#Oh dude wait this would go so hard in the Music Industry AU | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

im-a-space-gay · 5 years ago

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Dude, We're Getting The Band FamILY Back Together!

(I have been awake for 15 hours. I've been working on this since 6 P.M.. It is 5 A.M.. I am developing a migraine. I do not regret it. If there's any mistakes, let me know, and I'll look over it and edit. Also, if somebody could tell me how to do the cut-drop-thingy that writers on Tumblr use, that would make my life a whole heck of a lot easier. Oh look, the Sun's rising. Also, debating whether or not if I should make this into an au or keep it as a oneshot, so some feedback on that would be nice. But for now? I'm gonna eat, hydrate, and sleep, because god knows I don't do any of that stuff enough. Good day)

(Inspired by Dude, We're Getting The Band Back Together from Phineas and Ferb)

(If something like this has been done before, I'm so so so sorry)

Thomas was brainstorming with Joan in his backyard about what to do today when they decided to take the discussion into the kitchen where it was cooler.

When they entered, they saw Thomas's dad sitting at the table, looking down at a slip of paper with tears in his eyes.

"Dad?" Thomas asked, moving closer to the man at the table. Joan stayed where they were because, even though they were close to Mr. Sanders, they felt it would be better for his real child to bring this up.

He looked up at Thomas in surprise.

"Kids," he smiled, quickly wiping the tears. "What's up? Need more blueprint paper?"

"Dad, what's wrong?" Thomas asked, pulling out a chair and sitting next to him, Joan deciding to sit at the table as well while Mr. Sanders answered.

He looked down at the paper and sighed.

"It... It would've been our anniversary today."

Thomas tilted his head. Anniversary? For what?

"What do you mean?" Thomas's dad looked up at him and bit his lip. He looked to be deciding something before taking a deep breath.

"Do... Do you wanna know about your dads?" Thomas's eyes widened in shock.

"Yeah, oookay," Joan said, and when Virgil looked over, he saw Joan in more shock than Thomas seemed to be in. "This really seems like a convo I shouldn't be apart of."

Virgil laughed before looking at Thomas again. Thomas just inhaled before nodding.

"Yeah. I do want to know about him."

"Them," Thomas's dad corrected, looking back at the photo fondly. "Dads plural."

"Wait, what?" Joan asked, looking really confused.

"Mhmm," Virgil hummed with a smile, tears coming back into his eyes. "I met them in college, because we all loved music so much. It was so long ago that I still had to wear my binder."

Virgil beckoned both of them closer and they swarmed around Virgil as he showed them the photo. They easily recognized the one holding the camera as a younger version of Thomas's dad with a black, plaid hoodie that was way too big on him. Then, there were three other guys. One looked like he deserved to be the center of attention, with swoopy hair, charming green eyes and a prince-like costume. Then, there was one who's smile outshined the sun, with curly hair and freckles and too big glasses, with a cyan polo, a gray cardigan wrapped around his shoulders, and khaki shorts. And finally, one who looked to be the embodiment of the calm after a storm with a small smile, he wore rectangular glasses, a black polo, a light blue tie, and blue jeans.

"This one," he said, pointing to the one in a prince costume. "Is Roman. He was as extravagant and dramatic as he looks."

Thomas laughed, tears in his eyes from getting to know about his dad. No, his dads.

"And this one," he pointed at the one with a cardigan. "Is Patton. I always called him Pattycake though. He was so, so friendly and warm, like you Thomas."

"Really?" Thomas said, looking at Patton.

"Yep. And last but certainly not least," Virgil pointed at the sophisticated looking man. "Logan. He was so smart and calm and amazing. All of them were. And you remind me so much of all of them in different ways."

"Wow," Thomas breathed, and even Joan looked in awe. "Why was Roman dressed like that?"

Virgil laughed, tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Because of our love of music, we started a band that we called 'LAMP', for reasons I still do not know. We all had one outfit for the band to represent who we were, and Roman chose that, because 'he was so princely'," Virgil laughed, and the kids started chuckling. "I played piano, Logan played drums, Patton played guitar, and Roman played bass. And soon after, we... fell in love with each other."

Joan made gagging noises as a joke, and Virgil laughed harder.

"A couple years went, and everything was great, but then..." Virgil paused, his inhales becoming shaky. "Logan and Roman started to always fight, and Patton tried so, so hard to break it up and get things back to how they were. And I- I-"

Virgil sobbed slightly, and pulled his patchwork hoodie closer to himself.

"I did nothing. I was and always will be a coward. But, eventually, we all decided it would be better if we- if we never saw each other again. A month after, I found out I was pregnant with you. I didn't want them to know, so I didn't drag them down because I'd be a burden. I never even tried to figure out which one was your 'real' father. I didn't think I could handle it. Oh, what I wouldn't give to perform with them and see them happy one last time."

Thomas hugged his dad so tight. And slowly, a thought- a plan, formed in his head. He smiled, turning it over and confirming, yes, this is what he wanted to do today.

"Hey dad?" Thomas asked, letting go of him to see Virgil drying his tears and putting the picture on the table. "Do you have... Any more pictures of them? That I could see?"

Virgil nodded with a smile, standing up and going into the living room before going upstairs.

"Dude," when Joan looked at him, he smiled determinedly. "I know what we should do today."

"Thommy, no offence, but I was thinking something more exciting than looking through photos," Joan said, slinging an arm around Thomas. Thomas laughed.

"No! We should get the band back together! At least for today!" Joan looked ecstatic as they nodded, pulling Thomas up the stairs and past his dad, taking the photo album without breaking their stride. Virgil laughed and told them to have fun as they made their way to the study.

Thomas sat down at the computer in the study, clicking keys as Joan looked over his shoulder, flipping through the album. Eventually, Thomas found his way to a video, which he clicked on. He didn't really pay attention until the part he needed.

"Bass player Roman Royal now runs a trendy hair salon, drummer Logic now quietly works at the public library, only lead singer and guitarist Patton is working in the music industry, and nobody knows where the pianist, Anxiety, has gone."

"Wait, rewind to Patton's part," Joan said, stopping their browsing through photos. Thomas did as they said and paused when told to. "I know that sign! It's down on main street!"

"We'll get him first, and then dad will be happy!" Thomas said excitedly. He looked at Joan and held his hand out. "Ready team?"

"So ready that I'm dead... Y," Joan finished off awkwardly, joining their hand with Thomas's.

"First, we need to spread the news and keep dad oblivious," Thomas smirked. "And I know just the guy."

---

Soon enough, the doorbell rung and Thomas opened it to a sixteen year old typing rapidly on his phone.

"Hey babes," Remy said, stepping inside and sipping on his Starbucks.

"I need you to--"

"Spread word about LAMP's reunion and keep your dad as blind as a bat? On it."

"Thanks Rem," he said, hugging the teens legs before grabbing Joan and running out the front door.

---

"Patton's Music Shop. This looks like the place," Thomas chuckled nervously as he looked at the sign. "Joan. I don't think I'm 100% ready to meet my dads."

"You'll do fine buckaroo," Joan patted his shoulder and dragged him into the music shop, where a customer was yelling at a man that Thomas recognized as Patton. One of his dads. Dear lord he wasn't ready to do this.

"I want a country guitar!" The customer yelled, and Patton looked pleading.

"I'm sorry Mx., but all I have are rock'n'roll guitars!"

"Whatever," the stranger said stomping out of the store, almost running over the two kids.

"They'll be back," Patton mumbled to himself, straightening his baby blue polo.

"Uhh," Thomas said, and Patton looked over at the two kids, and it took everything in Thomas to not faint from nervousness. "You're- you're Patton from LAMP, right?"

Patton smiled brightly and oh my goodness Thomas was not gonna make it through the conversation.

"Yeppers! Always a pleasure to see fans in public! Though," Patton said, looking confused. "You do look a bit young to be a fan of LAMP."

"I am, but my- my dad isn't. He- uh- loves, you guys."

"Really?" Patton said excitedly before he tilted his head. "You do look strangely familiar. What's your dad's name? Maybe I know him."

"Uh- well- you see--"

"Thomas," Joan said next to him, and he looked at them. "Breath."

Thomas nodded and breathed for a bit before looking at Patton.

"My dad is Virgil. Virgil Sanders." Patton froze and his eyes widened before kneeling down next to Thomas in excitement.

"You're Virgil's kid?! You're as cute as he was when I last saw him!" Patton suddenly deflated, looking at the floor. "Does that mean he's moved on?"

"Er- no." Patton looked up with curiosity. "You see, I'm actually one of your guy's- we don't know who's. As far as I know, he hasn't dated anyone since I was born."

Patton looked overjoyed again in a moment.

"Why are you here little one?" He asked, standing up.

"Uh, me and Joan- I'm Thomas, by the way- are getting LAMP back together." Patton squealed excitedly, bouncing up and down.

"REALLY?! Did Logan and Roman agree to this? Did your father agree to this?" Patton immediately worried, biting his lip.

"You're the first one we've come to," Joan admitted, and Patton looked at them. "We're trying to surprise Mr. Sanders and figured you'd be the easiest to convince. We will convince Mr. Royal and Logic to do this. Watch. Us."

"That sounds reassuring! I'm in."

"Okay, we'll text you where to go and when if we may kindly have your number?" Thomas asked, holding out his phone.

---

Remy called Thomas and Joan when they were outside of Roman's Hair Emporium.

"Hey babes. How's it goin'?"

"We got Patton," Thomas said happily, but also nervously because dear goodness he was going to have to talk to two more dads. "We're outside of Roman's Hair Emporium to talk to Roman, and in case that doesn't work, Joan's got a back up plan."

Thomas looked at Joan as they wore a medieval helmet, carrying a morningstar over their shoulder and holding a net in the other hand.

"How's it going with you?"

"Nearly everyone in town knows and your dad is still clueless. Well, I better get back to things over here. Good luck babes!"

"Thanks Rem," Thomas hung up and stared at the relatively imposing doors before he and Joan pushed them open and entered.

"Do you have an appointment?" The lady behind the desk said bored.

"No," Thomas said, pulling up a printed out poster of LAMP that Patton gave them and pointed at Roman. "We're looking for Roman. You know, the bass player of LAMP?"

Out of nowhere a pink and very sharp comb sliced through the air and impaled the poster, pinning it to the wall. Everyone but the kids gasped and looked at a man at the back of the salon that was undoubtably Roman Royal in casual clothes, and he was glaring at the poster in disdain.

He walked over to the kids, before kneeling down to get a closer look at them.

"Valerie, who are these little people?"

"I don't know sir," the lady behind the desk replied, pushing her hair behind her ear.

"You're a mess," he said looking at Thomas, making his heart sting a little bit before he looked to Joan. "And you, Fuedal Europe is so last month."

"We're trying to get LAMP back together," Thomas said, taking his (very little) courage and straightening his back. Roman huffed and stood up.

"Oh for goodness sake, talk to the hand."

"You see," Thomas said, starting to glare a bit. "My dad would've never had me if it wasn't for your band, and he's having a really rough day--"

"B to the O-R-I-N-G," Roman said, inspecting his nails with a bored look. Thomas didn't need to look over to see Joan raising their weapon menacingly with a hateful look. Thomas raised a hand in Joan's direction.

"Not yet, Joan. I got this."

"Okay."

"Well excuuuuse me, Mr. Royal," Thomas said, cutting off whatever it was Roman was about to say. "But if Virgil Sanders is having a rough day, I will do everything in my darn power to make it better, and if it takes getting the band back together for a night, I will do it Mr. Royal."

"Virgil?" Roman said in shock, looking at him. "You're- you're Virgil's son?"

"Yes. And I am Patton's son, and I am Logan's son, and I am your son." Thomas glared, getting on his tippy toes in an attempt to look Roman in the face. "So, we will get this forsaken band back together for tonight, and you'll never have to be associated with it ever again. Just to make dad happy. Please."

Roman looked down at him for a moment before ruffling his hair with a smile.

"You have your dad's fire, that's for sure."

---

Now Thomas and Joan were standing outside of the public library, and Thomas had his phone pressed to his ear.

"Hello? Talyn?" He said into the phone.

"Hey Thomas! What's up?" Talyn's slightly squeaky voice came through the phone, and Thomas smiled proudly.

"Guess what band's getting back together?"

"LAMP?" Thomas jumped in surprise and his expression turned to one of confusion.

"Uh, yeah. How'd you know?"

"It was the lead story on the five o'clock news," Talyn explained. "Let me guess, you guys need a stage, right?"

"Yeah! Can you help us out?"

"Already on it," Talyn said happily before moving away from the phone. "PRIDE SCOUTS, YOU BETTER HURRY YOUR PRETTY BUTTS! WE DON'T HAVE ALL DAY!"

Thomas hung up and they entered the library.

"Who would've thought a drummer from a rock'n'roll band would end up in a place so quiet?" Joan whispered to him. He nodded in agreement as they made their way through. They both inhaled as they saw him at the librarians desk, stamping books before putting them on a cart. Logan.

The only thing that changed from the photo Virgil had shown them was the tie, which was replaced with a darker blue one with stripes.

They walked up to him, and he looked up at them while still doing his job.

"May I help you?"

Thomas pulled out the poster from before and showed it to Logan, pointing at his picture.

"You're Logic, ex-drummer of the band LAMP, right?" Logan lightly smiled, still stamping books.

"That, children, is a past life," Logan said, pointing to his nametag. "My name is Logan. Why do you ask?"

"Because they're reforming for one night only!" Logan's smile disappeared and he raised an eyebrow. "My dad is down in the dumps and I know the only way to make him happy is for him to see you guys again!"

"Well kids," he said looking back down at the books. "As charming as that sounds, I'm afraid the other members might not be too... Pleased, to see me."

"Are you kidding me?" Thomas asked, and he leaned on the desk, making Logan look at him. "Patton seemed pretty excited at seeing you all again, and Roman said he wished to make amends for his old ways!"

Logan looked up and stopped stamping books, looking at him in surprise.

"Really...?"

"Yeah!" Thomas said, smiling brightly. Logan smiled before he looked back down, resuming his work with a frown.

"How are you going to get Anxiety to agree to this? Not even the media knows where he is."

"About that," Thomas said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. Logan looked at him curious. "My dad- the one I'm doing all of this for? Uh- he's Virgil Sanders."

Logan stopped stamping books again in shock, and he tilted his head slightly.

"Your dad is Virgil?"

"Yep. Also I'm Patton's, Roman's, and your son," Thomas explained, and Logan inhaled sharply.

"Why didn't I know I have a son?" Thomas frowned and backed away from the desk, and Joan stepped in.

"Mr. Sanders has an awful habit of thinking himself as a burden. It even bums me out!"

Logan smiled softly, tears gathering in his eyes.

"He always did have self-esteem issues."

---

"Thank you Logan for driving us here," Thomas said, exiting the car and pulling him and Joan through the Pride Scout's construction.

"Your welcome," he said as he was pulled into the garage where they saw Patton and Roman hugging.

"Guess who I brought!" Thomas said, closing the door. Both Patton and Roman looked over and there was tears streaming down both of their faces. They immediately perked up and literally threw themselves onto Logan, making him yelp.

"LOGAN! I'M SO SO SO SORRY AND I'M TERRIBLE AND I DON'T EVER EXPECT YOU TO FORGIVE ME AND I'M SORRYYYYY," Roman sobbed, clinging onto Logan and Logan awkwardly patting him, tears falling down his own face.

"Roman, it's okay." Roman sniffled and looked up at him.

"R-Really?"

"Yes you dork," Logan snorted, holding both of them tight.

"Thommy, my man," Joan said, slinging their arm around Thomas, and unbeknownst to them, the grown men were now looking at them. "Your dads become any more sappy, and I might have to leave."

Thomas laughed and pulled his friend into a hug, twirling them around a bit.

