#barbie wire x listener

[theyanderespecialist]

Yandere Barbie Wire X Listener (Helluva Boss) 

[idk-man-just-here-for-the-food]

DAY FOURRRRR

okay hear me out, verbie is acc so cute

[athenamikaelson]

Complaints and Harriet Styles Pt. 2

Klaus Mikaelson x reader

Warnings- strong language, innuendos, mentions of blood and death.

Word count- 2.5k 

 “Would it make me a bad person if I said he was hot?’ I asked Caroline as I sat in front of her vanity mirror as she curled my hair.  

“Y/n,” Caroline frowned at me as she looked at me through the mirror, “he either killed or is trying to kill our friends. He’s a bad guy, so don’t even think about it.” 

“I’m not saying I want to bang the guy or anything,” As I say that the the thought crosses my mind and it’s clear Caroline knows that as well as her frown deepens, “Care don’t get your Barbie hair in a twist. Even though his accent is dreamy and his blue eyes make my knees shake. I’m not going to try anything, obviously.” I say mockingly as Caroline watches me as if she’s somehow aged 100 years since our conversation began. Which you know isn’t possible because she’s literally immortal. 

“Sometimes I don’t know what to do with you. You’re either arguing with someone or hitting on them. Or even both!” She says as she throws her hands up in emphasis, the curler unplugging itself during her action. 

We both sit there in silence for a moment looking at the curler’s wire. I look up at her with a sly smile, “Does this mean we’re finally done? My ass hurts from sitting here and being your personal doll.” Caroline puts her hand on her hip with a displeased look on her face. 

“I haven’t finished curling the other half of your head, so turn around and shut it. And didn’t you just say I was the Barbie doll?” She says matter-of-factly as she replugs in the curler and waits for it to heat back up. 

“Ok well you are a Barbie doll, I’m more like that doll that Angelica had in Rugrats, y’know the one with fucked up hair and looks like she just got thrown into a blender.” I laugh at my own joke as Caroline rolls her eyes, a smile trying to make its way onto her face. 

I glance at my dark eyeshadow that makes my y/e/c eyes bright. 

“Why do I even have to go to this stupid dance, our school has like 14 a year. How does our town even have the budget for that? And why do we have to do weird decade dances?” 

“Y/N you’re going to homecoming, end of story. It’s our senior year. This past year has been so crazy that we deserve a little normalcy.” She says as she finishes my last section of hair. 

“Normalcy? You do realize that every dance we’ve had since last year has ended with someone dead or impaled right? It isn’t a Mystic Falls high school dance if it doesn’t end in blood!” Caroline just watches me in annoyance as she sprays my hair with hairspray, “accidentally” spraying some into my face.

“Bitch!” I cough out.

“Go get dressed!” She uses her strength to lift me up and push me over to her closet where my y/f/c dress is hanging.

I look over my shoulder, “I hate you.” 

Caroline smiles, “Love you too brat.”

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

I listen to the live band as I sip on the disgusting drink in my hand. Caroline who was supposed to chaperone tonight left me to go yell at Tyler for his wolfy crush or whatever on Klaus. I’m seriously debating on just walking myself home, since Caroline was my ride, as I watch on in disgust as teenagers grind against each other to the fast song the band is playing in the backyard of Tyler’s house. Somehow Tyler was able to put together a huge party since the gym was flooded last minute. Caroline didn’t seem suspicious but I on the other hand always think the worst is going to happen at any time, and with my friend group's history with dances I wouldn’t be surprised if something was going to go down tonight. I'm about to grab my bag and leave before shit goes down when I hear a British accent come from behind me. 

“Welcome everyone tonight,” I turn around, and low and behold that British fuck from Senior prank night is standing up on the stage in front of all of us, yapping about something. 

“This is a long time coming,” He says as he watches someone from the crowd with a smirk on his face. I follow his eye line to see Stefan staring back at him. Yikes. I look back to the Brit but find his eyes staring in my direction. I don’t think he’s looking at me until I send a look of disgust at him which makes the smirk on his face deepen. Fuck me. Wait. No. I quickly turn around and start to make my way to the edge of the party hoping to make my escape before I get sucked into whatever bullshit the Scooby gang is going to try to drag me into. I smile to myself as I’m about to be successful in my escape as my vision is blocked by something. Said something bumps me backwards throwing me off balance and I wait to hit the ground as I start falling, but nothing comes. I look up to see Klaus grabbing ahold of the top of my arm, keeping me from falling down.  

“What a fucking cliche,” I say to myself angrily. Klaus looks at me inquisitively. 

“What’s a cliche?” He asks me with that stupidly hot accent as I rip my arm away from his hold and put another foot's distance between us.

“You catching me,” I tell him but he only looks confused, “Y’know in romcoms when the girl trips and falls but doesn’t actually fall because the random hot main guy catches her. It’s a big fucking cliche.” I say huffing as Klaus watches me with that stupid fucking smirk on his face.

“And I’m the main hot guy?” He asks, clearly trying to get me to go along with his current ego trip.

“No, you’re not. Ryan Gosling is the hot main guy or Paul Rudd,” I let out a satisfactory sigh at Paul Rudd, “You’re more of the evil boos villain in video games.” 

“And what’s so wrong with being the villain?” He asks me as he takes a step towards me. 

I look at him with what I can only guess looks like a “are you fucking kidding me” look. 

“Literally everything. That’s literally the whole point of being the villain.” I put my hand out stopping him from stepping closer. Klaus watches me closely for a second too long. His gaze makes me quite uncomfortable because I can’t tell if he wants to kill me for speaking to him like I just did or applaud me for having the balls to. God, sometimes I just need to learn to shut the fuck up. 

“Dance with me.” He states as he puts his hand out waiting for me to give him my hand in return. My gaze goes from his face to his hand multiple times before I shake my head in annoyance. 

“No way dude,” I say as I start to book it back towards the house away from him. I don’t get far though because he’s in front of me again with a determined look on his stupidly hot face. God why does it always have to be the bad guys that are hot? 

“Either you dance with me, or I start killing your friends off one by one. I wonder where that blond friend of yours is, Tyler’s little girlfriend.” He says with a dark glint in his eyes. 

“Why?” I try to hold my ground even though I’m pretty sure I’m about to start pissing myself any second now. 

“Why what?” he asks me as he watches me.

“Why do you want to dance with me? Theirs like 200 other girls here that I’m sure would just jump at the chance to dance with some British guy.”

Klaus just shrugs his shoulder as if he himself doesn’t even have an answer to the question. 

“Because none of them have had the displeasure of catching my eye.” 

“And let me guess, I have?” I ask him. He doesn’t give me an answer though, only reaches out his hand once again waiting for me to take it. Annoyed I slap my hand in his and drag him to the dance floor. Once I push us into the middle of a big group, I turn to him.

“Don’t be pissy if I step on your toes.” Klaus just lets out a huff of a laugh as he drags my body closer to him so my chest is touching his. A shudder goes through my body at the contact and I mentally curse myself for the reaction. Fuck he smells good. Jesus Y/N get a grip, he’s just a guy. A thousand-year-old hot guy, but still just a guy. I look up to find Klaus already staring at me, with a knowing smirk on his face. I just roll my eyes as I try to play it off cool as he sways me to the now slow song.

“So tell me, how did you become friends with my doppelganger and her little group of followers?” A weird feeling of sadness flows through me at his question as I realize he only asked me to dance for information on my friends. 

“We grew up together. Small town like this everyone knows each other, sadly.” I say looking off to the distance and watching the other couples converse lovingly with one another. 

“Why sadly?” He asks me, and for a second I could’ve sworn I heard actual curiosity. I glance back at him and shrug. 

“I just hate this town. I never liked people knowing my business, and everyone here is so complacent with their normal lives. They never question anything or want to know more about anything other than what happens in our weird ass town.” I blush as I realize I just rambled on to a complete psycho about my feelings. But, the look on Klaus’s face isn’t one of annoyance or humor like the other people I’ve vented to usually have on their faces. His face turns from contemplation to understanding. 

“I know what you mean,” He says as he expertly twirls me around, “when I was a boy I grew up in a small village where the wasn’t much chance for prospering. I loved the arts and knew I would never be able to do anything with it. It made me angry. So I can understand your resentment.” He tells me and for a second I forget that he’s the blood-thirsty monster ruining my friend’s lives. 

“You like art?” He looks down at me with a soft smile as if the subject brings out a different side of him. 

“I’ve loved it for over a thousand years. The way emotions can be shown through a canvas and bring out emotion so foreign is unlike anything else I found over a millennium of living,” His eyes trail down to mine, “What do you think?” 

I nod softly in agreement, “I love art. Not really painting because I’m kind of shit at it, but sketching and just looking at art. Although I’m not a fan of this new-age art where someone can splash a canvas with a line of color and sell it for a million dollars. I like art that means something to someone. Art that when you look at it you can feel the emotions that the artist was feeling, every move of the brush stroke made with heart and emotion.” Klaus nods along to my rambling again with a soft look on his face. A look that I can’t quite decipher since it’s on the face of one of the scariest men in the world. 

As the song comes to an end I reluctantly let go of Klaus’s hands. He stares at me for a moment and I think he’s just going to turn around and walk off realizing he didn’t get the information he wanted but then a small laugh escapes his lips and he shakes his head. I watch on in slight confusion wondering if he’s having some kind of stroke or something. 

“You’re not like them you know,” he must notice my confusion because he continues, “like your friends. You’re nothing like them.” I pang of hurt pierces my chest as I turn away and start to walk off, “Well screw you too.” 

“I didn’t mean that as an insult,” He says hastily as he grabs my arm turning me back towards him, “You’re friends they’re small-minded. They think of only themselves and not the world around them, or how amazing it can be.” I go to interrupt him and tell him not to insult my friends but he cuts me off. 

“You need something bigger than this little town. Something that brings you life. When I originally saw you that night in the gym I thought you were just going to be like the rest of them. But you surprised me Y/n, and not many people can say that.” 

I just stare at him in amazement for what seems like forever as I try to piece together everything he just told me. In my stupor though a woman approaches Klaus and whispers something to him which makes his originally light demeanor change to something dark. The woman walks away as Klaus looks at me once more.

“Whenever you decide you want to be a part of something bigger, see something other than this little town I’d be happy to show you. All you need to do is ask.” He tells me as he grabs my hand and places a chaste kiss upon it. I still can't get the balls to say anything as he gives me one last glance before he follows behind the woman. 

What the actual fuck.

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

I walked up to my front porch after getting dropped off by Matt because I guess Tyler drugged Caroline with vervain to save her from a pack of mind-controlled hybrids so that’s why she couldn’t bring me home. Sometimes I really hate my friend group. Why can’t for once we deal with normal people's problems like pop quizzes or acne? Like why does not one person in that entire group have a pimple on their skin? That’s the most supernatural thing going on here.

I’m about to open my front door when a small envelope catches my eye at the bottom of my feet. I look over my shoulder and only see Matt as he waits for me to enter my house. I wave to him with the envelope in hand and walk inside my house. I hastily open the envelope and pull out a piece of thick canvas paper. The paper is covered with a beautiful sketch of what appears to be an open field covered in flowers with grazing horses in the distance. Being so engrossed in the sketch I didn't notice the small note on the back. 

“There’s a whole world out there just waiting for you to experience, love. When you’re ready to experience it, I’ll be waiting.” – Klaus

Taglist-

@grac3aph3lion @megmcc2003 @kollover24 @nameunknownsthings

[croucify]

✶ STARGIRL — hamzahthefantastic x reader

005 ✶ Falling For You

stargirl masterfile – next – previous

SUMMARY: hamzah has a crush on a youtuber who's always out and about and slushies see their relationship progress on social media! (smau)

DISCLAIMER: reader is a brown haired girl and for some pics that aren't faceless, i'll be using olivia rodrigo cause i love her and she’s filipino like me hehehe

hamzahthefantastic posted on their story !

vanna @slushyfan

hamzah in his new ig story… im tweaking

11 replies 25 retweets 59 likes

user673 he looks so good can y/n fight

user091 omg where is he going why’s he in a suit

↳ user524 oh mygooood do u think he’s going to the oscar’s with y/n

↳ user810 WAIT THEY DID MENTION THE OSCARS LAST VIDEO RIGHT

liked by rhode, wildflowercases, and others

ynln thank you so much @oscars for inviting me, best night everrr!!!

view comments

user570 YOURE SO BEAUTIFULLLL

user021 last pic is so real

user693 will there be a vlog for this omg

↳ ynln YES!!! i recorded my whole trip going to la and the oscars ++ many more :)))

user455 im so happy foruuuuu

ynlnupdates Such a beauty! ( liked by ynln )

thatmartinkid nice post can hamzah come home already

↳ ynln nooo let me have him for a few days plspls

↳ user017 WHATTTTTTT

↳ user526 OMFG SHES WITH HAMZAH

oscars + la vlog

66k views • 4 hrs ago

uploaded by ynln

the video started with you zooming into hamzah's back. he wasn't aware of your recording until he turned to face you.

"oh you're recording now," he lets out a chuckle, eyes looking up at you and not on the camera.

the next clip shows you and hamzah in the airplane, he was wearing his sony headphones while you had your wired earphones on. your head was on his shoulder and you had a hand wrapped around his bicep.

you smile at the camera then glance at him before squeezing his arm gently for him to look at the camera. he looks down at you and you were smiling at the camera, he smiles at you instead of the camera.

you proceeded to talk to the camera while hamzah listened to his music, your head still on his shoulder which he didn't mind.

during the flight, you ended up falling asleep on hamzah. he put the armrest up and slowly removed your hand from his bicep, letting you rest on his shoulder with his arm around you. he turned your camera on and showed you sleeping before he started making goofy faces at the camera.

the next clips were montages. it shows you and hamzah walking around lax then in the taxi you show the road before turning the camera to hamzah who was asleep.

“okay, so today, we’re going to the oscars!” you exclaimed.

you were already dressed up, seated in the car. hamzah was beside you but wasn’t completely seen in frame. “what movie do you think will win?” you showed hamzah and he was fiddling his fingers.

“i hope barbie wins,” he chuckles, looking between you and the camera.

as the night and recording went on, hamzah couldn’t remove his eyes off you. he was grateful he was the one filming you when you were posing for the carpet, it was even worse when they reached out for you to do the glambot. he was in awe. it was like seeing you in your element and he was able to capture it on camera for your vlog.

when you two entered the hall, you were now holding the camera and both your mouths formed into an o as you looked around the venue. you flip the camera while you continue talking about the celebrities you’ve just seen.

“oh my fucking god, we were able to talk to ariana greenblatt from barbie.” you said excitedly, almost tripping on the steps, hamzah immediately caught you, his hand wrapped around your waist.

you mutter a soft thank you before returning to the camera.

“she told us that she loves to watch us, said she loved my vlogs so much,” as you said this, the clip of you and ariana pops up on the screen. “and she also said the slushy virus got to her.” you giggle as you look up at hamzah, who was looking around for the seats assigned.

off camera—your hand was wrapped on hamzah’s arm almost the whole night, trying to get warm as it was a bit chilly inside the hall.

you start recording but your hands were shaking from how cold it is. hamzah takes both your hands in his and rubs them together, trying to make you warm but when you were still shivering, he takes off his blazer and wraps it around your shoulders.

“that better?” your faces were so close to each other, you could feel his breath fanning over your face.

you feel heat rising to your cheeks as you nod, looking away from him and returning your focus on the awarding—completely forgetting about how your camera was recording everything.

at the end of the video, you were still wearing hamzah’s blazer.

“that was sooo cool, i hope you guys enjoyed this video. some of the clips were filmed by the fantastic hamzah,” you said as you wiggled your eyebrows at the camera.

“i love you guys, see you next video!” you blow a kiss to the camera then it ends.

✶ taglist — @cdbabymp3 @noturbabe22 @dabuggh3 @kingvioleta @tumb1rgir1z @mfcherry @ldrvinyl LMK IF U WANNA BE ADDEDDD!!!

[djljpanda]

I don't doubt for a second that you're a good author.

Alright! I have been hoping to request this for some time now, but there was never a good oppertunity. But there is now so how about this:

For Helluva Boss: I was hoping if I could request for Barbie Wire x Fem Goetia Reader romantic headcanons?

Barbie Wire X Fem Goetia Reader

I feel like you two met by her working some job that your family was looking over

I feel like at first you two will not like each other as she might think you are just some royal with a stick up their a$$ and you think she is just some street rat

Haters To Lovers

You definitely fell first because you saw how she was just some sweet girl that had bad stuff happened to her

Barbie fell harder as you were there for her to vent and to talk to as she now sees you as some real princess from fairy tales

I think you girls would go out secretly at night to different rings just to goof off

You did share your first kiss after she was telling you some jokes lately into the night in your room and you just sat there laughing and you girls just kiss

You knew it was wrong but hell did it feel good

You did give Barbie some good paying jobs, honestly you just made her work for you in someway

Barbie did want to take your relationship slow and you are okay with that

Barbie didn't really want you to be public about your relationship not that she was embarrassed by you she just didn't want you to be judged by others and your title token away, you just told her that they can take away anything but nothing will take your love away for her, that's what made Barbie know that you truly love her

You do keep your relationship a secret at first but when Blitzo and Stolas started to be public and after some talking you two did as well

I bet that Barbie does sleep on your chest as she does give off small spoon vibes but would also want to hold you

Barbie is the talker while you are most of the listener

You are very protective of your girlfriend and will throw hands with the devil himself

Date night is your favorite thing to do

You guys have shopping dates, beach dates, go clubbing, and with your status as a Goetia you two can go anywhere

You girls did have to hide this relationship from everyone else but that's what made the relationship keep going and now that you girls went public everything feels calm like you two can sit back and watch some a Tv

Barbie loves your body and praises it any chance she gets

You do show off your magic to her which she loves when you do

Overall I can see this relationship work out and that you two will definitely be together through anything

Fun fact she loves to hear your chirps

A/n: This is honestly a great idea thank you for sharing.

