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mashtatosworld · 1 month ago

Text

sucker

summary: you meet someone very important on good day

*a sequel to 'only girl'

The small, cozy restaurant was empty except for the film crew and Jiyong. The warm glow of paper lanterns casted a soft light over the low tables.

The rapper stood near the entrance, hands tucked into the pockets of his blue jeans, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he kept glancing out the window.

It was rare for him to be early, but today, he’d arrived before the cameras were even set up.

A soft chime signaled the door sliding open, and his face lit up instantly.

You stepped inside, slightly breathless from the cold air outside. You greeted the crew with a polite bow as your eyes flickered around before landing on him, lips curling into a familiar smile.

“You look like you’ve been waiting forever,” you teased.

Jiyong hummed, stepping forward without hesitation. “Maybe I have.”

Before you could react, his arms wrapped around you in a firm hug. He smelled faintly of his usual cologne - clean, warm, familiar.

“You’re late,” he murmured against your temple.

You pulled back just enough to raise a brow. “By three minutes.”

Jiyong smiled down at you, lightly pinching the tip of your chin. “Hmm, three minutes too long.”

You rolled your eyes, and before you could even think to kick off your shoes, he was already crouching down in front of you, deft fingers reaching for your laces.

You waited patiently, resting a hand on his shoulder for balance. "I shouldn't have worn converse today."

Jiyong didn’t look up as he continued to unlace the sneakers. “Mm, maybe, but I like these ones.” He loosened the knots, slipping them off with practiced ease. His movements were natural, like this was something he’d done many times before.

But maybe that was because he had...

You watched as he neatly placed your shoes beside his own, then stood, guiding you toward the table with a light hand on your back.

By the time you settled onto the cushion next to him, he was already reaching for the glass in front of you.

“I ordered your favourite,” he said, sliding it toward you without fanfare. “Figured you’d want something strong.”

You had told him how you were nervous to appear on his new show, especially since your first episode would be with another guest. But he assured you that this guest was an old friend he trusted with his private life.

Refraining from falling into intimate touches and names in public had become increasingly difficult as your relationship developed.

He was becoming careless with hiding his affection, continuing to buy you coordinating outfits and 'forgetting' to check the background of his pictures for traces of you before posting them. The internet was convinced your hot pink Hello Kitty pj's were his.

Your fingers wrapped around the cold glass, the faintest hint of amusement flickering in your gaze.

“Do I look at you or the cameras?”

Jiyong smiled and placed his hand on your knee. “Whatever makes you more comfortable. Although I'm sure the camera would appreciate a glance or two from you.” He brushes your hair behind your shoulder. "You look so pretty, Jagi."

Before you could respond, the door slid open again, and a loud, dramatic sigh filled the space.

Jung Hyungdon enters, looking between you and Jiyong as he approaches the table.

"I rush over here because I’m told my first love wants to meet up, and yet - " he gestures vaguely at you "- I find him on a date with a younger, prettier replacement?"

You freezes slightly at the mention of a date, all too aware of the cameras that are now focused more than ever on your conversation, but Jiyong, completely unfazed, just leans back on one hand and smirks.

"Hyung, don’t flatter yourself. We wouldn’t invite you to one of our dates."

"Aish, you haven't changed at all, huh?" Doni plopped down on the pillow with a loud grunt, eyes scanning the food starters already displayed on the low table. "It's good to see you again. You're paying for this, yah?"

"You saw me last week." Jiyong laughed, his tilted back before he turned to you. “See what I had to deal with for years?”

You grinned. “He does seem a little high-maintenance.”

Hyungdon's mouth-dropped open. “Ay! This betrayal. Right in front of my kimchi. What happened to respect for your elders?"

"I'm sorry." You covered your laugh with your hand. "How about we order some more food for you? We can even get some abalone and boiled pork."

"Huh?" Jiyong's eyes widened as he fidgeted with his hat, leaning forward as he clocked onto the conversation in which you were raking up the price of the meal for him. Not that money really mattered to him.

"Ahhhh," Hyungdon leaned back slightly with a slow smile, crossing his arms over his chest. "I understand why you like her, GD."

"Oh?" He asked in return, a playful grin on his face.

"Yah. She is just like me."

The table burst into laughter as another round of dishes was brought out.

Jiyong took care of grilling the meat whilst Doni spoke to you about your band. Since you were late third generation, you never went on the variety shows like Jiyong had done, and the rapper nearly burnt the food when the comedian revealed how he was a fan of your work.

"Why are you so surprised?" You raised a brow at him and Hyungdon copied your action, both of you staring at Jiyong with mockingly sharp glares.

"I didn't mean it like that, Jagi, I just wouldn't have thought he still listens to music." He defended, running a soothing hand down your back. You both ignored his slip up but your eyes unconsciously slipped to the camera, staring straight into its lens with wide eyes.

"Hey! I am not so old that I'm deaf!" Hyungdon scolded loudly, returning your attention to the table.

Jiyong laughs and without thinking, reaches over to place a piece of grilled meat on your plate before even serving himself or his elder. You thank him, and Doni watches the exchange with narrowed eyes.

"Tsk, tsk." He points his chopsticks at them. "What’s this? Why does this feel domestic? Why am I being forced to watch this?"

Jiyong continues turning the meat over with his tongs. "I take care of people I like." He then placed a piece of meat on Hyungdon's plate.

Doni’s eyes widen at the gesture. "So you admit it! You like me!" He turns to the crew. "Camera, are you recording?"

They give him a thumbs up and Jiyong shakes his head, his shoulders shaking from his laughter.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

An hour later:

The bottle of soju on the table is nearly gone, and beside it, were two more empty ones.

You, who had started the night sitting stiffly, now leant comfortably against the table, cheeks flushed from the alcohol. Doni is laughing at his own jokes, and Jiyong, looking entirely too pleased, is lazily swirling his drink.

"Okay, okay," Doni slurs slightly, squinting between the two. "Let’s be real. There’s something going on here, right? Right? Is this what Good Day is for? A dating show, huh?"

"Would you like it to be?" Jiyong raised a charming brow at him and Doni looks to you, slowly shaking his head.

"Always trying to reel me in... Be careful with this one, y/n."

You bursts out laughing, resting your forehead briefly against Jiyong’s shoulder eyes squinting shut. He glances at you before exhaling a soft chuckle, absentmindedly reaching to smooth down your hair.

"Ahh," Doni points wildly, head turning to the camera for confirmation, "did you see that? Camera, did you see that? He’s so soft for her, I want to puke."

Jiyong nods, refilling Doni’s glass. "That's the jealousy talking, hyung."

Doni narrows his eyes. "Aish, you little..."

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

The camera, slightly shaky, captured the three of them lingering at the entrance.

You were stood by the doorway, shrugging on your coat while Jiyong crouched at your feet, slipping your sneakers back on.

Doni, from the side, folded his arms and stared.

Jiyong tied the last knot and tapped the tip of your shoe lightly. “There. Comfortable?”

You flexed your foot lightly and smiled. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Doni let out a long, exaggerated sigh. "I see now.”

Jiyong stood, brushing off his hands. “See what?”

Doni shook his head in mock disbelief. “You. You’re done for.”

Jiyong smirked.

Doni continued, pointing aggressively. “You’re out here tying her shoes like a husband - ”

Jiyong raised a brow. “And?”

Doni gaped. “AND??”

You stifled a laugh into your sleeve as Jiyong turned to you, completely unfazed. “Ready to go?”

You nodded, biting back a smile. “Yeah.”

Doni groaned, throwing his hands up. “That’s it? No denial? No ‘hyung, it’s not like that’?”

Jiyong just patted Doni’s shoulder as they walked past. “Goodnight, hyung.”

The screen cut to black.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Good Day comments:

@chaoticfangirl: not jiyong introducing his ex to his new gf💀 he messy

@vipforeverrr: GDRAGON CASUALLY TAKING OFF HER SHOES FOR HER I’M SCREAMING

@bigbangggle: are they dating

@kpodteaa: "I take care of people I like" AND THEN PROCEEDS TO SERVE HER FOOD FIRST HELLO??????

@y-n-stan she looked at that camera TERRIFIEEDDD

@softkwon: Doni pointing out how soft GD is for her… I’m so unwell.

@legendaryyg: "i didn't mean it like that, jagi" SIR????

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

this one has been stuck in my drafts

i got a good day request but i love hd x gd so i had to include him 🫶 if you haven't watched them together - don't miss out!!

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure

#bigbang #kpop #gdragon #kwon jiyong #mashtatosworld #kwon jiyong x reader #gdragon x reader

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fanartlover1234 · 9 months ago

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FALLING IN LOVE

Okey guys bear with me, i recently watched Descensants 4 and im obsessed with James fucking Hook, like have you seen tne man and i had an idea where Y/n is Bridgets older sister forced to take up the duty as a future queen even though she doesnt want it and thay includes arranged marrage but she over the time falls for Hook

He really didnt mean to dump bleach all over her in their first year at Merlin academy but somehow as he is a VK it was supposed that he meant to do it.

And ever since that it was war.

And no matter how many times the girl shood him away he only seemed to translate it in his head to ' please annoy me everyday and never let me have peace'

She knew the pirate wasnt the smartest but this was something.

The girl exited her class as she placed the notebook in her bag as she heard a whistle before an all too familiar voice caught her attention from the shadows.

"Oy, princess" he said as he looked at her but she only rolled her eyes and kept walking " we are going somewhere?" He asked trailing behind her.

And thats how most days went, he annoyed her to guts to get a reaction out of her but those few days she was left alone she found herself missing him.

Few days pass and Y/n is in her room, her dark red silk night dress barely reaching above her mid upper thigh reflects in the mirror and she starts thinking it looks like Hooks jacket but quickly shakes the though from her head when she hears a knock on her door.

She goes to open it to find no other then Hook leaning on her door frame before he pushed his way in looking around her room.

It was different from what he expected.

It wasnt all pink and happy and stuffed like bridgets room.

"Sure, come in" the girl said annoyed as she closed her door leaninh against it as she watched Hook turn to her.

Her hair neatly combed amd falling along her back and framing her face, he looked down at her pj and raised used brows.

Y/n shifted to stand straight, it was clear he was at least a head taller then her without her heels.

"What do you want?" She asked crosing her arms over her chest.

"A smile for starters and then maybe" he pulled stalking over her brushing her jaw line with his hook "ill know what i want next"

Y/n pushed his hook away before looking back at the door and pointing " wait how did you, you VKs are not allowed in the part of dorms" she said as she looled back at Hook who smirked steping forward making her step back.

"Well darlin' y'know" her back hit the wal and he placed a hand next to her head and leaning down to meet her eyes " forbbiden is what makes it fun " he said before he held up his hook, her nacklace hanging there.

She had lost it two weeks ago and it was one of crown yules of Wonderland.