"Oh, but Sappy Express hasn't arrived yet!"

"Sappy Express?" Patton asked, and when the kids looked at them, they were still hugging each other but were looking at them with fond expressions.

"Thomas?" A muffled voice called from the house and Thomas panicked, hearing the steps coming toward the garage. He (carefully) pushed Joan off and ran to the door, opening it enough to see his dad looking worried.

"HeY DAd!" He said in a panic, and Virgil looked even more concerned.

"Are you okay? I thought I heard someone yelling." Thomas silently cursed Roman before smiling widely at Virgil.

"Yelling? Here? In this house? What? That's crazy!" Virgil frowned, crossing his arms and giving Thomas the knowing look.

"I know when you're lying Thomas. So, care to tell me what you're lying about?" Virgil said, furrowing his brows as Thomas laughed nervously.

"Okay, I know you hate surprises, but hear me out on this one!" Virgil uncrossed his arms as Thomas suddenly opened the door all the way. Virgil froze at the sight of his former bandmates, them smiling softly at Virgil with more tears than before. "Surprise?"

Virgil stood there, blinking at them for a moment before turning away.

"I forgot to take my meds this morning. That makes sense. I'll take my meds and I'll be as close to sane as a Virgil Sanders can get," he said loudly, starting to walk away but someone grabbed his wrist before he could get too far. Virgil looked over to see Patton. Patton smiling. Holding him. And he could feel it. And oh god now he was crying.

"P-Patton?"

"Hey Starlight," Patton whispered, smiling so, so kindly at him. And Virgil just barreled into him and hugged him and soon he felt another two pairs of arms wrap around him and when he looked up he cried harder at seeing Logan and Roman. They were all there. All hugging. Oh god.

"Wait wait wait," Virgil said, backing away from them, which made them frown a bit. He looked at Thomas and Joan and did a sob-ish laugh. "Get in here kids. Even you Joan. You're getting on Sappy Express whether you like it or not."

"Ohhh, Sappy Express! I get it now!"

Thomas and Joan ran into Virgil's arms and Virgil beckoned his... His friends? Over as well. They all hugged as a famILY for who knows how long before something in the garage slammed open and they all looked as Talyn came tumbling into the room.

"Alright b*tches--"

"TALYN. What did I say about cussing?" Virgil frowned, and the other three adults looked between them confused, as Virgil used to cuss all the time. Talyn sighed.

"I can cuss all I want, as long as I don't do it on your property..."

"That's right. No cussing in me ma's house," Virgil said seriously, and the other three laughed and held on to Virgil tighter somehow.

"Anyways, ladies and Mr. Sanders, time to go on! There's a whole crowd waiting!"

"What?" Virgil asked before looking at Thomas, who was trying to sneak away with Joan. "Thomas Sanders, Joan Stokes."

They both turned around looking worried.

"Heeeeeeey dad," they both said simultaneously, Joan even calling Virgil dad (they did it a lot).

"What is Talyn talking about?"

"Your kid--"

"Our kid," Virgil corrected with a glare, and Roman continued with a smile.

"Our kid decided to get the band back together for one night for a concert. Marvelous idea if I do say so myself!"

"YOU DID WHAT?!" Virgil shouted in a panic, looking at Thomas. "Oh no. Oh no no no no, this can't be good."

"Virgil."

"Oh dear we haven't done this in so long! What if something goes wrong while we're up there?!"

"Virge."

"Anything could happen! ANYTHING!"

"Starlight."

"What if something catches on fire?! WHAT IF A METEOR COMES--"

"DAD!"

Virgil looked at Thomas, hyperventilating. Thomas smiled.

"You'll be fine dad."

Virgil calmed down his breathing and smiled shakily at his son.

"Okay. Okay," he said, turning to his bandmates-for-the-night and nodded. "Okay! Let's do this."

Someday, there would be dates. And they would move into one house, and there would be a wedding. There would be movie nights, laughter, and warmth on cold days. There would also be arguments, tears, panic attacks, and things that would tear them apart. But they always mended before things could get too out hand (partially out of fear of another child being born and Virgil being too scared to tell them (it actually almost happened once. They all love Emile with their hearts)). They always came back together.

But right now? Right now, they had a crowd waiting for them.

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angrylizardjacket · 5 years ago

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mouth full of white lies {Machine Gun Kelly} 1

1. you look like my next mistake

Summary: You’re Douglas Booth’s adopted little sister, a YouTuber moonlighting as an assistant on The Dirt. The fact that your brother’s the lead is a happy accident. Another happy accident? Getting drunk with MGK and becoming fast friends with him. Until, of course, everyone assumes you’re together. What better way to make everyone shut up then by agreeing. Sort of. Okay so you’re not really dating but you’ve got to convince your respective fans that you are. And the rest of the cast and crew. It’s okay, flirting is totally harmless. The feelings? Everything else that comes after? Less harmless.

A/N: we meant to be a much different, much shorter fic for @kellysimagines, but i hope you like it!! fake dating AU. reader is adopted, not blood related!! warnings for drunken-ness.

the brainstrust: @sataninsatin @silvertonguedserpent @juliarose21 @kellysimagines @estxxbritt @machine-gun-casie @siriuslymooned @harringtonstudios @misscharlottelee @narcvissa @hiworlditishumbleme @angelwarner28 @nevilles-insinuations @rumoured-whispers @mgkobsessed @edwardtriggerhandzz @suckerforbarnes @wastelcve @bakerkells @local-troubled-writer @freddiessmallnipples

----

The fact that you and your brother ended up working on the same project was purely coincidence, and that actually wasn’t a lie. Douglas had landed the role of a lifetime, Nikki Sixx in The Dirt, and was immediately up to his eyes in nondisclosure agreements. You, on the other hand, had been scrolling through Facebook when a friend of yours, Josy, who happened to be an assistant director who had been talking about a ‘huge project for Netflix she wasn’t allowed to discuss’ asked if you wanted to come onboard as her assistant, since you’d proven to be good under pressure and fast on your feet when she had still been filming student projects only a few years ago.

“Hello! Hello and welcome back, ducklings! Today is a ‘Get Ready With Me’ for my flight to New Orleans! Can you believe it? I’m working on a big project and I have to travel - they’re paying for my travel! I’m so excited! This is going to be such a fun project, even though I can’t tell you too much about it just yet. So to start with, I’m going to run you through my every-day shower routing.”

You hadn’t been at the table read, but you had been at rehearsals, had turned up on the first day looking all done up, excited and professional, only to be met with your brother in eyeliner.

“Duck!” Of course he was elated to see you, grin splitting his face from ear to ear. He calls you by your childhood nickname, he always has, and already you can feel every pair of eyes on you, but you don’t care. The nickname had followed you through life, of course less than a day in the project and it was already spreading.

Everything making sense after you mention Josy had gotten you the job. She was a mutual friend, had always been fond of the two of you.

“This,” you enthuse, clutching your clipboard to your chest, “this is what you’re doing? You’re doing the Motley Crue biopic?” You’re looking at him with stars in your eyes, your talented big brother, who seemed to bring you along for the ride in one way or another.

And finally he can tell you about it, because damn it had felt like forever since the two of you had spoken simply because he’d been hiding the biggest news in his life from you.

“Oi, Booths!” You hear Josy’s distinct voice the moment she steps in the rehearsal room, though she’s clearly smiling, “good to see you both, but Doug, I need you up and in the space; I’m running warm ups before we get started. Duck, could you go on a coffee run for me?” She asks it sweetly; she’d picked up the nickname for you years ago from Douglas, and of course it had stuck, not that you minded. With that you’re both off.

You’d been so distracted by getting to talk to your brother, who had been early just as you had been - there’s something to be said for nature versus nurture, despite not sharing genetics, you certainly shared a sense of punctuality - that you hadn’t even seemed to notice the rest of the cast getting in. But they’re not your job; you just have to keep Josy happy, get her food and drinks when she requested it, and type out emails she dictates. Easy.

Of course this isn’t how things stay; you’re in close proximity to the cast for at least five hours a day, in a corner somewhere working on your own emails or scrolling through Twitter when you weren’t needed, but always around. For the first few days, no-one pays you much attention.

“Hello! Hello and welcome back, ducklings! It’s my first week with The Project, and I’ve finally got a day off; it’s Sunday so I’m dragging my brother to a whole bunch of places you lovely people have recommended for me! Wish us luck!”

You’ve been in front of a camera for about as long as Douglas has, though never quite in the same way. You’d tried your hand at all sorts of jobs, both in the entertainment industry, and not, and while you enjoyed the entertainment industry well enough, you found that you had a passion for making your own videos. Your YouTube channel, which was almost at a million followers, had been going strong for almost four years, as you made videos about the lesser known roles in the industry. Sometimes your brother was in your videos, but often he wasn’t, and you felt lucky that you never really needed to use him for clout. He was just Doug, and your followers knew that if he was in a video, it’s because he wanted to be, but he wasn’t the reason the video was being made.

Douglas was nothing if not supportive, and when Sunday rolls around and when production gave you and the main cast the day off, while the second unit team worked with some of the secondary characters, you were both more than happy to take advantage of the freedom.

“Dude I have such a long list of places we could go, I don’t even know where to begin - haven’t you been here before?” You pressed the phone to your ear, frowning at the two outfits you had laid out on the bed before you.

“Yeah, for like,” Douglas hums at the other end of the line, “like press things, and like a week and a half for some Jupiter Ascending stuff-”

“Did that even make it -?”

“No, it got cut -” somewhere behind him, the milk frother of a coffee machine squeals, and someone’s indistinct name is called.

“Get me a drink,” you tell him, instinctively.

“Get one yourself!” He half laughs, and you hear him cover the receiver and muffle his thanks as he presumably picks up his drink.

“Who are you talking to?” When he uncovers the phone, you can hear another familiar voice; it’s Colson, you’re pretty sure. You know him from rehearsals, and a bit from his music, but not much beyond that.

“My sister,” Douglas offers, flatly, to which you make a noise of indignance.

“Ask him if he’s ever been to New Orleans -” you instruct, putting the phone on speaker and opting to change into your more practical jeans and sweater option.

“She wants to know if you’ve ever been to New Orleans -” He relays easily, and you hear a snort of laughter.

“Of course I have.” You hear Colson say.

“Of course he has -” Douglas tells you, as if worried that you hadn’t heard.

“Ask him -” You begin, but you’re cut off.

“We’re across the road,” Douglas tells you, and you know without having to see him that he’s rolling his eyes at you. Audi ambassador, philanthropist, movie star, and occasional model Douglas Booth had the composure of a saint for everyone but you, though neither of you would have it any other way, “just come over here yourself.”

“Get me a drink?” You asked hopefully, and you heard him sigh, knowing you’d already won.

Your favourite drink is waiting for you when you arrive, as are both Douglas, and Colson, sitting hunched over in a booth with dark glasses. You can’t help but chuckle.

“Booths in a booth.” You mutter, and at least that gets their attention. Sliding in next to Douglas, you make eye contact with Colson as he lowers his glasses and frowns at you, just a little, as you sip your drink.

He looks between the two of you for a moment; you don’t share a whole heap of similarities with him, but after a beat, he nods, and gives you a curious look.

“Alright, good to meet you,” he paused, narrowed his eyes for a moment, “you’re part of the crew, aren’t you?” Is what he focuses on.

“Assistant to the AD,” you nod, before adding, “Duck, you might know me as Duck,” and that he seems to recognise at least. Colson hums thoughtfully, nodding and sliding his glasses back up his nose as he leans back against the seat. Drinking your drink with a surprising focus, you hand over your list of recommended places to Douglas, who nods approvingly, but quickly turns it over to Colson. He makes short work of it, crosses quite a few spots off, adds a few of his own, and takes pause to look up from it.

“Why are we going all over town? Why not just like... chill and maybe go over lines and shit? Isn’t that what we’re meant to do?”

“Didn’t take you for the cautious type,” you tell him with a teasing edge to your voice. Colson fixes you with a half-smile, handing the phone back pointedly.

“I’m not, I just don’t want you to narc on me if we start at bourbon street and spend our precious Sunday getting drunk in The Big Easy,” he matches your tone, sitting back with a posture so relaxed it’s almost scripted, and you’re pretty sure you like his nerve.

“I’m...” you hesitate a little, “a YouTuber,” and though Colson winces a little, it still stings. With so much stigma surrounding your profession, even in 2018, it’s hard to explain to people what you do for a living and not receive criticism.

“So you’re gonna catch all the stupid shit we do on camera?” He asks, and oh, so that’s what he’s worried about. You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding.

“If you don’t wanna be in it, then you don’t have to be; anyways, I’ll edit out all the bits that break our NDAs,” shrugging, you shoot for casual, and Colson looks like he’s actually weighing up his options.

“You still haven’t told him you’re not a narc,” Douglas stage whispers to you, which makes your expression sour and Colson laugh.

“You’re a narc,” you hiss back, reflexively.

“We’re method acting,” Douglas offers, aiming for that same casual confidence that Colson was exuding, but not quite getting there.

“Fuck yeah, dude, that’s the spirit,” Colson’s expression breaks out into a grin, and he offers Douglas a fist bump, which your brother gladly returns. Then Colson’s looking back at you, bright and excited rather than judgmental; “you in?”

“We’ve gained a newcomer! A tour guide, if you will, Mister-” and you turn where you’re filming yourself and the two men beside you, the camera shaking in your grip as you head down the street, and your voice lowers, “what do you want me to introduce you as-” but he buts you off, moves around Douglas, who’s laughing quietly to himself, and grabs the camera.

“It’s MGK, motherfuckers! We ‘bout to hit Bourbon Street - we’ll bookend this shit; open with it and close with it, we’ll be back here tonight!” He sticks his tongue out, and throws out the devil sign with his hands, before turning the camera to catch Douglas laughing, and you looking both excited and concerned.

“We will?”

When you ask about Daniel and Iwan, the other two members of the film’s Motley Crue, all you get is vague answers; in time, they’ll all come to be good friends, but it’s their first Sunday off, and no-one begrudges them for them choosing to take time for themselves. Douglas and Colson, however, had decided early on to try and make their friendship both on and off screen as authentic as possible.

“Fuck, man, Tommy’s like, opening line in the book is that he and Nikki were like an old married couple, for like twenty years, dude, that kind of connection is insane!” Colson is nothing if not good casting, waxing poetic at a diner he’d spotted around midday, your little group already tipsy and hungry since your less than substantial cafe breakfast.

“I give this bacon and egg roll,” Douglas is in his own little world, only aware that you had your camera pointing at him as he devoured his lunch with a surprisingly messy gusto, “four-and-a-half out of five cups.” He announced with a mouth full of food, using the rating system you’d devised earlier in the day. After a moment, he swallowed, before turning to Colson, expression serious, “I’ve known you for about a week, and as much as I like you, I don’t think I want to marry you.”

“No, that’s the thing, man, twenty years is a long-ass time to know someone; I just, man, by the end of this, we are gonna be tight, okay? That’s all I want. Bros, you know?” And he wrapped his arms around Douglas, pulling him in for a hug, and your brother nodded seriously, wrapping his arm around Colson in return.

“Bros.” He confirmed, giving the camera a very pointed look. You make sure the camera catches when you flip him off. All it does is set off all three of you laughing.

It’s an incredibly fun day, the three of you traipsing around, visiting sound studios and memorials and sites that paid homage to the great city you found yourselves in. You know you shouldn’t be surprised, but Colson’s rather reverential when it comes to the history of music, and when you look back at your list, you see the sites he’s added all have to do with it. Honestly, you’re a little endeared. It’s also a fun night, the parts of it you can remember, stumbling, leaning on one another. There’s bound to be something about it in the gossip rags in the following days, not that the three of you were badly behaved, just that they had both stopped caring about avoiding paparazzi, and, alright, being a little bit raucous.