[raplinesmoon]

Just Jin (KSJ x F!Reader)

pairing: Barbie!reader x Ken!Seokjin genres/au/rating: angst (with a happy ending!), fluff, Barbie au, break-up au, PG-13 summary: After a trip to the real world, you and Jin both come to a realization that will change your lives forever.

warnings: break-ups, sadness, existential crisis, mentions of doctor's appointments

word count: 1.5k

a/n: I'm still working on mafia!Hoseok but listen my brain has been wired since I came out of the Barbie movie earlier today. It legitimately changed me as a person, and I felt inspired to create this bc I think Jin gives off such Ken energy. This is based on but also slightly altered from the Barbie movie, and as such, it will contain massive spoilers for the movie, so read at your own risk (go see the movie tho)! Anyways this was just a fun, goofy indulgent drabble that made my heart warm, and I hope you enjoy!

Tip-toeing through the dream house, you try to ignore the sensation of your feet cramping. After learning the wonders of being flat-footed, standing on your heels was no joke. No wonder women in the real world complained about wearing stilettos all the time. But right now wasn’t about the pain women felt to conform to societal expectations of beauty. There were centuries to go before those outdated notions of what it meant to be a successful woman were squashed. Right now, there was something more pressing you had to deal with.

Things had changed since you left. The dream house seemed more like a nightmare, its pristine pink walls besmirched with posters of sports icons and various forms of taxidermy. You frown to yourself. This wasn’t the house you’d known. The life you’d lived before with Jin seemed nothing more than a distant memory, both of you tainted by your experiences in the real world.

Jin. Speaking of him, you knew you had to find him. When you’d learned from the others that he’d gone off the rails, worry clouded your mind. Not just for him, but for all the others – Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook too. They were all so impressionable, more fragile than they let on. It scared you to think of the state you might find him in right now. And that’s when you hear it.

The sound is muffled, but you can barely make it out against the quiet that nightfall brings. It’s a choked sob, guttural and raw in its devastation. And it’s coming from your bedroom. Ignoring the newfound feeling of your heart clutching in your chest, you square up your shoulders, ready to face what lay ahead. And then you head upstairs.

The door creaks as it opens, and you flinch, hoping the sound won’t give away your entry into the room. But there’s no response. Feeling braver, you push it wider and gasp at the state of everything. For all the horses and saloon decorations Jin had implemented downstairs, the upstairs of your dream house is pristine. Exactly untouched the same way you’d left it. The pearls on your lampstand glisten in the moonlight, the walls are free of garish posters, and the same plush pink and purple sheets adorn your bed. And in the middle of it, Jin lies facedown, unmoving.

Freezing, you take him in, noticing how small he looks right now, curled up into himself. Jin had always been larger than life – his windshield wiper laugh echoing down the entire beach, his dad jokes catching the admiration of everyone around him, a smile plastered onto his stupidly handsome face with those perfectly pouty lips. He’s wearing the same sleeveless denim outfit you’re always used to seeing him in, unlike the other boys, who’d bought into new and more trendy fashions. 

If he feels the bed dip when you sit next to him, he doesn’t show it. You finally reach for him, pressing a gentle hand to his shoulder.

“Jin?” you whisper softly. “It’s me.”

He doesn’t move. Your heart sinks, knowing how difficult this was for both of you. But you needed to do this.

“Can we please talk?

That’s what gets him to rise, silky black hair disheveled and eyes rimmed with the red of his tears.

“What could you possibly want to talk about?” he croaks out, sniffling into his sleeve. “Everything is ruined.”

The same guilty feeling bubbles up in your chest, knowing part of him is right. Everything had been ruined. But not in the way you’d expected. When you and Seokjin had entered the real world, you’d been unprepared to have your lives change forever. No matter how much you tried to pretend that things could just go back to the same way they’d been before, they couldn’t. And both of you knew it.

“I’m sorry Jin,” you let out a sob of your own. “I never meant for things to turn out this way.”

Jin hardens at your sobs, straightening up, the sadness on his face morphing into a mask of fury.

“You’re sorry? You’re sorry?!” he bellows. “Sorry doesn’t cut it! This was supposed to be our dream house, ___! That's why I went through all the stupid decorations and the revamp! You think I like saloons? No! But this was supposed to be our dream! Us, together! It’s always been ___ and Jin. I don’t know how to be anything without you! I don’t want anything to change. I love you!”

You embrace his trembling body, pulling it in close to yours.

“I love you too Jin. I always have, and I always will. But I’m not sure that love is enough anymore.”

Jin pulls away from you, and you watch his eyes widen in surprise, giving you the strength to go on.

“When we were out there, something changed. I realized that while what we had was perfect, it’s okay to not be perfect all the time. Not everything is a dream come true. Sometimes things don’t turn out the way you want them to, and that’s life. A-and I want to experience life Jin. I’m sick of just smiling all the time. I want to cry, I want to scream, I want to laugh. And I want that for you too.”

“All I’ve ever wanted was you,” Jin breathes out softly. “It feels like I failed you.”

“Hey,” you reach out to him, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “You didn’t fail me, or anyone else, okay? You’re enough. Maybe it’s time for us to stop being ___ and Jin. And to be just ___. And just Jin.”

He looks up at you, stars in his eyes, and you can see the sadness intertwined with hopefulness. “You really think we can find something better out there? Something that makes leaving this all behind worth it?”

You take his hand in yours.

“I know we can. And we will. But we can’t do it together. At least not right now.”

A tiny smile breaks out onto his face. “But maybe someday?”

You hesitate, not wanting to believe in false hope only to turn out devastated in the end. But Jin needed something to believe in. And so did you.

“Maybe someday, when we both have found out what makes us happy, what our reason is to live, we’ll find love again. We both deserve it.”

And Jin crumples for a second time in your arms that night, only this time it’s not from devastation. It’s the kindness in your voice that has him desperately believing that you could be right. That maybe someday both of you would figure out what these strange and complex emotions were - joy, happiness, fun. And real love. True love. They were, after all, what being a human was all about.

You thank the taxi driver, hopping out of the vehicle. Flexing your feet, you remark at how comfortable the new pink slides feel on them, your heels no longer arched and uncomfortably cramping. The sales associate had called them Birkenstocks, and you make a mental note to go back and buy a few other colors. 

The building is tall, sleek and modern not unlike the scary headquarters of some rich corporation that seeks to swindle the money of innocent consumers. But today, you’re not scared to go inside this building. You’re excited.

The excitement follows you up the elevator, a smile on your face. Hearing the ding! for your floor, you make your way out, when you’re stopped by the old woman next to you.

“You have a beautiful smile, dear.”

That only makes it grow wider.

“Thank you, you look beautiful too.”

You don’t know why, but the serene and dazed look on her face stays with you as you enter the glass doors to the office.

Making your way to the front desk, you practice the carefully rehearsed lines in your head. When you reach it, the receptionist is tapping away at the keyboard. 

“Hi!” You say brightly. “My name is ___ ____. I’m here for my gynecologist appointment!”

The receptionist finally peers out from behind the screen and you suck in a breath. Something about him seems so familiar. Broad shoulders, pouty lips, dark hair. But in your entire human life, you never recalled seeing him before. The weird sense of deja vu continues when he opens his mouth to speak.

“Nice to meet you, ___, and welcome to Bangtan Center for Women’s Health. My name is Ken Seokjin and I’ll be happy to help you get checked in today!”

You don’t know why you flush at his words, but you fidget with your fingers behind your back, hoping he can’t see you.

“Great Mr. Ken! It’s my first time here, so I’m kind of nervous.”

“Just call me Jin,” he smiles. “I’m happy to help out.”

He pauses for a moment, ears turning red, before continuing on:

“Say, you look really familiar. Have we met somewhere before?”

“I was wondering the same thing,” you grin, before faltering. “But I don’t think so.”

“Well in that case, it’s nice to meet you again.” He reaches out over the counter, offering his hand, and you don't hesitate before enveloping it in yours, shivering at its warmth.

“Nice to meet you as well, just Jin.”

a/n pt. 2:  I realize this kind of deviated from the movie and some of its themes, but I had to make it work with their relationship hehe. As always, any comments or feedback are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi <3

[almacambiondaughterofsaleos]

Okay so hear me out about the possibility of a healthy swap!stolitz (barbie wire x stella)

Stella could lend barbie the grimour (or another book with similar abilities since blitz would probably still have it) in exchange for barbie killing stolas (who still cheats in this au) and possibly blitz too (this can bring a conflict because she wouldn't want to kill her brother and it would make things more interesting)

Here's how I imagine it panning out.

Gaurds: "we found this imp trying to break into the prince's room"

Stella: "that's my room too, actually, thank you."

Guards: "what should we do with her?"

Stella (with a glare): "allow me to talk to the plebian"

(Cut to Stolas' and Stella's room)

Barbie: "why did you bring me here?"

Stella: "I didn't want to get blood on me in public."

Barbie: "listen babe, all I wanted was to get the elitist prick's book."

Sella: "I am a woman of power and can have killed-"

Barbie: "yeah, yeah, whatever...say, I could do something for you if ya give me one of those fancy books there. Anything you want."

Stella: "anything?"

Barbie: "you name it."

Stella: "I want stolas dead, he cheated on me and humiliated me...and the filthy bastard who helped, I want him dead too."

Barbie: "that's gonna take a looong time sweetheart, you know how hard it is to kill a royal? But I can do it, I was made for killin' "

Stella: "very well then, take the book, but, you must return once a month to prove that you've made progress"

Barbie: "no problem princess."

Love it. It's' brilliant.

[fangirlforthewin]

Stolitz Thoughts

I just rebinged the Helluva Boss episodes, and I have a new take on the Stolas x Blitz relationship. It wasn't that I didn't see it before, but I think when I wait so long between episodes, it inflates the time in the show to me.

The first six episodes of the first season it very much seemed they had a fuck buddy relationship, and that was all. I'd argue that Stolas showed his feelings a bit more as I found he seemed very protective of Blitz, but to me, it seems Blitz was very much sticking to their arrangement- he wouldn't allow himself to think it could be anything more.

I think in episode 6, we can see that he feels chained to the arrangement they have between them. I feel like he sees himself as beneath Stolas. He doesn't allow people to get close, but he craves it all the same.

Then episode 7, we see, I feel, for the first time that Stolas really does want Blitz for more than just sex. We can tell he's starting to really have feelings for Blitz, and this is just the first time we see how excited he gets because Blitz called him first. He's likely been waiting for this same call for a while, we just don't see it. And it makes Blitz's outburst at the end make more sense to me. To Blitz, it's never been said that they are anything other than fuck buddies, and now that Stolas is trying to change the dynamic, he doesn't know what it means, and it probably feels a little weird. Or that maybe they'll start doing the nonsexual things but Blitz thinks it will end in sex no matter what. But I think it's important that Blitz is setting boundaries and saying no. I feel like that's important.

The Circus is by far my favorite episode. I love that we get that backstory, and it sort of makes sense why Stolas falls for Blitz first. He was his first friend and thinks Blitz came to seduce him. For the first time, with Blitz, he feels passionate, emotional, more himnself- something he never felt while married. Meanwhile, to Blitz, it was a means to an end, and while he doesn't dislike Stolas, he didn't actually go there for that. So they came into the relationship with different reasons, and it makes sense how Stolas starts wanting more but Blitz doesn't really think about more. At the end of the episode, we see Stolas has been looking into the Asmodeus crystals, seemingly thinking about giving Blitz an out of their transactional relationship.

Then season 2 episode 4 is where things are going to start taking a turn. It's the first time Blitz realizes Stolas isn't infallible. I wonder if seeing this is what is making Blitz try to make amends with Fizz and Barbie Wire. Life is short, and he doesn't want to be alone.

Season 2 episode 6, we hear Stolas confirming that he has feelings for Blitz and is actively trying to find a way for Blitz to not be dependent on him for his job.

It really makes me excited for what's to come, and with all the growth that Blitz is showing with Fizz, that maybe once Stolas says out loud how he feels about Blitz that Blitz might actually listen. Can I also see Blitz running from his feelings or laughing it off as a joke? Yes, I can.

[muldermuse]

Haunted House (Fox Mulder X Reader)

Welcome to the Muldermuse October spooky writing thing!!!!!!!!

I posted a drabble earlier and here is something slightly longer. Hope u enjoy <3333

You know someone is home; the lights are on, the muppets is blaring on the TV and there are toys littered across the hallway. Dinner was halfway cooked and left simmering on the hob, there was a glass of wine poured for you, yet there was no one around.

Usually, when you returned home from work you were greeted by the stomping running feet of your 3 year old daughter with Fox shouting hello from whichever room of the house he was in. Tonight, the house looked lived in but with no sight of your small family.

“Hellooo, anyone home?” You shout as you kick off your shoes and shrug your jacket off your shoulders. By looking at the carnage in the living room, it looked like Fox and May had had a busy Friday. Barbies were sat up on the couch with colour blocks and crayons covering the floor. Blankets and pillows were displaced and it looked like Fox had attempted to make a fort, which you imagine your daughter was either completely uninterested in or destroyed in 30 seconds with a huge grin on her face.

You hear a giggle and running feet upstairs, it’s quick and you can hear Fox shushing as the movement stops. You can hear hushed voices as what you assume is your bedroom door creaks closed. You slowly head up the stairs, trying to listen out for any further noise.

“May? Fox? Is anyone home? I think I can hear a ghost” You call as you inch further up the stairs. You can hear your daughter’s muffled giggle as you make it to the top floor of your home. The only light to illuminate the upstairs is a lamp and the longer you stare at it; the darker everything seems to be.

You can imagine how excited your daughter is, your mischievous girl is probably thrilled at the prospect of terrifying her mom after a long day at work. Her and Fox had most likely planned this escapade earlier in the day with both of them counting down the hours until they could scare you. To be honest, you’re actually incredibly impressed at how quiet she’s being so you decide it’s time for the big scare.

You walk over to the master bedroom and exclaim, “I hope the house isn’t haunted!”. As you put your hand on the doorknob, a small figure wearing a white bed sheet runs out shouting BOO. You reach down to pick your daughter up and spin her around as she breaks into a fit of giggles.

“Ghost!” She exclaims as you pepper her sheet covered face with kisses. Fox is leaning against the doorframe with a huge smirk on his face. Fatherhood suits him more than you ever expected. He isn’t as clean cut as when you first got together. He has more stubble, his hair is mostly a mess and his wire rimmed glasses always sit at the bridge of his nose. “I think we scared Mom, May”.

You place your daughter back on the ground as she looks up at you through the cut out holes in her white bedsheet. Her eyes are identical to her fathers and you think about how every day she looks more like Fox. “Scary, right Mom?” She says as she wraps her ghostly arms around your legs. 

“Super scary” you reply as Fox winks at you as he places a kiss to your forehead. 

“Welcome home to your haunted house, baby"

[xaviergalatis]

New list 4/28-6/1 2024

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[wolveria]

Inside Your Wires - Ch 8

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: Connor and the prototype check out the Ravendale district, and as per usual, the android doesn't listen to him.

AO3

Story banner by @uh-kitty-got-wet​

It was raining. Again.

And Connor was standing out in it. Again.

At least Colin seemed as miserable as he was, wrapped in his expensive leather jacket while shivering. It was more than a little satisfying that Connor’s practical windbreaker was holding up better under the never-ending deluge.

“Damn thing robs a convenience store, and no one sees where it went,” Colin complained, hunching his shoulders against the November chill. “Why don’t you tell Barbie over there to fetch?”

“Don’t call it that,” Connor muttered, sneaking a surreptitious glance at the android in question. It was standing next to his Mustang, back ramrod straight as it remained facing forward, looking for all intents and purposes just like a plastic doll. It didn’t even blink or fidget as it was pelted with cold rain droplets.

“Okay, Mr. Android Rights Activist.” Colin smirked. “You seemed fine calling it that at the station. Yelled it, in fact.”

Connor turned up the collar of his windbreaker, not dignifying that statement with a response. He was going to have to change the bandages on his cheek when he got back to the station. It stung like hell and was already soaked through.

“Shut up,” he said, halfhearted, before leaving Colin’s side to approach the prototype. Its eyes shifted toward him, its head following as if on a swivel. Connor had noticed it move that way before, and it was uncanny as hell. Like a bird, or a reptile, focusing on something of interest.

Without waiting for Connor to speak, it said, “The deviant fled by bus and didn’t disembark until the last stop. From what we saw of the Ortiz android, deviants don’t behave rationally and are often driven by emotions such as anger or fear.”

Connor scoffed.

“Okay, great. Emotional machines. How is that helpful?”

The YN800 model cocked its head and its eyes slid to the side, a thoughtful expression if Connor had ever seen one.

“Knowing it would soon be pursued by the police, it would most likely choose to hide. And with a young child in tow during inclement weather, it couldn’t have gone far.”

Connor’s eyebrows rose.

“All right. If you were a deviant, where would you hide?”

There was a flash of something in its eyes. It almost looked… annoyed.

Interesting.

The prototype turned and gaze out across the street, its eyes roving over each building with a critical lens, a small crease appearing between its brows. Had someone designed that little dip on purpose? Make it more human and less creepy?

“There’s a motel nearby, but that option would require cash and a change of clothing. It’s a human-only establishment, but it is a warm, dry place to shelter, so this location is high-risk high-reward. There’s also the foreclosed house on the corner, but it is structurally unsound and unsafe for a child. The AX400 may not care.”

It aimed its chin toward a lot surrounded by a chain link fence, and added, “The overnight parking lot may offer a good alternative as well, uncomfortable but discreet. Units should be placed at all three locations to cover the most ground and assure the deviant doesn’t slip away.”

Connor would have loved nothing more than to find fault in the prototype’s logic, just as an excuse to take it down a peg, but everything it said made an annoying amount of sense.

Without acknowledging the android, Connor went back to where Colin and Ralph were hunched miserably in the rain and gave them the update. The rookie got on the radio immediately and coordinated where the uniforms should be stationed, spread out all along the Ravendale district.