Y/n reached for it but hook pulled his hand away, walking to her bed and sitting down.

"Give it to me" she said walking over to him but before she could react he was up and his good hand was around her waist pulling her to her chest as his lips brushed her ear.

"Meet me outside by the big oak tree across headmasters study at this timw tomorrow, then its all yours" he said before kissing her cheeks and leaving her room.

The next day seemed to pass quickly, a bit too quickly for her liking and she found herself sitting on the bed looking in the mirror at her outfit.

Her pink her up in half up do with a black clip, black skirt brushed her upper mid thigh and the oversized t-shirt tugged into the skirt in one corner looked pretty good on her. The black high heels boots finished the look as she decided against her better judgement and sneaked out making her way to the big oak tree.

When she got there Hook was already there leaning against the tree, his signature smirk forming on his lips when he saw her make her way to him.

He pushed off from the tree and went to her.

"Follow me" he said walking past her and into the forest.

She followed him for a while untill she was met with a clear field as she stomped to Hook who sat down in the middle.

The girl squated down annoyed to ask what this was but before ahe could get words over her lips he moved hed head upward.

She looked up, her lips parted when she saw the metior shower above her like she has never seen before, she sat down in shock her eyes never leaving the sky.

"Wow" she mumbled.

"Yeah, wow" Hook spoke as he looked at the girls face, glowing as the stars raced in the sky.

Walking back they had a half pleasant talk as she had Hooks jacket coat on.

They reached her dorm and she was about to take off the jackef but he told her to keep it and left after wishinh her a good night.

She entered as he placed a hand in one of the pockets of the coat and was met with a small cold metal chain brushing her fingers.

She pulled out and her lips turned into a smile as she looked at her necklace while she walked over to her bed.

Hey babes, i was thinking of making this a small story but, have no fear there will be part two for this, but please, repost, comment and like it really helps and feel free to leave requests.

#james hook x reader #descendants #descendants rise of red #descendants joshua colley

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ukulelevillainwrites · 2 months ago

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we're not gonna be friends

one shot

Warnings: none

Content: not enemies, more like annoyed at each other, to lovers, f!reader x George

Word count: 6.8k

Summary: George and y/n can't stand each other, but Lucy can see through their annoyance. Maybe she should help them out a little bit.

Comment: it took me an embarrassingly long time to write this but i'm so happy it's finally here! It was inspired by the song We're not gonna be friends by PJ Frantz which is attached to this

@neewtmas ; @maraschinomerry ; @oblivious-idiot ; @bella-rose29 ; @bobbys-not-that-small ; @lewkwoodnco ; @clarabowmp3 ; @demigoddess-of-ghosts

The kitchen was silent like it often was before breakfast. Or was it lunchtime already? Despite the number of clocks in the house, y/n couldn’t keep track of the day. Unlike Tendy’s where every agent had to keep a tight schedule, Lockwood&Co taught her to be more spontaneous with her day. She’d been there three months already, but she still wasn’t used to the hours kept by her colleagues. They could eat breakfast at 3am or 11, sometimes had breakfast for dinner or the other way around. The only thing she knew by heart was the quietness before a shared meal. The only noises came from George’s cooking. They would soon be replaced by uninterrupted chatter, the scraping of chairs against the floor and the kettle that was kept on most of the time.

She tried to appreciate the peace before the storm but it was tainted with the heavy stillness of the room. With his back turned to her, George couldn’t see her disappointment at the lack of conversation between them. Despite her best efforts, she hadn’t managed to find any sort of anchor with him. She had tried her best to be friendly, helpful, grateful for everything he did around the house but nothing had worked. Even the best conversation starters she could find about the Problem would get shut down in two sentences or less. Once, she mentioned the conversation she had overheard between two of her ex-colleagues, theories on the best ways to stop the Problem. His eyes had lit up, eager to respond and keep the debate going. He had only taken part of the conversation to contradict whatever the agents had said, but she was glad of the progress she made. However, she had made the mistake of smiling at him which instantly turned him mute once again before exiting the room without finishing whatever thought he had started.

She had grown frustrated of the situation. Frankly, if it hadn’t been for Lockwood and Lucy, she would have given up entirely. But they kept insisting that they could be the best of friends and if she was honest with herself she felt insecure about wrecking the harmony between the three roommates. She already felt guilty enough for making Lucy share her room, no matter how much she insisted that she liked having her here. So, she attempted a new approach: instead of talking to him, she would try to help him out, be of service.

She waited patiently for him to finish whatever step he was on in his recipe to get the plates from behind him. When he rested the spoon he had in hand on the side of the pan, she stood up and went for the plates. He got there first and turned around carrying the four plates. Instead of handing them to her, he avoided her eyes and set them down himself, practically walking through her. She didn’t let his rudeness stop her from helping and opened the cupboard where sat the glasses. He was faster once more and slid his fingers inside the glasses to grab two with each hand. Refusing to back down, she took the forks and knives out and set one of each next to the plates. She went next for the napkins but was stopped in her tracks by the sound of metal hitting plates. She turned around to see George rearranging her table setting, visibly sighing as he placed attentively the forks on the left face up and the knives on the right blades in. He once again avoided her gaze and went back to his dish still cooking on the stove.

“Should I bring the napkins or do you have preferences for that too?” She tried to say on a light tone but her annoyance bled through.

“However you want is fine.”

“Apparently not…” she mumbled.

“They’re just napkins, y/n.”

“They were just forks.”

“That’s differ-“

She slammed the door behind her before he could finish. She wasn’t sure if she was hungry anymore. The front door opened and she came face to face with Lockwood who was coming back from whatever errand he and Lucy had run in the morning.

“Hey,” he said as she passed by him. “Aren’t we about to eat?” he asked, but she was already climbing up the stairs.

He and Lucy exchanged a look before the girl decided to go after her. Even though y/n hadn’t said anything, Lucy was pretty sure George had to be involved. She couldn’t really blame her. She and George had had a difficult start too. But it hadn’t taken this long for the researcher to warm up to her. And y/n was much more polite than she had been. Something was off and he had some explaining to do. She would ask him about it after she made sure y/n was okay. She climbed the stairs up to the attic and found y/n angrily fluffing the pillows on her bed. She didn’t have to ask to know whose face she was picturing while violently adjusting the stuffing of a forest green throw pillow.

“So…” she started carefully, “how was your morning?”

“He is the most obnoxious and condescending jerk I’ve ever met.”

“What happened now?” she asked cautiously, but she couldn’t help the smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

“I have tried so hard to be pleasant and helpful. I talk about subjects he is interested in, I help out on chores he does, I do everything to be nice and a good roommate and he still won’t talk to me for more than thirty seconds and he won’t under any circumstances let me help out.”

She threw the innocent pillow on her bed to punctuate her annoyance.

Lucy felt torn by the situation. On the one hand she felt bad for her. Getting used to living with George hadn’t been easy for her either, but compared to how he was treating y/n, she had had it easy. He had been irritable lately and he snapped at the slightest inconvenience. On the other hand, she might have an idea of what was really going on.

“Why don’t we go back downstairs and eat something, it’ll make you feel better.”

“And deal with him? No thanks.”

She resolutely sat on her bed, crossing her arms to mark her words.

“I’ll bring up a plate for you.” Lucy said as she made her way back down the stairs.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Lucy said as soon as she entered the kitchen.

“Where should I start?” The skull countered in that invasive way he had of barging in on her conversations.

She ignored him and tapped George on the shoulder, making him look away from his cooking.

“Please, Lucy, we’re about to eat.”

“Yeah, well y/n’s not coming down because of you.”

“She’s not?” Lockwood chimed in.

“Our dear friend George annoyed her away.”

Lockwood smiled somewhat fondly. This was classic George.

“I didn’t do anything.” He said flatly.

“You didn’t let her help, you keep leaving her out!”

George took a deep breath before affirming decidedly

“I don’t like the way she sets the forks and knives.”

She and Lockwood exchanged a look. He couldn’t be serious.

“George, please,” Lockwood started, sensing Lucy’s annoyance.

“She doesn’t check if they match and she sets them haphazardly because she can’t be bothered to place them on each side of the plate, it drives me nuts!”

She looked across the table to see Lockwood smiling at her, silently acknowledging his friend’s quirks.

“George,” he started, “I can’t have two team members unable to work together over forks and knives. I’m gonna need you to make an effort, try and be friends.” He punctuated his words with one of his charming smiles.

George stood up and grabbed his plate.

“I can’t be friends with her.” He declared before going in his room.

Lockwood sighed in defeat.

“Don’t worry about it too much.” Lucy told him.

“How can I not? They’re this close to being at each other’s throat.”

Oh I don’t know about throats but something else surely. She didn’t want to say anything yet, but she had a hunch. George was rude, more so than he had ever been to her. He claimed he couldn’t stand y/n, yet he somehow always managed to be in the same room as her. If he truly couldn’t spend a minute in her company, why did she find him researching a case in the library on several occasions with y/n reading nearby instead of going in his room? And why would he spend twice as much time cleaning if not maybe to see her coming in? He may have his preferences when it came to cleaning, but her instincts told her there was something else at play here.

“Maybe we could make them collaborate more…” She told Lockwood with a grin.

They shared a complicit look.

George was halfway through an article when Lockwood called him down. He wondered what could be more important than being prepared for a case but with Lockwood it could be anything. Without looking up from the newspaper he was reading he went downstairs, only to be greeted with Lucy’s insistent stare. She had that look on her face. It instantly filled him with dread. Whatever they did, it obviously meant more work for him.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“Nothing!” Lucy answered too quickly. “We just…”

He left the article on the nearest table to cross his arms. He looked back at Lockwood.

“We knocked over a few boxes while training.”

“So? Just clean it up.”

“They’re yours. It’s your records and research on the Problem…”

George stormed downstairs. Dealing with Lockwood’s recklessness in the field was already a lot, but carelessness in the house they all lived in, that’s where he drew the line.

“I’m sorry George,” Lockwood chased after him, “I want to help but I don’t know your system.”

“You’d mess it up anyway. It’s fine, I’ll take care of it.” He sighed.

“At least let me get you some help,” Lucy said, already halfway back into the hall.

Before he could protest, she called “y/n! We need your help!”

The girl arrived shortly after, visibly unhappy about the situation.

“We have errands to run, but have fun you two!” Lucy said cheerfully, quickly exiting through the front door before anyone of them could protest.

George stared at the closed door with round eyes. He wasn’t mad about the files anymore. This was worse. So much worse. How was he supposed to get anything done while she was around?

“What do you need help with?” y/n asked flatly.

Without sparing her another glance he rushed back downstairs to evaluate how much damage had been done. He didn’t want to try and explain his system. Frankly, he wasn’t sure he could. He was aware of his quirks and weird habits, and he was aware that it didn’t make sense to most people. Lockwood had made that clear. And even though Lucy made efforts, his filing system was where she drew the line. He didn’t want to hear the same thing from y/n.

