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sagesolsticewrites · 2 years ago

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Today Was A Fairytale | Austin x fem!reader

You decide to surprise your boyfriend in Australia on Valentine’s Day! ❤️

a/n: Happy (belated, oops) Valentine’s Day! This is a week late, I know, and I’m so sorry y’all! But thank you guys so, so much for your patience 🫶 I do have plenty more WIPs that I’m working on, and I hope to have those out sooner rather than later for y'all. And my requests are open if y'all want to send anything in! ☺️ For this fic, covid doesn’t exist for Plot purposes lmao

Word count: 2k (technically 1,999 but shhhh)

Warnings: some allusion to sex towards the end (might qualify as fade-to-black smut??), I think that’s it? As always, please let me know if I missed anything!

Please like/rb if you enjoyed! 🤍

Masterlist | add yourself to my taglist!

As you stand on the escalator, hands firmly gripping your carry-on to keep yourself from shaking with excitement, you scan the area near baggage claim as it appears bit by bit, keeping your eyes peeled for a sign with your name on it.

Your sweeping gaze finally snags on your name, the flimsy paper in the hands of an older, very fashionable woman, with a bright smile and cheerful eyes peering through cat-eye glasses. Your smile widens, and you wave to get her attention as you step off the escalator onto the polished concrete floor. You still can’t quite believe that Catherine Martin herself was the one meeting you here.

You greet her, a little starstruck, before she sweeps you into a hug.

“Darling! It’s so nice to finally meet you!” She smiles, “You know Austin honestly hasn’t stopped talking about you since we started filming,” she teases as you made your way over to get the rest of your things.

You laugh shyly, “Well, that’s very sweet to hear, and I apologize on his behalf.” Laughter fading, you continue in a more sincere tone, “And thank you so much for letting me come on set for a couple days, I can only imagine how complicated it must be to organize that.”

Catherine waves the compliment away, helping you get your suitcase off the carousel with ease.

“It’s nothing, sweetheart! It’s very sweet that you want to surprise him, and I’m so glad we could help.”

Catherine explains the plan in the Uber on the way to your hotel: take a few days to recover from the jet lag from the 19-hour flight, and on Friday — Valentine’s Day — you’d be taken to set to surprise your boyfriend.

After Catherine makes sure you’re safely in your room and assures you that you can call her if you needed anything — “absolutely anything, darling!” — before tomorrow, you finally allow a grin to overtake your face as you collapse onto the bed. As Valentine’s Day gifts go, you were fairly certain this wasn’t a bad choice.

You and Austin had been dating for almost a year, since March of 2019. Originally just your childhood friend, a friendship born of proximity when your family moved next door to his, your feelings for each other had blossomed into what was honestly the healthiest relationship you had ever been in. You had been with him when he was auditioning, when he was cast as Elvis, you had watched as he practically lived and breathed Elvis in the months leading up to the moment he left for principal photography in Australia. He was crushed that your first Valentine’s Day together was doomed to be long-distance, and as he kept saying how much he wished the two of you could celebrate together, the idea dawned on you.

And now here you were in Australia, on the opposite side of the world from your home in Anaheim, getting ready to surprise your boyfriend who was currently playing one of the most famous men in history.

You spend most of the first couple days of your trip sleeping, your body insisting on ten-hour naps to recover from the flight through seven time zones. You’re able to pencil in some sightseeing, too, though by the time Valentine’s Day rolls around you’re even more anxious to see Austin; you’re the closest you’ve been to seeing him in a month but the distance between your hotel and his set seems impossibly far.

Catherine is your escort once again, and on the way to set she explains the plan to you, detailing the scenes they’ll be filming and where you could fit in, and making it incredibly clear that pretty much everything you’re about to see is strictly for your eyes only; they couldn’t risk a leak only a month into filming.

Admittedly, you’re a little starstruck being on a movie set, and it’s all a bit of a blur as Catherine rushes you over to hair & makeup to get you ready for the scene. The crew slips you into one of their many spare dresses, and they get to work making your hair and makeup era-appropriate. As one of the hair stylists — a kind woman whose name you learned was Gail — is in the process of getting your hair into pincurls, the door to the hair and makeup trailer sweeps open. Every eye in the room swings towards the motion as Baz steps inside.

As in, Baz Luhrmann.

Legendary, acclaimed director.

In the hair and makeup trailer.

And he walks right over and gives you a hug (as best he could with you in the makeup chair trying to stay as still as possible, at least).

“Y/N! Happy Valentine’s Day, we’re so glad you’re here.”

“Thank you so much for helping organize this, Baz!” You smiled. “I really hope I’m not disrupting the schedule or anything too much.” You had gotten to meet Baz a handful of times as Austin was prepping for the role, and he was one of the sweetest people you knew.

“Oh, it was nothing.” He waves away the compliment, “I love a good surprise, and I’m glad I’ll get to see you two crazy kids back together. I just wanted to say hello and make sure you were doing okay. You guys take care of her, alright?” He directs the last part to the crew, and bids you farewell with a “See you on set!”

Soon enough, your hair and makeup are the best they’ve ever been, and you’re almost afraid to move for fear of ruining the gorgeous blue gingham dress they’ve given you as you’re escorted to set by an assistant.

You take your seat in the front row, trying your hardest to hide your excitement as you catch a glimpse of Austin talking with Baz just offstage.Your breath catchesin your throat as you take him in. After not seeing him for a month, seeing him in person is in itself a bit of a shock, but underneath the slightly baggy pink suit and effortlessly disheveled hair, you see the sharp focus in his eyes that's something entirely Austin. Time is a blur as the rest of the scene is set up, and the last thing you hear before Baz calls “action!” is his suggestion to Austin to find someone in the audience to focus on.

You holdyour breath as he, Xavier, and Adam walk onto the stage, the smudged eyeliner bringing out the blue of his eyes as he scans the crowd. You fight to keep the smile from your face in anticipation as his gaze sweeps past you, then snaps back as he does a double take. The Elvis facade fades, the anxious fidgeting and nervous manner he’s put on entirely forgotten as he freezes, his eyes locked on yours.

“Y/N?”

You nod, unable to hide your grin any longer as you give him a playful wave, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Aus.”

In a flash, the guitar that had been looped around his shoulders is set carefully on the stage and he jumps down to the floor to greet you, the cast and crew cheering him on.

You let out a breathless laugh as you’re swept up in his arms and spun around in a circle, his grip strong and secure and safe as always. As your feet finally hit the ground, Austin’s gaze sweeps over you, taking in your light blue gingham dress and 50s pin curls, before his eyes meet yours again and you’re finally, finally pulled in for a kiss.

It’s a sign of how much you missed each other that by the time you pull away your carefully-applied, no doubt expensive, movie-star-quality lipstick is smudged beyond repair, and Austin’s artfully disheveled hair is a mess. Some part of you cringes slightly at the thought of messing up the hair and makeup crew’s hard work, but a much larger, much louder part of you — the part that had been missing him since the second he’d left — couldn’t care less.

“I— Sweetheart,” Austin laughs with a tinge of disbelief, still holding you tight as though you might slip away at any second, “What are you doing here?”

“I missed you.” You say simply, grinning. “And I knew how upset you were that we’d be missing our first Valentine’s together, so I thought I’d surprise you.”

“You flew all the way to Australia to surprise me?” He asks, as if to make sure he was hearing you right.

You nod, cheerfully humming an affirmative.

He laughs, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You’re ridiculous,” is all he says before pulling you in for another warm hug, lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “I love you.”

“I love you, too” you whisper back, tucking your face into the crook of his neck to hide your growing smile, toes curling at the familiar smell of his cologne — something warm and woody that you had gotten him for Christmas last year.

After what seems like not enough time at all, your very professional boyfriend regretfully pulls away — after all, he is here for a job. Baz is kind enough to let you stay and watch them film several scenes, but after seeing how distracted Austin is (he’s trying to stay professional, he really is, but you’re here and he’s missed you so much) he cuts the day short, offering everyone a chance to celebrate their Valentine’s Day properly.

You’re glad you brought one of your nicer dresses with you, because that night Austin takes you out on the first non-Skype date you’ve had in a while. The two of you end up at a fairly nice restaurant, talking for hours as if you haven’t been apart at all. In lieu of the typical red roses, he gives you a paper rose to add to your collection back home; a tradition that began with your very first date, and one that you hope continues for as long as possible.

You spend a romantic evening together, followed by an even more romantic night, and the contentment you feel waking up the next morning in Austin’s arms is incomparable to anything else on earth. You don’t open your eyes at first, content with the feeling of your head on his chest, legs tangled together, his arms pulling you in closer, but you can’t help but smile up at him as you feel his eyes on you, and the softness in his gaze as you meet his eyes nearly takes your breath away.

Your hand, from its resting place on Austin’s chest, works its way up his neck to cup his cheek, almost as if you need to confirm that he’s really there, solid and warm next to you. You bite your lip to hide a smirk as your eyes catch on the marks scattered across his skin — proof of your, er, very enthusiastic reunion the previous night. He leans into your touch as you whisper a soft “good morning” to him, and he returns the greeting, mumbling it against your lips as you’re pulled in for a kiss.

He glances quickly at the alarm clock on the nightstand, making a note of the time: barely 9am. “What time is your flight, again?”

You mentally file through your sleep-scattered brain for your flight information. “My flight leaves at 1, but I wanna try to be at the airport around 11, maybe 11:30ish?”

He nods, seemingly incorporating that information into whatever idea he has brewing in his head. “I don’t have to be on set until noon,” he says, taking on a suggestive tone as he moves to hover over you, “Any ideas on how we could spend all this time?”

Grinning, you pull him down into a bruising kiss, making a mental note to send flowers to the hair and makeup crew as an apology for the marks they’re going to have to cover on him after this morning.

All in all, not a bad Valentine’s Day.

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#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler fic #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler x fem!reader #austin butler fluff #elvis (2022)#elvis 2022 #elvis baz luhrmann #elvis biopic #valentine’s day fic #valentine’s day #my writing

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h5eavenly · 5 months ago

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I’m sorry you feel that way Angie:( I wish I could notice all the little details a little more but I’m just a person that’s really bad at analyzing and seeing all the small things before someone else points it out. The interest I have in fallen star is the same I had in carousel (if you remember how obsessed I was with that lmao).

I most definitely prefer slow burn like veryyyyyyyy slow rather then them just falling in love or fucking three chapters in, even tho I was being annoying with the jealousy thing. But I promise to keep my eyes peeled with any further chapters because I genuinely enjoy the story and I’m excited to see where it’s going!🩷

thank you so much baby and please don't force yourself i know its impossible for everyone to notice everything i think i was just more frustrated with feeling like the story as a whole is being glossed over but i hope you know my post and laces was not targeted at you or anyone specifically and i did not find your ask annoying hence why i replied to you jokingly and all

thank you for reading despite not being a fan of enhypen this means the world to me my love <3 <3

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whiskey-tango-matcha · 2 years ago

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A Cup of Tea and Paracetamol pt 2/?

I’m back with part 2! Sorry for the delay, last weekend was wildly busy. This part features a staunchly miserable Elijah, so I hope you guys enjoy that. Unedited, basically unread by me until I look at it later and hate myself for a random spelling/grammar mistake. Part one can be found here, if you’re interested in reading that/understanding what’s going on in this part lmao. I’m thinking this is going to be 3 parts, and the final one should be up later this week (hopefully. No promises lol).

OH ALSO I am very much so not from England, I’ve never been outside the US so I’m sorry if I say something that sounds super weird or wrong about England. Just go ahead and pre-suspend your disbelief that basically no cold medication can be found in London while you’re at it. This is fiction and it’s at the mercy of what makes my characters the most miserable lmao.

Enjoy!

cw: male sneezing, colds, contagion is mentioned but not explicitly in this part

A Cup of Tea and Paracetamol (pt 2)

“Stop laughing.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m not laughing, I’m getting it together,” Greyson took a deep breath slowly, but it came out once again as a squawk of a laugh. Elijah elbowed him hard in the arm before snatching his bag off of the moving carousel.

“You’re an ass,” Elijah grumbled, moving towards the exit.

“Boss, hey, I’m sorry, man,” Greyson said jogging a bit to keep up with Elijah. “But I mean, come on. It is kind of funny.”

“I literally cannot think of anything less funny,” Elijah said, pulling his hand sanitizer out of his pocket for the millionth time that day and squirting the last of it on his hands. “That was a fucking nightmare.” The sick man Elijah had been sitting next to literally couldn’t have done a worse job of keeping his germs to himself; he had basically sneezed and coughed for the entire seven hours, minus maybe thirty minutes of snoring with his open mouth facing Elijah. Greyson hailed a cab as Elijah shuddered; at least it was over.

“We’re gonna have to find an English CVS or something,” Greyson mused. “Do they have Emergen-C here?”

“I have no idea,” Elijah said, massaging his temples before opening the cab door. “Let’s just get away from this godforsaken airport.”

The ride to the hotel was thankfully quick, and by some miracle, the gift shop in the lobby did stock Emergen-C. Greyson and Elijah loaded up, dropped their things in the room, and headed out to dinner. Their first day was completely blown because of the flight and the time difference, so over their meals Elijah was busy texting the contact for the event.

“What’d she say about the product we ordered?” Greyson asked, his leg bouncing nervously under the table. Elijah gave him a pointed look and showed the chef his text stream with the contact – a woman named Samantha.

“She said she has it all,” he said as Greyson read through their texts. “Stop worrying so much.”

Greyson snorted. “That’s rich coming from you,” he said, taking a bite of his sandwich. “The king of fuckin worrying.”

“It’s a festival event, Grey. We’ve done a thousand of them. It’s not like we’re doing it in Mumbai and we don’t speak the language.” Greyson shrugged and Elijah sent off another text.

“Okay,” Elijah said, clapping his hands together. “Tomorrow: prep. It’s 1,000 portions, if we get to the kitchen at seven, it’ll probably take us ten hours to get everything done.”

“Seven?!” Greyson asked, incredulous. “Isn’t that like three in the morning our time?”

Elijah shrugged. “We have to get it done, Grey. We don’t have the team help us; I think the event provides a couple of culinary students, but that’s it. It’s gonna be a long one.”

Greyson groaned and put his head in his hands. “Fine,” he said after a moment of mourning his sleep. “But I’m gonna complain the whole time.”

Elijah chuckled as he flagged the server. “I’d expect no less.”

***

Greyson peeled his eyes open at the ass-crack of dawn to see that the bathroom light was on and the shower was running. Jesus christ, he thought, does Elijah ever fucking sleep?

The chef rolled unceremoniously out of bed and grudgingly shoved his legs into jeans and his arms into his chef coat. It was so goddamn early. He was so goddamn tired. While buttoning his chef coat, Greyson fantasized about running away, skipping the event and just enjoying London like it was a vacation; beer and fish and chips in a dark pub, strolling through museums with no schedule, taking a long ass hotel nap and then going to a Michelin-starred restaurant for dinner. Yeah… now that sounded like a trip.

Just as he was about to pound on the bathroom door and ask if Elijah had fallen in, Greyson heard his boss’s breath hitch.

“hehh...huhNGTSH-uh!”

Oh, mother fucker.

“Lij…?” Greyson called into the bathroom. When he didn’t get an answer, he knocked tentatively. “Y’okay in there?”

Greyson heard nothing for a moment, the a sudden – “HGTSHH-ue!” Greyson set his jaw in anticipation, and just as he was about to knock again, Elijah opened the door.

“I’m good,” he said, his voice slightly lower than it usually was. “You ready?”

“Uh, yeah,” Greyson said, motioning to his getup. “Are you sure you’re alright? I heard you, uh… sneezing.”

“I’m fine, Grey, just steam from the shower. C’mon, we need to meet Samantha in the lobby in five minutes.”

Greyson followed Elijah silently to the elevator, and continued his silence as they descended to the lobby. He couldn’t lie; he was worried. Worried about his boss, a bit, but mostly worried about the event - if Elijah was sick, who was going to work the booth with him tomorrow? He couldn’t do it himself, he knew that much for sure, but, to be frank, he was fairly scared of invoking Elijah’s wrath by asking if he was sick, or even offering to get him medicine. Instead, while Elijah went through the finer details of the event with Samantha, Greyson snuck off to the giftshop, bought two bottles of water, and filled them both with Emergen-C. Before Elijah could notice he’d left, Greyson breezed back to the lobby and placed a bottle in his boss’s hand.

“What’s this?” Elijah asked as he waved goodbye to Samantha. Greyson shrugged.

“Emergen-C. Long flight, long couple days; better to be safe than sorry.”

Elijah gave Greyson a pointed look, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he unscrewed the cap of his water bottle and chugged half of it.

“Right,” he said, screwing the cap back on. “Let’s go check out the kitchen.”

***

Not to be dramatic, but Elijah really wasn’t sure how he was going to make it through the weekend.

It was about seven hours into prepping the short rib nacho they were serving for tomorrow’s event, and Elijah’s eyes were drooping at even the thought of another seven hours. He’d definitely been entirely too optimistic about his and Greyson’s abilities to get this knocked out in ten hours; the culinary students he’d assumed would be helping them prep were, as it turned out, scheduled to help run the booth tomorrow, not cook with them today. Elijah and Greyson were balls-deep in chopping, searing, frying, and basting with no end in sight. And it really didn’t help that Elijah couldn’t seem to get one little thing under control.

“hehhNGTHSH-uh! HGSTH-oo!” Elijah sneezed into his elbow for what felt like the billionth time that day and sniffed as hard as he could before returning to slicing potatoes on the mandolin.

“Careful,” Greyson said, also for the billionth time. “Do you want me to take those over, boss? We really can’t have you slicing your finger off.”

“Ndo,” Elijah said, wincing at how his own voice sounded. “I’mb good.”

Whatever monster of a cold the man on the plane had had yesterday, it certainly traveled quickly. Elijah had woken up that morning with a scratchy throat and slightly runny nose, and now at just after noon he was fairly sure he was dying. “HETSSHCHH-ue!”

“Bless,” Greyson said, curt. At the beginning of the day, Greyson had been sympathetic – almost overly sympathetic, bordering on neurotic. He’d offered to buy Elijah medicine in the gift shop, which Elijah had staunchly declined until about ten am. After the third offer, Elijah had broken down and given up on the ‘I’m-not-sick-I’m-totally-fine’ charade. “Fine, yes, find me what they have.”

But Greyson had come back empty-handed, with exception of the mystery drug the man on the plane had requested yesterday – paracetamol. After a quick google search, they found out it was pretty much just tylenol.

“Tylenol??” Elijah had asked, dumbstruck. “That’s really all they have?”

Greyson had nodded. “I asked the woman at the front if there was, like, a drug store somewhere that sells dayquil and she had no idea what I was talking about.”

“You have got to be fucking shitting – HGTSHH-oo! Huhh...hehESTCHHH-ue! Snf.” Elijah wiped his face on his sleeve, defeated. “Shittigg mbe.”

He was not. A call to a local drugstore confirmed that dayquil and nyquil weren’t available in the UK, and their best bet was going to be the paracetamol. Elijah had tried to stifle a groan, and Greyson had offered his sympathy.

“I’m sorry, boss,” he said as he browned the short ribs in a huge tilt skillet. “I can ask the front desk to make you some tea?”

After Elijah had grumbled something about hating tea, Greyson had sighed and seemingly given up on the niceties. Now, several hours later, he had taken to not even mentioning Elijah’s condition.

“HRETSSHHOO!” This one caught Elijah off-guard, and he ended up doubled over his legs with his arms over his head to keep from contaminating the food. “Mbother fucker,” he mumbled, moving towards the hand washing station to blow his nose. From across the kitchen, Elijah heard Greyson sigh.

“Boss,” he called as Elijah threw away a handful of paper towels. “Go take a break.”

“Grey, we have so mbuch left to do. I’mb not leaving you.”

“Lij, please. Just go lay down for an hour or something, I literally am standing here with my stomach in my asshole freaking out that you’re not going to be able to do the event tomorrow, so please please just go and take a nap with some tea. Please.”

Elijah raised an eyebrow at Greyson and coughed lightly into his fist. “What the fugck are you talkigg about?” he asked, walking closer to the chef.

Greyson ran a nervous hand through his hair, then, noticing what he’d done, snapped the gloves off his hands and threw them in the trash with much more force than was necessary. “I’m just worried, dude, like you look like fucking hell. You look like you’re going to fuckin keel over, and I literally cannot do this event by myself. I can’t, Lij.”

Elijah huffed out a laugh that turned into a dry cough. “Greysond,” he said, as gently as he could muster, “I don’t care if I have two brokend arms and two brokend legs. I’mb going to be at the event. Okay? It’s a cold. I’mb fuckigg miserable, but it’s a cold. It’s gonna be fine.” He placed a careful hand on the chef’s shoulder and shook him lightly. “Okay?”

