#now shoo there are other artist who want your attention like the baby artist go support them

[cosmic-bones6]

!!!!!!"NOT MY OC'S"!!!!!!!!

YUMMY ART MAKING..... if you want to see the original creators of these ocs find my art fight post were I linked my account and you can find all the creators on there!!!! :3

[bbangsoonie]

ultimately you

member: chanhee (new) genre: fluff (requested) word count: 884 synopsis: jealous chanhee pouting over you writing fan letters to another idol.

a/n: happy birthday to the lovely choi chanhee

You would think that the idol you were dating would be your ultimate bias. But no, your boyfriend was sitting across from you as you happily wrote a fan letter to BTS’s V. You hummed along to “Spring Day” as you decorated the paper with pretty stickers.

“What are you writing?” Chanhee peeked at the card.

“Nothing,” you teased.

He pouted at the lack of attention and sighed loudly in hopes that you would notice. You didn’t.

From across the room, Changmin snickered at the sight. His friend was completely weak when it came to you.

“Who do you like more? Me or V sunbae-nim?” Chanhee suddenly asked. You laughed at the question, making him frown.

“Obviously V sunbae-nim,” Younghoon said as he passed by, giving you a high five.

You continued to doodle, oblivious to your sulking boyfriend. Younghoon sat next to Changmin on the couch as they watched you two in amusement.

“You’re really gonna write a love letter to another guy right in front of your boyfriend?” Chanhee raised a brow.

“Fan letter,” you corrected. “There’s a very big difference.”

“Doesn’t seem like it,” he huffed, crossing his arms.

“Aww babe are you jealous?” you giggled.

“No,” he said as he cutely stomped away to his room. With a laugh, you followed after him and joined him on the bed. He pretended to ignore you while you snuggled into his arms.

You placed a soft kiss on his lips, smiling when the corners curved up against his will. You landed a few more pecks until he finally gave in and chuckled.

“Chanhee, you know I love you the most,” you affirmed. “I’m nothing but a fan of other idols. I support their dreams and admire them as an artist. But you, I love you with all my heart. I love your bright mind, your adorable laugh, and the way you’re always so considerate of others.”

You rested your head on his chest and heard his heart rate slowly go up. It brought you a sense of comfort and overwhelmed you with happiness.

“But most importantly, I love that you love me,” you whispered, staring into his eyes. “I love when you lend me your sweater and pretend to get annoyed when I refuse to give it back. I love having your scent linger around me even after you leave. I love that you’re always looking after me and never make me feel insecure. I love you.”

Chanhee had already melted and gave in long ago. He didn’t stand a chance against your cheerful expression. Seeing you happy filled him with joy as well.

“I love you too,” he said as he caressed your cheek.

“Then give me kiss kiss,” you puckered.

He kissed your nose, which crinkled in disappointment. As his own mini payback, he continued his teasing by giving you another kiss on your forehead. He smirked at your whining before finally leaning in for a real kiss.

The romantic moment didn’t last too long. It was abruptly cut short with Sunwoo’s loud shriek.

“Please close the door when you want your lovey-dovey time!” he yelled as he ran away. You heard Changmin and Younghoon laugh as Sunwoo complained about his eyes.

You got up to close the door and turned around with a sly grin. Chanhee didn’t like that mischievous look in your eyes. Before he could open his mouth, however, you jumped on top of him, earning a grunt from him.

You reached for his sides and his eyes widened at your sudden tickle attack. Outside, your friends rolled their eyes at the burst of giggles from the room. Changmin suggested that they leave the dorm to eat dinner, to which Younghoon and Sunwoo eagerly agreed.

Meanwhile, Chanhee had overpowered you and you were now the one under him suffering from his tickles. He didn’t stop until you admitted that he was your bias. Once you escaped, however, you quickly stated that he was your The Boyz bias but that V was still your ult before running away.

He chased after you but you caught Sunwoo in time before he left. Hiding behind him, you squealed as Chanhee tried to shove him out of the way. Feeling pity for Sunwoo who was stuck in the middle, Younghoon swatted your boyfriend away as Changmin smacked him to calm down.

“You two are so childish,” Changmin scolded. “Especially you, Chanhee. You lose all cool when you’re with Y/n.”

“Seriously. What happened to the level headed hyung I used to know?” Sunwoo shook his head.

“He lost his rationale when he hit his head falling for her,” Younghoon teased.

“Hey! Leave my baby alone,” you jokingly frowned, stepping in front of Chanhee with opened arms to protect him.

The trio groaned, fed up with the couple. You laughed as they shooed you two away and insisted that they eat separately. So with Chanhee’s arms wrapped around your torso, you watched as they walked off. Once they were gone, you glanced at him to silently ask what he wanted to eat.

He shrugged, leaving you to decide the menu. You scrolled through the delivery app on your phone, searching for a suitable meal.

“How does ddeokbokki sound?” you asked.

“Sounds great,” he said as he placed another peck on your cheek.

a/n: for @tinisprout​

[wizkiddx]

i saw that you at least used to write for harry could u do another? like maybe im just a basic bitch but 'only one bed' trope or sm

Summary: honestly just me shitty attempt at the only one bed thing ahah with Harry Holland x reader

no warnings I don’t think apart from my ramabling :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

God you were groggy. It had been a long 16 hour flight and you were well and truly completely over this day. Once you’d had some proper sleep, no doubt you will be beyond excited to explore the forest and beaches of this remote island in Indonesia. You were certain it was beautiful, even if you’d arrived in the dead of night so you couldn’t see any of the majesty yet. It was one of the joys of being Tom’s makeup artist - travelling the world and being paid for it? A literal dream. 

Except maybe the previous 24 hours. The Holland name carried a lot of weight in the world, but not enough to control typhoons across the tropics - there were some limitations to his power. And yes first class lounges were nice but none had beds to crash on during the 6 hour weather delay. The four of you (Tom, Harry, Andrew and yourself)  ended up camping out in a out-the-way corner. Tom got the long sofa; Andrew in one of those weird egg line chairs; you and Harry splayed on the floor. Why you’d had to get up at 4 am to catch a flight that was now not departing till 12 hours later actually hurt to think about - especially because you’d all gone out for a meal the night before that had inevitable went a lot later than planned. 

Two connecting flights with a very angry baby later, the four of you were checking in to the only hotel on the island - which was now almost exclusively filled with the production team for Tom’s newest movie. It wasn’t especially big-budget with massive million pound overheads, instead a smaller scale indie film (that you privately thought might earn Tom a number of accolades). But yeh, shooting on an island that received almost no tourism meant everything was different to the usual. None more so than for Tom and his team (including you) who he normally would look after very well, with the nicest hotel rooms or rental homes. 

The hotel was basic, you’d known that before you arrived but seeing is believing is it not? Most entertaining though, was seeing Tom’s face. Andrew was a well travelled older guy, he had stayed in some shitholes in his life. Equally you and Harry had both travelled when you were younger (you through inter railing and him in australia), so had stayed in hostels before. But for Hollywood star Tom Holland? The way he tilted his head to the side as if to say ‘really this place?’ did lift your spirits momentarily. 

Andrew had got his key first, bidding you all good night with a grunt, then Tom - who still seemed confused as to the whole arrangements. It left you and Harry at the small dingy reception, the warm glow of an old lantern-esque light fixing illuminating the place. The guy behind the desk was a smiley local and greeted you warmly, if incorrectly.

“Ah and finally the couple I see!” He spoke with a thick accent but still very clear English which had you questioning if this was just a translational error. Harry looked at you instantly, his eyes wide which made you scoff - him joining in, shaking his unruly curly mop emphatically.

“No no we um… we aren’t together.” All the while Harry pointed between the two of you, communicating through actions rather than just the language, given that you were both the very typical Brits abroad who hadn’t learnt the language of the place they were visiting. 

“Still under Holland name?” The guy asked in a perplexed manner, flicking through a book filled with cursive scribbles and scanning to see if he’d made a mistake. He checked one, then looked up nervously before checking the same page once again- you saw where this was going. ”We, we only have couples room down for you though? 3 double rooms is the booking for Holland.” 

It was late, you both stunk of a combination of plane and BO, you both just wanted your individual and respective beds. 

“Well can we get another room then?” Harry didn’t quite snap but there was still an impatientcy to his voice, which came out whenever he was a little agitated. Seeing the slightly worried look the mans eyes, you leaned onto the desk with a genuine smile. 

“Sorry we know its last minute and its not your fault, we’ve just had a really long flight.”

“I am terribly sorry miss but we are only small hotel and Hollywood has filled us up. I have no other rooms. I am truly sorry sir, ma’am.” The guy went from looking worried to terrified as Harrys jaw tensed up, you naturally squeezed his arm to try and ground him, instantly deciding that you’d just work it out. 

“No no it’s not your fault, don’t worry we’ll figure it out. Can I just get the key?”

Harry stepped back and let youtakeover proceedings, signing all the insurance documents etc and asking the man about the breakfast arrangements and such, though you saw him furiously typing on his phone and by the buzzing in your pocket- presumed he was messaging the group of you Tom, Andrew and himself. 

Once finished the guy pointed you on your way, up two flights of stairs and down a hall. The whole time Harry was muttering about how useless the other two were for not replying and also for making the wrong booking in the first place. If only you hadn’t been the last two to checkin, then it would’ve been someone else’s problem.

He felt especially guilty just because you were the only girl-  he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, hence why he was trying to locate his brother so they could share tonight till they got it figured out. The tension, combined with sleep deprivation, was palpable as you both walked in silence toward the room - Harry was trying to formulate a plan in his head as they did so. And honestly? You just couldn’t be bothered to deal with it. So, once you reached the door 57 holding the physical key (old school, rather than a key card) you just decided to address it. 

“Will you chill please?” 

“Well if my idiot broth-“

“Oh leave him be for god sake. If you’re okay with it I really don’t mind sharing with you tonight?” Not bothering to laugh at his slightly shocked expression with mouth hanging a little open, you fiddled with the key until the lock clicked open. From the entrance you had a pretty clear view of the whole room and… well, lets just say dated would be a fair expression - when compared to what you were used to? The floor was tiled and the bed was a small double, with some funky and slightly washed out prints of blue and red on the cover. The pillows looked a little limp, more like glorified pieces of cardboard than anything fluffy and comfortable. The walls were that yellowy magnolia shade that everyone in the UK had gone insane for in the 80s and there was an old school wooden wardrobe in the corner. 

Home for 5 weeks. 

With a shrug of your shoulders you entered, dumping your personal and work suitcases by the far wall carelessly - the higher priority action being to collapse on the bed. Doing so with an overdramatic huff, you let your eyes close but payed special attention to the delayed footsteps of Harry as he entered, then the slight creaking noise as he perched on the other side of the bed - no doubt looking at you, at least slightly fearfully. 

The relationship between you and Harry was complex to say the least. Well no… it should be, not on the face of it. You had met through work and made friends. And you wished it was that simple but alas, nothing ever really is. When you’d first worked with Tom you were in the tail end of a relationship you had long since forgotten about - literally meaningless, not worth the time and effort you’d put into it. From the start you’d had a feeling Harry was more interested in you than the average co-worker (even if your job and therefore co-workers were anything but normal and average) but you were in a relationship so nothing ever came. 

Then almost as if synchronised, just as you got out your relationship, Harry threw himself in the deep end with a girl he’d met through his family friends. Then the roles were somewhat reversed, you now spent a good chunk of your day just entertaining yourself with thoughts of the curly headed, slightly awkward, very-passionate-about-tea-making Holland. The cliche is so real - your always want what you cannot have. 

However, a couple months ago his relationship had fizzled and faded away leaving both of you in a sort of no mans land. The sort of not wanting to ruin the friendship situation. The subject was never broached by either you - except you assumed he was being tormented in a similar way to how you were by his big brother and Andrew. Never publicly, yet whenever you found yourself alone in a room with one of them (being Tom’s makeup artist that happened often enough) there would always be a sly dig. The chemistry was  so ‘obvious even a blind man could see it’. Somehow though, weeks of this and your were still stuck. Stuck in the middle. 

“You sure you’re alright with this?” His voice was gruffer and hoarser from the long journey but you could hear the self-consciousness and naivety in his tone, without having to peel your eyes open and look at his face. 

“I know your not a murder and plus, we shared the airport floor this morning… this is pretty much the same.” He hummed in acknowledgement so you carried on “and plus your pint sized.” That earned you a playful shove in the side as you sniggered, before pulling yourself up so you we now sitting next to him, legs hanging off the edge of the bed. His brown eyes searched deeply into yours, as if physically checking for any hint of regret or hesitation. “Don’t even dare offering to go on the floor.” 

“Okay okay okay!” Holding his hands up in surrender, you both laughed, breaking the peace of the late night of the remote Indonesian island. Once an impressive yawn interrupted you though, Harry proclaimed it was time for bed and shooed you into the bathroom to get changed and sorted. 

Honestly you were too tired and lazy to dig out your cleanser and skin stuff, instead opting to just splash a bit of water on your face before swapping into your pj shorts and an old tattered oversized tee. Once done you and Harry swapped, him coming out a couple minutes later in basketball shorts and a black loose fitting tee. 

It wasn’t awkward so to speak, more a sort of excited-tense atmosphere, which there was no doubt Harry was mainly responsible. The boy was jittery and on edge, which to put simply, you didn’t have the energy to reciprocate. 

With a quiet wish of goodnight to each other, Harry flicked off the bedside lamp and you both rolled to your respective edges of the bed, a large space of no mans land between you. In the middle. You know the first time you share a room with someone and you overthink everything? When you don’t want to move about or fidget too much in case it disturbs the other? When your listening intently to their breathing, in the hope it’ll even out and only then will you feel able to fall asleep yourself? 

Well it doesn’t work when both of you are doing it. When both of you are professional over thinkers. 

God knows how long it took till you gave up, favouring sleep over your worries and concerns. So you flipped over, no doubt rocking the whole bed, turning to face his back that was still huddled almost teetering off the edge of the bed. The only light within the whole room was that coming under the actually scarily large gap between the floor and the door to the hallway. It was just enough to see the back of Harry’s curls and you must’ve fallen asleep trying to trace all the torturous and windy routes of the strands.

///////////

In the morning the process of waking up didn’t come easy to you as normal for many reasons; the long day prior; the jet lag; the weird surroundings. So you stayed in this sort of blissful haze for probably longer than you should. Half aware but not really; half asleep but not quite. In the middle  of sleep and alertness. Therefore it took you longer than it should have to notice the extra weight on the dip of your waist. Not anything alarming, just a presence you were absolutely not used to. It was only when you shifted a bit to lie further on your back, that enough of a stimulus from the added pressure made you actually open your eyes blearily. And sure enough, a limp hand looked to have casually and unconsciously been thrown over your side. 

As if in slow motion, you traced the arm backwards - first with your eyes, but then having to twist your neck too. Only then could you fully see the browny ginger haired boy who was lowkey spooning you? It was certainly a way to fully wake you up, breath halted to a stand still in your lungs, in fear of disturbing him and having to confront what would almost certainly be an awkward situation. 

There was still a safe hands width distance between the two of you except for the rogue arm. Harry’s head was placed to the edge of his pillow, mouth slightly parted as his breathing slightly tickled the wispy hairs on the back of your neck. He looked so peaceful and calm - a difference to the normal Harry who, even on a good day, took great pleasure in meticulously picking things apart and being a bit cynical. It was part of his ‘charm’; but seeing him like this was a type of vulnerability he rarely chose to show. 

To be fair he was asleep, he dint realise he was exposing himself in this way.

Finding yourself a little transfixed (a bit creepy but hey) on the natural curves and definition of his face, you ever so carefully rolled over in the bed to face him. It stopped you from craning your neck and gave the sleepy boy a slight nudge, making him tense his arm a little more tightly round you. 

He settled quickly though, giving you ample opportunity to just observe what was going on . Both right in front of you… and what the hell was going on in your head. Because to be honest it was an overwhelming amount of emotion thoughts for the early morning. 

Somehow you must’ve eventually drifted off once again because the next thing you were aware of was a shuffling from immediately next to you. This time though, you were instantly aware of exactly the situation you found yourself in and chose to keep up the pretence of sleep - a little interested in how Harry would play it. 

You heard a small gasp, having to suppress a chuckle at what you imagined Harry’s sleepy and panicked face looked like. That lasted a couple of moments, before you felt him painstakingly slowly peel his hand from your waist and if you were being 100% honest… you heart sort of sank. 

What you had been expecting?- you don’t know and really there was really no reason to be disappointed. Yet, you still felt this deflated and disappointed feeling, hit your chest especially hard. Perhaps it was because of your focus on that emptyness that you forgot you were supposed to be pretending to be asleep./.

Because when he had delicately brushed the side of your face to tuck a rogue bit of hair behind your ear - your eyes flickered open.  Like a rabbit caught in headlights, Harry froze, his hand still hovering over your jaw. Equally, you didn’t know what to do. Because really… do friends tuck hair behind the others ears? And do friends look at each other with this matched expression of confusion and fear? 

It took a painfully long time (though in reality was probably only a matter of seconds) before the boy retracted his hand, suddenly sitting up from his reclined position down at you. Mirroring his actions, you both ended up sitting, facing the opposite wall, bodies closer than they needed to be in the double bed. Both still very much in the middle. 

“I er-“

“-No no don’t… was nice of you” He had been about to apologise which you didn’t want to hear. You didn’t want to hear ‘ I didn’t mean it’ - you wanted him to mean it. In response Harry nodded jerkily, and from your peripheries, noticed he was searching your face for any sign of emotion.

“Still can’t believe this all happened… I-I didn’t disturb you too much did I?” He sounded really nervous. You were never like this with each other. So static and forced. 

“No no… I slept really good actually.” Your register was quieter, waiting till you’d finished speaking before looking over at him with a self conscious smile. 

“Ah I’m glad… I um-I did too.” The silence returned and the atmosphere just felt sharp. It felt like you were quite literally walking either side of a knife edge. It made you chew on your bottom lip, playing with the slightly frayed edges of the vintage quilt. 

“Y/n- I look…” He’d bolted upright and voice was more raised than normal for the morning. “This is gonna sound so fucking weird, especially cos we’re literally in the same bed but... but I was thinking we could maybe go on a hike or something together?” What he seemed to be suggesting didn’t match the level of panic that was conveyed in his body language which confused you. And what the bed had to do with it… was yet to make sense in your head. 

“I think Andrew said we’re getting some tour of island this afternoon so-“

“ I kinda meant just you and me.” 

The penny dropped and it had you focusing all energy on processing what was happening - understandably causing Harry to only worry more with the lack of response. “I’m sorry if I’ve ruined ever-“

“No I-I….I’d really like that too.”

“Oh er… well… really?” The sheer shock made you giggle, feeling the two of you sliding back into the normal dynamic.

“Normally a boy has to buy me a drink before he gets in my bed but….” A mischevious smirk that spread across your lips gave Harry the final confirmation that just maybe you were interested too, making him scoff and quietly chuckle.

It was odd; mainly because this was the two of you being incredibly vulnerable and honest with each other - something that you hadn’t allowed yourself to be for fear of messing things up. And then one lazy morning, both with morning breath and slightly puffy eyes, it changed. For the first time when you looked at him, he really saw - and vice versa. You were still in the middle of something, yet it was completely different. 

This time you were in the middle together figuratively as well as literally. In the middle of the bed, closer than you needed to be, but not wanting to retreat - while you both just looked shyly and bashfully at each… Eventually you lips hesitantly met in the middle. 

[phoenixblack89]

Secret Crushes III: Cinemas, Love Notes & Cuddling

Hallo again my lovelies!

Here's part three for ya.

Part 1 Part 2

Tags: @fandomsaremykryponite @autocon23 @lilythemadqueen @writingdeadangel @boondoctorwho @darylsgirl @browneyes528

You were stressed out and panicking. 

After your sister's outburst the other day in the woods, Murphy had been avoiding you somewhat. It seemed her threat had made him back off. It rattled you to the core that maybe she was right. Maybe Murphy was an asshole. 

You sighed and flopped down on your bed and groaned. 

The weekend was dragging like crazy, as had the week at school watching her and Connor suck face while you'd glance  towards Murphy hoping to catch his eye but he was always looking away.  

You felt so alone.  

Like you'd made the biggest mistake of your life by giving the darker haired twin something so special, your virginity, allowing him to use his mouth on you like that... But he had said such sweet things... Made you believe him when he called you beautiful.... 

"Y/N!" 

Your father's loud and slightly angry voice called from the hall. You groaned again and padded out of your room and leaned over the bannister rail. Your eyes took in the form of your dad's broad and tense shoulders and raised an eyebrow in curiosity.  Your sister was hugging your father happily, which was odd, considering she'd been in a foul mood since they had returned and grounded her for the month following last week's party. 

"Y/N! Get ye butt down 'ere now!" Your dad's Irish accent thick with annoyance. You sighed and walked down the stairs slowly, eyes widening as you took in the sight before you. 

Smirking brightly, the elder MacManus twin nudged his brother, glancing you up and down. An act your father and sister thankfully missed. You flushed, realising you had yet to change out of your pajamas - a pair of short, bright green shorts and a tight spaghetti strapped top that left little to the imagination. 

Your father sighed at you as your eyes flickered to Murphy, whose eyes were focused on your chest as you folded your arms. You blushed under his glare and turned to your father. 

"Go get dressed." He growled. 

"Why daddy?" 

"This gentleman wants t' take ye sister t' the cinemas" He gestured towards Connor, "however, as she is still grounded fer dat ridiculous party," your sister lowered her head in mock shame, barely able to hide her smirk. "You are going t' go wit' her. You will stick t' yer sister like glue. Yer both must be together when yer come home."