In bed by two, you know you’re gonna have a killer hang over for your nine-am start, but it was a fun night, and you’re looking forward to reviewing your footage.

“I give this bourbon from - hey, where’s this bourbon from?” You turn to look over your shoulder, and the cup in your hand slops over with drink, splashing out onto the street, not that you notice. Douglas is talking to someone running a stall, but Colson joins you, wrapping an arm around you.

“We give this bourbon a cup out of cup,” he announces, and you nod seriously.

“Cup out of cup.” You agree, and lift up the cup, before an idea lights up your face. “Drink it with me, like same cup, try and drink it with me.” It’s a terrible idea, your cheeks pressed together, tongues out as if it would help you drink better -

“You guys look like incredibly stupid,” Douglas calls out from out of frame, finally noticing the two of you. You go to respond, but that’s when Colson tips up the cup and it manages to hit neither of your mouths, instead it splashes against where your cheeks were pressed together, and all down your clothes. “Told you.” Douglas adds.

Colson licks the bourbon from your cheek with a grin, but moves on quickly. You look around shiftily once the boys had left, still holding the camera with one hand, and you pull the hem of your shirt to your mouth, sucking liquor from it as you follow behind them wearing a pleased little smile.

Honestly, things get more lively in more ways than one, after that. Now that Colson knows you, it seems the rest of the cast do too. Slowly but surely you’re developing a friendship with both Iwan and Daniel, though Colson’s been surprisingly quick to treat you like an old friend.

“Trial by fireball whiskey,” is what he tells you after rehearsals one Saturday night. You’re doing a dinner run, picking up pizzas before the four of them go out, with you as their chaperone, as directed by Josy.

“Speaking of,” though you can’t help but grin a little at the fact that you’d earned his favour so easily, “I’ve almost finished the video.”

“Oh God,” he groans, laughs, and covers his face with his hands, “do I even wanna see it?”

“It’s not that damning, I promise, I need to stay monetized, you know?” You laugh, but it’s a sad truth you’ve had to deal with a lot since choosing to become a YouTuber.

“I’m not exactly PG-13,” Colson’s smirking when you look at him, and his gaze meets yours and what does that tone mean and why are you reading into this all of a sudden.

“So I suppose you were on your best behavior that night?” You ask, voice innocent, though you can feel yourself getting flustered. His smirk grows wider.

“Only for Douglas’ sake.”

And then your name’s called for the pizzas and the mood vanishes and Colson just asks if you can send him a link when you put up the video; you tell him you can send him it before it’s published, just to make sure he’s happy with it, and he gives you this genuine smile that you feel warm your heart, just a little.

But it’s when you publish the video that all hell breaks loose.

Having a famous brother is one thing. Having a famous brother is allowed. Knowing someone famous is clout chasing, is gold digging, is not allowed according to the internet. Making someone famous laugh is downright illegal, surely he can do better than you. Because with the views come assumptions, and your burgeoning crush aside, they’re baseless. You’ve known him for three weeks. Twenty one and a half days in total. Flirting aside, the internet doesn’t know shit.

It still hurts.

The video kind of blows up, because everyone loves relatively harmless drunk celebrity shenanigans, and Colson’s kind of been blowing up recently between his music, and his upcoming film Bird Box. So now there’s invasive questions and death threats filling up your DMs on every platform, and along with a new influx of followers comes a new wave of toxicity. You know how to deal with people accusing you of using your brother for clout, but this is a whole other level.

“So you’re with Colson,” Douglas looks smug when you answer your door on the day after the video drops. Though quick to defend yourself, there’s already tears in your eyes having had little sleep from the stress of everything that had happened, his smug aura drops and he wraps you up in a hug. “Hey, I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” his voice is soothing and level as he walks you back into your room, closing your door.

“You’re an ass,” you tell him, sulkily, but you hug him back.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you in earnest.

“I’m gonna get fired-”

“You’re not gonna get fired, Duck, you didn’t break your NDA, you didn’t break YouTube’s terms of service, you bleeped out all the swearing, you had an alcohol disclaimer at the start; this is the fans and the media blowing things way out of proportion.” He assures as you sniffle, still hugging him tightly.

“They’re gonna fire me,” you murmur, voice a soft, sad whine.

“They’re not.”

This is the point at which your phone starts to go off; someone’s calling you, and the caller ID says it’s Colson. He must have just woken up.

“He okay-ed the video, didn’t he?” Douglas asks, and you nod. “Then he won’t be mad; he’s dealt with this shit more than us, you know?” He gently pushes you towards the phone where it’s sitting on your bed, and steps back. “I’m gonna give you and your boyfriend some space,” and it’s teasing again, his grin sharp as he ducks out of the way of the pillow you throw.

“Asshole!” You yell after him. Once’s he’s out of the room, however, you take a moment to compose yourself before picking up the phone.

“Hey, I’m so sorry -” you start, but Colson seems surprised to hear your apology.

“Nah, Ducky, don’t worry about it, I called to apologise to you; if I’m ever seen with a chick everyone thinks I’m dating her, I should have realised, I should have -”

“No, I mean, I can’t post a video with a guy who’s not my brother without five different tea channels claiming I’m in love,” you laugh, trying to hide your distress. An awkward silence follows, in which you sniffle, and reopen your laptop.

“I am really sorry,” Colson says, and there’s regret in his voice that you hadn’t expected. “If I could get them to all shut the fuck up, I would; you shouldn’t be all torn up over my shit.”

Something about what he says plays in your mind over the next few days, watching, subdued in rehearsals. The rest of the cast ask if your alright, sympathizes with you, all of them having had run-ins with the media in one way or another. Josy, in her own way, sympathizes too, in that she doesn’t treat you any differently, she doesn’t pity you. She, like you, like all of you, knows it will blow over. Probably.

“Hello,” your tone is so damn subdued, “hello and welcome back. I’m here today to address some rumours you may have heard. To all my new ducklings, hello. And to all my old, hello again.”

“They’re not gonna believe you if you deny it,” is how you greet Colson, barging into his room after rehearsals on a Wednesday. It had been a good day, things had calmed down somewhat online, but still gossip rags were still going hard, seeing as the paparazzi had managed to spot the two of you together during a break in rehearsals.

“Yeah, no, they generally don’t,” he says flatly, frowning a little as he closes the door, running with whatever train of thought you were on.

“Then don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Deny it.”

Silence.

“Are you asking me out?” He actually wears a little smile at that, but you fix him with a serious look, not even a hint of a joke in your tone or expression.

“Yes, because we’re twelve,” you rolled your eyes, tone so flat it’s almost comical, before you snap “- fucking no I’m not asking you out -” the thought had crossed your mind several times before shit had hit the fan, but there was no way in hell he’d genuinely want you now; you both came with a mob of crazed fans, and a sweet, if fake relationship with an amicable end would be far easier to manage than crazed rumors, “I’m fake asking you out. If you’d have me, I want to date you to get our fans to calm down.”

“How?!” He splutters, both confused and overwhelmingly amused. “That’d never work.”

“If we tell them we’re together, and we’re both working on projects, the industry won’t see either of as distracted by outside sources; we talk up how we’re supporting one another through this process, and that if our fans ever wanted what’s best for us, they’d support us too.”

“You’d...” he swallows hard, though he’s certainly contemplating the thought, “you’d still get death threats, you know that-”

“I get death threats when I don’t post feet pics;” you snorted dismissively, and his eyebrows rose, “I can handle them, but if you said this made you happy, well I think a majority of your fans would calm down. Stan-culture is weird and frightening, but a lot of them, most of them,” you corrected yourself, “want what’s best for you.”

“You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?” And he’s smiling now, watching you with something that almost resembles admiration in his eyes.

“Tell me you haven’t had a hundred tweets yelling about how you’ve corrupted me,” you cock your hip, and he casts a glance to his phone, before admitting he has, “well if I go back to posting non-drunk content with you in it, they’ll die down, I guarantee it.”

“What about your brother?”

“He’ll support me no matter what, it’ll be more believable if he, you know, believes it.” You hold out your hand, waiting. There’s an almost intimidating spark in your eyes, a focus that Colson hasn’t seen before. “Are you in?”

“Yeah, fuck it, why not,” and he shakes your hand, firm, grinning brightly.

“I’m here to address some rumours regarding my...” you took a deep breath, “boyfriend.”

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk x reader #colson baker #colson baker x reader #colson baker imagine #douglas booth #douglas booth imagine #the dirt #the dirt cast #the dirt cast imagine #the dirt image #the angry lizard writes

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dreamingformuses · 6 years ago

Text

an irondad foster care! bio dad! au inspired by @agib-2002

-Peter is in foster care after his mother, father, uncle, and aunt die

-Basically he has nowhere to go

-His current foster parents live in midtown’s district

-And so he goes there

-Its the first school he’s ever really enjoyed going to

-And he doesn’t have a lot of friends, but the ones he has are good

-His parents are not good, though

-They don’t like him, and constantly tell him that.

-They say that hes a waste of space

-They say he’s worthless

-And that they don’t like to hear him speak

-They don’t give him much choice in anything

-They don’t make casual conversation

-They tell him that he’s why his family died

-And that nobody loves him

-And so when there’s an application for an after school internship, he signs up

-He doesn’t even know where it is

-He just wants to get away from home

-But nobody knows this

-He gets the internship and surprise! Its at stark industries

-It makes him feel really nice

-Like maybe he is worth something

-And when the day comes he tells his foster parents that he’ll be home late

-And they say “good”

-“But don’t be late for dinner. If you are, you won’t get it.”

-It puts a damper on his mood

-So he puts on the nicest shirt he owns and a pair of khakis

-And heads to stark tower after school

-He nervously heads to the receptionist’s desk and says he’s here for the internship

-She kindly takes him up to the lab levels

-And peter thinks he’ll be working with other interns on low level stuff

-Wrong

-His test scores got him a very high position

-Personal lab assistant to tony stark

-Pretty sweet, huh

-And so the receptionist deposits him at the entrance to his lab

-And shes like “i dont have the clearance for in there honey”

-So he waits for a while, just listening to the music blaring through the door

-He knocks quietly, then waits

-Nothing

-He knocks again and again

-Nothing

-So he decides to just see if the door will open

-It does

-Huh

-He pokes his head in there and sees tony working on something across the room

-He asks quietly “mr. stark?”

-Tony whips around

-Like “WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY SWAMP” style

-And he asks peter (pretty meanly) “who are you and why are you here?”

-“Um, im sorry mr stark my name is peter? I’m your lab assistant?”

-And tonys like “agh sorry kid i forgot that was today.”

-He turns the music down and invites peter in properly

-“So peter, huh. Tell me about yourself. Where do you go to school, what you like, where do you live, who are your parents, yadda yadda”

-And peters like “uhhhhhh i go to midtown and i like science”

-He doesn’t really know what to do because he’s being spoken to like another adult

-Not a kid that he doesn’t want

-He conveniently doesn’t say anything about his parents because ~touchy subject~

-and tonys like okay enough small talk lets get sciencing

-So peter gets a lab tour and a rundown of the rules

-There’s only a few

-Don’t make stupid decisions

-Always check your math before using things that could blow up

-Bringing snacks is encouraged because tony gets hungry too

-And please please please don’t freak if another avenger comes in here

-Tony has the bright idea to test peters knowledge in the different areas of science

-So for the first days, they do lots of chemistry stuff

-Peter is very good at chemistry

-Then its physics

-Peter is also very good at physics

-Then they do engineering

-Peter is also very good at engineering

-This happens over a week or so

-Tony notices that peter doesn’t talk much

-And only speaks when directly spoken to

-He does what he’s told

-But not in a good way like a robotic way

-Whenever things go flying in an experiment he flinches

-And he isn’t the biggest fan of loud noises

-But tony doesnt say anything

-And after a couple of months, not a lot changes

-He talks a bit more freely, but the physical things don’t change

-And somehow the topic of parents comes up

-And tony’s like “yeah my mom was italian what about yours”

-Peter says he doesn’t know

-So tony says “yoooo we should do one of those genetics ancestry things. It can be our biology project. We’ll get bruce to draw some blood, and we’ll do tests”

-Peter is like “wait dr bruce banner bruce??”

-“Duh”

-“That is so cool”

-So they get the blood work done and set about looking at them genes

-They find out that tony is italian (surprise surprise) and that he’s at risk for heart disease (haha get it)

-And that peter’s got some italian in him too

-“Now i’ve got to make you my mom’s lasagna you fellow italian boy”

-But it was a Ruse

-Tony did want to have lasagna but it was more than that

-When he was looking at their genes he ran a paternity test because there was something he couldn’t shake

-The idea that peter is his kid

-Like just the way he looks, how he’s so into science, his mannerisms

-It all seemed so weird

-He didn’t expect it to turn up positive

-So peter shows up tomorrow and friday directs him to tony’s penthouse rather than the lab

-And peters like “damn i didn’t think he was actually gonna make me lasagna”

-But there it is

-On the table

-They sit down and tony says “kid you know im shit with emotions but we need to talk”

-And peter just looks terrified

-Because every time hes had a “talk” its never had a happy ending

-So peter just begins to apologize for not being good enough

-How hes sorry for wasting tony’s time

-That he’ll leave

-Tony is like “no dude wtf”

-“Calm down”

-“Why would you think that?”

-Peter quickly changes the subject

-Because tony doesn’t know he’s a foster kid

-But for some godforsaken reason tony keeps dragging the conversation back to his parents

-And finally tony says “i need to stop beating around the bush. Peter, who is your dad?”

-Peter shakily tells him that he’s in foster care

-Tony momentarily forgets why they’re eating together

-“Why haven’t you told me this before?????”

-And then he puts the pieces together

-This is why peter is so skittish

-He calms down and says “we’ll deal with that later. Did you ever know your father, peter? I need you to think. Hard.”

-And peter doesn’t think he ever did know him

-Because even when mary and ben and may were around, there was no dad

-Peter is confused

-“No, why?”

-“Remember when we did that genetic experiment?

-“Uh huh”

-“I ran a few extra tests”

-“And”

-“I ran a paternity test”

-“Oh”

-“Peter, i’m your dad”

-And things started to make sense

-Why they were drawn together

-Why everyone kept saying they looked alike

-What made peter sign up in the first place

-Why they always seemed to be on the same wavelength

-Etc etc

-They sit in silence for a while

-Each just processing

-It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence though

-Peter began to cry silently

-A shaky “can i”

-Tony nods his head, and peter comes over to hug him

-They sit together for a while

-Just being and knowing the truth

#irondad #irondad and spiderson #foster care au #biological irondad #found family #marvel #iron man #spider-man

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jewishaxelwalker · 6 years ago

Text

Driving Faster, Windows Down

It’s that Lyft driver AU I said I’d write back in 2017, finally finished after 10 months. Also available on AO3.

It was an abnormally slow Friday night.

Axel’d been driving around aimlessly for a while, patiently waiting to be pinged for a fare, but no one was biting. Keystone had a good public transit system, and its people were abnormally obsessed with cars, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t tourists out there that’d rather take a Lyft than a taxi. Maybe they just hadn’t made the switch from Uber yet. Like come on, read your Facebook sidebar sometime.

His phone made a noise, and Axel jumped. It was just Joey calling, so he put him on speaker.

“You’re on with Ron.” He deadpanned, and on the other end of the line, Joey snorted.

“Dead night?”

“I’d get more action in a graveyard, dude.”

Joey laughed out loud, and Axel pulled into a Shell station. No need to roll and waste when he wasn’t getting fares to fill his gas tank. He and Joey chatted for a bit about the usual junk; Axel’s online classes were inane, Joey’s brother was still bugging him about moving to Gotham so he could use him as a free babysitter (”Seriously dude, how the hell is your niece so cute? Jack is as pug-ugly as they come.”), Kesha’s Instagram feed, the Combines having yet another fantastically losing season-

And then his phone pinged with a ride request. Three blocks away. Single passenger, some shitty little motel not a mile from the airport.

