#they’re just regular jeans but with flare

[solarismp3]

[avelnfear]

Chapter Three

Masterlist

Danny leaned back on the couch with a heavy sigh, mentally going over the events of the past few months. Life had gone downhill fast after the group had returned from the Crowning, like a rollercoaster that ran out of track. It all started when Madd- when Mom had confronted him and Jazz about his being Phantom. He’d feared the worst before she started sobbing and babbling about how sorry she was for ever targeting him or believing what Jack said about ghosts. Jack had overheard about him being Phantom, attempted to End him, and caused Team Phantom plus Mom to have to scramble to change Danny’s identity and set him up in the chosen city. He’d somehow managed to interview well at Arkham despite Mom giving him a different application than the one he thought he’d be getting, and now he finally had a chance to rest in his brand new apartment.

When the short runthrough of events didn’t calm his buzzing core he sighed, giving into the fact that he’d have to set aside time to go through everything that had happened in more detail later. Opening his eyes, Danny looked around the Crime Alley apartment that they’d managed to get him under the short notice. The walls were thin and not entirely clean, but they weren’t the worst walls he’d ever seen in Crime Alley. The furnishings were sparse, as though he was prepared to move at any moment, because he was. Despite that, the room still managed to feel cozy and lived in. If his memory served him, this apartment complex was one that Jason would frequent occasionally which would make sense because he owned the building.

Sliding from the couch to their feet, Danny wandered over to the fridge in an almost daze, drowning in thoughts of their sun. They missed him so much it hurt. Their thoughts paused at the empty fridge standing before them. They’d forgotten to go shopping. A pang of longing went through them at the thought of food, both for the idea of food itself and for the thought of a chance to taste their love’s cooking again. With another heavy sigh, Danny started to move throughout the room, gathering up everything they needed in order to go on a short shopping trip.

They attached the chain that disguised some N Capsules to their jeans, neatly hiding it under their baggy hoodie. Next they snagged the N Taser, it looked like a regular taser while still working on ghosts, and their switchblade, which was a replica of one that Jay had given them once. Danny left the living room and entered the bedroom which only contained a dresser, a wardrobe, and a bed although everything still had that cozy yet abandonable vibe to it. Snagging their wallet from the top of the dresser and making sure the window was locked, they finally made their way to the front door to slip on their shoes which were a good pair of running shoes that had seen better days.

Danny took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for any sort of situation they might get into before opening the door and stepping out, right into the path of a tall person, sending them both to the ground. Eggs dropped from their container, smashing their shells on his hoodie and leaving behind a gooey mess, but Danny only had eyes for the unfortunate person he was now tangled with on the ground. It was just his luck to have run into the very object of his thoughts right when he wasn’t prepared for it.

Jazz’s voice reminded Danny to breathe, and he calmed down quickly. There was no time for panic, he had a first impression to make. “Sorry about that, guess meet-cutes aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.” His voice was light, dramatic, and teasing, exactly the kind of tone he’d have used in their first life when he didn’t know what to say and just defaulted to the first thought that crossed his head. Evidently, Jason didn’t remember their past lives yet because there was no flare of recognition in his eyes as Danny’s words were processed. Danny is sure Jason’s face went through the five stages of grief, adding a few and not quite reaching acceptance before Jason groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“That…” Jason groaned out, still hiding his face. “That was almost a good pick up line until I registered that it was a pun.” Looking up, Jason seemed to realize what door he was in front of. “Well howdy neighbor, this is definitely not how I thought we’d meet. Been hearing you move in for the past week or so, nice to finally meet you. Your accent isn’t local, so what brings you to Gotham?”

“Many things.” Danny said with a wince as Jason accidentally dug his elbow into Danny’s ribs while trying to get free from the two person tangle. “If I’d realized you’d already known I was moving in, I definitely would have said hi sooner.” Danny winced again as their legs thumped the floor as Jason attempted to free himself. “Again, I’m sorry about this. I should have been looking where I was going, but my mind was a tad distracted by my hunger. All that work moving in only to forget to stock up on food is such a rookie mistake.” Danny had a better view of how their legs were tangled, so he swiftly untangled them, rising to his feet and extending a hand to Jace. “Name’s Danny. Not Daniel, not Dan, not Danno, not Danny Boy, just Danny.” His voice lost a tad of the humor it had kept up as he went over the names not to call him.

Jason took his hand, pulling himself to his feet with an amused smirk on his face. “Nice to meet you Danny. You can call me Jason. We’ve all forgotten to go shopping once or twice, and to be fair, you weren’t the only one at fault here. I was focused on my phone when I should have been paying attention to my surroundings.” Jason looked around, probably for his phone, quickly scooping it up once he saw it. When he turned back to Danny, he winced in sympathy at the messy hoodie. “Sorry about your hoodie.”

Danny looked down as if noticing the mess on his hoodie for the first time. “Eh, don’t worry about it. This is actually my least favorite hoodie, so I don’t care too much about it. I’m more saddened about the early death of the eggs, those could have made some great food. Speaking of,” Danny clicked his fingers to help convey the suddenness of the thought he was now speaking, “do you mind telling me a good place to get some food shopping done? I’m fairly new in town, clearly, and I didn’t really have time to research such places.” Danny rubbed the back of his neck as though nervous, but he really only wanted something to do with his hands, leaving them hanging was starting to feel awkward.

Jason smirked gently at him, and Danny had to fight back his instinctual responding smile, reminding himself that Jason doesn’t remember. “Seeing as I need to get some new eggs, why don’t we just meet up after I’ve had a chance to put the rest of this away and you to change hoodies? Say, five to ten minutes?” Jason moved while he talked, picking up the various groceries spread around the hall from their fall, Danny quickly moving to help him. 

“Sure, sounds like a plan.” Danny held out the couple of bags he’d reassembled the contents of. “Here.” Jason took the bags, and Danny spoke again before Jason could move off, “I’ll just stand inside my doorway this time. Wouldn’t want a repeat of this situation, after all, my heart couldn’t take falling for the same person twice in one day.” Danny winked along with his words, trying to convey that he was teasing in more ways than just the massive shit eating grin on his face.

Without giving Jason time to respond, Danny slipped into his apartment, smoothly and swiftly closing the door. As soon as the door was shut, the smile dropped, and Danny ran his hands over his face and through his hair. That was not how he thought his first meeting with Jason would go. Danny had figured out during that conversation with his fright after the Crowning that there was no way Jason remembered because he would have found Danny before anything really happened. After all, that was what had happened in their second life, where they both remembered from the beginning. Danny had thought that the wave of energy the Crowning had produced might have awoken the memories, but that didn’t appear to be the case.

Moving on autopilot, Danny moved through the apartment, leaving the soiled hoodie in the laundry room to be dealt with later before heading to the bedroom to find a new hoodie. Jason’s ecto-signature had been off, but Danny expected that, even would have been worried if it hadn’t been. The first time they’d met, Jason had thought Danny was also dipped into a Lazarus Pit… The Lazarus Pit! Of course! Danny paused as a thought struck them. The remaining Pit Waters in Jason must be holding back his memories, maybe even cutting off or stifling his connection to his core! How would Danny be able to fix that was the new problem.

Shaking his head, Danny put that thought away for later, focusing on finding the perfect hoodie from his collection. Shortly after his accident, Tucker and Sam had started getting him hoodies with ghost comics on them or cartoon ghosts doing silly things or just hoodies with cartoon ghosts on them. One of these hoodies had a cartoon ghost and cartoon zombie face to face with each other on the front, both of them saying, “Same hat!” The back had the same ghost and zombie now saying, “Different colors though…” They both were wearing no hats. It was perfect, and the hoodie Danny planned to wear when meeting Jason for the first time.

Finally finding it, Danny wasted no time getting to his door while pulling it on. As Danny passed the counter he spotted his phone which he promptly scooped up, mentally chiding himself for forgetting it the first time. Danny opened his door to find an empty hallway, meaning Jason wasn’t done with putting things away, or he was caught up talking to the Batfam about something. Knowing how quickly Jason usually put things away, unless that had changed, and consulting his inner clock, Danny figured it was the latter and settled in to wait, pulling up a game on his phone in the meantime.

~`~`~

Jason stared at the door that had just closed in his face. His new neighbor, Danny, was nothing like what he thought they were going to be. Shaking himself both mentally and physically, Jason walked to his own door, quickly entering his own apartment, locks opening swiftly with practised ease. Letting his body put things away on autopilot, Jason let his thoughts drift.

When he’d first heard his new neighbor moving in, Midwest accent and all, he’d brought it up to the sibling group chat, and they’d all made bets on what type of person his neighbor was and how quickly they would move. The usual things. Jason hadn’t thought they would be staying for long, and that they were likely to be timid due to how long it took them to introduce themselves, factoring in the fact that the Midwest was notorious for being friendly from what he’d heard all his life.

Danny was nothing like he’d expected. On the outside, with the baggy hoodie, Danny looked like a stiff wind would snap him in half with ease, but Jason had felt the hidden muscles while struggling to untangle himself. Usually Jason would have been free in a heartbeat, but it was like his brain had glitched the moment Danny touched him. Something about it was so familiar, yet he was sure he’d never felt anything like that before. Danny hadn’t appeared to have the same issue, moving with all the grace that Dick usually did, like someone trained to fight and entertain. Danny also punned like Dick but more subtle. 

Despite how much Danny seemed to be like Dick, Jason shied away from that comparison. It just didn’t feel right. Danny had the same eyes as Tim, icy blue, even possessing the same deep eye bags that spoke of someone who didn’t sleep well. Danny’s eyes, while sharing the same color as Tim, reminded Jason most of Damian, assessing and sharp, yet they also bore the kindness of Duke. There had been a hint of a scar that trailed from the edge of his chin to somewhere under the hoodie. The scar was barely noticeable because of how pale it was on Danny’s pale skin. The black hoodie with black pants and black running shoes had only served to make him appear paler. 

The sound of his phone blowing up drew Jason from his thoughts. The sibling chat was blowing up with concern for him. It took him a moment to remember that he’d been messaging with them before the fall. Jason sighed, spying that they were all on comms, he made the decision to join them on there rather than just texting them. It was the work of five seconds to locate one of the spare comms hidden all around his apartment. Putting it in, Jason heard a wall of concerned cries from most of his siblings while Barb tried to get them to calm down as the sole voice of reason.

“Yo.” Silence, deafening silence, dawned over the line before everyone began speaking at once again. Jason let it go for a couple minutes just to let them get the panic out of their systems. Deciding enough was enough, he spoke again, “Alright, everyone shut the fuck up or I won’t answer any of the questions.” The comms fell silent again.

“What happened, Little Wing? You were messaging us and then just fell off the face of the earth.” Dick tried to sound less worried than he was, but Jason was skilled at picking up human emotions.

Jason chuckled. “Nothing as dramatic as that Dickiebird. I just ran into my neighbor, literally. We talked for a little bit, and I just got back into my apartment.” Jason leaned on the counter as the comms dissolved into chaos once again, everyone wanting to know who’d won money in the bet.

“Tt. I still do not understand why the betting was so intense for such an insignificant event.” Leave it to the Demon Brat to get everyone to shut up.

“Damian,” Tim said slowly, clearly trying to keep his tone kind while wanting to scream at Damian for supposed stupidity, “we’re talking about someone who moved into Crime Alley, into a building that is known to be owned by Red Hood no less, who has a background so secure Oracle can’t crack it, that just got a job at Arkham as a guard assigned to the main Rogue wing, and they just so happened to move into the one apartment that was open on the top floor despite a lot of the building being empty. The whole thing sounds more than suspicious enough for us to get, as you put it, intense about this.”

In the silence that followed, Jason decided to finally offer some information. “Their name is Danny, they look like a twink yet feel like they have a decent amount of muscle, and I did not manage to get their pronouns.” Jason broke out his Mission Report Voice, knowing it would catch everyone’s attention. “They wore all black and didn’t appear to be armed, although they could be good at concealing their weapons. They look like Tim, act like Dick, and move like a combo between Dick and Damian. They looked like they had been getting about as much sleep as Tim too. Definitely from the Midwest, although they did appear to know a little bit about what they were getting into and some of the unspoken rules of Gotham, such as not being overly friendly yet still showing a sense of community and not pressing someone on what they were doing. They didn’t try to follow me into my apartment, even closing their door before I could move off, possibly to give me more comfort knowing they wouldn’t know exactly where I live. Danny has a scar that is faint yet visible that trails from the edge of their chin to somewhere below the neckline of their hoodie. They didn’t seem to know who I was, but they did agree to go shopping with me seeing as I lost some eggs and they didn’t buy groceries as they were moving in.”

There was some silence as everybody processed what he said, but that was quickly broken by Steph, “What do you mean you lost some eggs?” Her voice clearly showed her disbelief.

“I did tell you that I literally ran into them.” Jason kept his voice dry. “The only reason I have the time to talk to you guys right now is because some eggs decided to kamikaze on their hoodie.”

The comms exploded with laughter. It seems like the majority of his siblings the bat siblings found his phrasing funny, which was the whole point. Idly, Jason looked down at his phone, immediately letting out a string of expletives, carefully avoiding the use of the words that would make his siblings rush over in worry. Quickly, he snagged his wallet and shoved his feet into his boots.

“What? What’s wrong?” Dick’s voice broke through Jason’s steady stream of curses. 

“I’m fucking five minutes later than I told Danny I would be for shopping. Shit! Talk to you guys later.” Jason didn’t give anybody time to respond before turning off the commlink and yanking it out of his ear in the same motion. He dashed to the door, barely glancing in the mirror to make sure he hadn’t somehow gotten something on his shirt or jacket while he was in the house.

Jason threw his door open and himself through it, spinning to close the door and then lock it as fast as he could, only fumbling slightly. Looking up, he saw Danny in their doorway, playing on their phone. As he starts to step towards them, their head jerks up, and a smile lights up their face. 

“Hey, long time no see.” Their smile turns obviously teasing and they pitch their voice up and down to really sell that it was meant to be teasing. Jason winced, about to say something when Danny interrupted him, “Don’t worry about it, although we might need to stop at a fast food place before shopping because I definitely need a meal now.” Danny laughed while they spoke, conveying that it was still meant to be lighthearted.

Jason laughed along with Danny. “I, uh, never got your pronouns. Mine are he/him, may I know yours?” Jason smiled sheepishly.

“Oh! I knew there was something I forgot. I use he/they and sometimes she. Gender is weird.” Danny rubbed their neck again.

~`~`~

The shopping trip went well! Danny had gotten a few strange looks from Jason a few times. First was for his large order at Batburger, but Danny had quieted Jason’s suspicion by informing him that he hadn’t eaten all day. The next time was because a couple of the seven different types of mushrooms in his cart could kill someone who didn’t, or did, know what they were doing with them, the fact that they’d been placed right next to raspberry sparkling water didn’t help, but Danny just waved Jason off that time, he knew what he was doing. Danny was pretty sure his cart organization looked like a disaster just waiting to happen, but he knew what he was doing. Things were bagged with what they were going to be used with, so the concerned stares weren’t necessary from Jason and the cashier.

As all good times in Danny’s life, something had to quickly make it take a nosedive. They were two measly blocks from their apartment building when a group of robbers dragged them and their groceries into an alleyway that Danny knew was a dead end. Knives were being waved in their faces, and Jason looked like he didn’t know what to do because he couldn’t show too much skill in front of a civilian while still wanting to beat these amateurs up. As for Danny, he was just focusing on slowly working the bags down so that they wouldn’t spill any of their precious cargo when they hit the ground.

The leader walked up. “What’s taking so long? Divest them of their valuables.” The leader had a scar on one side of his face, Danny could use that.

“Hey, Lopsided!” The leader turned from the minion he was addressing to glare at Danny while everyone else looked at Danny like he’d lost his mind, which was rude in Danny’s opinion. “Do you want me to even you out?” An easy smile rested on Danny’s face, and he made himself stand like he was just offering a friendly favor to a friend, bags closer to the ground like this.

“What?!” The leader growled out, leaning forward and twisting his face in a way he probably thought was aggressive but actually just showed Danny a glimpse of what his fighting style would be like.

Danny kept the easy smile in place as he tilted his head. Speaking slightly louder he said, “My bad, you must be hard of hearing too. I asked if you wanted me to even you out. Ya know, your face. Your nose is crooked, and there’s only a scar on one side of your face. I don’t guarantee that I can fix the nose without a few more supplies, but I can definitely even out your face, it’ll be easy!” Jason looked very impressed and very concerned, but he didn’t say anything, likely speechless or wanting to see how this plays out.

“You’re clearly new in town, so I’ll give you some advice and one more chance.” Lopsided was somewhere between a growl and a smile now, looking smug as someone who just figured out something massive that was previously missing. “I’m not your friend, and I should kill you for those remarks. Apologize and I won’t slit your neck right here.”

Danny laughed gently, keeping his eyes on Lopsided. “I am new in town, thanks for noticing, but I should be the one to give you some advice and a chance. Listen closely,” Danny leaned in, using that action to disguise the fact that his arms were now free of the bags, and said bags were on the ground, “you only have one chance. I never said we were friends. People don’t need to be friends to be friendly ya know, and you should kill me even though you can’t.” 

With his last word still fading from the air, Danny launched into motion, pulling his switchblade free and flicking it open as he used the goon in front of him like a springboard to launch him at Lopsided, sending the goon to the ground. Before anyone could do anything, Danny’s blade was cutting deeply into Lopsided’s face, giving him a wound that would definitely leave a matching scar. Danny swung his legs around to rebound off of the leader, Danny couldn’t call him Lopsided anymore, and into another goon. From there, Danny let instincts take control, ripping through the ranks of the robbers with obvious ease while the majority of his focus went to not causing any fatal wounds in the people who dared threaten his Jason. It was the work of a few short minutes to have every goon disabled on the ground, the majority unconscious and all having bleeding wounds due to his switchblade.

Turning, Danny saw Nightwing and Jason standing together with their jaws open in shock. Immediately, Danny’s throat felt closed up, and he knew that his voice had left the chat. Great. Danny leaned down to wipe the switchblade off on one of the goons before closing it. Danny figured they needed a few more moments to gather themselves, so he went to go check on his groceries. It wouldn’t do to have lost something and only find out after getting home.

“T-” Jason paused, audibly swallowing. “That was very impressive.” He exhaled harshly. “Very impressive.” His voice was quiet and breathy.

Danny looked up, nodding quietly with a small smile. Danny signed a simple ‘thank you’ to him. Jason’s eyes widened slightly before a look of realization flashed across his eyes and gave way to understanding. Nightwing still looked shocked, so Danny sent a concerned look at Jason while flicking his eyes over to Nightwing and grabbing his groceries.

Jason sighed. “I’ll get him functioning, you head on to the apartment and I’ll check in with you when I get back.” Danny nodded and started walking, feeling satisfied for having defended one of his people even if that person didn’t belong to his fright just yet.

~`~`~

Jason sat on the edge of the roof with one of Nightwing’s extra communicators in his ear listening to the silence as everyone struggled to process what they were hearing. It had taken a few minutes for Jason to get Nightwing to respond to him, and he’d spent all of them thinking about the sudden switch Danny had made from speaking to not. Danny hadn’t had any issue mouthing off to the amateurs attempting to rob them, but the moment he noticed Nightwing he’d gone silent. Jason had thought about what could have caused that, if anything had even caused that, and why he’d had so much ease understanding Danny’s nonverbal cues. 

“Okay okay… Run that by me again” Jason sighed at the phrase he’d heard three times before. Steph at least sounded less confused and more amused this time.

“It all started after I met up with Danny in the hall…”

Taglist: @blacksea21090 @chrysanthemum9484 @samgirl98 @may-rbi @justwannaseesomebrozawa @serasvictoria02 @treepainting @fluffykster @enderglace @sigdexae @persephoneblackrose @angelofsongsoteira @lazy-bouqet @littlefeather345 @icedbluesoul @autumnwulf @thefearfullone @alixanterm @skulld3mort-1fan @dulceringo @vidimirrayne @betinaplayingwriter @the-legal-shipper @currant-owo @crystalqueertea @fisticuffsatapplebees @bugaboo25 @dannyphantomphan 

[papillon82fluttersby]

Famous Five Art Nostalgia #15 – Part 1

Introductory post

Masterpost

🏚️🏺💼 Five on a Secret Trail – Le Club des Cinq se distingue / Le Club des Cinq et la maison hantée

Original publication date: 1956 (UK), 1961 (France)

(Cover art by Jeanne Hives, 1968)

After “Five Get into Trouble / Le Club des Cinq en péril”, this is the second book in the series that benefitted from an upgraded edition in a special collection called “Idéal-Bibliothèque”, featuring more numerous illustrations, a larger format and better quality paper than the regular “Bibliothèque Rose” collection. This book was thus first published in 1961 in the “Idéal-Bibliothèque” collection, and then added to the regular series in 1968, both editions being illustrated by Jeanne Hives. You will find herebelow the illustrations from the latter edition, and I will make a separate post for the “Idéal-Bibliothèque” illustrations, to be published later this week.