"Oh..." you reply, feeling eyes run over you once more. You glanced at Murphy, but his eyes were firmly fixed on his shoes, your head turned slightly to Connor, who licked his lips as his eyes ran down you. "Erm... I... I.... I better get dressed then."

"Go. I need t' talk t' these boys and set some firm ground rules." Your dad all but growled, which made Connor and Murphy flinch. 

You ran to your room, your sister quickly following and closing your door quietly behind you. You sighed and grabbed some clothes out of your closet, which your sister threw to the floor. 

"I need you to distract Murphy tonight." She whispered, pulling clothes out your closet and pushing them into your arms. 

"Sara... Thought you said he wasn't good enough for me and has to keep his hands off your baby sister? Huh?" Your replied, your voice muffled as you dressed. 

"Look... I'm sorry. I was kinda jealous... And it is my job as big sister to try and protect you. I'm sorry." She wrapped her arms around you and rested her head against yours softly. "Besides.... I do owe you one. For not squealing on me about the whole barn thing."

"Get off me woman! Fine... I'll try. Though I doubt it'll do any good.... He took ya warning pretty seriously." You sighed, as your sister slumped more of her weight into you. You shove her off and start putting a little make up on. Just enough to highlight y/e/c eyes but still look natural. She smiled and took it from you and quickly applied just the right amount. You glance in your mirror and smiled. 

Your sister should be a make up artist you mussed, she'd added more than you usually wore but she had brought out your features perfectly.  

You actually felt pretty for once. 

She grabbed your hand after you finished getting dressed and pulled you downstairs to the lounge where the MacManus boys sat quietly on one sofa as your dad glared at them from the armchair. He rose and gave you both a hug and shooed you all out of the house with a quiet warning to the twins to have you both home by 11pm.

Your sister laughed as Connor's hand once more left the stirring wheel to run along her thigh. You rolled your eyes as Murphy scowled at his brother. 

"Keep ye fuckin' eyes on the road man!" He growled and crossed his arms over his broad chest. You ducked your head and bit your lip, eyes raking down his shirt which strained tightly against his chest. The buttons seemingly ready to pop open at the slightest expansion of his breathing. Murphy gave you a nudge and flicked his hand towards you, a simple, white folded piece of paper between his fingers. You crossed your eyebrows in confusion as he nodded to his hand again. You gently slipped your hand across the seats and took it from him and lay it in your lap.  You gave him another look and he nodded at the note, twirling a pencil in his fingers absentmindly. 

You unfolded the note and gave Murphy a quick glance to catch his eye but he was looking out the window. 

Do ye forgive me? 

You smiled as Murphy's hand came into your view, holding the pencil between two of the slender digits. You bit your lip and took the pencil, scrawling a reply. 

For? 

Ignoring ye the last week

Why did you do that? 

Ye sister is fuckin' scary. 

Haha not as scary as dad

Aye. So do ye?

Depends... 

On? 

If you earn it...

Murphy smirked at you as his eyes scanned the note. He shifted his body slightly as the car rounded a corner, using the turn as an excuse to get closer to you. Sara glanced in the rearview mirror and caught your eyes. She nodded her towards Murphy and wiggled her eyebrow before smiling widely as Murphy's hand landed on your knee. You smirked at her and glanced back at Murphy as his other hand cupped your cheek softly. 

He leaned in and brushed your lips with his, not noticing his brother glancing at you in the mirror as well.  

Murphy's tongue flicked at your bottom lip for access, which you granted and gave a little moan as he ran his tongue around yours. His hand gripping your hip gently and sliding under your shirt to run his thumb across your hip bone. His grip tightening as you kissed him deeply. You parted breathlessly, his forehead resting against yours. 

"Have I earned ye forgiveness then?" He whispered against your lips. You bit your bottom lip and nodded before kissing him once more. 

"Fuck!" Connor yelled as the car swerved to the right wildly before he regained control of the car. Murphy being pushed across the seat to land with his face in your lap. You blushed bright red as he straightened and licked his lip. You both glanced towards thee front of the car and paled. Your sister's body was laid across the seats with her head dipping up and down into Connor's lap. The slurping sounds turned your stomach and you blushed in embarrassment. "Oh god...." 

"Jesus Fuckin' Christ! Could ye nat wait til we weren't wit' ya? Fuckin' hell man!" Murphy complained, covering his eyes and yours. Connor continued to moan and pant for several more minutes, the volume increasing steadily until he braked suddenly and gave a deep gutteral groan. Murphy gave a gag of disgust at his brother and his hand over your eyes tighten slightly. 

"Ye fucking idiot! Could've killed us all! Carrying on like that!" Murphy whined as he uncovered his eyes then yours, once sure your sister had resumed her seat. Sara smirked at your red face in the rear view mirror as she wiped her mouth, winking at Murphy who scoffed and folded his arms.

"Hey Murphy..." 

"Aye?"

"If you're lucky maybe my sweet baby sister will give you one once we get to the cinema." Sara laughed, watching your face and Murphy's change colour several times.

You gave a nervous laugh and buried your face into your shoulder, leaning your too warm face against the cool glass of the window. 

Fuck.... Would he expect me to? You panicked, blocking out all sound inside the car. I can't do that! I don't know how! Oh my god... What if he does and I can't get him to cum? Oh my god... Oh my god... Oh my god! 

The internal panic didn't fade at all during the rest of the car ride, nor did it as you got to the cinema or when you were buying your snacks or even entering the theatre. It was still there as you and Murphy separated from your sister and his twin. You were nervous to say the least. 

Murphy smiled at you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, settling comfortably close as you sat in your chosen seats at the back of the theatre. You gulped as you stared at the big blank screen. 

"Ye alright beautiful? Ye tense as hell." Murphy whispered into your ear as the screen lit up and his hand ran along your arm softly. You nodded and bit your lip, nerves fired beyond relief.

"I'm fine... Its just... Never mind." You were thankful that the room was near darkness as your face turned bright red. 

"What? Tell me" 

"It's stupid..."

"If somethin' bothering ye, ye can tell me. I promise I won't laugh." He whispered, brushing your ear lightly with his lips as his hand gently kneaded your thigh. "Is it what Sara said? Cos I wouldn't ever force ye t' do summit ye ain't willing t'..." 

You nod and turn to face him slightly, your eyes not meeting his. Murphy chuckles lowly and runs his hand from behind your head to cup your cheek bringing your lips to his gently. You sigh into the kiss as his other hand trails along your thigh and cups your core gently. You pull away and glance around nervously. Thankful everyone's attention is on the screen in front of you. 

"Relax beautiful. No one's lookin' at us. Let me really earn ye forgiveness..." 

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip harshly as Murphy's talented fingers slip under your underwear and begin to stroke your heated pussy softly, teasingly. You gasp as one briefly grazes your clit and his lip begin to suck and nip at the delicate skin of your neck. You subconsciously shift your hips to grant him more access as his fingers dip between your slicken folds. You give a little whine as his fingers explore your inner walls slowly, feeling him smirk against your neck which was sure to be a lovely shade of purple from his constant attention. You'd definitely need to wear a high collared shirt tomorrow.

Your fingers scrambled to his wrist as his thumb begins to circle your clit in time to his thrusting digits. Your other hand finds his hair and pulls him to your mouth, sealing his mouth to yours hungrily. Your toes curl in your shoes as you suddenly orgasm around his hand and nearly shriek. Luckily the loud explosion on the screen covers your shriek of unexpected pleasure. Murphy laughs as he massages you down from your leg shaking orgasm. 

"Murphy... Wow.... Fuck..." You pant, smiling softly against his chest as he pulls you into a tight hug, kissing you gently once more. 

"Ferget what ye sister said. I ain't gonna ask ye t' do that. Unless ye ready." He smiles as you snuggle against his chest and begin watching the movie, despite having missed the first 35 minutes of it due to Murphy's wonderful hands. 

It was truly a perfect date you smiled to yourself, feeling Murphy press his lips to your head once more. 

And you couldn't wait to see what else the night had in store. 

[mingishoe]

Their s/o surprising them backstage

OT8 x Reader

These are all pretty long I’m sorry...

Hongjoong

Seonghwa had called you about a week before their show in Chicago. He was worried about Hongjoong because he had been overworking himself for the past few weeks and he thought if you were here he’d relax a little bit. The day before their show you found yourself on a plane for 13 hours so you could go surprise Hongjoong. Seonghwa had somehow gotten himself out of part of rehearsal to go with their manager to pick you up at the airport, “Are you sure you don’t want to go to my room and rest for a while?” You shook your head, actually wanting to watch their concert, “It’s okay, you need to get back soon, the concert is going to start soon.” The three of you rushed back to the venue and you hid in the very top with a mask just in case someone recognised you. As you listened to their closing statements you quickly started to get up and make your way down to go backstage. Seonghwa quickly found you and you gave him a thumbs up signalling you got it. You made it just as the lights dimmed the sweaty boys passed you, all too tired to even look around. Hongjoong was behind Seonghwa so you quickly swooped in stand in front of Hongjoong. Hongjoong didn’t even notice and tried to apologize before you lowered your mask with a smile. He didn’t think twice before he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a tight hug, “W-What’re you doing here! I-I I missed you so much!”

Seonghwa

You had talked to their manager and he thought it would be funny if you were to scare Seonghwa. You had waited until they had calmed down a little bit and in the waiting room getting their things ready. “Should I really do that? Is that not too much?” their manager had said you should pretend to be a crazy fan but you knew how scary that was so you weren’t sure if that was a good idea but it was already too late because you had a mask on with sunglasses that covered the rest of your face. You pulled your hoodie over your head as you opened the door. You tried your best to change your voice to be a little bit different as you squealed, “Park Seonghwa!” the attention of all 8 boys. “You’re so handsome close up!” you could see the panic on his face as he looked around to find someone who could get you out. You started laughing but tried to cover it up as you were crying and apparently it worked because Seonghwa looked even more frantic as you walked towards him, “You’re too handsome to be dating that significant other of yours… how about me instead?” You tilted your sunglasses down with a wink and you immediately saw Seonghwa’s face relax and he pulled you down onto the sofa with him, “You scared the fuck out of me-” You laughed loudly as you pulled the mask off and turned to the other members who visibly looked relieved.

Yunho

You hated when Yunho went on tour. You were by yourself for months with really no one to hangout with since all the members were also obviously on tour to. You were getting bored sitting at the dorms by yourself with nothing but San’s plushies to keep you company. You were close friends with one of their makeup artists so she thought it would be a good idea if you came down to see him. She gave you some supplies like makeup brushes and chapstick so you could go backstage and touch them up whenever they did a wardrobe change. Yunho walked up to you with sweat dripping down his face and neck and you couldn’t help but stare. You grabbed some tissue and dabbed his face carefully as you tried to clear his face from sweat. You knew you weren’t really supposed to touch him if you were supposed to be a makeup artist but you smiled before you pulled your mask down to press a kiss to Yunho’s lips. Yunho didn’t comprehend it was you until he had pushed you away with wide eyes, “You don’t want my kisses Yunho?” You said with a fake pout before his mouth dropped in shock. Once he saw it was actually you he pulled you back into another kiss, “Sorry I scared you, I just missed you so much!”

Yeosang

You could tell Yeosang has been stressed lately. You called Wooyoung one night and asked him about it. Wooyoung confirmed your worries and asked if you could come down here because he knew you would relax him. You heard the loud screams as they said their final goodbyes. Yeosang walked backstage first which gave you the perfect opportunity to catch him. You pulled him to the side and he looked at you with wide eyes. You held his face in your hands as you looked at him, “What’s wrong Sangie?” His lip trembled as tears started streaming down his face. You pulled him into a hug as he sniffled into your neck, “M-Missed you.” Your heart ached for him. You’ve never seen Yeosang cry before and you didn’t know what to do besides hold him, “I missed you more Sangie, come on my love lets go.”

San

You were watching San as he was dancing. Watching San was your favourite thing to do. Everything he did was attractive even if it was something normal like eating. But San dancing was someone completely different. San turned into a whole different person but you didn’t complain. You watched as his hips moved smoothly but harshly at the same time. The way he grinded into the air led your mind to go in some not very innocent places. As soon as San walked off the stage to where you were, you shoved him into a wall to bring him into a kiss, “F-Fuck, I didn’t know you were coming baby.” You let out a breathy chuckle, “Surprise… Now how about we go somewhere… private.”

Mingi

You watched with an amused expression as he walked past you for about the 4th time. You had even greeted a few of the other members. You had followed them as they walked back to their waiting room. You were standing in the back with Yunho as you were both watching Mingi with amazement as he was literally in front of you, “He must actually be an idiot.” You laughed loudly and Mingi immediately recognised the sound making him turn around with wide eyes, “Y/n?!” Everyone literally groans and Yunho even hits Mingi on the back of his head, “They’ve been here for like 20 minutes!” Mingi’s eyes widen even more, not believing what Yunho was saying, “We wanted to see how long it would take you to notice-”

Wooyoung

As Wooyoung was dancing he turned his head to the side and swore he saw you standing there. He couldn’t have though, you were in Korea and they were in Europe. There’s no way you flew for 10 hours just so you could watch him perform. As soon as the show ended Wooyoung found himself going backstage as quickly as he could. He ran around frantically trying to look for you, “Where’d they go?!” The other members were looking at Wooyoung confused but when they heard your teasing voice their mouths dropped in surprise, “Where’d who go?” Wooyoung squealed as he ran towards you to bring you into a bone crushing hug, “You came!”

Jongho

You knew Jongho was pretty bummed about not being able to dance because of his foot injury so you decided to show up to their latest show to try and make him feel better. He was sitting on a stool pretty close to where there was a curtain closing off the backstage area. You were carefully peaking past it as you watched as Jongho pouted. You made sure no one was watching you before you started to call Jongho's name to get his attention. He looked over confused but you saw the way his face instantly lightened up when he saw you. You gave him a quick cheer before your eyes widened at Jongho whenever he missed his part. Seonghwa looked confused as to what had Jongho distracted before he gasped slightly into the mic making you panic. You quickly shooed them and walked away so they wouldn’t get distracted any further. As soon as they were able to go backstage Jongho picked you up and spun you with his beautiful gummy smile, “Thank you, that made me feel so much better.”

[sope-and-shine]

My Favorite Kitty

-> SFW // Shifter!AU // fluff, angst (if you squint) // Shifter!Taehyung -> Pairing: Yoongi x Taehyung -> Word Count:  3.6k -> Summary: What else is Yoongi supposed to do when his best friend gets him a cat but accept it and take care of the fluffy creature. But Jin may not have told him everything about his new pet.  -> Warning(s): mild language, nightmares, avoiding sleep, Kim Seokjin (cause I think he should always have his own warning) 

a/n: Sooo... I’ve been working on this for almost a year... cause I’m a dummy who can’t write consistently... BUT it’s finally done and just in time for @cest-la-tae​‘s birthday. Daija boop I know you been waiting for this since I hard you read is months ago, so I hope you like it!

*

Yoongi honestly doesn’t remember how he and Jin became friends. Sure he’d tell people Jin had annoyed and followed him so much that he didn’t have a choice. But neither boy could ever think of a time they didn’t know each other. Maybe they met in school before Yoongi’s parents had died in that freak accident. Yoongi remembers being so scared and alone, everything he knew was suddenly going away. And then he found himself living with his best friend and that’s how it’s been since. He’d never be able to forget how much he owed Jin’s family and the man himself.

Growing up with Jin had been an adventure. The two were polar opposites. Jin was a people person, beautiful, popular, the ideal student. Yoongi wanted nothing more than to be left alone, keep his head down and simply do what was needed to achieve his dreams.

But regardless of what he wanted, people knew him. They’d have to be living in the stone age not to know the illustrious Kim Seokjin’s broody best friend. They were nice to him because otherwise Jin would have their heads, and no one wanted to be on the King’s bad side.

Yoongi had never been a fan of two-faced bitches, so anyone who tried to make nice with him simply to get to Jin, well they were in for a rough time. Some could describe Yoongi as nasty and vicious. Once a girl even tried to tell Jin to cut Yoongi out of Jin’s life. That had not ended well.

Even now that the boys had long since become adults with their own lives, they constantly inserted themselves into each other's lives. Jin made no secret that he loves Yoongi like a brother. And, while Yoongi would never admit it outloud, he loves that brat to death. They graduated college together and Jin went off to make a name for himself as an up and coming actor. Yoongi got to live out his childhood dream, creating and producing music. He preferred staying behind the scenes, being a faceless artist but his music was out there now. They even ended up at the same entertainment company.

Jin flourished, making friends wherever he went, just like always. Yoongi kept to himself, just like always, only having two close friends besides Jin. He’d help them with their own music and they weren’t as loud and boisterous as Jin, so he didn’t mind when they stuck around. Well, actually Hoseok was quite loud but his cheerful personality and kind heart made it hard to turn him away. Yoongi’s world was small and quiet and he was perfectly fine.

Mr Kim Seokjin, however, thought that wasn’t enough. He thought his pretty Yoongi should be out there living it up. He made a decent amount of money and was more than smart enough to do great at work while cutting loose. But that wasn’t what Yoongi wanted, and Jin respected that.

He still thought the man should at least have a roommate or a pet or something! Or he should have at least accepted that date Jin had tried to set up for him and Hoseok. Well before Jin had realized he had a crush on Hoseok and went on the date himself. But still, Jin constantly pestered his small friend about expanding his circle just a little bit. He wanted to disrupt Yoongi’s peaceful little world and he wasn’t going to stop until he won.

Yoongi was perfectly fine living alone. He was happy with his handful of friends and his quiet empty apartment. He didn’t want to go out cause that meant dealing with people and people were annoying. He was fine just going to work and staying home. He was a grown ass man and what he did with his life was his own choice.

Besides, Yoongi would rather keep his problems to himself. He felt bad enough that his horrible sleeping schedule was messing with his work schedule and caused Jin to worry, even if he really didn’t need to. He’d feel worse disrupting any little animal inhabiting his small studio apartment, let alone another human. He got sleep, albeit at strange hours, and handled his workload perfectly fine. The man just had a little insomnia and some nightmares from time to time, but that didn’t make him someone who needed to be babied. Jin didn’t need to constantly worry and look after him, it was getting old.

What does it matter if his annoying friend thinks Yoongi needs a pet? He doesn’t. He is perfectly fine on his own. Who cares what Seokjin thinks? Yet he still decides to waltz into the apartment at the ass crack of dawn carrying a fucking cat.

Ok, so maybe the cat was really cute. He’s pretty blue eyes staring up at him made Yoongi’s resolve weaken. But he refused to let Jin be right. Even if this cat had the softest fluffiest cream colored fur in existence. Nope Yoongi wanted nothing to do with this adorable baby.

Jin dumps the poor cat onto Yoongi’s lap before moving about the apartment setting things up for the fluffy creature. “What’s his name?” 

“I’m not keeping him, Jin.” Yoongi grumbles, finding himself regretting giving Jin a key for the millionth time.

“Why not?” Jin doesn’t even falter in his mission, knowing this time he’ll win. “What’s the harm?”

Yoongi cautiously peers down at the cat before shooing him off the bed. Deciding that a large cup of black coffee was the only thing that could help him deal with his dearest friend at the moment, the dark haired man brushed past the tiny creature to trudge to his little kitchen. “I don’t know the first thing about caring for a cat, for starters. I don’t even have the things he would need. And I’m busy with work.”

“I bought you stuff. It’s in the living room. And I know your work schedule, you can’t pull that I’m too busy crap.” Yoongi grabbed a mug only to find Jin sliding him a large cup of coffee from his favorite cafe. He ignores Yoongi’s hard glare in favor of picking up the fluffy feline. “Just give him attention, feed him, and change the litter. Easy. He basically takes care of himself.”

It was a long, hard fought battle, but in the end he kept the cat. Actually, no it wasn’t. All it took was the little fluffy ball curling into Yoongi’s belly and his soft purrs for the small man to know Tata was never leaving his side. 

Even though he’d never tell Jin, maybe Yoongi really had needed Tata. He was the sweetest baby, alway staying nearby or tucked into his side. He was the perfect companion for his lazy ass. And a great cuddle buddy when he went to sleep at night.

Tata was such an amazing addition to his world. So Yoongi really hated it when he’d wake up, tears on his cheeks after a nightmare, only to find his little friend staring up from his place on the man’s chest. He’d say it was fine, more to himself than the cat, but the stubborn boy never listened. Yoongi found it odd. He’d alway heard cats were less caring and standoffish, he’d even been compared to a cat by several people for his blunt and, at times, harsh actions. But this little guy was anything but. He’d watch Yoongi closely until he slipped back into slumber, curled up on his chest the whole time.

Yoongi never remembered the nightmares but they kept coming, and they only got worse. He slowly slept less and less. It had been weeks and the most sleep he’d gotten was 45 minute naps here and there. 

By the time a month had passed, he knew something had to change. But the man couldn’t bring himself to do anything. So Yoongi continued on as if he’d die if he slept too long. And every time he stayed up through the night, the faithful kitten was right there with him. Always looking at his human with a sad glint in his eyes, like he wanted to help but didn’t know how.

By now his coworkers and few friends had noticed the change. Yoongi was a phenomenal producer and, even with his lack of sleep, still was, but his work wasn’t at its best. That and he had to fight to stay awake as time went on. Hoseok had accidentally woken him up after barging into the smaller’s studio to tell him about the progress he had made on his mixtape. Meanwhile, Namjoon had to continually keep him from dozing off while the two worked together on songs for their own releases. Needless to say they were concerned and if Namjoon and Hoseok knew, it was only a matter of time before Jin found out as well.

