somehow got hit by a car on your way over, and now you’re having some weird coma dream that you would wake up from soon. The nerves and adrenaline felt too real to be a dream, though. 

“Like who’s into chaining people to the wall and making them eat raw meat from a doggy bowl?!” you throw your hands up as you gesture to the knocked over bowl on the ground, “ A goddamn doggy bowl!” you throw your hands up as you gesture towards the spilled over bowl on the ground. 

A low growl interrupts your interrogation. It come from Chan, who, might you add, didn’t look right in the mind at all. Before, you never noticed it, but now that you were eyes were jumping around the room, you finally see it. There’s a pill bottle sitting on a table over on the other side of the room. 

Your eyes widen as you suddenly come to a conclusion, “Oh my god…” you gasp in shock, then look between Minho and Jisung, “Did you drug them?” it comes out as more of a shocked whisper than your previous shouts. 

Did you just walk right into the middle of a crime? Two of your closest friends, drugging people are dragging them to the basement for whatever weird sick purposes… was unbelievable. But you couldn’t deny the sight in front of you.

There’s a much longer rant lingering at the back of your throat, but Minho places a hand over your mouth before a peep gets out. A harsh glare is etched on his face as he tells you to shut up. Your immediate reaction is to shove his hand off of you, but the look he is giving you tells you that it’s best not to. 

He lifts a finger up to his lips and wordlessly quiets you. After a moment, Minho cautiously removes his hand off your lips and sighs. “Listen, I know this looks really bad, but I can explain everything. I just need you to calm down,” he tells you “And, as for you,” he pointedly says as he gives Jisung a harsh glare, “I can’t believe you just let her come down here!”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that Y/n showed up out of the blue! She’s the one who almost pushed me down the stairs to get here!” Jisung defends himself. 

“You could’ve at least tried a little harder! I mean how hard is it to--”

A loud metal snap from behind Minho is what interrupts him next. Suddenly, the room becomes completely silent with the exception of the low growling that is heard throughout the room. Immediately, your gaze fixes itself on the source of the noise and what, or rather who, it was coming from. 

You nervously look and see exactly who it’s coming from, and it didn’t even really look like him anymore. There, Felix stands, with the chains that were previously secured on his wrists, now broken off in half. How is that possible? That’s what you want to know.

Many times, you’ve seen Felix when he was in a bad mood. He didn’t look nice then, and he certainly doesn’t look any nicer now. The only difference between then and now is the fact that your best friend looks absolutely terrifying. The cold sweat runs down your back as he breathes in and out heavily. The atmosphere becomes thick and heavy. It’s getting harder to breathe properly. 

There’s a hunger in his unnaturally golden glowing eyes, one that you’ve never seen before in another person. It’s nearly animalistic how ready he looks to pounce on one of you. This isn’t the Felix you know. This isn’t your Felix, your goofy friend, who makes you laugh at the dumbest things. This is some kind of beast standing before you.

Besides you, Jisung is tense and shaking so much that you can almost hear his teeth clattering. In front of you, Minho is frozen solid. It takes him a moment to build up the courage to look behind him. He slowly cranes his neck in Felix's direction, who stands not too far behind him. He gulps anxiously. Then he turns back to you with his grip much tighter than before. 

“Don’t. Move…” he mouths to both of you shakily. Everything is silent. The only sound is the rugged breathing that hangs in the air.

[smallheathgangsters]

Destiny | T.S.

A/N: I’m so sorry! It turned out waaaay too long again! But I do really hope you all enjoy it & that I didn’t waste my time on this lol. English is still not my first language, so excuse any mistakes I made. Lots of love ❤️

Request: “if requests are still open - from the prompt list - I’d LOVE 9 and / or 12 with Tommy!!!! But no worries if this doesn’t spark your fire ;) lots of love!” and “oops - meant 19 and 12 not 9 and 12!!!! But whatever floats your boat xxx” by @shelbyblinded​

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 3202

Type: angst, some fluff

Summary: Tommy’s issue with commitment ruins his relationship with Y/N. Many years later, they unexpectedly run into each other, but Y/N is not ready to give him a second chance just yet.