You may have noticed that I quoted two different French titles above; this is because of a title change that occurred during a major update to the translations of the whole series in the early 2000s. I am not quite sure what motivated this specific title change. Some other titles hadn’t aged well and had taken xenophobic/racist connotations over time, but this one seems perfectly innocuous: “se distinguer” means “to achieve a remarkable feat.” Maybe this title was considered too bland and thus changed to “la maison hantée” (i.e. “the haunted house”), which, if not accurate to the plot, would certainly grab the attention of potential readers!

~~~~~~

Plot summary (adapted from Wikipedia):

George decides to go camping with her dog, Timmy, so he can recover from an ear injury without being mocked for wearing a large cardboard collar that prevents him from scratching his wound. George is pleased to be joined at the campsite by her cousin Anne, but is disappointed upon learning that Anne's brothers, Julian and Dick, are in France [Spain] and thus, would not be able to visit them.

(George’s temper flares high when poor Timmy’s condition is cause for hilarity in the neighbourhood!)

(George finds a camping place near an old cottage, which is soon to become the location of some very eerie events)

George and Anne encounter a boy named Guy [Guy], the son of famous archaeologist Sir John Lawdler [Jean Truchet], and his small, one-eyed mongrel dog called Jet [Radar]. The boy is excavating an old Roman camp to search for artefacts and asks the girls not to disturb him. Later that day, the boy's twin brother named Harry [Hubert] (as it is later revealed) comes to the area, but the girls mistake him for the first boy, unaware they are dealing with twins. This makes the girls very confused, as they would see the first boy at a certain place, and then think he would have inexplicably doubled up and reached another place. The girls think that he is just one crazy, mad boy, who likes to say things and make promises and later to say that he didn't make such promises or so. (It should be noted that the twins are certainly aware that they’re causing confusion for the girls, but due to a personal feud, neither of them feels the need to clear it up.)

(The girls meet the first twin, Guy – who has not endeared himself to George by playing a prank on Timmy – and his dog Jet)

Later that night, Anne gets up for a drink from the nearby stream and while trying to return to the camp, she ends up near a derelict, ruined cottage, where she sees lights and hears whispers and footsteps. She gets scared and then takes George and Timmy to the cottage but there is no indication of any human activity.

The next day, the girls again encounter the twins separately. The girls then go to George's parents' house for more food supplies and are informed that Julian and Dick will be arriving in a day or two.

The following night, a storm prompts the girls to shelter in the old cottage, where they are shocked to see people outside during the heavy storm and rain. The girls get scared, and Anne decides to leave the place the next day as she does not want to stay at the old cottage anymore.

(Scary happenings at the old cottage 😨)

Julian and Dick arrive the next day and notice that Anne and George are about to leave, the girls explaining their reason for departing. With the boys there, they all decide to stay in the ruined cottage and investigate.

(Five reunited at last!)

The Five spend the day visiting Guy at the dig, swimming at a nearby lake, and searching through the cottage. That night, while sleeping in the cottage, they hear weeping and wailing noises and see some kind of light that makes them a bit afraid. The next morning, the four understand that someone was trying to scare them away. They decide to move their camp and pretend to leave while keeping an eye on the activities at the cottage.

Julian and Dick visit the old cottage that night and they find that a gang of people are trying to find a secret tunnel in which a very precious blueprint was kept. The boys then report their findings to the girls.

In the morning, they decide to warn Guy about these suspicious people, only to find a distraught Harry who – finally – reveals that they’re twins, and explains that Guy and Jet have been kidnapped a few hours ago by the same people who searched the cottage and now wanted to search the dig.

(The Five find Harry distraught after Guy has been kidnapped)

Later George finds a clue to the secret tunnel. After a long and tiring walk underground, the children discover a leather bag that was very well hidden and feels very light. To their surprise, they find Harry and Jet waiting alone behind a roof-fall, their kidnappers having left them there while looking for tools to remove the rubble, confident that Harry would stay put as he got his ankle injured.

(Reconciled twins!)

After exiting the tunnel at the Roman dig, Julian makes sure to remove the rope that they used to get out, so that the bad guys remain trapped underground. Then the Five with Guy, Harry and Jet go to Kirrin Cottage. Later, a police officer arrives and opens the bag, which seems empty but they end up finding a blueprint hidden in the lining. Afterwards, Uncle Quentin reveals that it was a secret document which has only two copies in the world, one with himself and the other with Sir James Lawton-Harrison [Prof. Leroy-Larson] (whose copy has been stolen).

Later, the Five and the twins celebrate around a huge spread prepared by Joanna the cook. The story concludes with Timmy scratching his ear wound, making it go bad again and thus necessitating the use of a new cardboard collar, just as the story began with!

~~~~~~

Cover art through the ages:

(Disclaimer: This is not an exhaustive list; sometimes the dates are difficult to pinpoint; and I have purposefully not included editions that re-used similar cover art, with differences only in layout and font style.)

(Original cover art by Jeanne Hives, Idéal-Bibliothèque, Hachette, 1961 – a pretty group shot!)

(Subsequent cover by Jeanne Hives, Hachette, 1968 – the Five are wearing victory laurels as a nod to the title, in which ‘se distinguer’ means ‘to do a remarkable feat’)

(Poor Timmy and his cardboard collar 😔 – Jean Sidobre, Hachette, 1977)

(Once again, J.P. Morvan takes a lot of inspiration from Sidobre above – France Loisirs, 1979)

(Umberto Nonna brings us to the old Roman dig – Edito Service, 1981)

(Yves Beaujard, Hachette, 1989 – Anne is wearing quite a weird headband in this…)

(Julian and Dick’s stake-out at the cottage – Paul Gillon, Hachette, 1997)

(The old cottage – this looks great, I want to explore this place! Munch and Prunier, Hachette, 1999)

(Title change and lighting strike – the poor cottage has totally lost its charm! Frédéric Rébéna, Hachette, 2008)

(Spooky happenings! Auren, Hachette, 2020)

~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, and see you soon for the Idéal-Bibliothèque illustrations, as well as Sidobre's and Nonna's takes on the book!

[honeymoonfadingwithyou]

i don’t think i’ll ever be enough. those people in their phone are prettier than i’ll ever be. i can’t compete. my face doesn’t hold a single place in the memory of their device. not a photo or video downloaded in sight - not even my body. not even giving myself sexually is enough to earn a spot saved. i can photograph my body in every position and it will never deserve that much. i am just not beautiful enough.

i understand. i know this. but even so, it is sad that even love cannot lighten the burden of my appearance.

their eyes are glued to a screen, really. i don’t know if i blame them. they’re gorgeous. they could have anyone and i understand the lack of lust on my behalf.

i was not born pretty. a plastic surgeon would have an incredible time with me. i’m certain i’d thrill them. not a single piece of me would be left untouched. they could plot and plan and twist and slice.

nothing is redeemable, unfortunately. not my chin, jaw, lips, nose, face, forehead, eyebrows, eyes, undereyes, eyelids, eyelashes…

oh, if i were rich, my face would be remade. my body, too.

i am not enough visually. in fact, i am quite… negative, in that scale of numbers. my body does not help. even my sexual areas are not pleasing to the eye or mouth. my breasts are too small, my vulva is too out. my clit is too big and stretching open my labia to reveal inside my vagina is hideous.

my rib flares jut farther than my tits. my waist is not thin enough, my lovehandles are too fat. my hip dips accentuate my too-large thighs. my ass is big, in a sense, because of my weight, but not in the gorgeous way. it droops with the fat, does not look round like is desired.

my arms are too big, my hands are too chubby and small. my stomach is far too large. my calves, as well.

i am most ashamed of my face. i am not something to be proud of. i am the person you desperately hope to keep inside, to keep secret. to not let in sight of your friends for fear they will make fun of you, have you embarrassed over the monstrosity of a partner you have to parade around.

“as long as you’re happy” is the only response i would elicit.

and worst of all, i’m confusing. i look feminine, sort of. not feminine in the divine and beautiful sense, but feminine in the way i have long hair and wear dresses and makeup. but i call myself a boy. wish others to also address me as so.

what a wreck i am. what a terrible, horrible mess. what an utter disaster. waste. failure.

i am not even something to be jacked off to. i can’t even dignify a catcall, a whistle, or sexually crude leer. not even an older man looking to get a young fleshlight would consider me, glance my way.

i understand why my partner does not mention my appearance. i understand why they do not save photos, take photos - whether of face or sexual organs.

but oh… how it does hurt. to know they’re able to get off to onlyfans of women they saw on tiktok, of people they scroll and find on twitter. i will never be them. i will never be enough, not even to cum to.

isn’t it sad? to be so horribly… ugly.

when i stop and think about it, even without porn… even without nsfw content… even without regular, sfw photos of these gorgeous people on a device… i still doubt i would be in my partner’s mind. maybe an alternate version of me. one where i am very easy to look at - but that would still be a fantasy.

in all likelihood, they’d imagine other people. try to distance their mind while fucking between my legs. imagine a sweet and pretty girl instead of… well, whatever it is i am.

what a waste. i can not eat or drink all day, wear a full face of makeup, wash every crevice of my body and exfoliate, smear every square inch with lotion and perfume, run oils through my freshly washed hair so that it smells nice, stuff socks under my boobs in a push-up bra, cinch my abdomen in with a waist trainer and my tightest belt over my high-waisted jeans… and even then, i could not compare to others walking the street. i won’t ever look nearly as pretty as they do just existing in their natural state. oh, i shudder to wonder how i would look beside them if they also did the things i do to improve my appearance.

they’d look heavenly. i would look…

i don’t even want to know.

they can’t even lie to me. they called me pretty when they first met me. but when they got me, it instantly stopped. the chase to get me was over, so the flattery (lies) were no longer necessary. the painful act to pretend i am desirable beyond being a toy and therapist is finally completed.

here i am, pouring my love and giving my sex.

i look so fuckinf ugly man. i cant stand it. i’m so tired of being this… disgusting. im revolting and i don’t get how someone can look this awful.

again, i should say i DONT blame them. it makes me sad, but i’m very used to it. i UNDERSTAND why they do. god, i’d need a break if i had to live with me, look at me, deal with my existence. but it just sucks to not be enough naturally like anyone else could. i really really wish i could be that attractive, beautiful, pretty, hot, lovely, gorgeous, cute, sexy, handsome, anything anything at all… i’d give so much to look even halfway decent. it would be such an improvement and oh, how i crave it.

it’s not their fault at all. i’d scroll twitter and pornhub and tiktok and onlyfans and whatever else needed to scrub my image from the brain.

my own mother tried her best to hide my body all throughout school. it started in 6th grade. i was lectured about the importance of wearing dark colors to appear smaller, thinner, lighter. baggier clothes to hide that unflattering shape of mine. no shorts, no tank tops, not even in summer. hoodies and jeans. yes, even during recess. black oversized hoodie, dark and baggy jeans. long hair to hide the sides of your face as you walk so that you might not flash a poor soul with the sight of even a sliver of your profile.

wretched. what a wretched mass of flesh i am.

[ameritonki]

Hidden waist pocket yoga

These PajamaJeans are so dreamy, you can sleep in them, and buyers swear they look like the real thing. These alt-jeans slip right on.ĭon't we all fantasize about walking around in public in the comfort of our pj's? Well, now you can make the dream a reality. We haven't seen legwear this sleep-friendly since yoga pants. They're right, one size down fits great." Oh and DO NOT order your regular size, order one size down which is recommended by NYDJ themselves. Also to some who say these are mom jeans implying that's a BAD thing.I'd like to know WHY? I AM a mom and frankly don't care to wear jeans with sparkles, rips and tears which sit 1 inch above my crack.these jeans make me look GREAT. I'm not a teen and when I spend this much on an item I wear it for a LONG time, which makes the price a good value to me. The jeans are very forgiving and make me look long and lean when I am not. This mom says, "I'm 56 years old with a thick waist and I stand 5'4. Prices vary by style and size, but there are some combos that are upwards of $20 off. Perfect with boots, of course, but also a knockout with heels. (Owing to their magical slimming panels, we suggest you select one size down from what you normally wear for the best fit.) The bootcut gives that skinny-leg look ending in a sexy flare, extending the look of your legs so you appear taller and svelte-er. With just the right amount of elasticity blended into the cotton for that perfect stretch, they use their lift tuck technology to make you feel slim and supported in all the right places. (Even Oprah loves this brand!) These Barbara bootcut jeans are designed to look as cute and sexy as that young'un in her twenties might wear, but they're designed for us older folk. If you haven't heard of NYDJ, it stands for Not Your Daughter's Jeans, and that's exactly what we're looking for. They're practically shapewear, with a slimming panel in the front and a curve-loving crisscross design. I didn't know they came in so many colors! Woohoo! No more old lady elastic waistband pants with gathers."īeware: These are Not Your Daughter's Jeans.but they're hot enough for her to steal. Now that I have found them here, I WILL be ordering again. I love that the buttonhole is easy to button because I have trouble with my hands. I love that they bend and move easily with me. I love that they are smooth to the touch. I LOVE that these come up to my belly button so my midriff bulge is more hidden. I had a pair years ago and lived in them - wore them until they were threads. This fan is in love: "I've looked everywhere for these. On sale now, you can grab a pair for as little as 9 bucks (although prices vary by style and size). They come in sizes 4 through 24 (including short sizes!) and a ton of colors and patterns. They're a classic high rise that sits at your natural waist. If you're searching for denim that's designed to fit real women of all shapes and sizes, the Amanda jeans literally fit the bill. And psst.they're nearly 60% off!įrom the woman who invented fashion jeans for women, Gloria Vanderbilt has been an iconic name in the industry for decades for a reason. These Glorias sit nice and high at the natural waist and will pair with just about anything.

[doyumacy]

ʀɪᴅᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ - 1

ʏᴜᴛᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʟᴇᴇ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ɢᴏɴᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ʏᴇᴀʀ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴠᴇʀʏ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ. ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀʟꜰ ʙᴏᴛʜᴇʀ’ꜱ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴀ ʟᴇɢᴇɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʀᴀᴄᴇꜱ. ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀᴍᴇ ɢɪʀʟꜱ ʜᴀᴛᴇ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀᴍᴇ ʙᴏʏ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ʀᴀᴄᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏɴ’ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ʜɪᴍ ɢᴇᴛ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ ʜᴜʀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. ɴᴏᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ.

ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʟᴇᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴏᴡɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ’ꜱ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱᴛᴀʏɪɴɢ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴛ ᴜᴘ ᴀ ꜰᴇᴡ ꜱᴛʀᴇᴇᴛ ʀᴀᴄᴇꜱ, ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴍᴏɴᴇʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜰᴜɴ. ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ꜱᴛɪʀ ᴜᴘ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʙᴇɢɪɴꜱ ʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪꜱ ꜱᴘᴏɴꜱᴏʀ’ᴀ ʜᴀʟꜰ ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ’ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʜᴇʀ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʜᴇ’ꜱ ᴘɪꜱꜱɪɴɢ ᴏꜰꜰ.

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ, ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴜɢꜱ, ɢᴜɴꜱ, ɢᴜɴꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ, ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴊᴏᴋᴇꜱ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴛꜱ,

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5,3ᴋ

next

three years ago

you slide out from under the car you've been working on when you hear an unfamiliar engine approaching the garage. it must be a customer, you think as you go to the front desk to help them.

the man who enters the office surprises you. he has light brown hair and is wearing black jeans with a white shirt with black flowers. his dark brown eyes sparkle with curiosity as he sees you. a black maserati is parked behind him.

"can i help you?" you ask, freely.

"i have a faulty spark plug and my garage is on the other side of the planet. they told me this was the best place in town."

"and it is. go ahead and go into the store."

"don't mechanics normally keep people waiting in the office?" he asked amused.

"only when the person doesn't know anything about cars. obviously you do, so you have to keep me company while i fix it," you smirk.

"what's your name, suh? -he asks, using the last name on your work shirt.

"y/n. yours?"

"yuta. nakamoto yuta."

"nice to meet you. let's get that car fixed, shall we?"

a few minutes later, the black car is with the hood open in the garage. yuta, on the other hand, is helping you by handing you the necessary tools. you let his fingers brush a little more than strictly necessary when yuta hands you a wrench.

yuta smiles and leans back against the car once you're done. "how much do i owe you?" he asks quietly.

it takes you a second to really register how close you are to each other. you look him in the eye. "how about you take me out to dinner and the debt is settled?" you ask in a sudden flare of audacity.

fortunately, he smiles.

"my thoughts exactly. what time will you be out here?

“six.”

he looks down at that ridiculously nice black gold watch.

"it's only an hour from now. how about i keep you company until then?"

"i'd like that."

"so what were you working on before I showed up?"

"my charger over there. there are some bastards who want to compete with me saying their luxury imports can beat it. tonight they're in for an ugly surprise."

you assume yuta has heard about your garage, knows about your regular clientele. they consider themselves the best store around to the fellow street racers. but to everyone else, it's just a small garage.

"that sounds like something i'd like to see. mind if i stay and watch you kick their asses?"

"it'd be my pleasure," you smile.

as expected, you end up following yuta back to his apartment after winning the race by a solid car length. the endorphins from winning the race flood your senses, and yuta is amazed that he had managed to stumble upon such an amazing girl. someone like him.

sl walking, you find yourself wrapped in warm arms and leaning against a hard chest. you caress the dragon-shaped tattoo on his right shoulder and plant a kiss on it.

a quiet moan tells you she is waking up. his arm tightens around her. he plants a kiss on your forehead.

"Good morning to you too," you say.

yuta rolls you onto his back and rests his torso on top of yours. "good morning."

"You look happy.

"i woke up with a beautiful, bad-ass, street-racing woman in my arms. how could i complain?"

you laugh. "well, i could say the same thing. it's not often i get to wake up next to a hot guy and  that brother would probably beat up if he knew where i spent the night."

he barks out a laugh. "you're most likely right..." he bites his lip. "there's something you need to know."

your smile disappears. "you're not married, are you?"

"no! god, no," he replies instantly. "i just want to know if you want it to be more than a brief fling."

you are silent for a moment as he thought.

"yes, i think so. i mean, we could get to know each other better but yes," you explain.

"then we're on the same page," you nod absently. "do you want to have breakfast before we go on with our talk?"

you can't help but get a little nervous. what does he have to say?

"what do you want for breakfast?"

"uh..." you sit up, holding the black sheet against your chest to cover yourself. "whatever. i'm not particularly picky."

yuta nods and gets out of bed, pulling on a pair of gray sweatpants. he leaves his room and you lie back down on the bed. your cell phone rings somewhere in yuta's room and you grunt getting up to look for it. you find it inside your jeans.

"y/n! where the hell are you?" johnny asks as soon as you answer the phone. “you didn’t come home last night, and jaehyun said there was a guy watching you the entire race.”

“don’t worry about it, brother. that guy was my date last night. i’m at this place right now,” you grin.

“hold on, you had a date?! who? why didn’t you tell me?” johnny bombards you with questions.

you sigh. you saw this coming.

“everything all right?” yuta asks, entering his bedroom.

“my brother,” you say with your mouth. “johnny! easy with the questions. i’ll tell you later, bye!”

“be responsible!” it can be heard from the phone and you hang up.

you exhale dramatically and fall back on the bed.

“trouble, dear?” yuta inquiries.

you raise your head to look at him. “big brothers are tedious,” you announce after a minute.

“i wouldn’t know; i’m the older brother.”

“oh?”

yuta smiles warmly. “i have a younger brother. the idiot used to fight older bullies in the yard, and i was the one who had to finish them off.”

you smirk. “you protected him. my brother’s the same way.”

“let’s eat, okay? i still need to talk about something important,” yuta declares.

you nod and he tosses you slightly one of his shirts. you put it on and grab your panties putting them on.

yuta made sunny side up eggs and french toasts. between bites, yuta begins to speak. “i work for the korean mafia.”

“huh?” you stop eating and stare at him. “you what?”

yuta laughs lightly. “i work for the korean mafia.” he repeats. “i bet you’re wondering what a japanese guy is doing working for the korean mafia.”

“not exactly my first thought but yes,” you shrug. “what do you do?”

“let’s say i’m a middleman between the korean mafia and the yakuza,” he confesses.

you frown. “so you buy goods from them and sell them?”

yuta raises an eyebrow at you. “what are you? a businesswoman?”

you laugh and have a bite of your toast. “i went to business school, but i dropped out this semester.”