Which he had, and quickly hunted Yoongi down to yell at him. He made it very clear if the man came into work the next day, he’d get the CEO of the company to ban him for 2 weeks. And Yoongi knew Jin could pull that off, at this point his chaotic best friend owned the company in all but name. Plus Bang PD always wanted to take care of his people, so the CEO would probably ban him without Jin even asking.

So he stayed home. It was easier to stay awake doing chores around his apartment than sitting in his small studio anyway. And he could dote on his pretty kitty this way. 

Yoongi spent his new found free day organizing the kitchen. How on earth some of these things ended up where they did he had no idea. He must’ve thrown his favorite coffee mix on the top shelf while unpacking in a hurry, because otherwise he’d never put it there. Besides the fact he couldn’t reach up there without climbing on the counter, the mix always went right next to the coffee maker to fuel the man’s dependence of the dark bean juice. 

The day dragged on and still Yoongi refused to rest. At one point he thought the sleep deprivation was getting to him when he heard the toilet flush even though he was nowhere near the bathroom. When he walked in and found Tata sitting on the closed lid staring up at him, Yoongi decided it was the perfect time to make a big pot of coffee and move on to scrubbing the bathroom. Tata stayed for a moment before bolting off to the kitchen, probably on a quest for his food.

Before long Yoongi’s phone was constantly going off, vibrating harshly against the ceramic tub. Not wanting to add a headache to his ever growing list of problems, he quickly snatched the annoying contraption to see a multitude of texts from Jin, Hobi, and Namjoon, all with varying degrees of threats. Really it was only Jin making threats, Namjoon and Hobi were simply telling him to rest up and take care of himself. Yoongi rolled his eyes, looking at the time before locking his phone. 

10:33 PM, the perfect time for him to start drinking his fresh coffee and start a Marvel marathon. Grabbing his biggest mug, Yoongi fills it up to the brim, lazily running his hand through Tata’s fur. Setting up his laptop with his first movie of the night. As the intro plays, he takes a huge sip of his warm coffee and cuddles up with Tata.

As the night passed by, Yoongi found himself just getting more and more sleepy, no matter how much coffee he drank. He was tired but he wouldn’t- no, couldn’t sleep. So the small man curled up on his bed, at the point of exhaustion where he just wanted to cry. But crying meant sleep, and sleep meant dreams. So he only curled around his pillow tighter and watched the seconds slip away. 

He’s so tired that he doesn’t question the deep voice humming to him and the warm arms that wrap around his smaller frame. It soothes him in the worst way, making him lethargic instead of more aware. It feels as though a memory is seeping through in his haze and attempts to lull him. Yoongi tries to fight sleep but the second his back hits the warmth behind him he’s gone.

The next thing he knew, Yoongi was snuggling deeper into the bed trying to hide from the sun’s blinding rays. When he finally managed to force his eyes open all the exhaustion from the previous night was gone. 

He barely remembered falling asleep, just the comforting warmth. The man had felt so safe and, honestly, he’d never slept better. No dreams, just sweet beautiful darkness. He’d slept so well Yoongi didn’t even remember his alarm going off.

Maybe that’s because it hadn’t. As he fumbled for his phone and caught a glimpse of the time, the small man felt his stomach drop. 1:33 PM. The numbers glared back, mocking him. He’d already missed about half a day of work, and he wasn’t about to miss the rest.

As he started to rush around, trying to look at least somewhat alive, he failed to notice the confused looking man sitting on his kitchen counter. “What’s the fuss for, hyung? You should be resting.”

“I have to get to work. I’ve already missed enough.” The smaller threw back at the blonde.

His entrancing blue eyes light up as he proudly claims, “I already called off for you!”

Yoongi stopped in the middle of the room, “Called… off?”

“Yeah! So you can get some more rest.” The man’s boxy smile grew larger, despite the slight scowl slowly appearing on the other’s face.

“I’m not going back to sleep.” Yoongi walked past the cute but annoying man, grabbing one of his coffee cups.

“Do you need more sleeping pills?”

“I don’t…” Yoongi paused, shaking his head before continuing to pour himself a cup of coffee from the pot he made last night. He didn’t have time to start a fresh pot, he’d have to settle for warming this one up in the microwave. “I’ve never taken a sleeping pill.”

“Yes you have. Hyung said you had to ingest them but I figured you’d find them in your food. But they disappeared in the black stuff.”

Yoongi stopped and slowly turned to face the man, his happiness not at all affected by the pure stupidity that had just left his mouth. “You put sleeping pills… in my coffee.”

“Yeah in the pot.”

After a moment of dumbly staring at the man, Yoongi grabbed the coffee pot and promptly dumped it down the drain. 

The blonde cried out as he watched the dark liquid go down the drain.  “But I made that for you.” Yoongi knew the man probably had a little pout on his face just from the cute whiny voice.

“I appreciate the sentiment however if in the future you could try not to poison me that’d be great.” The shorter turned back to face the man perched on his counter, and sighed. “And can you stop sitting on the conter like a fucking cat.”

With a sheepish smile, the man slipped off the counter and walked towards Yoongi. He stopped barley an inch away and dropped his head onto the smaller man’s shoulder. He reached to hold Yoongi’s waist but paused, seemingly thinking better of it. “‘M sorry.” He whispered, his breath ghosting over Yoongi’s collarbone and sending shivers up the man’s spine. Yoongi sighed and wrapped an arm around his waist, slipping the other up to run through the soft blonde strands. The taller melted into Yoongi’s touch, bringing his hands to cling on Yoongi’s waist and nuzzle into his neck.

They simply stood there, the blonde practically trying to wrap himself around Yoongi as they cuddled. Yoongi thought they probably made quite the picture at the moment, the tall blonde man with enchanting blue eyes looked quite small now. Yoongi didn’t try to fight the small smile, knowing the only one who could see it was buried in his neck. This moment was so peaceful, Yoongi almost never wanted it to end.

Suddenly the smaller realized a very crucial detail. He had no idea who this man was and how he got into his apartment. So Yoongi decided to do what any logical person would do; shout, shove him off, and throw the rest of his cold coffee at the startled man.

“Why’d you throw that at me?! I made that for you with love!!” The blonde cried, trying to wipe the coffee off his face.

“Get the fuck out of my house weirdo!” Yoongi took his chance to run over and grab his frying pan. He may not be the best at self defense but he could wield a mean frying pan. 

However, Yoongi hadn’t been expecting the blonde to have such quick reflexes. The moment he turns to swing, he feels a large hand wrap around his wrist. Firm and strong, but gentle at the same time. Yoongi tried to use his only hand to get free, only to end up with both hands being held in the blonde’s while he gently took the frying pan and set it down on the counter. “Jin-hyung did say you were feisty but I wasn’t expecting this.”

Yoongi stopped struggling, zeroed in on one very important word. “What did that stupid asshole do now?!”

“Hyung is the reason I’m here, remember?”

Yoongi scoffed, once again regretting giving Jin a key. He really needed to get that back. “No, my loving best friend didn’t say anything about letting a stranger into my apartment.”

“But I’m not a stranger, I’m Tata.”

Yoongi paused to look at the man, finally noticing his hair and eyes match his precious cat’s exactly. That and the feline has been missing the entire time the man has been here. “I thought hyung told you.”

“No, that little shit didn’t tell me anything.” Yoongi grumbled, seemingly done with fighting. Tae hesitantly let him go, pleased when he wasn’t immediately attacked.

“I thought that’s why you called me Tata. Cause you knew.” After receiving a confused and annoyed look, he continued on. “You know, cause my name is Taehyung?”

Yoongi didn’t say a word as he grabbed his phone off the couch. Angrily jabbing at it, he made his way to the contact to call his favorite hyung. 

Jin answered after the first few rings, sounding as cheerful as ever. “Hey, Yoongi.”

“Yeah, hey. WHAT THE FUCK!” Yoongi knew starting a shouting match with Jin would break his ears, but at the moment he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Yah, you brat! Where’s the respect?!” came Jin’s indignant reply, so loud even Tae flinched from his spot on the couch.

“You don’t get any, you bitch. You gave me a fucking human?!” Yoongi growled out, wishing Jin were here so he could lovingly strangle him.

“Shifter.”

“You shut up.” Yoongi glared at Tae, causing the blonde to put up his hand in surrender. Pleased that one of the two idiots might behave for the moment, he went back to trying to figure out what the hell his dearest friend was thinking. “Jin I swear I’m-”

“Going to kill me? Yeah I know. But look, you like Tata and Tae is the same person.”

Yoongi flops down on the couch with a sigh, “He is a human. I had a cat yesterday and now I have a human.”

“No take backsies! Love you bye!”

“JIN!!” Yoongi shoots up again, ready to scream and curse Kim Seokjin to hell and back, but Jin had already ended the call. “I should’ve poured that coffee on his fucking head.”

Yoongi sighed, falling back onto the couch and holding his phone up “Hey Siri, add kill Kim Seokjin to my to-do list.”

There’s a moment of silence before Yoongi is reminded of Taehyung’s presence. The shifter softly placed his hand on Yoongi’s smaller one, his expression solom. “Do I have to leave now?”

“... No. I just don’t know what to do,” Yoongi sighed and opened his arms, an invitation Tae quickly accepted, curling into the elder’s side.

“Well you can throw out the cat food. It’s nasty.” Tae mumbled, his disgust causing a gummy smile to appear on Yoongi’s soft lips “And then we can get food and cuddle for the next week.”

Yoongi’s smile dims once he remembers food means money, and money means work. “I have to go back to work.” He made no effort to move from Taehyung’s comforting embrace no matter how many times he repeated that.

“Yeah after you get more rest. Please hyung?” Tae gently pulled Yoongi closer, trying to tempt him to stay, using his best puppy dog eyes and cutest pout for good measure.

“Ugh fine.” Tae’s boxy grin returned as he nuzzled into Yoongi’s side. The smaller tried to fight off the blush rising up and softly placed a kiss on Tae’s head. The shifter perked up at the action, blue eyes staring intently in dark brown ones, before tackling Yoongi and showering his face with kisses. He tried fighting back, but Yoongi has discovered when it comes to Tae, he can’t say no.

“I liked you better when you were smaller.” Yoongi whispered once Tae had stopped, his soft smile showing of his gums and making Tae’s heart melt. They affectionately stare at each other for a while longer, before uncertainty creeps into Taehyung’s gaze. 

“It’s really ok for me to stay?” His voice was so quiet, Yoongi almost missed it. But he didn’t and his face softens, his gaze warm and comforting. His hands move to gently cup Tae’s face, his thumbs running over his cheeks.

“Yes Tae. I’d be sad if my favorite kitty left.”

[mon-dayragingslut4monstaxday6]

See You (Part 1)

See You

A/N: This is the beginning of something beautiful. There will be fluff, angst and smut, but we have to start somewhere. There are no warnings, just really cute. 2.5k words.

@ckyunoirs​, @to-all-the-stories-i-love​, @kpop---scenarios​(you’ll see why). Let me know if you want to be added!❤️

I sit at the dinner table with my sister, staring at my bowl of soup. The soup is delicious, but with the amount of effort we put in, I lost my appetite. Dammit, but the smell hitting my nostrils is making my mouth salivate.

“Are you going to eat or are you just going to stare?”, Bailey mumbles, tapping the table to get my attention. I take a spoonful of soup and embrace the feeling of hard work being paid off.

“I’m just distracted”, I sigh before dipping a roll into the broth.

“By?”, Bailey wonders.

“This guy I’m talking to”, I take a big bite out of my roll.

“You’re still talking to that Korean guy? He seems like bad news”, she scoffs.

“How? He hasn’t gotten weird yet”, I shrug.

“Yet”, she points out.

“I’m thinking about asking him to show his face”, I bow my head in shame. Instead of choking on her soup, which is what I imagined, she calmly swirls her spoon.

“Do you think you’re ready for that?”, she turned sincere.

“It’s not like we’re dating. We make small talk, but nothing farther than a friendship level”, I shrug.

“Could you see yourself being with this guy?”, she turns giggly.

“I couldn’t say. We get along great, but I could definitely see us being friends”, I turn my visual focus to my soup.

“What if he’s hot”, she gasps. I can feel my cheeks start to warm up.

“He won’t be, stop”, I bashfully mumble.

“But what if he likes you! You’re stunning, he will absolutely adore you”, she adds, hyping up the vibe.

“You’re making me blush”, I hide my smile.

“Oh honey. If you’re blushing now, you’ll be a mess when you see his face”, she pokes fun. Shit, she’s right. I will be a mess.

“Should I just ask for a selfie or could he just catfish me?”, I groan.

“He will probably catfish if you ask for a selfie. Just FaceTime him. If you get uncomfortable, just click out of it. You don’t owe him anything”, she points to my phone. I take a few more spoonfuls of my soup and pick up my phone.

“I’m going to schedule a FaceTime session with him”, I inhale.

“And may he be a creepy gross man who is just using those apps to get sweet naive girls like my dumbass sister”, my sister toasts. I clink and swig my drink.

“But what if he is hot”, I worry. “Then snatch that fucker”, she shamelessly sips her drink. I nearly choke on my soup.

“How would I do that?”, I egg her on.

“Send him a photo of your tits, ass, and thighs and he will be crawling all over you”, she points to my features.

“What if he’s taken?”, I gasp. I never realized I never asked if he was single. The topic never came up!

“Then why is he texting you”, she winks.

“For tutoring”, I assert.

“Tutoring to get in your pants more like”, she continues to give me the side eye.

“He’s not like that”, I scoff.

“Yet”, she scrunches her face.

I unlock my phone and message him good morning.

Min: Good evening to you, Sophie!

I need to get a grip. It’s just asking for a video chat, no big deal. Oh goodness, I never thought that maybe he would say no.

Me: I was wondering if you would want to video chat.

Min: You wonder what I look like?

Son of a bitch, he’s smarter than I thought.

Me: Yes. Are you not curious about me?

Min: I am.

My heart is pounding. I need to eat my soup to calm my nerves.

Me: We don’t have to video chat if you don’t want to.

I put my phone down to compose my thoughts and refocus on my soup.

“What is he saying?”, Bailey teases.

“He asked me if I wonder what he looks like and I said yes and I asked him if he wonders what I look like and he said yes”, I calmly recite the messages. I hear my phone buzz and I don’t have the strength to pick it up.

“Eat and then message him. It’s still morning over there anyway”, she shoos my phone away. I follow the advice, because my stomach is growling from neglect. I eat the rest of my soup and roll in peace, collecting thoughts about what this video chat would be like. Obviously, it will be awkward. A solid two minutes of us saying hi and waving, trying to think on what to say.

I feel mildly shameful for getting to know this one guy I met online. I’ve been using some apps to tutor Korean’s English, getting some extra cash at my own pace. There was this one guy who frequently requested tutoring. Out of all of the people I tutored, he made the best progress, but he still has a long way to go. He innocently asked for my WhatsApp, to have better contact with me. Being naive, I gave him my contact information. When I realized what I did, I guaranteed that once the conversation drifts to something explicit, I’ll immediately block him. He never gave the impression that he would be like that, but we only talked about tutoring and typical conversation translations.

It’s been a couple of weeks or so since we started casually messaging. I learned he’s an artist, a weakness of mine. He sent me photos of some of his work and his simplistic style is very visually pleasing, very tranquil. I knew that when I told him that I’m a fellow artist, our conversations will shift. Suddenly, we can relate to each other, something I wanted to avoid.

He hasn’t asked me what I looked like yet, something I’m personally surprised by, but I’m going to take the plunge and finally see him. It’s not like I would stop talking to him if he’s ugly, I just don’t know what I will do if he’s pretty.

Having the soup settle in my tummy, I pick up my phone.

Min: I want to. I’m afraid you will think of me differently if you see me.

Me: How come?

The wait for a reply is making me anxious. To take my attention away from my phone, I wash my dishes in the sink.

“Sophie. We have a dishwasher”, Bailey points to the dishwasher right next to me.

“I need to keep busy”, I huff.

“It’s just a boy. Schedule a video chat then go to bed”, she laughs at my anguish.

“What if he’s pretty Bailey!”, I jokingly whine.

“Then good for you! That means you have a pretty friend. There is nothing weird with having a pretty friend”, Bailey explains.

“You’re right. You’re right”, I acknowledge as I stack my dishes on the drying rack. I hear my phone ding and Bailey and I exchanged glances.

“Don’t do it. Keep busy and put the food away”, Bailey warns. Without hesitation I grab some deep tupperware from the cupboard to store the soup. I hear a giggle from the dining room. Peaking over my shoulder and Bailey is reading the message preview on my phone screen.

“Bailey!”, I gasp.

“You’re getting catfished”, she cackles.

“Why, what did he say?”, I pout my lip.

“He claims he’s a model”, she laughs. I try not to roll my eyes.

“Then he sent you a link to his instagram”, she continues.

“Did you open it?”, I wonder.

“I need your password”, she catches her breath from laughing.

“Give me a second while I put the food away”, I gesture to the kitchen counter. Could he really be catfishing me? He wouldn’t. Would he? It’s not like I know the guy. Stop imagining, get your act together!

I pour the soup in a couple of containers, enough for Bailey and I to have our own large bowl.

“I’ll wash the pot, go talk to your man”, she cackles, switching places with me. I unlock my phone and see a swarm of messages.

Min: I’m afraid you will recognize me. I do modeling so a lot of my photos are styled.

Min: You can see my Instagram. If you don’t believe it, we can still video chat.

Min: I would very much like to see you.

He sends me a link to his Instagram and I already don’t know how to feel about it. Only thirty-four posts but over six hundred thousand followers but following none. That sounds suspicious. I see some selfies and my phone drops out of my hands. That can’t be him. He can’t be that pretty. He can’t!

“Bailey, I fucked up. He’s pretty”, I cry out.

“He could use someone else's face. Facetime him. I dare you”, Bailey aggressively points.

“Should I send him my Instagram?”, I mumble.

“No, leave the mystery”, she winks at me.

Me: Is that really you on Instagram?

Min: Sorry I’ve been hiding it from you.

Me: That didn’t answer my question haha

Min: It is me. Can I see yours?

Me: Let’s video chat. I’m probably too ugly for you.

Min: Doubt it. I’m sure you’re beautiful.

Don’t blush. Don’t blush. Don’t blush. I was going to wait to video call him, but I can’t wait any longer. I need to see him.

Me: Could you video chat now? Just for a few minutes?

Min: Sure!

“Bailey, it’s happening”, I panic. Bailey stops what she’s doing and blankly stares at me.

“Stay calm. Nothing to worry about. It’s just a boy. Go to your room, get comfortable. Say hi and ask him about his day”, Bailey walks me through this.

“If he starts acting weird. Hang up”, her voice turns worrisome.

“If he asks you to get naked, hang up”, she continues to list possible scenarios.

“Wouldn’t that be under acting weird?”, my voice trembles. She shrugs.

“If he’s naked, definitely hang up”, she adds.

“Enough. I’m going”, I exclaim, rushing to my bedroom. Looking in the mirror, goodness how did I let my skin look so bad! It’s fine, it’s fine. It’s just one video call. One. I half ass my skin care routine, skipping some steps. My phone buzzes, a message from Min. He sent me his info to video call him. What the fuck am I wearing! I swiftly change into my favorite comfy sweater. First impressions matter and he needs to see me as cute as possible! I leap onto my bed, sitting up against the headboard.

Min: Are you ready or do you want to reschedule?

Me: No, I’m ready!

Setting up the according video chatting app, I squirm nervously, imagining every scenario possible. He could be a creeper who tries to traffick girls. He could be some weird old guy who catfishes as a handsome young man to get sugar babies. He could not be a catfish but has a girlfriend and he’s doing this as a way to cheat. I need to stop this negativity. He could be a perfectly normal guy who likes making friends.

Dialing. Ringing. Ringing. Ringing. I hide my face with my sleeve. I can’t bear seeing him. The ringing stops. There’s some shuffling.

“Sophie?”, I hear a sweet, soft, slightly feminine voice. His little laugh makes my heart flutter. His laugh sounds genuine, from his diaphragm, kind of breathy. I sneak a peek and he’s as beautiful as his Instagram. He has very kissable lips. There’s a sparkle in his eyes that I can easily escape in. He is a living Disney prince.

“Hi, Minhyuk”, I wave while keeping one hand over my face.

“Why are you hiding?”, he can’t stop smiling. His accent is pretty strong, but he did work hard on his English.

“I’m shy”, I mindlessly confess. He jokingly pouts.

“It’s ok, it’s just me”, he comforts. I lower my hand, but keep myself wrapped in the sweater. He grins from cheek to cheek, showing his pearly whites. His cheekbones couldn’t be more pronounced. He hasn’t done or said anything for a couple of seconds, is he frozen?

“Minhyuk?”, I ask.

“How are you this beautiful?”, he chuckles.

“Huh?”, my jaw drops.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?”, Minhyuk continues. I sweater paw to hide my cheeky grin.

“Stop it”, I bashfully look away.

“No, you are beautiful. I can’t believe you’re real”, he cackles. I gasp.

“Me?! You’re the model!”, I exclaim, laughing hard enough for me to snort. I can’t believe I snorted in the time talking to a guy. His laugh is comforting.

“You’re so cute”, he compliments.

“I’m not cute”, I pout, crossing my arms. A smile has yet to leave his face. Is this going well?

“Yes, you are”, he scrunches his nose. Oh my goodness, don’t do that again or else I will actually fall apart.

“What are you doing today?”, I change the subject, hoping for a casual conversation.

“I got schedules, a full day of work. What did you do today? Did you eat?”, he gets the hint. He changes his sitting position to be more comfortable.

“I just had some good soup. Work was rough today, but I have tomorrow off”, my eyes lock onto his.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”, he tilts his head slightly.

