#it's messed up to only give a strobe warning once people are AT THE SHOW like what are you supposed to do then

[antiadvil]

could anyone going to the copenhagan/berlin/warsaw/etc shows let me know if there are any photosensitivity warnings? there was one at the antwerp show that specifically mentioned strobes which contradicts dan's tweet about it. i tweeted asking about it, likes/rts/however tf the twitter algo boosts stuff appreciated:

i also double checked my ticket, the only language i can find about it is incredibly generic and i also can't find it on desktop:

if anyone can find anything more specific on their ticket/a venue website, let me know, though i'm pretty sure this is just venue legalese that's probably specific to the chicago theatre

[wannabanghwang]

Summary : You and Hyunjin run into each other at a party for the first time in awhile and end up hooking up on the car ride to your house ;)

Word count : 1.4K

Warnings : drunk sex, protected sex, blowjob, semi public sex? Idk it’s a car 🙃

Sometimes after performances they would collapse into sleep the moment they stepped foot inside the dorm. Other times, they would do anything to keep the post-concert high alive. Tonight was one of those nights. After closing out their show, the backstage is buzzing with excitement, power and pride. They’d succeeded in selling out a huge arena, the cheers of thousands of people still echoing freshly in their ears. Any discussion is brief, rushed, all the members scrambling to grab their bags and head to the black vans parked out back. Once on the road they could start to unpack the last few hours. Teasing about voice cracks or messy footwork, pure awe for the sea of people screaming, excitement for the night that is only just beginning. They’re on their way to an after party at a club that’s been booked off entirely, save for its exclusive guest list. Once they arrive, the drinks start to flow and the partying begins. You live for nights like this, nights so full of energy and life. You jump and dance excitedly, the music ringing in your ears, colorful lights strobing across the room, your skin flushed from the alcohol and the heat of everyone’s bodies. The party is teeming with youth and carefreeness, and you live for every second of it. You spot Hyunjin across the room, grinning when you lock eyes. He makes his way over to you, almost spilling his drink in the process.

“Hey you.” You smile, poking his bare chest through the unbuttoned white dress shirt he’s wearing. He grins flirtatiously, leaning down to speak in your ear over the music.

“It’s been awhile, you miss me?” He asks.

“Not long enough.” You tease, grabbing hold of his wrist and leading him to the bar. You take a couple shots together before Hyunjin drags you onto the dance floor. You love how extroverted he gets when he’s drunk, when he finally lets loose and has fun. You laugh and sing as you dance, bodies pressed flush together while his hands travel freely up and down your waist, over your back, onto your hips, anywhere they can reach. You take it all in, your back flush to his chest, hips pressed together as they move in sync, lost in the music, lights, shouts and the sea of bodies. You spin to look at him, his face agonizingly close to yours, a wide smile paints his features. Even in the neon lights you can see the flush dusting his cheeks. You wrap an arm around his neck, pulling him down enough for your lips to meet. You tangle your fingers in his damp red hair, deepening the kiss. He tastes of mint and alcohol, a twinge of fruit on his tongue as it spills into your mouth. The kiss is hot and needy, a drunken mess of lips and tongue. His hand finds the back of your neck, the other snaking around the curve of your waist. He pulls away to kiss your neck and whisper in your ear.

“There’s a car for me out back, wanna go to yours?” He smiles against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You wordlessly reach for his hand as he leads you, weaving through the crowd and out the back door. He opens the door and you both slide into the backseat of a black limo. You give the driver your address before Hyunjin pushes the button to raise the divider between the back and front seats. The car starts to drive and you’re already all over each other, kissing and groping at every inch of exposed skin. His hands creep up the exposed skin of your thighs, bunching the skirt of your dress up at your hips. His fingers dip between your legs, making you gasp against his neck.

“Wow, this wet already? You must’ve really missed me.” He grins coyly, dragging his fingers over the soft fabric of your panties. You blush at the unexpected comment before dragging your hand down and squeezing the bulge between his legs.

“Wow, this hard already? You must’ve really missed me.” You tease back, but instead of getting flustered, Hyunjin replies,

“Yeah I am. You gonna do something about it?” He smirks, raising an eyebrow. You smile, kissing him sweetly before dropping to your knees between his legs. He smiles back, as you hurriedly fumble with the buttons on his jeans, gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail with his hand. You unzip his pants, hooking your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and tugging them down. With one hand on your hair, he uses his free hand to cup your face and put himself in your mouth. It’s a sickeningly sweet gesture for such a dirty circumstance. You take him as far as he goes into your throat, spit dripping from your mouth down his length. Your hand strokes him lazily at the base. A series of strangled groans and curses spill from his lips as his head falls back against the leather seat. The car hits a small bump, the movement causing him to harshly hit the back of your throat, making you gag. He hisses out an apology before bursting into a fit of drunken giggles. You can’t help but laugh yourself at the circumstance.

“C’mere.” Hyunjin mumbles when he stops laughing, relinquishing his hold on your hair and pulling you into his lap. You kiss more, rolling your hips lightly against his thigh before pulling away.

“Condom?” You ask and he nods, pointing to his bag on the floor. You lean, reaching for the zipper and pulling out the small foil packet. Hyunjin puts it between his teeth, tearing it open and spitting the wrapper somewhere on the floor of the car. You sit back slightly on his thighs, watching as he rolls the condom down his length. You grab hold of the base, ready to lower yourself onto him before he grabs hold of your hip and stops you.

“Gotta make you cum first. It’s gonna hurt otherwise.” He says, raising his eyebrows in reference to the other times you two have hooked up.

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine, I promise.” You assure, desperate to feel him inside you.

“But-“ he starts but you cut him off,

“I don’t think I have ever been hornier than this in my life, I’ll be okay.” You grin, enjoying the blush that creeps up his ears.

“Okay.” He smiles, leaning back, hips falling forward. “Let me know if it hurts.”

You lift your hips just enough to grab the base of his length and align it with your core. You sink down slowly, wincing a little bit as you get used to him.

“Told you.” He interjects, eyebrows raised knowingly.

“Shut up.” You reply, bottoming out as he grunts.

“You can shut me up like this any day.” He grins, twirling a lock of your hair. You kiss his neck, grinding your hips slowly before you start to move. Hyunjin purrs, fingers digging into the skin of your hips, his lips hot against your jaw. You don’t complain when one of his hands grazes over your thigh, landing between your legs, his long fingers rubbing trained circles over your clit. You whine, arching your back and pressing your chests closer together. Your fingers grab a harsh hold of his long hair, kissing him messily while he bucks his hips into yours. His big palm finds your lower belly, pressing down just enough to feel the outline of his cock inside of you.

“You’re so deep.” You mumble, knowing how much it turns him on.

“You feel so good. Missed you.” He slurs, pressing kisses against your shoulder.

You notice his breathing start to speed up and his thrusts growing sloppier beneath you.

“Touch me again.” You breathe, grabbing hold of his wrist and bringing it back between your legs. Hyunjin eagerly complies, his other arm snaking around your waist to hold your bodies flush together.

“‘M gonna cum,” He grunts into your ear, “lemme eat you out when we get inside.”

“Okay, deal.” You smile, quickening your pace, meeting every thrust of your hips as he unwinds beneath you.

“Fuck.” He groans, his hand stays fixed on your waist as his hips still. When both your breathing subsides, Hyunjin throws his head back against the leather seat.

“Just wait,” he breathes shakily, “till we get inside.” He grins mischievously.

[butterflyinthewell]

Raditz headcanons!

(Warning: some nsfw text ahead! Scroll to the second picture to avoid it.)

The funny stuff:

Raditz fucks. He calls himself a slut because he fucks often and he’s good at it.

He is happy to suck dick, eat pussy and eat ass for money. He’s not picky as long as the presented part is clean.

He’s proudly bisexual.

His dick is huge. Monstrous.

He loves to land on a planet he’s going to decimate and shmooze, go to bars, get drunk, say he’ll let them live if the sex is good, fuck whoever offers and kill everyone there anyway.

He rawed Zarbon’s brains out because Zarbon said he doubted Saiyajins could fuck. Zarbon still refuses to admit it’s the best dick he ever got in his life. All Raditz has to do is grab at his own crotch around Zarbon and that pretty jerk gets all flustered.

Raditz loves to be naked. He’s immodest and an exhibitionist, so he only wears clothes because he gets tired of people yelling at him to put some on.

He’s that guy who will eat the most disgusting food item or food mixture you put in front of him just to gross out everyone watching. Ice cream with toothpaste? Pop tarts with ketchup on them? Something alive and wiggly? Sure, he’ll eat it without flinching and watch you squirm.

He’s an expert troll. No, he’s a god-tier troll.

Once, he pranked the Ginyu Force by making Guldo stink. Guldo has no sense of smell, so Raditz smeared rotten meat all over the inside of his armor once while the little guy was in the showers. It took a week to figure the stink out, but nobody knew Raditz did it.

He can do a pretty good impression of Zarbon’s voice, so he once got a bunch of troops outside of Freeza’s room under “orders from Zarbon”. He got caught for that one and got his ass beat, but he’ll say it was worth it.

He draws things on the back of Nappa’s bald head while Nappa is asleep. Usually faces, but once or twice it was a dick or butt crack.

Once, he sent a dick pic to Freeza’s scouter during a debriefing and made the little bastard choke on his wine.

Another time, he got a dick pic onto the debriefing display and it ruined the whole meeting because everybody started yelling at each other. Raditz sat back and watched the chaos unfold with a shit-eating grin on his face. Yep, he showed the entire Freeza Force a picture of his enormous fully erect dick and he’d do it again.

And another time, he played the audio of Zarbon moaning and gasping all over Freeza’s ship, and Zarbon couldn’t do anything about it because it would mean confessing to letting Raditz fuck his brains out. Zarbon likes to project this image that he’s chaste and above such base desires, so being reminded of the time he had with Raditz embarrasses him so so sooooo much.

He jacked off into Freeza’s wine once. Freeza took a drink, spat it out and killed the guy who brought the wine. Nappa and Vegeta were in on this one, so the three of them snickered about it for months.

He taught Vegeta how to kiss by making out with him. It sorta broke his heart a little when Vegeta later said he wasn’t interested in him that way, cuz he had a bit of a crush on the Saiyajin prince.

Raditz might act cold and uncaring, but he has a big soft spot for kids. He wants to settle down and have some of his own someday. Unfortunately, life under Freeza doesn’t give him that opportunity. Plus, he’s a little afraid to for the genetic reasons about to be mentioned below.

The serious stuff:

Raditz’s biggest struggle is his epilepsy.

He was born with a rare gene mutation called a Naeb deletion (or Naeb syndrome) that kills most Saiyajin babies before their second birthday. (It’s pronounced “naw-EEB”.)

There are four Naeb genes in the average Saiyajin, or seizure suppressor genes. All four have to be present or a Saiyajin comes out with Naeb syndrome. Raditz is missing two of these genes.

Some Saiyajins carry an extra (fifth) Naeb gene-- a mutation-- that causes these deletions in children. If only one parent has that gene, the chances of a kid with Naeb syndrome are fifty-fifty. If both parents have the mutation, all their kids come out with it and it's usually fatal. Bardock had an extra Naeb gene, but Gine didn't. That's why Raditz has seizures and Goku doesn’t.

Every Saiyajin with Naeb syndrome is missing their last set of molars, has two extra ribs, has denser than average bones and extremely long hair. Their brain development is also faster than average, which can mean it grows faster than the skull around it. Sometimes the skull doesn’t grow fast enough to keep up with the brain, so the brain is crushed.

Structurally, Raditz’s brain has all the parts it’s supposed to, but they’re in slightly different places. He has less cerebrospinal fluid than average, his corpus callosum looks like a ring from the side and his lateral ventricles are smaller because his brain had to fold in on itself more to fit inside his skull. There’s a spot in his parietal lobe that’s pressed right up against the inside of his skull, and his meninges and a few millimeters of cerebrospinal fluid are the only thing that stops his brain from lacerating itself. That spot is always spiking with abnormal electrical activity. It’s like a match striking over and over. His brain doesn’t like being so squished in his skull, so sometimes it misfires when that “match” strikes and you get a flame, which is a seizure.

Raditz has a few different seizure types depending on which parts of his brain react to the constant “striking” activity and some of his seizures have a few triggers.

Doctors call Raditz’s epilepsy “mild”, but Raditz disagrees and considers it severe because he’s the one affected by it and not them.

He’s tried many different medications and none work. Surgery isn’t an option because Saiyajins don’t tolerate brain surgery very well and the chances of developing new seizure sources outweigh the benefits.

His scouter records and logs his seizures. He gets the time of the seizure, the length of the seizure and a video of the environment he was in. (If something flashes, the flashing is removed.)

Flashing lights can trigger seizures. His scouter has special polarized glass that counter flashes whenever someone’s ki flashes, so he just sees a solid color in that eye. Blocking one eye helps prevent the electrical excitation in his brain that turns into seizures. This doesn’t work if he’s exposed to flashing lights for longer than sixty seconds though. This is meant to give him time to turn away or cover his other eye.

He can’t go anywhere with strobes because of his seizures. Bars are okay since most don’t have strobes, but nightclubs are inaccessible.

Focal aware seizures are his most common seizure type, and he can have hundreds of these a day. They’re twenty seconds long. You can’t tell he’s having one unless you know what to look for, which is a faint quiver in his eyelids when he blinks. Sometimes he closes his eyes until the worst part of it is over.

It’s hard for him to describe how these seizures feel. They start as a little tingling at the tip of his thumb that spreads to his wrist. It’s a very annoying sensation. Then he gets sudden vertigo like someone yanks the ground sideways. During that vertigo he perceives everything as being way too close and too real. He gets a strong sense of doom. That’s the worst part. Then it’s over. The tingling stops, his senses return to normal and his heart rate slows.

He learned to compensate for the vertigo, so he can still fly and fight while having a focal aware seizure and nobody would know the difference.

Atonic seizures aren’t his most devastating seizures, but they’re the only seizure that embarrasses him to have in public. His muscles suddenly lose tone and he blacks out for a split second. If he’s walking or standing, he falls headfirst to the ground. If he’s sitting, he slumps. If he’s flying, he loses altitude for a second or two.

His atonic seizures happen when he doesn’t get enough sleep. They tend to come in clusters of two or three in a row. They can mess with his memory, causing him to lose a few minutes or be confused about where he is. If he’s in the middle of a conversation, he might forget what was being talked about, but reminding him gets him back on track.

Tonic clonic seizures are Raditz’s most devastating seizures. These are the big bad seizures that can be triggered by flashing lights. He can have them spontaneously, too, and averages about one or two a week.

Spontaneous ones start with his usual tingly focal aware seizures. He knows it’s going to generalize if the tingle continues up his arm instead of fading away. The second the tingle reaches his neck, he goes. His eyes roll back, he gets stiff, he shakes and he’s down for awhile.

Induced seizures give him no warning other than a sudden, extremely intense pain in the back of his skull. Induced seizures are worse than spontaneous ones because they’re more violent and last longer.

Some of his other weird TC triggers are going into or coming down from an oozaru transformation, getting dehydrated, not eating enough, being awakened out of delta wave sleep and stimulants like caffeine.

Regardless of how a TC started, he loses several hours of memory and doesn’t get it all back. His worst seizure wiped out a month of his life and he never regained those memories.

If he just ate, he will puke as he enters the tonic phase of the seizure. This is a huge choking hazard for him. He doesn’t care if he pees or poops himself during a seizure, but vomiting is really bad. If he just ate a huge meal and feels a TC coming, he’ll stick his finger down his throat and get the puking done before the seizure hits.

He almost always wets or soils himself during the clonic phase unless he just went to the bathroom before he had it.

If he powers up as a TC starts, his power rises uncontrollably until the tonic phase progresses into the clonic phase, then he releases massive ki waves that destroy everything around him. He hits power levels he can’t reach while conscious and in control of his ki, but this is dangerous because he could power up until he explodes and there’s no way to stop it.

His instinct when he realizes a seizure is generalizing is to either finish a fight quickly or power down and go hide to have the seizure because he knows he’s vulnerable during and after.

The worst seizure of his life was caused by Captain Ginyu. He goaded Raditz into attacking without his scouter and flickered a ki ball right in his face. Raditz went down. The Ginyu Force kicked him around while he was on the ground seizing. Nappa lured them into a fight to stop the unfair beating and Vegeta dragged Raditz away to finish the seizure. It was awful because Raditz threw up and soiled himself and the Ginyu Force made sure he got covered in all of it.

Raditz doesn’t remember this and neither Vegeta nor Nappa told him what really happened.

Post-ictal Raditz will remove anything on his body that feels bad, so he often ends up naked. He won’t recognize friend or foe and isn’t going to react kindly to being crowded.

If he’s alone, he’s likely to sit staring at the ceiling or sky until he collapses into sleep.

His scouter shows him a picture of his attack ball if he’s on a mission and that’s enough incentive for him to go find it even while too confused to tell someone his own name.

After his post-seizure sleep, he wakes up kinda giddy and hyperactive as his unsettled brain chemistry tries to restore balance. He will be sore as hell, too, usually that’s how he knows he had a seizure.

Nappa and Vegeta have seen so many seizures. They take bets on whether Raditz will pee, poop or do both. Then they’ll flip him on his side and wait it out. Barring emergency retreats, they don’t let him leave an area until he can identify a scouter by name.

Yep, seizures messed up some of his slutty sexual escapades. Usually by killing whoever he was trying to fuck since the violent convulsions hurt other people and his immediate environment more than they hurt him.

And finally…

The loss of planet Vegeta isn’t something Raditz likes to talk about. He was on a scouter to scouter call with someone there when it happened and all he heard was a bunch of screaming. He still can’t handle listening to recorded audio of screaming people because it reminds him of hearing his planet die.

[venusskies-writing]

Love in Japan

Miya Osamu x GN! Reader

Warnings: none, fluff, soft Osamu, oh wait there may be one, the mention of the Better twin joke is thrown in once, but it is an actual joke and not an insult

Synopsis: finding love over an online site is scary. Especially when they live in another country, but with Osamu, you feel your love is endless, so you have everything up to love him

Or,

You move to Japan to live with your online boyfriend whose brother is a famous Volleyball player and he owns a resteraunt(?)

You never quite saw yourself as someone who would give in to love so easily, but here you are, on a trip to Japan to meet your boyfriend for the first time. 

The two of you had met online after you had spammed his account with likes as you stalked his Instagram page. 

He had DMed you asking who you are and why you were stalking him. At the time it was a little embarrassing being called out like that, but eventually just the thought of it made you laugh. 

Receiving a text from Osamu, you smiled gently. 

'I'm at the airport waiting, see you in 30 ;).'

Read 5:34 PM

Butterflies raced through your stomach as nerves grabbed onto your arms and locked you down. 

You stood up from your seat and made your way to the bathroom to freshen up. 

-

Letting out a sigh, you walked through the terminal with your carry on in hand. You shuffled through it to make sure you had everything but stopped hearing your name being called. 

Your head shot up instantly, almost causing you to have whiplash. 

The breath in your throat hitched slightly as you felt tears swell up in your eyes. 

There he stood, not even 5 feet away from you with a sign in his hands saying your name. Around it was cute little hearts and stars with glitter on them. 

You giggled and quickly ran over and watched as he dropped the sign to pick you up. 

He spun you in circles as he laughed and smothered your face in kisses. It felt wonderful. 

You leant down and captured his lips in yours with a sweet smile. He kissed back and you noticed his lips were slightly chapped from the cold, but tasted like cheap chapstick. 

Pulling away, he sat you down and grabbed your bag for you. 

A roar of cheering sounded from behind you and you saw his twin and teammate's holding up their phones to take photos. 

You blushed and waved at them. "Hello. It's good to meet you Atsumu. I'm assuming you're still a pain in the ass towards your brother?" You teased slightly. 

He showed and walked over quickly to hug you. "Oh shut it! We both know damn well that I'm the better twin!" A light screech left your mouth as he nestled you between his arms and messed up your hair. 

A grunt followed Atsumu's attack and he fell over slightly. "'Samu! Why do you gotta hit me so hard? Also what the hell are you carrying in that bag?"

The MSBY team laughed slightly seeing their setter in pain. 

Osamu came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. "It's good to finally meet you in person. No more late night phone calls or facetimes. Just you and I under the same roof."

His lips were soft against your ears as he spoke. You nuzzled into his grasp and let out a slight yawn. "But I thought you like staying up talking to me?"

He laughed lowly and kissed your cheek. "Yeah, well I don't like waking up being tired." That's fair, you thought to yourself. 

The boys helped you pick up your bags from luggage support and you all left joking. 

After quickly stopping by Osamu's apartment, you headed to his restaurant.

It was cute and had an outdoor area to it as well. On the inside strobe lights hung from the ceiling and multiple booths sat around the entrance. 

There was a small bar area with a grill stationed behind it so the customers could see the cooks cook. 

The cooking station in the back was separated by a sliding door, something that looked like it was out of a Western saloon. 

Over all, the shop had a very guy-ish tint to it, but was also quaint and homey. 

Glancing over from your booth with the guys, you saw Osamu working hard to make you guys some food. 

Taking one last drink of your water, you stood up. "I'm gonna go help him. It's not fair he has to cook all that food by himself."

They all smirked and made sly comments, all except Sakusa of course who only gave a small smile behind his mask. 

You sauntered over and came up beside your boyfriend. You playfully bumped his hip with yours and smiled. 

"Can I help you with anything? I'm a good chef."

A hearty chuckle left him and he smirked at you. "And why should I ma'am? I thought it was supposed to be were the host made the food and the guest stood by and looked pretty?"

A smirk fell onto your lips and you leaned into his ear, "But I thought I was gonna be living with you? I'd have to learn sometime how to cook." Osamu's brown eyes looked at you with a twinkle. 

"I guess so then." A small cheer left your lips as you kissed his cheek. "Thank you baby!" 

He passed you a apron and slid over a recipe book for you to start working on the other half of your groups orders. 

The rest of your night was spent conversing with people who already seemed like family, and in the arms of your adoring boyfriend until you feel asleep. 

[demwhore]

Ares | L.JN

pairing┃lee jeno x female reader genre | stalker fic, thriller, horror, angst warnings | this is a problematic fic! please read at your own risk! there is no way jeno is like this in real life, this fic is purely fictional and shouldn’t be romanticized in any way, please report any activities of stalking!! mature scenes, profanities, murder, graphic violence, manipulation, coercion, borderline obsession !! Please, Jeno is not like this in real life, this is just a work of fiction !! word count | 2,431k synopsis | He’s not beautiful like how people see him. He’s wicked.  a/n | this is actually my very first planned fic and @neo-cult-ure​ knows about this haha love you!! and my love, @jungcity, for fixing my crap grammar xD taglist | @milkinqjungs, @nanasarea, @lovestrucked-again, @neoyoungho, @bumblebeenct, @haechaaaaaaanssi, @bedraggledsijeuni, @nakamotonikkoru muse | killing me softy, the manhwa :: killing stalking, a picture of jeno glaring :: every breath you take ( listen for maximum experience )

Truly an ace of all fools.

Ares, the god of war. As Homer called him, murderous, bloodstained, the incarnate curse of mortals.

Name it, Jeno knows every possible if not, unique ways to kill. He prefers the crowbar as it’s efficient and easy enough to send a person to their graves. For his very own pleasure. It fuels him especially when he sees those eyes that were once full of life drown down to darkness of death.

Lee Jeno, is known as one of the notorious lads at school. He never fails to leave an astonished look to every person he has passed by at school. People are stunned whenever he walks down the hallway with his school shirt unbuttoned and crumpled. His overall appearance is unruly with the noticeable scars that lingered on his face like leeches. His disheveled jet black hair. Eyes that bore nothing but darkness. Chains dangling from each of his ears. His aura that is explainable and unassailable that could even strike the thunderbolt of the great god Zeus.

Jeno is handsome. He looks like bad news. Wild.

He wielded an enormous influence among girls. Some swoon at the mere sight of him; others even resorted to some chase yet ended up a crying mess. Boys even fall for his charms, but one sharp glance is enough to wave them off like flies.

However, you on the other hand are not fazed by him nor his silhouette. Which made him to be drained by a pure soul like you.