Greyson let out a shaky sigh. “Okay,” he said. “Good,” Elijah said, giving his friend’s shoulder a squeeze. “But you’re right about onde thing: we ndeed a break. And I think I mbight take you up ond – HGSTHH-oo! HRSHH-uh! Huhh…hhNGSTHH-ue!” Elijah groaned into the sleeve of his shirt and took the paper towel Greyson held out to him. “Ond the fuckigg tea.”

#snz #snez #sneezefic #snz blog #male sneeze #sniction #male cold #cold #coldfic #sickfic #sick #whiskeyswriting #original character #oc snz fic

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ashiemochi · 2 years ago

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anubussy - xiv

✠ Anubussy ↳ sorry, i don't want your touch ↳↳ it's not that i don't want you

➶ pairing: OC x Leon S(exy) Kennedy. ➶ genre: fluff, more angst, gore, longer smut/suggestive themes ➶ word count: no

NOTE: ✠ = time skip ✠✠ = switching povs/characters

AN: this will be the last chapter for a while till I finish writing the epilogue. hopefully ill stop being so lazy and actually get to it as it's already outlined. my brother's wedding is coming up so ya girl is working hard to save up and get her own dress <3

prev -> next

“I’m sorry…”

The faintest kiss then –

The alarm really upped its state by being absolutely annoying. The music never started off soft and gradually grew louder to ease him down from his dreamland, but more so blared and yanked him to reality with a big ‘wakey wakey, eggs and fuck you’.

A drowsy groan left through the DSO agent’s lips, his eyes squeezing shut. He was sleeping on his chest, one arm under the pillow and the other dangling over the edge. The clean duvet was draped over his waist.

He reached out to shut the alarm. His hand tapped the cool nightstand before hitting the ringing clock, returning the silence he appreciated. Exhaling heavily, Leon sleepily turned around, fully expecting to find her to pull her close. Except, the cool empty sheets were there to greet him instead.

That made his eyes peel open to see he was actually alone in bed, and he blinked. Alarms were starting to blare in his slow-processing brain as he lifted his head up to look around the room.

No one.

His body was still rebooting as he sat up, trying to process what was happening. The dead chip was still on the nightstand; he was sure it was deaddead because it did give a little fire show the night before.

“So Ah?” Leon’s fresh-out-of-bed voice called out, incredibly confused as he pushed the duvet off his bare torso, being in only his grey sweatpants.

He didn’t hear her reply.

At first, he thought something had gone wrong. Hurriedly, he swung his legs over the bed but something cold touched his foot. The combat dagger was still there, having been forgotten as Leon was more focused on his wife.

It was too quiet – too eerily quiet.

Leon chose to stick to the safest route, picking up the knife before getting on his feet. He held the handle in an alarmed manner, his training kicking in as he let his focused eyes take in the room.

Her clothes, which were once folded and set on the couch, weren’t there anymore. Adrenaline was beginning to loom over the horizon – she was always concerned about being caught.

What if–

Leon shook his head at the irrational thought, moving carefully but steadily to the bathroom. Last night, he decided to keep the bloodied sheets in the laundry basket so he’d get it cleaned up later – or possibly throw it away before anyone sees it.

The laundry basket was empty.

His chest was starting to heave as he checked on the kitchen next but nada. There was not a single sign that she was ever here, except for the chip. Her clothes and the dirty sheets were gone. Hell, the coffee table still had his glove and the empty glass cup.

There were more signs that Leon was ever the only one in the room rather than his wife. Leon stood in the middle of the room, fingers curling into a tight grip around the marble handle of the dagger. He didn’t want to believe it – he refused to.

Numerous what-ifs ran around his head like a carousel.

What if she was actually discovered and got taken away even when he promised he wouldn’t let them do it again?

She was horribly afraid when she first came into the room; what if she left on purpose and let her anxiety take over?

It doesn’t sound right, but that was what made it worse. Were all those apologies and cries last night just for show? To emotionally use him before she was out on the road once again?

That last thought churned his stomach into itself.

Leon sped to his phone and picked it up before stilling – she didn’t have a number anymore, at least not one he knows of as her previous number would only end up dead. His eyes darted aimlessly; he was lost.

Chris.

Chris would definitely know.

Hastily, Leon scrolled through his contacts and found the number before tapping it. He pressed the phone against his ear and waited. Each ringing sounded longer than the other, tantalizing him as if on purpose. It dragged out more of his anxious thoughts – then a gruff voice answered the call.

“Leon?”

“Chris, is she with you?” Leon asked quickly, worry oozing from his lips like broken tap water.

Chris sounded confused, “Who? Leon, what are you talking about?”

“So Ah, Chris.” Leon snapped, subconsciously pacing as he tried to keep himself calm, “Is So Ah with you? Did she go to you or Nivans?”

“No,” He replied, now growing on edge, “Last we saw her, Piers had dropped her off at the hotel – why? What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Leon stood in the middle of the room, swallowing thickly, “She stayed the night and, the chip…”

His eyes landed on the dried bloodied tracker on the nightstand. He was sure it was busted. He saw it break, self-destructing right in front of him. The safety measure was to take out his wife – those heartless fuckers.

“What about it?” Chris pressed on, hoping that the BSAA hadn’t actually succeeded in rebooting it and actually frying her spine, “Leon, tell me what happened.”

“It’s dead.”

Suddenly, the door clicking open caught his attention, taking it away from the useless device. Then his wife walked in, a plastic bag of what seemed to be food hanging from her wrist whilst she was holding onto a carton tray of two foam cups. The scent of freshly baked croissants and coffee attempted to ease his nerves, yet he was more enthralled by her.

She was in yesterday’s attire but now with an oversized denim blue hoodie with the said hood over her head and a brown scarf covering her lower face – which he recognized as her cardigan acting as such. She must’ve gotten the big hoodie from his suitcase.

Slipping her shoes off, her eyes snapped to his and then crinkled into crescent moons at her smile. She pushed the makeshift scarf down as she made her way joyfully to him.

“You’re up!” So Ah beamed, nearly skipping up to him and she pressed a kiss onto his cheekbone where that faintfaint scar resided, “I wanted to surprise you – breakfast in bed ‘n all, but you were always better at that than me.”

“I got,” She stretched the word out, setting the plastic bag and the tray down on the coffee table and then proceeded to take out the white box from the bag, popping it open, “Croissants!”

“Ah, and the bakery had cinnamon buns, but they didn’t offer a vegan version. I didn’t want to eat one without you, so I got these instead! Just don’t eat these, they’re not dairy-free.”

The girl continued, pointing at the golden pastries as she took off her makeshift scarf, followed by the hoodie; she didn’t seem to be aware of her husband’s silence.

Leon watched her ramble without a care in the world, faintly picking up on Chris calling out for him through the phone. His thumb tapped the red icon to drop the call.

As So Ah folded the clothes and put them on the couch, her eyes darted to the side at something glimmering and glanced at the dagger in his hand. His grip was a little loose but she could see his fingers were twitching around it.

She wasn’t on edge. She trusted him with her whole life and she knew more than anything he wasn’t going to hurt her. Her back straightened up slowly, growing more concerned rather than anxious.

“Leon, are you okay?”

His eyes snapped back to the moment and he looked down at the dagger before tossing it aside, letting it fall on the couch. With his chest feeling constricted, Leon stumbled over his own words.

“Yeah, I was just…” He trailed away, putting his phone back into his pocket, “I… I didn’t know where you were.”

She blinked, looking at the food then back at him, not quite understanding what he meant, “I was getting us breakfast.”

“Oh, right!” Her eyes widened a bit with a small gasp, seemingly remembering something as she turned to the hoodie and dug her hand into its pocket.

“Here you go,” She handed him his credit card with an apologetic smile, “Sorry, again. I took it while you were sleeping – I could’ve used mine but…” She seemed nervous, but kept that sad smile, “They would’ve traced it back to me.”

That soft whisper and kiss long before he woke up – she wasn’t planning on leaving him once again. Still, his relief was shooting sky-high.

“But you’re okay?” He didn’t even look at the card, taking a step close to her and his azuls scanned her for anything that would sound the alarms in his head, “Are you hurt?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” So Ah furrowed her brows, lowering her hand with the card slightly, “Why would I be hurt?”

That was all it took.

His arms were instantly around her, pulling her till there was no space between their bodies as if fearing an inch of such would make her disappear. Leon pushed his face into the crook of her neck, the tip of his nose bumping into her skin and picking up on her oriental scent.

Despite having showered in the hotel with his own shampoo and conditioner, the fabric of her outfit held onto that hint of her usual vanilla smell. His nerves gradually eased down as his fingers dug into her shirt and the other went to the back of her head.

So Ah was frozen at the sudden gesture, her arms hovering as she was utterly confused and now flat-out concerned. His body was curling over hers, not allowing her to really step on her tippy toes to reach for him.

He was already there for her.

“Leon?” She whispered, trying to look at him but he didn’t release her, and his chest felt searingly hot against her clothed one.

“Just give me a minute, So Ah,” Leon’s low voice was deep, almost raspy with his anxious thoughts having taken over for a good minute, “You damn near gave me a heart attack. I thought you…”

His trailing away was enough to tell her his mind had jumped to the worse possibilities and she frowned deeply.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, threading her finger through his hair and a hitched shaky breath warmed up her skin. Her heart squeezed into itself, and she thought she too was going to start crying for even making him feel this way.

“Oh, Leon…” She muttered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

What once was a surprise breakfast in bed turned into ‘Hey! You almost indirectly gave your husband a panic attack! Way to go!’

It was bound to reveal itself, anyways. His own wife had been gone and presumed dead for ten long months. Every morning was a struggle to get out of bed, leading to a sleepless night. On the nights his body did succumb to rest, nightmares would plague his head, forcing him to stay up; fatigued.

In some way, it was traumatizing – as if he needed more added to his list.

His grip on her reluctantly loosened when she pulled away to cradle his cheeks. Her heart fell to her stomach at the sight of his glassy eyes, bringing out the ocean blue of those irises. Her thumb caressed that permanent scar on the apple of his cheek as he gazed down at her with such softness.

Tugging him lower as she got on her tippy toes, she left a lingering kiss on his forehead, eliciting a silent exhale from him. When she pulled away, she held a smile on her face that went into a toothy one when she held his hands.

“Come on! Breakfast in bed!” So Ah started leading him to the bed, releasing only one hand, “Go sit!”

Leon couldn’t help but chuckle a little, listening to her, “Okay, okay.”

As he got comfortable on the bed and brought the blanket up to his lap, So Ah practically ran to the kitchen to get a plate. She returned with two plates and went up to the coffee table. Placing a single big croissant on one of them, she carried the plate along with the foam cup to him.

“There you go!” So Ah handed it to him, running off to the coffee table again and Leon felt the heat of the cup in his palm.

Sniffing it once before taking a sip, the black coffee brought warmth to his empty stomach. The Han girl skipped up to the bed with her own coffee, probably a mocha, and her croissant on a plate. She sat down crisscrossed so the cup would between her legs.

As he’d expect–

“Thank you for the meal,” So Ah spoke in her mother tongue and then took a bite, her eyes glowing in glee, “Oh, this is so good!”

Leon gulped a little coffee after eating some of the pastry, brows shooting up slightly, “Better than the cinnamon roll?”

She gave him a look, “Nothing would beat cinnamon rolls.”

He huffed lightly as he shook his head, chewing and looking down at his breakfast. It wasn’t stuffed with anything, but he always liked it plain. The sesame seeds on top of the golden crust were a great touch.

“You know you could’ve gotten a bun if you wanted one,”

“Maybe,” So Ah shrugged, taking a small bite by peeling off the top layer, “But it’s fine, I’m not going to complain now. I’m starving.”

She wasn’t aware of his perceptive eyes boring into her, beaming in surprise at the melted chocolate oozing from the centre of the pastry.

His chewing slowed down when he swallowed, rolling his tongue over his molars. He put down the half-eaten croissant and reached for his cup on the nightstand.

He wasn’t blind, she was slimmer than before. Her face still held that soft appearance to it. He wasn’t a stranger to unwanted weight loss – besides, he did go through something similar in those ten months. He easily replaced the empty space with more muscle, taking his underlying grief out on the punching bag.

In her case, it wasn’t the same – and he still had unanswered questions about how those months treated her; how horrible were they that she’d shed blood.

He would’ve gotten to the bottom of it yesterday night but he was occupied with the immense anger and desire that it slipped his mind. He only wished it showed on her skin.

Resenting the virus was nothing new to him.

“Hey…” Leon set the cup down, starting, “About last night…”

So Ah blinked, taking a sip from her mocha before returning it to its previous spot. A lot of things happened last night; from the argument to stripping her down from any coherent thoughts but him.

“Which part?”

Leon silently ticked his head to the chip on the nightstand.

She flinched at that part; w h y.

“Do we have to talk about it now?” She asked nervously.

Leon furrowed his brows and crossed his arms, raising a brow, “Wanna wait another eight years?”

Okay–

So Ah dropped her eyes down to her plate, poking and picking her croissant as she muttered, “Touche.”

Everything was already so good with having a late nice breakfast in bed with fresh pastries and hot coffee. She knew this was going to be talked about sooner or later – they didn’t do much of it yesterday.

“Sweetheart,” Leon sighed, setting his plate and coffee aside and he leaned down onto his arms so his hands were grasping her wrists, thumb rubbing her skin, “Let me help you.”

“I wanted…” She admitted, hating asking for a hand in anything, “I wanted to help you – help us…”

So Ah had gone through a life where she was spoonfed most of her solutions. From having multiple medicines to her family protecting her during those charity events, the Han girl resented every aid she received. It was nice, sure, for everything to be almost too easy, but it was also the reason why everything had gone to shit.

All those pills she accepted? It was her late doctor’s plan all along to create a dormant virus in her.

The BSAA implanting her with the chip so they’d observe the status of the virus? Nothing but a deadly weapon in case the pathogen gets active.

Leon saving her during the H-Outbreak? It only led to him being severely injured that he was out for three days.

Minji being a part of the outbreak in China? It killed her – and she helped her little sister so much, only for the youngest to fail at saving her.

She wanted to do things on her own for once – clean up her mess. She was afraid of asking for help again; afraid it’d backfire and hurt her close ones again.

Leon pursed his lips into a thin line momentarily at her words before speaking, “Look at you. Tell me, do you really think you’re treating yourself right?”

He continued, trying to convince her to let him take the lead this time, “When it comes to us, we both work on it – it shouldn’t be one-sided.”

So Ah stayed quiet, avoiding his eyes and he picked up on the tremors of her hands. She was scared.

“Listen to me,” Leon pressed on, a gentle look in his eyes, “You’re safe now. That chip is dead, I promise.”

But was it?

What if it was yet another ploy to get her to expose her location?

Her eyes trailed to the tracker, focusing on any twitch the device might show – anything that’d give away that it was actually still alive and functional. She saw it spark up like a lightbulb going out. She knew it was the so-called safety measure.

It was supposed to self-destruct and fry her brain.

What if they were listening to her right now?

Leon tugged her with a firm and determined look on his face, “Don’t look at it, look at me.”

And So Ah hesitantly tore her eyes away from the device.

“Trust me?”

And with little to no second thought, she nodded slowly, “Yeah.”

His gaze softened, trailing his hand to hers, grasping it with such love. A little I’m right here.

“Then tell me everything, right from the start.”

#canon x oc #oc x canon #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil vendetta #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy #resident evil fandom #leon kennedy imagines #leon kennedy fanfic #leon scott kennedy #leon scott kennedy smut #oc x leon kennedy

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mysticfarer · 7 months ago

Text

This Is Not Life’s Carousel

All these mirrors show my face,

it’s not my own, it’s something else.

Maybe what they see in front of them

is a shadow gliding around life’s carousel.

All I do is soak my soul in the flames, loitering in the sunlight.

I wonder if they see the marks scorched on me,

time turns my skin to ashes.

Who knows, as we spin around, why we change so much and so little?

The steeds we ride with static limbs never move

against the friction.

For days and days, I thought it was my fault;

I stood in stagnation.

If only I could grab the controls from the operator,

I could heal from this sickness.

My nails dig deep into the horse’s skull

as I fall gnawing off my own tongue.

All I want to do is saw the top off this pole

I cling to its support.

I go up and down fucking around life’s carousel.

I want to get off; I want the ride to stop,

but the operator keeps pushing buttons.

I want to fall off and crawl for my survival.

but

if I fall and break my leg,

how will I know when I’m safe?

If I fall and break my jaw,

how can I know when I’ll eat?

If I jump, how will I know

if anyone will jump with me?

If I jump, who will be there

to protect me?

Round and round,

my ears ring and eyes flood.

Round and round,

my arms ache and my head

feel lighter than before.

I want to saw off the top

of this pole and kill the horse.

I want to pour water on

the operator.

I want to run away from this circus.

I want to peel off thick skin and hide.

All these dollars we’ve spent on this ride

mean nothing, when there’s no controls

on the inside, when there’s no safety from the inside.

When will the dam break open and flood the circus?

Fill my lungs with water, fill my air with blue.

When will I ride out into the ocean?

When will the boats come from beneath the horizon?

Oh, make me walk this plank of yours and bring me to the currents.

Take me away from all these people with smiles carved with scarlet.

When will the sun shine again?

I don’t know if there will be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Am I my only friend?

Silence only knows when sound is present.

#spilled ink #spilledink #dark poetry #surrealcore #dreamcore #escapism #my post #writeblr

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finleycannotdraw · 2 years ago

Note

Hi there! I noticed you reblogged those ask games for all the tad albums, and I don't remember what question this is but what lyrics would you say just SEND you from each of the albums?

AAAAY HELLO

okay so. this is probably going to be at least one lyric from every song

love run lyrics that send me™️:

“all hell and its fire waits for us” “my entire life it’s running away too fast, watching everyone you’ve ever loved walk past, never really quite getting the knack of knowing that no one will ever come back for you” “for christs sake just say something” “it cannot be a lie if no one hears” “I’m stronger now than you have ever known” “can’t you see that I’m enough for you but you don’t want me to be cause that means you’ll actually have to be content” “it starts off like a pinprick, a trick of the light, oil slick” “I cannot find the words to keep you” “we showed the world that we exist, didn’t really like the pattern that much on the wallpaper so anyway” “if I’m good will you come back” “where is god ma where’s the vodka if my old mum could see me now oh how she’d how she’d hold my hand as you shook in the middle of the night” “let the world come at you love with all its sand and sin a-singing, the song you once knew well’s begun, run until your lungs are numb, let the earth a-tumble love and humble you withal keep running” “let foul men band and heed your hum for that ancient hymn you heard me strumming is naught but fumble falls and tumbleweeds love run it’s not that rum would solve though some would harm you none not one no none would raise to you a hand nor thumb not while by you I stand and hum love run” “it’s not from what we run that drums but what’s to come, love what’s love what’s love what’s to come”

the horror and the wild:

“I pray to god it’s the kindest thing to never leave you alone” “gimme back my heart you wingless thing” “witness me old man I am the wild” “that I might understand as best I can how bold I was could be will be still am by god still am, fret not dear heart let not them hear the mutterings of all your fears the flutterings of all your wings” “flirt (wasn’t flirting) at the back of a bookshop” “hold me lover like you used to so tight I’d bruise you” “I know you’re strong enough to do this on your own” “he’s down he’s dead he’s gone oh he’s lost he’s flown he’s fled now take a good long look at what you’ve all done to me” “I’m old waylaid and feels like I am wading into carpet burns and carousels christ you’ll be the death of me and calm throughout his melodrama she will turn and say dear heart it’s me it’s me you don’t need to pretend to be someone you’re not” “you you touch my skin peels off like paint” “as the belt from your buckle is tightening I make shipwrecks out of my dress” “and I get in and for some reason you’ve painted the kitchen lime green and I sink to the floor what’s the point anymore and you you reply with a glint in your eye singing I don’t know but I’m hear oh dear god dear heart don’t cry” “now even though you’re mad and these memories won’t stay that’s okay cause now I get to meet you for the first time every single day” “look at me as you say this (you’re home) don’t look at your phone (for gods sake I’m)” “I feel hunger at last for that person fifteen year old me would be proud to have known” “these lines aren’t wrinkles dear heart they’re just dollops of paint on a new work of art”

ruin (literally every single lyric okay)

“look into those secret worlds you call eyes” “when I think I’m fine you’ll visit and then you happen to me all over again” “the rain kept coming down I’ll watch that woman drown” “I don’t find this easy like you” “gonna go home and show my cat some memes cause he’s awesome like me” “if god made us all in his image then god’s a fucking nerd” “I might not make it tonight” THE ENTIRETY OF CHORDS but specifically “they are my rascals I can’t let them walk away/we built our castles just to watch them wash away” “walk into your dawn you snotrags tell em we never cared go tell them how we fucked you up and oh my god it’s so unfair we were the winter nights so you could be the morning snow cause life begins by leaving and our love is shown in the letting go” “be good be safe be kind know we’ll always love you even though you’re leaving us behind” “you are in the earth of me” “I’m lifting my class to that last good man grace who has left me he’s left me at last” “let’s bury this I’m all yours but you’re all mine let’s dance together you and I cause I’m not trapped with you you see you’re the one who’s trapped with me” “don’t you think I look pretty curled up on this bathroom floor” “we’ll dance together so close we’re sharing breath but now I’m leading doesn’t that just scare you to death” “I will bring you ruin” “nothing quite prepared me for when that piano sang again” “tomorrow I’ll do things different tomorrow I’ll be brave” “if I don’t make it back from where I’ve gone just know I loved you all along”

TL;DR I am in love with literally every single song by this band.

