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otp-holic · 3 years

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The one place (where something happened) (A03)

“In your life there are a few places, or maybe only the one place, where something happened, and then there are all the other places.” Alice Munro. (or the one where they receive a letter from a familiar name and we go into 4Ks of fluff around a lost afternoon in France)

4K. Lamely explicit at one point. Fanfic + Pictures Inside. Trigger for FLUFF as the main plot. Part of the Never let us lose what we have gained series (AO3)

This was supposed to be a manip with 200 words of bantering and it's now 4Ks of fluff with a few pictures. I've decided to leave them inside the cut because I feel they work better with its context there. I'm sorry for the hassle, but I really hope you give this a chance... unless you have cavities, only like fics with amazing plots or are allergic to shameless fluff.

Please do not repost the pictures, I know this is futile, but… I try :)

DAGUERROTYPE, France 1944 Private Collection.

Steve is cooling down from his very early run, enjoying the feeling of the pink sunrise looming over the awakening Brooklyn streets as he walks the last couple of blocks on the way home, when his phone beeps.

“Check your actual mailbox, we dropped something for you there. I think you should appreciate us making it old-fashioned just for you, grandpas!”

Steve smiles at Sam’s text and as soon as he arrives at their building he snaps a picture of the very common and flat envelope with “Barnes&Rogers” scribbled on top of a Stark Logo, to send along his response.

“Nice try, but this is inaccurate. A letter would have never made its way to us without an address or stamp. We’ll send you a proper thank you card to show you how it’s done.”

He can’t help but chuckle at his own joke rereading the text while he opens the door, and when he looks up from his phone and into the kitchen, he is received by a sleepy Bucky looking at the coffee machine like he looks at Steve during their most soft and embarrassingly cheesy moments.

“You love that thing more than you love me, confess it.”

“In the mornings? Yes. I don’t even like you in the mornings most of the time,” he answers matter of factly. “Want some?”

Steve playfully wiggles an eyebrow.

“No way. Your sweaty self is tempting, but coffee smells better. I might join you in the shower later.” Bucky offers him one of the two cups he has poured and he notices the envelope Steve is holding. “What is that?”

“We’ve got mail!” He hands it to Bucky. “I have no idea what's on it, but Sam texted me to say they had something delivered to our mailbox and there it was. Open it.”

Bucky leaves the cup on the counter, face sparked with a curiosity that makes him look twenty-one (and Steve weak on the knees), and goes for it.

The content is a bit underwhelming at first glance: Another envelope, white, no Stark logo, but topped with a bright green post-it with a note on Pepper’s script.

“This got to me via PR. We analyzed it and checked with the source (no peeking, I swear) and it seems legit. With that return address, it’s likely to arouse your interest. Love, P.”

Bucky tears off the post-it and the letter is revealed to be addressed to Steve Rogers at the Stark Tower, but it is when they turn it around when everything goes still for a second.

The return address is some street in Marseille, but what has Steve’s mouth dry and Bucky’s hand trembling just a bit is the combination of the place and the name written on top: Emmanuelle Jaques Dernier.

“Boom?”, Bucky says, trying to cut through their heavy hearts and taking Steve’s hand. It’s a terrible terrible joke, but Dernier would have loved it and he grins.

“That’s a terrible terrible joke,” Steve verbalizes, “but I think at least we’ve reached the same conclusion.”

“Elementary, my dear Steve,” Bucky answers as he opens the second envelope, only to reveal a folded letter and yet another envelope. “It’s a fucking vault of paper!”

Steve takes the letter from him, unfolds it, and quickly scans it (normal office paper, printed, hand-signed) before he starts reading it out loud to Bucky’s undivided attention.

“Dear Mr. Rogers,

My name is Emmanuelle Dernier and I am the great-grandson of Jaques Dernier of the Howling Commandos.

First, let me tell you that we all in our family grew up with amazing stories and praise for you, Sergeant Barnes, and the rest of the team. I never got to meet my great-grandfather or any of them (you), but I’ve always felt like I did.

In fact, that’s the ultimate reason behind this letter: I ached to honor him and I’ve been putting in order all his remaining letters, pictures, and memories so they don’t get lost forever, and there are many things I’m discovering through this journey. So many pictures and tiny details… and amongst them, you and the rest of the Commandos appear at the most random and memorable moments. Nothing that’s going to make it into history books, more like the stories my grandpa used to share with us over and over again, those important tidbits that make him more human.

Anyway, I was going through the pictures he kept when I came across some war photos that didn’t seem to match the 40s timeframe. Typical daguerreotypes from the 20s in a very bad state, probably taken with a camera from the era in 1944 and developed on a later date by somebody who clearly didn’t master the technique.

They were in a very bad state and hidden inside an envelope that said “Terribly drunk soldiers in France making idiots of ourselves in unique and creative ways. Fun evening, horrible hangover. About 20 miles west of the Maginot Line. Autumn ‘44”. I’m attaching a photocopy of that, I hope you can understand my decision to keep the original.

After restoring the daguerreotypes with some experts, all I got were five very bad pictures with silhouettes of people apparently having fun…. but there was one that got a lot better in the cleaning process that feels important somehow. I’m sending the original, as well as the restored version I got.

I, of course, don’t have the whole context, but I hope it brings back a good memory. My great-grandpa might be in the picture, but I don’t think this one belongs to my family or to a museum.

Thank you for your service, I really hope this letter finds its way to you.

E.Dernier.”

“I can’t believe… Steve, most days I’m convinced that day and that place are a figment of my imagination,” Bucky smiles, remembering. “When I think of a moment of pure joy during the war, I think about that afternoon in France, and it always feels unreal. A bubble of air and laughter while we were so surrounded by death.”

Steve nods, reminiscing about that warm and humid September morning when they arrived at yet another abandoned and destroyed little village, this one about twenty miles west of the Maginot Line. They had orders to lie low and wait for twenty-four hours before they started the maneuver to wipe another Hydra base off the map, and that little town was perfect for that.

Among bomb debris and fallen walls, they found one small building miraculously standing next to the remains of the church, so they decided to set camp under a roof for a change since the weather was being a little flickery with the rain, and they had the rare luxury of time.

The inside of the tiny house was as unusual as the outside: nothing was destroyed beyond being dusty and worn by time, and everything they found (furniture, kitchenware, and even fabrics) belonged more to Steve and Bucky’s early childhoods than to 1944, a living museum frozen in time.

Only it was not a museum, but the parish house left untouched and non-raided: old-fashioned clothes, outdated church books, yellowing clergy collars, and, of course, the wine cellar. Oh, that wine cellar… the havoc it unleashed.

“I remember the absolute excitement when Falsworth found all those bottles of old unscathed mass wine from the parish,” Steve brings his memory to words, looking at Bucky, “I’m still a little convinced that we are going to hell for drinking them.”

“Not for that, probably, but it was a wonder nobody died on the spot of wine poisoning, it tasted like sweet vinegar, ugh.”

“But it did his part, right? Took our minds off things; got us drunk, bold and silly.” Steve answers.

“Apparently not all of us,” Bucky says very seriously, looking at Steve.

“Technicalities… I got drunk by proxy. Seeing you all so happy made me giddy and tipsy, too.”

“I came and went… I remember being a little surprised at the clarity of my thoughts at some moments there when some of the guys were basically drooling on the floor. Now I understand, of course.”

Steve squeezes his hand, not much to be said there.

They were already way too drunk by the early afternoon, drinking to the sound of a sudden rainstorm pouring outside. All of them scattered across the small dusty living room and its adjoining kitchen while they went through all the bottles of wine they had been able to find. Cheering for the foregone priest every time somebody raised a glass, and laughing as if there were no ruins or war on the other side; just silly men (boys, really) laughing their hearts out.

“Earth to Steve… I don’t know about you, but I’m dying to see what the hell that envelope is hiding. Especially now that we know about its time stamp.”