Lee Jeno is so private and closed like an abandoned establishment and that could be the sole reason why people want to pry into his life. He had everyone controlled on the palm of his hand but he can’t seem to play with you like he initially plans to.

Lee Jeno has the patience of a boar. He shows signs of violence that it’s alarming. But people seem to be in love at his bad boy facade, no one dares to report him.

He is a living contradiction. Lee Jeno is a ride, a deadly one.

He comes to school with his boisterous friends that look exactly like how he presents himself. You can always hear their uproarious banters about their lives, endless wolf-whistling. They are the group of boys you wouldn’t want to mess with. Especially the mysterious Lee Jeno.

You made a promise to get the shit out of the tracks that had traces of the boisterous boy that is Lee Jeno.

Not just the boys that have brought out the never ending fiasco circulating around your highschool. There have been a high number of mysterious disappearances of students that you may have never heard of or slightly familiar to you that you cannot recall. Their skulls are cracked open with a brute force or a bullet to the head. Some are strangled, some are mutilated, and what makes it terrifying is that most of the victims are leading down to you.

You can still remember how Kang Hana spent her afternoon with you in the library for a philosophy project. You admit it yourself that Hana isn’t the preferable company. She’s too nosy, noisy and quite violent towards you as she keeps on hitting you on the arm whenever you spill something stupid. Nevertheless, you held no grudge towards the girl. And you were really stunned at the news of her sudden death.

Oh, you didn’t know someone was watching from the windows of the library outside. Irritability bubbles inside his body like a brook. He allows no one to go near you, let alone to hit you like a ragged doll. He always had a thing for you, he didn’t know when it started but by the way you looked at him like you are almost something to be disregarded. He is drawn to you like a moth to the flame.

It is always in Jeno’s system. His mind is a bully, gushing him to do things that would make him thrilled, something that could awaken his fantasies.

He wants to kill. And he did.

He stood in all his glory, wearing his uninterested look while scrutinizing the other students walking along the hall. There at the lockers he spots Kang Hana awkwardly fumbling with the entangled bag straps.

His dark eyes bore into Hana’s figure. Eyeing her from head to toe. At this moment he is thinking of what he can possibly do with those limbs. Break it? Smash it? Mutilate it like how they do in the slaughterhouse? Jeno approaches her figure, his switchblade ready in his windbreaker’s pockets.

He breaths, trying to muster his oh-so-charming smile. “Hey.”

Hana raises up her gaze and she is surprised, that the notorious Lee Jeno is approaching her. Only if she knew his real intentions. “Oh my god. Hey.”

Jeno is charming. Quite egocentric. It doesn’t take him long to persuade someone to sleep with him or to go out on a date with him. If there is something you should be afraid about Jeno, it is his ability to deceive people without them knowing his real motives. He has a calm demeanor but sometimes his arrogance fuels him to be so wild-driven.

He leads Hana to the abandoned establishment at the rundown part of the town. He made sure to give her a signal to meet him outside where no witnesses could see them. It’s always a step when considering crime, get rid of witnesses.

At this moment, Hana starts to get excited because she has foreseen what could happen. For her it’s sex. For him, it’s blood. Jeno draws his switchblade near her carotid artery. She widens her eyes but laughter resonates in the eerie place.

She purrs. “I am a kinky person but I can try knife play.”

Jeno doesn’t play. He draws the knife deeper to her neck until she realizes he is not joking at all. Kang Hana’s heart made a beeline for her throat and tried to make a flee for her life but Jeno had his strong hand gripping her hair.

She struggles but after every move she dares, the knife further penetrates her neck. Beads of sweat are dropping down to her cheeks. A hot sticky liquid from where the knife is trickling down her neck, dampening her collarbones down to her bra. She cries loud. “What do you want?!”

Jeno smirks. He misses the familiar scent of blood flooding in his nostrils. “Your life.”

Her eyes widened in pure horror as the charming prince transformed quickly as a ruthless psychopath in just the blink of her eye. Hana tries to fight against his hold once again but Jeno wants to finish off and not to take care of a wailing woman.

He repeatedly lash out the knife through her neck. The impact of his pounds set out her blood gushing out, splashing his pale cheeks. His right hand is dripping with her hot blood. Jeno’s chest rises as his breathing became ragged but overall he felt so alive and content. He stares at Hana’s figure sprawled on the floor bathing with the pool of her own blood. Jeno felt so driven with just crimson clouding his vision. He runs his tongue on the rows of his pearly teeth, a sinister smile tugging the corners of his lips. He did it for you.

The following days have been hell for you. No, you weren’t killed but you faced a frightening number of police interrogations for the victims were always drawing down to you. Like Hana, you were the last person she was with before her neck was slashed out like a cow in the slaughterhouse. The pulse of a blue and red strobe from the police mace being parked in the circular driveway. You stare at the officer's badge, his holstered Glock. The night air settles the eerie night, still, gauzy full of humidity.

The interview lasts about a good hour but you are deemed innocent as Hana’s whereabouts where the crime took place didn’t match your activity. Her clothes are missing on the spot but the investigators found it drenched in this liquid they believed was an oxygen producing detergent. Since the laboratory personnel couldn’t get any fingerprints from her body, it has been declared useless for the crime.

It has been weeks since you find yourself able to breathe again but it didn’t last long when you were bombarded with unknown and creepy messages that you couldn’t withstand at all.

I know you. From everything you do, I know it all.

You belong to me, your full name.

I find it romantic to see how excited you look whenever I send these messages. Shall I start sending my pictures as well? Or the throne I made for you?

From morning you go to your mother’s flower shop to gather primrose to deliver to your grandfather that lives in the twenty second street downtown.

Your favorite thing to do is to draw, my sweet. I am right, am I? I’m always right.

I saw you talk to that small loser from class D. Now don’t ever talk to him again or you will see his head delivered right at your doorstep. I love you and I’m being the nice guy here.

Do you perhaps like the idea of your friend's limbs personally delivered to you? Your pick.

I am always watching you, your name.

Oh, you had a museum date with your friends? Don’t go, I am at your grandmother’s restaurant, she serves the ultimate broth soup. Too bad I can stop her from serving these delicacies.

I know deep down, you love me too. Don’t you ever try to date behind my back without telling me. I did kill for you.

Your parents aren’t home. Do you want me to visit?

So much love for you. Your long secret admirer :)

I love you. I will kill for you.

He isn’t joking. He knows everything about you. All the meticulous details no one knows but your family. Whenever you receive a message from him, your heart would pound against your rib cage. It terrifies you to the core that he exactly knows the precise details of your whereabouts.

You immediately reported this matter to the police, to your parents but it didn’t settle the problem. The number isn’t traceable. They keep on insisting that the number used is from an unregistered sim. You fear for your life, your personal space, everything.

You weren’t just experiencing the never ending terror of your stalker’s messages. But some of your things are now starting to disappear, from your bracelets, your baby pictures now, now, your white lacy underwear.

You are blissfully unaware of the pair of eyes that follows every movement as you exit the school grounds. He looks down on his hand, gripping his favorite underwear of you. He had a picture when you wore the garment, and it was his favorite among all.

He makes his way to his heavily tinted car, a smile never leaving Jeno's face as he clutches the garment tightly on his hands. His soulless eyes stared back at him the moment he stared at the rear view mirror. And drives to the nearest convenience store.

He keeps on fantasizing about you. The way your name rolls out of his tongue while jerking out never fails to send himself to ecstasy. He can’t wait to meet you, but one thing he is sure of, he will be watching you tonight.

Jeno is always a step ahead of his plans. He is meticulous and calculative. His plans never backfire for he knew what methods to use. For the days he has been killing he already knows how to get rid of evidence that could lead to him. The boy’s got a sharp tongue as well, a serpent’s, he uses lies to cover up the real Lee Jeno that hides behind the charming facade he puts front.

He wore black. Black that is a mystery. Eerie. He wears a black bucket hat that covers his beautiful features that compliments his youth. Despite the dusk ebbing its way, his moles are always as alive as the constellation. He secures his mask tighter on both ears, as appealing as it sounds, he cannot show his face to you, just not yet. He had a thing to do, he had something to accomplish.

“Just in time” he breathed into the shadows. His eyes follow your figure marching down the dim lit streets. A smirk paints his lips as you still try to swat everything and thinking to yourself everything is still normal. But no, not until he is dead. He could have easily needle out your background from Jaemin but you were his and it gives him satisfaction whenever he discovers something about you. Things that aren’t open for others but just for him.

He immediately hid behind a large tree, once you entered your home. He makes sure to secure a great and measurable distance from him to you, not so far yet so near. He clenches his fist, the idea of watching you undress from your windows sends him a big wave of pleasure.

He begins to scramble up trying to get a hold of the strongest branch his forearm could manage. Some twigs tried to interrupt him midway but nothing can stop a hungry predator from lurking on his prey. He finds the perfect spot just parallel to your window.

“Fuck” he hiss as he felt his phone vibrate from his pocket. “What it is now Lee fucking Donghyuck?”

“Lover boy, I forgot to place your camera in your bag, bye.”

The camera is not his top most concern. He has his phone that is full of you.

You were humming quietly. He follows your hands, removing your school blouse that left the boy’s mouth agape. His cock immediately hardens at the sight, and he cannot risk himself to jerk while on the tree. He scrambles immediately, carelessly fishing out for his phone to take a picture of you naked.

Lee Jeno is always not satisfied with the bare minimum. He records you, doing your private thing in your room. He is biting hard on his lips, his erection sticking out painfully against his pants. He has to endure much longer till you have finished your routine applying lotion to your shiny long legs. Those legs that he can’t wait to touch.

Jeno left the place shortly. He’s astounded. You drive him wild and wild he is. You fuel the monster more.

[imagineredwood]

Request: Imagine the Sons learn that a new patch is on the Autism Spectrum.

Pairing: Sons x Male reader (platonic)

Warnings/author’s note: I sat on this request forever. I tried to keep it relatively simple because those who are on the Spectrum can be so different and never fit a mold and I worried it would be easy to accidentally go off in a direction not where the reader actually was. I never got specifics from the person who requested so I used my own judgment and figured that he would likely have less severe manifestations that would be clear as to what he has or would’ve possibly prevented him from being patched in in the first place. I’ve dealt with people on the spectrum that you don’t know until they tell you and then there’s my cousin who basically ticks every box of what society sees as a stereotypical autistic person down to the hand/arm flailing. So I tried to make this one with a common manifestation in hopes that it was more inclusive. 

Huge thanks to the precious @breanime who gave me the plot for this because I really was struggling with this one. Thanks again mama ❤️

Word count:1.4k

 “Alright. If we’re all in agreement, let's get this shit on the road.”

Jax grabbed the gavel and raised it up, your shoulders quickly tensing in anticipation as the hammer was held high. Jax began to bring it down and as much as you tried to prepare for it, tried to control your face and not let the discomfort show, it was to no avail. As the harsh hit sounded, you flinched as if you hadn’t been ready for it. You recovered quickly, clearing your throat and trying to shake it off, your eyes catching Juice and Chibs from across the table. Chibs looked away back to the president but Juice stayed. His eyes were on you, a curious look on his face that was quickly erased and replaced with a smile once he saw you looking at him. You returned the smile, Juice being one of the Sons you were closer to. 

Even if he didn’t know about your disorder, you had always been able to relate with him more. You knew about his OCD, pretty much everyone in the club did. It was just a part of who he and it was never a topic for discussion. It was just an aspect of a member that made him a little different than everyone else. It wasn’t seen as a bad thing and you could only hope that when you finally came out and told them you were on the spectrum, they would view it and you the same. You were a good Son and had earned your patch just like anyone else. You had overcome cleaning toilets and kitchens, doing grunt work while everyone else got to enjoy their time. You had overcome that all and had earned your patch. Now the last hurdle was overcoming that godforsaken gavel and the hellish noise that came with it.

Everyone scooted back their chairs and stood from the table, starting to file out of the chapel and back into the main area of the clubhouse. Juice came up behind you and clapped you on the back, tossing an arm around your shoulders. Even if Jax was your sponsor, Juice was the one that had made you feel like a brother before everyone else.

“How you doing man? You good?”

You grinned and nodded, throwing your own arm around him.

“Good as ever, brother.”

Juice nodded once again and patted your back twice before pulling away.

“Jax said he wants you to ride down to Lodi with him and Chibs.”

“Got it.”

You nodded in acknowledgment and started to head out of the clubhouse. Chibs and Juice walked slowly, purposefully falling behind so that they could speak. Once they know you were far enough out of earshot, Juice spoke.

“Did you see it?”

The older Son nodding and looking over at Juice.

“Aye. He hates that gavel like Tiggy hates dolls.”

Juice nodded, happy that Chibs had paid attention like he had asked. Juice had noticed two weeks ago about your aversion to the gavel slamming but he knew that no one else had. Ever the observer, Juice had made it a point to pay even closer attention after and had verified that the sound of the gavel was something that got under the new patched skin like nothing else. There was such discomfort in his face for that split second after that it almost appeared like he was in physical pain. Juice had asked Chibs to pay attention in church next time and now he had seen it too.

“The lad looks like he wishes he could just up and leave the chapel. Maybe he’s got PTSD or something and those noises get under his skin.”

Chibs and Juice continued to walk, getting closer to their bikes and Chibs pushed his shoulder into Juice’s.

“I’ll talk to Jackie boy, see if I can get him to ease up on the gavel. Lord knows that shite gives me a headache as it is.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Later that day, Chibs had spoken to Jax as he’s said he would and run their observations by the Pres. As the week went on, Jax had remembered to bring it down much more softly. It wasn’t nearly as loud as it usually was, but Jax had made it a point to watch and sure enough, even with the much lighter approach you still flinched. Afterward, both Chibs and Juice had agreed that it had been much less intense, the look of panic not as pronounced. Jax took note and the next time they’d had church, he had basically tapped the stand as if he was just trying to squish an ant. The truth was, it was more the motion and action of bringing down the gavel that held the importance, not the loudness. Jax was much gentler and he kept watch that time, pleased that there was only the tiniest squint of your eyes. Practically unnoticeable unless you were looking for it. You caught his eyes, realizing what he was doing and gave a half-smile, the President returning it.

As time went on, the Sons made it a point to change what they could. They adjusted as necessary so that there wasn’t as much sensory input. Unnecessary slamming of doors stopped, the strobe light in the corner that they sometimes put on during parties was taken to storage, and they were careful to step in whenever too many people wanted to approach you and talk at once. They did what they could to help you, never once showing any irritation and never asking you about why you reacted to things the way that you did. They simply adjusted to make sure that their new brother was comfortable and comfortable you were. You hadn’t experienced any sensory overload the entire month and with the reminder about church tonight, you had pulled Jax to the side and asked if you could speak to everyone once church was over. Jax had agreed and now here you were, sitting in your chair at the table.

“Now before we wrap up, our newest member has something he wants to say.”

Their eyes all turned to you and suddenly you wondered if this was a bad idea. You hadn’t accounted for how it would feel being the complete center of attention and you stumbled.

“Uh, yeah. I uh…I just wanted to,”

You swallowed and looked to Juice who gave you a strong nod and smile. He didn’t know what it was that you were going to say but he offered you strength anyway and you took it.

“I assume you all have talked to each other about how I don’t like loud sudden noises. I can tell that you’ve all tried to bring it to a minimum.”

The members around the table all nodded, no judgment on their faces, simply curiosity.

“I appreciate it. I do, really. Loud noises and light changes just mess with me and I know that you guys have gotten a handle on it for me, but you don’t really know why.”

You looked around and your eyes landed on Jax who had his brows furrowed, equally as curious about what you were going to say as any of his other men sitting around him.

“You can tell us.”

You gave a nod and figured it would be easier to just get it out rather than continuing your preamble.

“I have Autism Spectrum Disorder. It’s a developmental thing. I won’t get all into it but that’s why I can’t stand sudden changes in my senses. It just throws me off. But that’s why.  Its…it’s the Autism.”

All the Sons at the table nodded, looks of understanding on their faces now as they were able to put a reason to the behavior. Looking over, you saw Juice with a smile, offering a small thumbs up. You chuckled and gave him a thumbs up yourself, looking back over at Jax when he began to speak.

“Well thank you for telling us. It doesn’t matter to us, we just wanted to make sure you felt as comfortable here as the rest of us. Knowing this now, we can figure out what works and what doesn’t to make things easier. You’re our brother and a damn good Son. We’re gonna look out for you no matter what.”

There were smiles all around the table as Jax gently banged the gavel and everyone stood, offering you strong hugs. They welcomed you in your entirety into their club, lives, and hearts and made sure you knew that you were up to par with the rest of them. They loved you as a brother not despite your disorder, but because it made you who you were, the newest member of the family.

[backtobackbakubabe]

Baby its Cold Outside (PART 9)

Bakugo x Reader 

Have you seen this man

**** Warning**** This chapter has a bit more graphic violence than the others. 

Words : 2810

PART 1 HERE, PART 2 HERE, PART 3 HERE PART 4 HERE PART 5 HERE , PART 6 HERE PART 7 HERE PART 8 HERE PART 9 HERE PART 10 HERE PART 11 HERE PART 12 HERE PART 13 HERE PART 14 HERE

*****************************************************************************************************

You actually got pulled to duty today, so naturally you just had to be feeling under the weather. Any other day of the week you could sit at your desk or hell just lay on one of the many couches in the break room, but nope. Not today. Today you need to go assist in a bank robbery. It was a simple call. They just needed you to pop in and get the hostages out. Piece of cake. From what you understood there was only four hostages and only two villains. Walk in the park.

But because you were already having a bad day it would only make sense if it got worse from there. So you arrive on scene and guess who’s already there? Bakugo. And guess who is yelling like the mad man he is that you don't need to go in there? Again Bakugo. 

“Nope. No. I don’t think so! This feels all too familiar. Nope. Cant do it. Go home. I think I can hear Zuko crying from here. You should probably go check on him. I can take care of this...” He probably didn't even know he was doing a full on Deku rant but you weren’t about to point that out to him right now. 

“Ground Zero... I appreciate your concern but I was called here specifically. I assume because they knew you’d blow up the building. I’ll have them out in five minutes. Now you can either help me or pout. That part is totally up to you.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, probably not appreciating be called Ground Zero. But you were in pubic and trying to be professional. “Okay Adsum..” He threw a little extra sarcasm on your name. “What do you want me to do?” 

You gave him a victorious smile, “I’m glad you asked. I can do this a lot faster if the villains are distracted. So do what you do best. Yell at them, blow things up, get their attention. And once I’ve got them all out you can go Lord Explosion Murder all over the place... Sound good?” 

He ground his teeth, “Yeah whatever just hurry...” 

Before the accident Bakugo wouldn't have bated an eyelash at you doing something like this. Now it was like pulling teeth. 

You ended up pulling everything off flawlessly. Only minor damages but that’s only to be expected when Bakugo’s involved. 

You endured the strobes of flashing cameras as the press yelled praise and questions. But neither you nor Bakugo paid them any attention. In fact you wanted to get as far away as possible. You started to feel light headed and you thought you were going to vomit any second now. Once you were far enough away you bolted towards a trash can and emptied your breakfast. 

Bakugo was at you in an instant holding your hair and rubbing your back, “Oi... you okay? You pushing yourself too hard again? I don’t care how small she is, I’ll fucking fight Dylan.” 

You pulled a tissue out of your pocket and wiped your mouth. “I dont think it’s Dylan. I think I’m just sick. I wasn't feeling too hot before I even came in today. But now that I think of it, We did have a harder day yesterday than we usually do. She had me pushing myself to see how many times I could teleport in under a minute.” You gave him a proud smile, “I got all the way up to 30. Thats once every two seconds.” 

He brushed a few hairs out of your face, “As proud as I am of you, you need to take better care of yourself. I know you say she knows your limits and everything but I still dont think there’s a chance in hell she knows your limits better than you do.” You went to protest but he gave you a pointed look, “Can you please take the rest of the day off? Just go home and get some rest. You clearly need it. ” 

“Ugh, fine... but only if you bring home some ice cream later...”

He laughed, “You and your damn ice cream. Yes I will bring you ice cream. Cookies and cream or chocolate chip cookie dough?” 

You gave him puppy dog eyes, “Both?” 

He smirked, “How could I say no to that. Alright you got yourself a deal. Now get out of here before I throw you over my shoulder and drag you home myself.” 

You wagged your eyebrows, “Oh yeah?” 

He thumped you between the eyes, “Oi! We are at work women! Contain yourself.... you also just threw up...soooo I will give you a professional hand shake goodbye.” 

He held his hand out and you just rolled you eyes. You held your hand out as well but before it met his you popped behind him and smacked his ass. “Report me to HR... I dare you.” And then you popped away in the direction of your apartment before he could scold you. You ended up ditching the costume and packing it away in your backpack. You called a cab because you really were not feeling well. 

You didn't know if the cab driver was staring at you periodically because he recognized you or if he thought you might throw up in his cab. Either way he didn't make any attempts at conversation which you were thankful for. 

You quickly took a half ass shower and brushed your teeth before going straight to bed. You passed out a soon as your head hit the pillow. 

You woke up hours later to the loud ringing of your cell phone. You checked the time before you answered. It’s a little past midnight, Katsuki should have been home by now. 

The caller ID said Kiri and your heart sank. With shaky hands you clicked answer, “He..” You cleared your throat, “Hey Kiri? What’s with the late night phone call? You wouldn't happen to know where Bakugo is would you?”

“That’s actually why I’m calling! I’m on my way to get you. I’ll explain everything when I get there. Just get dressed and get ready to go. Zuko too! Dont answer the door for anyone who isn't me!” 

He hung up before you could ask what was going on. Truly panicking now you jumped out of bed and started digging around for clothes. You were pulling on your shoes while simultaneously trying to locate Zuko’s leash when a loud bang came from the other side of the door. 

“Hey Bitch! Open up the damn door! We know you’re in there! Dont make me break this shit down!” 

Zuko started growling as you looked through the peephole. You gasped, it was the cab driver from earlier. He did recognize you. And he brought a friend. 

“Your little boyfriend aint here to protect you now is he! Not like he was the night he killed my brother! My brothers dead because of you!” 

You had no idea what the mad man was talking about but it was enough to send chills down your spine. You didn't want to risk having to fight them one on one. You still felt too sick for that. You knew Kiri was on the way so you could wait util he got there... *CRACK*

They had started kicking at the door now. “Shit...” 

“We’re going to make you pay for what you did you little bitch!” 

*CRACK*

“Then when we’re done, we’ll take out that that little shit stain Ground Zero!” 

*CRACK*

“Then we’ll track down every girl you saved that night!”

*CRACK*

You ran to the kitchen and took one of Bakugo’s really expensive knives. Surely he’d forgive you for fucking it up. You returned to the door that was only about one hard push from coming off the hinges. You focused really hard as you squeezed the knife in your hand. Then there was a slight pop and the knife was gone. 

“WHAT THE FUCK!” You looked through the peephole again but this time the cab drivers buddy had a knife... Bakugo’s knife, the one you were just holding, lodged in his chest. You did it.... You had teleported the knife through the door.

Before you had a chance to back away from the door, the cab driver threw his shoulder into it, effectively taking it off its hinges and throwing you to the ground. “Fuck!” You tried to scramble to your feet but he caught your ankle. 

You kicked him in the face twice before he let go. You had barley gotten to your feet when Zuko lunged for him. Bakugo spent a lot of time training him... so it didn't surprise you when he went straight for the throat. But watching as your dogs teeth sank into another man’s throat... it was hard to watch. 

The man cried out in alarm but Zuko just dug deeper and growled. You eyes went wide, “Zuko! No! Get back here!” 

Zuko let go and ran back to you. The man’s blood was pooling around him now as his eyes began to droop close. 

You sat down in shock staring at the scene before you. Two dead men. Blood. so much blood. Your breathing was starting to get shallow.

“Holy shit! What happened to don’t open the door for anyone but me?! Y/N! Are you okay?” 

Your eyes slowly met Kirishima's, “Where’s Bakugo?” 

He grabbed your hand and started pulling you out of the apartment and down the hallway. “I’ll tell you in the car... Come on Zuko!” 