#the amazing devil #the amazing devil ask game #the amazing devil lyrics #ruin the amazing devil #the horror and the wild #love run #joey batey #madeleine hyland

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talkfastromance4 · 3 years ago

Text

fun day with uncles//Luke&Lily special feat Ashton and Calum

a/n: I want to expand on the relationships the girls have with their uncles (and soon Oliver and Michael) so I hope you enjoy!

word count: 2.1 k

warnings: none, just fun and fluff with our girls and Cashton :)

Luke&Lily Masterlist

Enjoy!

***

You and Luke were going to the doctor’s office for Oliver’s routine check-ups and Calum and Ashton offered to take the girls out for a day. Lily and Posy were talking nonstop about it during breakfast asking where they were going and what they were going to do.

“Will Duke be with us?” Lily asks while you’re styling her hair in her room. Luke has Posy in her room getting her dressed and Oliver is in his swing sucking on his fingers.

“I don’t know, honey. I guess we’ll see when they come pick you up,” you kiss her head watching her pull on her socks.

That was the one request Ashton and Calum had for you and Luke; the girls had to wear shoes and socks. You had packed sunscreen, goldfish crackers, and some extra pull-ups for Posy in case she had an accident. She’s been doing really well going potty on the toilet but accidents happen. You packed an extra outfit and sweaters just in case and placed them in one of Luke’s backpacks.

You figured Ashton and Calum wouldn’t want to carry around the baby bag that you have.

“I ready! Let’s go!” Posy announces skidding to a stop in Lily’s doorway.

“Uncle Ash and Uncle Cal aren’t here yet, bug,” Luke laughs poking at her cheeks from behind.

The girls busied themselves with their toys as you and Luke made sure you had everything you needed for Oliver. Then there was a knock on the door followed by Petunia barking and the girls screaming in excitement running down the hall.

When it opens, Posy rushes to Ashton’s legs and Lily grabs hold of Calum’s hands pulling him inside the house.

“Hey, hey, let them get in the door,” Luke laughs entering the living room behind you.

Oliver woke up from the loud noises and you scooped him up into your arms, rocking him slightly until he calmed down.

“I want to be greeted like this everywhere I go,” Calum laughs, lifting Lily in his arms. “Are you ready for a day of fun, Lils?”

“Yes! Where are we going?” Lily asks.

“Up, up, up Unca Ash!” Posy is trying to climb her way up Ashton’s legs. He picks her up easily as well and pokes her nose.

“Hi little one,” he grins then turns to Lily. “It’s a surprise, but there’s rides, animals, and yummy food.”

You and Luke exchange a look. Rides?

“What kind of rides?” Luke asks, his eyes moving to Lily who’s always been the most cautious with certain things.

“A carousel and pony rides,” Calum eases.

“Ponies?” Lily’s eyes widened.

“Do not let them out of your sight,” Luke warns, lifting the backpack you packed and handing it to Ashton.

“We won’t. How long do you think you’ll be at the doctor’s?” Ashton asks. Calum moves forward towards you and gazes lovingly at Oliver.

“No idea. They’ll probably check his oxygen levels, weigh him, take some blood...a few hours at least,” you respond. “I packed extra clothes and some snacks for them.”

“We’ll be back before dinnertime,” Ashton informs. “You girls ready to go?”

“Bye mama! Bye Daddy!” Posy waves.

“Have fun and listen to your uncles, okay?” you tell them. “And hold their hands.”

“We will mama. Bye Olly!” Calum sets her back on the ground and she touches Oliver’s arm softly.

***

Ashton carries Posy along the grounds of where the circus is in town. There’s a train painted in bright colors with animals drawn all over it and clowns are walking around. Lily is holding onto Calum’s hand taking in all of the sights around her.

“Where should we go first?” Ashton asks, looking at the booths of face painting, jewelry, t-shirts, concessions, and games with colorful stuffed animals.

“Let’s just start on one end and work our way around,” Calum shrugs.

And so they did. First, they ordered a large lemonade that was shared amongst the four of them and looked at the animals. Lily and Posy wanted to feed them so Calum bought the food from a machine that usually holds pieces of gum. He took photos and videos of the girls laughing at the tickling sensation from the goats’ whiskers.

“Goats are pretty cute,” Ashton muses, scratching one on the head.

“No way are you going to get a goat,” Calum shakes his head.

“I want a goat!” Posy claps her hands.

“Ask your daddy that, little one,” Ashton giggles.

They wash their hands and look at the rest of the animals for a bit longer until Posy whispers something in Ashton’s ear.

“She needs to use the potty,” Ashton tells Calum with wide eyes.

“Oh, okay. Uhh…” Calum looks around but all he sees are portable ones. “Looks like those are our best option.”

“Those are disgusting,” Ashton crinkles his nose. “There has to be an actual bathroom somewhere. Let’s ask someone.”

Calum and Lily follow him to a worker and shockingly enough, there is an actual bathroom building but it’s way in the back.

“Can you hold it until we’re at the bathrooms, little one?” Ashton asks, already walking towards the back at a brisk pace. Calum and Lily follow.

They push through the crowds of people muttering their apologies. At long last, they’re in front of the building and thankfully see a door that’s labeled as ‘family’ restroom.

“Here we go,” Ashton says and Calum stops him.

“Do you even know what to do?”

“I’m not dumb, it can’t be that hard. Have some faith, man,” Ashton shakes his head and moves into the restroom.

Calum looks down at Lily who gives him a nervous smile.

“Do you think Uncle Ash will drop her in the toilet?” Calum asks and she giggles.

“I hope not. Dada always sings when she’s on the potty to help.”

Calum looks to the restroom door and approaches it. He knocks lightly.

“Occupied!”

“It’s me!” Calum shouts. “Lily says Luke sings to her to help her go.”

“Sings what?”

Calum looks down at Lily.

“Wheels on the bus.”

“Wheels on the bus!” Calum shouts.

“Got it! Thanks!”

Calum notices a bench against the wall and he pulls Lily onto his lap.

“You’re such a great big sister, you know that? You remind me of my big sister,” he says then realizes Mali hasn’t officially met the girls or Oliver.

“Who?”

“My big sister, Mali.”

“Mama showed me Mali! She sings pretty.”

“Yeah, she does,” Calum grins, “she’d love to meet you someday. I’ll see if she can come visit me soon.”

“Can we ride the ponies next?” Lily asks and Ashton comes out with Posy with a triumphant smile.

“Did it all go well, then?” Calum asks.

“She did such a good job,” Ashton praises and Posy is grinning like he is. “Your mama and daddy are going to be so proud of you, Posy.”

“Way to go Posy!” Calum and Lily clap their hands. “Lils wants to go on the pony rides next.”

“Then let’s go see some ponies!”

Calum and Ashton were able to walk alongside the ponies to make sure the girls didn’t fall off. There was a strap that could be secured around their waists. Calum held onto Lily who kept petting at the pony’s mane and neck as he strutted around the circle.

Ashton was speaking in a southern accent trying to sound like a cowboy and Posy was laughing the whole ride.

After the ponies, they had lunch which consisted of a slice of pizza and some fruit that was sold as a side. Games were next and Posy loved watching Ashton do the hammer one to test his strength. Her peels of laughter encouraged him to keep trying until he finally hit the bell at the top.

He asked Posy which toy she wanted as a prize and chose a purple looking monster with orange teeth and green hair. Lily looked at it apprehensively so Calum towed her along to the water games. She had a good shot with the water guns being aimed at the spinning target as it ascended up the pole, but she didn’t beat the buzzer.

“It’s okay Lils, let’s try this one over here.”

They walk over to the ping pong toss over small fish bowls while Ashton and Posy are throwing balls at glass bottles. Calum buys a bucketful of ping pongs and tries to help Lily with her throws. He loves how dainty she holds the white ball in her hand and she sticks her tongue out in concentration. One of her eyebrows quirks up and she looks so much like Y/N when she does it it throws Calum for a loop.

“Try not to aim for one certain one,” Calum says. “Just throw it and I’m sure you’ll make one in.”

“Okay…” Lily tosses a ball.

She and Calum watch it in slow motion as it hits one bowl then falls into the one next to it. Lily lets out a scream and Calum whoops in excitement as the attendant shouts out “WINNER TO THE LITTLE GIRL IN PINK!”

“I won! Unca Cal I won!” she jumps up and down clutching Calum's fingers.

“Way to go, Lils!” He congratulates and Ashton and Posy come by.

“What’s going on?” Ashton asks just as the attendant comes forward with a bag of water and a small pink fish.

“Lily won a fish,” Calum explains proudly and takes the bag.

“No way! Lily, that’s awesome!”

“I thought she’d like this pink one,” the attendant smiles.

“She loves pink, thank you,” Calum grins and bends down to Lily’s height. “What do you think, Lils?”

“He’s pretty,” she smiles, poking the bag lightly where the small fish is poking in the corner. “Will mama let me keep him?”

“I don’t see why not, you don’t have to walk them.”

“I love him. His name is Bruno.”

“That’s the perfect name,” Calum grins.

“Po, look at my fish.”

Posy scrambles down from Ashton’s arms and presses her nose to the bag.

“He’s tiny!” Posy crinkles her nose.

The rest of the day Calum carried Bruno and Lily would check on him periodically. Posy started to get fussy and they ended the day at the pet store to get some supplies for Bruno. The clerk informed them that Bruno was a male betta fish and about 6 months old.

Calum bought a small tank with gray stones and a lily pad for the fish to sleep on; Lily loved knowing that bit of information that betta fish like to nestle. He bought food and some colorful fake plants.

Ashton stayed with Posy in the car because she fell asleep on the ride to the pet store.

“He won’t...die right away will he?” Calum asks nervously as Lily inspects some more water accessories.

“No, as long as you feed him and change the water periodically he should live for about four years.”

“Four?”

“That’s the average lifespan of betta’s. He’ll be a good starter fish for her if she wants to get another one. When the time comes.”

Calum feels saddened by that because he doesn’t want Lily to be sad when the fish will die. But she’s so enamored by him there’s no way he’ll tell her any of this.

He’ll just tell Luke.

***

“Mama! Look what I got!” Lily runs through the door with Bruno in his bag. She stops in the kitchen where you’re making dinner, Oliver is held against you in the wrap around your body. “I won him! His name is Bruno and Uncle Cal got him a nice home and some food!”

“He did? Wow, he’s so pretty sweetie,” you smile looking at the pink fish.

“What’s with all the noise, is there a circus in town?” Luke asks, coming up from the stairs. “Hey bug, are you still sleepy?” He takes Posy from Ashton’s arms, Posy rests her head in Luke’s neck.

“Look dada! I got a fish!” Lily spins around and shows Luke Bruno.

“Oh wow, and he’s pink! Did you have fun at the circus?”

“Yeah, Po used the potty and won a monster. We had lemonade and pizza and cotton candy. Can Uncle Cal help me with Bruno’s tank?” Lily looks up at you and Luke.

“Absolutely. Thanks for buying everything Uncle Cal,” you smile at him and Lily runs to her room. Luke follows to put Posy down to finish her nap and Ashton crashes on the couch sighing heavily. “Busy day, huh?”

“I don’t know how you and Luke do it,” Calum shakes his head. “And now with three? You’re super human.”

“I’m just a mom.”

“You’re the best mom, lovie,” Luke reappears with a smile. “I take it you two are staying for dinner? Need us to bathe you and tuck you into bed as well?”

“The only one I’ll let bathe me is Y/N,” Ashton sighs, closing his eyes and you laugh loudly.

“Sorry mate, she’s all mine,” Luke gives you a kiss on the cheek and Calum goes to Lily’s room. “Can’t wait to spend the weekend with you, soon.”

Taglist: @calumance @in-superbloom @calpalirwin @karajaynetoday @wiiildflowerrr @sunshineeeluke @littledrummeraussie @suchalonelysunflower @hoodhoran @Fobodob @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @sunshineeashton @ashtonsunflower @mymindwide @itjustkindahappenedreally @seanna313 @fivesecondsofonedirection

Luke&Lily: @prentisswrites

#luke & lily #uncle!sos #uncle ashton #uncle calum #luke&lily oneshot #luke&lily fluff

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theyreonlynoodlesmike · 4 years ago

Note

I recognize you from A03 your stuff is amazing! Could you do an imagine or headcannons in what the boys are like with a reincarnated mate? Or like it's a challenge to win their human mate over

Oooh!! Okay, so my plan for this is to do a mix of both. Basically, a reincarnated mate that they have to win over. These turned more into like a mini-fic for each so I'm sorry if this isn't what you had in mind!! Still, I hope you enjoy!!!

The Lost Boys x Fem!Reincarnated Mate S/O

David

David knew that potential mates came and went. He’d feel the pull, and he’d walk in the other direction. He didn’t need a commitment that strong, not when the whole point of vampirism was party all night and sleep all day. He didn’t think a mate would fit in well, and he didn’t need someone upsetting the hierarchy that had been established between him and his boys. So, he’d wait for the pull to loosen, for it to fizzle out.

Usually, mates would reincarnate every fifty years or so. Davids reincarnated every other decade. He had to hand it to fate, she was persistent. He almost felt bad for you because you only got to make it to your early twenties. But that didn’t mean David was going to listen. He’d greet every pull with more and more annoyance, and, finally, he snapped. Fate wanted him to be with you? Fine. He’d just have to see for himself what made you so goddamn-

Beautiful. He saw you on the carousel. You hair, your face, your eyes. He’d caught your eyes for just a moment, and David had fallen. Hard. He looked at his boys, and nodded at the ride. They skipped the line and hopped on, walking through it and searching for you. He saw you from behind, and he barely registered the boy sitting besides you. He came around, and he caught eyes with you again. He smiled and reached out to touch your cheek, and you gulped as you stared at him. His hand drifted from your face to the scarf around your neck. You hadn’t even noticed when he’d slipped it from around your shoulders. Neither of you said a word, and David turned to keep walking. But your boyfriend grabbed one of his boys.

David turned, and his blue eyes were alight with anger. He gripped his face, and he considered crushing his skull right there. Before he could, the security guard, Big Ed, had a baton around his neck. David gripped it, and he rolled his eyes as Big Ed said his usual line. He sent you a smile before he said, “Alright, boys, let’s go.” And then the baton loosened. He sent you a wink, as your eyes were still on him. He climbed off the carousel, and you and your friends climbed off after them. David went to his bike, and he was playing with the scarf he’d stolen. He sat on his bike, and he let the pull guide his eyes to you. You were standing a few feet away, and it seemed that you’d just noticed your precious scarf was gone. He lifted his hand, holding it up for you to see. You glared at him, and it made him smile. He watched as you parted from your friends, and you looked positively pissed as you stormed up to him. He thought it was cute, and he tilted his head as you stopped in front of his bike. You held out your hand, and he twirled it around his fingers.

“My scarf, please.” You said, but your tone was anything but polite. It made him chuckle to himself. You were wonderful to annoy, and absolutely adorable when you were angry. He held it out, only to snatch it back when you reached for it. He watched the way you frowned and glared at him, and he couldn’t help his grin. “If you want it back, come for a ride with me.” He said, and you scoffed. You crossed your arms over your chest, and David arched a brow. He stuck the scarf in his pocket. Just to show that he was serious. He had absolutely no problem taking it back to the cave with him.

“One ride. That’s all. I guarantee it’ll be better than any ride you’ve had with him.” He said, and he sent your boyfriend a look. It was a jab at him in more ways than one, and it possibly promised a night with him. Of course, that was up to you, but he wouldn’t deny the opportunity. You stared at him, and then looked down at the pocket holding your scarf. He watched you weigh your options, and then you sighed. You couldn’t seem to deny that he’d caught your interest. You held up a finger. “One ride. And I want you to drop me back right here.” You said, and pointed to the spot that you were standing at. David smiled, and he crossed his heart.

Despite your boyfriends glares, you climbed onto the back of his bike. David helped you on, and then he sent a smirk to your boyfriend. Once you’d wrapped your arms firmly around him, he looked over his shoulder to say, “My name’s David by the way. Just so you know what to scream.” And then he peeled away and drove down the steps before you could change your mind.

Dwayne

Dwayne thought his brothers were idiots. He was the only one of them that really wanted to feel a pull, to feel that his mate was close. And it never happened. Not once. He tried not to resent their leader, who seemed content with letting his mate slip by.

Dwayne had already been in love once in his life when he was still a human. It’d been a tragic accident, and it’d happened only a year before he was turned. His lover had a condition, asthma, and he’d taken you out horse riding. He knew the horse had been nervous, but it’d never once bucked him before. So, when it bucked you, he’d been surprised. You’d been panicked. That was all it took to trigger an asthma attack, and even though he’d ridden his horse as fast as he could back to your house, and gone to fetch a doctor even faster, you still died. He regretted it every day of his life, and he’d felt guilty the first few years of his vampirism. That he got to live forever and you’d be nothing more than a corpse in a grave.

He’d been walking along the beach, reminiscing, when he saw you. You were sitting just out of reach of the waves, your toes digging into the wet sand. He hadn’t even realized the pull. It’d been guiding him along the beach, and he’d been too in his thoughts to realize he was heading right for you. To his surprise, you were the striking image of his past lover. Everything was the same, but he couldn’t be sure. Until you pulled out an inhaler.

His heart had nearly fell out of his chest when he saw it, and he had to stop himself from running up to you, kissing you, apologizing a million times and more. You didn’t know him in this life, and he’d probably freak you out if he just ran up to you. So, he continued his walk, and even stopped to look at the water a few times to make it seem as if he wasn’t heading right for you. He picked up a few sea shells, and he tried to remember how he’d won you over the first time. He was simply buying himself time to figure out what he was going to say. Finally, he was too close to ignore you. You looked over at him, and he felt his breathing stop. He didn’t know what to say, and for a moment he considered just walking past you. Instead, you said, “Find anything cool?” You had a smile teasing your lips, and Dwayne had forgotten that about you. You always teased him, got him to lighten up. You’d obviously seen him, so he hadn’t been hiding the fact that he was hanging around you well. You probably thought he was some weird stalker. He cursed himself. But he gave you a small smile, and sat besides you. He held out the shells in his hand without a single word.

He’d only collected a couple, and you reached out to look through them. You picked out one of the shells, and studied it closely in the dark. After a moment, you said, “You know this is a pistachio shell, right?” And Dwayne suddenly wished the ground would open up and swallow him. You laughed at him, and Dwayne had to think quickly. “Just- Don’t want seagulls to choke, y’know?” He said, and you arched a brow at him. He’d forgotten how strong your bullshit detector was. Finally, you shook your head with a smile on your face. “What’s your name?” You asked, and Dwayne let you take the remaining shells from his hand. You were studying the rest, and Dwayne leaned back on his arms. He let his hair fan down his face, and let his jacket slide back to expose his chest. He hadn’t come over to be teased by you. He’d come over to impress you, win you over. You were doing your hardest to stare at the shells in your lap as he answered, “Dwayne.” You hummed, and you told him your name. He smiled. It was different than the name he’d called you before, but it didn’t suit you any less. You were both quiet for a moment, and Dwayne licked his lips as he tried to think of something else to say. He never remembered it being this hard to talk to you.

“You live here long?” He asked, and you smiled. It was a tiny smile, but he saw it all the same. “Why do you want to know?” You asked, and Dwayne let out a small chuckle. Still as sassy as always. “So, I can know how long I should’ve been wandering this side of the beach.” He replied, and it was smooth. Even for him. You looked over at him, and the smile you gave him told him that he wasn’t going to have any more trouble trying to win you over.

Paul

Paul hadn’t had much interest in settling down just yet. He was a total chick magnet, as far as he was concerned. And settling down for forever? That was a big commitment! Why would he toss aside all the babes in this beach-side town for just one? That had been his reasoning as to why he avoided the pull the first time he’d felt it. It’d been fifty years ago, and he had luckily avoided laying eyes on the girl who was supposedly the girl of his dreams.

It didn’t mean that he wasn’t curious. The pull had lasted for awhile, longer than David or Markos had. It faded every once in awhile, as you got further and further away, and he’d be a ball of nervous energy when it would suddenly tighten. You were close. Too close. He’d practically run in the other direction, content on avoiding you until it was finally a dull tingle. You had left and gone to live your life without him. He was fine with that. He really was.

When the pull was finally gone, he found himself daydreaming about what you would have looked like. It had been a few decades, but sometimes he would still think about it. Whenever he saw a girl he thought he was especially pretty, he wondered if you’d have any resemblance to her. Eventually, he felt the pull again.