“I’m sorry, me too! Gabe drunkenly handling that old camera and those glass plaques the way he did? I’m honestly impressed that he was able to take any pictures at all,” he muses. “Shit, is it weird that I’m nervous?”

“I’m gonna save us the bantering because I’m nervous, too,” Bucky answers in all sincerity. “Truth is, Steve, I remember everything about that day.”

It’s a new admission, a newly opened door for them because for some reason, they have never talked about that peaceful surreal afternoon, and Steve nods in recognition as he silently goes for the envelope one-handed, not wanting to let go of Bucky’s hand because his surface is way cooler than his wrenching insides. Maybe the picture is an overexposed french wall but maybe…

The photo he extracts from the envelope is clearly the original and damaged one Emmanuelle specified in his letter. Anybody else looking at it would see nothing beyond Dernier’s blurry profile, but since Steve and Bucky were there when this was taken, they know exactly what moment Steve is holding in his hand.

“Buck,…” is all Steve can say, struck by the blurry keepsake.

Later in the afternoon when they had already consumed most of the wine and there was not a single coherent thought left in the room, one of the guys took the parish books and besottedly announced that there was a wedding set for today… thirty years ago. Alcohol fueled a goofy idea that escalated at the speed of light, with Morita saying they were going to a wedding because they deserved a celebration, Dernier confessing that he had once considered becoming a priest, and Dum-dum bringing out all the old fashioned clothes from the wardrobe and deciding they were getting nice and clean for the festivities.

“That’s clearly Dernier in the picture killing it in his priest role, right?” Bucky says, half smiling and interrupting Steve’s thoughts. “You know, I went all-in with that fake wedding party. I was laughing to tears when I saw you put on that ridiculously long and ill-fitting jacket from the 10s, feeling weightless and silly for the first time since sailing off, and God knows we all deserved that. And it was all safe and light-hearted until fucking Morita decided you had to be the groom, and...”

“Were you jealous because I won the dashing groom competition?”

Steve’s attempt at a joke is weak, but there’s truth behind it: Morita chose Steve as the groom (“Cap, you are the most dashing and the least drunk”) to a chorus of excited voices cheering for him. Somebody else, most likely Dum-Dum, chose the rest of the roles (Sarge, best man duty; Jones, camera; Morita, keep the wine flowing; the rest of you, misbehave!) and in the blink of an eye, they were all going outside laughing under a light rain, and about to celebrate Steve’s fictional wedding to nobody.

“How could I be jealous?” Bucky cuts in. “Do you remember all you said to me that afternoon? During World War II and in front of a battalion of men?”

“I was drunk.”

“Fuck you!” Bucky disentangles his hand from Steve’s to use both of them to hold Steve’s face and kiss him with violence. “Tell me. Do you remember what you said?”

As if he could ever forget. He can recall every step he took from the house to the makeshift wedding spot amidst the trees where his best man (looking dapper even in that ludicrous jacket) was laughing along Dernier. He can still smell the petrichor, can still sense the blush coloring his cheeks while hoping nobody noticed and can still hear the beating of his heart when Bucky handed him a battered umbrella (“You don’t deserve to get rained on your wedding day, punk”) and a fucking ring made out his shoelaces (“You’ll have to buy something a little more permanent.”). And then…

“Dernier started the ceremony and he wanted to know if I had somebody in mind and I said ‘of course’.” He replays, his voice barely a whisper. “I said I’d had my eyes on a brown-haired Brooklynite since before I could remember. I said that I was pretty sure those blue eyes were set on mine too and that hopefully those eyes would be set enough to want to marry me even if I had never dared to ask.”

He’s been holding Bucky’s gaze the whole time, and he’s far from over yet, but he needs to fucking breathe before he goes on. Neither of them has moved a muscle for the past minute.

“Then he asked me to repeat the wedding vows after him and…”

“And you said Buck, right?”, Bucky interrupts, voice winded. “You fucking whispered I take you, Buck, as my lawful wedded husband till the end of the line. I heard, Steve. Even if the rest of the world didn’t, I did. But you never said anything, so I always deemed it impossible, a product of the corniest nook of my mind trying to outweigh all those bad things, because not even you could be as bold, reckless, and mushy as to do that,…it’s my fucking fault, I should have known better!”

“Not completely reckless, pal. I was scared shitless as I said those words, but what else could I do? You were right by my side about to put a ring on my finger as my “best man”, everyone, including you, supposedly drunk past recollection, and everybody else too far away to hear my whispers. It was such an easy choice in the end because truth should always win over fear. And those vows were. The truth.”

“You have always been too honest for your own good, Rogers,” Bucky is breathless and exasperated and goes for his mouth again, bringing in all he (they) couldn’t in 1944. “You destroyed me, Steve. My knees were as weak as a teenager’s in front of his first crush. I wanted to kiss you so badly when I heard you say all that there in the open… and I couldn’t even acknowledge it.”

“I know. And for what it's worth, I really thought you didn’t remember.”

It is too much. Is it normal to feel this much? Steve would blame it on the serum enhancements, but he was already overwhelmed at 16, so that’s clearly not the answer.

He craves, no, he needs touching, grounding, closer. Bucky. There’s too much space between them even if they are back to kissing like they would have that day in 44, and at any other time if their own lives wouldn’t have stolen those moments from them.

“It happened.” Bucky whimpers, biting on Steve’s lip who abandons his own stool to straddle him, both of them gasping in sync at the feeling of their cocks, hard against each other’s through their soft pants.

Bucky soon ups the stakes by carding his metal hand through Steve’s hair pulling his head backwards to help himself into that spot on his neck.

“Same two moles as when you were tiny, as when we were at that war... Your cute vampire bite. Favorite spot.” He licks on them with the tip of his tongue. Steve growls on cue and Bucky giggles. “Favorite chain reaction.”

“Buck, you cheater, you know what that does to me!” Steve cries out followed by Bucky’s evil chuckle.”Bed, couch, countertop,…I don’t care, but naked. Now. Stained pants due to heavy petting are too much of a trip down memory lane for me. Let me keep a bit of my dignity.”

Steve stands up liberating Bucky from his grip but aching at the loss of contact.

They are naked and making out in the middle of the kitchen in no time; Bucky steadily pushing him against the refrigerator while fiercely grinding against his crotch.

“Hey, ‘teve,” Bucky pants. “The way this is going, it’s my dignity now that's at risk. I don’t think I can make it further than the floor before I come.”

Steve groans into his mouth just at the thought and they start sliding to the floor the best they can until he’s a human blanket moving over Bucky. With no lube at hand, and no time, that’s their best option.

They kiss and kiss and kiss, his hands not leaving Bucky’s sweaty hair. Bucky’s hands on his ass, forcing their groins closer with one while he (almost absently) plays around his hole with the other, driving Steve crazy in the process. Dicks left to do their own thing through pressure and friction. Everything is working. And fast.

“Oh, fuck!” Bucky exclaims “Can you promise me all this stuff with the letter was real and not a long-con plan to assure your fragile masculinity that I love you more than I love that espresso machine?”

That. That silly unfunny excuse of a joke that screams Bucky all over is what pushes Steve all the way over the edge. He fucking laughs as he comes making absolutely embarrassing sounds, pressing their foreheads and noses together until it hurts, and shaking from head to toe without stoping his pressure on the stupid and smug man under him. His lover. His partner. His unofficial husband. His best friend.

His Buck.

“There’s still too much blood in your brain if you can play that dirty,” Steve states, placing one hand between them grabbing Bucky’s hard cock. “Let’s see if I can do anything about it.”

“Your hand, usually so helpful, but I was already following you after that sound you make when you come and laugh at the same time, shit, it always goes straight to my dick, I’m,…” he keeps talking with difficulty between breaths and moans until he leaves his speech unfinished coming all over Steve’s fist.

They kiss on the lips breathing into each other before Steve rolls over. They are sticky and panting in silence, spread on their kitchen’s floor, Steve’s shoulders crushed between Bucky’s and the dishwasher. Domestic bliss at its most literal.