“Gotta go, man. I think I’m about to be some flight attendant’s ride of triumph.” He hated the other term. Getting laid was nothing to be ashamed of.

“Oh, sweet. If she’s hot and heading to Gotham, I’ll be on the next flight.” Axel shook his head, switching the bluetooth back to his Google Play. Hitting on customers was how Joey’d gotten dismissed from his last two jobs. He loved his best friend, but thinking with his dick was gonna get Joey killed someday.

And failing to pay attention to who he was picking up was going to get Axel killed. He didn’t even glance at the passenger notification until he’d pulled into the motel parking lot. He was expecting a blonde Cindy or a brunette Sharona, not a redheaded Owen.

“Axel?” The guy asked as he climbed into the back seat, and Axel swallowed hard.

“The one and only.” Owen grinned, and there was a slight chance Axel gunned it a bit too hard on the way out of the parking lot.

Axel liked driving for Lyft because he got to meet a lot of new and interesting people he could subject to his musical taste. Yeah, some of his passengers were hotter than others, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be getting the Indie Girl Kitchen treatment.

“You got any preference, or can I just put on whatever?” He asked, flicking through his playlists as they waited at the light. Owen frowned.

“Maybe something chill? I’ve been stressing out of my mind for the last two hours, and I don’t want to look like a psycho when I get there.” Axel immediately flicked over to artists. Fuck the playlists, Owen was getting The Valley. Yeah it was a breakup album, but it was also the best thing he’d heard all year and it relaxed him like nothing else.

Owen sank back into his seat as the album started. Axel wondered if he should interrupt what was clearly going to be a pivotal moment in his life with small talk, but Owen beat him to it.

“Is it a slow night or something? You were there less than three minutes after I called for a ride.” Axel shrugged, glancing up at the rearview mirror. Owen was watching him intently.

“It’s always slow in this town but yeah, tonight was dead. Pretty much the only people that use Lyft are teenagers with no cars and tourists. Driving is a huge thing in Keystone.” His eyes wandered to the mirror again, but Owen was looking out the window now. “Where you from?” The accent had a northeastern touch to it, but Axel couldn’t quite place the state.

“Oh, uh, Gotham. But if tonight goes good, I’m probably gonna end up moving here.” Owen cut himself off by sticking his index finger in his mouth, chewing on the nail. “Hey, can I like, vent something? Taxicab Confessions style?” Axel nodded, not wanting to interrupt what was bound to be an excellent bit of wordvomit. “So uh, my foster mom died two weeks ago.”

“Holy shit man, I’m sorry-“ He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, berating himself. No more outbursts. “But go on.” Owen bit his lip, staring down at his hands.

“My foster mom died two weeks ago. I mean, I’m 23, I’ve been on my own for a few years now, but we still kept in touch. She raised me from when I was 8. She was my mom. I was in her will and everything. What she left me was, uh, well aside from some money and a few of her things, she left me the ability to find my dad. My biological dad. He’s been living in Keystone for like ten years now, and she tracked him down ages ago when she found out that he’d been looking for me. She told him that I was healthy and happy and not to fuck up my life by coming into it unless he meant to stay and raise me.” They were lucky for the traffic. Some Kinda Wonderful slid into You Can Cry Tomorrow, and Owen cleared his throat.

“I can turn this off, if it’s bothering you.” Axel offered, but Owen just shook his head.

“No, I like it. Anyway, I got in contact with him last week. He told me he’d book me a flight as soon as he could, because he’d been waiting years to meet me. Which leads to today. I told him not to pick me up at the airport, that I’d meet him for dinner somewhere, and I’m kinda freaking out? I don’t even know what he looks like. I mean, what if we look nothing alike, and he loses it because I look like the mom I’ve never met? What if we look a lot alike and it turns out I’m gonna age like shit? And those are just the petty, superficial fears! Like, what if his family has a history of cancer or depression or erectile dysfunction or something?”

Axel started when he realized that Owen’s question didn’t seem to be rhetorical.

“I think it might be a good idea to just breathe, Owen. Start with the simple stuff, like how you both probably loved Pacific Rim, then get down to the medical histories.” Owen was looking at him again, his mouth quirked in a crooked little grin. “What?”

“I totally loved Pacific Rim. I lost my shit when Cherno Alpha got taken down by Leatherback.” Axel could fall in love with this man. He could. Owen wasn’t protesting The Valley and remembered details about Pacific Rim. It didn’t hurt that he was hotter than the surface of Mercury.

He selfishly hoped that the traffic would keep up the glacial pace. It didn’t, of course, and they were at the restaurant less than a song later.

“I’m sure your dinner will go fine. And if it doesn’t, just call for a Lyft. I’m pretty sure I’m one of like six people driving tonight for the whole city, you can vent again.” Which wasn’t an exaggeration, Lyft just had not taken off in Keystone the way it had in places like Gateway City and Metropolis. Sometimes when he was strapped for cash, Axel crossed the bridge into Central and got fares there. They had a different center of industry, after all. Owen was smiling again, actually smiling, and it felt like his heart had crawled up into his throat.

“I’ll keep that in mind. And, thanks man. For the ride and. Yeah.” Owen reached out, snagging his hand and giving it a little squeeze. He left behind a $10 bill. “Hope I get you again sometime.”

After Owen left, Axel lurked in the area until after midnight. No pings ever came. It was disappointing, but it also meant that Owen and his father had peacefully reconnected, which was nice. He turned off his active status and drove home.

***

A few weeks passed and slowly, Axel began to forget about his handsome passenger. School let out for summer, which meant fares by the dozen. His grades came back eventually, and as he’d expected, he’d aced everything. Joey’s brother finally wore his best friend down.

“I still can’t believe you’re actually moving to Jersey.” He complained one night while they packed up Joey’s half of their apartment. Jack had paid Joey’s part of the rent for the next six months, more than enough time for Axel to find a new roommate, but still.

“Moving back to Jersey,” Joey reminded him. “And me neither. But Janice has had to travel a lot for work lately, and they don’t want Becky to be raised by some nanny.”

“You better come back to visit.” Axel grumbled, shoving the contents of one of Joey’s drawers into a box a bit harder than necessary. “So I can show off how awesome my new roommate is.”

Joey went quiet, the clacking of DVD boxes coming to a slow halt. “You already found someone?” Axel sighed.

“Dude. I haven’t even put out an ad yet. I’ve got six months of walking around naked without someone yelling at me to get some damn pants on to savor, first.”

They laughed, and Joey pulled him into a hug.

“I’m gonna miss the hell out of you, Ax. Now c’mon, my flight is in two days, and we’ve still gotta get all this shit to UPS.”

At least one upside to this moving business, Jack was footing the bill for everything. Which meant that Joey’s few boxes of possessions that wouldn’t fit into his plane luggage were making it to Gotham in style.

All too soon, it was time to make their way to the airport.

“Don’t let the new guy do anything weird to my room.” Joey said. “And you lay down the fuckin’ law in regards to all prog rock.”

“Yes to Yes, Rush can suck dicks in hell.” It had been literally the first thing Joey had said to him two years ago, when he’d shown up at their apartment, looking to rent the other room. “You call me when the plane lands, okay? Like, from the runway.” They hugged again, and Axel felt his spine pop a little when Joey lifted him off the ground.

As soon as Joey was through his gate, Axel turned his Lyft notifications back on. He was already at the airport, after all, and it wasn’t like Jack was throwing in money for groceries. Within seconds of making it to his car, the app pinged with a ride request. The name made him blink, a grin spreading out onto his face.

Owen M is requesting a ride.

He met Owen back at the same terminal he’d just left, taking note of the pair of huge canvas duffel bags. The dinner with his dad must have gone amazingly well.

“Axel!” Owen was all smiles when he hopped out of the car to help him with his bags. “Man, you really are the only Lyft driver in this city, huh?” Axel snorted.

“Nah, my roommate needed a ride. He’s moving back to Gotham, to be closer to his family.”

“What a coincidence, that’s exactly what I’m doing here.”

When they stood side by side to shove everything into the trunk, Axel noticed that he was a good foot shorter than Owen. Yowza.

Don’t pull a Joey, you’re good at this driving shit.

As they left the airport and got onto the highway, Axel wondered what he should say. Should he ask about Owen’s flight? The route he was taking wasn’t leading to the motel, but to a residential area. He was probably going to be staying with his dad while he looked for an apartment. In the end, it was Owen who drew first blood.

“I looked up that album you were playing when I got back home, it was really killer."

I need to call my mom, because I’ve met the man I’m going to marry.

“Yeah?” He said instead, feigning casual. “Which songs did you like best?”

“Wellll...the cover of that Donna Lewis song was somehow earworm-ier than the original, but Blue Heaven Midnight Crush definitely did the most for me. The rest of the songs were so sad, when you actually listened to the lyrics. But that one, it’s so hopeful. I like songs like that.” Giving random strangers mixtapes was weird, right? It was definitely weird, calm down. “Oh, so in case you couldn’t tell, I live here now. My dad is putting me up until I find a place of my own.”

Thank god, a change of subject.

“You shouldn’t have too much trouble, plenty of people out there are looking for roommates.” A glance in the rear view mirror showed that Owen was watching him intently. “What?”

“Didn’t you just ship your roommate off to Gotham?”

Bad idea bad idea bad idea.

“Yeah, well. You could probably find a better part of town to live in-” Owen grinned, and Axel’s hands gripped the wheel hard enough to dent it. “I don’t even need to put out an ad for a couple of months, his half is paid up for a while.”

Mercifully, they soon pulled up in front of an unassuming apartment building not ten blocks from his own. Owen caught his eye in the mirror again, then glanced away.

“Hey, maybe this is weird but, would you mind if I gave you my number? It could be cool to have a local to hang with that isn’t my dad.” As if on cue, a tall-ish, pudgy man with auburn hair rushed out of the building, practically ripping the driver-side rear door open.

“Owen! I got th’ day off after all! Did yeh flight get in early?” The man had an accent that was definitely not from around here.

“This is your local?” Axel asked, eyebrow raised, and Owen laughed.

“He’s lived here for like, a decade. He knows which Denny’s is the good Denny’s, and that’s all that matters.”

“No such thing as a good Denny’s.” Axel and Owen’s father said, practically in unison, and Axel groaned, head thunking to the steering wheel. I’ve been set up.

“Friend of yers, Owen?” The older man asked curiously, looking Axel up and down as he got out and popped the trunk. “Bit young, innit he?”

Axel huffed as he helped Owen drag out one of his insanely heavy duffels. “I’m 20. And what the fuck is in here man, a dead body?”

“Close, it’s the bones of the guy that took me to the airport back in Gotham.” Owen was cheeky, when he wasn’t anxious. That was. Definitely dangerous. “So...your number? That way I can just throw you gas money next time I need a ride somewhere.”

“I knew you had ulterior motives. Everyone only wants me for my sweet wheels.” Axel replied dryly, but he grabbed a marker from his center console anyway, scribbling his number on Owen’s wrist. Owen grinned down at him as Axel kept hold of his wrist a few seconds longer than necessary, and that’s when his father reasserted his presence.

“And I’m George!” He said, a bit too loudly to be casual. “Folks called me Digger. And you are, boy that’s bound to be ‘round for tea at some point?” Owen snorted, lips clamped shut to keep from laughing.

“Axel.” He was good at parents, parents always loved him. Other people’s parents, at least. “I’m one of the two Lyft drivers in town. I actually live like, two miles from here.”

That admission sent Digger off on a spiel about some restaurant in the area that had kicked him out last year, and Axel suddenly realized why he’d had a prickling feeling of familiarity this whole time. “I was there for that!” Digger stopped himself mid-sentence, jaw going slack. “Yeah, you got kicked out of Marcela’s at like, one in the morning after you tried to fight the waiter and he totally-” Kicked your ass, Axel didn’t say, but the sentiment hung in the air regardless. “I’m uh. Gonna go. I think I have another ride.”

He didn’t, but it sped up the process of getting Owen’s bags out of his car. Axel drove around aimlessly for a little bit afterwards, his phone off in the passenger’s seat. He only turned it on again once he was in his apartment, and it immediately rang.

“Dude I’ve been calling for like an hour I almost hopped back on the goddamn plane.” Axel sighed, flopping down onto the couch, kicking off his shoes.

“I miss you too, buddy. How’s that glorious Gotham smog?”

“Like a party in my lungs and everyone’s throwing up. Why was your phone off?” The sigh was deeper this time, and Axel thunked his head against the arm of the couch a few times.

“Remember that guy I told you about, from a month back? Well...” As he spilled out the story, Joey helpfully laughed at him. Multiple times. “Hey, shut up. Unlike you, I don’t make a habit of chasing down every warm body that turns my head.”

“Yeah but also unlike me, you’ve dated like, half a person in all the time I’ve known you.” He had a point. “And does it really count as a date if the guy leaves the theater halfway through to-”

“Point taken!” Axel yelped, frowning at the continued buzzing in his ear. “Were you blowing up my texts, too? I’ve got like ten.”

“Don’t look at me, you know my fingers don’t like texting.” It was true, Joey had hands the size of Axel’s head. Which meant-

“Oh my god he’s been texting me almost this whole time, what do I do.”

“Depends, there an unsolicited dick pic in there?”

“Joey! Also, no.”

Sorry about that, my dad can be...a lot :( But I promise he’s lonely and weird in a good way.

I honestly didn’t think you were 20, btw. I was convinced a fetus had somehow conned its way into the DMV.

That was a joke.

Shit you probably don’t text and drive. Which is good, don’t text and drive.

It’s wild that it’s only like 7pm. My body is convinced it’s later. I mean I know Keystone and Gotham are only an hour apart, but this city goes to sleep earlier.

Do you wanna get something to eat? I don’t start my job until Monday, so I have like three days to kill and I want to explore things.

The city, I mean.

Oh my god I’m just blowing up your phone like some kind of desperate creep I’m so sorry

If on the off chance you haven’t blocked me, I’m walking over to the park we passed on the way to my dad’s place, to bang my head against a tree for a while

“...wow, he’s a loser.” Axel snorted but honestly...yeah, he kinda was.

“He’s a cute loser. And he likes my music.”

“Keeper.”

“Definitely. I’ll call you tomorrow, Joey. I’ve gotta go save some trees.” Just as he was about to hang up, his friend got in one last jab.

“So when he eventually moves in with you next week, turn my room into a game room so I don’t have to think about you two fucking in there.” There was a click as Joey disconnected, and Axel covered his face with his hands.

***

The park, funny enough, was only two blocks from his house so instead of wasting gas, Axel grabbed a hoodie off the hook by the door and walked over. He was halfway there before he realized that the jacket he was wearing was one of the ones Joey had shrunk in the wash and left behind. Still didn’t fit him right.

By the time he’d made his way past the last few joggers and couples out for a nice little nighttime stroll and spotted Owen, the taller man was fully laying down on a bench near the small playground, messing with his phone. Moments later, Axel’s own phone buzzed.

I’m by the playground, because I’ve knocked down every tree in the park.

“Yeah, I noticed the path of destruction on the way over.” Axel said as soon as he was close enough, and Owen visibly jumped.

“Jesus! I didn’t think you’d get here that fast! Or at all, really. I was pretty sure I’d basically destroyed the chance of you ever wanting to see me again by sending you fifty texts in under an hour.” Axel shrugged, perching on the very edge of the bench until Owen got the message and sat up properly.

“Man, don’t even worry about it. I’ve screwed up at least one thing a day, every day, my entire life. I’m like a unicorn! Of failure.” That caused Owen to laugh, and Axel grinned to himself. “So what caused you to flee into the night this soon after coming to town, huh?”