You sped off with Kirishima checking his rearview mirror periodically. He didn't ease up until he was almost to the agency you worked at. “Okay so here's the deal. So as you just discovered some quirkless cabdriver found out where you and Bakugo live. He sent a threat along with some pictures of you walking into the building to Bakugo.” 

You gasped but Kirishima wasn't done, “Yeah but what's worse is he also sent it to the league of villains. Told them you were the one who messed up their human trafficking deal and Bakugo was the one who blew up some of their best men. You both have pretty big targets on your back right now. And Bakugo being Bakugo... he....” 

Your hands gripped the leather armrest, “Kiri don’t tell me he went off on his own... KIRISHIMA WHERE IS HE?!” 

He gave you a sad look, “We don’t know. He called me and told me to get you out of the apartment and then hung up... That was an hour ago.” 

Your eyes welled with tears. He’s so stupid. always yelling at you for not waiting for back up and now he thinks he can just show up alone to fight the League of villains of all people! 

“Where are you taking me?”

“Technically I’m supposed to bring you to the agency while we wait this out... but...” 

You leaned forward, “But what?”

“But we’re going to meet up with Deku, Todoroki, and Denki and where going to go get him.” 

“I thought you said you didn't know where he was?”

He gave you a shit eating grin, “I dont. But we happen to know where all the League of Villain hideouts are. All we need now is for you to teleport to each one. Find him and report back. They’re all within a few miles of each other. I know it’s kind of pushing it but Bakugo told me you once teleported 15 miles.” 

You nodded, “By accident sure, but my range has gone up! Its almost to three miles now... He’ll kill you for this you know? He won't want me involved in this at all.”

He rubbed his neck, “Well that's a risk I’m willing to take to get his dumb ass home.” 

Half an hour later you along with the others were huddled around a map with all possible locations circled. Todoroki pointed to a spot almost exactly in the middle if the others, “That’s where we are right now. This spot is about 5 to 10 miles from all possible locations. Y/n. We need you to teleport to each of them until you find them. When you do, do not engage. Teleport back to us. You’ll take me first, then Midoriya, them Kaminari, and lastly Kirishima. Do you understand?”

You nodded, “I’m going to be honest.. I don’t know how efficient Ill be. I’ve only been working on this kind of thing for a month or so. I’ll likely have to teleport two or three times to get to each location. Do you have pictures?” 

He shook his head, “No I apologize we do not. Are you sure you’re up to it?”

You cracked your knuckles, “Which one first?” 

You popped in and out. Running into trees, and ponds, and whatever else was in your way. You had to stop to throw up nice or twice, but you never did it in front of the other heros. They didn't need to see you were sick. You were on to the fourth location when you made a mental note to thank Dylan profusely when this is all over. Without her intense training you don’t know if you could have done any of this.

This stretch only took you two teleports to get there. You were breathing heavy with a sweat soaked shirt when you heard it, the familiar sound of an explosion. “Katsuki?” You were hiding in a couple of trees that surrounded a barn. You teleported to the top of the closest tree and look down. Sure enough there he was. You were itching to go to him. To drag him out by his ear. But you had a job to do. You took one last look at his blonde head. Hoping he would still be here when you got back. 

In one long stretch that made your muscles scream in protest you teleported back to your friends, “I found him now lets go. We need to hurry!” 

Shouto stepped up and you spat a quick, “Hold your breath.” And you were off. You dropped him by the same tree you had just stood under and pointed in Bakugo’s direction, “Hes that way. Just listen for the yelling and the explosions.” 

Without waiting for a response you went back to get Midoriya. When you dropped him off you started to feel dizzy. Not good. You leaned on a tree and gripped your head. Through gritted teach you made it back for Kaminari.

When you came for Kiri you couldn’t help it. You threw up. 

“Shit Y’n are you okay?” 

“Yeah I just have the flue or something. Just give me a minute.” 

A minute turned to twenty and you could still hardly pick your head up. Kiri came and knelt next to you. “Hey they made it out okay. They took him kicking and screaming, but they got out. I just got off the phone with Midoriya. What do you say we get you to a hotel room and get you something to eat huh? My treat. It’s the least I can do after I basically volunteered you for this.” 

You wanted to protest but your stomach gave you away. You hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, and you had thrown that up a long time ago. “Yeah I could really use some food. I’m fucking starving.” 

You called ahead and ordered a room as well as enough food for a small family. Kirishima got the room next to yours and told you to let him know if you needed anything. 

You opened the door and the smell of pizza, chicken nuggets, and mac and cheese hit you. You couldn't decide what you wanted so you had ordered it all. You needed a little comfort food. You deserved this. 

You had devoured the mac and cheese and was about to dig into the pizza when you heard the click of the door.

You grabbed your fork tightly as you stepped over to see who it was. 

“They didn't have cookie dough, so I could only get you cookies and cream.. I hope thats okay..”

You dropped your fork and flung yourself at him, “You’re so fucking stupid you know that! You cant do that to me. I was so scared!” 

He slowly wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling his nose through your hair, “I know. I’m sorry. I just.... I saw red. I couldn't let them get to you. The only thing on my mind was to protect you.  And then Kirishima told me they went to the apartment anyways. SHIT are you okay? I heard you stabbed a guy..?”

You flinched, “Well not exactly. I teleported the knife through the door... Zuko handled the other guy. Speaking of which he needs a bath... He has blood in his fur...”   

He cupped your face in his hands, “Later when were both not emotionally exhausted I’d like to talk about how badass and impressive you are. But nows not the time.” He looked to Zuko who was wagging his tail at his feet, “Thank you for looking out for our girl.” He gave him a quick pat on the head

You pulled away from his embrace and ran to the bathroom and threw up for probably the fifth time today. 

“Damn Y/n I’m sorry. I was the one who asked you to take the day off and then you had to go and work so fucking hard just so you guys could find me. I’m such a dumbass. I’m sorry.” 

You leaned against the tub, “You're not a complete dumbass. You still remembered the ice cream.” 

[joopiterjoon]

Agust D- JHS

Pairing: Hoseok x reader

Genre: PG13, Not really fluff and not really angst

Warnings/Tags: Drag!Hoseok, Bartender!Kook, Clubowner!Namjoon, drag, pronoun changes, dance performances, kissing, alcohol vague references to the larger story

Wordcount: 4k

a/n: This is from a story that I work on and drop frequently. I have enough to just need to fill in some plot holes now. I’m posting this to see if anyone would want to read it? So let me know if you want to know more

Part of ficswithluv’s #FWLBingo!

“Ladies and Lads with our without nads, our next woman of the night. It’s the dazzling, the soul-stealing, Hope!”

Jungkook rolls a cloth over a glass he turns with the over hand, nodding to the stage. “There’s who you’re looking for.”

You swivel on the bar stool.

“Hoseok?” you squeak in shock.

A stunning woman walks from the back of the stage. She has on a sleek, glittering blue dress that shines in the lights as they sway across the stage. She stares this way and that, to the beat of the music. Even from here, Hope’s face is dazzling. Literally. Rhinestone’s line her high cheek bones, lips ice blue and glistening. Her eyes are large from the makeup, popping and making her nose sharp. The dress falls over sculpted shoulders and dips into bellsleeves that glisten white.  A deep dip from muscle appear around her clavicles as she positions her hands on her hips, where the dress fans out around her.

It’s stunning, and you find yourself leaning onto the counter as you slouch in the chair. The dress sparkles as she spins, waving to the crowd and bending over backwards to the song. It’s a sultry beat, filled with something soft and longing. She drops to the floor, body bobbing in time with the base as she now lies backwards on the floor and wistfully twirls her arms above her. You swallow when she rolls up, turning to display an open back.

She stretches a hand to the sky with the rise of the music. You can tell she’s lipsyncing, jaw over exaggerating if the original soundtrack wasn’t giveaway enough as the vocals and crescendo of sound reach a breaking point. You jump when her arms fall to the side, fists balled and the music drops. You raise your hands to clap, but the crowd is unusually silent.

When the white flood lights alight the stage, Hope’s head snaps up, a conniving smirk on her face. She reaches up, one hand tearing off the wig and the other smearing the makeup off her face. She squats down, gathering the dress before she rips it clean off, breaking away at the side.

And there, on the stage a yard away from you, is Hoseok. Shirtless, Balenciaga waistband peaking above ripped jeans that were hidden beneath the tulle of the dress. He raises his arms to get the crowd going, snagging a mike and a snapback from off stage. When he spins back, his arm is raised high, arching the entire side of his body, tongue curling out of his mouth toward the microphone. His core is tight, back strong as he rolls his hips to the beat.

And then your breath catches.

They call me new thang

The recruit is here, to take over everything

The whole world, concert so sick

His voice is its own music, filled with the words, the beat, the sounds needed to add to his display. He crawls onto his knees, rolling towards the edge of the stage, knees popping up from the floor as he runs a hand through his hair and turns the hat around.

I’m different from the hyungs

That ignore their duties

An uprising of celebrities

Damn only strong ones can mess with me

He swivels then, kicking his feet under him and twisting to a standing position once more before you can even fathom how the motion happened. He swings himself off the stage on one hand, rolling into people shoving money into his waistband, stroking their chests or necks as he saunters through the crowd. Everyone cheers and screams, one man practically faking as Hoseok fakes a bite in his direction.

Then, he turns, snapping his hips as he drops lower and lower where the crowd dispersed. He drops low, popping his hips, and you giggle a bit. It looks more carefree, silly in his get up and the alcohol-soaked floor. But just like that, he kicks off, spinning to the floor on one knee before he slides towards some man, rolling his chest up his thigh.

It gets to you. Your heart flutters a bit, and you find yourself sitting a bit straighter.

But not as much when he locks eyes with you. You wonder if you’ve been caught, somewhere you aren’t supposed to be. But instead, that same smile curls on his face, knowing and crooked, as an eyebrow cocks while he continues to rap.

Doesn’t matter if I’m nasty or if I’m a wack or fack

I’m the guy that will carve history on the ground

He saunters towards you and the crowd oo’s and ah’s as he, for what feels like the hundredth time, drops to the ground at the word and swings back up with a hand cupping his groin. As he gets closer, you recognize that same teasing glint he always has when he’s about to fuck with you.

You reach behind you to push off the counter and run, but Hoseok is there before you can stop. He’s between your legs, lowering until his crotch is level, and pumping up into the seat. Your jaw is dropped as you laugh incredulously, not sure what to do with your hands behind you when he leans in, microphone just tracing up your chest as he moves up your body. The crowd is screaming, but at this point, you can’t even breathe from the shock of your tenant air fucking you. The roughness of his jeans catches on your own, his hot breath fans over your chest as he makes his way up to your agape expression. This close, you can see the sweat from his effort glittering over his skin in the varying shades of the strobe lights.

Your body finally leaves you, or as the announcer mentioned, your soul is eaten, when Hope reaches out, delicate fingers tucking hair behind your ear, running his index down your cheek as he starts stepping back, curling his finger in. You shake your head and the crowd boos. Hoseok waves to the booing crowd, pout on and eyebrow cocked, tempting you as he continues to rap along. You shout no louder, crossing your arms in front of you. Your legs feel like jello, and your heart might launch out of your mouth if you have to speak again.

Hoseok shrugs, reaching out to the closest person. He snatches up a man who he grinds into, using his shoulders to help him jump back on stage before he’s on his knees holding the man’s face in front of him, rolling his hips just close enough to touch before throwing the man’s head back, who then fake faints (or maybe it’s real?) when he falls into a friend.

The song starts to dial down, and on the final note, Hoseok is in center stage again, hand held high.

“Love you, Gemini!” he blows a kiss, drops the mic, and the crowd goes wild as he walks off stage.

“Not looking for a debut performance?” a voice calls beside you, and your soul almost leaves your body again. Namjoon sits next to you, leaning on his elbow on the counter as he watches Hoseok leave. “He wanted you up there.”

“He wants a lot of things,” you roll your eyes, trying to take in eveything you saw as you take a sip of the drink.

When you turn back, Namjoon is eyeing you up and down. You probably don’t fit what he wants you to wear in the club, in jeans and a jacket. “He does, doesn’t he?” is all he says, pushing off the counter and straightening the lapels of his black coat.

“Off to woo the partygoers,” he chuckles and heads out. You wonder just how long he’d been there, watching you watch… the show.

You shake it off, swiveling back around to the counter. Jungkook is serving people who are grabbing drinks between sets, so you reach for your drink. Before you can pick it up, warmth crowds your back and a hand reaches passed yours to snag the glass.

“Is that for me?” Hoseok’s voice teases in your ear. You swivel back around, following your drink. He has that damn half-smile on, holding the drink by the rim as he throws it back. He’s clothed now, a light sweatshirt but still the same ripped jeans. He smacks his lips after he finishes your drink. You grimace as he sets it back down.

“So this is what you look like with a shower?” You tease. Hoseok laughs, nodding as he collapses in the seat next to you. He lazes onto one arm, fingertips playing with the glasses on the other side of the bar. The angle emphasizes his sharp jawline, and the crystals still under his eyes remind you of how beautiful he looked earlier.

“How’d you like the show?” He asks with a playful wink.

“I was too busy trying not to be part of it.”

Hoseok laughs again, eyes closing as he sits upright. “I was just trying to say thank you for coming to pick me up,” he shrugs. For some reason, that makes your heart fall a bit. Or maybe it was your stomach? Maybe you’re sick.

“Wow, you really go all out,” you mock your appreciation.

“I do when I know what I want,” Hoseok explains. But his fiddling with the glasses has stopped, his eyes locked on yours. Hope stretches up, standing on the bars of his stool. “I hope good ole betty is okay in the shop. It’s cold tonight,” He pouts, leaning over the bar for a yellow bottle, maybe because it’s same yellow as Betty.

As he tips the bottle back into his mouth, Yoongi comes over to take the bottle out of his hands. “Wow, must have gotten some tip,” the man quips, tucking the bottle on the shelf behind the bar. Hoseok laughs, looking down at the bar. He can’t seem to look Yoongi in the face. Even in the bustling of intermission between acts, you can sense the awkwardness. There’s an odd stretch of silence before Yoongi finally speaks.

“Yeah, I bet. Thanks,” he gives a smile, but it’s fake. Even you can tell. Yoongi can tell too, and he moves to say something, but Hoseok is on his feet.

“Welp, this old landlord needs to get home,” he swings an arm around your shoulders as you gawk at the “old” he tagged on. He looks down at you, and the smile starts to dazzle. You look back at Yoongi instead, giving him a short nod. “It’s past her bedtime.” 

Hoseok is pulling you out, elbows linked before you can say goodbye.

As you break into the night air, you slow down. The thumping of the music can still be felt in your shoes, but the chill in the air makes the night feel frozen in time. “Hoseok, you still haven’t talked to him?”

“No,” Hoseok answers quickly, walking towards your car. You trot after, his gate wide.

“But…” Hoseok turns, eyebrows raised, so you pause. He looks like he’s wondering what you have to say, but his half-set eyes send a different signal. “It’s just, I’d get my parking spot back if you guys could settle this.”

Hoseok’s walking backward, humming at your reasoning. It reminds you of him beckoning you towards the stage. You both stand at your car now.

“Why…” you clear your throat as he leans against your car, fist against his temple, completely at home, smiling at you. It makes the words disappear from your head. You shake it, hoping they’ll jumble back into place. “Why do you keep this up? Why not just find somewhere to live and a decent job instead of scraping by?”

“Ah, this question,” Hoseok starts. He rolls onto his back, putting his hands in the jacket pockets. He turns and winks. “Guess you really are interested after all.”

You shove his shoulder to let him know he needs to get on with it.

He chuckles, scuffing the heel of his shoe in the gravel parking lot. “If having my dream means being a bit uncomfortable, I’m willing to make that sacrifice.”

You understand what he means. Not even living paycheck to paycheck, sacrificing your livelihood for your studies. It’s a sacrifice out of passion for passion. It’s something he understands. It’s part of what has him creeping closer and closer to you. Inside your home. And closer to you.

You tuck your own hands into your pockets, trying to fight the cold. “Um, can I try something?” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop yourself, even process where you are headed with this. The world is suddenly very warm. A sensation, an urge suddenly overpowers you. Something you haven’t acknowledged that is now determined to crack the surface and pour out.

Hoseok rolls his head to the side, then his body follows suit. You push off the car, standing up straight. Hope’s smile edges up his face. Your eyes are trained on that smile as  you take a step forward, drawing in a sharp, cold breath for confidence. Hoseok stands as you take another step closer.

“Are you gonna ask to kiss me?” Hoseok says with lilt.

You give a short nod. Yes, that is exactly what you are doing. You didn’t even want to voice it to yourself. That these feelings had appeared, manifested, and broken loose while Hoseok was on the stage, doing what he loved. You can’t ask, too nervous, so you just look into his eyes, those soft, pretty brown eyes, and hope the question transmits.

Hoseok gives a short nod back, the smile turning soft, something else flickering in those eyes besides softness. “Okay.”

Your cold fingers reach out, lingering around the curve of his neck before your fingers fit under the jut of his jaw. His eyes flutter at the cold touch, mouth parting a bit. But he keeps his eyes on you as you lean in hesitantly.

You lick your lips. Hoseok smirks a little bit, but now his eyes are trained on your lips, not boring into your eyes with that daring glint.

And that’s all you need. You push forward, pulling him into you at the same time. As soon as your lips touch his, he’s in motion, one arm around your waist and the other sliding up your back, a physical request not to pull back. So you don’t, you snake your arm around his neck til your elbow locks behind him, lips parting at the slick touch of his warm tongue across your bottom lip.

You whimper when he nibbles at your bottom lip, sucking lightly before mouthing at you again, tongue behind your teeth as yours twists with his. You taste your drink in his mouth, but something more. Something sweet, almost floral as he bends you back, holding you into him with one final, firm kiss. When he tilts you upright, you grab onto his jacket collar for dear life. He blinks down at you, clearly amused by your sudden shock at almost falling over.

“Not bad,” he teases. You frown at the off-handed remark and jerk your elbow around his neck. He pretends to almost drop you. You both giggle.

He swivels you both, moving his hands to your waist as he lets you fall back into the car. The warmth of his weight contrasts with the cold exterior of your car. He looks down at you, then back up to your face, lips pressed then with a deep sigh.

“What?” you ask, hands now on his chest, curling your hands under the hoodie for some extra warmth. Hoseok shakes his head. 

“That was a decision,” he states. “That was a turning point.”

You tug on his hoodie, pulling him flush against you again. “I think so, too,” you murmur, then find his lips again.

[always5hineee]

Hell and Back - Chapter 20: The First Rule of Right Club (Trial 27)

Word count: 3153

Chapter warnings: Mild language, violence, and dangerous actions  

[Please do not replicate any of the behaviors read in this book.]

-----

       After explaining what had happened with Tao's challenge, Suho warned her not to do it again without asking him about it. She tried to defend herself in regards to the time limit, but he wasn't having it. Tao attempted to take the blame for it, but they both understood that it was just Suho's being on edge. At least they got another trial out of the way. Only a few more before they were done... Finally, she just decided to move past it, looking down to the screen.

       "Lay is limited for this trial." She said curtly, not willing to fight with their unofficial leader any longer. "Who did we say was going next?"

       "We listed Sehun." Lay offered, paying attention mostly just because of the use of his name.

       "I'm okay with that." Sehun said. "Let's go, it's getting late, and I'm starving. The faster we do this, the better."

       "Alright," she pressed his name, waiting for it to load up. Before the text even appeared, Sehun grabbed the phone out of her hand. As she started yelling protests, he held it on his other side out of her reach as she grabbed his arm, jumping behind him to try and get it. Reading it, he said,

       "I have to compete in a fighting ring." Pausing her jumps, she asked,

       "Are you serious? That seems dangerous. And illegal." Handing the phone back to her, he said,

       "Yeah, it does, doesn't it... Where are we even going to find a fighting ring?" As he asked this, everyone looked too Kris. Noticing their gazes, he glared.

       "Don't look at me. I don't do that underground shit."

       "We might need to ask the app again..." Chen suggested.

       "The last time we did that, though, Lay got screwed over."

       "Do we really have a choice, though?" Kyungsoo pointed out. "We can't just walk around the city asking people where to find a highly illegal activity we can participate in."

       "Yeah, I guess." Suho said, clearly unhappy with this decision. "Y/N, ask the thing." He ordered. She wanted to snark back at him, but just did what he asked, watching the familiar box. Do you wish to request a set trial location? Note that this cannot be changed freely. Clicking yes, a GPS box popped up.

       "I guess we have a place, then." She said. "It's within walking distance, actually, do we-"

       "We're driving." Kris said, making it non-negotiable. "If something happens, I'm not gonna run down the street like some clown."

       "Alright, alright," she said, putting her hands up in surrender, still grabbing her phone in one. "Let's go then." They got into Kris's car, inching down the road as she looked for the right area. Finally, they reached a suspiciously dark parking deck, to which she pointed. "There." Pulling in, she told him to just find whatever parking space he wanted. Although it was empty, she knew that the place must be close. Reluctantly, he did as she asked. Once they had stopped, everyone got out, Kris double checking to make sure it was locked.

       "Okay," she directed. "I think it's in the bottom deck of this place. That's what the GPS is insinuating, anyway."

       "Do you guys carry masks?" Kyungsoo asked, pulling one out of his pocket. It wasn't uncommon to do so for both health and privacy reasons. However, she didn't have hers on her- she generally didn't when she hung out with them. She wasn't alone, as Baekhyun wasn't carrying one either.

       "Hold on, there are probably extras in the car." Kris said with a sigh, re-unlocking it and digging in the center console. Finally, he came up with one fabric and one paper. "Who wants what?"

       "You can have the real one," Baekhyun offered. "Blue looks good on me, anyway." Taking the black fabric mask from Kris gratefully, he turned to check his car once more as she put it on. Although it had definitely been in the car a while, it faintly smelled of his cologne. He'd used the same one for years, so she could recognize it by now.

       "Let's go." Suho directed, his own mask on as well as they headed towards the not-so-reputable staircase. They filed down two at a time, Sehun in the front. When they reached the bottom of the staircase, they were met by a large, well-built man obstructing the entryway.

       "Excuse us..." Sehun said with an awkward laugh, trying to get through.

       "What do you think you're doing?" The man asked in a rough tone, shifting to cover any gaps in his body-barricade.

       "We're here to fight." He explained. "So if you could just-"

       "All of you?" He asked, looking up at the line. "I don't remember that many people even being on the roster."

       "Roster?" He asked. There was a roster? Well, shit, how were they supposed to get onto that.

       "Um, yes. Are you sure you're in the right place, kids?"

       "It's just him fighting." Suho pointed at Sehun, trying to get control over the situation. "The rest of us are just here to watch." Raising an eyebrow, the bouncer asked,

       "You? You're gonna fight?" Sehun nodded, to which he shrugged. "What's your name?"

       "Oh Sehun?" Grabbing a list off a table obscured by the wall, the man looked it over. After a few seconds his eyes widened just slightly, but he was quick to hide it. Looking back up to Sehun, he said, "Alright, you're on the list. If the rest of you are just watching, though, you'll have to buy tickets."

       "Where do we do that?" Suho asked. He received a weird look- they were not blending in easily- but the bouncer told them he'd take the money right there. Reluctantly, each of them paid, following Sehun in. As they passed the man, he said,

       "Competitors can go to the back room to get their gloves, unless you brought your own."

       "Thank you." As they walked in, she looked around, astounded. She had never really been anywhere like this before. While in structure, it definitely looked like a parking deck, it was- no pun intended- decked out to no end. There were LED's and smoke machines everywhere, but it fit well with the aesthetic. It was less like a cheesy haunted house and more like a club that was too cool for you. There were crowds of people, makeshift bars, and the smell of many, many drugs, at least half of which the scents she didn't recognize.

       "Hey, honey," she heard a voice to her right as she was walking, a man sauntering up to her. He was definitely older than her, but she couldn't tell by how much in the dim light. "You look new. Need someone to show you around?" Shoving him away by the shoulder, Kai answered for her.

       "She's fine, thanks." Looking to Kai, then to her, then to the group as a whole, he laughed.

       "Oh, you're one of those girls."

       "What's that supposed to-" She started to ask, before Kai pulled her to his other side by the elbow.