One lavish fuck and two showers later they reemerge into the kitchen in search of something to eat: Bucky is in charge of the food today, while Steve cleans the mess they left a couple of hours ago.

He’s decluttering the counter when their damaged picture laying there puts a smile on his face but also reminds him of the restored version presumably still waiting inside the disregarded letter, so he grabs the envelope to retrieve its contents: one photocopy (from Dernier’s original writing), and the promised photo.

And it is restored. Everything is clear where it was blurry before: Dernier (so deep into his priest impersonation that he’s not even looking at them), the trees, the battered umbrella, the ridiculous jackets… and them.

“You had the nerve to call me reckless and mushy, Buck?” Steve laughs as he stares at the picture where a very young Bucky is about to put a ring on his finger with the least subtle lovestruck expression he’s ever seen (“and it’s for you”, his brain proudly reminds him) “Wow, you might as well be kissing me there, anything would be more subtle than this!”

“Don’t shame me, you punk, especially not when you were the one responsible for breaking my brain back then!” Bucky answers coming from behind and stealing the picture from his hands to scrutinize it. Goofy grin and raging blush quickly taking over his face. “But you’re one to talk, Cap. You are gazing at that shoelace’s ring as if I were handing you a diamond tiara!”

Steve laughs softly at that and moves his right hand to his pocket, feeling the weight of the little compass he had retrieved earlier from one of his drawers. He used to carry it with him everywhere for comfort, but he has a better option now.

“Didn't you know that shoelaces are forever?” He asks, taking the compass out of his pocket and holding it in both hands as he opens it, nudging Bucky with his elbow to get his attention.

Bucky is confused for an instant while he looks at his young face staring at them from inside the little box. Of course he knew that (he made fun of Steve for days and days) but Steve detects the change in his expression when he notices the other thing.

“Wow, you gigantic sap,” Bucky says, taking the compass out of his hands to double-check he is seeing what he thinks he’s seeing. “You saved my shoelace.”

He had. While they were all celebrating his wedding under the rain dancing to no music, he quietly slipped the little string off his finger and tied it to the most secure place he had back then.

“It’s not a shoelace, you jerk, it’s a symbol. A declaration.” He laughs, stealing the compass back to safely pocket it again.

“You are delusional,” Bucky snorts, kissing the top of his head. But he’s widely smiling and lost in thought as he goes back to their sandwiches.

Steve stays on the spot enjoying the peace in their silent companionship, his focus on the latest news showing up on his phone, the text he’s writing to Sam and the comforting sounds of Bucky moving around the kitchen.

“You might have married me, but I never actually married you.” Bucky blurts out of the blue a bit later, sitting by his side as he hands him a plate with a sandwich and some grilled greens on it. “Do you want mayo with that?”

“Uh?” Steve forgets all about the news and the text and looks at Bucky in confusion.

“Mayo, do you want some?” Bucky repeats nonchalantly.

“No mayo, thank you; but I was actually more interested in the other part, you know, that thing about marriage?”

Bucky looks him in the eye: earnest, blushing and with the same look of smug adoration he had on the picture.

“Oh, that part.” He jokes. “You apparently married me in 1944, but I never married you back. And I would like to.”

“Marry me?” Steve asks and Bucky visibly nods.

“I’m sorry for throwing the idea at you like this, books tell me I'm supposed to have candles, music, and a ring, but you showed me that restored picture and I couldn't stop thinking about it, about proof,” Bucky speaks uncharacteristically slow and very softly, voice trembling here and there while he claps his hand with Steve’s finger by finger for reassurance and as a distraction. “A single photo had the power to transform a moment that existed just as a made-up happy place inside my mind into something tangible and real. Something that would be tangible and real for anybody getting a hold on it and looking at our stupid faces.”

“So stealthy,” Steve says, and they both laugh together.

“Proof, Steve. I was slicing tomatoes and thinking how there’s so much evidence, thousands of files! out there proving that all the stuff that fuels my nightmares were real, but nothing solid about this. Us.” Bucky stops for a moment collecting his thoughts, still smiling even with the heavy subject he just dropped into the mix. “Sorry, I believe I put more time into these sandwiches than into thinking this all the way through so I’m…”

“Take your time, we’ve gone from mayo to marriage to nightmares in five minutes so don’t worry, you have me hooked here.”

Steve makes Bucky laugh again as he intended, and he feels their calloused laced fingers immediately squeezing closer.

“It’s stupid because it doesn’t change anything for us but,.. I don’t fucking know, Steve, I think that picture has messed up with my mind! I instantly found comfort in the idea of people finding facts beyond the nightmares now or in the future. An easy to understand, universal and oversimplified proof of how much I loved you and how much I was loved in return.” Bucky takes a breath and stares at him sporting a million-watt smile. “Marrying you,… I would really love that. And for real this time.”

“Ok, Buck.” Steve instantly replies, eagerness winning over thoughtful and heartfelt declarations. He tightens the grip on their joined hands to drive them to his lips and seals the easiest answer he’s ever had to give.

And it's done!Sorry for the cavities, for going on with the fic when it should have ended and for ending it where it might have had to keep going. It was painful and fun. I'm free!

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forthehpfanboys · 4 years

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Calling It Even

Pair: Ron Weasley x Reader; he/him.

Summary: You just moved 'across the pond' from Ilvermorny to Hogwarts, but before you actually moved you'd made a friend! Well, two and you just so happen to bump into them at the Leaky Couldren!

Warnings: Swearing, Slightly Suggestive (Ron's raging hormones™).

Note: Hi! This is my first time writing and posting a fic in a few years, so I'm sorry for spelling errors or stupid mistakes! It'll get better as I rewarm my.. Writing.. Muscles? Anyway, Thank you for reading! Let me now if this is good and enjoy!

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

Moving from the US to Britain was just as stressful as you figured it would be, but going from Ilvermorny to Hogwarts felt like an actual asteroid was thrown into your world. You had to leave behind your friends, close relatives and of course your home, then you had a whole new school to deal with on top of that. Different houses, different teachers, different classes and the rules. Merlin's beard, were the rules different. You can distinctly remember bombarding your guardian with question after question. You were still surprised you got to carry your wand around with you outside of school! Of course the actual moving process had taken its toll on your guardians, and they knew what it was doing to you. You were tired, emotionally, physically- Godric, did you need a break before school started.

You would be starting your fifth year when summer ended, and that was in a few weeks or so. This should’ve given you the time to gather up the books, potion supplies and robes needed, maybe even find some friends your age, but you had other plans, apparently. You had spent the entire summer huddled over their desk waiting for an owl to return with a response letter and avoiding the cluttered shopping strip. You didn’t wanna tackle getting lost and missing a response from your favorite redheads. Now, your headmaster at Ilvermorny had recommended you create a quill-pal at Hogwarts so it felt less chaotic when you arrived, but you ended up finding two that were the pure embodiment of chaos.

So, technically, you did end up making friends with the program, just not what you expected. Each letter was seemingly cut in half, one with orange ink, one with purple. In said response, you learned the orange was usually Fred and purple was usually Georges. In said letters, you learned they are two years older than you, live in what they call a ‘Burrow’ and owning their own shop was definitely wrapped in their future. You spent a solid year getting to know the Infamously Famous,Charming and Totally Destructive personality of the Weasley Twins. Honestly, you seriously looked forward to seeing them in person, even if it was their last year. You three managed to get along like you’d known each other their entire lives. Best part is they promised to find you on the first day and show you around!

You remember Fred mentioning their roles on the Quidditch team and George saying something about pranks with fireworks and you knew. Oh, you knew the three of you would cause chaos and you were so excited. The red-headed duo also promised they’d introduce you to their friends and their extensive family. Fred had brought up having a younger brother your age and judging from the cluttered moving photo they sent you, he was awkward but in the best way. You managed to remember the names of the red-headed family members only because of the scribbled writing on said photo pointing out who was who. But for whatever reason, the youngest Weasley son always manages to be the first one you notice yourself staring at. He was genuinely really cute. Blue eyes, freckles, red hair, absolutely adorable- Ok. So you may have a crush on him without even knowing him but you can not blame yourself. The twins told you stories about the younger redhead and he only got cuter as time went on, but I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I?