Owen coughed, looking down at his feet. The playground was covered in tire mulch, and it looked like some of the bits had made their way into his boots. “So uh. As it turns out, my dad has been seeing someone for a while, and it’s serious enough that he wants me to meet her and her kids sometime this week, because they’re probably going to end up moving in together within the year.”

Yikes.

“Wow that is. You weren’t kidding about your dad being a lot, huh?” Owen grimaced. “Don’t tell me it gets better?”

“The woman he’s been seeing is my biological mom."

Well, holy shit.

Owen ended up spilling the story over the course of the next few minutes, about how his dad and mom had dated briefly years ago, she’d gotten pregnant, and her family had forced her to cut off all contact with Digger and put the baby up for adoption...only for her to run off with a man they absolutely hated (but who was, by all accounts, basically the best guy ever) a few years later. She and the other guy had gotten married, she’d given birth to a pair of twins, and then a few years after that, the guy just up and dies on her. She and the kids bounce around the States for a while, finally settling down across the river from her shitty family that, despite everything, still want to be in her life and get to know her sons. She and Digger ran into each other at the supermarket a couple of months before Owen contacted him, and-

“He didn’t even tell you that your mom was back in his life?! Man, that’s about twenty times the legal limit on ‘a lot’.”

“To be fair-” Axel made an angry little noise, and Owen winced. “To be fair, she’s the one who’s scared as hell to meet me. I mean, she was like, your age when she gave me up. Then she just turned around and started another family without bothering to even try and find me. Dad says that Meloni, that my mom, she’s felt guilty for the last 23 years. Because I’ve been out here all this time, becoming a person, and she doesn’t know anything about me.” There was a little hitch in Owen’s voice there, and they both got very still. “Ah, shit. Ah, geez man I’m-”

“Parents ain’t shit sometimes, even when they’re trying their best.” Axel said quietly, reaching over to hold onto Owen’s elbow. “I uh, I’ve kinda been on my own a while, too. I moved in with Joey like, three months after I turned 18. And, and my situation ain’t anything like yours, but I get it, you know?”

Owen propped the elbow Axel wasn’t holding up on his knee, resting his cheek on his closed fist. Go on, then, his eyes seemed to say in the reflection of the dim lights that were flickering on around the playground. Tell me a story, weird boy.

The summer before his senior year in high school, Axel’s mom found out Axel’s dad was banging one of his coworkers. They filed for divorce later that same month. Dad moved out, and mom and Axel spent the entire school year selling off or hiding anything valuable he might try and take in the divorce proceedings. They sold the house and split the money down the middle. Dad, now living with his coworker (soon to be fiance), told Axel he couldn’t live with him. Mom, who was planning on taking off for middle-of-nowheresville, Iowa to stay with some cousins, told him that he was welcome to come along, but she’d understand if he wanted to stay, as he’d been accepted to a couple of in-state colleges. He couldn’t afford to go to them, but he also didn’t want to leave the only city he’d ever known.

He stayed. He got a million different shitty jobs. He found a good roommate after one or two bad starts. He enrolled in online classes. He managed to save little odds and ends here and there, enough to do some fun shit, like buy the albums he really liked on vinyl like some kinda hipster, and see a couple of movies a month in the theater. He could afford Netflix, so long as Joey paid for their joint Hulu account. He wasn’t living the dream, but he also wasn’t just straight up surviving. He had a life.

“And then one day, I picked up this weird ginger from a shitty motel by the airport, and here we are.”

Owen was quiet for a while, just watching him and processing. Finally, he spoke.

“When do you turn 21?” Axel blinked.

“Uh, April 17th.” Owen scowled. “What?”

“Well this just means you’re gonna need to wait outside or in an alley or something while I buy liquor, because I think we both need a drink right goddamn now.”

***

In the end, Axel managed to convince Owen to just meet him back at his apartment with his booze. The walk from the park to the closest liquor store should take about half an hour for someone who doesn’t know the area and is just going off their phone’s GPS, which gave him a solid hour to turn the half-empty wreck that was his home into something presentable.

Joey was, of course, in hysterics.

“You’re telling me that not only is he coming back to your place after the two of you had a heart to heart in a public park, but he’s planning on bringing alcohol, which you’re actually planning on drinking?! Was it me? Was I the one holding you back from reaching your true potential? I’ve been gone like half a day and you’re already on the track to getting hella laid.”

“I’m not gonna get laid.” Axel protested, throwing the boxes they’d never gotten around to taking to the homeless shelter into Joey’s room, as well as the small stack of empty pizza boxes from his goodbye party the week before. “We’re gonna watch a movie, I’m gonna try not to hate beer for once, maybe he’ll crash here. Nothing’s gonna happen.”

“Dude...it took me like a month to get you to tell me the deal about your folks. This guy just levels the right look at you and you’re singin’ like a canary. You’re gonna have one beer and just throw yourself at him.”

“So then I won’t drink, and we’ll just watch the various Jurassic Park movies until we fall asleep.” The couch pillows were shitty, so he grabbed a couple of his own (one which was shaped like BB-8, the other that was shaped like R2-D2) from his room, as well as a blanket from his closet, just in case.

“We don’t have any of the Jurassic Park movies on- oh my god you’re gonna use Netflix.”

“Uh, obviously?” Axel replied, triple checking to make sure that there wasn’t any random embarrassing junk in the living room. “Why?”

“Axel. You’re gonna Netflix and chill. I’m so proud of you, my baby bird is finally leaving his nest.”

“You’re the worst friend I’ve ever had.” There was a knock on the door, and Axel froze. “I gotta go, he’s here.”

“There should still be condoms under the c-” Hanging up on Joey had never felt so good.

***

“Okay but like, what I wanna know is, if they clocked the T-Rex going like 30 miles an hour in the last movie, and she couldn’t catch a jeep, how come she can’t catch a single one of these people running away from her on foot in this one??? She’s been hunting wild for years, get your head in the game, girl!”

Axel might be a wee smidge drunk.

In his defense, Owen hadn’t come bearing beer, he’d brought whiskey. Whiskey with honey in it, that tasted amazing with the coke he had left in the fridge. He’d had almost an entire Flanigan’s cup already. Next to him on the couch, Owen laughed. He’d lost his boots during the second half of the first Jurassic Park, and currently had his legs slung over the arm, the bottle he was drinking from on the floor. He was using one of Axel’s stupid Star Wars pillows so that his head was propped up enough for him to actually see the TV.

“Jeff Goldblum is a shitty dad.” He said, words muffled a little by the way BB-8 was pressing against his cheek. “Also doesn’t he have like, three kids? I thought he said he had three kids. Where are the other two?”

“Safe, somewhere that’s not an island filled with fucking dinosaurs!” Axel yelled that last part, causing his downstairs neighbor to throw something hard at the ceiling. “Sorry, Mrs. Oberman!” He went to take a long sip from his cup, finding it empty. “Oh...shit...I should probably like. Get some water. You want some water?” His legs buckled as he tried to stand, sending him toppling back down to the couch with a surprised yelp. BB-8 slipped out from under Owen’s head as he laughed at him some more, reaching over to pat Axel on the arm.

“Chill, young padawan. Gimme your cup, I’ll get you some water.” Owen didn’t seem to have any trouble sitting up and walking around, the bastard.

“Why aren’t you drunk?” Axel demanded, taking his cup back with a frown. Owen just shrugged.

“I’m twice your size and give my liver regular workouts?” A good point. “You wanna pause this hot mess and go to bed?” Axel frowned. It was barely past midnight.

“You gonna be okay getting home? It’s late, and all.”

A look passed over Owen’s face, something that later, after a few aspirin and a shower, Axel would be able to identify as nerves. “I was actually thinking maybe I could...crash here? I’ll make you breakfast in the morning, promise.”

“If only all my dates were so nice.” Axel said dryly, then yelped in a very different kind of surprise. “Joking! Okay cool, goodnight!”

But again when he tried to stand, his legs refused to cooperate only this time, he fell directly into Owen’s lap, sitting sideways on his knees like some kinda princess.

I’d like to die now please.

As though it was his default reaction to everything, Owen laughed.

“Hey hey, I’m not the kinda guy that expects multiple bases on the first date.” He was teasing him. Making fun of him. Awesome. “First base is perfectly fine. I’m honestly just happy to be up at bat.”

Or, maybe not.

“Was this a date?” Axel asked. He couldn’t rightfully tell, but his eyes felt huge. Disney-esque, even. Keep on the lookout for singing bluebirds, and shit. Owen didn’t stop grinning, though he did shake his head.

“I kinda wanted it to be like, the precursor to a date? Hang out, see if there’s more than just that ‘oh shit he’s cute’ vibe. And then my dad had to. Y’know. And it got real heavy real fast and-” Owen snapped himself out of his rambling before he got too far into it. “Anyway. Yeah. You’re cute, and you’re funny, and you’ve got good taste in music and movies. And I wanna know more about you, like what kinda toppings you like on your pizza, and where your ideal road trip destination would be, and what you look like when you get kissed senseless. But like I said,” Owen tilted his head just so, pecking a short kiss on the end of Axel’s nose. All of his freckles felt like they were glowing red-hot. “This wasn’t a date, and I like to think I’m the kinda guy that can wait until the first date to make a move.”

Oh. Oh, good lord. Oh man.

“O-Owen,” Axel started quietly, even as he felt his face get pinker and pinker. “I uh, I like black olives and sausage and extra cheese. And I wanna go to California some day, maybe check out Joshua Tree and Disneyland and LA, but hit the Grand Canyon and Vegas and Four Corners on the way there. And you uh, you already kissed me once, so like, maybe..?” He let out a nervous, helpless little giggle.

Owen snorted.

“What’s your last name?” He murmured, palms hot against Axel’s hips.

“W-Walker.” Axel stuttered, squirming when one of Owen’s thumbs found a ticklish spot on his side.

“Mine’s Mercer.” Owen replied, leaning in and pressing his lips a little too firmly against Axel’s. His scruffy little goatee was itchy, where it rubbed against his chin and lower lip.

Later, Owen would confess that he’d been trying to think of something suave and cool to say before kissing him. That he’d been worried that Axel would laugh at him, or hate the way his mouth felt, or a million other tiny anxieties that crawled through his brain whenever he got the opportunity to be with someone. Later, Axel would confess that he literally had no standards, because this was the first time he’d ever made out with anyone and if you asked him, Owen had done fine.

“Did we Netflix and chill?” Owen would ask the next morning, after they’d fallen asleep on the floor in a tangled heap of blanket and limbs and novelty pillows. And Axel would groan in return, from a combination of the intensity of his hangover, and Joey being right about something.

“Romance is dead.” He moans. And Owen would just laugh, kissing his forehead.

He disagrees.

#Axel Walker #Owen Mercer #OwenAxel #Flash Rogues #fanfic

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zephfair · 7 years ago

Text

Day 1 Bleach ficlet Grimmichi

Day 1: Boyband AU

Rated T for language

Grimmjow/Ichigo

From this 30-Day AU Challenge by tomowowowo and boomchickfanfiction

“Are you ready yet, Ichigo?” Rukia knocked harder on the hotel room door, and Ichigo swore under his breath.

“Just a minute,” he called back, scowling his trademark expression as he fought to get his hair tousled just right. He’d already spent far longer in the bathroom than he normally did but he’d heard enough times from Rukia that it was a Very Important Night and he couldn’t disappoint.

Finally satisfied with his reflection, he grabbed his jacket and opened the door to find Rukia waiting.

“Get on the ball. We will not be late,” she informed him.

“Yes ma’am.”

Rukia rolled her eyes at the heavy sarcasm but led him to join the others in the hotel lobby. Ichigo wondered again why she even bothered to keep her job as a personal assistant—or cat wrangler as she called it because “have you ever tried to herd cats, Ichigo? It’s impossible, just like trying to deal with your sorry asses.”

But she did her best to help keep track of the most popular boyband on the planet, Shinigami.

Ichigo still had trouble believing he was a member of Shinigami and when she was in a mood, Rukia told him she doubted it too. If only the millions of fangirls and boys knew the things she did about the carefully coiffed, professionally styled, perfectly polished group.

The group members had been chosen as much for their appeal to each and any fan’s taste as for their musical and vocal abilities.

Byakuya: the silent, strong, stoic one who was hot in a distinctly grown-up way. Renji: the smirking one who looked like a rebel with his loud hair and eye-catching tattoos. Toshiro: the smol adorably grumpy one who the fans dreamed of being able to make smile. Hanatarou: the cute boy next door who brought out the protective side of every girl or boy who ever saw him stumble through a dance routine and daydreamed of catching him when he inevitably fell off the stage into a fan’s arms.

And Ichigo: the handsome energetic one who looked like a bad boy punk but was actually a total sweetheart who doted on his little sisters and did volunteer work with children. Or so he was described by the public relations corps.

Each member had been carefully selected by the record label to be the perfect ingredients in a successful and popular boy group. Their diverse looks and public personas were also squeaky clean and therefore palatable to all the parents who held the purse-strings of their tweens and teens.

Ichigo still liked to believe that his vocal talent played in a role in him being chosen for the group. Somehow.

Byakuya was giving him The Look now, and motioning Rukia to his side. Even then Ichigo could clearly hear his admonition for Rukia to stay close at Ichigo’s side all night and “keep him away from any...undesirables.”

Ichigo scowled again. He pretended not to know to whom Byakuya was referring.

Their usual security detail led by Zaraki manhandled them through the screaming crowd of fans that somehow always managed to find their hotels and into the waiting SUVs. Ichigo breathed a sigh of relief when he was safely inside then patted down his clothes to make sure they were still all there.

Rukia was cackling from the very rear seat that she shared with Renji who was looking a little paler than usual and clutching his head bandanna.

“Dude, what happened?” Ichigo eyeballed his extreme reaction.

“One of them pinched my ass while another grabbed at my hair,” the traumatized Renji answered. Then he elbowed Rukia who was holding her stomach from laughing. “They’re getting worse!”

“Oh Renji. The look on your face was priceless,” she sputtered.

Renji crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. Ichigo turned to let them have the little bit of alone time they could sneak together, away from prying eyes, but then Rukia poked him in the back of the head.

“The you-know-whos are going to be there tonight, so Byakuya commanded me to follow you around. He wants you on your best behavior because this merger could be very good for both our labels. But I would like to actually enjoy an industry party for once with my boyfriend,” Rukia poked him again harder, “so I’m going to ask you, just this once, as my friend, please don’t screw it up.”

Ichigo was immediately offended that she thought he would fuck it up. “I am offended that you think I will fuck it up,” he told her and swatted away at her poking finger.

“We all know what happens every time single time you run into him.”

“Who are you talking about?” Renji chimed in, apparently getting over his sulk in the face of Rukia’s indifference.

“The Arrancars. Their lead guitarist,” Rukia told him.

“Oh yeah, the big blue bastard,” Renji said. “Yeah, you do seem to get into a lot of fights with him.”

“Yes. Fights.” Rukia said in a carefully even voice.

Ichigo was glad it was dark enough to hide his hot face. “I can’t help it. He’s such an egotistical asshole. He’s always making fun of me, of us, for being in a ‘boyband.’” Ichigo made sure they could see his air quotes. “As if we don’t actually work just as hard as his douchey rock band. I’d like to see them commit to the kind of tours we do, with all the dancing and choreography and the vocal work. All he’s gotta do is strut out there in his ridiculous tight leather pants and play his stupid guitar and give that asinine smirk to all the girls...”

There was a pause before Rukia slapped the back of his head. “You can’t let him rile you up so much. Control yourself.”

“I am controlling myself,” Ichigo snapped. “I always control myself.”

“Sure,” Rukia made it a three-syllable word. “That’s why I always find you in dark corners, shadowed balconies and, in one particularly memorable occasion, a broom closet with him.” She coughed. “Fighting.”