The android’s calculations paid off—an AX400 was spotted just down the street, a struggling child in tow.

Connor was about to turn to the YN800 model to give it the go-ahead when it blew past him, a streak of dark jeans and grey jacket with glowing blue accents.

“Goddammit, wait!” he yelled after it. Goddamn android didn’t even have a proper name for him to curse. For insisting on being Connor’s new partner, it sure didn’t act like one, running off or disappearing the first chance it got.

Connor fled after it, boots slapping against the wet pavement as he weaved around groups of people on the sidewalk, diving into traffic around slow-moving autonomous cars where he could.

The officers stationed along the street directed Connor where to go since he’d quickly lost sight of the prototype. It was eerily fast, and Connor wasn’t exactly diligent about getting regular exercise. By the time he caught up to it at the end of an alley, he was panting and wheezing for breath.

“Shit,” he panted through his teeth, staring wide-eyed through the chain-link fence as the AX400 and child somehow made it to the median strip without both of them dying. That fucking lunatic android was going to get the girl killed.

There was movement out of the corner of his eye; the prototype was halfway up the fence before Connor could grab it by the jacket, yanking it back down onto solid ground.

“What are you doing!”

He considered giving it a good shake when it stubbornly refused to let go of the fence.

The prototype ignored him completely, staring through the links to its target like a predator homing in on its prey.

“What I was designed to do.”

It tried to shrug off his grip, but Connor held on tighter.

“It’s a miracle they even made it that far!” Connor snapped, fingers digging into the slippery fabric. “You chase after them, you’ll get yourself killed!”

The YN800 positively glared at him out of the corner of its eye. It was a look so hostile that the air left Connor’s lungs, and he made the mistake of slightly loosening his grip.

The android jerked out of his hold, leapt onto the fence, and cleared the top before Connor could stop it.

“No!” Connor yelled, useless and too late.

The YN800 landed on the muddy embankment and slid down the slope to the highway railing, disrupting the shimmery text of the warning hologram as it leapt into traffic.

Connor was helpless to do anything but watch as it expertly dodged oncoming vehicles, sliding over and under them, always a hair’s breadth away from certain death. Somehow it made it to the median and gave chase, yelling for the AX400 to stop.

The deviant turned, panic twisting its features, and the two androids faced each other at a standstill, an innocent child caught in the middle.

Next Chapter

[alecxaheart]

Someone's Someone | Bang Chan Oneshot (1)

✎ Genre : CEO AU, Soulmate AU, Fluff

✎ Pairings : Bang Chan X Reader

✎ Word Count : 3.5k words

✎ Synopsis : We all just wanna be someone's someone that we can't live without. At this time, Chan was looking for his. And unexpectedly, he was already tied down to someone.

✎ Warnings : Explicit Language

✎. . . I actually just played my songs on shuffle then Monsta X's Someone's Someone played so.. yeah, I'm inspired. Also, this is my first post in tumblr btw. :)

✎ Parts : 1 , 2

The relaxing sounds of nature enveloped him as a whole. His shoulders less tense and eyes closed as he sat on the cooled sand, facing the burning star and calm waters ahead. Seagulls could be heard in the distance as they caught themselves a dinner to eat. The refreshing cool wind hit his body, slightly making him shiver for a second. Waves, created by the sea and wind, kisses the shore repeatedly. For once, he was far away from worries, stress, fears and regrets. Just him, contented with the company of nature.

As he fluttered his eyes open, he was met with a stunning view of the sun meeting the ocean. The ocean reflecting the sun's visuals as well as the sky above it. Even though the reflection was blurry, it's still pleasing to the eye. Just perfectly imperfect.

However in his opinion, it wasn't stunning as it seems. This secret escapade paradise of his doesn't quite appeal to him yet. A missing piece that could be anywhere on this wide world. That thought kind of bothers him every time.

Sighing, he figured that it was time to go back. He slipped onto his slippers and headed out of his escapade paradise with a head hung low. Hopping on an enormous boulder that happened to break the wired fence and fixated there, having easier access to and from the place than climbing over the fence.

With a last glance towards his escapade, he knew he'll be coming back and that next time will be the scenery he's been looking for, hopefully.

Frustrated with the task at hand, Chan ran his fingers through his blonde locks as he leaned back on his chair and head facing upwards toward the ceiling. Taking a brief break from a whole 6 hours straight of writing and staring at the monitor. Followed by him grabbing his coffee and taking a sip, eyes boring on the monitor. He was just half finished with his paperworks at the time of nightfall, which made him more in distress and felt crammed.

His eyes then wandered around his office, landing onto the view of the opposite building of his company in the end. Where he could see the workers of the Marketing Department bidding their goodbyes to one another, closing the lights and exiting the room. Oh, how much he too wanted to leave and rest right at this moment. Although his belief of 'getting things done before going into slumber' is preventing him to do so (even though he already got a lot of things done). With a sigh, he faced back in front of his monitor and papers, determined to get everything done before tomorrow starts.

" Sunbae-nim, aren't you coming with us? We're having dinner at the Chicken & Barbecue restaurant just a block away from here. " Seungmin asked, grabbing his suitcase below his desk. You leaned back on your chair while stretching your cramping arms and a yawn escaping your mouth.

" As much as I want to, Seungmin, I can't, " You started, rubbing your temples to ease your aching head. " Because our new boss literally gave me 5 thick documents to finish before tomorrow morning without any mercy. And that's just bullshit. I don't even think I'm halfway through it! " Seungmin replied with a chuckle to your short rant, an amused expression written on his soft face. You were having another small mental breakdown as you stared at your unfinished pile of work, feeling your soul escape your body.

" I think you're overreacting. "

" Well, what if I am?! "

Laughing, Seungmin leans his side on your cubicle, looking over at your messy desk filled with sticky notes, papers and pens. " I don't think it's that much. You're lucky that your boss isn't here to hear any of your complaints, " He muttered as he took a peek at one of your documents. You scoffed, not my fault that I'm not as good as you.

" Hear what? "

Frantically, you immediately hide yourself behind your cubicle and pretend that you were focusing on your work. On the other hand, Seungmin casually brushed his navy blue coat with his palms and lifted himself off from the cubicle. Making it all seem like nothing happened.

" Oh, it's nothing, Ms. Ka- " Seungmin paused as he met the owner of the voice who wasn't the person they were expecting to be there. " M-Mr. Bang?! " He stuttered, eyes widened at the blonde headed CEO. Seeing in the corner of your eyes, Seungmin bowed ninety degrees at him as a sign of respect. Even with his heated glare on you, you continued your work like no CEO even entered. Thanks to your cute height, for sure you wouldn't be spotted.

" What are you doing here? Working hours are done. "

Seungmin stood straight and scratched the back of his head. Curiosity slowly arose in you as seconds passed - since you've never met a CEO called by your colleague as ' Mr. Bang ' - although as much as possible, you didn't let go out of hand and kept your focus on the documents silently. The least thing you wanted to happen to you right now is get caught by one of the company's CEO. " I was about to head out, Mr. Bang, " Finding an excuse, he pulled up his sleeve to check the time on his wristwatch. " Uhm.. Yeah, I'm late for dinner. Sorry, Mr. Bang, I have to leave right now. Have an great night! "

With a last bow to the CEO, Seungmin dashed his way out of the building, leaving you alone with your work. The blonde head noticed how the room was still lit up despite it being unoccupied, which he thought. Heading to the switches, everything around you darkened. The only source of light you had was the monitor, and Chan caught it in the corner of his eye.

" Is someone still there? " His voice, catching a bit of foreign accent with it, echoed in the hushed area.

Baffled as he approached that light with a few slow strides, you freaked out mentally. Swiftly but silently, you left your chair and hid yourself underneath the desk next to yours. As he neared your cubicle, you held your breath, slowly starting to feel lightheaded. You don't know what are the consequences if you get caught after working hours since you're still kind of new - got hired just 5 months ago. Dumb you overthink random shit first before even going to the thing called 'common sense' and the rules you heard just goes in one ear then out on the other.

The moment Chan was about to reach your cubicle and take a glance to his right, the sound of marimba playing a soft tune echoed in the room. Stopping in his tracks, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and grabbed it, swiping to the right to answer the call. You let out a hushed yet shaky sigh of relief, your shoulders less tense than a while ago. In your mind played a chant, thanking whoever was your savior.

Chan narrowed his eyes at the back of your cubicle while his phone is still pressed against his ear, listening to the person on the other line's complaints. " I'm on my way. Don't do anything stupid, " Not too soon you hear heels clacking against the polished marble tiles, the noise fainting as he left the room.

It took you a good couple of seconds to get out of your hiding spot (since you had to catch your breath and calm your heart down from the thrill), slightly shaking your whole body first before heading back to your seat and continuing your pile of work. Mentally groaning at yourself.

Oh. My. Gosh. These. Eyebags.

Is the first thing you thought as you looked at yourself in the mirror. The cause of it appearing badly because you obviously lacked sleep. All due to the time allotted for slumber was consumed by finishing your 5 thick documents that will be passed this morning. You could've cared less if today wasn't a work day, which fortunately for you it was still work day and these damn documents aren't gonna pass themselves to your boss this instant.

Fumbling around in your bag, you found your makeup kit and started fixing yourself. A little bit of touch ups here and there, just a little to look like it's still more natural than a lot to look like a plastic doll barbie.

Once satisfied, you smiled sweetly at yourself just to start your day nicely and exit your household. While walking on your way to the train station, incoherent mumbling leaves your mouth. A train of thoughts clouding you about your worries if you've left something important behind. In all honesty despite of your current good looks, you look stupid or crazy for talking to yourself in public. Well, at least you aren't as worse as someone yelling nonsense.

" I have all my files, identification card, phone, wallet, pocket knife 'cause anything could happen, keys- " you paused as soon as you misplaced your shoes at the edge of the last stair, falling forward. Luckily for you, you caught yourself and regained your balance. Wide eyed, you saw a kid, a giddy smile plastered on his face as he saw your commotion with a lollipop in hand. You felt embarrassed but laughed it off anyway, a light tint of pink decorating your cheeks.

You rushed towards the gates as soon as you realized the time with the card in between your fingers. Three beeps emitted from the machine when the gates opened after you placed the card on the scanner. With a few more strides, you caught up to your train ride as it was about to leave. You sighed in relief and sat down on a vacant bench, head automatically leaning back on the window. Your eyes boring at the ceiling while taking steady breaths after your short marathon on the way.

On the other hand, across you sat Chan. His right leg crossed over the other while scrolling through his phone. He wore a button up shirt, the first two still unbuttoned revealing more of his chest. His navy blue tie hung loose around his neck while his coat is still folded around his arm. His slacks were the same color as his tie and coat and wore black pointed shoes to finish the statement of his overall clothing. Blonde hair locks were scattered around his face but still managed to look stunning and attractive.

You haven't noticed his presence, so did he to you, and the fact that you both don't know each others' appearance even though you go to the same company just adds to the reason for you two's ignorance to one another's existence.

You got yourself to go back to slumber comfortably in your current position although you know when you wake up, you'll be greeted by your neck aching. Hopefully you don't miss your stop while gaining more sleep. The train swaying you lightly from time to time that you found quite relaxing, like a cradle rocking back and forth lightly to put a baby to sleep.

A child was running around the train with a joyful smile, giggling. He only stopped in his tracks when he reached in between you and Chan. His eyes glowed like there were stars decorated around his chocolate brown pupil when he eyed you two. Looking around, he spotted a roll of red thread underneath your bench and grabbed it. He thought it was just right.

With you being the closest, he starts to tie the thread around your pinky finger. You were too tired to even feel his small cold fingers run around your fingers nor the string tighten around it. Once done, he smiled to himself, his dimples appearing on either side of his cheeks and eyes forming into small crescents.

He left your side and skipped over in front of Chan, who was now too deep in thought as he gazed outside the window and his phone tucked in his pocket. Holding the other end of the thread, he wrapped it around Chan's thumb. Chan's body shook in surprise as he felt cold fingers ghosting above his hand and averted his attention to the child. He saw him knotting the red string tightly, strange that he barely even feels the string tightened around his thumb. " What are you doing? " he questioned although the child only responded with a bright smile, followed by a giggle.

The child turned and ran away from him, more giggles leaving his lips. Chan stood up and tried to chase him. But stopped as soon as he saw the child in the distance, dissolving into little particles in thin air and completely vanished in his sight. In disbelief, he rubbed his eyes and looked for the child around his area. Thinking that he was out of his mind, he sighed in defeat. There's no way anyone could do that in reality. It's either I'm insane or living in a fantasy or a chosen one blessed to see ghosts. Maybe, all of the above.

Chan looked down on his thumb, following where the other end lead to. Then, he spotted your sleeping beauty state, the other end attached to your pinky finger. With the sun rising in the horizon, a ray of gold-like light shines through the window, casting a shadow on you. And he thought you looked mesmerizing like that, peaceful and lovely. At least he wasn't tied up with a bitch or a hag.

Your eyes slowly fluttered open as the sun shined upon you. Squinting at its brightness, you raised a hand above your eyes to see more, only finding a red string wrapped around your pinky finger. You examined it, wondering what prank is anyone even planning and why did it have to involve you out of all people. Before anything stupid could happen, you attempted to loose the knot, ignoring the curiosity for a while of where the other end was. Looping and tugging it, even tried to chomp on it with your teeth, but all attempts failed. Well, that's until you gave up, untying it was impossible, unbelievably there's a knot that couldn't be untied. Sounded like marriage when you think about it, but there's the annulment and divorce ruining the picture.

Tearing your gaze at the string, you caught a pair of bewitching dark brown eyes staring back at you. In that particular moment, everything just froze in place. Time has stopped just for the two of you, you thought.

You felt your heart melting, probably from the warmth emitting in your body or from the warmth his eyes give off as you saw little sparks decorating the pupil. Unfamiliar light feathers tickling the insides of your stomach is what you felt other than the heat and that thawing heart of yours. Your mind knew it well that you shouldn't feel this way towards someone who you just met but your body and heart reacted so differently. There's just something about him that made you feel so exposed and vulnerable in his eyes that you couldn't come up with a possible answer to your 'why's.

Both of you didn't notice how seconds turned into minutes, too lost into one another's orbs. That was until the train stopped, causing Chan to break the eye contact and lose his balance. Before his hands made contact on the metal floor, he took a step forward in order to regain his balance which he successfully did. A small chuckle left your lips, eyes turning into crescents as you saw the commotion. He narrowed his eyes at you as the train was back in motion.

Chan fixed his clothes first before asking, " Who are you? ". Grabbing the pole next to him to prevent him from falling again on the next stop.

" Shouldn't I be asking you that as well? " You replied with a gummy smile, which quickly faded when you remembered what's the problem.

" What is this on my finger and why is it connected to yours? What kind of trickery is anyone pulling? Why am I involved in this? " You kept firing questions at him while he stayed there unbothered. Unlike you who did some more attempts to remove the thread, silly you even tried aggressively shaking your hand in hopes of making it a little loose. But no prevail happened once again.

" Just get rid of it. I didn't want this too, you know. " Chan taps his foot impatiently as he eyed your useless attempts.

" I am trying! " You exaggerated. Deciding to bring out the best tool you have for the situation in hand, your hands fumbling in your bag. Once you felt the cool metal on your fingertips, you brought it out and flipped it open.

Chan's eyes widened at the sight of the pocket knife in your palms. " You carry that on a daily basis? Are you insane? "

You rolled your eyes in annoyance. " It's not insane when it's used for self-defense purposes. I'm too nice to be the murderer you're assuming, " You replied, head throbbing as things aren't going well with the charming blonde.

He responded just before the blade and thread were in contact, starting with a scoff. " Yeah sure, nice. Anyone can wear that façade anywhere. "

" You know what, " You started as you withdrew the pocket knife back and glared at him afterwards, pissed off. " You deal with this shit yourself, I'm done with my part and I could care less about this red thread anyway. You look like you don't need any of my help 'cause you look fancier than me and it seems like you're not taking any gratitude towards my kindness. Damn these crazy rich people. " You threw the tool towards his direction and looked away from him, arms crossed. Chan instinctively caught it without getting any cuts despite the fact it's closed, his eyes burning through your figure in fury.

" If I actually got wounded instead from your little stunt, I would've sued you this instant, " He growled, only to be ignored by you.

Irritated by your sudden change of attitude, Chan flipped it open and skillfully ran the blade through the string. Only for it to just fall through like the string never existed, ghost-like perhaps. " It's not cutting, what the hell, " Chan muttered under his breath as he tried a few more times again.

"It's just a string, how could a- " You spoke as you turned your head back to his direction, only to be cutted off as you witnessed the unusual. Mouth a little bit agape in disbelief. The thread didn't fall apart even while the blade was just sitting in between of it on air. Maybe that explains why you could barely even feel the thread wrapped securely around your finger. You could tell that this stunning blonde head was just as puzzled as you were.

" Sir, if you're having any problems that includes this woman, we can sort it out. Just withdraw the knife first please, " a man suddenly blurted out, his voice a little bit shaky. That's when you realized the commotion you both have caused, everyone around you two took steps back away. All had fear in their eyes.

" Wait, you don't see the thread we're trying to cut? " Chan questioned, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. At that, he was more misunderstood.

" There's no thread..? " With that, it got the two of us surprised. Is the crazy one here them, who couldn't see this string, or us, who could?

Chan tried to explain our situation thoroughly but when he was about to speak up, out of the blue, a voice spoke in the speakers. " Please mind the gap, " You immediately grabbed his arm, carried his belongings and dragged him out of the train. Leaving its passengers confused as they eyed us. They might be thinking that you two are idiots.

The doors just shut a second later when you two got out. You felt a bit suffocated for an unknown reason, your hand reaching for your chest where you could feel your heart beating. Panting, you shoved Chan's belongings into his chest. " Are you alright? " He asked as he tried to place a hand on your back, the least thing he could do to comfort you.

