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taeyongsfemdom · 10 months ago

Text

A Chaotic Analysis Of The TaeyongsFemdom Universe.

(Sorry I had to add this 😅)

Hey Bitches ❤️ So for this post, I will be discussing the lore within my page and the stories i’ve written so far that are within TYFD universe, I’m doing this like those TV show or book plot breakdowns (i.e Mike’s Mic PLL video and caricanread’s acotar breakdown)

•quick tw: small mentions of abuse, murder & light gore.

•note: This whole page is a dark romance with a little bit of horror movie vibes. More lore will be added to this post as more fics/minis are written.

•tropes: good boy/bad girl, fem!billionaire reverse grumpy/sunshine, touch him and die, fem. serial killer, femdom relationship, age gap.

So, this all begins with a beautiful young woman who runs her own sex toy company and her employees are seven men (NCT 127 members) with Mark Lee being her assistant and right hand man. Mark was introduced in A Deal With The Devil, there was a day where he took her to a farmer's market that he goes to all the time because of the fresh watermelon (🤡)

First off, this woman is a glamorous ass bitch. She's a CEO! She always has a fierce outfit on, hair looking good, nails done and a banging body to match.

If things don't go her way then it's the motherfucking highway and she gets what she wants whenever she wants it.

"I know how powerful I am. I'm smart and beautiful! Everyone either loves or hates me, men want me and bitches fear me. I know what I want and I always get what I want"

The man running the market knows Mark very well and he introduces her to him. While talking to the owner, she sees a young boy working in the field behind the counter, and she asks who he is and the owner introduces him to the duo and his name is Taeyong. The woman became infatuated with him in a heartbeat, the way he could barely stare at her because of how pretty she was, his eyes glued to the ground which made her smile, she just thought that he was the cutest thing to ever exist, but she noticed something was off.

"I could care less about the man Mark was talking to, I was too focused on the boy beside him. I just couldn't stop looking, he was perfect in every way possible. A strangely beautiful face, cute rosy cheeks and these massive chocolate eyes that made him look so sweet, like an actual living doll. The twisted bitch in my brain was just shouting at me to take and put him in a dollhouse. I just had to have him".

She decided to go back a few days later, hopping in her black g-wagon and driving to the market during a storm. She gets to the market and sees a light inside a shack, yelling coming from the inside. The voice of the owner berating Taeyong along with the sound of slapping and punching, her eyes spot him on the floor covering himself for protection from the blows with bruises and blood on him.

"CAN'T YOU DO ANYTHING RIGHT? I SHOULD JUST THROW YOUR LITTLE ASS ON THE STREET SO YOU CAN SLEEP IN THE RAIN"

While his back was turned, the woman grabbed a nearby shovel and with a loud ass BANG the man fell to the floor, a bloody gash appearing on the back of his head as he fell unconscious. Blood covered her face as she watched Taeyong look at her with pure terror & a mix of relief.

"Come with me...WE NEED TO GO!"

He took her hand as the both of them ran to the car while getting soaked in the rain, rushing him into the front seat as she threw the shovel in the trunk before speeding off into the night. She took Taeyong in, letting him stay inside her massive home, and baby she lives in a nice ass mansion (see post about the home she lives in) She cleaned him up, and gave him a new life. Bought him new clothes and many other nice things, basically showering him with gifts and love since he's never had anything like that before, she told him that she would take care of everything. He even offered to cook and clean for her as a thank you.

(side note: her housekeeper had stopped showing up ever since she moved into her new mansion so it was a win-win situation, so Taeyong became a housewife of some sort)

"Don't ever think you're going back to that old life, you're gonna be staying with me for a very long time"

Weeks pass on and she gets a call from Zhong Chenle and he personally wanted to hire her to be Taeyong’s manager after firing the current ones for being sketchy ever since he took over SM Entertainment. The woman was unaware that Taeyong was a kpop idol and thought he just worked at a little market, Chenle tells her that he’s been trying to get Taeyong to leave that market so he can focus on his career.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were an idol? I just got a call from the CEO about being your new manager”

"Y..you’re my new manager?

"Apparently I am! Why didn’t you tell me about any of this?"

"Because I thought you were gonna look at me differently. Are you gonna kick me out?"

"Honey, I would never kick you out, I just need you to be honest with me, okay?"

(We'll be talking more on Taeyong later....)

The woman hired a good friend of hers named Norilyn to be her assistant to help her with this managing gig, the woman made sure everything ran smoothly during photo-shoots or events that he would attend, being one of his biggest supporters and being there for him if he was anxious or scared.

•She was giving very much Kris Jenner mom-ager "You're doing amazing sweetie" vibes. And here's a cute fun fact: the woman speaks korean very fluently, and this shocks the fuck outta Taeyong. She also helps him improve with his english speaking (cute)

"You're so kind, I appreciate you so much for being there for me!"

“Of course, angel cake! That’s what I'm here for. I'll always be there for you"

One thing that we learn about the woman is that she's unhinged. Back then, she was a serial killer who specifically targeted mysogynistic men who looked down on women. While working her way in life, she faced many white men who were just disgusting human beings and let's just say...they never made it back home at night to their loving families.

She actually calmed down with the murders for several years after she started her company but unfortunately this managing job is really bringing out the murderous bitch in her (yikes.)

The woman ended up developing an obsession with Taeyong and became very possessive over him as years passed on. She started calling him "little rose" as a nickname. Her eyes were on him 24/7 and watched every move he made, becoming deadly if anyone approached her precious rose that wasn't her.

"I'll kill anyone who even dares to touch him"

Ever since she murdered the man that was abusing him, something in her just snapped.

(this where the murdering starts back up again)

She has two secret rooms, a weapon room and her basement where she brings her victims teach them a lesson with the help of her good friend Qian Kun who has a team of skilled assassins at his side.

“Now, tell me what we learned today?”

“N..not to speak a..about Taeyong”

“Or what?”

“Y..you’ll cut my dick off”

“Good! Because if I hear you say another word about my rose again, i’ll cut that shit off and let you bleed out on my floor"

The hallway that leads to her gun room and the basement ⬇️

Ms. Thing definitely got something going on upstairs (if you catch my drift) we already know that tyongfs are insane, but this chick is literally 10x worse! She will get her hands dirty if something happened to Taeyong and would probably murder everyone in a fit of rage tbh. (One of these days he'll find her coated in blood) she can also fight too! She's not scared to hit a bitch when it comes to Taeyong either lol.

(Deadass will fight someone like this 😂 ^)

The murder at the farmer's market made it on the news but the killer was never found so the case went cold, and that's exactly what the woman wanted. The shovel that was coated in blood was in her rose garden and was completely cleaned of fingerprints. She obviously wasn't gonna tell anyone about this except for right hand woman Mason who helps her with murders, and she wasn't gonna tell Taeyong about it because she didn't wanna scare him to death, so she decided to keep quiet about it.

Now let’s talk about Taeyong for a minute:

I wanted to come back to him to point out a few things. Besides the fact that he’s an idol, he is very naive and believes everything that is told to him (alarming btw) so the woman takes advantage of this so she can take care of "personal business" like she'll literally be slaughtering someone like cattle in her basement and he wouldn't even know. Gotta hand it to her, she makes sure that her victims are killed quietly so he won't hear anything.

(We still love him though 💕💕🌹🌹)

Still on the topic of Taeyong, he is not only her obsession, he was also her little fuck-toy. We find out that he's into being dominated but specifically by a woman, he believes that he should be submissive and obedient while a woman works and makes the money for the household. The both of them made an agreement about a dom/sub relationship behind closed doors, making her his manager and goddess. He would be kneeling at her feet while she sits at her throne, his lips spilling praises while kissing her high heels after rewarding or punishing him, just being grateful for his beautiful goddess.

"What do you say while on the floor worshiping my feet, pet?"

"Thank you, goddess!"

"Are you gonna be a good boy for me, little rose?"

"Y..yes, goddess"

"That's a good pet! I'm gonna have so much fun with you"

The two became very close over the years while living together, Taeyong quickly falling in love with her since he's never seen or been with a woman like her. Seeing how confident, powerful and beautiful she was (he really did see her as goddess that was sent to him by the gods themselves) he didn't really notice how much of a ✨️possessive queen✨️ she is buuuutttt he was living his best life in a luxurious mansion with a beautiful psychopath.

"I really like being here with you, doing things like cooking and cleaning, along with you being my manager and umm...."

"The woman of your dreams?"

"U..uh yeah, y..you can say that"

"Don't lie to me boy, I can see you blushing. Also i'm not sure if you remember what I told you when you first started living with me, little rose. I have a lot of power, nobody will ever think to disrespect you when i'm around, I control everything and everyone...including you, little rose"

"Yes, goddess"

And that is basically the lore around my page! Just to let ya'll know that this is not real and is all just fiction- 💋🥀

#sub!taeyong #lee taeyong imagines #lee taeyong smut

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 4 years ago

Note

Could you talk about the Statute of Secrecy? Or the Ministry’s corruption in General :)

Well, those are two different things. Given that I believe I have an ask floating somewhere in my inbox on the Statute, I suppose we’ll talk about the Ministry of Magic today.

I feel like this is such a broad topic though that I’m not quite sure where to start. I guess I’ll just throw spaghetti at the internet wall and see what sticks.

The Ministry is a Reflection of Society Who Never Admitted They Were the Death Eaters

In the ministry of Harry Potter’s era the Ministry is hopelessly corrupt and filled to the brim with spies (more on this in a later section). Lucius Malfoy, very high up in an unofficial capacity in the Ministry and owner of the Ministry’s mouth piece: The Daily Prophet, was a known Death Eater with a very flimsy excuse.

How is he even able to wield so much influence, you ask? Well, I think it’s not just because of Fudge picking the wrong friends.

I think most the population probably does believe Lucius Malfoy is innocent the way Fudge does. I think it’s a very small subsection, i.e. Dumbledore’s lackies, who go “Nah, ain’t buying it.” I think that, in 1981, when it came time to reveal just how many were Death Eaters and how far this went many people just couldn’t handle it.

Because it was to the point where the nation wasn’t battling Death Eaters, Death Eaters were the nation. Look at the members, these are and were the most influential and prominent families in the country, who combined hold a non-small minority of seats in the Wizengamot. More, these were only the participants, combine those who given anti-muggle and muggleborn sentiment (which I believe are pervasive even among those who claim they fight for the rights of muggles and muggleborns) and you get a nation that is suddenly facing a huge cultural issue that was never previously acknowledged.

We’re talking an entire purge of the Wizengamot, of the Ministry, of the major families and cornerstones of this society. The Black family is completely and utterly destroyed.

People were and remain throughout the 1990′s, desperate to believe it was not as bad as it was or isn’t as bad as it is. If Lucius Malfoy says he was never really a Death Eater then he was never really a Death Eater.

The Ministry is Lousy With Corruption and Spies

What’s hilarious to me is not only is the Ministry incompetent. It is positively flooded with spies. Given the ministry’s overbloated, it’s not even a sizeable minority of employees, but nonetheless every major department has at least one person (if not more) who works for somebody else.

Most work for Tom Riddle. He seems to have intelligence in every department. Through Lucius, who is working pretty much as an unofficial aide to Fudge, he has access to Fudge, complete control of the Daily Prophet, and a voice on the Hogwarts’ board of governors.

Through Rockwood, Tom has direct access to the Department of Mysteries which Lucius is then able to take full advantage of.

Lucius is able to set up an ambush in the Department of Mysteries, getting escaped convicts into the building with the none the wiser, and, had his sole purpose not been a prophecy that only Harry Potter and the Dark Lord can touch, he would have been able to take what he liked. (Though it was always odd to me that the plan was to get Harry Potter to do it, when the better solution would have been to polyjuice Tom Riddle into someone else, set up a tour with the department, and then Tom wanders off conveniently to pick up the prophecy. My theory, I suppose, is that chasing after the prophecy was mostly an exercise in punishing Lucius. And then Lucius fucked up.)

And of course, in book seven, Tom Riddle makes a puppet minister. Point being, to me, it always said a lot that in Book Seven Tom just sort of walks into the building and says, “I’m in charge now” and everyone says “okay”. There was no second Wizarding War, it was a bloodless coup that met zero resistance from anyone but angry school children.

But that’s Tom’s spies, we also have other spies. Who am I talking about, Dumbledore’s folks of course.

Shacklebolt, Moody, Tonks, and Arthur Weasley are all spies, they just don’t have the introspection to even realize it (which really tells you something about the state of corruption in the ministry). They all work for the ministry, yes, but they in fact pass on information to and serve another master, whose goals do not always align with the government and was a hop skip and a jump away from overthrowing the government at any given moment.

And they don’t even really realize they’re doing this! There doesn’t even seem to be a thought of “I’m doing this for the greater good”, they don’t seem to acknowledge that what they’re doing is very very very bad. Arthur, in fact, is appalled when Percy refuses to do this (well, he’s upset for a lot of reasons, such as that he thinks Percy is spying on Arthur for the minister, but in there is also that Percy refuses to help out with the Order or follow Dumbledore without question).

Harry paints the Dumbledore’s Army threat that Umbridge saw as something utterly ridiculous, but honestly if I was the ministry I would be worried about this. Dumbledore’s people have infiltrated the ministry just as deeply and badly as the Death Eaters, Dumbledore’s known for recruiting children into his vigilante organization, I don’t know what he’s doing with an army of schoolchildren but I can smell a coup coming.

Anyway, I’m getting off track, point being though that corruption is not only expected and accepted by the ministry, they cannot recognize what it even is. They’re at the point where paying bribes is allocated in their budget.

I Don’t Blame the Ministry For Not Thinking Tom Riddle Was Anti-Jesus

Fudge is designed to get a lot of flack for his outright denial that Voldemort had returned from the dead. He, and other denier characters, are meant to be fools with their heads in the sand who can’t see the obvious.

I ask what about it was obvious?

The only witness to Tom Riddle’s resurrection, Harry Potter, has a known history of erratic behavior.

The previous year, he’d performed illegal magic on his muggle aunt and run away from home. During the previous school year, Harry was revealed to be a parselmouth in a time when the Chamber of Secrets was presumably opened and the mystery was never fully solved (remember, that it was a possessed Ginny never comes to light for more than a few people.) Beyond that, since his first day of school, Harry is routinely in and out of detention, constantly out after curfew, and only seems to not be in serious trouble because he’s openly favored by Dumbledore (who gives him hundreds of points for breaking one of his school rules, during the Philosopher’s Stone fiasco in first year). In 1994, Harry is entered into the Tri-Wizard Tournament under very suspicious circumstances.

We know why all this happens to Harry but from the outside he looks like a delinquent. In fact, he kind of is a delinquent.

Point being, the only witness is not only Harry Potter (who is already sketch) but it’s Harry Potter holding a dead body of a rival in the tournament.

And he’s claiming that a man who has been nearly fifteen years dead, a man who held the nation in terror and Harry Potter is beloved for destroying, has returned from the grave and conveniently murdered Cedric.

Why is Cedric dead? Well, you see, he and Harry both touched the goblet at the same time because they were going to share the reward. The goblet, a national treasure, was turned into a portkey so that Voldemort could kidnap him.

Why didn’t Voldemort just kidnap him at any other point during the year where he’s guaranteed not to get tag a longs or the wrong kid? Uh... VOLDEMORT IS BACK (for the record, I think it’s because Barty got hung up on the goblet scheme and was determined to ruin his father’s day.)

Where is Voldemort at this very moment? Being evil, somewhere, that is not right here. No, Harry has zero evidence this happened.

Frankly, I wouldn’t believe Harry either.

And when Dumbledore goes about promoting this as sound evidence that Tom Riddle has in fact returned, it starts to get even sketchier. Rather than sounding the alarm, Dumbledore is using this boy’s madness to stir the public into a panic that he, perhaps, plans to take advantage of.

After Dumbledore does that, I would suspect that, even if Harry does give me a memory of the graveyard scene that his head had been tampered with by Dumbledore.

And it’s so convenient that, of all the names Harry picked, it’s Voldemort who killed Cedric. It seems like a ploy to not only deflect the fact that he murdered Cedric but

Harry’s very upset when some don’t take him at his word but Harry’s also a dumbass and a psychopath. He hates everyone who doesn’t agree with him.

More importantly, necromancy isn’t a thing in the Harry Potter universe. People don’t rise from the dead. Horcruxes exist, but they’re extremely rare, and it seems like no one ever really makes use of them.

So, yeah, not unreasonable that Fudge didn’t immediately go, “My god, Voldemort has risen from the dead! LIGHT THE BEACONS AND SUMMON ROHAN!”

So yeah, it’d take me seeing Voldemort waltzing through the Department Mysteries to go “... Goddammit, this man is more unkillable than Sheev Palpatine.”

After the Epilogue, I am Certain It’s Still the Same Damn Ministry

People hate the epilogue, but in a way, I love it, because it confirms many of my headcanons: these people don’t learn a goddamn thing.

Nothing in their society seems to have changed. Instead of one set of families holding all the power it’s now a new set of families and friends holding all the power. The difference being that they are now all in some way connected to Harry Potter.

Nepotism’s still the name of the game, we still see only human children boarding the Hogwarts Express so you know shit hasn’t changed for the goblins, Draco Malfoy’s alive and well and holds a position in the Ministry that Kingsly graciously allows him to have, it’s just now you have Hermione writing all your laws for you.

The Wizarding World is still the Wizarding World in every single capacity. The only difference is that Voldemort is dead again. Hooray.

Harry and friends simply don’t have the introspection to even realize it.

#harry potter #harry potter meta #harry potter headcanon #the ministry of magic #cornelius fudge #albus dumbledore #anti albus dumbledore #anti harry potter #voldemort #tom riddle #lucius malfoy #harry potter epilogue #meta #headcanon #opinion #the wizarding world

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fockingnice · 4 years ago

Text

@franboos @to-enter-polaris @gucciboner and myself worked on a massive fic recommendation list with all our favourite sobbe fics classed by word count.. enjoy!

one-shots:

< 10k

- hold me close @sincerelysobbe (2,5k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23969836

Robbe is stressed because of a test and Sander comforts him.

- You make me feel like I am whole again @nbrook (2,7k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26937070

Robbe is having an awful day. But it ends in the best way possible.

- A Beautiful Night @Lwritings (3,6k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23428594

Sander has been friends with the Broerrrs for half a year and Robbe has been desperately crushing on him. A game of Never Have I Ever changes everything.

- Love potion no.9 @thekardemomme (3,8k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28923867

they’re best friends. and potions partners. or: it’s amortentia day.

- Croissants @bruisingknees (3,8k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22186195

Robbe thinks that maybe the guy working at the bakery has been flirting with him.

- Paper rings @thekardemomme (4k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27953645

When Sander’s nose twitches, causing him to make this soft little whimpering sound, Robbe can’t help himself. He leans forward enough to kiss Sander’s forehead again, and then he dots one on each cheek, and then finally on his nose. “I can’t wait to marry you,” he whispers.

- You’re an angel in disguise (you’re an angel in my eyes) @thekardemomme (4,1k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27570142

Robbe is Sander’s guardian angel.

- The sun came up and I was looking at you @allforyoumylove (4,2k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24647095

Robbe and Sander waking up on a quiet Sunday morning in June. Sander is a tease, Robbe is awestruck, and both are hopelessly in love.

- I’ve always wanted a (boy)friend @thekardemomme (4,2k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28496322

before sander, robbe never liked christmas. christmas is sander’s favorite holiday.

- Purple lips (underwater) @dottori (5,3k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22371688

it’s a sunny, warm friday at the beginning of march, and sander wants them to go for a swim.

- Day Fifty @beejohnlocked (5,7k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27987252

Robbe makes a plan to confess his feelings to Sander on Christmas.

- The blind date bomb @thekardemomme (5,8k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29073711

”He thinks of the gorgeous man in the picture, and he thinks of how Sander said his YouTube is cute, and how Britt—who hardly even knows Robbe—thinks that he and Sander would be a good match.And he decides… Fuck it. One date can’t hurt, right?” or: robbe and sander go on a blind date

- Let's dance @msleviss (6,2k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22092550

Robbe and his friends go to a club to check out Amber’s DJ cousin.

- 12 things I love about you @nbrook (6,3k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27636032

Sander can't spend the whole day with Robbe on their anniversary, but he still figures out a way to make him fall in love with him all over again.

- Love me while your wrists are bound @alsjeblieft (6,4k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27031636

the cabin trip but with a twist.

- Sun shining from pure desire @skamtrash (6,6k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27105727

Sander has been flirting with his student teacher, Robbe for months now who keeps reminding Sander that he's wasting his time but eventually the flirting and chasing wears Robbe down to where he cant deny his attraction to Sander. University TA/Student AU

- At ease with you @Skamtrash ( 7,7,k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26423596

robbe tells his mom he and his best friend, sander are dating to get her off his back.

He doesn't expect his mom to congratulate them by getting them tickets to join her on a cruise vacation.

Cue a week of pretending to be a couple.

fake relationship to lovers au

- Besotted with your love @Skamtrash (7,7k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25288000

sander has a photography project and decides to shoot at the skatepark where robbe is his subject. when he approaches robbe and needs him to fill out the release form, he's absolutely smitten from the start.

sander falling in love with robbe who's deaf.

- Taking pictures of you as the light came through @allforyoumylove (7,9k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27533866

Robbe photographs Sander in bed. Things take a steamy turn.

- My midsummer darling @robbesdriesen (8,2k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23702017

Robbe goes on a summer week-long retreat to his aunt's quaint, little villa in Genoa. He doesn't know he has a neighbor close by, one that would capture his entire soul.

Robbe and Sander fall in love in a whirlwind summer romance. One that would change their lives forever.

- Afterglow @Skamtrash (9k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28032300

On vacation in a small winter village during the holidays, Robbe meets one of the hotel's employees, Sander.

All it takes is two weeks. 14 days for them to fall for each other.

- Christmas Dreams @sonderthroughthestreets (9,6k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28272282

Robbe is stuck with his typical 9-5 job as an HR analyst until a conversation with Sander from IT on their company rooftop makes him reconsider his dreams. In the midst of it all, Adam from Accounting has a massive crush on Robbe and wants to ask him to the Christmas Party, so Sander offers to be his "date" to help him. Christmas fluff and flirting ensues.

> 10k

- Sander Driesen versus a mistletoe @dottori (10,1k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27976461

it’s not a fair match.

(or, sobbe go on a christmas date, and sander really wants a kiss under the mistletoe.)

- This isn't our first time around @noobishere (10,7k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25472953

One moment they are in the kitchen of their shared apartment, the next, they're in this strange but familiar room.

