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amintyworld · 4 years ago

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Mentors - Dream SMP Hunger Games AU

A/N: So this started as a one page drabble, then it turned into a six page fic. Oopsies! Anyway this is meant to be a sort of prequel to ‘The Victor’ drabble I submitted over at @dreamsmp-au-ideas, but can be read as stand-alone. Anyway, I wrote this in the span of an entire DAY because I have no self-control when it comes to writing and this AU has sparked some Middle School nostalgia in me. Anyway, hope you enjoy and please check out the blog where the AU idea came from, they’ve given me a LOT of inspiration for fics to write. -Minty

TW: Talk/mention of death, fighting, depression/loss, threats of death, slight insanity. (Tell me if I need to tag anything else!)

Summary: Tommy’s an angry orphan, Wilbur grows a soft spot for Tommy, Sam is the only braincell left in District 7, Tubbo has Dadschlatt and needs a lot of hugs, Phil earned the achievement ‘Oh no Feelings’.

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Tubbo intertwined his fingers as he walked with the guards toward the white porcelain-like door. The shock of his name getting pulled hadn’t exactly faded yet, and the dread of the logical conclusion he’d drawn up in his head did not exactly help matters. He knew he was dead - he’d never trained for combat, he wasn’t agile or fast, he knew next to nothing about surviving in the wilderness, or even whatever the Gamemaker threw at him for that matter. His fate was completely sealed the moment that boy with devil horns picked his name out of the bowl.

He took a breath, his hand on the door handle. Time to say goodbye.

As soon as he shut the door, he could feel his father’s comforting hand on his shoulder. “Hey, kiddo.” His voice was gentle, warm, and kind. Tubbo’s emotions couldn’t help but become unplugged at the voice as tears ran down his cheeks and he clung to his father tightly, afraid to let go. Schlatt wrapped his arms around Tubbo gently, rubbing his back to give him some comfort. “Oh Tubbo, I know kiddo, shhh...”

“I’m so scared, Dad.” Tubbo’s voice wavered as his body shook with sobs, and Schlatt’s heart broke at his son’s voice.

“I know buddy, I know.” Schatt moved so he could brush his hands through his son’s hair. “But… but you don’t have to be. I know you can do it, I know you can win.” A few tears slipped down Schlatt’s cheek. “You’re so much smarter than any of those meatheads in the Capitol, probably in any other District in Panem. You’re so much stronger than you know, kiddo. I know you can do it. Just survive, I know you can outthink any of them, I know you can win. Just survive, win, and I’ll be waiting right here when you come back, okay?”

“And… and we can finally make s’mores?”

Schlatt’s face broke out into a smile through tears. “Yes, yes we can make as many s’mores as you want! We… we’ll… I’ll show you the bee farms, and I promise I’ll be there every single night for dinner, no more late hours at the office. I swear.” Schlatt’s hands squeezed Tubbo’s shoulders. “But you gotta win and come home, okay?”

Tubbo’s eyes blurred with tears as he scanned his father’s face, words dying in his throat, not knowing what to say. “Dad, I-”

Schlatt pulled him down into another hug as the two wept, holding onto each other for dear life, not daring to let go. Then, a soldier appeared in the doorway. “He’s got a train to catch, Mr. Ram.”

Schlatt breathed deeply, pulling away from the hug to run his hand through his son’s hair one last time, taking in his face as he brushed a bit of hair out of his face. “I…” He bit his lip. “I love you, Tubbo. Don’t forget that, okay?”

“I love you too, Dad.” Tubbo gave a quick hug to his father, wrapping his arms around his neck.

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When Wilbur was assigned as a mentor for District 7, he was more than a little nervous. The other Victors from Victor’s Row assured him he’d do just fine, but still, he was not exactly looking forward to it. He’d met the escort and advisor a few days ago, someone from the Capitol named Sam. For someone from one of the richest districts in Panem, Sam didn’t exactly dress in high fashion - no bright colors or extravagant hairstyles. Instead, he simply wore a clean formal vest and slacks. He gave Wilbur the firmest handshake he’d ever been given in his entire life, and despite the situation seemed almost cheerful.

If he remembered correctly, he was supposed to settle in his personal car on the train and meet Sam in the dining car. Sam seemed to have every detail of their trip planned out perfectly, which Wilbur more than appreciated. He was already dealing with enough as it was having to mentor two kids and try to get them sponsors while basically reliving the worst time in his entire life. Ths screams, the blood… the memories were… they were not good.

They called him insane, unstable. The One Who Went Mad. When he used to panic and whimper and mutter to himself, they used to laugh at him. They thought what he’d been through, the things that he’s seen, and the nightmares that plagued him were nothing more than a funny joke. They loved his pain and suffering. Wilbur didn’t like when they laughed at him like some stupid monkey in a cage. That’s why he preferred to just stay home most of the time. But at this point mentorship was unavoidable, it was under Capitol orders.

It was a bit early before he was due to meet up with Sam in the dining car, and he craved a cup of black coffee. His mind whirred a bit from the familiar fancy train cars, and he needed something to clear his mind from remembering. When he opened the door, however, he didn’t expect to see one of the tributes already here this early. From his blond messy hair and his bright blue eyes, he assumed this was Tommy, the boy. Wilbur held up his hand to show he meant to harm before he moved past the teen sat near the window towards the tea cart, fiddling with the french press. Successfully pouring the pitch-black liquid in a very expensive looking teacup, he cradled it in his hands as he moved to sit across from the teenage boy, still focused on the train station outside the window. “Uh, interesting view?”

Tommy looked over at him for a moment, eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Something like that.”

Wilbur sipped the bitter coffee thoughtfully. He took a breath before speaking. “You know, you’re allowed to say goodbye to your friends and family in the Governor’s office, if one of the Peacekeepers made a mistake I’m sure there’s still time for you to…”

“No.” The teenager’s voice seemed firm, staring out of the window. “They didn’t make a mistake.”

“Uh, well…” Wilbur felt the awkward tension in the room rise. “You are a… bit early, we don’t leave for another half-hour…”

“Well, I didn’t exactly have anywhere else to go. No one to say goodbye to, so I guess they just skipped that part for convenience.” He looked almost angry as he turned back to Wilbur. “Do you mind maybe not staring at me?”

“I’m trying to talk to you.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you.” Tommy snapped. “You shouldn’t just start up a conversation just because you feel bored. I’m not paid to be your fucking entertainment.”

Add this to the number of reasons Wilbur didn’t want to be a mentor - teenagers. This kid certainly had a mouth on him.

Wilbur’s eyes narrowed in anger as he gripped his teacup, trying his best to stay calm. “Well, whether you like it or not, you’re all of Panem’s entertainment now.” Wilbur quipped as he moved to walk away. “So maybe you should learn to be a bit more likable.”

As he began to walk across the car to move toward a table in the corner of the room, he felt a heavy weight on his back as he lost his grip on his cup as it landed on the metal ground of the car with a loud crash, the coffee staining the expensive carpets. He felt punches on his back and head as someone tried to pin him down. Wilbur sighed in frustration. With ease, he jabbed Tommy’s side, putting him off balance, and flipped the kid over, grabbing his arm and pulling it behind his back. Tommy struggled against Wilbur’s grip, angry. He could see tears in the teenager’s eyes as he practically growled at Wilbur. “Take it back you bitch! Get off of me and fight! Take it back or I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” Tommy’s anger slowly disappeared as he began to cry, his body shaking as he sucked in breaths, slowly realizing what exactly he said. “I’ll… I’ll…” Wilbur’s heart couldn’t help but ache at the sight of the poor kid, bringing back memories of that time, that feeling of being trapped.

The door at the other end of the train car flew open, to reveal Sam and the girl tribute from the Reaping, Sarah. “Wilbur, what are you doing?” Sam questioned as Wilbur quickly got off of Tommy, holding out his hand for the teenager to take.

“Uh, right.” As Tommy’s eyes met Wilbur’s the mentor noticed how they scanned across his face, confused at Wilbur’s sudden change from annoyance to kindness. Wilbur smiled slightly. “Let’s save the real fighting for the arena, yeah?” Tommy hesitated before taking Wilbur’s hand as he helped him up, getting even more confused as he quickly wiped off his tear-stained cheeks.

“Sarah Teller and Tommy Innit, meet your Mentor, Wilbur Soot.”

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Tubbo formally met his other tribute mate, a girl he knew from those fancy business dinners Schlatt would host - he never really talked with her much then, but it was nice to see a familiar face, that was for sure. Her name was Crystal.

They arrived and settled in without much really going on. Their advisor, the one with the devil horns a few hours earlier was their advisor, Bad. They were very confused at first why anyone would name their child that, until Bad insisted it was a nickname for ‘Badboy’… Tubbo couldn’t say he didn’t believe the advisor with some of the fancy and absurd names that seemed so popular in the richer districts. “Now, the best part is that even though you are both chosen as tributes, you’ll be able to see all the Capitol can offer before you’re in the arena. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!”

“I guess it’ll be kind of cool to see the Capitol.” Crystal agreed as she took a sip of a fruitful smelling juice of some kind. Her eyes furrowed as if she was focusing intently on the next words out of her mouth. “I mean, this year economy-wise wasn’t particularly the best for them, seeing as their main exports have been plagued with attacks. It’ll be interesting to see how they fair under unseemly conditions.”

“E...Economy?” Tubbo asked in a silent question to his fellow tribute, whose face flushed in embarrassment.

“My father is the head of exports for District 3. Knowing about stocks and stuff is kind of his thing… then, I guess, it became my thing.” Crystal shrugged, and Tubbo thoughtfully bit into a buttered crust of bread. “I don’t really think that’ll be too helpful in the Games, though.”

“Speaking of the Games, where’s that old man… I told him to meet us here almost an hour ago.” Bad thoughtfully added with a sigh. “He’s going to miss dinner completely if he doesn’t hurry up.”

Almost as if on cue, the car door slid open, and in walked a tall broad blonde-haired man who looked completely mentally checked out. He yawned as he reached over the table to grab an apple and one of Bad’s homemade muffins from the basket. He looked over to the two kids and gave them a slight smile and a two-fingered salute as if to say ‘hi’. “Crystal, Tubbo, this is Phil Craft, your Mentor,” Bad said, quickly gesturing to the man, anger bubbling to the surface. “Phil, where have you been?” Bad demanded, leaning over to snatch the muffin out of Phil’s hand. “No muffins until you eat actual food! We’re in District Two tomorrow and they expect us up and ready by 9 am sharp-!”

“Alright, alright! Stop freaking out, okay?” Phil pinched his nose in annoyance, turning his gaze to look over at the two teenagers again. Phil met Tubbo’s eyes and smirked. “Also, you said I needed real food?” Phil threw the apple up into the air as it caught wind on his arm, traveling over his shoulder blades and taking off of his opposite hand, landing in his mouth as he sunk his teeth into the apple flesh. “That count?” He asked between chewing as Tubbo and Crystal couldn’t help but smile and laugh, clapping to applaud Phil’s trick.

“You bail on us for a whole hour, show up to eat a single apple, and then got back to your little hermit hut?!” Bad’s voice raised slightly. “What do you even do in there that’s more important than this, huh??”

Phil’s playful smile dropped for a moment, replaced with something more melancholy as Bad clearly struck a nerve. There was a tense moment of silence before Phil resumed his happy persona. “Well, I didn’t mean to be a bother and disrupt your dinner. Now that I have my apple and my muffin, I’ll take my leave.” He looked over to the two tributes. “I’ll see both of you in the morning.” Phil smiled before quickly exiting the room once more, leaving a slightly irritated Bad, and two very off-put tributes.

Tubbo couldn’t sleep. The day’s events weighed too heavy on his mind - the Reaping, saying goodbye to his father, dealing with the thoughts of his own inevitable fate. He missed Schlatt’s warm embrace, he missed how his father ruffled up his hair just in the right way to say ‘I’m proud of you, kid.’ He missed home and its faint smell of motor oil and coal from the factories that always seemed to seep in through the windows and cracks in the walls just right. He didn’t feel safe here, he was in one of the fanciest bedrooms on a train that he knew he’d never be able to get a ticket for years, and yet nothing about this place felt safe.

He was being chased by something, something with claws and teeth that whispered nothing but death. But Tubbo didn’t want to die. Even if he knew it was his fate, Tubbo did not want to die. So he ran, his legs quickly getting sore and tired from overuse, yet he pushed on. He heard whispers in his ears, taunting him, laughing at his pathetic escape. Tears ran down Tubbo’s eyes as he pressed his hands over his ears and continued to run, something pinned him to the ground, claws sinking into his back as he whimpered in pain. A chill ran down his spine as the monster growled close to Tubbo’s ear. His heartbeat quicker as he begged, no pleaded to whatever was out there, please please I just want to live-!

He awoke with a start, looking around, tears streaming down his face as his body shook with an adrenaline rush. His hands found their way over his heart, making sure he was still alive as arms wrapped around him, shushing him and holding him close. “Woah there, Woah there… it’s okay, it’s okay. It was just a nightmare, it wasn’t real, shhh…” The panic in Tubbo’s chest slowly quieted as he wrapped his arms around the person, needing comfort desperately. The figure seemed startled for a moment before brushing back some of Tubbo’s hair out of his eyes. Tubbo looked at the figure for a moment, confused.

“Phil?”

“Hey mate.” Phil smiled warmly. “That was quite the nightmare, yeah? You were flopping around like a fish out of water.”

“But…” Tubbo sniffed, pulling away to wipe away his tears. “But why? How?”

“You sounded like you were in physical pain, I was worried. Can’t have a tribute dead before they even get to the arena, you know. Would really throw off the whole schedule.” Phil half-joked as he looked down at the mattress, not being able to meet Tubbo’s eyes at that moment. Tubbo’s gaze was focused on his mentor.

“Why’d you help me, we just met today for like two seconds at most-”

“It doesn’t really matter that much, I was just passing by-!” Phil dismissed quickly before Tubbo’s tone got more serious.

“Phil, if you’re going to be my Mentor you’ve gotta at least tell me the truth. I need you to tell me the absolute truth when it comes to this because I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, what I’m up against, how I’m even supposed to survive, but you do. I need you if I ever stand even a chance of getting home. Please.” Phil let out a frustrated sigh.

“You reminded me of my son, that’s all. When he used to be a tribute.” Phil said, looking toward the ground. “He’d have nightmares, he was so scared but I told him I’d never leave his side, so when he got picked I went with him as his Mentor.” Phil sucked on his cheek. “I thought that if I went with him, talked him through it, got every single sponsor I could, he’d…” Phil sighed. “I just didn’t want for you to have to deal with the nightmare alone, no one should have to handle everything alone.” Moving off his bed, he looked over. “I’ll be across the hall, okay?”

“Oh...Okay.” Tubbo said, nodding. “Thanks.”

Phil nodded back as he turned and Tubbo saw Phil’s hand move toward his chest quickly, was he putting his hand over his heart or something…? As Phil moved toward the door, one question stood on Tubbo’s mind, he bit his lip for a moment, considering.

“Phil, wait-!” Phil turned around, and Tubbo saw Phil’s hand wrap around a necklace of some kind he didn’t notice before, in the shape of a heart. “Did… did he survive? Your son?”

A tense silence followed.

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” Phil said. “No more questions, you need to get some sleep.”

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nightshadedawn · 4 years ago

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Persona 5 Royal Playthrough pt3

I ended up going through two Palaces before I could update y’all. Oh well.

...Yeah, no, quit calling me Miss Special Snowflake's boyfriend. It's not happening.

Ryuji, Morgana, and Yusuke having a conversation in the laundromat: "It's like he's our mom," says Ryuji... the mom friend.

Every time Morgana is like "I have to turn into a human so no one else can have Lady Ann!" then expects no one else to hear him makes me laugh. Like, bitch, no.

I have the restaurant in my Thieves Den 'cause I like it. Yusuke, Ryuji, and Morgana are there. They're so precious.

I got a three in a row Tycoon on cutthroat!!!

Ryuji and Ann just keep going "Shoulda figured" and other versions of the statement every time I win.

Ann just rejected Morgana's feelings HARD. I am happy.

Ryuji is too good, honestly. Why would anyone not like him? He's... He's always trying to build the team up, make them proud of themselves and what they've done. I will admit that he has his moments of being not a great human, but they're teenagers who were given absurd powers, so honestly, can you blame them?

I didn't know darts was an actual minigame! There's so many minigames. I'm so happy.

I don't like Akechi. I don't know why some people do. Like, his death scene was a bit... too late for a redemption for me, right after he tried to kill Joker, several times. His pain is understandable, but still... I can't.

Their "two sides of the same coin" also doesn't seem particularly fair. It's totally uneven in everything but color schemes.

Guys, GUYS, please, PLEASE decide whether you're going to react to my teasing or not.

"We don't have to deal with them directly," Ryuji says joyfully about the mafia. Oh you sweet, sweet, innocent child, if only you knew what I do.

I literally can't play this game around anyone else because I tend to yell "BABY!" to Ryuji, Ann, and Yusuke and "BITCH" or "FUCKER" to... a rather long list of villains in this game... and Makoto.

I can literally feel Yusuke's anxiety about his painting when you take him to Leblanc to see Sayuri.

How can you say Yusuke isn't gay when he says everything I do is beautiful?

I love Ryuji's 9th social link. It's LITERALLY written like a confession scene. This also means I kinda hate it because... I can't date him.

Also... PRETTY BOY RYUJI PRETTY BOY RYUJI PRETTY BOY RYUJI

I actually kinda thought that the new scene for Ryuji being a crossdresser is kinda funny??? Is this bad??? I wanna see him in a dress, tho. I gotta agree, he'd be a natural. Not the like, painfully obviously not taking it seriously from the dancing game, though.

Though I do think it's valid that he freaks out when two strange adults come up to him and try to take him somewhere, especially in a place known for being shady, and at night.

...When Ryuji complains about it, I do feel bad about ditching him. Then again, I blame the cat.

Ryuji may be my ideal type on paper, but I'm also highly attracted to Yusuke and this is so totally unfair.

*softly chanting* butlers butlers butlers butlers

Don't mind me just... *makes meticulous plot to avoid having Makoto join the team that i may or may not write a fanfic about*

Makoto is one dumbass bitch. Like, honestly, there's nothing she does that's in any way remotely smart.

...I thought I'd just skip Makoto's scenes until she became relevant, but here I am, still skipping her scenes. Does that mean she’s still irreleveant?

"Witch" I suggest, and Makoto complains! "Would you prefer "Bitch"? I can use that too.

I put Yusuke on the team in the middle of the palace through settings, replacing Morgana, who had been standing right behind me. Which made Yusuke stand right behind me. It looked like he was holding onto my waist and standing uncomfortably close. Bro, babe, I love you, but not in front of my boyfriend and girlfriend!

Just accept the compliment, guys, I'm not going to compliment Queen.

...Opening chests with Ann or Ryuji is just so sweet because they're so affectionate and touchy feely. Especially Ryuji.

Math. Fucking. Sucks. I should not have to use math in a game. I hate this. Obviously it's the Palace Makoto comes in that this happened.

Well, I finished the Palace in a day. I love the feeling. But it was getting close there. Joker and Yusuke were down to no spells...

...Yoshizawa hasn't showed up yet. When is she getting shoehorned in?

WHY IS THE VELVET ROOM RED!?

My very first playthrough I didn't execute a single execution except for the first one we have to do. It really screwed me over my second playthrough...

...I broke the electric chair. That's certainly something that happened.

147 games of Tycoon later and I've only been a beggar 31 times in total, versus the pure thirty wins in just Cutthroat.

They're in their summer uniforms and it makes make miss warmer weather already. It's fucking snowing outside. Grrrr.

Beat Kaneshiro! ...Wasn't a fan of his new boss battle. I'm even playing on safe mode! But whatever.

Makoto is a DISASTER at Tycoon. She exclusively got beggar all three times I played with her!

...RYUJI YOU CAN'T SAY SHIT LIKE THAT AND NOT LET ME DATE YOU.

Ann, sweeties, baby, you're doing so well.

She confessed to me, then in the call afterwards it was basically insinuated I proposed... WHICH IS LIKE FUCK YEAH 'CAUSE SHE ACCEPTED IT.

It makes me think of the future conversation where they're talking about marriage.

Anyway, if you haven't noticed, l love Ann.

My next playthrough I'm not gong to date her, though. I'm a completionist and I want ALL of the possible awards. But... I refuse to cheat on Ann. So I'll date everyone else then just hang with Ryuji... despite how cringy some of the date things are.

...If Akechi wasn't, you know EVIL and tried to KILL ME, SEVERAL TIMES, I might, MIGHT, like him. But in truth, I think that's really just the Persona 5: Revival talking. We get... into some stuff during that.

I know that either Atlus or the translators know EXACTLY what goes on in the Persona fandom because otherwise "He's too pretty to be wrong" would not be an option when talking to the newspaper girl about Akechi. I have to agree with her that his looks aren't really, you know, awesome enough for that.

Also, I read it as "He's too petty to be wrong" at first and I think that's an accurate sum of his character.

YO AKECHI-FUCK I HAVE NO NEED TO SEE YOUR ASS LIKE THAT WHEN I HAVE BOTH A BF AND AND GF.

...fucker fucking giving me shit about my fake glasses...

If you COULD date the boy out of mod, Akechi would definitely be the one they were pushing you to date. Like Makoto. Or Yoshizawa.

But hey, at least I get to not be nice to him.

I remember seeing this picture where Ann, Ryuji, and Joker kept going to the movies together and seeing 3D movies, and Joker couldn't wear the 3D glasses properly because of his own. I keep imagining that picture during this event with Caroline and Justine.

You know what? Some people call Joker a loli lover because of them, but nope! He's just adopted two more siblings. That is my stance on it.

FUcking

Fucker

WHAT THE FRRRRRRRR

FUCK YOU ATULS OR TRANSLATORS OR WHATEVER

APHRODITE AND MARS ARE FROM TWO DIFFERENT MYTHOS. Aphrodite is GREEK, Mars is ROMAN. Their reversed are VENUS and ARES. USE ONE OR THE OTHER PEOPLE.

I get very pissed about this, and it's worse with Hades.

7/4 is the day I am screaming at, if you were wondering.

My dad asked me if the other students think Joker's stupid because every time I answer a question right they get all surprised.

I don't really like Makoto, as I'm sure you've noticed, but she was super nice about Ryuji's special move idea. And that put her ahead of Akechi in my book.

TESTS ARE NERVE WRACKING EVEN WHEN THEY'RE FICTIONAL

Yusuke and Ryuji are good boys, the best boys. And they're so awesome about their special move.

AND RYUJI OFFERED MONEY FOR YUSUKE'S FOOD. And implied that he did it before???? Ryuji, you best boy.

This boys' outing DOES make me happy, though. Like, insanely happy. Dunno why.

Maybe because Joker gets to be so flipping cheesy.

...fuck you, Yoshizawa.

HONESTLY WHAT THE EVER LOVING--- Grr. Too many choices while with her. Too many. OOC Joker when with her. 0/10.

I LOVE THE FESTIVAL PHOTO

And you know, it's really hard to choose between Lala-chan and Ann, but... GONNA TAKE ANN ON A DATE

Got her some flowers. Lets see if we can give them to her this time!

"Such a good FRIEND." Babe, we're DATING. For like, TWO WEEKS NOW.

AND I DIDN'T EVEN GET TO GIVE HER FLOWERS

Ann called Yusuke a pretty boy, but then she's missing out on the REAL pretty boy, Pretty Boy Ryuji.

Ryuji, why're you so worried about other girls when you've got ME?

"I like the shade." "What are you, moss!?" Oh, admit it, Ryuji, I'm growing on you.

Cargona. Snrk. Gods, I love you, Ryuji.

Dome town with Ryuji! "Isn't it all couples?" That's the point!

I COULD GIVE RYUJI THE ROSES!?

Sadly, I bought those for Ann. Ryuji, you get the noodles.

AND HE FUCKING LOVED IT.

"It feels like I really captured Ryuji's heart!" FUCK YEAH I DID

Gonna give Yusuke the bracelet when I get the chance.

Why is everyone color coded in the chat room? Kawakami, Akechi, Mishima, and the reporter are all ORANGE. What's the point? Well, Akechi's more of a golden orange, but close enough.

While Mishima is not my first choice for a date, he's definitely not my last.

...But the boy really needs some fucking sleep. He's not drawn with the bags under his eyes, but I can see them!

It's not fair that they give Akechi a kicked puppy sprite. I'm... goddamnit, they're trying to make me not hate him.

When Makoto doesn't know something, I'm brought great joy.

NO DAD MAKOTO IS NOT MY GIRLFRIEND ANN IS AND SHE IS LITERALLY R I G H T T H E R E

First day in Futaba's Palace! I've gotta say, this is my second favorite palace. Kamoshida, Futaba, Madarame, Sae, Okumura, Shido, Kaneshiro, Holy Grail. In that order. I HATE Kaneshiro's place and dealing with the Holy Grail. But whatevs, man. I love this game. (Vanilla, at least, this one is still on the fence)

I found out a cool little thing. On the uphill sand slopes in the town (don't know about anywhere else) if you're running and turn back quickly, Joker will do a little animation to steady himself. It was cool and made it seem, I dunno, more human? Anyway, while I was admiring this, Ryuji and Yusuke just stood at the top of the slope and Ann followed me while I was running. Best girlfriend ever.

Kin-Ki is looking pretty kin-ky if you know what I'm sayin'

Please don't murder me because I do terrible puns.

*we fall through the trap door* *Ryuji starts screaming* Same, baby, same.

...Makoto is seriously annoying. Like, she's got no business acting as familiar with Futaba's situation. The one who WOULD be the most familiar is Yusuke, and I'm glad he recognizes that. It's not the exact same, none of their stories are after all, but I feel like those two get each other better than even Ryuji and Joker understand each other.

Yusuke and Ryuji's special attack is THE BEST

Ryuji and Joker getting up close and personal in the shadows. All those fanfics coming true, man.

I thought Futaba was sloth, not wrath? Why are her Will Seeds called Wrath?

Beat it in one day! It's so satisfying to watch all those achievements when I leave the palace.

You know, I'm thinking of wearing the Christmas outfits for the final battle. Just to be kinda funny.

Spending a relaxing day with Yusuke after going through Futaba's Palace... kinda want to take him to the bathhouse to check out that new scene, but I also REALLY wanna feed the boy... gonna feed the boy.

Apparently I can only make 'decent curry.' Which is fine. Because "I" can't make curry at all. Joker, you've done much better than I.

THE DATE CHANGE SCREEN HAD A RAINBOW AND RYUJI WAS COMING OVER ON THE SAME DAY FUCK YEAH MY BISEXUAL BABY

...Broooooo, the way you talk about your manga is how I talk right before I start shipping.

Took him to the bathhouse, 'cause I don't gotta worry about Mama Sakamoto feeding him.

...Can I take Ann to the bathhouse?

Asked Ryuji to move in. He was all up for the idea until he remembered that I live in an attic.

I'm Charismatic now!

...I was all hoping Ann would stop by but then Akechi asked me out. Laaaaaaaame.

Ryuji's smile is so fucking cute.

...I say we just be honest, and everyone's so fucking stupid about it until Makoto explains it. This pisses me off. They're not that dumb... At least, they weren't until Makoto showed up.

Futaba's hiding in the closet. ...I've spent too many weeks making jokes about closets to not have a joke about it.

Really, Yusuke? You see those books and think she can't understand?

...Wait, that sassy tone of voice... You were TRYING to pull a reaction of her. I knew I shipped those two for a reason. OTP and BroTP. Doesn't matter, they're both awesome.

I love you Ann, but I don't think your situations were the same at all. It's not like both are valid and bad, but... different.

Joker is SO fast compared to the others, especially when he's speeding.

What the...

Holy fuck...

JOKER IS TOO EFFING COOL

THAT MOVE TO GET FROM THE ENTRANCE TO TO TREASURE DOOR? Awesome!

Damn, Joker has my heart too.

I kinda wish we could see Futaba's costumes in her Persona. That would be pretty neat.

The moment right before Wakaba appears is so aesthetically pleasing.

...Futaba being happy is almost enough for me to accept Maruki's offer, and I haven't gotten there yet.

Ryuji and Ann keep smacking each other out of their ailments. Like, you guys just love each other so much! It's awesome.

Joker has lackluster responses to Wakaba... I'm hoping that isn't one of those "Answer these wrong and you break her!" things... Not that I think I was, but still.

I liked Futaba's new animation for when she defied her mother.

I wish the anime looked more the cutscenes. I'm trying to rewatch the anime so I can pinpoint specific moments for future editing purposes, but it's kinda painful.

1- This is the SECOND TIME you've landed on Yusuke while running from trouble.

2- YUSUKE LET GO OF MY GIRL

No Makoto, I don't want to go see Futaba with you! I can go see her myself.

So, I like Takemi's new voice with her lines during this scene.

Sure, she collapses every so often and sleeps for a while. Stays like that for a few days. Sorry that I put her into a coma for a month, Boss...

SHE LOOKS SO CUTE WITHOUT GLASSES

Guys, we have a month. Stop worrying.

THE TWINS ARE SO CUTE WHILE HANGING ONTO THE BENCH PRESS

Damn, Joker's dying to the amusement of two little girls.

I'm kinda disappointed I didn't get results for all that training. But I liked the scene.

Yusuke just casually be lugging bigass paintings around.

Taking the girls to the church may have been one of the funnier moments. These cement them as Joker's little sisters. With Futaba. Damn, Joker, you got no brothers.

Yusuke promises to come by every day and we can tell him to take his clothes off. ATLUS, you have some EXPLAINING to DO.

..And Yusuke took it and ran with it. My sweet summer child, I don't think I could handle you in as little as possible on the day to day.

"The heat induced delirium made me think outside the box." Same.

Guts takes sooooooooooooo long to level up.

"Punish me more" he says, as if Takemi won't do it.