But his hand only stopped in mid-air when you took your last deep breath, replying. " Let's just part ways here, " Saying those words felt a bit disheartening at some point, yet you chose to disregard it.

You walked forwards, while Chan stayed in his position, wearing his coat and fixing his tie. Although, something stopped you. As in you couldn't go forwards as much as you force to. Well when you did force yourself, it only tugged Chan towards you. Turning around, he was already eyeing you. " What was that for?! "

Glaring at the thread, you thought out loud, " Is this string telling me, it can only stretch itself approximately at 7 meters?! "

Continue

[writteninsunshine]

I Will Drink Your Blood Of Sin -

Title: I Will Drink Your Blood Of Sin

Author: Keith

Fandom: Helluva Boss

Setting: Various

Pairing: Fizzarolli/Asmodeus | Ozzie

Characters: Fizzarolli, Asmodeus | Ozzie, Barbie Wire

Genre: Erotic/Romance/Spiritual

Rating: M

Chapters: 1/1

Word Count: 4350

Type Of Work: One-Shot, Day 13 Of 30 Days Of Fizzarozzie

Status: Complete

Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, MLM, AU - A/B/O, AU - Omegaverse, AU - Canon Divergent, AU - Human!Fizzarolli, Omegaverse Dynamics, A/B/O Dynamics, A/B/O Consent Issues, Omegaverse Consent Issues, Rut Suppressants, Demon x Human, Incubi, Prostitution, Ozzie Is A Breeder Beta, So He Has A Dick/Balls/Vagina, Virgin!Fizzarolli, Priest!Fizzarolli, Alcohol, Alcoholic, Handjobs, Blowjobs, Oral Sex, Cum Swallowing, Cum Facials, Cum Facial, Virgin Kink, Sin Kink, Thigh Fucking, Intercrural Sex, Interfemoral Sex, Valentino (Hazbin Hotel) Mention

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.

Summary: He must have been losing his mind. It was the only explanation.

AN: Hey guys, it’s me again! Just thought I ought to say, if you want vague updates and to talk to me more, I have a Helluva Boss Tumblr, too! Twitter is Sunshinecackle, and Tumblr is Gimme-A-Thrust! I also have a writing Discord that is currently pretty dead. xD If you want it, please contact me on Tumblr/Twitter!

I started writing this right on the tail end of Fuck You Very Much and ended up becoming so exhausted I had to sleep pretty much right after finishing it. Regardless, I really loved doing this, and I’m having a lot of fun with these. Never have I ever gotten so much done for a fandom event, and it makes me feel so proud that I’ve gotten so many entries done. 

While I don’t usually do this, I thought it was cool to mention that I added 882 words to this when I edited it! Hopefully, it reads well.

30 Days Of Fizzarozzie Fic Masterlist

I Will Drink Your Blood Of Sin

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Fizzarolli was a pious man that was rarely swayed by anything that those around him did. There were plenty of addicts in this town, plenty of vices swimming around, and he’d never felt anything towards any of them. Apathy towards addiction was something that helped him in his job, he supposed, because as the priest covering this half of the city, he had more than his fair share of sinners coming to him to be absolved of their trespasses. Many of them returned to him again and again, repenting for the same thing every time, and each time he forgave them for themselves. 

He didn’t want to believe that there were hopeless cases, but he didn’t really think that apologizing for something and then doing nothing but the same was very genuine. If they didn’t want to be honest with the Lord, then He would deal with them as He saw fit. Regardless, Fizzarolli was there to listen, to offer the best advice he had, and he was well-loved. 

That was more than he could ask for, based on how his childhood had gone.

“That guy’s back,” Barbie stated as she sighed, tucking her hair behind her ears and leaning back in the pew she occupied, “Just loitering on the stairs again. Do you want me to get him to leave, do you want to, or should we just call the cops?”

“A little cruel, don’tcha think?” Fizzarolli replied with a gentle laugh, rolling his eyes as he gazed up at the cross at the head of the room behind the pulpit. Rising from the pew he’d been taking up in front of hers, he wrapped his rosary beads around his left hand and regarded her with a soft smile, “I don’t ask you not to come back because your repentance is false.”

“I’m your friend,” Barbie retorted, tipping the neck of the brown bottle in her hand at him and pointing with her index finger, “He’s some rando slut that’s never stepped foot in here. We’re not the same.”

“Maybe not,” Fizz passed her as he folded his hands against his stomach, “But maybe he needs more convincing to confess than you do.” Barbie didn’t get a chance to respond before he’d opened the heavy doors and disappeared outside.

“Your funeral.” She murmured absently into the bottle as she pressed it to her lips and took a long pull from it. If that guy had any issues going on that made him volatile, she didn’t think she’d be much help. Having been drinking all night in the church, she wasn’t even sure she could make it out the doors, but that didn’t stop her from continuing to knock back more booze. How else was she meant to cope?

—

“Awfully cold out tonight, isn’t it?” Fizzarolli asked the handsome young man currently making the steps into some kind of lounge chair. The dark-haired beauty in front of him tipped his head back a little to look at him, vibrant, almost neon green eyes landing on the priest’s face. While this was far from the first time he’d seen the other’s chiseled features and those pretty lips, he was always a little taken aback by him. Such beauty belonged in a museum, chiseled from marble, not reclining on the steps of a church in the snow.

“Guess so,” He replied in an even, smooth voice that caused a shudder to bolt down Fizzarolli’s spine, something that he would blame on the cold if questioned. Snow drifted sluggish and silent through the air, and some of it had taken up an impromptu job as hair dye, taking the stranger’s nearly black-brown locks and dusting them white. Even his goatee seemed to be changing color, and the priest had to try harder than he liked to keep his focus on the other’s eyes and not his mouth. No doubt those lips were more sinful than anything he’d ever been faced with, and staring too long would only cause him problems, “I’m just waiting.”

“On someone?” Fizz asked quickly, perhaps too quickly, and the olive-skinned Adonis just chuckled at him.

“You want me off your steps?” Running a hand over his bared stomach, the alluring dreamboat drew attention to the white cropped tank top that read SEX TOY in pink letters with a blue outline, and Fizzarolli tried to gulp quietly so as not to be heard, “I can go somewhere else if I’m bothering you, Daddy.”

His hips shifted and the black lace microskirt around his hips fell open more at the slit, and he relished in the seconds’ glance he earned out of the chaste man half behind him. From what Fizzarolli could tell, the stranger was mostly covered by the peep toe thigh-high boots that ran up to his mid-thigh. The laces went all the way up and left a strip of skin bared beneath them in the middle, and Fizz knew that that wasn’t really what he’d call dressed in general, much less for the weather.. Really, though, the guy had to be cold.

“N-no need, my son. And it– It’s Father.” It always felt so weird calling people that were clearly older than him ‘my child,’ but it was something expected of him, and Fizzarolli had always followed through on expectations. Really, his bleeding heart reached out to anyone, didn’t it? “If you’re waiting for someone, you can come in to do it. I won’t proselytize, I promise. A friend of mine is drinking in the church again, and I can hardly say anything to either of you. I’d rather you do this out of the cold, at least.” 

Again? He rose a brow before finally relenting with a nod and a smile. The sharp-nosed waif of a man was pretty cute, a saintly Alpha that never seemed to question his celibacy, and it had his attention. Tonight, he thought, he would feast on a priest.

“Alright, sure. I’m not really waiting on anyone in particular, though. Not that I know of.” Making a show of pulling his phone from one of his boots, he wiped the screen on his shirt absently before checking his messages. There seemed to be a few white blocks on the screen, but there wasn’t a message preview turned on and it wasn’t Fizzarolli’s place to pry, “I’m Ozzie, by the way.”

“Father Fizzarolli.” Came the easy reply, and Ozzie couldn’t help himself as he rose to his feet and brushed the snow out of his wild curls.

“Nice to meet you, Olli Baby. Finally, I guess.” He chuckled, passing the suddenly red priest and walking into the church like he was made for it. Such a large man calling him that seemed to be leaving him confused, warmth pooling in his stomach that he couldn’t rationalize. There had never been a single person in his entire life that had piqued his interest, and here he was, faced with a man no doubt pushing seven feet tall with broad shoulders and a slim waist, and he wanted to bite him. 

“Fizz, I–” Barbie turned, only to choke on her own spit as the man from outside walked in like he owned the place, swirling his hips as he sauntered forward like he’d been born with all the grace in the world. Maybe he had been because even she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. After a second, she managed to tear her gaze from his thick thighs to glance behind him, taking in the flustered appearance of her friend. He met her eyes and she offered him a shit-eating grin, and his eyes went wide, “Fizz?”

“I– Yes?” Clearly, he was caught off guard, and he followed Ozzie inside finally, closing the door behind himself. 

“Taking in strays?”

“I’m right here,” Ozzie offered casually, “And it looks like Val’s got me someone to keep warm tonight.” Locking his phone, he slid it back into his boot, “You care if I hang here for now?”

“I don’t–”

“Nope!” Barbie grinned even more, surging to her feet and stumbling into the pews across the aisle, “No, you just chill here with him, I uh.” Patting down her coat she frowned when her hands came up empty, “Where’s my fucking phone?”

“Barbs…” Fizzarolli slid around Ozzie, who he swore pushed their bodies together more than was actually necessary, and leaned over to grab it off the wood, “Here.” Taking it from him, she brushed her hair back again, shaking the phone a couple times by way of explanation.

“My dad’s calling.” There wasn’t a single peep out of it, nor was it even lit up, but Fizzarolli didn’t have time to really stop her before she was out the door. Granted, he probably could have with how much she was tripping over herself, but he felt a little better knowing she was dialing Cash on her way out. He’d pick her up at least and she’d be fine.

“...Is she always like that?”

“Drunk?”

“Mhm.”

“...Yeah. She always comes in and confesses like she thinks it’s going to fix anything… I don’t have the heart to tell her that I think she needs to go back to rehab.” Fizzarolli sighed, closing his eyes as he walked towards the pulpit, rearranging the placement of a few candlesticks on the bulky wooden table in front of it, “I think it would really help her, but every time she goes her father usually gives in and pulls her back out again a day or so later. He never can keep telling her ‘no.’”

“Mmm, I can understand using that to one’s own advantage. Guess it wouldn’t be a very Godly thing to do, but I figure that’s why she’s friends with a priest.” Maybe she thought it made her seem more wholesome than she was, or it might save her soul just to know him. If only Ozzie knew the half of it, “Can you afford me the same courtesy?”

“Huh?” Turning to look over his shoulder, Fizzarolli hadn’t been expecting the other man to be right behind him, caging him in against the stand with those strong arms, “I– Ozz– Ozzie?”

“Don’t worry so much about it, Olli Baby,” Ozzie’s voice tipped off in a higher pitch and the priest found himself leaning a little heavier against the table to avoid his knees going out on him. It was impossible to figure out just what Ozzie was because he smelled simultaneously like an Alpha and an Omega, as well as a heat and rut all at once. It was intoxicating, and this close up it was impossible to avoid, “Just want to see what happens when you snap.”

“What?!” 

Turning suddenly, Fizz’s confusion took the forefront on his face as he caught sight of Ozzie still standing five feet away from him, clearly on his phone. He looked like he was in the middle of texting someone, and that coupled with the fact that he couldn’t have been in both places at once had Fizz touching his forehead. It wasn’t a fever, he didn’t think, but it was hard to tell since he was feeling his own body heat on his hand. He was awfully warm, though. Could it have been a hallucination, maybe? 

Regardless of what it was, he swore he could still feel the chill of the other’s skin threatening to snuff out the warmth clinging to the back of his cassock.

“Hm?” Finally drawing his eyes off of his phone, Ozzie’s brows furrowed and he tilted his head, “You okay, Father?” How could Ozzie make a term of respect sound so filthy? Fizzarolli felt like he should be fanning himself.

“I– Y-yeah, uh… Just… Feel kind of hot.” He tried to quirk a calm smile but the way he felt his face moving probably belied his unease.

“Yeah…?” Ozzie paused for a second, glancing up towards the vaulted ceiling, “Guess it is pretty warm in here, huh? You’ve been in here longer than I have.” And he still looked red from the chill wind outside, Fizzarolli noted. It spread over his stomach and clavicle, his arms, his cheeks, those sumptuous thighs–

Fizzarolli had to whip around again to stare at Jesus hanging on the cross in the back of the church in hopes that he could reel in these thoughts. He did not need this to start rutting this late in his life. Never in the entirety of it had he felt an attraction to anyone or anything, and suddenly this guy showed up and his entire body was going haywire? He’d have to figure that one out, wouldn’t he? There had to be an answer, and he kept returning to the sheer size of the man still on his phone behind him.

“I… Yes. I must just… Need a moment. You wouldn’t mind if I… If I stepped out for a moment, would you?” It was taking everything in him not to run to his office right now like a child scared of turning the lights out in a room at bedtime.

“Go ahead. Apparently, Val wants to make nice.” He offered a smile that spoke of frustration, and waved the priest off, “I’ll be here unless my ride shows up.”

“Well,” Bowing a little bit, Fizz offered a tight smile, “In case I miss you, I hope your… Job goes well and you have a nice night.” 

“Yeah, you, too.” Ozzie watched as the younger man made a beeline for his office with an amused smirk, surprised by just how easy it was to rile him up. Other succubi and incubi alike had tried things with this man, and none of them could get a rise out of him, but Ozzie didn’t find it all that difficult. Then again, maybe the King of Lust himself doing it was cheating just a little bit.

When he was alone, leaning against the door to his office as his chest heaved, his arms against it as if to hold it shut, he thought he might combust. Fizzarolli had never felt this way at all in his entire thirty-five years, and he was ready to curse Barbie’s name straight to Hell for abandoning him with this guy. He could very well imagine her saying ‘you’ll thank me later,’ but he absolutely didn’t think that that would be the case. Betraying his vows was a terrifying thought, and if he stayed trapped in a building with that solid, stunning hunk of a man, he was going to break.

Just want to see what happens when you snap.

Crossing the room suddenly, he wrenched open a thin drawer at the top of his desk, pulling out a small tin of lozenges. Maybe these had something to do with his lack of a sex drive, as the rut suppressants were said to be addictive and he’d been taking them his entire life, but he didn’t know what else to do. His hand shook as he popped the lid off, only noticing a thick blue smoke suddenly filling the room when he reached for one.

“Wh-what–”

He didn’t have time to finish the sentence. There was that smell again, and this time it was so overwhelmingly intoxicating that the Alpha was left purring and dumbstruck as his ‘medication’ dropped to the floor. His eyes fell to half-mast and he gazed at the door, not seeing anything at first, but before long Ozzie appeared against his desk. The olive-skinned man crawled onto it, lifting one leg high in the air as he scooted closer to Fizzarolli, before hooking it around his shoulder and yanking him close. Like this, the other’s natural musk buzzed in his nose and mouth, and he thought he might drool despite the dryness of his mouth.

Lips meeting in a sudden, slow, sensual kiss,, Fizzarolli moaned softly as he felt the other’s hands fisting in his frock. While he made the attempt to keep his hips back, it was met with the slightest amount of resistance from Ozzie’s knee wrapping around his thigh, and he gave in immediately with no questions, no thoughts in his head. It was hard to pinpoint just what he was smelling, but the perfume that wafted off of the gorgeous creature in front of him had fog rolling over his brain rather quickly. Their tongues pressed and rolled together as Ozzie licked into his mouth and bid him mirror his actions. The priest rolled his hips forward finally, after what felt like a million lifetimes passed where he was barely contributing to this party for two.

For several minutes it wore on like that, Fizzarolli rocking into the pleasure afforded him, and Ozzie relishing in giving him quite a few firsts. The Alpha didn’t seem willing to investigate anything Ozzie was doing at the moment, and the demon wasn’t about to give him the chance. He was enjoying this far too much to give it up now, and indulging in his sin was something he was made for. Guiding those virgin hands up his own stomach, Ozzie offered a loud, addictive moan to keep his hands on him, letting Fizzarolli free when he made his own way underneath the shirt. Fizzarolli’s fingers brushed Ozzie’s stiff nipples and he gulped audibly, his mouth wet from a mixture of their saliva. 

So much for the desert it had been a handful of minutes ago.

“We… I shouldn’t b-be…” He panted against the other’s mouth, and Ozzie chuckled at him softly, darkly almost.

“It’s okay, Olli Baby, I won’t tell Him if you don’t.” 

Fizzarolli didn’t get the chance to ask about what that meant before his mouth was plundered once more and that scent kicked up something inside of him that made Ozzie impossible to resist. Moaning softly into the kiss, the priest whimpered as he gasped into the other’s mouth, feeling his clothed cock pressing against yet another conundrum. 

There was no denying Ozzie had a pretty sizable dick, especially not with the only thing holding him back being a very small black thong, but… That felt wet, too. Maybe he was missing a memo somewhere, but he didn’t think that that was normal for an Alpha.

“You like that, Baby?” Ozzie whispered against his cheek, nuzzling him softly, “Want me to take care of you?” 

The priest’s eyelids fluttered and he nodded slowly, his lips parted as he gave a few soft little whimpers, sniffling against Ozzie’s neck and licking at his pulse point. For a few moments, he let the Alpha rut against his hips, exploring the desire burning in his body at his own pleasure. Letting the other thrust uselessly against his thighs for a little bit, he finally placed a hand against Fizzarolli’s chest and gently pushed him back. That earned a growl out of him, and Ozzie chuckled, shaking his head.

“Shhh, shh, Baby, it’s okay, it’s okay. Let ol’ Ozzie take good care of you.” He purred, and Fizzarolli’s hips finally stuttered to a stop with the help of Ozzie’s massive hands. Panting softly, the mortal stilled as much as he could, only shifting again when those soft, large hands felt over his cock through his pants. Grinding again, he bucked and growled as he shoved forward into those devilish hands, and Ozzie finally just let him move again. It was interesting, watching him go to town like that, huffing and barking as he was. And this was why suppressing these things your entire life was bad for you.