“hot,” he plants a kiss on your lips. “so yes, that’s my job. aren’t you scared?”

“of what? you? your job?” you snort. “i’ve seen way worse in the underground. i gotta say i’m surprised because i thought you were a good boy.”

yuta chuckles. “i am good at other things,” he winks at you.

you push the plate aside and sit on his lap. “i can’t recall, do you mind refreshing my memory?”

yuta grins and places his hand on your ass cheeks. “aren’t you too sore?”

“pain is my best friend,” you nip at his lip and he groans.

yuta kisses you and his hand goes to your throat tilting your head to the side and biting your neck harshly. you whimper at the painful yet pleasurable sensation. yuta shushes you and darts his eyes to you. “i thought you enjoyed the pain, baby girl.”

one year ago

you’re standing in front of his gravestone and place the flower bouquet next to it. the only sound is the wind, rustling through a nearby copse of trees. it has been five days since yuta died and the hole in your chest only gets deeper.

it hurts.

you’re broken.

your life without him means nothing. the city without him means nothing. nothing makes sense without him.

“you shouldn’t have died,” you say. “we could have been better.” you mumble, sitting in front of the grave. “it’s weird, today i woke up and i thought i heard your voice. am i going crazy?” you scoff.

you stare at the gravestone and then lower your heard. “i came to say goodbye. i can’t stay here anymore. everywhere i go i see your face. everyone reminds me of you.”

you feel tears streaming down your face. “i’ll never forget you, yuta. i love you so much.” you burst out crying.

after you left town, you were pretty much everywhere: singapore, thailand, indonesia, philippines, malaysia and even japan for a few weeks. racing and making a fame known as the ‘nameless girl’ who would beat everyone.

you left a note to johnny saying you’d be okay and you would return when you feel ready to.

you didn’t stay long in every country and you didn’t make any relations so things didn’t attach to you there. you were lonely but you got used to it. and you didn’t dislike it.

one night, you decided it was time to come back home. yuta would never come back and you felt you moved on.

the train arrives at its last stop and you grab your small suitcase exiting it. you walk and take a taxi to your house, or johnny’s house just to find a party. people and their racing cars everywhere.

of course. it’s friday.

you get into your house and see people everywhere. people dancing, no, grinding on each other’s bodies and blowing some smoke. perhaps weed. you walk through the crowded living room and spot johnny sipping a beer. you don’t know how he's going to react since you didn’t tell anyone you’re back.

you walk to johnny but he’s interrupted by a red haired and kissed him. you roll your eyes, johnny and his bitches.

you change your direction walking to the kitchen and see jaehyun talking to some people. he turns to you and doesn’t seem to notice you, it’s when he turns again and his face brightens up with a smile. “y/n!” he walks to you and tugs you for a hug, lifting you from the ground.

“hi,” you giggle, placing a kiss on his cheek.

jaehyun puts you back on the ground and smiles, "i almost didn't recognize you, you've changed so much."

“i just dyed my hair: i got babylights,” you grin.

“i like them, you look great,” jaehyun nods. “but where have you been?!”

“huh everywhere?” you shrug.

“and you couldn’t call?” he stares at you.

“i know, i’m sorry,” you rest a hand on his shoulder. “we’ll talk later, okay? where’s everyone?”

“johnny is lena, jungwoo is having a blunt with jinsoul in the yard and of course jisung is in his room, he’s not allowed to come downstairs,” jaehyun comments.

you nod and rest your hands on your waist. “i don’t know half of these people. who are they?”

“johnny became kind of a sponsor?” jaehyun frowns and you laugh. “no, it’s true! half of these people are rich kids betting on johnny's people, he met two guys that are literally gods of racing.”

“i’d like to see that,” you add. “what are their names?”

“mark lee and lee donghyuck,” jaehyun hands you a beer. “they’re dickheads but we’ve been getting so much money because of them.”

you scoff. “they’re just lucky. i am back.”

jaehyun whistles, smiling. “that’s the attitude, baby. i can’t wait to see you race again.”

you smirk. “i bet you wanna.”

“ah, johnny’s coming,” jaehyun murmurs.

you turn and see a blond haired johnny walking towards you. you tuck your hands into your jeans pocket and smile nicely. “hi brother.”

“when people started saying my sister was here i didn’t believe it because maybe she left this fucking town a year ago leaving just a note!” johnny exclaims. “and thought ‘why would she return just like that?’”

you sigh. “i’m sorry, johnny. but i’m back and i’m okay. that’s the only thing that should matters.”

johnny rolls his eyes. “are you dumb?”

you frown. “just because you’re my brother i d-

“half-brother,” johnny remarks.

“fuck you, johnny,” you hiss and leave the kitchen

when johnny gets upset he tends to be the classical dickhead and uses the ‘half-brother’ excuse just to hurt you. you think you might deserve it, but why is it so hard for him to understand why you left? why you need to leave?

maybe it’s because he has never loved someone the way you loved yuta. or maybe he’s too selfish to understand it.

of course you also think you didn’t do the right thing by simply disappearing out of the blue, but again, you don’t owe anything to no one.

you go to the bathroom that is next to the stairs and groan when you realise it’s locked. you lean against the wall and sigh. next to you, there are three girls whispering and laughing. you don’t care, until you hear your name.

“did you see y/n? she’s back,” one of them says.

“yeah. i thought she was in jail,” the other mocks.

“in jail? for what?” she laughs.

“apparently she was the one that killed yuta,” she comments. “and ran away, but my boyfriend told me the police caught her.”

the blonde one laughs. “poor thing.”

“and i’d go back to jail for ripping your ugly faces off,” you murmur, still leaning against the wall.

the girls stare at you and they decide to leave. you groan, rolling your eyes. “assholes.”

someone walking down the hallway whistles and smiles at you. “should i be concerned about my well being right now?.”

you look at them and you see a black haired guy, wearing a green jacket with black ripped jeans and black shirt. you scoff. “fuck off, dude.”

“but please don’t rip my face off.,” the guy rests his hand on his chest.

you stare at him and clench your jaw. “bugger off, dude. really, i’m not in the mood to take someone’s shit.”

“sorry,” he nods. “i’m mark by the way,” he passes the bottle of the beer he’s drinking to his free hand and extends his hand.

you look at his hand, hesitant. you shake your head and take it. “y/n.”

he grins, gripping at your hand. “you’re the famous y/n.”

you chuckle. “and you’re not the famous mark lee.”

mark smiles sideways. “so you’ve heard about me.”

“very little,” you shrug. “nothing impressive.”

“ah, they weren’t wrong when they said you’re a bitch,” mark frees your hand.

“did i hurt your feelings?” you pout mockingly.

“you’re gonna need more than that to hurt my feelings, gorgeous,” he winks at you.

you nod. “noted, boy. well, it was nice talking to you.”

“you leaving already?” mark asks.

“yeah. i’m tired and i need a place to sleep,” you say. “i guess i’ll see you around.”

mark nods. “have a good night, y/n.”

(...)

“when did she get back? how come i didn't see her?” donghyuck slides off the plastic armrest of the outdoor sofa he was sitting on.

jeno walks away to get a drink. “who 's back?” he asks.

“y/n suh,” mark replies.

“johnny’s sister?” jeno looks at him.

donghyuck and mark nod.

“what was she in jail for, like, a year?” jeno’s voice drops to a whisper.

“she was in jail?” donghyuck stares at mark.

“no. she just disappeared last fall,” mark explains.

“it was probably jail,” donghyuck adds, “that or she had a baby. i mean, the timing kind of fits for that, don’t you think?”

“and where’s the baby, smartass?” mark glances at him.

“gave it away for adoption,” donghyuck shrugs.

“what are you fuckers talking about,” johnny questions, going outside the house.

“your sibling,” jeno admits, earning an elbow to his side by mark.

johnny laughs and turns to look out over his yard. “which one?”

“y/n.”

“watch it, dude,” jaehyun warns him, joining them outside.. “johnny’s not too forgiving when it comes to his siblings.”

“noted.” jeno nods.

“anyways, i’m here to talk business,” johnny sits in front of them.

“back to the things i like,” mark comments.

johnny grins. “there’s a race next weekend, 15 grand for the winner.”

donghyuck whistles. “i like what i’m hearing already.”

“it’s a bit complicated since it won’t be in an enclosed area as usual. it will be in downtown LA,” johnny adds.

“count me in,” mark says.

“dude, do you know how risky it is?” jeno stares at him.

“i’ve done riskier things and here i am,” mark rolls his eyes. “i’ll be there, johnny.”

“you’re my favourite,” johnny smiles and looks at jeno and donghyuck. “you two are disappointing me.”

“i can live with that but not in jail,” donghyuck smirks.

“pussy,” jaehyun hums.

“sorry mr. in-n-out-from-jail,” donghyuck rolls his eyes.

mark chuckles. “that race it’s already mine. and the cops can suck my dick, they wish they were as fast as me.”

“my canadian boy right here is the shit,” johnny smiles.

(...)

the bright neon lights. the skimpy clothing worn by chasers. the many cars lined up.

it's another night in los angeles, and another night means another race.

mark breathes it in as he leans on his orange acura nsx. not a single scratch in sight on the top of the car. although he's working with a sponsor, he has his own gang known as death angels, because they’re risk takers, or most of them are.. he can hear the countless bickering of his gang, who are also his closest friends. donghyuck, jeno, and earphone yves, lucas, bickering about god knows what now. jeno and lucas are conversing about seeing some new people joining the race.

there's no doubt he probably owns the most showy and expensive car in the entire parking lot. until a brown haired girl, who he knows, motioned him to come over.

you.

"seems like you got a challenger," donghyuck murmurs.

"tsk, anyone can beat her. what's so special about her anyway?" mark says, annoyed.

yves clicks her tongue. "i wouldn't be so sure about it, babe."

you get off from your car, hair tied up, perfectly showing your features. your toned eyes are slightly covered with black eyeliner. wearing tight jeans, black t-shirt and a red leather jacket.

you look like you are meant to be there. not a chaser wanting attention, not a flag girl wanting to show herself off, but. tracer. the crowd don't bother you. you begin to slightly look around, and that's when you see mark. you and mark lock eyes, and with a strut, you walk with a confident walk over mark.

crossing your arms, showing off your figure, you take a breath, and open your mouth. "no shit you're here as well."

mark scoffs. "i'm a car racer, where else was i supposed to be?"

"junior leagues," you shrug and you hear one of his friends laugh.

mark stares at you and grins. "i challenge you to a race. simply, nobody else. that is if you are up for it."

the offer is rather simple.

an easy 10-second style race, just the two of you, nobody else.

you let out a breathy chuckle, nodding your head. "alright then, it's settled." you reply, standing up to his level, and leaning over his ear. "but don't be crying when you loose, sweetheart"

mark scoffs at that. "you're underestimating my ability right now, gorgeous." he says, poking his lips out in a seductive manner.

you laugh and he smiles.

you turn around for just a few seconds, yelling over to him words that are barely audible. “te veré al inicio de la línea,” (i'll see you at the starting lineyou say.

mark’s orange acura nsx is a perfect fit considering the late at night arrival they have been in. it’s his prized possession, obviously. he checks the side of his car, smirking to himself seeing the NOS lined up on the passenger seat. however, your white nissan gtr is a good contrast. no dent is seen on it, and the engines flare when you start it, earning an erupt from the spectators. fifteen thousand dollars are on the game, and you need that money.

you notice the flag-girl as one of the members of death angels. she wears a simple purple and black outfit: purple harem pants and a black bomber jacket, carefully showing her slightest laced bra. she looks good, there’s no denying it. and with that, she points at mark, starting his engines and giving a show for his car. then she points to you, and you’re wearing a smile on your face. your engines starting.

and time seems to stop when you hear words emit from her mouth. “go!”

mark and you immediately go and hit the accelerator at about the same time, so you two are neck and neck. you know your strategy, and mark knows his.

8 seconds left.

knowing this, mark uses his NOS, eating a prideful laugh and his back hitting the seat. but you have different plans. you wear a smug look, and let out a giggle. “the NOS he’s using will take a shorter time than it relatively should.” you think you yourself, and activate yours.

6 seconds left.

you fly back to your seat, seeing the crowd erupt in cheers. mark sees your white nissan catch up to him, and before he knows, you’re way ahead of him.

“shit!” he yells.

2 seconds.

and before he knows, you are at the finish line, turning your car around and creating a donut with it, earning praise from the crowd. marks ends up second, or last in this case. he gets out of the car with a scowl, and you make your way to him, with a smile on your face, and your hair is out of the ponytail you have been wearing.

“the NOS you used, doesn't take up as much time as normal NOS used. it was a bit too early,” you say, giving your hand out to him. he clicks his tongue, now slightly irritated to know the fact you're indeed right. marks gives you the money. “pass by the shop any time you want.”

“why would you want to help me anyways? we’re rivals now,” he cocks an eyebrow.

you sigh, when you are interrupted by the shouts of numerous spectators and blaring sirens.

“cops! cops!”

everything happens so fast. next thing you know, you are in the back of your car, hitting your foot on the accelerator and immediately rushing out of the area, keeping an eye out for cops in your view mirror. luckily, you don’t seem to spot many. but where you don’t look?

right in front of you.

bullets ricochet throughout the alley way, earning a slight flinch from you. you are scared. only a few times bullets have been in front of you. you quickly take out your silver handgun from out of your shirt, shooting at the cop, not enough to kill him, but it’s enough to get him to surrender.

“bullet proof vests don’t cover the legs, idiot,” you mumble, smirking ever so slightly. you turn a sharp left, going back to the place where you call home. a right. then left. another right. straight forward 2 miles, and there you are.

“ＳＵＨ　ＭＥＣＨＡＮＩＣＳ　ＡＮＤ　ＭＡＮＵＦＡＣＴＵＲＩＮＧ” is written in bold letters. you love this place, you and your brother practically grow up there. you make your way inside, after swiftly parking your car into your garage. the shop is somewhat connected to the house from behind, so you make your way out of the garage, locking the door swiftly, and arriving with 2 familiar faces.

“you had no business ruining mark’s race!” johnny stands in front of you. he’s angry.

“forget about that!” jaehyun stares at johnny and then at you. “you just returned like two hours ago and the cops are after you already? can you be more careful?”

“ah, br- sorry, half-brother, jaehyun. i appreciate the concern and all, but i got this covered, you know?” you reply and look at your brother. “and please, if you really cared about mark you would have recommended him a new NOS. his sucks.”

jaehyun presses his lips together. “it’s true. i’ve been telling you about that for weeks.”

johnny rolls his eyes. “it’s not my fault. the kid won’t change them.”

“well, then you should find a new guy because you won’t make much money with him.” you say and you take out your money. “and me? i am back, baby.”

jaehyun smirks. “then i guess beers are on you.”

“you guess right.”

(...)

mark rushes off in his car, having donghyuck joining him. he locks his gun, having his fingers on the trigger for any given moment. mark sighs out a stuttered breath, immediately hitting the accelerator and rushing out of the way. he has another tank full of NOS, that donghyuck simply swaps out, for mark to use at any moment.

“jeno and yves have made it back alright,” donghyuck tells him, while mark drives at an inhumane pace.

mark nods and takes the exit 12, driving to glendale. and after almost 25 minutes, they arrive at their warehouse. he parks his car next to jeno’s and they make their way inside.

“dude! that was fucking awesome!” jeno approaches him. “now i understand why the streets wouldn't shut up about her.”

yves rolls his eyes. “it was just lucky. she’s not that good.”

“then you wouldn't mind racing against her,” donghyuck hums.

“please, she’s nothing to me,” yves smirks.

“she got you mad,” mark walks to the kitchen. “she is something to you.”

“anyway,” jeno locks the door. “who sent those policemen? it’s weird, we have been using the same location for months,” jeno asks.

“someone was there. someone who’s purpose wasn’t to spectate or race, but to infliritrate,” mark sighs, adjusting his belt from his jeans.

“i’m wondering if suh is single,” donghyuck sits, ignoring the talk his friends are having.

“johnny or y/n?” mark mocks him.

“she doesn’t date,” yves sits next to him. “or that’s what i’ve heard.”

“since when you’re a fan of gossip?” jeno frowns.

“you don’t need to gossip, everyone talks about her and her tragic love life,” yves shrugs.

“so she wasn’t in jail?” donghyuck inquiries.

“i already told you she wasn’t in jail, smartass,” mark tosses him a beer.

“then where was she?” jeno sits in front of donghyuck.

yves slides a little on the couch. “you ever heard about nakamoto yuta?”

the three men shake their heads. yves rolls her eyes. “he used to work for the korean mafia and the yakuza doing what? i don’t know, but he was well known before we arrived here.”

“and what happened to him?” jeno asks.

“he messed with the wrong people, and he paid for his mistakes,” yves says. “they got him and killed him.”

“and how is he related to y/n?” mark rubs his chin with his index finger.

“they were together,” yves pulls out a box of cigarettes. “and days after his murder, she went away.”

jeno grimaces. “i would’ve done the same. it’s sad.”

“well, he’s dead and we can’t do shit to help her,” donghyuck stretches out his arms. “she’s hot.”

“dude,” jeno chuckles. “we were just talking about his dead boyfriend and you’re saying she’s hot?”

“donghyuck only uses his lower head,” yves mocks. “why are you even surprised?”

mark laughs and donghyuck rolls his eyes. “i’m gonna race against her again.”

“dude, you want to lose again?” jeno stares at him.

mark frowns. “a little bit of support?”

(...)

a few days later, you are working at your peace in call, the mechanic shop. you work with jungwoo, jaehyun, and johnny. jaehyun is an incredibly talented racer, that’s for sure, he was the one who taught you everything you know. johnny and jaehyun are practically always together.

they have been friends since high school, and he’s close with you as well, despite you going to a different school.

so, there you are currently stocking up the shelves and displays with certain kinds of replacements and NOS, to whoever needs them. you wear leather pants, along with a white turtleneck shirt. your hair is down.

“do you have everything locked? storage room too, jungwoo?” you ask the blond.

“yep! johnny is currently working on the new car by the way. he said the client wanted something old school, and because of this, he got inspiration from somewhere,” he informs.

you raise an eyebrow, handing jungwoo the remaining products form the shelves, and making your way inside the shop. you see a black haired man glancing at the shelves with NOS.

you approach him. “hi, welcome. can i help you?”

the man turns and he smiles at you.

mark lee.

you stop the urge of rolling your eyes. “and we see each other.”

“you told me i could pass by whenever i wanted to,” he shrugs. “

“that was me being nice because i beat you,” you smirk.

mark grins. “then i suppose i should go to the Fascinare’s shop? i heard they’re nicer.”

if you and johnny didn’t hate the Facinare you probably would’ve told him to go, but since they are your competition you couldn't afford losing a customer.

you sigh. “of course we can help you.” you fake a smile.

“that’s what i thought,” mark says. “how many days will it take?”

you take a look at his car. “up to 1 to 3 days.”

he nods. “fantastic. i’ll be looking forward to racing against you again then.”

you scoff, crossing your arms on your chest. “i can give your car all the NOS in this world and yet, you won’t beat me.”

“you were just lucky the other night, gorgeous,” he winks at you.

“maybe if you focus on racing instead of flirting you might beat me,” you grin.

mark chuckles and nods. “right. i’ll leave you my phone so you can give me a call when my baby is ready.”

“my god,” you hum. “be right back.”

you go behind the counter and grab a small notebook and a pen. you hand it to mark and write his number down. “i’ll be looking forward for that call.”

“hopefully it won't be me making it,” you smile falsely.

“alright. see you then,” marks says, exiting the shop. “don’t miss me much, gorgeous.”

you roll your eyes again, and smile lowering your head. 

you then frown and shake your head. 

[honey-dewey]

A Challenging Affair

Pairing: Shane ‘Dio’ Morrissey/Reader

Word Count: 1,976

Warnings: None! This is 100% fluff

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

Shane wasn’t exactly the most up to date on current internet trends and challenges, but when you introduce him to a very interesting clothing challenge, it seems he can’t say no. Could today finally be the day New York City sees the Goth King wear some color? 

“Babe!” You said, falling onto the bed beside Shane. “Babe, look at this!” 

Shane rolled over from where he’d been working on his laptop and looked at your phone. “The fuck is that?” 

“It’s a TikTok challenge,” you explained. “Aren’t you on TikTok?” 

“Maybe?” Shane said, confused. “I don’t even know anymore.” 

You groaned. “You’re such an old man!” You said. “Shane Morrissey, the goth king of New York City, and he can’t operate his own damn phone.” 