"Good god. Well, none of my medicine can cure THAT." AT LEAST WE'RE ALL ON THE SAME PAGE

BATHHOUSE WITH YUSUKE

Awe, he had fun. :)

#Persona 5 #akira kusuru #shuann #pegoryu #pegoryuann #persona 5 royal #yusuke kitagawa #ann takamaki #Ryuji Sakamoto #Pretty Boy Ryuji

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alias-b · 4 years ago

Text

sins of my youth. 007

Billy Hargrove x OC! Evie Fenny~ Also posted to my AO3

Summary: It was common knowledge that Billy Hargrove hated Hawkins. Hated Cherry Lane. Even loathed the strange girl next door. Evie Fenny wasn’t too fond of the chaotic Cali transfer either. An awful high school tradition sparks a chain of events that changes everything, ultimately bringing two frayed souls together.

A/N: New Year and school is back in session after winter break. Billy starts the grovelling process and observes some new things about Evie. TW: PICA-it's worse. Vomiting. Animal death mention. Student/Teacher relationship in the background. School bullies. Taglist open!!!

Chapter 7: One Bad Kiss Constellation

The first day back to school was uglier than Evie pictured. Fall of snow didn't get them out of classes.

Her stomach was already in knots, but that could have been the shiny things she’d eaten the night before.

Felt like a game. What would pass. What would tie her stomach up. These little trinkets she actually dug for, cleaned with bleach, and stacked on that empty shelf. Organized each item. Admired her display of will and control. Mostly keys and buttons. Couple nuts from a toolbox in their garage.

So far, everything came out. So far. Evie wondered what her insides would look like and tried to slow. Tried despite all the noise.

Calculus was first. Thankfully, she shared it with Heather who was all smiles. Chattering about her surprise mini trip with her parents.

They had it with Tommy and Carol too. All the fucking grins and looks Evie got burned. Tommy peering then shifting to Carol’s ear so she could giggle.

Evie’s pencil snapped within her fist so Heather glanced aside to see the pieces roll away.

“Okay, muscles.” She chuckled, passing a freshly sharpened one over.

“Thanks.”

“So, what’d you do for New Years?” All the scratching of lead on paper was driving Evie insane. Grating like an out of tune orchestra of vibrating strings.

“Just some lame party, the usual.” Evie was rubbing the back of her neck. Eyes glued to the page.

Carol giggled again. Fingernails sunk into the skin of Evie's hairline.

“Don’t know what her problem is.” Heather remarked to herself.

Evie shook her head. Lips pressing with no sound. Trying to focus on the problems along the page and not the ones fizzling in her life. Her desk was pressed into the far right wall next to all the campy posters teachers loved to decorate their rooms in.

About how there's always a silver lining and chase the morning.

Evie rolled her eyes at the thought. Caught sight of a sleek thumbtack there sticking out. Shiny and chrome. Lungs pulsed and she wondered about the weight on her tongue.

Strange how her mouth watered for it.

Two fingers subtly snatched it from the wall when the bell rang.

Second period was usually what she was excited about. English with Bowers and the sly smiles they beamed at each other across the room. Carol always looked between them. Jealous she wasn’t the hot teacher’s pet. She noticed a great deal there.

Evie shared the class with Steve also. And Billy who sat in the next row over just behind her. He stared at Evie, trying to read every twitch and shift of her body. A note hit her desk from Steve.

Brown eyes peered up as if to ask who it was being passed to, but he cocked his chin at her.

Fredrick sat quietly at his desk as they worked separately today. He didn’t see her unfold it.

What’s up with Hargrove? Looks like he’s trying to vaporize you with his laser eyes.

Evie hitched to stop herself from laughing at a picture with a stick figure and a mullet. Lasers blasting out of the eyes. She added some comically large muscles. Cleared her throat and wrote back.

He’s a creep.

Steve quirked a darling smile at her.

Billy saw a flash of stark, bloody red. Harrington made her grin without force.

“Okay, class, let’s see who read the material. Pass your papers up.” Fredrick stood to collect. “I’ll be reading these tonight and- Ah, Mr. Hargrove. Thank you for the scribbling of your Camaro. I hope the essay question is as detailed.”

“Been thinking about upgrading my girl, sir. Say, what do you drive?” Billy tapped his pencil, lazy as can be. “Cool guy, I bet.”

“Just a Plymouth. We muscle cars have to stick together.” Fredrick was pulling stacks of papers from the front. Billy didn’t drop it.

“That orange one? Yeah. I’ve seen it around.” Blue eyes drew to Evie at that. She felt a chill and peered back with a stony expression. “Bet the girlies all line up.”

A few classmates chuckled for their glorious king.

“It gets me from point A to B. That’s all I ask for.” Bowers only laughed.

"I'm sure it does." Billy mused coolly, fingers twisting his ring which caught the light.

The bell blared.

“Alright, class. We’re starting a new unit tomorrow. I hope you all have your Shakespeare hats ready.”

A collective groan sounded.

Evie rushed out to Yearbook with Jonathan, Nancy, and Heather. Only class she had where Seniors and Juniors mixed. Besides lunch if that counted. Got lost in dark rooms so the world couldn’t see her hands shaking.

"Here." Jonathan caught her trying to clip some photos up, fumbling with a stack.

"Thanks," Evie sighed, "too many pages for our losing sports teams, right?"

He chuckled at that.

"My thoughts exactly."

Jonathan went to help Nancy order some drafted pages when Heather crossed over. Eyes on Evie working.

"Something the matter?"

"Bourbon's not doing well. I expected it, but...he's just been with me through all of it. You know?" A frown etched. She didn't want to cry. Heather paused to hug Evie from behind.

"He's our little prince still. I'm sorry."

Her friend shifted out, pressed a smile and went back to work in silence. Groaned because Billy was in half these basketball photos. Alight and intense.

“Hey, I’m going to the library for lunch.” Evie spoke after that bell rang. “I’ll scarf my sandwich on the way.”

Heather observed her again. Watched how Evie avoided her eyes.

“Was...something else going on? I feel like I-”

“No, just missing the break.” Evie flashed her teeth to make it convincing.

She did manage to get half the sandwich down and tossed the rest out. Patted cold water on her cheeks once she was alone in the bathroom as everyone went to lunch. The hallway got quieter and Evie looked at her flushed face. Shuddered and reached for the pin in her pocket. Small. Deft. Dainty.

Stark point. Catching the light.

She washed it with soap. Opened her mouth to stick her tongue out. Cradled it there. Chrome and out of place against pink flesh. Lips closed. The point pressed down into her tongue. Evie winced. Tried to swallow and choked it back into her hand. Saliva dripping.

A spot of red welled. Loud and obscene and horrible. Tasting metal. Shame. Tears pooled.

So she pushed it back in like she’d done with the key to drown the noise out. Evie Fenny wasn’t a fucking quitter.

Swallow. Swallow. Swallow.

It scratched going down. Working around clenching muscles. Pangs fluttered. Fingers grasped the sink to bite a groan back.

Evie thought she heard the little plink of it hitting her stomach. Gasped to breathe. There wasn’t shame anymore, only pride. She powered through it. Had utter control.

Eyes locked with the mirror. Calm. Collected. Not in this body. Rust turned to sweet strawberries and rose petals.

Imagine stabbing something several times until it was beautiful.

Exhale.

** ** **

Carol and her gaggle still kept the laughter up in the cafeteria. She sat upon the table with Tommy next to her. Animated stories kept them hanging upon dripping syllables. Heather couldn’t stand it anymore. Pushed up to cross right over.

“What’s your problem today?” She cocked her hip.

“Oooh.” Carol clicked her glittery nails on the table. “So touchy, sweet pea.”

“What’s your problem with Evie, she didn’t do anything to you?”

“Other than her being a tart for Bowers. Nothing to me. In fact, she provides us with hours of entertainment. Had a hot date with the Keg King.” Carol nodded toward Billy across the way, sitting alone and clicking his lighter. Annoyed, he got up and went to sneak his usual lunch smoke.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Uh, isn’t Fenny your BFF?” Tina chimed in. “Shouldn’t you know?”

“Aw, that’s so cute, she didn’t tell you.” Tommy added with his crooked smile. “Must be so embarrassed. Poor girl.”

“You have five seconds-”

“I’m gonna tell you.” Carol decided. Finger curling to bring Heather in. “Only because it’s just too good.”

** ** **

Billy got one puff in before Princess Heather Holloway was smacking the cigarette from his fingers. Snarling and bright red to match the cute bow in her hair.

“Hey!”

“Hey yourself, what the fuck?” She pushed Billy clear into the brick wall. Chilled him more than the breeze. A new flutter of snow began to fall with no peace in sight. Her face was flushed cherry with anger. “I know about your little Skirt Safari bullshit! You tricked Evie! You hurt my friend...you’re an asshole.”

Billy just sagged at her. Reached to pluck up his cigarette and got it slapped again. Heather crushed it with her expensive shoe for good measure.

“You had no right to do something so disgusting! Carol and Tommy filled me in.”

His brow lifted.

“...Evie didn’t tell you?”

“The last thing Evie wants is for people to see her in pain, so I know you hurt her bad.” Her arms crossed. “Well?” A cold breath puffed.

“It wasn’t supposed to-”

“You mean, she wasn’t supposed to find out about the bet. You’re so selfish. You’re a selfish little prick. Stay the hell away from my friend.”

She turned and a hand snatched her wrist.

“Heath-”

“What?” She shrugged with some extra ire. Eyes flickering like flames. “I think you’ve done enough.”

Billy let her go, looked elsewhere. No syllables to make her stop fuming. Heather huffed at him and marched back inside to find Evie at her locker. Shoulders dropped.

“Hey…” Heather’s slow approach still gave Evie a fright. Huge doe eyes looking far too somber.

A sigh.

“Who told you?”

“Carol and those jerks.” Heather pressed her lips. “Just scared Hargrove shitless, I think. I’m sorry, I wish you told me. You said you'd tell me things.”

“This thing... It doesn’t matter. He tricked me, whatever.” Evie’s arms went out then dropped. She faced her locker. Toyed with the handle and pressed her book closer. “It was all stupid. For a moment, I thought he… I thought a boy might-”

“He’s a little prick.” Heather turned her friend around.

“We had fun. We danced. I kissed him first. Did Carol tell you that part?” Evie sucked in some air.

"Oh?"

“Yeah, I kissed him and I was going to screw him too. I was gonna go to a motel with Billy Hargrove for New Years and, you know, I...I wanted to. I really wanted him... But, it doesn’t matter. They can talk about it all they like.” She moved to go, slamming her locker shut. “I don’t care. It won’t bother me. It's stupid. All of it.”

“Evie, don’t shut down, please.”

“I’m fine.” Sneakers skidded when Heather stepped in front of her. "Boys like Billy Hargrove don't go for girls like me. He doesn't want me. That's not news."

Evie remembered all the hot bodies jumping around. The crowds and fireworks blasting along with a musical beat. Moments where she'd felt incandescently delighted next to Billy and the lingering of their starry eyes. Like they'd been meant to find each other all this time.

"Getting mad about this is the same as being upset about the pattern of stars. It's pointless." Evie swallowed a thicker lump down.

No, that's what ached. Billy made her believe they could be rewritten. Made her want to defy the stars.

“Let’s hang out this weekend. A no boys party for both of us.” Heather smiled, taking Evie's hand. “He’s not even a boy, Eve, he’s a little prick. Let’s just have some fun. Friday? Sleepover. You pick the first movie.”

“I’m fine, Heath,” the words sounded funny now, “but okay. Sleepover.”

“Good.” A brighter smile crossed so Evie matched it. She let Heather hug her and managed to make it through classes all the way to her free period avoiding Billy’s eyes on her skull. Sneaking out was an art form she’d perfected. Quick steps to her locker and toward the door. Stopping only to see into the theater when stage lights turned rose red.

Evie peeked in. Beamed.

“Mr. B.” She shuffled inside after checking the hallway. "Fredrick."

“I’m alone, Evie, come sit with me.” He patted the table next to the lightboard he was working on. The glow changed to a softer pink. Made it all less menacing. Bathed in blush, she crossed the illumination and scooted up onto the cool surface. Skirt shifting over black tights. “Bad day?”

“Bad start to the year.”

"Classmates? I can always fail them for you." He'd joked.

She smiled, head shaking so he continued.

“They’re intimidated by you, Evie, because you’re too ahead and mature for them. Soon, you'll be out in the world and they'll be left stumbling.” He peeked up behind a pair of glasses. This was old times. Encouragement. Nurturing. “Much like the director of the winter show who asked me to fix this damn thing last minute.”

She giggled then, touching her lips.

“You look pretty in this light. You should wear pink more often, instead of red.” He remarked and she crossed her ankles. Hands gripping the edge.

“Red makes me look and feel older.” Evie asserted herself.

“What about that wet gloss you used to wear in class?” His finger brushed her knee before he was picking up a screwdriver.

“Thought you didn’t like to kiss me with gloss on, you said it was too sticky.”

“I appreciate it more now that I’ve lost it. Just like you, Evie. You were there for me. It's something special to have a person. Don't you think?” He winked. Fredrick Bowers made her laugh and smile. Listened to her and gave back. Most days.

All she longed for was to impress him. Please him. Be enough for someone.

"It's not fair that I cannot kiss you here." He uttered. "Now. I'd like to."

"Just kiss me?" Evie flicked some curls, drew her fingers across her collar so he fixated there.

Played this version of herself that came out around him. This woman in red with cool words. Always game. She bit her lip and he paused to see her again. A smile crossed before they were interrupted.

Evie looked up as the door opened and Carol stood there. A glare already on her pouty face. Fredrick scooted a good few inches from Evie. Quickly.

“Sorry, I just had some questions about the reading. Mr. B.” Carol flashed a smile.

"Of course, Carol. My door is always open. Evie, thank you for the inquires. I'll be getting back with you. Soon."

Evie perked and got up.

“I'll hold you to that... We just finished. Thanks, Mr. B. For all the help.” She seemed all too chipper at Carol going green with envy. The redhead knocked into her shoulder passing, but Evie gripped her bag and went out. Frowned at the snow piling because she’d ridden her bike in.

Still, Evie was stubborn, so she got on and pedaled down the street. Sleet making it more difficult when a fucking Camaro revved down the way behind her. Billy honked once and got ignored. Pulled up in front of her and skidded over which sent Evie into a pile of frosty, dead leaves. Tumbling.

“Hell.” She just laid there until Billy Hargrove was in the line of sight. Craning to see her and utterly stunning against the opal skies. “What’s it going to take for you to leave me alone, huh? Three hundred bucks?” She untwisted from her bike and Billy yanked her up, brushing snow aside until he got smacked off with two heated expressions penetrating.

“You’re screwing Bowers, aren’t you?” He’d hissed it.

Oof.

“You’re delusional.” Evie charged past him. Legs aching as she pushed her bike.

“Max saw you in his car. He’s always looking at you. Is that where you go when you sneak out your window three times a week?”

“No!” Evie swiveled. Breath ghosting.

“But, you’re still fucking him.” Billy slid in front, hands on the bike handles to stop her again. There was a struggle. Her cheeks puffing as she feebly tried to push him back. Teeth clenched.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Will you just move?” Her entire face scrunched together. All daggers. Slowing, Evie spelled it out for him. Drew closer. “And no one will ever believe you.”

“You think I’m trying to make your life worse, Angel? I just want you to admit it.”

"Admit, what? You have major issues? Fine! Easy! Now move!" She barely got a few inches forward with his muscles buldging. Two immovable objects.

"Open those pretty lips and say it. You're fucking our teacher. I wanna hear it from that mouth." Billy paused, chest shuddering. "You went to him after what I did. I should have stayed with you."

“I don’t owe you any of this. You're obsessed!” She shoved into him. No budging, the boy was made of steel.

“He’s a fucking pedophile. We had those in California too, chica. Maybe they don’t like the term round these parts. You think he's making you feel good, but he's setting you on fire to warm himself. That fuse is creeping, babe.” Billy pushed back until she was sliding toward his car. Slush wetting their shoes.

"You're unbelievable!"

“I’m not looking to tell anyone, got that?" Billy caught her gaze in the teetering. Held it. "I’m just saying you don’t have to do it. Anyone ever tell you that you don't have to do something, Evangeline?"

Evie stopped pushing to stare with bigger eyes as he continued. Expression crestfallen because something resonated.

"Being a good girl has a cost, you do everything people tell you to do until your organs start spilling.”

“I'm not the only one with a front. Fuck you!”

A beat.

“You almost did that night.” Billy cocked his head. "I would have made you moan so pretty. I wanted to." Evie’s mouth dropped before she shoved him into the snow. Bike falling away. He looked thrilled. About to pitch a fucking denim tent. “There you are. I would have fucked you so hard and so good, babe. Bet you even taste like heaven and stardust. Yeah? Fucking hit me.”

“Hit you?” Evie stilled over him. “You’re just trying to make yourself feel better. Fuck off, Billy.” She yanked at her bike again. He puffed there, chest sinking before he shot back up. Newfound vigor.

Growled.

“I’m sorry.”

Even the snow stilled with him. She swerved and saw him crack.

“Evie, I’m fucking sorry, okay? I’m shit at this and I‘m sorry. I’m sorry I took you to that stupid dance and screwed you over. I'm sorry you got hurt. I am sorry, got it!”

“You’re sorry that you got caught.” She pointed.

“I’m not leaving you alone.”

“Listen, Billy,” Evie spun and dropped her bike, “I don’t need anything from you. Nothing. Okay? Just let it go, I really don’t know why you can’t. Be sorry somewhere else. The stars are where they are. Life goes on.”

“Fuck the stars! They're too far away to stop us. I kissed you after midnight. I gave the fucking money away. I wanted out of it and I fucked up. I did. I'd change that, but I wouldn't change the night with you. Hear me? I didn't lie about that much." He strained to catch those brown eyes.

She opened her mouth and closed it quicker. Almost softened.

"I didn't fake that and I was shitty to take you to that place. That fucker Tannen used me to get back at you and I’m fucking sorry about it.” Billy seemed to rage the thoughts out. “You liked it too. The kiss. Don’t pretend you didn’t.”

"If you call that a kiss." Sarcasm seeped out.

"Yeah, I recall us sharing a couple." Billy laughed. Dry and disbelieving. "I was drunk, but I remember every damn second of how you felt."

“You’re not fooling me again.” Evie crushed in on herself, pressed onward. Skidding to go away from Billy Hargrove. What the hell could he possibly want out of this?

“I’ll leave you alone,” Billy sprang forward and grabbed her back wheel, “if you kiss me again and tell me it’s nothing. Just one more. Redo it. Yeah? To hell with the stars, we'll change them.”

She looked in awe at him. Shoulders dropped.

"It wasn't even that good of a kiss."

"Then, what do you have to lose over another bad one?" Billy's head tilted up. Wild as can be. Evie matched it. Both of their curls moving up against the sweep of cold winds. Hungry looks about them. Billy undid her with a damning utter. "Prove me wrong, Angel."

He fucking triple dog dared her.

Evie practically kicked her bike aside, stomped toward him, and grabbed his face to smash their lips together. Billy pounced back with a barely there sound. Shoved Evie into the side of his car.

Another vehicle honked and went around them. Probably too shocked to do much else with teenagers unable to control their hormones in the middle of the road.

Moaning like he was in a porno, Billy made this one count. Hands palmed at her ass, bringing Evie up a few inches. Tongue down her throat near ready to prick himself on the pin she'd swallowed.

She hitched as he pulled her hair to see lush hooded eyes again. But, briefly.

"Yeah?" He twisted those curls around, both of them moaned. Challenge dancing. You like that, Angel? Evie's fingers were clutching at his jacket. A nod followed. She let him trail his tongue against her lips and opened her mouth for it again. Tasted spearmint.

Drunken bodies kept moving and smacking back into his car. Billy even tried to pull her shirt up out of her skirt to touch the flesh underneath. Evie jolted out from him, having not been ravished like that by a boy so unafraid to touch her.

And she shuddered apart. Kept her eyes closed so Billy did too.

It was the only way to prolong this. A softer kiss where their noses brushed after. Foreheads pressing together. Ardent and lovely. Total silence was a thrill. Billy nuzzled his nose into her own again, pulling her body into his. Fingers crept barely under her shirt. Caressed the tender skin. Lungs and hearts needy beyond repair.

Constellations twisting together until a single question dawned. Can I keep you?

Evie quaked for air and saw him. Lashes long and too beautiful. Freckles. Snow falling like confetti. An ache flooded back. The pin pricks in her tongue jabbed. Arms pushed up at him. Felt the thumping in his chest.

Holding his jaw steady, lipstick smeared to damn them both.

“Do you always kiss the same way a thirsty dog laps at water?” She shoved him backwards. A spit trail left their mouths. Red glistened on Billy’s lips and chin. A sleazy grin cracked, tongue wiggling out to taste her still on him. Neither could breathe right.

“Haven’t had complaints.” He gasped for air. “Are you judging my technique?”

“Yeah, it sucks.” Evie puffed with more force. “And I felt nothing. Got it? Nothing. Leave me alone now.”

“You’re a shitty liar.” He watched her swerve.

“And you’re a shitty person!” She wiped her mouth. Billy stopped dead, dropped everything he was feeling to let that pierce him. “I felt nothing! Leave me alone.”

“No.” Billy decided as she plucked her bike up.

“No?"

"You heard me." A child. "No. Nope. Nada."

"But, you just said-”

“I fucking lied and now you know how it’s done.” He went around his car. “Maybe I’m a shitty person, but at least I don’t hate myself enough to lie and screw-”

“Spare me!” Evie screamed over him. Chilling. She got onto her bike and went down a dirt path so Billy couldn’t follow her.

“Fuck.” Billy slammed his car door getting back in. Revved up again, hitting the wheel. “Fuck!”

He’d made it worse.

** ** **

Billy made an attempt to leave Evie Fenny alone. Sorta. Didn’t even stare at her in school. Didn’t bring up Bowers. Pretended he didn’t hear her sneaking out to wherever.

He even tried screwing other girls. Drinking and partying to forget.

Another problem came with that.

He couldn’t keep his shit up. Tried everything. Got into bed with two girls and stayed soft. Pretended he was just too smashed.

All he saw was Evie Fenny looking at him with her huge, sad eyes. It made him furious and he tried to hate her. Tried to jerk himself off and only thought of her lipstick smearing his skin. Her amber perfume drowning his senses. Her body flush against his.

Then, he was coming.

He felt like shit about all of it and that turned to rage. No hate came, it just burnt.

Meanwhile, Evie was lining pins and screws up for her collection. She wrote down every little thing she ate and what came out.

It was supposed to all come out eventually and she'd be there to control it.

She thought of the amethyst gemstone sparkling inside her and wondered how such a thing could make her feel so happy and alive.

Even when her stomach began to ache with little pricks through the day. Even when her appetite was often ruined. Even with she tried again at times to stop it for good. The cravings undid her.

She smiled through the pain just like she was taught. A woman's disposition.

I am fine. This is fine.

Something collided distantly. Two arrows through the same heart. Spitting blood everywhere.

One night, Evie wasn’t sneaking out.

Billy still heard her scratching around the side of the house. Couldn’t help peeking to see her dragging a shovel. Holding a painted square under one arm. She set a decorated shoe box aside and started digging a hole just at the back corner of her house. Struggling to break ice and snow. Head bowed so wet curls covered her chilled face.

He opened his window.

“Hey.”

“Go away.” She sniffled. Crying.

Billy hadn’t heard or seen her cry. Not even over him and what he did. Not for anything. The sound jarred him, he thought she might have been holding in laughter.

Blue eyes drew to the box again and he realized it. Bourbon. The strange cat hadn’t been spying on him lately.

“Please,” she turned her neck to barely peer at him through red rimmed eyes, “just go away.” Evie wiped her nose and let a fresh sprinkling of snow melt on her cheeks. She still looked pretty there, utterly fatigued. Wispy, wet curls framing her splotchy expression.

"You took good care of him." Was all he said. Evie turned back. Shoulders lifting.

Billy did the only thing he could do for once.

He left Evie alone.

Listened to her hum and dig to bury the beloved cat. Billy didn’t see Evie stuff a handful of soil into her pocket and go back inside to her empty house because her mother was always out with friends or working. She went to the phone in her bedroom. Luckily, Evie got her own line two Christmases ago. She dialed.

“Hello?” Her prince.

“Can I come over?” Evie sniffled. “Bourbon died.”

“Who?”

“My cat.” Dark eyes narrowed before she started to pick at some peeling wallpaper. “You remember?” She talked about the little ball of fuzz all the time.

“Oh, that’s unfortunate, Evie.” Fredrick sighed for her. “I’m not sure after what happened last weekend. I still think you need time.”

She spazzed out as the teenagers say.

“I just...wasn’t comfortable doing that. The ropes freaked me out, I can’t explain it.” She shook her head. "I can try again, can I come over?"

"So, now I'm just pushing you into it? Don't make me the bad guy, Evie, I won't be that. I'm here for you, but I want to go at your pace. You know that."

"No, no, you're not pushing," came the protest, "I can do it. I'll try. I just wanna see you. I need to be touched." That sentiment got her welling again.

“Evie, it’s like you don’t trust me to look after you.” He replied in a clinical sort of way. “I’m risking everything to be with you."

"I know."

He said it often.

"You couldn't stop crying," he sniffled like he might weep over it, "you make me feel so helpless at times. Do you realize that?"

"I"m sorry..." Evie crushed into the phone as he made it about him. His needs. His inability to keep her happy. That was her fault.

"Too often, I think your head is just up in the clouds. These nightmares you have and the way you press into the wall when you sleep. Like you don't want me to touch you. And last week, dear, you just...wouldn't stop crying."

"I promise I won't cry anymore." She's promised her mother that as well in silence. "I swear. I'll stop."

"This fixation on your little poems. We used to have adult conversations about the future. It's like a part of you is locked away. You don't want me to touch it. What’s the matter with you?”

“Songs.” Evie replied flatter.

“What?”

“They’re songs, not poems.”

“I just mean, you should be more practical."

"I don't know what's wrong with me." Evie decided at last. Clutching the phone cord in her shaken fist. Haunted. "I can't stop."

She didn't know if she wanted to. This cycle that was eating her.

"I got back into this because I wanted you. I see a future with us. Do you want me just as bad? Think on it. I'll give you the time. When you're ready, I'm here.” Bowers advised. He wanted her to want him so bad. “We’ll talk another day. Next weekend maybe.”

"Fredrick, please-"

The line cut.

She'd been too needy, he like that on his terms. Liked when she crawled and when she needed him so bad. When she gave into everything he desired without a fuss. Fredrick wanted Evie, but he wanted a specific version of Evie. The bouncy girls on television game for anything, who had every answer. Fizzling emotions unsettled him. They were childish. But, he wanted her lips to be glossy and pink. Wanted her to be an adult woman in a spring breaking teen's body.

You'd think he was still married to his uptight wife and fucking the damn babysitter.

Evie set the phone down. Stuffed a handful of dirt into her lips. Smothered herself with it. Gritty, it stuck to her teeth like an Oreo cookie. Tiny stones shifted as she tried to swallow too much at once. She got another handful in before her gag reflex choked her. Feet scrambled to puke brown and bile into the toilet.

The Lego she ate earlier came up too. Found it helping Claudia and Dustin clear their basement. Shiny and blue.

Her stomach curdled. A few tears squeezed before she was scooping that up. Slippery with acidic bile. Pushing it back into her mouth. With her throat raw, it hurt worse the second time but it went down.

Control. She was in total control. That’s what she told herself. Curled up next to the toilet. Scalp heating while her lips hung slack.

“Nothing is the matter with me.” Evie told herself because stopping meant that thudding ache in her chest would glow all neon and rose red.

** ** **

Billy wasn’t going to leave Evie alone. He decided that after a wet dream one morning. These things were not to be taken lightly by teenage boys.

I’m sorry. It didn't cut it. Actions, that’s what Susan advised, not that he’d admit prying advice from his chirpy stepmother. Vague as can be, Billy hung out in the kitchen doorway dropping rough hints.

Maxine was more blunt when Susan asked her later.

“Oh, yeah, he’s totally crushing on Evie and he messed it all up.” She said between the lazy crunching of salty chips.

“That’s what I thought.” Susan sighed. An hour of Billy barking and hiding around the doorway told Susan that much. She was young once.

“But, he did something. She’s mad at him.”

“Well, Neil works late tomorrow, I asked Billy if he’d take me to Mona’s salon. She wanted me to go out with her friends. A dessert and wine thing she likes to host.”

“Did you tell Neil?” Max was fixing a wheel on her skateboard and snacking. Poor thing wasn't getting use with all the snow fall. Susan only smiled.

“Would you like to go get your hair done?”

“Ick.” Max cringed at the thought of those huge rollers and hairspray.

“Max.” Susan replied carefully. “Evie works tomorrow, doesn’t she? Saturday.”

She got the idea with her eyes lighting up.

“Oh!” Max blew air out her lips. “Just this once, then.”

“That’s my girl.” Susan figured if Billy was convinced it was all her idea, the day would go smoother.

** ** **

Something else Billy Hargrove learned about Mona was her hair changed with the seasons. Locks big and bold but now a strawberry blonde. A head start for spring despite it still being January.

Evie peered up at reception and noticeably, her face fell.

Susan figured whatever happened had to be bad. She’d never seen such a reaction from a teenage girl to her drop dead gorgeous stepson. Hell, Billy Hargrove could bat his lashes and have eggs dropping in every uterus within a fifty mile radius.

Might have been why Neil preferred to lock him in his room like he was the dirty tomcat about to impregnate all the neighborhood strays. Although, Neil had a list of reasons for how he treated Billy. None of them valid.

Mona went right for Max. Squished her cheeks in smelling of lavender hand cream.

“I’m so glad y’all are here! Maxie, I promise I won’t shock you. Just a wash and freshen. Make your hair nice and bouncy. It’ll shine. I always say: the higher the hair, the closer to God.” Mona took Susan’s hand. “C’mon over here. My new girl, Shelby, will get you started too. Little pampering does everyone good.”

“Hey.” Evie piped up, twirling a pen around. She’d eaten the cap an hour ago. Not much for chewing. Always up to the task of swallowing whole because she was a big girl.

Big girls sucked it up and swallowed.

Billy thought to go back to his car. Swayed on his feet there looking around at all the plants.

Actions.

They speak louder than words. Billy was a screamer.

“Miss Mona, I was thinking we could… Uh, for me.”