God was such a damn mess when it came to his puritanism. Ozzie knew better than most just how much of a hypocrite and a liar he was, it didn’t surprise him that he expected his followers to be pure little sheep. After all, the saying was sheep go to Heaven, goats go to Hell for a reason.

Before long, Fizzarolli stood nude before the demon stroking him off, his knees buckling as he leaned into Ozzie’s body and his desk alike. He tutted, clucked, and purred for him, guiding him with little moans and encouraging chirps, all the while getting Fizzarolli to jerk his hips. Cooing for him, he took note of Olli’s balls drawing up, his knot threatening to pop, and he rose a brow. So soon? He really had never indulged, had he?

Well, that was going to change.

“Don’t fight me, Baby, I have an idea.” Ozzie’s hands stilled before dropping, and Fizzarolli growled again, though he stepped back when prompted. Slick coated the Beta’s thighs, and he slid to the edge of the desk, laying back and lifting his legs up high in the air. Bending his knees at as close to a ninety-degree angle as he could get, he beckoned the priest back in with his crooked fingers, “Come here, Baby, and hold that pretty cock of yours out for me.”

When Olli stepped closer, he was steered to settle his dick between the other’s damp thighs. Gasping at the sensation, his eyelids fluttered, and his ears caught the best news he’d ever heard.

“Go ahead, Olli Baby, fuck my thighs like I know you want to.”

Fizzarolli wasted no time at all in bending forward over the other, pressing his knees to his chest, and going buck wild against him. Their cocks rubbed together and it wouldn’t be long at all before he finally blew between them and made a damn mess. If Ozzie managed to come, too, there would be more than just the disarray the priest would be in to clean up. Surprised as he was by it, he thought maybe that would be the case, too.

“You want to come for me, Daddy?” Ozzie whispered against his cheek, breathless as he purred against his skin, and the Alpha barked again, his jaw quivering as he let out long drawn-out chuffs. He was definitely close if his body alone wasn’t a good indicator, and the King of Lust offered a grin that was just on the side of being too toothy. While he figured it would be best not to make a mess, he struggled to pull back on another forward thrust, luxuriating in the frustrated growl it earned him, “I know, I know, trust me, you’ll like this, too.” 

Pushing Fizzarolli back, he sunk off the desk and onto his knees, returning his hands to the other’s dick to give him a squeeze as a promise that he’d keep going. Opening up his mouth, he just about heard the gears turning in the Alpha’s head up until his tongue swiped over the pearl of precum at the head of his cock. A howl ripped from his throat and he jerked forward, catching the demon off guard with the suddenness of his orgasm. It wasn’t until he was halfway finished making a mess of Ozzie’s face that he caught up to what was happening, closing his mouth around the tip to suck down the rest of it.

Fizzarolli collapsed back in his desk chair, his eyelids heavy and body twitching every few seconds for what felt like a million years. The next time he opened his eyes, he could hear birds chirping outside the window, and saw the sunlight streaming in behind him. 

What had happened to the night? To his visitor? Was he losing his mind?

Despite searching the church from top to bottom, Fizzarolli could find no sign of Ozzie anywhere, and Barbie even claimed she hadn’t seen him. Then again, knowing her intimate relationship with Jack and Jim, he really wasn’t surprised. While she could hold her own despite being a tiny little thing, Barbie wasn’t exactly a genius when she was drunk. The crack in her phone screen from her dropping it the night before told them both that.

It was hard to believe it had all been a dream or something with how intense and real it had felt, but he guessed there was a first time for everything. That didn’t stop him from craving his Apollo’s presence, those salacious smiles, and the practiced sway of his hips. More nights than he was willing to admit to, he spent his time thrusting into his hand or against a pillow in an attempt to find some relief without his expertise. 

While he tried to keep his moans quiet, he never knew if he would be caught blindly chasing his pleasure like this. He felt like a damn teenager trying to hide it from his parents, and he hated the shame that burned through him when he had come.

—

“Have fun, Ozz?” Valentino had been waiting for him, like he often did when the other used him as cover in the human world, “Been waiting for that money you owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re lucky he was worth it.” More than, actually. There was just something about a thirty-five-year-old virgin that the King couldn’t get off his tongue or out of his head. Holding out a stack of bills wrapped in the center with a strip of paper, he tossed it to the other demon with a raised eyebrow, “Run along, Val, I don’t want you harshing my vibes.”

“Mhm~ Whatever, big guy,” Humming as he fingered the edges of the bills, Val didn’t even look at the elder demon, waving him off with his secondary hands, “Hit me up if you need another fix, doll.”

Ozzie didn’t bother gratifying that with a response, and the couple parted ways without preamble. Their relationship was strictly professional (if one could call Valentino that), and Ozzie was happy to be left alone with his thoughts. Nobody seemed capable of getting that priest to sin, but he figured that the King of Lust himself was probably overkill and a half. 

Poor thing was going to suffer if he didn’t visit from time to time. 

Maybe he’d have to make excuses to check on him as often as he pleased because it wasn’t like he was going to seek out other partners. It was more than frowned upon, as well as he’d never find anyone else as skilled and perfect as Asmodeus.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

AN: I told myself that this one would be shorter than yesterday’s. I wrote them one after the other, and I had in mind something like 1.5k or less. And here we are, over 3.5k. Shorter, I guess, but not as much shorter as I had wanted. Regardless, I went right back on my bullshit pretty much immediately.

Prompt: 30 Days Of Fizzarozzie Day 13 - Human

[jincherie]

fox rain | five

• ☽ — pairing: bts x reader • ☽ — genre: crack, fluff, angst, college/uni au • ☽ — words: 9.9k+ • ☽ — rating: sfw • ☽ — warnings: stop two on the angst train express!!! not as blatant, more reading between the lines here...... have fun! • ☽ — notes: bros... it’s only downhill from here. cowa-fucking-BUNGA amirite cowboys???????!?!?

— posted; 18.09.2020

When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

— • masterpost | prev. | five | next • —

You lay in a sort of placid, bewildered shock, the kind that is sourced from confusion as opposed to an unpleasant surprise. After waking to blearily turn off your alarm before it blasted through the entirety of Dancing Lasha Tumbai, you’d unlocked your phone to find this curious set of messages from a number you haven’t saved. You’ve been lying in place for several minutes as your tired, wired brain slowly kicks into gear and attempts to debunk the mystery. After another unsuccessful few minutes of staring blankly at the screen, you’re saved from impending cranial combustion when your phone lets out a delightful little tinkle and another message hastily joins the others.  

Ah, that makes so much sense now! Except it doesn’t. Actually, it kind of adds to your bewilderment. Taehyung… is texting you? You don’t think you’ve ever in your life had any correspondence with him that didn’t either take place in the presence of Jimin or under the influence of alcohol… also in the presence of Jimin, now that you think of it. You haven’t really interacted with Taehyung outside of Jimin. So it is particularly odd to wake up to a series of messages that are from him, and pertaining to such an odd topic. You’re still so tired you can’t even fathom what would warrant a text from him. Maybe you dropped something at one of your tutoring sessions and Jimin asked him to give it back to you? It would make sense, since after the rollercoaster of a ride the last week has been for him (in particular, the questionable events that took place at the hands of one Kim Seokjin but somehow ended up with Jimin and Hoseok making up? You don’t really understand it but you’re not even going to bother to try to at this point) he has ended up a little preoccupied.

Tapping the screen when your inactivity leads it to go dark, you take a moment to scrounge a response from the empty barrel bottom that is your brain. Once satisfied, you drop your phone onto your bed and flop yourself back to the position you’d been in before your own alarm woke you so rudely. Technically, you don’t have to be up and about for another hour…

With faith that your additional hour of sleep will revive your ability to think, you allow yourself to slip somewhat self-indulgently back into sleep and pass the fuck out like a woman who has spent the night trying to forget.

(Which you are, and did do, except with maybe a little less alcohol than what that sentence implied.)

X     X     X     X

 It has been almost a week since the unfortunate end to that tutoring session on Monday, and while you’ve managed to stay off social media enough that you haven’t triggered yourself by accident in the entirety of that duration, every time you come on campus it’s like for however many steps forward you took, you take double the amount backwards. University students are such gossips! Well, the jobless ones are, anyway. The students that work and study are too busy dragging themselves around campus in a stunning rendition of the undead from various media to be bothered with the latest plot twist in the resident school drama. Which is to say, there has been no twist. The population is still shamelessly up Sera’s ass in the belief that she is the author of the poem, and as has become the norm you find yourself resisting the urge to hunt the bitch down and go in for round two on her face. Surely, your self-control has earnt you the title of a saint by now.

You’re blasting some angsty shit on the way to your music history class and pretending you’re in a music video for some indie band (it’s cathartic, and you will argue that fact to your grave), when you make it a few steps past the entrance to the food court and have the absolute living daylights scared out of you. Thudding footsteps reach you through your earphones and two hands clamp on your shoulders to halt you in place and spin you around like Barbie Ballerina.

“You’re a disgrace!” It’s Seokjin who has halted you in the middle of the hallway, every bit as dramatic as you’d come to expect. “You skipped drama class? And you call yourself an acting major, PSH!”

Yanking your earphones out, you nail the tall, pink-haired idiot with a glare. Very bold of him to be approaching you after you nearly chopped off Lil’ Jinnie barely a few days ago for his bastardous antics. Perhaps he’s getting a bit big for his glittery pink rainboots.

“First of all, will you please listen to me when I tell you I’m not an acting major?” Unfortunately, when you speak your voice comes out more exasperated and less threatening than you intended. “Second of all—very bold of you to be approaching me right now. You’re lucky you escaped with your life, you meddling bastard. You want me to bite the rest of your dick off?”

“You should know by now that I take that as a compliment,” Seokjin sniffs, haughtily, ignoring the latter part of your threat. “And do you know how boring it is for me to crash your class when you’re not even there? No one threatens me like you! It’s getting harder and harder to get it up these days, you know. I need a hit of the good stuff.”

For a moment you’re simply stunned into silence, staring at him and wondering just how and why he seems to have been sent here with the sole mission of making you want to kill him and then yourself. Nothing you could think to say really is enough, so you settle on simply turning and walking away.

Of course, you forgot that no one turns their back on Kim Seokjin and gets away with it.

“YAH!”

You wince—you think he actually just broke a sound barrier, or maybe your eardrums— or both. Seokjin quickly scrambles to place himself in front of you, arms out. His eyes are wide in something you suspect he thinks is a puppy-eyed look, but actually comes across more like he’s trying not to shit himself.

“Promise me you won’t skip drama again!” Seokjin says, pointing a finger at you in borderline accusation. When he doesn’t see your expression budge, he quickly changes tactics. “If not for me, the most charming prince in the story of your life, then at least for Jungkook, that poor virgin—”

You blink, distracted for a moment by what he said. “Wait, Jungkook is in my drama class?”

“’Wait, Jungkook is in my drama class?’” Seokjin repeats in a voice a few octaves higher than your own. “Listen to you, not even knowing who is in your own class. For shame! But have no fear, since you clearly skip so much I will happily extend my generosity and take you under my wing. Tutelage fee starts at $55 with an extra $5 for every question you ask that I don’t know—”

“Do you ever actually hear yourself talk?” you ask, feeling your will to live draining out your ears. “Like, the shit that comes out of your mouth? Do you hear it? Because—wait, are you saying you would charge me for questions that you don’t know the answer to?!”

Seokjin shrugs, “It’s a little unorthodox, I know. But—”

“I would literally be bankrupt! Thousands—no, millions of dollars in debt!” You exclaim, grabbing him by his stupid big shoulders and shaking him about. “Do I look crazy to you?!”

“Oh, what, you think you can do better?!” Seokjin demands, voice wobbling from your shaking. “What’s 2x2?”

“Fucking four!” you wail, releasing him in your despair. You can’t do this, your day only just started and you are not exhausted enough to micronap while he talks like usual. “I’m leaving, don’t follow me. DELETE MY NUMBER.”

“Haha jokes on you!” you hear Seokjin holler from behind you, voice rapidly growing quieter from the speed that you’re powerwalking away. “You never gave me your number!”

You make it to class barely on time due to Seokjin acting as one of the biggest inconveniences in your life, and while you manage to push him from your brain for the duration of it, you wish you could say that is the last time you see him,

It’s probably the fact that you busted his ass being a weirdo with Jimin and Hoseok last week that has him so…. attached this week, you suspect. You’re at your third Seokjin encounter for the day and you’re honestly considering whether you should trip to the campus pharmacy and look for some pepper spray, or maybe an umbrella. Pepper spray would be more effective, but the umbrella…. You can’t argue against the satisfaction it would provide.

You’re trying to sneak your way into a library on the Arts side of campus, one you don’t usually go to, so you can study without worrying about going absolutely batshit insane in the presence of Seokjin. It was hard, but you think that you’ve finally managed to shake him. What on earth had him so determined to tail you today? Was it seriously because you skipped your own class? Nutcase.

You peek your head around the corner looking not only for Seokjin, but for another thing you had happened to notice every time you were ambushed. You have yet to determine whether the glimpse of phenomenally bright floral print right before Seokjin pounces you is causation or correlation, and it makes you a bit nervous. Cautiously, like timid forest animal, you creep around the corner and begin to make your way into the building, eyes flicking from the library door right at the end to the rest of your surroundings. The café coming up on your right tempts you greatly, but you know it is too great of a risk. Out in the open, you’d definitely be seen.

This area is almost like a courtyard, an undercover area between three separate buildings. With a looming cement and glass ceiling, though, it feels like a building of its own. The library sits nestled in the corner of the largest building, and although it isn’t very wide, it spans several floors. You plan on going to the highest one and hiding in a corner near a window.

You’re close, so close to reaching the library in fact that you’ve fallen into a false sense of security. By the time you register the sound of pounding footsteps approaching behind you, for the second time today, it’s too late.

“Ah, y/n! Wait!”

Instinctively you prepare to burst into a sprint to get away, but at the last second stop yourself. That doesn’t sound like Seokjin… that sounds like—

“Taehyung?” you ask, turning in surprise as the boy comes to a screeching halt in front of you, bending with his hands on his knees as he attempts to catch his breath.

“I’ve… been trying….” he huffs, “To talk to you…. all day….. hah…Why are you so….. good at running away?”

He looks absolutely wiped out, cheeks red and sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. You’re just beginning to feel guilty when you notice his shirt, the bright floral print that you literally don’t know anyone else bold enough to wear, and you realise he’s really not lying. Poor Taehyung, just like you he has fallen victim to—

“That Seokjin bastard,” you say, completing a quick scan of the area to make sure the mention of his name didn’t somehow summon him. “He’s been harassing me all day. I’ve had to really up my game. By the way… are you okay? Please breathe… also what did you want to talk to me about?”

Taehyung straightens, eyes closed as he attempts to control his breathing. One of his hands comes to sweep the ashy hair from his face, the ends slightly damp with sweat.

“I’m fine,” he says, sounding slightly like he’s about to pass out. You prepare to take a step forward and catch him if he does, but he opens his eyes in the next second and shoots you a dopey smile. “I’m fine! Apparently just… whoo… really out of shape.”

“Your sacrifice is not in vain,” you say, smiling when he lets out a sudden laugh. Another shaky breath rakes past his lips before he straightens, eyes blinking a little wider. “Ah, right. I was looking for you because, um… you didn’t respond to my text… and I needed to ask you something that’s a little time-sensitive…”

“Your text…” you wrack your brain, sure that you remembered responding to it this morning in bed. Your mouth shifts into a wince, though, when you can recall writing a response, but not actually sending it. “Oh. I am so sorry, I’m an idiot. I was kind of half asleep when you texted, and I swear to god I typed a response but I think I fell asleep again before sending it…”

There is not a shred of accusation on Taehyung’s pleasant features, lips instead slightly curled in a smile. “That’s fine,” he chirps, rocking on the balls of his feet for a moment. “I do it all the time too. I’m just glad I caught you.”

You return his smile, before a thought that had been nagging you earlier returned and you acted on the urge to voice it. “By the way…. How did you get my number?”

Your question seems to be unexpected and, for some reason, flusters him slightly. He reaches to scratch the back of his neck, averting his gaze for a moment. “Uh, Jimin gave it to me. It was for something stupid a while ago but I never needed to use it.”

You raise your brows at what he said, but get the feeling he’s not going to elaborate. Instead, you remain quiet and wait for him to continue his thought from earlier. He shuffles on his feet, returning his gaze to your own. “Anyway, the reason I was trying to catch you all day was because I wanted to ask you something…”

“I know it’s not really any of my business, but I kind of noticed, and Jimin mentioned lightly that things haven’t been, uh…. great for you lately.” He doesn’t even give you time for that statement to sink in amongst your shock, continuing without pause despite the way his cheeks begin to flush, “And, uh, my exhibition is this Friday, and I was gonna go with Jimin but he double-booked himself with Hobi, so now I have no plus-one and I was wondering… if you wanted to go?”

When you simply stand there, dumbfounded, he clears his throat awkwardly, fiddling with the cuffs of his button-down. “To um, you know, take your mind off things… maybe… you don’t have to, of course, but I just thought I would—”

Snapping out of your stupor before he can take back the invitation, you hastily step forward and outstretch your hands. “Oh, no I would love to go! This is really—” you clear your throat, trying to ignore the light sting of your eyes “—sweet of you. I’d like to go, if it’s ok. You’re sure Jimin doesn’t mind…?”

Taehyung seems shocked, and you suspect he might have thought you would turn down the invitation from the way his eyes seem to light up. Have you really been walking around campus looking like that much of a gloomy bitch? You need to check your facial expressions when you get home this afternoon.

“He won’t mind,” he says, waving his hand excitedly. “Great, perfect—um, here is the little info sheet. I’d stay to tell you more but my class actually started a few minutes ago, so…”

“Oh!” you exclaim, taking the sheet from his hand before waving him away. “Go! Go to class! I’m sorry I made you late! Thank you for this, by the way!”