Shane elbowed you, causing you to squeal with laughter and roll away from him. “Watch yourself,” he warned you with a smile. “Or I’ll feed you to the dogs.” He rolled on top of you and blew a raspberry into your exposed belly, causing you to kick him, laughing uncontrollably. 

“Shane!” You screamed, flailing. “Quit!” 

“Aww,” Shane said, sliding off you and pouting. “But tormenting you is such fun.” 

You gave his shoulder a small shove, reaching for your phone. “But did you see the challenge?” 

The mattress creaked as Shane flopped down next to you. “No.” 

You held your phone out. “It’s a couples challenge. The two people go to a thrift store or something and buy an outfit for their significant other, then they wear those outfits on a date. It looks cute.” 

“Is this a coincidence?” Shane asked, raising his eyebrows. “Or do you know we’re doing date night tonight.” 

“It might be a coincidence,” you said, nudging up against Shane. “But since you said we have date night tonight, why don’t we try it!” 

Shane made a very unimpressed face at you, but shrugged. “Okay. I don’t care. But I get to pick the store.” 

You held your hand out to shake. “Deal!” 

In the end, Shane picked a place you and him both knew very well. The owners were good friends of yours and they were all excited to help you with the challenge when you explained it to them. 

“Alright,” Elon, one of the owners, said. “Here are your bags.” They handed you and Shane each a solid black bag so the other couldn’t peek. “You have each other’s clothing sizes. Go forth and conquer!” 

Immediately, you and Shane split up. You headed towards the sweaters and he headed for the shoes. Humming along to the music, you went through the soft shirts, ruling most of them out because they had too much of a pattern. You had quite the opportunity to put Shane in the most colorful shit you could find, but you weren’t that mean. Instead, you tried to find a balance between color and Shane. 

Finally, your digging around rewarded you with a perfect sweater in Shane’s size. It was a faded grey blue with small black stars, and you knew just by looking at it that it would work well on Shane. Putting it in your bag, you left to go ask your boyfriend a question. 

“No peeking,” Shane said warningly as you approached him. You smiled, looping your arm through his and leaning in to kiss his cheek. 

“I’m not peeking,” you said. “Just wanted to ask you a question.” 

Shane continued to look at shoes, although you could plainly see the outline of a pair in his bag. “Fire away.” 

“Do I have to get you pants?” 

Shane froze for a second, trying to comprehend what you’d just said. “As opposed to getting me what?” 

You shuffled your feet a tiny bit. “A skirt?” 

“Oh.” Shane loosened, shrugging. “Yeah. Go ahead. I don’t care. I’ve told you plenty of times that gender is just a construct meant to control the masses.” 

You giggled. “Don’t go all Dio on me,” you said. “I know you’re a giant dork under all that leather.” 

Shane scrunched his face up, coughing you to laugh. “Mhm,” he hummed. “Now go away. I’m shopping.” 

Giving Shane one last kiss, you walked away to find the right skirt for your sweater. 

It wasn’t hard. You knew what would look good on him, and you found his size in a soft black overall skirt almost immediately. The skirt flared pretty well, and upon further examination, you found that it was a circle skirt. Tossing it and a pair of sheer black tights in your bag, you only had one more thing to find. Shoes. 

On your way to the shoes, you got distracted. You’d intended to let Shane wear his regular jewelry, but passing the small display, you backtracked and grabbed a small ring with a beautiful Aries constellation on it.

You bumped into Shane, almost literally, as you rounded a corner. He smiled at you, gently guiding you around him so you two didn’t collide. “Watch it,” he said. “Wouldn’t want you hurting the pretty face of yours.” 

Blushing, you scowled at Shane, sticking your tongue out at him as you walked away. He mimicked the gesture, showing off his rarely seen tongue piercing. 

Shoes weren’t hard. Shane cycled through three different pairs of platform boots and two pairs of solid black Doc Martens, so you decided to let Shane continue with his current pair of shoes, which were one of the Doc pairs. You almost put a pair of hot pink crocs in the bag, just to screw with Shane, but you had told yourself you’d be kind, and hot pink crocs didn’t seem very kind, even if it was hilarious. 

“I’m done,” you said cheerfully, walking over to where Shane was looking at shirts. “You?” 

“I’ve been done,” Shane said. “Here.” He held out the bag for you. You exchanged it for your bag for him, swapping. “Ready?” 

You nodded eagerly. “Yep! Let’s go!” 

Elon’s girlfriend, Lucy, got you both set up in changing rooms, smiling at you knowingly. “Oh honey,” she said to you. “Dio got damn lucky with his pick.” 

Suddenly nervous, you began to get changed. 

The outfit wasn’t bad. In fact, you liked it. A cute pair of mom jeans with embroidered flowers around the folded ankles and the pockets, a white jersey knit shirt that you tucked loosely into the pants, a pair of white socks, and a pair of yellow buttercup earrings made up the outfit, but you couldn’t find the shoes. 

“Shane?” You said, confused. “Where are the shoes?” 

“There aren’t any in my bag either,” Shane said over the gap in the wall. 

“You’re supposed to wear your Docs,” you said. “Should I wear my sneakers?” 

“No,” Shane said. “I have your shoes. I wanted to see your face when I gave them to you.” 

You pouted, leaving the dressing room and making a face at Lucy, who had her lips pressed together in barely contained amusement. 

Shane stepped out of his dressing room, and your pour melted away. “You look so good!” You said eagerly. 

Truthfully, Shane did look really good. The sweater was a tiny bit big, but that added to the aesthetic. The skirt was just the right length, and you couldn’t wait to run your hands across his thighs in public and give him a taste of his own teasing medicine. He shuffled in his shoes, shrugging. 

“It’s too much color,” he said finally, and you rolled your eyes playfully. 

“It’s one faded blue sweater,” you pointed out. “Be glad I didn’t pick the neon rainbow tie dye shirt.” 

Shane fake gagged, causing you and Lucy to laugh. 

“Okay,” Shane said, holding out a shoe box. “Sit.” 

You sat down on a stool, closing your eyes at Shane’s request and putting your feet in his lap when he sat on the floor. You could feel him sliding each shoe onto your feet, and you tried to guess what they were. 

“Are they platforms?” Shane adjusted the laces on the left shoe. 

“No.” Shane pulled the laces on the left shoe tight. 

“Docs?” Shane was adjusting the right shoe laces now. 

“Yes.” Shane pulled on the right laces. You could feel your foot move as he tied them. 

“Can I open my eyes?” You were super eager to see the shoes. 

You felt Shane shuffle back, so your feet were no longer in his lap. “Yes.” 

You opened your eyes, immediately gasping. The shoes were hideous and you adored them. You’d been trying to find a pair of these Docs in your size for years, but they had stopped making them a decade ago. “Are these the Pascal Darcys?” 

Shane was smiling. “Those are the god awful Pascal Darcy Docs you desperately wanted,” he confirmed. “Lucy said Elon found a pair a few days ago, and when she told me they were in your size, I knew I had to get them for you.” 

You all but launched yourself into Shane’s arms. “You absolute bastard!” You said happily, hugging him tight. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Shane said, holding you almost as tight as you were holding him. “Now c’mon, I believe we have a date tonight.” 

Reluctantly, you took everything off and paid for it, carrying the bags home  and trying to resist the urge to pull your new boots out and break them in with a trip around the block. 

When you got home, you and Shane changed, and Shane wiped his heavy makeup away for something lighter and simpler. 

“Can I do your makeup?” You asked, standing in the bathroom with Shane. “I picked your outfit, so it makes sense.” 

Shane looked at you with his eyebrows raised. “No sabotage?” 

You gasped. “You think too little of me!” You said, picking up Shane’s liquid eyeliner pen. “I would never.” You quickly kissed Shane’s nose. “I promise,” you added softly. “No sabotage.” 

Shane sat still as you did his makeup, not going overboard because you didn’t want to. Instead, you kept it simple with a small amount of eyeliner and a bit of extra blush across his cheeks and nose. 

“I think I should return the favor,” Shane said, standing once you were finished. “Gimme the brush.” 

“I’m already perfect,” you shot back, but handed him the brush anyway. 

You ended up with the same treatment as Shane. Some eyeliner and blush was all he decided you needed before he was telling you to go put your shoes on. You didn’t need to be told twice, racing off to go put your new boots on. 

“Do you still love them?” Shane asked, putting his arm around you as you walked out of the building. 

“Do you still think they’re ugly?” You asked back, smiling. 

Shane sighed, smiling. “They’re really not my thing,” he said. “But I’m glad you love them.” 

You grinned, kicking your foot as best you could while walking. “I love them,” you said. 

Your date ended up being an early dinner at a local cafe and then you and Shane wandering around a tiny used bookstore for almost an hour. You didn’t buy anything, you just enjoyed the book smell and the calming atmosphere, losing yourself among the stacks of old books. The owner was a witch, and you found Shane talking to her about tarot cards. You pressed yourself to Shane’s side, yawning and snuggling closer to his sweater. 

Shane instinctively put an arm around you, holding you to him. You smiled. “Can we go home?” You asked softly. “I’m tired.” 

“Of course,” Shane said, kissing your head. “I’ll see you tomorrow Beth.” 

Beth waved as you two went, walking silently home. 

When you fell into bed, in your pyjamas and half asleep already, you were surprised to see Shane follow you, still wearing his sweater. The skirt and tights had been exchanged for sweatpants, and his shoes were discarded somewhere in the bathroom. 

“Did you have fun?” Shane asked, snuggling close to you.

You nodded, sleepily humming. “Yeah. Thank you for indulging me today.” 

Shane smiled, pulling the blankets up to cover the both of you. “For you, my dove, anything.”

[hannie-dul-set]

sins of lust [yoon jeonghan]

“lust /ləst/ — the mind governed by the flesh is death, but the mind governed by the spirit is life and peace - romans 8:6″

LUCKY 7′S MASTERLIST

PAIRING | yoon jeonghan x female! reader GENRE | college! au, borderline smut, angst WARNINGS | nsfw themes obviously lmao but no actual doing the dirty because i can’t write smut for shit, swearing, jeonghan is the literal devil WORD COUNT | 4.5k

a/n: I’M SO VERY SORRY THATTHIS IS SUPER LATE ; - ; but anyways!! this is my last piece for our luck 7′s collab with @haokyeom​ :D this was,, very out of my comfort zone but i still do hope that you enjoy :’>

Your mother had always told you to never trust strangers.

“They’re like foxes,” your mother had once said as the both of you gazed through the window of your small cabin beside the thick walls of trees in the woods. Her hands rested gently over your small shoulders, and you two eyes the coat of orange fur speeding through the outside, a familiar stuffed animal hanging limply by its mouth. You had accidentally left it outside while you were playing.

You frowned upon seeing the animal disappear into the trees, and even at your young age, you knew that it was lost forever.

“They take what they can without a hint of remorse. You wouldn’t even know until you see them running away,” you looked up at your mother who stared into the distance with eyes stained in sadness. You turned around, hugging her waist and burying your face into her stomach, and she released a laugh as she patted your head. “My Y/N’s a smart girl, right? Never forget mommy’s words, okay?”

And you did. For eighteen years, you had lived with only the company of your mother, your homeschool teachers, and your precious cat, Salem. There were times when your grandparents would visit, usually during the holidays, but you weren’t exactly close with them (they didn’t seem to like you, either). It was only when you had finally entered college when you were given the chance to actually mingle with other people, especially people that were your age, and it was the first time that you had left to live on your own outside of your homey cottage beside the woods.

Initially, your mother was against the idea of you living in your campus’ dorms, especially the fact that you had to live with another person that you knew nothing of. You weren’t keen on the thought either, but it was far more reasonable than commuting every single day to the city all the way from the middle of nowhere.

At least your roommate was never around.

‘Staying over at Johnny’s xx,’ you sighed upon seeing the text message, and you stepped forward in the light when the person before you did as well. It was only the third week of the semester and you were already wishing for things to go back as they were.

A part of it was your fault for being socially inept, generally avoiding people and not even talking to anybody unless talked to. Your mother’s words rang into your head every single time, and naturally you had built up a wall. This wall was what made you feel comfortable, made you feel safe— you don’t trust anyone here, and it would be better to finish your studies without getting personally tangled with other people.

“Hi! What can I get you?”

Though, there were indeed times where you wished that you were at the very least not so awkward.

“A regular americano,” it took you so much strength to squeeze that out of our esophagus, relieving the tightened airway with a breath of relief when the barista nodded at your order and jotted it down. Hurriedly, you went to sit at an empty table, your racing heart making you move quicker than necessary. God, you wondered how many more trips to campus cafe would it take until you finally got the courage to order without feeling you were being held at gunpoint.

You huffed, squeezing your eyes shut. At least you didn’t stutter today, so that’s improvement.

Stop deluding yourself, Y/N. You’re still—

“Whoa. Careful, now.”

A thud. The feeling of warmth fluttering over your shoulders. An unfamiliar sweet voice seeping into your ears. And you looked up.

“Are you okay?”

His steady grip had left your shoulders but the traces of his warmth were still buzzing over your clothed skin like mini fireworks erupting when he made contact, and when you met his concerned eyes, it felt like you were about to reach the climax of the light show. He didn’t say anything, only waiting for the confirmation to fall from your lips with a worried look on his face. Your heart was still racing, but it was in a completely different rhythm. 

You had once felt your heart threatening to bounce off of your chest out of fear, and at times due to excitement. Your pulse rising due to nervousness was already like an unwanted friend to you.

But this.

What is this?

“Miss?”

“I, uh—” the man shot you a smile that was devoid of any malice despite you being a stuttering and mess that was frozen in place. Heat rushed to your cheeks while you were trapped underneath his gaze. You wanted to move but it felt like your mind was completely detached from your body, soaring above your head because you can't seem to grab a hold of it. But with enough willpower, you managed to squeak out a small “sorry’ before shuffling away to the farthest seat possible with your head down.

When you sat yourself on the seat, the first thing you did was look up to the direction of the male, only to see an empty space. You bit down your lip, hastily taking out your laptop from your bag and just move on from what happened, but the racing of your heartbeat refused to let it go. Was this… normal? You let out a choked groan, removing your hands from the keyboard to bury your heated face into your palms. There were times where you hated that you were so sheltered, and this was one of them.

If only your mother wasn’t so protective of you, if only she let you live a normal life, if only—

Your phone started buzzing.

Slowly, you sat up and took out your phone from your jean pocket, and the pace of your heart was slowed down by a surge of guilt.

‘How were classes today, honey? I hope you drank enough water today. Even when I’m around, you always seem to forget. The weekend is just around the corner. Are you coming home?’

You smiled. Of course, your mother had only wanted what’s best for you. Finally relaxing your muscles, you adjusted your position on the chair and silently tapped on our phone.

‘Classes were fine, mom. And that was before! I’ve been drinking a loooot of water, you know? Do you want me to…’

The next day had come. You quietly entered the near barren classroom, the early morning rays leaking through the open glass windows on the wall. You liked this class mainly because not a  lot of people are enrolled in it— even if it meant sacrificing a few more hours of your sleep. The less people to deal with the better.

I’ll just take a nap later after lunch. You thought to yourself as you let out yawn, your palm hovering over your mouth as you did. You arrived a little earlier than usual, so there was still an ample amount of time to review for a test for a different class before your professor arrived. You recalled your conversation with your mother yesterday, and you were slightly disheartened when you told her that you couldn’t come home for the weekend because you had a lot of things to finish that required you to be on campus. Even if you wanted to go, you couldn’t risk lagging behind your work.

A few more people entered your peripheral as you were scanning your notes, and you took this as a signal to put it away. You pulled your bag over your lap and tucked in your notes neatly before pulling out your laptop. More people started flooding and you noticed that the seat beside you was now occupied.

“You seem fine today.”

You jolted, the familiar voice entering your ears causing the veins underneath your skin to start buzzing. The moment you turned your head to your side, you were met by a small smile from the man that you bumped into yesterday. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I-it’s fine.”

Has he always been in this class? You’ve never seen him here until now. Then again, you didn’t really pay attention to the faces around you. The gap between your chairs seemed a little too close for your sanity, so you scooted a bit farther to the left.

“Are you feeling alright now?” his voice caused you to abruptly freeze as you tried to discreetly move your chair without being exposed, and you bit down your tongue. As if he noticed the sudden distance between you two, he thoughtlessly moved his chair closer. “You didn’t look too well yesterday considering how dazed you were.”

Why was he talking to you? A lot of people did try to befriend you during the first few days, but it gradually stopped upon them seeing how dismissive you were. “O-oh, I’m fine, uh— sorry for bumping into you,” he had his elbow propped on the table, his cheek resting on his palm as faced you, a seemingly permanent smile on his face that you’ve been desperately trying (and failing) to avoid. Maybe isolating yourself from the rest of the world dulled down your ability to perceive normal human emotions like the stuttering of your heart was trying to tell you.

Jesus, you thought that you were going crazy.

“That’s good to hear,” he hummed, turning his attention to the laptop screen before him. “My name’s Jeonghan, by the way.”

Jeonghan. You repeated in your head. Why did finding out his damned name feel like 200 pounds of gratification? Maybe you were really going insane. He cocked his head to your direction, the curve of his lips that never disappeared aiming directly at you, but they did not part to say anything. Jeonghan looked like he was waiting for you, which caused you to intermittently panic because why in the world was he just staring at you like that?

“It’s not fair that I gave you my name but I don’t know yours.”

Oh.

“Y/N,” your cheeks flared as you spoke, diverting your eyes from him out of embarrassment. “It’s Y/N.”

He released a light laugh before nodding in affirmation, and you swore your heart was trying to run away from you in condonation. It felt like hours had passed it between the seconds of your small exchanges, causing you to wonder when your professor was going to enter and distract you from the fervent blows on your ribcage.

It didn’t seem like your professor was arriving any time soon— the guy was always late so you weren’t even remotely surprised but for the love of god, he could’ve made an exemption today. Your eyes flickered over to Jeonghan’s space on the long table, and you saw him scribbling indecipherable doodles on what was once a blank sheet. You bit the inside of your cheek, debating with yourself over and over again until one side of your mind finally overtook your senses and sensibilities.

You jumped into the ocean when you’ve never even stepped into a lake.

“I—I never noticed that you were in this class until today.”

It took a lot from you to say that one simple sentence, the words barely squeezing past your throat, and you realized just how pathetic you were. Luckily for you, Jeonghan didn’t seem to mind the lapses in your voice, the diversion of your eyes, or the way your fingers nervously thrummed over the white coated desk. Even if he did, he didn’t say anything about it, only sending that angelic smile on your way.

“Really? I’ve noticed you since the first day,” he started. “To be frank, I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now, but you always looked like you didn’t want to be bothered.”

“You— you wanted to talk to me? Why?” 

He shrugged. “You seemed cute,” there was a slight pause before he continued. “And I was right.”

You blinked, gawking at him. Jeonghan was saying such— such unprovoked things without a hint of shame while your face was flaring like it just made contact with the sun. In the middle of you trying to recover, your professor had finally decided to walk in, capturing the attention of Jeonghan and everyone else inside the class. You released a breath that you didn’t know that you were holding and lightly tapped both of your cheeks in attempts to lower your ever rising temperature. You caught the male beside you laughing a little, and when you slightly turned your head to face him, you were struck defenseless with a playful wink.

It was quiet for the rest of the class, but you couldn’t focus. Not when your mind was making a lot of noise, not when your heart was about to explode inside your chest.

And definitely not when the pretty boy beside you kept on shooting you glances in between. 

“Do you like movies?”

Jeonghan asked the moment he sat down beside you, and your brows raised at his sudden question. It had been a week since your first encounter with him, and within those few days, you’ve been seeing more and more of him. You weren’t sure if it was a coincidence or if he’d been deliberately trying to squeeze himself into your life.

But what did you know? Nothing. That’s why you let him.

“I do,” you answered, a small smile tugging at your lips. You remembered the times when you and your mother would watch countless movies in just a single day when you were feeling sad. You couldn’t leave the house easily, and when you did it was nothing but forest, forest, and more forest. Sometimes you were lucky to come across a wild hare, or sometimes even a small deer. Which reminds you— it’s been a while since you’ve gone home. You took a mental note to schedule some time for you to go back there.

Your curious eyes flickered over to Jeonghan. “Why?”

“There’s a film festival this weekend,” he leaned back against his chair, legs crossed and arms swinging lazily at his sides until he raised one hand to your face, a finger poking your cheek. “And I’m taking this pretty girl with me.”

“What?”

You gaped, dumbstruck. His lips were pressed into a brazen smile as his eyes were gleaming at you while you were still frozen in shock. He didn’t even ask you— did he think that you were just going to go with whatever he’s saying that easily?