“You want a wash too, Billy?” She perked, hair bobbing as her little platforms clicked excitedly. “Come, come, sit down. Evie can get you shampooed to start.”

Evie’s entire body locked. Billy smirked at her, but noticed an opportunity reach her eyes. The pen stabbed back into a cup. Lips spread in a devious way. He saw horns spring out of her big curls.

Fuck, she looked hot though.

It drove him wild. Evie with a fire behind her eyes. All plush curves and lingering allure. That amber perfume melted him.

“I’d be so happy to help.” She gripped Billy’s leather bomber and jerked him into a chair. He had a semi at this point. "Get comfy."

Hell, the girl was plotting a murder with that smoldering expression. Still, Billy was game because she was giving him attention. His tongue swept pink lips. Peachy skin glowing.

There was something off about Evie too. This sunken manner like her energy had been sapped. The slightest dark circles under brown eyes. Skirt Safari was barely three weeks ago. He removed his jacket when Mona reached for it to hang it with Max’s and Susan’s.

Dead boy walking.

Max snickered from her chair across the way. She and Susan sat with little floral capes, already getting their pampering. Evie moved Billy’s hair and pulled a lilac cape around his neck.

“Ack!”

“Oh? Too tight. My bad.” She snapped a button. “Put your head back. Into the sink now.”

Billy thought to pray for mercy, tilted back into the porcelain. He asked for this. The sink went on. Ice.

“Too cold?”

“Nope.” Teeth chattered. Evie had that devilish look still. Decided to make it warmer. Lifted the nozzle and hit his face.

And Billy took it. Sputtering.

“Oh, so sorry…” Her tongue clicked. Didn’t even try to sound sincere.

“Just a little water. No big deal.”

Her bottom lip pouted. She sprayed his face again. Billy snickered through the coughing, fists held the chair tight.

“You’re fucking waterboarding me, Fenny.” He'd spat, blinking rapidly.

“What?” Evie paused then kept spraying him as he tried to reply.

“You’re-”

“I’m, what?” She came off and Billy snorted before the water splashed again.

“Ngh-ffff- ”

“Can’t hear you, Billy.” Evie caught Max losing it across the way.

The boy took all the torment like a champ so she let up. He didn’t even snap when she pulled his hair shampooing it.

“I like it rough, Angel.” Billy hissed at her fingers pulling so she sprayed him again. Made him buck like a mad feline. He seemed to almost love it. This was foreplay to him.

“Creep. Don’t pitch a tent in that cape.” Evie stuffed a towel in his face. Smiled cheerfully. All syrup. “We're done, mommy.”

“Let’s see what I can do for these curls, Billy.” Mona let Claudia work on Susan while her new hire took over for Maxine. “I hope Evie gave you a good start.”

She certainly revved his motor, but he wasn't going to tell her mother that.

“So nice. I feel even more relaxed now.” Billy twitched a stressed smile. Earned himself a few good boy points.

Evie cracked a grin at him, arms crossing before she went back to reception. Unbelievable.

Mona had Billy chattering about his car and school and how he'd just turned eighteen in December. Life was coming his way. Evie took to doodling song lyrics in no order and tapped her pen. Mona either talked Billy into hair curlers or just started doing it. Which was another bout of amusement.

And Billy stared at Evie the entire time. Even when she made it a point to face away. Sat on the stool with her legs crossed, leaning forward to jot her little lyrics down. Susan swept her eyes between them.

Both relentlessly stubborn.

“Mona, I’ve been wanting to repay you back for the dinner this month. How about tomorrow? Our place this time.” Came her voice when a hair dryer shut off.

“We’ll bring the dessert.” Fingers played with Billy’s curls. Reminded him of his mother. Fluffed some life into them. He decided this salon was better than the places he used to go.

Music played, songs changing as time continued. Evie decided her luck couldn’t get any worse when Carol’s red hair appeared in her line of sight. Walking with her little friend group without Tommy. Likely headed to the nail place down the block.

Carol spotted Evie behind glass and whispered something that had her friends howling before they went.

“Bitches.” Billy sauntered up behind her. Golden hair sparkling.

“As if you had nothing to do with that.” Evie smacked her notebook shut. Sat straighter as he shook his locks out. Curls shining with lift. Like the sun just kissed them.

“How do I look?” One brow rose. Teasing.

“The same.” Gorgeous.

“Lunch?”

“Already ate.” Evie’s lips pressed when she said that. They spoke out of earshot under the music. Not noticing the glances on them.

“Guess I’ll still be seeing you for dinner tomorrow.” Billy counted some bills out. Snatched a pen and scribbled a note on a single. Dropped the money on the counter and pushed the one he’d written on into her pocket. She lifted an arm and glared, but let him. “We'll do this again some time. The back and forth. I pull your hair and you pull mine."

"Unlikely."

"Hm. Invest in waterproof red lipstick. Don't they have waterproof makeup now? Looks better on you than on me." His voice dropped.

"Wow. Cocky now, are you?"

"I just think it'll take us a lot of tries to get to a bad kiss. Don't you, Evie?" He replied pointedly, leaning over to speak in that low baritone. Pure amber honey.

"I think you're in denial, Billy. Gotta put pride aside." Evie bit her tongue and turned away. Loathed the blush glittering her cheeks.

"Takes one to know. I’ll wait for Max in the car. Need a smoke. See you around, Angel.” Billy swayed off after grabbing his coat. Out into the cold.

Evie put his money in their register and plucked the dollar out.

“Sorry. -A shithead.”

Billy had even gone out of his way to draw a little frowny face with a tear. Evie caught him looking at her from his car and rolled her eyes, stuffing the bill away.

Tried not to smile. Failed.

“Billy doesn’t do this kind of thing.” Max appeared a bit later. Glowy and red. Vibrant. “Just...so you know.”

“It shows.” Evie sighed out her nose. Watched Max say bye to her mother since she was staying with Mona before hurrying out into the Camaro. One rev and it skidded off. Snow flurries falling in its wake.

“She seemed mad,” Max had said in the car, “but, maybe less mad.”

“It was a big fuck up. She’ll be mad a long time.”

“And that bothers you.”

“No.” Billy flicked his cigarette out the window. Watched his sister’s lips press before he scoffed. “Max, I did something evil. You understand? Evie wants fuck all to do with me.”

And he couldn't throw her from his thoughts.

“What did you do?” Max leaned in to press the subject. “Just tell me.”

The gist of it came out by the time they parked at Cherry Lane.

Max just blinked at him. Flared. Billy cut the engine and paused, glancing at her.

“Why do boys do this to girls?” She asked, fists clenched in her lap. Rigid and puffy. “I don’t understand. Are my friends going to be like you when they get older?”

“No, Max, they’re not. I’m a piece of shit.” His shoulders came up.

“And you didn’t have to be… Keep groveling, you owe Evie that much.” She slammed the door when she got out. Expected to get barked at and slowed because he made no move. Just flicked his lighter open and closed there. Blue eyes on the steering wheel.

Exhaling into the frost, Max came around the car and jerked Billy’s door open.

“You suck at this. She doesn’t want you to do this self-deprecating game where you play the asshole victim. She wants a real apology.”

“I don’t know what the fuck she wants me to say anymore.”

“Maybe you don’t have to say anything to her.” Max paused. “Those girls and people at school, they’re mean to her. Aren't they? You’re the Keg King. Are you really going to let that happen?”

“They’re just fucking assholes, ignore them.”

“Easy for you to say being popular. What happened to Evie during the dance has been happening to her through all of high school. Don’t you see that? If you really cared, you’d do something to stop it.” The door shut on Billy before he could reply.