(a.k.a the au in which they accidentally go hopping through multiple universes)

- Our love story is my favorite @robbesdriesen (13k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25459867

a wedding fic for robbe and sander

- It’s an unrequited love @eggsntoast (14,1k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22854661

Sander works part-time at a museum every Sunday. Robbe is a frequent visitor.

- Agents Sliding Down The Chimney @berrevy (14,2k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28428840

The smile that twitches at the corner of Sander's mouth is like the tiniest opening, and Robbe takes that as a challenge. He’s always been good at slipping through small spaces.

“You wanna see a trick?”

Sander sizes him up for a moment, then swivels on his heel to face him fully. “Ok then, magic boy. C’mon.”

(aka a late Christmas fic)

- Come lie with me @allforyoumylove (14,6k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29089530

“When Robbe lifts the blanket and gently tugs on the leg of Sander’s sweatpants, silently inviting him in, Sander doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t hesitate, he just drowsily slips into Robbe’s embrace.”

(or the one where they both have a terrible relationship with sleep but find out that it gets a little better when nestled up against each other)

- Man on a mission @littleliefe (17k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27820564

The agency is under attack but Sander is just thirsty for Robbe. On the other hand, the rest of the agency is more concerned about helping Sander ask Robbe out for dinner.

- life was a willow and it bent right to your wind @nbrook (18k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28349892

Sander and Robbe became best friends before Sander made a move and then Robbe went and got himself another boyfriend, leaving him pining. And it’s fine, really, it is. Sander promised himself that he wouldn’t do anything about it for as long as Robbe was happy. But when Robbe’s boyfriend ridicules his love for everything Christmas, he decides to step in to give him the Christmas traditions he deserves himself.

- You're my stars...and everything in between @aurorawinds (19,7k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27862950

A Star-Crossed Lovers, Romeo & Juliet inspired, AU where Robbe and Sander are the sons of Antwerp’s two most rivaling families of tech companies, head over heels in love with one another as they find it more and more difficult each day to hide their relationship from their families. To hide their love.

- Lovers never lose @dottori (24k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27532636

twelve-ish kisses robbe and sander share at the trip to ardennes (and afterwards).

multi-chaptered:

5k - 20k

- In the middle of the night @Lwritings (complete | 9,3k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24133477/chapters/58105945

The Broerrrs go on holiday for a week to London. Robbe is very excited for it until there is something wrong in the hotel and he has to share a room with Sander. And not just Sander, no the guy he has been crushing on for 3 months ever since he joined their group. And not just a room, no there is only one bed as well. When it's just the two of them in the night, anything can happen..

- If a June night could talk it would probably boast it invented romance @allforyoumylove (complete | 14,7k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25264918/chapters/61250002?view_adult=true

Robbe and Sander are childhood best friends. They’re also secretly in love with each other. Confessions are made under a beech tree on a warm summer evening at the end of June.

- Drie @skamtrash (complete | 15,4k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22547221/chapters/53878474

Robbe stands up and finds the voice calling the name and fucking hell, the guy's well fit. He's only dressed in a black t shirt, black jeans and boots but the tattoos that layer his arms immediately entice him. And that platinum hair, his actual face, who looks that good. He gets himself together quickly, "I think Bowie's here."

The au in which Robbe finds a toddler hiding in a clothing rack at a store and ends up falling for his dad

- The way we feel @toskyandbeyond (in the works | currently 17,8k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26364451/chapters/64213597

It’s always been like that. Robbe and Sander, through thick and thin. There was not a thing they didn’t go through together. Moreover, they couldn’t even imagine living without each other’s presence.

The day they met it was almost like two old souls encountered once again. Like they were meant to find each other.

- The finest of the meadow @allforyoumylove (complete | 18,8k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26009740/chapters/63239776

The universe brings two lonely boys together in a flowering meadow. They fall for each other fast and hard among delicate daisies, warm summer breezes, and shooting stars.

20k - 40k

- Come closer I’ll give you all my love @sonderthroughthestreets (in the works | 22,6k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27249196/chapters/66568180

Robbe’s ex is a pain and Sander helps get rid of him. The problem? They’ve been friends for as long as they can remember and some point between the blurred lines, they fall in love.

- Put your head on my shoulder @Aniloracat (in the works | currently 24,9k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24079126/chapters/5795296

Because of some past mistakes and communication issues, Robbe and Sander can't stand each other anymore, until they are "forced" to stay in quarantine alone and face their feelings.

📌 Or the enemies to lovers, roommates, quarantine fanfic nobody asked for 😅

📌 Title based on Paul Anka's song 'Put your head in my shoulder'

- Waiting down at the station @ivy_seas (in the works | currently 25,5k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28995576/chapters/71160429

The world is winter, it’s the inconvenient snowfall on the walk to the six-thirty train, it’s falling for the stranger who happens to take the same train. When to take a risk becomes the same question of when to let go of something you’re not really sure you had in the first place. But maybe the world isn’t so cruel.

—strangers to lovers au

- Wings to Earn @to-enter-polaris (complete | 26,6k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28432749/chapters/69672963

After playing volleyball abroad for two years, Sander comes back home to fix his mistake of leaving in the first place, but Robbe isn't ready to forgive him.

- time may change me, but i can't trace time @abittersweetsong (in the works | currently 30,8k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27785878/chapters/68021533

“You’re my best friend and I love you.”

It’s a simple admission and it settles gently in Robbe’s soul.

Or Robbe and Sander find each other in every universe, but in this one they're best friends first.

- If You say Run, I'll Run with You @Aniloracat (complete | 32,8k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25970479/chapters/63133504

Robbe is having a terrible day and a hot, but annoying white-haired photographer that won't stop appearing everywhere is not making it any better. That's it, until sparks fly, and Robbe decides he's found the perfect distraction from his terrible day.

One-night stand AU that's not meant to be a one-night stand.

- Vrijdag 21:37 @wasteourdaysdreaming (complete | 34,8k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22002403/chapters/52504453

The same party one Friday night in February, told from different perspectives.

- You know i'm always at your shoulder (take your heart out of its holster) @wafflesofdoom (in the works (but can be read separate from each other) | currently 35,2k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21979630/chapters/52448740

“I must have been really good, in another universe, to deserve you,” Sander whispered, thumb brushing the line of Robbe’s cheekbone, the pad of his thumb soft against Robbe’s skin.

Robbe simply kissed the inside of Sander’s wrist, shaking his head. “You are good in this universe, too,” he said. “You found me, when I needed you the most.”

learning how to be in a real, actual relationship isn't the easiest thing in the world, and robbe is very new to it all, and he's got a lot to figure out when it comes to being in actual, everyday love with sander. the first six months of a relationship are the best - and they're some of the hardest, too. these are the first six months of robbe and sander's relationship.

- this rough magic @aholynight (complete | 36,4k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21760975/chapters/51919642

Though he’s a sixth-prefect and the newest member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, Muggleborn Robbe can still hardly believe that he’s made of magic.

Sander is the seventh-year Gryffindor beater whose wild behavior and delinquent reputation precedes him.

Though Robbe desperately wants to believe in the angel-faced boy he sees in front of him—and ignore the rumors of Sander’s devilish behavior—he’s not sure his heart can afford the risk.

But when Sander and Robbe are left in a nearly-empty Hogwarts over the Christmas holiday, avoiding Sander might no longer be an option.

40k - 60k

- The night we met @themoongirl (complete | 42,8k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22189216/chapters/52975012

Robbe Ijzermans has a brain that won't let him sleep, a chest that feels far too heavy and thoughts that never stop.

During his first year of college he meets Sander Driesen. Robbe finds what he never went looking for.

AKA, a college AU.

- Visitations @lucidpantone (complete | 46,1k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22537474/chapters/53855452

Does Robbe and Sander's relationship survive into adulthood.

This fic takes place in two simultaneously timelines: the past and the present.

The present occurs in one entire day. Both timelines are completely out of chronological order. Everything is in clips.You can be dropped in at anytime of the day in any timeline. So clip by clip you will need to piece together what happen to Sander & Robbe and why the present looks the way it does and what happened in the past that got them there.

This love story is a journey. So be prepared.

In the words of one of our Even's. It’s a complicated love story between complicated people.

- look into my eyes, ignore the rest @robbesdriesen (complete | 47,4k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26230513/chapters/63842047

a story of how robbe and sander fall in love in front of the camera and behind it (which in their case, the camera isn't needed at all)

- rotten work @aholynight (complete | 50,5k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22239544/chapters/53102809

Robbe is a college freshman whose reckless habits and excessive drinking are starting to look an awful lot like calculated self-destruction—though his loneliness might be the thing that kills him first.

Sander is a visual arts major a few years above Robbe, with a face nobody can forget and a fuck boy reputation he can't seem to shake.

Everybody warns Robbe to stay away from the Sander, unless he wants to get burned. But Robbe's the kind of boy who likes playing with fire.

- just friends @sincerelysobbe (complete | 51k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27861626/chapters/68215882

Months ago, after a one-night stand that couldn't stay that way, Robbe and Sander made an agreement—the two of them, no strings attached. But, Sander's feelings for Robbe were strong, to begin with, and they're growing stronger with each passing day—and he knows that he is more in love with Robbe than he should be.

- run and score @robbesdriesen (complete | 59,8k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23372407/chapters/56000917

Robbe Ijzermans is the star goalie of Antwerp U’s football team, naturally blocking shots as if it were his sixth sense. Sander Driesen is their star striker, having an eagle eye for the goal at all times.

Robbe always had a distaste for his bleached-blonde teammate and the annoying way he carried himself, but Robbe can never mask how much he admires him from a distance.

When they finally begin to learn more about each other, there is no going back for either.

With the looming playoffs in jeopardy for their entire team, will Robbe & Sander be able to manage it together? All while falling in love with each other at the same time?

> 60k

- Eastwood liberty @fockinglevendcliche (in the works | currently 69,7k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24250837/chapters/58438588

Eastwood Liberty students had only one mission: to always be on top, at everything, no matter the cost.

It took Robbe just a day to realize that people there only cared about two things: money and power. But that was no surprise to him. What he didn't expect was to be confronted by this group of rich and spoiled boys, who used to always get what they wanted, especially their leader, Sander Driesen.

Sander made the rules, but unfortunately for him, Robbe had never been really good at sticking to them.

- Do i know you? @SrtaPepa (in the works | currently 88k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23340514/chapters/55913782

Robbe has lost his memory from the last three years. He doesn’t remember finishing school and start college with Yasmina; he doesn’t remember going to live to the flatshare, or move out to a new place, or being friends with Milan, neither coming out as gay. And the worst of all of this is that Robbe doesn’t remember meeting Sander or that he is, in fact, truly, madly, deeply in love with him.

Hopefully, sometimes feelings are stronger than memories.

- jij verliest @sincerelysobbe (complete | 104,1k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24445087/chapters/58986433

For the past three months, Robbe’s life—and what it once was—had been stripped away and rearranged. Now, if anything, his life had become a bit repetitive: homework, stream, ignore Thomas’s Instagram, repeat. But one Friday evening, Robbe meets a hurricane in the form of a platinum-haired tattoo artist who just might show him everything that he’s been missing.

- Remember my name @ijzermans (complete | 106,3k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24215371/chapters/58335259

The past few weeks, Robbe has noticed a new guy has attended his high school.

Nobody really seems to care about the strange bleached kid, yet Robbe on the other hand, can't help but feel intrigued by him.

The new guy happens to be Sander, and he's not that easy to connect with. He's quiet, distant, and has a past he'd rather not share.

Or will Robbe make a difference?

- Paint me in trust @themoongirl (complete | 116,2k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24235861/chapters/58395625

“What are you looking for, Robbe?” Sander tilted his head, moving closer.

“A rush.” Robbe whispered, his lips brushing Sander’s.

Robbe Ijzermans has spent the better part of two years chasing the need to feel real again. Though being an adrenaline junkie is hardly a healthy coping mechanism, it’s one of the only things he has left.

Sander Driesen is a vampire with an unspeakable, dreadful past that won't seem to leave him.

When Robbe gets roped into Sander’s life he finds the feeling he has been chasing all along. But Sander's world has a different kind of risk, and it forces them to come face to face with the greatest danger of all. Fear of a life without the other.

#wtfock #we tried our best to remember as many fic as possible #sobbe fic #ao3 fic #fic recommendation #multi chapter #one shot #my posts #fave #my recommendations #masterpost

148 notes · View notes

itsamejin · 4 years ago

Text

this love || yoongi angst

Summary: A story through the years detailing your relationship with Yoongi and all the ups and downs that came with dating an idol.

Warning: cursing, sexually suggestive content

Genre: angst, fluff, idol!yoongi, artist!yn

Pairing: Yoongi x female!reader

Premise: Based on the song ‘This Love’ by Taylor Swift. Reader is an artist.

Commission Request: @minyoongail

Word Count: 7,681 words

—

You met Yoongi when he was just a trainee, ready to take on the world and bursting with energy to get on stage. He had visions of grandeur- him living in a beautiful mansion, wearing name-brand jewelry, cruising in rare sports vehicles. When times were simpler, he’d promise that you’d be there with him, indulging in the glitz and glamour that came with his fame. He’d be an idol and you’d be his muse. Yet under all those pretenses, under all those empty promises, he was just Yoongi.

He was a guy who walked in and out of your life as easily as ocean tides come and go on the shore. He taught you how to fall in love, fall out of it, and rekindle it all the same. It was a sort of beautiful asphyxiation, being wrapped up in his lifestyle and learning to accept the consequences that came with dating a celebrity.

You wonder even now as you search his name on the internet, if you had any regrets. After all, you lost too much to be with him.

—

April 2013

A first meeting meant everything to you, especially when it came to your clients. You didn’t accept jobs from weirdos who didn’t respect your craft and you definitely hated impatient ones who badgered you to finish your pieces as quick as possible.

Big Hit was a happy medium and had hired you as a contract employee after reviewing your portfolio. Although the style of work they wanted from you was not at all what you specialized in, you were happy that they treated you like an actual employee and not some sort of machine. Plus, the pay was good.

You were asked to work on some cute animal characters for an upcoming boy group that you weren’t terribly familiar with, maybe stumbled on a vlog of theirs that you forgot about. You were intrigued by the slew of trainees that sat in front of you, their palms clenched out of anxiousness.

“I’m [Y/N], one of the digital artists that will be working with you guys from now on,” you introduce yourself politely to the seven bright-eyed boys in front of you.

You were in a room with other staff members, discussing the concept of the “Hip Hop Monsters” your graphics team was working on. This was a planned project lasting over a span of years and would eventually result in collectors edition items. It made you giddy just thinking of the royalties you’d earn from it all.

“I’d like it if the animals took after us,” one of the boys suggested shyly, slightly intimidated by the large number of corporate employees there were in the room for something that seemed so trivial. “I think our fans would like the characters more if they kind of resembled our personalities and stuff...”

You nod along to his suggestions, staring at his jersey to notice that the member who spoke up was Rap Monster. It was cute how they all wore clothes with their names on them. That’s one way to attract attention, you suppose.

“Any other suggestions you guys have for us?” you ask, jotting down notes and making rough sketches as they talk amongst themselves.

“I’d like it if,” a somewhat husky voice starts and you can’t help but stare into the guy’s eyes as he speaks, “my character was a turtle.”

You burst out into a fit of laughter along with the other staff members. He had said it with such a straight face and with so little enthusiasm, yet you could tell from his slight blush that he was serious. He was cute in the way that he wasn’t trying to be.

“You resemble one,” you grin at him, drawing out a small turtle with a cute beanie on your iPad, like the one he wore in front of you. You show it to him. “Something like this?”

“Exactly that!”

He breaks out into a gummy smile, one so bright that it hurt your heart to stare at him for too long. Now you were the one left flustered. He realizes how enthusiastic he was and got embarrassed once again, scratching the back of his head to avoid eye-contact.

“S-sorry, for shouting. It looks good.”

You bite your lip from forming too big of a grin. You still had to remain professional after all.

“You’re welcome,” you smirk slightly as he goes back to trying to look cool. You can’t help but doodle his name on your iPad even as the other members shared ideas for their own animals.

Suga, Suga, Suga.

You smile to yourself. It does have a ring to it.

—

June 2013

Yoongi sees you in the hallways sometimes and wants to say hi, but he can’t because other people are watching. Though, that isn’t the only reason.

He tells himself every day that he’ll muster up the courage to go talk to you, but every time he sees your face his legs turn to jelly. Yoongi was busy with debut stages recently, but he found some free time in his schedule to approach you.

Yoongi was never the shy type, more reserved if anything else, but you had something that enamored him- intrigued him. He wanted to know who you were other than the cute girl he was stuck in meetings with from time to time.

As you sat there on your desk, Yoongi lingered in an area nearby. He would give you his number today and if things didn’t work out then that would be that. There was no need to be all shy about this; it’s not like this is his first time asking someone out.

He strides over to you with feigned confidence and you look up after a minute, not noticing how his shadow loomed over you. He sees that you’re working on realistic portraits of the members and not the cutesy characters he usually sees you drawing.

“Hi,” he says curtly, trying to seem disinterested though he was the one that approached you first.

“Hello,” you smile up at him.

Suga.

“You draw really cool stuff,” he says to break the awkward tension. “You should show it to the CEO. I’m sure we’d have cooler concepts for our albums with your work.”

You look up at him, a happy glint in your eyes. He was complimenting you, although avoiding eye contact to seem a little less nervous than he really was.

“Well, I’m just a contract worker so I don’t think I really have the authority to start up new projects out of nowhere,” you say with a smile on your face at how flustered he looks. “I feel like you’re here to ask me for something. Am I right?”

He looks away for a split second, coughing to alleviate his nerves. He was a grown man for fuck’s sake, why was this so difficult?

“I was actually wondering if you could come give me some opinions about some art that I drew,” he lies through his teeth, just trying to find a way to get you in a more private area than the corporate floor teaming with watchful gazes. “I’ve been trying to start a new hobby.”

You chuckle slightly, seeing right through his words. You stand up to amuse him.

“I’d be happy to.”

He leads you to a studio filled with whacky knick-knacks and dim lighting, not necessarily the best place to draw. You know by now that he just said those things as an excuse to be alone with you.

“So where’s this masterpiece?” you tease slightly at his nervous expression. How did a guy who looked so deadpan have such a giddy personality?

“Well actually,” he starts off, palms already sweaty. “I-It’s not here right now, but I think I left it at the dorms. Maybe if we exchange phone numbers I can text it to you.”

He tried to appear nonchalant, but his hands moved as if he was doing a public speaking presentation. Yoongi thought he was doing great, though growing a little more nervous at how you were giggling.

“You know, Suga,” you start teasingly, “My number is in the company directory. Feel free to text me anytime.”

Yoongi slightly cringes hearing his stage name. He loves it, don’t get him wrong, but he didn't like hearing it come from you. He didn’t like the unfamiliar aspect that came with using his stage name- like you two only went by professional terms.

“Call me Yoongi,” he says with genuine confidence this time. “I like it better when my friends call me Yoongi.”

You nod, relieved that you could finally know this cute guy’s name. Truth be told, you were snooping around his conversations with other people to figure it out.

“So we’re friends?”

Yoongi nods, sitting down in his rolling chair.

“I’d like to be,” he grins, patting the sofa, hoping you’d take a seat with him.

And you do.

—

Present

It’s hard to work efficiently when you’re no longer in a corporate space. There’s no boss to check up on your progress nor is there a nosy coworker trying to see what you’re doing from the corner of their eye. You missed the hustle and bustle of an office floor, but it was nice exploring your creativity through freelance work.

You tap your digital pen onto the table repeatedly, looking at the reference image over and over again. It was a sick joke played by the universe to have been commissioned to draw your ex-boyfriend’s idol group, but you couldn’t refuse the hundreds of dollars the ecstatic fangirl was willing to give you. Truth be told, she might have offered too much pay, but you took up her offer anyway. Money is money.

Yet a face you’ve touched so often, a person you’d been with for years felt so unfamiliar to you. It wasn’t like you were drawing him realistically either. The client wanted anime-style figures that resembled them, looked enough like the boys to display it as her Twitter header. In the end, it’s still too difficult to draw. The rest of the members were lined up and sketched perfectly, but there was a blank area where Yoongi’s face should’ve been.

Your wrists hurt from the constant drawing and erasing so you set it down to massage your hand from cramping. In moments like these, you hated your job.

Ting.

A message notification popped up on your phone that laid beside your iPad. You usually left it silent when you were working, but you opened yourself up to distractions when drawing this particular piece. Whoever thought it was a good idea to specialize in celebrity artwork? You pick up your phone and smiled softly at the text.

hey, can I come over?

—

March 2014

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Yoongi, happy birthday to you~~”

You cheer on with the rest of the boys in their cramped dorm. Somehow you had gotten close enough with them to be at this level of comfort, sitting crisscrossed and shoulders touching with Jungkook and Seokjin. Yoongi blows out the candles and claps his hands, a little sad that another year passed by so quickly. He kept glancing at you who was focused on cutting the cake like the perfectionist you were.

He couldn’t help but feel like time was running out, like if he didn’t confess to you now then it would never happen. Yoongi took off the beanie he wore and ruffled his hair. He was feeling anxious all of a sudden.

“Dude don’t do that your dandruff is gonna get everywhere,” Hoseok whines. “The cake is gonna be decorated with your dead skin cells.”

“Go wash your hands,” Jin commands and Yoongi could only roll his eyes.

“Relax, I don’t even think we’re gonna have cake anytime soon when this slow-poke is taking forever to cut.”

He flicks your forehead as you glare up at him.

“I could so easily throw this in your face, but I choose not to,” you stick your tongue out at him and he scoffs.

“I’d like to see you try.”

All the members groan out of annoyance.

“Oh my god they’re having a lovers quarrel again,” Jimin yawned. “Aren’t you guys sick of arguing?”

Yoongi freezes at his words. Lover’s quarrel. That was a nice way to put it.

“They’ll stop arguing when Yoongi finally-”

Taehyung was cut off as Yoongi swipes three fingers worth of frosting from the cake and lathers it all over Taehyung’s face.

“You talk too much,” Yoongi shakes his head and soon chaos descended. Cake flew in places it shouldn’t have and ended when Namjoon knocked over a glass of water, managing to break it on the floor tiles. In the end, no one got cake.

Yoongi and you were laughing amongst yourselves at the kitchen sink, washing off some of the bits that got onto your shirts.

“I’m so sorry about your cake,” you say through your chuckles. “I’ll make it up to you some time.”

Yoongi only smiles.