       "That's enough of that." And with that, he escorted her further into the deck with the rest of the group. In the center of the entire mess, there was a huge padded arena, much like one would see in boxing movies. There was a timer hanging on the wall, lit up at 1:34. It was counting down, leading up to something. Sehun split off to go to the back, slipping through the mess of bodies and out of sight. She wanted to follow him, but Kai was still holding onto her elbow. She was simply forced to watch as the clock counted... 3... 2... 1...

       When it hit zero, it made an earsplitting buzz for a second or two, quieting the whole room down. Just after it went off, a man climbed up into the ring, wearing black jeans and a leather jacket. Holding a microphone, he yelled,

       "Ladies and gentlemen! Can I have your attention please!" Once the whole room was looking at him, he waved a hand, laughing into the microphone. "Ah, who are we kidding, there are none of those here. Who's ready to fight?" As he said this, the room flew into an excited roar, strobe lights going off in the background. All of it was giving her a headache, but it was somehow entrancing as well. She couldn't help but continue watching.

       "We have a roster of eighteen people this week, including your favorite reigning champion, the Golden Ninja!" The room once again broke out into a frenzy, but she couldn't help but laugh. The golden ninja? What kind of lame-ass name was that? She could only assume the others would be worse.

       "We also have quite a few new contenders, so keep your eyes out for some new potential bets! Remember, the rules are simple. No kicking, no biting, no uh... blows below the belt, and you fight to win! Now who's ready?" Screaming and rock music began harmonizing in some sort of demon's chorus, flooding the area. How was this not audible to the people on the surface? Regardless, the matches were about to start.

       If there were 18 players, that would mean there were 9 games. She wasn't sure which Sehun would be in, but she wanted to make sure she was up front for it. As she struggled to see over the mob, Chanyeol asked,

       "Do you want a lift?" He whispered next to her ear. Wanting to be able to see the fight, she nodded in agreement. Kneeling down in front of her, he gesture to his shoulders. Not sure of what to do at first, she awkwardly stepped over his arms so that she was standing over him, legs on either side of his head. In one swift motion, he grabbed her knees and stood, lifting her off the ground on his shoulders. As they we relatively near to a pillar, he leaned back on it, so that she'd have some form of support as they watched.

       Now that she was far above the crowd, she could see quite clearly. The fight was just beginning as the announcer called the first two competitors out. Neither of the names called were Sehun's. She looked on in curiosity as two bigger men entered the ring, each with shorts and gloves on. They were both heavily bruised, although neither looked like they bore recent injuries. Maybe they were regular competitors.

       "Three rounds of three minutes each, we'll judge the winner by K.O.'s or cheering! Ready, set, go!" The brawl broke out almost immediately. She could barely keep track of their hands as they battered each other, each grimacing in pain every few seconds. When the three minutes was up, the disorienting buzzer rang again, each man backing up from the other. They were breathing heavily and sweating, glaring at each other. Had they fought before?

       The second and third rounds progressed in relatively the same fashion, although they progressively became more slow and clunky. By the end, since no one had been knocked out, the announcer raised each man's hand one at a time to listen for the cheers. She did not cheer for either.

       The second match was similar, but they only fought two rounds. During the second, the smaller of the two men was knocked out cold, tongue practically falling out of his mouth. It was beginning to worry her. Those two men were obviously not in the same weight class. Who would Sehun end up fighting?

       "Hey, uh, loosen up." Chanyeol said from below her in sort of a loud whisper, trying to get her attention without alerting anyone else.

       "Huh?"

       "My scalp's kinda sore still." Looking down, she realized that she was holding onto his head rather tightly, running her fingers over his remaining hair in an obsessive manner.

       "Oh! Sorry..." She said. "I'm just nervous."

       "Me too."

       The third round passed, then the fourth. The fifth. She was starting to become fearful as even bigger and scarier men began coming out, each more violent and rage-filled than the last. Sixth. Seventh. It was at the eighth round that things became interesting. The announcer, as he had between the other rounds, stood to speak. However, this time, his dialogue was a bit different.

       "In a recent development, one of our competitors has backed out! Normally we'd drag him out here and just... beat the shit out of him," He laughed with the crowd, "But he's pretty much turned tail and hit the road." Were they talking about Sehun? Had he run away? She didn't have time to ask Chanyeol what he thought before the man continued. "So, you folks are in for a special treat! Instead of giving our eighth round competitor a bye, the Golden Ninja is going o be fighting twice! Yes, you heard that right, the Golden Ninja will be fighting two first round drafts!"

       The crowd began to go wild, lights flashing and a few beer bottles smashing on the ground. She flinched, causing Chanyeol to tighten his grip on her knees.

       "It's gonna be fine." He muttered.

       "You don't think...?"

       "I'm sure he's alright." As the two names were called, her eye grazed over the arena. The first guy- the original fighter- looked about how she'd expected. Huge, tons of tattoos, short hair, muscled far beyond her comfort level- it was all there. The second man, though, was much different than anyone else she'd seen. He was wearing golden shorts, as well as a headband. He had long, black hair that was tied back with it, falling into his eyes like feathers. His skin was light, and surprisingly clear. She couldn't make out a single bruise on his frame, although that could have just been the LED's. It was when the starting buzzer rang, though, that she was truly surprised.

       The bigger man lunged for him almost immediately, likely familiar with the ninja's style. The smaller man immediately zipped around him, looping a foot around his ankle and pulling, causing the man to fall to the ground. Once he was down, the boy jumped over him, leaning down to hold a glove to his shoulder. Within seconds, the man had gone completely limp, announcer ringing the buzzer.

       "And, as usual, the golden ninja takes the victory!" Two assistants, a man and a woman she had seen at the bar earlier in the night dragged the motionless body of the man off the arena floor, the victor waving his hands in the air and calling for cheers.

       "For the final first-round match of the night, we have a new competitor to the ring!" She held her breath, trying to figure out whether she wanted Sehun to still be here, or to have escaped. This did not look good for him. The trial never said he had to win, but it also may have a contingency. In addition, she'd really prefer if he didn't die...

       "Introducing... Sehun!" Shit. Walking out into the arena, Sehun was already sweating just slightly, silky sheen on his skin. He had taken off his shirt and was now wearing gloves, but he was still sporting black skinny jeans, no doubt restricting his movement. The crowd broke out into laughter.

       "What's going on?" She asked. "Why is everyone laughing?"

       "My guess?" Tao said grimly, "This is a normal occurrence. They pick the weakest of the new competitors and throw them up against the reigning champion as a form of entertainment."

       "That's sick." The betting boards supported his theory. Every single bet was on the golden ninja, Sehun's boxes completely empty. No one expected, or even wanted him to win.

       "Yeah, well, it's just how it goes." Sehun was looking around, trying to find the group. With Y/N covering feet above the rest of the crowd, she made eye contact with him, causing his darting gazes to still. After a moment, he looked back to the golden ninja. He had the advantage in weight and muscle, but he had no experience. She grit her teeth, hands roaming over Chanyeol nervously as the first bell rang.

       The ninja seemed reluctant to lunge for him first, mostly because he seemed to want Sehun to make the first move. As obvious as it was that the latter had no idea what he was doing, the ninja wasn't stupid. Neither of them knew anything about the other. After a few seconds, though, the crowd began to boo. They wanted blood. As the competition was fueled on audience approval, the fighter fling forward, trying to pull the same tripping move.

       While Sehun wasn't able to completely avoid it, he pulled his foot out of the other man's grip, keeping his balance and managing to shove off him. The ninja tripped, skittering on the floor, but didn't fall either. Annoyed, he said something to Sehun, but she couldn't hear it from where she was residing. Still, it seemed to send the front few rows into a bout of excitement. In a blur, the man's fist flung forward, connecting solidly with Sehun's jaw and flinging his head to the side.

       "Sehun!" She shouted worriedly, Kris looking up at her with a glare.

       "Shh, don't draw attention." A second blow met the boy's face from the other side, causing him to sink to his knees, blood flowing from his nose now. Laughing, the golden ninja leaned over, sneering. It was his revenge for Sehun avoiding his first move. While he was celebrating, though, Sehun wrapped his arms awkwardly around the man's knees, yanking on them and causing him to land on his ass, yelling out in surprise. Sehun managed to scramble to his feet as the golden ninja tried to react, able to get in a sucker punch while he was on the ground. Then a second, then a third.

       At this point, the ninja had lost his advantages: his speed and experience were limited to his incapacitation on the ground, so Sehun was free to use him as a punching bag. As much as the boy didn't want to, he understood that he wouldn't get lucky twice, but if he managed to knock the man out now, the fight would be over. He kept punching until the clock hit zero.

       As the buzzer sounded, he backed up, breathing heavily, wiping the blood from his upper lip with the top of his arm. Watching as the golden ninja twitched on the ground, the crowd was hushed, the announcer walking over to him. He seemed to ask a question, the boy trying to get up. He managed to make it into a standing position, knees shaking and face bloody. After a few seconds, though, he crumbled to the ground again. Shocked, the announcer walked over to Sehun, grabbing his wrist and raising it.

       "The new champion of the arena- Sehun!"

Go to Chapter 21

[dobriking]

Bend Into A Break (3)

Summary: Not one, but two vlog-squads came with the death of Vine. And the rumored beef between you two is absolutely true! So, you and David (begrudgingly) set up a month long-retreat among your groups to film team challenges and go against each other. Y’know. For views. Pairing: David Dobrik x Reader, Enemies to Lovers, living together. Warnings: Profanity, mentions of drinking, sexual...themes?

1 | 2 | 3

“David…you do realize how impractical it was to rent the party bus, right?”

David hangs out the bus by holding onto the door’s nearby pole, and carelessly swings back and forth, only his heels keeping him on the bus’ front step. He sucks his lips in, really thinking about it. Because to him it seems only practical to get everybody completed wasted to prevent the car-equivalent of capsizing from the many fights likely to break out.

So he blinks very slowly.

You sigh. “David…how is anybody going to leave like we promised if we’re renting one party bus just to take us there? And if no on-demand Ubers will be in the vicinity of a creepy, half-haunted mansion on a hill available to drive a bunch of bumbling adult babies from one house to the next because somebody forgot their stupid phone battery?”

Oh. That’s what you’re getting at.

He’s stuck letting out this crackling groan trying to think of something to say.

“Well uh,” he snaps his fingers — genius, “that’s why me and you are taking the Tesla.”

You drop your head. “We’re going to leave our groups drunk and unsupervised on a party bus together aren’t we?”

“I…didn’t think this through.”

“No, David. You didn’t.” You walk inside, your black bomber jacket making more noise for your dramatic exit than you would have liked. But to start this week out right (after the previous week of haphazardly buying and planning for this), you, David, and the rest of the crew wear the merch you promised. Well, the closest you could get to it. You couldn’t create around 18 labeled shorts and shirts in such a short time, so you gathered typical athletic styles, red and blue for each team, and scoured the internet for stitched name tags to be pinned on each shirt.

You chose our style thinking of the future and how convenient an easier way to air out would be. So your shorts are cut off at (almost) the very top of your thigh, traditional to those stereotypical 70s shorts with the neon majority and white trim. Currently you’re freezing your ass off with the clouds hanging overhead, but your jacket does something to proportionate the warmth.

You pass around the name tags to everybody standing in David’s living room, clustered in groups of two with their corresponding members.

To deal with Natalie being an outlier, David (with a pain in his heart) agreed to let her represent your team opposite Scott. You’re careful handing her the badge and she takes it with caution, pinning it in her shirt while her eyes continuously flicker to yours.

Zane and Noel, Heath and Cody, they make some contest out of who can put their badge on faster. Heath cackles and runs his finger up Cody’s chest to flick him in the nose, trying to trick him into thinking his badge is horribly off-center. Zane gives Noel the stink-eye for giving Heath the stink-eye for messing with his friend.

Corinna and Enya don’t try messing with each other. Contrary, Corinna brought Enya some lemonade and they stir their straws through the ice in unison as they talk with each other.

Toddy and Amanda (the groups’ resident hotties) stand together but don’t look. They watch the others, unable to shake their anxieties.

Erin and Emily, Carly and Chloe…they’re getting along just fine!

Actually talking!

You smile at the display ready to hand them their badges, but make it quick when you hear them mutually bashing the trip. Ouch, okay.

Then there’s Matt and Drew. They sit opposite each other on the couch, and similarly too with their legs spread and hands limp in their lap. They can’t figure out what’s so similar about them, but it’s easy! They’re both pretty tall and seem to be a voice of reason, but then they hit you in the gut with bizarre humor and blatant understanding.

At the very least everybody’s followed instructions and bought the clothes you provided them. They have their suitcases and backpacks, and while you know none of them are really prepared for what you and David have in store, they’re prepared enough.

You hop on David’s coffee table, cup your hands around your lips, and whistle.

“Okay okay, listen up! So David’s got the party bus — “

Corinna squints “But what about our cars?”

You hiss. “Heh, that’s what I tried to tell him but guess what, he still has the party bus! So..!” You pump your fist in the air; you couldn’t be less enthusiastic, “Yay…Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out. Right now I think its best we all just travel together, and when you start to go insane with being unable to leave in anything but a strobing party bus, we’ll probably drive everybody around and pick up a few cars.”

Scott frowns, impressed. “So no Tesla? Never thought he’d part with that thing.”

“Oh no, he’s bringing the Tesla.”

“Hey, that’s no fair!”

“Yeah how come he gets to bring his car but we can’t bring ours!”

You groan and your volume and intensity increase with each word, “Because he just wanted you all to get drunk and have fun and not murder each other on the three-hour drive and he didn’t connect the dots about him bringing his Tesla and you guys not bringing your own cars o-KAY?!”

You hop down and stomp out of the room. “Just bring your damn bags and stop complaining!”

David’s standing by his Tesla holding a hand to his hip and the other to his forehead, spieling his eyes from the sun beaming down from behind the house. “How’d it go?” He’s chewing his cheek. “Good?”

You shrug and drop your arms. “I dunno.” You force a smile. “Started getting mad about the car thing but I told them to shut up then left so I have no idea how it escalated.”

“Hmm, that’s good. You need to like, be more assertive.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Your voice is lost on him once you hop on the bus and look around.

It may be a little tight. Like David said, being drunk (for those who can be) might do a bit to deal with the comfort but you have an inkling a fight might break out before they even bring out the vodka. “Hey, David?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think ew should take a few people with us?” You head off but he hops on, swinging in by the door’s immediate pole.

He shakes his head, “Nah, they’ll be fine.”

You sigh through your nose and return to looking deep into the bus. “I think the fact we have to get them drunk during the transport is enough of a red flag.”

“Yeah no definitely.” You’re shocked by his ease but he shrugs. “But don’t worry.” He pats your arm. “Gonna be fun.” Then he hops back off. You back out slowly and in time to see him jogging inside the house to gather everybody. You step out and go to the back, slipping the poor driver a 50. You pat his shoulder and don’t say a word, but he still nods solemnly knowing that you mean the best of luck.

David comes out leading the group and it looks like an elementary school field-trip. He stops at the door, waving his hand to gesture one after another forward, and counts even to make sure everybody’s there. He squints, watching you take pity on the driver before giving him room to haul everybody’s things into the under-part of the bus.

You watch them get on one by one, actually worried. David can see it from where he stands. He keeps his eyes on you over his shoulder as he locks up the house, though only does that after popping into do a quick run through and make sure the doors are locked and lights are on.

While checking with the driver to make sure his address is right, he admits it is indeed crowded.

He steps over everybody to get to the back’s fridge and out he cradles bottles of champagne and vodka to the middle table, cheering “Yaaaay!” To combat the stillness. He stands back, hands on his hips and gestures the drunk. “C’mon guys, have some fun. Woo!” He claps and skips to the front, “Party time!” Ignoring the discomfort he brings Corinna and Cody particularly (Cody disturbed with her close presence and Corinna disturbed by the sheer amount of space he fills up with his spread legs).

David hops off the bus and jogs to his Tesla. You’re in the passenger seat and he slips in, buckles up, and starts it as fast as he can.

He wonders if there’s enough alcohol on the bus to last three hours. His bets are they’ll battle it out, get drunk out of frustration, and have a really good time for about an hour then pass out before reaching the third. Fourth depending on traffic.

You jump at his hurriedness, voice quaky. “Everything okay?” And buckle yourself.

He bites his tongue and waits. When the bus’ driver gives him a thumbs up he answers, “Yuuup,” before driving.

You hum. “There’s a bathroom on the bus…right?”

“Yup, yup.” He thinks so but he’s not sure. Best to assure himself that it won’t be a literal shit-show.”

You frown. “David…are they gonna die?”

He holds his tongue again. “Mhmm.”

You slump back and pick at your sleeves.

Thirty minutes in and you become comfortable enough to make yourself comfortable. You pull your legs up to the seat, though hesitate when David eyes you. Seeing you rethink your decision he shakes his hand over your lap as he turns a corner. “Oh no don’t worry — that’s nothing compared to what they’ve done in here.” You slowly bring your legs back up, and David too relaxes, thighs separated and palm press to one of them.

He sticks his hand between his seat and the center console, pulls out the aux cord, and tosses it in your lap. You play some tunes knowing full well David’s put them at the end of a few vlogs — just to be safe.

Though you get a chill when Zedd’s “Beautiful Now’ comes on and you’re treated to the (wonderfully sung) lyrics of:

I see what you’re wearing, there's nothing beneath it

Forgive me for staring, forgive me for breathing

David rolls his shoulders and sinks deeper. But the initial soft sounds of the track grow into something more powerful and you’re both ignoring it until the beat drops again:

Stranded together, our worlds have collided

This won't be forever, so why try to fight it?

That’s ironic, you think.

And on cue David says “That’s ironic,” with a faint chuckle.

You chuckle too. It’s breathy and highlights your anxiety even more with the addition of the otherwise silent car. “Sure is…”

Maybe five minutes pass, then David reaches and turns it down. He sniffles, swiping his wrist under his nose as you come to a red light.

“So, uhm…” He blinks harshly and rapidly before shaking his head at himself and forcing a chuckle. “I don’t even know what I was going to say.” You hum to soothe him. Then he snaps his fingers, “Oh yeah! So like…? What challenges do you have in mind. I have some obviously, just wondering what you have.”

“Oh. Well…” you sit up and grab your phone, turning down the volume even more and opening your notes. “I mean I had some typical stuff like a water balloon fight.” You point over your shoulder. “Brought some balloons for that —“

He takes his eyes off the road and light, “Red and blue?” and smiles are you.

You chuckle. “Yup…yup. Red and blue. So water balloon fight, the pool could be of use but I dunno, a swimming content seems too standard.”

“Right.” The light’s green and he gets going again, letting his eyes dart to you every so often when it’s the least inconvenient.

You start to stretch, wrapping your arms behind you and around the headrest. It lengthens you out and lifts your shirt a little. “I figured we’d be ordering food all month, but at one point before Heath goes too crazy we should have a cooking contest or something.”

David watches you stretch. But he hisses at himself realizing how strange it must be. You recall his hissing as a response to your suggestion however and he saves himself with “Ouch. Just gonna hand over a win like that?”

You shrug. “I mean hey, if he doesn’t pull out a hatchet I’ll gladly give you guys a win.” Speaking of hatchet, “Kind of a shame we’re in California cause a snowball fight could show spectacular sportsmanship.”

His face scrunches up. “It’s still June.”

“Yeah but still. I’d be willing to postpone for that. Snowball fight, sledding, white elephant and crap.”

He leans forward, squinting to read the sign up ahead. “Some holiday spirit would make everybody a little less angry. I’ll see what I can do.”

You find that curious but ignore it and continue. “And since we’re a bunch of adult babies I figured we’d all get a kick out of a giant pillow fort. I’m talking all through the house. We could figure out things to do in there like those games where you try to balance an egg on a spoon…only through a pillow fort.

“OOoooOoo, I like. And uhm, campfire? We could like, do a campfire. Tell stories. I mean you rented a creepy ass mansion for this so,” he clears his throat, “let’s knock some socks off, y’know?”

“…Did you just say ‘let’s knock some socks off?’”

“What’s said in the Tesla stays in the Tesla.”

“Got it…Why don’t we just shove every season of the year into one month”

“I mean hey,” you chuckle, “sounds good to me!”

You don’t have anything else to bring up, and neither does David. He turns the music back up, and after a few songs “Bad Romance” by Lady Gaga comes on maybe an hour into the drive…you and David squint forward, taking in the synth instrumentals with her slick voice.

“Hey—“ your voice cracks “—what do you think about a lip syncing contest?”

David gulps. “Yes.”

Immediately David pops in your mind when you think of this song. Digging through your childhood memories you recall ‘Total Drama Island.’ You reabsorb that damn show and every little thing about it, specifically that season where the host switched teams up the last minute. But no, that wouldn’t work. You would be on different teams regardless of the shake-up being team-leaders and all.

“Wh-” you start. David looks at you, waiting. “What if it’s like, a versus battle. So like, me versus you, Enya versus Corinna, corresponding people, y’know? Instead of the entire group.”

David hums. “Yeah but, who’s going to vote?”

Can’t be your fanbases because the answer to them would always be clear.

“Uh…anonymous voting? Each person votes for who objectively did better in the battle for each battle, and then, y’know.”

“What about voting for yourself?” He shoots it down, logically.

You sit deeper in your seat and slide down a bit, neck posing your head awkwardly against the seat rather than the headrest. “I hope everybody’s mature enough to be objective…”

David leans against the center console and picks at his lips. Then he snaps his fingers, “I got it. Surprise guests. Like, I could bring Brandon and Jason.” He points at you with his thumb, “couldn’t you fly Tom here and like, get Casey? Frey? And they have to come to a mutual decision. Problem solved.”

You hum. “So to be clear me and you are dancing to ‘Bad Romance’, right?”

“Oh definitely.”

You clap once, “Good on that.”

“I mean, we both know you’ll win, so,” he says so casually, turning down the music again. It’s sickening to see him pass over the crown so easily.

You scoff. “That’s not true. You’re very expressive.”

David smiles. “Oh. Am I?”

“Yeah.” You roll your eyes, unsure if this is him fishing for compliments or his ignorance. “You can shake it, David. No — you can work it. I’m not gonna deny that.”

He hums and bites his thumb.

“What?” You nod at him, beckoning him to continue. He lets out a faint squeal and shakes his head, going to different lengths from covering his mouth with his palm to his wrist to biting his fingers again to keep quiet. “David, tell me.”

“‘anks for ‘icing.”

“David — articulate.”

He giggles and repeats, “Thanks for noticing,” in a whisper. You roll your eyes and slink down further in your seat. He stutters for a moment but shouts “Hey! Y-you’re uh, you’re pretty expressive too…so.” He slaps the steering wheel and sits back at the next red light. “I said it. You’re ‘expressive’ too, okay? So who knows which of us is going to win?”

You squint. “So basically you check out my ass—“

“Hey! I did no—“

You cackle, “But you still check out my ass!”

“Okay!” He holds up a finger and runs his tongue over his lips. “Okay okay, but to be fair, you check mine out too!” He curses himself. You have the strange ability to pull facts out o your ass and whoever isn’t prepared enough for them falls right into your trap.

“HA!” No I don’t!”

“YOU SAID I’M EXPRESSIVE!”

You jump and lean over the console to get in his space. “I LOOK AT YOUR LEGS!” You slap at where they’re clothed. “Your thighs! And your waist and your chest and your arms - ALL of you is expressive, David! You’ve got this like,” you scrunch your hands up, “weird, tiny little dancer’s body!”

“Wait wait wait hold on a minute!” You lean back, cheek against your seat. “How am I worse?!” He laughs. “I only look at your ass, you look at all of me!”

“Because I look at you in an artistic way. Cause that’s what the body is: a beautiful piece of art.”

He gulps, trying to hum as though impressed with your observation. But it hurts his throat to do it and he coughs, choking on his own giggles and having to press his fist to his lips to stop it all from spilling over as he starts driving again.

He takes a deep breath, focusing all his energy on not giving himself away this time. “Well psh, how,” he takes a deep breath, “how do you know I don’t look at you like a piece of art?”

You shrug. “Cause you don’t. Or,” you hum, “wait? Do you?”