“I—I haven’t agreed to anything!” you rebuked with a quick stammer, which caused a frown to replace the previous smile on Jeonghan’s face.

“But I thought you said you liked movies,” he sat down straight, the legs of his chair making a noise upon meeting the floor. The unabashed pout on his face, accompanied by the confused furrowing of his eyebrows, soon dissipated from his features when he let out a sudden gasp. “Wait, are you saying you don’t want to go with me?”

“I-it’s not that! I’m just—”

You couldn’t come up with any words to follow, distracted by the pained expression that Jeonghan wore. Was he just overreacting to mess with you? Was it fake? Or was he really hurt? Your ineptitude to social cues made you want to rip your hair out of your scalp. Once more, you quickly looked at him before snapping your head away, harshly biting down your lip before taking in a sharp inhale.

“Okay, fine!” Jeonghan’s face lit up, the corners of his lips tugging upwards. “I—I’ll go with you.”

You refused to look at him with how much your face was heating up, but you heard him let out a satisfied hum. It was quiet for a moment, giving u the opportunity to relax your shoulders and release your breath. Looks like the professor is late again. You dug into your bag to take out your notes, relaying yourself before class actually starts, but your actions were halted when you felt a thin, cold object pressing lightly against your arm. You looked over to see a phone, and the phone was attached to a hand, and a hand which belonged to a Yoon Jeonghan who was twinkling at you with an expectant gaze.

“Your number.”

Any moment now you swore that you were going to melt.

Within seconds, you snatched the device from his hands, rapidly smashing down the few digits, and you shoved it back to him at the speed of light. How you wanted to throw yourself out of the window, right now. A quick buzz in your pocket distracted you from your internal meltdown, and you took your own phone out, expecting a text from your mother, but instead—

‘See you on saturday, pretty girl :) hehe <3’

You shot up to meet the smug smile on Jeonghan’s face, and you bashfully looked back down at the message on your phone, feeling a smile of your own blossoming on your face.

It was late at night when you two finished.

Jeonghan insisted on bringing you home, protesting when you said that you said you could make it your way back at the movies, protesting when you said that you can walk through the campus to your dorm building alone, protesting when you said that you can head upstairs by yourself, and now when you had finally reached your floor, he stopped protesting— but he didn’t seem to how any signs of leaving just yet.

“Did you have fun?” he asked in a quiet tone. It was near midnight, and neither of you expected that the festival would go on for this long. You nodded, laughing a little, back pressed against the door leading to your room. Perhaps you were feeling a little loopy and tired from all the movies you watched, some of the scenes that stood out to you still replaying in your head.

He smiled, a few tufts of his hair shadowing over his eyes. “I’m glad.”

“I took note of a few of the films that I really liked! I’ll probably rewatch them with my mom when I get home,” you beamed, and he chuckled at your enthusiasm. “What about you?”

You almost regretted that you asked. Jeonghan was silent for a moment, a pondering look on his face as his eyes stared at the side before quickly flickering back to you. His lips were curved into a playful grin as he ever so slowly closed in on you, causing you to melt yourself into the wooden surface of your door as your heart violently thundered.

“Do you want me to be honest?” he asked in a teasing tone. His face was barely hovering over yours, and you felt your nerves screaming at you to rest your racing pulse. He didn’t do anything, though, seemingly waiting for you to respond to his question, but all you could manage was a small nod. “I wasn’t really paying attention to the movies.”

Your breath hitched and your mind was a whir. What was he doing? The waves of your senses were pulsating in an uneven rhythm, causing you to stumble over your own presence of mind as it was gradually slipping away, replaced by a haze of an uncharted storm of emotions overtaking you.

Heat was rising and you didn’t know what to do.

“I would have paid attention if it wasn’t for this pretty girl distracting me the entire time.”

“Jeonghan!”

You exclaimed, your voice being louder than expected. “I-it’s getting late. Isn’t—isn’t it time for you to go?”

There was a nervous smile on your lips as you stared up at him, eyes quivering when you tried to meet his clouded gaze. You waited for him to go, to step away from his closeness so that you’d finally have enough room to breathe, but dropped an unexpected question.

“Do you want me to go?”

The silence was deafening.

Jeonghan waited for you to say something, but the answer was something you yourself did not know. He waited until he derived the answer from your lack of response, sending you a nod and a smile before turning away. Your eyes were shaky, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in your moment of an unprecedented assault of hesitation, head filled with white noise because you couldn't think— therefore you listened to the fever stirring your restlessness.

You grabbed onto the sleeve of his coat at the last moment.

There was a glint in his eyes when he turned around, a knowing look on his face as if he had been expecting it. Swift steps and an even swifter heartbeat chased after you and once again Jeonghan was mere centimeters away from you, his warm breath igniting fire against your skin. “You could’ve just said so, pretty girl.”

He didn’t even give you the chance to breathe when he captured your unguarded mouth with his.

The air brushing against your fevered skin felt different, especially when Jeonghan was all up against you, ravishing your parted lips until you felt your senses slipping away. God, you’ve never done anything like this before and your conscience belatedly rang in your ears the moment you felt his hot tongue claiming yours as his own. You let out a faint whimper, the voice at the back of your head yelling at you that this was wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. This was wrong.

You barely knew him— ten days wasn’t enough for you to know him. But you were too drunk over this foreign heat of emotion unfurling in your core to listen to your better judgement. You shouldn’t have stopped him from leaving, you shouldn’t have let him graze his teeth over your skin, let his hands roam all over your your body, let the feeling him pressed roughly against you being the only thing your dizzied mind could think of

But fuck, it felt so good.

You blindly reached for the door knob as you let Jeonghan trail wet kisses on your neck, and with a clicking of the lock, the both of you disappeared into the darkness of your room.

You said that the first was going to be the last— your mother’s words like playing a mantra in your head to bring you to the edge of guilt. But a week had passed yet that “last” never seemed to surface.

“H-hi, mom. Yeah, I—I’m fine, don;t worry. My classes just ended and—ah!”

You bit down your tongue after releasing the uninhibited noise, gulping down when you realized that Jeonghan had no intentions of stopping his ceaseless attacks from your jaw all the way down to your chest. There was fear trickling in your veins as your mother was still at the end of the line, possibly hearing the indecent sounds coming from her own daughter. You tried your best to remain quiet, but it started to become impossible when you felt Jeonghan’s teasing fingers brushing over your clit. You stared at him with wide eyes, suppressing the violent waves crashing over you, but all he did was smile at you and kiss you cheek before pressing his fingers down.

A loud gasp fell from your quivering lips.

“Mm? Shouldn't you be keeping quiet, baby?” he mumbled into your jaw before pressing a down kiss, and you let out a shaky breath. The hand that you were using to hold your phone returned to your ear, and you were welcomed by the worried voice of your mother.

“O-oh, it was just Salem! The little guy suddenly jumped— jumped on my lap,” you trailed off with a hint of nervous laughter, and you met the mischievous glint shining in Jeonghan’s eyes. He removed himself from you, causing you to close your eyes in relief and let out a sigh. “Home? Ah, I—I don’t think I can go there soon, but I’ll make sure to— oh my god.”

You were too focused on your conversation on the phone to notice that Jeonghan was now buried between your legs, nipping at your inner thighs. You slapped your hand over your lips, suppressing your moans from his bites, kisses and licks. He shot you a look of warning, and your heart stopped when you felt his hot breath hovering over your core. Quickly, you fumbled out a farewell into your phone.

"S-sorry, mom, I—I have to go—"

Another week had passed and you started to feel the consequences of your decisions crashing over you like falling debris. Jeonghan and you still met frequently, but "good morning" and "good night" texts slowly fizzled into conversations consisting only of "can I come over?" and "are you free?". It left a heavy feeling in your gut when coffee dates and movie theatres were forgotten, replaced with nights in his or your room, and suffocating scenes in his car. You couldn't help but think that maybe you should have thought things through.

But you were weak.

Today was no different.

You were buried in your bed, thick blankets covering your figure as you watched Jeonghan swiftly pull a shirt over his head. He had an evening class after this and you couldn't blame him that he was in such a hurry. Even when knowing this, you still wanted to take your chances.

"Jeonghan."

You called out to him in a quiet voice, small and fragile and lacking in firmness. He stood in the middle of the room, ready to leave but he turned around to look back at you— even if it was stupid, it bubbled the faintest shimmer of hope. You pulled the covers closer to yourself, looking down at the crumpled white sheets as you pressed your lips together before saying.

"I like you."

He didn't say it back.

Instead he smiled at you, feet padding against your wooden floors as he walked up to you in bed, pressing a small kiss on your forehead before ruffling your already messed up hair.

"I'll see you tomorrow, pretty girl."

But you didn't see him tomorrow.

You didn't see him at all after that.

The seat beside you in class was now occupied by an abhorrent emptiness that made you want to drag your nails against your skin. You tried searching for him in the crowded walls of the large classroom, but he was either not there or hidden by the enormous mass of bodies. He left you with a heavy heart and the only one you could find yourself to blame was yourself. Your mother's words never stopped ringing inside your head since then.

It was like fate was laughing at you when you saw him again at the campus cafe— just like the first time you met him. You were in a hurry to leave when you accidentally bumped into him, your coffee nearly spilling from your hands. You parted ways without anything exchanged.

Your mother had always told you to never trust strangers.

Maybe you should have listened to her words.

[gojology]

Clubs Aren’t My Thing. (1/2)

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | i’m REPOSTING this because my already bruised ego absolutely rejects the fact that my writing got 33 notes, that, and i just don’t want to continue this if it doesn’t get any traction. i’m not good at nsfw, so i feel like if not a lotta people wanna read my work, why try hard on something i’m bad at? anyways, this whole club concept is totally from @/mystic-sky or skyfelt on ao3. pls check her out. if anything is inaccurate its prob bcuz the only reference i have is the club penguin dance club teehee. 

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | mentions of sex, drinking, you’re literally at a club.

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Gojo x Female Reader

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 2847

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | You’re alone, at a bar, waiting for the end of the night to come. Then again this was bound to happen, as clubs weren’t really your thing, but promises of snacks and money from your friends were really what you came for. A mysterious, yet intriguing white haired man approaches you, and eventually he piques your interest. Little do you know, you had piqued his as well, and he’s having a hard time trying to hide it.

Bright, flickering vivid lights was all the human eye could see from where you were sitting.  You’re sitting at a bar, legs restless and rhythmically bumping against the table. You had come here for a “fun night”, even though they promptly ditched you for the lively dance floor afterwards, you assumed to pick up guys and have some encounters in the bedroom.  It wasn’t quite your thing though, well, you didn’t know yourself, you were far too shy to find out, though.  That’s how you found yourself alone, at a bar, completely sober.   Your friends pushed you, (which was a bit weird since they were no where near you now- so really now, what was the point?) luring you with yummy snacks and treats to come out of your house for once. Hesitantly agreeing, you didn’t expect to have them dress you up as well.   Fighting them off and running for the bedroom door, you hated the very idea of even interacting with anyone. Moaning and groaning like a child that you weren’t getting enough for going to a social event, and not wearing your beloved baggy hoodies and sweatpants.   “Okay, okay!” your friend stood up, hands above her. Shaking her head and letting out an exasperated sigh.   “We’ll add on a free dinner- on us.”   Raising an eyebrow, you scrolled through your phone. This wasn’t a bad deal, not at all. You decided to not reply, though.   “Ugh, (Y/N), Okay. A 50 DOLLAR GIFTCARD TO YOUR FAVORITE STORE. Do we have a deal?” Your friend blurted out, sitting down on her chair with a huff.   The girl clearly wanted you to go to the club.  You grinned evilly, realizing just how much you can get.   Of course, you wouldn’t spend the money without spoiling some of your girlies, but you had gotten even more then you asked for, and well- sure it was a bit mean, but you figured afterwards you could go out with them without the bargaining.   And so, facepalm after facepalm ensued, offering you more and more unnecessary amounts of money and food, you finally broke under the pressure of being a tad too mean. You weren’t planning on torturing your friends for life.   At that point, who could really resist?   Now, enthusiastic with your eyes only on the prize, you allowed yourself to be dressed up just this once. Your friends had whipped up the nicest outfit they could without it showing very much skin (per your request!).   Your friends had let you borrow a rather short white plaid skirt they had paired with a casual simple t-shirt. Slightly sheer, and a warm, yet soft cardigan that was kind of scratchy. Donning a pair of tights that you had picked yourself and your favorite pair of beaten up Doc Martens. You realize that it didn’t look half-bad on you.  For once, you thought you looked nice.   However, it seemed to pale in comparison with the scandalous outfits your friends seemed to prefer. Dresses hugging their curves, showing as much of their skin as possible without being full-blown naked, you wonder how one can hold so much self-confidence. But you ignore the feeling, repeating to yourself that you looked good in your own ways.  You wave for the bar tender, feeling a rush of self confidence as you glance down at your outfit. The rather disgruntled man eyes perked up at the request, rushing over.  “May I offer you something, ma’am?”  You gulp, the self confidence rapidly crashing back down, almost as soon as it had come up. You weren’t quite the drinker, and you weren’t looking to find if you were. Running a hand through your already tousled hair, you stutter out a short sentence.  “Can I have some.. Water? With, uh, ice.”  He nods, seemingly shocked that you weren’t ordering any alcoholic beverages before turning his back on you and quickly whipping up the rather simplistic drink. Well, then again, judging by the outfit, one glance would be enough to tell him that you were forced to come, or shy.    Shocked by how comprehensible you had been when speaking to him, your lips curve slightly into a warm smile. Working around your fear of talking to people in unusual places was good.   Handing the glass of water to you with cold fingertips, you nod back. Skimming his hand as you did so. You grimace, contact felt weird.   Taking a sip, you looked away and hoped not to make conversation.  You heard a rather loud laugh, which was an understatement, because you could hear it even through the mass of chatter and movement of the club.  Curious by who could possibly be louder than the sheer deafening cheers of a drunken crowd, you look towards the other direction, before setting your eyes on a ridiculously white haired man.  He was laughing again now, and your eyes immediately drift over to his very defined jawline. No wonder so many girls were around him, by the looks of it, he looked like a famous model.  His head high above all the females crowding around him, you notice the man next to him. A disgruntled, yet polite looking individual you assumed to be his friend sat next to him.   He was also towering over the women, nodding and smiling at the many girls tempting him with their bodies, but he seemed so clueless that you doubted he even had a clue of what was going on.   Fidgeting and playing with his hair, he was clad in an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt. The crowd of women around him wasn’t as large as the white haired man, you noted, but still large nonetheless.  “Oh, him?” the bartender blurted, you turn to face him again, cursing yourself for being so obvious in your endeavors.  Wiping a cocktail shaker down with a towel, he ducks his head, studying the remaining water droplets. You stare daggers at the bartender for interrupting your train of thought, before cursing yourself for being so mean.  “He’s a regular, gets drunk quite frequently, and he’s Prince Charming to the ladies.”  Rubbing the back of your head, you stare back at the bartender. Unsure what to make of his approach on conversation.  Reconsidering like the good person you are, you thought about how annoyed the guy got talking to a bunch of drunk college kids. He seemed like he had good intentions, and talking to someone that was sober was sure to be refreshing.  “Yeah, I can tell, the guy has a lot of girls around him. He looks really... Lively. To put it simply.”  The bartender laughed, relaxing himself as soon as he heard the friendly words leave your lips. He finished wiping down the cocktail shaker and proceeded to the neatly stacked cups which had just been washed.  “No, the guy’s just friendly. Real hit with the ladies, especially his.. Uh, physical attributes. See his friend over there? Lil bit more modest, he started coming here recently. Don’t let that good natured face fool you though, they’re both the same..”  You rolled your eyes, Typical. Taking the last few gulps of your water before you slammed it back down. The bartender took the cup, refilling it hastily and giving it back to you.  You heard several girls giggling, and you glanced back in the direction of the men. The long, raven haired man had his arms wrapped around dozen or more girls, swarming him as if he was a celebrity.  The bartender was right, he looked so bored when you had studied the two, but here he was now with the same army of girls heeding his every call.  That left the white haired man alone.  Shaking his head with a small chortle, he took another swig out of his drink before looking down at the empty glass, he stood up, and by God were those legs long, before walking to the empty stool next to you.  “Yo. Bartender. Refill?”  The bartender set down the cup he was scrubbing down, rummaging his hands through various shelfs, filled with various drinks and add-ons, before taking the mysterious man’s glass.  Curious, you take a small peek at the man, almost jumping back when he was staring unflinching at you, too. Taking this as an invitation to gape at such an incredibly well-fit body. Your eyes stare up at what you could; starting with his collarbones.  Paired deliciously with a simple gold chain, you had to admit, it was a good touch. The simplicity of the chain was enough for you to gape dumbly at anything else that was interesting, and was left dumbfounded by the sheer hotness of... Well, him, and those incredibly prominent collarbones.  You look downwards, and he’s wearing a black, simple t-shirt. Not a wrinkle, nor specks of lint in sight.  Well toned arms, and incredibly strong looking ones at that rested idly against his sides. An expensive watch glinted in the light.  He hadn’t quite said anything yet, so you look down even more without hesitation. Almost like you couldn’t control yourself.   Tucking his shirt in neatly was his belt, you could easily tell it was a high-end brand. Casual, wide flared black jeans, the guy really loved black you noted. The accessories made up for it though, various chains were lazily thrown in, and it made the outfit so much more hotter, especially on him.  “My eyes are up here, girly.”  Feeling your cheeks become full to the brim with warmth, your hands fumble about, words formulating at the tip of your tongue to apologize profusely, you look up.  Circular black shades concealed the white haired man’s eyes, and your heart pounds more. Something about him was so intriguing.  About to blurt out nonsense about actually being very interested at a wall, he held his palm up, a large toothy grin gracing his features.  “It’s okay, I’m into hot chicks ogling me. Especially hot chicks with cute outfits.”  Everything on your mind was suddenly wiped clean, you open your mouth before closing, unsure about what to say.  He thought you were hot?   He thought your outfit was cute?  He laughs, and you snap out of your daze. Muttering a quick thanks when the bartender handed his rather sugary exotic drink to him.  “Saw you looking at me earlier, sweetcheeks.” he hums before tipping the glassware near his glossy lips, sipping the drink, looking down at you as he did.  “No, I think you saw wrong... Are you blind?” you asked, still recovering from the compliments you hadn’t ever received in your life prior to this strange encounter. Desperate to get out of the advancingly awkward conversation, you had never been placed in such a weird setting.  He snorts, taking another deep sip of his drink.  “Nah. People think that, though. People think I’m... Old, for some reason?”  “Hm, I wonder why.” replying sarcastically, you felt yourself jolt up, a mix of uneasiness and excitement bubbling up inside of you. By your experience and tips from your friends, these type of guys seemed to like sassy, teasing girls.  Whipping out your phone from your bag, you try to appear casual, even though your excitement was starting to die down by his silence, turning into dread.  Whistling, trying to look like you didn’t have a care in the world, you physically wince as you realize how stupid you potentially look. Wondering what your friends would say about such an attractive guy seemingly hitting on you, then again, they didn’t seem to really care.  No new notifications, and no familiar faces running up to you with open, friendly arms.  He chuckles again. “I like your style, missy. You come here alone? That’s a shame, pretty girls like you deserve to have someone to come with.”  You look down, struggling to contain the growing smile. Doing a small little victory dance in your head as you realize that he had literally stated that he liked your style.   “I did come with someone, my friends.”  “Where’s your friends?” he inquired.  “Partying at the dance floor, flirting with guys probably.” you nonchalantly reply, struggling to hold your tone, but even then it wavered. You didn’t get hit on often, and when you did they were there to help you.  “That makes two of us, my friend Geto pulled all my chicks, and my pussy for tonight.”  He said it so nonchalantly, you almost spat out your water.  “What are you here for? Some good dick?” he shifted his arm to rest against the table, his hand against his head, lazily looking at you.  You study his figure once more, ignoring his previous question. He looked like he came straight out of a magazine, or a movie. Broad, yet strong looking shoulders.  He looked straight up fake.  He towered over you, and you estimated that he was over 6 foot. His hair seemed soft, and manageable, and so, so fun to play with. A Deep, yet playful voice that would probably make everyone within a 6 mile radius instantly melt.  “Hm, cute. I like straight-forward girls.” he poked fun at you, grinning carelessly.  “I’m not being straightforward in any shape or form, what do you mean?” you flutter your eyelashes innocently at him, knowing damn well what he meant.  “You’re fucking studying me like a textbook before finals.”  “You still haven’t told me your name!” you shot back without thinking, you didn’t want to be caught doing something so scandalous. He winked, you took this as a sign of him following suit.  “That’s what makes it fun, baby.”  “Here, lets trade.”   You had decided that you really liked his style, after letting you off the hook so easily like that. He was shrouded in a cloak of mystery, and you found it hot. That, or maybe he wanted to just fuck around and have one night-stands, which wasn’t your style at all, but you still wanted to see where this would go.  “Tell me your name, and I’ll tell you mine. Fair right?”  He stroked his chin with his unoccupied arm, contorting his face and making you giggle a little, even though it wasn’t very funny. With him, you felt like you could strangely be yourself.  “Hmmmmm....” stroking his chin more, he began to pick up and sip his beverage as if it was a tea cup, holding opposite ends of each other and deeply drinking. He set the cup down.  “Nope.”  Exasperated, you slam your cup down.  “That aside, let’s get back to the point!,” he leaned closer into you, smiling a little as you jumped back. Your confidence when you talked with him had dissolved into thin air.  “You’re really cute.”  Frozen in place, you gawk back at him.    He was straightforward, no doubt it, but you didn’t think he was this straightforward. Most men you knew played a game of cat and mouse, only if you caught them you were rewarded.  Opening and closing your mouth, no sound came out. He snorts, taking another sip and waving the bartender to come back, who was now washing cups awkwardly on the other side of the bar.   You almost pitied the bartender, the guy had ordered so many refills at this point, you wouldn’t be dumb to assume he was either a raging alcoholic or another dumb college kid.  “Refill, again.”   The bartender nodded solemnly in reply, swiftly taking the cup. You realize how overworked the poor guy was, wondering how many refills the mysterious white haired man had gotten before you had even step foot in the vicinity.  “I’d love to take you to the bedroom, baby.” he nods as the bartender returns, sipping and looking back down at you.   You bolted upwards, cursing as you realize you’re slouching, not very attractive. The straightforwardness from him was, though. No doubt it, but you were really not looking to break your heart over a fuckboy.  “Uh, um.”  He tips your chin upward, and your heart leaps out of your throat. There was something so undeniably attractive about this act, maybe it was the way he knew how to make you into pudding, or maybe it was the aura of dominance.   Haughtiness literally radiated off of him, as if he knew he could pull a girl in under 1 minute. Well, then again, he probably did know.  Fuck, what were you thinking, this was a complete stranger that could probably pull chicks more attractive then you, times 100.  “Aw, shy? Cute. Don’t worry, you’re intriguing, and if you’re bad at sex, not to worry. I’ll do it all, and I’m good. Maybe give you a few lessons here and there.” he chirped, tilting his head, curiosity evident.   “But, it’s all up to you, sugar. I’m not trying to force you into this.” the man added.   He did seem hot, and this was really a one-in-a-million chance. No one had really looked at you that way at the level of attractiveness that he had. You didn’t want to regret anything, and getting out of your shell was good right?   What could go wrong?   “...I wouldn’t mind.”   A crooked smirk spread across his face.   “I’ll call an Uber.”