Currently, you are walking down Diagon Alley. Not only did you need a break from unpacking, sorting and waiting for the Weasley's owl to return, but you also needed to restock on quills. Yup. Of all things, quills. (P/n) has this terrible chewing habit and adores the flavor of quills, or so you guess. You loved the rascal to bits, but damn, they ate the feathers like they drank water. Your guardian said they would finish unpacking the very few boxes your family were collectively avoiding while you went shopping down the popular alley. Oh! And speaking of water, you glanced up from the cobblestone pathway and noted the Leaky Cauldron sign hanging a few shops down. You’d heard stories of how comfortable the atmosphere of the little restaurant had been from the Weasleys and you couldn’t help but overhear wizards and witches around you chatting it up about possibly getting a butterbeer. You decided, why not? Could spare a few coins to buy the golden drink or maybe just a water. It was, like, 90 degrees outside and the cluttered path way didn’t help the soft summer breeze flow through at all.

You gently nudged your way through the bustling crowd of wizards and witches and pushed open the creaky old door. The smell of sweetness and smoke hit your noise as you stepped in, your eyes briefly wandering over the crowd, looking for an empty table. Once you spotted a table for two in the corner, you gently shuffled past crowded tables and rushed waiters apologizing as you went by. Finally sitting down at the small table, you let out a relieved sigh, not noticing a set of eyes following your every movement. Your eyes easily wandered around the shop but landed on piercing blue across the small restaurant. You immediately snapped your gaze to the fire pit and walls, choosing to avoid the gaze until a server walked over. You were tracing the gray, worn down bricks of the wall right next to you when an older woman in a simple uniform walked over the table.

“Good evenin, love. What can I get you?” she casted a bright smile your way, her hands in the small pocket of her apron as she waited for a response.

“Just a butterbeer, please.” You managed to stutter out, sending her a shy smile back. She nodded her head and headed off to another table after putting in your order.

Once she left, your eyes met a set of blue eyes once again. The longer you looked, the more you thought they were formilair, but you turned away, choosing not to dwell on anything besides the table that was placed in front of you. You were so busy tracing the grooves in the old wooden table, you didn’t notice the owner of the blue eyes nudge the red-head next to him and point in your direction. What finally brought you out of the tracing trance was a glass mug filled with liquid golden and soft foam slide toward you, followed by the sound of chairs scraping the old wooden floor and a distinct female voice calling out “where are you two going now?” Your hands wrapped around the glass and just before you could bring it to your lips, two people moving toward the table got your attention. You turned to look up and almost choked on air, your chest shaking as you coughed causing your mug to nearly empty all over the table. You didn’t even have time to fully register who was advancing closer because the warm drink was flowing off the table and onto your new shirt.

“Shit-!” You grumbled down at the spilt mess. Feeling the heat rush to your cheeks, you placed the mug down hoping to save what was left in it as you grabbed napkins.

“Now, I knew we shocked people, but I had no idea we had this kind of effect, Georgie.” Fred spoke and took up the seat across from you, causing his twin to let out a snort. Your head shot up at the sound of the British accent. He'd managed to effectively put a stop to you drying up the mess with one sentence. Fred grabbed a few to help wipe down the table, but was far more focused on your reaction. Your eyes snapped over to George as he leaned on the back of his brother's chair and flickered between the two freckle covered idiots. You made a mental note of who was who.

“Do you always sneak up on your victims or do you introduce yourselves like normal people?” You scoffed out, a smile growing on your face as you awkwardly piled up the useless napkins.

“We only sneak up on people we’ve been friends with for years and finally get to meet.” George spoke, sass laced in his voice.

“Oh please. It’s been like 1 year.” You rolled your eyes, reaching for your cup again and taking a small sip.

“And I don’t think we got an anniversary gift from you, love. I believe you owe us an apology. Missing our 1 year anniversary like that.” Fred spoke, a hand going to his chest in fake shock as George just tsked and shook his head responding with his own ”Shame, really.”

You let out your own soft laugh and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I'm sorry.” You spoke setting your glass down again, sarcasm dripping from you as you crossed your arms over the table and leaned forward. “I didn’t realize I got something from you two for our ‘one year anniversary’.” You used air quotes, outlining the obvious.

“Godric, it’s so good to meet someone who finally matches our sass level.” Fred smiled at you. “But how did you not see us?” he used his thumb to point at a table behind him, almost taking out George's eye.

“Oi. Watch it.” the ever so slightly younger twin shoved the hand in his face away.

“Well, obviously, I didn’t expect you to run into you guys here.” You spoke, finishing the little amount of what was left of the butterbeer. After wiping your mouth on your sleeve, you shot the two a playful glare. “You owe me a drink.”

“Or you can meet Ickle Ronniekins and we can call it even.”

“That doesn’t even come close to equal.” You whined, sitting back in your chair, your head hitting the wall behind you a little too sharply. As much as you wanted to meet the younger bro, you were nervous. You may have let it slip out to the brothers that you desperately wanted to get to know Ron, but what if he didn't like you?

It didn't matter what you thought. You didn’t have a choice because the two may or may not have shipped you two, but that’s for them to know and for you to never, ever, ever find out. The twins let out a laugh at your demise and both stood up, one grabbing the empty mug and the other practically dragging you out of your cozy corner.

“I say it’s fair.” George spoke, following the older redhead who was almost quit literally dragging you by the arm. The two idiots led you to a table in the middle, where it was borderline empty besides 3 people sitting, all chatting to themselves. The chatting came to a stop when George set your mug down in the middle and Fred forced you to sit across from another redhead, who you quickly recognized.

“Um, Fred..” The witch next to Ron spoke up just as Fred sat to your left and George to your right. “Who is this?”

“This, Granger, is our quill-pal, (Y/n). He comes from America and just transferred over. Good old quill-pal (Y/n), meet Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and our own little Ickle Ronniekins.” Fred pointed to each witch and wizard, pointing them out so you could put names to faces. The nickname caused Ron to groan out a ‘shod off, Fred’, to which the older brother just snickered.

“Oh, hi! I’ve heard alot about you guys.” You smiled, casting them a small wave. Your accent, to them, was very interesting. It was so different from what they were used to, which definitely wasn’t a bad thing. They actually thought it fit you really well.

“Well, (y/n), it’s great to meet you.” Harry spoke up, a smile replacing the confused expression he once held. He was just relieved you weren’t asking for an autograph or constantly shaking his hand. It was refreshing.

“Likewise!” You flashed a smile to the messy raven haired dude before stretching back in your chair, head turning, trying to avoid the twins in his view to find a waitress. You gave up on searching when the twins purposefully blocked your view and Ron cleared his throat.

“Wait.. This is (y/n)? The bloak you guys don’t shut up about?” Ron pointed at you, almost as if accusing you of causing him pain. The twins nodded their heads, in sync, while landing a kick to both of his legs. “Ow-! I'm just asking!” he rubbed his bruised shins and rested his chin on the table so he could shoot them a glare. “Arse holes.” He grumbled. The twins gave him a sort of look that meant ‘shut up or we will not hesitate to strike again’ and honestly, Ron felt a tiny bit of fear enter his soul and his glare dropped.

“Aww! Did you two really mention me that much? I’m flattered, boys!” A confident smirk stretched across your face as the twins blushed ever so slightly, George a little redder than Fred.

“No.” They countered.

“Yes.” Ron groaned out, wanting revenge for the kicks. ”Merlin. They’d go on and on about how cool you were. ‘Ma, he said he plays Quidditch, too! Can we get the booms out?’, ‘His favorite color is (f/c) and his favorite animal is (f/a)! We should work on (f/c) (f/a) fireworks for him!’. My family officially knows more about you than I know about the Chudley Cannons.” He ran his right hand through his hair and his left waved around as he spoke. You couldn’t help but snicker. “It’s been actual hell. I’m just glad you're here so they can shut up.”