Hoping this time it’ll work in his favor, David keeps his mouth shut. Still, his lips curl fighting a smile, but he’s successful. You hum with your mouth open (“Mhmm”) and keep your jaw slack for a period before chewing on your cheek. Though you still make the effort to hum, making your thought process accessible to David.

“You know,” your hand goes over his, jokingly (of course), “I’m very flattered you consider me a piece of art. No no-not just that, but a ‘beautiful’ piece of art.”

“I mean, what am I supposed to say?” His chin goes to his chest and he shakes his head as best as he can. “I’m not a liar Y/n, so.”

“Never said you were.”

“You have a hot body so I’m gonna say you have a hot body. So let’s just —“ he swipes his hand down like a karate chop, “—stop with the, y’know, work-arounds.”

When the silence becomes too much, David notices you staring at him. Almost emotionless but with the tiniest upward flick of the corner of your lips. He does a double take, readjusts his position in his seat.

“I’m gonna ask you to rethink what you just said to me.” He squints, not sure why but you see his brows twitch while he does as asked,

Then he jumps, eyes wide and body as stiff as a board. His jaw drops before his teeth dig into his lip, then “UGH!” He slams the center console, turning the corner with one hand and waving his other around with each syllable. “How do you do that?!” When the words initially came from his mouth they came out so formally yet so casually he hardly thought anything of it. Like how he would tell Jason to cut the shit, only this time instead of just ‘cut the shit’ he said to ‘cut the shit’ in terms of dodging the notion he’s attracted to you.

You shrug and pat his shoulder. “Allll you buddy.”

“I—“ he shakes his head, “—I never said that. What is said in the Tesla stays in the Tesla.”

“Fine by me. If that’s the case guess we’re not gonna put on the record that I would totally let you rail me. So, whatever.”

What.

You dig through your backpack and crack open an Arizona iced tea. The click of the metal and bubbling of the drink as you swallow breaks some of the silence.

Otherwise, at this moment David embodies the meme of that blonde gal’s eyes jumping every which way, some math problem overlaid on the screen. He’s completely silent, and you shift, waiting. His nose scrunches up every time he thinks he’s got it but he just can’t quite grasp onto what you said.

In a tiny voice, “Well I’d rail you too—“

You throw your head back and dig your free palm into your eye — “I WAS KIDDING!”

You weren’t. Not entirely.

“OKAY WELL SO WAS I!” David’s face is so flustered you swear you could stick your hand to his cheek and leave an indent showing his true tone. You bang your head back against the headrest over and over, eventually biting your thumb so you don’t cry from hysterical laughter. He’s snickering but ultimately blinking tears out of his eyes. He shakes his head, clenching the wheel with both hands (for once). “I hate you so much.”

“Awe…” You squeeze his shoulder. “I hate you too.”

Maybe this won’t be such a long ride?

TAGS

@wefracturedmotivation @blackhood5sos @i-heart-movies @sinfulmango @edalalalalalala @mostlydobrik @latelycrazy @zavidzobrik @thetrickster67

[themusicplayedherlife]

Take a Little Piece Before You Fall Apart

pairing: reader x bucky barnes

word count: 3k+

warnings: angst 

summary: “But we can’t,” you whisper tightly, your fingers lacing together to cradle the back of his neck. “This is us now.”

a/n: this was written as part of a fic trade with forevans: was given the prompt wish + bucky barnes. if you wanna read forevans’ prompt check out the reblog that’ll have the links. feedback is very much appreciated <3

You’re back. You really came back.

He stares at you from across the room. You’re so caught up in your conversation with Steve that you don’t notice him and he can’t help but feel hurt that you didn’t come searching for him first. But of course you wouldn’t. Why would you? He didn’t give you a reason to come back to him.

You throw your head back in laughter, your hand reaching out to touch Steve’s arm to steady yourself. He can’t see Steve’s expression, but if it’s anything like his, it must be tender and soft, so in love and—

“Why don’t you go on over there, hon?” His mom’s voice breaks his thoughts.

“I can’t interrupt them.”

She wraps her hand around his arm gingerly. “Sure you can.”

“Maybe later. They’re catching up.”

She sighs. “Don’t let this one slip from your fingers again, James.” James. God, how he hates that name. James. Yet, he loved the way it sounded when it fell from your lips, so melodious and grand. “I like this one. Always have.”

His fingers twitch at the sight of you reaching for Steve’s hand, and he knows he’s too late.

You were holding his hand like you usually did when it was cold out. He never did understand why you didn’t just wear gloves like every other human being. He knew they were lumpy and sometimes uncomfortable when you wanted to do things, but they kept you warm and from freezing your fingers off.

But he guessed he shouldn’t really complain when he didn’t wear gloves either and liked when you held his hands.

You tugged him along with you, towards the fountain in the park.

“Again?”

“Come on! It’s fun.”

“It’s childish.”

“We’re nineteen, James. We’re in that awkward stage of not really kids, not really adults. They took away my kid’s menu and I can’t even buy alcohol, let me at least have this.”

He rolled his eyes, but followed you anyway over to the fountain. You briefly let go of his hand to dig through your pockets, your face in utter concentration before brightening as you pulled out two coins. You handed him one and he took it reluctantly. He watched you kiss your coin with mild disgust and waited for you to throw your coin in before throwing his in, sans wish.

You both stood there for a while, your hand finding his again and intertwining your fingers together. You pulled him away from the fountain and towards the meeting spot where your friends were most likely already waiting.

“What do you wish for anyway?” He asked, this time walking by your side so you wouldn’t be lugging him along.

“This and that.”

His eyebrow furrowed. “Do they even come true?”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Sometimes.”

He snorted in disbelief. “You mean mostly never.”

“Oh, leave me alone.” You squeezed his hand. “I just like the idea of it.”

“Of what? Of wishing?”

“Yeah. You know, asking for something you want but can’t have? It’s fun. Makes you look forward to something when there might be nothing.”

“Even if it doesn’t come true?”

“Yeah. And if it does, you get this sense of accomplishment because you wished for that, ya’ know? You worked for it and it makes it all worthwhile.”

He didn’t understand your logic, but you always did seem happier after making a wish. Just for that, maybe he should be less judgemental on your habit.

“Come on, spoil sport. I see Nat.”

If it’s supposed to be so simple, why is it so hard?

The music is loud in the venue, but people are enjoying it as a group has gathered in the middle of the room. He spots Steve dancing with Natasha, the two looking absolutely ridiculous with every shimmy and shake. Sam is somewhere in there, too, he can feel the cockiness that drifts from him any time he gets the chance to show off his (subpar) dance moves.

He hardly notices Rebecca sneaking up on him until she’s wrapping her arms around his waist. A laugh that sounds like his mother’s bubbles out of her lips when he jumps in surprise. He scowls down at her playfully and she only bats her lashes like the brat she is.

“Let’s go dance, Bucky! You promised me a dance, ‘member?” He doesn’t remember making any promise. This is most likely one of her ploys to embarrass him in front of their friends and family. She used to do it a lot when they were kids, always managing to trick him with her innocent eyes and sweet smile. With a shake of his head, he tries to pry her off of him. “Come on! Just one dance! Please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

He relents after an exaggerated wobble of the lip and wide, watery eyes—the same look that used to entrap him when they were just children trying to survive the playground. They make their way over to the dancing group, ignoring the sly and teasing smirks Natasha and Steve send his way. Rebecca grabs his arms and swings them around, trying to get his stiff body to move.

He chortles at her huff and finally decides to humor the beautiful bride on her wedding.

It’s hard to believe that the youngest of his sisters has gotten married. She looks beautiful in her wedding gown, her brown hair curled to perfection and pulled back into a loose low bun. She’s ditched her veil somewhere, most likely on her maid of honor, but she’s still wearing those heels he was sure she would trip on at some point during the party.

But he can’t deny the small bout of jealousy he feels that it’s not him getting married, that he might never be able to get married. All because he thought he was doing the right thing.

“(Y/N) is staring.”

At the mention of your name, his heart does a weird somersault. He resists the urge to follow Rebecca’s line of vision, knowing that the moment your eyes meet he’ll become undone. “So?”

“So you two should talk!” she hisses. “It’s been ages since you’ve last seen each other hasn’t it?”

“I will, later.”

“Later usually means never with you, Bucky! Come on, don’t you want to fix what happened between the two of you? You loved each other, didn’t you?” He did—he does. You did—you probably don’t, not anymore. “Want me to step in? I can step in if you want.”

“Bex, no. Don’t.” Knowing his little sister, she’d mostly try to intimidate you into talking to him which would only make you believe he was taking the whole thing as a joke. And that’s the last thing he wants. “Just give me time.”

Rebecca eyes him, her eyes bright under the ever changing strobe lights. “Okay,” she relents after a moment of searching. “All right. Do what you have to do. I’m here for you bro.”

He leans forward and plans a kiss on her forehead. “Thanks, Bex.”

“When you wish, do you ever ask for more out of life?” Bucky asked you as the sky turned into a mess of colors—purples and pinks and oranges. Why so many different colors? Why not just one?

“More out of life? Or a better life?” You asked him, completely undisturbed by the changing winds—unlike him.

He knew of the opportunity you received from that university in Italy you had looked into a while back. You had said a professor recommended it to you and you checked it out only because she was one of the better professors on campus, but after that quick search, you never talked about it again and he didn’t bring it up believing it wasn’t important.

Steve told him otherwise.

Italy could be a huge opportunity for you, something that could’ve kickstarted your career if you so chose to attend for the year. “Yeah,” he breathed out, gaze on a flock of birds flying farther and farther away and towards the sun.

There was a beat of silence between the two of you—the sounds of your friends’ laughter grew louder. “Not really,” you told him truthfully, pulling his attention away from the birds and onto you. You’re perched on the picnic blanket Natasha had brought, hands plucking out strings of grass and throwing them away. “I’m content.”

“But what if it’s a once in a lifetime thing? Don’t you want to take it?”

“I’ll just ask for another,” was your simple reply.

He hated how it warmed his chest when you turned to look at him with a bright smile that suddenly didn���t make the sky look so messy anymore.

“You want to talk about it?” Wanda has always had the power to be attuned with other people’s emotions. She always seems to know how people are feeling without having to ask. But this time around he can’t give her too much credit. Even the children know something is wrong with him. They keep bringing him candies from the dessert table thinking it’ll cheer him up. “I know it’s difficult with—“

“Don’t,” he snaps, tired of being asked or talking about you over and over again. Why can’t people leave him alone? Why can’t they let let him keep his distance?

She flinches. “Sorry.”

He sighs. “No. I’m sorry, I’m just—“

“I get it. Don’t worry.” Wanda flashes him a reassuring smile before returning her gaze to the lively party. “But (Y/N) did ask about you.” She shakes her head as if correcting herself. “Always asks about you.”

His mouth dries, eyes lowering to the ground. “Why?”

She shuffles her feet. “You’re still best-friends.” Once upon a time you might’ve considered him more, a voice in his head adds. “That hasn’t changed.”

“I don’t deserve—“

“Stop it. Everyone knows why you did what you did. (Y/N) knows, too, you know? Took longer to realize than the rest of us. You really did—“ She stops herself from finishing her sentence, but he knows what she was about to say. He did a number on you. “Was hurt too much to think reasonably.”

He smiles wryly.

“Talk,” she says sternly. “(Y/N) might understand why you said what you said but, but it’s best to hear it from you.”

He looks up and the first thing he sees is you and Steve, the two of you in each other’s arms and dancing to the slow crooning playing in the background. His heart drops to his stomach knowing that that could’ve been him in his place if he’d just talkto you. “No. It’s better this way.” He doesn’t deserve you anyway.

Wanda sighs loudly, pushing herself away from the wall they were leaning against. “You’re unbelievable.”

He stared at the unmoving water of the fountain, his eyes catching the glimmer of distorted coins—many of which he knew were yours. He clutched his own coin tightly, nails digging into his flesh as his mind drifted to the conversation he overheard between you and Steve—How beautiful and new Florence seemed and your fears and worries about leaving New York, about leaving him. He had been right to assume he was holding you back. Had he always held you back?

“James?”

He froze, hoping he had more time to gather his nerves before he talked to you. But of course you wouldn’t give him space, you always knew when something was on his mind. Wanda might be empathetic towards everyone, but you understood him better than anyone.

“You okay?”

“‘M fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“Well, I am.”

You took a sharp intake of breath. You might’ve understood him better than anyone, but that didn’t mean you took his bullshit either. “James, seriously, what’s—“

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Your sweet face contorted into confusion. “Why didn’t you tell me how important Italy was?”

Confusion gave way to a deep set frown. “Because it’s not.”

He scoffed. Because it’s not? Because it’s not? “A year at the Florence Academy of Fine Arts and an internship at The Uffizi, is nothing? Do you even know how many people wish they could get the opportunity that you’ve been given? That’s been handed to you?” You flinched under his cold gaze. “Wasn’t this your dream? Working with precious pieces of art, taking care of them, researching them? And suddenly it’s not important?”

“I don’t care—“

“Stop lying!”

“I’m not lying!”

“You are! I heard you and Steve, okay? I heard you tell him how tempted you were to take the offer but how afraid you were to leave everyone and everything behind. To leave me.”

“What would you do without me?” you tried to joke, the corner of your lips quirked into a mediocre half smile. “What would I do without you, huh? We need each other, James.”

“What do you know?” His words hung heavily between the two of you and he immediately regreted saying them. This wasn’t how—why was he like this when it came to you? So over emotional? So stupid? “I’m perfectly fine without you.”

You blinked rapidly, lashes kissing your skin to will the tears away, but it was too late. “Do you want me to leave?”

No. No. He wanted you to stay! He needed you to stay. “Yes.”

“James—“

“We’re not dating.” Your eyebrows crinkled and you sucked your bottom lip under your teeth. His heart shattered at the thought of causing you distress—pain. But what else was he to do? “You have no obligation to stay for me.”

But you were stubborn and you wouldn’t give, no matter what hateful or spiteful words he threw your way. “I have no obligation to leave for you either, James.”

“Why are you so damn stubborn?”

“Because it’s mylife! Not yours. I get to choose what I want to do it with it. Not you! If I want to stay, I’ll stay! If I want to love—“

Stop! Stop! Don’t do it! Don’t! But he had to. He had to. He couldn’t let you say it. If you said it, if he said it, then he’d never let you leave. You’d never do better, be better than him.

He turned his back on you, fist opening to reveal the coin and eyes focused completely on the fountain. “What if I don’t want to be part of your life, anymore, huh? I am so sick and tired of having to humor you! Of having to be with you! I can’t do or go anywhere without you clinging to me!” You sobbed, the sound muffled and wet against your skin. “You can’t use me as an excuse because you’re scared to fail, sweetheart. Stop being a coward and go! For fucksakes, I just want you gone. I just want to breathe again!”

Your voice cracked with every syllable, “You don’t mean that.”

He wished he could take it all back. He wished he could hold you in his arms. He wished he didn’t have to do this. But he had to. He had to. “I do.” He threw the coin into the fountain and with all of his might made his first wish. “I wish it.”

Most of the guests are gone, and so are Rebecca and her husband, the two having retired for the night earlier than planned to be able to catch their morning flight tomorrow. He spots a few stray family members about enjoying the open bar, and a few friends milling about eating leftover cake and swapping stories.

He should probably head out soon, too. Not much reason to stay anymore. He had seen you disappear with Steve and Natasha earlier, and he knew he had missed his chance to talk to you. Just like Rebecca had said, “later meant never,” when it came to him.

When did he become such a coward?

Something pokes at the back his skin, digging into the soft flesh below his rib cage. “Hi.”

He freezes at the familiar warmth of your voice, having not expected it all. He had thought you left with the others, why— “Hey.”

You motion to the empty dance floor, the DJ still around and playing ballads and RnBs. “Do you want to dance?”

“I—“

“I asked the DJ to play a slow song next, I promise. I know how bad you are at dancing,” you tease him, eyes crinkling with amusement.

He chuckles, for a moment believing you had never left at all, that he hadn’t hurt you. As if you have been by his side just like you have been since day one. It fills his heart with joy. “Like you’re any better.”

You roll your eyes goodnaturedly. “I’ll have you know I’ve gotten better. Taken a bunch of dance classes back in Florence over the years.”

He smile drops. “Right.” There's a whole life he’s missed out on. How could he have let himself forget?

You wrap your fingers around his wrist and tug gently. “Come on. Who knows when we’ll get this chance, again.” He wants to say no, he wants to pull away, but the way your fingers dance down to his palm, fingers intertwining so easily—he can’t say no.

“Okay.”

You squeeze his hand and lead him to the dance floor. You place your hand in his shoulder and bring your interlaced hands up to his chest. He hesitantly wraps an arm around your waist, unsure of how close to hold you or how far—you decide for him.

Tugging him forward, you smile up at him, eyes shining brighter than ever when your bodies meet. He turns his head away from you; your pretty eyes too much to bare.

“How have you been?” you ask, voice just barely above a whisper.

“Okay. And you?”

You pull back, trying to catch his eye as you sway back and forth. “I’ve been better.”

He frowns, his hold on you tightening. “Did something happen while you were away?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, looking away from him briefly before meeting his gaze head on. Your words dripping with palpable sincerity and throwing him off guard.  “I missed you. A lot.”

His heart drops. “I’m sorry—“

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” you tell him softly.

He’s called himself worse. “I know.”

You rest your head against his chest, your nose nuzzling against the fabric of his shirt. “I don’t think you do.”

He lets go of your hand to wrap them around your waist—your swaying coming to a complete stop. Your body against him is just as he remembers—you've always fit so perfectly even when you two were awkward heights during puberty. “I didn’t mean any of it.”

He hooks a finger under your chin to make him look at him and he sees the glimmer of unshed tears in your eyes as you whisper, “I know.”

There’s so much he wants to say, so much he wants to apologize for, but he can’t find the words. He feels so stupid and useless. He was able to find the words to push you away, why can’t he find the words to bring you back? “I wish we could go back to the way we used to be,” he admits, pressing his forehead against yours.

“But we can’t,” you whisper tightly, your fingers lacing together to cradle the back of his neck. “This is us now.” He closes his eyes, savoring this moment of closeness with you if only for one more second, one more moment. But you pull away from him too soon. “I should—I should go. Thanks for the dance, James.”

“Yeah. Take care.”

And although there’s still so much he wants to say, he lets you go and watches you walk away, his heart trailing behind you and clinging to the true wish he made all those years ago—that’d you’d come back for him.

[velvetchen]

Bruise | pt. viii

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Scenario: Boxer!AU, Ceo!AU Pairing: Baekhyun/Reader, Suho/Reader Word Count: 5.7k Warnings: love triangle, angst, mentions of assault, mentions of gangs/gang violence and alcohol

Summary: You have your life laid out in front of you, everything planned: from the clothes you wear to the man you have to marry. There’s no escape - or so you think.

<< previous part x next part >>

You were drawing stares, and there was no way to avoid it. 

Finding the right street hadn’t been much of an issue. The roads had become increasingly deserted as you drove out towards your destination, until you entered an area of the city filled with buildings clamoring for space, garish neon signs flashing in your eyes, and eventually the road grew so narrow that Junmyeon’s car no longer fit through. Not that you wanted to continue much longer by car, since almost everyone was watching you with interest. You stood out.

To your displeasure, that didn’t change even after you got out of the car, your formal attire drawing looks that were most definitely unwanted. You wished you had something to cover your bare legs  - anything to shield yourself, anything that would let you continue on your way as if invisible. 

You crossed your arms tight over your chest. Where is it…

The Eclipse advertised itself rather ostensibly for the level of illegal activity you knew went on inside. The door was placed front and center - easily visible to anyone passing by, and easily identifiable thanks to the giant sign that spelled out ECLIPSE in intimidating red neon. Below, the entire glass front was marked by a glowing red crescent. 

You sucked in a deep breath, adjusting the front of your dress yet again. I’m doing this for Junmyeon, you reminded yourself. He needs me. 

It was only as you were pulling on the handle that you thought that this might be a trap - too late. You had already taken your first step into the instantly dimmer interior, and you figured if you were walking into a trap, it was too late. You were already here, and you were in plain sight. They knew. 

I’m doing this for Junmyeon. That was the only thing that was keeping you from booking it out of there immediately. The minute you found Junmyeon and got the hell out of there, you were done. Done with this underworld and everything it brought with it. You didn’t know what you were getting into when you agreed to join Seohyun that night - when you placed that bet, when you let Baekhyun take you home that night and set things in motion. Certainly you weren’t expecting this near nightmare, with you dragged too far into something you weren’t sure you could get out of, with your and Junmyeon’s lives at stake. 

The inside of the Eclipse was smoky, lit with strobing red lights that swept around the room, bouncing off walls and weaving in between the throngs of people that collected on the floor. At this time of night, things were only just starting for the night. As you stood uncertainly in the middle of the room, trying not to look like your heart was about to beat out of your chest, the doors behind you continuously swung open and closed, letting in all kinds of people. People whom you would never associate with if it weren’t for this…situation. 

You wanted to turn around, to dash outside and back to Junmyeon’s car and get out of here, but the growing crowd pushed you further inside, until you were moving just to avoid drawing too much attention. Not that you weren’t drawing any attention in the first place: your relatively clean look and the fact that your discomfort was obvious singled you out among the throng of people who were obviously here for a purpose.

Only just stopping yourself from giving into the urge to cross your arms tight across your chest and attempting to shrink into the floor, you instead straightened your shoulders and tried to seem like you knew what you were doing. Blending in as part of the crowd was not an option, so faked confidence was all you had.

Which would have worked well if you actually knew where you had to go, whom you had to find. Instead, you were constantly looking out for an ambush, for someone to grab you by the wrist and pull you into a darkened alley, to tie you up and put you in the back of a truck. You had no idea what was in store for you. 

If you could even find Junmyeon. If you could even get out of this alive.

Your phone started to ring from your bag. Hands trembling, you reached inside as quickly as you could, shoving your way closer to the wall so you could stay out of the way.

Kim Junmyeon is calling.

Heart pounding even harder now, you answered. “Hello?”

It was a miracle you managed to hear the chillingly familiar voice over the boom of the music and the shouts, but the moment he began speaking, every hair on your skin stood up on end. 

“Hello, Y/N. I see you’ve arrived - good. Punctuality is an important habit to have.”

You growled. “Tell me what the fuck I’m here for and just let us go.”

“All in good time,” the man chuckled. The sound elicited the phantom feeling of hands crawling across your skin once again, and you closed your eyes, inhaling deeply to calm your racing heart as he continued. “For now, I want you to go over to the bar and order a black adder. It’s one of the more popular drinks, I’m sure you’ll love it. On the house, of course.”

Your teeth dug painfully into your bottom lip as you restrained the sudden rage that his flippant tone unearthed. 

“Sound good? I’ll see you in just a few minutes. Don’t worry, I can’t wait, either.” With another half-chuckle, the line clicked dead. 

You ripped the phone from your ear, staring down at it in disgust. You were going to meet this man - if you could even call him one - face to face. And he wanted - what? He was asking you to come to him, wanted you to seek him out. To talk? To negotiate? To hold you ransom, as well?

There was only one way to find out, and as much as the thought nearly paralyzed you with fear, you had to do it if you were going to find Junmyeon and get out of this, once and for all. Steeling yourself, you slid into the depths of the crowd again, trying to navigate further in. You had no idea where the bar was, but following the movement of the crowd was a good enough indicator.

There was an empty stool at the bar, right in the middle. It was surprisingly unpopulated. The only other occupants were a woman in all black, clutching a cigarette as she smirked up at the bartender, and two men seated at the opposite end. Here, no one made an effort to pointedly look at you.  Either they were too drunk, or there was no reason to stare: they already knew who you were. You desperately hoped it was the former. 

Your legs stuck to the stool as you sat uncomfortably upon it, leaning one elbow against the table, holding tight to your phone with your other hand. You scanned the room behind you for anything suspicious or out of the ordinary. For anyone focused on you. Nothing stood out, and before you could give things another once-over, your eyes began to lose focus from the flashing lights and you turned away to face a man on the other side of the bar. 

Is that him…? But no, he didn’t seem to recognize you. Of course, he still gave you a lewd once-over from head to toe before leaning too close for comfort. “Can I get you anything, miss?”