Papers were scattered across the office floor. The filing box labelled ‘Problem’ was upside down, balanced between two chairs and on the verge of joining its content below it. The tabs he had placed inside to keep everything organized hadn’t survived the attack. This would take hours.

“So, you’re not even going to talk to me now?” y/n’s voice resonated from the kitchen.

His heart started to beat faster. With wild eyes, he started to pick up the papers mechanically while his mind reeled. What was he supposed to say? Her footsteps resonated louder as she stepped further down into the basement. The air grew thicker with tension as she did so. He wished he would break through the window and run away from this awkward situation.

“George?” she started, crossing her arms as she reached the last step.

Reluctantly, he lifted his eyes towards her, silently cursing himself for screwing up their relationship this badly. He blinked, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Fine.” she let out, slightly louder.

The look on her face made him ache. She looked terrifying when she was angry. He froze halfway through collecting the papers at his feet. She frowned at him, probably wondering what was wrong with him. She bent down and picked the papers up for him, organizing them in neat piles on the one desk that Lockwood and Lucy had spared.

“You know,” she started, “you’re probably the most confusing person I’ve ever met.”

He still stood in the middle of the room, paralyzed by the coldness of her voice. He stared blankly as she angrily collected the papers and forcefully sorted them, creasing some of them in the process.

“I tried to help around the house, but you never let me. I clean, you clean again after me. I initiate conversation and you find any excuse to leave the room.”

She looked down at the last papers she picked up. They were newspaper cuttings about the most relevant outbreaks of the Problem. She smiled as she read the titles and it sent a chill down his spine. Whatever was coming next was not going to be good.

“I spent hours reading all I could find about the origin of the Problem. Lucy said that was how she got you to open up. I thought we could finally have something to talk about. Instead, you walked out after two minutes.”

George looked back at her, a knot forming in his stomach. Having all his mistakes lined up this way made him realize how badly he had handled the situation.

“Am I really that hard to live with?” she asked. There was a crack in her voice.

He couldn’t stay silent. Not this time. But no matter how much he wanted to find the right thing to say, he came up short.

“I’m sorry!” he blurted out.

She looked up, surprised.

“What was that?” she said, eager to make him apologize again.

“You heard me…” he mumbled.

“No, I don’t think I did,” she smiled. “George Karim apologizing? That’s more unlikely than seeing a ghost hula hooping.”

He smiled back. They stared at each other for a few seconds, long enough to make the air feel warmer in the basement. The first crumb of complicity gave him enough courage to try to make up for his rudeness. He added the papers in his hand to the pile on the desk in front of him before continuing.

“I never wanted to make you feel unwelcome.” He looked down, ashamed to admit he had badly misread the situation. “I’m just used to Lucy pushing back and when you didn’t, I thought… that maybe you were faking it? That you were talking about the Problem just to make fun, and you helped out just to annoy me and slow me down-”

“Oh, being nice is annoying now?”

“I don’t know! I’m a jerk, I see that now.”

“At least we can agree on that.”

He looked back up expecting to see her frowning.

“Why are you smiling?”

“You’re finally honest with me. I take that as a victory,” she said decidedly as she reached for the upturned cardboard box.

“So I’m guessing you have a system to organize your files?”

The question caught him off-guard. Was she really moving on from three months of feud that easily? It felt like a trick. She stared at him expectantly.

“Just… chronological.” He said cautiously.

“I don’t think you’d use that many tabs if it was just chronological. You must have subcategories, right? Like at least geographical and then maybe by source…”

Whatever trick this might be, it was working. He couldn’t resist correcting anyone about his filing system.

“I always start with the chronological order and then I file everything according to geography. For each year, I like to organize the records by city then order them by region and finally-”

“Alphabetically?”

“No,” he said with a smile. “I take the region most located South then move back up East, then North and finish West.”

“Why?”

“It’s easier to visualize on a map.”

She laughed. “I wouldn’t expect any less from you.”

When she and Lockwood came back from their errand, which really consisted of going to the coffeeshop closest to the house to let George and y/n have it out, Lucy was shocked to discover that her plan had actually worked. Well, not that shocked. She knew there was something there. They just needed a little push.

They had to climb down the stairs to the basement to finally find them because none of them answered their calls from the hallway. They were deep in conversation about the Problem. The files and boxes had been entirely cleaned up, everything was back on the shelves and… Wait, did George just laugh at something y/n said? How long had they been gone?

Lockwood had a confused look on her face, matching hers. It didn’t leave him the entire way to the client’s house that evening. There was no more tense silence, awkward avoidance or strange atmosphere in the group. The change was radical. Had she known it would have been this effective, she would have locked them up in the basement three months ago. She had been worried they would have ripped each other’s eyes out in such close quarters. In this moment though, they stared intently at each other more than they looked murderous. She smiled to herself, only making Lockwood more confused. She threw him a look. They are so gone for each other. He looked at her sideways, seemingly in disbelief. She raised her eyebrows. I swear! You’ll see. He seemed unconvinced, but she knew. “I can’t be friends with her” George had said. Yes, quite literally, she thought.

The cab came to a halt in front of their workplace for the night. 11 Hall Road. Lucy would have loved to have an exciting new case that she could add to her journal, but the truth was that most cases were plain. An old person dies, the inheritors need to clear the house before living there or selling it. Those who had become apathetical to the Problem said it was just another expense to plan alongside the funeral. She wasn’t in the mood for apathetical. Not when she had two idiotic friends practically holding hands after being at each other’s throat for the past three months. It comforted her to see them remain focused on their tasks without breaking conversation, and she almost didn’t want to tell them to stop to allow her to use her talent. A job was still a job though.

When silence hit them, so did the cold realization of all the sorrow surrounding them. Wailing filled Lucy’s ears and soon the faint outline of the phantasm haunting the place appeared in the corner of her eye. She couldn’t perceive it very well, but its screams made it hard for her to think. Lockwood stepped in front of her, rapier drawn and ready for a fight, while George tried to yell over the disembodied screams what the source could be. y/n was running through the house following his directions but to no avail. His last idea was a miniature car in the bedroom at the end of the hall.

“Found it!” y/n called from upstairs.

But Lucy was the one with the silver nets. She drew her own rapier, aiming for the stairs. The phantasm was faster. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the figure floating upstairs, so fast she doubted her mind for a second. y/n’s scream confirmed she hadn’t been dreaming. Lucy saw the girl running past her in the opposite direction, only stopped by the chest of drawers stationed on the landing. She hit her side with a definite thump, bringing her down and leaving her paralyzed on the floor of the corridor. Lucy hurried up the stairs and came to stand between y/n and the ghost, drawing intricate patterns she had practiced with Lockwood. When she heard the boys climbing the stairs, she used her other hand to take the silver nets out of her pocket. They got caught in her belt and the second she looked away was enough for the visitor to float closer to y/n, still lying a few feet behind her. Using her remaining strength, y/n threw a salt bomb, winning enough time for Lockwood to join Lucy’s side, covering George while he took care of the source.

None of them really spoke on their way back, still shaken from the close call they avoided. Y/n didn’t suffer major injuries, just a few bad bruises, which was a relief. It was enough for Lockwood to tell her to stay home for the next few days. She hadn’t protested, probably because she was exhausted from the night and the drive had rocked her to sleep. When they arrived in front of Portland Row, George didn’t let Lucy wake her up. Instead he carried her inside and despite the night they’d had, she smiled.

The rays of light shining on her face hurt her closed eyes, but not as much as the bruises in her side that decided to wake up as soon as she emerged from her heavy sleep. She was sore, thirsty and only managed to groan when trying to move in what was definitely not her bed. She reached over, eyes still closed, and encountered something cold. Her reflexes kicked in, knocking the glass over and effectively pouring its content on her. She jerked up and immediately screamed at the pain stabbing her side.

“Are you okay?” George asked, worried, as he crashed back into his room.

Desperately trying to get away from the cold wet blanket, she pulled herself up, only managing to hurt herself more.

“No, no, no, slow down. You’re only going to hurt yourself more if you do that.”

He gently nudged her back down, elevating her head with a pillow and removing the blanket to toss it on the floor. She shivered.

“How did you sleep?” he asked as he casually laid something else on her.

“Terrible,” she simply said as she managed to open an eye.

“Do you remember last night?” he continued while helping her sit.

“Yes… I think.” She looked around with half-opened eyes. “Why am I in your room?”

“Lockwood almost passed out after the first flight of stairs.”

She opened her second eye and stared at him dubitatively.

“Fine I wasn’t doing great either.”

She laughed lightly but it only triggered her injury again.

“Here, drink this,” he handed her a cup of tea, “and today you’re on bed rest. No work, no chores, nothing. Not even laughing.”

“I should keep you around then,” she said, before taking a sip.

He threw her a look, but even with eyes half open she could see the shadow of a smile on his face.

He went back downstairs, leaving her to savor her tea, its warmth welcome after having been awakened in such a brutal way. She looked back down and noticed what George had draped over her. His own sweater, the one he wore in October when the days started getting colder, sat gently on her shoulders, smelling faintly of cedarwood. She hadn’t realized how soft it was, having only touched it with her eyes. The night after the case was a blur, but she could have sworn that only one person had carried her upstairs. She smiled to herself as she looked around his room. Papers were left scattered on his desk, some fallen on the floor. Trinkets were gathered on every shelf that wasn’t already full of books. It was messy, disorganized, but comforting in its own way. She wondered how someone who kept such meticulous files on the Problem could live in a room like this. If she tried to make sense of it, she would probably spend the day here, and she simply refused that. Staying still was out of the question. She carefully sat back up before she tried to get onto her feet. The whole ordeal took about ten minutes. This might not be the brightest idea, she thought to herself, but she was finally making progress with George, they had a semblance of connection and she certainly wouldn’t let one wound stand in the way of her friendship with him.

One painful shower and a whole hour later, y/n made her way downstairs and joined George in the kitchen. She hadn’t even made it through the door that she could already hear him telling her off for getting out of bed. He chastised her about the dangers of disregarding health and how irresponsible it was of her to push her body to its limit. She just took a seat at the kitchen table and smiled at him. He had been talking to her for five uninterrupted minutes with eye contact and everything. Technically it was to yell at her, but still. progress was progress. He gave up when noticing her smile wouldn’t budge.

“Why did you come down anyway?”

“I was hungry,” she said while grabbing an orange from the fruit bowl in front of her.

“You could’ve just told me I would have brought something for you.”

“Actually, since I’m on house arrest and you’re finally speaking to me, why don’t you let me help you out today? You know like cleaning, cooking… everything you do all the time for everyone and never let me help with?”

“No. You’re injured. You shouldn’t move that much.”