He seems slightly dazed at your enthusiastic thanks and farewell, but he shakes himself out of it and before he goes he sends you a smile that you can’t think of any other way to describe except dazzling. “It’s no problem, y/n. See you then.”

And then he’s off and you’re left standing alone in the pseudo-courtyard, clutching the exhibition pamphlet in your grip. Your eyes sting ever so slightly, and you can’t help but think how kind of sad it is that one person goes out of their way to think of you in the midst of everything you’re dealing with and you’re so touched you’re nearly driven to tears.

Hormones suck and you want a refund.

 X     X     X     X

 Taehyung was right when he said that what he had to ask you was time-sensitive. 

You hadn’t realised it at the time, but Friday was only a few days away— and in the midst of classes, schoolwork, and everything else, those days went fast.  Before you know it, it’s Friday morning and a panicked glance at the pamphlet Taehyung had given you reveals that the exhibition opens officially around 4:30PM. That works out surprisingly well for you, considering your last class ends at three o’clock and you can easily reschedule your session with Hoseok and Jimin. 

There’s a lot about the invitation you haven’t gotten to really dwell on, and that continues to be the case as the day flies before your very eyes. By the time your music theory class comes to an end and you finish scribbling down the last few lines of note from your teacher, the event is even closer than you anticipated. From your recent examination of the pamphlet, you’d found earlier that Taehyung’s exhibition is being held at a small university-sponsored gallery downtown. It shouldn’t take you too long to get there from your house, and on the way home after packing your things, you plot out the route you’re going to take. It’s about a twenty minute trip, as you discover, since there is by some stroke of luck a bus that goes straight there from a street just around the corner from your own. Taking that into account, you should have around forty minutes or so to get ready. 

Considering you’re one of many poor university students populating the area, it’s not often you actually put the effort in to get dressed up. Around these parts, there is a distinct culture of sweat pants and comfortable tops and more often than not a socks-and-slides combo, something you take part in more often than you’d like to admit. Still, you feel that considering the nature of the event you’ve been invited to and what you know of Taehyung’s works, you should probably be putting in much more effort than usual. 

While you might act like a slob sometimes, this isn’t actually a problem— even goblins like you can have a stash of decent clothes somewhere in their cave. Yours happen to be pushed to the back of your closet on hangers that haven’t seen the light of day in months. What can you say? University takes its toll in mysterious ways. 

Standing before your closet, eyes boring into the portion that’s been held in its depths for longer than you can remember, you wonder which way you should go with your outfit. Exhibitions are fancy right? Should you dress it up? Logic says you should, but on the other hand what if you are the only one dressed up? That would be humiliating. You pause for a moment to think about the type of garb you usually see Taehyung in— you have a feeling that he will probably dress the same way tonight. Recalling his bold, avante-garde taste in fashion is about as helpful as one might imagine, but it does comfort you to know that no matter what you choose, most eyes will likely be on him anyway. 

Comforted by that fact, you make up your mind and pull out a set that isn’t too over the top, and won’t make you look like a rat. Once you’ve slipped into those, you freshen up and wash your face, trying to make yourself seem a little bit more alive afterwards and not like you had an 8AM class today. You’re successful, to a degree, but you’re a little tight on time so you can’t really dwell on it. Feeling your stomach rumble as you grab your bag and key, you can only hope that this exhibition has free food.

x — x — x

“Ah, y/n! You’re here! You… you look nice.”

You were so busy staring at the large, shiny building before you that when Taehyung’s voice rings out in greeting, it startles the hell out of you. You don’t even register what he says before you’re pointing with eyes and mouth wide open, “Your exhibition is in there?!”

His expression of surprise melts into one of amusement, a laugh tumbling from deep in his throat. You don’t even notice the way his cheeks are flushed ever so slightly as he meets your gaze.

“Fancy, right?” he says, wagging his brows. “Some loaded alumnus who actually enjoyed his university experience practically donated it to them. So now they use it for, uh… for most exhibitions.”

“For the best ones, you mean,” you say, your grin widening when he scratches the back of his neck, bashful and blushing. “But yeah, damn. I was expecting it to be nice but I wasn’t expecting it to be this nice.”

Taehyung laughed again, clearing his throat. As he takes a moment to collect himself, you let your eyes scan over his form. The second you do so, you feel a foreign flutter in your stomach, heat flushing to your face. There is truly no other way to describe his choice of outfit for today except for painfully boyfriend. Perhaps on anyone else it would look a little less than presentable, but on Taehyung’s model-esque form the loose chestnut pants and an oversized leather jacket over a boldly patterned shirt work wonders. How does he look so effortless yet so…?

If you’d attempted to wear something like that you’d end up looking like the local court jester. Perhaps you should just make peace with the fact that God has favourites and Kim Taehyung is clearly one of them. 

“It, um. It started a few minutes ago, shall we head in?”

Taehyung offers you his arm, a gentlemanly move that completely contrasts the boyish grin on his face. Ignoring the sudden sensations in your abdomen, you make a show of curtsey-ing before you take it, eliciting a laugh from your company as the two of you head to the entrance and the full exhibition experience begins. 

As soon as you enter there is someone by the door, who seems to be at the very least taking note of how many people enter, a table with flyers and booklets beside him. Taehyung parts from you only to move over and grab a few, brandishing them as he returns with a bright grin.

“Here is all the information about the event, madame,” he says, with an extremely exaggerated air of grandeur, presenting one of the flyers with a flourish. You take it, unable to help your soft snort.

“I would have thought I had something better, what with the very artist behind the event accompanying me,” you say, grinning when you see his cheeks turn an endearing pink as he flashes a bright, boxy smile. 

“True,” he returns, folding the other flyer and slipping it into the pocket of his jacket. “You can’t ask a flyer questions in real time. Anything that crosses your mind, you can ask straight to the source.”

“Oh? Then, may I enquire as to what the theme of this exhibition is?” You’re enjoying the playful air that drifts between you now, unable to rid your face of the smile currently displayed on it even if you wanted to.

Taehyung’s eyes flick to you, a lopsided smile tugging his lips to accompany the sly accent to his gaze. “Ah, a tough one right off the bat. I think telling you straight-up would be too easy. Let’s see if you can try to guess it as we walk through.”

You turn to him with an affronted look, having expected him to easily supply you with the answer. Taehyung is a little cheekier than you remember. You snap your mouth shut, cheeks heating when you notice he has offered his arm to you once more. Taking note of the other people in the room walking around in a similar manner, you slip your arm through his and try to ignore the way you feel your ears light on fire.

“Okay, you’re on,” you respond, if a few moments too late. He doesn’t comment on the delay, simply sending you a smile that you can’t quite decipher the emotion behind. You don’t get to dwell before the two of you are off, beginning on your journey through the building and starting on your tour of the exhibition. 

You’d kind of always known that Taehyung was talented, considering he managed to make such a name for himself on campus in such little time with such ease. Hell, he’s well-known enough to have made it onto the list of suspects for the muse of your poem. Still, this knowledge is only compounded the further into the building you go and the more of the exhibition you see. Taehyung is truly talented, the images blown up and displayed on the wall each capturing a certain emotion that you don’t have a name for, yet is so familiar that each time you see a new one it gives you pause. Viewing his works, seeing into this part of him and witnessing this bit of his soul he has bared, you can’t help but feel a slight sense of kinship. 

It’s something that rests in the space between your lungs and diaphragm, something that tickles but also something that aches. You do know this feeling, so familiar yet so out of touch and far from the tip of your mind’s tongue. You do try to guess the theme of the exhibition as you go, throwing out the occasional dumb guess to elicit a laugh— he always laughs, and it always makes you smile— but you don’t quite manage to pin it. 

“The five senses,” you shoot into the dark, standing before an image that has made you stop and stare for a good five minutes now. It’s not quite black and white, and it’s not a particularly unique image— but something about the composition, something about the movement in the two hands that are so close yet so far from actually touching, speaks to that hidden part of you. The way one of the hands simply hangs, unbothered and neutral, but the other, the one slightly closer to the foreground, has fingers ever so slightly outstretched, reaching but never quite committing to the movement and the unspoken consequence of the hinted action. 

Of course, you know the answer even before Taehyung says it. He laughs, hands in his pockets, “Nope, ddaeng.”

“This is hard,” you whine, without much heart behind it. The smile stays on Taehyung’s face.

“Whatever. You’re smart, I know you can guess it. It should be easy, for you.”

The compliment catches you off guard, and you have to turn away so that he doesn’t see your cheeks warm. The two of you had parted when you caught sight of the snacks table; you’d been prepared to abandon him and make a beeline over, but Taehyung had surprised you by marching over himself and coming back with a loaded plate. He’d confessed with a sheepish smile that he hadn’t had lunch, and really you were in no place to judge since you hadn’t either. By this point in your journey, though, the plate is almost empty. There’s only two tiny cupcakes left and you’re letting the rest of the things you scarfed down settle before you go in for more. 

Perhaps it was a little dangerous, coming here with Taehyung. He looks so fine, even while shoving sweets in his mouth, that you spend about the same amount of time looking at him as you do at his artworks. It takes all of your willpower to tear your eyes away every time you catch yourself looking at him and admiring the truly boyfriend fit he has donned for this occasion. Every so often he will simply stand before one of his works, scrutinising it with a fresh perspective and ever-criticising eyes, and the sight of it will make something nameless and foreign well within you. You don’t quite know what to do with it, so you ignore it. Or at least, you try to. 

It feels a little too similar to what you know of yearning. It leaves you confused.

You stop not long after in front of another piece, this time a combination of three images that act as separate snapshots of smaller parts of a larger image. You admire the way he has set it out, revealing not too much but just enough that the viewer gets a sense, a feeling, but isn’t confronted with the message. It allows everyone to take their own sensation from it. You like that a lot about his works— he doesn’t tell people what to feel as they view his images, but merely hints, prompts and nudges. He sets the stage and allows people to take what they need, see whichever bits draw their eye most and spell meaning from elements of their choosing. He’s talented, you find yourself marveling again, so incredibly talented.

But still, you can’t put a finger on what the theme is.

By the time you make your way completely though the exhibition, having doubled back at a few points to look again at a select few of the pictures, you’re still no closer to guessing. It has you deep in your thoughts as you stand outside, waiting for Taehyung to return from thanking one of the guests who had recognised him for coming. 

“Guessed it, yet?”

You turn, pinning him with a look that you hoped didn’t look as dumb as it felt. “Leave it with me,” you say. “I’ll figure it out eventually.”

At your words, Taehyung laughs— it’s one of the full-bodied ones you’ve come to enjoy, where he throws his head back a little and shakes his hair back into place after. You have to snap yourself out of it before he catches you staring. 

“I’m sure,” he says, unable to keep the cheeky grin off his face. It does slip ever so slightly though, just for a moment, as you watch a thought cross his features. “By the way…”

You tilt your head, waiting for him to continue. You feel an odd combination of at-peace, and unsettled. Holistically, this is the most at-peace and relaxed you’ve been in weeks. However, when you take a moment to tune into the inner machinations that make up your being… something in this exhibition has reached into your insides and fiddled around, moving things where they shouldn’t be and touching things that aren’t meant to be touched. It’s odd, and you acknowledge that it gives you quite a bit of cognitive dissonance. Even so, you’re calm enough that you have no trouble being patient while you wait for Taehyung to continue and say what he seems so nervous to say. 

“Um, I know I initially only asked you about coming here, to the exhibition…” he begins, reaching to rub the back of his neck in what you recognise to be one of his nervous ticks. “But, I actually have these vouchers I won in a competition a while ago for a paint-and-sip session that are about to expire, and I was wondering… would you like to go? Now, I mean. Since they actually kind of expire tomorrow. Unless you’re busy, because if you are that’s—”

You decide to put him out of his flustered misery, reaching to nudge his arm. “Of course, that sounds fun! Plus, you were right the other day; I could really do with the chance to relax. Thank you, for all this. I really appreciate it.”

It takes a second for your words to register, but when they do the most blindingly bright smile spreads across his face; he’s practically beaming at you. 

“Of course,” he says, with barely a moment’s hesitation. “I’m really happy you agreed to come— I’m glad you said yes to the paint-and-sip, too, because it’s one of my favourite places. Come on, let’s get going. If we get there at just the right time, we can get a really good seat, hopefully by the window.”

The journey continues, Taehyung leading you through the city while chatting easily all the while, a stunning twilight cityscape backdrop and the gentle glimmering surface of the river meandering through buildings providing the perfect scenery. If you had a little more faith in your artistic ability, you might try and paint the image you see now; Taehyung in the colours of dusk, soft and natural against the bright lights and harsh lines of the metropolitan landscape. But alas, you aren’t as talented as the man besides you, and you don’t even want to think of how it would turn out if you attempted to paint such a thing. You quickly throw the thought from your mind before it can linger and get up to more trouble than it’s worth. 

“Here we are!” Taehyung’s cheer breaks you out of your stupor, bright smile directed your way once more as he stops in front of a large establishment with long strips of window and a colourfully sewn awning. 

‘Brush & Bar���, the cursive, neon sign reads above the door, flickering between soft pink and peach orange. It’s an interesting aesthetic the place has going on, but when you look over and catch sight of Taehyung once more it suddenly makes sense why he likes it so much. The style of this place is very similar to some of the more outlandish things he tends to model around campus. Before your reverie lets you remain abandoned outside, you hurry to follow after the ashy-haired boy, grabbing the back of his jacket when you almost trip over the door frame. He spares a look over his shoulder to make sure you’re okay before he continues, moving towards the counter and smiling with more charm than you can personally handle at the staff member there. 

It’s a woman, who you suspect is in her mid-thirties, and she is pretty enough that it takes you by surprise when she rolls her eyes heavily at Taehyung’s approach. 

“You again, boy?” she asks, though it sounds more rhetorical than anything and you catch the slightest tinge of humour accenting her words and it soothes your hackles. “Don’t you ever get sick of hanging around here?”

“Nope!” 

She cracks a smile, lines appearing at the edges of her eyes. “Well, I suppose that’s a good thing. We’d miss you an awful lot if you ever stopped showing up here.” Her eyes flick ever so slyly to you, and then back. “Say, is today the day you’re finally gonna make good on those vouchers you won? I know you said you were waiting for the right chance to ask that g—”

“Yes!” Taehyung cuts in loudly, eyes wide and cheeks flushing darkly. “Yes, yep! I brought the vouchers! They do expire tomorrow after all!”

The woman, Bora as you now see from her nametag, simply smiles, something sly about the action intriguing you. Taehyung clears his throat, reaching to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly. “So, um… I will use them now. Is the window seat free…?”

Bora nods, a fond curve to her lips now as she rummages around behind the counter and takes the offered vouchers from Taehyung to punch holes in them. “Your favourite spot? Of course. I had a feeling you were coming, too, so I’ve already gone and set it up with some canvases and acrylics.”

She hands the vouchers back, and Taehyung slips them into the pocket of his jacket.  “Paintbrushes and jars are in their usual place, and I know you don’t normally drink while you’re here but if you’d like some tonight just take your order up to Kyungsoo. Oh! And tonight’s special for snacks is tea cakes, so definitely make the most of that. There are some good ones in the display.”

At the mention of food and alcohol, your gaze had already started to wander on its own— you catch sight of the display of cakes and other sweets and feel your mouth water. Ridiculous, since you were kind of full before, but what can you say, you’re a complicated woman. Lots of layers, not unlike an onion. The thought almost makes you snort.

With a gentle nudge to your arm, Taehyung is bringing you back to the present moment and leading you over to the window, where a medium-sized table has been set up with two square canvases and a basket of paint bottles, palettes leaning to the side. Taehyung instructs you to take a seat, informing you with a smile that he’ll grab some paintbrushes and water for the two of you to use. At his suggestion, while he is gone you open up your phone and search for something to paint. Something that’s not too hard and not too easy. Because your skills are… well, they’re not nonexistent but you’re not about to go around tooting your horn in front of someone with actual art skills and talent. Apparently there is usually an image supplied for each night, but Taehyung says it’s not strict and that tonight is one of the nights where all the patrons just have free reign. 

You sort of get distracted part way through the activity, eyes subconsciously seeking Taehyung’s leather jacket amongst the decently filled establishment. It’s really quite nice inside, actually; the walls and general decor are soft and neutral, with pops of colour everywhere that bring each corner and table to life. A lot of the furniture is wooden, natural and polished underneath specks of paint that decorate in layers that tell of time spent well. The lighting is soft with the exception of the bulbs stationed above each table, which are brighter and angled towards where the canvas would be. On one of the walls, the one near the bar, it is completely covered by greenery— vines that, as far as you can tell, aren’t actually fake. A soft, almost jazzy tune filters lightly through the room, complemented by the low hum of chatter and paintbrushes hitting glass. You’re incredibly impressed and, admittedly, you like this place a lot. It has the kind of vibe that just… makes you content. 

“Here we go!” 

You startle at the sound of Taehyung’s low register, looking over to see him placing a bundle of paintbrushes in between the two of you and a jar beside each of your canvases. He takes his seat across from you, smiling brightly. “Did you decide what you want to paint?”

You hum, turning your gaze out the window for a moment to see if it grants you any inspiration— it’s a gorgeous sight, the twilight sky broken by the outline of buildings with glimmering insides, but it doesn’t help much. You don’t know what you want to paint. Of course, there is this big, expanding feeling inside you, the urge to express it somehow filling you to your fingertips, but what do you do with it? You don’t even know its name.

“No,” you answer, reaching for one of the palettes propped up to the side. “But I’ll be okay. Maybe I’ll just see where the vibe takes me.”

The smile Taehyung gives you at that is softer than most, and he eagerly follows suit in grabbing a palette and beginning to set it up; he squirts a big dollop of white, blinking at it for a moment as though he hadn’t intended to put that much. “There are some pencils and erasers to the side there, too. I prefer the moldable one.”

You thank him for his advice, before realising as he puts his own pencil ever so lightly to canvas that he hadn’t told you the subject of his painting. “What are you going to paint?”

“A secret,” he says, leaning around the canvas to grin at you. “Since I don’t know what you’re painting. Let’s swap paintings after, though. I do want to see eventually.”