You were back. This time, he couldn’t help his curiosity. He told himself that he just wanted to get one look. He wasn’t going to talk to you, fall for you, or any of that other crap. He was just going to see what you looked like, and then he could adjust his taste accordingly.

He hopped off his bike and chased after you. He jogged in front of you, and you arched a brow at him when he started walking backwards. He was making it impossible for you to ignore him, and you rolled your eyes. Snark was quick to leave your pretty lips. “I’m sorry, did I not make myself clear? Fuck off.” You told him, and Pauls lips spread into a wide smile. You were mean. He liked mean. “I’m Paul.” He said, and you rolled your eyes. “Good for you.” You said. “C’mon, tell me your name. I promise I’m a good time.” He said, and you rolled your eyes at the way he smiled. Innuendo intended. He stopped so you would have to stop too. He held out his hands, and you looked at him with a glare. You crossed your arms over your chest. His hands didn’t fall, he didn’t move out of your way, and his smile only grew wider. You sighed. “You’re not gonna give up, are you?” You asked, and Paul nodded. “I have no problem with public humiliation when it comes to babes as beautiful as yourself.” He replied, and you scoffed. But just the slightest of smiles graced your lips, and he pointed at it. “See? I can make you smile. Just give me a chance.” He said, and he clasped his hands together as if he was begging. He even jutted out his bottom lip in a pout.

Of course, that wasn’t the case. As soon as he laid eyes on you, he thought his heart had started beating again. He hadn’t even gotten off his bike yet. He’d just parked it on the boardwalk when you walked past him. He couldn’t stop the whistle that left his mouth the moment he saw you. To emphasize that point, he revved his engine to get your attention. To his surprise, you turned around and flipped him off. His brothers laughed at him, and he scoffed. You were his mate. He knew that for sure. So, he couldn’t wrap his head around why you’d deny his advances.

You stared at him for a moment, and you sighed as you tossed your hair over your shoulder. As if you couldn’t believe you were going to say what you said next. “Fine. You can buy me ice-cream. Then, maybe, I'll tell you my name.” You said, and then you maneuvered around him. He said a small, “Yes.” And his fist pumped the air. He quickly followed you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You shrugged him off, and he went to hold your hand instead. When you pulled your hand away, he said half-jokingly, “I’m not afraid to put my hand in your back pocket.” And you let out a small laugh as you gave him a push. However, you reached out to interlock your pinky with his. It was a small step, but it was good enough for him.

Marko

Marko let his mates pass him by, but for a very different reason than the rest. He’d already had a mate before. One that he’d to keep almost a year after he’d turned. He’d fallen for you like he’d knew he’d would, and he’d won you over. You’d been dating for a few months when Marko let it slip about what he was.

Mates were supposed to be understanding. Your perfect match. Forever. He’d had to prove it to you, so he’d shown you his face. His true face. And you ran. You ran and you never talked to him again. It had broken his heart, and he’d gone on a spree big enough to almost out them to the public. He’d been in a rage, a flurry of feelings that he couldn’t contain. You hated him. You thought he was ugly. You were scared of him. It’d torn him apart, and he’d settled, after so many years, with the fact that he’d be forever alone.

It was why every time he felt the pull, he ignored it. He knew how it would end, and he wasn’t willing to go through it again. You’d love him for a short while, when you thought he was human, and then you’d run. He couldn’t- He wouldn’t go through it again. It was easier to be alone, and to drown his sorrows in blood. He’d hardened after that night. He’d never truly been the same. He was angry, and always willing to pick a fight. Paul had to hold him back on one too many occasions.

He’d been out for a chinese run when he felt the pull. He’d felt it a few days ago, but he’d ignored it. He’d fled the boardwalk and returned to the cave, content to drink whatever blood, and alcohol, they had lying around until you left. But, now, he as stuck. It was strong, and it was close. He was in the middle of paying, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up when he felt you behind him. You were waiting in line, and Marko fumbled with his cash. He heard you let out a small, impatient sigh, and he was even more flustered than before. He dropped his change, and he hadn’t noticed you’d done the same. He muttered a small curse as he went to pick it up. He’d picked up two of the quarters when a small, fragile hand picked up the last one. He looked up, and he instantly regretted it. He knew it was you from just the pull alone, but nothing would have prepared him for looking back into your eyes again. And to not see fear in them. Instead, just slight annoyance. He took the quarter without a word, and stood back up. He paid, grabbed the food, and practically ran out of the restaurant. He was hooking up the box to the back of his bike, and he half-considered just tossing the box in the trash and getting the hell out of there when he heard a familiar voice yell, “Hey!” He turned and he cursed himself the moment he did. It was you.

You looked even more annoyed than before. You stormed up to him, and Marko didn’t know what to say. You pointed at him, and then held out your hand. He gave you a puzzled look. “Two of those quarters were mine.” You stated flatly, and, if Marko could, he’d blush. He silently rummaged through his pocket, and produced two quarters. He mumbled a small, “Sorry.” And rubbed the back of his neck. Marko couldn’t remember the last time he’d apologized to someone, especially for something so little. Then, his thumb was back between his teeth as he watched you put them back in your change purse. You looked exactly the same, but so different at the same time. Your style had changed, but it didn’t suit you any less. Marko supposed his style had changed too. You caught him looking you over, and you arched a brow at him. He removed the thumb from between his teeth, but he didn’t know what to say. Finally, he said, “Um, I’m Marko.” Marko hadn’t been this nervous, or nice, to anyone ever since he’d last seen you. You let out a small, amused huff before you rolled your eyes. You told him your name, and Marko could feel a smile crawling up his face.

“You come here often?” He asked, and you rolled your eyes again. It was a lame attempt, and he knew it. Quickly, he added, “I just- I come here a lot and I’ve never seen you before.” He said, and you stared at him. You looked him over, much how he had done with you. Finally, you said, “Did you do that on purpose? So, you could talk to me?” Your tone was suspicious, and he quickly shook his head. Before he could stammer out his excuse, you smiled. It made his breath stop. You hadn’t smiled at him in years. “’Cause if so, next time, just say hi like a normal person.” You said, and you started to walk away. Before you could get too far, Marko said, “Hi? Maybe we could go out to eat?” He asked you, and you looked over your shoulder as you went to your car. You paused, and then he nodded towards the restaurant. “I’ll buy.” He offered, and you rolled your eyes again. But there was a small smile on your face. Finally, you said, “I come here every Tuesday at the same time.” And Marko grinned. “It’s a date.” He promised, and you tossed your food into your car. “It’s maybe a date.” You responded, and slid into your car to pull away.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys david #the lost boys marko #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys paul #paul the lost boys #marko the lost boys #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys x reader

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adrenaline-roulette · 4 years ago

Text

Four Eighths

Pairing: Four x Eight (Reader) Word Count: 5.5K+ Warnings: Language *Disclaimer, Hi everybody. I first of all would like to apologise to those who have been waiting for months for a new chapter, this chapter has been partially written since September, however in that time, my aunt passed away. It has hit me very hard, and during this time, I needed to take a step away from writing, to be with my family, and also to take time to look after myself and my mental health. I’m doing better now, and with that means I am slowly updating my works which have been neglected as of late. So for those who are returning viewers of this series, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for coming back and waiting with me. And for those new to this series, welcome and I hope you stay with us. Much love to you all!

Chapters One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, and Nine can be found here! (That’s right baby, we’ve officially reached double digits for chapters!)

Chapter Ten: Darkest paradise I’ve ever seen

Flying into Noumea, your headphones pressed snuggly against your ears, you watch as miles upon miles of crystal blue ocean spans ahead of you. From just about every direction you look through the small aeroplane window, all you can see is blue. That is aside from the tiny speck on the horizon, which you can only assume is in fact, your destination. It seems awfully far away, and a part of you has managed to convince the less logical section of your brain, that you still have plenty of time before you arrive. Before the plan takes motion. Before shit goes down. Or you have months to continue planning your take down of the Lushnick’s…. But as you gaze out the window once more, the tiny speck growing ever larger, your rational mind takes over, reminding you that in less than two weeks, provided everything went according to plan, the Lushnick’s would be yours.

As the plane touches down at La Tontouta international airport, you await the captain’s departure announcement before standing up and stretching your cramping legs, feeling your joints pop, and muscles ache from having spent too long in one position. Once the initial rush of passengers have passed you, you reach up into the overhead compartments and retrieve the navy blue rucksack you had stowed up there. With the bag flung over your shoulder, you disembark the plane, and head towards the baggage carousel within the terminal. Within your rucksack, along with a few emergency items on the off chance your bags were lost, included five various ID cards, all hand made for you by One’s slightly shady yet reliable connection; a wad of Pacific Franc, the currency of New Caledonia, and of course your laptop. One had assured you that the apartment you would be using as a base had all the setup you required, however you felt more confident with your own computer, even just as a backup for an emergency. As you cross the tarmac, you recall the burner phone One had given you upon your departure, the only contacts held within were those of the Ghost’s, though knowing that you still have the ability to communicate with your team before their arrival helped alleviate some of your nerves. Switching the phone off flight mode, you held it firmly in your sweaty palm, half expecting it to buzz to life with missed notifications, as it would if it were your true phone. The influx of notifications never come, there is however one which does buzz through. ‘Are you safe?’

You scan over the message again and again, reading just about every possible subtext into it within a matter of seconds, before finally, you take a deep breath in, hold it for ten seconds, then release. ‘It’s Four, don’t be so dramatic. He actually cares about you.’ You remind yourself, just as your thumbs tap against the phone keyboard. ‘Just landed. Collecting bags then heading to the apartment. Should be there within the hour.’ You reply, pocketing the phone again and keeping your eyes peeled for you luggage.

The phone vibrates again, but this time you ignore it, opting instead to find the Taxi rank now that you had procured your bags. On you way through the airport, you discard you boarding pass into a trashcan, saying a mental goodbye to the alias of Ginevra Connelly. Of course you still kept the ID card with Ginevra’s details in your bag just in case, but the aim was to only use each alias once. One for flying, one for working, and one for personal business. The others were just there if any unexpected events should arise. Once outside, you only need wait a few minutes before a taxi pulls up, the driver popping the trunk of the car for you to deposit your bags. Once the trunk is closed, you slide into the back seat, sitting directly behind the driver. “Bonjour.” The driver offers with a small smile, meeting your eyes in the rear-view mirror.

You smile gently back. “Bonjour.” You greet, before reciting off the address to the apartment in Noumea which One had insisted you memorise.

With a nod of his head, the taxi driver speeds off, either ignoring or simply disregarding all speed signs which he passed. As he drove like a bat out of hell, you check your phone once more. ‘That’s good. Glad you’re alright.’ Four had replied, earning a small smile to creep over your lips.

‘Well, the flight didn’t kill me. Can’t say the same about my driver though….’

‘Axe murderer?’

‘Nothing quite as exciting. Or at least, I didn’t notice an axe when I checked the trunk…. Just a crazy driver is all. You’ll see when you get here. It looks to be a trend.’

‘Can’t wait!’ Before a rapid second response of. ‘Stay out of trouble until I get there please?’

‘I promise.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Love yo-‘ You begin typing, before frantically deleting the characters. As much as you wanted to send the message, you just couldn’t quite bring yourself to do it. Something about sending those words, via a burner phone while you’re in a totally different country, just felt wrong. Perhaps that was the nerves of the mission talking? No matter, you would saver the phrase for when you saw Four in person.

You put your phone away after that, not trusting yourself to continue the conversation with the direction it was headed. You knew Four was still, not necessarily mad at you, but disappointed that you hadn’t told him of your early departure. You were also acutely aware of his fear for you being in a foreign country all alone. You were positive that if it hadn’t been for the sudden announcement of your leaving, then he would have tried much harder to convince you and One to let him arrive with you. Of course, deep down you knew that despite Four’s protective nature, he understood why he was unable to arrive with you, or with the others. But it didn’t stop him from disliking the plan any less.

The driver watches as you put your phone away and takes this time to engage you in the typical taxi, passenger chit chat. “Parlez-vous français?” He enquires, and it takes you a moment to comprehend what he had asked. You had a slight knowledge of the French language, but it was very, very basic.

“No sorry, I don’t speak French.” You offer with a half smile, shrugging lightly as you turn your attention to the scenery blurring past you.

“Ah, a tourist then. Here for a vacation, are you? He continues, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel as he changes lanes in what would be considered a highly illegal maneuver literally anywhere else in the World.

Deciding that if you looked out the window any longer you may become motion sick, you turn your focus to staring directly at the back of the drivers head. “Mhm, I’ve always wanted to visit, go snorkelling, maybe go for a ride on one of those glass bottom boats? Who knows!” You ramble on, though nothing you say is quite a lie. In truth, you had always wanted to visit Noumea, and were supposed to when you were thirteen. You were supposed to go on a cruise to the South Pacific Islands as a birthday present, however that never quite happened. You suppose in the long run, it’s a good thing you never came here as a child, if you had, then this mission may not be going ahead. Or at least not with you at the helm.

“My cousin owns a glass bottom boat, he runs tours every day. Here, take this card, it has his details.” He pulls a crinkled business card out of his shirt pocket, and passes it back to you. You take it graciously, taking a moment to read over it before stowing it away in your bag.

“Thank you.”

As you drive through the city, the driver points out the occasional tourist attraction, to which you nod and play along with the façade you had created. Most things he says go in one ear then out the other, but there is one which catches your attention. “Over the is the hospital. Might be good to know where that is just in case.” He offers with a grin, gesturing to the large building on your left.

Your head whips around to face that direction in an instant, eyes growing wide as you drink in the sight. “That’s the hospital…” You whisper, mouth going dry as you watch the building disappear into the distance behind you.

The rest of the drive is kept in relative silence, mostly on your part. Having finally seen your destination for this mission, it all suddenly felt so real. Inside that building, which should be used for good, were two of the most vile and wicked people you know to exist. They had nearly two weeks left before they met they’re match however, and that thought alone set a chilling grin on your lips.

*****

Once you arrived at the apartment you were faced with a serious problem, a lack of keys to the front door. Surely One should’ve thought of this, he owned the fucking place! “Well that’s just great. Now what?” You hiss to yourself, glaring daggers at the wooden door that currently separated you from your new, temporary home and work space.

Reaching behind, you fish around in your bag in search of your phone. Muttering swears beneath your breath, until finally your fingers clasp onto the cool, smooth device. Scowling at the screen as you scroll through the limited contacts, you press call against One. Standing with your back leaning against the front door, one arm folded across your chest, and your left foot tapping the ground impatiently.

“Don’t tell me you’re already in trouble.” One grumbles after the sixth ring. His words causing your sour mood to only worsen.

“No I am not.” You hiss, lowering your voice to a whisper as you hear voices out on the street.

“What do you need Eight?”

“I want to know how I’m supposed to get into the bloody apartment! There’s not fucking keys!”

There’s a pause on the line for a minute or two, and for the first time ever, you realise that you’ve rendered One, the fearless leader, utterly speechless. “The keys are on the table.” His voice is mumbled, and you barely catch what he says.

“I’m sorry, what was that now?”

One groans, and you can almost picture his frustrated face, perhaps he would even be pinching the bridge of his nose… “I said, the keys are on the table, inside the apartment.”

He sounds disappointed in himself, and rightly so. “Well, that’s helpful isn’t it?”

“Don’t get sassy with me missy.”

“Why not? This is your house isn’t it? Shouldn’t you have a set of keys with you?”

“It’s one of my houses..”

“That doesn’t make this any better.”

“Did you bring your lock pick?”

“Of course I did. The question is, which bag is it in….” You mumble, gazing around at the bags you had discarded by the door.

“I think you know what to do. Good luck kid.” There’s a grin to One’s voice now, and you have half a mind to tell him off for his stupidity, however before you get the chance, the line goes dead.

With a deep sigh, you resign yourself to do the only thing you can, break in. Well technically it wasn’t breaking in, not when you were supposed to be living here, though you imagine that logic may not stand up in court if someone were to catch you in the act.

Withing ten minutes, all of your bags lay open on the ground, items of clothing strewn about the place, as you had frantically searched the brown leather pouch which housed your lockpick tools. Upon finding it, you groan at the mess you had made, stuffing everything back in the bags haphazardly, you would deal with the unorganised mess later.

Gazing around, you double then triple check that there is no one around to see you. The voices on the street had long since faded away, leaving only the sounds of birds chirping, and the distant crash of waves. Confident you’re alone, you bow over the door handle, and begin picking the lock. It occurs to you that perhaps this was One’s plan all along. After all, he was the one to provide you with said lock picking kit. You brush that thought off, and return to the task at hand, fiddling with the handle for roughly fifteen minutes until finally you hear a click. “Eureka!” You declare quietly yet triumphantly. The door swings open, and dusty air breezes out past you, causing you to cough and sneeze. Blimey, this place must’ve been closed up for months!

Inside the apartment, you don’t take too long looking around, you’ll have time for that later. You take note of where the master bedroom is, and claim that as yours by dumping your bags atop the bed, and seek out the bathroom. With everything in order as far as you could see, you take your laptop and bring it out into the main living area where what you can only assume is your area has been set up. There are three monitors set up on a large oak desk, which looked wildly out of place in the otherwise, holiday home themed house. The largest sitting in the middle of the desk, with two smaller screens on either side. It’s not a perfect set up, but it will work for what you need, and that’s all that really matters, especially considering most of your work would be done from inside the hospital.

Settling down at the makeshift study desk, you take a final moment to glance around the apartment, spotting a set of what you presume is house keys sitting on the dining table. “Well, at least One was right about where you were.” You mutter quietly, glaring at the object in question.

*****

Infiltrating the hospital database took far longer than you had initially expected. Over the past few weeks, you had made practice runs of worming your way into other systems for different hospitals around the world, however at no point had you thought to test your access to the hospital you actually needed entrance to. “It can’t be any different to any of the others.” You surmise, squinting at the screen before you, elbows propped up on the desk, and chin resting on your interlocked fingers. Truth be told it wasn’t that much different, not in the scheme of things, however someone, and goodness knows who, had made the entire system nearly impenetrable! Key word being nearly. However, if there was one thing you had learned after years of sneaking your way into systems you shouldn’t, it was that no matter how tricky a program may first appear, there is always a way in! And this system was no different.

One pizza delivery and three energy drinks later, the start of a migraine -which was either caused by your frustration, or the copious amounts of caffeine- and you were finally in! The hospital was, in every sense of the word, yours. The possibilities, oh the possibilities! Your first task only took a few moments, scanning through encrypted lists until you came across the one which housed the contact details for all members of staff. The list consisted of the staff members name, followed by their position of work, contact number and email, and finally a next of kin. Truly, this list looked to have been composed specifically for you and your needs. Copying the details you required for a one Mister Frank Sea, and pasting them momentarily into a word document, you move onto your second task. Page upon page you read through, jumping between links and praying that perhaps this time you had found the correct page, you finally make it to the hospital security system. You blame your caffeinated jittery hands for how long it took you to find. Once in the system, you begin changing over a few simple details, nothing too extreme that could potentially be cause for concern if anyone were to see, but the changes you made were imperative to the mission. The contact name for the security recruitment agency remained the same, however you now deleted out the previous phone number, adding in One’s phone number as planned. Finally came task three, which you had been dreading since you woke up this morning. The guilt of what you were about to do had been gnawing at you all week. You weren’t a bad person, not really; you kept telling yourself, hoping that perhaps if you said so enough, it would be true. You feared sending this email would ruin Frank, that it would destroy him… ‘It’s just business.’ You can hear One telling you, his exact words after you had both come up with this plan. “It’s just business, I’m just doing my job. It’s for the greater good.” You whisper, your voice catching in your throat. You don’t give yourself another moment to dwell on things, and instead quickly write up your email on the address you had created specifically for the mission. The email informs Frank of his urgent presence being required in Scotland to discuss the legalities of his and his wife’s separation, and custody of his children. Holding your breath, you hit send, watching impatiently until the message had left your outbox. By the time Frank would arrive in Scotland, the company you had pretended to work for would be closed for three weeks due to renovations. He would have no way of contacting them to find out why his presence was required, and of course try as he might, there was no chance he would receive a reply to any of his emails to you. So for three weeks, he would stick it out at home, arguing with his wife, all while you take over for him at the hospital.

*****

Soft pinks and oranges had begun to coat the evening sky as dusk rolled in, and for the first time in years, Four found himself staring up at the sky, envisioning a future. A future which didn’t involve hurting or killing people, no matter how evil and vile they were. Just a plain, normal future. He didn’t quite know what had brought these thoughts upon him, they were the types of thoughts he had managed to banish into the deepest parts of his mind. In fact, the last time he had thought about a normal life, was shortly after Six had died. They all mourned him of course, but the reality of losing Six had weighed down on him greatly. And for close to three months, Four had seriously considered abandoning the Ghosts, and starting a fresh life far away from them. At the time though, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t leave the team. And besides, he had no where to go, and no one to run to. But now? Now was different, he had you. The two of you could run away together, leave the Ghosts, leave this life behind. Start over wherever in the world you wanted you, far away from One and his plans of revenge against those who had wronged the world….