“How about research then? That’s just reading.”

“No,” he said decisively, punctuating his rejection with a pointed look.

“Stubborn idiot.”

“Well, I am not the idiot who tripped and almost shattered my hip on a dresser.”

She scoffed and threw the orange in her hand, aiming for his head. He caught it just in time before it made contact with his cheek. He stared back at her with round eyes.

“What the hell was that?” he asked with an edge in his voice. Did she just imagine his voice getting deeper? The slightest grin formed at the corner of his mouth, giving her chills. “You’re insufferable.”

“You’re just jealous because even injured I have better aim than you.” She blurted out, hoping the redness of her face wasn’t obvious.

When he didn’t respond, an idea popped into her head.

“And you probably don’t want me to help because you’re scared I’ll be better at research than you are too.”

He smiled, set the orange down on the table and turned back to the dishes he had started before she got there.

“You really think I’d fall for that? Who do you think I am? Lockwood?”

She took back the fruit and slumped into her chair.

“Can you at least let me help? I can’t stay still for so long, I’ll go mad”

She fidgeted with the orange in her hands, planting her short nails into its skin the best she could. She only managed to pull off small pieces each time.

“You’ll slow me down, and I can’t allow myself to miss a single element. I don’t want last night to happen again.”

She looked up to find him already staring.

“I managed to keep up with your files on the Problem, why would that be any different?”

He didn’t have anything to say back. She smiled triumphantly.

“You have no more arguments, I win the argument! Where should I start?”

He sighed, dried the glass he was holding and sat next to her.

“By learning how to peel an orange properly.” He retorted, snatching the fruit from her hand.

Methodically, he sunk his finger under the peel, tearing it confidently. The fruit’s sweet perfume filled the air as George dropped the peel on the table in one piece. While she studied his hands attentively, he proceeded to tear the orange apart, setting its pieces on the table in front of her.

“I can do that myself you know.”

“Can you?”

“Jerk.” She laughed. Being friends with him wasn’t exactly what she had thought it would be, but she had to admit that she liked it.

He got up and snatched a piece from her hand.

“Hey, what was that for?”

“Compensation for my efforts.” He smirked.

He disappeared into the living room and came back with piles of materials in his arms. He did a second trip to bring books and case files, then a third to get notebooks from his room. When he got back into the kitchen, he sat next to her and wrote the name of the client on the thinking cloth. He pushed back his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“Let’s get to work.”

George knew that y/n was too stubborn to rest despite her injury, and she was too clever to be tricked into it. To be fair, he hadn’t tried that hard. He really was glad of the company. He gave her some context for their upcoming case and described his usual research methods. He realized he might have been explaining things too fast when he noticed her staring at him with round eyes.

“I lost you, didn’t I?”

“Sort of…” she answered, embarrassed. “Am I wasting your time?”

“Like spending time with you could ever be wasted time” he wanted to say. Instead, he simply shook his head and started his explanation over, shaking off the thought.

He was right, though. Not only was he greatly enjoying himself, she was also a quick learner. By the second hour spent gathering material, they had already uncovered crucial elements about the history of the place and they had started narrowing in on the type of object that could be a potential source. They made a good team.

The day had gone by without any of them leaving the kitchen. They were enthralled in their work with a comfortable silence between them. They sat side by side, sharing documents and exchanging notes on the Thinking Cloth with an appeasing familiarity. Deep down, George felt guilty that they missed out on moments like these in the past because he was too focused on keeping his new colleague at arm’s length. Their knees bumped every once in a while, each moment making his heart skip a beat. Out of surprise, that is, not that he paid it any mind.

In just a day he had learned to read her smile. The soft polite one was how she asked if he wanted more tea. The shy one meant she needed his help but didn’t want to ask. His favorite one was her triumphant smile when she finally figured out what the source must be. He held his hand out high for her to high five him back. She did, her touch electric against his. She didn’t let go and wrapped her fingers around his, lingering there for another second. He stared at their tangled fingers, oddly captivated. His eyes traveled down her arm and up her face to find her already staring. His breath caught. Suddenly he couldn’t care less about the case they had been working on. Nothing mattered except for the way the warm light of the kitchen lit up her eyes. Her lips parted, catching his eye before he could stop it.

“It’s late, I should probably get some sleep,” she quickly said when their eyes met.

“Yeah,” he let go of her hand, “good idea.”

She used his shoulder to stand up and flinched. He didn’t know if it was from the contact or the effort.

“Good night,” he said gently, trying to shake off some of the awkwardness he was feeling.

“Good night. Don’t stay up too late.”

“I can’t promise anything,” he mumbled as he watched her close the door behind her.

He found it ironic that she was giving him advice when she had been blatantly ignoring everything he said about her health all day long. He returned to the newspaper he was reading, every word on the page escaping his attention. What smile had she used when she left the room? He took a pen to keep his eyes from skipping five words at a time. She had touched his shoulder on purpose earlier, hadn’t she? This was useless. He gathered up the rest of the papers he hadn’t read yet and headed back to his room, conceding defeat to the butterflies settling in his stomach.

y/n woke up around 2 am, her aching body forcing her awake demanding a glass of water. Everything was dark around her, but she could hear Lucy’s steady breathing on the opposite side of the room. She did her best to get to her feet silently, ignoring the pain still twisting her side. The steps creaked lightly underneath her bare feet, the sound resonating loudly in the silent house. She reached the first landing discreetly with the hope that she wouldn’t wake anyone up. Instead, she was surprised to see a ray of light coming from under George’s door. It was ajar, so she pushed it lightly to see him hunched over his desk, still reading the newspapers she had left on the table a few hours earlier.

“You’re really stubborn you know?”

He didn’t seem surprised to hear her behind him.

“You’re one to talk,” he retorted.

She knew there was no point in arguing, especially at this hour.

“I’m getting some water, do you want anything?”

“Tea would be fine, thanks.” He turned around. His hair was visibly disheveled. Even though he didn’t put that much effort into it at regular hours, it was obvious that he was tired.

When she came back a few moments later, he was still absorbed by whatever article he was reading. He hardly paid attention when she set the steaming cup next to him. She didn’t really expect him to, so it really came as a surprise when he reached for her hand without taking his eyes off his notes. The contact of his hand on the bare skin of her arm almost made her spill her water.

“Take a look,” he simply said. He pointed at an annotation he had written in the margin of a newspaper article he was reading.

She sat on the stool next to him to inspect his findings. His scribbling was already hard to read in the daylight, but in the dead hours of the night it was almost impossible. He saw her squint and read aloud. The words evaded her. She blamed the lack of sleep and not the fact that his hand was still resting on her arm, gently swaying back and forth. She stared at it, its slow movements calming her down. It made her feel peaceful, appeased. She wondered however why her heart was beating faster if she was feeling so calm.

“y/n?”

“Hmm?” She looked up and was caught off guard by the gentleness in his eyes.

“You should go back to bed.”

“No, no, tell me. I’m listening.”

She could see the cogs turning in his head, weighing his options, whether forcing her to rest would be worth the effort or pointless from the start. He sighed.

“I found another death related to the client’s house. I’m trying to see if the haunting is caused by what we found earlier or if it’s something else entirely.”

“That’s way too much work to do by yourself in one night.”

“Someone has to do it. You should rest, I’ll tell you what I found in the morning.”

She got up, but she knew fully well she wasn’t letting him work all night alone. She took all the papers she could gather in her arms, ignoring his hushed protests, and made herself comfortable in his bed. He looked at her incredulously. She tapped the spot next to her, a large smile lighting up her face.

He sounded defeated when he said “why are you like this?”

“You look out for me, I look out for you.”

It shut him up on the spot. She got under the covers and organized the documents in piles around her while he stared silently, his mouth slightly agape.

“What? If we’re here all night we might as well get comfortable.”

His eyes were so round she thought it must hurt him. “We?”

She tapped the spot next to her again.

“Come on. You can’t tell me to rest if you’re not doing it either.”

Reluctantly, he joined her, looking like he was intruding in the sheets of a total stranger. At first, he pushed the cover aside. It was as if he was allergic to comfort. He kept his distance and even hesitated to reach over to grab a newspaper. They read in silence, the only sound coming occasionally from the turning of pages. He seemed to quickly forget about his awkwardness though, as he leaned in whenever he found something. He got closer each time and she took each opportunity to raise the blanket higher over him. He needed to sleep and he would, even if she had to sneak up on him. By the time he finished his mug, they were shoulder to shoulder, speaking in low voices in each other’s ear. Even in hushed tones, she could sense how enthusiastic he was about what he discovered one newspaper after the other. She could have listened to him talk for hours… if she wasn’t so exhausted. No matter how hard she tried to keep her eyes open, her head was drawing impossibly close to George’s shoulder. She was too comfortable to resist. When he noticed her dosing off, he spoke lower and lower before pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

She sunk into a deeper slumber, George’s even breathing rocking her to sleep, until the turning of pages disturbed her ears. He wasn’t going to sleep unless she made him. With her eyes still closed, she traced her fingers up his torso to find his neck, his chin, and finally his glasses. She took them off before turning her back on him.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Forcing you to get some sleep,” she mumbled.

“Give me back my glasses.”

“Come get them yourself.”

She was certain he would concede defeat after this. What she hadn’t expected was George laying down closer against her with his arms draped around her waist. She froze. His hands traced their way down her arms and his hands locked around hers, gently trying to nudge his glasses out of her hands. She held them tighter, unable to keep herself from smiling. He had his head in the crook of her neck and she felt a smile forming on his lips too.

“You’re impossible. You’re stubborn, insufferable-”

“You used that one earlier already.”

He laughed. “You’re just proving my point.”

A light laugh escaped her too, only it made her bruises act up again. She flinched.

George let go of her hand, his fingers traveling lightly over her side.

“Does it still hurt?”

“A little bit.”

He sighed in her neck, making her shiver.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t figure out sooner what the source was. I could have saved you the injury.”

Something clicked in her mind, clearing all desire to sleep for a moment.

“Is that why you’re staying up so late?”

He didn’t say anything back. She rolled back to face him, his hands now resting on her lower back.

“George, you’re not the reason why I couldn’t avoid running into a dresser.”

He laughed, but he avoided her eyes.

“It wasn’t your fault. Now please get some sleep.”

He looked back at her with intensity. His eyes looked dark in the dim light, almost black.

“On one condition.”

Before she could ask what he needed from her, he took it. His lips crashed against hers with a hunger she didn’t know he had. She was still in shock when he drew back, looking back at her hesitantly. He didn’t seem to know that she loved this unsuspected bold side of him. She tangled her fingers in his hair to pull him back in. He seemed surprised at first, but his hands quickly ran up her back to draw her nearer. She could have expected to feel anything from kissing George. Awkwardness, shyness, a few days ago she would have completely rejected the idea. She certainly wouldn’t have expected it to feel so right. His hands seemed to fit the small of her back like puzzle pieces locking perfectly in place. She was surprised at how quickly she had come to wanting more. She needed him, all of him, impossibly closer. She circled his hips with her leg while her hands roamed down his back. He smiled into each kiss, leaving her lips every now and then to trail her cheeks and down her neck. She looked back at him with sparkling eyes.