That makes you laugh, but you don’t bother pushing further. A surprise is nice every now and then, you know. So long as it’s not the kind that ruins your life as you know it indefinitely.

But you’re here to have fun and relax, so you’re not going to get into that. You’re not even going to think about it. 

Taehyung clears his throat, catching your attention immediately. “Right, before we start we should probably order. Did you—”

“No need, my boy!”

Two new figures appear at the side of the table, one a youthful man on the shorter side, the other older and plumper with grey beginning to speckle through his hair. The shorter one places two drinks onto the table, colourful cocktails in a generous glass, and the older laughs before placing down two plates, each with a different kind of cake slice situated neatly in the middle.

“On the house,” the man continues, chuckling at the shocked and somewhat flustered look on Taehyung’s face. “You’ve given us a lot of business so don’t even worry about it. Plus, we heard you were finally making the most of those vouchers so… here’s a little something to start the night off well!”

“...Thanks, Mr Kang,” Taehyung finally manages, shooting them a smile that could honestly give Hoseok’s own a run for its money. “You too, Kyungsoo. Do…. do I wanna know what’s in this?”

He’s gesturing to the drinks, a somewhat fearful look on his face. The shorter man shakes his head, thick brows curved in mirth as his lips twitch into a lopsided smile. “Nope. Tastes good though, so you got nothing to worry about.”

You can’t tell whether Taehyung is relieved or concerned, and so step in to save him a moment of reprieve. “Thank you so much— this all looks amazing!”

Happily, the two men soak in your praise. “I assure you,” Mr Kang says, patting his chest proudly. “It tastes as good as it looks.”

Kyungsoo snorts, but doesn’t disagree. He gives the two of you a small smile. “Right, we should be on our way. You two enjoy yourselves, and if you want refills just come let me know.”

Taehyung nods, thanking them again, and then it’s just the two of you once more.

“Well,” he says, licking his lips and reminding you of a puppy as he stares intently at the slice of strawberry crepe cake, decorated with a generous drizzle of syrup and two fresh, sliced strawberries in a dollop of cream beside it. The other one, a coffee-caramel blend you presume from the heavenly aroma reaching your nose, looks just as good but is nowhere near as successful at capturing his attention. “I guess… let’s begin!”

Whether he meant painting or devouring the food, you end up doing a bit of both. Each mouthful of cake that enters your mouth is announced with an explosion of flavour so rich it lingers long after you’ve swallowed the mouthful down. The drinks, too, are delicious. Fruity but not too syrupy or sugary, you suspect Kyungsoo had used spirits and tempered the fruity flavour with a bit of lemon or lime.

You still aren’t really sold on what to paint, but in the meantime you end up sketching out the flowers that sit on the windowsill a little behind Taehyung. They don’t seem too complicated, and if they end up looking terrible you can just smear the canvas with paint and call it abstract. Of course, part of Taehyung’s shoulder cuts the vase off from view so he’s probably going to end up making an unwitting appearance in whatever mess turns up on your canvas. 

Even though neither of you have any idea what Kyungsoo put into those drinks, you’re sure its something strong. Before long the two of you are already giggly, conversation flowing easily as you put paint to canvas and attempt to make something decent. It’s around the time the two of you are almost finishing your drinks that the conversation takes a delightful turn, which consists of Taehyung telling you about his little fluffball, Yeontan.

“Oh my god,” you say, fingers gripping the paintbrush tight as you try to pet the urge to pet a dog that isn’t even here. “He’s so cute! Look at his grumpy little eyebrows!”

Taehyung laughs, having taken a break from painting to show you his dog like a proud parent. He takes his phone back and slips it into his pocket, paint-flecked hand returning to the brush he’d abandoned. “He’s such a smart dog, but he’s also super dumb. Runs into shit all the time. And there was one time that a friend came over and brought a new camera that he hadn’t seen before—”

Taehyung has to pause recounting the story, he starts giggling so hard. It makes you erupt into laughter as well simply because of how contagious the sound is. “He got so mad, he ran in front of me with his little legs and started barking at it like he was trying to protect me. I love that little dog.”

“I love him too and I haven’t even met him,” you giggle, using your pinky (the only finger you’re sure you haven’t gotten paint on yet) to wipe under your eyes. You don’t think you let a tear slip but you’ve been laughing so much you can’t be sure. 

Taehyung beams at you from around his canvas, brush held midair.  “That’s exactly what Jiminie says.”

That gives you pause. “Wait— Jimin hasn’t seen your dog? But you’ve been friends for ages!”

You catch the photographer smiling as he delivers a few soft strokes to his painting, affection hidden in his tone as he responds, “Yeah, a few years. Since… the last? Second last year of high school? Maybe? It was a wild start to the friendship.”

“Wild?” you echo, intrigued. 

“Yeah. What really kick-started our friendship was this one time I came over while Jimin was really upset about something. I can’t remember exactly how it happened but we ended up at some wack university event nearby. It was boring as hell, and somehow we figured the best way to be entertained would be to commit a mild crime and get away with it.”

Once more, the ashy-haired male has to pause his story to get the giggles out of his system, taking the opportunity to sip a little more of his cocktail. You do the same, not one to pass up much of any drink these days. 

“Long story short, he ended up streaking across the field and earning himself a title at the university as ‘mooncheeks’ or something equally dumb and funny, earnt himself a bit of a nude legacy.”

You pause, the alcohol beginning to slow your mind just enough that it takes a little longer for you to connect the dot between his story and something you’d shoved so deep in the back of your mind years ago that you’d almost forgotten it.

“Wait—” you smack your paintbrush down, eyes wide as an accusing finger is thrown his way. “That was— he ran into me on the way back! Oh my god I almost forgot, that was you two?!”

Taehyung erupts into laughter that is an octave or two shy of being too loud, having to place a hand over his chest to brace himself. He’s nodding wordlessly, eyes pinched shut, and it’s probably the alcohol making your eyes blur but for a moment you could almost swear he’s glowing.

“Yeah,” he finally manages to articulate, wiping a stray tear or two from his eyes, sniffling. “It cheered him up, though, so I think it’s worth the potential trauma.”

That makes you laugh, another sip of your drink going down. A lot of the spirits must have settled at the bottom, because this one had a little warmth as it went down. 

The night goes so easily it’s like a dream, the atmosphere and alcohol in combination with Taehyung’s company making you feel much like you did before this whole shitshow, back when it wasn’t so hard to release the tension in your shoulders or to muster a genuine smile. Taehyung happily gets you a few refills, refusing to let you pull out your card— which is probably for the best because you’re not sure where your wallet is and you’re not coordinated enough to look right now.

You’re on the further side of tipsy, teetering on the edge of pleasantly drunk where nothing makes sense but you’re still somewhat coherent, and everything is funny. Taehyung has almost dipped his paintbrushes in his drink instead of the jar a few times, resulting in a long round of laughter and sore stomachs each time. Eventually, you’d moved his drink to the other side of the canvas and he’d offered you a sheepish smile. 

Surprisingly, your painting doesn’t look too bad, either. Currently it has a bit of a blurry, undefined quality to it, but in your current opinion it kind of works for it. Taehyung’s shoulder did end up making a feature and as the two of you talk you find yourself distractedly painting patterns in the ‘leather’, swirls and hearts and hell, even a few triangles. Eventually, you reach the point where you think that you really can’t do anything more to make the painting better in the time you have, so with a contented sigh you place your brush down and instead turn your attention to Taehyung.

Even as he talks to you and wobbles a little in place, he’s still so incredibly focused in his work, in every detail that meets canvas at the direction of his nimple finngertips, that you don’t think you even see his hand shaking while he paints. Which, your hand was— a lot. It’s the main factor responsible for this one squiggly flower stem in particular you can see in your painting.

As you sit there, happily listening and laughing at each anecdote Taehyung offers you about his life, you find your mind wandering a little bit. Back to the exhibition, and the works and even the way you caught him regarding them. You recognise the critical lens that he viewed them through, because it’s one you adopt yourself for your own creations. Something wells in you, an urge to reassure him in case he ever had any doubts about his own talent; you’re far too many drinks in to be in a place where you can stop yourself.

“Taehyung,” you begin softly but seriously, with minimal slur. He doesn’t stop his motions, but you see him pause for the briefest moment before humming in acknowledgement. “Taehyung, I have to tell you…”

You’re figuring out how to best word your impression of his works and his talent, but you must take longer than you thought because Taehyung lets out a soft huff, giving you a smile that you can’t quite decipher.

“Don’t worry,” he says, flicking the paintbrush back to rest the wooden stem on his knuckles. “I already know I’m not the muse. You don’t have to worry about convincing me.”

For a second, all you’re able to do is blink. Taehyung simply goes back to his painting, expression neutral and his soft hum brushing your ears beneath the soft melody floating from the speakers. You realise quickly that you don’t know what to say to that, and that the full implications of his words haven’t really sunk in yet. He must have noticed that you’d been trying to go around and convince all the suspected subjects that they aren’t the muse of the poem… you feel oddly ashamed, for some reason. Your cheeks feel hot, and not just from the alcohol flush.

“Done!”

Taehyung’s voice breaks you from your reverie, his cheery smile greeting you once more. “All finished?”

You nod, offering a smile of your own and taking the opportunity to say what you wanted to earlier. “Yep. I’m excited to see yours, you’re so incredibly talented, Tae.”

His smile turns shy at that, a bashful laugh tumbling from his lips as he does his best to clean up his area. You do the same, standing up for the first time in a while and having to reach out and stabilise yourself on the table so you don’t fall. The drinks hit you a little harder than you first thought!

“Thank you,” he finally mumbles a few moments later, collecting the brushes. “I’m excited to see yours, too.”

You let out a short laugh at that, knowing that whatever you threw onto that canvas isn’t going to be able to hold a candle to what he made.

Quicker than you can keep track of, the two of you finish tidying and then before you know it you’re saying your goodbyes to the staff and stepping outside. You shiver at the unexpected breeze that greets you, people along the other side of the street huddling together. It’s a windy night and the breeze carries a bit of a bite.

“Oh, right,” Taehyung starts in place, offering his canvas to you. “Careful, it might still be a bit wet…”

Somewhat mindlessly, you swap paintings with him, smiling brightly before your gaze is drawn to the side. By nothing but absolute chance, it passes over the line in front of a bar popular with students at your university, and you almost blink and move on before your eyes halt in familiarity. At the hands of nothing but stupid luck, there is someone you recognise over there. Yoongi stands, face indicating a loud complaint before it even leaves his mouth, and there are a few others around him that he seems to be with who are laughing as they wait in line.

Your head feels so messy, like the wind has managed to get inside your skull and fling everything about like leaves on the autumn breeze. You’re so distracted in the moment that you don’t see it as Taehyung follows the direction of your gaze, and his expression drops. When you jerk out of your reverie, it’s just in time to see his eyes flicking from your painting, to his, and then back to you.

You’re about to peek at his painting and fill the silence with a compliment, but he beats you to it. Something is different about his expression, and not just because he’s no longer under the warm light of the paint bar. The glow you’d noticed so easily earlier seems to have dimmed a bit.

“Did you figure out the theme of the exhibition?”

At his question you startle, gaze flicking to the side as you try and figure it out on instinct on the spot. You’d completely forgotten to think about it, and considering you spent about as much time looking at him as you did his works while at the exhibition, you can safely determine you’re still nowhere closer to the answer. “Ah… no.”

As though drawn like a magnet, your gaze ends up over in the direction of Yoongi for the briefest second. You struggle to tear it away.

“It’s anaxiphilia.”

Even through the inebriation slowing your thoughts, his words reach you immediately. It’s as though your heart has turned to stone and dropped straight through your chest. That unspeakable, unknown emotion wells and bubbles within you, swelling to twice, thrice its size and blocking words before they can even reach your throat. Your eyes are on Taehyung again, but his are still centred where yours had been— had he also noticed Yoongi? You didn’t know they knew each other...

“Oh,” you finally manage, swallowing down that nameless sensation. Taehyung’s gaze slowly slides back to you, dark eyes full of so much… something, you think it would take you years to unpack and familiarise yourself with it all. 

For a second, the two of you stand with your gazes locked, both of you too deep in your own thoughts to do anything about it. Taehyung is the one that breaks the spell. 

“Well, it’s getting late, I shouldn’t keep you out any longer… There is a bus stop here, and tons of ubers in the area…” His eyes flick away as he talks but return as he murmurs this last bit, “Thank you for coming today. I hope you had fun.”

“Of course I did,” you rush, finally finding your voice amongst the shambles in your head. “Thank you for inviting me, Tae. I really… I really needed this. Thank you.”

He nods, smiling at you, but you notice it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Please get home safe,” he says, and you nod immediately, making his gaze soften. “See you later.”

“Bye! Thank you again!” you wave, Taehyung turning quick and already a decent way down the street after his farewell. He offers a wave over his shoulder and you catch it just in time before you turn back, gaze unconsciously seeking out the familiar figure across the road. Distantly, you observe that Yoongi is no longer in line for the bar and has switched to the bubble tea place a few stores down.

Taehyung’s exhibition and it’s theme swim through your mind, a sudden impulse welling within you in response that spurs your legs into a motion. You’re about to go across the road in a sudden spurt of something like bravery, but for some indecipherable reason, you stop before you can get more than a few feet. You turn your head, gaze thrown over your shoulder, eyes seeking without an explicit goal in mind.

You catch sight of him just before he rounds the corner and disappears from view— even from the back Taehyung presents a handsome figure, but in the split-second you manage to view him, the most notable things about his retreating form is the slumped curve of his shoulders and the lowered angle of his head. He’s gone before you can blink leaving you for good this time with nothing but your messy head and the one thought that swims to the surface that says after seeing him glow in happiness for the better part of the evening, sadness doesn’t suit him much at all. 

Clutching the painting, your turn back to the front and try and focus on the present for just a minute or two, like whether you’re going to catch a bus or uber it home, but each time you start a new thought it always brings you back to the odd mix of guilt swirling deep in your gut. There’s something else there, the familiar hollow pit of yearning, but for once… you can’t quite tell who it’s for. 

a/n: thank u so much for reading! i really hope it was worth the wait and that you look forward the future parts as fox rain begins to slowly draw to a close!! pls let us know u liked it w a like and rb and screaming in our inboxes is always ALWAYS welcome!! thank u !! love u !! <3

[mickmarstookmyheart]

Bad Memories

Pairing: Mick Mars X Reader

Synopsis: While you are trying to enjoy your peaceful morning with Mick, your sister calls you with az unexpected demand. Your past comes up again which you don't like.

(I will correct the mistakes tomorrow)

Being the girlfriend of a musician meant constant tours and music all the time at everywhere. Seeing the guys almost every night on stage playing their chosen instruments made you jelaous. Then you remembered that you wouldn't stand on stage and play. Never.

It was a rainy and overcast October day. You and Mick chose to stay in bed a bit more since you had nothing to do that day. Your head was laying on his chest which was rising slowly. You loved listening to his steady heartbeat. His fingertips were caressing you bareback while his other hand were behind his head.

"Miiiiick. Please!" You asked nicely.

"Yeah?" He sighed.

"Would you be so kind and make some coffee?" You looked up with puppy eyes. He rolled his.

"I made it yesterday, too." He stated. He knew that these kind of peaceful mornings are rare and tried to enjoy every second of it.

"Good point. Then give me 5 minutes." You murmured into his chest. After a while you heard Mick's quiet snoring making you drift back to sleep, too. A loud ringing noise woke you up from your peaceful dreams.

"I will kill whoever this is." Mick groaned reaching for the telephone. "It's your killer, what do you want?"

"Hey, Mick. It's me, Isabelle. Sorry if I woke you up." Your sister apologized on the other end of the phone.

"Oh, hey. What's up? Haven't heard from you like in ages!" Mick's face brightened up while you frowned thinking who this lucky person could be.

"Nothing special, just the usual. Is (Y/N) there? I really need to talk to her." She asked.

"Yeah, sure. Is there a problem?"

"Well, nothing serious." Mick handed you the phone.

"It's (Y/N)." You said with a quite sleepy tone. You sat up while pulling some blanket from Mick who answered with a pillow behind your head. "Hey!" You snapped making him smirk.

"It's me. Your sister." Isabelle started to get annoyed. "(Y/N)! Are you here?"

"Yeah. What is it?"

"You know there is gonna be a party. Here at university. A Halloween party."

"That's good, I guess?" Making a phone call this tired didn't help.

"Sure. Also, me and some guys formed a band you know."

"Really? You haven't told me." It was good to finally speak to her. It was quite a long ago since you have a nice sister to sister conversation. You glanced around in the room and spotted an oversized tee on the ground. You got out of bed which was hard cause Mick didn't let you at first. You couldn't help it cause you felt the urge to walk when you were speaking on the telephone. "And... what's the name of the band?"

"Eggheads."

"That's what I call creative." You giggled.

"Wasn't me who came up with the idea, you know." Isabelle huffed.

"Maybe you should've asked Mick. He has some ideas." You glanced at the guitarist who tilted his head not having any clue why he was mentioned. "So what's the deal, sis?"

"There is this party and the head of the uni asked us to perform."

"Congrats. That's a big thing!" You cheered.

"Let me finish. So yesterday our guitarist, Mike, had an accident and broke his arm. He sure won't be able to perform."

"Oh, that suck. I'm so sorry. Also, sorry for not performing." You played with the wire of the phone.

"Well, don't be. Cause I have a wonderful idea!" She had a devilish smile on her face, unfortunately you couldn't see. If you could, you would've known what she was up to. "There is a girl I know who could play instead of Mike."

"Good to hear. Is she at the uni, too?" You asked still not suspecting a thing.

"Not exactly although one of my best friends." She said sighing. "I'm talking about you, (Y/N)."

"What?" The blood froze in your veins. "You aren't serious, right?"

"Don't tell me you are still not over what happened years ago!"

"I am...just.. it's pretty hard." You were rubbing your arm with the other.