“Going shopping”, I casually guess.

“Will you message me while you shop?”, he mumbles. I notice his eyes blink irregularly.

“Yes”, I nod. Minhyuk looks offscreen and his face shifts from a smile to a more relaxed look.

“One second, please”, he whispers to the screen. I hear a muffled man’s voice offscreen. Minhyuk converses with the person obviously in his room. His voice in Korean is even more attractive than his English voice. Not saying his English voice isn’t attractive, it’s very attractive. Hell, everything about him is attractive. How is he real? How did the universe maneuver it’s way for us to find each other? How does he find me beautiful? I don’t understand it. I’m so fascinated by his face and his voice. I want to know more about him. I’d love to paint with him through video chatting. What am I going to say to Bailey when this is over? I’ll tell her the truth. Minhyuk looks over at me and catches me absentmindedly staring.

“Sophie?”, he laughs to get my attention, knocking me out of my trance.

“I have to get ready for the day. I can call you when you wake up”, he pouts.

“Oh, yeah! Sure, I’ll message you when I’m awake”, I smile.

“Sleep well and sweet dreams. I’ll talk to you tomorrow”, he sweetly waves.

“Have a good day at work, be safe and eat good food”, I kindly wave. He scrunches his nose one more time before hanging up. I plop my phone next to me so I can melt onto my blankets.

There’s a knock on my door.

“Come in”, I welcome. Bailey peaks her head in and laughs at me fully spread out on my bed.

“How was it?”, she shows her curiosity.

“Amazing”, I sigh in disappointment. I could talk to him for hours when we message, I can’t even imagine how long we would video chat.

“Was he pretty?”, Bailey continues.

“Gorgeous”, I whine. She squeals. 

“What did he think of you?”, she gasps. I turn over to lay on my stomach.

“He called me beautiful and cute”, I scream into my pillow.

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Goodnight, Aaron (Aaron Hotchner x OC) Chapter 5

Summary: After being grilled about his ex-girlfriend on what is meant to be a fun birthday outing, Sebastian gets some new information dropped on him by a worn-out Jack.

AN: Sorry I haven't posted in a while! Been a bit busy with job and family stuff. Hope you enjoy this chapter. This chapter is mostly unedited sorry!

Tagging: @sunlight-moonrise, @clean-bands-dirty-stories, @genevievedarcygranger, and @davidrossi-ismydad

Chapter 4 // Masterlist // AO3 Link

“They asked you to coach?”

Sebastian watched Jack run off to warm up with his team, then he turned back to Hotch who clicked the car keys to lock, “Do they know what you do for a living? And they’ve asked you to coach before? Mental.”

Hotch let out a chuckle at how utterly ridiculous Sebastian made it sound. And, truth be told, it was “mental” that Hotch was still coaching his son and their team when he still had to wrangle together his own team back at the BAU.

Sebastian adjusted his bag strap, “You need to learn to say ‘no’ to some people, Aaron.”

Hotch shook his head, playing into that teasing tone that had worked its way ito the conversation, “Well I don’t suppose you would be up for it?”

“I know nothing about football.”

“Soccer.”

“Soccer,” and Hotch laughed at the way Sebastian’s nose wrinkled as he mimicked the accent – albeit with heavy exaggeration on the vowels.

“Dave!”

Hotch’s hand raised into the air, catching the attention of his co-worker. Sebastian felt the pressure crank up to eleven as David Rossi sauntered over. He did not look like he was about to coach little league. He looked like he was about to go to one of his many villas in Europe and lounge around there for two weeks drinking wine.

 “David Rossi, this is Sebastian Porter.”

“Jack’s nanny, of course,” Rossi shook his hand heartily. Sebastian immediately wanted Rossi to be the cool uncle he never had.

He couldn’t think of anything wittier to say than this: “And you work with Aaron. On and off the pitch.”

“Couldn’t let him do it alone,”

“My ride’s here, so I’ll see you this evening. Nice meeting you, David.”

Though Sebastian was already behind schedule, he spared himself the embarrassment of his boss watching him lightly jogging over to his companions - and said companions clowning him for said light jogging.

“Aww, a lil peewee match?” Bellamy teased loudly, though not loud enough for the team to hear her.

Sebastian wanted to give her a playful shove, but he didn’t trust that she wouldn’t slide off her rollerblades deliberately, so instead he retorted, “Bullying kids, Bellamy? I thought you couldn’t stoop any lower.”

Klaus stopped rolling back and forth on his BMX, “Which one’s the boss then?”

“Wearing the white polo and shorts, not holding the clipboard.”

Klaus squinted behind his par of wholly unnecessary sunglasses, “Hmm, both are fit.”

“Come on, you’re staring,” and Sebastian twisted Klaus’ baseball cap around backwards before climbing onto the back of the bike.

As Klaus gave an indignant retort, he pushed off and began to cycle away. Sebastian’s hands gripped his shoulders tight and he opted to send a smile in his boss’ direction as opposed to a wave. Bellamy, the embarrassing mom type that she was, waved with both hands and skated backwards as she went.

Their afternoon sesh was off to a rocking start when Sebastian refused even one drink – sticking instead to a diet soda – while Bellamy and Klaus went for bottomless Bellini’s.

Bellamy discussed what children the new term had brought her. A short summary was that they were all little shits whom she adored and would protect with her life. That had been her track record for the part three years she had taught at this high school. The trio clinked glasses in celebration to her track record.

“Honestly, they’re so ready to get to using the Bunsen burners. It’s gonna be bonkers,” She beamed as a server brought her a refilled glass, “Can’t wait to bust out the copper.”

“As much as I love you talking science to me,” Klaus paused to put on a solemn mask that was cracked from the triumph he was wearing beneath, “We have to talk about Pippa while I’m still partially sober.”

When both his friends zeroed in on him whilst sipping their Bellini’s through straws, Sebastian all but exploded with excuses, “Oh my god, I get it! You told me so! It’s been a month! Can we drop it?”

“You went back to her!” Klaus ignored Sebastian’s “I know’s” with his head craning to reach over his friend’s voice, “After everything she did to you! You that desperate for attention?”

“Yeah!”

Both Bellamy and Klaus ceased their teasing, Klaus dropping back into his chair as he said, “Woah, ok, sorry dude.”

“It’s ok.”

Bellamy took Sebastian’s glass away, “Babe, that’s really depressing, you sure you haven’t been drinking?” She took a long sniff, her nose twirling around the rim before sliding it back to Sebastian, “No, he really is that deep.”

“Ha ha.”

Both Bellamy and Klaus sobered up considerably, the tone of their voices shifting into quiet support as Bellamy draped her arm around Sebastian’s shoulders, “I’m glad you got out of it, Bash.”

“Me too. And Rachael.”

“Ooo, how is Rachael?” Klaus pushed his sunglasses up his nose. How he looked like such a douchebag, shades on indoors, yet so happy with that status, Sebastian didn’t care to think about right now.

“She’s got a job in a firm now, big proper one.”

“Oooh! Can she get me out of my parking tickets?”

Suddenly the lights dimmed and Bellamy whipped out her phone, grinning behind it as Klaus looked up and around with a baby’s curiosity.

A troop of servers marched over with the birthday cake Bellamy had dropped off earlier that day. Its bright red buttercream icing Klaus went very quiet, a bashful smile glowing in the candlelight as the restaurant turned its attention to sing “Happy Birthday” to him.

“Happy Birthday, Klaus.” Bellamy and Sebastian kissed both his cheeks at the same time, a perfect photo op that one of the servers took for them.

The birthday boy was gracious enough to share his cake and give Sebastian a ride home after a few more drinks. Of water, Sebastian insisted that Klaus sober up a little so they weren’t going to crash the bike before his night out.

At the crossroads, Bellamy turned left when they went right, her arm stretching out to them like she was watching her loved one get shipped off to war. Sebastian was dropped off shortly after, just outside the block of flats, and Klaus was already off before Sebastian could tackle him with a hug. So he shouted after him. Nothing expletive, but it was enough for Klaus to look over his shoulder and smirk, swerving not a second later to avoid an incoming pedestrian.

When Sebastian entered the flat, Hotch and Rossi were in the sitting room, lounging in the settee over a bottle of whiskey artistically placed on the coffee table.

“Hey, how was the training?”

“Tough, but those kids are tougher.” Rossi raised his drink to his statement, and Sebastian thought about how he could subtly slide some adoption papers across the coffee table.

“Do you want a drink?” Hotch asked.

Already going to the kitchen, Sebastian checked in the stew he’d prepped that morning in the slow cooker, “I’m good, thanks.” He was a little peeved that he’d spent the afternoon sober, especially during the bashing of the ex-girlfriend, but he could always grab a nightcap later on. “Where’s Jack?”

“I SCORED A GOAL!”

Sebastian smile strained as he saw the state of Jack’s shorts once he rounded the corner to the kitchen. His shirt was off; clearly he was in the middle of getting changed.

“That’s brilliant, but if you come at me with them muddy keks, I’ll score a goal with you! Come back in your jammies and we’ll celebrate properly.” And he shooed Jack away to the bathroom. The star striker to be disappeared, his muddy rear skidding into his bedroom with the door closing quick behind him.

“‘Keks’?” Rossi repeated with an eyebrow raised.

So Sebastian clarified, “Trousers.”

“You mean pants.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at Hotch’s so-called correction before saying again, “No, keks.”

Thankfully they saw the funny side of it, allowing a hint of strain to drop from Sebastian’s shoulders just in time for Jack to come running back in. This time, he was wearing pyjamas.

Sebastian caught him neatly and plonked him on the countertop, “Tell me all about practice!”

As Sebastian prepared the rest of dinner, Jack babbled away about the training and his teammates. His energy by comparison to the other conversation between Hotch and Rossi caused theirs to stagnate in favour of joining in. Sebastian carried Jack across to the other counters without impeding his speech, keeping an eye on him and the food, while Hotch and Rossi joined in the storytelling.

At Jack’s description of Hotch and Rossi’s demonstration of a paired-up passing game, Sebastian’s abandoned phone began to buzz.

“Sorry Jack, I gotta get this. But why don’t you set the table?” Sebastian took him back down to Earth and shuffled him in the direction of the cutlery drawer before he picked up his mobile, “Hey, what are you doing up? Go to bed, young lady.”

Rachael replied with a heftier helping of snarkasm, “I’m in bed at the moment actually. Have you rung Mum and Dad yet?”

“I have, don’t worry,”

“Ok. Just checking.”

“Texting exists, you know? Not that I don’t delight at the sound of your grumpiness.”

“Yeah, well, you’re starting to sound more American.”

Casting an eye over to see Jack was nattering away to Hotch and Rossi, Sebastian whispered, “Shut your goddamn mouth.”

“I’ll call you after work. Love you, bye.”

“Bye.”

Sebastian hung up then slapped his free palm against his face.

Hotch caught his attention, leaning ever so slightly into his range of vision with concern, “Are you alright?”

“Forgot to say I love you, she’s gonna hold that against me for five years at least.”

As the person dishing up and the last to get to the table, Sebastian sat beside Rossi with Jack opposite him and Hotch diagonally across. There was a tautness in Sebastian’s back as he tried desperately not to gauge Rossi’s reaction to his food.

Instead Rossi reminded him of their meeting earlier, “Interesting choice in mode of transport today.”

Like a deer in the headlights, Sebastian tripped his way through his explanation, “Thanks, we’re desperately trying to reclaim our youth.” Then he popped a forkful of meat into his mouth to excuse him from further conversation.

Except Jack didn’t get the memo. “Who were you talking to on the phone?”

“My sister, Rachael, she’s got a big case on tomorrow.”

“She’s a lawyer,” Rossi pointed across the table with his fork, “Hotch was a defence attorney.”

The information was so shiny and new to Sebastian, that he forgot to implement his “you’re my boss” filter and he said, “You look for ‘intimidating’ in your job descriptions?”

No time for regret, Jack once against filled the space. “Intimidating?”

“Yeah, intimidating, big into justice, likes his suit,” and instead of back down, Sebastian leant over his plate as if to tell a secret, and Jack opposite him leant close too as Sebastian said, “Your dad’s basically Batman.”

Jack’s face lit up at the comparison, one he had made in the past, and he continued to grin as he ate his stew.

“Anyway, our kid’s following up on some advice about getting my deposit back from my bedsit. Landlord’s being an absolute bad word.”

“If you want, I can take a look at it,” Hotch offered.

Sebastian looked back at Jack with fond bemusement, “Told you, your dad’s Batman, just no billions minus the brutality.”

Hotch’s cutlery slipped and collided loudly with his plate as Sebastian said, “It’s all good, thank you. I just sent him some photos of what the mattress looked like when I first moved in, should get him to give up.”

The conversation stagnated from Sebastian, still worn out word-wise from his afternoon drinking non-drinking outing, so he was grateful for the fact he finished first and Jack finished second.

“We can leave the grown-ups now,” he said in a loud whisper, already walking off with Jack to his bedroom.

Over his shoulder, he heard Rossi say not so quietly an I-told-you-so about how “men can be nannies” and that Sebastian was a good choice. While Sebastian was relieved at he had made a good impression on Rossi, he was not so much feeling the inferred sexism his boss held. Still, he was hired now. Microaggressions could be tackled when he got to them.

Cross-legged on the carpet, Jack set about demolishing the rocket. Bricks flew across his little zone of construction. One stray red brick hit Sebastian right between his sock and his cuffed jeans.

“What are we on today, bud? Pirate ship?”

But Jack was quiet. His energy levels were definitely crashing after such a big day. Sebastian gave him space to answer if he wanted, taking charge of organising the bricks into sizes for Jack to pick from.

When there was no reply for a solid minute, Sebastian asked, “You ok?”

For a while, Jack continued his silence. He was busy looking for a very specific shape of brick. His fingers searched over the top of the pile then dove into it, fishing out the perfect piece. Then he spoke.

“Batman beats up the bad guys,” Jack said, his voice hushed, “But so does Daddy.”

Sebastian blinked then recovered just as quick, “Oh I’m not sure about that.”

But Jack shook his head with his eyes still on assembling his boat, “He beat up the man who killed Mommy. Don’t tell him, it’s a secret.”

“A secret from him?” Sebastian didn’t know he was whispering too until he had already spoken.

“He doesn’t know we know. Can you make the mast please?”

And Jack held out a square block. Sebastian blinked again and accepted the piece. Clearly Jack thought this was a very casual conversation, something that Sebastian should keep from Hotch very easily. And he was making a ship.

“Jack, have you told that to anyone else?”

“No.”

“How tall do you want the mast?”

Jack measured with the space between his hands. Taking note, Sebastian continued to stack bricks until the desired height was reached, and Jack took it off his hands, placing it in the middle of the boat.

“I’m gonna get a drink. Do you want anything?”

The little guy shook his head, now completely absorbed in his construction projects. With a pat on his head, Sebastian twisted his legs around to stand and went to stand in the hallway. The door closed behind him and he pressed his forehead against the wall. He took a deep breath, rolling his head to the left, and pushed back his shoulders. A crack from his neck introduced him to the kitchen, where he tossed a half smile at Hotch and Rossi. Then he busied himself with getting that drink. A few drops of water splashed against his wrist.

“Hey Sebastian?”

Said person looked around to see Rossi rocking on the back legs of his chair, “I don’t suppose Hotch ever told you that, when you were taking your trial day, he nearly called you every hour to see how you were doing?”

“Dave,” Hotch said with something that was clearly intended to be a warning tone. The smile he was fighting to keep off his face betrayed him.

“No, he didn’t.” He hid his smirk in his glass. It dropped fast though. The Batman comments were still heavy in his mind, and now with Jack’s context on the brutality aspect, he wasn’t really jazzed to crack another joke lest he stumble across some more unfortunate information.

Rossi didn’t seem to care about that so much, “I had to micromanage his micromanaging.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t’ve minded that.” Sebastian’s foot idly dragged across the tile in front of him, “I’m sure Jack wouldn’t’ve either. And speaking of-” He pulled out his phone and pulled up the website he and Jack had browsed during breakfast, “I have a very important question for you: can we get this bouncy castle for Jack’s birthday?”

He showed the photo of the dream castle to the two men.

“You mean a ‘bounce house’?”

“No, I mean bouncy castle. He was telling me all about wanting a slide one, he’d be over the moon if he got to bring his classmates around to go on one!”

“I suppose if we removed all my furniture and knocked down the walls, we could fit it in here,” Hotch said smartly. His eyebrows were raised as he looked away from the screen at Sebastian, who snorted. God, it wasn’t even that funny.

Once again, Rossi chimed in with his brilliant contributions, saving Sebastian from utter shame, “You know, we could have the party at my home.”

[hellfirenacht]

The Convention Fic Chapter 3

First Chapter

Note: This is where it starts to get a little spicy. 

Friday (Afternoon)

You woke up a few short hours later. The alarm you set blasted a song that you had hoped would get you pumped up and ready to get out of bed, but instead just sent a jolt through your body followed by a moment of annoyance as you reached out from under the covers and groped the nightstand looking for your phone. You hit the snooze button and attempted to get a few more moments of sleep, but it seemed that every time you closed your eyes the alarm would start up again. 

Giving up, you managed to drag yourself out of bed and glance at the clock. It was a little past noon, a bit late for your liking but you knew that this weekend you would have to conform your sleep schedule to a completely unpredictable man. From there you set yourself into your morning routine; a quick shower, teeth, hair, make-up (allowing yourself to go a little more daring than usual, it being a convention and all), and pulling on your outfit for the day. 

“I’m up.” you typed out. “Headed down soon.” 

 “ILL MEET U IN THE LOBBY!!” was the reply a few minutes later. 

You reached into your suitcase and pulled out a notebook and an old but sturdy backpack. The Notebook was a plain spiral notebook with the words “CON SURVIVAL GUIDE” written in Sharpie on the front. It was in here that you had written down everything you needed for the weekend- from Beej’s schedule, to panels you wanted to catch, to general facts that would help you survive such a hectic weekend. 

The first page had a list of everything you needed to bring with you on the con floor and you went through and packed the backpack carefully. Bottled water, wallet, sturdy folder, the convention schedule pamphlet, portable charging station for your phone, and extra batteries (pre-charged) for Beej’s camera. 

It may have been a bit overkill, but better than sorry. 

After double checking that you had your phone, room key, and badge you were finally ready to head down to the lobby of the hotel, where your dear friend was waiting for you. 

As soon as you stepped off the elevator he was right by your side and shoving something in your face. Still tired, it took a moment for you to register what was going on when he spoke. 

“I got you coffee!” he said proudly. “And a bagel!” 

The small bag and cup he was holding was suddenly in your hands, and it took another moment to register what to do with the items before the sweet smell wafting from the cup alerted your three functioning brain cells. You looked at the cup and took a long drink. Holy shit, how did he nail your coffee order so perfectly? 

You looked him dead in the eyes. “I love you.” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. “Thank you!” you added quickly, trying to play off the first part. 

He smirked, but his eyes made it clear that he was very proud of himself. “So you drop your pants when I walk you home and you declare your love when I get you coffee. Damn, I’m just too sexy aren’t I?” he laughed. 

“The sexiest.” you agreed, taking another sip of coffee. “But really, thank you. I needed this.” 

“Well you know, I did keep you up all night.” he said with his eyebrows wiggling. You just laughed. 

“Oh baby, you know it.” 

“Excuse you,” he said leaning in close, making your half-dead brain fritz out momentarily. “I’m not Baby. I’m Daddy.” 

Your body suddenly felt very warm, starting from your cheeks and moving all the way down to the pit of your stomach. Hey now, that wasn’t fair. It was way too early and you were way too tired for him to be making comments like that. Oh no, he was smirking at you and clearly pleased with this reaction. No. There was no way you were going to allow your crush to flirt with you and have the satisfaction of knowing what it did do to you. 

“Papa, please.” you said in a monotone voice. “Father do not be mad that I disobeyed. Pater, I will be an obedient child.”

Beej doubled over laughing at your retort, as if it were the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

“Oh man, that was good!” he laughed. “Reminds me when I played that one game that had a confessional-” 

“And everyone in the chat kept saying stuff like ‘Daddy I was a bad girl, please forgive me?’”

“-And everyone would say that instead of ‘Forgive me, Father for I have sinned’!” 

You were both laughing now as you headed to the convention hall, flashing your badges at staff as you passed through a few checkpoints. As you started to become more alert, you found yourself feeling more at ease. You had worried that meeting up with him again would make you feel more nervous about what had happened last night, but standing next to him and laughing about inside jokes made all your fears melt away. 

By the time your coffee was finished and your bagel was safely in your stomach, the two of you found yourselves back on the lowest level of the convention hall. The room seemed so much larger in the day, now that the dealers room and artist ally were open. Around you, nerds of all shapes and sizes were buzzing around booths and taking pictures and chatting excitedly. Through the chaos though, there seemed to be a rhythm and flow to the hall as you and Beej stopped to take it all in. 

“Man, this place is huge!” Beej said, gawking at all the people and taking your hand. “Better hold this for safety.” 

You didn’t resist or pull away, allowing his hand to grasp yours. Even in a warmer room, his hands felt cool against yours, and knowing that he wasn’t going to just disappear into the crowd made you feel safe and secure. 

“So, artist ally or dealers hall first?” you asked. 

“Artist ally!” he said happily. “I got to see a few booths last night before you showed up, but now that I have more time I wanna see everything!” 

And so off the two of you went, weaving through the crowds of people towards the side of the room that held all of the artists. Never once did his hand let go of yours except to occasionally take a picture of or with another cosplayer. 

“So what’s with the backpack, doll?” he asked. “You plan on going on a hike?”