You only just kept yourself from recoiling too obviously. ��I’ll have, uh, a black adder.” You cursed yourself for the stutter. Don’t show weakness. 

The change in his expression was instant as he cast a quick glance back at the crowd behind you before turning around to pull a glass from the shelf. So it wasn’t him, but he definitely knew who you were now. The drink was some kind of message. He worked quickly behind the counter, his movements hidden behind a small shelf - but you were quickly distracted from what the bartender was doing when the stool beside you was suddenly occupied by someone. 

He leaned casually over the bar toward you, and you knew. The breath froze in your throat as you waited for something to happen, and you took in his appearance at last. This was the man who had pinned you down in your car that night, who had threatened you, who had almost... 

The man who had taken Junmyeon. Who had dragged you into this mess. 

You balled your fists, clenching the hem of your dress tightly in them as you fought the urge to throw a punch and pummel him to the ground. You certainly felt like you could - you could see yourself standing, sending a hard knock to his cheek. Could see him fall to the ground, blood dripping from a freshly split lip.   Could almost feel the resistance of bone against your knuckles as you thought of sitting over him, striking his face over and over until his face was a mash of red. The rage was coming to a boil, ready to burst. 

And then you saw the unmistakable matte black of a gun at his hip, and fear immediately quenched any hopes of exacting revenge. He knew, too, and the smug expression told you everything. 

Once again, you were at his mercy, and this time, he hadn’t had to lay a single finger on you. He knew, he knew you knew, and you hated it.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you at last,” he said, that voice even more chilling when not over the distance that a phone call offered, and in such a casual tone. A harsh difference to the last time you had heard his voice, an almost animalistic snarl in your ear. Let me teach you a lesson, bitch. To think that he was so close now, his hands a single thought away from landing on you, or on his gun…

“Why did you bring me here?” you said, and you absolutely hated how timid your voice sounded. Like you were already surrendering. Like you were giving in. Where was the fight you knew you had in you? “You said you would answer my questions. Why am I here? Why did you take Junmyeon?” 

He gave a short, amused laugh. “This is only a simple business negotiation, Y/N. I’m sure you’re familiar with those?” 

You pressed your lips tight. He was mocking you.

“This is, of course, in your best interests. Everything will turn out well for both you and us. It’s just a little bit of an agreement, and then we can both go our separate ways.” He looked up as the bartender set a tall, narrow glass of something in front of both of you, so deep red that it was almost black. You eyed it warily. 

“You can trust me when I say we’ll never contact you again, and your reputation will stay intact. And the drink is perfectly safe. No adulterations, I can promise you.” He gave you a half-wink before taking a slow sip from his.

You clutched the glass, the cold condensation seeping into your skin. “We?”

“Ah. Me and my…team, you could say.”

“Why would I trust you?” You nearly spat the last word, fingers clenching tight around the column of the glass. 

He took another sip. “Like I said, this is in your best interests. You should definitely try the drink.”

Exhaling sharply, you forced yourself to take a sip. It was painfully sour, but also sweet, and the amount of alcohol in it would probably be enough to make you pass out with just one glass. “Exactly how is this in my best interests? Assaulting me, kidnapping my fiancé?” The title slipped out without you thinking and you wanted to swallow it down. 

“There are some things you don’t know about Bruiser and his followers,” he continued. “We just want to help you get out before you’re in too deep with him. Some counseling, if you will. All we ask in return for our information, and our protection, if you need it, is that you keep tabs on him. Tell us where he  is, where he goes. That’s all.” 

So it was about Baekhyun. Of course it was about Baekhyun. “Help me? Right. I don’t know if I can believe anything you say. Give me one reason to trust you.” 

“There, we’re making progress,” he smiled, exposing his crooked teeth -  crooked, you realized, from being hit and replaced multiple times. Only then did you notice the scars that were visible over his arms and face. So he was a fighter, too. Or something of the sort. A hitman?

He drained the last drops of his drink. “Firstly, it would be wise decision if you want your fiancé back alive. If that’s not enough motivation, I’m sure you’ll be plenty surprised to learn about some of our contacts. How about I let someone more qualified do the explanation?” 

The completely flat tone in which he said if you want your fiancé back alive sent ice rocketing down your nerves. You hadn’t doubted for a moment that they didn’t care if either you or Junmyeon got hurt. Much less if you died. You fisted your hands so tightly the nails dug into the palm of your hand. 

He stood, nodded once to follow him, and stood. Only then did you notice a door, stood very slightly ajar, to the far right edge of the wall. He headed over, resting his hand on the door handle before looking back at you. “If you want answers, then come with me. You’re free to leave, of course, but I can’t say that would end very well for you or your fiancé.”

Whatever lay beyond the door was in darkness, obscured from view. But if you wanted out of this nightmare, you had to go. 

Leaving the cursed drink behind, you stood, and entered the doorway with as much bravado as you could muster. Which was a surprising amount, given the situation. You were just glad that when the door shut behind you, the darkness hid the way your entire body trembled. 

What if this was a trap, after all? To bring you here to this dark room, to continue where he had left off the last time? Fear gripped you tightly. You stood, frozen in place, waiting to hear that dark laugh, expecting the feeling of a cold hand on your skin. To hear, so naive, Y/N. You believed me so blindly. 

But to your surprise, a click sounded as another door opened and dim fluorescent light flooded the room - which you saw was a janitor’s closet - from beyond. He slipped out, then held the door open for you to follow, leading you down a flight of bare concrete stairs. The lights flickered and dimmed, and the further you got to the basement the more the walls and floor were covered with mildew and dust. You kept your distance, ready at any moment to turn and run back up. 

Another door at the bottom led into a similarly lit and empty corridor, which snaked around the corner of the building and ended at three doors. One was padlocked. From the other, you heard laughter and voices. The steady thrum of the beat from upstairs permeated the ceiling, drifting down, covering the echo of your footsteps as the man led you down into the last door. 

You weren’t sure what you were expecting inside, but what actually lay behind the door was not what you would have thought. 

The first thing the opening door revealed was Junmyeon, seated on a fraying couch in the right corner, unhurt and unbound. 

You sagged. He was alright. He was alive. And he looked up and saw you, and you knew the relief in his face was mirrored in yours. 

“Y/N,” he gasped, standing instantly to take a step forward and wrap his arms around you tightly. “You’re here.”

But in your ear he whispered: “Just do what they say. Please.”

He let you go, moving back and giving you a nod. Only then did you realize you weren’t alone in the room - at the other end, behind a broad wooden desk, sat another man. He was flanked on either side by two others, dressed like the man that had brought you here - in utilitarian black, with the telltale bulge of a gun at the waist and, you were sure, a few other weapons tucked elsewhere, judging by the way they were standing. Watching you carefully, his hands steepled over his desk. 

You glanced at Junmyeon, alarmed, but his expression, placid as always, instantly calmed you. It was just something about his aura that could soothe your tension anywhere. Even here. Even when you were unsure if your very next movement could get you hurt or worse.

“Y/N,” the man behind the desk said after a long moment of silence. “It’s nice to finally meet you. You know, I’ve heard a lot about you from my sources. I can say you don’t disappoint.” 

You stood, silent.

“Oh, how rude of me to not introduce myself. You can call me the Cardinal.” He smiled, and it reeked with just as much insincerity as the other man’s. “As my associate must have told you, I’ve brought you here to discuss a few agreements. I’m sure you’ve already told her the terms, Jiho?” 

The man who’d brought you here - Jiho - nodded. “Yes, sir.”

So this Cardinal was the leader of this…whatever this was? “You want my help?” You asked. “Why me? Why not any of Bruiser’s other-” again, you weren’t sure what to call them “-followers?”

Irritation flicked across his face at your interruption. “We need you, specifically, because you are closer to him than any of the others. And because you can be trusted, based on the recommendation of one of my good friends.”

You squinted at him in confusion. “Who?”

He smiled tightly. “It might be better if you spoke to him yourself. It must have been a while since you last talked, hmm?” He pulled out his phone, quickly dialing a number before holding it out to you and beckoning you forward.

Unsure, you reached for the phone, checking the caller ID  - no name, unfamiliar number - before pressing it to your ear. Involuntarily, your heart pounded in your chest as the phone rang once, twice, thrice. And then it stopped when you heard the voice that answered, so familiar yet so unfamiliar that you nearly dropped the phone in utter shock.

“Hello?” You would recognize that voice anywhere. The last time you had heard it…

Your breath came out ragged, shaky as you closed your eyes. “Chanyeol?”

A clatter. He’d dropped his phone on the other end. A second later, when he picked it up - “Y/N? Is that you? What the hell, why are you calling from this number? Are you alright? Is everything alright?” 

“I…I’m fine.” 

His voice dipped lower. “What the fuck. I’m serious, Y/N, are you alright? Have they done anything to you?”

“What’s going on, Chanyeol?” From behind the table, the Cardinal cocked his head, studying you. “Why are you…how do you know these people? What’s going on?”

He let out a long, angry huff. “I should have probably explained things to you long ago. This would have happened sooner or later. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you had to find out this way, but Y/N, you need to get out of there. Don’t agree to anything. Just get the hell out of there as soon as you can. I’ll explain everything later, okay?” 

“Okay, but Chanyeol-”

“Listen to me,” his tone grew urgent. “The minute you get out, they will track every movement, every phone call. This doesn’t end here. I don’t know how much you know or how far you’re involved, but this is nowhere near over. Be safe, okay? I’ll find some way to contact you, I promise.”

“How do I-”

He cut you off again. “Like I said, don’t agree to anything. Tell them you’ll think about it. I promise you they will not harm you today, but the next time, I can’t be so sure.”

“Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll do that.”

“Good,” he said. “I miss you. I miss you so much. Fuck, I thought I was protecting you from this, you weren’t supposed to find out…Are you alone?”

“No, I’m with Junmyeon,” you said, meeting his gaze for a brief moment.

“Junmyeon-” He hissed. “Both of you…Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’ll get both of you out of this, I promise.” 

“Okay,” you said again, and the blood rushed in your ears, drowning out everything else. “But Chanyeol, tell me - are you alright? Where have you been?” 

If these people were the reason he left… The possibilities flashed over you. Was he being held hostage? Or was he involved with this in a different way? Was he on their side, maybe? You didn’t want to think about it.

“I’m fine. Right now, we’re worrying about you. Got it?” 

“Yeah,” you said. The Cardinal was still watching you carefully, his cheek rested on one hand as one corner of his mouth quirked up in something close to amusement. 

Your gaze clashed with his as Chanyeol said, “You know what you have to do.”

The line went dead. 

The Cardinal held his hand back out for the phone, and you reluctantly gave it up, dropping it in his palm without bringing your hand into contact with his. A tense pause passed. Even though noise carried from overhead, you were isolated here, far from the surface and anything else. Right now, all you knew was this room. All that mattered was getting out. If Chanyeol was right, and these men were even more dangerous than they seemed, even more so because of Chanyeol’s involvement with them, then leaving safely tonight was your first priority. 

“Please, sit down,” the Cardinal said at last, gesturing to the empty seat beside Junmyeon. “Where are my manners? Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thanks,” Unwilling to break eye contact, you settled beside Junmyeon. Instantly, his hand slipped onto your lap to enclose yours. You squeezed, once. It only then occurred to you, in a flash. This was the first time Junmyeon was hearing of Chanyeol’s existence since that phone call months ago. His first proof that his friend was still alive somewhere - and the news that he was also involved with some sort of underworld. You could only imagine what was running through his head right now.

You squeezed his hand again.

“So?” You said. “What do you want to negotiate with me?” 

“As you know, the Underground Dark Leagues are coming up soon,” the Cardinal said. “Do you know if Bruiser will be contesting?”

Of course, you were about to say. Then you remembered - you had no place taking sides. “Why would he tell me something like that?”

His faux politeness dropped like a stone as his eyes flashed. “Don’t fucking lie. We know you’re a student of his, that you’ve been to the Underground. We have people watching everything you do down there. We know you’ve seen his matches, you’ve been inside his rooms. Evidently, he trusts you.” He tapped the table once. “Why, is the question.”

Trusts me? As if. You swallowed. “And I have no idea whether he’s contesting or not. I said what I said.”

He calmed, but you saw a vein continue to pulse under his jaw. “I see. And do you have any aspirations to contest?”

“How does that matter?”

Slam! His hand came down hard on the tabletop. “Answer the fucking question.”  

“No, I don’t,” you said, and Junmyeon lightly stroked circles on the back of your hand to calm the warble in your voice. “I don’t.”

The Cardinal nodded sharply. “Good. We don’t want you anywhere near them.”

“Why, because you care about me?” The retort forced its way out, and you wanted to cry and laugh at the same time, a mix of fear and incredulity. “What’s this about?”

“Like we said,” he hesitated, the throbbing of the vein in his neck growing more insistent, “we will give you protection, if necessary, if you can give us updates on Bruiser’s plans.” 

“If he trusts me - your words, not mine - why do you believe I would come over to your side so easily? What makes you think I would need or want your protection, if I have his?” 

The Cardinal forced a laugh that trailed off as he raised an eyebrow at you. “But do you trust him? What do you even know about him? He’s not who you think he is.” 

“It would help if you told me,” you said dryly.

He laughed again, a gritty sound that was more condescending than humored. “Don’t try to be funny. Maybe you should find out who someone really is before you go around getting yourself involved with them, hmm?”

“Which is why making a deal with you is such a good idea,” you muttered under your breath. “You know what, your offer seems promising, but you’re right. I want to find out what exactly I’m dealing with before I get involved. I’ll think about this.” 

You weren’t exactly sure how far you could trust Chanyeol that these men wouldn’t harm you if you told them you’d think about it, but it was the only plan you had. 

The Cardinal waved a hand aside. “There we go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“I haven’t agreed yet,” you said carefully. “I said, I’ll think about it.” Please, please let me stall. 

“Of course. We respect your decision.” His thin lips pulled back in an even thinner smile. “Likewise, I hope you understand we will have to take the appropriate course of action in case you reject our offer.”

You didn’t want to know what the ‘appropriate course of action’ was, but you could guess. With a similarly contrived smile and your heart thudding so hard you were sure everyone could hear, you nodded once. “I understand.”  

“We’d appreciate it if you gave us a response quickly,” the Cardinal said, but his eyes were flashing with something. A threat. A ticking time bomb. If you didn’t answer them, you would pay. 

“I plan to. Pleasure doing business with you,” you said, only a few degrees of sarcasm keeping your tone from being flat-out mocking. “Can we go? I have someplace to be. You interrupted my date with my fiancé.” 

He made a shooing gesture towards the door. “Please, by all means, go ahead.”  

Jiho, still standing next to the door, shook himself out of an expression of boredom, eyes darting over you and Junmyeon and your clasped hands before opening the door. You stepped out, still not letting go of Junmyeon’s hand as you exited, heart still pounding. Still awaiting a trap. Were they really going to let you go so easily? Was that all it was?

Once you were out, Jiho pulled the door shut. “You’re free to go,” he said, but not before you noticed the predatory glint still in his eye as he faced you. An expression that said, I’m not done with you yet. Goosebumps rose all over your skin. 

You and Junmyeon continued in silence back down the empty concrete corridor. Yes, he was silent now, but you knew he was going to demand answers, and you were going to have to give them to him. 

You emerged into the dank night air outside the Eclipse, taking a deep breath before pulling Junmyeon in the direction you’d left the car. “This way.” 

The both of you attracted even more attention now, later at night and with Junmyeon still in his cleanly pressed suit. By now you were too tired to care, and you figured anyone putting a target on you both could possibly surpass the trouble you’d just found yourself in. So the walk to where you had parked the car was uneventful and silent, and so was the car ride as you drove back - only after you exited the less-than-savory district where the Eclipse was, and the roads once again morphed into the clean, familiar, landscaped lines that you were familiar with, did Junmyeon speak.

“Y/N,” he said, and you could hear the tiredness in his voice. “Do you want to explain to me what’s going on?”

The softness of his tone was what did it. Abruptly, you pulled over to the side of the road, and before you knew it you were choking up, face turning blotchy and wet with tears as you gripped the steering tightly and tried to regain control of yourself. “Myeon, I’m so sorry,” you sniffled. “I didn’t know any of this would happen, I swear. I didn’t want to get dragged into this, and I just wanted some place to get away from it all. And now I’ve put you in danger, and Chanyeol is involved somehow, and they might kill us if I don’t agree to spy on Baekhyun…” 

Junmyeon opened his mouth to say something, but you held out a hand to stop him. “You know what, I’m just going to say this. It’s my fault. I owe you an explanation. I shouldn’t have been stupid enough to get involved under the promise of a way to hide.”

“And you’re right,” he said gently, surprising you. “You’ve made some bad choices, but we all make bad choices. This one just happens to be a little more dangerous than others. But we’re in this now, and…if we have any chance of sorting things out, you need to explain what exactly is going on.” 

You shook your head to clear it, pulling a tissue from your purse to blot away the tears and now-streaking makeup from your face. “I…It’s a long story. I…”

“Start with what you know,” he said. “And we’ll fill in the gaps.” 

Taking a deep breath, you nodded. “Okay.”

You were back in Junmyeon’s penthouse, curled up on his sofa in a blanket, a mug of tea clutched in your hands as you watched Junmyeon pace back and forth across the rug. He held his phone tight in his hand. Minutes earlier - just after you’d gotten home, you’d gotten a text from Chanyeol. He wanted to contact you, and he had a way to do so where the Cardinal’s men wouldn’t be able to tap into the conversation. 

Your phone rang first loudly, splitting the silence. With a jump, you looked up at Junmyeon, and he gave you a meaningful look before settling down next to you. You heard him take a deep breath, too as you answered the call. 

“Hello?” you said, voice barely a whisper. 

“Y/N?” Chanyeol said. Of course it was him. You would know that voice anywhere. Even after more than a year of not hearing it in person. “I’m so glad you’re safe. Where are you now?”

“My apartment,” Junmyeon answered. “For now.”

“Good,” Chanyeol said. “But you’ll have to move somewhere else, somewhere safe. They’re likely watching you as we speak.” 

Instinctively, you cast a glance towards the broad windows overlooking the nighttime cityscape. Could they see you? Were they outside the building right now, waiting for one of you to leave?

“Chanyeol, who are these people?” You pulled your legs up onto the sofa, tucking them under you and leaning further into Junmyeon’s side. Automatically, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, drawing you a tiny bit closer. “Why are you involved with them?” Are they the reason you left? Because if they were…

Chanyeol hesitated. “Where do I begin? Gold City has a massive underworld. There are groups called syndicates- basically gangs, mafia, and whatever you want to call them - clans of people who are aligned under a single leader and commit organized crime all over the country on a mass scale. The men you met today, the Cardinal and his men? They’re part of a syndicate called the Jade Wing. The biggest syndicate in the country, one of the biggest and most powerful in the world.

“As for how I’m involved with them…It’s a long story, and to make it short, I’ll just say that I found myself owing a very large debt, and to pay it off, I’ve had to do some things that I’m not exactly proud of-”

“Chanyeol,” Junmyeon interrupted, “are you referring to…”

“Yes,” Chanyeol said, voice firm, but you heard the shame creeping into his tone. “I am.” You cast Junmyeon a confused look. Whatever it was, it must be hard for Chanyeol to admit to Junmyeon, his oldest friend and one of the only people whom he looked up to. You didn’t want to pry. 

“Go on,” Junmyeon said gently. “What’s done is done.”

Another pause. Chanyeol let out a long exhale. “Yeah. I’ll…that’s my job to sort out now, hyung. Please don’t worry about me. I’ve cleaned things up well enough.” 

“Of course. I trust you.”

“Right.” Chanyeol cleared his throat. “As I was saying, you met one of the leaders of the Jade Wing. The Cardinal. I’m actually surprised they sent such a high-ranking member to meet you, and for you to come out so easily...what did they tell you?”

The question was directed at you. “I, uh, I think I should give you some background information first.” 

“Go on.” 

So you proceeded to tell Chanyeol the whole story, every detail that you had just told Junmyeon. From the first day that you’d walked into the Underground, cast a bet, how that had led to Baekhyun dragging you down into his world for good. How you had thought at first that this was safe. Just boxing lessons and a man who was completely different from everything you’d ever known. The intrigue. The promise. You wanting to fight in the Underground. And your final meeting with Baekhyun. 

“I told him I wanted nothing to do with him anymore,” you finished. “But I guess that’s impossible now.” 

Chanyeol, who’d been silent the whole time as you talked, hummed in agreement. “You’re right. You have to find a way to get yourselves out of this mess before you owe the syndicate something, or before word gets out and the company’s reputation is tarnished. God knows it’s tarnished enough. This guy, the one you met in the underground, what’s his name?” 

“His underground alias is Bruiser,” you said. “Real name Byun Baekhyun.”

You heard Chanyeol stop dead. “Y/N, are you sure?”

“Very sure,” you said, but your voice trailed up in a question. 

It was a few seconds of heavy silence before Chanyeol spoke again, at last. The words sunk deep. “Bruiser. Of all the people… Y/N, I think you’re in the middle of a syndicate war.” He paused again. “And I don’t know why, but I think you’re the pawn for both sides.”

a/n: sorry no baekhyun in this part, but we’ll see him very soon ~ thank you all for being patient with the updates! it’s been a busy month and now that things have calmed down updates should come more regularly! 

as always, i love to hear what yall have to say about this chapter! 

[outroshooky]

when you see me, when you touch me | pjm

⇢ genre: fluff, the tiniest touch of angst / stripper!au

⇢ pairing: park jimin x reader

⇢ word count: 2.8k

⇢ warnings: implied or stated nudity, strip clubs.

⇢ a/n: this came to me while listening to exo’s the eve, and i wrote the entire thing in one go while listening to that and the full length version of serendipity on repeat because that’s just how i roll. a huge thank you to @minnsvga, @bultaotae, and @lolnxcole for reading through and editing this. i love y’all to the moon and back.

“You brought me to a fucking strip club for my birthday? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Your best friend shrugs beside you, bracelets clanking as she adjusts the purse on her arm, her heavy eyeshadow giving her raccoon eyes in the darkened hallway. “You need to get out more.”

“‘Getting out more’ does not extend to strip clubs! My parents would kill me if they found out we were here!” You hissed, eyes flickering from stranger to stranger hidden in shadows, taking seats at tables whose- centerpieces- stretched from floor to ceiling.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re literally a legal adult.”

“Shut up!”  You shuffled your high heel-clothed feet uncomfortably, fidgeting with the snap of your clutch. “I know we had joked around about this in high school, but seriously, you went too far this time.”

“Okay, I’ll put it to you this way.” Taken by the wrist, you were led to a corner away from the trickle of people flowing through the door. Your best friend faced you, hands steadying your shoulders. “Four years ago, while discussing the looming threat known as university and its beloved sidekick, student loans, we made a pact that if we ran out of cash, we’d ditch school and open up a men’s strip club.”

You arched an eyebrow. “I remember, continue.”

“We ended up not running out of cash- well, one of us anyways, but that’s beside the point- and I still wanted to honor the bet. I thought it’d be a fun surprise, hence why I led you in here with your eyes closed. Look-” she met your eyes, thumbs rubbing soothing circles over the fabric of your dress. “If it makes you that uncomfortable, we can leave. I thought it’d be a nice flashback to the past, and an ode to the I’m sure absolutely booming club that might’ve once been. So, ya know...”

A tiny spark of curiosity alit inside you, igniting, growing into a small fire as the seconds passed. The flames swelled into a bonfire, licking at your fear of the unknown- what could be, what will be, what might be- and you sighed, caving in, the decision having already been made. “Let’s go grab seats.”

The air was choked with smoke and mist, the sheen of silver tables and leather chairs glinting under candelabras and chandeliers. Reflections flashed on mirrors inset into dark walls, heavy ivy-clothed columns hinting at royalty yet betraying nothing. Crimson curtains hung low on a stage illuminated by floor lights, the neon glow whispering secrets and possibilities untold, luring with a siren’s call the lonely, the needy, the weak.

You were shown to a table by a- could you call him a waiter?- whose face was lost in darkness, and you settled on the edge of the leather chair with hesitance. Before you had a chance to brace yourself, someone stepped into your frame of vision, and you glanced up to be met by the most beautiful man you had possibly ever laid eyes on.