Harry nudged his best friend in the side before speaking. “Hey, be nice, This is probably their first crush!” The comment caused Hermione to almost snort butterbeer, Ron let out a very loud laugh and you to high five Harry meanwhile the twins turned redder than their quidditch uniforms.

“Oi, Potter. I will burn your broomstick.” Fred threatened, pointing at the boy who lived.

“Aw come on Freddie, be nice. It isn’t their fault you gave them the material for this. Relax, bud.” You shoved his hand away.

George took your mug and slid it out of your reach and to the end of the table. “Well, we were gonna buy you another drink, but since you're being an arse, you're not getting a sickle from us.” George turned to you and stuck out his tongue.

The simple banter continued as the 6 of you sat in front of the simple fireplace, laughter filling the little stone eatery. You had known the group in person for about 15 minutes and you already fit in like a puzzle piece. After a few more butter beers and another 15 minutes later, the 6 of you had decided to go on the hunt for some goodies, so you all paid for the drinks and led the cluttered restaurant. Fred and George started off leading the group, but got sidetracked at Zonko’s. Hermione had practically dragged Harry off into Flourish and Blotts when he mentioned not having his school supplies. That left you and Ron alone to get to know eachother better.

“So, what’s Ilvermorny like?” He asked, his hands in his pockets as he walked beside you.

“Well.. " you hesitated."Definitely different, if what Fred and George said was true. We don’t have a sorting hat, instead statues would pick who they want. It’s a whole history thing. Everyone's robes are blue and this reddish color, so i'm excited for a change! And jeez, the wand rules. They're, at least, 10 times stricter than here. I had to get sorted before I could even hold a wand and Ilvermony students can’t legally have wands until their 17. Bullshit if you ask me.” You scoffed. “I was put in Wampus. I guess that's a cool thing.” This caused Ron to let out a snort and a cackling laugh.

“I’m sorry- you got put in what??” He turned to you, a huge smile on his lips.

“A-A wampus?” You spoke, hoping he’d ignore the stutter. You ended up staring at his smiling face, making a promise to make him laugh whenever it was physically possible. It was so perfect.

“Aaaanndd that is what, exactly?” The redhead's smile turned into a small smirk as he responded. “Is it like- like a creature or a plant? It sounds like a plant-”

“How on earth does Wampus sound like a plant??” You looked at him with a confused expression. Your arm shot out to punch his bicep lightly. “Of course it’s a creature, Ronald!”

You went on to explain all about what a wampus was, however, Ron was no longer listening. He was slowly drifting toward the quidditch shop, his jaw practically on the floor. He pressed his freckled covered hands to the glass window of the shop.

“You really must be yanking my wand! Do you see this?!” The redhead was drooling over a brand new broom. The little plastic sign next to the window model read ‘Firebolt Y.5’

“Oh my go-Is that-” You stood next to him, a look of shock. “How did I walk past this shop and NOT see this??” You grabbed his arm and whisked him away from the window, bringing him into the shop. Quidditch, of course, was your favorite sport. You were even on the Wampus quidditch team! You played a seeker and you loved to believe you were the best! “Oh my god, yes. If I had this across the pond” you spoke while pointing at the brooms hanging on the walls, "I'd be the best damn seeker in Ilvermorny history!” You all but squealed out.

While you were ranting about the possibilities of owning this bad boy, Ron was noticing something. He was noticing, since you grabbed his arm, he wanted to hold your hand. He was noticing how your eyes lit up while you were talking about destroying other teams on the fields and how big your smile was and how cute- Cute. Cute?

Wait.

Hold on. Cute? You? He thought he thought Hermione was cute? But now, now it was you. You suddenly clouded his mind and he'd only know you for less than an hour? He blamed his hormones.. Or maybe it was the way your eyes were sparkling so much more when compared to the photo you sent his brothers. Or your stupid perfect hair was so perfect even if it was a mess from constantly running your fingers through it. Every freckle, every mole, every dimple on your skin, he wanted to memorize it all. Suddenly, you turned to him, the smile wider than before. Shit, you were waiting for a response, but he was too wrapped up in how perfect you were for him to think straight.

“WhUt?” His voice cracked as he basically shouted at you. His face turned pink with embarrassment, but it transformed into a color to rival the Gryffindor red he usually sported during the school year. The poor git basically melted into a puddle when he heard you let out a giggle.

“I was asking if you wanted to split the cost! Fred and George told me when Harry got his Firebolt, but I bet it’s nothing compared to this baby. We could split it!” You were basically jumping up and down.

Ron blinked a few times, his brain trying to process everything. “Split?”

“Yes, Ronnie. Split.” You giggled, wrapping your arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer to your side.

“Ronnie split.” He muttered without realizing it. “OH! Oh- The broom! Split the broom! Cost! Right!” he ran a hand through his hair, his entire face felt hot. Ron was sure his face was blending in with his red locks. “I-I can check! With Fred and George and- and we see?” He squeaked, noticing how close he was to you. He audibly gulped, his tongue poking out to lick his suddenly dry lips.

“Cool! We could all share it!” You reached into your pocket, pulling out all the coins nestled in your pocket. As you counted over the coins, the only words that stuck in Ron’s head were ‘we’ ‘share’ and he could basically hear sirens going off. You’d already gotten to know his older brothers. What if you already liked one? Or both? He didn’t even know if you were single.

“Ah- Well i'm sure we can just handle it. Just the two of us.” He clapped his hands together, choosing not to think of how much attention the noise brought him. You looked at him with a confused expression but let it be with a shrug.

“If you say so, Ronnie.” You smiled, shaking your head. You had no idea the redhead was avoiding the idea of his brothers sharing you instead of the broomstick.”Iiisss there a reason you don’t wanna share?” You asked as you shoved your hands in your pockets, putting the coins away. You missed Ron's face turning bright red as you gazed on at the Chudley Cannons merchandise hanging off the walls.

“I-I’m just sick of sharing with my siblings, y-ya know?” His voice cracked as he spoke, but he tried to cover it up with a cough. “Um.. I do have a lot of older brothers, so hand-me-downs are really all I get-”

“Oooh, right. Right. That’s fair.” you looked down at your feet. You forgot. Gerd and Feorge didn't throw it in your face, but they did mention when money got tight and how they planned on opening a joke shop and how they told their products to kids for extra cash. You should've remembered. You cleared your throat, your eyes darting to him, to the door back to him. Desperate for a way to change the atmosphere, you offered leaving the store. "Honeydukes?” you asked way too loudly in the small shop. ”Wanna.. Go to Honeydukes?" You cleared your throat into your hand. Ron couldn't have agreed fast enough.

The two of you walked out of the store, making small, awkward talk as you continued your stroll across the stoley path. When you came up to Honeydukes Ron, to your surprise, hurried to the door and held it open for you. As you walked in, he did a playful bow as if you were royalty. It brought a smile to your face and things fell into the rhythm from before.

"I'm not too keen on pumpkin pasties, but I do love chocolate frogs. When I was a kid, I dreamed of being put on one of the cards, but that kinda faded. I’m thinking maybe a famous quidditch player? Not quite sure yet." You rambled as Ron grabbed what someone might consider way too much of the chocolate treat. He would call that someone insane and double the batch. While he was literally filling his arms with the small boxes, you were busy looking at the candy wands, your mouth practically drooling at the idea of sweets. "We don't have a lot of this across the pond." you muttered to yourself as you reached across a table to grab a few different boxes of candy you've never tried before, one being Bertie Bott’s Everything Flavored Beans.

"Really? What are you used to?" Ron spoke up behind you, his eyes going from the candy resting in your hands to your forearm. The redhead found his eyes trailing up and landing on your bicep, causing his mind to wonder and basically dive head first into the gutter.