Max went up into the house, left him to stew on that until he followed her inside. Away from the snow and Evie’s penetrating eyes that were beginning to haunt him.

~~~~

Tensions are just shooting all directions with these two dorks. Thank you all so much for reading! Feel free to chat or ask about the taglist!!

TAGGED: @80sbxtch @nottherightseason @orxhidshavana @alagalaska @alongcamedolly @kellyk-chan @billy--hargroves

#billy hargrove #Billy hargrove x oc #Billy Hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #Stranger things #mine #writing #somy #billy x angel

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haro-whumps · 5 years ago

Text

Group Whumpees 7: Home

CW: transphobia, shitty family relationships, alcohol and binge eating as a coping mechanism, death ment., slavery, aftermath of abuse, multiple whumpees

Tag list: @bleeding-demon-teeth @theycomeinthrees @redwingedwhump @whimperwoods @inpainandsuffering @whole-and-apart-and-between @whump-whump-whump-it-up @whumpingupastorm @newandfiguringitout @lonesome--hunter @looptheloup @icannotweave @deluxewhump @whumping-every-day @yeet-me-out-a-window @what-a-whumpy-world @burtlederp @constellationwhump @swordkallya @finder-of-rings @fairybean101 @adventuresofacreesty @arlennil @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight

Masterlist

Galo wasn’t entirely sure of what he expected to happen when his father showed up. He knew he was in deep shit--nobody just hung up on his dad, much less multiple times in a row. Screaming, probably. Ranting and raving, no doubt. So he guessed he was grateful, more or less, to whatever powers that were, that his dad showed up already drunk.

“Hey dad,” he said, forcing a tight lipped smile.

“Hey you piece of shit!” Galo’s father answered, loud and boisterous, but happy. He clapped Galo on the back and jabbed a finger into his chest. “I’ve been callin’ you!”

“Yes, dad, I know.”

“Aaaaahaha, oh shit are those devilled eggs?”

“Yup, go enjoy,” Galo said, gently pushing his father in the direction of the horderves table and mentally thanking Sasha for making so, so many. Yeah, Galo had requested a lot, on account of him knowing his audience, but thank you Sasha.

“Heeey, lil sibling,” Esther greeted, slinging her arm around Galo’s shoulders. Since his transition, she’d pretty much refused to refer to him in any kind of gendered terms and he’d yet to hear her use, like, pronouns for him. On one hand, yes, it was nice that she didn’t insist on calling Galo a girl. On the other, it had been over a decade.

“Afternoon, Esther,” Galo greeted, “You show up with dad?”

“Yeah, Jeremiah’s parking the car. We pregamed.”

“I noticed.”

“Hey guys!” Jeremiah called.

“Hey lil bro!”

Galo felt his eye twitch, very aware that Esther had no issue calling Jeremiah ‘lil bro’ when Galo was--

It was fine. It was fine. They had a 40 minute service, some time for people to leave flowers and mingle, and then Galo could leave.

“Thanks for doing all this, Galo,” Jeremiah said, and Galo smiled a little more genuinely when he clasped his hand, pulling him into a sorta-chest-bump-ish. The motion, if not the contact itself, was there.

“Yeah. Been a real pain in the ass,” Galo admitted. He did not… get along, necessarily, with Jeremiah. But while he disapproved of Jeremiah’s spoiled nature and entitled actions, Jeremiah’s personality was probably the friendliest of Galo’s family. Definitely used to getting his way, and getting it handed to him on a silver platter (their father treated his “only son” differently than the other two), but not like, a bad dude.

“Luckily, Aunt Jude agreed to do cleanup for me, since she couldn’t help with setup.” Aunt Jude was a fundamentally unlikable person, but she made a mean potato salad and was the most responsible member of their family, with the exception of Galo himself. The phrase “control freak” was not a particularly off-base descriptor for her, and Galo knew she’d be plucking at everything “wrong” with what Galo had done in setup in passive aggressive jabs if he let her rope him into a conversation.

Which he did not intend to do.

At all.

Fuck there she was.

“So how you been, Jeremiah?” Galo asked, leaving Esther to deal with Aunt Jude’s approach. He’d listen to Jeremiah describe every single attachable part, feature, and accessory of whatever new gun he’d bought between now and the last family reunion if it meant sticking Esther with Aunt Jude. He’d politely prompt Jeremiah to talk about golf and “owning the libs” on reddit and let him complain about his loudly eco-feminist lesbian coworker, if it meant not having to deal with Aunt Jude’s holier than thou party planning and getting deadnamed repeatedly.

Fortunately, Jeremiah was married to the sound of his own voice, so between Galo subtly herding him towards the alcohol and giving intermittent “Mhm”s, Galo kept him going until the funeral itself began.

Or would have, if Uncle Mike hadn’t started making a scene before the damn thing even started. Galo sighed and pressed his face gently to the wall, listening to the increase in volume as everyone got in on Mike’s riot act. It was a show, him playing the devil’s advocate or saying something provocative or “accidentally” roughhousing too hard. It was just him making sure he was the center of every fucking body’s attention. Galo needed to be sober enough to drive, two hours from now. Sober enough to have a halfway coherent conversation with his shitty fucking family, in about an hour and a half.

But for now, he could grab the bottle of vodka, cut it with some lemonade, and down the entire glass before refilling it with straight vodka. His tastebuds would hate him for it but ideally they’d not be online here in a few minutes. He knew he couldn’t keep drinking like he had been, the last week. If not for his liver, then at the very least for the continued efficiency of his T shots.

FUCK Aunt Jude was right there.

“Sorry, can’t talk right now,” Galo said in a rush, downing the vodka (ow) and making a beeline for whatever bullshit Uncle Mike was up to. “Gotta put out this fire, talk after the funeral,” he insisted as she opened her mouth again. Uncle Mike was a rude motherfucker, but just for the attention of it all. Aunt Jude was insufferable.

Galo got between Uncle Mike and his own father, easily solving the dispute now that Auntie Bethany wasn’t there to egg her brothers on. And, since Galo, official fun-sucker of the family, was now on the scene, the rest of the agitated crowd simmered down. A member of Auntie Bethany’s church approached him, and he forced a smile.

“Thank you, young man,” he said, and Galo’s smile went a little more genuine.

“Sure thing, dude,” Galo said, pushing his hair back from his face. “Galo. Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine. My condolences for your loss. Bethany was a generous and upright woman; our congregation will miss her sorely.”

Don’t talk shit about the dead, Galo reminded himself firmly, before he could remark on what an evil shrieking harpy she was. He thought on the five people he’d left in that massive house, frightened and hurting, and couldn’t reconcile them with the story this man was now telling him, on how Galo’s aunt had always been the first to visit a church member in the hospital or bake something for an expecting couple.

Auntie Bethany had always worried about appearances more than anyone else in the family, Galo figured. And he was the only person in the room who understood just how far her coverups went. He rubbed at the bandage on his arm, not wanting to stand there listening to a stranger list off how good and kind and giving Auntie Bethany had been, giving Galo sympathy he hadn’t asked for.

The funeral officially starting was a fucking mercy. He sat between his siblings, trying very hard to daydream himself away for the next 40 minutes. The pews were uncomfortably full. The entire church turned up, it seemed like, and the majority of her facebook friends.

He forced himself to space out for most of it, thinking very deliberately about which character he intended to romance on his next playthrough, and if playing a female character would be worth it to romance the lesbian who could, in all honesty, do anything she wanted and he would thank her for it. Pros: hot video game girlfriend. Cons: Galo did not care for playing a female character, when male was an option.

Unfortunately, after eulogies were given (more like soliloquized, everyone in this goddamn (ha) building was only interested in showing off how righteously they were reacting to Auntie Bethany’s passing) and the body was buried, there was a little luncheon and Aunt Jude finally started negging Galo about the funeral. Galo sat, body laced with tension, and forced himself to drink fluids that were not alcohol. Aunt Jude was family, he couldn’t just tell her to fuck off, especially since it’d just start a scene and there was more than one person in the building who would love to join in if Galo caused a scene.

He could really do without the continuous deadnaming though. It was like Aunt Jude was hosting an internal contest on how many times she could say the wrong name in a single paragraph. Even Auntie Bethany hadn’t gone out of her way like this.

He counted down until he felt like enough time had passed, and then called a meeting of all family members in an adjacent room.

“Ma’am, this is family only,” Galo said, halting a woman in a blue dress and pearls at the door.

“Oh, but Bethany and I were like sisters! She always said that, you know? How I was like a sister to her. We were so close.”

“That’s nice, ma’am, but I don’t know who you are, and this meeting is for the immediate family of the deceased.”

Her wrinkly, painted lips pursed, and Galo could feel the exhaustion of the pending conversation hit him before it even happened.

“Ma’am, we know you miss her, but why don’t you go speak with the others,” Aunt Jude butt in. “In this time of grieving, such a close friend to Bethany would be like a lantern in the night, guiding the others, since I’m sure you know how she would have wanted us to mourn her passing.”

Galo turned into the room, letting Aunt Jude handle it, trying as best he could to block out their holier-than-thou sympathetic tones as they discussed whatever the fucking shit they were spewing. Aunt Jude clipped up next to him in her loudly tapping high heels and said, “And that is how it is done.” And then she deadnamed him again! Great. Fan fucking tastic.

“So,” Galo said, getting everyone’s attention as quickly as he could because he was at his wits’ fucking end, “Auntie Bethany changed up her will right before her death, listing only the people who visited her in the hospital, which turned out to be only me.” He’d summarized as much in a family facebook chat, but it was good to get everyone on the same page, especially since most of them were drunk (and he wasn’t drunk enough).

“Before anyone protests or starts making remarks,” Galo said, a little louder, “let me finish. I figure that, since I am the only one who visited her, I’ll keep her physical properties, and we the family will split her bank account evenly across all of us. Sound good?” Galo hoped his tone discouraged anyone from saying that that did not, after all, sound good.

“And how much is that? Rich bitch never did say how much she had,” Galo’s father crowed drunkenly.

Galo made a show of counting heads. Ultimately, it wouldn’t matter. “Between the 17 of us, I’ll write everyone here a check for 2 million dollars.”

Everyone was very happy about that. Galo did not mention that, even after giving that much to his relatives (not that any one of them really and actually deserved that kind of money), he’d still have somewhere around 30 million to donate and spend how he liked. Auntie Bethany had been very wealthy. And these 2 million dollar red herrings would ensure none of them questioned after the slaves, who would absolutely not be going to any member of Galo’s family. He got out the checkbook and made his way around the room, reminding the drunk ones to make sure to cash these and not let them flutter off in the wind because Galo wouldn’t be able to write them another one (a lie, but one he’d stick by). And then, and then, it was finally socially acceptable for him to leave, citing being tired from getting up that early that morning and making a beeline for his car.

“Fuck,” he breathed as he sank into the sweet cloth seat. His body felt ridiculously heavy, but he wasn’t quite out of the frying pan just yet. He turned his car on and drove, drove as fast as the speed limit let him, tricking his stupid monkey hindbrain into feeling like he was running away and it was working. He drove directly and immediately home.

His apartment was no different than how he’d left it. He almost expected dust and roaches, he felt like he’d been gone a year, but really, it had only been a week. One whole week, straight out of hell.

His mattress was kinda lumpy, and had an indent in Galo’s shape from where he so frequently faceplanted into it. He faceplanted then, too. The bed wasn’t particularly comfortable, but it was familiar and it smelled like him. He groaned. He took a nap.

He felt better, after. He removed his jacket and tie, rolled up his sleeves, and splashed some water on his face. Then he decided to just ditch the shirt altogether. He’d taken all his sweatpants with him when he did the preliminary move into Auntie Bethany’s place, but he still had a pair of leggings he used to wear to the gym before they got a rip in the inner thigh and so he put those on. He downloaded grubhub specifically so he could order a shitload of burritos from taco bell, plus a mountain dew slushie abomination and more of those cinnabon ball things than he could actually, personally eat. It was time to put some garbage in his body.

Y’know, maybe he wouldn’t sell his bed. Almost all of his craigslist ads had been answered, and he intended to hand over the furniture tomorrow, while the movers were here, having set up appointments with the buyers. His bed was the only piece of furniture that he hadn’t gotten a response for. And he was, after all, ridiculously wealthy.

He pulled up his calculator app. If he wanted to keep rending this apartment indefinitely, let’s say, 20 years, it’d only cost, what, $200,000? That wouldn’t even make a dent in his inherited wealth. He didn’t have to break out of his lease early. He could keep this place, a secret little getaway only for himself, when his new life at the mansion overwhelmed him, or he needed to give those five the night off from his presence, or if he was hiding from his family, or god even knew what. He didn’t have to worry about the money. Literally, nothing monetary could ever touch him again.

And he could redecorate this place, too. Get a little retail therapy in, make it his personal project to work on here and there. That would be… nice. He couldn’t have any plants or living shit in here--it’d die--but maybe some fairy lights and a wall hanging.

He tipped his delivery driver with a $50 bill and didn’t even blink at its loss. He shoveled taco bell into his mouth and called the mansion’s house phone halfway through the meal, washing his mouth out with the toxic waste lookin’ slushie.

“Good evening?”

“Hey, Nyla, it’s Galo. Just letting you know I won’t be home tonight, so you all have permission to go to bed whenever you’re ready to, okay?”

“Yes Master, thank you sir.”

“Have a good night,” he said, and hung up. After dinner, he dicked around on his phone, wishing he’d left his game console here (it wasn’t like he was playing it at the mansion), before he turned in early for the night.

The next day was better. The moving crew was friendly and thorough, he was happy to hand over his old junk to the buyers, and once they’d trucked his belongings over to the mansion he enlisted their help in moving Auntie Bethany’s old craft furniture and the totes of supplies Nyla had packed up into his car, which he hauled off to be donated. His family didn’t call him, likely too busy spending as much of their new money as they possibly could within a day. He went to the gym in the evening, and bumped into an old friend he’d made before he switched to mornings.

Yes, the next day was better.

“He said he’s not coming home tonight,” Nyla informed them, gathered together in the kitchen for dinner. It had been a quiet day. With Master Galo leaving early in the morning, the most that had happened was Evan finishing out his recitations and trying to limp feeling back into his numbed legs. “We can go to sleep whenever we want to.”

“I’d like to sleep early, then,” Greyson remarked, and they all took a look at him. Normally he just listened and went along with whatever the group, or Nyla, decided.

“Tired?” Lilah asked.

“It’s been a week,” Greyson said heavily, and they all agreed. It had certainly been a week.

“Do you think we could take a bath?” Lilah asked, and they looked between themselves. Taking a bath in the basement bathroom, which had a tub like a small pool, was reserved for when Mistress was out of town for multiple days in a row, and only for the middling days, when there was no chance she might return from a cancelled flight or arrive early.

“Master is o-only away for the n-night.”

“But he hasn’t lied to us yet,” Nyla said. She glanced at Evan.

They all knew she was being indulgent for Evan’s sake, since he’d had a pretty shit time yesterday and that day. Acquiescing to a bit of mischief. He smiled.

“And we’d hear him open the front door, anyway.” Evan’s voice was still a little rough from that morning. “Dude’s heavy.”

“Let’s take a bath,” Greyson agreed.

They all showered like they normally did, Greyson first, getting off the grime and sweat of the day, and then sank into the large, gently steaming tub, soaking and talking quietly, ears perked for the sound of the front door, but enjoying the warmth, and the chance to relax. They spoke on Master Galo, collectively attempting to parse his mindgames and coming up short. They spoke on the work they had done and what needed doing, Nyla creating neat categories in her brain. Evan and Greyson spoke infrequently, one feeling too guilty to speak, the other too tired. And then they all said nothing at all, still and warm, simply sitting in the water.

Sasha started to nod off first, her head resting on Nyla’s shoulder, then jerking up, then laying on Greyson’s. He pet her wet hair and broke the silence by urging her to bed, with him. The other three, content and about as calm as they could get, in this place, were not far behind them.

They dried and dressed and climbed into bed, Greyson out in a moment, Evan asleep last, warm and with each other in their Master’s absence.

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quickspinner · 5 years ago

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Beautiful Dreams - Ch 1 Wake Up Call

Or read it on AO3

Summary: It’s been years since Luka’s spoken to his old friend Adrien. Of course he knew about the divorce--it was big news when the golden boy of fashion split with his wife and head designer, but Luka’s had his own problems to worry about. He doesn’t think much about it when Adrien brings his son Louis in for music lessons, until he meet’s Louis’ mother and Adrien’s ex-wife, Marinette. Suddenly his life is a whole lot more interesting, and a whole lot more complicated.

No powers, aged-up Lukanette, past Adrienette

Rating/Warnings: Rated M, later chapters will include implied sexual content (nothing explicit happens on screen), TW for death of family members, grieving, depression, divorce

Author’s note: I’ve been really excited about this project and I’m super excited to finally start sharing it with you. It’s a little heavier than my other work, but still lots of fluff and romance, so I hope you’ll enjoy it.

“Hey, Luka, it’s been a long time.”

“It has, Adrien. I hope you’ve been well.”

“Well, I’m...I’m getting along. I can’t really say better than that. I mean, I’m sure you heard, it was a media circus. This whole thing is...not what I wanted, to say the least.”

“Yeah. How’s the kid handling it?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I don’t think he’s doing all that well but he just clams up and won’t talk to anyone. And last time he was here, he didn’t want to touch the piano at all. His mother said it’s the same at her place. His current instructor is a good teacher but he doesn’t have the patience to deal with Louis right now. I know you’re busy but I was hoping you could fit Louis in your schedule. If there’s anyone who can draw his passion for music back out, it’s you.”

“Mmm. I want to help, Adrien, but I do have a full roster of students right now, I’m just not sure if—“

“Pick two of your lower income students. I’ll sponsor them for as long as Louis is taking lessons with you.”

“Man, you know I hate it when you throw money at problems like it’s the cure for all ills.”

“I do, but I’m desperate and I know it’ll work this time.”

“Ugh...I do have some talented students that could really use that support. All right, I’ll find a way to fit him in. Although honestly, Adrien, I probably would have done it anyway.”

“Thanks, Luka. Let me know when and where, and we’ll make time in his schedule to get him there.”

***

Luka looked over his newest student and concluded that he must take after his mother, since he didn’t look much like Adrien at all. His hair was dark and his eyes, while still green, had more blue in them than Adrien’s did. He had a little more of Adrien in the chin and the nose, but his build was lean and slender. He was a smart kid, too, looking Luka over with the same scrutiny, taking in Luka’s blue-tipped hair, the black turtleneck and black jeans, eyes lingering on the tattoos peeking out from under his sleeves.

Luka crouched down to Louis’ height and offered his hand. “Nice to meet you, Louis.”

“M. Couffaine,” the boy greeted seriously, shaking his hand with all the formality and gravity of a tiny businessman. “It’s a pleasure to be here.”

Luka kept his distaste behind his professional mask. He’d never approved of teaching children to tell polite lies. But for all that Adrien had tried to let go of his father’s strict teachings, Louis Agreste was nothing less than rigidly formal and polite.

“You can call me Luka,” he told the boy, who glanced back at his father. Adrien gave him a slight nod and Louis turned back. “I know some teachers prefer a more formal relationship,” Luka continued as if he hadn’t seen this. “But I like to think music is too personal for formality. I want you to be comfortable, though, so if you prefer M. Couffaine, we can go with that.”

Louis blinked, momentarily startled out of his formal composure. “Umm...I’m fine with Luka. Thanks.” A hand rose to rub at the back of his neck in a gesture Luka immediately recognized. Clearly the kid hadn’t expected to have a choice in the matter.

Luka smiled. “Okay. Let me talk to your dad for a second, and then we’ll get started, okay? You can stay here and listen if you want, or you can follow that hall to the studio, that’s where the piano is.”

Louis looked past Luka curiously. “Can I look at some of your other instruments?”

“Sure,” Luka straightened up. “Look all you want, just please don’t touch anything you don’t already know how to play, okay?”

Louis nodded and went off to look at the row of guitars along the wall.

“So,” Luka said, turning to stand next to Adrien and folding his arms as he watched Louis explore. “Tell me why you brought him to me.”

“I was thinking about it even before the divorce,” Adrien told him. “You know I was good as a concert pianist but I was never a composer. Louis, though, he’s got his mother’s creativity. I know I’m biased as his father, but I think he could be a really good songwriter someday. But now…” Adrien sighed. “I’m really worried about him,” he continued in a low voice. “I mean, he’s been seeing a therapist since we told him about the divorce, but...I don’t know.” Adrien sighed again, scrubbing his hand over his face. “He just doesn’t seem to be bouncing back the way he should. He’s so serious and sad all the time, and he seems like he’s lost his passion for music. He wanted to quit and Marinette wanted to let him. We kind of fought about it, actually. This is a compromise. If he still wants to quit after he’s worked with you for a while, I’ll let him, but I’m hoping you can help him. The way you connect with music, it’s unique. Frankly, if you can’t help him then maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.”

Luka made a thoughtful noise. “I can try. I can’t guarantee it. Some people just lose the spark. Or it may be too painful for him to play right now, but he’ll pick it up again in a few years.”

“We used to play together all the time.” Adrien’s voice cracked. “He never wants to play with me anymore.”

Luka put his hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “He’s not rejecting you, Adrien. I’m sure of that. Just give him a little time. I’ll work with him and we’ll see what happens. In the meantime, you work on finding other ways to connect with him. Don’t pressure him about the music at all for now, okay? Let him know you’re willing to play with him whenever he wants to and then drop it.” Luka frowned. “And if he does ask to play with you, you better be ready to drop whatever you’re doing and play. No excuses, Adrien.”

“I wouldn’t,” Adrien protested.

Luka folded his arms again. “All right, now I’m going to piss you off, so brace yourself.”

“Great,” Adrien muttered, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Tell me what’s going on with you and his mother.”

Sure enough, Adrien scowled. “Why do you need to know that?”

“Do you want me to teach him, or not?” Luka asked calmly. “You brought him to me for a reason, Adrien. I’m not trying to pry for the gritty details, but I need to know what’s going on in his head. Are you still friendly or...”

“We’re...strained. We’re both in therapy but—” Adrien shook his head. “She left me, Luka. I’m having a really hard time forgiving her for that. And—” Luka glanced at him as he seemed to struggle to get the words out. “I think she’s having a hard time forgiving herself for it too,” Adrien finally finished, grudgingly. “She’s working a lot. She’s been my head designer at Gabriel since my father passed. She doesn’t need me, she’s more than talented enough to split off and form her own brand. But she hasn’t done it. It’s been...less than a clean break. We’re managing to work together civilly because we have to, none of the other designers have the vision to keep Gabriel relevant, but it’s still pretty tense.”

“How’s she with Louis?”

“She’s a fantastic mom, everything I wish I could have had as a kid. She pays attention to him, she always puts his needs first. She indulges him without spoiling him, she pushes him without pressuring him, she encourages him to do better without making him feel like he’s not good enough.” Adrien sighed, and swallowed.

“I loved her so much,” he said thickly. “I built my whole life around her. I’ve accepted that she’s gone and she’s not coming back, but...I don’t know. Deep down I love her and I want her to be happy, but I can’t seem to stop being angry at her and she just takes whatever cruel thing comes out of my mouth because she thinks she deserves it. I don’t know how we got so twisted up.”

Luka turned and pulled Adrien into a hug. “It’s okay to be upset, man,” he told his old friend. “It’s okay.” They stayed that way for a moment, until Adrien pulled away.

“I’m sorry I let us go so long without contact, and now here I’m only calling because I need your help. I’m a terrible friend,” Adrien sighed. “And I should have called you after—” Luka flinched, and Adrien broke off. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“That’s life, Adrien,” Luka shrugged, staring at the floor. “I haven’t exactly been breaking down your door either, so don’t sweat it. You and I just run in different circles right now, and that’s okay. Doesn’t mean we’re not friends. Now you go do your thing, and Louis and I will go do ours, and we’ll see where all this goes.”

Adrien and Louis said a quick goodbye, and Louis reluctantly followed Luka to the studio. Luka sat next to him at the piano, leaving plenty of space between them. “Okay, Louis, we’re just going to see how much you know, okay? No pressure, this isn’t a pass-fail kinda thing. It’s just to help me see where to start with you.” He set Louis some basic exercises, unsurprised when the boy flew through them with an expression that was a mix of melancholy and boredom. Luka worked him up through the exercises until he thought he had a good idea of Louis’ ability, and then set the music books aside.

“Okay,” Luka said, “Now play me something that makes you happy. Anything you want.”

Louis gave him a startled look. Luka just looked back expectantly. Louis’ hands crept to the instrument, and then fell away again. Luka just waited.

“It doesn’t make me happy anymore,” Louis whispered. “It just makes me miss my dad.”

Luka put his hand on Louis shoulder. “That’s okay. And it’s brave of you to admit that. But your dad isn’t gone, Louis. I know that he loves you and he’ll play with you any time you ask. That’s not something you have to give up.”

“It’s not the same.”

“I know,” Luka said sympathetically, genuinely feeling for the boy. “Nothing stays the same forever. Sometimes change comes when we’re not expecting it and it’s hard. Especially when you feel like you don’t have any control over what’s happening and you just wish everything could go back to the way it was, but you know it can’t. So,” he finished, dropping his hand, “Try playing something that expresses how you’re feeling. It doesn’t have to be a song, you can just play a few notes or whatever. Whatever comes to mind.”

Louis frowned at the keys for a moment, and then lifted his hands over them. He tried a few notes, and then shook his head, and played the same sequence in a lower register. Luka nodded slowly as the boy played, taking notes in a book he kept to one side.

“Good,” Luka said, when Louis started to fumble and scrunch his face in frustration. “Let’s stop there for now. Let me show you what I heard while you played.” Luka placed his hands over the keys, and played the theme he’d heard repeated in Louis’ experiments.

“Does that feel right?” Luka asked, playing it again.

“Yeah,” Louis said slowly. “I mean, yes, it does.” The tension in his body eased slightly.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Luka said. “It helps, to get it out, so you can feel more like this.” He shifted to a slightly different melody, lighter, more hopeful. “You see? The sadness is still there, but it’s not the whole piece anymore. Then you build from there…” He changed the piece again, crescendoing, adding flares of joy, and emphasizing the hope. “So that even if the sadness never goes away, it doesn’t lock up your heart. You’re more open to the good things that come along—or maybe the good things that were always there. It won’t be the same as it was before—“ he played a light, happy, uncomplicated melody.

“But nothing stays the same forever,” Louis grudgingly repeated.

“Exactly.” Luka took his hands from the keys. “I want you to keep working on your exercises at home, okay?” He stood from the piano and went over to a cabinet on the wall, digging through it for a moment and coming up with three CDs. He brought them back and handed them to the boy. “Listen to these, and when you come back, we’ll talk about which pieces speak to you. We’ll use that to plan our lessons. And any time you want to, we can do what we did today, and maybe help you work through some of those hard feelings. Okay?” He held out his hand for Louis to shake, and the young boy took it. Louis moved slowly, but his grip was firm, and Luka was satisfied. “And if you won’t resent some personal advice,” Luka added, “Don’t stop playing with your dad. It might feel sad now, but it’s okay for you to be sad together. Someday you’ll be able to play happy again, and you’ll want him to be there.”

Louis made a noncommittal noise.

Luka crouched again to meet his eyes. “Listen. I know I don’t need to lecture you about practice, and I can see that playing hurts you right now. I’m going to talk to your dad, and make sure that he and your mom know that you’re allowed to decide on your own practice time, okay? For now, just do what you feel you can do. If you sit down one day to practice and it just hurts too much, it’s okay to get up and walk away. Try again later if you can, but if you can’t, that’s okay too. Music has to come from your heart, and if your heart is hurting too much to make music, then it doesn’t matter how much you practice, you’ll just be making noise, not music. I trust you to be responsible and not blow off practice just for the hell of it, okay? You sit down at that bench every day and you do what you think you can manage. If you can’t make yourself do the exercises, just play like you did today, whatever comes into your mind. In the meantime I’ll write up that little tune you wrote and you can have a copy of it to take home next week.” He paused, and then said, “Let me ask you something, Louis. Do you want to love music again? Is this something that you’re willing to put in the work for?”

Tears sprang to the boy’s blue-green eyes. He didn’t seem able to answer, but Luka nodded anyway. “Okay. Then we’ll get there. A little bit at a time. There’s no deadline on this, Louis. Nobody gets to tell you how long it takes to feel better. You’ll get there when you’re ready, as long as you want to. And my job is to help you and support you while you get there.”

“Like a physical therapist after an accident?” Louis asked, and Luka’s eyebrows raised slightly at the astute comparison.

“Exactly,” Luka smiled. “All right, your dad should be here any minute. While we wait, you want me to show you one of those guitars you were looking at earlier?” Louis’ eyes brightened, and Luka grinned. “All right then.”

***

He’d been working with Louis for about a month when he met her. Normally, Adrien brought Louis to practice and picked him up personally, but for some business reason or other that Luka hadn’t really bothered to listen to, Louis’ mother was going to pick him up from practice.

They weren’t quite finished when Luka’s doorbell rang. He left Louis in the studio and went to answer it.

Luka opened the door and felt the breath leave his body like he’d been punched in the gut. The dark-haired, blue-eyed woman standing there in a crisp, well-fitted business suit smiled and his pulse pounded in his ears so loudly that he missed her greeting.

Shit, he needed to get it together. He took a deep breath and focused on what she was saying.

“I’m, um, I’m here to pick up my son?”

“You’re Louis’ mom?” he said stupidly.

She raised her eyebrows slightly and God, her eyes were so blue. “Yes, I’m Marinette Agreste.” She put out her hand.

“Right,” Luka rasped, and then cleared his throat as he shook her hand. “I’m Luka Couffaine, Louis’ teacher. Obviously.” He tore his eyes from hers in an effort to reboot his brain and in the process, looked down at their joined hands. A flash of color caught his eye. She had a small, brightly-colored ladybug tattooed on the heel of her hand, just below her thumb. He managed to pull himself together enough to let go of her hand and say, “Please, come in, we’re almost done. Um, I’m sorry to ask you this, but since we’ve never met can I check your ID please?”

She actually looked pleased rather than offended as she complied. The ladybug flashed at him again as she handed him the card. Cute.

“Great, thanks.” He handed her ID back to her with an apologetic smile. “Can’t be too careful. Studio’s back here, just follow me.”

As they approached the studio door, Luka slowed, listening. He held a hand up to stop Marinette, turning towards her for a moment to put a finger to his lips. Very quietly he opened the studio door.

Louis didn’t notice, absorbed in his playing. Luka felt a satisfied smile spread across his lips. The boy was finally playing with his whole heart.

He heard Marinette’s breath hitch at his side, and he glanced down at her. She had one hand over her mouth but he could see the way the smile beneath crinkled the corners of her eyes—eyes that shimmered as he watched. He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly, then slipped into the room, sliding next to Louis on the piano bench. He didn’t say anything and Louis only glanced at him and continued to play. For a moment, he listened and Louis played, and then Louis’ hands fumbled to a stop.

“That’s as far as I can go,” Louis said quietly. “I don’t know the rest yet.”

Luka held up his fist. “That was awesome. Pound it, little man.” Louis grinned, and met Luka’s fist with his own. Then to Luka’s surprise, Louis threw his arms around Luka’s waist and hugged him, something like a sob escaping him. “Hey, it’s okay,” Luka rubbed the boy’s back. “It feels good, right? To get it out. That’s what the music is for. Now you go home and cry if you need to, but remember what that felt like just now. That’s what you want, okay? That’s what makes it music and not just noise. It’s not about perfection, it’s about emotion and connection.” Louis nodded, face still hidden in Luka’s shirt. “I’m proud of you, kid. I know that was hard. And I think someone else is proud of you too.”

Louis lifted his head and Luka nodded toward Marinette, still standing frozen outside the door. Louis straightened, scrubbing at his face. “Maman, I—“

Marinette just held her arms out, a beaming smile on her face that made Luka’s heart seize up. Shit, what the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t even know this woman.

Louis went running into her arms. Marinette squeezed him tight, with no regard for the way he was surely wrinkling her suit. Luka couldn’t clearly hear whatever she whispered, but he could hear the love and pride in her voice. He smiled to himself. Louis might be having a rough time coming to terms with the divorce, but with both parents loving him as hard as they did, Luka wasn’t worried for him in the long term. He’d be just fine.

Then Marinette straightened and turned that blinding smile on him and he actually felt his IQ drop sharply.

“Thank you, M. Couffaine,” she said feelingly, and it took him half a breath longer than it should have to recognize his own name.

“Call me Luka, please.”

Pink touched her cheeks. “Luka. Thank you. I’m happy to see Louis finding his passion for music again. Adrien was right to say we should bring him to you before we gave up.”

Luka shrugged slightly and smiled. “It’s my job. And my pleasure. Louis is easy to teach. He knows his basics so well, we get to spend most of our time on the fun stuff.” He winked at the boy, who gave him a small smile back.

“Still. I was skeptical when Adrien wanted Louis to continue, and I can see now that he was right,” Marinette said, laying her hands lightly on Louis’ shoulders. “So thank you. I know I don’t need to tell you how much music means to him and his father, but—well. Thank you.”

“Mom,” Louis whispered, “You’re being weird.”

The pink in her cheeks darkened and Luka pressed his lips together to hide his amusement. “We should go,” Marinette said, nudging Louis. “It was nice meeting you, M—Luka.”

“It’s been my pleasure, ma’am,” he said, walking them to the door.

“Marinette is fine,” she said brightly, and if she’d been pretty before when she was composed and professional, she was stunning now that she was effervescing with happiness. Luka opened the door for them automatically, his brain temporarily offline. “Until next time!” she chirped as they left, and Luka watched them until they were back in their car and pulling away from the curb. He stepped back inside and closed the door carefully. He leaned his forehead on it and tried to calm his racing heart.

What the hell was that? He hadn’t been so instantly attracted to anybody in...a long time. A very long time.

Luka turned his back to the door and frowned. Surely, he’d met Adrien’s wife before. He’d been at the wedding, for crying out loud. Although, he hadn’t stayed long. Even the best weddings were awkward, and this one hadn’t been the best, huge and pretentious and full of stuffy people he’d had no interest in. He did vaguely remember meeting the bride and shaking hands with Adrien, but was only a few seconds. He remembered thinking she was beautiful but wasn’t every woman on their wedding day? He probably had barely looked her in the eye, now that he thought of it, eager to pay his respects and be gone, too lost in his own concerns to really be at ease in the stilted atmosphere, especially with Gabriel Agreste watching Adrien’s every move.

He took another deep breath and let it out slowly. It didn’t matter. She was a client. He wouldn’t see her very often. He could keep a lid on this. They’d see each other only professionally and not very often, so it would be fine.

He would be fine.

***

“Luka, hey. I just wanted to check in on things since I wasn’t able to be there this week. It seemed like things are going well?”

“Yeah, I think Louis had a bit of a breakthrough this week. He’s letting his feelings back into his music.”

“I heard. You made an impression on Marinette. She was practically gushing when she dropped Louis off.”

“Oh. That was just...lucky timing, I guess. It wasn’t really me, it was Louis.”