Oiled combat boots met the bottoms of skinny jeans that clung to sinewy thighs and slim waist. Fine lines and muscles pulled taunt the fabric of his button-down shirt. His sleeves were half-rolled to the elbow, showcasing veiny hands, slender fingers, silver rings that glinted in the low light. Oriental dragons peeked from under the fold of his sleeve, curling over his bicep, tipping back their crimson and ivory-scaled heads to roar triumph eternal.

Following the sharp edge of his jawline, you took in lips, puffed and plush, a button nose, soft cheeks. His raven hair was swept off of his forehead, and you glimpsed a flash of honeyed skin when the strobe light swept across his back. Hooded eyes stared back into your own under an elegant brow, unceasing and undeniably sexy.

Your best friend let out a sound somewhat akin to a squeak, clutching your shoulder and muttering some bullshit excuse; just like that, your sole companion was gone, and you were alone with him.

When he spoke a greeting, his voice was higher than you’d expected, yet commanded authority, made your back ramrod straight with inhibitions not whispered, hints of what could be to come and what might never be.

“I, uhm-” That was it. Your train of thought disappeared, and you were left blank-minded in front of this unbearably attractive stranger who belonged here, in this swirling mess of cologne and neon and leather, belonged to a place where you most certainly did not. It was too much, and you faltered, begging for an escape, something, anything, but it seemed as if you could do nothing but stare and fall headfirst into his stunning eyes.

His face softened when he saw you struggling, the seductive poise of his features giving way to a soft, easy smile. “First time here, huh? Can I take a seat?”

“Yeah, sure,” you managed, gesturing to the empty seat next to you. He sat, angling it to face you and sitting with his elbows on his knees, fully invested in you. The tiniest hint of a smile crept onto your face as you admitted: “I got dragged here by a friend as a surprise birthday gift.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Your friend brought you here for a birthday gift? I’d seriously reconsider who I’m friends with if I were you.”

“I don’t have many to pick from.” It was an easy confession, one you’d said more times than you’d like to remember, and your fingers twist the hem of your knee-length dress.

When he smirks, something in your stomach burns low, twists in a way you haven’t felt since high school. “Are you accepting applications?”

You struggle to control your breath when it hitches; the curl of his smirk tells you that he’s noticed it all. For fuck’s sake, you don’t know this man. You don’t know him, this very, very attractive man who may very well only want a nice tip along with his salary rather than hearing the sob story of the ages from a client who most certainly did not come prepared. I’m not nearly good looking enough to entertain him, you think, this is only his job. He is only doing what he has to do. And with that, you change the conversation topic. “So, what’s your name?”

He signals a passing scantily clad male, asks for two glasses of water, turns back to you. “You can call me Jay.”

“Okay, Jay. Do you work here?”

His gaze is piercing when it slips from two grinding bodies to your own. “Does it matter?”

“I just want to know, like- if you’re trying to get me to ask you for a dance, it’s not gonna work, okay? I’m not that kind of-”

Jay brushes the query away with a wave of his hand. “If I was trying to get you to ask me for a dance, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

“Why are you, then?”

Two glasses of water are placed in front of you, and Jay sips one, glancing to the side, watching the lanky male onstage strut, bare thighs and naked chest shining. “I like to appreciate beauty.”

The water, halfway down your throat, catches when you choke, garbling: “Wh-what kind of beauty?”

“Dance.” He says the word with such reverence, such respect. It seems to affect him at the very core when it’s spoken aloud; he awakens from the intoxication that is alcohol and sweat and perhaps a faint hint of sex to come alive. You wonder who you’re seeing now, Jay the salesman or Jay the man who seems to have struck up a conversation with the most out-of-place person in the room simply because he wanted to. “Whether it’s alone in a studio or on a street corner at midnight, a trained professional or a little kid, dance is beautiful. And where else to appreciate it than a place like this?”

Jay looks up at the chandeliers that seemed so gaudy upon first arrival, at the columns behind you and silver poles next to you and swept-back curtains that surround, insulate the tiny, brief little world you share with him. “I know what you’re thinking. ‘Isn’t this hypocritical? How can dance be beautiful here? They’re just trying to show off their bodies and earn some cash.’ Well, let me tell you.”

When he faces you, his voice drops low, intimate; this is meant for you and only you. “Showing off your body for the sake of cash isn’t dancing. That’s not art, that’s desperation, or some sort of fantasy. Showing off your body because you desire to emote, to create something beautiful for your own sake? That is dancing. Our canvas is our surroundings. We are the paintbrush, our movements the strokes that layer to form a transient work of art. You’ll know when you see dancing rather than its antithesis. Trust me.” Jay turns to watch the stage, smoky eyes flitting from one figure to another, seemingly a master studying his students. You have to ask him.

“How long have you been here?”

He tilts his head back and forth, pondering. “Long enough to miss Monet, Van Gogh, and Picasso.”

“I’m sorry.” Something in your heart goes out to this man, this stranger whom you’ve just met, who you feel has just told you his life story in a few brief sentences. You regret your initial mistrust, but there is still a wary feeling, something that screams that Jay is not all he is made out to be. Yet, when he stands, you cannot help but feel a pang in your chest.

He smiles, wider this time, and god, he’s so magnificent when he is himself, not just sultry and sexy but human, an unintentional work of art worthy of the finest galleries. “That’s the way things are sometimes.”

Jay pauses by the side of your armchair, bends so that his lips nearly graze the shell of your ear, his breath curling hot against your cool skin. “But you, my darling- you are a masterpiece.”

When your friend returns, much, much drunker than before, and several hours later, loudly announcing she’s ready to vomit her liver from the amount of alcohol she’s consumed, she finds you still staring at Jay’s chair, apparently lost in thought.

She slurs, hollers if you’ve had a dance, asks if you’d enjoyed it, but you don’t hear any of it at all, because-

But you, my darling- you are a masterpiece.

The next night, you find yourself surrounded by the very things you swore to forget.

Smoke and mist and mirrors, an endless maze of gauze and gold and leather that’s hot to the touch. A raven-haired man, a two-faced artist, the enigma, living and breathing. He is as out of place as you are here, yet he hides it with an aura, weaving the atmosphere of sex and bodies and beauty into his own personal shield. He wields the very thing that holds him back as a weapon- one only has to look a little closer to strip away the layers, to carve away oil paint and pastel to find the original pencil sketch hidden, buried underneath the finished final product. Not perfect, but still beautiful.

You have no idea if he’s here. You are alone, and somehow, you feel that is enough to draw him out of hiding, but all inhibitions are thrown to the wind when you see jet-black hair, a well-knit frame, honeyed skin glowing under the sweeping lights.

It is as if every eye in the room is on him.

Jay does not merely grind and drop and thrust like every other body you have seen grovel before you onstage. He commands an entire crowd, demands attention and relishes in the spectacle. When his body rolls, ends with a sharp thrust of his hips into nothing, a deep heat liquifies in your stomach, burning hot and searing with want. He levels his gaze to the crowd, drinking in their scrutiny, melting away all skepticism. He is the one in control. He grasps all in the palm of his hand, paints a picture of sensuous escape with his own hands and actions and expressions. We are the paintbrush, our movements the strokes that layer to form a transient work of art. You’ll know when you see dancing rather than its antithesis.

You pause, your hand on the faux carved marble railings near the back of the room. You are hypnotized, he is sucking you in like he is everyone else, bringing them higher in this haze. The siren calls the weak, the needy, the lonely.

His head snaps up, and his eyes find yours.

It is beyond late, and you are beginning to wonder if this entire venture is fruitless.

The club is closing down, Speedo-clad men beginning to wipe down tables and clean up empty glasses. You take one last look, the room now looking like any other, intoxicating atmosphere eradicated under overhead lights and empty tables. The bouncer is eyeing you, arms crossed, and he’s about to step over and give you what for when you feel a tap on your shoulder.

Jay takes you by the wrist without a word, leading you through changing rooms and open doorways and profiles of people throwing on sweatshirts and wiping off makeup and being human, and you wonder if so many paintbrushes remain dry for the sake of fitting in with the rest.

You follow Jay out into a small side alley, into a pool of light from a flickering streetlamp that catches the edges of his jaw and brow so perfectly. He paces to the very edge of the lamplight as you lean against the chipping brick wall, and when he faces you, half of his profile is in shadow.

“I have to apologize for what I said to you last night,” He murmurs, steps closer. “I wasn’t completely honest with you, and-” another step. “I understand if you can’t forgive this kind of thing, but there’s something I need to tell you. My name is Jimin. Park Jimin.”

“Jimin,” you whisper. You like the way it sounds, you feel it in your bones that this is him, and your stomach flips when you see him shiver slightly, imperceptibly.

“I am a dancer here at Satan’s Den. I work in a strip club, this strip club, and I’m sorry for misleading you like that when we met. I didn’t want you to think that I was trying to get you to pay for a dance; I was on break when I saw you through the curtain, and- can I be honest here? I think you’re the most beautiful work of art that’s ever walked into my club.” When Jimin closes the distance, he outstretches his arm slowly, hesitantly, cups your face in one hand and strokes the apple of your cheek with his thumb.

“Why?” You don’t mean for your voice to crack, but it does, and your hand comes to rest over his own. “I’m literally the most awkward, out of place person in there, Jimin. Are you sure you have the right person?”

His eyes shine in the glow of early morning and fading streetlight bulbs, the same eyes that drew you in hours ago, fascinating and seductive and so very very real, unguarded this time. “That’s exactly why I found you. Don’t you see? You’re different from all the rest.”

“I hate that I’m different,” you protest.

Jimin hushes you, his index finger pressing lightly to your lips. “Don’t. It’s why you are special to begin with.”

Your eyelids flutter shut when the back of his finger grazes your lips, tracing the rosebud curves and soft corners, and you can feel it, feel him everywhere, and then he’s kissing you.

“A masterpiece,” he mumbles against your mouth. “So beautiful.” He sucks gently on your bottom lip, nibbling carefully, lightly. “And I’m not going to let you forget that.” He is the first to pull away, but when Jimin does he beams, all open heart and soft, vulnerable man, a vulnerability he is okay with expressing in front of a muse who has stolen his heart from the first moment he opened his color palette.

You sigh against him, hands fisting in his sweatshirt. “This isn’t something I expected to happen when I got dragged to the first strip club of my life.”

He gazes at you, thumbs tracing down your jaw. “This was different from all the rest, yeah.”

“Would you have it happen any other way?”

Jimin leans in closer to you, this girl, his muse, an enigma who slots so perfectly into a place he never knew was empty. You are different from all the rest, a masterpiece worthy of plaster museum walls, worthy of being cherished forever simply for being you. He tilts his head, brushes his lips against yours. A masterpiece. His masterpiece. “Never.”

[hazylucas]

My Everything | Pt.2

Words: 1.4K

Title: My Everything

Pairing: Taeyong x Reader

Warnings:  Angst

Prologue 1  2  3  4  5

The concert went by smoothly, and you could never be more proud. Their moves were precise and accurate, while never missing a note. Sometimes, even you forgot how talented they were. Your thought was suddenly disturbed when you felt a cold droplet hit the top of your head. Your mind went blank. As soon as you looked up, the sky was painted an ominous dark blue, sobbing endlessly. The members began doing the choreography for their last song, yet all you could think of was the hard, slippery floor. An obvious hazard and even more dangerous because of their complicated choreography. You rushed to the front of the stage to try to warn them to simplify their choreography. However, your attempts were futile due to the endless wave of fans. Surrounding every side of you. Caging you.

In a matter of seconds, your senses became sensitive to everything around you, blinding your vision. The strobe lights flashed endlessly, and the screaming became only louder. The people around you were too close, repeatedly pushing you and touching you, adding to overwhelming nausea. You tried to cover your ears to regain your sanity, but the cacophony of sound was too much. Your mind drifted away from the torturous trance when the music abruptly stopped, and the screaming intensified.

"What happened?"

"A member fell, I'm not sure who. It's way too crowded."

Just by impulse, your body took over you, frantically pushing past the raging teenagers to try to get to the stage, praying that it was only a stumble. You finally made it to the concrete stairs, sprinting and almost ending up tripping over yourself. Until.

Until your heart sank to its stomach and shattered. You felt the pain surround your heart and take over your brain, as you stood there frozen.  The cold wind whirled beneath your feet, making you a slave to its control.

"No."

A faint whisper left your mouth. Your scarlet bird lay broken on top of the matte floor. The beautiful golden pins that you had adorned in his hair were now haphazardly arranged, trying to cling for dear life. The dark eyeliner you put under his eyes hoping it would bring out his ice blue contacts had been smudged mercilessly by the rain. It was like a scene from a Michelangelo painting, except both of you were the messes made into art.

“Taeyong, talk to me, please,” you murmured in his left ear, desperately hoping that he wasn’t in too much pain.

Taeyong turned his head to face you and you felt pricks all over your chest when you saw his teary grey eyes. He never cried. Never. He was the role model of seventeen other boys and he refused to show that he was ever breaking. This time though. He was.

As you held Taeyong in your arms, the lights went out, preventing the fans from seeing what was going on stage. You heard multiple footsteps around you as the members quickly came to help Taeyong.

“Y/N, it’s Taeil. The stretcher is here but I don’t think that Taeyong is going to let them pick him up. It’s going to be between me and you.”

“I don’t want to hurt him.”

“You won’t trust me. Please. We don’t know what happened, and I don’t want it to get worse.”

“Okay.”

You held Taeyong’s face in your hands, caressing it lovingly hoping that it would be a sign of comfort. But he knew.

“Tae, I’m going to need you to grab onto my shoulder with your right hand. Taeil’s going to hold your leg. We have to get you on to the stretcher.”

“Y/N,” he groaned.

“Taeyong, please. You need to get to the hospital.”

“I don’t want to move.”

“Tae, for me please.”

His loving eyes met yours once again, searching for an answer. You nodded encouragingly. He finally sighed and held onto your shoulder, gently at first, fearing that he would hurt you.

“Tae, it’s okay. You can grab harder.”

The contact immediately increased in weight. The moment that Taeyong grabbed onto your shoulder, Taeil held his leg gently. Both of you moved him to the medics’ stretcher, gently adjusting his head to make sure he was comfortable. The medics and the manager quickly moved Taeyong past the concert hall through the back entrance to prevent him from being seen by any fans. You ran with them, whispering any prayers you could. He would be okay. What if he wouldn’t? He was strong. He could fight through it.

Once you made it to the ambulance, the manager held your hand to support you as you entered. Taeil came along with you since he was the oldest member and all the other members were like his children.

“Where’s everyone else?”

“I told them to go home and wait for our call for them to come. The rule for the room is that only two people can be allowed in the ambulance at once. It took ages for them to them to agree to let me in as well,” the manager replied.

You sat on the side of Taeyong, holding his hand and repeating “You’ll be okay,” “We’re almost there,” “Stay with me.” Taeil watched you observantly. You never failed to make him disappointed. He was endlessly thankful for everything you did for the members, always pouring your energy into them and watching them. He never said it, but you were like a younger sister to him.

The ambulance came to an abrupt halt when the back doors were suddenly opened and nurses rapidly escorted Taeyong off the ambulance and into the emergency area. You quickly followed them with Taeil, who held your hand to give you some comfort from the situation. When you finally made it to the room, you were about to enter when you were stopped by another nurse.

“Can I go in?”

“I apologize for the inconvenience, Miss. But we can’t let anyone come in right away. After giving him an inspection, we will come out and let you know.”

“Please, I need to see him. He can’t be alone.”

“He won’t Miss. He will be with multiple experienced doctors. I can assure you, he will be fine.”

Defeated, you sat on the plastic chair, bending over and burying your head in your shoulders. He had to be okay. You couldn’t handle seeing him in pain and only feared what was yet to come. You turned your head to the left when you heard an abrupt sound of sobbing coming from the end of the hallway. The noises were only muffled, but you were able to make some sense of the sound.

“I’m sorry Miss.”

“Please, he was my son. He has to be okay.”

“The pill was lethal. Once he took it, Miss, his systems immediately shut him down. We did our best, I’m extremely sorry.”

The doctor left the hallway and the woman remained sobbing. You were confused until the thought finally hit you. Suicide. Her child had committed suicide. Your heart began aching. One of the biggest roles a person could have was being a mother. Caring for a child was such a draining and vital job, you could only imagine what she was going through. You hated suicide. You could never imagine how it was like for someone to feel so broken, that hurting themselves was the only option left. A mother had lost her own. And you understood her pain. Losing her child, was like losing herself. Seconds turned into minutes and minutes turned into hours. The other members arrived and sat in the row, yet you never talked to anyone. You were too busy praying for Taeyong and the mother who lost her child.

When your head finally began giving in to sleep, your head abruptly jerked up when a doctor came out of the room. He had light brown hair and green eyes that resembled your favorite emerald bracelet that Taeyong gave you on your 19th birthday. A small scar went from the corner of his eyelid to the bridge of his jaw.

“We have finished our examination.”

“Is… Is he okay?”

“He severely fractured his right leg in the fall. It’s curable, but he won’t be able to perform for a month or so. The rest are bruises. He was extremely lucky. If he had fallen in any other direction, there would be a chance that he wouldn’t be able to use his leg due to severe nerve damage.”

Your eyes stung with ice cold tears, blurring your vision. Each breath became more and more painful. If. If he had fallen, his leg would no longer work. If he had fallen, he would be unable to dance ever again. Your mind absentmindedly imagined the different situations that could have resulted because of the fall. He could have lost the one thing that gave him happiness in life.

And that was performing.

[taesthetes]

sobriquet [ jungkook ]

noun : a descriptive name or epithet; a nickname

he’s declared himself your honey bunny chunkie wunkie and who are you to deny him?

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader genre: fluff, comedy type: college au word count: 3,075 words warnings: none author’s note: i actually wrote half of this while completely drunk and had no recollection of it, but rochelle @gukstudio filled me in, so she’s the real mvp and here’s my take on #rochkook ♡ — based on very recent, very true events that consisted of too much liquid courage, one and a half frat parties, the boys next door, rosebushes, grilled cheese, and a whole lot of pizza rolls.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Eighteen years of living and at the cusp of youth, with one foot prematurely stepping over the line to the adulthood, you bask in the moment, abandoning all thoughts of midterm exams and looming due dates and instead, choose to dance wildly around in the crowded room with Yuna and Lisa. The harsh glow of the strobe lights cast weird shadows over everyone as the blaring music shakes the fraternity house to its core. With too many people spilling out onto the pavement, several boys now stand at the doorway, blocking the entrance and allowing only females to enter. Typical.

A game of beer pong has been haphazardly set up on the cramped kitchen counter, and you can see Jennie over there, tossing back her third cup, as several of the guys whistle at her. Still not feeling the effects of alcohol, she looks over and winks at you, a sly look on her face contrasting the confused one on yours, before a familiar pair of arms loops their way around your waist, and you suddenly understand.

You almost stumble as the person clinging to you sways forward, nearly taking you down with him. You quickly steady yourself before whirling around to meet the large, brown, doe eyed, but also glassy eyed, gaze of your boyfriend. Even drunk, with his dark hair messily swept around and a lazy smile quirking on the corners of his pink lips, he looks beautiful with a white shirt barely clinging onto his shoulders and exposing his collarbones while his ripped jeans accent his legs very nicely if you do say so yourself.

“Hello, my schnookums pumpkin bunny boo,” Jungkook manages to slur out, planting a rather sloppy kiss on your cheek with a loud smack.

Ah, yes. And the cringe worthy pet names have started to make its appearance, and you know exactly what that means.

Time to take your clearly very intoxicated boyfriend back to his place.

“Okay, Jungkook, let me help you out there.” You untangle yourself from the mess of limbs, and he whines, latching himself back onto you.

“You’re supposed to love me! Aren’t I your honey bunny chunkie wunkie?” Jungkook pouts, nuzzling his face into your neck, and your face feels like it is on fire now. Thankfully, the dorm he lives in is only one or two blocks away, so you won’t have to drag his heavy and cheesy ass back for a long and excruciating distance.

Smirking slightly, you flick his forehead lightly, earning a small whine from Jungkook. “Why, of course, you’re my honey bunny chunkie wunkie.”

Boy, were you going to have some good blackmail material to show off when he is sober tomorrow.

Jungkook cheers happily at your agreement, hugging you even tighter, and you struggle to maneuver him around the crowded room and towards the front door. “I knew it! I knew it! I told you so, pookie bear bubsy wubsy.”

Sighing, you guide him out the door and down the front steps, and he trips on the last one, lunching forward and almost causing a double face plant with you in tow.

“Looks like I just fell for you!” he crows gleefully before pulling you into some spontaneous, drunken dance across the solo cup and silly string strewn lawn. Laughing quietly, you indulge in his whims for a few more minutes, twirling around—for a drunk man, he somehow manages to dance rather gracefully—before going back on track and tugging him onto the sidewalk and down the path to his dormitory.

“C'mon, Jungkook, we’re going back to your place with your nice, warm, comfortable, soft bed,” you persuade him when he attempts to turn back towards the house, grappling with your boyfriend to make him return to the original direction. You internally groan. Despite being drunk, he is still able to put up a strong resistance.

“W-woah, I know I’m irresistible but are you trying to take advantage of me now, strawberry sugar plum?” He tries to wink at you, but fails miserably. You roll your eyes and force yourself to ignore the incredibly strong urge to shove him headfirst into the nearest bush and make a run for it.

“Oh, look!” Jungkook foolishly outstretches his hand towards a rose bush decorating one of the neighbors’ front yard, eyes glittering with wonder akin to a child’s first glance at the infinite expanse of the navy sky speckled with the glowing orbs of natural gases.

“Wait, Jungkook, don’t touch th—”

“Ow!” Your boyfriend turns to you, eyes widened and explicably looking more innocent than ever with the way they sparkle from unshed tears. His bottom lip quivers unexpectedly as he holds out his forefinger towards you, a droplet of carmine forming.

“It hurts! Why would the flower hurt me like that? Why did you do this to me, flower?” he wails, scrunching up his face in sadness, “I just wanted to pick a rose for my schnoozle wooziekins dumpling.”

“Oh, Jungkook,” you sigh before gently taking his hand and kissing the tip of his index finger. “There, all better, you big baby.”

All traces of despair leave his entirety as he stares at you in awe. “You have healing powers. My sweetie pie honey bunches has magical powers.”

“… I can already tell this is going to be a long five minute walk back.”

Fortunately, Jungkook learns to keep his hands to himself in regards to plants after all. Unfortunately, you can’t say the same for yourself because the boy then latches himself onto you and tries—and spectacularly fails on every attempt—to seduce you. You manage to record some of his amusing antics, including the pet names he concocted for you as well as him calling himself your honey bunny chunkie wunkie once again. However, although you are very grateful for the blackmail you obtained on your boyfriend, hauling an overgrown child to his bed is no easy achievement. By now, you have exhausted nearly every single curse word that exists in addition to making up a few new ones of your own. Finally, you find yourself in front of the door to his dormitory suite, faint sounds of music seeping through. Jungkook sways back and forth unsteadily on his feet.

“Okay, we’re here, Jungkook. Where’s your access card?” You turn to look at your boyfriend, hand outstretched for his card.

“You gotta search me for it, darling babykins sweetums.” He grins at you a little too widely and wriggles his eyebrows at you suggestively.

You shut him down instantly. “Nope. Not today. I did not sign up for this.”

Rapping on the door loudly with your fist and ignoring the crestfallen expression Jungkook gives you, you are extremely relieved when Taehyung opens the door—but then you let out a miniature scream of frustration when you recognize the glazed look of his eyes, see the bottles of beer on the table, notice his other equally intoxicated suitemates, and realize how loud the music actually was in there.

You had tried to escape the party, only to be greeted by another one like a slap to your face. It was like a big “screw you” from the universe, and the party gods are probably having the time of their lives laughing at you.

“H-hee-ey there, _______! Oh, and Kookie! Welcome to my humble abode!” Taehyung screeches out over the blaring bass.

A pillow is thrown to the back of his head, and he shrieks at the offense, but Yoongi’s voice can be heard over the noise. “It’s all of our humble abodes, dumbass!”

“Um, hey, I’m just here to drop off Jungkook,” you shove Jungkook forward, but he grabs onto your arm and pulls you into the suite as well.