“Yeah, you can treat me on a date,” he replies a little too boldly. You look at him in shock, not quite processing his words.

“A date?”

He nods.

“We should go out sometime.”

You purse your lips to prevent the huge grin about to be displayed on your face.

“We should.”

—

Present

It was subtle, the way it all started. You trace over the features you drew so far, only getting to his eyes. Yoongi and you were innocent lovers for a while, keeping your trysts a secret from everyone in the company except his managers and the members. A few of your friends knew, but none of them knew BTS well enough to be all that surprised. It wasn’t all that rare to go out with a celebrity in your line of work.

You almost miss those days when he was unrecognizable. After your friends realized who he was after he hit it big globally, you felt like a secret of yours was displayed to them. Your love was supposed to be private, but his fame left very little room for privacy. You missed when you were the only one that knew of him and maybe it’s selfish to think that way, but you were past the point of being selfish.

You text back.

yeah, can't wait to see you

—

Jan. 2015

Yoongi lays you down on the couch gently. His hands caressing your sides underneath the thin material of your shirt as he pulls you in closer to his kisses. This felt different from other nights, different in that there was nothing around to stop what would come next.

He pulls away from you slightly, panting from the lack of oxygen.

“Are you sure?” he asks, drawing circles on your hip with his thumb. He was only supposed to come over to help you unpack some stuff for your new apartment and here you were, pinned on the couch and sweating from the close contact.

You nod back in response, not finding the right words to get him to continue. He pulls your shirt over your head, peppering kisses on your neck and atop your breasts. He fixates on your neck languidly, biting as he sees fits.

There was a pause as you felt him press up against you and you knew then that there was no making it to the bed. You would have your first time with him on this newly moved-in couch.

The clothes dropped to the ground as his touches get more impatient, more desperate. It all passes by like a blur and you could only remember the pleasure that came with his long fingers, the satisfaction you felt when he was inside you. The climax of it all made you realize that you loved him, truly and without regret. He holds you in his arms when you come undone, flashing a satiated smile as you look up at him. It’s like the stars were in his eyes.

“How do you feel?” you ask him, worried he was already drowsy. You didn’t want to have to sleep on the couch naked.

“Satisfied,” he says with a smile on his face.

You can’t help but swoon, his eyes fixated on you. At least for now, he was yours He wasn’t Suga, a rapper. He was Yoongi, your boyfriend.

It didn't matter to you that he was struggling to make a name for himself in this cut-throat idol industry or that he would spend countless nights cursing as one of his numerous tracks get rejected. None of that was in your mind. Only he swam through your thoughts. Only him.

“I love you,” he sighs out. He was the first to say it.

“I love you too,” you reply back and he holds you tight against him.

He’s nuzzling himself in your hair, his chest pressed up against you so his heartbeat can synch with yours. He loves this, can’t get enough of it. He catches your lips and once again you are whisked in the pleasure of it all. This is it. This is what love is.

—

Present

The piece is finally finished and you send it off to your client, hoping she doesn’t ask for revisions because you can’t handle another second of drawing his stupid face. His soft skin, his tiny moles, his gummy smile...

It's not like you hate him. It’s just... a certain contempt lingers after a breakup from a long-term relationship. It’s the type of resentment that can’t really be explained. You don’t want to see him, but you catch yourself watching his videos on Youtube. You don’t want to think about him, but you hope he thinks about you. You don’t see yourself ever getting back together with him, but you don’t have his phone number blocked.

It’s a sort of paradox you catch yourself in and you wonder if you could ever get out of it. Will Yoongi ever escape your mind?

can't wait to see u too babe

—

Aug. 2016

Yoongi hugs you from behind, his face scrunched at the nape of your neck where several marks were made from last night’s events. Your eyes stayed focus on the TV in front of you, still impressed by your own ability to afford one in your bedroom at your salary.

“BTS' SUGA drops new music video for his song and mixtape Agust D...”

The news anchor drones on and you could barely hear her through the sounds of Yoongi’s soft snores. His hold on you grew tighter as he hears his stage name from an unfamiliar voice and it makes you giggle slightly at how different the edgy music video being displayed was from the same person wrapping you in his arms so tightly.

“Babe, wake up. I have work to do,” you whisper into his hair and he only shakes his head back in response.

“No,” he mutters, pulling you into him closer. You roll your eyes, managing to pry off one of his hands as you sit up on the bed.

“Don’t you have studio stuff to do today?” you ask him, searching for a shirt to wear.

He shakes his head as his eyes start to flutter open. You both reeked of alcohol since you opened a bottle of wine last night to celebrate the release of his first solo work. He was proud of it and you were proud of him.

“Can you turn that off, I’m getting a migraine,” he whines, covering his head with a pillow. You opted to wear Yoongi’s shirt instead of your own since you couldn’t be bothered to walk to the other side of the bed to find it. You smiled at his laying figure, cooped in a fetal-like position. He was still naked, but you were with him long enough to no longer be phased by that sort of thing.

“From one bottle of wine?” you tease slightly. “I think you’re losing your touch, Agust D.”

You chuckle as he throws the pillow on top of his head towards you.

“Don’t call me that,” he pouts, “It feels like you’re making fun of me.”

You stand up from where you were, stretching out your back as you make your way to the door.

“That’s because I am,” you smirk, “You know you’re saved on my phone as Sugar?”

He gives you a glare.

“It’s Suga,” he says, attempting to add some intimidation to his voice. It doesn’t work because all you do is stick your tongue out at him.

“Whatever sugar.”

He chuckles lightly and watches the silhouette of your figure exit his view. Yoongi can’t help but mindlessly follow after you.

As you exit towards the kitchen, you can’t help but hear the television from the bedroom.

“Suga has recently been caught up in a dating scandal with Suran, the solo artist, who sang with him in a song...”

Your head snaps up from those words, your skin crawling with goosebumps. You make it into the kitchen but with a heavy heart and no appetite.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, passing by you to pour himself some water.

“Nothing,” you say, though you sounded bitter. He caught on quite quickly. You were jealous again.

Yoongi heaves out a deep sigh and sets the glass of water down. He comes over to your angry figure and gives you a soft hug, laying his head on top of yours as if to comfort you. You try to pull away but he keeps you close.

“I’ll tell them to drop the rumors, okay?,” he says, genuinely enough to make you believe him. “I don’t want us to fight so early in the morning.”

“You promise?”

He pulls away.

“I promise,” he says, brushing a hair away from your face. “Let’s not think about those rumors right now. You and me both know they’re not true.”

You were never one to forget so easily.

—

It was around 2016 when you had stopped working at Big Hit. They halted the Hip Hop Monster brand and your contract was expiring with them anyway. You went from living a kush office life to struggling freelance worker in a matter of a second. It also meant that Yoongi and you would be spending less time together. His busy schedules couldn’t permit him to stay with you longer than a few hours and his presence slowly started to disappear from his side of the bed.

It was like a sinking ship, what you had with him. The pain starts off slow, unnoticeable. You’ll still laugh and keep up appearances as time passes, but you could tell there was an ominous atmosphere that wasn’t initially there in the relationship. Your screams start to grow silent as more problems start to stack on top of each other. It’s then when you hit the iceberg. It’s then when it all starts to fall apart.

He was still good for you, you convinced yourself, even as the currents swept you out under your feet.

—

Dec. 2016

“What the fuck do you mean you’re not coming?” you yell through your phone. You were sitting on the floor of your living room, holiday decorations strewn around the apartment. He promised he’d come spend a day off of his winter promotions to be with you.

“You know how hectic the end of the year gets with promotions,” he says in quiet hushes. “I can’t do anything about it. This is my job.”

You suck in your cheeks to prevent yourself from yelling. From the sound of it, he was in public.

“Yoongi, I called out of talking to a really high-paying client,” you say through gritted teeth. “And I still came home. Why am I the only one making sacrifices?”

He sighed at the other end. He didn’t have the patience to deal with you today.

“Look, can you stop being so fucking needy. I don’t need this right now.”

He couldn’t tell from the phone call, but your heart broke at the word. Needy. He thought that you were needy.

“I’m already stressed out as it is,” he continues through the phone. “I don’t need you up my ass all the time.”

“I’m not gonna wait for you,” you reply, tears threatening to spill over. “I’m going to sleep and you’re gonna get rid of all the shit you have in my apartment. I’m sick of you, Yoongi.”

He scoffs.

“I’m sick of you too.”

Yoongi hangs up, about ready to hit the wall when Jimin comes to calm him down. Small things that were never meant to be taken seriously built up until it was ready to crash down.

When Yoongi comes at night to visit you, he sees that you’re asleep on the couch. He sits next to you, pulling you into his arms.

“I’m sorry baby,” he whispers quietly. “I’ll do better.”

You nuzzled closer to him, comforted by words you forget the next day. Even when you woke up with a bad neck and Yoongi snoring onto your skin, you couldn’t find a way to stay mad at him. You knew, deep down, that some way or the other you’re gonna find yourself arguing about the same thing next week.

—

Present

Junghoon comes to pick you up. Junghoon, your boyfriend.

He’s a little uptight and too stern for his own good, but has a good heart and a knack of giving great gifts. You met him from working in the same industry, a 3D graphics designer for several video game companies. He was a new addition to your life, your relationship only about three months old.

You were warming up to him slowly, thankful for finally having a consistent presence in your life. He always made time for you, never used work as an excuse, and didn’t act cold just for the sake of acting cold. Junghoon was sweet in the way that Yoongi used to be when he wasn’t such a massive celebrity.

It was a relief to have someone like Junghoon in your life that didn’t walk in and out of your door without much of a thought to even say goodbye. Your life with him has been a tad bit dull, but you don’t mind all that much. Junghoon’s made you feel secure in ways that Yoongi couldn’t.

—

May 2017

“Your boyfriend is winning a whole ass award across the world and you’re having ramen with me?” Chaerin sighs. It’s typical for a best friend to judge the actions of the other.

“Yeah and?” you reply snarkily, swirling your chopstick around to find the perfect clump of noodles. “I’m not the top social artist according to Billboard, what’s it have to do with me?”

She rolls her eyes at you.

“I don’t know, you could at least watch him win the award?” she suggests. “The live stream is literally happening right now. Your boyfriend is making history and you don’t even care!”

You look at the clock on the restaurant wall. It was nearing 2 o’clock and your client meeting would be starting soon. You were in high demand as a graphic artist recently and as far as you were concerned, that was the only thing on your mind at the moment. You stare back into your bowl, suddenly losing your appetite.

“The apartment is lonely without him,” you admit sadly.

He bought one for himself and had you move in. ‘It’s easier to not get noticed by the tabloids,’ he convinced you. The modern sleekness of his penthouse was a nice change to your lifestyle, but you missed the comfiness of your small studio apartment. It was often too cold when he wasn’t around.

“You could watch it with me?” Chaerin suggested. “Yoongi’s probably so sad that his own girlfriend doesn’t even want to watch him win such a major award.”

You bite down on your chopstick harshly.

“Well he didn't even want me to come with him so I don’t wanna hear anymore about him from you.”

Chaerin squinted her eyes in your direction.

“Well I mean I get where he’s coming from. He’s still an idol, [Y/N],” she scolds. “It would be a massive risk to take you with him.”

You shook your head disapprovingly, pushing the bowl away from you.

“I’m not an idiot, Chae. It’s not like I was asking to be on the red carpet with him, I just wanted to be there waiting in the hotel room after the show. Two nights ago he suddenly backs out and says I shouldn’t come.”

Chaerin’s jaw dropped out of shock. That wasn’t what she was expecting at all.

“Did he say why?”

You stare down at your nails, your heart growing heavy as a long pause of silence takes place. It would be better to be honest, right? You shouldn’t have to pretend like everything’s okay when it clearly isn’t.

“He said he wants space,” you say, careful not to get choked up. “So I’m giving it to him.”

You clutch your thigh instinctively, remembering how Yoongi had brought that up with you just nights before. You two weren’t happy and that he needed to figure himself out before the relationship gets any worse. It’s just a break or whatever bullshit he spouted.

She scoffs.

“What is wrong with you two?” she asks, genuinely concerned. “You are not the type of person to take a break in a relationship.”

You stare bitterly into the reflection of your soup.

“I just don’t think I’ve been happy for a while,” you reply, taking a sip of your water that was left untouched for a better half of the night. “I don’t think he is either.”

—

Sept. 2017

The break lasted for months and you wondered if it was really even a break at all. It felt more like a break up if you were honest. He’d text once in a while and video call you when he was free but other than that it felt like he became a stranger, just another celebrity billboard you walked past on your way to a client’s workplace.

You’d draw sketches of him countlessly, in fear you’d forget how his face looked in real life and not through a low-quality screen. You etched every baby hair, every small blemish he’d hide with makeup. It was your method of not forgetting who the real Yoongi was because honestly, you didn’t know anymore. You didn’t know him.

Trrrringggg.

The sound of your doorbell could be heard all throughout your apartment. You stood up from where you sat on the bed, leaving the sketchbook of his face on the comforter. You weren’t expecting any visitors, but surely enough, Yoongi stood in front of you with a lopsided grin on his face.

“Hey.”

You let him in, not uttering a single word. He looks different now. His hair was black, thank god, but his face was a little softer than you were used to. You remember him being so paranoid about turning bald just a few years ago and here he was, no bald spots to be found. He looked healthy.

“It’s been a while,” you respond, hugging your arms close to your chest, uncomfortable that he was in your presence. It was his apartment technically, but you lived in it more than he did. He opted to stay in the dorm ever since he issued that idiotic break.

“I miss you,” he says in a lowly voice and you almost believe him. Almost.

You scoff.

“It seems like you’ve been having fun without me though,” you say through gritted teeth. “I thought you still wanted space?”

He shakes his head and brings his hand to touch your arm.

“No,” he swallows his saliva. “I miss you.”

You could feel his sincerity, but you can’t help but not trust him. He’s been viciously cold to you, but you find yourself pulling him closer anyway.

“Don’t ever do that again,” you threaten. “It’ll really be over then, Yoongi.”

He sighs into your hair. He loves you. He does. But he doesn’t know why it’s so hard to express it.

“I promise [Y/N]. I won’t leave.”

—

Aug. 2018

He buys you flowers, your favorite kind. It’s a small gesture, but it has you jumping into his arms all the same. It shows that he still cares somewhat. It’s been a while since he’s last shown it.

He holds you closely, appreciating the softness of your body and how you curl perfectly into him.

“I want to stay like this,” you say mindlessly, just relishing in his presence.

You’re not mad at him today and he’s not frustrated with you. It’s a high point in your relationship.

“Me too.”

His words are simple but it warms your heart nonetheless. Yoongi looks at you with twinkling eyes and for a moment you think that this could last forever and that it will last forever. You kiss him slowly and he reciprocates.

It reminds you of your first time, slow and careful- like you were the last person he’d ever want to hurt.

His love, although painful at times, was good to you when you needed it to be.

—

July 2019

Yoongi’s gone again. He’s on tour, as usual, and not giving you any updates. You were getting sick of it. The constant waiting, the constant insecurities that ate you up inside. You weren’t built to endure this kind of torture.

Suga. Suga. Suga.

It rolls off the tongue but it feels disgusting coming out of your mouth. His stage name, a persona. He starts to resemble that name more and more as the days go by. You hear it so much now that it no longer registers as an actual word.

You call him.

He doesn’t pick up.

Again.

No answer.

You’re about ready to throw the phone at the wall until a soft ring was heard from the small device. You take the call immediately, smiling as if you passed the hardest difficulty of a video game. The grin would soon be wiped away, though.

“Why’d you call?” he grumbles from the other line, loud music blasting in the background.

“Why weren’t you picking up?” You sound bitter. You don’t care.

“I’m out right now,” he says, exasperation laced in his voice. “I’m not in the mood to talk.”

Clearly, he just wasn’t in the mood to talk to you. Yoongi was at a party or a club or wherever he could possibly be in the streets of Shizuoka at 10 p.m.

You just wanted to chat, check on him as a good girlfriend would. He’s been complaining that you haven’t been in a while. You thought this was what he wanted- for you to care.

“I just wanted to see if you were doing okay,” you sigh. “How’d the concert go?”

“Good,” he says, clearly distracted. “Some of us snuck out of the hotel rooms to let loose for a bit.”

You nod as if he could see you.

“So you’re partying?”

You could hear him laugh at the other end, but it wasn’t from your comment. Someone else was making him laugh. Someone with a light and dainty voice, whiny as she got closer to Yoongi.

“Yeah, I guess you could call it that,” he says, clearly distracted. “Listen I’ll call you back, okay?”

You feel a lump stuck in your throat. There are no words left to say. The foreign girl on the other end giggled harder at whatever Yoongi was saying and it felt like you were invading their privacy- as if she was his girlfriend and you were nothing. You hung up, your mouth feeling dry as the tears poured down.

You see a text from Yoongi just a few seconds into your wallowing. You sniffle as you read it.

don’t misunderstand. nothing’s happening rn i'm just having a bit of fun.

This time you really threw your phone at the wall.

You go to your iPad that’s sitting untouched on your desk. You open your drawing app and just let the anger in the stylus take you from there. You draw a rough sketch of a couple on the edge of a beachside cliff. The woman seems to be falling into the water as if she was pushed. The guy’s hand reaches out to her, but you can’t really tell if he was trying to grab her or if he was the one that let her go in the first place.

As the tears spilled onto the cool surface of the iPad, you sob harder. Nothing could be fixed and everything still felt broken. It was meaningless, sleeping in his bed and wearing his clothes when he was all the way in Japan snuggling up to girls that were probably much prettier and much more willing to understand his lifestyle.

You look around the penthouse he had bought for the two of you, beautiful wide panel windows and modern furniture. It mostly looks empty, everything nice and tidy as if no one lived here. It had such a stark contrast to that of his old life when he shared rooms with other members and had no place to really put his keyboard except the studio. You smiled at the memory of you all hovering around the small coffee table in the cramped living room eating ramen.

Maybe it was your fault for falling behind, for letting the world around you build up and not follow in Yoongi’s tracks.

—

Present

You guess it was then when the relationship had passed a point of no return. When everything that felt right had started to feel incredibly wrong. You tolerated his presence rather than bask in it. You heard him speak but couldn’t bother to listen. Maybe you were petty, but more than anything you were angry.

You were angry that he could break you that badly and you would still forgive him for it.

You stare over at Junghoon who’s cooking you up something on the stove. This is what you needed.

—

Nov. 2019

Yoongi was back from some big-name award show that you didn’t watch. You heard he won Artist of the Year or whatever, the accolades that he’s collected no longer having meaning as the days pass. Why be happy for him when he himself showed no signs of excitement? This was routine. He expected the awards at this point.

You walked towards him. Yoongi looked angry, though you have no idea why.

“Hey, I made dinner to celebrate,” you tell him. Yoongi’s sitting on the couch, scrolling through the congratulatory messages he received from other industry stars. He looked like he needed to get something off his chest.

“I’m not hungry,” he mutters. “Just leave it.”

“Are you sure?”

He scoffs. It was a simple question.

“Not in the mood.”

You give him a pointed look and sit next to him.

“Why are you never in the mood for anything?” you ask him. “It’s just food Yoongi. I just want to eat with you.”

You don’t see it properly but he rolls his eyes.

“Just drop it okay? Today’s a good day, I don’t need you to ruin it.”

You suck in your cheeks.

“Ruin?”

Yoongi sighs heavily.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he starts, facing you. “Why do you have to be so dramatic over everything.”

You grit your teeth.

“Dramatic?” your voice quivers. “I didn’t know feeling hurt was being dramatic.”

His gaze softens and he touches your arm lightly.

“Sorry, I didn't mean it like that.”

You shake your head, feeling your eyes dampen at his words.

“I hate your apologies, Yoongi,” you say in a hushed tone. “They don’t mean anything anymore.”

He’s shocked, not really sure how to respond. You were never one to confront him, especially when he was angry. Instead, he holds your hand softly. He was terrible at comforting people.

“Yoongi are you really sorry?” you ask abruptly. It was a question you’ve been meaning to ask for years now.

His grip on you tightened and you can’t quite read his expression, but you can tell that it’s not a positive response. He looks conflicted and he shouldn’t have to be if he really was. You force him to let go of you.

“I am,” he says, knowing he answered a little too late for his words to not seem suspicious.

“I don’t think you are,” you reply sadly. “You say sorry more than you-”

say I love you.

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence because he knows. He knows what you’re trying to say.

“I am,” he says with more sincerity, but he looks at you with an unreadable expression. “I just don’t think it’s enough at this point.”

“What’s not enough?”

You were confused. Is he still talking about whether he's apologetic or not? Or is it something entirely different?

“I do love you,” he says with a certain conviction in his voice, “and I always will, but it feels like nothing’s working out.”

Yoongi doesn’t look at you and focuses on the leather of the fancy couch. He doesn’t say anything but you know what this means. He’s about to stand up, but you grab onto his wrist.

“This is your apartment,” you say before he could say anything to break your heart even further. “I’ll leave.”

“[Y/N], no,” he says. “You don’t have anywhere else to go. I’m just gonna stay over at the dorm. I just...”

Your eyes get blurry from the tears. Even now it felt like he was looking down at you. Nowhere to go. It was like he pitied you.

“...need to go clear my mind,” he finishes the sentence, standing up to grab his coat.

You shake your head and stand in front of him. He’s usually like this. A coward. A bumbling fool who would rather avoid problems than face them head on.

“I need you to stay, Yoongi,” you cry out. “I need you to actually stay for once and comfort me.”

He looks at you, mouth open but no words come out. He smiles sadly and walks toward you, kissing your cheek.

“I don’t think I can do that anymore, [Y/N],” he says and you watch him leave as easily as he walked in.

It’s not like he ever comforted you in the first place.

—

The break up happened silently over a late-night phone call a few days after he disappeared on you. You packed up your things, stayed over at Chaerin’s house, and braced yourself for what was to come. It should’ve happened sooner, you admit, but your heart still sinks when he speaks.

“I just don’t think either of us is willing to try anymore,” he says solemnly. “We’ve been on and off for the past few years and I don’t think it’s healthy for either of us to continue.”

You agree, just wanting the call to end quickly so you wouldn’t have to hear his voice any longer. It hurt to have to listen to him rationalize breaking your heart.

“I don’t think we should be together anymore, [Y/N],” he says, not even a tiny bit choked up. “I think we’ve... outgrown each other.”

You knew what Yoongi really meant. He’s outgrown you.

“I think so too,” you say rigidly. Short and simple. You left nothing to be desired. “Let’s break up.”