He shook his head, the images of normalcy which had formed in his minds eye, fading away, just as the sun was. He couldn’t leave, not when this was the closest thing to a family he had had since he was a toddler. If there was one thing he knew for sure, you don’t abandon your family. His own parents had taught him that the hard way.

Carefully, Four pushed himself up from where he had been relaxing atop his trailer. His back was stiff after having been laid down for what felt like too long, but he paid it little mind. As he leapt down to the ground, a loud yell echoed throughout base.

“Will somebody answer my phone? I can’t get to it right now!” It was One, yelling at the top of his lungs from god knows where, his voice sounded muffled though.

Next came Five’s screamed reply. “Where are you then?”

“Garage!” One yelled back.

“Coming, I’ll get it!” Four watched as Five went darting across base, kicking up red dust in her haste.

For interests sake, Four made his meandering way towards the garage, just to see what was so urgent about this phone call, and why One couldn’t get it. He strolled in, hands in his pants pockets, and hood drawn over his head. His eyes darting between Five, who was reading from a script scribbled in an old notebook while on the phone, to One who’s feet were sticking out from beneath a silver Audi R8.

“Good afternoon, leader security how may I help you?” Five recited in what was either the worst or perhaps best Dolly Parton imitation Four had ever heard. “Oh sure, you need a new head of security? How soon do you need them to start?” There was a pause, and Four stepped further over to the Audi, titling his head to the left as he lifted a quizzical brow. “Asap? Well where are y’all located?... Oh I see, let me transfer you.”

“You alright down there mate?” Four smirked giving One’s foot a gentle kick.

“Yep, never better. Why do you ask?”

“Well it’s just, you’re only like, ten steps away from your phone… Not sure why you couldn’t get it yourself is all.” He shrugged, folding his arms across his chest, and rocking back on his heels.

One pauses for a few moments, selecting his next words carefully. “I just didn’t want to stop what I was doing midway through.”

Four crouched slightly, peering at the floor creeper One was reclined on beneath the car. One of the wheels had popped off entirely, while another on the same side was horrendously bent out of shape. “You’re stuck aren’t ya?”

“Yes I’m stuck.”

*****

Two hours later, your mobile rings with One’s caller ID flashing, grinning you answer with a bright smile. “Good afternoon, Leader security recruitment how may I help you?” You recite in an overly practiced voice, not that the person on the other end of the line could tell, but it sure made you feel better, knowing you weren’t about to trip over your own words. One had done just as was planned, and upon playing receptionist for the security company, had transferred the call directly to you, and now it was time to get yourself employed.

The female voice on the other end of the line begins speaking frantically, telling you about how the current head of security for her hospital had just left unexpectedly, and that they needed someone to fill in for him until they could find out when he would return.

“Ma’am, it will all be fine, I assure you. Now can you please tell me your company code?” You smile, while typing aimlessly into a word document. So long as the woman on the phone could hear you typing, you would not raise any suspicion, even if all you were typing was smiley faces. “I see, and this is a hospital based in Noumea New Caledonia, is that correct? – Mhm no problems at all. How soon do you require someone to commence?” You type out the few details she tells you which are actually important to you, before returning to the faces. “I will have to see who I have in area who may be able to assist you. One of contractors recently moved to the area I believe for a change of scenery. May I put you on hold and see if I am able to call her?” The moment the woman agrees, you place the call on hold and laugh to yourself. The temptation to have an actual conversation with yourself just to keep the charade up is there, however considering as it had only been a few hours of you living alone, you felt you should at least attempt to keep the bouts of insanity to a minimum for now. “Hello, are you still there?” You ask a few minutes later. “Anastasia Breaker will be available as of tomorrow morning, if you could please forward all details regarding her employment to the following email address, then she will see you in the morning.” The woman is nearly in tears as she thanks you, promising she would send the information within minutes. “Of course, no problems. Have a lovely evening, and once again, thank you for choosing leader security.”

As the phone goes silent, you stand up and stretch, raising your arms above your head. You’d done it, you were in. Or rather Anastasia was in, but no matter who’s name was on the contract, you were the one who would be doing all the work.

*****

For the next few hours, you read through the multiple emails which arrived for Anastasia Breaker, advising you of where to go tomorrow morning, and who you would be meeting upon your arrival. It was nothing too unusual, or anything unexpected, the only downside was that you had been requested to arrive at 6 am. To some that may be ok, normal even. But to you, a perpetual night owl, it felt like torture. After laying out your clothing for the following morning, to allow for a slight sleep in, you lay down in the double bed you had claimed as yours. You knew it would likely end up being shared once the others arrived, but for now, it was all yours. The lights had all been turned out, leaving you in near complete darkness. The only light was that of the shining silver moon, peering down on you through a forest of thick trees. Try as you might however, sleep seemed to escape you. Perhaps it was nerves of tomorrow and your new ‘job’, or maybe it was just the fact you were sleeping in a new bed. No matter the cause, after tossing and turning for nearly an hour, you eventually gave up. Sitting upright, you grab the burner phone off the nightstand, having left it beside you with an alarm on for the morning.

You stare down at the bare screen, so used to your own which was filled with various apps. On this phone however, there was nothing of interest to do. Your thumb hovered over your contacts, and you bite your lower lip in thought. You knew One would be furious if he found out you were using the phone as anything but emergency contacts and an alarm, but at the same time, you found yourself having a rather difficult time caring about him and what he thought while he was so far away. Finally, you press down on the contact, and listen to the phone ring on loudspeaker.

“Hello?” Four’s distinct voice carries through, and you feel a wave of comfort roll over you. His voice alone felt like home, and it almost frightened you to think that, especially considering how brief your relationship had been so far.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Oh, Oh! I’m sorry love I had no idea. This number isn’t programmed into my phone, I genuinely thought it was a telemarketer or something!” He was rambling, and you could almost see the pale crimson blush which would be creeping up his neck and cheeks, as he too realised, he was rambling.

“It’s totally fine, I’m not really supposed to be calling you. But I needed to hear a friendly voice.”

“Who says you’re not supposed to call?”

“One.”

“Fuck him and his stupid rules!”

“I would really rather not.”

“You know what I mean, you idiot.” You can practically hear his eye roll through his words, and you can’t help but smile at that. At how well you know his mannerisms these days. “How has day one gone? Everything going according to plan?”

You nod, before recalling that he can’t see you. “Yep, things seem to be rather smooth sailing for now. I’ll be starting at the hospital tomorrow morning, and from there I can get everything else set in motion.”

“That’s brilliant, at this rate it’ll all be over before we know it!”

You pause for a moment, resting the phone on the pillow beside your head. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

“What’s wrong hm? You don’t sound convinced?”

Rolling over, you lay flat on your back, staring up at the ceiling. “I suppose I’m just trying to come to terms with how quickly this is all happening, you know? Like, I feel it was just yesterday One announced who the targets were, and now suddenly I’m here? It’s all happening so fast.”

“I know exactly what you mean, I can’t quite wrap my head around it all either. But look at how far we’ve come. How far you’ve come! Remember that day when the targets were announced-“

“You mean the day I ran out of the briefing and nearly killed us both?” You interrupt, smirking slightly at the memory.

“Yes, that day. But look at you now, look at where you are! You’ve changed so much in such a short period of time. You’re far more prepared than any of us here at base are, and for us, this is either our second or third mission! For you, this is your first, and you’re already doing better than any of us could’ve imagined.”

“Do you mean that, or are you just saying it so I stop panicking?”

“I’ve never meant anything more in my life Eight, I promise.”

“Thank you, I – thank you.” You whisper, rolling to your side and looking down at the phone. You sigh deeply, closing your eyes tight before allowing them to slowly open. “Tell me something that no one else in the Ghosts knows about you.”

You hear him chuckle, a deep rumble which you wish you could wrap your arms around him and feel as it flowed through you. “Do you want something to laugh at?”

“Yes, I don’t want to cry tonight. Make it funny.”

Four hums to himself, and you curl around your pillow, cradling the phone near your chest. “Right, here’s one. Bet you didn’t know I have a criminal record as an arsonist!”

He sounds proud of himself, and for the life of you, you can’t fathom why. “You what now?”

“It was my first charge, long before the cops ever figured out I was stealing, which I had been doing for years before this occurred.”

“How long have you been a thief, Four?”

“A long while… But that’s a story for another time. This is about fire lord me!”

You groan, rolling your eyes at the nickname he had given himself, while leaving a mental note to ask him about his past one day, when you weren’t in the middle of a mission.

“I was maybe 15 or 16, and was with this girl who I thought was made of pure heaven. I practically worshiped the ground she walked on, and daydreamed about her all day every day. To her though, I was a kid who was a year or two younger than her, and she just loved the attention, not matter who it came from. I knew she only spent a month with each of her boyfriends, but naive young me thought that maybe I could convince her to be with me forever. Spoiler alert, that didn’t work out. One night I decided to surprise her when she came home from dance lessons, her parents were out of town for the week, and I figured I would make a romantic evening for the two of us, and would allow her to be my first.” He pauses for a moment, as if wanting to see if you wanted to hear where this was going.

“It’s fine Four, just keep telling the story.” You giggle, shaking your head softly at where this was all going.

“Well I got super fancy, ordered takeout because heaven knows I cannot cook, even managed to nick a bottle of champagne from the local liquor store. It was cheap nasty stuff now that I think about it, but at the time, I felt very grown up. I lit candles all over her townhouse, there were some in the kitchen, bathroom, bedrooms and even the kitchen. I think I went through an entire matchbook that night. So finally she gets home, and I’m nervous as hell. Legs jittery, forehead sweaty, and look the exact opposite of sexy like I had hoped for. She’s all smiles, and even thanks me for setting up a lovely evening. After we eat, she steps outside to have a smoke, and I clean up in the kitchen. The next thing I know, she’s shouting from the front door, and then the smoke alarming is blaring throughout the house. I run outside, and find her staring up at the second floor at her bedroom window, where billows of dark smoke are seeping out. Turns out, she had a cat I didn’t know about, and the fucker knocked down one of the candles, it landed near her bedroom curtains, and the flames engulfed pretty much the entire room. Cops and firemen came, shockingly they didn’t believe me when I said it was the cat. And the fact that I had been in her home without her for so long didn’t help my argument either….”

“Oh my goodness, so you were actually innocent? The cat got you a record?” You laugh, pressing your palm to your forehead.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up. That cat is the reason I don’t do romantic anymore.” He grumbled playfully.

“Aw, and why’s that? Cat got your tongue?!” You chortle, you were definitely borderline tired now, because to you, that was officially the funniest pun in the world.

“Oh dear, oh no…. Eight that was terrible, please never say anything like that again.”

“Aww, come on! It was funny!”

“No love, no it wasn’t.”

There’s no use in arguing the point, you knew you were funny and that was all that mattered. “Fine, I’ll stop with the cat puns especially seeing as you’re not feline it…”

‘You are very annoying, you know that right?”

“Of course, but it’s part of my appeal!”

“Whatever you say. But I do think You need some sleep, because you sound hella tired right now.”

As if on que, a yawn slips from your lips, giving away just how tired you now were. “You may be right.”

“Good night love, good luck tomorrow. I know you’ll be amazing.”

You smile at his words, tracing your finger along the edge of the phone. “Thank you. I’ll see you soon, ok?”

“Ok.”

You end the call, and place the phone back on the nightstand. As you allowed your eyes to drift shut, you can’t help but feel just that little bit more confident that things were going just as they were planned.

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Chapter Eleven here!

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ephemerlskies · 4 years ago

Text

in the stars tonight | pjm

⇢ pairing: jimin x reader

[other members - seokjin, taehyung, namjoon]

⇢ genre: series, ANGST, enemies to lovers au, actor!jimin, actor!oc, (eventual) fluff if you squint

⇢ word count: 8.4

⇢ genre: Landing a role that might launch your entire career as an actor had come with the most unpredictable and daunting circumstances: grappling with the tragic loss of your boyfriend, Namjoon, and co-starring in a film with the vexing yet enchanting (and famous), Park Jimin.

⇢ warnings: explicit language, themes of grief/loss, themes of depression, (many) mentions of death, mentions of driving under the influence (please stay safe!!), themes of alcoholism, themes of escapism, mentions of alcohol, mentions of marijuana, unhealthy coping mechanisms, lots of internal dialogue with one deceased boyfriend, arguing/bickering, seokjin being seokjin, eventual love triangle (ish) feud

♪ playlist: dynamite - bts, move! - niki, saint nobody - jessie reyez, through the night - iu, ilomilo - billie eilish, the truth untold - bts, slow dancing in the dark - joji ♪

╰ series index: 01 | 02 (coming soon)

a/n: i, and i cannot emphasize this enough, can't believe this came out of me.... it was just a lil idea in my head, but then it expanded into this entire story that was way too long to fit into a one shot. so, here's me serving up a hot plate of enemies to lovers with a generous side of angst and longing!!! i hope y'all enjoy (and hate) arrogant jimin as much as i did hehe <3 ps i have no idea how long i want this series to be i'm lowkey winging it

The world does not slow down for anything. Not for catastrophes or miracles or even something as devastatingly common as death.

When your boyfriend of three years, Namjoon, lost his life due to another's drunken mistake, you realized this. The world revolves on a scheduled orbit, and not even your tragedy wedged a wrench big enough to halt life just a moment. Just to let you breathe and grieve without feeling left behind. However, you were left behind, both by the world and him.

Every sun and moon, every skipped meal, every unfulfilled rain-check, every isolated Saturday night, and every cancelled audition that came as quickly as they left paid tribute to this merciless phenomenon. It seemed you now existed just to watch the days pass, just to balefully relive the moments before Namjoon's passing. And that seemed to have been the only way you could have survived. To make a recluse of yourself because if the world was careless enough to let someone as amazing as him go, then what held it back from spilling even more wreckage into your life? For the past six months, you stuck to the cold, dead past. It was all you had to hold onto; letting go meant plummeting into a depth far too unknown and inescapable.

You and Namjoon were steadfast. You were still steadfast, or more appropriately, stuck now that you had no one to be loyal to anymore.

You and him were one of those couples other people saw and wished they could replicate into their own lives, but when it came down to it, rooted for your happy ending with him. The type similar to that of highschool sweethearts who beat the odds, or the type whose encounter fell along the silver lines of fate. Something beautiful that automatically made all the love poems authenticated by you and him. And when he held you, the idea of worry or evil seemed like concepts that did not exist past fictional tales. So warm, so loving, now gone.

The way in which you and Namjoon grew over the three years you were able to love him was in a convergent manner.

Your branches and vines were woven into his, and his into yours. Even your roots, the elements of your past, began to entangle beneath the soil. To root between each other meant there had been a foundation from which you grew, a stability that was once neat. There was no boundary of which would discern your life from his. And at one, more favorable, point in time, your life did belong to him. Namjoon was someone you only knew for a mere fraction of your life, however the moment he wandered into it, you had unlearned how to continue without him.

You didn't think you would have to relearn.

But then one decision forced you to do so. One person, who decided paying fifteen bucks for an Uber was not a wise enough investment, ripped out the plant of his body from your shared soil by means of inebriated judgment and a missed red light. You had no choice but to absorb the cruel sustenance of the sun completely alone. Most of your branches of life were left barren, with torn twigs where your body once borne fruit and leaves and beauty. But the roots were where most of the pain inhabited. A stubborn, sharp ache resided in your chest, deep enough that you might have had to be cut open and searched through to find the source.

It had been six months of 'Sorry for your loss' and 'Gone too soon' and your personal least favorite 'He's in a better place now'. It made you angry, because was there a place better for him that didn't have you in it? How could anyone know what was better for him when they didn't experience something as tender and gentle and loving as your relationship?

But none of the sympathetic smiles or half-hearted condolences made you quite as angry as the monster who was too selfish to call someone to drive them and consequently punctuating the eternity you were meant to spend with Namjoon. You always followed the virtue that an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. Forgiveness was a sweeter release than anything else, but if you could, you would take that drunk driver's life in a heartbeat. You would have gauged out your own eyes if the chance fell into your reach.

Though, no matter how hard you screamed at the universe for hurting you, despite the countless pleas to somehow retrospectively tell Namjoon not to go out for something as trivial as toothpaste so he might be alive today, holding your hand in this waiting room, telling you that you're going to do great, you knew the world wouldn't stop for you or your sorrow.

It revolves, waits for no one, and you had to pace yourself to jump back into the turning carousel of life.

"___. We're ready for you!" His voice was ten notches above a volume that wouldn't irritate you. The only hint you let slip that his tone made you want to throw this script at his crotch was the muted sigh.

You knew this audition was going to play out like the rest. They would ask you to read, stop you in the middle of your monologue, then say something like 'Thank you for your time, we'll get back to you soon' which was show business code for 'We are not giving you the role'. The only reason you were here was because you had been out of work for too long, the piles of overdue bills on your kitchen table a cruel reminder of that. Plus, you knew Namjoon would have told you to go.

He would have said something like, 'Get your lazy ass out of bed and go to that audition! You don't want Hollywood to miss out on a star just because you want to sleep in fifteen more minutes'. And it would have worked. It always had. Now, the only motivation that came to your aid was the echo of his voice, and even that had begun its slow descent into forget. Other than that, guidance of your own volition was as fleeting and disarrayed as a violent wind.

"Hi, my name is ___, and I will be auditioning for the lead. Jordan." Your hand must have been fielding its way through a nervous tick. The person you assumed was the director was eyeing the way it had been contorting at your side, and you hated showing that you were nervous.

"Perfect! We've already casted the other lead role. This audition will mostly be based on whether we think you'll have good chemistry with him." Him. So your possible running mate was a man. Before a list of names engraved on rows of stars cemented into the Hollywood walk of fame ran through your head, you lifted the script and collected all the air your lungs would allow.

Maybe, you thought, my courage and passion might come with it.

And when you opened your mouth, something magical that you credited to talent claimed sovereignty over your body. Now, you were Jordan. Jordan didn't have a dead boyfriend, now ex boyfriend, or luggage enough grief to sink a depression into the crust of the Earth. Jordan was a kind, low-energy, and sentimental artist coming into an age of overwhelming success and fortune —and love.

That's what alluded you in acting. For a moment, you could escape your life, leave your pain on the back burner while you emerged into someone who was unacquainted with the pain of losing the love of your life. It was akin to a drug, administering an intoxicating fill of temporary serotonin. Instant relief, and if you got this job you would have your fix of this twisted sort of high that tempered the Namjoon-sized void in your life. And Jordan's life definitely seemed to have, quite literally, all the things yours lacked.

"Wow, ___, was it? That was absolutely incredible!" The hand-covered whisper that followed this appraisal gave you time to begrudgingly peel of the Jordan mask. Within a half second, all the pain seemed to compound into your body. If you hadn't already shaped your entire life around that weight, you would have fallen over. Though you had done this, and even worse, you had been shouldering it for so long, you would have felt naked without such a burden. "Okay, well, we have a few more auditions but I think we have our Jordan! We'll send your manager the full script along with the schedule for the first week of shooting in about two weeks."

"Uh-" If you had not said something quick, the opportunity might have slipped away all too fast, the way Namjoon had. You vowed to grab hold of anything remotely good that arose into your life, giving you more than late nights of choked sobs and transfixed gazes out of half-curtained windows. This offer was clutched tightly in your fist. "Oh... Th- thank you! Thank you! Fuck, thank you so much. This means so much to me, thank you!"

Before you proliferated the meaning of the words thank you and the director's smile turned into rolled eyes, you stumbled your way out of the door. Waiting on the other side was a world that might strike against you with partially docile cruelty. The wind pressed against your skin, almost blowing away all your grief with the help of this successful audition.

That feeling, as always, was as comforting as it was fleeting. Because the scars of your past would not have budged for any brash current. Because your next thought disrupted the scant flourish of joy. It was the thing that came easier and sooner to you than eating and blinking; telling Namjoon any news of both good and bad ranks, sharing your life to celebrate or stress over. One of the many things that remained by an undissolvable adhesive along your mind. You tried to soak it away with liquor or smoke it out with weed, but there was no breaking of habits you loved almost as much as Namjoon.

I did it, Joon. I landed my first role. You thought, because that was the closest you could have gotten to relaying the news.

Your heart began to physically hurt. Heartaches were literal in your case. Literal and grim. You felt the grip of loss pierce its sharp thorns into your flesh. It had nearly been as painful as all the times your words were met to deceased ears, speaking to someone that had not belonged to you anymore. Six months had passed and pain cannot tell time in the way people can. So, you knew the marathon of your grief was one that followed its own metaphorical clock. You just had to keep running in hopes you could make it out alive.

Though, being Jordan for the next six months would help momentarily satiate your grief. If there were a remote for your emotions, this role would be the mute button. Your pain would still move as it usually would, but now it would be silent. You wouldn't have to listen to its unforgiving taunts and crippling obscenities. It was only just that you were paid reparations for six months of utter misery with six more months of narcotic, soundless distractions.