“He’s a fuckwit,” Ichigo refused to give in. “And he was drunk.”

“Every time?”

“He’s always drunk.”

“You barely drink, so what’s your excuse?”

“That he’s a total fuckwit.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you. I’m just asking you—for once—to rein it in and stay away from him. And if he comes after you,” Rukia held up a hand to forestall his argument, “just smile and ignore him. And for the love of all that’s holy, do not go anywhere alone with him. I really do not want to walk in on that. Again. Byakuya refuses to pay me for the emotional distress that’s caused.”

“Ha, ha, ha,” Ichigo deadpanned.

“Babe, you shouldn’t go trying to break up their fights. That could be dangerous,” Renji said.

She waved off his honest concern. “I have nothing to be afraid of when they’re alone together.”

“But I’ve seen them fight,” Renji insisted. “They start off bitching and yelling at each other, but soon or later, one of them takes a swing.”

“And then the other one pulls them out somewhere where they won’t be disturbed,” Rukia finished. “It’s very simple, Renji, but I’m not surprised you’re the only one who hasn’t caught on.”

“Caught on to what?” Now Renji was the one offended.

“That they fight best alone. With their mouths.” She gave him a look that went right over Renji’s head so she sighed and tried again. “Ichigo likes to punch him in the mouth. Softly. With his own mouth. And sometimes other body parts.”

Ichigo couldn’t turn to watch Renji mutter the words back until it clicked. He hunched his shoulders when Renji yelled, “Oh my god!” and slapped his back. “Why didn’t you tell me you were getting it on with that asshat?”

“Because he’s an asshat,” Ichigo said and tried to shrink further. “And we aren’t getting it on.”

“You mean you aren’t seeing each other? Or hooking up?”

“No, no way.” Ichigo shrugged. “It’s only when we see each other and he opens his mouth and pisses me off. Then somehow we’re pushing and shoving and all I want to do is hit him. But instead it ends up with one of us on our knees or—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Renji interrupted. “If Byakua isn’t paying for Rukia’s therapy, he sure as hell isn’t going to pay for mine. But if this happens a lot, and you enjoy it apparently, then why don’t you hook up for real?”

“I’m not interested,” Ichigo said.

“It’s only every awards show, red carpet event, label party, any and every time your bands cross paths,” Rukia told Renji sotto voce.

“Jeez, Ichigo. Even if the dude is a complete assmunch, you could give it a try,” Renji suggested.

“If we were left alone for more than 30 minutes, I’d kill him,” Ichigo said flatly.

“Well, you know what they call the little death,” Rukia tittered and when Renji inquired she informed him, “Orgasms, Renji. Don’t you ever read? Ichigo, just keep it together tonight. Don’t let him bait you. Don’t go anywhere alone with him. Don’t stick your tongue down his throat or your hand down his pants or your mouth down his—”

“I got it, thanks. I’ll try to be on my best behavior.”

“Thank yo—”

“As long as he doesn’t start anything.”

Rukia knew how that would end. “Fuck.”

*******

Ichigo kept his promise. He tried. He tried so hard to be on his model boyband behavior. He smiled until his cheeks ached from the unaccustomed strain. He shook hands and kissed cheeks. He laughed at bad jokes. He posed for selfies with several of the VIPs who wanted a picture for a young relative. He even left a couple voice mails specifically for the children of several of the bigwigs.

And it all went to hell when Rukia sidled up to him and hid her mouth behind her champagne flute. “The Arrancars are finally here. Unfashionably late.”

“Probably busy with another orgy on their tour bus.” Ichigo snatched a flute off a nearby tray and drained it quickly.

“They do have some wild times,” Rukia sighed, making him choke. “I have some crazy memories of one party in a hotel room that left the place trashed. Stereotypical rock star nonsense but wow.” She met Ichigo’s shocked expression and smiled evilly. “Just because you can’t get along with them doesn’t mean that everyone is off limits. I’ve had some fun times with Nel.”

“Nel seems cool,” Ichigo reluctantly agreed. “I just get so pissed off that Grimmjow thinks we’re so beneath them just because we’re called a boyband.”

“I know how important music is to you, Ichigo. And I know damn well how hard you work. Don’t be angry just because of Shinigami’s reputation. The Arrancars are decidedly not family safe,” she ignored his muttered orgies, “so you have different audiences. That doesn’t mean one is better than the other. You’re just different.”

“And that’s why I can’t be myself unless I break off and pursue a solo career.”

Rukia hushed him immediately. “Don’t say that out loud. Mr. Aizen might hear you.”

Ichigo rolled his eyes. “I thought that if this merger went through, things could change with the label.”

“Maybe, possibly.” Rukia chewed her lip for a second, indecision looking odd on her face. “Brother has said some things, and I know that Aizen handles a lot of the rock and indie acts, but Ichigo, you have to leave Shinigami on good terms, the best terms, actually, if you want them to ever sign you as a solo artist.”

“I know,” he sighed and touched her shoulder. “I know you’re just trying to help me, and thank you. Thanks for being my friend.”

“You can keep thanking me, just come with me right now.” Rukia was staring directly over his shoulder but when she pulled at his hand, he refused to move. He had a feeling he knew what was coming.

“Hey, lookie who it is. The juicy little strawberry,” came the onerous, obnoxious, unbearably smooth voice behind him. Ichigo felt as much as heard someone taking loud breaths into the top of his hair. “Would ya look at that? The teenybopper even smells like fucking strawberry. Mmm, I could just eat you up.” That was growled directly into his ear.

“Hello, Grimmjow. How are you tonight?” Ichigo kept his eyes locked on Rukia even as Grimmjow moved beside him and slung an arm over his shoulders.

“Fine, fine. Livin’ the dream. We just sold out our next three shows. How’s it going, playing up to all those little girls?”

“It’s going well, actually. I’m sure you’ve heard that Shinigami sold out every show on their upcoming tour,” Rukia said in her usual cool tone.

Ichigo could feel Grimmjow’s sneer. “I didn’t realize there were that many preschoolers around the country, or is it their mommies you like dancing for? That give you a thrill, shaking your ass for all the little girls and their mommies?”

Ichigo knew the smack on his ass was coming but he still almost bit his tongue. “At least our dancing looks a hell of a lot better than whatever it is you do up there on stage. I saw some footage and wondered if you were trying dancing or having a seizure.”

“I just go where the music takes me. And it gets me into a whole lot more panties than—”

“Would you look at that, Ichigo? Renji is calling us over,” Rukia blatantly lied because Renji was making his way through the crowd to them, waving happily, but Ichigo could appreciate her attempt to get him out of the situation.

“We have to go, Grimmjow. It wasn’t a pleasure, as always,” Ichigo said as he slipped out from under the muscled arm.

He was pretty sure he’d be able to count every one of Grimmjow’s teeth from the snarl but just then his bandmate Nnoitra pushed a beer bottle into his hand to distract him. Ichigo thought that maybe he wasn’t the only one being pushed into good behavior that night. Nnoitra just rolled his eye and started badmouthing the other guests to Grimmjow.

Ichigo followed Rukia who had retrieved Renji and set them on another goodwill round of the room keeping them as far from Grimmjow as possible. Ichigo sneaked peeks at him when he thought she wasn’t looking.

It wasn’t hard to keep track of him, not with his blue hair and decidedly rocker outfit of black leather pants and vest with only a bright purple tank underneath and a clunky silver choker around his neck. Ichigo found himself wanting to pull back on that choker to make Grimmjow expose the long cords of his neck. He already knew just how Grimmjow would moan and curse if Ichigo nibbled in the right places. Of course that was when Grimmjow looked up and met his eyes directly, smirking into his beer bottle before running his tongue around the opening and dipping it inside.

Ichigo hurriedly looked away.

Since Grimmjow and most of the Arrancars had taken up places at the bar, Ichigo couldn’t even get a drink except the champagne that roving waiters offered, and Rukia had cut him off after three.

He was tired from the long day and especially from acting like the lovable personality that Shinigami claimed he had, and he really just wanted to get a breath of fresh air. Or run away to the coast where he could relax and play his guitar all day. But right then, he’d settle for a moment away from the alternatively fawning and demanding executives.

When Rukia excused herself to the ladies’ room, Ichigo slipped away, not feeling any guilt about leaving Renji on his own. He’d never been to this particular luxury hotel, but he knew that all of them seemed to have a courtyard or pool somewhere that would be lonely that time of night.

He followed the faint scent of chlorine to a huge outdoor pool lined with chairs and lounges. Most of the lights were out for the night but the pool itself was illuminated with underwater light, and he was drawn by the beauty of the water rippling and the shadows it created.

He thought about kicking off his shoes and dipping his feet into the water, but instead took a lounge chair nearby in the shadows, next to a tiny deserted cabana for changing. He spread out and stretched, feeling better for the moment.

Of course it wouldn’t last.

“So this where you ran away to,” came the detestable voice, although slightly quieter than usual.

“I didn’t run away,” Ichigo said, keeping his voice also quiet as the night seemed to demand.

“You’re such a pussy,” Grimmjow informed him as he kicked the end of the lounge chair.

“Uh-huh, why’s that?”

“Because you let them walk all over you. You let them mold you into this little perfect idol image when inside, you’d fit in better with the Arrancars.”

“Womanizing, drunken, wannabe rockers?”

Grimmjow showed his teeth again but he didn’t disagree. “Wouldn’t that be more fun than having your Photoshopped poster hanging in every little girl’s room so they can cry themselves to sleep at night dreaming about you?”

Ichigo wanted to rise to the bait, he really truly did, but in that moment, he was tired. Tired of all of it. “You’re right, Grimmjow. I’ve always dreamed about being a performer, writing my own songs, playing my own shit, singing whatever I want to. But hey, if joining Shinigami got my foot in the door, then you know what? Fuck you. I have a career in music, I can keep doing what I love, and someday, maybe I’ll be able to do more.”

Grimmjow snorted loudly and the moment was gone. “Sounds like a bunch of bullshit excuses to me.” He kicked the lounge again. “You gotta go for what you really want. And be willing to fight for it.”

“I read that story about you in Rolling Stone, you know,” Ichigo said and Grimmjow froze in the motion of lighting a cigarette. “I thought it was really interesting, you talking all about your first band, your best friends playing in your buddy’s garage. How you like taking your guitar to the beach at night to write. And the most interesting part, really informational actually, was about how Sousuke Aizen picked you for lead guitarist of the Arrancars and how your buddies went on to act as roadies. So don’t get all high and mighty with me about how pure you are.”

“You son of a bitch.” Grimmjow’s cigarette and bottle hit the concrete with a crash as he leaned forward to grab Ichigo’s shirt and lift his chest out of the chair.

Ichigo moved quickly and broke his hold, rolling off the opposite side of the lounge as Grimmjow threw a punch where his head had been. He bounced to his feet and they glared at each other across the lounge.

“What? Did I hit a sore spot?”

“You fucking diva, how dare you—”

“I am so fucking sick of you always getting in my face and—”

“Dammit, you—”

“Always making fun—”

Grimmjow grabbed at him but the lounge chair tripped him up long enough for Ichigo to slip away again. He put his back to the cabana so Grimmjow couldn’t push him into the pool but soon realized his mistake when Grimmjow just kicked the lounge out of his path and stalked him.

“I am not going to fight you,” Ichigo lifted his chin and gave his sternest look.

“Who said anything about fighting?” Grimmjow caught his chin and tilted it up further then smothered his protest with his lips.

Ichigo huffed out a laugh through his nose when the kiss made him remember the silly description Rukia had said earlier. Grimmjow noticed his distraction. He nipped Ichigo’s bottom lip then pulled at it as he broke the kiss, stretching it hard for an instant.

“What the fuck’s your problem?” He mouthed hard at the hinge of Ichigo’s jaw then licked it and went right to the spot below Ichigo’s ear that made him melt.

“Just something Rukia said tonight. About us fighting.”

“Shit. So they’re all catching on to our thing?”

Ichigo pulled back reluctantly, just far enough to see Grimmjow’s eyes. “We have a thing?”

Grimmjow shrugged. “Fighting as foreplay. I like fighting with you as much as I like,” he grabbed Ichigo’s crotch in a crude finish to his statement.

“Well, Rukia told Renji that I punch you softly in the mouth. With my mouth. It was pretty funny.”

“Not softly,” Grimmjow bit his lip harder as his hand began to knead firmly.

“We could sometimes,” Ichigo breathed into Grimmjow’s hot mouth and took a giant leap. “You could come back to my room and we could do it in an actual bed.”

Grimmjow’s mouth and hand stopped, and Ichigo swore he could feel Grimmjow thinking before he said, “If I do that, how am I gonna sneak out before the rest of the little boys see me?”

“Well, you should probably stay until they go down to breakfast and then we’ll figure out something.”

“So you don’t want me to stay for breakfast?”

Ichigo swallowed hard and met his eyes. “If you want to stay for breakfast, they have great room service. Lunch and dinner too.”

The grin was slow and still showed too many teeth but it was also surprisingly sincere. “I guess I could find out.”

“Cool,” Ichigo said, palming the back of his head and pulling him back down for another kiss.

“But first...” Grimmjow pushed Ichigo’s back against the cabana door. “Don’t you wanna go skinny-dipping?”

“And be caught by all those label execs bare-assed naked? Hell no. Let’s save that for my room. Why don’t we just...”

Grimmjow’s rumbling moan was answer enough.

*******

Rukia didn’t yell when she got back and saw Renji alone. He was so obviously feeling bad about letting her down and losing Ichigo that it took all the fun out of smacking him. Instead she’d defer his punishment to later.

Then Byakuya joined them and cut right to the chase. “Shouldn’t you be out finding Ichigo?”

“He could be anywhere, brother,” she pointed out. “He promised he would be on his best behavior tonight.”

“You know he’s out there looking for a fight with that Jaegerjaques,” Byakuya said.

“A fight, yes,” Rukia exchanged looks with Toshiro who merely rolled his eyes as he joined them.

“I believe I saw Grimmjow heading toward the pool a little while ago,” Toshiro said helpfully.

“Then why don’t you go retrieve Ichigo. I’ll make our excuses and we can then leave,” Byakuya said and Rukia demurred with a slight head bow.

Renji offered to join her but she stalked off alone. God help that fool when she found him, if he was doing what she thought he was doing, She didn’t care if she’d have to borrow a ladder to reach them, she would love to just bang their heads together.

On second thought, it seemed they were doing all right banging together, she smirked as she approached the dark cabana. She took a long moment to enjoy the low moans and breathy groans coming from inside and smiled outright. She’d wait a few minutes before shouting for Ichigo.

And she’d have a quiet word with her brother. Maybe it was time for a musical collaboration, one that could finally get the two off their asses. Maybe they had vastly different audiences, but sometimes that could make it even better. Especially if the two brought even half their passion to their music.

It would surely be a chart topper.

#my fic #grimmichi #bleach fic #my 30 days #fluff and nonsense #AU fic

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kookie-vith-suga · 7 years ago

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The Bodyguard #7

Word count: 1356 // I know it is too long for a drabble…hope that is okay…

Warnings: Mention of death a little angst.

Author’s note: Sorry for the delay everything got fucking deleted as I was about to finish it days ago -.- Fuck my life! I also struggled a little but I hope it is okay :D

Check out my masterlist ;)

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #6

Get your own drabble here :D

Request: 6,12,13 for the drabble game with Jackson Wang? Thank you ♥

Sorry! I forgot! Its the mafia au!! Thank you!

6: “Look at me when I’m fucking talking to you”

12: Falling in love with the enemy

13: “What is a pretty girl like you doing in this place?”