Yoongi looks at his phone, slightly disappointed. He wished you would fight back, maybe rekindle something in him that he’s lost over the years. Yet you were silent on the line and he just had to accept it- that there was nothing left to be saved.

“Take care, okay?” he says softly because in the end he still cares- he just doesn’t want to anymore.

“I will,” you reply, ultimately hanging up the phone. You collapse onto a bed unfamiliar to you. Yoongi would no longer sleep beside you, no longer reach over to hug your side and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. He was gone and you had to accept that maybe he was never yours in the first place.

His last words replay in your mind.

Take care.

That was the most concern he’s ever shown you in the past few weeks. You almost scoff at the absurdity of it all. You don’t notice how truly broken you were until the tears start streaming down your face. You see the image of him through blurry eyes and you wonder how you could let Yoongi leave such a permanent scar on your heart.

—

Present

“Do you like your eggs runny or no?”

Junghoon asks as you approach his figure. You hug him from behind and smile at his warmth. Safe.

“Just a little runny,” you reply.

He smiles and nods, turning off the heat and grabbing some seasoning from your cupboard. You detach yourself from him when you realized what he was grabbing.

“Babe that’s not salt. That’s-”

Sugar.

You stop yourself from saying it and Junghoon looks at you with concern. He chuckles at your stoic state and ruffles your hair.

“Cat got your tongue or what?” he asks, grabbing the right container this time. “Maybe I should’ve asked if you like your eggs sweet instead, huh?”

“I’ve never tried that combination before,” you say teasingly. “Why don’t you test it out for us.”

He clicks his tongue at you and splashes some salt on your face.

“I’ll pour sugar all over you if that’s what you really want.”

You laugh half-heartedly. A simple word shouldn’t affect you this much but you find yourself get more teary-eyed as it repeats in your head. It wasn’t fair to Junghoon that you were thinking of your ex in his presence. It wasn’t fair to you either.

You feel a vibration from your pocket and you pull it out to serve as a distraction from your wallowing thoughts. It’s a text.

From Sugar.

—

A/N: This was so hard to write because my mind has just been empty these days but I’m so glad it’s done now >_< Thank you to @minyoongail for requesting this story. I’ve been bumping to the Taylor Swift song now because of this commissions T^T I recommend you all to listen to it. I tried to write this in a different style from my other works so I hope this is still readable for you all LOL

I’m closing commissions temporarily to focus on the ones I have now and to also start writing my own stuff. Let me know how you feel about this, I appreciate all types of comments and criticisms <3 Look forward to Part 2!

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gaeilgeoirgay · 3 years ago

Text

SpideyTorch Week Day Three Alternate Universe

For Day Three, I chose an alternate universe in which our favourite couple are the villains! This one is a bit darker than usual, and there’s a mild instance of torture, that isn’t explicitly described near the end, so do watch out for that

Ao3 Link

@spideytorchweek

they don’t question our violence

“Hello, Spidey. Nice of you to swing by.” Comes a mocking voice from behind him. Peter almost swears, his Spidey Sense hadn’t even warned him, the traitor! Clearly it doesn’t think of Morning Star as a threat despite the fact Johnny has tried to kill him on several occasions. Maybe. To be fair, the Dock Incident was Peter’s fault and Morning Star hasn’t attempted murder in ten months, coinciding with the new depths of their relationship.

And it’s not like Peter is a complete angel either. The Wolf Spider is a name synonymous with death and blood- at least Morning Star tends to stick with arson. Peter is a mercenary, it’s not like he can judge his pyromaniac boyfriend.

“Hi, starlight. I have a job for us, and we get to explode the place afterwards.” Peter says, turning around to smile at Johnny, who perks up at the idea. He lets his flames fizzle out and lands next to Peter, who gratefully accepts the kiss he’s given. It’s freezing right now, and even the slightest bit of warmth makes a difference to Peter’s non-regulating self. There’s also the fact he’s kissing Johnny. That’s a big factor.

He turns fully around to kiss Johnny properly, taking care with his fangs so his venom doesn’t enter Johnny’s bloodstream. He rather likes his boyfriend and he doesn’t want to kill him. Johnny eventually pulls back to smile brightly at Peter.

“What’s the job, Fangs? I like the sound of it already.” He says. Peter beckons him up onto the vent protruding from the building they’re on, hopping up himself to swing his legs childishly. Johnny joins him, feet tapping impatiently.

“I met Remy Le Beau downtown a few days ago. He mentioned that there’ve been a few disappearances lately, mainly mutant children living on the streets that don’t appear on official records. I did some digging and it turns out there’s a lab set up in the Bronx that’s been experimenting on mutant kids.” Peter explains, scowling now. “Officially, it’s a gene lab where volunteers donate samples to be studied for cures to various diseases. There’s about twenty kids there now from what I can tell. Remy can’t blow it to hell himself without attracting attention to Xavier but if we free the kids and then happen to torch it, people won’t question our violence.” He finishes.

Johnny is frowning now too. “What excuse are we giving for the attack though?” He asks and Peter laughs. “That’s the best bit. We’re not giving an excuse, we’re telling everyone they were experimenting on children. Their encryptions are ridiculously bad and there’s already been a call for an inquiry into them by S.I. They’re subsidised by Oscorp and it’ll damage their stocks once it gets out that not only did they block the investigation, they funded the lab too.” He explains and Johnny grins.

“Two birds with one stone. Save the kids and piss off Green Goblin. I’m down.” He says and Peter stands. Johnny does too and Peter challenges him to a race across the city. They may be supervillains but they can still have fun.

The building is near deserted when they get there, other than a few dedicated workers and the overnight security guards. The employees aren’t aware of where their samples come from, only the top scientists know about the mutants and the security guards were never told they were guarding people instead of chemicals so they’ve agreed to leave them mostly alone.

Johnny silently melts a window on the top floor and they sneak into the building, avoiding the admittedly meagre defences.

They soon find a bright red door labelled DANGER and according to the blueprints that Peter acquired, the kids should be behind it.

They crumple easily under Peter’s enhanced strength and Johnny groans at the display. “I love it when you break metal with your bare hands.” He whispers and Peter smothers a laugh. They step over the ruined doors to find the kids in chains.

“Oh I can’t wait to set this place on fire.” Johnny growls harshly and Peter shushes him. There’s a computer terminal by the door so he plugs in a device he built himself that will copy the information on the mainframe to his personal store while deleting every other existing copy. He’ll probably delete his own copy once he goes through it, but he’d prefer to know if some sort of power-killing virus was made before he gets hit with it. Probably by Ross, may he die in agony.

The two of them set to work on the chains, Peter snapping them and Johnny turning them to molten slag. The kids are utterly silent, even when the two villains are reassuring them softly and Peter vows to hunt down every last disgrace to science that was involved in the lab.

Finally, the last chain clatters to the floor and all the kids are free. Remy had promised them assistance from two X-men who would be able to get the kids out of the lab so Peter and Johnny could get to burning it down.

They herd the kids to the window they broke in through and are met by the dark form of Archangel. The mutant’s normally pure white wings are covered in dark metal to blend in with the night but he’s still gentle with the children and they seem a bit less scared to see someone who’s so obviously like them.

Peter watches one little girl with red, scaly wings looking in awe between herself and the hero and smiles. He glances at Johnny and a thought comes to him. He wants that. Him and Johnny, with a kid each, maybe one girl and one boy or two of the same gender.

Hmm. That’s something to consider later. For now, he watches Archangel fly the kids one-by-one to a nearby safehouse where Nightcrawler is waiting to bring the kids to Xavier’s mansion the next morning. They deserve a good nights rest before moving somewhere completely different to everything they’ve ever known.

Archangel returns after the last child has been delivered to Nightcrawler and perches on the windowsill, regarding Peter and Johnny with a slight measure of respect.

“I met Nightcrawler in a mutant fighting ring. Neither of us wanted to be there but we never got the chance to escape. I got hurt and Mystique spirited him away but we never knew what happened to the ring. These kids though, they’re not gonna have that.” He plucks a metal feather from the edge of his wings, the edges razor sharp.

“Hurt those monsters and hurt them well. Maybe some of the more sheltered mutants at home won’t understand but I do. Slit their throats with that and leave them to choke. It’s more than they deserve.” Archangel says solemnly, rage glinting in his eyes. Peter exchanges looks with Johnny and then grins.

“Maybe heroes can’t be caught torturing people but there’s a reason I walk the other side of the line. We won’t make it quick.” Peter promises and Archangel returns the smile. Peter has no doubt that any scientists he and Johnny fail to find will turn up with mysterious wounds soon enough.

Archangel flies off to join Nightcrawler and Wolf Spider and Morning Star stalk back into the labs. The head scientists have been staying in a penthouse apartment above the labs while they run their tests and that’s their destination.

The elevator lets them up after a few key strokes from the Spider and they emerge into a wide-open space, the complete opposite of the small room the kids had been chained in. There are doors off of the main room and the Spider quickly matches them up with what he found in their database.

The third door to the right should belong to Henry Lawson, the torturer in chief. Morning Star melts the lock and they slip into his room silently. The bastard is sleeping peacefully in his bed but it won’t be long before that changes.

Morning Star fingers the metal feather Archangel gave them and slowly starts to heat it up. It’s made of strong stuff and even though the metal is glowing red it’s not metal. It serves as a rude wake-up call when it’s pressed to Lawson’s jaw.

He squeals like a stuck pig and the Spider thanks God for soundproofing. They’re nowhere near done with Lawson just yet.

An hour later, Lawson is thoroughly deceased and they move onto their next target. All six die painfully and Wolf Spider takes a twisted pleasure in it. Still, they have a job to do and they can’t spend as much time on their other targets as they did on Lawson.

Johnny plants his favourite explosives and Peter carelessly pulls the fire alarm. They find a good vantage point on the building across from the lab and wait until the last heat signature leaves the building and emergency services are seconds from the scene to trigger the bombs.

Johnny floats in front of the lab for a few seconds before he unleashes a torrent of flames into the already-blazing building. It only feeds the raging fire and Peter knows it will take quite some time to put it out, Not his problem. He’s too busy planning their next hits on the scientists that hadn’t lived above the lab.

Johnny lands on the roof next to him with a sharp exhale and Peter drapes himself over his back. “Twelve people left on the list, starlight. I vote we eat, have a fantastic night in bed and then brutally murder them all. Their dirty secrets are set to be released to the public in four and a half hours, just in time for the news cycle.” Peter says, tracing letters on Johnny’s back.

“You give the best presents, my Spider. I can’t wait to hunt.” Morning Star replies.

#spideytorchweek2021 #spideytorchweek #day three au #spideytorch #tw mild torture #tw violence #peter parker #johnny storm #warren worthington iii

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penny44224 · 4 years ago

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Birthday Boy

🕯- pairing: idol/changbin x female(poc) reader

🕯- word count: 1.5k

🕯- genre: fluff, slight smut, romance

🕯- A/N: I'm super late but this imagine was inspired by my uli bias Changbinnie birthday 🎈Im a bit rusty on writing so I hope you enjoy

Today was a very special day. It was your boyfriend, Changbin's birthday. Well sorta. You guys knew how chaotic each other’s schedules were. Since his birthday was coming up, you both devised a plan to celebrate. The plan was to let him celebrate his official birthday with his family, members, and stay. Since you liveaboard, a weekend road trip to Disneyland. You both made sure to do any work beforehand to ensure your trip to happen. There were some hiccups but the day as come and you both were finally free.

Due to different time zones, you face-timed him to countdown his birthday. After talking for two hours, you wished him safe travels traveling to yours (your state). After celebrating his birthday, he hopped on a plane and reached your state. The moment he landed you picked him up from the airport and took off for your weekend trip. You drove most of the way due from him having jet lag, but being the sweetheart he is, he took over when the destination was close. During the road trip, you guys took photos, did quick pit shops at random places, ate at weird restaurants and etc. When you guys finally reached the hotel, you checked in. The moment you both entered the suite, you guys bolted straight to the bedroom and fell asleep in each other arms. Fast Forward to 8 hours later. You both just reached to Disneyland.

”So what should we do first birthday boy,” you said with a smile

”My birthday past already” Changbin replied with a smile too

” Well it's my time to celebrate it with you, so when we reach back home that's when it's over so for right now. This weekend is Binnie day is everyday”.You said while swinging it his hand

”Okie,” He said blushing

”How about we start off with something safe, likkkeeeee the ferris wheel,” You said but Changbin gave you a straight face

”No ok, how about the teacups”

He still has you a straight face

”ok how about....space mountain ” Changbin expression changed to a smile

”Alright lets to running!!” you say sprinting to the ride

”Yah WAIT FOR ME!” He yelled trying to catch up

You suddenly stop as you realized something

”Hey why you stop?” Changing says while panting

” We forgot to take a picture in front of the castle ” You answered

”Well let's take one now before we go” Changin suggested

”really” you gasped

He gently grabbed your hand and pulled out his phone. He took some selfies with you and a family volunteered to take a picture of the two of you together too.

”Ok now we can go!” You said this time sprinting like Usain Bolt

”WHY ARE YOU RUNNING, WE HAVE FAST PASSES !” He says as he tries to catch up with you again

Throughout the entire day, you guys had a blast. Going on many rides, Changbin being scared of the mascots, taking silly pictures, eating everything on site but most importantly spending time with each other. As the day winds down, you both got perfect seats for the fireworks showcase.

”Today was so much fun baby” Changbin as he wraps his arms around your waist.

”I'm glad you enjoyed it,” you say as you turn you head slightly to kiss him

The moment you lip touch his, fireworks show started lighting up the sky

”Because we're not done yet,” You say pulling away with a smile

Changbin looked at you confused

” But immm tirreeeddd” he whined

”Shut up and enjoy the fireworks,” you said as you kiss his cheek

He chuckles as he started to watch the show

As the both of you reached back to the hotel, Changbin bugged you trying to get you to spill on what you else you had planned for tonight, but you all you said was get dressed in some breezy attire. But that just result in him bugging you on what he should wear.

After getting ready and you looking like a snack. Your boyfriend definitely out done you. He had a white button-up shirt with a few buttons open, nice fitted jeans, hair parted perfectly and finished with a mysterious cologne that made you wanted to literally eat him.

”Like what you see, baby girl,” he says walking toward you with his legendary smirk

But you had to pull yourself together before you two were late

”Umm E-err good your ready now put this on” you try to say nonchalantly

”Why I need a blindfold for” Changbin say raising his brow while looking at you

(*Ahh don't do that)* you said in your head. You literally can not believe your actually getting weak just at the sight of him

*(I need to leave before I ruin everything*)

”Yes, I'll tie it for you because we need to go or else we will be late”

”I don't mind being late” He says trying to sneak his arms around your waist slowly

You smacked his hands

”No, we have to go” you took the blindfold and tied it over his eyes

”Ughh where are we going, I can't see...” Changbin whined

You took his hand and left the suite to move forward to your destination

The hotel you were staying at connect to the beach. So with the help of some sweet employees you created the most romantic picnic. Since it was night time, you put up candles, mini lights and a fire. You hope he loved it because you had something special to give him.

”I smell something burning, hold on are we gonna do something kinky” Changbin chuckled

You pinched his butt

”YAHH STOPP”

”Ok we are here, you can take the blindfold off,” you say nervously

Changbin slowly took off the mask. His eyes set to now luminous view, he saw what was before him.

”Y/N, you did this for me, really” He turns to you with teary eyes

”Hey don't cry, Imma cry too” you giggled

”But yes, of course, I did, ” you say

”Now come on the food will get cold”

”FOOD,” Changbin says happily running to sit

As the moon glazed the beach, the two of you ate, had dessert and talk a while

”I can't wrap around how you did all of this for me” Changbin says to you

”Well with the help of the staff here, it became possible”

”But um I have something for you” You reached for your purse and took out a little wrap gift and gave it to him.

”Aww I wonder what this could be ” Changbin says cutely

As he unwraps the gift, it's a velvet box. He opens up the book and it's a ring connected to another necklace

”I know how hard it's been for you having to do comeback after come back and juggling our relationship, I know you try hard to be a great boyfriend thinking I don't see how much guilt you show and I know how hard you try to keep everyone happy because you them think they deserve everything. But baby YOU deserve everything. I don't want you to have that guilt thinking your not doing enough because you are and I'm perfectly fine with that. Having you as a boyfriend is a blessing. Seeing you live out your dreams makes me happy. So this ring is a kinda sorta a promise ring. But this ring symbolizes that I'm not going anywhere because my love for you us eternal.” You say holding his hand as you slip the ring on his finger

”Y/N no one h-has done this for me before” Changbin says as a tear roll down his cheek

”Well I'm glad in the first” you chuckled

”Come here” he pulls you close and kisses so ever so gently

He picks up the necklace and puts it around neck and hooks the latch.

”And I'm blessed to have a beautiful queen by my side. You make me the man I am today and always support me. And I'll always support you in whatever you do. Because you deserve the universe, even the fucking milky way.” Changbin says to you softly as you giggle

“I still don’t understand how I was able to land you as my girlfriend. But soon I know you will permanently be my nubian queen. Because I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you Y/N. Thank you for being the a reason in my life”

Tears are rolling down you eyes as he confess his love for you and with that you pull him close and kiss him passionately.

The two of you hold each other close while kissing each other like time has stop at your request. As the waves of the ocean crashing gracefully in the background. He softly bit your bottom lip for permission to enter his tongue. You accept by slightly opening your mouth and your tongues dance at a tempo. He gently pushes you to lay down on the ground as he pulls away

“How do you look so beautiful under the moonlight” He says to as he looks at you like a mystical masterpiece

You caress his cheek

“I can say the same for you binnie “ you smiled

Changbin goes to leave tongue kisses on you neck

“So we’re the only ones out here right?” He asks as he continues to work your neck

“Umm I believe so, why” you says as he’s leaves you breathless

He pulls away from your neck and again gives you a the legendary WATTPAD smirk

“Stop looking at me like that before I lose control on this beach” you warned him

“Lose it all on me baby,” Changbin says seductively to you while he unbuttoned his shirt

#kpop ambw #stray kids ambw #Ambw stray kids #stray kids #skz #stray kids imagine #seo changbin #changbin #stray kids reactions #stray kids reaction #stray kids poc #straykids fluff #skz imagines #skz reactions

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wildly-lost-lantern · 5 years ago

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Seven Point Star

A/N: Here’s chapter one! Please keep sending me feed back, it keeps me going. I know this isn’t extremely exciting, and most people don’t like to read first person... but I’m still trying to get comfortable. Thank you for the love on my prologue! Warnings will start in future chapters.

Genre: BTS soulmate au

Word count: 1,712

Chapter One: The Audition

I watched in awe as the boys walked through the bright halls of BigHit Entertainment. All seven of them are still exhausted, judging by the slight lag in the way they walked. I hugged myself gently, completely overwhelmed already. My dance audition was going to be starting soon, but I’ve been blessed to see the world’s biggest idol group. They were even more beautiful in person. I wasn’t as obsessed as other fans, but I did love the music this band put out. It’s meaningful and beautiful. I pushed the BTS sighting to the back of my mind and sighed a deep sigh. I had to focus. I need to get this choreographer job. I stepped back into the center of the room and pressed play on my phone. An obscure American hip hop song started to play through the speakers, and I watched myself in the mirrors on the wall.

“Body roll, then duh-dut-dah,” I was talking to myself to keep my self focused and reinforce the choreography in my brain. I was already breathing a little bit heavier as the song rolled into the next song I chose for choreography. The next song is a lyrical piece, one that normally made people sad. The song had been more of a break up song. The whole dance was heart breaking with the choreography. As the song wound down into the end, I stood from a butt roll and into a pose where I was walking away, my head held in my hands. After the song ended, I pressed pause on my music. I walked around taking a breath, then I grabbed my bottle of water. I let out a deep breath I didn’t know I was holding, my anxiety starting to fill my body. I shook my hands slightly, pacing around the practice room. I went through a checklist mentally; hip hop – check, lyrical – check, freestyle – check. I was prepared for anything they could throw at me. I was ready. There was someone else who was there for the interview portion. That boosted my anxiety. Only three people will make it through the interview. I was the first one who had gotten through. However, just because I got here doesn’t – ‘STOP! You know you’re the strongest applicant. You’ve worked with idols before, other companies, and you were the top of your class Yuna!’ I had to scold myself. The position was made for me. I just had to get this audition done with. I went back to stretching to get my anxiety out. After a few minutes, I checked my phone. It was time for my dance audition. As I gathered my things, I saw the other choreographer leaving. She had tears streaming down her face. From that alone, I knew she was rejected. I took a deep breath and pushed the door to the practice room open. An employee of BigHit led me down the hall and into another room. Two men and a woman sat at a table, papers sitting in front of them. I bowed respectfully and introduced myself.

“Park Yuna. Performing arts schools up until graduating from university. Top of her class,” the woman spoke lowly to the men, obviously reading from my application. I nodded silently, waiting for instruction. “So, here’s what’s going to happen. You’ll dance a freestyle to a song of our choosing. We’ll go from there, okay?” she looked at me as if she was expecting me to ask any questions.

“Yes, ma’am,” my polite response came with a small bow. Shortly after, the man on the left pressed play on a phone connected to the speakers to the room. The soft melody poured into the room, washing over me. I knew the song, so this part was easier than I had expected. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and started to find the beat. Shortly after, I started to dance, my anxieties melting away. Butt rolls, aerial tricks, simple and complex moves all flowed through me and into a dance I could be proud of. As the song wound down, I focused on keeping my breathing even. As the people in front of me whispered amongst themselves, I refrained from fidgeting with anxiety that had come back full force. After what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few minutes, the three looked back at me.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do. We have chosen two idols for you to teach your dance to. One for each genre. We know that it isn’t a long time, but you only have two hours for each. We believe you can get it done today, as you are the only dance audition we have today. We wish you luck, Miss Yuna,” the woman in the center said to me with a knowing smile. I thanked them and bowed before exiting the room.

How was I going to teach these dances in two hours?! Shortly after I got to my assigned practice room, a tall man with kind eyes walked in. My breath caught in my throat. Kim Namjoon was so much prettier in person. He held his hand out to me, and I shook it with a small bow.

“I’m Kim Namjoon. You must be Park Yuna. Nice to meet you,” his deep voice rattled me to my core. How was he so beautiful? I shook the thought out of my head. He’s just a person.

“It’s wonderful to meet you. Thank you for doing this for me. We’ll be doing a lyrical piece, so I hope you’re ready,” the laugh in my voice made him smile. This was going so much better than I had hoped. We had gotten started right away. Fifteen minute guided warm up, followed by me showing the dance to him.