"Please, (Y/N)!" She begged. "It will be fucking cool, I promise."

"I don't know. I haven't played since then. I will mess up."

"Give the phone to Mick."

"Why?"

"Heard me. Give me the guitar lord." Isabelle ordered. You handed the device back to Mick who took it happily. He was really fond of your sister.

"Did you manage to solve the problem?" Mick asked while he was eyeing your worried facial expression.

"Almost. Would you refresh my sister's guitar skills in two weeks?" Mick's eyes widened while you shook your head.

∆

"Why didn't you tell me?" Mick asked watching the red light from the car.

"Tell you what?" You were looking out the window to avoid eye contact. You knew what he was talking about and it wasn't your favourite topic.

"That you can play the guitar."

"I thought I can have secrets. And it's not a big thing."

"If you say so." He was watching you from the corner of his eye. He noticed that you were worried, well, rather freaked out. "Would you mind telling me why are you like this? Or is it a secret, too?"

"I fucking knew." You pulled your hoodie's strings stronger so nothing could be seen from your face. You crossed your arms and didn't say a word.

"You look like a kid who didn't get her Barbie." He chuckled.

"Haha. Very funny." You murmured.

"Aren't you happy that you can meet with Isabelle? Cause I sure am!" He smiled. Sometimes you were wondering why he liked your sister this much. Mick only tolerated people. "Hey. Mars to Earth. Are you here?" He asked while poking your belly making you giggle.

"Stop." You tried to catch your breath. Mick smiled, he loved hearing your laugh. "And I'm sorry for my behaviour. It's just a quite sensitive topic for me. Only Isabelle knows about this and she doesn't think it's important." You were playing with the strings of your hoodie. "I guess, you want to hear the story."

"Only, if you want to. But yeah, I would love to hear it." He smirked. You took a deep breath and started you monologue.

"Not a long story, don't worry. So years ago some friends of mine formed a band. It were the boys and me. We were a cover band but tried to create some original ones though I was the only one who wanted that."

"Sadly, I can relate." He sighed.

"I'm sorry." You took a look at Mick who placed your hand into his. "Unfortunately, this was the minor problem. After one of our concerts, I had an accident. I fell of my motorbike. I broke my arm and one of my legs. The doctor said I was lucky." You had a sad smile on your face. Later, deep down you wished you had died instead.

"We were on a so called mini tour, we were performing at universities and high schools. Since I was at the hospital I felt horrible because we couldn't perform. At least, that's what I thought."

"You were replaced, right?" Mick squeezed your hand feeling sorry for you.

"Yes. But that wasn't my problem. I thought they were my friends. They didn't even visit me. After, I recovered more or less, I went to our place where we usually practiced. There was a new guitarist, a guy, who told me to fuck off." You laughed. "I was on my way to punch the guy, but our singer stopped me. He asked why I was there and that he fired me. His reason was that they didn't want a girl in their band and that I wasn't playing well anyway." You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. A tear ran down your face and your eyes were gloomy. You chest was heavy but you tried your best not to cry.

"Fuck them. Fuck them for embarrassing you. And where is that famous band now? Nowhere! Darling, I'm so sorry. But they don't deserve your tears." He wiped your tears with his thumb. "And I'm sure they still regret their decision. If you play as good as good pictures you take they are a dead band." He pecked your lips making you smile.

∆

"Are you ready (Y/N)?" Your sister asked. You and Isabelle's band along with Mick were at drummer's garage and were about to practice. It was the 5th day and you were improving. That's what Mick said though you didn't believe him. You nodded and started to play "Live Wire." On the set list there were Mötley, AC/DC, Van Halen, Scorpions, Bon Jovi and many more. An old good feeling took over when you touched the strings. Your fingers remembered and it made you happy. During the solo, Mick was admiring you, he adored your concentrating face and he noticed that you were enjoying it. When the band finished the song you were still in shock how good it had turned out. Mick was clapping as well as the others.

"Wow, (Y/N)! It was hell of a solo." Robert, the singer congratulated. Isabelle was the bass player, Tim the drummer who owned the garage. You ran your fingers through your hair in embarrassment. You still didn't get used to compliments regarding your play.

"Thanks. And are you sure Mike isn't angry?"

"Nah. He said it's pretty cool that the girlfriend of Mick Mars will substitute him." Tim snickered. "Also, he is apologizing for not being here. His mother didn't let him."

"Poor little 22-year-old boy." Isabelle chuckled putting down her bass. She walked over to you and took Mick's precious guitar from your hand.

"Don't worry. I won't smash it on the floor." She yelled seeing the guitarist's facial expression.

∆

Halloween. Costumes, candies, and spooky decoration everywhere. You wished you could dress up as a witch or something cause that fluff you called your hair was hidious. Vince lent his bandana as a mascot and Mick one of his guitars.

"I look horrible." You looked in the mirror dealing with your hair.

"Babe, this is how we normally look on stage. You look badass. Also, very sexy." He murmured to your neck hugging you from behind.

"He is right, sis." Isabelle came back to the dressing room with a bigger fluff. You held your hand over your mouth not to laugh loudly. You noticed that Mick's was in the same state.

"I think I will go. Find those idiots and keep an eye on them." Mick said while pressing one last kiss on your cheek and left the room.

"(Y/N)! Listen, you will be great. Just remeber to relax. Take a deep breath and the key is to enjoy. Concentrate on the music, feel the music. Watch Mick, pretend you two are the only ones in the room." She placed her hands on your shoulders looking in your eyes.

You were the last one who stepped on stage and the crowd were already insane.

"Alright, alright ladies and gentlemen. Before we start this hella concert, I would like to introduce our temporary guitar player, (Y/N). You will see a powerful sister duo on stage tonight. Prepare yourself. The show is beginning. Are you READY?" Robert screamed in the microphone as the crowd shouted as one person.

During the concert you felt an energy which you couldn't compare to anything. You felt powerful and you thought you could accomplish anything at that moment.

"I would be scared if I were you, Old Man." Vince stated as he was watching you from the side of the stage with Mick. "We might get you replaced with (Y/N). She is sexier." Mick kicked the singer in the ankle making him groan.

∆

Taglist: @leatherandheels @safari-karrot @littlemisscare-all @crazyrockrlady

[avengenerd]

Clockwork

A/N: it’s ya girl, back at it again after OVER A YEAR of not posting a fic. I’ve been working really hard this year in getting back into writing, and I’d like to think I’ve improved since I last posted here. So, let me know what you think. Like, comment, REBLOG, I go feral for the last two. Also S/O to @writeyourmindaway​ whose custom line divider I used! Much love, in these oh so trying times. 

Summary: Bucky x Female!Reader (established relationship). Reader is a part of the team, and endowed with the skills of MacGyver and a science degree. She’s also been kidnapped, disarmed, and locked inside with a ticking bomb. It’s not great. 

Word count: 2296

Category: fluff, light angst and self-deprecation. We been there. No warnings. Enjoy!

You’ve got 10 minutes before the walls come caving in. Four red, white and blue wires snake around four identical corners joined by enough incendiary to turn you to ash. The door is locked from the outside and your previous attempts at breaking it open have proved both a waste of time and a bruising task.

At 8 minutes and 35 seconds, you’ve assessed the bomb’s components and begin to thoroughly scan the small bathroom. A wall radiator attached to brown metallic pipes, definitely gas fed, is beside the ceramic toilet bowl. It tells you that not only are they planning on wiping you out, but burying the entire building beneath flames and rubble. On the floor there’s cleaning bleach and a blue bottle of standard toilet cleaner. You grab one of them and put it on the sink. In the mirror-cabinet above, you find a small manicure pouch. Immediately, you pull out tweezers and a metallic file. There’s no trimming scissors so you take the nail clipper instead.

The impending explosion is the most immediate threat, so that’s where you begin. Using the tweezers you unscrew the plating, and pry open the metal casing with the nail file to expose wiring. Four wires, same sequence as the external, red—blue—white—blue. You snip the last blue wire with the nail clippers. The timer stops at 7 minutes and 1 second.

It’s not over yet. In 7 minutes and 1 second, the assholes who locked you inside with a bomb will be wondering why there weren’t any fireworks. Then, they’ll be back. You may be able to diffuse a bomb but your capabilities end at stopping an army of bullets.

There’s a knock on the door.

You stop breathing. Tilting your head toward the door, you listen closely and hear heavy pants. Inching back to the sink you pick up the bottle of bleach.

Another knock, this time followed by a tentative call.

“Y/N?”.

You put the bottle down. “Bucky?”

A sigh comes from the other side. “Fuckin’ hell. Next time you get kidnapped, try not to lose your comms.”

Tilting your head back, you let out a deep breath before moving closer to the door.  “I’ll try to remember that. Can you let me out now? There’s a bomb-“

“Shit.” A ruffling followed by a grunt comes from Bucky’s side. “Move away from the door.”

You immediately scurry to the sink, as three pops to the door’s hinges allow Bucky to enter the small room.

His dark hair is matted to his face, drenched in sweat. His thick blue vest holds a darker spot on his left side, not much bigger than the size of a fist. Blood, maybe. ‘His’, you wonder. ‘Or someone else’s’. He’s grinning at you, skin stretched at the corners of his mouth, a pleasant image despite the huge semi-automatic attached to his back. ‘Definitely someone else’s’.

You smile back at him. “You took your sweet time.”

He glances at the left wall hosting the disarmed bomb and quirks an eyebrow at you. You shrug your shoulders in response. “Couldn’t wait forever, babe.”

Bucky moves to respond, but is interrupted by distant shouts.  “New friends of yours?” he asks.

“Clearly,” you reply, nodding to the explosives. “Did you by chance bring some friends of your own? A small army, perhaps?”

“Not exactly. We knew you’d be somewhere in the area, but there’s about five industrial bases within a 10 mile radius.” He removes the gun from behind his back, reloading the magazine. “The team had to split up. Didn’t think you’d be kept here though.”

Which is exactly why he checked, he goes on to explain. When the others reported unoccupied spaces, he’d almost given up. Until Tony conveniently mentioned how odd it was for there to be a 3-storey colonial home in the middle of an industrial outlet.

You hum in acknowledgement, moving once more toward the sink. “My man, ever the hero.” You send a wink his way. You open the cabinet once more and pull out a bottle of clear liquid. “Buck, pass me the bleach.”

The thundering footsteps of armed idiots inch closer towards your position. Your 7 minutes are up.

He hands you the heavy container, and you immediately pour the clear liquid into it, screw the cap and hand it back to him. You move back to the bomb, detaching the C-4 explosives from the rest of the mechanism.

“Care to explain what it is you’re doing?” Bucky shifts to move closer to you, but you hold a hand up at him.

“Please don’t move. There’s some highly exothermic chemistry waiting to happen in that,” you point at the bottle in his hand, “and I’d rather it didn’t happen here.”  You grab the beige blocks of C-4 with their fuses still attached.

“Right. Usually I’d find this really hot but, we’re on a clock sugar.” The group of Hydra militants have entered the bottom floor, and you can hear commands being shouted.

“Then let’s dip. Hand me the bleach, you take this,” you say, piling the explosives into his unarmed hand. You take the bottle and finally exit the bathroom meant to be your final resting place. Gross. You leave those thoughts for later.

Short static buzzes come from Bucky’s ear, as he presses down on the hidden earpiece. “Yeah, I’ve got her……. There’s too many of ‘em right now for just the two of us….. think you can pick us up from the roof?” Another final buzz and Bucky looks to you and nods. “Whatever you’re planning on doing, do it now. Sam’s ETA is 2 minutes.

Your assailants have cleared out the first floor, and are making their way up the second. You estimate 30 seconds before they find your position.

You shake the bottle in your hands and immediately feel heavy waves of heat permeating through the plastic. “Then this should buy us some time.”

As you make your way down the corridor with Bucky scoping ahead, you uncover the bottle and let its contents run out in front of you, immediately backing away and covering your mouth. Toxic white fumes escape and a small, but dense fog settles ahead of the spill, growing as more liquid evaporates.

The pair of you run towards the window at the end of the hall. As you reach your destination, a smattering series of coughs and heaving erupts behind you.

“What the fuck is that?!”

“Shit! Cover your nose!”

“I think...I’m gonna…gonna…pass-” followed by a heavy thunk.

Bucky turns to you, bewildered and confused. “What was that?”

“Really crude chloroform. Very nasty stuff, concerningly easy to make.” He gives you an impressed smile, as if to say “not bad”, and proceeds to break through the window with his metal arm.

Clearing out the glass shards, he beckons you to go first. You climb onto the roof and he hands you the plastic bricks of C-4 before slinging himself up to join you.

“How long till Sam gets here?” you ask him, squinting as harsh winds blow into your face.

“Why don’t you look up, sweetheart,” a familiar voice announces. You glance towards the sky and see Sam hovering above you, a halo of sunlight framing his head. A very fitting image indeed.

“Y’all ready to bounce or what?” Grinning from ear to ear, he lowers down onto the roof and engulfs you in a hug. “Damn girl, you really had us scared for a minute.”

“Only a minute?” You scoff. “Might as well leave me here then.”  Smiling into his shoulder, you hug him back, happy to feel safe again.

“Please don’t. Let’s move before you don’t have an actual choice,” Bucky interjects, his eyebrows tensed but his light expression remaining.

“Right. Hope y’all don’t get air sick,” Sam grabs onto each of your hands, extending his wings.

“Wait!” You shout. Grabbing the explosives you ask, “Any of you guys got a match?”

You take the lighter Bucky provides you with and ignite it. You move towards the edge of the roof and burn the fuses of each brick of C-4, before throwing them into the broken window below.

Immediately you sprint towards the waiting men, and grab Sam’s hand. “Okay, go go go go go!”

Without any further delays, Sam takes off with a grunt, arms straining as he takes you three airborne. Not even 13 feet into the air do the explosions begin, the roof you previously stood on exploding in a fiery blaze. Almost immediately, the horde of enemies who had hunted you flee the house through the bottom floor. From your view, they looked like ants being fumigated from their burrow. How appropriate.

“They’re escaping!” You shout over the whipping wind, but Bucky hears you. He nods no, before pointing in the distance behind you.

Looking back, you see an ever distant figure breaking through the scene of blue sky with streaks of red and gold. On the ground, Steve’s shield knocks down a round of men in one swoop whilst Wanda’s red magic incapacitates another.

You look back at Bucky and grin.

“Man, I love you guys.”

“I brought you something.” Bucky’s low voice interrupts your star-gazing as he joins you on the balcony. You look back at him. Steam rises upward and into his face from your favourite mug (the bright pink one with a 2005 Barbie movie plastered on its side).

“Aw, you remembered,” you coo at him, grasping the mug between your palms. The hot air rises to your face and you sigh deeply. Your hands tremble a little. It’s been a long day.

“The colour’s hard to forget,” he grins. “How are you though?” Bucky stands beside you, so closely you can hear him breathing. You can feel his eyes on you, and decidedly ignore his question. You blow gently into the tea and take a sip.

The disgust on your face is evident.

Your boyfriend rushes to explain. “It’s Valerian root. It’s supposed to help relieve stress or somethin’…” he trails off. You’re crying. “Is it that bad? You don’t have to finish it or-,”

“No,” you turn to face him. He’s looking at you gently, calmly, like he already knows what you’re going to say.

You say it anyway. “I should be happy. We did what we were supposed to do, and nobody who wasn’t supposed to get hurt, didn’t. We got the bad guys, again.” You scrunch up your face, and briefly squeeze your eyes shut, feeling even more pathetic for crying. “And I got captured, again. Someone had to save me, again.” It stings. This is the second time it’s happened in this month and though it has little to do with your performance, it definitely feels that way.

“I didn’t get hurt, and I know I should be happy about that. Everything worked out in the end, but, god Bucky!” The tea sloshes out of the cup and onto both your feet. You pause to look down at the mess, then up at him, and you lose it.

Bucky quickly takes the mug and places it out of reach. Wrapping his arms around you, he holds you as you cry into his shoulder.

“I-I don’t even know why I’m losing it.” You feel palms gently moving across your back, and for some reason it makes you cry harder. “I-, we got out, we’re safe. I just-”

“Just because you left unmarked, doesn’t mean you left unaffected Y/N,” he speaks into your ear, hugging you tighter. “What happened to you could’ve happened to any one of us. No matter how much we plan, we don’t always know how our enemy is gonna react. You got out. More than once. That definitely counts for something.” He unwraps his arms from your body and steps back to look into your eyes.

Your crying has dwindled to tearing, but tracks (and a little bit of snot) remain.

He cups your face, forcing you to look at him. “If it were me trapped in there, I probably woulda been barbecue.” You sniffle. “Smoked. Grilled. Roasted.” He continues and smiles at the breathy laugh you give in return.

“Toasted?” You continue, giving in to his jesting. He moves his hand from your face as you wipe the remnants of your tears away.

“Exactly. Not to mention you’ve probably terrified them for life. Chemical warfare and an incendiary attack in less than 5 minutes? I’d be pissin’ myself if I didn’t know you were on our side,” he teases, grinning as you shake your head.

“You should still be pissing yourself. Valerian’s got actinidine, Bucky. Fly pheromones. That tea was so gross,” and with that, Bucky knew he’d done his job, at least for tonight. He could give you tonight.

“Yeah yeah,” he grabs you again and pulls you into his embrace. You weren’t gone for long, he knows, but a gram of anxiety niggled at him regardless. His worry and consequent relief was well hidden for your sake. But you knew. You always knew.

Lightly pressing your palm to his cheek, you lean in to kiss him, feeling his lips on yours in a sweet and delicate reciprocity. The air tonight is cold. It should be prickly, but it softens between the both of you. You let him know you love him, and how much you appreciate him. You also kindly remind him that he shouldn’t rely on every Google suggestion.  

When you go inside, Bucky asks you about making chloroform, then gleefully interrupts you mid-explanation with another kiss. “You’re so hot when you science at me, babe.”

You fling a pillow at him and the night ends in love and laughter.