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The wind blew through your hair while you hurried down the street towards the Shelby Company. Tommy had told you to get dressed nicely and pick him up at the shop, because he’d probably still be working. He had booked a table at a fancy restaurant and you were more than excited to be spending a long night just with Tommy.

You two had a complicated relationship. Despite not actually being a couple, you very much acted like it. Much to the annoyance of his family. They wanted Tommy to finally find himself a woman, marry her and settle down. They were convinced that that was what he needed.

You had known Tommy since you were a child. You grew up in the same street and spent a lot of your childhood time together. You had always loved Tommy. As a child you had loved him like a brother. But as you grew older, that brotherly love turned more and more into the one that made your heart ache at times, the one that was so much harder to understand.

After coming back from the war, Tommy had turned to you for comfort. You had helped him fall asleep almost every night, you had assisted him with any kind of family business if he had asked you and you even offered him your body whenever his lust was too overwhelming. Simply put, you had been there for him in any situation of his life.

But it wasn’t at all that you had disliked it. Clearly, Tommy was the love of your life. Even though he had never made you his girlfriend, it sparked joy in your heart knowing Tommy was letting you be there for him, letting you care for him. Because Tommy was not a man to show his feelings, let alone asking somebody for help when the thoughts in his head were too much for him to handle. But he did when it came to you. He talked openly about what was going on in his mind whenever you were lying next to him in bed, caressing his back, trying your best to silence the sounds of the picks and shovels against the wall.

In return, Tommy had bought you gifts that had costed more than you could imagine and took you on lavish dates in expensive restaurants or to the races. Or he would take you to the country to teach you how to drive a car. That was his way of saying thank you.

But you had to admit to yourself, the complicated relationship had taken a toll on you for a few months now. You had thought about confronting him about it several times, though you were too afraid of losing the strong bond you two had. It was something you held dear.

Your slender hand pushed open the door to the Shelby Company. You stepped inside and were greeted with silence. The rest of the boys must have already finished up work and left. You walked over to Tommy’s office and knocked on the closed door. Without waiting for him to answer, you pushed it open.

Your eyes landed on Tommy, leaning over a pile of papers, looking rather frustrated. “Busy day?” you asked softly. His head shot up. You immediately saw the tension in his face relax and he leaned back in his chair. “Y/N …” he murmured contently. It made your heart skip a beat, knowing you had such a positive effect on the broken man.

“How do I look?” you asked him happily, spinning around on the spot, your dress twirling as you did.

“Absolutely wonderful,” he answered, giving you a kind smile. Then he got up from his chair and walked over to the hanger to grab his coat. “Are we ready then?”

You wanted to nod but something made you pause. A strong wave of emotions suddenly hit you and you could feel your mind go hazy. All of a sudden, you heard yourself ask him, “Tommy … what are we?”

Tommy stopped in his tracks, slowly lowering his hand that was about to grab his coat. You gulped hard, trying to understand what made you blurt out that question. You knew he didn’t want to be confronted with the complexity of your relationship and you also knew Tommy would never be ready to commit to you.

He avoided your gaze and didn’t answer your question, making you feel awfully uncomfortable. The silence made you want to turn around and make a run for it.

You looked down at your hands, fumbling with them and trying your best to ignore the blood rushing to your ears. How could you have been so stupid?

“What?” you heard him say.

“I–“ you tried finding the words to save yourself from the mess you had just brought upon yourself. “I– I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–“

“Yes, you did,” he interrupted you sternly. His back was still facing you.

You could feel your hands getting sweaty. “It’s just been going on for so long …” you said quietly.

“And?” he huffed. The cold tone in his voice made the hair on your skin stand up. Even though you knew his reaction would be negative, if you ever asked him about the situation, you were shocked it was this intense. In a bad way.