“Wow, that is really... beautiful, Miss Park,” Namjoon said as he stood up and walked to me. I muttered my thanks and looked away. He seemed to understand that I was stressing out, so he clapped his hand and said he was ready to learn it in the goofiest voice he could muster.

I turned the song off and started to walk through the moves again. “So, for the first four counts you will be still, and the next eight you’ll walk toward me over here. Okay?” The next fifteen minutes were spent going over the first sixty-four counts of the song. Once he seemed to have it down, we played the song and danced it together. I watched him in the mirror, looking for anything I might need to fix.

“Sorry, I’m not the best dancer,” he rubbed the back of his head, his dirty blonde hair getting slightly messy.. I shook my head and ignored the comment.

“Alright, at this point, we’ll come together. You’ll reach out with your left hand and I’ll do a turn into your arms. If it goes right I’ll end up with my back against your chest, okay?” I showed him the slight movement he’d do, and then ran the set with him. He was picking it up fairly quickly. “You’re doing great! I’m really impressed with how quickly you’re picking this up.”

Soon, the whole dance was finished, and he looked very concerned. I decided to let him grab some water. “What’s going on? You look worried,” I commented, before taking a huge drink of my water. I could feel the sweat start to drip down my back.

“The dance is much harder than I was expecting is all. You sure know what you’re doing though,” his deep laugh came out, but it didn’t sound very genuine. I shrugged my shoulders in response, slightly embarrassed by the praise.

“Well, I’ve been doing this since I was two, I’d hope I know what I’m doing by now,” this time was my turn to laugh without it sounding real. We had about thirty minutes left until we’d be evaluated. We spent the last thirty minutes running the dance from beginning to end, polishing it where need be. After about three runs, Namjoon looked much more comfortable with the dance than before. Two more runs after that, it seemed almost flawless. I couldn’t contain my excitement any longer.

“You’re doing so great! I’m so proud of you. It’s not easy to learn a whole dance in two hours, and you just did it!” I showered him in praise, clapping my hands happily. Soon it was time for us to go show the dance. I put my phone in my pocket as I left the room, walking Namjoon to the audition room.

“Miss Park! I hope Mister Kim wasn’t too difficult to you. I’ll push play if you’d like to connect your phone to the speakers,” the woman in the center said to me as we walked in. Thanking her, I passed her my phone.

As soon as the song started, I let go of my worries. I couldn’t see myself, my back to the mirrors, but I could feel Namjoon’s hand where it was meant to be. The slow lyrics and soft melody calmed me, going through the dance with him. Before I could really feel like it was happening, the song ended. I rose from the butt roll, into a pose like I was walking away with Namjoon doing the same. I felt like crying, I was so relieved. I turned and waited further instruction from the BigHit employees. I could feel myself leaning closer to Namjoon, seeking his comfort when I had barely met him.

“Well done! I’ll have the next idol meet you in your assigned practice room in five minutes. You’re dismissed,” she said to me, looking down at the paper in front of her. I nodded, thanking them once more.

Within two hours, I had already taught Jung Hoseok the last dance, already relaxing into a roll I hadn’t been offered. The woman said she would call me within a few days with an update on my application. I gathered my things and left the building. I could only hope that things would go my way at this point.

#wildly written seven point star #bts x oc #bts fanfic #bts x female oc #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungguk #i cant believe i did this #please be kind

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believingbrook · 6 years ago

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taakitz hanahaki, 1

“Idiots, the lot of them,” Taako snorts. Even though he and Kravitz are seated next to each other in front of a booth, both nursing margaritas (at Merle’s behest, and for his kind offer to pay for them), his legs are kicked up over Kravitz’s lap as he surveys the scene. A hearty slap from Magnus’s friend Carey rouses him, if only for just long enough to whine about how proud he is and how his little boy is all grown up now before passing out on his wife’s shoulder.

“They’re proud.” Kravitz takes a sip of his drink, a small smile creeping over his face as he pointedly does not look at Taako. “So are you, I think.”

Taako splutters. “I am not! I’m not — no, fuck that, I don’t give a shit about the kiddo.”

“That’s why you give him free lessons, then.”

Taako gives a haughty sniff, leaning back against the cushioned seat. “Money ain’t even a thing. Our old man’s fuckin’ rich or something, and ever since he so generously stole us off the streets we haven’t worried about — about, uh, funds and all that.”

“Yet you ask me to haggle down the price every single time we go shopping.”

“No, that’s different,” Taako says, kicking his legs higher on Kravitz’s lap. “That’s ‘cause the bullshit we find is all, uh, that’s fuckin’ marked up like hell and that’s just — it’s an injustice, you know? A slight against our Lady Liberty with her, fuckin’, torch and everything. You shouldn’t have to kick out a hundred dollars for a pair of boots, right? Unless they’ve touched, I dunno, the gross and smelly feet of Billy Armstrong or something.”

“But if money isn’t a concern for you, you could haggle it down yourself. What are the repercussions of another fifty dollars? It’s a good learning experience!”

“‘Cause I don’t wanna ask the old geezer for fifty extra bucks,” Taako sniffs, then brandishes his drink at Kravitz. “‘Sides, when am I ever gonna go shopping not with you? Lup and Barry go to the, fuckin’, Gap to get their clothes, and Magnus and Jules wouldn’t know a department store if it hit ‘em over their head and let’s be honest here, where is Merle gonna find his floral shirts in the middle of a Macy’s? He isn’t, that’s where.”

“You’re taking advantage of my silver tongue,” Kravitz grins.

“I — okay, yes.” Taako takes a long swig of his drink. “Maybe a little.”

“Maybe next time I should let you go on your own,” Kravitz teases. “See how you like trying to stack up against a Nordstrom’s representative in their ugly uniforms.”

“Absolutely not, I refuse to be seen in public shopping at Nordstroms without someone in at least a suit. Besides, their employees need to shape up and work somewhere else, because bright orange? Really? I wanna know what chump thought a bright orange uniform was a good idea and punch them in the face. Directly in the nose.”

“You know, you could wear the suit. I think you’d look good in one.”

“Fuck off.”

“No, really!”

Taako glares at him. “Perish the thought, bone boy, the day you catch Taako in something as boring as a suit is the day Lup’s finally snapped and burned my Maxi collection, which is to say the day both of us just beef it.”

“Oh, so you think my fashion taste is boring?” Kravitz gripes, faux-wounded, hand over his heart and everything. “Gosh, how could I ever recover from such a grievous insult?”

“Gosh,” Taako snorts. “I can’t believe you say shit like — like gosh and goodness.”

Kravitz shrugs, dropping the wounded front in favor of a grin. “It’s better than my accents, at least.”

Taako chokes on his drink, waving his hand in the air. “Do not even speak of those,” he says, laughing. “Those were awful, you were, what, twelve? Thinkin’ you could do an Australian accent!”

“Hey, my accents weren’t too bad! My Cockney was pretty good.”

“Your Cockney was the absolute worst of the lot,” Taako groans, as Kravitz knew he would. “We were in — fuckin’, middle school, and you were walkin’ around in a tiny tailored suit like pip pip cheerio in the most abominable accent. You’re — you know, you’re real lucky I decided to hang out with you, Kravitz. Got you back on the straight and narrow.”

Kravitz hums. “I think you butchered that first part, my man,” he says, dipping back into his fake accent.

Taako cuffs his ear. “One, that was an awful joke and you should be ashamed. Two, I refuse to be seen with you in public doing accents, I refuse. You do that again and I’m leaving, Taako is out.”

“Oh, are you really?” Kravitz drawls. “Now I think it’d be rather rude for you to just dip on me like that, dearest. Who do you expect to cover your drink?”

“Dearest,” Taako mimics, rolling his eyes behind his glass. “You’re disgusting.”

“And yet here you are,” Kravitz says, “ten years later.”

“It’s for the bargains. I wouldn’t get those discounts if I didn’t drag you with me.”

“I’m being used for my financial prowess,” Kravitz says mournfully. “You wound me, Taako Taaco. And here I was, thinking we were friends.”

“Don’t get used to it.” Taako slumps down farther in his seat, heels kicking against Kravitz’s thighs. “I thought we were too, and then you got on stage for, fuckin’ — who were you, Grant-someone-or-other, way back in middle school, and you did that awful accent, who was that?”

“Graintaire,” Kravitz supplies. He’d done an awful French accent. So bad that Taako threatened to Sharpie a mustache on his face and Lup had actually done it. “Les Miserables, Taako. We’ve only seen that movie about a hundred times.”

“It’s just jabber-jabber-revolution-thrust-die,” Taako says. “And that one guy spitting up petals, like, come on. The last time we watched I counted the number — the number of times they, uh, compared his little rose petals to the color of blood, and you know what I got?”

Thirty-seven, Kravitz thinks, right before Taako reports the same number. “Which is to say just, too many.”

“It was a sad scene, Taako.”

“Oh, sure, if you’re a hopeless romantic,” Taako snorts.

“You cried the first time we watched it.”

“I was fourteen!”

“And bawling like a child half your age,” Kravitz grins.

Taako takes a sip. “That was back when I thought something like he had could ever happen to me.”

Though Kravitz is used to his seemingly-random bursts of crippling honesty, this one still takes him off-guard. He knows better than to dig deeper, he knows better than to appear pitying, or react at all, really; but he can’t help himself from asking, “You don’t think you’ll find love eventually?”

“Yeah, perish the thought, I know,” Taako says, averting his gaze. He elbows Kravitz in the shoulder. “‘Specially for you, you, like — bleed romance novels and whatever. Trashy dime-a-dozen novels, I can’t believe you.”

“They were a dime back in the nineteenth century, Taako, they’re hardly so cheap now.”

“Which just means they’re an actual — an actual investment, which also means you should be ashamed. But um, Lup — she found Barry, and Mags has Jules, and once Merle wrapped up the whole thing with Dav’s dandelions they, uh...they put a ring on that and everything, and I figure there’s only so much love in the universe, y’know?” Taako takes a steady sip of his drink. His hands don’t even shake. Kravitz envies him, for a moment; that his hands don’t tremble, and don’t give him away.

Kravitz folds his own carefully beneath the table. “And even if that means ol’ Taako doesn’t get his slice of the apple pie, or cherry, or whatever flavor that pie is, then that’s fine by me. There are people who, uh, deserve it more, so.” Another sip. “I’m glad the universe is investing, fuckin’, flour and yeast and apple preserves or whatever in them.”

“I think you deserve it,” Kravitz says. He wants to reach for Taako’s hand, wants to fold those slim, cooking-calloused fingers in his own. He does not. “I don’t think there’s a finite amount of love, Taako. I think everyone loves and is loved in turn, and the lucky ones — well, for the lucky ones, it goes both ways.”

Taako watches him for a long, long time. Panic mounts in his throat — did he give himself away? Did he say too much? He’s at the point of spilling red wine all over his pants and that would be inconvenient, he just pressed these slacks yesterday, until Taako looks away. “Figures,” he snorts derisively. “You want a happy ending for everyone.”

“To the birthday boy!” Julia roars, so loudly that the whole bar turns and looks at her.

“It’s not my birthday, ma’am,” Angus says politely from his seat between her and her husband. At some point, when Kravitz wasn’t watching, he’d wedged himself between his adoptive parents. “I’m graduating tomorrow.”

“To the graduating birthday boy!”Julia says, equally as enthusiastic, and Angus rolls his eyes at the same time Kravitz does, because she knows it’s not Angus’s birthday but, at the point before weepy-drunkenness, this is her sense of humor. To both of their chagrin.

“To Angus,” Kravitz grins.

“To my magic boy,” Taako says, the picture of disgruntled complacency, and clicks his glass to Kravitz’s.

“So I am your magic boy!” a voice pipes from beneath their table. Or at least, Kravitz thinks it’s beneath their table until he looks over and catches two eyes peeping up at them. “You’re a dirty liar, sir!”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You certainly did!”

“Nothing you can prove in court, bubbeleh,” Taako says, and ruffles Angus’s hair. “You trip on the stage and I’m disowning you.”

“You’re not my legal guardian, sir. There’s nothing for you to disown.”

Taako places a hand on his chest. “As your uncle I am deeply wounded.”

“You’re full of horseshit, sir. Hello, Mr. Kravitz.”

“Hello, Angus,” Kravitz says. “Enjoying the celebration?”

“Very much so! Except I know it’s not a celebration because this is a bar and bars are for people over 21 years old, which I am not. Also I found the receipt for my cake in the trash can because Magnus forgot to take it out so I know there’s a real party for little boys tomorrow. Probably at your house.” Angus hops up on the seat next to him and peers at his drink. “Merle’s paying for those, isn’t he?”

“You’re an awful little boy, Agnes.”

“I learned from the best, sir.”

“Do at least act surprised,” Kravitz asks. “Magnus and Julia are very excited. They tell us you’ve never had a surprise birthday party before.”

“I think here is where I should say that that’s only because I’m too smart for people to pull surprises on me, but we both know that’s not true.” Kravitz’s heart twinges sympathetically — Angus’s grandfather could kindly be called distant, and the orphanage was understaffed at the best of times. “Anyway, I’m really looking forward to it! I think Julia is getting me a recording device that I can wear in my ear for whenever I need to be a sneaky little boy, and I’m pretty sure Magnus is getting me a duck.”

“Who knows, bubbeleh, this could be the year he gets you something else.”

“Oh no, it’s fine, I love them. I’ll add it to my collection. He gave my last one a little spyglass to look like me.” Angus pats Kravitz’s shoulder and hops down from the bench. “I’ll see you both tomorrow, I think. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mr. Kravitz!”

“What about me?” Taako calls after Angus’s retreating back, then slumps back on the bench, looking distinctly miffed. Kravitz doesn’t bother muffling his chuckles in his sleeve.

“You’ve been thoroughly outwitted by a twelve year old boy.”

“You mean we have,” Taako snarks. “Joint planning effort, my dude.”

“You just sniped at Magnus and Jules until they let you cater.”

“I will not have my magic boy eating third-rate catering for his graduation party,” Taako sniffs. “That’s a disgrace to the Taako name.”

“They’re professionals, Taako. You’re not out of culinary school yet.”

“Yet I could cook any one of their asses under the table.”

Kravitz laughs, then clears his throat as it begins to itch. “I’m still waiting to see you cook off with Gordon Ramsay, you know.”

“Oh?” Taako cocks an eyebrow at him. “Who would your money be on, then?”

“If I didn’t care about winning? You.”

Taako yelps indignantly at him, sending him into further fits of laughter that break into coughs. The coughs don’t stop, and don’t stop, and his throat begins to prickle, tracing a line of embers up his throat.

He stumbles out from the table, waving off Taako’s worried inquiries, and hurries to the bathroom, one hand stuffed over his mouth. Gods, these fits always pick the least convenient times — thankfully he’s not often with Taako for one of these, but when he is, he always has to think on his feet to explain why he’s taking off in such a hurry. He’d never appreciated improv classes more than that moment in junior year when he’d sprinted out of a chemistry test to retch petals into his palm.

He locks himself in a stall and doubles over, stomach cramping. His frame shakes with coughs, as he struggles to tear a path through the bristling flowers rooted in his windpipe.

A lull, a thin opening and he slumps against the wall of the stall, spent. He tries to swallow and convulses, retching.

“Kravitz?”

Kravitz tries to warn him away and and regrets it immediately, on his knees as petals spill from his mouth, tickling along the top of his mouth and cutting at his lips. He clamps both hands over his mouth, trying to muffle the sound of his own choking and failing. He’s shaking already, and distantly fear grips him; it’s never been this bad before, he can count the petals in the dozens when in the beginning there was only one, a single fluttering petal he could catch in his hand before anyone saw, but this —

Footsteps approach his stall. “Krav, you okay?”

Panic lurches sharp in his stomach. “Fine — ” he gasps, fighting for air. “‘m fine — pneumonia — ”

“Again?” Taako asks, a touch of sympathy in his voice. Ten years ago Kravitz wouldn’t have recognized it but he does now, the sympathetic pain in his voice. He’d thought Taako unfeeling, back in junior high. “Jeez, Krav, your immune system’s really fucking you over, it’s been, what, three years now?”

“Just about,” he says, words catching painfully in his throat.

“Need anything?”

“Water,” he rasps, because he will, soon.

“Okay. Be right back.”

The door opens, and shuts, and Kravitz inhales carefully. When the petals stay stagnant, no tickling itch in his windpipe, he sits back against the stall, eyes fluttering closed. He needs to gather this up, all the petals, in the pocket he sewed just for this, but first he just — he needs a moment. His head is spinning and his heartbeat is pounding in his ears, but he narrows his focus to the slow drag of breath in his throat — in and out, in and out, a tempo of his own making, unravelled by his own heart.

He scrubs his mouth with the back of one shaking hand, sighs when it comes away streaked thinly with blood. He’s too drained for proper swearing.

Kravitz gathers the petals as best he can, careful not to miss any — doubtless the bar wouldn’t appreciate stumbling upon an explosion of petals — and tucks them in the inside pocket of his jacket just as the bathroom door opens again.

“Still in here?”

“Yeah,” Kravitz says and, patting his pocket to ensure the petals are securely out of sight, steps from the stall.

“You look like hell,” Taako says, and hands him a cup of water. “Shouldn’t you be, I dunno, takin’ meds for that or something?”

“Already am.” Kravitz knocks it all back in one go, eyes slipping shut at the relief in his throat. “Thanks.”

Taako takes the cup back, looking not quite at Kravitz’s eyes but down, at his lips. Kravitz has dreamed about this, granted, but under much different circumstances. “You’re shaking,” he says.

“Vomiting blood isn’t easy, you know,” Kravitz grins wryly. He tries to take a step forward and sways, head spinning. He braces himself on the sink. “Sorry, just give me a second — ”

“Here.” Taako slips an arm beneath his shoulder and tugs Kravitz close to him. “And don’t apologize for that, you idiot.”

The two of them slide back into their seats, their margaritas untouched where they were sitting. Kravitz sinks back into the cushions gratefully, letting his head fall back against the seat.

For a few moments there’s blissful silence. When Kravitz opens his eyes again he sees Taako watching him, a near-invisible note of concern in his gaze.

“Taako, I’m fine.”

Taako snorts, and the tension between them snaps. “Like hell you are.” He slides Kravitz’s drink closer to him. “You wanna go home?”

“No,” Kravitz says truthfully. “I can manage at least another hour, I think.”

Taako studies him for a beat, then shakes his head. “Lightweight. You always did knock out early.”

“Did not!”

“You absolutely did too, my man, do not give me that horseshit. You went to bed every night at eleven in freshman year.”

Kravitz pouts. “I was a freshman.”

“Yeah, but you were still you,” Taako says, and prods his chest. “Nerd.”

Maybe in a different world he’d take Taako’s hand, kiss the back of it. It’d make Taako laugh and splutter and turn him red all the way up to the tips of his ears.

Instead, here, in this world, Kravitz lets Taako’s finger fall from his chest — right above his heartbeat — without a word. And instead of a hundred other things, a would you like to get dinner with me tomorrow? or what time will you be home? or simply, I love you, Kravitz smiles and says, “Guilty as charged.”

They pass the next hour easily. It’s so easy to talk to Taako, and always has been, for Kravitz. The right questions and sympathy are rewarded with startlingly honest answers. Small things, like how his aunt’s roast turkey takes five hours to prepare and he’d made it for Lup, the day before her wedding, and complained to Kravitz the whole time because there was nothing for him to but sit and turn the roast; but big things too, like how neither Taako nor Lup can sleep in the dark, how they always curl back-to-back while napping, like how his gap teeth shine when he smiles and despite appearances he would do anything for the small family he’s crafted right in the heart of the city.

A few minutes before one he calls an Uber, and Taako walks him out into the brisk autumn evening. Taako’s face is the last he sees as he pulls away from the bar.

#hanahaki #taakitz #taako #kravitz #taz #tags to be added in later parts

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rockford-rp · 5 years ago

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Chace Alvarez is a 25 year old who lives in West Rockford, and is a barista and bartender at Intermezzo.

Date of birth: March 24th

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Bisexual

Biography:

trigger warnings: – death, alcohol

He could still hear his mother’s laugh echoing around the halls of the empty home, the sound bringing about a warmth the three Alvarez men were still struggling to find years after the woman passed. Complications during child labor, the doctors said; the guilt weighing heavily on his brother’s shoulders. If they could have only saved her instead, maybe his family would be better off. It was something Chace tried to reassure against, but the tension lingered between his father and the younger Alvarez son, spoken once when the older gentleman had sipped too much whiskey one evening on the anniversary of the woman’s death before bursting into tears straight after. They weren’t quite the same after that. The years leading up to the eventual fallout were spent with Chace having to coparent; babysitting little Nicki when they came home from school, helping him with his homework, cutting off the crust to his sandwiches. He would teach the boy how to read, to drive, how to navigate college applications and the ways to plan a perfect first date. He filled his father’s role as the other man worked tirelessly, picking up extra hours in a vain attempt to provide for his boys. They didn’t have much, but they were happy with what they had—a roof over their heads, food in their bellies, and each other.

It had been ten years to date the evening his father came stumbling through the door, the scent of alcohol still lingering on his clothes. The boys had been in the kitchen baking, putting the final touches on Nicholas’ birthday cake when they’d heard their father come in. He wasn’t angry, not at first, simply tired, quiet, retreating to his chair in front of the television, letting the laugh track drown out his sorrows. He’d skipped the birthday festivities. The cake untouched on the kitchen counter as the boys sat with their old man, watching old movies until their eyes couldn’t stay open for much longer. Half asleep they heard it, the quiet confession as their dad mumbled “she should’ve been here, she should’ve been the one to make it.” Chace had cracked an eye open, turning to look at his brother’s expression. Praying he’d been asleep when the man had said it. But found him looking back at him. The family ate cake for breakfast the following morning, pretending the previous night hadn’t happened.

The days after became his new normal. He continued to contribute to his family, physically, financially, the behavior becoming more substantial as he got older. At the age of sixteen, he began working as a barista at the local café; his earnings directly going to his family. At eighteen, he was offered a scholarship to attend university but he continued working, sending his paychecks to his father bimonthly. He kept very little for himself, finding it more important to keep the family going than spend it on items he didn’t need. And now he’s grown into becoming a bartender, spending his mornings in class and nights mixing drinks. He can often be found reading or studying on one of the stools or in the back room while on his break or during a slow day, needing to maintain his grades to keep the scholarship money. Chace aims to be a professor someday, aware that the salary wouldn’t be anything to boast about, but knowing that he’d made it this far with little earnings and could do so in the future if it meant getting to do what he loved.