“It’s just my con bag.” you shrugged. “It’s got everything I need for the day so that I don’t need to go back to the hotel room too often.” 

“Nerd.” he teased in a playful way. 

“As your official handler I believe it’s my job to be a nerd right now.” you replied. 

“Oh? You got something in there that can shut me up?” he asked, giving you a look that was way too intense to just be playful banter. Why was this happening? You wanted to say something back, something equally as intense, it was on the tip of your tongue before you pulled it back in. This wasn’t the time, and you weren’t even sure what was really going through his mind when he said these things. Besides, what if you were just looking too far into this and this was just more playful banter? It wasn’t exactly like he didn’t say things like this all the time on stream or in chats to all his fans. 

“Yeah, I got a bottle of holy water in there.” you joked. “Figured that if you started really acting like a demon then I’d spray you like a cat with it.”

The intense look on his face disappeared and he was laughing again, allowing you to relax for the moment. He sure did like to keep you on your toes, didn’t he? It wasn’t a secret that Beej was a huge flirt, but you couldn’t help but wonder what he’d think if he knew what he did to you. How your heart skipped every time he paid attention to you, or how it sent a thrill up your spine every time his hand found yours, or how your brain stopped when he said he was going to take you on a-

Oh. Shit. He said something about a date yesterday and then ran away, didn’t he? 

The two of you were casually wandering from booth to booth when that realization hit you. Beej was happily looking at a booth filled with dead looking plushies, looking way more excited than you would have expected. 

“Hey Beej-” you started, but he suddenly turned to you with a smile. 

“Hey Doll, I’m gonna need to ask you a favor and go to literally any other booth right now.” he said. 

“What?”

“Shoo!” His arms were around you suddenly, picking you up by your torso, walking away a few steps, and dropping you by a random booth. 

“You stay there for a bit, mk?” he said before hurrying back to the plushie booth, leaving you confused and alone for the moment. For someone who had been acting so clingy, he sure was pushy. 

Staying close to the booth where Beej was, you poked around some other booths admiring the different crafts from each person. It really was amazing the kinds of art that the nerd community came up with; from burnt wood portraits of famous anime stills, to resin charms and decoden accessories, to prints, to buttons. Everything clearly had a lot of love put into it, each artist having a passion for what they did and the fandoms they were in. 

A hand fell on your shoulder and you turned to see Beej back with a huge smile on his face. “Ready to continue, doll?” he asked. 

“Sure.” you said, taking his hand again. “So are you gonna tell me why you suddenly abandoned me on the side of the road?”

“It’s a surprise!” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Beej, with you I’m always worried about it.” you replied with a slight laugh. 

The conversation continued across the artist ally and well into the dealers hall. The next few hours  were filled with checking out different booths, shoving weird Japanese candy into your faces and just chatting. At one point the two of you wondered outside to grab some lunch from the food trucks that had been set up, but then you both ended up back in the lowest level of the convention hall.

“Focus.. Focus... dammit I hate my phone. FOCUS. Oh, there it is.” you said, pointing your camera at your friend who was sitting on the floor at the edge of the giant room. In one hand he held a bottle of ramune and his other was raised and ready to strike. 

“WHATS UP NERDS!” yelled Beej. “So apparently there’s a soda in Japan that you have to beat up before drinking it. I don’t know about you guys but that sounds exactly like my kind of energy! Babes, count me down!”

“Three... two... two and a-”

SMACK

“ONE” he cackled, before bringing the soda up to taste it. “YUP. That’s strawberry flavored soda! But I got to slap it around before tasting it, which is a favorite pastime of mine”  he winked at the camera. 

“Aaaaand now you’re de-monitized.” you laughed. 

“Small price to pay for comedy, toots.” he said, standing up and taking another sip. 

You stopped recording and put your phone away. “How you manage to make a living off this with all the bullshit you pull, I’ll never understand. And don’t say-”

“I don’t need to make a living- I’m dead!” you both finished together; him with a shit eating grin and you sighing and rolling your eyes. 

“I get by.” he shrugged. “I don’t have many bills to pay and since Lydia set up that Patreon it’s been easy.” 

The two of you wondered back into the dealers hall, by now it was late afternoon and there was a noticeable dip in the crowd as congoers started to leave for dinner. By no means was it empty, but it was a little easier to get around. Looking at your phone, you noticed that the dealers hall would only be open for another hour and a half. 

“Ohh, hey doll let’s check out that booth!” Beej said with sudden enthusiasm in his voice. He led you towards a booth that you were surprised that you missed the first time around. In the middleof the dealers hall was a large leather working booth, covered in corsets, battle armor, masks, and journals. 

He let go of your hand as he started poking around the booth, and you drifted over towards the journals and pouches. On the inside you were swooning over how beautiful everything was, and the smell of leather made you feel warm. Picking up a few journals, you thumbed threw them and examined the price carefully. You had spent a lot of money to get here, but your budget DID allow you some money for these kinds of things. 

You found yourself holding onto a thick journal, the simple cover had a strap wrapped around it to keep it closed. You were in love. 

“It’s refillable.” One of the men running the booth hinted. “You can take the cover and move it to another journal if you fill it up.”

“I... I want this.” you said, holding it close and imagining everything you could fill it with. 

Within a few moments, you were happily placing the journal in your backpack. It was then that Beej called you over. 

“Come here doll, I wanna see something.” he said, his voice was sweet but his eyes and smile hinted at something a little more dangerous. 

You walked towards him and the woman that he was talking to. She was tall and covered in leather, her eyeliner sharp and her lips bright red. 

You suddenly felt a little warm under the gaze of the two very attractive people looking at you. But her soft, friendly smile felt reassuring. 

“Your friend wanted a demonstration of these.” she said, holding up a thick pair of leather wrist cuffs. “May I?”

Oh. 

Oh.

Your cheeks quickly flushed the same color as her lipstick but you still nodded and held out your hands for her to attach them. The leather was thick and sturdy, but the inside was lined with a very soft fur. You didn’t hate the feeling. 

Then she clasped the two together and started with her sales pitch. How the leather was sourced, how sturdy it was, how it came with a lifetime guarentee, the different ways you could use the cuffs to tie a partner up (they were also very good ankle cuffs!). With every new piece of information she was jerking your hands around, locking and unlocking you in different ways, and explaining everything in detail. It was all surprisingly professional, considering what she was talking about. Not once did you feel uncomfortable (a little embarrassed maybe, but not uncomfortable). 

Then she brought out the leash, explaining that how to attach the leash to the cuffs, and the safe way to use a collar and leash. She ended her explanation by telling the two of you if you bought the set (cuffs, collar, and leash), there would be a discount for buying at the con instead of online. 

When you were finally free of the cuffs, Beej was snickering at you and you were thinking about all the ways you would get him back for this little stunt. Then he did something that shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did. 

He pulled out a credit card and purchased a set on the spot. If your cheeks were hot before, you were nearly having a heat stroke now. The wink the Beej sent your way did not help either, sending a shiver down your spine. 

Was.. was he actually planning on using this on you?

No, no, no way. Nope. You were not going to entertain that thought. Yes he was flirting with you hard, and yeah you were flirting with him back, and yeah he had used the word date and yeah you very much would not mind the idea of wearing those cuffs in private-

You were learning quite a lot about yourself this weekend. 

The sleek black and white leather set was carefully tucked into a bag and the booth owners thanked you both for the purchase. Beej took your warm hand and he started leading you out of the dealers hall for the day. By now it was a little past six, and the dealers hall would be closing soon. 

“Well I don’t know about you, but that was a lot of fun!” he said, giving you his shit eating grin. 

“I’m surprised you actually bought a set.” you replied, trying to play off how flustered you were about what happened. 

“Well she was so convincing and you were so cute wearing those cuffs, how could I resist?” he fired back. God, this man was going to actually be the death of you this weekend. 

Once you two were back on the main floor of the convention center he pulled you to the side and looked at you. “I got you something.” he said. 

“Do I get to keep one of the cuffs?” you asked with a sheepish smile, still trying to play everything off. 

“Not quite.” he replied and reached into another bag that he’d been carrying around. He pulled out a small stuffed animal- something that you recognized from a booth this morning. It was a small striped animal, covered in fake blood, with an eyeball missing, and some bone sticking out. A dead hyena plushie. It was oddly fitting. 

“Beej,” you gasped quietly. “Beej, he’s adorable!” you took the plush from him and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you so much...!”

His smile grew wide and he was starting to squirm. “There’s something else. I uh...” he dove his hands into his pockets and pulled out two pieces of very crumpled up paper. “I want to go on a date with you tonight.” he said and shoved the two pieces of paper in your hands as well. 

MOMO CON PRESENTS: NIGHT AT THE AQUARIUM! ADMIT 1 + AFTER PARTY

“Beej...!” you gasped and looked up at him. “Beej, I thought this was sold out...!”

“Yeah well, perks of being a guest.” he replied. “So uh... do you want to do this as a date?” He was staring at you intensely and you realized just how serious he was. The words caught in your throat for a moment before-

“I’d love to!” you smiled wide at him. “I gotta drop some stuff in my room but yes! Yes I’d love to go on a date with you!” 

His smile was a mile wide as he picked you up and spun you around like he had done the previous evening. “Hell yes! I’m going on a date with the hottest nerd here!” he whooped and laughed. 

“Oh my god, Beej.” you couldn’t stop smiling though, your heart racing. “Come on, let’s go back to my room so I can get ready.” 

And off the two of you went, both of you smiling like idiots as you realize that this was actually happening. Maybe you wouldn’t kill him for that stunt after all. 

Maybe.

Next Chapter

[jamesmarlowe]

『ANTON THIEMKE ❙ CIS-MALE』 ⟿ looks like JAMES MARLOWE is here for HIS SENIOR year as a FINE ARTS student. He is 21 years old & known to be CLEVER, INVENTIVE, UNRELIABLE & EGOTISTICAL. They’re living in NOLAND, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ SLOTH. 25. EST. SHE/HER.

hi hello welcome 2 my twisted mind ☺️ marlowe is a character i’m still fine-tuning bc he’s brand-new, so this is unfortunately.... a bit of a mess.... and mostly made up on the spot.... c’est la vie!!

(a late addition but u can also peep his weheartit collection here 4 some vibes)

his government name is james marlowe but he only goes by marlowe & only introduces himself as marlowe like he’s madonna or sting....  most ppl who know him (apart from like close friends) probably don’t even know what his first name is. maybe he doesn’t have one!

hails from Appalachia, specifically a trailer park in a poor-as-dirt stretch of Virginia where he was born n raised, baby. he’s Appalachian white trash and not afraid to admit it. marlowe’s very casual about his upbringing and his dumpster fire of a family (no less than three relatives are currently incarcerated, one of which is his older brother who’s probably serving a minor sentence for whatever dumb shit Tim Riggins got got for in FNL or like, selling illegal fireworks out of his trunk :/ ). the only thing he’s a little self-conscious about is his twang which he’s mostly suppressed by now, but other than that, he’s got no shame in where he comes from bc lbr no authentic artist ever came from money anyway!

born sandwiched in the middle of five siblings, marlowe’s always been wild and creative and impulsive, a loud-mouthed kid with too much to say for his own good, prone 2 getting in trouble but learning absolutely nothing from it. it was his mission in life to be Different from all the other kids who grew up where he grew up, with the way he talked, dressed, acted, because he knew that he was destined for bigger n better things so it was just a matter of getting other ppl to believe it, & then seeing how far a little talent and a lot of charisma would take him >:)

from age 8 onwards, he told people he was an “artist” and that became his primary identity. when he was 16 he completed an independent sculpture project (called “Skyscraper”) where he constructed a 20-foot tower made out of junk collected from around the trailer park and then glued Barbies n other dolls all clawing over each other to get to the top, smack dab in the middle of Main Street and refused to take it down even when the local fire department showed up 2 threaten him with fines. it did eventually get taken down bc it was ‘structurally unsound’ and someone nearly got concussed by a falling mannequin head, but at least it got some attention from local newspapers and w/ that as the crown jewel in his portfolio, marlowe got into a few different art/liberal arts schools the following year. radcliffe was the only one who offered a partial scholarship and the east coast sounded nice n far from home, so anyways lets go ✈️ college 

FAST FORWARD its senior year babey and marlowe’s been making the most of his time here at radcliffe. he’s a fine arts major but specializes in mixed media sculptures (and probably is really shit at most of his other classes, like art theory where u actually have to read textbooks? still life drawing? boring. yawn. won’t do it.) his entire profile as an artist i’m cribbing from Rachel Harrison bc I saw her exhibition at the whitney a little while ago and her sculptures made me go ?????¿¿¿¿¿ which i think is exactly the kind of bizarre nonsense that marlowe is going for with his “art”. feast your eyes on these masterpieces. the joke of it all is that marlowe is the first to admit that his art isn’t like.... good. but his philosophy is that if people respond to it & praise it like it’s art, then by definition, it’s art. and if it gets him places (like it got him onto Cultured Magazine’s “30 Young Artists To Watch This Decade″ list), then yeehaw!

When he’s not busy creating new monstrosities, marlowe takes one fat nap per day (usually at a time when he has class) and is otherwise a very social creature who needs constant attention. he’s got a lot of friends and is always looking to make more, not in a #fake way but just as a person who genuinely likes being around people. he very quickly gets bored if left on his own, so he’s prone to following people around campus like a stray cat regardless of whether or not they tell him to shoo. he dorms at Noland but is almost always found in other houses, often crashing in other people’s rooms (needs to be close to his friends or He’ll Die), and he definitely frequents parties, bc marlowe never passes up an opportunity to drink other people’s booze and get a lil messy and Chaotic. he’s [jim halpert voice] not a slut, but who knows? he’s kinda a slut! he’s also definitely pulled another stunt similar to Skyscraper by taking over the quad for a guerrilla art installation with his sculptures (and without the school’s permission oops) which may be the basis for some connections if ppl know him from that particular exploit!!

in summary..... marlowe can be a bit up his own ass at times, but being around him is generally a Good Time bc he’s easy-going and friendly and always down for anything, always. litcherally zero impulse control so nothing gets in the way of a dumb idea that might potentially make for a good story. perhaps he’s not the most reliable person, so don’t expect a prompt text back if ur in a life or death situation, and he doesn’t care very much about anything, so ur setting urself up for disappointment if you do expect him to care about something (the fact that he’s never been in a long-term relationship... very telling). all he wants to do is just have! fun all the time! he’s trying to scam his way into the American Dream with his dumb art, so that he can live a good life and maybe get rich and famous and eventually party at Art Basel in Miami with Frank Ocean! is that really so much to ask!

appearance: marlowe’s very vain and a lot of thought goes into his appearance even when (especially when) it doesn’t look like he’s done anything but roll straight out of bed. all of his outfits are as outrageous as his sculptures are ugly. think mismatched prints and loud colors, silk shirts gaping open like he got tired after the first three buttons, a pawn’s shop worth of jewelry, weird dangly earrings w/ feathers or tiny charms, tinted yellow or pink sunglasses, sometimes a bandana around his neck, just for extra flavor. his hair always has to look perfectly tousled; u can catch him checking out his reflection in pretty much every mirrored surface. at least half the surface area of his body is covered in tattoos & he’ll suggest getting more during every drunken night out, which... is why he has so many by now!

connections: to be quite honest its 2 am and i feel all of my higher brain functions shutting down so i’m gonna make these very simple n straightforward, but we can always workshop!!!! pls feel free to message me even if none of these strike ur fancy :0)

peers in the arts - friends, acquaintances, rivals, probably some former group project members holding a grudge....

fellow party animals who don’t mind sharing when marlowe inevitably mooches off their alcohol and drugs :)

unlikely friends!!!!! it’d be fun to have a friendship dynamic with someone who’s very different from him!!

a roommate in Noland... possibly one he’s not on good terms w/... even tho marlowe hardly EVER sleeps in his own dorm room, he uses it as a storage locker for all his “found” art materials. i can imagine that living in that mess would try the limits of anyone’s sanity :)  

enemies - they can hate his whole Genius Artist shtick and they’d be valid :/

fellow insomniacs! marlowe is very much a night owl (regular naps during the day may be 2 blame but oh well) so he needs a fellow nocturnal to hit up the late-night McDonald’s drive thru with him and then lay on the grass lookin at the stars and contemplating life’s great mysteries while eating chicken mcnuggets 

exes - idk if u can even call them tht when his past “relationships” have all had a lifespan of six weeks or less, but hey there’s drama in that too!!

fwb - i don’t think marlowe’s the type 2 be juggling too many fwb/hook-ups at one time simply because That’s A Lot of Work. that being said... he never likes to sleep alone ;) 

[unstiteo-blog]

100 Lessons in Life.

(Summary: we learn more about Gabriel "John" Utterson's father, Hugo Utterson, and what he wants most in life.)

Chapter II: To be a Father

I haven’t exactly caught up, emotionally, with what just happened. To be a father means you must always expect the unexpected, no matter how small or dire the situation is. If you can’t be there and do anything in your power to make everything all right when your child is in need, what good are you as a parent?

Absolutely no good. At least, that’s how I was raised. To be a father means you must make the scary demons not go away, but appear in a different light; you must teach your child how to face their fears as there will be a day you will not be able to help them. That day is judgment day. Have you succeeded as a parent, a provider, a caretaker? Have you raised them properly and given them enough knowledge on the real world to understand how to provide for themselves?

It is a day I am always hopeful for, since my children can’t wait to change the world in their own beautiful ways. They are brilliant, they are witty, they are humble—well, Zara could be a bit more humble, though her pride is what makes her who she is—they are grounded, and they love each other dearly. Even on their worst days (as siblings bicker and fight), I know they could never find it in themselves to ignore one another. I am forever, and always will be, intensely proud of my daughters and son. Nothing can change that.

To be a father means you must accept how much you love your children, and also accept they will never love you as much as you love them. It isn’t because they don’t love you at all, it is because they aren’t your parents. To be a father means you must be ready for the day they leave, even if it will hurt. You must be ready to say goodbye with a brave smile and a strong voice. It is what they want.

I want that day to arrive for my babies, I sincerely do. But if I can’t help Jack, what are the chances he will live to see that day at all? That is a thought that all parents have, losing their angels. If I can’t protect my children, can I do anything for them at all?

This noise nearly prevents me from seeing the girls in the kitchen, cleaning up. I stumble back a bit, blinking confusedly. The nanny was dismissed as soon as I'd arrived, however I didn’t expect to see them clean up after themselves. Did they feel obligated to? I hurry inside and shoo them out into the dining room, which is only a few steps back. “No, no, no! Little girls do not belong in the kitchen. I am happy to clean up once I come home.”

They all give me frowns as a response. I find myself doing the same. “You’re worried about your brother, aren’t you?” Sienna nodded her head.

“Papa, is there any way we can help?”

“Be there by his side when he needs you, and please be patient with him. Your concern is as deep as mine, but you three are still young. Have fun, please. You already know how to cook and clean, yes?”

“Yes, but that isn’t the issue.”

“What is then?”

“You can’t expect us to distract ourselves with fun when we’re too troubled to have fun. You have always told us that distracting yourself from pain is unhealthy, so why do you do it?”

Ah…sometimes I underestimate Sienna, and for no good reason. I should’ve known that she, the fifteen year old who enjoys the company of her father or herself along with a book, sees the world in an entirely different view from someone, say, Jack or Zara's age. I wonder if she’s ever shared such philosophical ideologies with Luna, as she’s the quietest and most timid but I’ve noticed she adores hearing what other people have to say. She is a very good listener, my little Luna. Did she inherit that from her mother?

“Sienna, stop,” begs Luna at that moment. “I’m sure papa has a reasonable explanation for why he does what he does.”

“I agree, but I won’t stand for this hypocrisy.”

“Pressuring someone for answers never works! Drop it, please.”

Stubbornness against kindness. I curse the world for ever allowing the girls to share my pigheadedness. There is a difference between perseverance and…obstinacy. “Girls,” I warn, “that’s enough. Always carry your caring nature wherever you go, Luna. Sienna, you are right. I should not be giving you advice if I am not willing to take it. I'm sorry.”

Sienna’s face softens. “Thank you. I forgive you.”

“Dad,” says Zara, tugging on my sleeve, “where was Gabito anyways?”

“In my office reading my books.”

“Did he make a big mess?”

“Yes, but I’ll clean it up later.”

“Dad?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Is he okay?”

My chest felt sore looking at their faces. I knelt to her height, held her hands, and offered her a smile. “Eventually, yes. Like I said, if you stay by his side and be patient with him, he'll be okay again.”

“Forever?”

“I…No, I’m afraid. There will be days where he will most likely be troubled like this once more. The best we can do is love him as we always have. All right?”

“Okay. I can do that.”

“I know.”

I kissed her forehead, held out my arms, and she practically ran into me. The little fighter is getting strong! Sienna and Luna joined in, but they didn’t seem too joyous. “Challenge any anxious thoughts about it. It’s all right to be scared or worried, or both—it just means you love that person with all your heart. And you three have the biggest hearts for tiny, adorable children. Please, talk to me if you ever need anything. I love you.”

“Thank you, papa,” says Sienna.

“We love you, too,” adds Luna.

“Who you calling adorable?” questions Zara. I chuckle.

“I need to fetch Jack his glass of water. Spend time together.”

They nodded their heads and ran off to play. I grabbed a cup, filled it with water, and returned to Jack's room. I was about to greet him until I realised he was already asleep. I set the glass on his bookshelf that was a few inches shorter than him, and glanced back at him.

To be a father means you must always expect the unexpected.

So then, why wasn’t I expecting this?

I silently leave his room, my head starting to pound. Wonderful. I'll just have a glass of water myself, wait for the girls to sleep, then go to bed as early as possible.