You took in a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. You hated when Tommy made you feel insecure, made you feel like a fool. You may be in love, but you weren’t foolish.

“I want to know what this is, this … thing between us,” you said to him, your voice now stronger than before, regaining your confidence. Then you lifted your gaze from your hands and stared at the back of his head. “And I would prefer it, if you didn’t look away from me.”

You heard him let out an annoyed sigh. He turned around to you and pushed his hands in his pockets. “Why are you asking me this now? You never cared.” He sounded bored.

You frowned at him. “How would you know that?”

“You never mentioned it. And this thing between us has been this way for years. I don’t like you accusing me of not being concerned about what you care about,” he answered.

His remark made anger flare up in your chest. “Maybe I was scared? Scared that you’d react exactly as you do now?”

“Are you telling me you’re scared of me?” he growled. “What have I ever done to make you scared of me?”

“It’s not about you scaring me! It’s being scared of losing you!” you yelled, hot tears burning in your eyes. Why didn’t he get it?

He sighed again, running his hand over his face, rubbing his eyes in frustration. “Why couldn’t you just accept what we had?”

“Because I’m not a child anymore, Tommy,” you said, clenching your fists. You were trying your hardest to not go totally ballistic.

“What are you expecting of me? Asking you to marry me? Is that what you want, eh?” he spat. You never thought he would mock your dream of getting married, settling down and starting a family someday.

“How dare you!” You pushed out, stunned.

He brushed through his hair with his hand. Then he locked his eyes with yours. “Y/N. I can’t give you what you want.”

“You don’t even know what I want!” you exclaimed frustrated.

He sighed again and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” He stuck the cigarette between his lips.

You were speechless. You stared at him while your head was spinning. Your mind tried grasping the right words to say, but there was nothing. There was absolutely nothing left for you to say to him.

You straightened yourself up, wrapped your coat around your body tightly and nodded. “Fuck you”, was the last thing you were able to bring over your lips. After that, you rushed out of the shop without looking back. You knew, this was the last time you would ever step a foot into that house. And it would also be the last time you saw Tommy Shelby.

 ***

 “Are you ready, darling?” your husband asked from the other room.

“Almost!” you shouted back, putting on some red lipstick. Then you looked at yourself in the mirror.

You heard your husband step into your shared bedroom. “You look amazing.”

You whipped our head around and gave him a kind smile. “So do you.”

His tie matched your red dress and made you the two of you suit each other perfectly. But you didn’t only match on the outside. You were meant to be together and you could feel it in your heart every day you woke up next to him.

You and Edward had married a few months ago after meeting on a trip you took to London. Shortly after, you left Birmingham to join him. It had been the most perfect coincidence. Since breaking it off with Tommy, the city had been nothing but a burden. You weren’t able to find true happiness after everything that had happened, and the way Tommy had treated you. But Ed had helped you with that and you soon found yourself falling madly in love with him.

It wasn’t the kind of love to distract yourself from Tommy or forget him. You genuinely adored Ed and the way he treated you. And there was no reason left for you to mourn the love you lost.

Ed was a middle-class man with a simple job, who didn’t have much to offer when you first met. Still, he made sure he took you out once a week to a nice restaurant or the pictures. Sometimes, he even saved up his money for you to experience an opera together. He was the kindest, most heartfelt man you had ever run into.

Two weeks ago, you had found out you were pregnant with your first child and Edward was so excited about the news, that he wanted to celebrate by surprising you with a very special date. Yesterday, he had let it slip that he was taking you to the races. You tried hiding the fact that you’ve already been to quite some races before meeting him, but he noticed. You had brushed it off as an old romance you once had, not wanting to talk to Ed about Tommy. Not wanting to talk or think about him in general. It was in the past and it was meant to stay there.

Ed realized that you didn’t want to talk about it and stopped asking about the man who had taken you to more than just one race. “Please don’t worry, Ed. I’m just as excited to go as I was the first time,” you promised him, “Because I’m going there with you.”