Personality:

Charismatic would be the first word to describe Chace. He’s the man who writes a compliment on the napkin handed with your drink. The one who hops over the bar to open the door for someone, often spotted reciting Shakespeare to various customers. He goes the extra mile to show kindness, usually mistaken for being flirty with behavior he deems common courtesy. Generous would be the second; always willing to spare what little time or money he does have to help someone else. Capable being the third, rising to any occasion to take on a difficult task. He’s capable of bringing about a smile on the most difficult of customers, of earning good grades with minimal amounts of sleep, and keeping his family afloat despite the underlying tension between the three men of his family. He prides himself on being a good listener and notices more than what others give him credit for, easily remembering the little things about people he sees regularly—their names, orders, any information they had managed to divulge in their short exchange. It’s these qualities that have helped him through his personal and professional life, making him a fun but competent employee and dutiful student.

#chace alvarez #west rockford #intermezzo #male character #all

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isakwon · 7 years ago

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I’ll Cover You

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2k

Inspiration: RENT

A/N: *not so excited tone* My Internet went out! Very very sorry for the late notif guys. This was meant to be a Valentine’s Gift for ya’ll but I really cared so much about my fics, I spent more time making them better for you.I also made this for JHope in time for his mixtape (they are so catchy) I hope you guys enjoy! Happy belated Valentine’s Day! <3

The first time Hoseok saw you, his first impression on you wasn’t ‘cute’, it wasn’t ‘beauty’ or anything like that.The way he was able to see you was only from the outside perspective.

He thought you were quiet, gloomy, awkward, alone, sometimes you looked mad all the time and you barely ever said a word unless you knew the answer to a question.

After graduating from University, your first job was at a retail shop which was where you met Namjoon as a fellow employee. One day he invited you to hang out with him for a friend’s early birthday party after work, offering a ride. As soon as we arrived, you were introduced to his six friends whom were all quite handsome by looking at them while shaking their hands.

It didn’t take long before you caught Hoseok’s eye again.

Your hair was pulled back in a ponytail helping your shape and eyes show more. He thought you looked beautiful.

You had never been surrounded by a group of people, much less a group of men, they could tell how close you were to start trembling. You only spent limited hours talking to each other, but they seemed to be enough. Enough to change Hoseok’s mind about you. It was that night he discovered some sort of strong connection towards you.

That new perspective goes from gloomy and scary to sweet, funny, feisty, charismatic, adorable and even stubborn yet had a great sense of humor. You actually enjoyed his sarcastic jokes.

The same had been said upon ‘adorable’ when his double layered cake arrived and when cameras lens were on him, he lightly picked the platter up and smiled up. His smile was like the sun showed up in the restaurant in surprise. When he started moving his shoulders side to side you let out a chuckle.

“My charms don’t fade regardless.” He said. “Tell me when was the last time you’ve seen someone this handsome so happy about it while grooving side to side?”

Amused, you rolled your eyes upwards as your cheekbones rose up with them, releasing a chuckle.

“You’re the first.”

The first time you saw Hoseok, you didn’t think that much of him. Jeon Jungkook, however, certainly had your interest by the minute he appeared.

It lowered Hoseok guard knowing you were attracted to Jungkook more. He was often used as a passageway for other girls just to get hooked with his friends in the past, but you never asked him for a hookup or brought Jungkook randomly into a conversation with him for months. That’s how he knew you have a humble heart.

“Hey Kookie, how do you feel about Y/N?” Hoseok asked.

Jungkook fixes his posture in his seat his upper body and knees pointed towards him. “She’s great man, I love her. I think she’s very genuine person. Her laugh is great too.”

You hopped out of the shower when you heard a ringing sound one night as soon as you returned from a shower. He was calling me, yet it was strange because you don’t recall ever giving him your number.

That night Jungkook ended the call wishing “good dreams” and calling you ‘cutie’.

You let out silent huffing over his flirty comment while grinning through the phone. A second before the call ended you did small victory jumps and went to sleep with goosebumps.

Despite the numerous dates with Jungkook and the occasional flirting, you never became a couple.

You have kissed once or twice maybe even three times but out of endearment nothing was very special about them, not romantically or sexually.

When Kook began asking for your permission to kiss, the spark of interest was no longer around. Eventually friendzoning each other became the better option.

During seven years of being close friends, You became a nurse in training and the guys became international superstars, proving their fame from South Korea to the states and dominating every single hearts of their fan base which they called “ARMY”.

Valentines Day was tomorrow, and the Doctors thought it’d be a good idea to have an employee appreciation party. They called the event a potluck although it was just an excuse to have a holiday party despite refusing the name. Either way, it included free hour-long break with favored free pastries and soda.

“So how many brownies are we talking?”

Hoseok pulls the shopping cart forward on the side while you push. “About thirty to fifty…”

He widened his eyes.

“Whoa whoa, that’s three classrooms. Are you baking for the entire building?”

“There’s literally forty of us on our floor including our bosses. I’m also making some for the guys.” You chuckle as you speak.

The day before-as was today-you received a text message in a group chat, Jimin surprisingly reserved a table at a Latino restaurant for a little friendly date together as a group. Why wouldn’t you get them anything?

“You’re out of your mind.” You giggle at the back of Hoseok’s head as he continues on pulling the cart.

Considering how focused on the shopping list you wrote, you compromised getting anything for self-satisfaction; and his thirty-five dollars worth of festive mugs. You two were so indulged buying so much stuff for yourselves, you forgot about the amount of work that’d be put into baking.

Sleeves of plastic bags dangle on your arms wrapping themselves tighter around your wrists. Your apartment room was only on the second floor, but they were hurting anyway. You stumbled your feet upon the gravel steps drumming in mismatched rhythm already waiting for Hobi at your apartment door.

Hoseok tucked his bottom lip. “So, Y/N what are your plans for tomorrow?”

You punch the code quickly because you swear someone was about to lose an arm at any moment.

“Mm nothing much really, I’m actually going to see Namjoon for a little.”

Namjoon had known Y/N before any of them. He is such a charming person and a great friend. He could swoon her with his killer dimple and his puff cheeks. Attractive. He was also a gentleman, oozed with such charisma and surprisingly responsible despite accidentally breaking everything.

Her and Joonie were like puzzle pieces that would fit together. They would be great together, they were polar opposite friends and polar opposites attract. Hoseok held the door open with his foot before using it to close after you. You turn on every light switch you passed.

“What about you? Are you doing anything tomorrow before dinner?” He asks.

“Oh um…I think I’ll just sit on the couch, eat more junk food than anticipated and watch a movie.”

He wore a denim apron you owned that pretty much looked better on him. Any facial features similar to Jung Hoseok, or any of the boys, could make any clothing look good.

“So here we go, let’s start baking.” Hobi snaps his fingers before turning them into firing pistols. The weird gesture manages a laugh out of you. You opened half of the shopping bags, pulling out baking ingredients and already opened decorating candy bags which you and Hobi shamefully snacked on on the way back. You scold yourselves for unable to control the sugary urge. Luckily, theres still enough fudge to make at least two batches. Hoseok grabs the eggs and raspberries to rinse them inside a bowl. “Hold on, did you wash your hands?” .

“Uh Yes I washed my hands, didn’t we just washed them together?”

“Yeah but I don’t know what you did after that.”

Aside from candies that are pre-open, you take out the flour and oils and you’re having trouble opening a sack of sugar fidgeting at the seal with finger tips as you cursed the bag, Hobi offers help. “This is when the world needs men.”

He laughs until he himself now struggles with the seal. Slight laughs break the momentary silence and he shrugs the gaze towards him. All that talk and Karma plays quickly. You e settles in for using scissors instead.

If ever invited on a cooking show, you and Hoseok would be edited out. Way too many puns and cracks were made every half hour seemingly the task was less work and more play. On the counter, there was a salt shaker which Hobi poured some salt on his hand then threw it over his shoulder and started yelling “Banish Satan!” at absolutely nothing behind him. The sink was halfway filled with dishes with dirty brown and pink water full up to the rim of the batter, spoons, baking pans that ended up too small, whisks with chunks of powder stuck at the base atop.

Including an electric whisk Hoseok tried using but automatically stopped working in the middle of mixing that led to taking turns at the mixing.

The baking pans were coated with spray butter and filled with chocolate batter neither of you had touched. Hands moved throughout most of the night, all that was left was decorating them. Hoseok and you already felt irritating knots in his biceps.

The oven was done preheating to the proper temperature and fudge pans were ready for baking. “I’ll put them in Y/N.” Hobi says, looking through cabinet drawers. “Where are the mittens?”

“No, no Hobi I got it.” You already held both pans and gently inserted them on the top rack. You didn’t know where your oven mitts were and you immediately jacked your hands away from the oven, sucking air through your teeth, causing Hoseok’s head to whip towards you.

“Are you okay? You burned yourself didn’t you?”

The stings from accidental burns from the oven or a flat iron fade away, you were burned so bad your holding onto the base of your wrist. “It’s okay, it was just quick.”

He shook his head. “It’s super red Y/N, lemme see.”

“Ouch! Careful”, You inhale sharply again.

“Sorry sorry,” he immediately lifts his fingers above your palm. The only times hands were held were during your childhood or if a child at the hospital liked you. Hoseok held you by the fingers and elbow to the sink turning the tap on. As water falls over the area where the oven light burned and Hobi remains on the spot siding with the sink. You stare at the water seeping through your flesh.

“You know Y/N, Valentines is tomorrow, and so I was wondering…” His presses his lips. “…Could you be my wife?”

You stopped moving and froze, staring at Hoseok . Your feet are glued down onto the floor, eyelids are adjusted leveling the brows upwards and trapping the oxygen in your throat as he keeps his eyes on you, waiting for an answer.

“Hobi, you do know what you just asked me?”

Since you two officially started talking, all you ever thought about Hoseok as a wonderful friend. Sometimes when he was out of the room, Yoongi insisted Hoseok was throwing hints of interest at you, which always went ignored. You considered other girls better for Hobi.

When Yoongi walked in on you two hanging out, he’d poke fun at Hoseok with the similar questions asking if you look better than the days before. It made your eyes roll, you never thought yourself essential for dating at the moment either. Your lady friends participated the same way, but nothing made the suspicion of the obvious therefore all could be seen as a relationship of friends. This sudden proposal had to have a trick up the sleeve.

“I went back and forth when it came to asking you, and I just would like for you to agree. This marriage will only last until tomorrow afternoon. A lady friend of mine is relentlessly setting me up on blind dates which you know, I don’t really like. But she’s just non-stop over having a significant other, she’s too worried about me.”

“Have you told her about me being your wife?” You remark the word quotedly.

“She doesn’t have a clue, all she knows that I’m supposedly married and she set us up a ‘get together’ so she can meet her, see that I am capable of finding my own girl. Also, you were the first girl, I thought of asking.”

He looks concerned, still waiting for you to say something. Staring back towards him, while thinking how to turn away from his plead, until you catch the reflection of the light bulb in the orbs of his brown eyes. You are getting lost with how deep they are. Like you’ve never seen such eyes. As if you never saw them before but maybe now that you were closer, paying attention. You mentally shook yourself out of thoughts, getting flustered.

Once he turns the water tab off, the oven alarm blazes around the kitchen, meaning the brownies are done.

…

You miraculously made a lot more brownies than expected. You still had a beautiful looking array of wrapped brownies with extras for the boys in a box ready to frost. With butter knives, you two take dabs of frosting, spreading them neatly making sure to stop the stuff from dripping off the edges. Hoseok yearns a brownie to you getting engulfed in your mouth.

By the end, preparation for potluck results in an array of fudge brownies topped with frosting, wrapped in clear plastic bags tied with some rope strings he recommended.

“I really need you for this.” He said. “ All we gotta do act like we were in love, like we just got engaged, and once she leaves it will all be over.”

Since he helped you make five dozens of brownies for your potluck, the least you could do to show gratitude now is having to help him with sharing a ‘date’.

You nod politely.

Relief waves over Hoseok thanking you multiple times and mentioning what a good friend you are. But the day just couldn’t go on without another joke could it? “Hey Y/N…”

“Mm?” As you turn from the garbage can to give Hoseok your attention, snorting some incredibly bland, dry flaky substance out of your nose.

This guy literally just tossed cocoa powder on you. He was laughing hard by himself, holding onto his stomach until he starts spitting flour out of his mouth. Now it was just you giggling at his messy image spitting baking flour out. It made you laugh even more when he started sneezing white clouds out his nostrils.

The morning after, you readied yourself for the pretend date, staying very casual, wearing light makeup. Hoseok wears his hunter green coat with a furry outlined hood you gifted to him for his birthday last year. His black hair stood up in a wave, showing his forehead

“Have you always looked like this?” The whisper was louder than intended.

Hoseok turns back to you, raising his eyebrows in question. You rapidly shook your head before turning away, hands digging deeper into your pockets. That lady friend was running late-she was supposed to arrive first and twenty minutes had already passed. Hobi sighs making you look at him again.

“She’s running late.”

“She’ll be here soon. Wait a minute.”

Hoseok suddenly becomes close when he rests his hand on the back your neck as you turn to him, his fingers ghosting over your skin. “The tag on your shirt was out.”

He was centimeters close, you lower the eye contact away suddenly feeling your cheeks get warm while forcibly puckering your lips to the side to keep an oncoming grin. Hobi is still pretty close to you, how long does it take to fix simple shirt tags?

You slowly lift your eyes up at him to find him gazing at you. You lower your eyelids down again preventing an oncoming grin. A flattering emotion hits a spot in your chest, Hoseok backs away, giggling while you both continue to stand in front of the entrance.

As chilly the air was, surely it couldn’t get worse. Wind starts coming harder, blowing strands of hair on you behind your ears.

The burn on your cheekbones turn them pink then your teeth automatically begin to chatter and you turn to Hoseok. His cheeks are blush pink and his nose had been bitten by the air. You tucked deeper into your pockets while exhaling misty clouds, smiling.

“It’s cold.”

Hoseok’s smirk extends into his sun ray smile.

“Come on.”

To Be Continued!

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boredout305 · 7 years ago

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Gerard Cosloy Interview, Part Two

Ryan: How were you first exposed to New Zealand music? When I think of early adopters to Flying Nun and Xpressway I think of Tom Lax.

Gerard: I’m not sure who the first person was. Around ’87 and ’88, I started hearing a lot of the Flying Nun stuff around New York. Patrick Amory, who is now one of my partners at Matador, likely turned me on to a lot of that stuff. Patrick did the Too Fun Too Huge zine back in the ‘80s. Patrick managed the band Sorry. For a long time, Patrick was the music director at WHRB in Cambridge. Some of Patrick’s predecessors at WHRB, Jim Barber and Geoff Weiss—they may have been some of the earliest guys to start playing those records on the radio. College radio in the Boston area, WMBR and WHRB, were big proponents of Flying Nun. Venus Records in New York started importing Flying Nun records. That was one of the first places I saw The Chills, Verlaines and Clean albums for sale. I remember Venus Records even had a New Zealand bin. Venus was on 8th Street and 6th Avenue. They were getting them before everyone else. Very few people knew about those records then in the United States It was revelatory. I started writing Roger Shepherd after that: “How do we get more of these records?”

Ryan: Matador Direct carried records from a lot of amazing labels including Flying Nun. The roster was really exceptional. Nevertheless, I know that for some labels, like Siltbreeze, the relationship didn’t pan out well.

Gerard: Yep. We were buying a lot of really good records from third-party vendors. I wish we were still doing stuff like that. It was a lot of fun. There were things about it that were not sustainable. We were doing manufacturing and distribution for a number of independent labels. That was a disaster for us and it was certainly a disaster for them. The fact that those episodes didn’t put those labels out of business is a testament to how smart and dedicated those people are.

Ryan: Jumping back to 12XU, I realize End of an Ear had put out a Stick Men with Ray Guns album previously. But how did the two live records (1,000 Lives to Die and Property of Jesus Christ) you released in 2016 come about?

Gerard: It was all thanks to Uber. I would personally like to thank that guy Travis (Kalanick), the head guy at Uber—whose company condoned sexual harassment of female employees; the same guy who’d harass his employees for asking for health insurance. Travis, you’re responsible for bringing Bobby Soxx’s misanthropic visions back to the world.

About two and a half years ago, I called an Uber. I’d now like to apologize for that. Anyhow, this guy comes by and picks me up. He says, “Oh, yeah, we know some of the same people. I’m Jack Control.” And Jack—who sings for the band Butcher and has been in a lot of great bands over the years—he’s an excellent producer and mastering engineer. Jack happens to be my Uber driver. We’re talking. Jack says, “Hey, I have a few Stick Men with Ray Guns live recordings. Would you be interested in hearing them?” I told him, “Oh, yeah. I’d be very interested in hearing them.” So that’s how that happened. Jack got me in touch with the band’s guitarist, Bobby Beeman. We worked out a deal. That wouldn’t have happened without Jack. That was a situation where you totally lucked into something.

Ryan: You’ve been uncomfortable with 12XU being categorized as an Austin label.

Gerard: It’s a double-edged sword. On one hand, I do love living in Austin. And I can’t deny that there are a lot of Austin musicians on the label. It would be ridiculous for me to say, “Oh, the label has nothing to do with Austin.” I guess the problem I have with it is twofold. One, I don’t think the rest of the world takes Austin that seriously. So much bad, commercial, mediocre, KUTX-type music comes out of the city that people don’t take it seriously as a source of meaningful music. Two, I think when it comes to underground music—be it punk, hardcore or experimental—people outside of the city think there’s a ceiling on how good it can be because it’s from Austin. They think, “Well, if they’re any good why aren’t they in New York or Los Angeles? Well, when they’re serious they’ll move to Brooklyn.” That enrages me. Obviously, I’m biased. But you can’t tell me that Downtown Boys are a more serious band than The Gospel Truth. They’re not. But the idea that they’re connected, that they have an agent and are based in a different region gives them a running head start—that doesn’t work for me. I mean, there’s probably some resentment on my part. But there’s also a lot of bands on the label who aren’t from Austin. I’ve put out records by artists from Canada, Australia and New Zealand. Having 12XU identified as an Austin label—I’m not a cheerleader for Austin. I’m a friend and champion to the bands I think are good. They’re not good because they’re from Austin. Sometimes they’re good in spite of the fact they’re from Austin.

Ryan: At least once, someone locally has asked me to put out their record and I didn’t have the resources to do it. A short time later their album appeared on 12XU. There have always been a few good labels who will pick up records that otherwise would have fallen through the cracks. It was a different business model, but Homestead was like that too.

Gerard: It’s was different world then. In the early days of Homestead, there was the mentality that, “If we don’t put this out, nobody else will.” That surely informed the early creative choices at Matador, and it has informed a lot of the choices at 12XU. If there’s a band that has five labels chasing them, they really don’t need me. I’m probably the worst person they can talk to.

Ryan: Oh, no. I’m a few rungs below you. It gets worse. (laughs)

Gerard: Yeah, yeah. (laughs) I want to work with people who I enjoy being around and have a similar vision. If it’s a band that says to me, “Oh, we’re talking with Modern Outsider and Richard Lynn.” My response is, “Well, enjoy your conversations, guys. That has nothing to do with me.” I don’t need lawyers and managers. I put out records by bands I can work with directly. I’m not interested in people who are “auditioning” for labels or are being courted by them. 12XU is not part of that universe and it never will be. Good luck to the people who do that. I hope they’re very successful. That’s not for me. I’m not being disingenuous. It’s not like I’m not trying with 12XU. I’m trying to do something in a different way.

Ryan: It says something about your commitment to the label that while still a co-owner of Matador, you’re regularly at the post office getting 12XU’s mail order out promptly.

Gerard: I buy a lot of records. I always appreciate it when people send me stuff promptly. I also like ordering direct from labels so the money goes directly to them. I’m not going to tell you that I enjoy having stacks of boxes at my house. I don’t have any assistants with 12XU.

Ryan: It seems to me that the indefatigable drive that a lot of these smaller labels have has really kept a lot of things moving. How many years has Gabriele Di Gregorio kept Goodbye Boozy going now? It’s pretty incredible considering how difficult it is to simply get records made nowadays.

Gerard: Yeah. It can be very discouraging. It’s hard to get records manufactured. It’s hard to get them in stores. When you get paid, the margins are so razor thin. For 7”s there are no margins at all.

Ryan: I wholesale them at cost. Occasionally, it’s been ten cents below cost.

Gerard: Yeah. For LPs, the margins are very thin. The only place where there are serious margins is in download sales. And the market for download sales is completely in the toilet thanks to our good friends in the streaming world. Although streaming is the future and everyone loves its convenience, being able to press a button and have all the music in the world at your fingertips—which in reality isn’t all the music in the world—the economics of that is potentially lucrative because there’s no inventory. But until you’re in that hundreds of thousands of plays range the revenues are so pitiful. It doesn’t even cover your costs for getting the music on the service. We’re seeing this thing right now with the big labels pumping out the hits—Sony, Universal and maybe even Matador—that streaming could be a lifeline: “Hey, there’s potential light at the end of this tunnel. We’re going to be okay.” The problem is—what happens to all the small labels and weird bands and record stores that are being supplanted by streaming? What happens to college radio stations whose licenses are sold to Muzak stations? You get rid of all those things—small record stores, small record labels, college radio stations, fanzines, the weekly newspapers—where’s your so-called incubator? Where is your next fantastic artist of the month coming from? I think it’s a fallacy—this notion that, “Hey, it’ll happen on Bandcamp or SoundCloud.” And there are some good bands coming out of that universe. But the notion that, “Oh, just put that song on BandCamp and everything will be fine.” It’s not that simple. There’s one-seventh the amount of record stores in existence currently and their buying habits are much more conservative. It’s much more of an uphill battle.

Ryan: There could also be conceivable issues with archiving. What happens when SoundCloud goes away? Unlike owning a physical format that’s gone into hundreds of hands, there’s a chance a lot of the music on the site will disappear with it.

Gerard: Yeah, what happens when SoundCloud goes away? And it will go away. Where will that stuff go? Where’s it backed up? That’s a very good point. The fact that some kid in the Midwest can be sitting in front of his computer, listening to some insane, hip-hop, drone guitar piece that was done in West Africa and recorded on a cellphone—there’s no gatekeeper there. That’s cool. I’m not going to say it’s punk rock. We’re always seeing things through this prism of punk rock and DIY culture. It’s very limiting. The next cool thing to excite us will likely not remind us of 1975 or 1967 or 1991. That’s the way the world works. It’s constantly changing. And we can either change with it or sit around and bitch and moan. But that experience that I’m talking about—“I stumbled across this and it’s amazing”—that doesn’t happen so often anymore. Now what we’re getting is the PR thing you were talking about. So much of the online content you see, on sites both big and small, the gatekeeper is now the PR person. Spotify is the single most powerful way for people to discover music now. But access to Spotify is limited. Small labels can’t deal with them directly. They need to go through a middleman who takes a cut. Spotify’s playlists—I mean, who needs DJs and rock journalists now that we have playlists.