“So, one condition?”

“Don’t leave. Please.”

Her smile grew bigger.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

#lockwood and co fic #george karim x reader #george karim #george cubbins #lockwood and co #Spotify

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another-argo · 3 months ago

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×°• open starter •°×

Argo has been gone from camp for about a week. Nobody has seen or heard from him in that time.

Rumors have been going around about him.. maybe following the path of his brother.

For whatever reason, you're in the woods. You see a short, 4 year old kid, completely alone.

They're in complete pastel clothing, two dainty pigtails and.. bows. Bows everywhere.

They smile at you, showing their missing tooth.

"Hi! I'm Luna Castellean! Who're you?"

(No taglist again because WE DIE LIKE REAL MEN)

^ also I haven't interacted with any annabeth/luke/grover/thalia rp blogs but they'd all recognize Luna because she went to camp with them :}

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orcasoul · 1 year ago

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Forever a Winner

Summary: You attend the Golden Globes with your boyfriend Pedro to support him. He doesn't win, much to your disappointment as you know he deserves the award. He doesn't let it bother him but his injured arm definitely is affecting him. You give him some much needed TLC at the end of the night.

Warnings: None, just love. Reader has no physical description, so feel free to let your imagination run wild. Use of Y/N.

A/N: This is pure fluff and sweetness and love. I don't care though. The world could do with some more of the lovey dovey stuff in my opinion 💖☺️

Word Count: 1,552

You couldn't be more proud. Sitting next to the man you love, unconditionally, watching his warm brown eyes light up his rugged features you find yourself completely absorbed in his joy, his humility, his very being. The Golden Globes awards is in full swing and to be just nominated is a fantastic achievement in and of itself. You know Pedro deserves the nomination, he deserves the award and your fingers, hell even your toes are crossed for him!

Alas it was not meant to be. However you are absolutely awed by his grace and acceptance at not being awarded and at his genuine happiness and support for kieran Culkin. Pedro didn't win and unfortunately The Last of Us didn't win any awards either but that obviously didn't dampen the night for him. But as the evening went on you could tell by Pedro's body language that he was growing increasingly uncomfortable. "Is it your shoulder?" you whisper as you lean into his ear. "Yeah," Pedro replies with a twinge of discomfort evident on his face. "We left in such a rush I forgot to grab my pain meds."

You roll your eyes and huff, endearingly. "Trust you," you joshed while rubbing your hand up and down his uninjured arm. A small smile unfurled from Pedro in return. "Will you be okay?" you ask, all playfulness banished from your voice. You hate knowing he's in pain and there's nothing you can do to help him right now. "I'll be fine, baby," he replies casually but you're not convinced. You tenderly hold his good hand and rub soothing 'I'm here, I've got you' circles along his knuckles with your thumb. His hand instinctively replies to your comforting gesture by lightly squeezing your fingers in return.

By the end of the night it was clear that Pedro was masking the pain and you couldn't wait to get him home and take care of him. In all fairness to him he played the part well; smiling for photo's, reacquainting with fellow actors and giving the camera's his usual goofy cheer. Only you could see how his injury was truly affecting him. Another testament to his amazing acting skills, you thought with a fond smile.

As soon as you both arrived home you headed straight to the cabinet to get Pedro's painkillers while telling him you'd meet him upstairs. Entering the bedroom you see Pedro has already shed his trousers but was struggling to remove the sling. "God damn it!" he muttered sharply under his breath. "Ped, let me do that," you offered and quickly placed the glass of water and tablets on the nightstand by his side of the bed. He was obviously frustrated at not being able to do the simplest of tasks but he didn't reject your help or your concern.

"I'm like an invalid," he half laughed, half grumbled. "Maybe..." you teased with a smirk as you carefully opened the sling, gently lowering his arm and proceeding to unbutton his shirt. "But your my invalid and I'm gonna look after you." After helping Pedro into his PJ's and securing his arm inside the sling he slunk his other arm around your waist, pulling you closer to place a chaste peck on your lips. "Thank you, Y/N," he breathed, looking at you with adoration. "What would I do without you, hmm?" "Well, you'd forget to take these for starters!" You grinned as you passed him the pills and glass. Pedro laughs and shakes his head. "You're probably right," he concedes, then downs the pills.

Pedro watches as you discard your evening wear and slip on your pyjama shorts and top, his eyes scanning every inch of you. Not in a sexual way this time (although those times are always enjoyable). No, this time it's simply a look of love, appreciating what he has with you and all you do for him. How you supported him tonight, how you're always understanding when he has to spend weeks, even months away filming, how you've always treated him like a human being and not an idolised, imagined enigma that so many see him as. To you he's just your Pedro as that's more than okay by him.

Even now after an exhausting night you are still eager to show your devotion to him in the form of TLC. He know's one thing for sure; He'll never take you for granted! Pedro pulls the quilt back to get into bed, then pulls away the quilt on your side, extending his arm to tuck you into his chest, knowing full well it's your favourite way to sleep. But tonight you have other ideas. "Nuh uh..." you shake your head as you slip in beside him and lower his arm. He looks at you confusedly, his big brown puppy dog eyes cautiously searching your face.

"I'm taking care of you, remember?" you say softly as you make him shuffle down in the bed so you can wrap him up in your arms. His head rests on your chest and you listen to him sigh as you enjoy the feeling of the weight and warmth of him. You languidly run your fingers through his wavy hair, admiring the detailed blend of brown and grey woven throughout. You know this is Pedro's Achilles's Heel. Just a few moments of slowly stroking his hair always calms and soothes him into an almost catatonic state.

"Babe...?" you murmur sweetly. "Hmm...?" Pedro answers sleepily. "I'm so proud of you... you know that?" Your heart is so full of love for this man you think you might just burst! He stirs a little and asks, "Why? I didn't win." There was no bitterness or regret in his voice. He is simply stating a fact. Humble as always, you say inwardly. "You don't need to win an award to show what I, your family and friends, and millions of people worldwide already know - that you're a talented and passionate actor and a compassionate human being, and that's why I'm so proud of you." You tighten your arms around his shoulders as the last few words are spoken with intensity.

You feel a smile stretch it's way across Pedro's jaw against your chest, causing you to smile too. "You're finally getting the recognition you deserve after years and years of hard work, and things are only going to keep getting better for you. One day you will win, I know it, weather it's a Golden Globe, an Emmy or an Oscar, and I'll be there cheering you on." Pedro is silent for a moment and you think maybe he's fallen asleep, until he clears his throat a few seconds later. "What did I do to deserve you, Y/N?" His voice is choked with emotion as if he is holding tears back. He wishes he could hug you properly right now, itching to rip off the sling and hold you tight in his arms but he has to settle for smoothing your side, his fingertips being the only part of his arm he can move.

A deep sigh escapes you and you tilt his chin up so he's looking into your face. With a smile of pure love and affection you gush, "Just being you...and everything that makes you you." Pedro sits up and pulls you to sit up with him. He gazes deeply into your eyes causing you to forget everything for a moment. All that exists are those warm caramel eyes boring into the deepest parts of your soul. Pedro slowly brings his hand to the side of your head and kisses you fervently, his fingers cupping the back of your head and this thumb tenderly caressing the apple of your cheek.

Pedro ends the kiss but leans back in to place a peck on the tip of your nose, as if he misses you already. "Thank you, baby!" he cooed with glistening eyes. "You have no idea what you mean to me, what your support means to me. Tonight was the best night of my life." "It was...?" you smile, slightly confused. "Yes!" Pedro answers with conviction, "Because you were there beside me. I could have won tonight and it would mean nothing if you weren't there with me. I love you so much!" Pedro declares as he pulls you into another passionate kiss. You release a little moan as the kiss leaves your lips and travels to your neck, then to your shoulder as he pulls you into him for a hug.

"I love you too, Ped," your purr quietly into his ear and wrap your arms around his shoulders. This man is your whole world and you swear you've never been happier than you are in this moment. "How's your shoulder feeling now?" you ask while stroking the back of his neck. "It's feeling a lot better now," Pedro chuckles, touched by your endless concern. "Good," you breathed a sigh of relief as you lay down and gently pull Pedro down with you to lay his head back on your chest. Placing a feather light kiss atop his soft curls you whisper "Let's get some sleep. Goodnight, baby." "Sweet dreams my love," Pedro sighs as he snuggles as close to you as possible, falling asleep to the calming rhythm of your heartbeat.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro x reader #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x female reader #tooth rotting fluff

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allmoshnobrain · 1 year ago

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𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

dave mustaine x nore burton (oc) | word count: 1514

✦ on this fic: NSFW!!!, dave mustaine x female!oc, oc is cliff burton's cousin, +18, language, romance, mxf sex, period sex (in the shower), unprotected sex, blood mention, period pains

✦ a/n: this is just Dave showering Nore with affection because I missed writing about these two in a happier setting. From my Heartbreaker fanfic. This is set somewhere between parts 16 and 17. Hope you enjoy the read ❤

I could tell right off the bat that something wasn't right when I cracked open my eyes.

For starters, it was way too dark for morning. A dull, gray light sneaked through the curtains, barely lighting up the room. Just enough for me to make out the shape of the living room door. I rolled over with a groan, and that's when it hit me: a stabbing pain in my gut, and a warm, sticky feeling between my legs.

"Oh, crap," I moaned, burying my face in the pillow as a sharp pain shot from my gut down to my legs, making me curl up tighter. As much as I wanted to cocoon myself in blankets, I knew I had to get up if I wanted any relief. With a heavy sigh, I dragged myself out of bed, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and trudging to the bathroom.

Flicking on the light, I shut the door behind me, letting out a frustrated groan when I spotted the bloodstain seeping through my underwear. I plopped down on the toilet, wincing as another wave of pain hit me. I knew a hot shower and some meds would help, but right now, I could barely move, my eyes drooping with exhaustion as the pain pulsed through me.

I jumped when I heard a knock on the door.

"Nore? You alright?" Dave's voice floated through, followed by a big yawn.

"I'm good," I mumbled, but my voice sounded weaker than I'd hoped. "Sorry for waking you."

"You sure you're okay?" His concern was palpable, snapping him awake instantly.

"Yeah, it's just... Ow," I winced as another contraction hit hard. That seemed to do it for Dave; he swung the door open and barged in, eyes wide as he scanned the bathroom. I flushed with embarrassment. "Dave!"