“But since you’re already here, you should join in on the fun, too!” yells Hoseok, who clearly drank more than his body weight as he rips off his shirt and waves it around like an asinine lunatic.

“Uh, no, I’m okay,” you try to back away, but Jungkook clutches onto you even more tightly.

“Don’t leave me, schmoopsie toopsie munchkins,” Jungkook cries, burying his face in your neck, and your face flushes a dark shade of red.

“Oh, _______!” Jimin appears in front of you, looking quite relieved. “Can you help me with Jin? Convince him that breakdancing on the table is not a good way to establish himself as best dancer. I had to pull him off the table top three times now.”

“Isn’t Jin usually the sober one here?” you question in disbelief when you see the eldest struggling to get on top of the table.  Meanwhile, Jungkook turns himself into your very own personal koala, hugging you firmly without any sign of letting go anytime soon. He attempts to kiss you at the same time without any success as you turn your face away from his advances and try to pay attention to Jimin. In your one moment of distraction though, Jungkook manages to plant a slobbery kiss on your cheek and cheers very loudly for his accomplishment.

“He complained of always having to be the responsible one, and I drew the short straw,” Jimin groans as you try to pry your boyfriend off of you, “So I’m in charge of watching ov—hey, wait, stop, Tae!”

He speeds over to Taehyung, who is busily stuffing six or seven eggo waffles into a toaster made for only two (“This method will save electricity! We need to save the polar bears, Jiminnie!”). Not having the heart to leave Jimin here as the only sober one, you sigh heavily before assessing the situation in front of you.

Namjoon and Yoongi are sitting on the couch, and if you did not know better, you would have thought they were sober. But with the way Yoongi is mumbling garbled up lyrics and being snarkier than ever with his minimal brain to mouth filter now long gone, you know he had one bottle too many. As for Namjoon, he sounds like he is spouting out deep words of philosophy until you actually pay attention to what he says and realize it is utter nonsense (“As I’ve been saying, the substantial reasoning backed up by the existence of hydrangeas is rather compelling because it leads to the Chebyshev’s Theorem for Two Standard Deviations that was built upon the improvable concept of black butterflies and déjà vu…”). Hoseok is pouring his heart out in his karaoke rendition of whatever’s playing, and Jin is now on the table to your complete and utter horror.

“Okay, Jungkook, you sit here with Namjoon and Yoongi, alright?” You quickly free yourself from Jungkook’s grasps amidst his whining and refusal, dumping him on the couch, before running over to Jin. The last thing you want is someone suffering from a concussion because he couldn’t keep his balance on a three foot tall table.

“Jin, how about you get off of there? I can make pizza rolls and grilled cheese if you sit down and stay still,” you coax, tugging on his sleeve. At the mention of food, his eyes light up, and Jin complies to your request, sliding off the table top immediately. He sits down primly in one of the chairs, hands folded neatly in his lap.

Sighing in relief, you walk to the refrigerator and take out the pizza rolls from the freezer section. Placing them on a tray quickly and into the oven, you turn on the machine and set the timer. Then, you pull out the bread and cheddar cheese along with Jin’s prized panini maker—that is no way in compliance with the dorm rules but no one really cares, especially if you can bribe the resident assistant with restaurant quality sandwiches—before stacking up the ingredients and pressing them down between the hot iron.

“Okay, Jin, it’ll be done very soon,” you turn to face him, and he nods happily, humming to himself. He almost seems like his sober self now, you muse. After settling Taehyung down, Jimin has somehow managed to herd off Hoseok into his room where the drunk boy passed out after mere seconds on his bed.

“Oh, thank goodness, you got him to stop. You’re a life savior, _______. I don’t know how Jin manages to watch after all of us every single time,” Jimin returns to the common room, breathing slightly heavily after having to force Hoseok to go to bed. “So there’s Jin, Namjoon, Yoongi, Taehyung, an—wait, where’s Jungkook?”

Your head snaps up as your eyes meet Jimin’s in panic. The two of you then scamper around, searching the two bathrooms and four shared dorm rooms. Your stomach drops when Jungkook is nowhere to be found.

“Oh, god, where did he go?” You want to tear your hair out in frustration after ten minutes of frantic searching.

“Did he leave the dorm?” Jimin asks incredulously, running his hand through his hair absentmindedly.

You open your mouth to reply when the telltale beep of the door being unlocked is heard. Your eyes and Jimin’s are locked onto the entrance when Jungkook nonchalantly enters, holding a—is that a rose bush?

“Oh my god, don’t leave the dorm without telling anybody, Jungkook!” you exclaim, rushing over to him.

“I didn’t! I told Yoongi!” Jungkook protests, and you glance over at Yoongi, who merely gives you a dead look.

“Anyway, what are you doing with a rose bush?” Jimin cuts in, staring in disbelief at the uprooted plant in Jungkook’s grasp.

“I couldn’t get my poodle woodle baby cakes a rose before so I got her one now,” Jungkook explains matter-of-factly, presenting the bush to you. Jimin chokes and splutters at the sound of Jungkook’s latest hypocoristic for you, and you pointedly ignore him.

“Where did you even get the bush?” you ask incredulously, staring at the plant in our hands, dirt still clinging to its roots.

“Somewhere on campus.” He waves his hand around vaguely before beaming at you happily.

“Did you just rip out a plant from the courtyard? That’s hilarious!” Taehyung howls before hiccupping slightly and giving Jungkook a very uncoordinated high five. “You just ruined our university’s status as best campus landscape in the nation!”

You are half impressed, half horrified and okay, you’ll admit, somewhat moved, by the feat Jungkook just pulled.

“This is very touching and all, but is my sandwich done?” Jin interrupts as the timer goes off simultaneously.

“Yes, here’s your food, you demanding princess,” Jimin sighs, taking out the sandwich and placing it in front of Jin, who munches on it contentedly. He then stomps over to the oven, pulling out the tray of pizza rolls and hurriedly putting them on a plate all the while frantically shooing Taehyung away from sticking his hand on the hot metal. Still unsure what to do with the plant in your hands, you start to set it down on the table when you are pulled back hastily. Jungkook clings onto you once again, resting his head on your shoulder.

“I’m tired, my lovey dovey pookie bear,” Jungkook mumbles, slowly nodding off as he struggles to keep his eyes open.

“Maybe you should sing your wittle baby cakes poodle bear to sleep,” Jimin snickers, and Taehyung unhelpfully makes kissy faces at the two of you.

“Oh, fuck off, Jimin.” You show him the universal hand gesture that goes with it, but that only causes him to laugh even more.

“Let’s get you to bed, Jungkook.” You gently tug your boyfriend towards his shared room with Taehyung, ignoring the groans and whines of Jimin as he is left to watch over the remaining intoxicated boys.

You help Jungkook onto his bed, making sure he is able to sit without toppling over. After walking over to his desk and placing the rose bush carefully on its surface, you turn back around to face your boyfriend. By some miracle, he has somehow managed to kick off his jeans by himself and is now sprawled out on the mattress, seemingly out cold.

You cannot help but smile softly to yourself before leaning down and placing a light kiss on his forehead. “Good night, Jungkook.”

But with a small yelp, you are pulled onto the bed and laying on your boyfriend’s chest as he tightens his arms around you, nuzzling his nose against your cheek lightly.

“Stay,” he murmurs, and your heart melts and you find yourself complying with his request, relaxing in his embrace. Drifting off to sleep with the lull of his heartbeat, you barely hear his soft whisper.

“I love you, my snugglewuggle love bug.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

When Jungkook wakes up the next morning, his brain registers only two things. First off, it feels like a herd of rhinoceros is stampeding around in his head along with a battering ram, several elephants, a flock of squawking parrots along with the rest of the whole damn zoo.

Secondly, there is an angel sleeping next to him.

Despite the pounding headache, he cannot help but admire your stunning profile. Your fluttering, dark eyelashes rest on your rosy cheeks with your tangled hair spread out on the pillow like a halo as small puffs of air escape between your rose hued lips. Jungkook reaches out and gently strokes back the strands of hair that cover your face. He feels somewhat guilty when you start to shift in your sleep and then open your eyes. You sleepily smile at him before yawning and covering your mouth with your hand.

“Good morning to my honey bunny chunkie wunkie,” you tease, smirking at him, and he lets out a noise of embarrassment, shielding his face with his hand and unable to look at you directly in the eye.

“What’s wrong? You called yourself that last night,” you giggle, poking your boyfriend’s cheek playfully.

“Please don’t ever mention that cringey name again,” Jungkook moans, dramatically throwing his arms over his head, and you only laugh harder. He refuses to meet your eyes, pointedly looking the other way before finally noticing the rather conspicuous, uprooted plant in his room.

“Hey, why is there a bush on my desk?”

Your lips curl into a teasing smile, and you grab your phone from the windowsill, unlocking it to pull up the video you took of last night. The laughter that bubbles out from your throat already has him groaning and dreading the next words he will hear.

“Oh, well, funny story…”

[schrodingers-rufus]

So. Marble Hornets Haunted House AUs. 

Historically, I tend to inflict Haunted House AUs on every fandom I find myself in. (And I’m not talking literal haunted houses here; I’m talking about those places that pop up around Halloween or year-round, where you walk through spooky sets and actors jump out at you. Sometimes there are free-roaming actors in scarezone-type things.) I just...love haunted houses/haunts. Very much. And therefore it becomes fun to think about how a cast of known characters might behave in one of them.

Harbly Marblies, however, is a little tougher, because here we’ve got a cast of characters who are living in a modern-day world where haunts would exist...but who are also deeply traumatized by supernatural spookythings, probably to the point where there is no chance in hell you’d ever get them through the front doors of a haunt. 

So we’ve got some options here. Here are a couple of them.

(Cut because holy cow this post got longer than I expected.) 

Option #1: Everything Is Fine AU. Nobody’s been affected by the Operator, but for the sake of recognizable characterization, everybody’s still got some existing issues. Let’s say this is the October after the movie shoot, so now the gang all knows each other. 

Going to the haunt was Alex’s idea, because of course it was. Brian may be the Alpha Extrovert of the gang, but Alex is the Idea Guy. Alex comes up with stuff to do, and Brian’s the one who actually ropes most of the gang into doing it. 

Alex: “It’s Halloween. This is what people do on Halloween. If you’re too old to go trick-or-treating, you get drunk or you get scared.”

Brian: “Or both.” 

Alex: “Definitely both.”  

Jay tags along because he guesses Alex is a friend, and friends hang out, right? That’s what they do? Also he’s been curious about this place for years, but it’s not like people go to haunts by themselves. And they definitely don’t bring cameras. That would be weird. (He definitely was planning to go by himself the previous year and upload footage from it in case the internet might take interest, but he got struck down by midterms and a nasty cold and had to miss it.)

Tim’s not sure if he can handle it, but Brian’s going, and maybe if he makes himself small enough the scareactors won’t notice him. Also, a part of him cynically points out, he’s probably seen worse. 

Jessica’s going because Amy’s going because Alex’s going. Amy might or might not be hoping Jessica latches onto Brian in fear. Or Brian’s cute friend Tim, but she doesn’t really know if Tim’s on the market. Maybe Jay? She barely knows Jay, but she’s not sure if she wants to inflict him on her poor sweet roommate. They’d probably just stare awkwardly at each other for hours, and cute as that is, it’s lacking in passion. Also she heard a rumor that Jay has secret cameras set up in his apartment, so not the place for romance. 

Seth and Sarah tag along because they don’t have anything else going on that night, and they get discount tickets through the university. Also Sarah and Brian have a running bet that Seth’s going to try to use her as a human shield when something scary jumps out. 

Everybody piles into the disaster of a minivan Brian inherited from his parents. (Everyone except Sarah and Seth, that is, because they want an easy out in case the place sucks.)

The structure of this place: Five “mazes”, a couple of “scarezones”, and a few food trucks/pop-up food vendors. The whole thing’s held in a pair of old warehouses, and it makes the property-owners enough money that they keep the warehouses empty in the off-season. It’s like the Spirit Store of haunts.  

Alex is insistent: They’re doing all five mazes, crowds be damned. 

The Line of Suffering--i.e. the order they follow when going through the first couple mazes--is structured thus: Alex out front, with Amy behind him. Jessica’s holding onto the back of Amy, and Jay’s behind her (trying very carefully not to lay hands on her). Brian’s behind Jay, with Tim next to him, gripping his arm like a vice. Seth and Sarah bring up the rear. (Seth is indeed using Sarah as a human shield, but since they’re at the back of the line, this means she’s behind him, defending from any surprise threats from behind. She thinks he’s an idiot, but she’s endeared.) 

Alex tries Very Hard not to jump when scareactors target him. And oh do they target him. They know an easy mark showing off for his girlfriend when they see one, and he’s painting a target on his forehead by leading the group. 

Jay knows there’s a method to the madness. He’s seen enough horror movies (and watched enough haunt walkthrough videos online in preparation) to recognize the old tricks--hallways lined with doors, windows that can snap open, a room full of dummies mixed in with actors--and he is ready. His head’s on a swivel, camera roving over every inch of the walls. They won’t get him. They won’t. He has to keep the camera steady or the footage won’t come out right. He wonders if he’ll have to go through each maze twice, once with night vision and once without, like the other walkthrough channels do.    

Tim knew this was a bad idea. He’s praying that he hasn’t actually bruised Brian’s arm, but he knows he’s probably left a mark. Seeing things twitching at the edges of your vision is one thing, but having a real, solid person in a rubber mask jumping out at you activates a whole different set of instincts. Tim nearly socked the first guy in the face, and since then, his grip on Brian’s arm is half to steady him and half to keep himself from reeling back and doing it again. 

Amy thinks this is the best time she’s had in months. Jessica’s in a constant state of “AMY WHY”. Alex is Amy’s meatshield, while Amy’s Jessica’s meatshield. It works out.

Brian doesn’t want to let on how much this place unsettles him, but it’s really starting to wear on him. After the second maze, Tim asks if he wants to duck out and get a hot dog or something, and Brian happily agrees. 

After Maze #3, Alex insists that “we should all stop for a snack” (because  he’s getting burned out, but he sure as hell doesn’t want to say that). The gang sees Brian and Tim finishing off a truly ridiculously large order of chili cheese fries. Alex didn’t even notice they were missing. 

Jay is exhausted from being so wound up and too wound up to calm down. He wonders if the scareactors are allowed to mess with people at the picnic tables. He wonders if he’ll die if he drinks a can of Coke with his burger. He buys it anyway. He leaves the camera running. Tim sees his hands shaking and gives him a look. Jay doesn’t think anyone who ducked out after two mazes is qualified to be giving him a look. 

Seth and Sarah leave early. Seth says he has a project he has to get started on. Sarah wants to point out that it’s the middle of fall break and that he literally told her this morning that he didn’t have any homework over the break, but she doesn’t need to. Even Jay seems to have noticed how flimsy his excuse is. Sarah’s pretty wiped anyway, so she basically says, “So long, suckers,” and leaves the rest of them to suffer without their Rear Guard. 

Tim and Brian rejoin the gang for Maze #4, now emotionally recharged and full of chili cheese fries. 

Alex is very, very tired of being out front, but there are only two more and he just needs to power through it. (Also, he doesn’t feel like it’s right to force anybody else to take the lead, and nobody’s asked, so he’ll just suck it up and keep going. Somebody has to be out front, and it might as well be him.)

This house has a trick where a hatch slides open at about knee-level, and a scareactor reaches out for your legs--not close enough to touch, but close enough to make you notice. Jay doesn’t see it coming. He makes a truly embarrassing noise, a noise that will forever be immortalized on film. (No, he’ll edit it out in post.) At this point, Jay is well and truly shaken. He thinks he sees spots flashing in front of his eyes, but it’s too dark to really tell. It’s probably from the strobes from earlier. Maybe he’s breathed too much fog machine fog. (Is it true that stuff can burn holes in your lungs?) Jay’s fine. Really, he’s fine.

The gang shares a look of weary resignation before getting in line for Maze #5.

The last maze is alien-themed, something about invaders from another dimension. It’s new this year, and it shows. The animatronics are smoother, the sound design is great, and the makeup is--

One of the monsters has no face, just pale latex skin stretched taut.

Brian’s not sure why Tim just hid his face against his back, but he’s not going to make him move. Sure, he’ll miss the neat sets--Brian’s especially partial to the rusted-out feel of the old spaceship; it reminds him of Alien--but Brian’ll tell him about them later. Brian inches forward, and Tim follows, gripping the back of Brian’s sweatshirt for dear life. Brian wonders if they’ll have enough time to get another snack before they leave; chili cheese fries may not fix anything, but they seemed to help before. 

The maze culminates in a brief scripted battle, as a pair of actors wearing scuffed-up space suits fire on the aliens while strobe lights fire off from a truss above the set.

Jay thinks something feels off. 

Jay wakes up outside the maze, splayed out across the grass and surrounded by paramedics. No, he doesn’t have a history of epilepsy. No, it’s probably just anxiety, really, we don’t need to go to the hospital.

Jay wakes up in the hospital. 

A few hours later, he’s finally released. (Brian stays in the waiting room while Alex and the rest of the gang drops Tim off at his apartment to get his car. Yeah, I’m good to drive. Just a bit shaken, that’s all. No, really, you stay here, and I’ll go. I hate waiting rooms.) 

Jay comes out with a doctor’s warning and a six-month driving ban. (Tim snickers into his hand when Jay tells him.)

Jay laments the fact that his footage for the last maze is unusable and asks if they can go again. Tim somehow manages to give him a look while still keeping his eyes on the road. Jay’s as impressed as he is offended. 

Option #2: The Gang Runs the Haunt AU. Alex’s family runs a haunt and they’re short on help, so Alex ropes the gang into helping him. 

The Kralie haunt is pretty small-scale, as haunts go, but it’s been in the family for generations. (Well, Alex’s dad and grandfather started it in the early 80s, so Alex thinks that counts as “generations”.)

Growing up around all this stuff helps mold a young mind sometimes, and while Alex is still pretentious as all get-out, he wants to make horror movies. He wants to elevate the genre. 

Alex suggested to his grandfather that they try one of those “intense”, full-contact haunts one year. His grandfather looked him straight in the eyes and told him that was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard, but if he wanted to be an idiot, he could make his own haunt. 

(Alex did not have the resources to make his own haunt. He’s still biding his time. Waiting.) 

Jay tagged along with Alex’s family to an out-of-state haunt convention that spring, and he helped them pick out some spotlights and a new projector effect. 

This may have been what planted the seed in Alex’s head for an idea that August: friends = free labor, right? 

Jay agrees to help build sets and set up lighting on the condition that he’d be able to shoot some footage for his midterm project on-set. (The thing’s not due until mid-October, so the sets’ll be done with enough time to film and edit, right?) 

Brian agrees to do the same on the condition that he’d be able to play a monster on the weekends. (From Alex’s perspective, that was a no-brainer; double the free labor!) 

 Tim agrees because he knows Alex is garbage at sound design, and he’d like to do something that’s actually helpful for once.

Amy’s been looking into being an SFX makeup artist (maybe as a full-time job, maybe on the side; competition is steep) so she wants all the practice she can get. 

Amy tries to convince Jessica that monster makeup’s “just like regular makeup, really! It’s easy! Come on, I can’t do all the actors myself!”

Monster makeup is not just like regular makeup. Jessica feels a lot more comfortable painting sets, but she doesn’t want to throw Amy under the bus, so she also does a little bit of the makeup, too. She thinks her monster stuff looks awful, and from the look on Amy’s face, she knows she agrees. At least the haunt is dark. 

 Alex picks up a pair of stilts at a nearby Goodwill and begs Amy to design a monster for them. 

Various ideas are brought up and shot down, including The Obvious. Tim vocally objects to The Obvious, for Obvious reasons. Alex concedes.

The haunt that year is themed after a haunted crypt (just like it was the past five years), so they wind up with Alex dressed as an eight-foot reaper in a cloak. (The cloak is to cover up the stilts.) Alex thinks it’s corny. (He secretly likes lurking around and looming into the edges of people’s field of vision. It’s satisfying. He Likes To Be Tall.)

Alex initially plans to make Brian a forgettable background skeleton, but then his mother has the idea to make Brian into a skeletal “barker” character who stands out front and improvises banter with the guests. Brian’s been taking some improv classes since that summer, and the improvements are noticeable. (Alex entirely blames the classes. No way was his lousy script to blame for Brian’s lackluster performance that summer. Alex is a genius. Brian’s just a psych major.)

Alex calls Brian “The Cryptkeeper” once. Only once. 

Brian knows too many puns. 

(Ten years later, Jay thanks every deity he can name that Undertale didn’t exist during the fall of 2006.)

The sets come together in time (barely). 

Jay shoots what he needs for his project in time (not really, but what’s a few all-nighters among friends). 

After an extended battle with a speaker rig that looks like it hasn’t been updated in fifteen years, the ambient sound design comes together in time (barely).

Jessica looks up lots of makeup tutorials.

The First Weekend of October Is Coming. 

Actors: hired

Rehearsals: done

Costumes: done

Lighting and sound: checked and re-checked

Sets: safety regulation compliant

Everyone: smells like liquid latex and fake fog

The First Night Arrives. 

Alex has a fever of 103. His parents say that, between school and the haunt, he must’ve overexerted himself. 

Alex has seen Tim coughing the past week or so. Alex knows Tim is Patient Zero. Tim should’ve dropped out the second he started coming down with something; now he might’ve spread it to the whole crew.

Alex calls Tim up and curses him out through a sore throat. Tim can barely understand what he’s saying. Tim eventually hangs up. 

It’s an hour until doors open, and somebody needs to wear the reaper outfit. 

Brian’s already in costume as the barker, Amy and Jessica are busy, and everyone knows the last thing Alex will want to hear is that Tim took his part. 

So that leaves Jay.

Jay has never worn stilts before. 

Jay has never scared people before. 

(Not on purpose, at least.)

Jay tries his best. 

Mercifully, he doesn’t fall over, but he does get close a few times. He has to grip the foam-painted-to-look-like-stone wall for support for most of the night. The cloak would look baggy on anyone, but Jay’s swimming in it.

He still gets a few good scares in. (He sees why Alex likes it. It’s a power thing, he thinks.)   

The next few weekends, once Alex is back on his feet, Jay shoots promotional footage of the guests going through the haunt. Jay prefers this job; he gets to dress in stagehand-black and lurk around the sets trying not to be noticed.

He gets some of his best footage out front, watching Brian. The guy really is a natural at this. 

Tim stays backstage every weekend, monitoring lights and sound. Jay gets a little footage of him, too, to his mild annoyance.

Jay tapes interviews with Jessica and Amy one Saturday before the doors open. Amy turns the whole thing into a tutorial, seemingly out of pity after Jay stumbles through a couple of awkwardly worded interview questions.

When Alex’s family realize he didn’t set aside any money in the budget to pay his friends, they swiftly correct the error. The gang doesn’t make much, still, but it’s a nice surprise.

October ends. The sets are dismantled. The costumes are put away. 

Brian tells Alex that if he ever needs more help next year, he’ll try to be around. 

Brian’s off to medical school at the end of spring semester, but he's going to try to get into a program in the area. Alex rolls his eyes and tells him that maybe they’ll be able to come up with a mad doctor for him to play.

“Mad psychiatrist.” Brian wiggles his eyebrows.

“Isn’t that an oxymoron?” 

“Not as often than you’d think.”

Jay cuts his footage into a trailer for the website. Alex’s family is thrilled. Jay asks if can bring his camera to the haunt convention next year, and the answer is a resounding “absolutely”. 

Jay might have found His Element. 

It gets worse when he discovers that unsolved crime forums are a thing.

Then Jay’s either traveling around taping haunt walkthroughs or trespassing on private property looking for evidence. 

Alex thinks Jay would make a great character in one of his movies.

The gang keeps coming back year after year, especially Jay and Tim. Brian has to miss a few years because of school. Jessica ends up at a grad school out of state but comes back as a guest a few times. For Tim and Jay, though, it’s decent seasonal work.  

Alex is still trying to elevate the genre. Tim and Jay have a running bet on how long it’ll take for one of Alex’s movies to get wide enough distribution to win a Razzie. 

Everything Is Actually Fine