“Well, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. That’s the first time she’s admitted I was right about something in years.”

#quickspins #beautiful dreams #buckle up buttercup here we go #angst with a happy ending #lots of fluff #single parent au #moving on #lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #birthday big bang

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softyoongiionly · 5 years ago

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Fear and Dumplings: Chapter Fourteen

(GIF isn’t mine)

Confronting your fears for a final grade sounds unappealing but, with Yoongi as your partner, things might not be so bad.

Summary: You’re in your final semester at University when your Abnormal Psychology professor assigns you a partnered project surrounding your greatest fears. Lucky for you, your partner just so happens to be a cute boy named Min Yoongi.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Underground Rapper! Yoongi, Soft!!! Yoongi, Fluff!!!, some moderate angst (later), smut (later later), slow-ish? burn.

Word Count: 10.3k (lol, i wanna die)

A/N: please scream along with me as I drown in a pile of emotion. I’m sorry the last three chapters have been so emotional, yoongi is a complicated boi and, needs roughly 25k to get out all of his feelings. ALSO, the next chapter will finally feature Jimin’s showcase, please send him love and good luck. Not like he needs it lmao

I LOVE YOU

Warnings for this Chapter: moderate angst, SMUT (oh my god its alot), mentions of anxiety and hardship, language, too many feelings.

Warnings for the Fic: mentions characters confronting their fears, characters in uncomfortable situations, emotional moments between characters, mentions of bad parenting, explicit language throughout the fic, moderate angst, and very explicit smut later in the story.

Chapter 14: Angels and Angels

“Jimin, if you move again, I’m going to shove this needle into your perfectly sculpted butt cheek…” You mutter, pinching Jimin’s ass, the sweat on your brow growing significantly.

This causes a giggle to erupt from your best friend, who is currently contorting his body so that he can stare at himself in the mirror.

“Yah! Do you miss your little boyfriend that much that you have to take your sexual frustration out on me?” Jimin wiggles his ass in your face and, you admonish him with a smack to his hip as you try your best to finish sewing his costume.

Jimin called you that morning in a panic after he had ripped his showcase outfit during rehearsal so, you had quickly rushed over after your morning classes to resolve his crisis.

“He’s not my boyfriend…” You counter, a smile threatening your mouth, “I do miss him though…”

Jimin stalls his movements, allowing you to finish up, “You really like him don’t you?”

The smile comes in full force but, thankfully Jimin is facing away from you when it does.

“Maybe…”

He rolls his eyes but, allows your vague response, turning slightly to examine your handy work, “You should invite him tomorrow, I still haven’t met him…”

There is a flutter in your stomach at Jimin’s suggestion. You know that Jimin gets extra credit for the number of people that attend and, having Yoongi there would fill an extra seat.

All the more reason to invite him…

“I mean, it’s a big night for you Minnie, if you’re ok with him being there then, I’ll see if he’s free.” You attempt to keep your tone casual but, you’re slightly nervous at the thought of Yoongi being there as your date.

Professor James cancelled Tuesday’s lecture due to illness and, Yoongi texted you Thursday morning that he wouldn’t be in class that day. Not seeing him for an entire week didn’t exactly sit well with you but, you were determined to not read too much into his absence.

Jimin smirks, smoothing his hands over his hips, head tilting side to side in the mirror, “It’s my fourth showcase Y/N, it’s not that big of a deal…”

A scoff leaves your lips, “Um??? It’s your senior showcase, you’re the reigning champion and, you’re about to make history as the only collegiate dancer to win the showcase four years in a row; of course it’s a big deal!”

He giggles as you shove him playfully, a bit of nervousness creeping into his gaze, “You really think I’m going to win again?”

“Jimin,” You turn him towards you, holding each of his wrists in your hands, “I know you’re going to win again.”

His beautiful smile graces his lips as he thrusts himself in your arms, the white sequins scratching against your skin. You hold him anyway though, you know he needs it.

“Thank you…” He mumbles into your hair, “I don’t know what I’d do without you…”

You smile into his neck, the warmth of Jimin’s words filling your heart, “Oh Jimin….I don’t know what you’d do either…”

He pinches your side, “YAH! Don’t be mean! I would survive…maybe…”

Squirming out of his hold, you giggle, patting his hip gently, “I don’t know what I’d do without you either Park Fairy. I’d probably die…”

He points at you,” Exactly, don’t be a brat…” His tone his firm but, the smile on his lips is hard to miss. Jimin turns his attention back towards his full length mirror again to examine his costume.

It’s a beautiful piece, skintight, covered in white sequins and, thin pearlescent lycra that hug Jimin’s body perfectly. You wondered if this was his entire costume as Jimin was known for quite an elaborate set up.

“I love this costume by the way, it’s beautiful,” You marvel, putting all of your sewing tools back in their box, “Is the theme still a surprise or can you end my suffering and tell me?”

Jimin smirks, eyes carefully scanning over his backside,” It’s still a surprise, my leotard is only the base piece, I have a lot more in store…”

“RIP my mascara…” You lament, snapping your sewing kit shut before grabbing your phone off of the coffee table, “Should I text him now?”

He giggles, amusement coloring his face as he turns to you, “Why do you look so nervous?”

“I’m not nervous.” You grumble, thumbs tapping away at your screen to get to your message thread with the dreamiest rapper on Earth aka Min Yoongi.

The last message that you sent him was wishing him luck on the rest of his composition, which he has been working tirelessly at for the last half of the semester. He only responded with a thumbs up emoji and, that was yesterday at 7:49pm.

Suddenly, as your fingers hover over the keys, you feel slightly insecure at the lack of communication between the two of you. Last weekend had been amazing and, Yoongi made sure that you arrived back at your apartment safely and during the week he had said something to the effect of ‘I miss you’ without actually saying it.

Jimin notices your hesitation, “What’s wrong?”

Your teeth find purchase on your lip but, you avoid his gaze and focus in on your phone.

“Nothing…I just_” A sigh leaves your lips as you tap the screen to keep it from going black, “ I don’t know… Yoongi and I had a really good time last weekend and, I’m used to not really hearing from him but, I kind of thought after everything that happened between us, there would be a little more communication. I don’t expect him to text me all day or anything but, we both agreed that we liked each other….a lot so, I thought he’d…”

“Act like a boyfriend?” Jimin offers, a bit of his playfulness diminishing, focusing in on your emotions.

The word sends butterflies through your stomach but, you shove them out, trying not to drown in your emotions.

“No…I mean yeah but, like we aren’t together yet so, I can’t expect him to…I don’t know…” Articulating your emotions is not always your strong suit and, for whatever reason, you seem to become especially impaired when Yoongi is involved.

“Jagi…” Jimin begins, sitting beside you, the sequins scratching your skin as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “…you’re allowed to want his attention regardless of whether or not you both have a title. Titles are nice but, the feelings are much more important…”

You deflate a little bit, leaning into Jimin, your teeth still working against your lip, “I really like him…like I want to wake up next to him and, make him breakfast and do cute shit with him and, I’m not used to feeling like this and, I want to crawl into a hole and, never come out…”

Your pink fairy giggles, pressing a kiss to your head “Yah, you’re not allowed to crawl into a hole, my showcase is tomorrow…”

“Can I do it after your showcase?” You mutter against his leotard, your thumb tapping your screen again to ensure that it doesn’t go black.

Jimin scoffs, “I literally just told you that I can’t live without you, do you want me to die?”

His brows are raised in playful accusation and, you try your best not to get to distracted by how adorable he is.

“No...” You grumble, lips fixed in a firm pout

He chuckles now, nudging your hand towards your phone, “Okay then, text him.”

With a roll of your eyes, you unlock your phone for the third time and, begin typing your message.

You: Hey, I’m not sure what you’re up to tomorrow, I know you’ve been working on your composition but, my best friend is performing in a dance showcase in the main theater. Do you want to come? I figured we could carpool and, maybe get dinner afterwards or something? Let me know when you get a chance!

By the end of your message, you feel your heart doing somersaults beneath your sternum. Why the hell were you so nervous? Shouldn’t you be passed this by now?

“See? I knew you could do it...” Jimin cheers, kissing your head once more before moving to carefully take off his costume.

“Yes, now I just have to endure a slow painful death while waiting for him to respond...” A sickly sweet smile is on your mouth which causes Jimin to throw his head back in laughter.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the dramatic one in this friendship?”

“No Jimin, you’re the beautiful and talented main character and, I...”You gesture to your chest, “...am your socially inept, quirky side kick...”

This earns another boisterous round of laughter from your best friend who is currently checking out his nearly naked body in the mirror.

“Okay, first of all, thank you for calling me beautiful. Second of all, you’re can’t possibly be the sidekick...”

Your eyes narrow, “Why not?”

Jimin whips around in your direction, bubblegum hair a disheveled mess ontop of his head, a brilliant smile on his pretty lips,

“Because you’re my hero...”

With a mouth parted in shock, you process just how ridiculous your best friend is. At your expression,

Jimin rushed into another fit of laughter as you respond.

“Alexa, play Hate That I Love You by Rihanna...”

------------------

After Jimin leaves, you wait approximately 5 hours before getting a response from Yoongi. The response does nothing to aid in soothing your nerves:

Yoongi: Hey sorry it took me so long to respond. I’ve been working, I think I may be able to go but, I was wondering what you were doing right now. I’m having some trouble sorting through something, I know it’s late though, so I understand if you’re sleeping.

Your brow furrows. His message seems odd but, you don’t want to pass up an opportunity to see him. Plus, you definitely wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing that he’s having an issue.

You: I can come by, what’s the address? Are you ok?

5 more minutes pass before another message comes in,

Yoongi: I just want to hang out, this week has been kind of rough.

Yoongi: 8294 Han Road. I’m in the 4th studio space. Just ring the front and, tell them you’re here for me, they should let you through. Sorry it’s so late.

You frown at his admission, wanting nothing more than to be with him now that you know your suspicion is correct.

You: Don’t be sorry, I’ll be there as soon as I can.

His message comes through within seconds and, you can’t help but feel a little nervous at seeing him in his studio. There’s also this feeling; a feeling that indicates that something is wrong. Yoongi has never asked you to come see him and, that paired with his odd behavior this past week has your stomach in knots.

What if he didn’t want to see you anymore?

You both agreed that you liked eachother but, life was busy for the both of you. The conversation on the Ferris wheel inches its way back to the forefront of your mind. Yoongi said that you two getting together would be a bad idea, was he returning to that conclusion?

He never explained why he felt that way in the first place.

The Uber ride to Yoongi’s studio costs you $9.78. You didn’t realize how close he was to your apartment and, as the car pulls up to the faded brick building, you feel your heartbeat grow to an alarming level.

“Thank you, have a good night…”

“No problem, have a good one.”

The exchange with the driver is short and, given that he didn’t talk to you the entire car ride, you decide to rate him 5 stars.

As you approach the front entrance, you notice the soft blue neon sign hanging off of the door that reads: SoundCrowd.

Clever.

You’re definitely in the right place.

The door swings open effortlessly and, you’re met with an empty lobby. Tables, chairs and, various flyers containing the studios information are the only things that greet you when you walk in. The clear glass that separates the lobby from the reception desk make the whole place feel like some sort of medical clinic; it’s not exactly a beacon of creative energy. You hope Yoongi’s studio space was less clinical.

“Can I help you?” A deep but, friendly voice calls from behind the glass.

The receptionist is an older guy, maybe in his mid-30s, wearing what looks to be a ghost busters pajama set.

“Yeah, I was looking for Yoongi? He said he was in the 4th studio space…”

The man smirks knowingly, “You’re here for Min huh? Tell you what, I’ll let you through but, you have to promise me you’ll try to get him to go home. The dude’s been here for like four days straight…”

Your brow furrows, “Four days? Are you serious, he hasn’t gone home or anything?”

The man clicks his tongue, “I live upstairs, and his car’s been here since Monday. He used my shower about an hour ago but, other than that, I don’t even think he’s left the room…”

A sigh leaves your lips at the information, “Jesus.”

“Are you his girlfriend?”

The word makes your heart go fuzzy and, your first instinct is to say yes but, the last thing you need is for Yoongi to find out that you made your relationship official without him.

“Uh no, we’re just_” You trail off, searching for the right word, “we’re dating but, he’s been a friend of mine for quite a while…”

He smirks, waving you over to him, “No need to explain, I’m just happy Min is getting some sort of human interaction. He’s been a god tier introvert ever since I’ve known him. I’m Sejin by the way…”

A hand is extended through the opening in the glass and, you accept it graciously, bowing your head.

“Y/N,” You smile, “it’s really good to meet you. How long have you guys known each other?”

Sejin squints his eyes for a moment, tilting his head in thought, “Oh geez uh, let’s see, Yoongi’s 25 this year…uh…ten years maybe?”

Your brows go up, “Oh wow, are you from Daegu too?”

At your seemingly normal question, Sejin grows visibly uncomfortable, as if a realization just crossed his brain. You fear you may be asking too many questions but before you can amend, Sejin speaks up again.

“Uh, Yoongi’s never mentioned me has he?”

“No, he hasn’t, I’m sorry…” You smile looking towards the buzzer near Seijin’s hand, wishing you would have just asked him to buzz you in.

“Oh don’t be sorry at all,” A soft smile is sent your way as he sees that you may have gotten the wrong impression. Sejin nods toward the door, “Yoongi lived with me for a while when he first came to the city, I’m a friend of his older brother. I’m sure he’ll tell you more about it if you ask; Here let me buzz you in, he’ll be straight down the hall to your right.”

Confusion swirls in the forefront of your mind but, you smile nonetheless, turning towards the door, “Thank you so much, it was nice meeting you.”

He bows his head, offering a small smile, “Nice meeting you too.”

There are rooms lining either side of the long hallway, some of which emit a low hum of music through their barriers. Yoongi certainly isn’t the only night owl plugging away in the building.

Turning right at the end of the hall, you’re met with a black door boasting a sign that read “#4.” The irregular heartbeat is back as you raise your hand to knock at the door but, your desire to finally see Yoongi after nearly a week overruns the nervousness that you feel.

“Come in.” You hear his voice through the door and, quickly, you turn the knob and, let yourself in.

You’re met with a confusing sight.

The studio space was dimly lit with a low hanging turquoise fixture that sends a calming wave of light throughout the small room. The walls contain various speakers and, electrical equipment and, along with a work desk, you notice a giant monitor, nearly the size of a flat screen and, every production tool that any musician could ever dream of. However, there was also several indicators that Sejin was right about Yoongi never leaving this room. There’s a black pull out couch on the right side of the room that looks like he hasn’t been slept in, a few pieces of Yoongi’s clothes scattered on the floor and, perhaps the most disturbing thing is the overflowing trashcan in the far corner of the room containing nothing but empty coffee cups. From what you can tell, there isn't a single take out box so, that either means that Yoongi has been taking his food trash out or, that he hasn’t been eating at all.

And then there’s Yoongi, who’s just turned to look at whoever just came through his door. He’s sitting in the black desk chair, dressed in a pair of torn up black jeans and a grey hoodie, his formerly platinum hair is a faded brown now and damp from his shower. He musters a small smile for you, his normally cat like eyes are sunken in, clearly from a lack of sleep and, his lips are chapped, another indicator that he hasn’t been taking care of himself.

“Hey you…” You smile, setting your purse down by the door, trying to gauge what’s going through his mind.

“Hi…um thank you for coming…” He rasps, his eyes shifting nervously over you, fingers itching to reach out for you.

You shake your head, “Of course, is everything ok?”

Yoongi opens his mouth immediately as if he’s already has an answer prepared but, he deflates soon after, looking at you helplessly, “No, not really I-“

He takes a deep breath, looking away from you, trying to keep it together. You don’t say a word as you close the space between you, moving to stand in front of his seated figure. Instantly, you pull him into a warm hug, holding him tightly, not needing him to explain just yet.

Yoongi feels so much of the tension melt away from his body as he feels your embrace, his arms coming up to reciprocate, burying his face into your hip.

The two of you don’t speak for a few seconds but, you feel Yoongi shake silently, not daring to untuck his face from you as he lets the tears spill over his eyes.

This causes your heart to shatter but, you don’t break the silence yet, allowing him to process his pain how he needs to. You keep him close though and, rub his back soothingly as he collects himself.

“I’m sorry…” He mumbles into your yellow sweatshirt, regretting that he’s staining the material with tears, “I should have texted you more, I just…this week’s been really hard.”

You shake your head, holding him tighter, “Don’t be sorry, I knew you were working on your project this week, it’s completely ok…”

This is said for his benefit of course, you didn’t want him to worry about your fear that he had lost interest when he clearly had something much more pressing going on.

“I wanted to text you…the first night I got like this but-“ He cuts himself off to sniffle, still not releasing you from his grip. “I didn’t want to bother you, or freak you out or anything…”

“Hey-“ You tilt his face towards yours, thumbing away one of the tears that is attempting to roll down his face, “-you’re never a bother to me, especially if something is wrong…”

He turns his face to place a gentle kiss against your thumb before sighing out shakily against your skin, “I can’t get this fucking song right Y/N. I’ve been at this for 5 months now and, it always comes out wrong, I’ve rewritten it like 10 different times and, I can’t do it. It’s shitty. I’m not cut out for this, I’m not good enough to go pro, I should’ve_”

He trails off, his eyes reddening as the tears collect once more at the corners of his eyes, “ I should’ve listened to my father, he told me to major in business, he said this would happen and, he was fucking right.”

His words create a deep ache within your heart.

How could someone so talented, doubt their abilities so much?

It’s not the first time you’ve seen it but, you’ve yet to understand it.

“I know you’re upset, I know that this seems impossible right now and, you’re unbelievably frustrated but, Yoongi…” You tilt his head back towards yours, your gaze growing firmer, “You were born to do this. You are the most talented musician I’ve ever known and, the quality of your stuff? The way you write, the way you think, it’s a sign. It’s a sign that this is what you’re meant to do. You’re not meant to be in a suit, slaving away at a corporate job you don’t even like, that’s what everyone else is doing. Yes, it may be more stable, it may provide a steady income and, give your parents something to brag about but, it isn’t you. Your happiness is in music, I can see that. You light up when you talk about it, you lit up on that fucking stage, and had half the city eating out of the palm of your hands. You are so incredible, you have no idea…”

Yoongi feels his heart swell in his chest, no one has ever spoken to him about his music like this, not with this much passion. But then again, Yoongi’s never known another person like you, he’s never known another that can make him feel so good.

“But jagi…the song…it’s not coming together, my professor is going to hate it…” He urges, anxiety still squirming around in his stomach. He wraps his arms around you tighter though, feeling a bit of comfort at your words.

“Did you think the crowd at Glacier was going to hate your song too?” You point out and, as you do, he bites his lip, sniffling again.

“Yeah…I did…”

A hand is carded gently through his damp hair as you smile down at him, “And look what happened Agust D, you became the city’s champion underground rapper. Did you lock yourself up in this studio and live off of Americanos for weeks on end then too?”

A smile threatens his lips, “You remembered my order…” he sighs, nodding reluctantly at your question, “I do this a lot…”

A breath is released through your nose as you smile gently at his observation but, the frown between your brows remains, “I don’t want to tell you how to live your life Yoongi but, you can’t do this to yourself. I know self-doubt can be borderline parasitic sometimes but, you have to try and cut yourself some slack. I know how hard anxiety can be, I know it can make you feel like the world is coming to an end but, please know that you are so much more capable than you realize. Sometimes it helps to step away from something and, revisit it when you’ve had time to clear your head. I have to do that with my proposals all the time…”

Yoongi moves back slightly to wipe a hand over his face, taking a deep breath as he nods in consideration of your words, “You’re right…I know you’re right. It’s just hard for me not to fall into this cycle sometimes. I got help when I started school, for my anxiety and, it helped but, old habits die hard you know? I just start overthinking everything…I can never get rid of that part.”

You lean down to press a kiss to his forehead before slowly helping him to his feet. “You might not ever get rid of that, you’re only human. Overthinking is my first reaction too but, over the years, I’ve slowly learned to not trust every crazy scenario my brain comes up with.”

He smiles and, this time you see it reach his eyes, the sight calms you significantly. “You’re…”

Yoongi shakes his head, “I knew you’d say the right thing, you always do…”

“Come here.” You smile, pulling him into a hug, tucking your face into his neck, “I’m sorry you’ve been going through this…try to reach out earlier next time ok? So this doesn’t go on so long, you know I’m here for you.”

He nods sagely, rubbing his hands on your lower back, “ I will, I promise…”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Roughly an hour later, after you’ve gotten Yoongi to eat a good meal, the two of you start indulging in one another, the lack of contact starting to get to both of you.

Your lips peck against Yoongi’s gently, just as a means to soothe him, your hands placed firmly on his shoulders.

“I just...” He whispers against your mouth, attempting to melt away against your touch.

He needs it, now more than ever.

“Hm?” You hum gently, combing your fingers through his hair, nails scratching tenderly at his scalp.

“I just don’t want to think anymore.” He breathes, responding more and more to the kisses placed against his lips.

The column of his throat is eagerly arching towards your lips in a silent invitation. At the sight of his swallow, tender flesh, you frown at the lack of color there.

“Your marks are gone.” You murmur, kissing the corner of his mouth

Yoongi swears he wants to cry. He's kept his distance all week, trying to make sense of his emotions, trying to perfect his composition. But now, with you here, touching him, loving on him, he realizes how desperate he is for you; for relief.

“Make new ones please...I just want to stop thinking...help me.” He practically keens his response but, he keeps it in check for the most part, not wanting you to consent for the wrong reasons.

You bring your eyes to his, holding his desperate gaze, a smirk beginning to play on your lips.

“How do you want me to help you?” You tease, encouraging him to articulate his desires.

His cheeks flush even more, his Adams apple bobbing as he attempts to swallow back his nerves.

He doesn’t know what’s come over him but, your tone compels him to his knees and, as his jean clad limbs touch the tile, he speaks, “You know...you know me, you know how to take care of me...”

The response goes straight between your thighs; his small voice, his display of respect, you can tell this is something he’s had on his mind or awhile and, after the week he’s endured, you conclude that he needs to let loose.

A finger is curled under his chin, directing his cat-like eyes up towards your own. You can tell he’s nervous but, the way he shifts eagerly on the floor tells you he’s more than ready for you.

“You think so?” You coo, thumbing over his chin, smirking down at him

He nods eagerly at the conclusion of your first sentence but, continues to nod throughout your teasing.

“Use your words...” You urge, tightening your grip on his chin, admiring how beautiful he is on his knees.

“Ye--...” His voice is already shot so, he clears his throat attempting to speak clearer, “Yes...”

Your teeth press into your bottom lip, as your hand moves from his chin to push his faded brown hair away from his forehead.

“You want me to call the shots so you don’t have to?” You’re taking your time to rile him up, knowing it will pay off for him in the end.

Another eager nod comes from Yoongi as he pushes against your hand, his doll-like lips going dry from his heavy breathing.

“Yeah...I trust you; I’ll be so good for you, I promise.” He vows, lips brushing against your wrist, his dark eyes never once leaving yours. “Please…”

You tug on his hair then, drawing a whimper deep from within his chest. Yoongi feels his nipples harden as the pain pricks deliciously against his scalp.

“You like this right? When I pull on it?”

“Yes.” He breathes, shivering as your fingers brush across his lips and, down over his neck.

“And...” You whisper, keeping your tone gentle as your hand wraps around Yoongi’s throat.

This causes him to exhale shakily, his cautious eyes widening like saucers as he stares up at you.

“Wh-…"

You attempt to finish your sentence but, Yoongi’s shaky voice beats you to it, his request tumbling clumsily past his lips.

“Fuck...please choke me...”

He sounds so weak and, yet so sure of himself at the same time. You two had just begun breaching your sexual interests but, stepping into true dominant/submissive roles is something you’ve yet to do.

Whatever is about to happen, is going to be completely new territory for the both of you.

The tightening around Yoongi’s throat makes him see stars; he feels like one of those cartoon characters that’s just been hit with a ton of bricks. Its intoxicating.

“Oh-” Yoongi’s voice is raspier underneath your grip, his dick plumping up painfully against the zipper of his jeans.

“You like when I choke you?” You coo, still holding his throat but, decreasing the pressure slightly.

He nods, gasping as you tighten your grip again, testing the waters. Yoongi can already feel the dampness in his jeans but, he doesn’t care, he wants so much more tonight; he wants you to ruin him.

“Use your words...” You remind him gently, urging him to open up as your free hand combs back through his hair.

He exhales shakily once again, “Yes...”

A fond smile is on your face then as you take a moment to run your fingers through his chestnut locks. You slowly urge him towards you so that he’s close enough to rest his chin against the center of your stomach. Yoongi stares up eagerly, awaiting instructions, his breathing uneven and, you take the small moment of silence to tug on his hair again. This causes his hands to come up and grip your outer thighs in desperation and, if he wasn’t already suffering in his jeans before, he definitely is now.

With a salacious smirk you slowly bend at the waist so you can brush your lips against Yoongi’s, holding his gaze all the while, “I need a safe word from you...can you think of one for me?”

Yoongi can’t think of anything aside from you at the moment along with his painfully hard dick threatening to bust out of his jeans but, he tries his best to wrack his brain for a suitable answer.

“Dragon.”

He scans your face for approval, hoping his choice was sufficient and, if you weren’t fulfilling the role of caretaker, you would be melting onto the floor right now.

“Dragon it is...” You smile, combing a hand through his hair again, resisting the urge to tug on it, “You use that word anytime you need to ok? And we’ll stop...”

Yoongi returns your smile, exhaling at the touch of your fingers, “Ok...”

“Good boy.” The words are spoken into his hair when you lean over to kiss the top of his head. His hands haven’t moved from the outside of your thighs and, at the touch of your lips, he squeezes them again, “Stand up for me.”

At your request, you move away from him, offering your hands as support. Yoongi looks at them tentatively before interlocking his fingers with yours and, slowly moving to his feet. Through the holes in his jeans, you can see how red his knees got from kneeling on the floor.

You want the rest of him to match...

“Come here...” You practically coo at him, curling a finger in your direction, beckoning him towards you. Yoongi never takes his eyes off of you as he takes the three steps necessary to reach you. As he stands before you, you keep his eye contact and, curl your fingers underneath the hem of his grey hoodie.

“Arms up.”

He obliges immediately, raising them high above his head, allowing you to slowly pull the material off of his body. Yoongi feels the hairs on his arms stand at attention as the cooler air of the studio hits his exposed skin. Without instruction you hook a finger underneath his chin and, silently bring his lips to yours. The two of you kiss, slow and sweet, taking time to lull deeper into one another. Your tongue slips in first, laving against Yoongi’s timid but eager mouth, as your hands begin slowly moving up the sides of his torso. A smirk is pushed into the kiss when Yoongi shivers at your touch, his whole body on fire for you.

“You trust me to take care of you right?” You murmur into his mouth and, not two seconds go by before he’s nodding. “You’re gonna be good for me?”

A half of a whimper slips out of Yoongi’s swollen lips, his hands come out to touch your waist as he nods again.

“Yes, I’ll be good...”

You smirk again, deciding that one of your goals tonight is to get Yoongi to feel more comfortable talking dirty to you. It’s a quality he possesses and, you can tell it’s something he’s into but, it takes a certain level of lust to send him there.

“Why are you gonna be good for me?” The question is spoken between a few kisses and, you can’t express the delight you feel when he’s cheeks go red again.

“Because-” His words are cut off as you slowly start to tickle your fingers over his ribs, the pads of your thumbs inching toward his erect nipples. “…. you deserve my respect. You deserve my obedience...”

Good answer.

“What makes me so deserving hm?” You coo against his neck, sucking gently against the sweet spot at the juncture of his collar bone. Before he can answer, you swipe your thumbs over his nipples. Yoongi swears he already feels like he’s going to pass out but, he does his best to answer coherently.

“All women deserve my respect but, you...” He breathes, his head falling back on his shoulders, exposing his skin to you,, his hips rutting forward as you continue brushing your thumbs over his nipples, “you’re the best woman I know...you always take care of me, you’re always so nice to me. I wanna give you everything I can, so I’m worthy for you.”

Yoongi is more than worthy enough for you but, given his history with insecurity, you can’t say his answer surprises you. However, if you weren’t melting into the floor before, you certainly are now.

“You are worthy angel, come here...” The whispered command brings Yoongi’s mouth back onto yours as he swears he could cry at the particular pet name you just chose.

Do you really think he’s an angel?

He can’t imagine why...

With your bodies pressed together and, your lips delicately tending to his, you speak again, initiating the rest of your plan, “Are you ready to play Yoongi?”

Another nod comes from the angel in question, his nose nudging against yours as he does,

“Mhm...”

God, you didn’t know you’d be this into his submission but, here you are, completely drenched and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“Sit down on the chair for me, hands on the arm rests.”

He follows orders, sitting down on his desk chair, spreading his legs to accommodate the throbbing erection pushing against his zipper. His long fingers curl over the edges of the arm rests as his chest rises and falls with his increasing heartrate.

You watch him carefully, mulling over multiple options that will hopefully make him cum so hard he can’t think straight. The first move you make is removing your hoodie, baring your black lacy bra to him: an article of clothing you chose specifically because you knew he liked it.

The thing is though, Yoongi is no ordinary man. When he’s truly submitting, he does nothing without permission, not even look at you. Even as you step in front of him, Yoongi’s eyes stay glued to the floor but, the ever increasing motion of his chest gives away his reaction.

“Didn’t you miss me Yoongi? Why aren’t you looking at me?” You grin, knowing the answer already

He shakes his head, not wanting you to misunderstand him, “I missed you, so much, I just hadn’t asked permission to look at you yet. May I look at you?”

“You may.”

He doesn’t need further coaxing. He immediately brings his eyes up to your body, scanning over you eagerly, wincing as he feels his dick twitch in his jeans.

“So pretty...” He murmurs, eyes full of adoration, “thank you for letting me see you...”

“Don’t look away.” You demand softly, smirking in his direction as you slowly unclip your bra, revealing your breasts to him. As the cool air of the studio hits your sensitive chest, your nipples harden causing Yoongi to finally lick his lips.

He wants them in his mouth so badly but, he wouldn’t dare question your plan. He knows you’re going to do right by him.

“Jagi...” Yoongi pulls in another deep breath to calm himself, resisting the urge to gawk at you, “you’re so beautiful...”

You’ve moved in closer to him, standing between his thighs in just your leggings before dipping down to kneel on the floor.

As your nails slowly slide up his legs, you respond, “I wish you knew how beautiful I think you are...maybe then you’d be able to see what I see.”

Yoongi’s lips part in awe of what you just said, feeling very overwhelmed before the two of you have even started.

“You think_” He exhales, eyes fluttering with the sensation of your fingers inching closer to the inseam of his jeans, “…you think I’m beautiful?”

Your fingers tickle over his inner thighs before crawling over his unstable hips and towards his zipper. As you reach his erection, your eyes travel to his, catching a glimpse of his fucked out expression. His pupils are dilated, his lips are swollen, cheeks pink and puffy like fresh cherry blossoms, his fingers twitch on the arm rests; he’s growing desperate with anticipation.

“You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen Min Yoongi. I wouldn’t be caught dead on my knees for any other man…” You whisper, holding his gaze as you yank down his zipper, the motion causing a gasp to leave his lips. The relief is minimal but, Yoongi is grateful that his swollen dick finally has the room fully stand at attention.

You deserve his full attention.

“You’re beautiful…” Is all he manages, his ability to form coherent sentences slowly slipping away.

His hips are lifted at your instructions as you pull his jeans and boxers from his hips, leaving him completely exposed to you. Yoongi feels a little insecure, his got a bit of a tummy on him as he’s been skipping the gym and, eating nothing but takeout the past few months. He didn’t shave either and, he’s waiting for some sort of negative reaction from you but, instead he feels the sharp pull of arousal in his stomach as you start kissing up his thighs.

“I should punish you for the way you’ve treated yourself this past week…” You admonish before taking the tender flesh of his inner thigh between your teeth, sucking hard enough to make him squirm.

Yoongi’s breath catches as he winces from the pain, his thigh jumping away from the sensation, “I’m sorry…I’m really sorry.”

Your tongue laves over the battered flesh before you make your way to the other thigh, taking time to blow cool air over his engorged dick. He shivers whilst thinking of what he would give to be in your mouth right now but, he won’t beg. He won’t try and sway you in any direction; he wants your full control.

“I told you last weekend not to talk shit to yourself didn’t I? So you can imagine my surprise when I come in here tonight and, you’re doing just that…you don’t want to disobey me do you?” You coo, pouting your lips before sucking his skin back between your teeth, creating an identical mark on his right thigh.

“Ah-“ He whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut, feeling rather tipsy at the sensation of pain, “No…of course not. I want to listen…”

A dark chuckle leaves your lips as you start placing kisses up his thigh, a wicked sense of delight coursing when his dick twitches towards your mouth, “Oh he wants to listen now does he? Is it because my lips are so close to your dick?”

Yoongi grips the arm rests, his fingers slipping off due to the sweat created by his palms. Despite the cool temperature of the room, he feels like he’s on fire, he doesn’t think his ever been this turned on in his life.

“No, that’s not the only reason…” His hips jerk along with his stomach trembling when he feels your nails tickle their way over his hips, “I want to be good for you.”

As your nails conclude their teasing over his lower stomach, you let them rest against his hip bones as you ask your next question, “Mm, then you’ll sit there like a good boy while I have my way with you then won’t you?”

Before he can answer your question, a ragged whimper leaves his throat when you scratch your nails harshly across his soft pale skin, leaving aggravated lines of red as you do.

“Oh my fucking god…” He mumbles, eyes watering when his dick does the impossible and swells further, “I’d sit here like a good boy no matter what you wanted to do to me…”

He confesses, his faded chestnut hair sticking to his forehead, his eyes completely blown out with lust.

You prepare your nails to scratch him again and tickle them up the sides of his body, taking a moment to brush your fingertips over his pert nipples. Yoongi’s body is really sensitive but, his chest in particular always garnishes a special reaction from him. Your nails settle right where his heart is and, you can actually feel it pounding against his chest, “I want you to touch yourself for me…can you do that?”

Yoongi lets out a shaky breath and, once again you interrupt his answer by dragging your nails across his chest, digging in harder this time.

He actually feels his dick leaking at the sensation whilst his body arches off the desk chair, craving more of your touch.

“I have to go slow…I’m so hard right now, I don’t know how I’m gonna last….” He warns, his eyes shifting in uncertainty and, you take the time to admire how utterly innocent he looks.