"Well, we had candies like Skittling Soot Poppers. They're these dark chocolate little balls that pop in your mouth once the chocolate melts. It's so cool! If you put one in your mouth and keep it open, sparks will come out. All kinds of colors, too." you smiled, remembering staying up far too late into the night with your Wumpas housemates and munching away. "Oh! And these little cakes called Twinkles. They would glitter like gold in the moonlight, but turn silver in the sun. They always taste like vanilla and cream."

Ron gulped. We all know what he's thinking at this point. He'd love to try some cream, and not the filling of the Twinkles, if ya catch my drift. He blinked out of a fantasy and shook his head. Bad Ronald. He scolded himself, but was yeeted out of his head when he heard you laugh.

"What? What's so funny?" his head tilted like a confused puppy, one of the chocolate frogs falling from the top of the pile and landing with a soft thud. As you bent down to pick up the box for him, you answered his question.

"Nothing, you're just being cute." you set the chocolate frog box on top of his pile and began down the aisle way.

"W.. Wait, really?!"

His response brought a snort out of you. He sounded so excited it made your heart jump. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it, Ronnie. Godric, even that was cute." You spoke as you turned the corner and headed down a new aisle. Your eyes scanned along the other treats laid out on the shelves while your hand grabbed a few sugar quills. “Ok, I think we got enough now. What do ya think?” You turned to where you thought he was, but your view lacked the pale freckled boy. “Ron?” Your voice carried through the store. “Ronnie?” You called out again as you went to the last aisle you saw him at. When your head popped around the corner you were met with a sight you thought was kodiak worthy.

There he was, bright red in the face, bright wide blue eyes standing out against his red skin, mouth hanging open and every chocolate frog box laying at his feet. You broke him. How the hell did he manage to get cuter?

“Ron?” Your legs moved without you even demanding them too and soon you stood in front of him. Has he even blinked? Is.. Is he ok? Shifting the candies in your arms, you managed to free a hand to gently close his mouth. “Hello? Are the lights on inside?”

“You said I was cute.” You were lucky you heard him over the crowded shop.

“Yes, Red.” You spoke, a giggle escaping your lips. “We established this already.” You shook your head, but it was halted when his blue eyes finally landed on your own, causing a heat to spread to your ears.

“Yeah.. But what KIND of cute?”

“Kind? What?”

“There are different kinds. Like am I cute like a crup or am I.. Am.. Like am I romantic-” He froze again when you leaned over and kissed his cheek, hopefully answering his question. You chose to ignore the grumpy customers trying to fit down the aisle and, instead, rested your hand on his hand. You would’ve held it but the stupid boxes of cursed choco frogos where in the way. “I hope that was ok.” You, also, chose to ignore his tiny, squeaky ‘bloody hell’ and dragged him to the counter.

“Ya know, when your brothers told me about you, I couldn’t get you out of my head.” You confessed, laying all the candy out on the counter and turned to him again. His blush had died down and he wasn’t as jumpy or frozen. Ron followed suit and dumped the boxes onto the counter and immediately whipped his hands on his jeans.

“I-I was glad I got to hear about you everyday.” He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared down at his shoes. “I um- I wanted to write, but uh, thought it would be weird.” He didn’t turn to look at you but his crystal blue eyes bounced between you, the candy and the glass counter in front of him. “A-and I’d love to get to know you more. And m.. Maybe do this again? Just you and me? Again?”

Your face almost split in two as you felt Ron’s hand brush against yours.. “I would absolutely adore to do this again, Ronnie.” He intertwined his fingers with yours, his blush coming back easily, causing you to let out a chuckle. While you did end up paying for most of the candy and forgetting about the quills, you managed to leave hand in hand with the red haired Chudley Cannon loving dork. Of course this caused the twins to tease you relentlessly about falling so hard for their baby brother. Hell, they even made a lame song, something about ‘Ronnie I love you’ and ‘when we’re apart my heart beats only for you’. It literally never stopped. In fact it got worse as time went on, especially when you were sorted into Gryffindor once school started.

Oh, but was so worth it.

#ron weasley x male reader #ron weasley #ron weasley imagine #male reader #fred and george #hp x male reader #hp imagine #fred weasley #george weasley #harry potter #hermione granger #x male reader #Ronny Writes #fic #hp male fic #hp fic

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purplesurveys · 3 years

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1185

survey by xflirtykaosx

Alphabetti Spaghetti (3/3)

Please believe. - P

How many pages did the last book you read have? I don’t even remember the last time I opened it; but if I have to guess, it’s probably anywhere between 600–800 pages.

What do you like on your pancakes? Soaked in butter, with peanut butter and maple syrup on the side. My dad will also sometimes mix bacon into the batter, and it always turns out delicious.

Do you like small parties or large parties more? I love going to any kind of party, but I like large ones just a little bit more just because it’s easier to blend in and go unnoticed for the most part. I usually feel pressured at smaller parties.

What was the last exam you passed in? I have no idea. Maybe a history exam? I remember taking a Rizal exam right before the pandemic started and I never got the results for that since classes were canceled shortly after. I’ll never know if I actually passed that test haha.

Do you think paw prints are cute? Yesssssss.

How much would you pay a neighbour to do your lawn? We have someone in the village who does that, and my mom usually gives him a tip of I would guess around ₱100.

Ordinary pens, scented pens, gel pens or felt tip pens? Ordinary. The other ones write horribly.

Are you a people person? I’ve grown to be one over the years. I do like my alone time, but I have the most fun with a person or two or ten around me.

Do you put pepper on your scrambled eggs? No. I never use pepper myself, actually.

Who, except yourself, has the nicest pet? Angela’s, at least one of her dogs are. Hailey is super nice and she doesn’t really care what you do with her hahahaha.

What's your favourite piece of clothing? Right now, probably my IVP sneakers since they’re my newest purchase. Other than that, my mom jeans are always super reliable.

What place have you gone to that you never would again? Police stations that I had to visit to cover stories for my journalism classes. Maybe it’s other people’s passion – and I thought it was mine at one point, too – but once I found myself in places like that I slowly realized that I didn’t have the fire for journalism I once thought I had.

What do others seem to have plenty of and you have little or none? Nice photos of themselves. I’m very camera shy.

Is pink a nice colour, an okay colour or icky? I personally love pink, so.

Give me a description of a great film plotline? ...I don’t feel like it :(( I also haven’t watched/rewatched any films in a while, so my memory is a bit rusty.

What do you have in your pockets? Nothing I’m wearing right now has pockets.

Do you listen to podcasts? Not really. I’m part of the minority that finds podcasts a little boring.

Have you ever played Poker? I’d guess I’ve tried playing it one or two times, but I’ve never understood the rules and I probably just did some random moves when I did try it.

Do you have a pond in your garden? No.

How about a swimming pool? We don’t.

Do you like Poptarts? I loooooove Pop Tarts and I wish we had more flavors here :( and that they weren’t so expensive.

Do you write notes on post-it notes? Sometimes; but lately I’ve mostly just been making to-do lists on my laptop. Writing takes too much time considering how hectic my job is.

Quiet darling, shh. - Q

Do you ever use the word quaint? Very rarely. I never really get into situations where that word would be most fitting to use.

Do you know what quantum physics is? I know of the term from watching The Big Bang Theory, but I don’t know what it refers to.

Are you a quiet or loud person? Depends on the people I’m with, my general mood, and my level of comfort.

Do you usually ask a lot of questions? I never do. I feel like that’s a weakness of mine, too. My mind never wanders too far, and I’m only able to recognize good questions when someone else raises them.

What's your favourite quote from a film? “Rome. By all means, Rome.”

Favourite quote from a song? “Now I’m told this is life, and pain is just a simple compromise so we can get what we want out of it.”

Are you quick witted? In what aspect? Not always; but yeah, I guess it comes out sometimes. I’m pretty good at witty or funny comebacks, especially with people I’m comfortable with.

Do you find the word queer offensive? Er, no?

Roses are Red and Romance is dead. - R

Do you listen to the radio often? I used to, since I once drove to school everyday and I liked having the radio on - especially in the morning, since there was a morning program I was hooked to. But now that I’m at home 24/7, I don’t really tune in anymore; I don’t even have the slightest clue what songs are trending rn.