I have a long day of work ahead of me tomorrow anyhow. Not that my feelings matter.

To be a father means you are always willing to make sacrifices.

When I arrived at work, I was greeted with that unpleasant stench of wax in every nook and cranny yet again. I crinkled my nose—I never enjoyed this part. Frankly, I never enjoyed any part of my job. I’m aspiring to be a lawyer at the moment. It'll be far more beneficial for my children and I.

That’s it, Hugo. Focus on them. Think about how much you want to succeed to keep them happy.

The stench dissipated. I entered my office and got to work. As of right now, they call me a chandler. A candlemaker, if you will. Though, I’ve caught myself making soap more and more often. I'm not complaining. So long as I don’t have to deal with the smell of wax all day, I'm fairly satisfied.

About an hour in, a pale man with sand blond hair and deep sea blue eyes entered, and they lit up when they fell on me. “Mr. Utterson, we're needed in the back for a conference.”

What? Now? “All right. I will be there promptly.”

“Very good, sir.”

With that, he left, presumably to attend the conference. I always wonder who that lad is. I don’t believe I ever got his name. Ah, well. Perhaps he’s just another stranger I'll never know.

I leave my office and enter the conference room, taking my usual seat at the very back. Understand this isn’t my usual seat by choice. I would prefer to sit somewhere else, someplace that doesn’t make me feel like I’m being stared down whenever I speak, but I don’t necessarily have a say in the matter.

I suppose I do, but I only have a say in it if I don’t wish to work there any longer.

I’m aspiring to be a lawyer, after all.

“We got a big order in today, gents,” says my boss. “I expect one-thousand candles and one-thousand soaps by the end of the month.”

I can feel the unease in the room. We’ve made more than that in the past, but like any artist with a painting or drawing, these things take time.

“Utterson,” he continues, “you’re on soap duty.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I'll be assigning who works with you.”

“Yes, sir.”

The unease rose. Nobody wished to work with me. They all think I’m pretentious, they all think I’m a suck-up.

There’s another reason why they despise me, however, I feel as though that one is rather obvious.

“Owens, you’re on candle duty.”

“You may as well give it to Utterson as well,” says someone that is not Owens. “He wouldn’t fret about getting a splinter stuck in his finger.”

Snickering arose.

“I agree!” says another man who definitely isn’t Owens. “I haven’t caught him making a fuss about his hair when there’s dust about.”

“It may have been all that womanly influence on him growing up. He doesn’t know how to behave.”

As if either of those twits were to talk.

“Sir,” I say, clearing my throat, “if I finish early, may I tend to my daughters and son? My four children, three girls and one,” I glimpse at both those rude men, “white son.”

“They can't tend to themselves? I know one of your girls is about that age.”

“They can, but I enjoy seeing my children get along with one another. It…makes my heart swell with joy.”

“Fine. But just this once, Utterson. It was damnably lucky that you got this job, so I expect those soaps to be the best bars of soap you’ve ever produced.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Good.”

He started to assign Owens his helpers, but I didn’t pay much attention. Instead, I was busy fighting against a smirk. The two insulting men were glaring at me. What can I say? You show the boss work above mediocrity and you respect him, you sort of become his favourite.

Truthfully, I wanted the attention off of Owens, whoever he might’ve been. I heavily disagree with the implications that being raised around women makes a man less of a man. Jack learns so many things from his sisters every day, it blows me away how brilliant they all are. Those girls are so kind, so genuine. I sincerely believe their impact on his life will only be a positive one.

“Utterson.”

Ah. My boss has assigned me my partners. Not one of them looked happy.

That’s fine. It’s me who'll be earning that time off anyhow for my work above mediocrity.

Hm. I wonder who Owens is. I wonder what he’s thinking right about now.

I came home to, well—

“Zara! What have I said about stealing my dresses? They’re too big for you!”

“You don’t even wear the ones I steal! Leave me alone!”

“What’s wrong with your own?”

“I said leave me alone, Sienna! I’m helping you out!”

“You are most certainly not you little thief!”

That.

That is what I came home to.

“Gabriel, stop tracking mud in the house! Papa works so hard to keep it clean!” scolds Luna.

“It’s not my doing! How are you so sure it isn’t Zizi?”

“Because if it was Zara, there would be mud on her dress and face!”

“You mean my dress?” butts in Sienna.

“Same difference!”

“That doesn’t even make any sense!”

“It means stay out of arguments that didn’t involve you to begin with!”

“You made it seem like it was Zara's dress when it’s not! It’s my dress!”

“What does it matter?” asks Jack. “It’s just a bloody dress.”

“You’re a boy!” scream the girls.

All right. I’ve seen enough.

I dismiss the nanny with a tired smile, and I felt it vanish the moment I approached them. It’s not that I’m angry or annoyed, I’m merely exhausted. Their sibling fights can be…something. It can be about one thing but then it ends up being something else. It’s almost amazing how they do it. “All right, all right. One at a time, please. What happened?”

They all started talking at the same time.

“My dears,” I cut off, “I said one at a time.”

“Zara stole my dress!”

“Sienna’s a joyless snitch!”

“Gabriel tracked mud in the house!”

“Luna’s a liar!”

“Sienna, please share. You wear roughly three dresses tops, and you are beginning to outgrow them anyhow. That reminds me, we are going shopping tomorrow. Zara, what have I said about stealing you sisters belongings? They are not yours, so you do not take them. And no name calling. Jack, have you been tracking mud in the house?”

“No!”

“Then what’s that on the bottom of your shoe?”

He went quiet. Then, he pouted.

“Don’t give me that face, young man. Luna doesn’t lie and you know this. If you wish to be a lawyer, you need to be better at arguing. Luna?”

“Yes, papa?”

“That wasn’t a very nice thing to say to Sienna. In fact, none of you were very kind to each other. We are all terribly angry today. Close your eyes, children.”

They followed my instructions.

“And count back from ten in your heads.

There was silence. Sweet, sweet silence. When they opened their eyes, the anger had vanished from their faces.

“Very good. Now, why don’t we try talking about these things instead of yelling and pointing fingers at each other that ultimately gives me a headache?”

Sienna was the first to start. “I suppose you can borrow my dresses, Zara. But you best not ruin them!”

Her sister grinned. “No promises.”

“You’re awful. Why did you even want it today? You spoke like you were hiding something.”

Come to think of it, Zara does appear to be holding something. She’s slouched over a bit as well. Zara frowned and hesitantly revealed what she was hiding underneath the layers that were far too big for her.

“I found him near the backyard.”

A puppy. It was cold, scared, and hurt. Severely hurt. Does it even have any fur…? This poor thing, my heart shattered at the sight. I can only guess it hasn’t been fed if it was left to die like this.

“Oh no!” exclaimed Luna. “Juju, did you know about this?”

“Yeah. Zizi went to grab something warm while I fetched him out of the mud.”

“That explains the mud tracks.”

“I’m sorry for being dishonest.”

“I’m sorry for not understanding.”

Luna was swift to tug at my sleeve. “Papa, we have to save him! Can we keep him, please-please-please?”

“Luna, dogs are a big responsibility and—”

“Spare me the lecture, he’ll die without our help! You can’t tell me you don’t want to help him. I know you do.”

When looking at that injured puppy, I felt that aching pain again. That insatiable desire to help the baby until it was all better. Luna isn’t normally stubborn, if ever, but she won’t take no for an answer. For good reason, of course.

Even if she could, I don’t think I can bring myself to say no.

“All right. We may keep the dog.”

The children cheered. Even Jack, the cat person. I think he’s just happy to know we’re not allowing an innocent animal to die.

To be a father means to give in to your child’s wants every now and then. Sometimes those big grins of theirs is what makes it all worth it.

“Will you take turns caring for it?” I ask.

“We all will!” replies Luna, her smile still brighter than the sun. “I’m happy to bathe him.”

“I don’t mind walking him,” says Sienna.

“And I can play with him!” says Zara.

“I'll feed him,” volunteers Jack.

All of this pleases Luna. To be a father means you must always stick together as a team for your family. That’s something I learned within this family.

[youreallyshouldtalkmore]

Make Up Theories_Part 1

Another installment in the Lion and His Lamb series. 

To all the women who might not swear by makeup (though we love to use it occasionally...)  (*raises my own hand*)

This is for you.

Part 1

You stood in the makeup isle trying your hardest not to look at the prices before you found what you wanted. But before that, just trying to find what you wanted was a headache.  You walked the four isles of makeup three times and you still weren't any closer to understanding what everything did. You were starting to doubt this current venture. Even after looking up makeup and watching countless makeup tutorials, you managed to whittle it down to a basic list.

So you thought.

After walking isles and isles you found it overwhelmed you. Even if you narrowed it down to makeup that would fit your skin tone, you were still overwhelmed.

Really how many different variations of foundation did a woman need? How many different kinds of lipstick?

What still blew your mind was that women actually paid this kind of money for makeup. No wonder the beauty sector in America was worth about $80 billion and counting. 

(You knew because you looked it up, thank you)

The most your makeup consisted of was putting some castor oil on your face and doing your eyes. You just recently got into BB Cream but that was about it. You did do skincare but you didn't really count that as makeup per say.

But all this other stuff….

You groaned, your shoulders hunching over.

Maybe you should just go back home, but you were hoping to surprise Erik at the state function. This idea actually came to you a week ago. Erik invited you to go as his date to the California state function that he and T’Challa had to attend. You didn’t necessarily need to be there as you didn’t work at the Wakandan Outreach Center barring the fact that you had done their wall. You had a sinking suspicion that was part of why Erik wanted you to go. If he could show off the artist, he would. If he could show of his artist girlfriend…..ooh, the man couldn’t resist.

But either way, you agreed quite reluctantly to go

But one day Shuri ask you to take a book that Erik had called the front desk for because he forgot it for his class he had with just boys. She wouldn’t stop smirking as she handed you the book and sent you on your way. You knew that she was an avid and vocal supporter of the relationship the two of you had. Any opportunity for her to lock you two in the same room would be taken.

Erik had recently started a class for just boys hoping to talk to them and give them a chance to know that they had support. He knew from growing up, how hard it was for boys to talk in the first place. He felt like his experience would help them.

So you were walking toward the classroom with the book in hand when you heard voices. Normally you would have walked and knocked on the door but once you could make out the voices and what they were saying, you slowed down.

“Malik, you need to be paying attention and not be looking at these magazines. You too young for this.” You heard the sound of a magazine slapping the back of a head.

“Ahh, come on Mr. E. I’m 18 years old. I’m grown!”

You rolled your eyes at that. How was it that we all thought that 18 years old was grown? At that age you were barely aware of the world out your front door.

You heard Erik snort, “That’s what’s wrong with our boys now. They get an inch over 5’7 and three days pass 18 and think they grown. You still a child, boy.”

“Come on, Mr. E, you know how it was when you were younger.”

You could hear the casualness in Erik’s voice, “I’m sure you’ll remind me.”

The boys snickered and Malik continued, “It’s not like we can walk outside and see them kind of honeys, so that’s what the magazine is for. They fly, ain’t they?” 

You could hear the rustle of pages, “You know that half of this is fake? Real women don’t look like this 24/7.”

“Some don’t look like that ever!” another boy cried as another tacked on, “We got some ugly chicks runnin' round here.”

There were raised voices in agreement.

“Aight, settle down.” Erik called over the rising den of voices.

Malik continued, “Well, women are supposed to be like that!”

You assumed photos in the magazine as he added, “Girls around here are wacked!”

The group of boys agreed

“Wacked? You blind or something? What about Keisha? I see you be hugging up to her. You don’t find her pretty?”

There was a rising mocking tone of the group of boys.

You could picture Malik sliding down his chair, “Don’t put my business out in them streets, Mr. E. You know I’ll get a bad rep.”

“I ain’t interested in your rep right now. We are having a serious conversation. Do you not find her pretty?”

There was dead silence and you could picture a group of boys leaning towards Malik who finally busted out, “She aight, Mr. E. But she’s not finnnnnne!”

The boys hooted and laughed.

“And you think if she as finnnnne…..” You covered your mouth with your hand to keep the snort silent at Erik’s mock, “.....that would be any better? You think a more beautiful woman will love you better than a pretty one?

You heard a pound of emphasis, “Heck, yes. A beautiful woman is something to look forward to. Who wants an old hag?

The crowd exploded the noise level almost making you wince. Once the noise level died down you heard Erik continue:

“Which is why ya’ll are still babies. Looking at the outside as if that is anything worth anything. Any woman can put on some stuff and make herself look better outside but if her heart ain't yours, solely yours, trust me it won’t make a bit of difference.”

You couldn’t help the small smile at that. You were a bit surprised to know that Erik felt that way. Although the two of you never discussed past relationships, you just assumed, especially based on Aquaneesha (you shuddered at the memory), that Erik would be the type that wanted an overly made up woman 24/7.

You were fixing to go in when Malik’s next comment made you paused:

“Well, I never see your honey looking fly like that.”

You heard the sound of something being thrown and hit the wall followed by Erik’s deadly voice, “You put some respect on her name lil nigga. Ms. Y/N to you.”

“Fine...Ms. Y/N….never looks like that.”

“You don’t have the privilege to see her 24/7 so how would you know?”

“Aight fine, does she ever look like that?”

You could almost hear Erik hard exhale, “No. That’s not her style.”  

“So don’t you think you are getting the short end of the stick?”

Erik laughed then, “I’m not gonna explain my business to a bunch of 8 year olds trapped in 18 year old bodies but Ms. Y/N gives me more than just a pretty face. And yes, she is cute. Have you seen her?”

There were a few mutters throughout.

Malik snorted, “Cute is for puppies, Mr. E. We want fine. Like them honeys in the magazine. Don’t tell me you never wanted that?”

You were unaware that you suck in your breath.

You could sense the eye roll here as Erik said, “I don’t feel the need to explain so much as educate you lil heathens. You probably won’t get none of this until you go through it yourself but one day you’ll look back and go Mr. E had it right. I should have listened then and my life would be 10x easier now.”

The boys shooed that away.

“So in the interest of education, yes I had that. And yes, I was your age once and I didn’t believe nothing that no one told me about this subject. But like you, I wanted what I saw in the magazine and chased after that. But that was just a look. Believe me, I've seen some fine women in my day but I got to a point then I realize they were statues. They did nothing for me except be beautiful. As you will find out beauty is not everything. Your woman also has to have substance.”

Here you heard Erik sniffed, “Though in Malik’s case, you better get some substance yourself if you expect to hold onto a woman.”

The boys laughed and Erik snapped at them, “This is not time for a jeering session. Ain’t nothing about my words a joke.”

“I got substance, Mr. E. I got Keisha don’t I?” Malik cried.

“Lil nigga, A. Don’t come back here with no babies and B. Just because you can make a baby don’t mean you got substance, little man and C. What makes you think that Keisha will be there for a long haul? Followed by D. What are you doing to keep her for the long haul provided that you are interested in the long haul?”

There was silent and even you could sense the stare down.

“Whatever...  You just jealous, Mr. E.” Malik finally said.

“Jealous? Of an 18 year old?” Here Erik gave a loud bark of laughter.

“Well, Mrs. Y/N is not like that.” another boy said, “Like you said, she’s cute. But can she look fine like the magazine?”

You could sense Erik’s shrug, “Probably, if she wanted to be bothered. I think all women can look like that. It’s just a matter of getting whatever glued on, brushed on, sewed on or tacked on.”

You wanted to laugh hysterically. How did men manage to reduce all the women go through into a simple statement as if it’s a matter of a 1-2-3 step process? Even you knew it took more than that. That was just a start.

“And you are fine with that?” Malik challenged.

You craned your neck, wanting to catch Erik’s answer.

“I ain’t gonna complain. If she doesn’t want to do all that of that I ain’t gonna make her. She a grown woman.”

“But you wished just once for her to look like that, don’t you?” Malik asked slyly.

You suddenly wanted to smack this Malik.

“You homies all up in a nigga's grill.” said Erik and you could hear the grin.

You heard the smuggness in Malik's voice, “You skating the issue, Mr. E.”

Suddenly you didn't really want to know and decided to knock at that moment. When Erik opened the door he gave a small smile. “Y/N.”

You smiled at him, “Shuri told me to deliver this to you.” You held up the book.

“Ah, thanks.” He opened the door wider for the class to see you, “Show Ms. Y/N some respect.”

Under Erik’s watchful glare boys chorus, almost in perfect sync, “Hello, Ms. Y/N.” 

The boys had straightened up and you raised an eyebrow as they all smiled and waved at you as if they were perfect little angels.

You were trying hard not to laugh and said pleasantly, “Hello, boys. I will not hold up your session.” Looking at Erik you gave a brief smile, “See you later.”

Erik returned it before shutting the door. Walking down the hallway the last you heard was:

“You never did answer the question, Mr. E.” Malik said.

“I suggest you get into these books and not into my business.”

You picked up the pace as you walked further down the hallway and out of earshot.

In the next few days leading up to the function that conversation you heard stayed with you. And it brought back some unpleasant memories. Your ex-boyfriend, Trevor, used to frequently complain about your lack of makeup once he started making it in the law circle. Before then, he never mentioned it and you never thought it to be problem.  But by that time, it became a problem, you realized you didn’t care enough anymore to try. It was just one reason to a long list why the two of you didn’t make it.

But you found you liked Erik more than you ever liked Trevor. And you began to wonder if he would appreciate seeing his girlfriend look like that on occasion. You decided this function you were going to attend as his date was the perfect reason to try.

Which is why a week later found you standing in front of a makeup isle, becoming more and more dejected, the longer you looked at any of this stuff.

Can’t you just buy some new eye shadow? That is low maintenance. You scanned your list again. Why did you need lamp-chop eyelashes? You had them since the day you were born.

“Can I help you? You look a little lost.”

You turned to see a pretty young saleswoman who gave a friendly smile.

You gave a weak smile, “Yeah. Is it that obvious?”

She chuckled, “A little bit. What can I do for you today?”

You took a breath intending on trying at least, “How are you on makeup?”

[thehauntrpg-blog]

Name: Hyun-Ki “Rowan” Moon Age Range: 26 Gender: Male Pronouns: He/Him Occupation: Freelance photographer/document forger Status: TAKEN by phnx

Sallybrook was only a stop on a much bigger cross country road trip. But as soon as you drove into town, you felt like there was something calling you here, something telling you to stay. So stay you did. You got a room at the motel, and stayed for a few weeks. Every time you tried to leave, something held you back. Either your car broke down, or you lost your wallet, or you met someone who wanted you to stay a little while longer. After a few months of living at the motel, you got an apartment, totally unsure of why or how you ended up there. It feels like you were tricked into staying, although you don’t know who exactly it was who tricked you. You’ve heard in passing the history of the town, but it isn’t enough for you to put anything together.

Elodie: You find them cute- always asking questions, eyes bright with excitement as you tell them stories about the different towns you’ve been through, the different people you’ve met. Some of the stories might not be true, or might be slightly exaggerated, but how could you disappoint someone who looked at you with such wide, excited eyes?

Jude: There’s comfort in knowing you’re not the only new person in town, especially someone around the same age as you. You don’t have much of the same interests, but there’s excitement in that. In knowing that no matter what you tell them, it’ll be the first time they hear it. You respect each other, and understand each other in a way that goes beyond shared interests.

faceclaim: Hong Jonghyun

tw: neglect, drinking/drug abuse, endangerment of minors, DWI, death, overdose mention

i. the genesis

There was a rumor around Westlake Prep that if one were to bring a wad of cash, a loaded flask, and their best pretty-please to the water fountain outside the boys’ locker room after swim practice, one could have a fake ID in hand in time to go clubbing on the weekend. Though no one said his name, everyone knew that the boy with the designer smirk and the genuine leather backpack could get them exactly what they needed to have a good time, and though he wouldn’t do it with a smile, he’d do it damn fast and better than they could possibly have imagined.

What they didn’t know was the truth: it was hard being the least interesting person in a school full of ingénues and future-famouses. In a world built on family lines and reputation, being new money was anathema to popularity, and there was nothing Rowan desired more that to be adored—if not as a person, then as a figure, one who took on an almost mythical quality during his four years at the elite L.A. prep school.

Though his house in the hills was just as splendid as any of his classmates’, it hadn’t always been that way. Little Hyun-Ki, as he was then known, grew up in a public school with the rest of the normals, though he was by no means hurting for money. In those early years, his father supported the family as a businessman, his mother an up-and-coming artist. Try as she might to gain foothold in Los Angeles’ fast-flowing art market, she was quickly swept under the current. Her gallery, however, took off at lightspeed: it was not her painter’s eye the people sought, but the eye of a collector.

The changes were slow at first. He and his older sister Ji-Min started getting nicer clothes, then his mother got a new car. These material changes were dwarfed by his parents’ behavior however, which shifted rapidly before his eyes. Though they had never been particularly warm people, during his tweens they seemed to withdraw into their work completely, often leaving him and his sister to fend for themselves while they holed up in her studio, working late into the night. Hyun-Ki thought little of it when he stumbled upon his father in the studio one day, dipping a crumpled up sheet of paper into a pan of what smelled like coffee. His father shooed him away with a barked command that he heeded quickly, returning to his reading in the living room.

It wasn’t until they moved into one of those monstrous McMansions he’d seen only in catalogues that he began to realize that something had fundamentally changed. As far as he could tell, their life circumstances hadn’t changed so drastically as to warrant a mansion, so where was all the money coming from? He got his answer in bits and pieces throughout middle school, beginning almost by accident. Ever the forgetful child, he left a permission slip for his parents to sign until the night before. They had disappeared, as usual, so that night he got creative: sneaking into his father’s study, he rifled through the documents on the desk until he came upon his father’s signature. With careful eyes and a tongue stuck out sideways in concentration, he copied the signature onto his permission slip in flourishing letters, then sat back to admire his handiwork. Not bad, he thought, and that was that, until it wasn’t.