Two Weeks Later

If the universe had given you one good thing, it was skill and dedication to your craft. The script was memorized in just short of four days, and even a sizable amount of lines of the other characters had been stacked atop your memory. Doing an acceptable job at this role wasn't something that was worried you. In fact, the idea of wearing another's life on your body and on your heart was something you looked forward to.

It was a bit difficult to convince yourself how good this natural born gift was when the universe took something that felt a thousand times more crucial to your existence. Acting, or anything else that planted joy in you, was a consolation prize for merely participating in life. Namjoon was the reward you were meant to win in the end.

And you had no idea what the hell to do when the prize becomes in all of the sense of the word unattainable.

You hadn't driven in six months, despite the run-down Honda parked in front of your street, desperate to be given some sort of purpose. It was too much. Ever since the accident, the idea of manning a wheel that could take away more than it could ever offer was a responsibility you felt entirely too daunted to assume. Even though seat hogs, missed busses, and overcrowded walkways had been inconveniences of an indescribable level, it wasn't enough to put your body into the same vehicle that derailed your life.

Luckily, the bus stop was only three blocks away from the studio. It gave you plenty of time to get into character, however it also nestled in a span of time for Namjoon's voice to filter in and out through running your lines.

He talked to you a lot. As much as it made you want to cry, you held onto it, feeling as though it might be the last of his voice you'd be able to recall. If Namjoon's internal commentary were to suddenly disperse, you might forget his voice entirely. And you wouldn't admit this to anyone else, but you would always answer back. Sometimes out loud, and sometimes, when company forced you into sanity, you responded mentally. It kept you separate from life and any form of interaction with actual people, but it felt better than living in a world without him. Additionally, it helped keep his voice alive, which when you thought about it, was such sick irony. His voice, alive, his heart and mine and soul, dead.

And that was the only downside to acting. When there was another mind you had to engage in, Namjoon couldn't have broken the barrier and his voice wouldn't even register as an echo. Perhaps that was why you waited so long to dive back into your job. It felt synonymous with betrayal to do anything that would sever your connection already hanging by a single, fragile thread.

"___? Hello?" You were immune to every condescending gesture or vernacular weaponized in Hollywood by now. Your makeup artist's snaps fell into the base of annoyance you had grown used to. "Did you hear me? You're all ready."

Her voice wasn't too abrasive. If anything, you should be the one apologizing for dazing in and out of consciousness. Though, Namjoon's sweet compliments about how beautiful you looked with your stage makeup should have been the one to acquire this remorse.

"Sorry. I'm, uh, tired. Not used to waking up at six in the morning quite yet."

"Well, get used to it, or you'll have a rough few months ahead of you." Her laugh had shed whatever shell of pretentiousness once veiled her previous impression. "I'm Nayeon, by the way. I've heard many great things about you, ___. Let's hope you live up to the hype."

Nayeon's nudge was friendly, and it comforted you that within the first day you hadn't pissed off the person who could easily turn your face clown-like with a few heavy strokes of her brush. She was beautiful, too. If she hadn't been dressed in a black T-shirt strewn with foundation and powder stains, then you would have mistaken her for an actress.

"Let's hope so... I guess the director was selling me better than myself." Your eyes scanned the area, though no one seemed a fitting candidate to be your lead. "So, who's the other lead?"

"Park Jimin. I'm surprised they didn't tell you yet. I guess it's some obscure, artistic director decision to keep you in the dark. I’m lowkey fangirling right now… But, don't tell anyone that." Before you could respond, let alone react, Nayeon had collected all the products she needed for her next subject and was about a yard away from you. "Good luck, rookie!"

Park Jimin. You've definitely heard of him, but it surprised you that someone like him accepted a role in a romantic, indie, coming of age film that had not the budget to pay half of what he usually made in his repertoire of previous movies. He was certainly what one would consider an 'A-list' celebrity. The type paparazzi actually cared to stalk, and fans recognized in public, but were too shy to approach due to his sheer intimidation. It hadn't eased your nerves that he was notoriously withdrawn when it came to the behind the scenes portion of shooting a movie.

And, like any decent person, you did your very best to refrain from placing judgments without the opportunity for them to fill in their own narrative. Most of what you ‘knew’ of Jimin had been hearsay. However, you had some hunch Jimin wouldn't qualify as one who labored tirelessly for the roles he had landed or authenticated any sort of compassion with his rising fame.

See, acting and snagging a big role in a movie was characterized as a tall building for you. If one reached the top floor, then they would assume a wealth of opportunities and Oscar nominations and acclimation. Of course, this film industrial structure had various modes of climbing to the top. Some had stairs which called for more excretion and effort but still, all you needed were persistent legs, then each step would eventually get you where you wanted to be.

You had more of a ladder. Each wrung was slanted at an angle of which only deepened your brawl with success and had not been sanded down enough to save you from a generous supply of splinters. After a while, your hands began to ache and the fear that some high-society type would kick the base of your ladder always stalked the forefront of your worries. It certainly had not been a choice means of arrival to whatever awaited you on that top floor, however it was the only one available.

And while you had a ladder to overcome, Jimin had an elevator. The most he'd ever expend to reach that coveted floor was a few presses of a button. And perhaps his only sacrifice would be sharing the elevator with one or two others. Things just worked out for people like him. And an elevator’s delivery was always in a manner that was quicker than the likes of a staircase or a ladder.

When he arrived on set, dragging himself like his own body was a weight he shouldn't have to carry himself, you fought that instinct of yours to assume everything you needed to know from him.

Just because he's wearing sunglasses inside doesn't mean he's some arrogant asshole, even if that is the most cliché character trait of one. This internal lecture was certainly of Namjoon's doing, since he was always one to never run out of allotting the benefit of the doubt.

Yeah, I guess. But, come on, he looks like a fucking idiot. You replied as if he were really there before walking up to the callous man with your gauntlet thrown down by default. No need getting on Jimin's bad side, because you were sure it's complement was being blacklisted from the film industry. Instead of sharp edges you offered him a non-threatening smile and handshake.

Play nice. Namjoon reminded you before you had the chance to decide what you wanted to say.

"Hi! It's such an honor to be working with you. I'm ___." Jimin looked at your hand like you had filled it with mud and were intending on smearing his Gucci jacket, which you assumed was worth more than your monthly apartment rent. "Um, wanna touch base before we start shooting or..."

If his admonished glare at your hand wasn't encouragement enough to retract it back into yourself, then what he said, or more fittingly, what he didn't say next was.

The way his sigh infused a scoff within it made you feel small. It felt like fire, how thoroughly it burned you into a pile of ash, but then it felt like a gust of prickled wind that would scatter your remains completely. If it had not been for the way his head shifted from your head to your toe, you wouldn't have known that his shielded eyes were trailing the length of your body. Such a glare seemed like a calculation of your worth; it must have totaled out to that of a fly he had to swat away because the second you stood on the outside of his peripheries you stopped existing in his world altogether.

His back made a longer impression on you than his eyes, and that was your que to huddle yourself in the corner and stick to the two things you were best at.

Imaginary conversations with Namjoon and rerunning through your already memorized lines.

Before you say anything, I already think he's a prick. It might be pathetic to have instigated theoretical conversations with your dead boyfriend, but the world wouldn't know he would have scolded you first for already constructing an agenda to avoid Park Jimin whenever you could. You just felt an itch to lay down the first word.

You never know, maybe he had a bad day.

Yeah, well people like him don't need to be professional unlike the rest of us. I mean, I'm on the verge of openly conversing with you and I'm the one that has to turn the other cheek? Your script was decorated with a number of wrinkles. Proof that your anger was sleeping from your insides in the form of tightly gripped hands that were pretending to pinch Jimin's skin instead of the script. For once, you felt some grain-sized semblance of luck for having a grasp of acting to pull off pretending to love Jimin.

"Hey." You weren't quite thrilled to meet the person you had imagined pushing down a staircase standing over you. Without his glasses, it was difficult to remember why you had been so angry with him and you hated that. His eyes consisted of more than just irises and pupils, though you would not have been able to place what exactly accompanied these features. They were just eyes, after all, parts of a body. Functional. Mechanical facets of being. And yet, his seemed more than that. More than just sense mechanics. Perhaps beauty.

But for him to have been beautiful, it would have tainted the very idea of beauty.

"We're about to start shooting. Don't make this difficult, I'm trying to leave on time."

"Okay... Sure." Those were the two words you substituted for the 'fuck you' itching to crawl from your throat.

"I'm Jimin, but you know that already." The way he spoke was punctuated as though it was a waste of his time to spend any attention on you. If you weren't already drained of your strength from that tube of toothpaste that was some sort of paraphernalia of the night Namjoon became an article of your past, then you would have rolled your eyes or retorted with something that would knock him down a peg.

"I do." Your own weak will bothered you more than Jimin. "Um, I-"

"Let's not." Though he had no idea what you were about to say, a part of you agreed to not even indulge in small talk with him. It would be too forced and uncomfortable and that might leak into your performance on camera. Still, he had an abrasive way of going about it that made you want to disagree with him just to be able to lie contrary to him.

"Fine." It rolled off your tongue easily, like silk. His lingering eyes had you wondering if you somehow impressed him with your passive agreement or insulted him for not groveling for his approval. Either one would have satisfied you.

"Alright! Looks like you two got acquainted. We're jumping right in." The director, Kim Seokjin, was chirpy. Even if this project wasn't necessarily mainstream or highly anticipated, he was the type to salvage all his passion and pour it into anything he created. It comforted you knowing someone other than you found this to be somewhat life changing. "Please, Jimin, ___, on your marks. This is the scene where you two meet, so we're hoping you two can infuse that feeling of being slightly awkward but nevertheless enthralled in each other's presence. Got it?"

"Yessir." You said, and Jimin only produced a nod which seemed generous for him. Fighting the urge to snarl or squeeze your brows together came as a difficulty you had to practice at.

"Slate! Quiet on set..." Seokjin’s voice filled the empty space of the entire studio.

"Scene one, take one." Just as the snap of the slate reverberated through the room, your eyes changed just as abruptly. Your gaze upon the set transformed it into your reality. You looked at Jimin and now saw Laurie, a young soul filled with enough dreams and kindness one could have mistaken him for a cloud; the kind that spoke in loving whispers and gentle caresses. He reminded you a lot of someone else you knew.

You tucked Namjoon's voice away with the rest of your grief and became Jordan.

Amazing things seemed to happen when you least expected them too. You guessed that was the nature of amazing things, for if you expected them then they probably wouldn’t feel so amazing. About halfway through the scene, after a number of cuts, re-shoots, directorial notes, you noticed something. Or more so, this something willed you to notice.

Once you fell into stride with your character, it became easier to pick up on the person acting opposite of you. Maybe you hadn't given Jimin enough credit before. You knew maybe was an understatement, though you felt a sting admitting talent had fallen into his hands just as all his accomplishments had.

Jimin's acting rested on the side most polar to your own. You replicated, he revolutionized. You became your character, shrinking yourself enough so that one wouldn't have been able to tell who you were beyond who you were playing. Jimin, however, made the character his own. There was no minimizing his own body to fit into the mold of the character. Jimin was the mold, and he sculpted the character to fit along himself. He forged his movements, voice, and confidence into whichever role he played and brought life to someone strewn with a signature of his own soul polishing said character. All the while, he was inventive with each intention and emotion that were strung into his lines.

It was difficult to pull this off, being that you could easily begin to just play yourself in a movie and neglect any character mannerisms that you were supposed to portray, however Jimin seems to slip in and out of his role with ease. And with each take, he peppered in more dimensions to a character. He gave meaning and depth to a person constructed onto a paper script until you couldn't believe this person didn't exist in real life.

That was the amazing thing that kept your well-rehearsed lines behind an impermeable wall of reluctant admiration.

What hadn't helped, though seemed to have been timed to a tee to unwind your sensibility, and timing had always worked against you like you had done wrong to it, was the part when Laurie was written to sneak his hand along your waist after Jordan stepped backwards into his body.

His palm felt so warm. So warm that the entire world felt too cold for you to be anywhere but apart from his touch. Then, all your lines spilled from your recollection. He was standing close behind you, the plush of his cheek tickling your ear and sending the entire world away so you and he could reserve this moment just for yourselves.

"Your line." His whisper wouldn't be picked up by the mic, though it had no trouble debilitating the rest of your senses. Did he intend for it to blur any sort of attraction his character felt for you into the life beyond the camera?

The director called cut to the scene, and it felt like a lifetime before you were released from the entrapping heat of Jimin's body. When you spun around, hoping you could at least dig through your throat to pull out a deflated apology, the smirk laced along his lips illustrated every bit of his arrogance and once again shut you up.

From the way his eyebrow was arched, you assumed he must have read your mind. He knew what he did to you, and it reminded you of everything you disliked about Jimin. Presumptuous, prideful in his taunts. It also reminded you that he stood many floors above you in this architectural competition of acting. You were grabbing hold of each wrung as you went, unprepared for something as disarming as Jimin. All he had to do was peer down at the sight of you to make you feel a hundred times lower than him.

“___? What’s wrong?” You looked over to find Seokjin’s half worried, half irritated expression.

“No, nothing. Sorry, I just blanked for a second.” Jimin’s snide chuckle at your confession to a faulty performance didn’t help simmer the burn of embarrassment.

"It’s okay, I get it.” The director offered a smile as a peace offering, and since he looked not seven years older than you, it had you assuming he was the laid-back type. “Let's take five. We'll block a few of the scenes and finish the rest of this and we'll call it a day."

You made your nest over at the snack bar. Shoving half of a donut into your mouth had almost resurged your energy. Nayeon made a swift return to pat your face with more powder.

"Hey, you're pretty damn good." You were stuck with a mouthful of donut to null any chance of responding. "Except for when you kinda just shut down at that last scene."

You would have felt embarrassed, or rather more embarrassed than you currently did, if it weren't for the light laugh that followed. All you had to reply with was a shrug.

"I mean, I don't blame you. Jimin's pretty hot and if I were cozying up to him during a scene I'm sure I would also fuck up my lines." Nayeon finished applying whatever touch ups she felt necessary, not without a suggestive eye arch. This either meant she was going to shuffle over to another actor in need of visual repair or she would stay and talk. Her continued monologue advocating for Jimin's talents and good looks proved the latter was what you had in store. "I mean, damn. Also, I'm pretty sure he's got abs under that shirt. So, are you into him? Is that it?”

"It's not like that." The harsh delivery gave an impression contrary to what you said. "I mean, I just... He's just really good at this. I guess I got kinda intimidated."

Normally, you would have sought Namjoon's voice ringing in your head about how you could do this, reminding you how he believed in you. It would have gotten you through the scene however, Jordan didn't know Joon.

"Well, he won an Oscar for a reason, babe." You finished the rest of your donut and begun a prowl for another savory comfort food. "I mean, damn, twenty-five and already winning Oscars and getting nominations. It ain't for nothing."

"Yes, this is helping so much, thank you." You twisted in sarcasm as if that would make you seem any less intimidated. Again, Nayeon laughed off any shroud of roughness coating your words.

"What, do you want me to lie? Is that how you want to start this friendship, with lies?" Her elbow nudged you, and that alone communicated more than the brief exchanges you two shared. Now, you had a friend. Someone else to talk with that wasn't a figment of your own imagination.

Look at you, already making friends. Your smile was not as hidden as you attempted for it to be. Namjoon's little encouragements had that effect on you.

"What's that smile for?"

"Oh, nothing." You scarfed down the mini muffin, turning towards Nayeon. "Just happy my makeup artist goes easy on the blush."

She winked, and you felt ready to be sent back into the throes of this film. You weren't keen on Jimin feeling closer to a competitor than a partner in this project, however if that is how he wanted it to be, you were never one to submit so easily. You were determined to level this playing field, and your communion with victory felt like a well-deserved birthright.

"Thought I told you I wanted to go home on time, rookie." You watched his lips shape such venomous words, since his eyes, the unnamed, nearly beautiful presence, might have sunk you back into that state of speechlessness.

"I take it you're not a method actor, since Laurie is so sweet and you're a fucking ass." It felt good for all of one second before a series of reprimands fueled by none other than Namjoon now had you on the brink of apologizing.

"Feisty, huh?" Again, his lips eased out sharp words as if they would not nick the plump skin as it went.

You hoped Joon had nothing to say about how you were now tracing the lush of Jimin's lips. And yes, it had been six months, though you knew your love-ridden heart had yet to free its hands from grabbing hold of Namjoon, still, the feeling of attraction, no matter how brisk it might have been, felt like you were committing adultery. Adultery, over someone who was dead. You weren't the one who left him behind, and at the same time, you never got that shiny patent of closure. There was no break-up, so perhaps that was an explanation as to why your heart was foolishly stuck in love, never realizing its oath to loyalty was graced upon the deceased.

You thought of love now, while you were supposed to be getting into character. You thought of the one thing you once had held worn so easily, and now you had been chasing it knowing your legs weren’t enough to catch up.

There was a well in your eyes, supplied by the same source which fossilized a ragged lump in your throat. And you must have blinked twice as many times as you normally would since Jimin's eyebrows met halfway between his forehead as he watched you. Or, more disappointingly, he might have noticed your tendency to grow red in more places than just the whites of your eyes when you were about to cry. Holding those tears in hadn't helped with keeping your skin less flushed.

It frustrated you that he might have noticed, which only twisted you tighter into the verge of crying. You knew it was unlikely that his watchfulness of your pre-breakdown expression was due to a lapse of genuine concern. For all you knew, he was subtracting even more value from your worth, plummeting you into negative integers.

And if you weren't so dedicated to your craft, then you wouldn't have the ardor nor the ability to pull off acting like you loved him.

Nayeon is a good makeup artist, I think you have a thick enough cover of foundation and powder to hide it. That of course, along with any sliver of light in this dark tunnel, had always been attributed to Namjoon. He was the reason you kept going, the reason you had been able to get out of bed to drink a glass of water once in a while, the reason you did not completely break down every time a tube of toothpaste fell into your line of vision. Him and the memorialized voice was what chipped the lump free from your throat and dried your tears before they had the chance to spill.

"What-" Whatever motivated Jimin to ask you something had been gone almost immediately after it sprouted.

"Quiet on set!" There was no way you'd figure out what he was going to say if the director had mandated pre-shooting silence.

The rest of your day went accordingly. Nothing too devastating happened that cleared away the momentum of excitement of this being your first big role. Though, not that you weren't beyond grateful for this chance, you made a chore of reminding yourself to be aware of your good fortune.

And, with the help of a few well-placed improvisations that made you seem somewhat of a visionary in your craft, your previous mistake had been washed with water under the bridge in the director's eyes. It escalated your ego and confidence to watch Jimin scavenge for an unpracticed reaction to go along with the slight details or lines you infused into the scene. At a certain point, you could almost describe him as impressed with your acting. Maybe enough to bump your worth up a few decimals, not that that should be occupying your worries.

"Wow, ___! Look's like we hired the right thespian. Great work! By the looks of it, things will flow easier from here." The director, who you finally felt on a first name basis with, approached with a hug. Though, usually this would have sent red alerts, you could tell Seokjin had no ill intentions of the predatory type. "Also, you two have chemistry, but it's not quite there yet. I want this to be believable. There has to be some real life element of camaraderie if this story is going to be genuine."

"So, what exactly are you asking of us?" Jimin, of course, sounded all but thrilled with whatever Seokjin was suggesting even when it hadn't been specified yet. And though you hadn't expressed it outwardly, this aversion for what Seokjin has been suggesting was shared.

"I don't know, get to know each other? Method acting works usually. I mean, Jared Leto did it for that movie and he seemed pretty crazy." The attention was never yours to claim once Jimin had already pressed his phone to his ear and Seokjin was off reevaluating the shots taken today.

You were alone again. Surrounded by an entire crew and cast, but alone nonetheless. Your version of escapism was never as consistent as you needed it to be. All it took was a moment of stillness for you to drift into some place much darker than your current reality. Jordan was sealed away for now, and you were trapped in your own body. It felt horrible. Being you without the man who loved and cared for such a kindred soul felt no different than writhing in pain. Being you without him was empty. Before long, you might have fallen faint in front of your coworkers.

The only target you could acquire as of now was Jimin, taken away from the world for reasons much less burdensome than your own. Where you had a plight of grief to sift through, Jimin had a phone and most likely a supply of friends to text and busy himself with. Seokjin wanted you to get to know him, try your hand at method acting so to speak, and that was the excuse which allowed you to walk over and try to kindle some sort of conversation.

"Hey, so, uh..." The pause came to no avail, since it seemed as though you could have said nothing at all judging from his reaction. "Hey."

It took a fictitious clearing of your throat and three more seconds of unwavering silence to lure his eyes from his phone.

"What?"

As it had been for this entire day, everything involving Jimin was made to be some sort of challenge. A feat you had to overcome without an ounce of reprieve, just to remain standing.

"Seokjin said we should, like, get to know each other. Or, at least get along. I think that's a good idea." His eyes gave absolutely no clues to anything below the exterior of an expressionless face.