Ryan: Right. So many radio stations aren’t even manned nowadays.

Gerard: Yeah. The thing with these playlists, they’re not being programmed by music fans. Spotify is programming their playlists by meetings they’ve had with labels’ marketing departments. It’s just another version of commercial radio. It might even be tighter and more limiting than commercial radio’s programming. But now there won’t be community radio to compete with them. The whole experience of listening to KALX, WHRB or WFMU and having your mind blown, or having a record clerk force you to listen to a record that opens up new doors—that’s not going to happen. It may sound old fashioned, like an older person bemoaning the passing of the manual typewriter. But that stuff was cool because it was human. I get worked up over it because a lot of the best friendships in my life came across in situations where I was surrounded by kooks and creeps in record stores and weirdos with late-night radio programs. By people who put on their own gigs and put out their own records. Of course, men and women of all background. You get rid of all this—music gets controlled by a larger entity than I think people recognize. It’s dangerous.

Ryan: On a more optimistic note, what do you have coming out on 12XU? And before I forget, I want to mention that the recent Gary Wrong double LP collection you released was excellent.

Gerard: Oh, thank you. Chad (Booth) is one of the great figures of underground music. I wish he was better recognized and put one of his bands on the road for seven months. He’d just destroy everyone. Whether it was the Gary Wrong Group or Wizzard Sleeve—he’s one of the best. To my mind, he’s a real evil visionary. Whatever he does next will be killer for sure. Next up is a 7” collaboration between Spray Paint and Ben Mackie who is in Cuntz. That should be out in a couple of weeks. The Golden Boys will have a new LP out in October. They recorded it with Stuart Sikes. It’s their first album in five years. Early next year we’ll have a record by Charnel Grounds which is a collaboration between Kid Millions of Oneida, Chris Brokaw and James McNew of Yo La Tengo. There’s a new Unholy Two album that’s getting finished. And a single from Austin band Missing Pages will be out, featuring Steve Svacina formerly of Sweet Talk.

Ryan: I wanted to ask you a couple more questions. Did you ever have any in-depth conversations with GG (Allin)?

Gerard: Yes. I think I played three shows with GG. I recorded an album (You Give Love a Band Name, 1987) with him. I spent a substantial amount of time in his company. While fully acknowledging GG’s many faults—he did do a lot of nasty things to people—he was a somewhat complicated person. I don’t want to speak ill of the dead; GG isn’t here to piss all over the lunch I’m eating. GG could be very, very funny, extremely lucid and even reasonable to hang out with. But there were other moments that were a little more unhinged. I think there were two things going on with him. He did a lot of drugs, which obviously affected him. GG also liked attention. There was a certain point where he really liked being egged on. People were going to shows wanting to see him be GG Allin. At that point, it began to lose a lot of appeal to me.

Ryan: That period where GG was going on Geraldo.

Gerard: Again, I know this sounds terrible because it appears as though I’m condoning violence against audience members. I’m not. I’m just saying that people who were going to GG’s shows thinking, “Oh, I hear he’s the rock ‘n’ roll wild man. It’s supposed to be the New York Dolls meets blah, blah, blah.” I mean, having a dude in a jock strap stand next to them, and then having him throw shit on them before getting the plug pulled after fifteen minutes—that’s kind of an amazing moment. I don’t want to see anybody get hurt. But there was something very funny about these folks who supposedly were into dangerous rock ‘n’ roll. “I like punk.” And they go to GG’s show and it’s a total disaster. That had some appeal to me. But when it switched to, “Oh, I want to go to the show because GG’s going to throw shit at somebody, or GG’s going to punch somebody in the face. I hope it ends in a riot.” And then when it doesn’t end in a riot, they’re disappointed—that’s when I began to lose interest. At that point, you might as well check out the Rolling Stones at your nearest stadium.

The other thing about GG, he wasn’t a phony. He wasn’t Perry Farrell or Marilyn Manon trying to get their shit into Hot Topic. GG owned it. He was a scared and messed up person, and he’d show you it on stage.

Ryan: I remember in Hated it’s mentioned that he showed up to high school in Vermont in the early ‘70s dressed up in drag. He wasn’t going to the Mercer to play to a bunch of Velvet Underground fans. That was pretty hardcore.

Gerard: Anybody at that time doing that in rural America, he was an absolute American original.

Ryan: And I’ll ask for the last time: when’s that Conflict anthology coming out?

Gerard: Never. It just wasn’t very good. There was some passable stuff in the last two years of the magazine. But the first few years were really, really bad. There were people who really liked the magazine and that’s flattering. But I don’t think it’s worth an anthology.

#12xu #gerard cosloy #conflict #gg allin #interviews #homestead records #chris brokaw

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leesungjongg · 5 years ago

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so here is my fic for anyone who wants to see it. thank u for liking my post, i appreciate it.

Basic summary: OT7, Fantasy, A world where magical beings rule - alternatively, a world where humans are at the bottom of the society. Totally looked down upon for not having magical powers. This is based off an AU my friend Sami made a long time ago, and when she showed me, I was inspired to create this. Thank you, Sami, for coming up with this phenomenal AU and allowing me to write something based off of it. <3

In this world, magic is universal. Mythical creatures exist, except they’re not called mythical creatures, they’re called neighbors, friends, and family. Elves, dragons, nymphs, unicorns, demons, anything anyone can even think of, including uncategorized beings, ones who haven’t been identified in this realm.

And of course, everyone in this world is born with a certain ability. Someone might have the ability to duplicate themselves, sense malicious forthcoming, or travel through different dimensions. That’s what Sunggyu can do.

He’s been to the human realm a few times before, just to see what it’s like. He can hop from different dimensions, and he’s been to over 340 of them so far. It takes up a lot of his energy though, so he does it whenever he has enough. That’s kind of the thing with magic - it’s a limited amount, and everyone has to recharge themselves after using it.

It’s also probably why no one really fights with magic anymore. It’s not worth wasting energy on someone else when you could use it for something useful. That’s what the Council of Elders have told Sunggyu, at least. He’s been getting skeptical of the Council lately. Some things just don’t add up.

As he’s thinking and walking across the cobbled streets, Sunggyu passes by a floating orb, which tells him there will be a talent show tomorrow night on the corner of Charmed and Dove. He’s never heard of Charmed and Dove, but he takes the orb and puts it in his coat pocket for later.

Just when Sunggyu is about to turn around and head back to a friend’s place, he sees a young boy, no older than 17, pushed out onto the street by the store owner. The owner has a boar’s head and patchy skin, with a bit of drool dripping down from his mouth.

“And stay out, you useless scum,” the ogre snarls. He slams the wooden door behind him, and even Sunggyu has a chill run down his spine. He knows never to mess with those types of ogres, especially after getting caught by one during his dimension hops.

When Sunggyu looks back at the boy, he seems to be hurt. Probably scraped his leg or twisted his ankle and fell. He’s gathering up his clothes to put into the suitcase the store owner threw at him.

Not knowing the situation, Sunggyu walks over to the boy, gently touching his shoulder. The boy flinches and then looks up at him.

Sunggyu pulls out a blue vial and hands it over to him.

“Oh, what- what is this?”

“It’s a healing potion. Take it, you look like you hurt yourself.”

“Ahh, thank you, but I can’t take that,” he says, nervously darting his eyes around. He goes back to picking up his clothes and stuffing it in his suitcase.

“Take it, I have plenty more I can make,” Sunggyu encourages him.

Before he knows it, he can hear the heavy breathing of the hog-headed creature behind him. “Don’t bother with him, sir. He’s a weakling,” he says in a gravelly voice. “A human.” He says the last word as if it’s the lowest, most despicable thing he’s ever said.

At that, the young boy flinches again, and this time, Sunggyu can see the little reddish purple marks scattered across his body.

“Did you do this?” Sunggyu says defensively, still looking over the boy’s bruises. Human or not, no one deserves to be punished for who they are.

“Trash like him deserve it,” the ogre scoffs. Sunggyu clenches his teeth and takes a good look at the creature behind him.

“If you mean to say that this is the behavior you have towards your employees, I’ll have to bring this issue up to the Council of Elders.” As Sunggyu says this, the ogre’s eyes widen and for a second, he looks completely dumbfounded. Everyone knows that Sunggyu has ties to the Council of Elders. It doesn’t mean he agrees with every word that comes out of their mouths, though. Then the ogre regains his composure.

“Why you-!” he snarls.

“Run,” Sunggyu tells the boy, and he grabs his hand and they sprint away from the hog-headed creature.

They duck into a nearby alleyway, and Sunggyu covers his cape over the young boy and himself and they find themselves on a different street. Sure, Sunggyu can dimension hop, but he can also hop to places in his own world. It’s more energy efficient, plus he’s lazy.

Sunggyu sighs in relief. They’re safe for now, thankfully. He uncovers his cape to tell the boy this, but he gets a punch up the nose instead. The boy runs away, but before he can turn the corner, he floats up into the air.

“Wait! Wai- wait,” Sunggyu gasps, clutching his nose and stomach. That kid sure is fast.

Around the corner comes Sungyeol, a mischievous fairy that Sunggyu also encountered during one of his dimension hops.

“You know,” Sunggyu says, waving his finger and trying to catch his breath, “you’re always here at the right time, Sungyeol. Have you been keeping tabs on me?”

“‘Course not, boss. I can just sense when you need my assistance. Which is like, everyday,” Sungyeol smirks.

“Don’t make me regret bringing you here,” Sunggyu warns, biting back a smile. He’ll never admit it, but he’s forever grateful for Sungyeol.

“Who’s the kid?” the fairy says, bringing their attention back to the human in midair.

“I don’t know his name. Let’s bring him down - but keep him at a distance,” Sunggyu says, rubbing his nose. “He packs a pretty hard punch.”

~~~~~~

Sungjong is the kid’s name. He’s 17, as Sunggyu suspected, and he’s trying to find jobs here and there just to make a living. He keeps his identity secret, which clearly doesn’t last long.

Sungjong is skinny. The last proper meal he had was when his mother made him chicken soup and left him on the streets, unable to care for him anymore. “It makes sense,” Sungjong reasons. “I mean, there’s not a lot of food here that I can eat anyway. I just made things harder for her.”

“Who was your mother?” Sungyeol asks, disbelief drawn all over his face. “Like shit, I know my parents weren’t that great, but who leaves their kid- ”

One glare from Sunggyu and Sungyeol shuts up immediately.

“So, how have you been surviving since then?”

Sungjong hesitates. “I just… have,” he says softly, looking down at his hands.

“So what can you eat?” Sungyeol asks. Sunggyu elbows him, and the fairy makes a face at him.

“Um… there’s a few things. Like carrots and strawberries. And chicken. Potatoes. And bread, I love bread.” There’s a hint of a smile on Sungjong’s face, but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared. “There’s not much to find around here though. Charmed and Dove is mostly where we get-” Sungjong stops, frozen. “I mean, where I get um. I get uh-”

“Charmed and Dove?” Sunggyu asks. It sounds familiar. Then he remembers the orb in his pocket. He takes it out, and holds it for Sungjong to see.

“You mean this place? They’re holding a talent show tomorrow night.”

The human’s eyes widen. “How did you get this? It’s only for the-” He covers his mouth with his hands.

He says something but it’s muffled, and Sungyeol doesn’t have the time for this, so he tugs Sungjong's hands down and onto the table. “Spit it out, already. Otherwise I’ll blast you up in the air again.”

Sungjong gulps.

“Promise you won’t hurt me and I’ll tell you,” Sungjong says. Sunggyu and Sungyeol both nod at him to continue.

Sungjong explains how there’s an underground organization of humans roaming around, and most of them stick together since, well, everybody hates them, so they only have each other to support and take care of. They occasionally meet up at Charmed and Dove to exchange goods and provide any type of new information about humans. They also have a talent show every few months where they perform on stage, which is concealed with Mist. No sound can come out or in, and any being who walks towards it forgets why they came there in the first place and backs away - which keeps the humans safe from harm.

“You won’t hurt them, though, right?” Sungjong asks, desperation lacing his voice. He looks at Sunggyu with his big, innocent bunny eyes. His trembling hands don’t go unnoticed. Sunggyu nods, and he sees the young one relax his shoulders the slightest bit.

“Hey, Sungyeol, can you see if we have any edible food for our guest? I’m sure he’s hungry,” Sunggyu says.

“Sure.” Sungyeol brings back a plate filled with food for Sungjong, and he starts eating it almost immediately after it’s set down on the table.

After a while, Sungjong falls asleep on the couch in Sunggyu’s living room.

“So… what do we do now, boss?”

Before Sunggyu can say anything, there’s a dinging sound and a screen pops up in the kitchen above the sink. A garbled voice comes out, and Sunggyu instantly winces.

“I forgot I was meeting up with Howon today,” he says, clicking his tongue. Howon could potentially kill Sunggyu for ditching him again today. He walks over to the screen and sees a wet haired naiad glaring at him with his dark blue eyes.

“Howon! It’s great to see you again!” Sungyeol crows, not making the situation any better. Sunggyu almost elbows him again but gets splashed through the screen. Oh, right. Sunggyu forgot Howon could do that.

“I can’t believe you flaked on me again, Sunggyu. This is the third time in a row already,” Howon huffs.

“Sorry! I got caught up with something so I couldn’t make it to our little date,” Sunggyu says, wiping his face with his sleeves. “Forgive me?”

“Do it one more time and I’ll send the sea urchins after you,” Howon glares. Then he furrows his brows a little. “Hey… is there someone with you?”

“Uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about, it’s just the two of us,” Sungyeol says, standing closer beside Sunggyu.

“I’m not a dumbass, Sungyeol, there’s someone clearly sleeping on your couch,” Howon scoffs. He comes through the screen, water dripping everywhere, and sloshes over to where Sungjong is lying down.

“Howon, don’t bother him, he’s sleeping,” Sunggyu says. He can’t touch Howon right now, otherwise he’ll make a huge puddle on his living room floor. This is Howon’s virtual version, Sunggyu’s learned. He can make video calls from where he lives and come right in through the screen, but if anyone even grazes him, he falls apart. Face to face, it could never happen though, and he’s more powerful that way, which is why Howon prefers to meet up in person.

“Who is he? I’ve never seen him before,” he garbles, tilting his head. He turns to Sunggyu. “What’s his power?”

Sunggyu hesitates. Sungyeol starts coughing and walks away.

“He… doesn’t have one, does he?” Sunggyu sighs, shaking his head. “You do realize you’re basically fu-”

“I know, I know… it’s just. This ogre pissed me off,” Sunggyu blurts out. Howon rolls his eyes, looking angry.

“Hey, both of you, come over here. I don’t want the kid to hear us,” Sungyeol says. They move over to the kitchen and speak in hushed voices.

“You’re not normally one to defy the Council of Elders, Sunggyu, what’s changed? Humans are practically worthless here, and you’ve never cared for them until now,” Howon whispers, an edge to his tone. Sunggyu purses his lips.

“And you,” Howon points a finger at Sungyeol, “you just follow his orders like a minion? Let the human stay here, for - for what? I thought fairies were solely concerned for their own well being?”

“Howon, stop it,” Sunggyu grits his teeth.

“Am I wrong? What’s going on with you two? You know harboring a human is illegal, right? Or do I have to read you the document again?”

“Why are you getting so worked up about this?” Sungyeol hisses. “It’s not your responsibility, if anything, it’s ours, and if we get in trouble, we get in trouble.”

“That’s why I’m worried! If you get in trouble, who knows what’ll happen to you both!” Even through Howon’s garbled voice, Sunggyu can hear the tension behind it.

“Look,” Sunggyu sighs, being careful not to touch Howon’s shoulder, “There’s an event going on tomorrow and we’re going to drop him off there and leave, okay?”

“We are?” Sungyeol asks.

“Yes. He’s most likely terrified being here with us, especially since we have powers and he doesn’t. I also don’t want to make him feel even more uncomfortable.”

“All right,” Howon says, crossing his arms. He looks back at the boy, and he feels the tiniest swirl around his heart. Turning back, he says, “I’ll be going then. Expect a jelly in a few minutes. I need to gather my thoughts.” He splashes back into the screen above the sink and disappears, turning off the call.

“What’s a jelly?” Sungyeol asks.

“Jellyfish. Like a text, but water nymph style,” Sunggyu replies.

Sure enough, in the next ten minutes or so, they both receive a jelly, saying, “I mean well. I apologize for getting upset earlier and for saying what I said. But, let’s just keep the humans at a distance. Please. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.

P.S. Sungyeol you owe me tokens for the arcade. I’m still waiting for the rematch with the mermaids who stole them from you.”

“You went to an arcade without me?” Sunggyu says, offended.

“You said you were busy! I thought that meant you were in a different universe!”

Sunggyu scoffs, “Wow… I can’t believe this.”

“You didn’t miss out on much, the tokens got stolen anyway,” Sungyeol groans, remembering those seductive mermaids.

“You deserved it,” Sunggyu pouts. “I wanted to play, too.”

“What a baby,” Sungyeol says, laughing. “I can’t believe you’re older than me!”

“Shut up,” Sunggyu pouted even more. Sungyeol gave him a hug.

“I’ll give you some more healing potions in exchange for your smile…” Sungyeol sings. Sunggyu rolls his eyes, but can’t help but grin just the slightest bit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We’re here,” Sungjong says, opening up a curtain of leaves. Inside, they can see a wooden stage with torches lit up around it. Round tables with white cloths on top of them are placed in front of the stage, with children giggling and chasing each other, weaving through them. There’s people chatting with each other at almost every table, and it seems like a family gathering rather than a talent show.

“Are you sure we can go here?” Sungyeol asks, practically hiding behind Sungjong.

“Come in and I’ll introduce you to one of my friends,” Sungjong says. “He’s kind of like you guys.”

He walks in and immediately the three of them are greeted by a number of people. Eventually, they make their way in to a table where two middle aged humans are sitting.

“Meet my quote unquote adoptive parents,” Sungjong introduces them. The woman is short and round, with a long black bob and a radiant smile. The man standing next to her is tall and straight, with some chin stubble and squinted eyes. The woman reaches out her hand first. Sunggyu takes it, his palms sweating from nervousness.

“Hi, I’m Mina. Nice to meet you…?”

“Ah, I’m Sunggyu,” he says, hoping his smile doesn’t come off too big. The man seems to be judging him, but Sunggyu can’t tell if he is, or if he’s just trying to make out Sunggyu’s face. He pulls out his small glasses and places it on the bridge of his nose.

“Jaehyun,” the man says, extending his hand. He has a faded tattoo on the inside of his wrist, a little symbol of some sort - Sunggyu can’t make it out. He takes his hand and shakes it.

“Nice to meet you, Jaehyun,” Sunggyu chuckles nervously. He has a strong grip, and Sunggyu really wants him to let go quickly so he can wipe his sweaty hands on his pants.

Sungyeol says his greetings as well, and Sunggyu can see him perspiring as he nods his head and smiles. At least he’s not the only one.

“JJONGIEEEEEE!” Someone yells. Sungjong turns around and finds one of his friends, and introduces him to Sunggyu and Sungyeol.

“Meet my friend, Dongwoo,” Sungjong smiles, eager to see him. “He’s actually going to be performing tonight.”

“Performing what?” Sungyeol asks. Sunggyu is honestly wondering the same thing. Ever since he heard that the talent show was for humans, he wondered what kinds of talents they had that were different from the magic surrounding them.

Sunggyu felt his hairs stand on end. The air had a different feel than when Dongwoo came. “Curiosity killed the cat,” a figure behind Dongwoo said. Someone peeked from behind and gave a dimpled smile. “Or so they say,” he adds on. “Stay for the show and you’ll see. I’m Myungsoo, by the way.”

“He’s actually the biological son of my parents. Except he’s also able to cast spells. Myungsoo’s the one I told you guys about earlier. He’s one of the few that has human parents and magical powers too.” Sunggyu and Sungyeol both immediately relax after hearing that. Sungjong then leans in and whispers, “he’s an odd one.”

“Hey! I heard you,” Myungsoo pouts. He mutters something about insecurity and then Sungjong says, “don’t worry, Myungsoo, they’re like you too.” At this, the witch’s eyes light up, and actually start glowing a warm yellow.

Dongwoo gasps, then says, “Wait, does that mean you have human paren- ”

“ANYWAYS, I heard the show is starting soon. Dongwoo, you should get ready to go on stage, you’re the first performer,” Sungjong says, practically saving the two magical beings. He shoos Dongwoo and Myungsoo both away, and leaves Sunggyu and Sungyeol at the table with his parents.

Everyone begins to settle into their seats, but Sunggyu can still hear some chattering amongst the humans.

There’s a lot of them, he notices. Sunggyu didn’t even know how many humans were in this world but ever since they walked in, it seemed like there were a little over a hundred. Sungjong also mentioned that a lot of them weren’t able to make it because they lived far away or had other responsibilities to tend.

The lights dim and a spotlight comes on a short man holding a microphone in his hands. He’s wearing a circus ringleader outfit so Sunggyu assumes he’s the one who will introduce all the acts.

“Welcome all! Do we have a sight to see tonight… Keep your eyes open, folks, otherwise you’ll miss some of our great performers! Ahh, and I see some new faces in the crowd today! I hope you enjoy the show. Now, let’s get started. The first performer will be Jang Dongwoo. Come on up, Dongwoo! Show ‘em what you’ve got!” The ringleader walks down the steps and Dongwoo comes out on stage.

His performance is poetry. He talks about how sometimes he feels like magical beings should cut humans some slack, because they can’t really do anything. Instead, maybe put the ones who treat them unfairly behind bars, they don’t need the kids to see them behave that way. Well, Dongwoo says it in a much better way, but that was the gist of it.

By the time he finishes, everyone is standing up and giving him an applause. Sunggyu realizes he’s never heard the humans’ side of the story, only what the Council of Elders and other magical beings have told him.

As every act comes up, Sunggyu learns something new about the humans. Some of them are funny, telling jokes and making expressions. Some of them can bend their bodies into really weird shapes and still smile after that’s done. There are dancers, even actual magicians who bring out doves from a single hat (Sunggyu has seen that plenty of times but a human doing that? Incredible).

And then comes a new, dangerous act. The ringleader even falters a little when he introduces Nam Woohyun, who will be performing with sharp knives.

Woohyun comes out onto the stage, wheeling in a cart filled with different objects, including knives and swords. The ringleader puts down his mic and speaks to Woohyun in a hushed tone. He whispers something back, a grin on his face when he pulls away. The ringleader nods and gives the stage to Woohyun.

He starts off by showing the audience a long sword. Woohyun doesn’t say anything, and then he opens his mouth.

And puts the sword in his throat.

There’s gasps from all over the audience, people standing up so quickly from their seats that their chairs fall over, Sunggyu being one of them. He’s gaping at the man on stage. How is this possible? Not even the blacksmiths he knows dare to do this.

And to make it even worse, Woohyun puts another sword down his throat. He doesn’t seem hurt at all, though, which Sunggyu takes as a good sign. Soon after, Woohyun carefully takes the swords out of his mouth, and everyone takes a sigh of relief. There’s applause all around, and Woohyun nods in acknowledgement.

“Now for the next part, I’ll need a volunteer,” Woohyun says, scanning the crowd. His eyes land on Sunggyu, who’s still standing up.

“Why thank you! You in the cloak, please come on up!” Woohyun grins.

“Looks like you’re up, Sunggyu,” Sungyeol says, patting his back. “Good luck.”

Sunggyu doesn’t realize he’s walked to the stage until he’s on it and Woohyun is walking towards him with some black ribbon.

There’s a wooden circle board, as big as Sunggyu himself. He backs up to it as Woohyun comes even closer.

“Right, just like that,” he smiles, and Sunggyu forgets to breathe. The human’s hair falls across his face as he looks down, and Sunggyu thinks the human is oddly beautiful. But as Woohyun ties his hands to the board, Sunggyu tenses up.

As if sensing this, Woohyun says, “Relax. I’ve done this dozens of times. I won’t hurt you,” looking up at Sunggyu and silently telling him to trust him. Then he comes close, too close, and whispers, “maybe just a little.” Woohyun gives Sunggyu a wink as he steps away, looking back at the audience again.

He says something but it’s muffled, and Sunggyu thinks it’s probably the blood rushing to his head. Breathe, just breathe, it’ll be over soon. As soon as Woohyun turns around and pulls back his arm, Sunggyu closes his eyes. He hears three quick bursts of air and then suddenly everyone’s clapping again. Is he dead? Did he enter the afterlife? Is that why he hears the applause?

“You can open your eyes now,” a voice says, untying the cloth around his wrists. Sunggyu blinks back to life and sees two soft brown eyes looking back at him. “Sorry if I scared you.”

Letting out a shaky breath, Sunggyu says, “That… was amazing.”

The human lets out a short laugh. “Thanks. We better get off stage for the next act. I’ll talk to you more after, though. What’s your name?”

“Sunggyu,” he says, staring at Woohyun in awe.

“Nice. I’ll see you later then, Sunggyu,” the human gives him a short salute and pushes the cart backstage.

When Sunggyu returns to his seat, Sungyeol waves a hand in front of his face.

“Yo, are you like… okay? You look like you’re in a trance.” He gasps. “Is he a witch too? Did he cast a spell on you? Hey Sung-”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Sunggyu says, pushing Sungyeol away. Honestly, he did feel a little entranced by Woohyun, but he shakes off the thought.

Falling for a human? Pfft. As if.