It slipped his mind that he would be late returning home after the field trip. His best friend’s mother dropped him off at home, only to find his parents seated at the dining table, phones clutched in white-knuckled hands, faces pale, sheetlike. There was no effusion of relief or affection upon his return, but an enraged outpouring, demanding to know what, exactly, he had done. His cheeks burned with embarrassment as he sputtered his confession. Bitterness crept up his throat at the realization that this was the most energy they’d put into him in years, but the thought was swept away by their puzzling reaction: the anger seemed to fade away, replaced by a quiet interest as his father’s eyes met his mother’s.

As his sister watched quietly from the corner, his mother placed a single blank sheet of paper on the table in front of him.

“Show us what you did,” she said in even tones, sliding a pen to him with a slow and deliberate scrape. Hyun-Ki looked from one to the other, then to his sister, who offered a hungry gaze as a substitute for solace. Then, with a deep breath, he shut his eyes, conjuring up the hills and valleys of his father’s signature behind closed lids.

He picked up the pen and, with great, sloping strokes, signed his father’s name.

ii. the indoctrination

From that moment on, his parents took an interest in him like they never had before. With his father’s assistance, he learned to artificially age paper, creasing it carefully and staining it with coffee and tea. Words like “provenance” and “ownership” floated in those coffee-stained waters, but he gave little thought to it at the time. His father asked him in tones he’d rarely heard before to sign the names of people he didn’t know, showing pictures and old documents he couldn’t make sense of that he was supposed to imitate. Despite a hundred questions brewing in his mind, he did as he was told dutifully, grateful to finally have the attention he had so craved.

Meanwhile, his mother tried to teach him to paint. His sister, he quickly discovered, had been taking lessons for some time; she was far better at it, and over time he began to suspect that it wasn’t just a difference in practice that separated them. They were each tasked to replicate a painting before them, and while neither of them got close, his sister’s showed real artistry, something he didn’t quite understand at the time yet could still feel withering deep within himself. He saw how his mother gazed at Ji-Min in moments like those and felt resentment’s icy tendrils wrap themselves around his heart and squeeze.

The sessions with his mother stopped soon after that, and so, too, did her warmth toward him. And that was when he came to understand a tenet of his tenuous existence that would come to shape the rest of his life: his parents, and by extension, everyone else, valued him only for his usefulness.

As he entered his first year of high school, he struggled between two extremes, one moment feeling determined to earn his place, the next, certain he didn’t need to. He became colder and more distant from his parents—if that was even possible—and distanced himself from their sham of a business. He was older now, smarter, and he could see them for who they really were: hungry wolves, eager to take advantage of anyone who was naïve enough to believe the elaborate show they put on.

There were three parts to the ruse, and each was essential. His mother was the artisan, the master crafter, spinning “authentic” works of art from the tip of her brush, in turns delighted and furious that she could only sell her work if she passed it off as the work of another, one with more name recognition and star power. His father was the historian, often researching techniques late into the night, fabricating the necessary paperwork to make the art appear authentic. His sister, now having bloomed fully into equal parts of their mother’s artistry and their father’s business savvy, was the face of the collection, selling the ruse with her silver tongue and million-watt smile.

And Hyun-Ki, little Hyun-Ki, well, he didn’t fit anywhere into their equation.

iii. the rebellion

He stopped trying. He bleached his hair and changed his name, opting for the spartan “Rowan” that his friends had dubbed him years before. He’d liked the name, but it wasn’t until that point that he began referring to himself that way internally, replacing it everywhere he could. Having just entered a new school, the transition wasn’t difficult, since no one save his best friend Malia knew him anyway.

Yet try as he might, something small and sick and coughing curled deep within his chest still yearned to be loved, to be needed. From what he’d learned so far, love was transactional, so he sought it out the only way he knew how.

It started out small. Rowan offered to sign a detention slip for an acquaintance, amazing them with his precision. They didn’t know that, when compared to the techniques his father taught him, this was baby stuff. Word spread quickly of his skill, and before he knew it, classmates were asking him for all sorts of things, anything from tardy passes to endorsing checks. That last one gave him pause—was he ready to commit a serious offense? But seeing that adoring look in their eyes, he was powerless to resist.

They came for his skills, but they stayed for his biting wit and unique worldview. A small clique formed around him, but it wasn’t enough; it never was. These people, they were interesting enough, but they weren’t what he was looking for. He needed more, and he needed it now. The only person who knew of his secret desires was Malia, and even she didn’t fully understand them, despite them having been friends for most of their adolescent years.

His chance came in the form of a beautiful and mysterious girl named Cassie St. Clair, with fiery hair flowing down her back and cherry-red lips to match. The daughter of a pair of famous actors, she owned the school and knew it, too. Whenever Rowan saw her floating down the hall with her posse, he felt jealousy scratching at his insides, desperate to know what just one night in that life was like.

From those candy-coated lips issued his golden ticket: she needed a fake ID. She was tired of being asked if she was that St. Clair, wanted to be someone else for a little while. He found that whole concept kind of baffling, but he was hardly oblivious to the promise behind her eyes. She took care of those who cared for her, and there was nothing he wanted more than to know what that care felt like.

iv. the ascension

Rowan made a deal with the devil. In recent months he had become aware that his father was losing some of the mobility and precision in his hands due to early onset arthritis. His father had not yet asked him to step in and complete the work that he could not, but Rowan knew the ask was coming soon, and he wouldn’t exactly be able to refuse. Might as well get ahead of it and receive something in return, right?

So they came to an agreement. Rowan would do what his father asked of him, and in return, his father would teach him some of his more advanced skills and knowledge when it came to official documents. Rowan was surprised to find that his father already had all of the necessary equipment, but it quickly morphed into a deep and painful understanding: he wasn’t the only one trying desperately to secure his place in a world where social currency was more valuable than the millions upon which their meaningless estate was built. He thought he was branching away from his parents, distancing himself from them, but in his efforts to ingratiate himself to the elite, he had never resembled them more closely.

But a deal was a deal, and his mind had long been made. Picking up the camera he had rarely used since purchasing it the year before, he arranged to take Cassie’s picture one afternoon after school. Though her standards for the portrait were stringent, he found himself actually enjoying the process, and he even made her laugh a few times, too. It was the beginning of something new and beautiful, he was certain. Surely this would be enough. It had to be.

Even he had to admit that the ID was convincing. Her eyebrows shot up when he presented it to her, as if to say, I didn’t think you’d really do it. But she didn’t know him, not yet. Rowan always did what he set out to do.

After that, his circumstances changed rapidly. Gone were the useless nobodies that had once wasted his time, replaced with pure-white smiles and perfect hair, Gucci bags and envious stares. With Cassie’s approval came everyone else’s, all at once, and overwhelmingly so. Rowan was plunged into a world of hedonism and excess, spending nights on rooftops dancing until dawn, reveling in the company his savvy had bought him, if only for the moment.

For the first time, somewhat unexpectedly, he found he could be himself. These kids, he realized, were just as fucked up inside as he was: their sweat-shining bodies writhed to the rhythm of some desperate beat, dying to be known, to be loved. And they were. Maybe it took a few shots and a couple lines to get them there, but when he took that first hit, felt that powerful rush flow through him, he had never felt more connected to anyone in his life. Bringing his camera along, he would take pictures of them in their ecstasy, capturing them at what he believed was their most beautiful.

He paid little mind to the microtransactions that seemed to make up their sober hours, helping his friends where they needed it. They wanted in to the best clubs in town, so he provided. It was all so they could have a good time together, right? Malia insisted that they were using him, but when he grew too annoyed with her repeated warnings, he simply stopped listening. He didn’t need her anymore, anyway. These people were his friends—no, his family. They loved him, and he them. Nothing could tear them apart.

But as all children must eventually learn, nothing lasts forever. Just as he reached the zenith of his popularity, valued for who he was rather than who he associated with (if such a thing was possible in a school like his), it was all over. They graduated, and their clique drifted apart just as easily as it had come together. The faces of the familiar were replaced by the new elites, and he suddenly realized that he was in danger of becoming one of the drifters on the outskirts of the group, too old for their juvenile antics, yet unable to live any other way. So to stay relevant he indoctrinated others into their glittering life, though the edges were running ragged and the gold didn’t quite shine the way it used to. He was the gatekeeper, the new Cassie St. Clair. Where he had once sought their approval, they now had to seek his.

He had never felt more powerful, and he had never been so lonely.

v. the fall

Nights blurred into days blurred into nights. He didn’t have a job—didn’t need one, of course—so he devoted himself entirely to his own pleasure, spending his early twenties in a blur of sex and drugs and bright neon lights. He held hands with strangers, woke up in their beds, skin slick and insides sickly. He lost track of who he did what for, and though he knew he was toeing a dangerous line, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Even if he did get caught, at least it would be something different. The bright lights that had once thrilled him seemed dull now, and the photographs he once adored now all looked the same. Some faces changed, others grew older, but they shared that hollow look, the glassiness behind eyes pleading to be seen. He saw them, alright. He just didn’t find anything worth looking at.

One summer afternoon, he was busy performing some task for his father which, at this point, had become mindless, when he heard a knock on the door. When he opened it, he did a double take: the tousled black curls and piercing brown eyes smacked of his ex-best friend, whom he hadn’t spoken to in years. But it wasn’t Malia, but rather her little brother, Milo, who had been a little pizza-faced pipsqueak the last time Rowan had seen him. Milo was growing into himself rather nicely now, flashing him a bright grin; he couldn’t have been more than sixteen.

Puzzled, Rowan let him in, while the boy gushed about how beautiful the house was, and how excited he was to see Rowan, and wow! he didn’t know they liked art so much! Rowan smiled and indulged him, in part because he liked the youthful energy, and in part because, if he were honest, he missed Malia so damn much. They talked for a little while, but at last Rowan became too curious and wanted to know what the boy had come for.

He should have known better. Rather than to reconnect with an old family friend—or to pass on Malia’s fond wishes, as he had secretly hoped—Milo wanted what everyone else wanted from him. A fake ID, so he could hang out with the cool people. Rowan’s insides soured, though he was secretly a bit pleased that his legacy at the school remained in whispers among the students long after his tenure there. He was poised to refuse, knowing full well what that life promised versus what it delivered—and painfully aware of how much Malia would hate it. But there was something about Milo’s earnestness, the aching desire to fit in, that was a little too close to himself. Who was he to refuse the kid a good time?

So he agreed to it, snapping a photo of the kid, collecting some info, and sending him on his way with the goods a few hours later. Then he returned to his monotony, figuring that was the last he’d hear of it.

Oh, if only that were true. Not a month later, he was on his way home late at night, having for once decided to spend the night in his own home, when he spied police lights flashing at the entrance to his neighborhood. He was a little high, which made him a bit paranoid, but all that melted away when he saw the car wrapped around a telephone pole, smoke rising from the crumpled engine. He recognized it as the very same car that Milo had pulled up in his driveway. A body lay draped under a cloth outside the ambulance, while he caught a glimpse of someone else being cared for by EMTs.

Heart pounding, he drove home, refreshing the news all night to see if the victims had been identified—it could have been a coincidence, right? It’s not like Milo’s car was one-of-a-kind. But sure enough, he saw the boy’s latest school portrait online, and beneath it, the word deceased. He had been driving under the influence with two friends, one of which died in the crash.

The wake was a week later, and against his better judgment, he went. Malia’s parents were about as happy to see him as they could be under the circumstances, but when Malia saw him, her eyes were instantly aflame. She stalked up to him and shoved him backward, to the shock of onlookers.

“How dare you come here?” she exclaimed, shoving him again. “You did this. You did this!”

For the first time in recent memory, his eyes grew wet.

“Malia, I’m sorry… I didn’t…”

“Sorry won’t bring him back,” she said, crossing her arms, lips trembling. “Get out.”

“Malia, please—”

“Get out!” she shrieked, and he at last obeyed. Rushing to his car, he drove home with shaking hands, head full of cotton. He raced up to his room and slammed the door, breath heaving, leaning against it. He could see himself in the mirror opposite the door, how small and pathetic he looked. He was a killer, and he couldn’t even look himself in the eyes and admit it. Instead he tore the mirror off the wall with an animalistic scream, watching as it shattered into a million pieces.

Crouching down to examine them, he at last saw his face: jagged and distorted, as twisted up outside as he was inside. Gazing at that shade of himself, breath tight in his chest, tears pooling on the surface of the ruined mirror, he finally understood.

He would take Malia’s advice. He had to get out.

vi. the escape

The cool breeze winding through the mountains. The rush of water over well-worn rock. The quiet snap of his camera. Out here, he could be anyone he wanted, or no one at all. It was refreshing to stay in bed and breakfasts where no one knew his name, to talk quietly over warm croissants and tart orange juice. He listened to their stories with a smile on his face, and when they asked for his, he told them of his travels, the beautiful places he had seen, showed them his pictures. He made no mention of the life he had left behind, and in moments like those, he could almost believe that it had never even happened.

But the further he got from home, the more the different locales blurred together, the louder the little voice in the back of his head became. He could outrun his parents, who would surely be looking for him—they relied upon him for many of their documents now, after all—but he couldn’t outrun his guilt. Sometimes he felt that Milo was with him, standing just behind him, accusing eyes boring into his back. But when he could no longer resist the urge to look, the boy was nowhere to be seen.

Of course he wasn’t. Rowan didn’t believe in ghosts. But he did believe in karma, and he was pretty sure it would catch up with him eventually. All he could do for now was run, run, run, from town to town, state to state, zig-zagging with little forethought, often deciding his next destination just before he left for it. He liked it that way: his days used to be monotonous, and now, each one was different, with new beauty to be discovered around every bend in the road, befriending people who understood the transience of their relationship, even appreciated it. It was enough to almost forget the itch scratching at his throat, asking for just a little more wine at the end of the day, wondering if any of the drifters he met were packing something stronger. And if he did pull his flask out at noon on a Sunday while walking a nature trail, who was there to judge him?

No one, that’s who. And so he did as he damn well pleased.

His intention was to make his way to New York City to start a new life. He’d saved up quite a bit of money from his “side job” over the years, and he was pretty sure his parents weren’t going to look for him for too long. As collateral, he’d taken one of his mother’s favorite paintings with him, leaving not a goodbye note, but a threat: Pursue me and I will destroy it. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do.

When he reached New York, however, he found himself repulsed by the loud city life. During the single night he spent there, he had a vivid nightmare that he overdosed at a party while his friends all stood around, laughing and jeering. When awoke, he ran to the bathroom and vomited. Then, he grabbed his bag and got back on the road.

vii. the rebirth

And then there was Sallybrook.

He couldn’t say for certain what it was that drew him to the town. Maybe it was the fog surrounding it, how unique the pictures would be. Maybe it was the ramshackle buildings which at once dared him to explore, yet warned him away. Maybe it was that the voice in the back of his head, the one whispering killer, coward, waste of space, was replaced by something else, something imploring him to stay. The town wanted him there. He wasn’t sure how exactly he knew that, but he could feel it in his bones, how badly it wanted him.

Damn it all if he didn’t enjoy the feeling of being wanted.

So he stayed. It was provisional at first, transient, a one-more-week affair—one week, which turned into two, which turned into a month, which turned into an apartment with a lease. Against all odds, he’s realized that he kind of… liked it there. Plus, it’s not like his parents would look for him in a tiny town like this one, right? New York, now that was an easy guess. But Sallybrook?

Sure, maybe some of the residents treat him like he has a second head, but honestly, he’s used to that feeling. There are plenty that don’t, people who have lived here their whole lives, who are dying for a taste of something different. People like Elodie, who values him for his words and stories rather than for what he can do for them, or Jude, whose knowing smile and haunted gaze seem to imply that they shared more in common than either of them would admit. He sometimes wonders whether they’d still like him if they knew who he is—who he really is, not this untethered world traveler that he makes himself out to be. Though he sometimes longs for acceptance in his true form, he knows that isn’t possible. So he’ll be Rowan Kim for now, adventurer, photographer, storyteller and mischief-maker. Hell, he certainly likes the guy better than he likes himself. What’s the harm in playing the part for a little while, right? If he inhabits the role deeply enough, maybe Milo will lose the scent and stop fucking haunting him.

Or maybe he just needs to replace Milo’s ghost with another. He’s been in Sallybrook long enough to hear the whispers, stories of children disappearing, of the dead among the living. He isn’t quite sure he believes it, but he almost wants to be true. If there were honest-to-god ghosts in the town, at least he isn’t personally responsible for any of their deaths. That has to be better, right? Anything’s better than this. So when people tell him stories about it, he listens. And when they insist that it’s real, he indulges them and himself, immersing himself more and more in the lore so he might forget about his own. But even so, there’s still that little voice in the back of his head, asking him what it means if they’re real. Wouldn’t that mean Milo is real, too?

He’s not sure he wants to find out.

[sevenpabosandabunchoffans]

The Meaning of Family | From Friends to Spouses {Part 3}

Characters: Min Yoongi, Original Characters, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jung Hoseok, Jeon Jungkook, Kim Taehyung, Park Jimin

Words: 1194

Genre: College Student!Yoongi, Parents!Namjin

Warnings: slight mentions of anxiety, Jin is an emotional wreck, implications of past child abuse

Summary: “Do Yoongi and Sophia get married?”; Yoongi and Sophia take the next step in their relationship, but not without a few bumps along the way; Time Period - a few days after the last part, Thanksgiving; Ages: Jin - 35, Namjoon - 35, Yoongi - 18, Sophia - 18, Hoseok - 17, Jimin - 16, Taehyung - 15, Jungkook - 14

A/N: If you check out the masterlist for The Meaning of Family, you will see that I am planning on there being seven parts to this. I have already finished up to part five, which those parts will be posted very soon, and I will finish the last to parts up as soon as I can! I hope you enjoy!

Previous Part

Sophia was able to get an appointment for the day after she called, which worked perfectly for her and Yoongi, as Thanksgiving Break began for the both of them on that day. She was sitting on the examination table, Yoongi holding her hand as they waited for her doctor to come in. She finally did. “Well, you’re definitely pregnant,” was the first thing out of Dr. Nolan’s mouth as she entered the room. “And based on the date you gave us for your last menstruation, you are about seven weeks along.”

“When’s the due date?” Sophia asked, the only thing she cared about being when the baby would come.

“July 12th.” Dr. Nolan answered. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll get you set up in an ultrasound room.”

“Wait, we can see it today?” Yoongi asked, somewhat surprised.

The doctor nodded. “Sophia is just far enough along that your baby will appear on sonograms.”

Dr. Nolan led them across the hall into a different room that was set up to perform ultrasounds. As she got the machine set up, Sophia turned her head to look at Yoongi, taking hold of his hand. “Are you ready for this?” She asked quietly. He nodded in response, lightly squeezing her hand as he leaned down to softly press his lips to hers.

The next day, they were in the car, driving to the Kim house for Thanksgiving. Their conversation had switched over from lighthearted decision making for when the baby came to a more serious discussion that was bordering on a small argument. “The only question here is do we want to tell them today or wait until Christmas.” Yoongi said.

“But why are those the only two options?” Sophia rebutted. “Why can’t we pick a day between now and then and invite everyone out to dinner or over to the apartment or something and tell them then?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not too crazy about setting it up that way. In that situation, they would know that we have something to tell them, so they would spend the entire time anticipating it, and the pressure would just keep building up.” Yoongi parked the car on the curb behind his dad’s car so that he wouldn’t block anyone trying to drive by the house. “I’d rather do it on a day where our families will already be together and just surprise them with it. It’s not as anxiety-inducing.”

“I didn’t really think about it that way.” Sophia said quietly, taking his hand in hers. “If you want to tell them today, then we’ll do it. If you want to wait, then we’ll wait. Even if it takes until I’m showing, and they figure it out themselves, we can wait.”

They entered the house to see Jin shooing Lily off the table. “You stay away from my turkey! Jimin! Come get your cat!” Jin stopped when he saw Yoongi and Sophia had arrived. “Yoongi! Sophia!” He greeted the two with a hug. “Sophia, your mom, sister, and grandma should be here soon.” Sophia nodded with a smile as she moved to sit on the couch, Yoongi already moving to the kitchen to get a drink for himself and her as Jimin exited his bedroom.

“Hey, Sophia~” The 16-year-old greeted as he saw his older brother’s fiancée.

Soon enough, the two families were sitting around the living room, since there wasn’t enough room at the table for all 11 of them, with their plates full of food. Jungkook had just brought some of his art assignments out to show Abuela Martinez at her request. “I just knew you would always be a great artist, Jungkook~” A blush rose across Jungkook’s cheeks at the elderly woman’s praise. “I still have all of your finger paintings and drawings from when you were just a little boy hanging on my fridge.”

Amelia nodded in agreement. “She really does.”

“Thank you, Abuela~” Jungkook took his drawings back and set them to the side, planning on waiting until he was finished eating to return them to his room.

At this moment, Abuela Martinez set her sights on her granddaughter and soon to be grandson in law. “So, have you talked about kids in the future.” The coke Yoongi had been drinking went down wrong and he began to cough.

“Mom~” Sophia’s mother gave the older woman a look.

“What?” Abuela Martinez asked innocently as Sophia pat Yoongi on the back as he continued to cough his lungs up. “I just want to know when I can expect great grandchildren.”