He had smiled and cupped your face in his hands, giving you a long kiss. After the kiss, you put your arm around his. “Let’s go to the races.”

It was very busy that day. The dancefloor was crowded and even getting to the bar to order a drink was a rather difficult task. Ed offered to try to push through the people and get you both a glass of champagne, making you wait at the side of the large room. While you were scanning the faces, you suddenly felt somebody stand next to you.

“Didn’t expect to ever see you here.”

Your heart stopped for a moment when you realized to whom the deep, monotone voice belonged.

“Tommy,” you gasped and looked up to the handsome face gazing into the crowd. His eyes were as blue and intense as you remembered them.

“Who are you here with?” he asked you. He sounded legitimately interested.

“My husband.”

He nodded, not once looking down at you. “So, you’re married now?”

“Yes.”

Despite not having seen Tommy for a long time, you still knew him too well. You could feel him trying to make you nervous. But you were determined not to let him. He didn’t own you anymore. And he for sure didn’t own your heart anymore.

“Do you love him?”, he asked, putting a cigarette between his lips and lighting it with a match.

You gave him angry look. “Of course, I do!”

That made him finally pull away his gaze from the crowd and directed it to you. “I mean, do you actually like him. And not just trying to prove a point to me.”

You were genuinely offended by his comment. “Trying to prove a point? You really do believe the world revolves solely around you, Thomas Shelby.”

“I didn’t–“

“You’ve had your chance, Tommy. You can’t just come crawling back, trying to make me feel bad about finally having the man and the life I deserve,” you spat. Tommy opened his mouth to respond to what you just said, but your husband interrupted the conversation before he was able to say another word.

Ed wasn’t stupid. He noticed immediately that this must be the man that had broken your heart.

“How about we catch some fresh air, love?” he suggested, handing you a glass of champagne. You accepted gratefully and let your husband lead the way out of the room, leaving a speechless Tommy behind.

 ***

 Edward had been offered a job in New York. He had wanted you to join him and to move to America together, but you knew you’d never be happy there. You had had a stable job here in London and weren’t ready to give up what you had worked for so hard. You both knew a divorce was inevitable if Ed really wanted to accept the job offer.

In the end, your now ex-husband left to cross the ocean to the land of the free and leave you and your son, James, behind. You weren’t angry at him. You knew, he had only been following his dream and the opportunity had just been too good to reject. Edward made sure he sent money to you monthly to care for the upbringing of your son and even visited the two of you twice a year.

About six months after Edward had left, you had opened your own clothing store in London, sewing luxurious dresses that started becoming more and more popular. Even though you missed Ed dearly from time to time, you weren’t unhappy. The situation you were in wasn’t the best, but it for sure could have been way worse.

One day, after closing up your shop to go and pick up James from school, you spotted a familiar figure across the street. He was staring directly at you.

Then it hit you. Tommy fucking Shelby. You had almost forgotten the man existed.

You wanted nothing more than to ignore his presence and walk straight to James’ school. But of course, he had other things in mind.

“Y/N!”

You kept your head down as you stuffed your keys in your handbag. Tommy Shelby was like a curse, you seemed to never be totally free of him.

As you turned to walk along the side of the road, you heard him catch up with you. “Oi, Y/N. Are you ignoring me?”

You stopped walking, but kept your head hanging, so you didn’t have to look at him. “Thomas …”

You could see his shoes position themselves in front of you. Then you felt a hand grab your chin gently, lifting your head up. “Please, look at me.”

His gaze was friendly. Very much different to the look he had in his eyes when he first told you he didn’t want you. And very much different to the one when you met him at the races. It almost seemed like there was a plea for forgiveness in his eyes.

“It hurts me that you feel like you need to avoid me,” he admitted. You sighed. “What are you doing here, Tommy?”

“Does it matter?”

“It matters because I seem to never be able to get rid of you. You keep showing up in my life”, you answered truthfully.

“Destiny, perhaps,” he said, giving you a weak smile.