"Why are you trying so hard?" You waited for him to laugh, or even for a laugh of your own to slip and loosen the tension. A laugh to make what he just said a joke, victimless banter, because it would have been wildly insulting if that were the most genuine thing he had said to you all day.

"What the hell does that mean?" Your arms were crossed as if that would keep your heart safe from his cruel tactlessness.

"I'm not taking this shit seriously." He laughed, but it wasn't the one that you wanted previously. It sunk wounds deeper, with such a dull edge too. "It's just a side job so people think I'm humble, or whatever my manager said."

The puzzle began to piece together, it took this admittance from Jimin for the picture to emerge from ambiguity. This movie was some form of damage control for his reputation, and that might be because your accurately placed criticisms of his lackluster humbleness did not stand solitarily. Your big break had been reduced to a convenient plot of image reconstruction. You were familiar with anger, it was one of your trickier stages of grief to surmount, but it still affected you to the same degree as before.

He didn't expect a response. You could gather that much from the way he instantly turned back to his phone, rendering you nonexistent once again. Namjoon would have told you to remain civil. But Namjoon was gone. It hurt to think that way, but if his voice hadn't emerged to mitigate this situation now, then Jimin was yours for the taking.

"You're a fucking ass." It seems brash was the only approach to seize immediate attention from Jimin. His eyes widened as if you had grown twice as large and the vision of you wouldn't fit in his narrowed, judgmental glare. "This may be a joke or a throw away gig for you, but this means a lot to me."

"Wanna back off, Jesus. I only-"

"No, I don't wanna back off. I haven't had the best year, and having a co-star that treats me like shit isn't really helping either. And, I get it, you're some sort of elitist who thinks they earned their success." You scoffed, tethering his eyes with yours as though there were a string tying them together. And with each step closer you took, the knot only secured tighter. "But people like you, men like you, don't do shit to earn where they are. But it's so cute the way you think you did! Truly, it's embarrassing watching you flaunt your ego around like you actually have something to be proud of."

"So it's like that, huh? You know, I was almost starting to respect you." The fact that his delivery suggested this was some sort of badge of honor made him all the more pathetic. You should not have put it past Jimin to boast over paying a fundamental level of respect where it's due.

"Wow," You doused a generous layer of sarcasm over your throat so the words came out so. "Basic human decency? From you? How can I ever repay you for such kindness?”

"I said almost."

"You're pathetic."

"Like you're one to talk."

"Yeah, well at least I don't pretend I'm hot shit." The tip of your shoes finally closed the gap between his. Again, you were snared in his warmth, however it didn't feel as tranquil as before. Now, it was closer to a pot of boiling water, evaporating flesh and bone until you were steam floating along the air, bendable and displayed out thinly.

"You don't pretend because you're just that bad of an actor, huh?"

It suffocated you, being this close with him; the blurry details of his face became sharp this way. His eyes were hypnotically watchful of your lips, preparing for your next gambit. You surrendered only a smirk, hoping it would antagonize him. And you could have sworn standing at the furthest point of the Earth from Jimin wouldn't appease this invasive thronging. The universe had yet to expand wide enough to provide an acceptable distance away from him. Until then, you were left with shallow bouts of breath tasting of metallic hatred, hoping those would alchemize into words that would make you seem more intimidating that you really were.

"Please, I could act circles around you. Your performance is transparent. Anyone with a scope of the basics of acting could see through you."

"Is that so?" You hated how quick you had been to notice his tongue slip along his lower lip. He must have found this delicious, patronizing someone who only had 'friend number five' or 'cashier' as proof of their employment. Jimin was greedy, devouring all the blood spilled from his wounding retorts.

In some perverse way, being the focus of his attention had you feeling fulfilled. Jimin, the man commonly sought after among the demographic of teenagers and middle-aged women. Not only were you proving your merits of qualification to act alongside him, but you had something to prove to yourself. You weren't going to let Jimin push you around without pushing him right back. You were strong enough to fight. It seemed to have come natural to you to enjoy provoking anger in him. It felt as if you were finally accomplishing something that was unattainable to anyone else.

And even if you wanted to retreat, his gaze guaranteed your obedience. It was a battle, along with every other exchange you have had with him. Even when silence was the only parcel between you two, when the only semblance of noise was heavy, jaded inhales, it felt as though you and he were at wits to gather more air than the other. To see who would fall breathless first.

"You're pathetic." His words hit like physical blows, and you might have had to check for bruises along your ribs and torso from the churning sensation in your stomach.

"If I'm pathetic, I don't know what that makes you." You wanted your rebuttal to feel like fire. You wanted to scorch and sear blisters along his flawless skin for proof of any successful hit. “A privileged boy with enough of daddy’s money to get him any job he wants. But, I’m the pathetic one?”

He appeared unscathed, with one end of his lips rugged upwards, mocking you without needing any of the words to do so. Perhaps he'd gotten the best of you, as you were searching through your arsenal of refutes only to find it overspent. It would not have surprised you to discover his supply of acidic insults piling without a visible dent.

His eyes looked fully employed in studying you, and you felt disrobed to be under such scrutiny from a stranger. Jimin seemed to have been reading you like words on a page, armed with a twisted smile that was unnervingly addictive, but you tried your hardest to keep your book closed. You didn’t want him to know how weak you really were.

"God, you're so-"

"Oh, great! Both of you are still here." Seokjin's voice reminded you that there was a world of events beyond you and Jimin. For a moment, you had felt secluded into a universe constructed especially for any collateral destruction that might have come of whatever war was about to be waged. "I have some notes for you two. Go home, read, digest, and come prepared tomorrow! I have full confidence in the two of you."

"Thanks." Succinct yet not lacking any tonal sentiment, Jimin got the first word in with the director, leaving you scrambling to find yours.

"Thank you." You were frustrated in how recycled your responses felt after Jimin handled them. Actors like you always fed on scraps of the higher-ups, and they were never as appetizing or filling as you would hope.

"See ya, ___." Your name sounded awful on his tongue, like his voice had filtered out the good parts of it and the waste remained spilling from his lips. Like dirt or decayed flesh, or both, and saying your name was akin to saying a slur.

"Fuck you." Those words couldn't sift through your screwed jaw or muffled throat, but it gave you satisfaction that it had been said in the slightest.

It wasn't until you were halfway to the bus stop that the realization pummeled you down a hole you hadn’t recollected being dredged. That whole time, what might have been the product of a mere ten minutes, was the longest segment you had gone without thinking of him.

It was the most intimately you had ever engaged in a conversation with someone other than the late, imagined voice in your head. And it was the most you've gone without consulting with said voice before speaking. You simply spoke, and listened, and responded; like you were normal. You couldn't tell whether that was good, because maybe you would finally be able to move forward with the world, perhaps catch up with the life you were supposed to be living. But, at the same time, the guilt festering something acrid in the pit of your stomach had you convinced this wasn't entirely sunny skies and bright futures.

"I'm sorry." What frightened you, besides your mental slip to keep the words meant for Namjoon in your head, was the unreturned sound of his ringing through. It took the longest ten seconds of your life for the mental silence to be furtively trimmed by your own train of thoughts.

Jimin had done this to you, that you were entirely sure of. Jimin and his carnivorous tongue and greedy glare had drained your head of its second conscious. The one it had adopted when Namjoon's body could no longer harbor it. And that's how he lived on, through you.

Jimin took that away, somehow. You could almost kill him for it, but you had not favored a life in prison nor tabloids that headlined the Park Jimin being murdered or 'Crazy, Jealous Co-star On Murderous Rampage Targets Jimin'. So, for the time being, all that was accessible was quiet hatred.

And you took that over nothing. You hated Park Jimin.

#bangtanarmynet #ficswithluv #btsgoldnet #bts fanfic #bts writing #bts angst #bts x reader #bts series #jimin fanfic #jimin angst #jimin enemiestolovers!au #actor!jimin #jimin x reader #jimin series #bts enemies to lovers #in the stars tonight #rubycoast

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dustofbrokenheart · 4 years ago

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The Lost Boys: Exhale

Dwayne x Reader

Word Count: 3,384

Summary: My attempt at a sad, spooky fic featuring Dwayne, key word being attempt. I hope I was able to do him justice. Partially inspired by Stephen King’s writings.

Ocean waves lapped at the sandy shore, coaxing you to try and open your eyes. Despite knowing you needed to get up, you struggled to keep your lids from fluttering closed again. They felt heavy, like they were caked with cement.

You cleared your throat and tried again.

When you finally managed it, you propped yourself up and took in your surroundings. The moon was full and luminous, sitting high in the sky. A few bits of shadowy cloud drifted by in tangled clusters.

Obviously, it was late into the night but you had no clue what the actual time was which made you nervous.

How long had you been passed out here?

There wasn’t anyone around you at the moment, the next closest bonfire was a small spec in the distance, but that didn’t mean it had been that you had been alone the whole time.

You checked yourself and didn’t feel any injuries, nor were your clothes ripped, so you breathed easier knowing that you likely had not been assaulted. However, you did discover that you were missing our wallet. You cursed and got up on shaky legs, brushing the sand off of you.

So, it was nighttime, you weren’t sure how you got the beach, and your wallet was missing… great.

Crossing your arms, you walked towards the sounds and lights that beckoned to you from a ways down from the part of the beach you found yourself at. As you got closer you saw a set of stairs that led up to a bunch of shops and rides.

The Santa Carla Boardwalk sign was lit up nice and bright. Everything on the boardwalk, shop and ride alike, was decked out in spooky-themed décor.

You spied a large banner that read, “Halloween Monster Bash / OPEN LATE / Sat. Oct. 30th” and a lightbulb went off in your head.

That explained how you probably ended up passed out on the beach—you probably partied too hard for the bash and wandered off after you had had too much to drink. Not a bright move on your part, but plausible.

You promised to try and be on your best behavior for the foreseeable future. Given that it was a Saturday night, and a Halloween promotion at that, the boardwalk was teeming with people who kept bumping into you. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if you had some bruises tomorrow.

You ended up by the carrousel, which had a much calmer surrounding crowd compared to the other areas, and sat down on a metal bench, watching the lights on the ride as it made its slow revolutions.

Suddenly, a group of long-haired boys muscled their way onto the carousel. One in particular caught your attention and you couldn’t take your eyes off of his leather jacket. A big, yellow cat with bared fangs and claws was stitched on the side of it.

The cat, and by extension the boy wearing it, was rugged, yet sleek, dangerous, yet beautiful.

He must have sensed your focus on him because his head snapped in your direction, his soulful eyes making your throat itch and close up. With no other reaction besides the eye contact, he left his group, gliding to the edge of the moving ride and smoothly stepped off.

He sat quietly next to you on the other side of the bench, neither of you willing to speak up. It turned into a battle of wills to see who would break first. After an extended period of silence, he gave in and accepted his defeat with a snort.

“What’s your name?”

Nervous, your hand crept to your neck and his intense stare followed the movement. “Y/N,” you answered. “Who are you?”

“I’m Dwayne.”

“I like your jacket, Dwayne. The stich work is stellar.”

His lips curled upwards into a slow, easy smile. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

You opened your mouth and froze when you suddenly remembered. “I’m meeting a friend. His motorcycle broke down and I told him I would give him a lift home.”

“Hmm. So where is he?”

“I’m not sure. I-I was on the beach for a while,” you admitted more than a little embarrassed. “He probably thinks I’ve forgotten about him—I hope he hasn’t left yet.”

“Let’s take a walk. I’m sure we can find him together.” He stood up and offered his hand to you.

You were conflicted. On one hand, you had just promised yourself to make smarter decisions; on the other, there was something about this boy that drew you in. He gave you another small smile that sealed the deal.

You placed your hand in his and he led you around the boardwalk, the picture of a perfect gentleman. If gentlemen wandered around in public with their toned chests and abdomens exposed.

Dwayne and you kept your eyes peeled for your friend, but he also persuaded you to stop at a few booths along the way and brought you some food to try. You took a bite of the soft pretzel he handed you. You chewed thoughtfully before giving your review.

“It’s okay. The flavors aren’t out of this world though.”

“Not possible,” he said stealing the pretzel back. “This is the best snack this place has to offer.”

He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. “You’re not feverish, so I guess that rules out being sick. But you do feel chilled.”

Dwayne stared you down, his eyes looked like they were searching for something. You weren’t sure if he found what he was looking for. The two of you slowed down and you leaned against a wooden rail near the entrance to the boardwalk. As much as you wished your friend would turn up or that you could continue walking with Dwayne, you recognized that it was incredibly late and decided to call it a night.

He also seemed reluctant to let you go. “Will you be back tomorrow?” he murmured. “You can keep me company for Halloween.”

You nodded enthusiastically, glad that he had enjoyed your company as much as you enjoyed his. The two of you made plans to meet back at the carousel again the following night. Halloween night. He stroked your wrist and bided you good-night.

You turned on your heel, feeling the energy within you pulsing as you walked away.

_______________

The next night, you found yourself sitting on the same metal bench near the carousel. This time you felt more grounded and much less flustered. You jokingly thought to yourself that you must be channeling strength from Halloween.

Dwayne joined you on the bench a while later, this time coming without his friends entirely.

“Hi,” you said lamely when he looked at you. “Would you rather sit or walk?”

He chose to walk and you were eager to see where he would take you this time. He shouldered his way through the throngs of people and you followed closely behind, gripping his jacket tightly. The crowds thinned out significantly as you walked down to the beach, the noise further drowned out by the ocean.

Dry sand crunched under your shoes as he moved further away from public view. Eventually, Dwayne came to a stop by a low burning fire which he stoked back to life.

You looked around in surprise. “Hey, this is where I was last night. What a crazy coincidence!”

His dark eyes peered at you from where he sat opposite of you on the other side of the bonfire. But he didn’t comment. Instead, he asked you questions.

“Did you ever get ahold of your friend?”

“No,” you admitted, feeling uncomfortable. “He probably hates me right now. Something was wrong with the bike engine, which is why he needed the ride.”

“That’s cool that he rides.”

“His bike is pretty cool. The body is dark red, and he has wheel covers on it, plus there’s an antenna on the back end.”

Again, he didn’t say anything. He just stared. The mood turned uncomfortable once more, so you tried changing topics to bring back the fun you had the previous night.

“I’m actually passing thru Santa Carla on my way to L. A. More specifically, Englewood. To pursue my dream,” you revealed, splaying your fingers in a jazz hand fashion. That seemed to perk his interest and his lips twitched slightly.

You drew up your legs and rested your chin on the tops of your knees. A happy tingle started in your chest and ran down the rest of your body as you remembered back to another time in your life. Back when you were a small child and made a friend.

You told Dwayne the story of how your grandmother used to be involved with one of the local food pantry groups in your home city. And how you often used to tag along with her when she volunteered because your parents worked a lot. One day you were sitting under the tables and bored out of your mind, you started to doodle on the filed floor. You were not expecting another kid to join you and you jumped when they introduced themselves.

You guys were around the same age and started to seek each other out whenever you went with your grandma while she volunteered. Soon, you were even hanging out when you weren’t at the food pantry.

“People used to freak out when they saw us together in public. It was so stupid,” you ranted. “It wasn’t their fault they were on the streets. Most homeless are in that position for reasons beyond their control. I never judged my friend for doing what they had to do to survive—”

Next thing you knew, you were knocked backwards onto the ground, your head taking a particularly hard hit.

In a miraculously fast move, Dwayne had launched himself across the fire to tackle you. It happened so fast, you hadn’t been able to track him. He moved like a menacing shape, striking with the accuracy and speed of a viper.

Your body locked up from where you were pinned and you gasped for air.

Dwayne crouched above you, his knees dug into your thighs to keep your legs spread apart and his claws gripped into your wrists like a vice. He had taken you by surprise and made sure you were completely immobile and unable to fight back. But that wasn’t even the most terrifying part.

The once smooth planes of his face had changed into raised, sharp angles along his brow and cheeks. His hair hung down over you, like a black curtain, so you had no choice but to look at him. Light from the nearby fire casted shadows where it filtered through the strands of hair, making him appear even more menacing.

He leaned down and clicked his fangs right in your face.

Your heart, which had been hammering like a freight train, stopped beating entirely. The jarring stillness within you made you think that you were having a heart attack.

“Quit playing games, Y/N,” he said darkly, his lip curled up in a snarl.

You were so frightened that you couldn’t respond even when he shook you.

“You’ve been toying with me for two nights now, just give it up. We both know you are not what you claim to be.”

You tried to articulate your shock but you couldn’t must a single sound. He growled gutturally and time slowed down. Was this how you were going to die?

A blinding pain ripped through your head, robbing you of all your senses as everything turned white.

_______________

You hummed and bopped your head to the song that was playing on the radio in your aging car. The sun had set some time ago, so you read the green road sign with help from your headlights.

Santa Carla, ten miles.

That should be a good place to spend the night to spend the night. According to the map you were consulting, Santa Carla seemed like a decently sized city that should have your choice of motels to pick from.

You entered city limits and as you turned a corner you noticed a motorcycle parked on the shoulder of the road. A boy with dark hair sat crouched next to it. Debating with yourself, you ended up slowing down and rolling your window.

“Hi,” you called from the driver’s seat. “Do you need any help?”

He turned and you instantly saw how attractive he was. He stood, wiping his hands on a rag that was tucked into his pocket.

“Something’s wrong with the engine. I don’t want to drive it, in case it gets worse.”

No stranger to car troubles, you felt empathetic.

“Get in. I can take you home, or to a mechanic, if there’s a garage still open.”

He accepted the offer and settled into the passenger’s side. You apologized for not having room to bring the bike with and he reassured you that his friends would take care of it. He asked you to take him home, but first he directed you towards a place called the boardwalk so he could buy you dinner as a thank-you.

Your empty stomach couldn’t refuse food.

When you got out of the car you noticed his jacket for the first time. “Stellar stitching,” you complimented.

He ordered tacos to-go from one of the food stands. “Come on, I know a better spot on the beach where we can eat in peace.”

The spot was isolated, which made you pause with doubt, but the food smelled delicious and Dwayne had been nothing but nice, so you ignored the little warning bell.

Having good food after being a car for most of the day was satisfying and you moaned when you took the first bite of taco. To fill in the silence you explained to him that you were moving down to L.A.

“Just passing through?” he questioned.

“Just passing through.”

You told him about the job offer that had convinced you to leave home and how excited you were to work with the homeless women youth there. “Most of them are in that position for reasons beyond their control. I never judge them for doing what they have to do to survive.”

Dwayne looked at you with surprise. “You mean that?” He sounded almost conflicted.

You assured him that you most certainly did.

The next hour or so passed quickly, you chatting away with Dwayne jumping in here and there. Despite not being talkative, he did a good job putting you at ease even though you barely knew one another. When you yawned while in the middle of a story and realized you needed to sleep.

You told Dwayne it was time to get him home so you could sort out your motel situation. He turned away from you and grew even more quiet. He didn’t move nor make a single sound which worried you.

“Dwayne?”

Then he whispered, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

He turned around and his face looked monstrous with his protruding forehead and blazing eyes that swirled with red and yellow. You covered your mouth.

He flew at you, pinning you into the sand. You fought your best to dislodge him, screaming shrilly, but it would have made no difference had you not fought at all. You were no match for his inhuman strength.

He wrenched your chin back, his hands clawing into your face to expose your neck. By that point you had defensive wounds all over and one of your forearms had brittlely snapped.

Dwayne reared back, his fangs on full display. The last thing you saw as the beautiful boy with the cool jacket tore into your throat was the wide expanse of black sky dotted with twinkling stars overhead.

_______________

You came back to the present with a terrible moan rattling from your lips. You were still supine on your back, but Dwayne was no longer on top of you. He sat a few feet away with his face still in its vampiric state, somberness radiating from him.

Numbly, you reached for your neck and felt wet, mangled flesh under your fingers. And you knew that if you looked down you would see your blood-soaked shirt and your crippled arm. You dragged yourself into an upright position which was a shaky process as one of your arms did not match the other.

“You did this to me,” you whispered. Dwayne nodded once.

“What—” your voice cracked so you tried again. “What am I?”

“Something was different about you from the start. You didn’t have a pulse, your skin was cold,” he said matter of factly. “But I wasn’t sure exactly until you started talking about your job.”

“What am I” you said more strongly.

“We met for the first time in February…”

“Am I like you?” you asked.

He shook is his slowly denial. You tiled your head upwards and took in the sky, moon, and stars. There was only one other option, the option that was the hardest to admit out loud.

“I’m dead, then.”

“You’re the only person I’ve killed that’s ever come back,” he said unsurely.

Now that you remembered everything, and your ghostly status was brought to light, other things started making sense too. How your sense of taste was dulled at the boardwalk and you weren’t sure where you slept last night, if you slept at all.

It seemed that your earlier joke about drawing strength from All Hallows Eve was too far off from the truth.

“You’re the friend I was looking for. Was your bike even really broken back then?” Trails of thick blood leaked from your open wound.

He couldn’t bring himself to meet your gaze which was all the answer you needed. “It’s a con I use to lure in meals sometimes,” he finally sighed.