Yoongi may be intimidating to those who don’t know him but, to you, with you, he is the softest man you’ve ever known.

But now isn’t the time for tenderness, you know what he needs.

He needs to be ruined.

So you’ll do just that…

Your hand comes out to wrap around his neck which elicits another gasp from his pink lips, his body going limp at your touch. You squeeze gently, just enough to slow the air circulation and lean in so your lips can brush against his.

“You’ll last because I tell you to last, because this dick belongs to me doesn’t it?”

Yoongi’s face is weak with pleasure as he nods eagerly, a small whimper leaving his lips, “Uh huh…”

A smirk forms on your lips as you squeeze his throat a little tighter, his dick jumping in response, “Say it…”

“My…my dick is yours jagi…” He gasps when you use your free hand to brush gently over his aching nipples, the sensation a huge contrast from what you’re doing to his throat.

“Your cum is mine…” You egg him on, dragging the pad of your thumb gently over either of his nipples.

“Ugh fuck…” He curses, his eyes locking onto yours and lull in and out of focus, “My cum is yours…everything is yours…”

Licking your lips, you loosen your grip slightly, giggling wickedly as he tries to reach for your lips, “You want me to hurt you while you jack off baby?”

Yoongi swears you must be sent from heaven, or maybe hell, either way, he’s dancing on the edges of euphoria at the moment. It’s like you know exactly what he’s thinking, he’s never known anyone who can anticipate his desires so well.

“Mhm…” He hums, the sound edging very close to a coo.

There is something that crosses your mind, something you hadn’t thought of before this began: was Yoongi capable of going into subspace? Because the glossy eyed expression, the yearning look, the pliant posture and slack jaw, everything about him looks like he’s heading in that direction.

“Yeah? You want me to hurt you really good?”

His mouth falls open as soon as you slide your cupped hand up his throat, your thumb brushing tenderly against his lips, “Yeah…please hurt me…”

Oh fuck, he’s right there…

“Suck…” You command gently, staring into his eyes, which have started to glaze over at your touch. He takes your thumb in his mouth, sucking eagerly, holding your eyes for approval, laving his tongue against the tip of it. “show me how you touch yourself baby…”

He nods, still sucking on your thumb before removing his sweaty hand down to his aching length. Yoongi’s eyes squeeze shut as he slowly curves a fist around himself, and, his leg twitches when he starts stroking his dick.

The relief is instant and, you feel the vibrations of his moans against your thumb. As he works himself up, you move away from him to kneel back between his knees.

His breathing is heavier, his toes are fidgeting against the floor but, his eyes refuse to leave yours, even as they threaten to close from pleasure.

You slowly tease your nails down his chest, over his ribs and hips, dangerously close to his dick, over his now bruised inner thighs and, all the way down to his ankles.

He brushes his thumb over his tip, a small whimper leaving his lips as his eyes squeeze close at the sensation. He’s already close, you’ve been winding him up for the past 45 minutes but, he holds on desperately, not wanting this to end.

“What do you think about when you touch yourself Yoongi?”

He takes another shaky breath and, does his best to swallow properly, despite his mouth being completely dry, “Lately, all I think about is you…I don’t even watch porn that often…”

Before you ask another question, you dig your nails into his calves and slowly begin dragging them up his legs. His whole body jerks in response, his hand faltering over his tip, he has to pull away for a moment, he almost came right there.

“ohmygod….” He keens, mostly to his self, his wide eyes looking away for a moment while he desperately tries to get a hold of himself.

“Oh but, you do watch porn? You’re cumming for other women then?” You tease and, Yoongi would panic that you’re actually upset but, the playful smirk on your face tells him that you’re just giving him a hard time.

“I don’t watch women…” He breathes, a ghost of smirk now playing on his own lips, “I watch men mostly, women in porn are annoying…they’re all annoying honestly…”

This makes you giggle but, you feel yourself growing wetter at the thought of Yoongi, getting off to men.

“So you think of me sometimes?” You’re still teasing him and, he knows you’re fishing but, he’s so into you he doesn’t care; he’d write a fucking thesis on you if he had the time.

He shakes his head, stifling a moan as you drag your nails over his hips when his hand reaches the tip of his dick; he really doesn’t know how he’s going to last.

“No…you don’t get it…” His breath is fucked and, his dick is so hard he wants to cry, it takes everything in him not to beg, “I think about you all the time…I’ve been thinking about you, ever since I came to your house that first time…”

Lust swirls deep in your panties; you don’t know how much longer you’re going to be able to do this either, his dick looks so good, hard, swollen and aching to be fucked. But you haven’t finished ruining him yet, you want him completely desperate before you give in.

“When I pulled your hair the first time?” You smirk, your hands travelling up his body once again as he nods, licking over his lips.

“Ye…yeah…that’s why I left so quickly, you made me hard…” He gasps again as your hand makes it back up to his neck, “…I…are you gonna choke me again?” His eyes look wary, almost frightened, the motions on his dick slowing again, “I don’t….jagi, I don’t know what to do…I don’t want to disappoint you but, if you…if you choke me again, I don’t…”

You smirk, tightening your hand around his neck before he can finish his sentence, “You’re gonna what baby?

“Oh fuck-“ He squeaks, his eyes starting to water when he squeezes over his tip, trying to halt his release, “Jagiya…I can’t…I can’t hold it, you have to stop…”

“Hold it, or I’ll tie you to this chair and leave you like this…” You hiss into his mouth, and his brow furrows in desperation but, his balls tighten further at your threat. The hand around his neck doesn’t cease its constriction and, his hand actually begins to move faster on his length.

His starting to learn…

“Good boy…don’t stop…” You kiss at his lips but, not long enough for him to respond to you, his whole body on fire and shivering at the same time.

Yoongi nods in determination, a shaky breath leaving his nose as he follows orders. He tenses however as you stand up, your left hand coming up to comb through his hair, which is matted against his forehead with sweat.

“Please…” He whimpers but, its not for permission to cum, you know exactly what it’s for.

Curling your fingers around the roots of his hair you tug hard enough to push his head back against the desk chair and, before he can even react, you use your other hand to tighten around his throat.

That’s it, that’s what breaks him.

Tears collect at the corner of his eyes as they widen like saucers, his mouth falling back open as he tries to cry out but, he’s too hoarse to do so.

“Y/N please…baby…baby please, pleasefuckme, pleasefuckme, I can’t…I need you...“ He’s completely lost it, he’s rambling, his eyes aren’t even in focus.

He isn’t even really looking at you but, you know you’ve got him, he’s made it there.

In less than ten seconds, he’s out of the desk chair and onto the pull out couch. He trembles beneath you; his hands reach up as if the lack of contact is painful.

Leaning down to him, you press a tender kiss to his lips to which he responds like a starving man.

“Please jagi…please I need you so bad, I’m sorry I need you, I need you…I really fucking need you…” He sounds like his about to cry and you nod, your tenderness returning just as quickly as it left, your panties pushed haphazardly off of your hips

“Hey…hey...I’m coming angel, I’m coming, just breath for me ok? I’m going to make it better…” You coo, pressing him gently into the squeaky mattress of the pull out couch, the cool sheets welcome against his hot skin.

He nods, not fully able to focus as he wraps his hands around your hips. You press another kiss to his lips before your final command is given, “As soon as I sink down onto you, I want you to cum ok? Can you do that for me?”

Yoongi’s bleary gaze finally locks onto your eyes, his body weakened with desire, “I’ll do anything for you…”

You can’t even recognize his voice, it’s so small, so weak and, so in…

You can’t say it.

Not yet.

But you can feel it, its bubbling right underneath the surface.

As soon as you sink down on him, you give him a few good strokes of your drenched heat before his whole body arches off the bed. Yoongi’s face is buried into your neck, his dull nails dig into your hips as he lets out a cry that shatters you.

You can feel how much he’s cumming as shot after shot of his release paints the inside of you. He’s cumming so hard that he starts crying, his silent whimpering enough to send you over the edge with him.

“don’t stop…don’t stop…” He cries into your neck, holding you so tight to him that it restricts your movements.

All you can do is nod as white hot pleasure takes over your senses, your orgasm just as intense given the events of the last hour.

Yoongi completely loses himself, he cums again, his hips glued to yours as he cries for you. Part of him would feel embarrassed but, he’s too fucked out to care. He’s too in…

Not yet.

He can’t say it, but it’s in his throat.

Its in his heart.

God, he’s never felt so good in his life, he never knew it could be this good.

“Y/N…” He croaks when your hips start settling down. His face doesn’t leave your neck but, he starts sucking gently on it, trying to ground himself.

He feels like he’s floating.

“Baby…” Yoongi practically coos, hands glued to your skin, still sniffling as his tears slowly come to a halt.

The smile that graces your face is brilliant and full of adoration. You slowly pull off of him, “I’m right here angel, I got you…”

You want to get him in a more comfortable position so you can hold him but when you try to pull away to do so, he panics, his glossy eyes widening in fear.

“No…no…” He tries to protest but, you kiss his forehead to reassure him

“Shh…I’m not going anywhere, I just want to hold you…come here for me…” You murmur, kissing his forehead again.

He’s suspicious, not thinking clearly but, he trusts you, not moving more than an inch away from your body as you shift the two of you to sit against the back of the couch. Yoongi scrambles to get closer to you, making himself smaller as he lays his upper half into your chest, tucking his face back into your neck.

“I got you baby boy, I got you…” You whisper, hoping the soft blue light in the studio will soothe him further along with gentle kisses pressed to his skin, “You did so good for me angel…”

Silent tears fall down his cheeks as he tucks further into you, “I did good?”

He checks again, feeling so vulnerable and, yet so safe at the same time.

You smile, pressing a kiss to his sweaty forehead, your nails gently combing his hair back, “You did amazing. You were so good for me.”

His small mouth curves in a dreamy smile, still trembling but, feeling slightly more grounded, “You keep calling me angel….you’re the angel…my angel.”

“You can’t steal my nickname…” You giggle, causing his small smile to turn into a gummier smile as he nuzzles your neck.

“So pretty…” Is all he can think of to say but, you know he’s talking about your laugh.

God, you feel like crying right now though, you could have never guessed that you could feel this strongly about another person.

When a comfortable silence falls over you, you take a moment to notice how banged up he really is. His body is decorated with pinks and purples, scratches, bites, a hicky or two; you really did a number on him and, you want to take care of his skin before it gets too uncomfortable.

“Yoongi? Baby, I need to put something on your scratches, I have cooling gel in my bag-“ You begin to say but, his eyes quickly widen again and, the same panicked look returns.

“Don’t…don’t go-“ He urges, holding you tighter.

You know it’s a symptom of him being in subspace, he doesn’t actually think your leaving but, a lack of contact with you makes him nervous.

“I’ll come right back, my bag is on the floor…” You assure him gently, pressing a kiss between his eyes.

His eyes flutter shut at your kiss and, his hands tighten on you one last time before, he kind of gets a grip on himself.

He knows he’s being a little unreasonable but, he’s never felt like this before, he feels intoxicated and so incredibly needy.

“Ok…” He reluctantly agrees

Another kiss is placed to his forehead before you move quickly to retrieve the gel from your purse. As soon as you sit back down with him, he immediately wraps himself around you, hiding away in your neck as you start to apply the gel to his skin. His breathing is beginning to even out as he melts into you, letting you take care of him.

Like you always do…

“How do you feel?” You whisper into his hair as you smooth the substance over his neck, which has reddened slightly.

“I feel high…” He muses, sounding a little bit more like himself.

His response causes you to giggle, “I’m that good huh?”

Yoongi smirks, kissing your neck slowly, “You invented sex…”

Another giggle bubbles over your lips, as you pull the sheet over Yoongi’s body, “Do you feel better then?”

“Mhm…” He hums into your neck, kissing up the length of it before finding your lips. A soft kiss is placed there before he speaks again, “I wish I could articulate better but, you fucked me stupid jagi…”

Smiling into the kiss, you comb a hand through his hair, scratching gently at the scalp, “Don’t worry about it, take your time, I’m right here if you need me…”

The two of you stay like this for quite some time, holding each other, as you slowly settle back down. Yoongi stays quiet for the most part, doing his best to center his thinking which proves to be quite easy as the only thing he can really think about is you.

A half an hour passes before he finally speaks up, feeling the need to explain something to you.

“I used to live here…” He murmurs, face still tucked into your chest

Your brow furrows at his statement, “Here? At the studio?”

He shakes his head, “It wasn’t always a studio, ten years ago it was a halfway house for troubled youth…”

The beating of your heart stalls but, as you open your mouth to respond, Yoongi continues, his voice stabilizing finally, “My parents are not supportive of what I do. When I was a teenager, we used to fight all the time about it. They tried to force me to stop but, I never listened. I snuck out to do music all the time and, started failing out of school. One night, my father came in and freaked out on me, he destroyed my lyric pages and, threw everything away. The next day, I came home from school and, they had kicked me out. My older brother tried to stop them but, they wouldn’t listen...”

Your chest feels tight as you try your hardest not to let your emotions overflow; you never knew how much Yoongi has endured.

“Sejin, the guy at the front desk, he’s a friend of my older brother,” He rasps, placing another kiss to your skin as a means to soothe himself, “he took me in with nothing but my old laptop and, the clothes on my back. My parents wouldn’t let me take anything. I finished school in the city and, ended up landing a scholarship at our university, that’s where I met Hobi and, reconnected with Namjoon. Once he found out what happened to me, he insisted I move in with him while I got my degree. The rest you already know…”

You hold him tighter, kissing his forehead for the 100th time, “I’m so sorry Yoongi, I didn’t know you went through all of that. You’re so strong for pushing towards your dreams despite everything being so hard for you…”

He smiles gently and the wise look has settled back into his eyes as he looks up at you, “You see why I get a little nervous sometimes now…I’m so worried that my parents are going to be right.”

Nodding, you thumb over his cheek, “I do but, please know that you’ve already proved your parents wrong. After everything you’ve endured, you still keep pushing and, as long as you keep dreaming, you’ll never fail…”

A sudden kiss is pressed to your lips then, which Yoongi turns slow and sweet.

Just like him…

“On my worst days, I tell myself that all of this will be worth it someday…” He whispers against your lips, continuing to kiss at them

“It will be, everything will pay off...”

“It’s already started to…ever since my classroom switched…” He smiles, brushing a piece of hair from your face.

Intense emotion blooms fully in your heart when he responds and, you have to shake your head to keep yourself from crying, “Does that mean you’ll be my date tomorrow then?”

He chuckles, his eyes brightening up significantly as he leans into your lips,

“Tomorrow and, any other time you’ll have me.”

if you let me, here’s what i’ll do: i’ll take care of you

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thoughtsofmyown30 · 4 years ago

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My father was very abusive to women, my mom was treated as a play thing to him out of fear she was his slave and had been broken in by him many times over.

My Father laughed at humiliating and physically pain fully whipping my mom. He had her clean the house nude his sadist nature reminded her to never hesitate or let him see her question his command. I had seen my mother crawling on her knees and hands a dog collar and leash attached my father leading her around all day treating her as a real dog she ate from bowls on the floor he forced her to use the yard as her bathroom, she wore a tail held by a large metal bulb that was in her bottom he locked her in a dog cage when she upset him or to show off his pet to his work friends. I hear her sobbing and crying out as father whipped her body and her private parts using enemas ginger root plugs icy hot hot sauce restraining cuffs nipple piercing attached to a chain that was hooked to her private parts. His blood daughter from a previous marriage was treated the same way. Sexual physical mental emotional broken and trained to be his slave. Disobedience was harshly punished he had other ppl just to come over and watch him beat his slaves and watch them suffer then fear driving them making them degrade humiliated displayed naked treated and dressed up as teen girls or dogs. Both forced to sexually play with each other and others as well as there master. He was the town judge so no one gave him any issue no matter what it may have been. My mom and sister had been forced to be knotted for his bday gift anal alway. He took pictures and video recording the event as later using as black mail to make them fear what ppl would say if they ever saw them. It always worked and both would be doing more perverted twisted kinky humiliation in stead.

I was told to watch or join in be a man and use his house slaves if I refused he would be insulted and they where treated worse for it.

So I sometimes would start whipping there ass already shredded by father but taking more as I made sure he felt I was doing it 100% the would be incoherently sobbing begging mercy.

I was using meth at 13 years old my mom and sister where kept coked up to make them feel more able to obey deal with pain easy and earn the drug that made them feel numb but was the very thing making them degrade themselves to make it easier to get abused..

My father was a souless pos. My first gf was 13 I was 16 she was a run away from many miles away her past was daily second by second a living hell.

She asked if I could get her high she was. Cute and very sexy submissive and obedient off the bat to me. I told her that I was looking for a gf if she wanted the job she would have a home with me. She agreed great ful for my offering she knelt down and orally sucked swallowed and kissed my cock as a that was all she could do to make me feel like she

Was great ful. I told her before I took her to my father's home what she would be seeing. She looked at me and said she was only going to serve me my pleasure my stress my boredom was to be taken out on her. She was raped by family friends and beat as well daily. If she was going to be treated that way she was at least going to say who could have her willing to be treated that way by me. She was new to meth and I still was but I was 3 years plus every day night I could be doing it. My body was used to the training grounds if meth. She was so horny and the meth made her body freely behaving as she tried to get me aroused ensuring her body was used. She saw my father walking in the kitchen mom was bent over and being fked anally hard and fast her body whipped freshly marked tears rolled down her face my sister tounge deeply in side her father's ass licking as he roughly as he could pounding her ass hole his fat long thick cock stretched out mom his tip was almost as fat making it hurt when he pulled out doing it often to add to the pain pushing it back in spit and her pussy juice only lube she was going to get. Enemas before anal always two if needed rinsed by a hose in the yard, I loud and proud told my father who never stopped fking his slave smiled and said he was proud of me finally his eyes saw a man now that I had said this was my first and new slave she was to be living with me 24/7 daisy watched my father drilling his wife father noticed and barked at her for staring she yelped scaring her and apologizing calling him Lord as his new title he loved it and allowed her to call him that. I sold a lot of dope and always had drugs money and nice shit older women and younger always trying to find out how they could be the one who could secure me and my money for them to ride easy in life. I did that shit cuzz I wished for death so I tested mortality every living second I could.

Yeah I'm fucked up morally and I admit I started to see why father enjoys his slaves. My new toy was waking me up by making my cock her priority, she stayed in my room if I left high good in my fridge and I had my own shower washing drying machine t.v computer internet. So she was not board.

I came home every time even after I was gone days in a row to see a naked girl laied out belts paddles straps tied her self up and had been ordering a list of adult toys to be used on her to better keep my interest. She loved being fked anally hard until she was crying it sore hurting badly my cum filled her ass her mouth cleaned my cock every time I finished cumming in her ass. She gave her enemas before I was home to stay clean shaved her ass pussy and body or waxed it. I bought my own apartment to sell my dope out if and when I took her to my money spring she saw women come hang out and flirt with me using sex there body pretty and they where perverted some more then me trying to sell sex or be a good trade they get high and stay and will do anything I could think of no matter what it was in return. Daisy mad yelled at one of my regular friends who I liked as a friend she was cool and we joked about that shit I told her to earn 5 grams all she had to do was strip that girl naked and paddle her bottom hard fast and long until she agreed to behave like you referred to my friend. Jenny grabbing that girl pulled her over her lap tearing her clothes off roughly holding her ass down pinning her with strength alone and infront of all the people I had in my place she thrashed that girl scolded her daisy blushed sobbing begging to be let go daisy was reduced to involuntarily calling jenny Mommy pleading with her as she regressed to a young child. I had an idea and paying in dope jenny was to teach my girl how to conduct her self. Daily once at my money tree farm daisy was training to be craving for a painful whipping it was my wish to have a girl crave pain and humiliation making it pleasure to her broken mind. Jenny had that cunt lesson fully learned in under 2 months I said I wanted a pet a fully functional trained puppy slut. 7 months daily training lessons daisy obeying her hit teacher who had broke her will by using a harsh whipping on her ass down her pussy lips and thighs inner her clit butt hole beat hard to break her of any hesitation or thought of not obeyed respected eagerly awaiting to serve the pain of a whipping was done to a point that she feared that lvl and would obey as to not earn that stage ever again. Jenny said for 13 ounces of premium ice she would be at my call anytime or place to deal with the naked bitch I had drooling over my boots licking my fingers and playing fetch with a small skinny rubber dildo.

I after thought agreed to a ounce every two months in trade for jenny to take a month off and training my bitch every way possible then I would pay her a fat ounce and she would return two months later to train daisy in something new. Even bringing a young girl her age to turn daisy bisexual. Other older and cruel men I felt with often brought there sluts with them showing off your slaves willing ness to obey any task given to it was bragging rights and showed how much control you maintain as well. Blacks mexicans whites and a Japanese guy I liked having with brought there slave new or one that was never failing to please her master would be brought on party nights and showed off for the party favor. We had drugs cash every where liqure and music the basement refurbished into a bar and striper club poles and kinky shit everywhere to treat a slave as a fking slave. 7 bitches drugged up until they hit the max lvl making them degrade themselves as we watched playing cards they crawling naked crying as there skin was bruised from a belt or other implements cages liking them in to gags so the animals where quite. The jap okatuk brought his sister her friend both whom looked young and feared okatuk as he threatening to beat them both and both fear overwhelmed them crying as they showed off playing with each other. Japs look so young and even if they where I loved training Young girls to be sluts at still a young age in that concern. We party hard two weeks straight was normal.

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kayteewritessteve · 6 years ago

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If Only You Knew - 6/19

Description: You arrive home one day to find a wedding invite for two of your best friends from high school. You knew this day was going to come eventually, but even with that said, you weren’t prepared to return home. At least not after 7 years of avoiding Buckhannon, West Virginia. Or rather, avoiding him; your ex-best friend and the secret love of your life. But maybe it was finally time to face your past, to face him, and everything else that happened on that horrible night. Who would have knew that your prom would end up being a total disaster, and the very last night you’d spend in Buckhannon for the next 7 years? you certainly didn’t. That’s for sure.

Catch up HERE.

Word Count: 3,530 ish.

Pairing: Modern!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Violence. Drinking. Bad and offensive jokes. Possible triggering thoughts, feelings and emotions. Moments of bullying and harsh name calling. Lots of curse words. And a very sloooow burn.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

July 2018 - Present.

The rest of Steves shift was relatively quiet, but nothing major ever really happened in Buckhannon. Steve dropped Bucky off at home, then headed home himself.

Once he got there, he parked his patrol car in the driveway and headed in. Going straight up to his room to change into sweats and a t-shirt, then went back downstairs to make himself some dinner.

People always wondered why he had become a cop, instead of taking over the family business with his eldest brother. But in all honesty, Steve never wanted to work for Howard, or with Tony. They were amazing as family members, but working with family was hard, and Steve knew that him and Tony would butt heads, and not see eye to eye often. That just wasn’t something he was interested in. Best to keep business out of their relationship.

Plus he had always wanted to do something that helped people. Something that actually made a difference. At first he wasn’t really sure what that meant exactly, that is, not until a few weeks after his prom night. Once the initial shock and anger of Y/N just up and leaving numbed a bit, he started to really think about that night. And how if he hadn’t stepped in when he did it could have ended a lot worse.

It was at that point that he started to really think about maybe becoming a cop, he did have the build for it. And it was a way he could help others, and maybe prevent other woman from being treated the way Y/N was that night. Other woman who may not have had a ‘fucking giant’ friend to step in and protect them. That thought alone sealed the deal for him.

He had told Bucky the next day, who instantly said he’d become one with him. Something about him refusing to let Steve ‘take all the glory’, and that ‘someone had to watch out for him when he stupidly put himself in harm's way’. Though they both knew it would most likely be Steve watching out for Buck. So a week later they both applied to the local police department, it took about a year before they actually got handed uniforms, a year of interviews, waiting around and training. But now they’ve been cops ever since.

Steve ate his dinner then went to relax on the couch for a while, zoning out on mindless tv for God knows how long.

Later that night he was laying in bed, his mind replaying the day. Or rather, replaying the first talk he’d shared with Y/N in 7 years. Was it his ideal way to see her after all this time? No. Was he thankful she had been the one driving that truck? Yes. Very.

His mind then focused in on his talk with Bucky. How he had mocked him for scaring all the guys away back in high school. But that didn’t bother Steve, he wasn’t ashamed of that at all, and if he was given the chance to redo his life, he’d scare them all away, again, in a heartbeat. Without so much as a second thought to it. And then his mind began to drift back to his high school days, and just how his—self appointed—job of ‘protecting’ her had all started….

October 2009 - 9 years ago.

It was just over a month since school had started and Steve found himself in the boys locker room, just after football practise had ended. He had just come out of the showers and was heading back to his locker to get dressed, when he overheard a couple of the guys talking.

He didn’t really pay much attention to what they were saying. That is until he heard one of them say Y/N’s name. He froze instantly and creeped closer to the guys, staying just out of view though. He recognized the three voices as Johann Schmidt, Brock Rumlow and Baron Von Strucker. The three last people on earth he’d ever wanted to hear saying her name.

Brock was a two faced womanizer and a sleazeball, Baron had serious anger management issues and was basically a ticking time bomb, and Johann, well he was the worst of them all. He was the leader of there little group of shit heads and Steve didn’t trust him as far as he could throw him. The guy was bad news, all around.

“Have either of you seen the ass on her?” Brock asked.

“No,” Baron answered, “Is it nice?”

“Nice?” Johann laughed. “Try fucking amazing.”

“Yeah. I’d gladly bite that thing any day of the fucking week,” Brock chuckled.

“Shit. I’ll have to check her out next time I see her,” Baron said.

“Nu uh, keep your eyes to yourself. That girl is gonna be mine. Mark my words boys. And I don’t want either of you fuckers even so much as gawking at her,” Johann warned.

“Fuck you, I saw her first,” Brock replied.

“Please, you couldn’t get Y/N off even if she was drunk. Let alone sober,” Johann laughed.

That was all Steve needed to hear. His blood started to boil and before he could stop himself he stormed around the corner, the three guys all froze and turned to look at him.

“What’s up, Cap?” Brock said nonchalantly.

But Steve just ignored him as he pushed passed the two guys to grab ahold of Johanns shirt, pushing him up against the lockers. And fucking hard. The force causing a loud metal slamming sound to echo through the locker room. Both Brock and Barons eyes widened, but they remained silent, frozen in place.

“What the fuck, Steve?” Johann spit out, “Get off of me!”

“If you ever so much as speak Y/N’s name again, I’ll knock your fucking teeth in. And if you ever fucking talk to her or even look at her, I’ll do a lot worse then knocking out a few teeth. Is that fucking clear?” He growled.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“The one guy in school that could knock all three of you fuckheads out before you could even land your first punch. And I wouldn’t even break a damn sweat doing it.” He pulled Johann forward then slammed him back into the lockers. “Now, answer the fucking question. Is that clear?”

“Fuck you, Steve. You don’t own her, she can fuck whoever she wants.”

“Wrong fucking answer.” He pulled him away from the lockers again and slammed him even harder into them. This time causing the locker Johann was up against to cave in slightly.

“Get the fuck off me!” Johann yelled again.

“Not until you answer the fucking question. Y/N is off limits, is that fucking clear?”

“Fine. Fuck. Whatever,” he yelled. “She isn’t even close to hot enough for this bullshit.”

“Good, keep telling yourself that, it will make avoiding her that much easier,” Steve replied as he let go of Johann and took one step back. “Oh, but just to make sure you know the consequences of going near her,” he punched Johann hard in the stomach, causing him to instantly hunch forward in pain. “There’s a sneak peek for ya.”

He then turned to look at the other two fuckheads. “And this warning extends to the two of you as well. If either of you goes anywhere near her, you’ll have to deal with me,” he said as he shoved Johann, causing him to hit the floor. Still clutching his stomach and groaning.

Baron gulped and nodded, and Brock just glared at Steve but then nodded as well.

“Good talk, boys,” Steve said as he walked passed them, patting Brock on the head like a dog, as he did.

When he rounded the row of lockers he came face to face with Bucky. Clint and Sam standing slightly behind him.

“What’s going on, pal?” Bucky asked as he peered around the lockers to take in the two guys still damn near shitting their pants and Johann groaning in the fetal position on the floor.

“Just dealing with some shitheads,” Steve waved it off then stepped around Bucky. “You know, the usual,” he shrugged.

“The usual, huh?” Sam asked skeptically, as him and the others followed Steve back to his locker.

“Yup,” Steve replied, popping the p.

“You sure about that, punk?” Bucky questioned as they reached Steves locker.

Steve just glared at Bucky, as Clint looked between the three guys before frowning, “Okay, what am I missing here?”

Bucky shook his head, “Steve just staked his claim.”

“Buck..” Steve warned. As he pulled on a pair of boxers under his towel.

Clint’s brows knitted together, “A claim, on who?”

“Think about it for a second, and I’m sure you’ll be able to figure that one out,” Sam laughed, ignoring the death glare Steve shot him now.

Clint remained silent for way longer then a second, it was closer to a minute before his eyes widen. “No,” he said slowly, dragging out the word clearly in shock, “Really?!” He looked quickly between the guys again, “Are you two a thing now?!” He asked excitedly.

Steve groaned as he pulled on his jeans. “No, we aren’t. And I wasn’t ‘staking a claim’. I just refuse to allow those 3 fuckheads to go anywhere near her. She’s too good for them.”

“Bullshit,” Bucky said quickly, “I’m willing to bet it won’t be just ‘those 3 fuckheads’ you threaten to stay away from her.” He chuckled. “No, you’re gonna threaten the whole damn school before we even reach Christmas break. I’m calling it now.”

“Count me in on that bet,” Sam pointed to Bucky and laughed.

“What does it matter who I threaten?” Steve asked, as he pulled on his t-shirt. “I know all these fucks better then she does, she sees the good in everyone and I refuse to let that get her hurt, or worse—“

“End up in a relationship with someone other then you?” Bucky cut in. Causing the other two to laugh at his well timed quip.

“Fuck you, Barnes. That’s not what I was going to say,” he said as he put both shoes on and started to tie them up.

“No, maybe not, but it’s what you were thinking.” Bucky sighed deeply, “just fucking ask her out already, then you won’t have to go around threatening the whole damn school.”

“She is just a friend, Buck. Nothing more.” He shook his head, stood up, then headed for the door that led out of the locker room. Hearing Sam snort disbelievingly at his words.

“You are so full of shit your eyes are fucking brown!” Buck yelled at his back as he walked away.

“That’s funny, last I checked they were blue!” Steve yelled back, over his shoulder, as he exited the locker room. He made his way outside to where the girls always hung out, waiting for practise to be over.

He saw the four of them sitting in the grass laughing about something. He smiled at the sound of her adorable giggle as he got closer to them.

“Hey, you ready?” He asked as he lightly nudged her foot with his. He had been driving Y/N to and from school for about two weeks at this point. Because within the first 2 weeks of classes, Y/N had managed to not only almost hit him in the student parking lot, but she had also managed to almost hit a few other students as well. The final straw was when she nearly took out the Principle—while she was, no joke, standing on the sidewalk—in front of the school. Yeah. It was bad.

Principle Peggy Carter ended up having to call Y/N’s dad, and inform him that she was no longer allowed to drive on school property. So she’d either have to park away from the school, which wasn’t an option or bus to school every day, which was a shitty option. She’d vented to Steve about her crappy luck and he offered to drive her every day. At first she waved it off, almost like she thought he was joking. But then he told her he was being serious and she just stared at him for a moment before quietly accepting his offer.

So now 2 weeks later, he was still happily driving her to and from school every day. Somedays their agreement just involved her waiting around after class for him to finish practise, which she insisted numerous times that she didn’t mind waiting at all. Considering the three other girls hung around waiting on the boys as well. So it all worked out.

She turned to look up at him, putting a hand above her eyes to block out the sun. “Jesus christ, just when I thought you couldn’t look any taller,” she laughed.

“Yeah, yeah. I know, I’m fucking tall.” He chuckled and shook his head.

“Like insanely tall,” Wanda commented.

“Like ridiculously tall,” Hilde added.

“Like unnaturally tall,” Nat joined in.

“Are you, by chance, from Krypton?” She asked cautiously and then all four girls burst out laughing.

“If you’re insinuating that I’m superman, I’m not going to argue with that,” he shook his head then offered his hand out to help her up. “He was my hero growing up. So I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Good. Because that is what I was insinuating.” She took his hand and he pulled her up with ease. “And it was very much a compliment,” she nodded as she dusted the grass off her pants.

He smiled, then saw Nat giving him her signature ‘knowing’ look. He glared back at her as Y/N collected her books off the ground and put them in her bag. But being that it was Nat, she just glared right fucking back at him. This continued on until Y/N stood back up and turned to him, then he broke the glare off with Nat and looked down at her.

“I’m all set,” she smiled up at him as she pulled her book bag over her shoulder.

“Hang on,” he reached out and took her bag off her shoulder, then flung it over his own, “Now we’re all set.” He turned and headed towards the student parking lot.

She ran to catch up to him, “I can carry my own bag, you know?”

“I know,” he said as he continued walking.

“Okay. Slow down!” She laughed, “my shorter legs can’t keep up!”

He laughed then slowed his steps, “sorry, I forget just how short you are sometimes.”

“Hey!” She scolded, “I’m not that short!” She paused then smirked, “You’re just a fucking giant,” she burst out laughing.

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m fucking tall.”

“Fucking built too,” she said quietly then instantly slapped a hand over her mouth.

He stopped walking and turned to face her. Her cheeks were bright red now. “What was that?” He questioned as he cupped a hand to his ear, pretending he needed her to speak up.

“Nothing,” she mumbled from behind her hand.

“I can’t hear you when you talk into your hand.” He laughed then gently grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand down from her mouth. “Now, what did you say?”

“Nothing.”

“No, before that?” He clarified.

“Ah,” she waved a hand dismissively, then lowered her head as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “it doesn’t matter.”

He gently tilted her head up, using his fingers on her chin. When they finally locked eyes again he spoke, “everything you say matters, Y/N. Or at least it does to me.”