~~~~~~

#personal #fanfics #infinite #ot7 #this is my favorite story i have ever written #but i am stuck and can't seem to continue it.#i did not include all of it because it's too much #and i doubt anyone will read this #but im just posting it on here if anyone by chance stumbles upon this #and wants to read more of it (and give me feedback)#hope you enjoy

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sorayahigashikata · 5 years ago

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Chapter 86: "Rotate, Mr. President."

#Paula reads SBR #Chapter 86 #HOORAY VIOLENCE #GET REKT MR. PRESIDENT #this is the best schadenfreude since Diego placed 45th that other time #Steel Ball Run spoilers #Part 7 spoilers

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oikaawatooru · 8 years ago

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cat leaps

chapter 4: heel turn

1 | 2 | 3

break dance au

thanks to @lay-it-on-me-lahey, the real mvp

read on ao3

whatchu gon do with that dessert - dessert (remix); dawin, silentó

Marinette zig zags in between the tables in the ice cream parlour, trying to keep the massive sundae stationary on the tray. She’s lucky she manages to make it to the table her friends are sitting at without a disaster. She takes a quiet pride in it.

Nino grins at her from his spot in the booth. His arm is thrown not-so-subtly over the back of the bench i.e. behind Alya’s shoulders. Marinette resists a groan.

“Nice of you to join us,” he grins at her.

“Where do you work again, Nino?” she asks airily.

His grin falls. Good.

“Can you put it in the middle please, Marinette?” Alya asks, eyes glued to her laptop screen.

“No thanks.”

Alya looks up. “What? Why?”

Marinette rolls her eyes at the whine in her voice. “You owe me for the last five sundaes. If I keep putting it on my tab 1—” she puts up a finger of her free hand “—Mme Kurtzberg is going to stop allowing me to do it, and 2—” she puts up another finger “—I won’t have any money left. These things aren’t cheap.”

“I know, that’s why I use your employee discount.”

“I don’t have an employee discount.”

Alya pouts. “Just this once? Last time, I promise.”

Marinette nearly caves from her pout but she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

“You said that last week,” she says.

Nino looks like he’s about to say something but Marinette shoots him a glare. He tried to sneak her the money last time in her apron pocket, but this isn’t his price to pay.

Alya leans back into her seat, arching her brow knowingly.

“Is this because you’re still intent on making Chat Noir some new clothes?”

Heat rushes up Marinette’s neck. “No! I literally have every other thing in my life to save for! The Academy has upped the tuition this year—”

“Yeah,” Nino mutters, “not cool.”

“—demanding a contribution from scholarship students, I still have to pay for Ladybug’s entry for Miraculous—”

“Okay,” Alya points out, “but that’s not due for another few weeks.”

“—and I would actually like to be able to afford some new clothes!”

Alya doesn’t buy it. “His hoodie just really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

Marinette sighs. They’ve had four practices so far and every time, Chat Noir has turned up in his signature thick black hoodie. Sure, it really hides his body, the hood does a good job of keeping his face in the shadows, but the drawbacks. He’s going to faint in the heat one of these days and Marinette will have to call an ambulance for him and if he doesn’t recover in time for Miraculous and they’ll be down their best dancer.

“So much. So much, Alya, I get hot just looking at him. I spent more money than I would like on some new fabrics. I’ve pinned the pattern down, all I need are his exact measurements. Also his outfit is an eyesore. It physically pains me to see a dancer in clothes like that. We all deserve nice clothes. It’s one of the ten commandments.”

“It’s definitely not.”

Nino tries to cut in. “You guys know I’ll pay for—”

“NO,” the girls say firmly.

“Then allow me,” says a new voice.

Before she can react, Marinette has a crisp twenty euro note pressed into her free hand courtesy of the sublime Adrien Agreste. The moment she meets his eyes her brain short circuits from an information overload. His friendly, polite smile; his proximity; his hand that is on her hand.

“Hrrngh bublng,” Marinette replies.

She immediately wants to dive out the storefront windows.

Adrien frowns in confusion (or maybe it’s concern? When will this boy stop being so good) at her.

She’s not used to him. A week and a half of their tentative friendship and she is still not used to him. She hopes there’s a time limit. She really hopes she doesn’t have to act like a fool 24/7 for the rest of their friendship.

Nino and Marinette have taken to hanging out with him at the academy. He’s good company. Nino warmed up to him immediately and Marinette can definitely see why. Adrien is charming, kind, warm, and can even be occasionally funny. He’s relaxed enough in demeanour to keep up with Nino and passionate enough to keep Marinette interested.

And he’s really, really smart. (It’s kind of a turn on.)

They’d invited him to the parlour this afternoon. Alya, being in university, hasn’t met him before today.

Adrien is about to ask her what’s wrong, she can see it, when Alya comes swooping in to rescue her.

“I am not paying you back twenty euro, Agreste,” she says, plucking a spoon from the tray when Marinette sets it down. “But thanks.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Alya,” he says, holding out his hand. “And there’s nothing to thank me for.”

Alya quirks an eyebrow and smiles. Alya approved.

She shakes his hand. “Yeah, yeah, rich boy. Tell me that when you don’t have so much money and you’ll understand why there is.”

When Adrien blushes Marinette has to take a moment to turn her head, mutter “Oh my god” under her breath, and swallow a couple of times before she can turn back with a smile.

“Well thanks from me too,” Marinette says. She is an adult for heaven’s sake, she can talk to a boy. “I’ll get your change now.”

“Keep it,” he says.

She looks at him flatly. “No.”

“Not even as a tip?”

“I don’t take tips from my friends.”

He gives her a strange sort of smile—half-soft, half-uncertain and it’s a testament to her wavering resilience that she’s able to smile back. She doesn’t know what his meant but it sure pulled the pins out of her knees.

“Don’t fight it, Agreste,” Alya says through a mouth full of chocolate deluxe sundae. She shovels in another bite before she continues. “It’s not worth it.”

Marinette finds relief when he turns his head to Alya.

“You’re, uh,” Nino says, “you’re really chomping down into that sundae, Alya.”

Nino is watching her eat with a hilarious blend of mild fear and reverence. Marinette rolls her eyes from behind the cash register and goes back to hand Adrien his change.

“Mmffhmm.”

They all watch as she continues to load in bite after bite. “Have to—” chomp “—squad practice—” chomp “—tonight—” chomp “—have a lot—” chomp “—to organise.”

Chomp.

“You’re going to get brain freeze,” Marinette says, sliding Adrien’s change across the table to him . She might be keeping some semblance of cool right now but if she touches him she will probably spontaneously combust.

“Practice?” Adrien asks.

“Yeah,” Marinette says. “Alya is the captain of this hip hop group. She takes it very seriously.”

Nino winks at her surreptitiously and she aims an equally as surreptitious kick at him under the table.

“And there’s practice tonight.”

Marinette nods. It will be their fourth practice. Adrien hums, his face politely interested.

“There wasn’t meant to be,” Alya says. “But I had to cancel tomorrow so I sent everyone a text this morning, I think. Except this one guy. But he never gave me his number. So I put it up on the Facebook page. I think he’s in the group, but I’m not sure. Either he’s the one with the profile of a vampire—solid black profile pic I shit you not—or I’ve let some random person by the name of ‘Chat Noir’ into it by accident”

“Ah,” Adrien says.

Alya turns to Marinette. “Will you sweet talk Chat Noir into giving us his number please? He seems to have a soft spot for you.”

Marinette snorts. “Sure. As long as you let me take his measurements after practice.”

“Deal.”

“His measurements?” Adrien asks.

Marinette feels shy suddenly, her cheeks heating up again. Sure Adrien is their friend, but he doesn’t know about her hobby. He doesn’t know how she likes to design clothes and dance costumes. It’s something she usually saves for herself, or the people closest to her. If she’s wearing one of the things she’s made and someone asks about it, she’ll tell them, but she’s never really talked about it with someone who hasn’t been in with her.

(Never mind someone she’s hopelessly crushing on.)

Alya beats her to it. “Marinette has this thing where she likes to design clothes and apparently this Chat Noir kid is wearing something that’s driving her crazy. She thinks he’s suffocating himself. So she wants his measurements to design something to help him not die of heatstroke.”

“Alya!” Marinette hisses. “You’re making me sound like I’m obsessed!”

“Honey, that kid has no idea the value of a Marinette-made outfit. You’re probably gonna make it look cooler than anything he’s ever worn in his life. He doesn’t seem like he’d know fashion if he were dropped into an issue of Vogue.”

Adrien coughs lightly, his grin sun bright. “I think that’s really generous of you, Marinette. You obviously don’t have to do it, but even the thought of it is especially kind.”

Marinette can’t keep eye contact. It’s bad enough her whole heart has melted at the compliment, but with his eyes on her it’s like her skin is going to drip off any second now too.

“Yes, well,” she mumbles. “It’s mostly because I need to get his size for the squad’s uniforms.”

Nino shrugs. “Or you’re actually cool with becoming his friend and you’re doing something nice. That works too, you know.”

“Shut up and eat your ice cream.” She wipes her hands on her apron. “I’ll see you after practice Alya.”

“Sure thing, girl.”

She hesitates but then, “I’ll see you later, Adrien?”

“I’ll see you later, Marinette.”

She smiles back.

“You’re—going to die—just so you know.”

Marinette tries to keep her voice under the volume of the music as she twists around Chat Noir.

“Don’t worry—” he drops low as she opens her legs in a wide plié in front of him “—my Lady—” he slides through and weaves his body upright “—this alley cat—” they slide into formation with the rest of the group “—knows how to—” he spins away for his solo and she when he finishes she slides right back in beside him “—protect himself.”

His last words are punctuated with a big grin.

She rolls her eyes and concentrates on the routine for the last few bars of the song, the warmth of his smile lingering in the air.

Or maybe it’s the heat radiating off him because he’s back in that ridiculous hoodie.

He’s so hot, little black-tinted beads of sweat are rolling down his cheeks and dropping off his sharp jaw. His face is red beneath his grease paint and he’s panting hard.

He’s not going to get relief anytime soon either. Marinette can see Alya’s frown from where she stands by the end of the hall and it’s aimed right at him. She’s working herself up to chew Chat Noir out for arriving 20 minutes late to practice.

If there’s one thing Alya likes it’s punctuality, and one of her dancers late for practice is enough to make her sour for the next couple of hours.

The group finishes the routine and Marinette turns, panting, to where Chat Noir stands.

“Why were you late anyway?”

Before he can answer, Alya’s loud voice calls through the hall.

“Alright kids. Stretch out, that’s enough for today.”

Marinette offers him a sympathetic smile and touches his forearm.

“Good luck,” she whispers, before running off to grab her water bottle and duffel bag. If she didn’t have to change and take off her stage makeup, Marinette would have stuck around a little longer. She and Chat Noir have settled into a routine of easy conversation as they cool down and stretch out at the end of practice.

She almost can’t believe how well they get on. His jokes are cheesy and he’s a little liberal with his charms but there is an endless and intriguing amount of intellect in those eyes of his. They talk about anything, having strayed from the topic of dancing after their first practice and Marinette has found it’s just as easy to talk to him about everything else. Of course, neither of them divulge too many personal details, but there is a natural flow to their friendship that strengthens every time they meet.

So it pains her a little to rush off now and leave him to the dogs. Alya rather.

But she’s doing this for his sake. If she can change and catch her breath quickly enough, maybe Alya won’t have enough time to get really mad at Chat. She can already hear Alya raising her voice a little from her bathroom stall.

Once she’s pulled on a new set of clothes, wiped her face, and her cheeks pull off a rosy glow more than tomato red look, she sprints out of the bathroom and back to the dance hall, tucking her sweaty and gross ponytail into a cap.

“I’m here!” she calls, wincing as she interrupts Alya’s scolding. Her words echo in the room, empty now but for Alya and Chat Noir. They probably high tailed it as soon as Alya started on him.

But now, Alya rounds on Marinette, eyes flashing. It’s definitely something to be able to take on an angry Alya, but she’d rather have it be her than Chat Noir, who looks like someone told him he couldn’t dance again. She probably gave him the whole spiel of “letting the crew down”, and the poor kid seems to have really taken it to heart.

She smiles at him and he gives her a small one back.

“Hey, Princess,” he says.

“Hi, Chat Noir,” she says.

Alya purses her lips. “Marinette. He’s all yours.”

“I’m—what? Hers—what—”

“Stop talking, Chat Noir. Be glad Marinette took pity on you and came in so early. Don’t be late again. This is a strike on your record.” She retrieves her iPod and leaves, shooting Marinette a pointed look.

He looks so surprised that Marinette laughs, as if he’s never had anything but a clean record. It’s strangely contradictory to what she would have thought about him. A guy like him who, so arrogant and cheeky, one would imagine his record anywhere to be full of spots.

“Now—” Marinette says.

“I have a record here?”

“Of course you do. Alya takes this very seriously and so should you.”

He grins and his whole body relaxes. “I take this as seriously as I take our relationship, Princess.”

She blinks at him. “Great. Then as a show of good will for this relationship, you’ll hold your arms out and let me take your measurements. I need them for the squad’s uniform.”

She studiously avoids his eyes for that last sentence, rummaging around in her duffel for her measuring tape and hoping her excuse is enough. It technically isn’t a lie, but the whole truth would just lead to him teasing her for it and she doesn’t want to give him chances he wouldn’t ordinarily have. This isn’t the first time Chat Noir has met Marinette after their initial encounter, but he hasn’t stopped teasing her as much as he did the first day.

He frowns slightly. “Have you gotten Ladybug’s measurements yet?”

The question catches her off guard. “Uh-uhm, yeah. I have. She gave—I got them when she came over. The other night. To my house.” She clears her throat and pretends to flatten out a wrinkle in her tape, praying the lie doesn’t sound as bad to Chat Noir as it does to her.

“Wait,” he says, and she cringes, ready for an accusation she’ll also have to lie her way out of, but he surprises her. “You know Ladybug personally?”

“Yeah,” she says quietly. “We’ve known each other for a long time. She’s… nice.”

“Cool,” he breathes, and the admiration in his voice almost makes her wince. She bites her lip instead.

She’s tired of this already—all this secrecy. It weighs down on her having to lie to her parents about what she’s doing, of not being able to tell them how proud she is about being able to dance like this. It’s exhausting going into school every morning afraid she’ll somehow slip in her movements and her teachers will realise she has been dancing very differently to how they’ve been instructing her.

But lying to Chat Noir is fast becoming the worst part of this all. He and Ladybug are becoming fast friends, but so are he and Marinette. There’s something she has with him, some lightning-strong connection, that she’s never encountered before and even if they have only known each other a few weeks, they’re close. He’s a brilliant person even beyond the dancing and Marinette hates this game, especially when he believes her.

If she didn’t have Alya and Nino to talk to and to support her, she doesn’t know what she would do.

She sighs quietly when she motions for him to raise his arms.

“So do you like fashion then?” he says. His voice is lacking the laughter it usually has, strangely soft, and it makes her look up to meet his eyes.

Marinette measures his arm, deciding if she wants to answer.

“Yeah,” she says, after taking note of it and moving on to the other one. “I’ve been into it ever since I could remember. I like to sew and knit and design. I like to look at all the fashion magazines I can get my hands on and then make up my own. I like fashion.”

He hums. “Do you have any favourite designers?”

She snorts. “Why, are you looking for tips? Because—and I say this as your friend—you could probably use some.”

He pokes her in the stomach, making her squeak and lose track of measuring his torso. His smile is fond.

“Really,” he presses.

She sighs. “Gabriel Agreste.”

She can feel him tense from where she measures his waist, probably tickling him.

“Sorry,” she murmurs.

“Why?”

“Why am I sorry?”

“No. Why Gabriel Agreste?”

Marinette writes the measurement down and straightens to look at him. He’s looking at her like there’s something fundamental about her he doesn’t understand.

“He’s very clean,” she says slowly, feeling a little unsettled under his gaze. “All his lines are careful and beautiful and perfectly elegant. If royalty were a style of fashion, Agreste would be it. It reminds me of how much there is to admire in fashion like that, and how much of a challenge it is.”

“A challenge?”

“Yeah.” She pokes at his legs to get him to spread them. “To go against that kind of fashion. To take all those perfect, brilliant lines and throw them out the window. Take the route no one has, you know?”

His eyes haven’t changed when she glances up at him and it makes her jut her chin out, defensive, even if she doesn’t know why she’s reacting like this.

“That’s…” he pauses. “A really inspired way to look at it.”

“Thanks,” she says slowly, straightening and putting away her instruments. “Now. I want to talk to you about something.”

His eyes brighten, immediately losing that faraway, thoughtful look. “Oh?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively and she punches his shoulder (not very lightly).

“I need you to wear something lighter to the next squad practice. You can’t keep dancing in hoodies this thick, it’s going to kill you. I’ll know if you don’t.”

He looks at her surprised for a moment before releasing a bark of laughter.

“I’m not joking! Did you even bring a bottle of water to practice?”

His smile is wide as the whole sun. “In my defence, I was rushing to get here on time.”

“You were late.”

“I was rushing to try to get here on time.”

She raises her eyebrows at him. “Whatever. Wear a t-shirt or something on Sunday, okay?”

“I would, Princess,” he frowns, “but the hoodie helps with the whole hidden identity thing.”

“No one is going to recognise your biceps if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She gives him a look before he can reply.

“You’re going to faint from dehydration one of these days,” she says.

He pouts. “But I can’t cover my face if I don’t have a hood.”

“I don’t know if you’ve seen yourself recently—consider the walls are mirrors here—but your whole face is painted black. Who could possibly recognise you?”

He laughs, but it’s a weaker sound than she’s used to hearing from him. “I would feel more comfortable with additional protection.”

She rolls her eyes at his wording but pulls her cap off her head anyway. “Fine.”

She reaches for his hood slowly, giving him time to duck away, and when he doesn’t, pushes it back off his head. His eyes don’t leave her face as she fits her cap snugly on his head, searching again, but she ignores them.

“There,” she says. “It’s black and it casts a shadow. Fits perfectly with your aesthetic, no?”

He looks up to catch his reflection in the mirror and when he sees how it still disguises him he grins.

“Ah!” he exclaims. “It’s perfect Princess, thank you!” He takes her hand and twirls her around, catching her by surprise.

She laughs despite herself and when he stops to kiss her knuckles she’s still giggling.

“Thank you,” he purrs, and his face is so annoyingly charming that she pushes him away by the nose.

“You’re shameless,” she says, but it falls flat with her smile.

His pout doesn’t seem all that sincere either.

“And late,” he says, pulling his phone from his pocket and checking the time. “Well, Princess, this is where I must leave you.”

He goes to leave when she remembers. “Oh! Before you go, can I have your number please? Alya isn’t sure you’re getting all her messages about the squad, and she thinks it might be easier if I can pass along the message.”

He looks like she threatened to kick a kitten, puzzling her thoroughly.

“I, uh,” she tries, “won’t give it to anyone if that’s what you’re worried about.”

His mouth opens, then closes. Then opens again. Then closes.

“Chat?” she asks.

“I—” he says weakly. “Don’t have a phone.” They both look at it, then back at one another. Another few moments pass. “OkaysorryMarinettebye!”

She doesn’t even catch her breath before he’s gone, sprinting out like his tail is on fire.

“I—” she says.

What just happened?

#ml #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #break dance au #my writing #my ff #cl #my ml

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