"Oh," he whispered, catching on as he saw me doubled over in pain on the toilet, my clothes in a messy heap on the floor, stained with blood. "I'm sorry, babe. You sounded like you were really hurting."

"I am hurting. But you didn't have to bust in here," I muttered, my face still red hot in embarrassment. He let out a soft chuckle.

"Have you taken anything for it? Want me to grab you some clean PJs? And socks, to warm your feet. You said that helps with cramps, right?" he asked, instantly slipping into caretaker mode, which made me smile.

"I'd rather you let me clean up and hit the shower first. But yeah, fresh PJs and painkillers would be great."

"Got it. I'll be quick. Don't move," he instructed, ducking out of the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. I let out a soft chuckle. Like I could go anywhere in this state. With a sigh, I got myself up, flushed the toilet, and stepped into the shower.

I leaned back, soaking up the steamy water as it washed over me, easing some of the pain pulsing from my belly. A shower, some meds, fresh clothes, and back to bed, preferably snuggled up with my boyfriend. Seemed like the perfect game plan for that early morning.

I cracked an eye open when I heard Dave tiptoeing back in.

"Brought you clean PJs, pain pills, and your towel," he announced, poking his head into the shower. I smiled softly, thankfully. "Want me to hop in?" he offered.

"What, you wanna join me?" I raised an eyebrow, and he shot back a cheeky grin. Without a word, he stripped down, and I couldn't help but giggle as he pulled me close, peppering my face with kisses – on my lips, my cheeks, my forehead.

"You know what I heard? Orgasms supposedly help with cramps," he whispered in my ear, and I could feel my cheeks heating up.

"Dave, I'm..." I started, but my words trailed off into a sigh as his fingers found their way to my clit. "D-Dave, I'm bleeding, we're gonna make a mess..."

"It's all good if we’re in the shower, right?" he countered, his voice low and husky, his breath warm against my neck. I let out a soft moan as he began to circle my clit, his other hand holding onto my lower back, pulling me closer as I tangled my fingers in his hair. His lips pressed against the sensitive skin of my neck, a slow and deliberate kiss that sent shivers down my spine. "Let me take care of you, babe…”

"Dave..." I breathed out, not in protest this time, but in pure pleasure as I surrendered to the warmth of his touch. The heat from the water and his body was soothing, mingling with the tension building in my abdomen as he traced slow circles around my clit. A moan escaped me as I felt a slow contraction, but this time it wasn't from pain; my breath hitched as his lips descended to my breasts, taking one of my nipples between his lips, teasing me with his slow movements. I let out a surprised gasp as he lifted one of my legs, pulling me closer as he entered me slowly. "Dave, I'm… I’m too sensitive today..."

"I'll take it slow," he whispered, and I let out a low moan as he drew me in closer, fully inside me, filling me up in a way that made me clench around him. He groaned softly, his lips meeting mine as he started to move with a gentle rhythm, his tongue exploring my mouth lazily. I wrapped my arms around his neck, letting out soft moans. "I just wanna make you feel good," he murmured against my lips, and I gasped as he pushed back in slowly. "Wanna make you cum for me."

"Oh, Dave..." I moaned, nuzzling into his neck. He grunted, holding me against the wall and lifting my other leg, wrapping it around his hip, pulling me closer, pushing deeper into me. I gripped his back, the pain ebbing away as pleasure took over, coiling tighter and tighter in my belly, my body begging for more. "Dave, please..."

"Hmm?" he murmured, a smirk playing on his lips as he started to move again, drawing out another soft moan from me. "What do you need?"

"Please... Oh, harder..." I begged, and he chuckled softly, a hint of breathlessness in his voice.

"Are you sure it won't make the pain worse?" he husked, his voice thick with desire, and I nodded. "If it's too much, you gotta tell me, okay?"

"Okay... Oh, fuck!" I gasped as he pushed harder, picking up the pace, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me. He chuckled softly, letting out a groan as he held me close. "Dave, I'm... I'm almost there..."

"I feel it. You're so tight..." he groaned, clutching me tighter, his words igniting small sparks inside my belly. "Fuck, Nore, you're perfect, you’re so wet, oh, shit..." I could tell he was close too, his movements growing more urgent as incoherent praises left his lips.

I moaned as he reached down to touch my clit, sending shivers down my spine. He grunted, intensifying his thrusts, and I held onto him, my eyes shut tight as pleasure surged through me. Dave squeezed me close as my climax hit, and he groaned as he reached his own peak.

Breathing heavily, I leaned against him as he set me down, blushing at the sight of the mess between us, a mix of blood and fluids.

"Oh, no," I muttered, cheeks burning. "Dave, I’m sorry..."

"Sorry? You just made me cum and now you're saying sorry?" he replied, sounding amused, and I chuckled, shaking my head.

"I meant for the mess," I clarified, and Dave laughed.

"Babe, we make messes every time we fuck, period or not. It's just blood. C'mere, I'll help you clean up."

After our shower, I got dressed, grateful for the fresh clothes, and popped one of the painkillers Dave brought, even though the cramps had eased a lot. Turns out, orgasms really did work wonders for period pains.

Snuggling under the blanket, I sighed happily as we lay down. Dave pulled me close, and I nestled my head on his chest.

"Feeling any better?" he whispered, running his fingers through my hair.

"Yeah, I am. Thanks, Dave," I mumbled, yawning. The room was getting brighter with the sunlight, but it was still too early to think about anything other than getting some more sleep in our comfy bed. Dave planted a soft kiss on my forehead.

"When we wake up, I'll whip up some hot chocolate for you. How's that sound?" he offered, and I let out a soft chuckle.

"You're spoiling me," I murmured, and he laughed.

"Of course I am. You're my everything," he replied, and I smiled, feeling sleep pulling me under. He held me close, his breath warm against my neck. "Love you, Nore."

"Hmm... Love you too," I whispered, feeling myself drift off.

I sighed happily, letting Dave's arms wrap around me as I surrendered to sleep, feeling safe and warm, knowing that happiness was right there: with him.

✧ if you'd like to be tagged, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

tag list: @killazilla777 @whatsupvic @70srogah @genswine9 (tagged everyone from the regular story tag list for this extra content. hope you guys don't mind!)

#it's the way dave instantly barges into the bathroom as soon as he realizes nore's in pain 😭#i'm in a dave mood lately i needed to get this out of my system #waaaahhhh #ada writes fanfiction #heartbreaker fanfic #dave mustaine x oc #dave mustaine fanfiction #nore burton (oc)#megadeth x reader #dave mustaine x reader #megadeth smut #dave mustaine smut #megadeth fanfiction #megadeth x you #dave mustaine x you

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twstfanblog · 2 years ago

Text

*~Nasty Neige~*

AN: GOD, I lost control over this fic the second I started it, I didn't mean to make this thing so long. Which is why it took me so long to get everything down and editing. I know I missed something but I can make edits as I put links up on the other entries.

Word Count: 5.3K

Warnings: Neige being a general creepy guy. Obsessive thoughts, stalker vibes. Swears. She/They Yuu OC.

Pairings: Vil/Rook, Vil & Yuu (Siblings), One-sided Vil/Neige, Epel/Deuce?/Jack? (Guess)

Enjoy~!

Starter, Part 1 (Here), Part 2 (Heartslabyul), Part 3 (Diasomnia)

Classes didn’t start for another week and the open house event didn’t start for another day, so Yuu didn’t have any reason to be awake before noon. But she was because her trauma-filled body kept hearing noise downstairs. The first few times she was able to drift back to sleep, not hearing anything after the initial sound and assuming Grim was walking around looking for snacks. But then she realized Grim was still sleeping tucked up against her stomach, more floorboards creaking downstairs with no explanation. She does her best to not jostle Grim, reaching to the nightstand and grabbing her phone, cursing under her breath as she sees it was barely past 8:30 am.

She didn’t change out of her pjs, slipping on her houseshoes while she left the bed. Making sure Grim was tucked into the still-warm covers, Yuu grabbed her golf cub, making her way downstairs and avoiding the loud boards. Even after multiple renovations, there were still floorboards that creaked and on bad storm nights the whole house sounded like it groaned. (A part of her simply made peace with that it wouldn’t be Ramshackle if it wasn’t a little old and creaky). Besides her, Grim was the only one who knew what boards hated being stepped on. Ortho knew them too but he didn’t walk much. Epel seemed to take sick pleasure in stepping on each one whenever he came over, and the rest of her friends were either too naturally loud or heavy to not make noise in the dorm.

She would have felt more at ease if whoever was in her house was being loud. Her friends were loud, even if they knew she was asleep. But whoever was there was trying to be quiet and failing. Once downstairs she tries to hear where the intruder was, poising to swing. The sound of the toaster popping gives her the element of surprise, rushing into the kitchen.

Both she and the blond intruder scream when they see each other, Yuu just barely stopping her swing. Vil braced himself against the counter, breathing in a forced calm pattern before glaring at her. His hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, face bare besides a tinted lipgloss. Dressed in a modified cropped yellow hoodie, high-waisted black leggings and simple sneakers, “I swear you and Epel are determined to give me gray hairs! Why are you just so ready to deal violence!? It’s 8 in the morning!”

Yuu leans against her golf cub, trying to ease her own adrenaline spike, “Yeah! It’s 8 am, why are you in my house!? Also, are you dying? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without foundation.” Her anger grows seeing the disheveled model look at her with a pinched face, not answering her as he turns back to plate the food he was cooking on her stove. She opens her mouth to yell again, only to look at the kitchen window and realize, “...Did you close the blinds?”

Yuu had an odd relationship with blinds after meeting Rook. Yes, she kept her more personal areas heavily covered and only opened them for her monthly dorm deep clean, but the more communal areas of the dorm were free to be viewed from outside. It was nice sometimes to be relaxing on her lonesome only to hear a tap against a window. A tap could be Jack and Vil on their morning runs asking her to pass them glasses of water or fruit she had on hand. Maybe Lilia coming to scare her or show her a new melody he’d learned. Ace or Deuce coming to beg her for help after they’ve pissed Riddle off. And Vil knew Rook would rather enter through a window than a damn doorway. Either way, open blinds at Ramshackle had come to mean ‘Come in’. Something that Rook delighted in whenever he wasn’t too busy with his ‘errands’.

“...” She looks around, finally taking note how all of her downstairs windows seemed to have not only their binds but the thick curtains closed, “Are you and Rook fighting?”

“Oh, he’s going to wish we were when I get back in the dorm…”

She laughs, watching the model bite into a slice of toast with a runny egg on top of it, “Oh sevens, the year hasn’t even started yet. Why are you fighting?”

Vil huffed, rolling his eyes, trying to avoid her gaze. Talking with one’s mouth full was just rude, plus he knew if he started ranting his food would be cold before he was done. If he had to hide out at Ramshackle for the day he would need the protein. Glancing down at Yuu, he openly takes another big bite of toast, just to show he wasn’t going to answer her anytime soon.