You scoffed. “I didn’t think you believed in such a thing, Thomas.”

“Only when it comes to you, Y/N.”

You breathed in deeply and let out a heavy sigh. “Are you still not married? It’s been so long, and I don’t think anyone should be on their own for so many years.”

“I was,” he said. “But she died.”

You felt a tiny sting in your chest, feeling bad for asking. Even though Tommy Shelby didn’t deserve an inch of your sympathy, you couldn’t ignore it. “I’m sorry.”

“How’s Edward? That’s his name, eh?” Tommy asked, changing the subject quickly.

You gulped. You didn’t want Tommy knowing about your failed marriage. You were convinced he would mock you because of it.

“Good,” you answered quietly.

“You sure?” Tommy questioned you. He could sense something was off.

You pressed your lips together to a thin line, debating whether you should tell him or not.

“Come on, you can trust me,” he said with a soft voice. You could feel yourself crumbling. “He’s living in New York. We … we aren’t together anymore,” you told him embarrassed. Tommy nodded but instead of making fun of you, he stayed silent.

“I’m on my way to pick up my son from school”, you then said to Tommy. “I really need to get going, if you didn’t mind.”

“Your son?”

“Yes, my son,” you said, giving him an annoyed glare. “I’m not some lonely divorcee if that was what you were thinking.”

He held up his hands in defence and raised his eyebrows. “Not at all. I have a son of my own, you know.”

You weren’t able to wrap your head around the fact that Tommy had a child. Even though he’d always been a family man, you could never imagine him with a son. Taking care of him, playing with him, simply being a soft human being. You didn’t realise you were smiling at the thought of it until Tommy called you out on it. “Something funny about that?”

“No”, you said, grinning, “Absolutely not. I’m very happy about that actually.”

“You’d love him,” Tommy said to you. “Maybe someday you’ll meet him.”

“Perhaps someday,” you replied.

Tommy sighed and then suddenly grabbed both of your hands. “We were good together, Y/N.”

“I know, Tommy”, you said, only speaking the truth. The time you and Tommy were together, or at least almost together, you were more than good. You were perfect. Until Tommy had took a step backward when you wanted to take one forward.

“We could always try again”, Tommy murmured, looking deeply into your eyes.

“Yes, we could.”

“How about a date?” Tommy asked. “I heard you’re designing stunning dresses for a living. Why not put on one of those?”

“You heard?”

Tommy chuckled. “I hear everything, Y/N. So, what do you say?”

You could feel your face form a smile. A smile straight from your heart. The heart, that had never really gotten over Tommy. The heart, that had always belonged to him.

“Okay.”

[lokitrashfan]

Benefits // Part 4

A/N: Okay, this fic is going to be a little longer than planed, but I just can't leave it like this, I have to wrap it up nicely. Also I am struggling a bit with my writting becouse I sometimes have problems with english, it's not my first language and it's had to write something well made.

Warnings: As usual, mentions of sex, torture and bad words.

Word count: 2100

-------

Once in the kitchen again, you looked at the sweet man while he finished cooking. He seemed to have a permanent joy in his face. Always smiling a bit, always talking, always joking. 

You found yourself smiling at him. It was strange, having your lips move in ways that they weren’t used to. 

You ended up helping him put the table. It was nice to do something normal. It almost made you forget that he was there to keep an eye on you. You tried to empty your mind of those thoughts, The ideas came, how to escape the tower, how to kill this man, how would you be tortured the next time…

It was a difficult task to think of anything else, you had a mind trained to think about all the possible alternatives. You tried to concentrate on putting up the table. 

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

Loki came into the room as Ravi was serving the pasta to you. His hair still damp from the shower. You looked at him and bit your lower lip. It felt like a triumph, he knew you liked his damp hair. It was one of the things that made you lose your mind. 

He took a plate and looked at you, half-smiling, but you did not look at him, you were looking at the agent, smiling. He felt rage arise, you had never looked at him that way. Smiling, a sincere smile. He felt jealous. - She’s teasing me- Yes, it was the only logical answer. He had left you wanting before and now you were taking revenge on him. 