She stared up at him for a moment, everything in him telling him to kiss her. Right here. Right now. But he needed to make sure that’s what she wanted first. They had 2 weeks of carpooling under their belts now, having the chance to talk both to and from school.

At first their talks were about normal every day things, just learning about each other, but after about a week, they got more into the deeper topics. Most days when they’d get to Y/N’s house after school, they’d just sit in his jeep for another hour or two talking. Or occasionally playing 21 questions.

He had learned during one of those games of 21 questions that she had hinted to never having had a boyfriend before. Well, that ended the game right then and there, as he became super curious and just kept asking her question after question. Learning that she had, in fact, never had a boyfriend. Nor had she ever even kissed a guy, let alone anything else. Though, he just assumed that last part. He didn’t actually ask her as she got all awkward and nervous just admitting to having never kissed anyone. He was worried she’d damn near faint if he asked anything more about it. That or she’d feel uncomfortable with him, which is the last thing he ever wanted her to feel, especially around him.

He had only known this girl for a month, yet she had already managed to consume the majority of his waking thoughts. And that was nothing compared to his night time thoughts. No, those thoughts she took over entirely. Every one of his dreams had her in them. They were perfectly innocent, nothing untoward about them—Or at least, not yet they weren’t.

She cleared her throat and took a step back, then her hand flew out and she smacked his arm lightly. “Tag, you’re it!” she yelled over her shoulder as she laughed and ran towards the student parking lot.

Steve burst out laughing then started to run after her, “Oh! You’re so going to pay for that, Y/L/N!”

July 2018 - Present.

Steve tossed and turned a bit, trying to get comfortable but to no avail. He finally found a halfway decent position and started to pass out but then his phone pinged. He ignored it, figuring it was just Bucky.

Then it pinged again, and he ignored it, again.

When the third ping came in he groaned, “this better be fucking good, jerk,” he mumbled to himself as he reached over and grabbed his phone off the nightstand, seeing three texts from a number that wasn’t saved in his phone. Nor did he recognize it. He unlocked his phone and damn near fell out of bed.

‘Hey, how was the rest of your day? I hope it’s okay that I’m texting you?’

‘Haha. It would probably help if I told you who it was that was texting you!’

‘Y/N, it’s Y/N. If you hadn’t already clued in to that based off my complete inability to text like a normal fucking person.’

He chuckled and shook his head then another text came in. ‘OMG! I hope you aren’t sleeping, and here I am blowing up your phone, like an asshole!’

He quickly typed up a reply, attempting to put her out of her misery. ‘Hey you, my day was good. How was your first day back? And I kind of figured it was you based off the Boston area code lol.’

*ping* ‘I’m glad to hear that! And my day was okay, I got pulled over by some fucking giant of a cop. He was nice though, he didn’t take me to jail or give me a ticket! So score for that! And I should have known that’d be a dead giveaway lol.’

He laughed, ‘It’s so funny you should say that, because I pulled over some super short chick who ran a completely obvious stop sign today. In her defence though, she probably couldn’t see over the dash. But then she straight up asked if I could take her to jail instead of just taking the warning. Woman these days.’

*ping* ‘Okay, first off, rude. I can totally see over the dash. And secondly, it wasn’t a warning I was trying to get out of, it was a scolding. Big difference buddy.’

He laughed again, ‘Wait, it was you I pulled over today?! When did you get back into town?!’

*ping* ‘Ha ha. You’re still hilarious, I see. Do you work tomorrow?’

He stared at the question for a second, did she want to see him again? ‘And I still get told that all the time. But yeah, I do. Why do you ask?’

*ping* ‘Just wanting to see if it’d be safe for me to drive around tomorrow. But if you’re working then I’ll probably just stay home.’

He felt his eyelids getting heavy, and as much as he wanted to text her all night long, he also didn’t want to pass out on her mid conversation. So he reluctantly started typing, ‘Don’t run anymore stop signs and you won’t. But I should probably get some sleep. I’ll talk to you later Y/N.’

*ping* ‘Oh, okay. Goodnight, Steve.’

He smiled sleepily as he typed a message that used to be a regular daily occurrence for him ‘Goodnight, Y/N.’

Once he hit send he locked his phone and put it back on his nightstand. Sleep came surprising fast for him, but she always had a way of calming him. And clearly that was still the case.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

@hopefulmoonobject @harlequinash @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @tessvillegas @boxofteenageideas @wangdeasang @giggleberts @casuallydarktiger @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @starrystellars @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @alwaysright4 @lilsthethrills @imdiegohargreeves @zombiepotterfour @mu-mu-rs @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @badassbeckettswan @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx

#au fanfiction #fanfiction #long post #long read #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #modern!steve rogers x reader #modern!steve #modern!steve rogers #modern au #no super powers here #alternate universe #if only you knew #chapter 6

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johannesviii · 5 years ago

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Top 10 Personal Favorite Hit Songs from 2007

18 to 19 years old. Things were slowly starting to get better and better.

15 honorable mentions, but this is still only a top 10. What an incredible, amazing year for music. My favorite hit song for the entire decade is in there! I think everyone already knows what that is because I am, in fact, extremely predictable.

Disclaimers:

Keep in mind I’m using both the year-end top 100 lists from the US and from France while making these top 10 things. There’s songs in English that charted in my country way higher than they did in their home countries, or even earlier or later, so that might get surprising at times.

Of course there will be stuff in French. We suck. I know. It’s my list. Deal with it.

My musical tastes have always been terrible and I’m not a critic, just a listener and an idiot.

I have sound to color synesthesia which justifies nothing but might explain why I have trouble describing some songs in other terms than visual ones.

Second to third year of my History studies. Met a great guy. So great, in fact, that I married him in 2019 because we’re still living together 13 years later. Got my first summer job but spent my first pay on driving lessons, because, again, I needed to get out of my parents’ appartment and knowing how to drive would be good to find a job. I had a much better access to internet. I still had great grades. Things were getting much better.

I stopped making my personal lists of favorite songs that year, and I had an mp3 player, which really opened a world of possibilities even if you could only put something like 40 songs on it, at best.

I was still reading Rock Mag a lot. As you can see, the biggest controversy at the time was what was emo and what wasn’t.

We were alright.

As far as non-elligible songs go, well there’s I Still Remember by Bloc Party (and the fact I can’t put it on the list is a heartbreak and a half) and basically everything from Year Zero by Nine Inch Nails. Nightwish, Epica and Within Temptation all had pretty good albums too.

Here’s a metric ton of honorable mentions first!

Snow (Red Hot Chili Peppers) - Perfectly pleasant song.

D.A.N.C.E (Justice) - Never understood why this was so popular. Still good.

Love is Gone (David Guetta) - Heyyyy another repetitive dance track, perfect.

Miracle (Cascada), Smack That (Akon), Chasing Cars (Snow Patrol), SexyBack (Justin Timberlake) and Say It Right (Nelly Furtado & Timbaland) - Still elligible songs for that year. Still great songs. Still not making the list.

Butterfly (Superbus) - I didn’t like this band, but I liked that song.

Thanks for the Memories (Fall Out Boy) - Same here basically.

Who Knew (Pink) - Not her best, but not her worst by a mile either.

Walk It Out (Unk) - Stayed in my head for days, I swear. I have no idea what the general opinion about it is nowadays. Maybe that’s a humiliating pick and I genuinely have no idea.

Crank That (Soulja Boy) - I do, however, know that the fact this very nearly made the list IS hilarious.

Alive (Mondotek) - Laugh all you want about the tektonik phenomenon, this is still a banger and a half.

Sound of Freedom (Bob Sinclar & Cutee B) - Not as good as Rock This Party. That’s the only thing I can say against it.

Umbrella (Rihanna) - This is an edit because holy shit I forgot Umbrella. It very nearly made the list too. Sorry.

And now, possibly one of the best top tens yet.

10 - This Ain’t A Scene, It’s An Arms Race (Fall Out Boy)

US: #32 / FR: #71

Almost everyone got the lyrics wrong. The title is way too long. I really don’t like this band of pretentious idiots; if you’re gonna be pretentious at least write about something more grand and epic than your own navel, and go all out (more on that later). Nobody ever really cared about their supposed feud with Panic! At The Disco. And, to make matters even worse, the singer looked exactly like the terrible ex I had punched in the face the previous year.

This is still a damn good song and it’s on the list instead of any of the honorable mentions.

RIP me.

9 - How To Save A Life (The Fray)

US: #24 / FR: Not on the list

You already know I loved The Fray. This song could have apparently also made the previous list but it’s on this one instead. It was overplayed. I still loved it.

8 - U + Ur Hand (Pink)

US: #29 / FR: Not on the list

In 2002, I bought Pink’s Missundaztood album and as you might remember this was the second album I ever bought in my life, right before the gigantic trainwreck that highschool was.

The fact that about five years (that felt like twelve) later, Pink was on the other side of that trainwreck, back in my earphones, just as energetic and fun as she was before, was nothing short of heartwarming.

7 - Je Suis Un Homme (Zazie)

US: Not on the list / FR: #43

I’m not gonna beat around the bush. This song is terrifying.

Here’s a translation. Yeah, it’s about humanity destroying the Earth and itself in various ways, and it’s preachy, but holy shit, how can something be so bleak, so scary and still so catchy. It’s a mystery.

6 - Double Je (Christophe Willem)

US: Not on the list / FR: #2

When I first heard this song, I genuinely thought that was also Zazie and I was like oh wow, she’s learned to have fun again after that bleak, bleak song.

But no. She only wrote it, and it’s sung by this guy. It’s relatable as hell (”When I grow up it’s gonna be easy, I’ll finally know what I am”, “Who’s fault is it? / I’m something and its opposite / Double me”). The fact that a guy had this kind of voice and that a ton of people loved it (enough for him to win a big talent show and make this the second biggest song of the year!) also did wonders for my dysphoria, by the way.

5 - Ta Meuf (Faf Larage)

US: Not on the list / FR: #19

This is a song applying the most obnoxious rap and hip hop clichés about gangsters (and guys in general) to a woman, and she ends up terrorising all the guys and they’re realising these clichés might, in fact, be really toxic.

It’s a great song about gender roles usually seen in this kind of music and instead of being preachy, it’s hilarious, and well-written (I mean, it’s Faf Larage, it’s a given, but still). Check it out.

4 - Relax Take It Easy (Mika)

US: Not on the list / FR: #12

All hail the new king of pop. He was here to stay and what a breath of fresh air he was. This was very much his year in Europe as soon as the album Life In Cartoon Motion dropped.

My significant other absolutely loved this album and we listened to it wayyyy, way too much, and even with all the radio overplay AND the overplay when we were together, I still can’t get enough of this album.

3 - Love Today (Mika)

US: Not on the list / FR: #39

Here he is again!

If this was any other year this would top the list very easily. What were the US even thinking back then to not let this guy chart. Why isn’t Mika a huge star over there too. What is your problem guys. Do you have something against fun or what.

Anyway, here’s possibly the best comment on the music video:

I mean. You’re not wrong.

2 - What I’ve Done (Linkin Park)

US: #38 / FR: Not on the list

Aaaaaaand they’re back. And they’re once again topping my list. Lord have mercy on me. I loved them so much.

This was the first step into their modern sound, less raw, more U2. A couple of years later, when Lacuna Coil released Shallow Life, I used to joke that Lacuna Coil was trying to sound more and more like Linkin Park, that Linkin Park was trying to sound more and more like U2, and that U2 was trying to sound more and more like boring garbage and. I mean. I wasn’t wrong there.

My absolute favorite part of the song is at 2:24, when the music calms down a bit and the lyrics go “I start again / And whatever pain may come / Today this ends / I’m forgiving what I’ve done” and then the guitar explodes again. So powerful. Love it.

And now you’re probably thinking “so... Linkin Park was back, and with such a top quality song and it’s NOT your #1? After you put a Linkin Park song or a Linkin Park remix at #1 for three years in a row in 2002, 2003 AND 2004? What’s going on, Jo? Are you okay?”

Oh I’m more than okay. Friends and enemies, here comes the absolute best hit song of the entire decade and possibly of my entire life so far.

You probably already know what it is.

1 - Welcome to the Black Parade (My Chemical Romance)

US: #59 / FR: Not on the list (shame on you French charts)

I know I keep complaining about stuff I love not charting, or charting but not high enough to make any year-end list, but... How was this even allowed to chart. Why and how did it end up on the US year-end list when so many more radio-friendly hits I loved couldn’t even scratch the hot 100.

I’m not complaining at all. I’m just baffled.

Play the first note on a piano and I’m already a wreck. Heck, I’m pretty sure everyone from my generation is. It was basically our very own Bohemian Rhapsody. It still is. Where do I even start.

Oh. I know. Look at this page from a 2006 Rock Mag, it’s gold.

Yep, they highlighted The Open Door by Evanescence and praised it, and were like “this is very risky and ambitious and we’re not sure you’re gonna like this” for The Black Parade by My Chemical Romance. Hilarious in hindsight.

A few months later, the same magazine was desesperately using double pages to interview them because everyone adored the album.

So in case you’ve never listened to it (I’m... not even sure why I’m doing this since I’m pretty sure even people who don’t like this type of music have tried to out of sheer curiosity), it’s a concept album about a guy (...possibly. I mean there’s a lot of trans and/or nonbinary hints in the lyrics and did you really NEED to make all of this more relatable? What the hell guys) dying of cancer, remembering all the good and the bad things that happened in his life, and since his fondest memory is seeing a marching band once as a child, death arrives in the form of a marching band. He then settles some scores with his friends and family, says his goodbyes, and... and doesn’t die in the end. He ends up surviving the whole ordeal, and the last song, Famous Last Words, is one the most incredible things I’ve ever heard. It’s so propulsive, uplifting and motivating. “I am not afraid to keep on living / I am not afraid to walk this world alone”. Holy. Shit. Sadly, it’s not elligible.

Welcome to the Black Parade is basically the centerpiece of the album, as you already know or might have guessed, but here’s the thing. It also works out of context because there’s already an entire narrative arc within this one song. It’s larger than life. It’s about death and the meaning of existence. It basically contains all the stages of grief, and the conclusion it reaches is that this guy will be remembered and therefore, he will transcend death. It’s full of rage and passion and triumph. There’s key changes. There’s tempo changes. There’s everything. It’s a rock opera in a single song. I put it on my mp3 player immediately after listening to the album, and it’s still on my mp3 player today. I never, ever removed it. I listened to it countless times and every single time, it feels like rewatching one of my favorite movies.

Best hit song of 2007 by a mile. Best hit song of the decade, hands down, and now that the 2010s are over, I’m pretty confident in saying nothing has topped it so far. I’d say “fight me” if I thought this was a controversial opinion, but it’s not even that controversial.

And that feels damn right.

Next up: Is... is this a list with actual filler? Are you telling us there was ONE mediocre year for music in the 2000s? Sounds fake but okay

#Johannes’ bad not good pretty terrible music lists #music #long post #flashing lights #eye contact tw

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pasteljeon · 6 years ago

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Nymphet Garden: Prologue

Prologue: White Heather - Calluna vulgaris is a flower native to Northern Eurasia and America with a history of being very versatile as it was used in nearly everything from household items like brooms and baskets to flavoring drink like beer. The plant is immersed within Scottish folklore as they believed that the soft blossoms only grow where faeries have been and that owners are blessed with good luck and protective powers. It means that ‘wishes will come true’ and that is what happened when the boys met you.

➟ Based off this request: I’d like to request a multi-part fic with the reader being a solo!idol and the bts boys perhaps being big fanboy of hers? I’d love to see your take on this. I’d love some down and dirty smut too please! from @/stxrlxghtsora

➟ Summary: He was just a fanboy, they got dragged into it, and so blooms your love story.

➟ Pairing: OT7/Reader, non-idol!BTS, idol!Reader

➟ Warnings: uhh, this is basically a short smutfest with a loose plot (reverse ynwa style), including, but not exclusive to: switch!reader, switch!ot7, overstimulation, oral (m&f), edging, cuckholding, bondage, breathplay, daddy kink, noona kink, some hot jealous fucking, 3somes

➟ Length: 6.8k

➟ In collab with @/sugarcookiesandsins - please give her some love! ♡♡

➟ Notes: We spent a literal 8 hours on this first part sdhjsk we hope you all enjoy and look forward to the next parts! The following chapter will be posted on Jae’s blog, @/sugarcookiesandsins so please keep this in mind! Links will all be reblogged.

“Please.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Hyung!” Yoongi groaned, throwing his head back to glare at Jimin who eyed him hopefully from across the couch. The boys were already crowded at the door, shoes on and looking rather excited themselves despite their reluctance earlier that week. Jimin, the source of exposure, had his hands clasped together and amber irises blown out pleadingly. They were practically glowing, and it was lethal, at least, to everyone except one Min Yoongi .

“Just get Taemin to go with you guys. You know I hate public places and that venue is going to be packed. I can’t stand another twenty thousand you’s screaming in my ear,” Yoongi grumbled.

“I’ll get you that new studio equipment you wanted,” Jimin wheedles. His bank account would suffer, but it would be worth it if Yoongi went to the concert. Having the iconic Bangtan Ensemble was what he wanted, after all, for attendance at his favourite idol’s concert tonight. Besides, he had spent good money on these tickets. He could have used it to replace the speakers in his dance studio or his worn sneakers, but no. He had single handedly paid for 7 front row tickets, and damn it to hell if he wasn’t going to get his money's worth.

The aspiring composer squinted at the younger suspiciously, but Jimin only beamed back at him. “Please, hyung? I really want us all to go together!”

With a drawn out sigh, Yoongi swung his legs over the couch and grabbed his jacket. “Fine. But you owe me. I better see that ASR 88 sitting in my room by the end of the year.”

Jimin winced inwardly but nodded eagerly. As long as he got all of them to go, then any future pain would be worth it. Besides, he was sure that after that night, Min Yoongi would be thanking him for dragging his ass to this concert. “It will, don’t worry.”

Twenty minutes and a bus ride later, Jimin still couldn’t believe that he was actually here, standing a couple feet from the stage where his future wife would soon be singing your her heart out. He had their wedding planned and everything, she just didn’t know it yet. Looking to his right and left, he was happy to be surrounded by his closest friends, even though he knew that what he had promised some in exchange for their attendance may be a little out of reach for his. He would deal with that later and focus on the now. Besides, there had to be extra shifts he could pick up at work to make up for the huge dent in his expenses.

Suddenly, any stress he had melted away as the familiar piano of your intro played over the speakers of the venue. The screen on stage lit up as the video began to play. He had seen it so many times, Jimin could probably watch everything with his eyes closed, but he still kept them locked on your features as you played your role in the video, your skin looking softer then it had ever looked on either his phone or his computer. The screams never stopped. The boys were sure they were going deaf wincing as pitched voices echoed around them. Still, they were at a concert. What did they expect?

Jimin had been lucky enough to snag tickets to the GA area and they rushed in to secure a position at the front. Camping was prohibited so it was a fight to the death to get into line as early as they were permitted. They lounged around on the ground, joking around as they patiently waited for the actual performance to begin.

It was almost an hour later when you came onstage yourself, decked in the familiar attire from your debut song. The boys shot to their feet instantly. It was an upbeat tempo that got everyone dancing and screaming the lyrics as you executed the choreography to perfection just like Jimin had seen in live performances.

Taehyung was jumping up and down next to him, yelling something indiscernible over the roaring of the crowd. “What?” Jimin yelled. Taehyung pulled him closer, shouting, “She’s really good! Where can I buy her album?”

Jimin grinned, telling him he would send the link when they were home. One down, five more to go. Taking a quick sweep around, he spotted Namjoon and Hoseok jamming out near the barricade. Seokjin was nodding his head along to the beat enthusiastically to the right of him, and even Yoongi looked impressed in spite of his reservations earlier. Jungkook was hooked the moment you walked on stage and opened your mouth. The music major was a sucker for a voice as angelic as yours, his jaw dropping so low Jimin feared the fireworks would fly right into it. He smiled to himself. Jimin 1 : Bangtan 0.

The concert ran for two hours, though there were breaks in between where you were offstage changing outfits and videos promoting your tour theme ran on screen, or you’d walk forward and speak to the audience. Jimin swore his heart stopped beating when you knelt in front of him, smiling directly at him as you sang a line to one of his favourite songs off your older albums. God, you were perfection. You sent him a heart and he swooned, mouthing an I love you. Jimin ignored Taehyung’s boisterous laughter, having noticed the exchange.

“You’re so whipped for her, Chims,” Taehyung cackled. Jimin flushed, still singing along.

He still didn’t forget to check his phone periodically, eyes flying to his notifications at every vibration in his pocket. Before the concert, you had done a vlive during the soundcheck when you announced the raffle that would make one group of people very lucky indeed. In between songs, you explained to an enraptured crowd that you would be drawing for the winners of backstage passes. Those that purchased in groups of 5 or more tickets were grouped together and solo purchases were randomly assigned to groups. Thankfully Jimin had purchased all seven tickets so when he checked the website, he was happy to find them all together in group number 713. He had watched the entirety of the livestream, including where you draw from a hat that was part of a costume set.

“... 713!” He swallowed. “Um, Tae?”

“Hmm? Yeah?” Taehyung said absentmindedly, eyes glued to the screens as a new teaser began to play.

“We won,” Jimin said slowly. His palms slickened and he shoved his phone into his friend’s face, his knees already quivering at the thought. “We’re going to see ___! Backstage! In person!”

Taehyung blinked at him uncomprehendingly. “Oh fuck!” Jimin screamed. His voice was swallowed easily by the crowd but now he could barely focus on the remainder of the concert, feeling dizzy and feverish.

“What’s going on? Is he okay?” Seokjin yelled over from the side. Taehyung smirked, making an O with two fingers and shoving another into it, eyebrows wiggling.

Jimin stepped on his foot so hard Taehyung had to squat and massage it for the entirety of your next song. The 95 liner sighed happily, returning his attention to you, eyes glazing over dreamily.

Jimin was practically vibrating with equal parts fear and anticipation. “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” he whispered, pacing before the door. “This is really happening. Oh fuck!”

Namjoon placed a hand on his shoulder, concerned. “You alright there? Should we leave?”

“NO!” Jimin almost shouted. “No,” he said again, shaking his head furiously. “I need all of you there. Besides, we won together. It’s not just me.”

“Don’t worry so much hyung,” Taehyung grinned. “Chims is just excited to meet my future wife.”

If he wasn’t in public, Jimin would have tackled him, but instead he just shot him a glare that could burn hotter than the sun. “It’s not good to lie, Taehyungie.” His voice was sickly sweet saccharin, that Taehyung knew he would be sleeping with one eye open for the next couple days. He had been witness to Jimin taking revenge on Jeongguk for breaking a speaker, and there was nothing he had wished for more than to be the last person in the sights of Park Jimin.

Before anyone could say anything to diffuse the situation, the security guard they had shown their tickets to came out from behind the door with 7 pases dangling from his hand, lanyards colored to match the tour’s theme with writing indicating both your name and the name of the tour in bold letters. Behind laminated plastic were the very things that Jimin had dreamed about: backstage passes. He had read enough fanfiction to imagine a lot of things, each one riskier than the last, painting his face a bright red. Clearing his throat before speaking, he grabbed one once the security guard held them out. He flipped it over in his hand multiple time making sure it was real. Finally assured that it would not get ripped from his hands, he pulled it over his head letting it hang where everyone can see it.

“Miss ___? Your guests are here.” The guard knocked on an ajar door, the mirrors and rows of clothing indicating it was probably your dressing room. Jimin choked on his own fucking saliva when you turned around from where you’d been speaking to a staff member. You were patting yourself down with a towel, wiping off sweat from your neck as you walked forward.

“Hello! I’m ___. It’s wonderful to meet you all,” you said warmly, voice melodic though a little raspy from exertion. You’d changed into casual clothing and removed the heavier aspects of your makeup, caring less about your appearance than how comfortable you were. Shit, you were even more beautiful barefaced. Jimin tugged at the collar of his shirt, the room suddenly stifling.

“H-hi! Your name is Jimin!” He stumbled over his words, immediately wanting the ground to swallow him whole. Great. The one time I meet my all time favourite idol and I fuck it up. Go figure. He groaned inwardly. “I mean - My name is Jimin,” he gulped. “And it’s really such an honour to meet you.” He nearly smacked you as he stuck out his arm.

You giggled, eyes crinkling as you regarded the man. His hair was tousled, looking like he’d run a hand through his thick locks several times in anxiousness and you noticed his body trembling slightly, fingers shaking as he shook your hand. He wet his lips, plump and pink and you concluded he was quite handsome.

In fact, all seven of them were. The one next to Jimin let out the deepest laugh. Ah. You noted. One of those whose face did not match what you’d expect his voice to be. “Don’t mind him, he’s just extremely nervous. I’m Taehyung, this idiot’s best friend,” he said cheekily, stepping up to take your hand next.

“Namjoon. Your performances were lovely. I loved the lyrics. Did you write them?” He looked like he wanted to take notes at your response.

“Hello, I’m a thief and I’m here to steal your heart.” Cue windshield laughter. “I’m Seokjin, but everyone calls me Jin.”

“H-hello. I’m Jungkook. I really like your voice! And um, your dancing. It was all very good.” Heavy blushing.

“I’m Hoseok! Your choreography was sick! What kind of concept are you going to be using for your comeback?” This one had the sunniest grin, making you recoil just a bit so you could shield your eyes from the blinding effect.

“Yoongi.” He didn’t say much, but you could tell it was his natural character. He was quiet throughout the entire exchange, though his eyes were sharp and watchful as he examined you.

Jimin, bless him, was still fluttering around awkwardly, clearly wanting to convey everything he’d been harbouring for years now that he had an opportunity, but he kept tripping over himself and ended up staring at the ground for most of the conversation, looking disappointed and frustrated.

Namjoon and Hoseok chatted animatedly with you, discussing choreography and the elements of music like mixing and editing. From what little they knew, you also composed most of your own songs.

Seokjin cracked jokes here and there, Taehyung popping in periodically and Yoongi simply listened attentively. Jungkook spoke timidly, asking a few burning questions and his smile was surprisingly sweet, bunny like and bright.

Forty minutes into their visit, your stylist tapped you on the shoulder, murmuring something as she passed.

“Ah,” you said apologetically. “It looks like our time is up. I really enjoyed meeting you all. Best of luck with your own careers! And,” you paused. They looked at you inquisitively. “I hope to see you all on the billboards one day. From the sound of it, you all have immense talent and potential.”

Taehyung nudged Jimin frantically, jerking his chin at you. “Do it now!” he hissed.

“U-um. Please, will you sign my album?” Jimin thrust it in front of you with trembling hands, bowing his head deeply.

He almost regretted his question as you turned to him and unleashed a wide smile that could put Hoseok's to shame, at least in Jimin’s eyes. He was the cutest of the bunch with his rosy cheeks and nervous habit. “I would love to,” you said with a grin as you motioned to a staff member to bring you a marker. Once the black ink was in your hand, you proceed to make your signature on the cover of the album, directly below the tite and accomapnying infomation. Below that you wrote a cute message. ‘Thank you for coming to my concert cutie!’ with a little heart and kiss.

It was simple enough, but Jimin felt his soul leave his body as you gave the album back to him, fingers grazing each others’. Smiling again at him, you got up and enveloped his body in a hug, a small gift for being a fan as well as a farewell. Jimin thought he would die of happiness again as Taehyung brought him back to reality by poking him in the side. You were hugging him! Over your shoulder, Jimin saw Taehyung motioning to your body and he understood the message. He wrapped his arms around your frame, squeezing a little. You pulled out of the hug a moment later, still with that smile as you said your goodbyes. Jimin could only stare, eyes dreaming of you as you said your departing words to the others.

On the way home, Jimin lay limp against the window, letting the cool glass dispel the heat that he felt after leaving the venue. He was still on an adrenaline high after the backstage experience. The other boys were in various stages of drowsiness after the concert since it had run late, not including the time that they spent with you backstage.

Still, all the boys were feeling the same symptoms. Doctors have termed the disease ‘idolstruck’ as most seem to become infected after meeting their idol. They were all lost in the image of your smile as you talked to them, face illuminated by the lights of the venue. The same smile that someone has when they are doing what they love. The boys were truly happy for you, and they were happy for themselves for agreeing to go with Jimin to this concert.

They had heard him a million times squealing from the confines of his room and knew the reason behind it. Still, they had left it alone, not really bothered by Jimin’s fanboying unless he spontaneously decided to take over the living room big screen to curl up on the couch and watch you participate in variety shows. They would walk in to see him smiling stupidly at your image on the television as it reflected in his eyes. Previously, they would all just shake their head and walk out, but now they were considering asking him if they could join him. They went home silently, and fell asleep as soon as their heads hit pillows.

Until the sun came up, they dreamed of you, angel eyes and all.

The next morning, not a single person was awake before noon as they took advantage of the weekend and slept in. Still, hunger affects the strongest of us, and soon enough the boys made their way into the kitchen, still rubbing the sleep from their eyes as they planned the quickest strategy to get back to bed. Almost as it it was magic, they locked eyes in the kitchen and burst out in smiles as they thought of the reasons they slept like the dead. The first one was your concert, and all other items on the list were only subpoints to this main header.

“Did that actually happen?” Jimin was the first to voice their thoughts, he was still sporting sweater paws as he had not worked up enough to care that he had slept in another boy’s shirt, not that anyone else was too quick to call him out on it either.

“It did Jimin,” Namjoon may have also looked sleepy, but he was still more awake compared to the rest of the boys since he had gotten a whiff of the coffee he was making.

“That was amazing. She was amazing.” Jeongguk was still hung up by the memory of your voice. Sure, he had been forced to listen to it with Jimin, but he had always put it down to really, really damn good vocal editing. He was in awe last night when your voice sounded exactly like the songs on the album as well as your ability to belt out the lyrics while still keeping up with choreography that was fast-paced and technique oriented.

The coordination with your back-up dancers made Hoseok's eyes shined as he remembered a 5 minute period when you demonstrated a difficult section that he liked, laughing as you recounted memories of mistakes that left the boys unsuccessfully stifling their laughter at your predicament.

“Hey Jimin.” Seokjin hid his face behind a mug of tea as spoke, half in embarrassment and half in relief as the tea woke him up slowly. “Can we have a variety show marathon tonight?”

The week following passed by in a blur. The boys consumed your content like Jungkook drank banana milk - every chance they got, they were glued to their phones, laptops, TV to watch you laugh, dance, sing and talk.

“Guys,” Namjoon said solemnly. “I think we have a problem.” It was Friday, with all the boys sprawled over couches and lying on their stomachs as your newest Run! episode played on screen.

The past few days had been stressful. Jungkook had finally finished the demo he’d been fretting over for his final project with some help from his hyungs - though they fared no better. Yoongi and Namjoon poured over a new collaboration with an indie artist that had just signed them, spending hours cooped up in their studio. Taehyung had all but disappeared, travelling to different ends of the city for material on his photography initiative. Seokjin had been on and off as well, working for his father at his company whilst finishing his Master’s. Hoseok and Jimin were instructors at one of the best dance studios in the city, but Jimin had recently taken up a part-time job at a nearby cafe to pick up some extra cash to fulfil his end of the bargain for Yoongi.

“Hyung, I think we’re addicted,” Jungkook said absentmindedly as he reached for the bowl in the middle of the table. Various snacks were poured into it, and given the state of their lean, well-muscled bodies, they could afford a day off. They burned through calories quick enough as it was.

“Holy shit,” Jimin exclaimed, interrupting their conversation, leaping to his feet. His eyes widened as they flew across the screen of his phone. “She’s holding a contest. Guys, this could be our chance to see her again!” His heart fluttered at the thought, beating fast.

“Contest?” They flocked him like birds, jamming together instantly. Even Yoongi dragged himself over, looking mildly curious.

“It says you can either do a song or dance cover. There’s a winner for both. The prize is being able to shadow her for the production of her new music video!” He explained, showing them the post on her Instagram. “It’ll give us a chance to see what it’s like to film in a setting like that and how the whole process works!”

Taehyung perked up. “You think they’d let me shadow the filmmakers instead?”

Jimin nodded. “They’re usually in the same room so it’s up to you really. You can ask about the editing process, maybe they’ll let you in on that as well.”

“Let’s do it.” They stared at the speaker in shock. Yoongi shrugged. “What? It sounds like a good opportunity. She’s part of a pretty big entertainment company. We could check out the equipment.”

Seokjin cackled. “Like you’re really going for that. I saw your browsing history and I’m pretty sure you have more tabs saved on ___ than Jimin at this point.”

The composer flushed hotly under the disbelieving looks his friends shot him and scowled at the older man. “It’s for science,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “Obviously.”

“Uh huh,” Hoseok said skeptically. “Didn’t you fail science in fifth grade?”

Yoongi hissed at him. “Fuck off, Hobi.”

“Let’s split up,” Jimin suggested eagerly. “Tae, Jin, Yoongi and Namjoon can do a vocals cover. Hoseok, Jungkook and I can do a dance cover.”

“Is there a limit to how many people can win?” Namjoon asked doubtfully.

“Nope, just everyone that was involved in the production.”

“I’m in,” Jungkook offered. Taehyung agreed readily. They all turned to Yoongi.

He sighed loudly.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Fine, you little fuckers. I’ll go along with you but if we lose, don’t come crying to me.”

Jimin ruffled his dark tresses, pushing back his bangs as he chewed his lower lip nervously. He whirled around the cafe, picking up plates and delivering dishes. One hand rested on his pocket periodically, as if anticipating the buzz.

“You okay there?” Jimin turned to Kai, a barista and an old classmate who eyed him with amusement from behind the counter. It was near closing time, clients trailing out as the hour ticked by.

He nodded quickly. “Yeah. I’m just waiting for the results. They’re supposed to come out today.”

“Ah,” Kai made a noise of understanding. “For ___’s contest right? Coups mentioned something about that. I think he entered too.”

Jimin clutched his phone tighter. Shit, if his other friends were contestants, they had to start praying. They were all extremely talented.

His phone vibrated quietly in his hand. “Good luck,” Kai sang as he picked up the disinfectant to start wiping the counter down.

Jimin gulped, swiping left.

Congratulations Jimin! Your cover is the winner of ___’s Shadow Set contest. Attached are the forms and details to the event. Please ensure all members of your group have completed these prior to attending.

Thank you and we look forward to seeing you soon!

“Holy sh - ”

“So who were the lucky winners?” You hummed, looking up from your laptop. Your manager walked in, handing you the rundown of the shoot’s schedule.

“Who else? I knew they were something special.” She laughed but agreed. Sifting through the documents, you smiled down at the papers as Jimin’s voice played through your speakers.