Y/N’s POV

I was not supposed to be here. Everywhere around me where huge warehouses which had been empty for years. No one was coming to this area to work anymore. This industrial area had become a venue for junkies to buy new dope and for various other crimes to be committed. The newspapers were reporting about cases of rape, murders, abductions. I was standing here right in front of the only light up building. Some kind of death metal was blasting through the door. This was totally not my music taste and I needed a break of that. My friend had brought me here although I suddenly started doubting the term “friend” for her. She decided to disappear within the first two minutes and had not be seen by me till then.

“What is a pretty girl like you doing in this place?” I suddenly felt a hot breath on my shoulder and hands on my hips.

I spun around and stumbled a few steps back. I scanned the blonde guy in front of me. He was incredible handsome which could not be changed by his sweated hair sticking to his forehead.

“Waiting for an ass to hit on me cheaply”, I purred ironically.

He laughed out loud. “Touché. But I was not hitting on you. I was just curious since you clearly don’t belong here.”

I eyed him carefully again. “What makes you think that?”

“Maybe the fact that you only stayed in there for a little over twenty minutes before running outside coughing because you took a small sip of the beer.”

My mouth gaped open for a second. That dude sure is creepy.

“I am not a creep. If you may think that. Actually I am just here for your pleasure.”, he laughed as he saw my red face.

“W-W-What are you saying?! To me that sounds hella creepy!”, I stuttered. I could have bit my tongue.

“Okay let me formulate it more appropriately. Your dad sent me here to have an eye on you”, he told me bluntly.

“My dad does not even know that I am here”, I snapped back.

He took a couple of steps closer and reached for my hands. He gently carassed over the back of tem while looking straight into my eyes. “Believe me Y/N. He knows and he is worried sick. That is why I am here.” I did not know what distracted me more. His puppy like brown eyes, his warm hands around yours or his words. I hated yourself for blushing over his touch.

“I-I-I don’t believe you! If my father knew that I was here he would have sent a dozen of men already to drag me home. ”

“Apparently he decided to compromise with your wish for freedom. The result is me: Your personal bodyguard. By the way you can call me Jackson. I am young enough to not be too obvious if I am around you. The may only think I am your boyfriend or something. But I am also strong enough to defend you if I had to. You can really trust me, Y/N.”

I was totally perplexed by everything he said. Would dad really do that for me?

~Flashback~

“Look at me when I’m fucking talking to you, Y/N!”, your father called out.

I crossed my arms and pouted.

“Y/N you know the rules. Don’t disobey me!”, he used his warning tone.

I slowly raised your head and looked at him angrily.

“Was that so hard?”, he questioned in a way calmer voice, “And now listen…I am not doing that to anger you but you finally need to understand that this business is not a joke. Especially in the position I am in it is not only me who is in constant danger but everyone close to me too. That is why I need to protect you. Why you cannot go wherever you want whenever you want.”

I let some time pass before I responded in a bitter voice: “I stopped understanding your fucking rules the day mum got shoot. You promised to protect her too. To always be by her side! You probably told her the exact same words you tell me right now. And where did they brought us?

You cannot punish me for that you have choosen this life! With imprisoning me like that you are only taking away any chance for me to find my own way. That would be something I could never forgive you…Could you live with that burden to carry?” I turned around and walked away.

“Y/N!”, I heard him call after me when I already reached my bedroom door. Without fliching I closed the door behind me. There was nothing more to say…

~Flashback end~

“I get to decide that after I talked to my father”, I said arrogantly.

“Everything you want. May I lead you the way to the car?” He pointed down the stairs.

“You go first”, I ordered still suspicious. He nodded agreeing and jumped down the stairs. I followed him but kept my distance. I did not took my eyes of his back for a second. Studying his backside, his walk, everything. When he stopped I did the same and looked at him putting two finger between his lips and let out a loud whistle. Instantly lights of a car light up and a engine was started. A little later one familiar black Mercedes was pulling up in front of us and a familiar man exited.

“Hello Miss Y/L/N. You want to go home already?”, my personal driver asked.

I nodded absently and stared at Jackson, who smiled at me warmly.. If dad sent Karl with him, it must be true what he said.

“Ladies first”, Jackson motioned me to enter first in his very best manner.

I snapped back to reality and got in with a light blush on my face. This guy is really good at whatever he is doing.

Jackson’s POV

“Wang?”, the raspy voice of the chief cut through the line.

“Yes, Sir”, I answered conscientious.

“Wait I’ll put you on speaker”, a little ruffling was heard before he continued speaking, “Finally you are reporting again. The last time we heard of you was three weeks ago. We thought you may had been caught.”

“Quite the contrary actually. I am in. Not only that I am now the personal bodyguard of the target’s daughter. You know Y/N Y/L/N. She is a rarely seen in public but I guess that this will change now. He entrusted me with her safety”, I kept my voice low since I was only a few steps away from his office.

“That are some great news, Wang! You are really doing a good job there! I chose the right man.” I imagined my boss giving himself a pat on the back.

“Thank you sir.” I suppressed a chuckle.

“How is she? Will you be able to crack her to get some information about her father?”, my boss got back to business.

“I might need a little more time but I can surely make her fall for me”, I stated confidently.

“Then do that! Keep us updated about your progress!”

“Of course, Sir.”

“Oh and Wang”, the chief made a meaningful pause, ”I am expecting great work from you.”

“I won’t disappoint you, Sir”, I promised and try to keep my voice sincere.

“I know.” With those words he hung up.

A heavy feeling stayed on my chest. Responsibility is a heavy burden.

“Jackson?”, I heard a docile voice calling me. I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Y/N”, I breathed out. She looked to the ground with a shy smile on her lips.

“I guess we will spent a lot of time together from now on.” She curled her locks around her finger.

I showed her my brightest smile. “I am looking forward to it.”

The only problem now could be that I wasn’t even lying….

Finally I am done. I actually changed the whole plot since everything got deleted. I like it better that way. Hope you can enjoy it too lovely anon ♥

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fanfics-bts · 7 years ago

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Not Supposed To (Jungkook x Reader) Fluffy Oneshot

Happy 100 Followers! 🎉💞😍😱

In a mini celebration, here’s a Jungkook x Reader oneshot :) for anon and my new lovely followers (/^-^)/

💙 Prompt :

Hellooo! I wanna rq a Jungkook x reader Dancer Idol Au where we have to dance together, fans ship us and there was a scandal so we fake date (at first) but later on he falls in love during performing and it’s all cheesy and stuff, hope you get what i mean :3

💙 Genre :

Fluff, Angst…?, A failed try on Humor :P

It was a month ago when Jungkook was invited for a collaboration in the MAMA 2018 . And being a dancer and an idol, there was no way he’d decline.

But what he didn’t know was that the collaboration he was to do was a Duo, with none other than Y/N .

The girl that his fans shipped him with. What’s so ship-able about them anyways? Maybe that, he’ll never know. But what he does know is that, spending a month with her can definitely switch things up.

So he put up some rules :

a) No affection unless in front of crowds.

and b) No falling in love.

~*~

“Jungkook”, “You know you got no choice right?”, his manager was pleading him to do something he would never agree to.

“Are you out of your mind Do-Keun?!”, he says, disregarding any respect for the older man.

No matter the age difference who was he to tell him to give away his freedom?

There was no way he’d date Y/N , even though they had already said it was all fake and for those eagle eyed medias.

“Jeon Jungkook!”, Do Keun loses his temper talking to this boy who just. won’t. get. it.

“If you want to properly success in being in an idol life, you will Listen to me .”, his voice was dripping with venom.

“ You are going to date Y/N, it’s only for a month to get their attention of the scandals that you yourself have caused, so if you want to be anywhere near alive in the industry, you will listen to me and go ask her out, she knows the plan and you’re lucky that she’s willing to help.” And with that Do Keun leaves the room, not giving Jungkook a chance to speak at all.

Just a month Jungkook, get over the performance and you’re free. , he thinks to himself.

~*~ At the MAMA 2018

Jungkook always loved the adrenaline rush that he’d get whenever he’d recieve an award or whenever he was to be performing. That’s the reason he joined the industry in the first place.

But the kind of rush he felt looking at her was way different to the one he had known.

He was at awe to say the least, looking at her moves that beautifully complimented the beat of the soft music playing. She looked…like she was where she was supposed to be.

“Jungkook”, a voice says, pulling him out of his still-awestruck-mind and he turned to look at the source to find Jimin.

“You’re staring again.”, Jimin says while halfway glaring with a look that says something between “I told you” and “Really now?”

“Yeah, nah, I’m just monitoring..what…she’s..”, he stops and looks back at the girl. “doing.” , he says softly.

Jimin only grunts and says “Jungkook, it’s so obvious, you do know that you’re–”,

"Jeon Jungkook", a voice calls out interrupting Jimin.

“You’re up in 10!”.

And so he got up from his place in the waiting area and went to the make up room to get all set….after taking a tiny glimpse back at the screen showing her dance.

He was practicing last minute, being the hardworking person he is, but his thoughts were somewhere else. He’s not anxious and he’s definitely not nervous, but he was scared. Just a little though.

..ok fine he was scared..really really scared.

He didn’t know when and what this girl could do..and that scared him..because he didn’t know what she could do to him

As one moment, she was this little ball of sunshine who’d smile at almost everything, but once the music was played and all eyes were on her, she’d become a whole new person.

She’d embrace the beauty that was the dance as her own, and just let go. Jungkook wished he could be like that,he wished he could let go and he wished and wished ..and god, he was scared.

She looked so beautiful, it almost hurt, And it was not supposed to be like this.

He was not supposed to be like this. No, just a week after the dance, it’s all over and they’re to be free.

But when his thoughts were spinning and his heart was running a mile per second as he stepped into the blinding lights, he felt a pang in his chest. And he was not supposed to be like this.

He swiftly made his way to where she stood, her white dress glowing with the help of the soft colours luminating the place. The spotlight was now on both of them.

And boy, if he thought she looked beautiful looking at the screen in the room, he sure as hell didn’t know what she was now. She was stunning like this, her expressions speaking louder, screaming passion.

She was a charm, and he was entranced by her.

He’d take another month worth of rain check if he could, just to admire the beauty that was her.

and he’s not supposed to be like this.

But as the music comes alive, his mind steered clear of the wreck of his thoughts and for once, he decided to just..forget.

He’d forget of the cameras observing every move he makes, he’d forget how after this, seeing her up this close will be as good as an impulsive dream. He’d forget, and like her, he’d just let go. (or at least try to)

Because for once he was to express and perform through emotions and with no faking or ulterior motives, and just dance in front of the crowd with the one he loved, as a couple, even if it’s just for pretend.

He’d live in a fiction if it had her being in love with him the same way he was. And for God’s sake, he was not supposed to feel like this.

But as he danced with the rythm of the soft piano, he couldn’t help but feel

Her blonde hair flowing along with her every move as she slowly danced, her hands on his shoulders and his on her waist, her eyes shimmering.

And Jungkook should know that it’s all just part of the act, part of the choreography, but a part of him wants it to be more than just that.

And god she’s just right there and all he could do is keep falling, without any hopes of being caught.

He was not supposed to, but he fell for her. And with the way she’d look while dancing to the beat, he was sure as hell getting no where out of it.

After a minute or two of Y/N mesmerising the crowd (and himself) and Jungkook trying to get a hold of himself, The performance came to an end.

As they came down the stage, breathing hard and gulping whatever liquid their staff had handed over, he was pulled to the side by the oh-so-familiar boy, Park. Freaking. Jimin.

“Jungkook, we need to talk”, Jimin says in a serious tone.

And let me tell you this, you do not want to hear his serious tone.

But Jungkook being Jungkook ignores the elephant in the room. “No we don’t. Get out of my way, I need to go chan-” Jungkook says but is interrupted by Jimin again.

“I saw the way you were looking at her kookie”, his voice was now softer than earlier, his eyes glimmering of worry.

And god, was everyone gonna pity his state now?

But when Jimin’s usual playful smirk plastered on his face in a mere second, all thoughts of worrying Jimin was gone.

“Do you..want to..you know..”, he says with his smirk only growing wider.

“No!! What!”, he laughs (.a very awkward laugh at that)

“Pfft..Ofcourse not! It was all..part of the act”, he adds.

But his own words were coming back at him. It was all part of the act, she’s not his girlfriend and the expressions she had when looking at him was not of affection.

“Look, you can fool anyone else with your Sherlock Holmes bullsh*t but you, Jeon Jungkook, will know more than to Lie. To. Me”, Jimin says poking a finger at the younger’s chest at every word.

Both Jimin and Jungkook started glaring at each other, with Jimin trying to get the words out of this persistent boy and Jungkook desperately trying to somehow telepathically let him know.

After a minute or two, Jungkook’s the first to speak.

“Pshh, it’s not like it could work out anyways.”, he chuckles to make it seem light hearted, but he never felt this big of a boulder on his chest.

And everything he said was seemingly more of him reminding himself than telling Jimin.

“Oh so you do like Y/N?!” Jimin says with that obnoxious loud voice of his.

So Jungkook quickly claps his hand on his mouth muffling his words from coming out further. “Watch your words.”, his glare was evident with the tone of his words and the fake smile plastered on his face as he looks around to see if anyone heard.

But Jimin wasn’t having it, so he licked his palm to get himself free instead. “Ew! Dude! What the hell?!!!”, Jungkook pulls back and brings out a tissue from his pocket, furiously wiping at his palm.

“Come on”, Jimin continues as if he didn’t just do something disgusting, “It’ll be fine anyways,since you’re already dating and all”, Jimin shrugs, as if it’s that easy.

“But still”, Jungkook says, “ We’re not actually dating..so..”, he whispers the last few words as if he was to deny the fact.

And damn, that mochi knows just how to make him all gloomy doesn’t he?

“Ughhh! Then make it real!” , Jimin groans.

“What do you mean..making it real?”, Jungkook asks. he blushes.. (just a little tho)

And right now, Jimin’s just exasperated with this one hell of a guy that. Just. Won’t. Get. It.

“Oh, you know, it’s something weird where you oh, i don’t know! Tell her how you feel and actually date her like a normal person would? A word humans call ‘confessing’? , Jimin says his hands moving around in a questioning manner.

"wow, did Taehyung really rub off that much on you?”, he adds.

Ughh, why were they friends and how is Jimin helping him again?

“I get what you mean but..”, he says..and if Jungkook was blushing before, he was as red as a tomato right now.

“I don’t think she’ll…you know..” he adds and god did Jungkook want to grab himself by the shoulders and just say that dude, just get a hold on yourself, be a man for christ’s sake!

“now don’t tell me our golden maknae is scared of a girl?!”, Jimin coos in a mocked tone, looking constipated from the way he’s trying his best to be a good friend and not laugh.

Oh boy, did Jungkook long for the day Jimin meets his lover. He’d mock the hell out of him

But still, Jimin was right.

What’s all these blushes and sparkles? Jungkook doesn’t do sparkles.

But just then,he’d remembered how much Y/N loved sparkled glittery things and that stopped his bullet train of thoughts.

Y/N , was the source of all his blushes and sparkles. And all he wants right now is to just pluck it out of himself and give it all to her, because she deserved everything sparkly and bright. And not a fake relationship with ulterior motives.

“Oi!”, Jimin snaps his fingers in front of Jungkook’s eyes to get his attention back to reality. “now. Y/N’s at the waiting area. and what you're going to do is you’ll go there, and you’re gonna decide if you want to conceal your feelings for who knows how long or you want to express yourself like how you did up there and actually have a chance of being with the one you like?” Jimin says in a long breath.

Jimin’s words were always manipulative, that’s something everyone knew. But that still doesn’t stop him from being right almost everytime. And so he decides that yes, he is going to talk to her, but just not about what he’s been dreading on the whole week ( the fact that he loves her that is)

He decided to lighten the weight for the fluffball whom he surely did love, but that love is exactly the reason he’s going to snake out of this “relationship” . Because he’s not going to do it for anything, be it wealth or fame, if it means upsetting her.