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

Ravi was charming, he seemed sincere in anything he said, he talked about normal things, and he looked at you the way he seemed to look at everyone. Like if in his eyes you were a normal girl and not a dangerous assassin. You liked to be seen like something normal. 

Loki left as soon as he finished his plate. He did not say a word, not even when Ravi introduced himself. Loki just stared at him until he stopped trying. You could feel Loki’s murderous stare on you. 

You stayed, you talked and smiled, and listened to this man. He talked a lot, but since you talked so little, it was good. No awkward silence. He told you about his cat, about his car, about his clothes. He could talk about anything. 

“Ravi, I’m having a really good time, but I think that I need some sleep. It has been a long day”

“God, sorry, sometimes I talk so much that I lose track of the time. See you tomorrow. And rest, I think you deserve it after listening to me all day” he replied with a smile. He was genuine. 

“Good night, see you tomorrow”

Walking to your room, you thought about him, about all the differences between him and Loki. You liked Ravi, he was sincere, and good, and kind. And yes maybe he was not as attractive as the god of Mischief, but he was cute. And you liked him. Part of you wanted to be his friend, and part of you wanted to hug him and feel secure in his caring arms. 

What was happening to you? You just knew him for one day and you could not stop thinking about him. 

You were smiling as you entered your room. You could not help it. You felt good thinking about him. Well you were smiling until you saw Loki sitting on your desk, waiting for you. 

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s late, I have been waiting for you”

“Answer my question Loki” 

“Isn’t it obvious, do you remember what we do when the avengers are gone, or your mind is too occupied with that agent?” He was clearly mad. 

“His name is Ravi, and yes, I remember what we do, but I don’t really feel like it.” 

When the Avengers weren’t at the tower you and Loki enjoyed yourselves in all the ways you could. You had sex everywhere you could. Just having fun and giving up to pleasure. But now… You didn’t feel like it. Your mood had shifted since this morning. You wanted a book and silence. 

“So you don’t want me to pleasure you?” He said, even more mad “Would you prefer to sleep with that man?”

“That’s not what I said, I just want to read something and go to bed”

“I could read with you” He said without stopping himself, you saw the regret of what he had said painted in his features.

“Just go to your room Loki, I don’t feel like having sex today” You said ignoring his last comment, it was to weird. 

“You don’t have to keep the deal, I can find somebody else, maybe someone from downstairs. Maybe someone who isn’t scared of getting caught…” He was really mad. You had made him mad. 

“I did not say anything about our deal, I just want to rest” You were annoyed. You just wanted to sleep, why was he saying those things. “But if you want to find someone else, go ahead, I won’t say anything.”

He was mad, it was not the answer he was waiting for. You felt his rage, his eyebrows pierced together. But what could you do? He was acting as if he was jealous of Ravi. 

“Okay, maybe I will find somebody else” he whispered “You won’t find anyone like me”

“Maybe I don’t want to” You said, now he had made you mad. You knew there were no men like him. He was a God after all. But why was he acting like that, like a jealous teenage boy. 

He went for the door but stopped with his hand on the handle “What has he that I don’t have?” He wasn’t looking at you. “What can he give you that I can’t?” His voice sounded sad, all you could hear was agony.

“Loki is not like that” you said unsure of what to say. 

“You never looked at me the way you look at him” 

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After leaving her room he felt the regret coming, all the things that he should not have said. Why was he so sad? Maybe he envied the way you looked at the agent. No one ever looked at him like that. No one ever would. 

Maybe he didn’t want to lose you. You were just friends with benefits, but he felt that the part of being friends was important too. Not that it was a regular friendship, but he knew you and you knew him. After all the nights you had spent together, you had come to know each other. The intimacy you shared… All those things seemed nothing, but they were important. Secrets whispered in the ear of a lover. 