“Ok, fuck you too then, I’ll just open the blinds while you’re being a bitch.”

He chokes on a bite, nearly dropping the plate in his rush to shove it onto the counter. Nails sinking into her shoulder to stop her, not caring at the mush of food falling out of his mouth as he shouts, “NO!”

Yuu hisses, a hand coming up to yank Vil’s hand away from her, “OW!? Ok, what is the issue? Is Rook finally coming to shave an undercut on you or something?”

Vil sighs, giving her a small apologetic look before he swallows, “Neige is in Pomefiore. I…really didn’t want to deal with him today so I managed to make my way here to hide out. I don’t think anyone saw me, but I didn’t want to risk someone seeing me from the windows…” He takes another bite of toast, fingers wiping yolk from his lips, “Sorry about your shoulder…”

“...” Yuu sighs, placing her club against the wall and waves his apology off, “It’s fine. I hate Neige too but like- Wait, why is his ass here?” At Vil’s equally bewildered shrug her brows crease, “The open house doesn’t start until tomorrow? Are you sure he’s like here, here?”

“Seeing how Rook was yelling outside my room about his ‘Roi de Neige’ being in Pomefiore and he had to make himself look presentable, I would think so.” Vil scoffs, rolling his eyes at the very idea of anyone liking Neige.

Good ole Rook, scaring the precious wildlife to get them to escape a foreign danger. Might as well send him a text to ask how long he thinks it’ll be until Vil was safe to enter his dorm again.

“Well, get comfy I guess. Idia made sure I was set with cable and various media players, so there should be something on the TV. I’m going to make breakfast for me and Grim.”

Vil moved out of her way, finishing off his breakfast before grabbing a mixing bowl to hand to her, “Sorry, I should have made you two something as well instead of just myself.”

“Please don’t. Your unseasoned pallet would send Grim over the edge.”

The dorm leader, moves the bowl out of her grip, smacking her on the head with it before putting it on the counter, “Fuck you, you don’t need to use salt and garlic salt in the same dish.”

“They are different things, Vil.”

“They’re both salt.”

Neige looked around before fully exiting from the mirror, a hand quickly making sure his wig was in place. It wasn’t hard borrowing a disguise from his friends on his current movie set. Decked out in a mid-length pink wig and pale blue contacts, a simple white shirt, indigo overalls and his dark brown boots he wasn’t the least bit recognizable. Biting into his lower lip softly, he squealed, staring at the castle against the early sky. That’s where Vi slept! The blond had been in this very pocket dimension for years, he walked on these paths, talked in the halls, bathed in the water- He needed to focus. Giving himself one last preening, he calms his breath and walks toward the dorm.

Each step made his heart flutter. Excitement and fear pulsing in his veins the closer he got to the large, pristine castle. He was breaking so many rules; he wasn't supposed to be here for many reasons. The open house wasn't even open for the Seven's sake, he didn't go to this school, and he had no one's permission to be here. But he had to, it was his only chance. The open house would no doubt have people crawling all over the campus. Neige wouldn't be able to walk around as himself, let alone be able to get some alone time to talk with his Vi.

Ah. Just the thought of him alone was enough to make his knees weak.

He closes his eyes, hands gripping onto his shoulders in a self-hug when he finally steps onto the main area of the dorm. He breathes it all in, nearly missing a figure in an old yellow hoodie race past him to exit through the mirror.

He opened his eyes in panic, looking to see if the other figure was suspicious of him. He lets out a breath in relief. Whoever they were, they seemed more interested in running to wherever. Vi had made posts about how proud he was of his dorm members taking morning runs, maybe they were simply late for a run with friends. His palms get sweaty as his thoughts start to race at the thought of Vi running with him.

The image of Vi in his black and light purple designer tracksuit, hair pulled back into a wind-swept ponytail. Lips open in a pant as sweat drips down his jaw- FOCUS. He wasn't here to fantasize! He could do that when he went back to his dorm. Hopefully after gaining something to remember his trip by.

His eyes scan the courtyard. It was beautiful as expected, with elegant pathways of carved stones and a large elaborate water feature giving a calming background noise to the area. Apple trees with bright red fruits scattered amongst the deep green grass. The area was so clean and proper he could almost imagine he was back on Royal Sword grounds.

Pulling out his phone he starts to walk on the grass, whispering a small apology for ignoring the very clear sign saying to ‘Stay Off’. Vi had posted a video in late spring. He and a few other students had replanted a number of trees after a mysterious storm had wrecked multiple dorms in NRC. The blond was shown smeared lightly with dirt, a smile on his face as he gently placed a nursery tree into a hole. The video ending on Vi smiling to the camera, air-kissing the leaves of the tree and a message showing up. 'Grow up lovely, little tree'

(Neige won't comment on how he spent an hour in the bathroom connected to his dorm room, trying to hide his sobs as he promised the paused video to grow up to be a big lovely tree. He doesn't think he was successful if Chenya's side-eye was anything to note.)

He wanted to find that tree, he needed to. The urge to simply touch it, feel the bark and soil that were touched by the hands of perfection. Maybe, if it wasn't too tall yet, he could even kiss those same leaves…

It took him nearly an hour, 9 am rolling around and the sun making its formal appearance in the sky, but he found it. Tucked neatly at a distance from two adult trees, small blooms in the branches but no fruits. This was the tree.

Neige takes a picture, walking closer and snapping more as he posed in front of the tree. He looks the tree over and frowns, in such a short amount of time the tree had matured too tall for him to properly kiss its leaves. He couldn't even take a blossom without struggling to climb the still-thin tree. He was light, but he couldn't risk harming the tree Vi had put such love and dedication to.

Instead, he looks around, making sure there was still no one walking around the courtyard before he gently placed his hands on the trunk of the tree. One last nervous glance around, he licks his lips, leaning forward to lightly air kiss against the bark of the tree. Pulling back he felt his nerves alight, filling him with excitement that pulled him back toward the tree. This time his lips connected against the rough bark, lips stinging from the contact before he pulls away.

An indirect kiss with his Vi. The tree was their shared project now, another creative child they can look back on together. He can barely hold back his squeal, bouncing on his heels before wrapping his arms around the tree in a hug. He even peppers a few more kisses onto the bark.

Rook had only sent a single text to respond to her. Stating he would come for Vil when he was done with his hunt before ignoring her other messages. Even now, as lunch rolled around, there was still no answer from the French man.

"Do you not have anything that's prepacked or frozen to eat, potato?"

Yuu looks up from the kitchen table, glaring at the model searching through her cabinets, "You know, you don't need to be here. You could just go back to Pomefiore and deal with your waking nightmare." She turns back to her phone, ignoring Vil's groan and him slamming the cupboard shut.

"You know I can't. Not until I’m sure Neige is gone anyway…" He sighs, moving to sit beside her at the table, "Well, it's not healthy, but I guess I can afford to skip lunch…"

"..." She huffs, rolling her eyes and standing, "No skipping meals, Regina. How about you let me get you a cheat day snack and we can spend time watching terrible movies?"

Vil raised an eyebrow at her, a single black painted nail tapping at the table as he thought her offer over. Vil didn't take cheat days often, if ever. But…he was probably due for one. While he found her food to be disgustingly overseasoned, Yuu did make efforts to modify her favorites so he'd feel comfortable indulging himself. He clicks his tongue and stands from the table, "I suppose. Nothing too greasy dear, the stress of today is already doing a number on my skin. I'll go pick some movies out."

While Yuu was busy in the kitchen, Vil got to work kicking Grim off of his game system. The cat huffed and yowled, but quickly made his way to the kitchen to beg Yuu for a snack. Once Grim was gone, Vil got to work picking from Yuu's horrid movie choices.

Vil could't blame Yuu for not knowing anything when they first met. As the cover story went, before he spoke to them, Yuu was an extremely sheltered child who hadn't been allowed to interact with society. Their social disconnect and blank references to common knowledge only sold the lie. He remembers talking to Crewel, mildly worried of Yuu's home life and what kind of person would raise such a child.

But now he knew them better and didn't need to hold back his distaste for their movie tastes.

What he wasn't expecting was for them to drag him into these terrible movie-viewing sessions. They were at first just painful, having to sit and watch mid-tier actors do mediocre jobs. Sitting quietly as they flubbed lines or the crew barely performed their duties.

But at their first viewing session, Vil took notice of Yuu's attitude. They were open on their negative opinions of the films, pointing out the same issues Vil found and even some he missed. Before he knew it, it'd become a biweekly event of picking a terrible movie, new or classic, and ripping it apart together. Sure people could call it 'mean', an A-list movie star tearing into indie films. But they were bad films. And he was free to say whatever he wanted in his private time.

He planned on staying the whole day, so he picked more movies than he'd normally allow for a single session. He hummed a song under his breath as he started to set the TV up, a melody he heard Epel mumbling under his breath over and over. The sound of popcorn popping just barely heard from the kitchen. Soon, Grim returned to the couch, making a point to push against him just to be an annoyance, Yuu following behind him with a tray. A bowl of popcorn with a pitcher and two glasses of juice.

They set the tray down on the coffee table, Vil catching a glimpse before they shut the lights off, “Potato! Why would you make this?”

Yuu sits beside him, also shoving their shoulder into his chest in a mock cuddling position, “Shut up, Mexican- I mean- Xochian popcorn is a perfect cheat day snack! Plus I only used like half the mayo and cheese. It’s basically flavorless, just how you like it.”

Vil glares, taking a single kernel before starting the first movie, “How you’ve survived this long on your diet both amazes and infuriates me.”

Neige kept close to the walls of the dorm. There weren’t too many people walking around, almost all of them simply minding their own business. One even waved at him as they passed in the hallway. He had to pat himself on the back, his disguise was working perfectly!

His nervous walk had slowly turned into his normal skip, eyes roaming along the walls at the ornate architecture and glamorous frames of art. In his bliss, he nearly skips past what could only be the dorm’s lounge. A large seating room with multiple couches and duos of armchairs scattered on polished marble floors. Off in the corner sat an ebony grand piano overlooking the orchard of apple trees. He inhales deeply, the scent of apples and vanilla filling his lungs, with another deep breath, he can pick hints of other notes. Pinches of a flower he couldn’t name and some type of earthly produce. Neige wondered if the smell was something Vi had created or if the dorms naturally smelled this refined.

The lounge was empty, giving him the pleasure to walk and explore the place as he pleased. He took his time to inspect the couches, taking a photo now and again and wondering if he could purchase a matching loveseat for his side of his dorm room. Throw pillow in hand, he walks over to a pair of curtains, lifting them just to peek behind them. The silk pillow slips from his hands, stunned as he looks at a peacock-themed throne. Vi’s throne, the one he sat on. Neige bites his lip so hard he feared he would draw blood. Looking behind him and seeing no one, he stepped into the hidden cove where the throne sat, closing the curtains behind him and hiding from stray eyes.