He wanted her to be free like how she was on stage. So yes, Jungkook finally decided to own up to the man he calls himself to be and go to the girl that’s been bugging his head all day (and night if you count all the sleepless times he thought of her)

Y/N wasn’t at the waiting area, her staff said she’s in the bathroom.

So Jungkook awkwardly waits in front of the female restroom, fidgeting with his dress shirt and biting the insides of his cheeks. (It was a nervous habit of his).

He was still having an inner fight, contemplating on whether or not he should do this at all, she might not be here in the first place, he thinks as he turned the other way to leave.

“Jungkook!”, Y/N called out and he turned around and saw her smiling wide, as if the sun was in her hands.

“Y/N”, Jungkook says in a hushed tone, as if the name has too much of a weight for him to bare.

And lord, the way her eyes glistened everytime she’d look at him made Jungkook think that maybe she actually does like him (back) but no, it was all scripted and Y/N was just too good at acting maybe.

“Were you waiting for me?”,Y/N asks as she grabs his arm and started walking back to the waiting area.

It’s all an act, Jungkook. Get a hold on yourself

“No. i mean…maybe..uh.yeahh. Yes I was.”, he rubs the nape of his neck awkwardly. There shouldn’t be any problem saying that, in Y/N’s eyes it would be all act.

( and then jungkook thought what if she was thinking the same and actually meant the things she did but quickly scratched that thought)

“I actually”, Jungkook coughs, “have something to tell you.”

“Hm?” “Yeah sure what is it?”, Y/N smiles wider if that’s even possible. and damn why did she have to make it so hard for him.

He stopped in his tracks making them both stop and he opened his mouth to speak. But only a faint sigh comes out…he didn’t know what to say.

And then the bullet train of thoughts that previously ended with Lisa, now started with Y/N again. He thought of the time their shoulders lightly brushed each other and of the spark that ignited (and is still glowing to this day) .

He thought of all the times he was caught staring during practice, and how she’d just smile back when he did.

“Are you …okay..Jeonggukie?”, she says, her eyes spoke of sincere worry and damn him if that is fake because it feels. So. Damn. Real.

He tried to get the words out of his system, to scream at her for doing this to herself. Why would she bound her freedom down just to help a boy she barely knows ( whom she now knows a lot though) Why would she hurt herself?

And then it hit him, was he going to hurt himself?

He did try to scream and shout the words out, but all that came out was a soft whimper of somewhere between the words “I love you” and “I’m sorry”.

“What?”, she softly chuckles, her eyes widening just a little.

“I..”, he was so stupid. “Excuse me.” , he manages to get out of her vice grip on his arm as he turned to sprint.

“Wait!”, Y/N says but he only squeezes his eyes tight and walked away.

Why did he think that there’d be ..even if it was just a little..chance of her to maybe like him back?

He was so stupid to even think that those little hand brushes actually meant something.

He went towards the storage room, because that’s the only place where no eyes were there to watch.

“yah..Jungkook-ah.”, he heard that familiar voice again. The voice he’d die to hear on a daily basis.

“Let’s break up.”, he says in a spur. His own words suprising him, why did it hurt to say that when they weren’t even real?

“Jeon Jungkook”, Y/N says again, her voice rid of any bubbly-ness, and all stern.

“Are you hearing yourself?”, Y/N walks over to where his back was facing her. Because Jungkook was not that strong to look her in the eye, in her beautiful, earl-grey, blue-flecked eyes.

Y/N laughs slightly, dripping with no humor. “ You really confuse me you know."

She comes close and hugs him from the back, and Jungkook. Was not..Strong.

"You told me you like me and now you’re like "let’s break up” “, she says mocking in a voice that’s supposed to sound like Jungkook.

"Did you really hear yourself, Jungkookie? Are you really that dense”, she says, not letting go of her embrace. Jungkook’s heart was beating faster than lightning.

“I.. I know that you’re the one trying to help me but, I just can’t. I set up the rules and now I’m the one who .. I can’t help it I’m sorry.” his voice cracks as he squeezes the words out of his tight throat.

It was all so tough and Jimin was wrong, it wasn’t as easy as that. But Y/N was only chuckling and he was questioning if he missed something.

“Jungkook-ah, don’t you think I’m breaking a rule too?”, she says and he pulls him tighter into her embrace.

Jungkook just keeps quiet.. It’s not what you’re thinking Jungkook, it’s not..she does not.

“I like you too, idiot,” she says and ruffles his hair as she pulls back from the hug.

And so he abruptly turns around. “what?” , he says.

“ Oh my god, Jimin was right when he said you were clueless. ”, she facepalms..

wait..she knew Jimin?

“ For a second, I really thought you’d turn out to be a scaredy cat and not tell me you know.”, she looks at him and smiles.

“Jimin..”, he says in a questioning manner.

“Jimin was in on this too, Kookie. How else would I get you to talk about this ha?”, she giggles.

“Jeongukie,”, she comes closer. “It is as easy as that. The rest is just all in your head.”, she flicks his forehead.

“So..you..he told u..everything?!”, he says . Jungkook still can’t wrap his head around this. Y/N just indirectly confessed and had heard everything he said to Jimin about her.

“Yes. Jeon Jungkook, I heard everything so now I have blackmail material against you .” she laughs again. and God, she was a ball of sunshine wasn’t she?

“But..I..”, He says still not convinced.

“No buts, Jungkookie now shut up and kiss me.”

The End <3

Also yay! There’s 100 of you lovely ppl now :) Also, I’m not so proud of this one but I hope you like it.

Thank you for reading ^_^

Requests are now open!!

#anon: request #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #bts jungkook x reader #bts fanfiction #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts angst #bts #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #bts request #fanfiction requests

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missbrooklyn2you · 5 years ago

Text

GreatHeart AU Nude Model FanFiction with Gajevy

Levy is an aspiring art student at GreatHeart School of Art and Music.

Hi everyone and welcome to my second GreatHeart AU fanfic. I am sorry that this took so long, but I want to give a big shoutout to @firiare for this prompt! I hope you enjoy it and please like and reblog, as well as provided much needed constructive feedback. Thanks!

“Great another long line”. Levy muttered to herself as she approached in the six person lineup in the café for her breakfast. She knew that she should really start waking up early and cooking breakfast at home, but who needs to do that when you can buy the warmest, fluffiest, most delicious breakfast rolls every morning with a side of vanilla chai?

She dug around in her backpack, searching for her wallet so she wouldn’t have to fumble at the register as she usually did. “It has to be in here somewhere…” She murmured to herself. She kept walking and walking until she knocked into something. Or someone.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” She sputtered, looking up frantically. “I wasn’t looking where I was go-“

Her breath caught as she met the eyes of the man that she just collided into. His black eyes bored back at her in a bewildered stare, before a smirk settled on his pierced lips.

“Watch, where you’re going, shrimp. Wouldn’t want someone to step on ya now.” He flashed a mocking smile towards her followed by an inconspicuous wink before turning around.

She stared daggers into the back of his head as he stood in front of her. As much as she fought it, her eyes drifted from the back of his head, down to his shoulders, to his back, studying him. His thick, black hair blocked most of the view but she could make out the outlines of his muscles underneath his black shirt, toned and smooth. She continued to analyze him, following the hem of his shirt as they tucked into the waistband of his black jeans, down his calves to his shoes.

“If you like something you see, you should just say something, shrimp.”

His rough voice snapped her back to reality as she looked back up at him. He cocked an eyebrow over his shoulder to her flabbergasted expression, obviously amused by toying with the blue-headed stranger.

“It’s not that!” She whispered fiercly as she averted her gaze to her wallet that she now held in her hands. “It’s just that as an art student, I am trained to pay attention to details and to-“

“Next!” The cashier at the register called out, abruptly cutting her off and unable to finish her statement.

He tossed an amused look over his shoulder once more before approaching the counter to place his order.

Levy’s cheeks burned with embarrassment as she lowered her face and ran a hand down the side of her cheek. “I really need some coffee.” She said, tiredly.

After placing and receiving her order, she exited the shop and headed in the direction of the art school. The black-haired stranger intruded in her thoughts, making her body run on auto-pilot as her mind went elsewhere.

There was something about him that piqued her interest. Was it all the piercings? Or the way the rough, yet smooth timbre of his voice made everything he say sound so…snarky? Or the way the cotton material of his shirt settled on his back, outlining the rises and dips of the muscles in his back that wasn’t blocked by his thick head of hair?

“Forget that jerk.” Levy said, taking a sip of her latte as she ascended the steps to the main entrance. “I have better things to worry about”.

That she did. In addition to a special announcement that her teacher hinted at last week, today was an exam that her professor sprung on her class just last week. Their task would be to create a realistic painting with a live, nude model as their muse and to translate it exactly unto an easel and canvas. Nudity didn’t bother her. I mean, that’s how everyone was born into this world, right? She saw the human body as one that can be translated into different meanings for different individuals, an intangible form of the purest form of art that there is. It also helped that the model today would be the same as her previous assignments and exams had been, Aaron Madrid, a professional model who has been in the industry 10+ years and has bared it all in front of hundreds of the region’s best artists.

She entered her classroom and took one last bite of her breakfast roll before crumpling the bag into her backpack and setting up her easel.

“Hey, Levy!” Lucy chirped behind her as Levy rested her canvas in its place. “How was your weekend?” “It was good, so far.” Levy sighed as she sat down in her seat and chatted with her friend for the next couple of minutes.

Their conversation was abruptly cut short when her professor entered the room, commanding everyone’s attention with just her presence alone.

“Good morning, class.” She projected, resting her briefcase behind her desk as she addressed her students. “I hope everyone had a good weekend. I know that all of you are dreading today’s exam, but I just want you to relax and try your best. A nervous artist makes for a bad artist.”

There were some mutters and chuckles in the class before she continued. “However, Madrid would not be our model for today.”

Everyone that was texting or not paying attention immediately tuned in. Concerned whispers and questions filled the air. Levy turned around to match Lucy’s lost expression, knotting her eyebrows together into a furrowed brow.

Raising her hand to indicate silence, she continued. “He has taken up a contract with Xpression Studios and will not return until next semester.” Groans filled the class as she continued. “However, a very brave student has decided to be our model for the rest of the semester. Come on out, Gajeel.”

Lucy’s hand flew to her mouth as her eyes bulged out of her head. She darted her eyes between Levy and the new student.

Levy, with her back turned to the front of the class, oblivious to what was going on behind her, knotted her brows together in a confused expression as she faced her friend. “Lucy, what’s wrong?”

“Levy, isn’t that the same dude that you said was a huge jerk to you this morning?”

She spun around in her seat as she met the all too familiar gaze of the stranger that she met in the café just a few minutes ago. Although he was across the room, Levy felt her heart catch in her throat as she gasped for words.

His heated gaze didn’t leave hers as he entered the center of the room and dropped his towel from around his waist. His hair was pulled back behind him, a stark contrast to the tanned his tanned chest and torso. An all too familiar smirk settled on his expression as he chuckled at her deer-in-headlights expression.

“Now, you have your model. You have your materials. You have two hours. When you have completed your project, you must alert me, and I will immediately give you a grade for the assignment. Begin.”

Levy choked on air as she stared back at him. There was no way this was happening right now. His biceps bulged and abs tightened as he chose a comfortable position that he could maintain for the duration of the assignment.

Levy’s eyes betrayed her again as her gaze now took in everything about him. The way his skin glistened underneath the overhead lights. The way his shoulders slumped like slopes on a mountain, lowering down to his chest and tightened abs, all the way to his…. Snap out of it, Levy! She rebuked herself as she picked up her pencil and began her outline, focusing every ounce of her energy unto the canvas. It isn’t the first time you have seen a naked man stand before your art class before. What is wrong with you?

She muttered to herself as she tried desperately to avoid looking at him more often than necessary. She didn’t want to send the wrong idea, after all. She glanced at him once more, hoping that he would be looking in another direction, so she could take in more of the details. For her portrait, of course.

But when her eyes rose from her canvas, his eyes blazed back at her face as emotionless and blank as a wall as if she was the only person in the room.

Her eyes drifted down below his waist as she took in the most intricate details of his member. Heat rose in her cheeks as she furiously etched his outline onto her canvas, desperately avoiding his stares, his expression becoming more mocking and infuriating by the minute.

Finally, she was finished and her portrait was completed. Despite herself and distractions, she produced a very good portrait. She just hoped that her professor would think the same. When she leaned back in her seat, she realized that the entire class was deserted besides her professor, who was grading papers quietly at her desk, and Gajeel, the stranger that hadn’t taken his eyes off her ever since he entered the classroom.

“I’m finished, Ms. Maribee.” Levy stated as she tried to focus on something else other than the toned physique of the cheeky stranger.

She crossed the room as she analyzed her painting. “You may put on your clothes, Gajeel.” She said, still staring at the portrait. “Thank you for your time today.”

“Sure.” He grunted as he stepped off the stage and retreated through the same door that he came through in the beginning of the class, not bothering to put back on the towel that he gripped in his hand.

“You’ve really improved since last semester, Ms. Levy This is quite remarkable.”

Levy smiled sheepishly to the compliment. She was glad that her hard work started to pay off. She remained silent as she waited for her grade.

“This is excellent work, Levy. You get an A for this assignment. Good job.” She lovingly patted her shoulder as she made her way back to her desk. “I will see you next week.”

Levy released a breath that she didn’t know she was holding as she packed up her materials. At least she could put the assignment behind her and focus on relaxing this weekend.

As she exited the room and made her way down the hall towards the elevators, she pulled out her phone to shoot a quick text to Lucy. She absentmindedly pushed the ground floor button and entered the elevator as she remained engrossed in her phone.

Her stream of focus was interrupted when an all too familiar stranger joined her before the doors quickly shut.

She looked up and twisted her face into a scowl, desperately trying to push down the heat that started to arise within her cheeks,

“Following me now?” She spat as she adjusted her bag and stared straight ahead.

“Just using an elevator, shrimp. Don’t look too deep into it.”

She pressed her lips shut as she stared straight ahead, never meeting his gaze. After a few moments, he turned to face her as bent his body down, so he was about a foot or so away from her face. “So, did you like what you saw today?” He taunted her in a suggestive tone.

Levy whipped her head around to shoot him a vexed expression. She was taken aback by the boldness of his comment as she pressed a finger into his broad chest. “Look, if we are going to be working together for the rest of the semester, then you should really work on that attitude of yours. It is unprofessional and uncalled for. And besides that, I am an artist, who paints and sketches nude artists all the time. Don’t think just because you have big muscles and a toned body makes you somehow more special or ‘blessed’ than the other models I have had before.” She gave him a gesturing up-and-down look before arching an eyebrow back at him, waiting for his response.

Gajeel scanned the tiny blue-haired woman in an amused manner, his mouth twitching up into a smirk. “So, you think I’m toned, huh? He flashed a smile, chuckling.

Levy’s eyes widened as she blushed and averted her gaze from him, clearly embarrassed. If only he wasn’t so snarky about it. “Don’t look too deep into it.” She retorted in a mocking manner.

The elevator doors opened as he took a step towards her. She pressed her mouth into a thin line as she crouched down to meet her at eye level.

“Whatever you say……Levy.”

She stared at his retreating figure as she stepped out of the elevator, breathing an exasperated sigh.

“He is so rude.” She muttered to herself as she trudged home. “This is going to a really long semester. I can’t believe that we have to work with that jerk for five more weeks.”

Yet, somehow, she couldn’t keep her mind off him. Something about him interested her. Made her want to scratch the surface of whatever bad boy act he attempted to pull off.

She waved a hand dismissively as she entered her apartment. “Whatever, I’m sure I will have plenty of time to worry about him later. Time for some rest.”

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