[goldensstateofgrace]

Love Me Now.

Based on this

Hi!! I hope you enjoy this blurb of soft!harry

Summary : y/n is reading at harry’s concert her friend dragged her too, Harry notices and he can’t keep his eyes off of her while singing ‘the chain’

Word count : 2.1k

Requests //  Masterlist 

-

-

You were dragged to this concert by your friends, they're obsessed with Harry Styles. They're always playing his music, you're not gonna lie and say you haven’t listened to him yourself but, going to a concert is a bit out of your comfort zone. 

You hate big crowds, the anxiety it gives you at the thought of maybe getting separated from your friends is enough to have you wanting to stay home in your bed reading. 

Reading has always calmed you, if you were ever having a bad day you would pull out a book and just get lost in the world that the words created. 

That being said, when your best friends, y/bsf/n and y/bsf/n barged into your room this morning begging you to go with them you said no, already filling the anxiety creeping up in you. 

But they managed to talk you into it, saying you could even bring a boon with you if your anxiety got too bad and you needed an escape. They also assured you that if any of you needed to go to the bathroom or anything you would go as a group so you wouldn’t get separated. 

That calms you down enough to agree to go, which ended up with them squealing and clapping their hands in excitement. 

Which leads to now, you’re all ready and dressed, courtesy of them picking out your outfit along with doing your hair and light makeup, them knowing you don’t really like/ need it. 

Your denim jeans flare out at the body as the top hugs your waist and thighs in just the right way to not make you feel uncomfortable. Your torso is clad in your favorite ‘Fleetwood Mac’ band tee that’s tied in the middle, showing off your midriff. You're also wearing your favorite pair of black-heeled boots. 

Your hair, courtesy of y/bsf/n is very volumized and wavy. Your makeup is light, just a bit of concealer under the eyes to cover up that you were up all night reading, again, along with some blush, slight bronzer, your eyebrows tinted with gel and some mascara. You don’t really like lipstick you went with your regular old chapstick. 

You’re all now sitting in the car on the way to the venue, they wanted to be early so they could upgrade all of your tickets to the pit, which you didn’t particularly like but you weren’t gonna say anything and ruin their night. 

You made sure to pack your favorite book along with another one just in case you didn’t want to read the other. You weren’t paying attention and didn’t realize you guys were already there, the whole car ride seemed to have passed in a blur, seeing as you were staring out the window in your own world. 

Y/bsf/n parks the car in a parking garage before all of you get out and make your way to the front of the venue to stand in line for the show to begin. 

-----------

It’s an hour and a half into the concert, that’s when you had to give up and pull out your book. The people around you, they’re too close, you feel really claustrophobic. So when you kept getting pushed around you gave up and pulled your book out, where your standing had pretty good lighting so you didn’t need to pull out your portable light. 

You were so into the new book you're reading, you decided to not read your favorite one and pulled out ‘How to hang a witch’ by Adriana Mather, normally you wouldn’t go for this kind of book but, you decided to try it out when you were at your favorite book store last week. 

 You were on chapter 11 when y/bsf/n nudged you, making you look up and glare at her, she knows not to mess with you while you’re reading, especially when it’s calming you. You furrow your brow silently asking ‘what?’ to her, she points to the stage. 

Rolling your eyes, you look up at the stage not expecting to find sparkling emerald eyes staring back at you, as you make eye contact with the man on stage your heart drops to your stomach, the butterfly’s going crazy as he keeps eye contact and perfectly placed and deep dimple showing on his left cheek. 

“Hear you sayin’ you would never break the chain,” he sings into the microphone, one of your favorite songs, probably why y/bsf/n nudged you, you wouldn’t have noticed him singing it if she hadn’t. Though “Fleetwood Mac’s’ version is one nobody could top, his his isn’t as bad as some. 

“If you don’t love me now (you don’t love me now), you will never love me again ( never love me again)

,i can  still hear you sayin’ (still hear you sayin’)

, you would never break the chain (never break the chain)” he sang, your lips mouthing the words slightly as he looks back to you. He looks at the book in your hand before connecting his eyes back to yours and smiling that wide dimpled smile, now you know why your best friends never shut up about him. 

Good god, this man has you wanting to fall to your knees. The way his black shirt hugs his torso and muscular biceps, all while the first few buttons are unbuttoned showing off the silver cross necklace, along with his bird tattoos peaking out. His white dress pants hugging his waist as he prances around the stage, jumping about and having a good time. 

You notice his eyes linger on you for just a few more seconds before getting back into the song and looking away. 

Once the song was over you went back to your book, thinking nothing of the little encounter you just had with the ‘Harry styles’. 

Shortly after that, the concert was over and you packed away your book. You and your two best friends sat down in your seats, waiting for a few minutes for everyone to get out of the venue before leaving. You didn’t want to get caught in the mass of people leaving. 

As you guys were waiting, you noticed a man, he’s tall and bulky, he could definitely kill you and no one would ever know. Once you realized he was walking towards your and your friends, your hand instinctively clutched on you y/bsf/n, not knowing he was a security guard for the man who was just on stage not even 10 minutes ago. 

“Hello, I’m Gavin, I’m a security guard for mr.styles. He wanted me to see if you and your friends would like to come backstage and meet along with autographs?” he said, his eyes looking back and forth between yours. Your eyes widen at his words, yours flicking between your two best friends in worry, they seem to be excited and happy to go with this man not even knowing if he’s actually a guard for the man who sold out this venue. 

“Y/N, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, you have to say yes” your friend exclaimed excitedly, you sigh, knowing she’s right. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and you would be stupid to give it up. 

“Ok, we’ll go,” you say, standing from your seat along with your friends and following the large man backstage, through the many corridor’s to Harry’s dressing room. 

Gavin, stops outside of a door labeled ‘Dressing room 1’ before he knocks and opens the door and leads you inside the room, “Boss, i have the girls you asked me to find” the large man says, looking in the direction of the couches, you find harry dressed in a black hoodie, with ‘harry’ embroidered on the left side of his chest and in a pair of sweatpants. He looks so soft and cuddly.  

Harry stands from the couch, making his way towards you a huge smile covering his mouth, his dimples popping out “Hi! I’m Harry,” he says, stopping in front of you holding out his hand. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N, nice to meet you!,” you mutter shyly, shaking his hand before he greets your friends as well. Mitch and Sarah introduce themselves to you guys, then getting into a conversation with both of your friends, leaving you and Harry off to the side alone. 

“So, i have a’question” He states, looking at your sparkling but timid eyes. You slightly nod your head, encouraging him to go on, “Was it good?” he asks you, a smirk playing on his pink lips, oh how kissable the look right this second. 

Pulling your gaze away from his pink plump lips, you want to taste, your brows furrow at his words. Your eyes flick back and forth between his in search of what he was talking about. Realizing he was probably talking about his show you nod your head, “Yes, it was really good. I liked it!” your mutter shyly, your eyes looking away from his, feeling like he’s looking right through you. 

“Really? What was it about?” he asks, making you super confused on what he was talking about. “I’m sorry, what are you talking about?” you question, your brows furrowed. Your eyes flick across his face, god, could he be more perfect?? His clear, tan skin, and his lashes, ugh no man needs lashes that long or perfect!!

“Your book” he says with a chuckle, his eyes flickering all over your face before landing back on your eyes, “Oh” you mutter, both of you chuckling as your cheeks blush. “Yeah, it was pretty good. I’m sorry if it was rude, but it calms me, and being in a crowd like that and being pushed around isn’t really my thing so i use it to calm myself.” you say, trying to assure him that you weren’t trying to be rude. 

“It’s ok, I understand needing that escape.” he says, his hand resting on your forearm, sending sparks up your arm and down your spine. You give a shy smile, “So, how did you like the cover of ‘The Chain’?” he asks you. 

You chuckle, “Do you want the honest truth?” you ask, as you shift on your feet, “Of course, lay it on me,’ he tells you confidently. 

“Well for starters i’m just gonna say nothing can top the original, that's just facts. But i do have to give it to you, your version wasn’t too bad, and that’s coming from a Fleetwood Mac fan” you say, chuckling at the goofy smile that splays across his mouth. 

“Well, thank you, y/n. That means a lot,” he smiles, you hold eye contact for a few minutes not saying anything just looking at him. You look down shyly, a blush coating your cheeks. 

“i -” he clears his throat, “i have some posters and cd’s signed for you and your friends, um is there anything else you want signed or that i could get you?” he asks, stumbling over his words slightly. 

“No, no that’s um, that’s perfect, thank you, Harry,” now you're the one stumbling over your words, making you blush even more than you already are. 

“Hey, y/n?” y/bsf/n calls, making you turn around, stumbling over your feet and falling back into harry slightly. Luckly, his hand catches your hip and holds you in place, ‘Yeah?” you ask, eyes wide as you look between your friends, as they look between your wide eyes and harry’s hand on your hip. 

“Uh, we should get going, it’s getting late” she says, clearing her throat in the middle of her sentence, nodding your pull away from Harry tuning back around to face him. 

“It was really nice to meet you, Harry,” you tell him, holding your hand out to shake his but instead he pulls you into a hug. You hesitate before wrapping your arms around his middle as his are around your neck/shoulders. 

“It was really nice to meet you, y/n. I hope you enjoyed the show, well, the parts you did see when you weren’t reading” he teases you, squeezing your shoulders before letting you go and grabbing the posters and cd’s for you and your friends. The girls say goodbye to him as you say goodbye to Mitch and Sarah, hugging them before Gavin walks you out of the venue and to your guys’ car, harry’s orders. 

----------

Once you get home and your by yourself again, you get the urge that you need to look at the signed stuff harry gave you, and your urge was right: 

Dear beautiful women who was reading during my show, 

You are absolutely beautiful, thank you for coming to the show, I hope you had a great time! 

I would love to get to know you, i don’t do this often, well at all actually. Here’s my number, if you feel the same way, *** *** ****

               All the love - H

And that’s how you got Harry Styles’ number, all by reading to calm yourself down and him being intrigued by it.

[onlydreamofmysoul]

Totally Worth It

The updated links for this series! (Ye’re probably so sick of me saying they can be read individually but I’m gonna say it once more anyways)

In the dark of the night

The best laid plans

Absolutely, unconditionally

What in the name of Merlin

Stand by me

Improvisation

Who would have guessed

Summary:  Nail varnish, trickery, leather jackets and bell bottom jeans. Just a regular Tuesday in the Gryffindor common room.

Oh my god Lily, you have to see this!” Sirius cried almost toppling out of his chair in his attempt to cross the common room to Lily. James, Remus and Peter all raised their eyebrows and exchanged confused looks, none of them having any idea what could have brought about such an outburst.

It was just a normal Tuesday evening in the Gryffindor Tower; first years were panicking over due assignments, the fire was crackling and the Marauders were plotting. They had decided their next trick would be to transfigure all of Dumbledore’s robes into the latest muggle fashions, so naturally Sirius had been flicking through one of Marlene’s magazines for inspiration. That had been before the outburst. Now the three other boys were left just with a piece of parchment containing several question marks and the words ‘flared jeans’ and ‘tie dye’

“Woah Sirius, slow down, you’ll run someone over.” Lily teased as the Black boy skidded to a stop in front of her.

“No time for that!” He cried as he frantically pointed to a picture in the magazine. “Have you seen this?”

Lily’s brows furrowed. “This? You mean the nail varnish?”

Sirius nodded his head as Lily laughed. “You’ve never seen nail varnish before?”

A couple of muggleborns near them giggled and Sirius raised his hands in a defensive stance.

“Hey it’s not my fault that pureblood families don’t go anywhere near muggle products.”

Lily bit her lip but she was still smiling. “Of course Sirius, you’re right, I’m sorry. I don’t have any here with me but I can owl my mother for some if you’d like?”

Sirius’ eyes widened. “You’d do that?”

Remus’ heart clenched a little. Sirius was still surprised when people did things for him with absolutely no ulterior motive.

Lily was already pulling out some ink and parchment. “Yeah of course. What colour would you like?”

Sirius’ face really was comical at this point. “There are different colours?”

Lily chuckled as she nodded her head. “Yeah, hmm let me see… how about I surprise you?”

Sirius leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “Lily Evans I could marry you.” He proclaimed grandly.

James leaned over to Remus. “Mate, do you think we should be worried that your man just proposed to my girlfriend?”

Remus looked at where Sirius was now enveloping Lily in a hug. “Yeah.” He teased. “We should definitely be worried.”

Remus’ studies were interrupted by his very excited boyfriend.

“Remus! Look at my nails!”

A pair of black painted nails were shoved right in his face and Remus actually had to catch Sirius’ wrist to move the hand in question slightly further away from his face so that he could actually see it.

“They’re really cool Pads.” He said grinning at the contagious excitement radiating off the boy in front of him.

“Lily says black is totally punk. They’ll go with my leather jacket, won’t they?”

Remus glances back down at his half finished essay and picked up his quill. “Yeah totally Pads.” He said, already starting to write again. He could hear Sirius moving around him but he had already zoned out – needing to finish this essay so he could get a head start on the rest of his work. Missing a few days every month wasn’t ideal, but Remus was lucky that teachers would let him know what they would be covering when he was out so that he could complete his assignments in advance. They had given him the option of catching up afterwards, but Remus preferred it this way; he already had enough to worry about without an intense workload on top of it.

He knew Sirius didn’t mind and that his boyfriend was happy enjoying his new accessories himself for a little while anyways. He was probably showing off to the entire common room. Scratch that – Remus knew his boyfriend – he was probably showing off to the entire school.

“Hey Moony.”

Remus glanced up from his essay to see Sirius standing in his leather jacket, clad in jeans so tight it was surely illegal, his hair half up, half down (in the way that Sirius knew drove Remus absolutely wild) and last but not least, the famous nails.

Remus’ mouth dried up.

“Wow Pads… you look… you look wow.”

Sirius smirked and strutted to Remus’ side. “I look hot.”

Remus huffed a laugh. “That’s an understatement.”

Sirius slid onto Remus’ lap and held his hands out so the pair could admire them as Sirius wiggled his fingers. “Nice, huh?”

Remus caught his hands and lifted them to his lips so he could press a gentle kiss there. “Very nice.” He agreed. He kissed his wrist, the crook of his elbow in that goddamn jacket, the soft skin where shoulder meets neck and finally, Remus kissed along Sirius’s jawline; he also knew what drove his boyfriend crazy – two could play at that game.

Sirius sighed and tilted his head so Remus would have better access but Remus pulled away and kissed his boyfriend on the lips just once before pushing him gently off his lap.

“I love you.” He said, highly amused at the indignant look of Sirius Black sitting on the floor. “But I need to finish my essay.”

Sirius rose. “Fine.” He announces as he flounced from the room, but he stuck out his tongue at Remus playfully as he left the room causing Remus to roll his eyes laughing. What a dork.

(His dork though).

“Okay boys, the day has come.” James said slinging his arms around Peter and Remus as the Marauders all walked into the Great Hall together for dinner. “We’ve planned for this, are we all ready?”

“You bet your ass we’re ready.” Sirius chirped, sliding into his seat, the rest of them following suit.

“Let’s just review one more time.” Peter said, always the worrier. “So I’ll transfigure his hat, James and Sirius, you’ve got the robes – James you’re doing the top half and Sirius is taking the bottom, right?”

“Right.” They both confirmed.

“And Remus you’re doing the shoes.”

“Yup.” Remus said popping the ‘p’ as he poured them all a glass of pumpkin juice. “Remember;” He warned them, “We all have to do it at the same time, so what’s the signal?”

“When he stands to speak at the end.” The others said in sync, words slightly muffled by the food they were now shoving into their mouths. Remus grinned. “We’re ready.”

The boys ate their dinner, relatively quietly as they all loaded their plates and exchanged secret, excited glances. This wasn’t one of their hardest pranks, not by a long shot but it was definitely one of their most daring.

“And now,” The headmaster said as he pushed back his chair and the hall fell into a silence. “For a few words.”

As one, the four boys cast the charm, wands swishing under the table, all aimed at Albus Dumbledore.

His tall wizards hat folded in on itself until it was a simple headband over his long loose hair. An oversized denim jacket now adorned his arms and, by Merlin, even Remus was stunned by the crop top James had given him – eliciting many a gasp and giggle from the students. Where his long robes had been, now there were a pair of embroidered bell bottom jeans and the entire ensemble were topped off with a pair of sandals Remus was quite impressed with.

The entire hall fell into utter silence as Ms McGonagall stood up in outrage but Dumbledore simply looked down at his new outfit demurely.

“It’s always good to keep up with the latest trends.” He said without missing a beat, throwing a wink at the Marauders and sending the great hall into utter chaos. The four boys burst into laughter with them, filled with a mischievous delight as rumours already were sparking.

“Did you see his tattoo?” Remus heard one Ravenclaw ask and he actually nearly choked on his pumpkin juice.

McGonagall however was not quite as amused as her colleague. She appeared at the Gryffindor table in moments, looming over the Marauders.

“Hello Minnie darling.” Sirius said, donning his ‘innocent’ look.

“Detention, all of you.” She said, her face the picture of disapproval, but Remus was certain that he caught the hint of a smile on her face as she turned away.

The four boys exchanged looks before bursting into laughter once more.

“Totally worth it.”

[coolrobotsupremacist]

A lot of adaptations of Les Mis make Valjean a little evil, a little overly violent, a teeny tiny bit sexually predatory and that's fine if that's what you're going for but it's also, let's face it, the cowards choice.

If I was in charge I would make EVERYONE evil. Or more accurately I'd reverse everyone's morality like that one episode of Star Trek TOS where Spock has a goatee.

Here's how I see it happening(not NSFW but there are references to sex, sexually predatory behaviour, child abuse, murder, child murder and ahistorical clothing):

Myriel during his time in Spain became a Master Thief, amassing a great fortune, he became a priest to avert suspicion from him. Unfortunately he made a lot of enemies who had proof of his crimes and threatened him into retirement. But hey being a bishop is pretty good too: nice salary, big house, good food. It could be worse.