Do you prefer rain or snow? We only get rain, so.

Have you ever ran into someone and injured you or them due to it? Fortunately no, for both circumstances.

Do you listen to rap music? K-Pop groups always have their own rap sub-unit, so yeah I’ve definitely been more exposed to rap these days.

Do you find pet rats gross or nice? Why? I guess it’s cute when they’re pets, since I’m sure they’re harmless. Not so much when they’re big black filthy rats that are house pests and probably carrying a lot of diseases.

Have you ever been to a rave? No. I’d love to experience it once.

Are you somewhat of a rebel? Nah.

How about reckless? Now this hits the spot more, especially when it comes to money lol

Do you prefer red, black or purple dresses? Black, then red, then purple. I don’t wear a lot of the latter to begin with.

Do you know how to reload a gun? I don’t; I’ve never even held a real gun before.

Do you remember your first best friends Mum's name? I don’t think I ever met her mom. Our friendship was super short-lived and didn’t go beyond preschool.

Do you have a good or a bad reputation? Idk, you’d have to ask other people for this I think.

What song do you request most often on the radio? I’ve never requested a song to radio stations.

Do you prefer rice or tofu? I need rice for literally every meal, otherwise it won’t feel filling. I like tofu too, but I only have it occasionally when it comes with some dishes.

Have you ever held a rifle? Nope.

Do you know a Robert? What's he like? I have an uncle-in-law named Robert. He’s very nice, and super intelligent; he’s from New Zealand but currently lives with my aunt and their family in Vietnam. Since he’s from a different country, he has lots of fun stories and different perspectives to share at family reunions, which makes me always want to sit at whichever table he’s at so that I can be part of interesting conversations.

Do you like rollercoasters? No.

Been to Rome, Italy? Nope.

Are Roses your favourite flower? They’re one of them.

So sweetheart, lets fan. - S

Do you feel safe in your neighbourhood? Yeah, I mean that’s kind of the whole point in living in a gated village. I’d be pretty alarmed if I ever hear of a crime happening here.

Whose the Patron Saint of your Country? St. Lorenzo Ruiz. I actually didn’t know that for a fact, so thanks for the Google search and impromptu lesson!

Do you put salt on your fries? Yessssssss, I need my fries to be very salty. Unless it was already seasoned with something else, I’d find it boring if it wasn’t salty enough.

Do you think we are all born the same? In some ways, yes; in some ways, no. I know everyone is born as humans worthy of love and respect, but when it comes to factors like privilege then that’s when circumstances start to get all different.

When did you stop believing in Santa? I never bought it. I used to always get frustrated that I was never allowed to meet Santa (none of my relatives ever played as him), and that he apparently just likes to leave gifts at midnight. Not seeing a Santa made me doubt and eventually I just kinda stopped buying it by the time I was like 5.

Do you think the name Sarah is pretty? Erm, it’s fine but I find it a little common.

Is Saturday your favourite day of the week? Fridays are, but Saturdays are a very close second.

Have you ever watched Saved By The Bell? Opinions? Nope.

What about the Saw films? Opinion? I haven’t, but I know they’re my eldest cousin’s favorite so it must be a good series.

Are you easily scared? In certain ways. I hate jumpscares for one, and I easily get offended by them.

What's your secondary language, if any? English.

Name all the things you can see from where you're sitting? The entirety of my bedroom.

What's the last sentence you spoke out loud? “JAY KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY”

Have you changed your default settings on your computer? Some of them just to change some aspects of the appearance, but I didn’t do a complete overhaul.

What year did you turn seven in? 2005.

How important is sex in a relationship how important is sex from 1-10? For me, probably like a 3 or 4.

What is your favourite shade of blue? Sky or royal.

Shade of Purple? BTS purple, I guess? Hahaha.

Favourite shape? I don’t have one.

Do you know a girl called Sharon? Nope.

How about Shari? Nope.

Do you shave your arms, legs, pubic hair and/or somewhere else? I shave, but not all of these areas.

When was the last time you were sick? May 2020 was the last time I felt like death.

What's the worst side effects you've had due to a medication? I’ve never gone through side effects from a medication.

What does your signature look like? A very lazy scribble of the first and last letters of my whole name.

Do you like silk? What do you own that is silk? It’s okay, but I never actively search for it. I have one set of silk pajamas but that’s it.

Do you sip or drink hot drinks fast? As much as possible I don’t like getting in contact with hot beverages. I wait for them to cool down considerably before I take my first sip.

How about with alcohol? Sure, I like to take them fast so that I don’t feel the nasty burn on my tongue.

Do you have sisters? How many, what ages and what're they called? Nina is turning 21 this year.

Is your grandmother older than sixty five? Both of them are, yeah.

Do you slam doors often? Nope.

Have you ever slapped someone in the face? For what reason? Yes. Because he had slapped me first. I was in so much shock that my first and only instinct was to hit back.

Do you snack a lot or just eat big meals? I like letting myself go hungry then reward myself with a very generous serving to eat in one go.

Do you smile more often, or frown? Smile.

Are you wearing socks? No, I haven’t worn any in a while.

Do you say sorry too often? Yes.

What's a sound that always soothes you? This. I always play it before turning in, or when I need to calm down.

Do you carry a lot of spare change? How much is on you now? Not so much anymore, since I’ve been increasingly going cashless.

Do you own a swimsuit of the Speedo brand? I don’t think so.

Do you like sunflowers? They have a personal meaning to me, so yes. It’s not my ultra favorite, though.

#survey #surveys #i just realized the author never wrapped this up :(#so i guess we're stopping this at S hahahaha

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soobiniebaby · 4 years

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Angels & Devils Part IV: Can You Tell Me

Tomorrow x Together Fanfiction

~ p a r t s : main post || prologue || part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5 || part 6 || part 7 || part 8 || part 9 || part 10 || part 11 || part 12 || part 13 || part 14 || part 15 || part 16 || part 17 ~ p a i r i n g : love triangle involving choi soobin and choi yeonjun ~ g e n r e : high school au | some social media au | some fluff & angst | childhood friends | love triangle ~ l a n g u a g e : English ~ w a r n i n g : contains swearing, alcohol, kissing (?) and may contain mature themes (angst, etc.) ~ a / n : This will be my first fanfic (go easy on me pls) and i’m just writing this as I go along, so bear with me juseyo The setting (place/country) of the story is up to the reader’s interpretation ~ s u m m a r y : What should she choose? Han Baby: the new girl with a troubled past MO Academy: her new high school Choi Soobin: student council president, member of the Ecosave club, volunteer at the Humane Treatment of Animals, member of the Honor Society, a vocalist in the Jazzed club, the school’s all around golden boy Choi Yeonjun: leader of the Dance club, star of the Jazzed club, the school’s it boy with a bad rep 5 best friends, 1 new girl, 1 childhood friendship, 1 epic love triangle? What will this school year bring?

B’s first week at MO Academy had been going smoothly so far.

She rarely found herself lost around the campus since she always had Kai or at least 1 member of the student council by her side, she was able to get to know a few other people in her classes, she was able to keep track of lessons and deadlines so far, she had grown to enjoy her walks to and from school with Taehyun every day, and she was able to adjust well to living alone without her parents to watch over her or without anyone else to help around with household chores.

She actually really liked living away from her parents for the first time. The one downside was that she was starting to feel a bit lonely, especially since the apartment had 2 bedrooms, which was obviously meant to be occupied by at least 2 people. The spare room was also set up like a bedroom with a bed and a wardrobe and a desk, but she didn’t have any use for it so she never really went in it since she moved in. She mostly used it to store extra clothes.

Today, Wednesday, the boys had their first student council meeting of the year to finalize things for club recruitment day, so B walked home alone, which she didn’t really mind.

Her week was going smoothly until she received an unusual message that night, while she was lying in her bed after finishing some household chores.