-Lover-

Maybe he wanted to be that, not just a friend but a lover. He wanted to know you better. But most of all he wanted to be known, to share his secrets and his depper regrets. Maybe he just wanted someone he could trust. You were that someone, but another man was stealing you from him. 

He didn’t want to lose you. Part of him wanted to slap hiimself and make him remember it was just sex. Nothing else. Just sex. But it was something more. Is was sex, it was nights spent togheter, it was the coffee in the morning, it was the kisses in the neck… It was intimacy. He needed it. He needed you.

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

Next morning you found a box on top of your desk. A hand written note on top of it. 

The only thing I will ever break.

The box was full of your lingerie. The lingerie that Loki had torn into pieces, but it was good as new. 

You smiled, maybe it was how Loki asked for forgiveness after all the things he said. 

----‐-------------------------------

After the realisation that he could lose you, Loki did not know how to act around you anymore. He did not want to lose what he had with you. Maybe he liked you a little too much for his own liking. After all you were only a mortal. Maybe he just liked the way he felt when he was with you. 

Or maybe just liked the power he felt. The power he felt when you were beneath him. 

He did not like that he realized that he liked you. But he was not going to deny it. He had spent enough time lying to himself, and now he could not risk one more lie and to lose you.

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Your relation with Ravi continued to flourish, you felt more and more comfortable with him. Talking with him was really easy. You started to enjoy his company more than you liked to admit. As days passed, you started to know him very well. 

On the other hand your relationship with Loki was strained. You didn't want to break everything you had with him. After all you two were kind of friends. But was being kind of friends enough? Even if you had a deal, you were all for just sex no feelings, you had to admit to yourself that you kind of liked him. You liked how he treated you, not just in the bedroom. For him you were normal. There was no small talk or nervousness in his side. For him you were just you. Not a dangerous assassin. 

Also, he never asked. He knew you had a past, and that you had done some things that could label you as a villain. But he never asked, he never pressured you to tell your tragic backstory like the others did. He had things in his past too. For him it only mattered who you were now. 

It was what you hated the most, when people started making questions. And you hated the look on their faces when you told lies, but it was worse when you told the truth. The horrible truth. 

For now, Ravi had made no questions, but something inside you knew that he would ask. If you liked him so much, would you be able to lie to his face? To make up some tragic story of how you ended murdering people? Or should you tell the truth, tell him that you did what you did only because it was fun?

He had already told you all about his life. He talked alot about himself really, but you couldn't blame him. He would not understand your past like Loki did. You were sure of that.

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Loki went to the kitchen looking for you, but he found Ravi. 

Loki’s mood changed as he saw the man, he did not like how he looked at you, always talking about himself. How he put his hand on your shoulder. How he was so confident around you. Loki was jealous, he had to admit it. He was jealous of the way you looked at the agent, of how you smiled at him, of how much time you two spent together. He was mad that you did not come to his room. and he did not come to yours. It was pride, he knew it, stupid pride. But he had just admitted that he was jealous of a human. That was enough for now.

He went to your room, and found you just walking out of the door. Without thinking he put a hand around your waist and approached you to his body.

“Darling, you look stunning right now” he whispered into your ear. You were always stunning, but he had never told you before. 

“Well, thank you very much, this is my favourite sweater” You said with a small smile.

Loki noticed that your cheeks had warmed up a little bit and that you bite your lips while smiling. Little things that meant that he had made you nervous, the good kind of nervous. 

“I hope you are wearing some of the clothes I put in that box”

“Ugh, you were being really adorable, but of course you had to say that” Your voice was hard to him. Just seconds ago he had delighted you, and now he was making you angry.

“Hey, just forget that I said that, I just wanted to know if you want to go for a walk”

“A walk? Where? From side to side of the tower? You remember I am basically a prisoner, right?”

“Well you remember I have wonderful powers, and that I can make anything happen?” he said with a cocky smile. 

He had a plan, a plan to make you forget of agents, and torture and everything else, he just needed you to say yes.

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