“I never made it to L.A. either… Oh, Dwayne. There was so much I wanted to do.”

You started choking up and he inched forward awkwardly, which you allowed.

“It won’t change things, but it wasn’t personal. I needed to feed and you were the first one I found.”

His candid confession unleashed your tears (looks like ghosts were still able to cry) and the moaning returned. He eased you into his lap and hugged you. His hands rubbed up and down your back in an attempt to soothe you.

You accepted that you were dead and you didn’t hate Dwayne for what he had done. That didn’t mean you didn’t mourn what you lost. You cried miserably for a long time before the tears ran their course and dried up.

What a mess you must have looked like with your swollen eyes and fatal wounds, your hair likely littered with sand. That got you thinking: how come you didn’t look like this until now? Hmm. Maybe you had could control our appearance. Or you had to remember the truth first.

And another thing, “What happened to my stuff?”

“We scrapped the car for metal and parts. We kept the cash and trashed the rest.”

That was a little annoying. “Donate next time you need to get rid of belongings. I’m sure there’s a lot of people who could use it.”

“Noted,” he promised.

“How much time do you think I have left?” That was an unpleasant realization, especially since you weren’t sure where you would go next.

He gently lifted up the arm that was broken. You gulped. Your fingers were flaking off into bright blue pieces, drifting in the air before fizzling out. You were slowly disappearing.

It started in your hands and creeped up your arms and legs. Dwayne watched it happened alongside you. You weren’t in any pain, but you were glad that he was there with you.

“I’m scared,” you admitted. “Will you hug me as I go?”

He tucked your head into his chest, his hug comforting. Soon your limbs had completely gone and all that remained was your center. A final release of energy that felt like the final exhale let you know that this was it.

“I forgive you, Dwayne,” you said softly. You smiled and closed your eyes in anticipation.

Dwayne watched as the last of you floated off and dissolved into the night air.

“Good night, Y/N,” he murmured.

I hope that I was able to make Dwayne threatening, but compassionate, like I was aiming for. The Umbrella Academy gif is what I had in mind with the scene at the end. I’m actually a little nervous to post this, so thanks to anyone who takes the time to read!

#the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys dwayne #imagines

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a-ghost-duet · 4 years ago

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words that make me feel things - part 2, The Horror and the Wild

• When you call to me asleep / Up the ragged cliffs I scramble / A single thread hangs limply down / And I breathe not now, not now

• When your seams have come unknitted / And you cry out to the sky / I've run out of my words, my song / Just let me die, me die

• You were raised by wolves and voices / Every night I hear them howling deep beneath your bed / They said it all comes down to you

• They thought us blind, we were just blinking

• And I am time itself / I slow to let you play / I steal the hours and turn the night into day

• Those songs we sung, those words we flung / For fear of sound / All those books that we both drowned

• And the candle we lit, well we’ll use it to burn this whole place to the ground

• Can’t you hear that scratching? / Hold me, lover, like you used to

• What's it like, the children ask? / It's just like falling snow, I am above you / And I love you, don't you know

• Left you behind just standing there /Pretending not to see your ghost / If only you could hear my voice / But you are screaming far too loud to hear me, swear

• How could you leave me here you'll scream / And louder, I'll scream back to you from that unknown

• You don't know it yet, but I'm the cupid of things / That you just didn't get, that you struggled to say / I'm the saint of the paint that was left in the pot / I'm your angel ellipsis, your devil of dots

• But like rubbing wine stains into rugs, it's my curse / To try and make it right, but by trying make it worse

• All those letters unsent and that garden ungrown / I'm the captain of courage that you've eternally lacked / I'm the Jesus of wishing to Christ he'll come back

• She's down, she's dead / Instead what is left but this old satin dress / And the mess that you left when you told me that I wasn't right in the head

• "Come, devil, come, " she sang, "call out my name" / Let's take this outside 'cause we're one and the same / Our Gods have abandoned us, left us instead / Take up arms, take my hand, let us waltz for the dead

• Adieu to all the faceless things that sleep with me at night / This here is not make up, it's a porcelain tomb / And this here is not singing, I'm just screaming in tune

• It's what my rotting bones will sing /When the rest of me is dead

• He watches her get dressed as though she's hurtling through time / Oh darling please be mine

• And if you asked me to, if you asked me I would lose it all / Like petals in a storm, cos darling I was born / To press my head between your / Shoulder blades at night when light is fading / Just to let you know I'm old, waylaid and feels like I am wading into / Carpet burns and carousels oh Christ you'll be the death of me

• And calm throughout his melodrama she / Will turn and say 'dear heart It's me, its me / You don't need to pretend to be someone you're not

• You try so loud to love me / But I cannot seem to hear

• 'Cause you, you touch / My skin peels off like paint

• 'Be good to me, ' I whisper. / And you say 'what'. And I said 'nothing dear.'

• I'm the paper cut that kills you / I'm the priest that you ignored / I'm the touch you crave, / I'm the plans that you made, but fuck all your plans I'm bored

• I've got knuckle burn from typing all these lines into your chest / And as the belt from your buckle is / Tightening I make shipwrecks out of my dress / And the door below it splinters / And the creature creeps inside

• And I scream / 'Oh What's the time Mr Wolf?' / But you, you're blind, you bleat, you bear your claws

• I cry out to the Lord / 'Cause if we join our hands in prayer enough / To God I imagine it all starts to sound like applause

• And you, you follow philosophies / But me, I laugh I choke / 'Well hello, my hollow Holofernes' / I wink but you don't get the joke

• 'Hold the hand of the god-child' they said / 'As he falls from the sky'

• Be good to me I beg of him / and he replies / 'no, no, not I.'

• I chipped my teeth on every joke you cracked

• I will, I will wait and hope / Your eyes aren’t rivers there to weep / But a place for crows to rest their feet

• You’re not flawed darling, you’re just a little under-rehearsed.

• And I'd sink to the floor, what’s the point anymore, / And you, you’d reply with a glint in your eye / Saying ‘I don’t know, but I’m here, I’m all yours, dear heart don’t cry’

• The minute I met you the colours of my life begun to pour / I’m scared of the dark

• Who died? And made you king of it all

• As I walk with the sun hand in hand from the wreck / Some fictions we took to mean fate believe me I know

• Don't lie with your eyes, you know I despise that look / You're home. For God's sake I'm

• Tell the truth to me love, does my hair look as nice / As it did when you once tied it up in your eyes? / Look at me as you say this, don't look at your phone

• After summers of fasting I feel hunger at last / For the person fifteen year old me would be proud to have known.

• And the wine stains hide the tears / Why stay?

• But that breathing you hear don't mistake it for sighs / Don't you realise - They're just battle cries dear / And these lines aren't wrinkles dear heart /Hardly knew the words / They're just dollops of paint on a new work of art

• And as I walk away I know I've been through the wars / But that creaking you hear in my bones is not pain, it's applause

• With you I could summon the gods and the stars / Watch them dance out the plays that we wrote from the heart [Sing your notes, play your part] / And we'd laugh at the ghosts of our fears. [we were gods] We were kids.

• And by god love believe me, I wanted to play too, I did.

• This isn't a break up dear heart, it's a season finale.

• All it took to unearth in the dust and the dirt / Some release or respite from the heat and the hurt / Was taking the time now and then to ask how I am / And now at the end, at the end of all things /I'm not going to scream, beat my chest at the wind / I'm doing fine.

#queue #the amazing devil #madeline hyland #joey batey #folk songs #music #song lyrics #quotes #the witcher #jaskier #Please enjoy lmao #dark academia #cottagecore

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sunshinesukuna · 5 years ago

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spray paint and carousels (bad boy!ushijima wakatoshi x reader)

pairing: badboy!ushijima wakatoshi x reader

genre: fluff

inspiration: teen beach movie (2013, dir. Jeffrey Hornaday)

askskflshdjajsa someone take me on a date like this

It was around 12 o’clock when you received his text. Everyone was sure to be asleep by now, but you didn’t want to take any chances. If you were caught, Wakatoshi would take the brunt of the punishment –something you definitely didn’t want to happen. You opened up the window and scurried down the apple tree outside.

Wakatoshi was already outside, leaning on his Harley. Boy, did he look good. Combat boots rested snugly over black denim and a leather jacket. He put away his phone once he saw you coming around. His eyes raked you up and down.

“You look good,” he said. You scoffed.

“I threw this together in five minutes, Wakatoshi, I must look like shit right now.” He handed you a helmet before pressing a kiss on your jaw. Your felt your heart go wild. This boy was going to be the death of you someday.

“No you don’t.” He put on his own helmet. “Tendo and Semi are meeting us in,” he checked his Jaeger watch, “thirty minutes.”

“Then we’d better get a move on.”

You hopped on the motorcycle, wrapping your arms around Ushijima’s large midriff. The only thing separating your hands and his rock hard abs right now was a thin white shirt. Your mouth watered.

“Are you ready?” he asked. You nodded.

Together, he revved off into the night. By now, the usually busy streets were devoid of any pedestrians. City lights twinkled from a distance, the occasional red light giving you time to stop and admire them. The sound of the motorcycle engine was the only evidence of life in miles. You smiled against Wakatoshi’s back.

“Someone’s happy,” he said. He chuckled.

“I’m just happy to be here with you, Toshi.” You kissed his shoulder blade.

He pulled up at the gates fifteen minutes later. The gates were rusted, and looked like they used to be part of an amusement park. The lights on the sign were cracked and dusty, with peeling paint on them. A familiar shock of red and brown hair were leaning on the gates. The leather jackets and motorcycles parked on the other side let you know exactly who they were.

“Tendou, Shirabu,” he greeted. “Where are Semi and the others?” Shirabu looked over to the side.

“Oh, hey Wakatoshi,” Tendo said. “They’re over there trying to bre– HI (Y/N)!” Tendou enveloped you in a bear hug.

“Hi, Tendou.” You looked over to where the other boys, Reon, Semi, and Goshiki were trying to break a lock with two wrenches.

“Ah, (Y/N), do you have a bobby pin or something?” Reon calls out. You hurriedly pull one out from your hair and give it to them. With a few wiggles of the pin, the lock had opened. The chains on the gate had dropped to the ground.

The boys whooped in joy as they ran inside. “Come on, (Y/N), Wakatoshi. If you guys are late, there won’t be any good spots left,” Tendo said before joining his boys.

You held out a hand to Wakatoshi. “Shall we?” you asked. He smiled and took your small hand in his.

The boys were already getting to work inside. Some were fooling around on cracked roller coaster seats, and some of the others were putting spray paint on old displays. Someone had the great idea of bringing snacks, which you capitalized on quickly.

The scent of popcorn and spray paint were sending you into a new dimension. That, coupled with the adrenaline of it all, made it feel like this was what your life was meant to be. Strict parents and curfews were non-existent thoughts in your head right now. All you could focus on was the euphoria of youth surrounding you.

You were laughing with the boys when someone called your name. It was Wakatoshi. He was beckoning you over somewhere.

Wakatoshi led you onto an old carousel that had not aged well. Shards of glass from the lightbulbs sat on the ground, covered in a fine layer of dust. The old horses and elephants that had used to carry children’s smiles and laughter now looked like an ominous reflection of their past selves. It was far enough from the other boys that you could have a private conversation. Truth be told, it kind of creeped you out. But here you sat with your lover, wondering what he was going to do with you.

“I’m sorry,” he suddenly says. You furrow your eyes in confusion.

“For what?” He hasn’t done anything wrong to you as far as you remember. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Wakatoshi wasn’t simply a break from the rigorous demands of school and clubs, he was...your entire world. Your entire world, sitting quietly between your hands, his head on top of yours.

“I’m sorry for not being the boyfriend you want.” He pauses for a while. “You deserve someone better than me, (Y/N).”

“Wakatoshi,” you cup his face in your hands. “You’re already the best one for me. If this is about my parents... I don’t care much for that, Wakatoshi.” He doesn’t meet your eyes.

“You take care of me, Wakatoshi. I love you, and you love me. Isn’t that what matters at the end?” you ask.

“I suppose so,” he says, before enveloping you in a deep kiss. This kiss isn’t like the soft pecks you’ve shared on his motorcycle or behind the school after 4th period. This kiss has you reeling into Wakatoshi, like you’re being slapped by a wave of all his emotions and yours mixing into one. It was filled with fervor and all things wanton that shouldn’t be in your mind, called up to the front and center of your thoughts by Wakatoshi’s mere lips. You can feel him smile against your lips.

When he pulls away, you press a finger to his lips. “Tell you what, I have an idea,” you say. “Wait here.” You run off to find a can of spray paint and come back to Wakatoshi.

“Your signature here, please,” you say. Wakatoshi chuckles and goes on with your wishes. Your signature is under his. A fat X separates the two names.

You take a photo of the heart at the center of the carousel, now embedded with:

Ushijima Wakatoshi X (Y/N) (L/N), together forever.

#ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima wakatoshi x reaader #ushijima wakatoshi scenarios #ushijima wakatoshi oneshot #ushijima #wallpaper #wakatoshi ushijima #ushiwaka #ushijima x reader #shiratorizawa #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu au #au #bad boy au #fluff

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quickspinner · 5 years ago

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April Kisses - Finale Part 1

I did 30 lukanette kiss prompts for April, but it was a list of 50, so I thought it would be fun to see how many I could put in one final piece. It’s three connected scenes, so I thought I would go ahead and post them as three pieces as they’re done, and the whole finale will go on AO3 as a single chapter. This is a sequel to Day 17, featuring:

47. A kiss paired with a tight hug, knocking the breath out of the person being hugged. 48. One person has to bend down in order to kiss their partner, who is standing on their tip-toes to reach their partner’s. 39. Kissing tears from the other’s face. 36. Starting with eskimo kisses before moving on to soft kisses. 40. A gentle kiss that quickly descends into passion, with little regard for what’s going on around them. 43. A kiss pressed to the top of the head.

It wasn’t as if he was unprepared. She’d been gone for a little over a year, but they still talked and texted and video called so often that Luka had had to upgrade his internet plan to keep up. There were months where he didn’t see her; where she was somewhere with spotty or no signal, and all he got was a very occasional “I’m fine, miss you” or a picture of a spectacular sunset somewhere. But most of the time, they kept in contact. The wall over his bed was plastered with her pictures and postcards and he went to sleep staring at her face almost every night.

So Luka was prepared for the way her new pixie cut made Marinette’s stunning eyes even more striking, for the new earrings decorating the shells of her ears, the extra freckles the sun had dotted across her face, and the deep tan that had started out as a painful sunburn.

Luka wasn’t prepared in the least for the way her face lit up when she saw him, or for the true living color of those eyes fixed entirely on him, or for the way the arms she threw around his chest crushed him, sending all of the air out of his suddenly slack-jawed mouth in a whoosh, or for the way she immediately rose up on her toes, sliding her hands up his chest and around neck to pull him down into a kiss that exceeded every fantasy he’d had about this moment. The constant fear he’d been living with that something would happen, that her feelings would change, that she’d find a reason not to come back, melted under the heated way she kissed him, like she’d been waiting for it, missing it just like he had, and Luka wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back for all he was worth.

She was back, and she still loved him.

He didn’t realize there were tears on his face until she pulled back and brought her hands to his cheeks. “Luka,” she breathed, and he’d never forget the way his name sounded in that moment, as she leaned up and gently kissed the tear tracks.

“Sorry,” he said roughly, pulling away just long enough to wipe his eyes on his sleeve. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know where that came from—”

“It’s okay,” she soothed, stroking his cheeks. “It’s really okay.” And it was, because when he looked back at her, her eyes were shimmering too.

“Marinette,” he sighed, cupping her face in his hands, discovering anew how small she was compared to him as his fingers curled around the back of her head. Her eyes closed briefly and he wondered if it was his touch or the sound of her name that made her do it. He rested his forehead against hers. “I missed you,” he croaked, and cleared his throat.

“I missed you too,” she replied, and he couldn’t help a smile at her breathless squeak and the way she had to clear her throat too. Her hands moved to curl lightly around his wrists. “I’m home.”

Luka’s smile widened, and he brushed his nose lightly against hers. “No regrets?” he asked softly.

She smiled and nuzzled him back. “None. You were right, I needed this, but I’m so happy to be home.” She tilted her face, and he obliged, kissing her softly, testing out the feel of her lips, still pink and plump but slightly roughened from all the time spent outdoors. Her mouth curved in a smile under his, but she just leaned into him and let him explore as they traded tender kisses. Luka brushed his fingers over the new piercings he’d been subtly staring at in every picture and video for months, and slid his hands back to get acquainted with the feel of her short, silky strands sliding through his fingers. He found he especially loved stroking the even shorter hairs at the nape of her neck. His rough fingers traced the curve down the back of her neck and she gasped against him.

That was new. He glided his fingers back up just to be sure and sure enough just as his fingers met her hairline, her head tipped back slightly and he felt her lips open beneath his as she moaned softly. A low growl of his own escaped him and he wrapped one arm tight around her waist to pull her hard against him as his other hand gently gripped her short hair to bring her face to just the right angle. He nipped at her lips and drove his tongue into her hot mouth, reveling in the way she pressed up into him, her hands gripping his shoulders tight for a moment before her strong arms wound around his neck to hold him just as fiercely as he was holding her.

Caught up in the sudden rush of a year’s worth of longing, Luka entirely forgot where they were and that people were waiting for them, lost in the sensations crashing through him as they swayed lightly in place. He broke the kiss only for a brief gasp of air, but the when the alarm on the top of the baggage carousel sounded just as he was coming back for more, and they both jumped, suddenly brought violently back to reality.

Breathing hard, Luka let Marinette peel herself away from him, and then slipped behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Marinette bit her lip and Luka suspected she was trying not to laugh at him. “Need a minute?” she asked, pressing back into him.

Luka grunted. “More than a minute if you keep doing that,” he muttered by her ear, hands going to her upper arms and squeezing. “It’s been a long time since I actually got to touch you. Can you blame me for being a little tense?” He dropped his face to the crook of her neck and sighed, and then inhaled again with some surprise. “You smell amazing.”

He could hear the smile in her voice. “You like it? I blended it myself on that trip I told you about last month.”

“Mmm.” He breathed her in again. “You’re trying to kill me.”

“I might be,” she conceded, giggling as she turned her attention to the baggage carousel.

“After those pictures you sent me last month you’re only going to admit to might be?”

He lifted his face from her shoulder just to watch Marinette’s face flame up. Oh, he’d missed those fiery blushes. Technology seemed so wonderful until she was here in person and the blue of her eyes and pink of her cheeks made all those pictures and videos seem suddenly dull by comparison. Technology, he reflected, actually had quite a ways to go yet.

“There wasn’t anything wrong with those pictures,” Marinette said primly.

“No, there wasn’t,” Luka agreed fervently. “Not a damn thing.”

“It was a perfectly modest swimsuit.”

“It was,” Luka agreed. “And you looked fantastic in it.”

Before Marinette could retort, Luka’s toe nudged something on the floor and he suddenly remembered the box he’d been holding as he waited for her. “Oh,” he said, letting go of Marinette to pick it up. “I wanted to bring you something but I thought a bouquet would be a bit hard to manage,” he explained as he fumbled the box open, relieved that the contents were intact despite his having dropped it the second she flung herself at him. “Our, uh, our little friend and I did some brainstorming and—well, it was kind of my idea, but I had to get Rose to actually make it for me…” Luka drew out a circlet of pink and white flowers delicately woven together with wire, watching her face a little anxiously, but he relaxed when she lit up with delight.

“It’s beautiful! That’s really sweet, Luka,” she said, hands clasping together in front of her as she bounced on her toes slightly.

“You deserve the big bouquet,” he said with a slight shrug and a lopsided smile as she twisted to look up at him, “But...well, like I said, I thought you’d probably need your hands. I hope it’s not—I mean, I’m glad you like it.” Tikki had assured him Marinette would love it, but he’d still been nervous.

“It’s perfect,” Marinette smiled, leaning back into him.

“May I?” he gestured, and when she nodded, he set the crown carefully in her hair, tying the ribbon at the nape of her neck and secured the top carefully with the bobby pins Rose had provided. He smiled and caressed her cheek when he was done. She turned her face to kiss his fingers, and then turned around to hug him with a contented sigh.

When she let go of him, Luka picked up her carry-on from where she’d dumped it on the floor, and slung the strap over his shoulder. He put his arm around her shoulders and she pressed against his side. It felt so, so good to have her there again. He couldn’t help leaning over to press a kiss to the top of her head.

“Your public awaits,” he teased, to cover the sudden lump in his throat. “Let’s get your bags and get out of here before your dad decides to come look for you himself.”

Marinette groaned. “He’s gone overboard, hasn’t he.”

“Mm…” Luka hesitated, and then relented. “Yeah, he really did. If it hadn’t been for your mom I’m pretty sure he would have closed the bakery so he could come get you himself. He’s probably already sitting at the window watching for us, so we better get a move on.”

#quickspins #april kisses #lukanette #i am lukanette trash i admit it #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #promptfic #quickfic #lukanette endgame #endgame lukanette

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