One day Jean Valjean (violent criminal) who got imprisoned for twenty years after beating his nephews to death to use as firewood comes to town. He wears all black. He breaks into Myriels house and almost managed to make off with his secret stash but Myriel catches him and decides that, since he can't go on with his life of crime, Valjean should be his evil apprentice. There's an episode that's just evil My Fair Lady. Valjean was already cunning but Myriel teaches him to blend in with high society.

Meanwhile in Paris Devoted Father Tholomyès is struggling to raise his Daughter in the light of God. This is difficult because her Mother, Fantine who is a slinky red dress wearing brunette, absolutely refuses to marry him or stop sleeping with her string of other lovers. She sells his Fathers watch for gin and mocks him for loving her. She is bisexual but only so she can have on-screen threesomes. One day he wakes up and she's gone, gone with his precious Cosette. Oh, the tragedy.

Thenardier, honest inkeeper and war hero, doesn't listen to his wife when she begs him not to take that bewitching red-lipped woman's child but he'll soon wish he had.

Fantine is having the time of her life. Free of her child she wanders to M-sur-M where she gets a job by seducing her way through the(male unless it's a threesome) population of the town. She soon becomes the most powerful woman in town. Only two men don't bend to her will, the mysterious Mayor and the police inspector Javert.

Javert knows corruption runs deep in this town, he knows but he is powerless. The most he can do is give money to the exploited child workers of the Mayor's factory so they can afford medicine for the limbs that the Mayor breaks when they aren't working fast enough. The Mayor is also a bisexual but we only ever see this telegraphed with sexually predatory behaviour towards Javert.

One day Fantine almost murders a man in the street because he asked if she would donate some money to the Orphan Fund. Javert arrests her but the Mayor(who has only been referenced by other characters so far) appears to see why a legitimate arrest is being made. Gasp! It's Jean Valjean but wearing an even sexier all black outfit. There is immediately blazing sexual tension between Fantine and Valjean. They begin a violent love affair. Eventually things turn ugly: Fantine attempts to turn Valjean in for money, Valjean tries to murder Fantine and Javert tries desperately to arrest them both. It's a fun time for everyone but Javert. Eventually everything sort of turns out like in Canon with Fantine dead and Valjean in prison. Despite constantly beating her whole time she was alive Valjean claims that Fantine was the love of his life and runs off to find her daughter(he knows about Cosette because Fantine would have him read the Thenardiers letters to her so they could laugh at her stupid daughter for getting sick)

The Cosette pickup goes the same but Cosette is eating the Thenardiers out of house and home. Cosette has dead eyes and decapitates flies. Fantine hasn't sent them a single sou for Cosettes care but despite all this they still try to stop the incredibly suspicious Valjean from leaving with Cosette. For a while they succeed but then Valjean beats Thenardier with a rifle and sets their inn on fire.

Marius grew up with his Father. Georges Pontmercy won all his military awards by stealing the accomplishments of a man named Thenardier: Marius is told if he ever meets this man he is to murder him immediately in order to dispose of the final person who could contradict Pontmercy's lies. Marius says things like "With pleasure...Father!!!" Or after his Father died " We were once Barons and I swear on my Fathers grave we will be again!!". He goes to Paris to study/plan the murders of his extended family.

Les Amis de L'ABC are just fully chaotic evil, utter gremlins(Marius argues for the importance of a strong leader and order but Combeferre sneers "Order is an illusion. Chaos is a ladder") they have regular brutal fighting matches to ensure they're all worthy of being in the group. What are there political goals? We don't know but probably something scary. Loosely aligned with each other only due to their thirst for power.(weirdly I guess this makes Grantaire kind of the token "good" teammate in the same way he's kind of the token "evil" one in canon.)

Mabeuf used orphan bones as an experimental fertiliser. He's determined to catch Gavroche: they have a sort of Tom and Jerry thing going on. Mabeuf is financially stable in this but he often let's his household go hungry as he becomes more and more obsessive and greedy in his book collecting.

Marius sees Cosette in the park and falls in love with her instantly because evil has no awkward phase and Cosette became a femme fatale at 13. He vows to make her his Dark Lady Baroness. Meanwhile Cosette thinks she can use him as she uses her Father. Valjean lusts after her and Cosette ENCOURAGES it because a literal child can TOTALLY be responsible for the feelings and actions of an adult man.

Eponine is caught between the honest attentions of Montparnasse, the man her Father approves of, and the dark attraction she feels for the flared nostrils and dark secrets of Marius Pontmercy.

A complex game of murder-sex-betrayal ensues but everyone lives and ends up kind of happy apart from Thenardier who dies to send his children away to a better life in Canada and Javert who gets shoved of a bridge by Valjean. Cosette married Marius. Valjean still lives with them and they run an evil criminal Empire. Les Amis all swindled their way into positions of power.

As Cosette and Marius are out walking one day they come across a worn old Gravestone they laugh at this pauper's grave then kick it over, forever concealing the inscription: Tholomyès, devoted Father.

[patriciasage]

imposter syndrome

Author: Patricia_Sage

Fandom: The Adventure Zone - Amnesty

Summary:

“Yeah,” Duck laughs, “I just… We gotta put a pause on this, man. That abomination’s out there and I need to get back to –” He’s cut off by Indrid’s mouth on his again. This time he feels a flutter of unease in his chest. Indrid is acting strange.

Most people interrupt Duck during his disfluencies, trying to finish his sentence for him or change the subject. But ever since Duck told him about his discomfort with that, Indrid waits patiently for him to finish his scattered thoughts, head tilted to the side and expression soft. It isn’t like him to interrupt. And even though it’s really nice to finally kiss his crush, something doesn’t feel right.

And then the Mothman crashes through Duck’s living room window.

posted in full below the break but you can find me on A03!

There’s a knock on his door.

Duck nearly trips over Lucy on his way to answer it. She makes a grumbly little meow, and he grumbles right back at her as he regains his balance. “Dammit, Luce.” She scurries to the bedroom when he unlatches the door.

Standing on his front step is Indrid Cold. He’s wearing his regular outfit of jeans and a tank top, and he’s shivering a little in the spring air. “Hello, Duck Newton,” he says with an unnerving smile.

Duck grins back. “Indrid! God, it’s good to see you. I was- Hell, I was worried about you.”

Indrid adjusts his glasses and rubs his arm, flustered. Duck looks up at him and tries not to think about how cute he is. They don’t have time for that. “Come in.”

When Duck turns around, Indrid has closed the door and moved close into Duck’s space. “Oh, um, listen, Indrid,” Duck says, trying to stop the blush in his cheeks at the proximity. “I’m real sorry for, y’know, punchin’ you in the face…”

“All is forgiven, Duck,” Indrid replies with a smile. “You saved my life.”

Duck tries to keep his eyes forward, staring at Indrid’s chin, because whenever he looks up at the other man all he can think about is kissing him.  They had spent a significant amount of time together during the last hunt and, although the Silf is a little strange, Duck knows flirting when he sees it. He hasn’t been on the receiving end of someone’s interest like this often, and it was a bit of a thrill to flirt back and let the Winnebago settle with a warm, mutual attraction. But they don’t have time for that right now.

“Listen, man, a lot has happened since you flew away. We got an abomination on the loose that’s real smart and real scary; it can –”

Indrid interrupts him. “I know.”

“Right. ‘Course, you do.” Duck chances a glance up at the other man and sees his own flustered, red reflection staring back at him. “It’s a little fucked up, if I’m being honest. I don’t know how we’re gonna –”

“Duck.” The ranger jumps when Indrid places a cold hand on the back of his neck. “I missed you.”

“Well, yeah, I- uh,” Duck stutters, “I missed…missed you, too.” The taller man smiles. “But Indrid, we need to –”

And then Indrid kisses him.

Duck kisses back without thinking. It’s been a while since he’s had any romantic contact, but he’s been daydreaming about this for quite a few months and insecurity doesn’t have the chance to take purchase. He places his hands on Indrid’s narrow hips and the other man hums before burying his hands in Duck’s hair. Indrid kisses him like he’s trying to consume him. Duck stumbles back a little at the ferocity and breaks for a breath.

“Woah. Yeah, alright. Right. I mean, this is… I been wantin’ this for a while.”

Indrid grins. “I know.”

“Yeah,” Duck laughs, “I just… We gotta put a pause on this, man. That abomination’s out there and I need to get back to –” He’s cut off by Indrid’s mouth on his again. This time he feels a flutter of unease in his chest. Indrid is acting strange.

Most people interrupt Duck during his disfluencies, trying to finish his sentence for him or change the subject. But ever since Duck told him about his discomfort with that, Indrid waits patiently for him to finish his scattered thoughts, head tilted to the side and expression soft. It isn’t like him to interrupt. And even though it’s really nice to finally kiss his crush, something doesn’t feel right.

And then the Mothman crashes through Duck’s living room window.

The three of them stare at each other for a stunned moment. Duck’s brain rushes to make sense of the situation – the paradoxical presence of the man whose hips he’s holding and the hulking, unsettling monster standing on shattered glass in the carpet. “What the fuck?”

Duck takes a step back out of Indrid’s embrace. The uncertainty in his chest becomes drenched in horror as he understands. But he doesn’t have the time to react. Everyone moves at once.

Indrid’s left hand morphs and turns into a sharp, flesh-coloured blade. The Mothman charges forward, knocking some model ships off of nearby shelves with his wings. Duck twists and falls back onto his couch in an attempt to escape.

Duck feels a burning pain in his side and his back hits the cushions. The Mothman crashes into Indrid and they both fall onto the coffee table. It breaks under their weight. Duck scrambles to grab Beacon at his belt, but the movement makes his side flare up and he lets out a shout. The Mothman’s huge red eyes meet his, but this gives the creature underneath it an opportunity. The abomination, its skin shifting as it struggles to maintain Indrid’s form, pushes up into the Mothman’s furry chest with ferocity. The Mothman lands on its wings with a grunt.

Even with its bestial facial features, Duck can tell the Mothman is surprised at the abomination’s strength and speed. The abomination is escaping out the broken window before Duck can draw his sword and before the Mothman can right itself.

They’re frozen for a moment, trapped in the sudden silence. Duck reaches across his body and places his hand on his right side. There’s warm blood soaking into his shirt and the fabric of his couch. “Fuck.” He grimaces. He breathes through the pain before looking back at the looming, dark creature shaking out its wings. “Indrid?”

The Mothman nods vigorously. “Yes!” It reaches a clawed hand into a pouch hanging off of a belt at its waist and retrieves a pair of large, red sunglasses. It quickly puts them on and the huge form of the Mothman turns into Indrid Cold. He’s wearing faded jeans, a bulky sweater, and an expression of guilty concern. “I’m so sorry, Duck. I flew as fast as I could.” He rushes forward and his hands flutter from Duck’s cheek to his shoulder and then a few inches over the wound on his ribs.

“Your hair’s longer,” Duck says.

Indrid’s hands stop moving and he just looks at him for a moment. “Yeah.”

Duck swallows, mouth dry. “Looks nice.”

“Thanks, Duck. Listen, you’re bleeding all over your fucking couch. Where’s the first aid kit?”

“Shouldn’t you know that?” Duck teases.

Indrid shakes his head in frustration, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He gently moves a strand of Duck’s hair behind his ear. “You know it doesn’t work like that.” He stands up and rushes to the ensuite bathroom. Duck smiles when he hears him say hello to Lucy before rifling through the cupboard.

“Then how come you found it without me telling you?” He calls out.

“I don’t have time for your shit, Duck Newton. I looked into the possible futures where you weren’t being difficult and just told me where it was!” This is, without a doubt, the real Indrid Cold. Talking to him feels natural, like it did months ago, not the strange, charged conversation with the imposter a few minutes ago. Even though he’s in a lot of pain and he’s going to have to replace his couch and his window, Duck feels calm and happy. And he might be going into shock…just a little bit.

Indrid returns with the first aid kit in his hands and a towel under his arm. “This isn’t really my area of expertise, so you’re going to have to assist me a little,” he admits. He nudges some pieces of wood away with his foot before kneeling on the carpet in between Duck’s knees. He places the items down on the couch and gestures. “Take your shirt off, please.”

Duck can’t help but blush at the sight of Indrid on his knees in front of him. He reaches for the hem of his shirt and raises it a bit before the pain of the movement stops him. He lets out a strangled cry at the same time that Indrid’s cold hands grasp his wrists. “Sorry! Sorry, Duck. I should be paying more attention. I shouldn’t have asked you to do that. Here.” Indrid begins to lift the hem before he stops, eyebrows furrowed. Instead, he reaches for the first aid kit.

Duck gives him a questioning look when he lifts a pair of fabric scissors. “Really?”

Indrid shrugs. “It’s going to hurt you to lift your arms.” He pauses, watching Duck’s face carefully. “Is this okay, Duck? Tell me how I can make you more comfortable.” Duck feels a warmth in his chest. This is the considerate Indrid he knows.

“Yeah, ‘s’fine, go ahead.” Duck feels his face heat even more, this time from embarrassment, as Indrid carefully cuts through his T-shirt and pulls the fabric away from his body. Indrid, usually perpetually distracted, is intensely focused on the task. Duck can’t stop thinking about how his position – slumped on the couch cushions – doesn’t do his body any favours. He knows that Indrid is focused on the bleeding wound on his side, not his stomach curling over his belt, but it doesn’t stop Duck from closing his eyes.

“Duck?” Indrid is looking at his face now. “What do I do now?”

“Right.” Duck takes a breath and harshly reminds himself that he’s forty-two, not fourteen. Still, he grits his teeth and attempts to straighten his posture. He gets a good look at the wound for the first time. It’s bleeding a lot but it’s not too deep. The abomination had obviously intended to stab him in the stomach, but Duck had twisted away, causing the weapon to slice a horizontal line through the skin over his ribs. “God, that was a close call, wasn’t it?”

Indrid doesn’t respond. Duck places the folded hand towel over the wound and presses down. When he turns back to his companion, Indrid is staring at the center of his chest. His lips are pressed into a thin line and he’s breathing hard. “Indrid?”

“It was a close call, Duck Newton.” He harshly wipes his eyes under the glasses. “There were so many futures where I wasn’t fast enough, and I watched it impale you. There were so many futures where I didn’t come at all and it killed you in other, horrible ways. And it killed you wearing my face, Duck –”

Duck leans forward, even though it hurts, and places his free hand on Indrid’s shoulder. “Hey, woah, slow down, man. You made it. I’m alright.”

Suddenly, Indrid looks furious. “And it kissed you.”

For a second, Duck feels a surge of shame, but he pushes it away. The abomination obviously has access to memories that give it accuracy in appearance and behaviour. He couldn’t have known. “I’m, uh…yeah. That musta been weird for you to see.”

“Yeah, it was weird, Duck.” Indrid’s hands tighten on Duck’s knees, seemingly without intention. “It was weird because I’ve wanted to kiss you for months. I think you’re the bravest, kindest, most handsome man I’ve ever met. And you kissed him back. You kissed him back because you also want to kiss me. And I’m so fucking mad that it took that from you – that it took that from me!”

Duck is stunned into silence. Indrid has always been a very honest man, but Duck wasn’t prepared for such an emotional confession and confirmation. He finds his voice. “I still want you to kiss me.”

“What?”

“It didn’t take anything, Indrid. I want you to kiss me. For real. The real you. I still want that.”

Indrid leans forward, bracketed by Duck’s legs. He places both hands on Duck’s stubbled cheeks. “Are you sure?”

Duck nods. “Yeah.”

Indrid kisses him with tenderness and care, almost reverence. If Duck had been standing, his knees would be weak. Indrid’s lips are slightly chapped. His thumb slowly caresses Duck’s cheekbone. The abomination had known a lot about Indrid Cold, but it got so many things wrong. It had kissed Duck like it wanted to consume him. Indrid kisses Duck like he’s giving himself over. He kisses Duck like he’s precious, like he wants to keep him safe.

Duck wants to pull him closer, hold onto his back, but in that moment he becomes aware of his own hand pressing a towel to the wound on his abdomen. Regretfully, and very slowly, he pulls away. “Let’s bandage me up and then we can keep doin’ this, alright?”

Indrid shakes himself. “Yes, of course. You’re hurt. What am I doing?”

“What I asked you to.” Duck replies, somehow both stern and coy. He’s satisfied when Indrid’s expression softens.

They patch him up well enough to stop the bleeding. Indrid retrieves a button-up shirt from the closet so that he doesn’t have to raise his arms. Duck catches him staring, eyes lingering appreciatively on his chest and stomach before they’re covered up by closed buttons. Duck blushes again, pleased.

This abomination is terrifying. It’s lodged itself in the heart of Kepler and Duck isn’t sure how they’re going to get it out without disturbing the peace. It feels like it’s a catalyst for something bigger, something they’re not ready for.

But Indrid’s back. And Indrid kissed him. And sometimes it’s alright to focus on a good thing for a moment.

[doyumacy]

ʀɪᴅᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ - teaser

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: you have been gone for a year, but very little has changed. your half bother’s still a legend in underground races. the same girls hate you. the same boy still makes your heart race, but this time you won’t let him get close enough to hurt you again. not again. not like before.

mark lee has just arrived to town and he’s only staying long enough to set up a few street races, make some money, and have fun. but he might stir up some trouble when begins hanging around with his sponsor’a half sister, and it’s not just her brother he’s pissing off.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: sᴜɢɢᴇsᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴋ, ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴀɴɢsᴛ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 𝟷,𝟿ᴋ

ʀᴇʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ: ᴀᴘʀɪʟ 𝟹, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟷

three years ago

you slide out from under the car you've been working on when you hear an unfamiliar engine approaching the garage. it must be a customer, you think as you go to the front desk to help them.

"can i help you?" you ask, freely.

"i have a faulty spark plug and my garage is on the other side of the planet. they told me this was the best place in town."

"and it is. go ahead and go into the store."

"don't mechanics normally keep people waiting in the office?" he asked amused.

"only when the person doesn't know anything about cars. obviously you do, so you have to keep me company while i fix it," you smirk.

"what's your name, suh? -he asks, using the last name on your work shirt.

"y/n. yours?"

"yuta. nakamoto yuta."

"nice to meet you. let's get that car fixed, shall we?"

a few minutes later, the black car is with the hood open in the garage. yuta, on the other hand, is helping you by handing you the necessary tools. you let his fingers brush a little more than strictly necessary when yuta hands you a wrench.

yuta smiles and leans back against the car once you're done. "how much do i owe you?" he asks quietly.

it takes you a second to really register how close you are to each other. you look him in the eye. "how about you take me out to dinner and the debt is settled?" you ask in a sudden flare of audacity.

fortunately, he smiles.

"my thoughts exactly. what time will you be out here?

“six.”

he looks down at that ridiculously nice black gold watch.

"it's only an hour from now. how about i keep you company until then?"

"i'd like that."

"so what were you working on before i showed up?"

"my charger over there. there are some bastards who want to compete with me saying their luxury imports can beat it. tonight they're in for an ugly surprise."

you assume yuta has heard about your garage, knows about your regular clientele. they consider themselves the best store around to the fellow street racers. but to everyone else, it's just a small garage.

"that sounds like something i'd like to see. mind if i stay and watch you kick their asses?"

"it'd be my pleasure," you smile.

as expected, you end up following yuta back to his apartment after winning the race by a solid car length. the endorphins from winning the race flood your senses, and yuta is amazed that he had managed to stumble upon such an amazing girl. someone like him.

sl walking, you find yourself wrapped in warm arms and leaning against a hard chest. you caress the dragon-shaped tattoo on his right shoulder and plant a kiss on it.

a quiet moan tells you she is waking up. his arm tightens around her. he plants a kiss on your forehead.

"good morning to you too," you say.

yuta rolls you onto his back and rests his torso on top of yours. "good morning."

"you look happy.

"i woke up with a beautiful, bad-ass, street-racing woman in my arms. how could i complain?”

you laugh. "well, i could say the same thing. it's not often i get to wake up next to a hot guy and that brother would probably beat up if he knew where i spent the night."

he barks out a laugh. "you're most likely right..." he bites his lip. "there's something you need to know."

your smile disappears. "you're not married, are you?"

"no! god, no," he replies instantly. "i just want to know if you want it to be more than a brief fling."

you are silent for a moment as he thought.

"yes, i think so. i mean, we could get to know each other better but yes," you explain.

"then we're on the same page," you nod absently. "do you want to have breakfast before we go on with our talk?"

you can't help but get a little nervous. what does he have to say?

"what do you want for breakfast?"