“Jimin!”

“Hobi-hyung!”

The two ran at each other, jumping into a hug as they screamed incoherently at one another. “We won!” Hoseok promptly broke into a dance, grinning widely.

A groan. “Not this shit again.” But the dance managed to wrestle the composer down before he could escape. “We won hyung!”

“Yep, heard you the first time,” Yoongi muttered, rubbing his ear.

“I’m going to see her again,” Jimin said excitedly, eyes glimmering as he did his own little victory dance as he raced to print out the forms for the boys to fill out. The others were not as vocal in their excitement (except for Taehyung and Hoseok), but each was excited in her own way to see their favorite idol outside of there screen of electronics.

You sadly stood in the center of your practice studio as you finally got a break from the events of the day. It had been business as usual as you entered to the chatter of your back up dancers and the staff. Following your usual breakfast of a smoothie, you set up in the center of the room to practice the new choreography for your next mini-album. The company had decided to try a new theme this time to test the proverbial fan base waters.

Most of your themes had been powerful messages of believing in yourself or softer ballads that accompanied pastels and picnic. For the first, and maybe last time, you were doing a sexy themed performance. It was darker than before too, the lyrics angstier and centered around heartbreak. There was plenty of couple dance routines mixed in with the floor technique and your outfits were no less sexy. Plenty of fishnet and shorts with crop tops, that you had mixed feelings about. On the plus side, you would no longer be sweating buckets during performances; skinny jeans and t-shirts were hotter than you’d think when dancing under the lights. Still, you were still relatively on the younger side of the age spectrum, and thinking of the revealing costumes still made you cringe. Either way, you were starting to enjoy this new persona, it was confident and powerful.

Still, it seemed that it would have to be pushed back. One of the main dancers had broken their leg and was out of commision for a month or so. He was your main partner throughout the choreography and it would difficult to get a new dancer to replace either a back-up that moved forward to to replace the main. Not only that, the dynamic had to be pretty comfortable between partners or the flow was choppy. She had danced with Kyungin since she first debuted, so even if they were not partners before, they still knew each other to be comfortable with some of the choreography.

__ didn’t want the release to be affected by this set-back but it seemed like they had no choice.

“What do you want to do?” Your manager had pulled you to the side as the crew continued to set up, though slower as they waited for your decision.

“We don’t have anyone on the call, do we?” You tapped your chin thoughtfully. She shook her head ruefully. “No, but I should’ve. This is on me.” Then your eyes trailed to the boys at the side.

The seven boys had come trotting in obediently, lead by your manager, wide-eyed as they took in the logo of your company in big illuminated letters. This was the same sign they had seen in the background of every choreography video they watched, mesmerized by every twist and turn of your body and particularly interested in the moment when your lose shirt flew up when you jumped. Boys would always be boys.

You giggled at their expression, the small sound pulling their attention to your form. You had ended practice only moment ago, moving away from the new to practice the old as most of the staff went to the hospital. Thus your form was glistening with sweat, much like the night you first met them after to concert. Making you way over to them, you snagged your water bottle from a nearby table to replenish yourself.

You many be an idol, but you were still a woman so you felt their eyes very clearly on you as you tilted your head back to allow the cold liquid to run down your throat. You felt their eyes trace a stray drop that had escaped you mouth as it ran down your skin, tracing every curve and dip, much like men did with the woman they loved.

You smiled devilishly. Maybe this contest would be more fun than you thought, especially with these boys around. This concept had introduced to the character of the dominant female, and it was starting to become you more that you would ever care to admit.

Then you realized the reason they were here; they wanted to see the life of an idol, to shadow you with this next comeback. Now, with a dancer missing, you wondered if there was even gonna be a comeback. Unless….you took a long time looking at the boys who you had dubbed mentally to be the dance line.

You had seen their submission, they were very good at what they did so perhaps you could give one special treatment. You turned to you manager and raised an eyebrow? Tilting your head in their direction. The boys were silent, watching. The three who were under scrutinization sweated. Something serious was up if the managers expression was anything to go by. Looking back and forth between you and the boys, you manager nodded once, so quick it would be easy to miss, before stalking out the door towards the elevator. She had things to discuss with the CEO.

On the other hand, you turned to the boys with a smile and motioned for them to follow you. The eight of you walked through the halls towards the large conference room. You would be taking them to your personal studio, but the Shadow Contest was now up in the air after the loss of a dancer, so you still had to protect the interests of the company. The answer that you manage got would determine the future of these boys.

“You’re sure about this? You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you told him gently. Jungkook shook his head, smiling. “I want to, ___-noona.”

Oh. Oh, you liked that very much. “Okay. Let me call over my choreographer and he can teach you the steps for the first part that we’re filming today. It’s not too intense or long. Do you think you can learn it in the next three hours?”

At that, Jungkook grinned. “Definitely. I’ve done worse, trust me.” He shrugged off his sweater, passing it to Hoseok. Underneath, he wore a plain white tee that shifted as he moved. Mmm. It surprised you to noticed that he packed some hard muscle, visible through the thin material. He was lead off centre, where they set to work immediately.

“Yoongi, Namjoon,” you called. They stood to meet you as you approached. “Would you guys like to meet my producers? I heard they’re working on something new today so if you’re interested, I can take you there.”

They looked at you, mouth agape. “No way, seriously?” Namjoon was the first to recover. “Please, that would be such an honour.” Yoongi nodded rapidly. You gestured them to follow through a separate door.

Jimin glowered at the youngest from where he sat with Taehyung, pouting. “Why didn’t she choose me?” Hoseok had wandered over not long after to observe Jungkook and the choreography.

“Because you’re too short pabo,” Taehyung flicked his forehead. Jimin sighed, melting back into his seat. He fiddled with Jungkook’s jacket, looking a bit put-out.

You returned shortly, and with your own outfit on for the video shoot. It was definitely more revealing than any of the outfits the boys had seen you in before. Even the makeup did not make it any better with a red lip and smoky eyes that made you more alluring. Combine that with your stage presence and it was a lethal combination to anyone remotely interested in girls.

You noticed the look on Jimin’s face and wanted to pinch his cheeks. The sweet boy was pouting as he clutched onto the jacket Jungkook tossed his way. He looks unbelievably small and child-like with his pastel sweater contrasting the leather of the jacket which looked big on his frame.

Smiling softly, you made a guess at the reason behind his disappointment and smiled at the jealousy. It was no secret that he was your biggest fan among the boys with his name always being used for the group as a whole. You walked towards the two men, grinning as they met your gaze.

Jimin smiled at you, red-faced as he dragged his eyes up your legs and torso, to stop on your face. Taehyung, though not as physically prone to show his feelings, still tensed at the sight of you in front of him. Since the concert, he had looked into you more and fallen deeper into your fandom, even dabbling in fanfiction as he cuddled his pillow, pretending you were the one there beside him. You would be the one greeting him when he came home, you were the one that made him coffee when he stayed up late to complete assignments.

“Having fun boys?” Both felt shivers run down their spine at your voice. It was smooth and sultry, the kind of voice that suited the theme perfectly. They could only nod in response, too distracted by your charisma.

“Don’t be nervous. I’m still me.” You grineed, teeth on display. For a second, __ the idol was gone and was replaced with __ the girl. This was the you the boys loved, the personality they saw on the variety shows with her twinkling eyes and kind heart. The girls who was not afraid to laugh or get messy in the kitchen having the most domestic of argument debating how much water should be added to the rice pot. This was the girl they saw when you looked at them and this was the girl they fell for when you appeased their fears, sitting next to them dishing out bad jokes that put a smile on both their faces.

Your stylist ushered Jungkook in a chair and you watched rather amusedly as she fussed over his hair, applying light makeup and rifling through the closet for clothing his size.

He changed quickly, tugging on the suit and smoothing over the wrinkles. You cocked your head, drinking him in. “You look good.” Jungkook blushes. “T-thank you.”

“Nervous?” You asked. He nodded, looking a little overwhelmed. “I’ve never been in a professional shoot before. But,” he hesitates, peeking up from his lashes to peer at you shyly. “I’m glad it’s with you, noona.”

You wanted to coo at him, he looked so sweet smiling up at you like that. “Thank you for doing this. We really appreciate it.”

He reddened, rubbing his neck. “I’m glad I could help.”

“Ready?” The director called. Jungkook nodded at you, retreating to the shadows as he waited for his cue.

“Take one.”

The music started. It was soft, a little haunting. You glided in, steps light as you walked to the throne set up in the middle. As the line quickened, you mouthed the first line as you took a seat, leg crossing over the other.

Jungkook strode in, one hand in his pocket, the other slicking back his hair as he made eye contact with the camera.

He knelt before you, taking your hand and dusting a light kiss onto the back of it. You tipped his chin up, the camera zooming in as you grazed your manicured finger across his chiselled jaw. You swore you felt him shiver beneath your touch, his eyes fluttering closed as your cool breath whispered across his ear.

He turned, ripping himself from you as he stood, feet planted apart and expression tormented. You snaked an arm around his upper body, tapping down the expanse of his chest. You pressed yourself to his back, staring at the camera with lidded eyes as you sang.

He twisted away from you as soon as the bass dropped. Stepping behind you, it started. Oh God, did it start. His movements were powerful, sharp and clean. His hands trailed up your legs resolutely, his hips rolling against yours. Though your pelvises did not touch, you could feel his heat through the fabric of his suit. Then the bass backed out of the tune slightly as your vocals became the center of the song, commanding the attention of all, including Jungkook. You gripped his body and brought it surely in front of you, pushing him gently to his knees as you gazed down at him, simpering at the expression on his face. The next part harkened back to your debut song as you controlled Jungkook like a puppet, your arms and his body moving in sync as his expression emulated the idea that he was at your mercy in all possible ways. Then the dynamic of the song switched again, the base entering as Jungkook took control of the situation. His popping showed him breaking out of your control as you struggled to maintain your power over him. In the most risque move yet, he turned you so you back faced the camera as he pulled gently on your hair, following his lead and the choreography, you bent backwards until you were looking at the camera upside down, still singing along to the track echoing from the speakers as his mouth came down on your neck. From the frontal angle, it looked inappropriate but he was doing nothing more than just shifting the angle of his head.

Still, Jungkook could almost feel your skin beneath his lips and temptation set to to trace the same path that the water droplet took the other day when you first met them at the studio. You were glistening the same way too, the sheen of the sweat making your skin shine like diamonds under the powerful lights. Then you pushed him back as the second verse started, already tired of dancing to his beat.

The music cut off just as he fell to his knees, the power balance shifting as you gained the upper hand. Sweat dropped from his fringe as he brushed it back, panting. You helped him up, breathing heavy yourself. Jungkook took it gratefully and gave you a tired grin. “How was that, noona?”

“Wonderful,” the director boomed before you could say a word. “No need for a reshoot. We can use this footage. Maybe even raw. Good work, ___-ah! And Jungkook-ssi, that was excellent. I should hire you permanently.” He gave a wink before whisking away.

“He’s right,” you said, smiling. “You did really great. Thank you once again. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Ah, it was nothing, really. If anything, I’m the one honoured I get to work with you,” Jungkook said awkwardly, a light hue dusting his cheeks as he looked down.

Staff came hurrying over, distributing towels and water bottles. Jungkook wandered off to greet his friends who had been watching with wide eyes. Namjoon and Yoongi had returned halfway through the scene and were now in similar states of awe.

“Guys,” Jungkook gulped. They all stared up at him dumbly. “I think I’m in love with her.”

“No shit genius,” Namjoon hissed, slightly jealous that he wasn’t the one getting to touch you. Jimin felt the same way, giving over an expression that was somehow pouty and hateful at the same time.

Hoseok could only watch the vacant dance floor, still dumbfounded as his mind failed to comprehend what he had just seen. You and Jungkook dancing together, running your hands over each other. Still, he was not the type to be overly zealous. He would get his chance when the time came. So all he could do was clap Jungkook on the back, perhaps a bit harder than necessary and shake his head. “You lucky, lucky bastard.”

Following the end of the first day shooting, your company treated everyone to dinner at a barbeque place. You had a table to yourself with the boys and more than an hour was spent eating, drinking and laughing as the boys told you more about themselves and they found out more about the girl behind the screen.

It didn’t hit the others as hard as it did Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin, but the feeling crept on them slowly like night swallowing the day, unnoticeable until the very end. They saw the separation between the you that they saw on stage and the you that was the real you, without the managers and company and staff. This was the you that they never realized would captivate them, but you did. And against what seemed like impossible odds, they interested you.

As the boys walked home that night, Yoongi muttered a single phrase that they thought summed up the whole situation pretty well.

“I’m so fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.”

Jungkook walked straight into a pole.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #jungkook x reader #hoseok x reader #jimin x reader #namjoon x reader #taehyung x reader #yoongi x reader #seokjin x reader #sub!bts #sub!jungkook #sub!jimin #fluff #bts fluff #non idol au

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pi-cat000 · 5 years ago

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MSA: Take Two (part 7)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Part 8: here

An energy surge pulses out from his chest and through his torso and limbs, banishing the exhaustion. Arthur feels the prickly sensation of static, reinvigorating his once heavy arms. In an instant, he transitions from utterly drained to painfully alert, like he's downed six cups of coffee and they've all hit at once. He snaps upright, twisting around, fanatically searching for somewhere to hide.

"They can't be here!" He exclaims in a panic, scrambling backward and away from the doors till he hits the front row of seats, "I'll hurt them!" A return to ethereal weightiness causes him to float up a few inches.

Mystery tracks his movement unperturbed, /Do not be ridiculous. You have just spent the last half hour depleting any latent energy build up. This is the perfect time for a reunion./

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" He flails, manoeuvring to remain right side up, "Because it has the opposite effect!"

Begrudgingly, in between the panic, he notes that Mystery is right about the energy depletion. The yellowed sparks of static are far weaker, being fuzzier and more dispersed. Not that that makes him any less alarmed. He shoots the dog what he hopes is an expression akin to reproach and resumes his search for an escape route. When Mystery had said that Arthur would be reuniting with Vivi and Lewis he had assumed it would be at a later date. Not right now.

"How do I get into this thing!" He taps a mechanical finger against the heat at his chest, ignoring the unease it invoked. Apart from sparking once it remained inert. Last time, his trip into the heart…anchor… had just sort of happened. How does one go about dematerialising themselves? He has no idea. Silently, Arthur curses his stupid ghost body with all its weird quirks.

Mystery, unaffected by his continued fretting, stands and trots to the back door.

/You may enter anytime you wish./ Mystery addresses the metal and Arthur assumes that he is projecting his voice to Vivi and Lewis on the other side.

Arthur gives up on the heart and all but throws himself into the van's front seat, ducking low, so he's lying horizontal and shielded from sight. On his back, staring up, he has a good view through the windshield, showing him a darkening night sky dotted with several brighter stars. He can also see the back end of the hospital and its office block. All the building's windows are dark.

The sound of the back door hinges squeaking open is loud and overly ominous.

"Mystery," He hears Vivi's bright laugh, "Your fur is all poofy. That's quite the look."

/A side effect when dealing with beings of the lightning persuasion. It will not be permanent./ Is the blunt response. For a long second, Arthur wishes he knew how to phase through things so he could sink into the seat's upholstery. Surely, as a ghost, that was something he could do.

"But it's adorable…ouch… static shock." The van dips, taking on extra weight. There is the sound of shuffling, and the click of paws while Vivi and Mystery move about.

"Are those scorch marks?" A second, softer, deeper voice has all the static, which had been jumping sporadically about his face and shoulders, stilling, almost freezing in place. Lewis. Arthur doesn't need to see his former friend to know that the other man, alive and well, is peering into the van after Vivi, hesitant to follow due to his larger stature. It has been over two years since they've had a proper interaction, so he's understandably worried. Arthur doesn't consider saving Lewis in the cave or getting chased around by dead-vengeful-ghost-Lewis as a proper interaction.

/I believe I cautioned you to the possibility of environmental damage. Young spirits are often volatile./

Lewis responds with a weary, "Uh. Yeah. You did. I didn't think it would be this extensive." Arthur strains to hear more when Lewis's voice grows quiet towards the end of his sentence.

"Oh, don't worry about that. It'll buff out. Probably." Vivi's enthusiasm is vibrant, drowning out any hesitation.

An amused cough and Lewis is speaking again, “You’re not the one who swore on their favourite paring knife to look after the van.”

“Psh. Arthur was high on pain killers when you made that promise. He’ll be lucky if he remembers we were even there.”

The exchange is relaxed, natural and full of warmth. Arthur grips the heart at his chest, trying to ease the sudden tight sensation. A wave of cold regret radiates outwards, weighing on his mind and limbs. The static turns from a warmer yellow to a paler white colour in response to the emotional shift, like he’s some sort of human-shaped mood ring.

“So where is our new ghosty friend?” Vivi talks, still as animated as ever. Arthur is no longer paying attention, to preoccupied with the growing hollow numbness and a creeping sense of loss.

“Did you do that evaluation? What happened? What did you find out? Does Arthur have a mysterious twin, tragically dead, returned from the grave to reunite with his long-lost brother?”

An eager pause follows the question before Mystery snuffs out loud and responds, /All is well. Our friend is present with us now./

A beat of silence.

“Maybe he’s invisible. Ghosts can go invisible, right?” Vivi mutters.

“Don’t look at me. I know even less than you.”

Arthur is not ready for Mystery’s head to pop up above him, appearing suddenly to stare down from over the seat divider. The unexpected action has him flinching back into the upholstery. A bolt of static jumps up but fizzles out on some invisible barrier before it can make contact.

The dog appears marginally apologetic for startling him, even as he points out, /I believe that was the queue to introduce yourself./ Arthur assumes, hopes, that Mystery is talking exclusively to him and that Vivi and Lewis can’t hear as well. Mystery rests his front paws on the divider, ears pricked forward to catch Arthur’s hushed response.

“You planned this from the start,” He hisses, disliking that Mystery is forcing him into a situation that he definitely doesn’t feel ready for. Arthur is sick of this emotional roller-coaster and wants out.

/Of course I did./ Mystery replies testily, tilting his head to the side, /Believe me, letting emotions fester can have disastrous consequences for a ghost. Best to do this as soon as possible./

Arthur winces, grimacing, thoughts quickly turning to ghost Lewis. Fire. Death. Hate. Whatever expression he’s making, it must be pitiful because Mystery’s dark eyes grow sympathetic, like he’s seriously considering Arthur’s feelings.

A second later, before Arthur can capitalise of Mystery’s new-found sympathy, Vivi’s face joins her dog’s, appearing suddenly above him. Openly curious, she freezes upon seeing him scrunched down into the front seat. Arthur, also freezing, stares back.

Part 8: here

#MSA #mystery skulls animated #fanfiction #fanfic #Vivi Yukino #Lewis pepper #arthur kingsmen #mystery the dog #ghost arthur #talking about stuff #angst

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massmurdera · 6 years ago

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2018 best (and some worst)

2018 was the shittiest year of my life personally and I was a trainwreck almost instantly. I was real hopeful going in, but I got my heart broken as badly as I could get (and it somehow just kept getting worse). Ugh. It’s boring to articulate, but it was a never-ending Russian nesting doll of heartbreak, disappointment, and frustration. But I made more positive changes in the last 12 months than I did in the last 12 years. So that’s something.

TV Funniest go-to show: Desus and Mero (wish they didn’t go on hiatus when they left for Showtime) Favorite shows: 1) Big Mouth 2) Atlanta 3) Killing Eve 4) Bodyguard 5) Haunting of Hill House

Other shows I enjoyed: American Vandal; Homecoming; Americans; GLOW; Better Call Saul; Succession; Cobra Kai; Kominsky Method; Corporate Meh: Barry; Sharp Objects; Who Is America?; Daredevil Favorite Comedy specials: 1) Rory Scovel 2) Bert Kreischer 3) John Mulaney

MOVIES 4 ½ stars: Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse; Sorry to Bother You 4 stars: Quiet Place; Hereditary; Mission Impossible: Fallout; Blackkklansman; Deadpool 2 3 ½ stars: To All the Boys…; Incredibles 2; Game Night; Revenge 3 stars (solid rental): Game Night; Upgrade; Revenge; Ant-Man; Hold the Dark 2 ½ stars (OK rental): Black Panther; Avengers Meh: Love Simon; Support the Girls Probably Good but bored the shit out of me: Roma; First Reformed; Eighth Grade Hated: Mandy; Ballad of Buster Scruggs

STILL NEED TO SEE: Bad Times at El Royale; Bodied; Creed 2; Death of Stalin; Favourite; First Man; Free Solo; Green Book; Halloween; If Beale Street Could Talk; Minding the Gap; Solo; Star is Born; Vice; Widows

MUSIC Favorite Records: 1) Brian Fallon-‘Sleepwalkers’ 2) Story So Far-‘Proper Dose’

1975 has great songs but they have too much filler in their records. Damn good songs: Foxing-‘Nearer My God’; Wonder Years-‘Pyramids of Salt’; Thrice-‘Beyond the Pines’ PODCASTS Favorite Podcasts personally: -Filmdrunk Frotcast (Movies/comedy) -Dollop (history PLUS comedy) -Bill Burr’s Monday Morning Podcast (one-man rant from the best comic alive) -Conan O’Brien Needs a Friend (comedy + conversations) -Rewatchables (Movies/comedy) -Bill Simmons (conversations) -Pardon My Take (sports + comedy) -Chapo Trap House (leftist politics + comedy) -Press Box (media)

Intercepted’s takedown of George HW Bush is great. That show and Citations Needed has its moments. I think if you’re a historian/leftist, the best podcasts are Hardcore History or Common Sense (Dan Carlin), Citations Needed, Intercepted, Chapo Trap House, and the Dollop. Dan Carlin is the one you can enjoy if you’re on ANY political spectrum—and the Dollop is not too far behind; that’s truly the most special when it hits.

Other: My Favorite Murder; Revisionist History; Matty + Nick; Hound Tall; We’ll See You in Hell; Binge Mode: Harry Potter; Bertcast/Open Tabs; Gladiator: Aaron Hernandez

Re-listening to Walking the Room for the 3rd time; that’s my favorite podcast of all time. Late pass: ‘Embedded’ series on Trump is amazing. Doesn’t come out often but when it does? Fascinating and goes in on Trump stories that don’t get talked about. Podcasts I’d recommend: In the Dark; RFK Tapes; Slow Burn (S2 on Monica Lewinsky scandal is great)

‘In the Dark’ is by far the best. S1 in 2016 I prefer over S2; check out both. Podcasts I’m going to check out: Crimetown: Detroit; Serial S3

Vince Mancini (Filmdrunk/Uproxx) has an annual best list on the best investigative/true crime podcasts each year that are the best lists I’ve seen. Best Dollop Episodes of the Year (must-listens on serious subjects): Donald Trump; the Resnicks: Water Monsters; George HW Bush; John McCain; Wells Fargo; Erik Prince & Blackwater

The above subjects deal with subjects to be genuinely outraged about versus faux things to be outraged about everyday (Russia; Louis CK or what a comic said) and the way the media talks or ignores subjects completely. The way it’s done is so great (Dave reading a topic coldly while his friend interjects with commentary—and then in the end coming together with a South Park-esque take on what the fuck is happening)

Other: Feinstein and the Flag; Levittown: the White Suburb Funniest episode of the Dollop: 1908 New York to Paris Car Race (live w/ James Adomian). Hands down the funniest. Dave purposely saved a great one for the fucking great and underrated James Adomian.

I can tune in and out of some Dollop episodes, but when it goes in on a subject or has a particular guest, you know it’s going to hit.

BOOKS Favorite book: City of Thieves by David Benioff Late pass great: ‘Slaughterhouse Five’ Pretty good: ‘Devil in White City’; ‘Lexicon’ Meh: ‘Sirens of Titan’ Hated: ‘the Bell Jar’

Best twitter follows/online writers: Justin Halpern; Drew Magary; Brian Grubb

BEST EVENTS: 1) Gaslight Anthem 59 Sound 10th Anniversary 2) Boston Calling: the National, Menzingers, Queens of the Stone Age, the Killers 3) Bert Kreischer @ Wilbur: near front row 4) Bill Burr @ TD Garden 5) Pats-Titans playoff game

Biggest regret and disappointment: Moving my ‘ex’ into my friend’s house in January (with the hope that I’d be living there half the time too)—only for her to end up wanting NOTHING at all to do with me that same day after I helped her unpack out of nowhere, threaten suicide in a non-joking manner in front of her new roommates and my friend after a political argument at the end of the first night she moved in, get with someone we work with behind my back almost instantly (a bland and lame cokehead who got busted for cocaine 18 months prior and faced 7 years in jail), try to fuck my friend when I was mid-conversation with them both first time seeing her 3 months after it all ended—and for her to eventually date my friend’s roommate who my friend warned me would try and fuck her but I didn’t take seriously because I thought he wasn’t good looking, tiny, just vaped all day long, and kind of a douche. Cool. Awesome.

I mean, that’s a simplistic breakdown of it all and how I feel about it when I’m angry. It’s more complex and fucked up than that and I could write a book on it to elaborate my thoughts, good and bad. It’s genuinely heartbreaking to articulate it and I withheld that from her: part of the reason why I moved her into my friend’s place (she didn’t know him or anybody) was because I wanted her in my life and didn’t want to lose her. Instead, it felt like I locked myself out of a party, I’m banging on the door and it’s cold outside, but nobody hears me. It’s just that feeling constantly. At the same time, it’s also very simple: she just wasn’t that into me, valued me, gave a damn, respected me, or cared. It’s NOT as angry or mean as it sounds. It just is what it is. Do NOT move the person you’re seeing into a friend’s place. If it doesn’t work out, make sure you can get a clean break. Oh, and probably do NOT date at work if you can until you know one of you is leaving (or, in my case, she leaves 10+ months after it’. I fucked both up and it’s been impossible to move on. Thankfully, she just left work 2 weeks ago and there’s less anxiety, mental work (thinking about her all the time which I still do but it’s not on maximum overdrive) and tiny heartbreaks each day. I mean, I was devastated when she told me she was leaving and there was finality. I miss her and have missed her all this time, but it’s a good thing: there was nothing I was getting out of it. But still: why did she say yes to moving into MY friend’ s place if she was just going to do a 360 heel turn, be an asshole and resentful towards me out of nowhere, never bother seeing the place I moved into/what I did with it?. Just a disaster of my own creation. I like to think in time I’ll get over it all and move on. I highly doubt I’ll ever see or talk to her again. I refuse to ever go back to my friend’s house for a variety of reasons and I had those thoughts even before the Cinco de Mayo party, but definitely after. I just don’t belong there and it hurts. And I know she’s uncomfortable too if I’m there even if she says otherwise.

Best thing personally: my brother got married, his wedding, friends, and my family. It’s cool to see my brother have his life together, be married into an awesome family, and meet a nice girl. I’ve seen my brother have his heartbreaks, but it’s nice to see him finally have peace and consistency. He’s got a really great house near where the Pats play (closer than where we’d park to games), works 4 days a week and makes bank too.

BIGGEST CHANGES I MADE moved out to a place of my own in late January-it’s my uncle’s 3-decker, which he intends to pass on to me. So I’m saving $ by being here and it’s decent. The drawback is that it’s 3rd floor and inhospitable during the summer when it’s an oven with no windows where they should be to put an AC unit in (I just stayed at my parents: I would have toughed it out but I desperately need sleep for school). But yeah, I’m over 30 and needed a place of my own. I’d love to live in Boston, but it’s completely fucking unaffordable unless you work 2-3 jobs.

One annoying thing: my driveway gets egged EVERY day since May. We have fake cameras, but pretty sure it’s the next-door neighbor and not some punk kids on their way to school. It is enraging. Who eggs a house everyday? And it’s literally only my car or the lady next to me, not even close to the street. I keep on looking at the trajectory of the eggs and it’s fucking ridiculous. Luckily, because of school (and because I was away during the summer), the egging doesn’t happen until after 8-10 AM.

I’m 10 minutes from my parent’s place (halfway to my workplace and gym as a cut-off place), 5 minutes from the school I attend, and centrally located to things I want to be (Boston, my brother, Cape Cod, possible job changes or to where I intend to move if I can)… went to school to be an electrician-In school 715 to 1245 Monday-Friday. Pain in the ass schedule and tiring, but a big change. I suck at being handy. Most people are sons of people in the trade or went to trade school. Then there’s me: never picked up a drill or a hammer. But I’m working on it.

I mean, the job IS risky (it’s not an office job) and any job outside of going back to school for a master’s or doctorate to get ahead (I fucking tried!) requires backbreaking manual work that breaks you down in most cases (construction, plumbing and smelling bad to even fixing cars where I hear that breaks your body down). Being an electrician seemed like the least of them all unless you want to be a linesman stuck outside no matter the weather for National Grid or down in manholes��because they pay REALLY well (most people in class actually want those jobs without reservations). I’m fine with being paid pretty well while enjoying myself. I’ll stay away from something monotonous like solar panels or being on a roof all day though.

Jiu-Jitsu-did this for 3 months and loved it. Had to take a break because I can only do weekends and it’s expensive. And I’m too exhausted for 9 AM class come Saturday. After a 6 AM to 12AM schedule M-F, I just completely fucking crash come Saturday. I fully intend on going back and doing yoga too when I finish school in July.

Most people start doing jiu-jitsu because of Joe Rogan. My answer got a laugh. ‘Yeah, I wanted to try something new. Also, I watched John Wick about a 100 times.’

Therapy-post ‘break-up’ I realized I needed help. I spent a month in February not being able to fall asleep (maybe 24 hours sleep in 3 weeks) before I finally got meds. About a million waking nightmares (holy shit that’s a thing). Constantly crying, particularly on the weekends without her, separation anxiety and just anxiety that did not go away at all: a constant weight. We had a Jim-and-Pam relationship at work, even when it was over—but once she started dating my friend’s roommate, she distanced herself more than ever and it was just fake as fuck. I was frustrated with not finding a job to not passing a test that I studied my ass for 3+ months for that would allow me to leave my job AND the girl. They threw in shit that was not on the study guide at all in the test. Blah. I punched a hole through my bedroom wall (like they do in the movies) and fucked up my hand a bit.

But yeah, I’m working on my confidence, following through with my goals, challenging myself, making adjustments, facing fears, getting over my anxiety, relationships. I’m proud of how, even without therapy, I handled the girl who was cold and distant: I was ALWAYS warm and welcoming, had a good attitude about it with her. It wasn’t a point of pride to be that way; I just was. If I was around her, the hurt just kind of all faded, however briefly. In the back of my head I wanted to light her the fuck up for how she was acting or NOT acting, but I just didn’t. But it’s hard. I am depressed all the time, but not nearly as overwhelming as I was. I’m really lonesome—and I want to reach out, but I don’t know to who a lot of the time. I feel left out and it’s hard to maintain relationships, but I am trying. It’s hard at 32 but people fade away. You think you’re wiser and more mature that it won’t happen, but it does. It’s just harder to make friends, I guess. I ruminate all the time and think too much. I’m trying to be mindful and in the moment. But I keep on thinking about all the things I’m NOT doing or the things I’m waiting for to happen. But there’s always going to be that. I am doing a LOT and the changes aren’t coming all at once. I like my therapist (I had one when I was in 5th grade and again when I was 19: I didn’t like them: finding a therapist that fits you is the biggest thing)

I realized a lot of the problems I had were patterns even going back to the heartbreak I felt at 18-20 when I was the worst mess I ever was. It wasn’t the girl who broke my heart, but it was me. I should have been better and stronger far before I met her. I wasn’t really living I don’t think. In some ways, I gave up and was sleepwalking through things. But everything I thought I was past just bubbled to the surface. And I had to get it right, something needed to change, and I needed help.

I withheld my problems from everybody because I didn’t want to be a burden. I especially did NOT want to be depressing but I think I became a burden for the girl who broke my heart. She had nothing to give and she was upset at me for talking to her at work and being cheerful, telling stories, or anything. Secretly, I was a mess and it was painful. In a way, I was denying myself and that made it worse.

Here’s the thing: I don’t think I’m that big of a mess. I might be lonely, but I got a good head, attitude, and people generally like me. I make people laugh easily and without trying. I got a lot going for me and I got support.

Tattoos -got the lighthouse tattoo I always wanted since I was 18. I didn’t believe a tattoo artist could carry out my idea. Liked the tattoo artist so much that I stretched it out into a full sleeve. I want to do more and have some ideas. We’ll see.

Other-new car; collecting board games; got tour posters and Pats memorabilia framed WORST POLITICAL: the chaos that comes with Trump-Well, that hasn’t changed. I’ll hate the GOP/Republicans and that goes without saying. I have some small hope with people like Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez, but I don’t have any faith in the Democratic party at fucking all: they will rather work with Republicans than work with people who actually want to make an actual change. You kind of just realize how shitty a party they and Obama were and how they are bought/paid for and resistant to any meaningful change. We are fucked.

LOOK AHEAD TO 2019: -finishing school in July and starting new career as electrician -cousin’s wedding and going to Las Vegas for a bachelor party (I’m more psyched for the awesome house we are staying in than Vegas itself) -Pats playoff run and possible end of Brady-Gronk: I’m not hopeful, but I’m going to enjoy my favorite Boston athletes of my lifetime. Couldn’t ask for anything more from them. I just wish Bill Belichick did a better job as a GM and not fucking up nearly every draft since 2006 besides 2010 and 2012. They’ve won 5, but feels like Belichick cost the Pats 3-5 more minimum. Every year you have Tom Brady, you’re in the AFC Championship or Super Bowl. Belichick and Patricia mailed in the Eagles Super Bowl on defense. WTF was that? -doing jiu-jitsu, yoga, taking up swimming, continue following through on my gym program: my goal is to delay having a bad back as long as possible. I’m in the best shape of my life by far, so that’s good. I want to cut some of my gut weight out though: when I bend down to put on my work boots, I feel it. -more tattoos? -dating again (I am struggling so BADLY with online dating and need to work on having better pics: I can’t get a single match/date) -looking at buying a condo or home. I’ve got about $100K saved up and just slowly collecting things in my apartment for the big transition. Still would like to see where I end up working. Ideally, I’d love to have a lake house somewhere decent and centralized.

BOOKS: -Don Winslow wrapping up cartel/border trilogy -new Gillian Flynn?!? -Marlon James’ African Game of Thrones trilogy begins -Stephen King

TV 1a) Desus and Mero returns 1b) Game of Thrones final season 2) Veep final season 3) Lovecraft Country 4) Watchmen 5) Stranger Things 6) Good Omens 7) Devs 8) Fosse/Verdon

NEW: City on a Hill; Deadwood movie; Star Wars; Veronica Mars

MUSIC -Boston Callling -new: 1975, Bruce Springsteen

MOVIES: 1) Once Upon a Time in Hollywood 2) John Wick III 3) Us Toy Story IV 4) Fast and Furious: Hobbs and Shaw OTHER: Avengers; Captain Marvel; Glass; It 2; Joker; Lego Movie 2; Spiderman; Star Wars; Under the Silver Lake; Where’d You Go Bernadette; Zombieland 2

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