He drops to his knees instantly, folding his arms under his cheek as he rests his head on the seat of the throne. It was so cozy…Smelling of fresh linens and a dash of lilacs. Nuzzling into the fabric, Neige lets his mind wander. The idea of being in the same school, the same dorm as his Vi, getting to kneel at his feet and rest his head on his lap. His nails dug into the cushion, breathing picking up as he imagined Vi petting his hair while he hummed to him.

After getting his fill, he stood up, phone raised to take a picture of the throne. A dozen photos later he was back in the dorm hallway, smiling at the growing album of photos he’d have for his digital dream board. He pauses in front of a series of photos lining the wall. He then realized it was the portraits of past house wardens, each of them hand-painted with a neutral, regal expression. Neige smiles, looking over each beautiful face. This dorm was made for Vi, a place where only the beautiful and talented could be allowed. Not only had his fellow actor been accepted but he had conquered. His steps picked up speed wanting to see if Vi had a portrait at the end of the hall.

No museum could compare to the masterpiece before him. The portrait of a younger Vi stared back at him, sitting at a 3/4th view sitting on a chair with his hands placed on his lap. His hair was pulled back, a simple updo with the ombre ends curled on top of his head. The crown Vil normally wore tastefully askew was placed on him properly, it looked so odd but still so perfectly Vi.

He looks down the hall, making sure a group of students had gone around the corner before he looks to the other side. Seeing the coast was clear, he quickly stepped closer to the portrait, leaning down and pressing his lips to the painting's hands, kissing at the smooth ivory fingers. Before he could stop himself his mouth opened, tongue peaking out to lick a quick strip against the surface. It didn’t have a taste past the hint of bitter, he wondered if Vi’s fingers tasted bitter. It would make sense, Vi worked a lot with potions and natural cosmetics, Neige would deal with the bitter taste if he could kiss Vi’s fingers for real…

"Why are we doing this to ourselves?"

"How does he just forget the name of his sister?"

"Do you hate me? Is that why you've made me a part of this cursed ritual?"

" They haven't spoken for like only a year! How do you just completely forget your sibling like this!? Did they both sustain heavy brain damage!?"

"This is the industry I've dedicated my life to…"

They were only on their second movie, but both Vil and Yuu were ready to bash the TV as a form of self-defense. That or simply weep at how nonsensical the plot was. Vil couldn’t really believe half the movies he had been forced to watch were from the same studios he had worked with. It felt surreal for him to see ex-costars acting in what were possibly the worst films ever conceived. It scared him at times- was that his possible future? Going from box office hits to acting in direct-to-disk spoof movies?

Though they joked about him being at least better than direct-to-disk, Yuu was firm on stating Vil wouldn’t ever star in a flop. His fanbase was too devout to him not to buy tickets, even if the movie looked bad. With his acting skills alone, he could at least make a flop into a cult classic.

(“I mean look at me. I love watching shitty movies. It’s even better when an A-List celebrity shows up in one. Like, it’s half the fun to figure out why they’re there than following what the plot is.”)

Vil groans at another scene, lying against the couch with his arm resting over his eyes, “By the sevens, they’re related!”

Yuu groans, snatching the bowl of popcorn from Grim, grabbing a handful before offering it to Vil, “This is genuinely annoying. Do you remember what the plot is?”

Sighing, Vil reaches for the pile of Disk boxes, grabbing their current movie before reading the summary. Mid-read he pauses, staring at the back of the box with a blank expression before he tosses it away, grabbing the remote from Yuu’s hands, “We’re starting over.”

Grim groans, having climbed over their laps to place his head firmly back into the popcorn bowl, “Why!? You guys don’t even like these movies!”

“Never thought I’d agree with Grim, but Vil this is painful I want this to end.”

Vil shushes her as he restarts the movie, “No, they’re not siblings; they’re childhood friends.”

“Wait, what?” Yuu looks between Vil and the screen in confusion, “No…We would have caught that! We would have caught that much of a scenario prompt!”

“Well clearly we didn’t, so now we’re restarting the movie with the proper context. Maybe it will actually save the film…”

Yuu groans, sinking into the couch, “This is somehow a new form of torture, I know it is…”

He was going to be arrested one day, he knew it.

Neige rested his back against the closed door, eyes looking around the room with wide excited eyes. Vi’s room. He was inside Vi’s room. He could die right now and do so with bliss.

He couldn’t tell if he was sad by seeing the room was empty, or relieved he wouldn’t be questioned by his idol and holder of affection. He’s not sure what he would do or say in his disguise under Vi’s critical gaze. Neige feared he’d either crumble and spill the truth the second the blond lifted a perfectly shaped brow, or he’d keep his identity hidden and simply tell Vil everything.

That would absolutely get him arrested though.

But Vi wasn’t in his room, no one but Neige was there to stand and exist in the space. Arms moving to hug his body, trying to hold in the happy bubbles of laughter as his eyes roam around the room. Soon he gathers the courage and pushes off the door to explore. Everything was meticulous, a place for everything and everything in its place. The only oddity was the haphazard way the bed was made. His fingers twitched, wanting to properly make and tuck the covers, he could even fluff Vi’s pillows!

Sighing sadly, he decides against it. No need to make Vi worried about someone weird being in his room without his knowledge…

Instead, he walks around, stopping at the vanity, and allowing himself a single spray of a perfume bottle’s bulb. Fingers ghosting over the color-coded lipsticks in their custom-made container, fighting the urge to use one…Vi wouldn’t notice, right? No…No, he couldn’t. Vi cared so much about his makeup, Neige couldn’t mess with something so precious to his idol.

He walks over to the bright red exercise ball, a smile on his face as he entertains the idea of bouncing on it for a few minutes. Instead, his eyes catch a semi-hidden hamper tucked into the corner. Was…oh by the seven. Was that Vi’s dirty clothes hamper?

Neige stood frozen, nails picking at his cuticles and threatening to break the skin (Don’t bleed here, do NOT bleed here). He looks from the corner of his eye, a bead of sweat threatening to slide down his face. The door was closed, he was all alone in the room with no way of telling when Vi would come back. He bites his lip, stepping closer to the basket as a smile breaks across his reddening face. He could…just for a little while…

Before he knew what came over himself, Neige had his head buried in the hamper, inhaling deep with gasping breaths. Hands braced so tightly on the edges he feared he’d actually break the material under his grip. He pulls his head out, tilting it back with a wide smile on his face as he pants, a manic laugh bubbles out of his lips.

Crunch

Neige freezes, eyes dropping back to the hamper in fear he actually snapped something. The sound happens again, from the door-

He nearly falls from how fast he turned, looking to the open door to see a boy with soft purple hair standing there. He had a nonchalant look on his face, one hand inside an oversized black hoodie with the words ‘TRACK’ printed across the front and the other holding a bright red apple with a few bites taken out of it. Blue eyes met blue and Neige had the brains to try to start an apology. Something to gain enough goodwill to explain…what he was doing, “U-um-” Oh sevens, Neige knew this boy. This was one of Vi’s friends from the VDC! He’d tell!

Epel just shakes his head slowly, his hand reaching out of his hoodie to grab the door handle, “Don’t even wanna know... Whatever the two of y’all are doing, just keep the damn door closed.”

And like that, he was gone. The door closed behind him and it was almost possible to imagine he was never even there. Neige let out a heavy sigh and felt his entire body relax, Epel didn’t seem to recognize him. He was also painfully uncaring of seeing who could only be a stranger in his dorm leader’s room huffing his dirty laundry. Well at least he left…the two…

His heart rate picks up again once he realized what Epel had said. He only needed to turn his head in a quarter turn before he saw who else Epel was talking about. There on the bed, like he was always meant to be there, was Rook Hunt. He sat on the messily made bed in a dull purple and grey plaid flannel, dark grey pants with a strap around one thigh, and mud-stained boots. Short locks managed to be pulled into a small, tight ponytail. One hand resting against his propped-up arm and the other holding an arrow delicately, a bow slung over his shoulder. Neige couldn’t even shake, he felt his blood freeze as he looked in bright green eyes.

Rook tilts his head as he taps the arrow against his crossed leg, “Don’t mind me Roi de Neige. You’ve truly been a lovely hunt for me all day~.”

For a split second, Neige let his eyes dart to the closed door then to the window before snapping back to Rook, “I-I was just-!”

“Shhhh.” Rook stands from the bed, walking closer and Neige realizes with terror the strap around his thigh was holding a knife. The blonde leans down to softly tap the tip of the arrow to Neige’s nose, “Run.”

“W-wha-?”

“Run.”

It was dark when Vil woke up, humming at feeling a heavy hand shaking his shoulder lightly. Blinking awake he sees Rook standing over him with a calm smile, his ponytail just barely contained by an elastic band, “Mon roi, It’s getting late. We should get you some dinner and then a proper bed.”

Vil sits up, stretching his arms and looking around the room. Next to him was Yuu, slumped against his side and sleeping peacefully, the bowl of popcorn knocked to the ground with a few kernels on the carpet. He clicked his tongue softly, did he have time to clean that up?

Rook didn’t give him the chance to choose, pulling him from the couch and steadying his still sleepy body easily. Once Vil was stable, Rook moved to place Yuu into a more comfortable position. Vil stifles a yawn, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and resting it over them. He smoothes down their hair, smiling when Rook puts an also sleeping Grim closer to the prefect, both softly cooing seeing the first year instantly grip the cat monster closer.

“Alright, back to the dorm, Rook.”

“Oui!”

Vil barely hisses a ‘shh’ before shoving Rook into the hallway, slipping out after locking the front door behind them. Walking back, Vil huffs and runs his hands through his hair, pulling it free from his ponytail, “So…Did you have a nice day?” He really hoped he didn’t.

“Oui! It was so wonderful. I got to shadow mon Roi de Neige all day! Such a thrilling hunt to remain outside of his eyes until I chose to pounce. It’s why I was so late retrieving you mon Roi”

Son of a- “Great, so happy your day was so fun Rook-”

Vil stumbles, feeling Rook suddenly pressed right against him with an arm wrapping around his waist. A teasing smile on his lips as a hand reaches up to tug at an edge of the yellow hoodie he was wearing.

“It has only become more magnifique seeing you’re fond of my old Savanaclaw hoodie mon chou~. I had always feared you simply threw it out! But to know you kept and made it your own has filled me with such joy!”

“...” Vil sighs, looking away from Rook, ignoring the laugh he lets out, no doubt seeing the soft blush on his cheeks, “It was all I had on short notice…”

#twst #disney twst #twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit #yuu oc #rook hunt #vilrook #neige leblanche #nasty neige #yandere neige #soft yandere #pomfiore

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