"uh..." you sit up, holding the black sheet against your chest to cover yourself. "whatever. i'm not particularly picky."

yuta nods and gets out of bed, pulling on a pair of gray sweatpants. he leaves his room and you lie back down on the bed. your cell phone rings somewhere in yuta's room and you grunt getting up to look for it. you find it inside your jeans.

"y/n! where the hell are you?" johnny asks as soon as you answer the phone. “you didn’t come home last night, and jaehyun said there was a guy watching you the entire race.”

“don’t worry about it, brother. that guy was my date last night. i’m at this place right now,” you grin.

“hold on, you had a date?! who? why didn’t you tell me?” johnny bombards you with questions.

you sigh. you saw this coming.

“everything all right?” yuta asks, entering his bedroom.

“my brother,” you say with your mouth. “johnny! easy with the questions. i’ll tell you later, bye!”

“be responsible!” it can be heard from the phone and you hang up.

you exhale dramatically and fall back on the bed.

“trouble, dear?” yuta inquiries.

you raise your head to look at him. “big brothers are tedious,” you announce after a minute.

“i wouldn’t know; i’m the older brother.”

“oh?”

yuta smiles warmly. “i have a younger brother. the idiot used to fight older bullies in the yard, and i was the one who had to finish them off.”

you smirk. “you protected him. my brother’s the same way.”

“let’s eat, okay? i still need to talk about something important,” yuta declares.

you nod and he tosses you slightly one of his shirts. you put it on and grab your panties putting them on.

yuta made sunny side up eggs and french toasts. between bites, yuta begins to speak. “i work for the korean mafia.”

“huh?” you stop eating and stare at him. “you what?”

yuta laughs lightly. “i work for the korean mafia.” he repeats. “i bet you’re wondering what a japanese guy is doing working for the korean mafia.”

“not exactly my first thought but yes,” you shrug. “what do you do?”

“let’s say i’m a middleman between the korean mafia and the yakuza,” he confesses.

you frown. “so you buy goods from them and then sell them?”

yuta raises an eyebrow at you. “what are you? a businesswoman?”

you laugh and have a bite of your toast. “i went to business school, but i dropped out this semester.”

“hot,” he plants a kiss on your lips. “so yes, that’s my job. aren’t you scared?”

“of what? you? your job?” you snort. “i’ve seen way worse in the underground. i gotta say i’m surprised because i thought you were a good boy.”

yuta chuckles. “i am good at other things,” he winks at you.

you push the plate aside and sit on his lap. “i can’t recall, do you mind refreshing my memory?”

yuta grins and places his hand on your ass cheeks. “aren’t you too sore?”

“pain is my best friend,” you nip at his lip and he groans.

yuta kisses you and his hand goes to your throat tilting your head to the side and biting your neck harshly. you whimper at the painful yet pleasurable sensation. yuta shushes you and darts his eyes to you. “i thought you enjoyed the pain, baby girl.”

ONE YEAR AGO

you’re standing in front of his gravestone and place the flower bouquet next to it, remembering how you two met. the only sound is the wind, rustling through a nearby copse of trees. it has been five days since yuta died and the hole in your chest only gets deeper.

it hurts.

you’re broken.

your life without him means nothing. the city without him means nothing. nothing makes sense without him.

“you shouldn’t have died,” you say. “we could have been better.” you mumble, sitting in front of the grave. “it’s weird, today i woke up and i thought i heard your voice. am i going crazy?” you scoff.

you stare at the gravestone and then lower your heard. “i came to say goodbye. i can’t stay here anymore. everywhere i go i see your face. everyone reminds me of you.”

you feel tears streaming down your face. “i’ll never forget you, yuta. i love you so much.” you burst out crying.

you leave town that same night, leaving everything and everyone behind.

[ri-ahhh]

Okay, but with Grayson complaining about being lonely and wanting a girlfriend I CANT HELP but to think about how horny he probably is on top of that. Like- its been on my mind for days, so can you PLEASE write something about gray meeting a bitch, like through friend or something, and realizing he likes her and then having these dirty thoughts about her, and like he doesn't want to but he just cant help it... I will die and love you forever, you're writing is my absouloute favortie.

Ur so sweet babe haha thank you😊 hope this is along the lines of what you wanted.

Getting his dick wet has never been a problem for Grayson Dolan; not since receiving his first sloppy, inexperienced blowjob when he was on tour at the tender age of 16. There’s been a steady flow of girls in and out of his life ever since, fulfilling both his needs sexually and the fleeting desire for noncommittal intimacy. And that’s how he likes it for the longest time. Easy and no-strings-attached.

But he’s older now, and even though quarantine hadn’t stopped him from hitting up his favorite one or two booty calls every now and then, he feels empty in a way that’s becoming all-too familiar. It’s not a new feeling, but every time he leaves their homes (because that’s his number one rule — hookups stay out of his bed), there’s a longing that wasn’t satisfied and that’s becoming more and more apparent to him.

So he stops fucking around — literally. He believes in the power of the mind and manifestation almost to a fault, and considers that maybe he’s letting casual hookups interfere with what he really wants: companionship.

It seems like a breeze at first. Grayson swears he feels lighter, clearer in the head, more focused on what he wants out of his life. He puts his mind to being the best version of himself and hoping that it’s enough to attract the same kind of person that he can put all of his love and effort into in return.

As months roll on, however, he realizes that sometimes the universe just doesn’t listen right away. And for the first time in his life, Grayson discovers the monotony and reality of what it’s like for the ‘regular’ guys out there, whose only sexual pleasure comes from their own hand and the porn category of choice for the night. He was used to that as a filler, for sure, but not as his one and only outlet.

Plain and simple, he’s horny. All the time. Which makes him grumpy, and irritable, and frustrated with both himself and everything around him. So when Ethan tells him in passing that his girlfriend is flying in from New York with her friend to visit, it just makes him grunt. The fact that his brother is in such a happy and healthy relationship himself is a point of contention for Grayson in his head. He’s thrilled for Ethan, but he can’t help but dwell on the creeping jealousy in his chest. Here he is, starved for both intimacy and sex now, and Ethan will get served both of those the following night in excess while Grayson lies in his bed alone.

The next night, they’re all having dinner at the kitchen table — all four of them, including her. The friend. The friend that Ethan had mentioned would be coming but that Grayson had so brusquely ignored. The friend that had his eyebrows raised the second she walked shyly through his front door, drawn in immediately by her beauty.

The friend he can’t keep his eyes off of now as she goes to town on the roasted sweet potatoes and black bean burgers he had made himself. She’s quiet but witty and has a cute laugh that makes his heart flutter a little in a way he hasn’t experienced in a long time.

He feels a nudge against his ribs, and startles when he jerks to the side to see Ethan staring at him pointedly with a knowing little smile on his lips.

“You’ve got ketchup on your shirt, bro,” he says, nodding to the blob of red on Grayson’s white shirt that had dropped from the forkful of sweet potatoes, which had only made it halfway to his mouth as he listened to her talk.

“Shit,” he mumbles embarrassedly, flushing a color near the tomato-red that’s now stained his shirt. Of course, the first time he’s feeling real feelings around a beautiful girl, he has to revert to awkward, clumsy Grayson rather smooth, relaxed Grayson.

He starts to scrub up the mess with his napkin, but she reaches out from her seat across the table from him and grabs his wrist in her petite hand. “Oop, wait! Dab, don’t swipe, or you’ll make it worse. I know how to get that out as long as it’s not smeared around into the fabric.”

Grayson swallows, his arm flaring with goosebumps at her gentle but insistent touch, but tries to keep his cool. She’s grinning at him amusedly, then sits back in her seat when Grayson follows her instructions.

“I thought ketchup was one of those things that you’re just kinda fucked if you get it on your clothes, Ethan says, filling the silence left by his brother.

She shakes her head. “Nope. Peroxide will get it right out, especially if you wash it after. Do you have any?”

Ethan cocks a brow and looks at Grayson, hoping he’ll use the opportunity to speak to her. Thankfully, he does, even if it is lacking a little bit of gracefulness. “Huh, peroxide? Oh... uh, yeah, I — yeah, in my bathroom.”

“I’ll help you when we’re all done, if you want,” she offers before taking a modest bite of her burger.

Grayson nods, and can’t help but watch the way she sucks a bit of barbecue sauce off her thumb once she swallows. His heart picks up and he has to shift in his seat a little when she winks at him, his pants tightening under the table. Damn it. He’s been trying to avoid that reaction and those thoughts, determined to do this right.

He fixes a smile to his lips, and hopes his face isn’t giving him away. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

Everyone helps clean up the table and dishes, and Grayson leads her into his room while they leave the other two to have some alone time. He prays that he made his bed that morning and that there’s no dirty underwear on the floor or used tissues on the nightstand.

Luckily, the floor is relatively clear, and the bed is made, if haphazardly so. She follows him into the en-suite bathroom and watches him dig under the cabinet in the first aid bucket he has down there.

She’s wearing jean shorts and a loose-knit sweater, and when Grayson starts to stand back up he takes a moment to appreciate the tone in the muscles of her legs and the flashes of skin he can see through her top, hoping he isn’t being too obvious.

She takes the brown bottle from him and tugs on the hem of his shirt. “It’ll be easier if you take this off.”

Grayson nods, and can’t help the laugh that escapes him when she turns her back to him. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you your modesty! I don’t know you, for all I know you might be super insecure.”

“At the risk of sounding like a total douche, I promise I’m not,” he answers, reaching behind his neck to tug the collar up and over his head. “Here you go.”

She turns back around, and Grayson doesn’t miss the way her eyes travel over his sculpted torso. He can’t help but smirk a little, thrilled at the cute blush that tinges her cheeks when she meets his eyes and realizes she’s been caught.

He hasn’t had a woman look at him like that in months, however, and he’s grateful when she tells him, “This will need to go in the laundry tonight if you want to make sure the stain comes out, so you’ll need another shirt anyways.”

It gives him an out to duck into his closet, taking a moment to collect himself before grabbing the first T-shirt his hand touches and slipping it over his head.

“Cold water first,” she informs, smiling at him through the mirror when he re-emerges as she leans over the sink with the water running. She shuts off the water and squeeze out the excess, then takes the peroxide and pours some onto the stain.

“Woah,” Grayson says, eyebrows raised in surprise at the fizzing bubbles visibly picking up the bright red from the fibers of his shirt. “Where did you learn this trick?”

“I work in the toddler room at a daycare. We keep this stuff on sight and scene to avoid 20 outfit changes a day on a few two year-olds. I’m sure you can imagine the amount of ketchup and blood stains a toddler procures on the daily.”

Grayson chuckles. He feels himself growing more fond of her by the second. “You like kids?”

“I love them,” she replies with a grin. “Working in childcare is pretty rough, but it’s been a great college job. Lots of experience for my degree. And, you know, good practice for the future one day.”

If he hadn’t been sold by now, that does it. Beautiful, smart, and good with kids?

He takes a moment to assess himself and his thoughts. He doesn’t think he’s letting his dick lead him right now, even if he does want her that way. He’s just as attracted to her mind as he is the curves of her body and the features of her pretty face, and finds himself wanting to talk to her for hours on end.

He doesn’t realize there’s a heated silence, both of them standing there staring at each other, until she clears her throat and holds up his shirt. Grayson glances down at it to see just a faint brown rim around what use to be a bright red mark. “All done.”

“Thank you,” he says, taking it from her and tossing it in his laundry basket. “Come on, hopefully we don’t walk into something we can’t unsee.”

“You make a pretty good meat shield,” she says jokingly, following close behind him. “All big and broad. I can just hide behind you and keep my eyes unscarred.”

Grayson laughs loudly, his ego swelling, and he has to resist the urge to take her hand in his. That would be too much. Right?

Thankfully, the couple is just cuddling innocently on the loveseat when they enter the living room.

“Movie?” Ethan asks when the two of them settle on the couch, a respectful and calculated distance between them — not too close and not too far.

“Sure.”

They’re all in a fun and lighthearted mood tonight, so they settle on Moana. Grayson wants nothing more than to throw his arm around the beautiful girl next to him, who sings along playfully to the songs she knows, her enthusiastic movements shuffling her closer to him. He doesn’t know if it’s intentional, but he doesn’t really care; her presence in both body and spirit feels good to him.

Ethan’s girlfriend only makes it about halfway through the movie before she’s passed out, tired from the long flight earlier that day. He looks down at her fondly and chuckles when he sees her nuzzled sound asleep against his chest.

“I’m gonna take her to bed,” he announces quietly before standing with her in his arms. “Goodnight, guys.”

They both murmur back “goodnight” and watch Ethan disappear down the hall. The movie plays on for a couple of minutes, before she’s turning to him and making small talk. Which turns into broader conversation about bigger things. Which leads to them settling so close that their knees touch. She finds an excuse to pick an invisible fleck of something off his hand, which turns into their fingers playing with each other’s teasingly.

Which turns to Grayson checking his watch in a quiet but not unpleasant lull, and muttering, “Oh, shit,” in surprise.

She checks her phone lying on the couch cushion behind her. The time shines back at her 1:27 AM.

“Damn, when did it get so late?” she wonders aloud, looking at him amusedly.

Grayson shakes his head. “Time flies,” he says. Whether it’s the late hour, or him getting his mojo back, or just the fact that he’s so naturally comfortable with her, he suddenly feels bold enough to reach out and tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “Are you tired?”

She blushes and bites her lip, allowing him to keep his warm palm pressed to her neck while his thumb strokes the ridge of her jaw gently.

“Not really,” she answers, scooting that much closer to him. “Not ready to go to my bed, anyways.”

She’s referring to the guest room she’s already settled her things into. Grayson smiles. Rules be damned, he thinks, until he realizes in the next moment that there’s no way this amazing girl is going to be just a hookup. There’s no rule to be broken.

“Why don’t you come to mine, then?”

[huntergatherercreator]

The Takedown | Part Fourteen

Pairing: Mob!Tom Holland x Detective Reader

Summary: NYC has a new drug lord determined to wipe out any and all competition in order to grow his empire. You're going undercover to stop him.

Warnings: Mentions of weapons, swearing

Catch up here: Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen

Part 14 - 1,536 words

Rain lashing in across the bay meant the Tribeca was deserted, everyone having retreated to the safety of the nearest building. It would make surveillance difficult. I’d gotten used to the crowds of people stumbling from clubs and bars that helped me blend in as I worked my way around the borough. Walking into Hell’s Kitchen was a suicide mission on a good day. It would be worse with no cover and almost zero visibility due to the rain.

Anything could happen while we were there. I stuffed my fisted hands further into my pockets to chase away the chill creeping in.

I considered calling it off but the thought alone of having another fight with Holland was exhausting. His stubbornness was going to get us in trouble out here, along with his pride. Then there was the reaction he’d ignited in me just hours before. I blew a deep sigh out, watching my breath mist slightly. I had to keep it together. I’m a cop, and he’s a mobster and my job is to get him and his men off the streets for good.

A small part of me knew that as much as I tried to shove down the interest my body held for him that it wasn’t all physical. I felt like I’d cracked open a door to him when I realised his main weakness, and the inside had held a mirror.

How many nights had I spent working cases into the small hours of the morning, searching for the information that was missing, putting the puzzle pieces together until I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I’d walked more steps during an investigation than a beat cop in a month. I was never sated until I had enough evidence to fully convict a perp. I’d like to say that I rested then, but that was only because the Captain would withhold a new case until I’d stopped turning up to work in the clothes from the night before.

I clung to each case because I needed the hit that came with the resolution, the easy breath that came after a guilty charge was delivered. It gave me purpose, and stopped me spiralling in the months after what had happened. That’s how I recognised it so well in Holland.

The newspapers had been calling him ruthless, sadistic, evil after they found a body strung up at the docks and almost a dozen others floating out to sea. In a way it had been but I knew every move he’d previously made was calculated and weighed up to suit his interests. Now that Rivera had gotten under his skin he was slipping and I could already tell it was going to end badly. I just needed to have him reigned in long enough to give me a shot at Rivera.

Movement at the bottom of the stairs caught my attention. Completely nondescript and dressed in a plain waterproof jacket the man tipped his head at me before continuing along the street. I followed carefully, hood up and head down most of the way as he led me through a series of back alleys. Eventually he stopped at an open fire exit. Light and steam spilled into the alley, the clangs of a busy kitchen emanating back to me along with the smell of freshly cooked food. My stomach clenched as my mouth started to water. I’d been too tense to eat after Holland had left. I’d taken the extra time to go around my contacts, putting feelers out for information that would help get this over with as quickly as possible. I didn’t want to have to spend more time than I needed to with him.

The man glanced back, checking I was still there before heading inside. Unzipping my jacket, my fingers lingered over the gun I’d brought giving me a boost of confidence. If I was about to walk into a trap I was prepared. Stepping into the kitchen no-one moved to block me, no-one even batted an eye. They were either too busy with the dishes they were preparing or this was a regular occurrence. Unease flared. If it was the latter did this mean it was a regular haunt for Holland? I eyed the room, finding the man guarding a door at the other end of the kitchen.

On high alert I joined him and he ushered my into a section of the restaurant that was almost in darkness save for the dim glow of small wall sconces around the room. A dance floor took up most of the space, the tables surrounding it all had upturned chairs except for one tucked into the back corner. I could see Holland’s silhouette as he leaned against it and my pulse spiked, mouth drying up.

“I wouldn’t try his patience if I were you,” the man warned, voice surprisingly gentle. Before I could retort he disappeared back into the kitchen. The click of the door closing echoed and I stood for a long moment, letting my eyes adjust to the low light. I scanned the dark corners and shadows to make sure we were actually alone before carefully heading in his direction. He pushed off, moving to meet me halfway across the floor.

The closer he got the clearer his outfit became and I almost faltered. Instead of his usual perfectly tailored suit he was donned in dark jeans and a black t-shirt topped with a leather jacket. With his rain dampened curls and freshly shaven face he could have easily stepped off the set of a magazine shoot. I distracted myself by doing another sweep of the room, giving myself time to take a few deep breaths before risking another look at him.

He’d folded his arms, the leather of his jacket clinging to them leaving no illusion that he was more than equipped to fight his way out should this end badly. Not that I ever imagined he’d need to stoop that low. I was willing to bet he had more than one gun hidden beneath his jacket, and I already knew how willing he was to use them.

“Why are we here?” I eventually asked. The tense silence radiating off him was starting to make me nervous.

“I needed to make sure you wouldn’t be followed.”

“You should know by now that if I was, I’d already know,” I scoffed. When he didn't snap back a response I studied him. His jaw ticked as he looked me over. “You wanted to make sure I wouldn’t try to ambush you,” I realised. With a frustrated sigh I pinched the bridge of my nose, eyes squeezing shut as I fought the urge to walk away.

“Until I trust you Joe will bring you to a different meeting point each night.”

Dragging my eyes back to him I mimicked his stance. “That doesn’t help me trust you. How do I know he won’t be leading me to a quiet spot to get rid of me as soon as I get you the information you want?”

“You don’t. So I suggest you prove you’re more use to me alive.” His cheek twitched as if he was trying to fight a smile.

“I have nothing to prove to you. I have my own reasons for wanting Rivera gone,” I snapped. A soon as the words were out I realised my mistake. He strode towards me so fast I almost tripped up trying to back away. The edge of a table hit my legs, halting my retreat. He gripped my upper arms, dark eyes filled with outrage boring into me.

“Do you have a personal vendetta? Are you using me?” he growled.

“Don’t act like that’s not what you’re doing. We both have the same end goal.” I shoved against him, trying to stop his fingers biting into my arms but he only tightened his hold. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop a whimper escaping. I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

Without warning he released me and backed away, hand raking through his hair a few times he scowled at the floor before collecting himself.

“I want to know everything you have on Rivera. Then we’re going to Hell’s Kitchen to find the bastard.”

Not trusting my legs to hold me up for much longer I tipped over the closest chair and sank into it. Leaning forward I clasped my hands, focusing on them for a long moment while my breathing evened out. Telling him everything we’d gathered on Rivera wasn’t possible but I could throw out enough to keep him on side for the time being.

“He pretty much runs Hell’s Kitchen, distributing drugs and gun running shipments they bring in through the cruise ship ports.” The surprise on his face was quickly replaced by narrowed eyes.

“That’s not possible. It’d be too easy to get stopped.”

“Not if you own one of the companies,” I offered.

“Do you have proof?” he demanded. I shook my head.

“He’s covered his tracks well on the legal side, but I’ve seen them offload a few times. It’s definitely how they’re getting their supplies, or some of them at least.”

“Then that’s where we start.”

Taglist:

@spideylovin @lukesbabylon @panicattheeverywherekid @keep-bears-wild @unbelievableholland @tomholland-mcu @whattheheckparker @stargazerholland @gorillaglue23 @marvelpeters @weirdowithnobeardo

Part 15!