“Considering I’m a bit too young to be a grandfather…” Jin chimed in, not wanting to become a grandfather until he was at least 45, 40 at the earliest, meaning he still had at least 5 years to go. “I’d hope it would be a while before any children were produced from their marriage.”

By this point, Yoongi had calmed down and was now chuckling nervously. “Funny you say that, Dad~” He lightly nudged Sophia, giving her a look that it was time as he felt curious and confused glances on him from various parties in the room.

Sophia cleared her throat before speaking up. “I’m pregnant.”

After a moment of silence, one of Jin’s hands shot to his chest while the other went to Namjoon’s thigh. “My baby is getting married and having a baby of his own. Joon, what is this feeling?”

“I believe it is nostalgia from remembering him as a child.”

“Dad, don’t start~” Yoongi muttered, wishing the attention would move on from the two of them.

“Did dad’s talk not work on you?” Yoongi threw one of the decorative throw pillows at Hoseok, who just laughed away.

“Yoongi, don’t throw the throw pillows at your brother, how many times do I have to tell you?”

“Then why are they called throw pillows?” Jungkook asked, and Yoongi was thankful that the attention had left them for at least a small amount of time.

“Yeah, why are they called that?” Amelia inquired, which led into a discussion between the two families about the reasoning behind the name.

Eventually, Sophia’s mom moved to sit next to her daughter and started asking her questions about how she was doing. Yoongi got out of the conversation by offering to carry people’s dishes into the kitchen now that they were nearly done eating. Namjoon joined him in the kitchen after a few minutes. “And how are you feeling about this?”

Yoongi took a deep breath before sharing a qualm of his that he even Sophia didn’t know about. “I’m worried…that I might turn out like…” The 18-year-old trailed off, but Namjoon already knew who he was referring to.

“Don’t worry, Yoongi, you are nothing like your biological father.” Namjoon assured him. “You are one of the gentlest people I know, and even when you do get in small arguments with Sophia, or us, or your brothers, you’ve never even raised your voice.” Namjoon placed his hand on his shoulder, rubbing lightly. “I have no doubts that you will be an amazing father.”

Yoongi smiled up at his dad. “Well, I’ve had two pretty great ones.”

Next Part

[fivenightsatfreddysfanfiction]

Circus Baby Steps

Many thanks to @ryukodragon for help with the title!

It’s good, sometimes, to admit to one’s own mistakes and grow from them. It’ll help inspire other growth.

As much as it annoyed Ven that he would wander off while the artist was still in need of awareness to work on his commissions, Vincent insisted on going to check on the digital ghost living with Meera. Ever since the two of them opened the new Freddy's Pizza at the old location, Lucian had been acting oddly agitated. Vincent would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't worried despite the other swearing he wouldn't intentionally go after children.

Old habits die hard, after all.

So here he was at the pizzeria, walking around and past people who shivered slightly at his passing. Where was Lucian?

"Three, and two, and three, and four...."

Vincent blinked, hearing the other man's voice softly muttering not too far away. He looked around quickly, searching for the electric blue color of the digital ghost. Where was he? Would he be in the Circus Baby body, performing on stage? Vincent glanced towards the cheap wooden stage, mouth twisting at the sight of the stationary trash can with the balloon 'head'. No, Lucian would stay away from that mess. Despite his current choice of 'vessel' being built much lighter than his previous forms, Baby's figure would be counted as too heavy for that stage to support.

Baby was in the shop, anyway, being upgraded for easy switching of outfits and accessories.

"And five, and three, and three, and two...."

Vincent followed the voice and finally spotted him, the blonde leaning forward almost lazily against the counter of the pizza order station near the buffet bar. Ah, that's why he was overlooking him; the digital ghost had the ability to hard-light himself, appearing solid and 'real' to interact with the world and be seen by living people. In that instance the only blue on him would be his clothes as his skin and hair returned to the color Lucian had in life.

As Vincent headed over, sidestepping a child that ran by in happy screams, Lucian blinked slowly, then scowled.

"One. Puppet, get 'em."

An animatronic that looked eerily similar to the Marionette popped out of a gift box near the stage and floated along, targeting the lone child Vincent avoided walking through. He stopped and watched in concern, wondering what was going on. The Puppet continued floating along, following the lone child around like a puppy until the child's mother caught up and collected the kid.

The Puppet promptly turned away and floated back to the gift box. Vincent raised an eyebrow at the scene and looked back towards Lucian in time to see the man breathe a sigh of relief. "That happen often?" he asked and Lucian scowled again.

"Not as much as you're thinking. What do you want?" he returned irritably. Vincent shrugged, making his way to the station and exerting just enough force to be able to lean against the wall by the opening without falling through.

"How's business? This place looks pretty bare budget still," he asked instead, dodging the question. He wasn't sure himself what he wanted, or if he did know then he didn't want to face the knowledge just yet.

Lucian wrinkled his nose in answer. Vincent sighed softly; small talk wasn't going to work today. He looked the other man over, studying him a bit more. After making that mistake some time ago, he was determined not to let it repeat.

The blonde looked equal parts bored and tired, green eye glowing faintly as his gaze tracked children around the dining area. Now and then Lucian would look towards the stage, frowning at the sight of the cheap 'animatronic' attraction. Suddenly, Lucian's gaze snapped to him and Vincent jumped a little in surprise, eyes widening as his face heated up from the attention.

"Que estas haciendo?" the blonde grumbled, squinting at him. Vincent fidgeted; the context was easier to understand than the words.

"I just wanted to check up on you," he admitted with a slight shrug. Lucian gestured at the dining room flippantly.

"Everyone's still alive. You're welcome." His tone was both sarcastic and resentful, and Vincent winced. "Just admit you don't trust me around anyone. I'm tired of you pretending you're a better person just because you don't have anything to regret doing." Lucian shifted in place with a huff, lifting his arms up to rest his chin on his hands as he continued watching the crowd.

He wasn't entirely right; Vincent regretted holding his grudge against Lucian tightly enough that he lashed out at the digital ghost after he'd expressed regret for his crimes, apologized for his actions, and actively tried to atone for them. It made his attempts to repair relations between them so much harder, as Lucian internalized the fighting into a far deeper self-hatred.

"I didn't come to start a fight, Lu-," Vincent began quietly, cutting himself off at the sharp glare Lucian directed at him. Right, right. He had objectified himself to the point of rejecting his name. "Digi. I'm not here to fight. I just wanted to see how you were doing."

Lucian gave him a distrustful look before sighing and folding his arms back down on the counter, shifting in place again. "I'm fine. You can leave now," he replied and waved a hand at Vincent as if to shoo him away.

He frowned, still watching him carefully. Lucian leaned more onto the counter, as though making it bear more of his weight than usual. "You know," Vincent began cautiously, fidgeting with his fingers as the other man looked back at him impatiently, "there is something I regret doing, if I need to be honest."

Lucian raised an eyebrow and tilted his head the slightest bit. Interest, that's good. Vincent breathed a small sigh of relief; he was listening, not blocking him out, a step forward.

"I regret not accepting your apology that day, at your sister's grave." He thought back to that day, to the look of pain and regret in Lucian's expression as he knelt by his younger sister's gravestone. Where had his empathy been, that he refused to recognize those emotions as genuine? "After seeing what you did to help Miss Corbett in that facility, I should have given you a fair chance when you said you wanted to make up for your crimes. I didn't, and I'm sorry for that."

There was silence between them after that. Vincent studied his shoes as the moments ticked by, watching the light of the pizzeria play over the shiny black leather. Children ran by in happy squeals, pizza and cheap prizes in their hands. For all the worries about the Freddy's name bringing bad luck onto the place, it seemed like the restaurant was actually doing well and was safe for everyone.

Likely it helped that the only mobile animatronics in the place were Helpy and Baby, both of them created by Jeremy.

"Tired," Lucian suddenly said with a faint clearing of his throat. Vincent blinked, lifting his head in confusion and looking aside at the blonde. The other man shifted a bit more on the counter, arms folded on the surface. He looked faintly indifferent, gazing over the dining room with his usual bored expression.

"Excuse me?" Vincent asked. Lucian gave him a mild glare and a huff.

"You asked how I was feeling. I'm feeling a bit tired," he returned with a shrug.

"Oh!" Vincent blinked again, "That's... okay?"

Silence again, a bit awkward but it felt lighter. He wasn't sure what to make of that. At least he got a more honest answer to his question so... small victory there?

"And, uh, good... good job... there," Vincent added haltingly, managing a strained smile as Lucian gave him an incredulous look.

"For what?" the digital ghost asked. Vincent gestured vaguely towards the diners.

"Keeping everyone alive?"

Lucian narrowed his eyes and Vincent began wondering if he messed up in reminding him of his earlier words. After a long moment, Lucian sighed heavily, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"Este pinche pendejo quien me hace dueles en la cabeza," he muttered, pinching the little space between his brows in exasperation. Vincent laughed a bit nervously; some of the words were familiar enough in context that he could tell he was being talked about. "Por que me fastidias cuando siempre quiero hacer mi trabajo en paz?" Vincent smiled again, wide and still very strained with uncertainty. Would it be better if he just left? "If you're going to stay around and look at things like you're about to shit your pants," Lucian finally snarked at him, "then the least you can do while here is let me borrow some of your energy to keep from passing out. I've been in solid state since this morning."

Vincent stared at him for a moment, then broke into another wide smile, far more genuine than the others. "Yeah, I can do that," he agreed cheerfully and reached out as he leaned back more casually and comfortably against the wall.

"Hey, don't hold my hand like that! We're not dating or some stupid thing! Not on my shoulder, you're too close! Just... put your hand on my arm, okay? There! You get all handsy with me like you do with your little boyfriend and I'll smack you with the pizza pan. Why are you laughing? Is something funny? Tch, mira me con este pendejo loco...."

END

[revisionaryhistory]

It’s All Art ~ 72

Charlotte went up with her mom to help finish with dinner. Oscar shooed them away while he continued work on a massive sand fortress with the triplets.  They’d finished the main castle. The fortress walls were half finished and the moat was yet to be dug. Oscar and Nate took care of the building while Bella and Toni cut in architectural designs. They had windows, doors, columns, and brick work finished when the boys were hauling water to fill the moat. Oscar grabbed his phone and sent a picture to Charlotte asking her to bring her real camera. Five minutes later they were showing her the details and she took pictures of them and the fortress. Charlotte sent them on to clean up for dinner and helped Oscar gather their things.

 “Thanks for keeping them busy.”

 He snorted at her, “Please. My family had you changing diapers and getting thrown up on.” He swept his hand toward the sand castle, “I got to build this kick ass fortress.”

 Charlotte laughed at his childlike excitement and put her arm around his waist, “No fighting?”

 “None. I think they have this sand thing down. They discussed the actual build then went to it. Nate directed construction then the girls added details. They have your artistic genes.”

 “They could do worse.”

 Dinner was chaotic. The littles were tired from playing in the sun and that made for short tempers and arguments. As soon as they finished eating Micah sent them to bathe and do homework that had been delayed by beach time. Doors slammed as they hit their rooms. Alexis drained her wine, Micah slumped back in his chair, Charlotte sighed, and Oscar laughed. “That is a family dinner. Last night was far too civilized.”

 Micah looked at Alexis, “Why did we want more kids after the first two were grown?”

 “I think we forgot about this part.” Alexis poured herself more wine, “Overly excited about these two here and Matt and Abby arriving tomorrow.  They’ll calm down.”

 “I hope so.” Charlotte took her mom’s wine glass and downed half of it.

 “I think it’s great.” Oscar laughed again, “Guess I miss my family more than I realize.”

 “You’re odd.”

 Oscar took Charlotte’s hand, “That shouldn’t be a surprise, my love.”

 Charlotte’s phone rang before she could reply. She glanced at the caller ID and looked perplexed, “It’s Andy. I need to take this.” She walked out by the pool.

 Oscar, Micah, and Alexis cleared the table and finished cleaning up the kitchen. Charlotte joined them just as they were finishing. Oscar dried off his hands and took hers, “Everything ok?”

 Yeah,” she nodded. “There’s a couple of emails he wants me to take a look at. Things he can’t handle.” She kissed her parents and apologized, “Sorry, work email’s on my laptop.”

 Charlotte’s pace increased as soon as the door was closed. Oscar had to jog to keep up, “Where’s the fire, babe?”

 “Exciting email.”

 “Gonna tell me?”

 She stopped and turned to him, causing him to almost run into her, “A gallery in London had an artist pull out. They want me to send them examples and discuss a possible show.”

 “That’s wonderful, baby.” He turned her around and popped her butt, “Get going.”

  She punched in the code and skidded to a stop in front of the laptop. A few seconds later and she had the email open. Oscar stood behind the chair in which she was sitting and read over her. There wasn’t much more than what she’d said. He felt her cringe, “What?”

 “Six weeks. Not a lot of time to pull things together, but possible.” She looked up at him, “I’m sorry. I have an online portfolio ready to go, but there’s some new things I’d like to throw in. Shouldn't take me to long.”

 Oscar leaned down and kissed her, “Take as long as you need. I’m going out on the patio to read.” He grabbed his book and stopped back by her, squatting down. “Congratulations, mi lucero.”

 “Haven’t got it yet.” Her hand went to his face as she kissed him. “Thank you.”

 It wasn’t long before Oscar heard the patio door open. He looked over to her . . . what he could only describe as bounce over to him. She sat facing him on the lounger and laid over to kiss him, “We need to go out. I’ve got all this energy. It’s Friday night. Can we go out?”

 He ran his hand down her arm and held her hand, “We can do whatever you want.”

 “Oh good. I’m excited.” She bounced back into the room the same way she’d bounced out.

 Oscar liked that she was excited and he was excited too. He liked when she was happy. He caught her from behind and pressed his hips against her ass, kissing the side of her neck, “I know other ways to work off excess energy.”

 Squirming in his arms to turn around, her voice took on a deeper timbre, “We’ll be doing that too. Just later. May be messy.”

 ~*~*~*~

 Hungover. The couple was miserably hungover the next morning. She called her mom and told her they were going to try and dry out in the sun. The littles were going to a birthday party and Abby and Matt were due this afternoon. Hopefully, they’d be functional by then. Charlotte ordered toast and orange juice with a side of advil.

 A few hours later when the bell rang Oscar wake inside slowly. Matt hissed and grimaced when Oscar answered, “You look rough, my brother.”

 Oscar looked in the mirror as he led them out to the patio, “Feel better than I look. I’ll shower before we join the family.”

 Charlotte looked over from her chair and waved, “Yay, you’re here.”

 Abby hugged her friend and sat down with her, “What did you two do last night?”

 Matt grabbed a chair and pulled it over. “Mum and dad making you insane already?”

 “No, it’s been great. I had a lot of energy last night. We went out to the bars. I think we drank one of every uniquely Greek drink.”

 “Ouch.” Matt looked at Oscar, “There are better ways to get rid of energy.”

 Raising his hand, Oscar grinned, “That’s what I said.” Then he looked at Charlotte, “Hey, you made promises you did not follow through on.”

 Charlotte rolled her eyes, “You, my love, are not deprived.” She winked at him, “I’ll make it up to you later.”

 “You got her drunk and you didn’t get laid?

 “Meh, only a little laid. We’re not really one and done people.” Oscar shrugged with an evil grin.

 Matt cut his eyes between them looking confused. His eyes landed on Oscar, “As a man, I want to high five you. As her brother . . . ok, yeah, still wanna high five you.” The men laughed as they did this.

 Abby ignored them, “Anything fun in town?” Abby had been to Greece many times with Matt.

 “Oh, I almost forgot.” Charlotte laughed loudly, “We got invited to be part of a foursome.”

 Matt snickered and asked Oscar, “Who would have won?” He could tell Oscar didn’t understand. “Which one of you would have traded up?”

 Oscar crinkled his eyes and hummed, “Hard to say. It was two men.”

 “Which is definitely a huge win for me. Either the center of attention or getting to watch. I win. Could have picked up some new skills.”

 “Your skills are more than fine.”

 She shrugged, “Never know what sort of things I might learn.” The pair looked at each other, speaking without any words and grinning.

 “Alright, that’s enough.” Matt waved his hands between them. “Get showered and get your hungover horny asses upstairs. Lunch” he looked at his watch “in half an hour.”

 They made it with five minutes to spare. Oscar helped Matt get the leaf and extra chairs for the table while Micah and Charlotte pulled boxes of Mexican food out of bags and laid them out in the center of the table. Abby helped Alexis with drinks that the triplets carried to the table.

 Lunch was less chaotic than dinner. Conversation was lively with everyone there, but they separated the triplets to avoid fighting. However, the twins weren’t far enough apart. Matt and Charlotte sat next to each other elbowing, glaring, and talking in hushed tones. When everyone was done eating and they were relaxing around the table. Charlotte smiled at Matt then turned her attention to Abby, “How are you feeling?”

 Matt mumbled, “Bitch.”

 Oscar faked a cough and covered his mouth with his napkin to mask his laugh.

 Alexis looked to Abby, “Have you been sick, love?”

 Abby took a breath, “A little.”

 Charlotte and Matt hadn’t stopped with hand movements and words through gritted teeth.

 Micah looked at his two oldest, “What is wrong with you two?”

 They both snapped to with the sound of their father’s voice. “I brought Poe home. He’s not living up to his end of the bargain.”

 Oscar was laughing again. The only thing he loved more than “fighting” with his siblings was watching Matt and Charlotte.

 Micah rolled his eyes, “Do you have a secret too, son?”

 “Oh boy does he.” That was Oscar. “Ooops, sorry.”

 “Traitor.” Matt looked to Abby for her approval, then to his parents. “You’re going to be grandparents.” Both parents gasped. “Charlotte is knocked up.”

 Charlotte stood up and smacked her brother’s head, “I am not.” She pointed at Abby. “She is.”

 Charlotte headed around the table to get to Oscar. He kissed her cheek, laughing, “You two kill me.” She cuddled up to him, her head and hand resting on his chest while the rest of the family huddled around Abby and Matt.

 Alexis had tears running down her face, “This is amazing news. I’m so happy for you. And for me. I love babies.”

 Micah laughed, “Did your sister yell at you like she did me?”

 Matt’s eyes lit up and he looked behind him where Charlotte stood with Oscar, “I forgot about that.”

 Oscar looked at Charlotte, “You yelled at your dad?”

 “Did she ever.  When Alexis turned up pregnant she was furious and asked me why I couldn’t keep my hands off for at least the six week recovery period.”

 “You didn’t.” Oscar looked at her with wide eyes.

 “I did.”

 Alexis put her arm around Micah, “And I said what made her think he was the insatiable one.”

 “Yes, she did.” Charlotte closed her eyes, “So embarrassing.”

 “Genetic trait.” Alexis reached across and put her hand on Oscar’s forearm that was holding her daughter, “But you already knew that.”

 Charlotte made a pained noise. Oscar let go of her and hugged Alexis, “I love genetics.” After letting her go he looked at Micah, “It’s even now. Four boys and four girls.”

 Matt held up his hands, “Wait a minute. Charlotte says it’s a boy.”

 “Well, then it’s a boy.” Micah shrugged, “She knew all the triplets.”

 Abby put her hand on her just visible baby bump. “We had an ultrasound a few days ago.” She waited until all eyes were on hers before she lifted her shirt. The words “It’s a boy!” were written across her stomach.

 After that wave of hugs Alexis waved at the table, “Screw this, let’s go sit where there’s not dirty dishes.”

 They moved to the living room to talk baby. Charlotte followed behind Oscar and sat in his lap. She played in his hair as everyone talked. She had never felt this content. This was her family. Everyone she cared most about was in this room. Oscar was laughing and talking, sharing stories from his sister’s pregnancy.

 Conversation drifted to plans for the day. The triplets wanted to build another sand castle. Matt and Oscar were all in. Anything quiet where they could continue to drink volumes of water was a win for Oscar and Charlotte. Charlotte had left her phone at the table when everyone had moved. She heard the vibration before the ringtone. She’d sent in her portfolio last night and had bargained with herself not to get anxious until Monday, but with the short time before the show she couldn’t help but hope that was why her phone was ringing. She glanced at Oscar as she stood up. He gave her a smile and squeezed her hand.

 Every second she was outside was torture for Oscar. He stayed put, but he wasn’t paying any attention to the conversation. His eyes kept shifting to the patio door, where every so often he’d get a glimpse of her walking around. Not even knowing if it was the gallery made it worse. For all he knew she was talking to Kelsey about her date last night. When Charlotte opened the patio door he knew that wasn’t the case. The smile lit up her eyes, her face. Oscar looked at her, leaning his head in enough that he hoped he transmitted his question. She nodded and he was on his feet.

 Charlotte’s arms folded around his neck, his around her waist, and he lifted her off her feet. She whispered in his ear, “I got it.”

 He sat her on her feet and put his hands on her face, “Fantastic, baby girl.” He kissed her softly and they wrapped around each other again.

 Matt was the one to notice. He pointed in their direction, “I think someone else has a secret.”

 They heard the comment, but weren’t quite done with their celebration yet. When they were, Oscar kept her pulled tight to his side. They walked closer to the group. Charlotte was still vibrating with excitement, “I got a call yesterday about a last minute opening at a gallery. They wanted to see more of my work. I sent it in and that was the call.” She felt Oscar’s hand squeeze her side. “I got the show.”

 Now her family was all over them with hugs and congratulations. Her mom spoke up, “Now we have even more to celebrate. Not tomorrow. Tomorrow we’ll be tired from Delos. The day after we’ll have a true Parthenopaous celebration. The whole family is here.  Matt and Abby brought us a new baby. Charlotte brought us Oscar and she has another gallery opening, which I’m sure will be just as successful as the first.”

 Micah interrupted, “And we’ll be at this one.”

 “So we celebrate.”