B smiled as each boy sent a selfie, and laughed when she realized that all of them were holding up peace signs in their photos. She quickly saved the pictures and set each boy’s contact photo until she saw Beomgyu send more photos to the group chat.

B locked her phone and turned over in bed, her head full of thoughts of what they could do for Kai’s birthday. If it were up to her, she would take Kai to someplace special and out of the way, like the beach so that they could reminisce about their childhood memories spent along the beaches in Hawaii. But considering that there would at least be 4 other people celebrating Kai’s birthday with them, she knew it was out of the question. She was also curious about what the other boys had in mind, and she was wondering what gift she could get for her best friend.

She checked her phone one last time before shutting her lights off and drifting off to sleep.

•°•

Soobin put his phone away once the other boys sorted out their plan to keep Hyuka busy while he, B and Yeonjun stayed behind. Their last period had already ended, and they were preparing for their meeting.

“So, where do you guys wanna talk?” B asks, grabbing her bag and getting up from her seat. “I’m guessing the 3 will be hanging out at the café, so that’s not an option.” she says, referring to the café that Taehyun’s family owns and runs, which they’ve hung out at everyday after school so far, except for yesterday when the boys had their student council meeting.

“There other cafes nearby, but they’re really not as good as Kang’s.” Yeonjun says, leaning back in his seat.

“You know, there’s one place we could hold our little meeting, and we won’t even have to leave school.” Soobin says.

Yeonjun and B look at him then, curious and interested.

“Well come on then, let’s go. You can lead the way, Mr. President.” B says teasingly. Soobin visibly cringed as she did so. It wasn’t a nickname, but it was something she seemed to enjoy calling him by.

“Alright, follow me.” Soobin says, and the three make their way across the campus.

Walking across campus with Soobin and Yeonjun by her side made B remember the times in the past when she would be escorted by bodyguards hired by her parents. The dark days. She had yet to fill Kai in on the specific details, and a part of her was secretly afraid of spending one on one time with her childhood friend, dreading the moment when she would have to recount the memories that she would rather just forget.

The 2 boys had been chatting about their term project for their creative writing class, Yeonjun whining about getting paired with someone other than Soobin and Soobin in turn comforting him, and B had been so lost in thought that she didn’t even notice where they were.

“Ah, I see. Nice thinking, Soobin.” Yeonjun says, as they walk down a familiar hallway.

“What, why? Where are we going?” B asks, the hallway wasn’t familiar to her at all. It was at a part of the school near where the faculty rooms and offices were, so it wasn’t really part of the tour.

“Actually, I just remembered that I had to stop by to sign some forms that I left after the meeting yesterday, but I figured we might as well have our meeting here.” Soobin says, as they reach a set of double doors at the end of the hall. He takes a bunch of keys out of his pocket and takes a moment to sort through them before taking one and unlocking the doors.

The sign above the door read “Student Council Office.”

“Oh wow, I haven’t seen your office.” B says, realizing where they were.

“Well then, welcome to our lair.” Yeonjun says, before Soobin pushes both doors open in a dramatic fashion.

The three step inside, and B takes a moment to scan the room. There were 5 desks situated along the walls of the room, 2 desks each on 2 opposite sides of the room and 1 desk at the very end of the room, which was bigger than the other 4. Each desk had an assortment of files, papers, trinkets, and frames on them. In the center of the room was a long conference table lined with office chairs. There were 2 whiteboards on the walls filled with scribbles from past meetings with a bulletin board full of reminders and notes, and a projector screen at the end of the conference table hanging from the ceiling. The only windows in the room were behind the 1 desk at the end of the room.

Soobin goes straight to that desk and shuffles through some papers, opening the drawers as well and sorting through documents.

Yeonjun sits at the edge of the conference table and beckons B over. “Come on, Baby. Take a seat.”

“Where, though? This place is huge. And I know we’re sort of having a meeting, but isn’t a conference table for 12 a bit too much?” she says, her eyes still scanning the room. “This place is…pretty cool.”

Soobin makes his way over to the 2 with a stack of papers in his arms. “I think it’s my favorite place in the campus. We come here all the time, and we’re free to use it as much as we want, so please, just take any seat. Make yourself at home.” he says, smiling sheepishly.

“Alright, I guess.” B says, taking a seat close to the end of the table. Soobin takes the seat at the end and Yeonjun sits between the 2.

B notices that the boys seem a bit different as they take their seats. When they were seated in class, Yeonjun was usually slouched in his seat while Soobin had an elbow on his desk and his head resting on his hand. Now, seated at the student council office, they were both sitting upright. Yeonjun had both elbows resting on the table and was leaning forward, while Soobin was sitting up straight with one hand on the table and the other on his lap.

“So, B, we just wanted to talk about Hyuka’s birthday. It’s tomorrow, and we were wondering if you could help us plan something as a surprise.” Soobin says, beginning their meeting.

B felt a bit intimidated, so she found herself sitting up straight as well. “I’ll help you as much as I can, but I haven’t celebrated his birthday with him since we were kids, so I’m not sure what we can do.”

“I’m sure anything you suggest will be a big help, really.” Soobin says, smiling warmly at her.

“Okay, well honestly, I already had an idea but it’s nothing grand, I just thought it would be nice.” she admits. When she sees that Soobin and Yeonjun are focused on her intently, she continues. “I was thinking I, or we, could greet him right at midnight? Maybe drop by his place and surprise him with a cake and stuff so that as soon as his birthday begins, we’ll be there to celebrate it with him. But if it seems too hard to pull off, we don’t have to do it. Or I can do it myself, since I grew up with his sisters too so I could ask them for help.”

“That’s actually a brilliant idea.” Yeonjun says. “I’m up for it.”

Soobin nods. “So am I. We can let the guys know about it in the group chat to see if they can come with us, and B you can coordinate with his older sister Lea to see if we can come over to surprise Hyuka.”

“Alright, I’ll get in touch with her and if she gives us the go signal, I’ll let you guys know right away. I’ll buy a cake tonight, maybe you guys could bring those pop out streamers or something so it’ll be a mini celebration.”

Yeonjun nods. “Great idea, Baby. I’ll deal with food and snacks, maybe a pizza?”

“Or 4?” Soobin says, grinning sheepishly at him.

Yeonjun’s face softens as he says “You know I can’t say no to you.”

Soobin laughs and says “Thanks, Yeonjunie. I’ll try to see if I can get my hands on streamers and stuff too.”

B nods. “Okay, that’s good. Is that all you guys wanna do? I’m sure you have something in mind.”

“A party. Let’s throw him a party.” Yeonjun says. “Tomorrow’s Friday, and we don’t have school or anything the next day, so it’ll be perfect.”

Soobin nods. “I was thinking of a party as well, but where? And how will we set it up?”

“Friday’s club day, but we won’t have club meetings yet since recruitment day will be on Monday, so we’ll just have homeroom in the morning then we’ll be free for most of the day. Plus we can come in school in casual wear, since Fridays are our washday.” Yeonjun says, stating facts.

“Wait, what’s wash day?” B asks.

“It’s the one day of the week where we’re allowed to wear casual wear to school. It’s on Friday cause the school thought it would be more convenient for club day.” Soobin explains. “If we throw a party on Friday, I think we could do it at my place. It’s always available.” he offers.

“Won’t your sister be home?” Yeonjun asks.

Soobin shakes his head. “She started at University this year and moved into a dorm, and you know my parents only come home a couple of times every year, so I practically live alone now. Except for the household staff, of course.” he explains.

So he lives alone too. Like me. B thinks to herself. “At least you have household staff to keep you company. It’s actually a bit lonely, living alone.” she says wistfully.

“It really is, especially since I’ve always been close with my family. It’s a big adjustment, having everyone move away now.” Soobin admits. “You guys are always welcome to come over, though, so I’m hoping I won’t be too lonely often.” he says hopefully.

“You guys are always welcome to come visit me too, though I doubt my apartment is as big or as grand as your house.” B says teasingly. “What about you, Yeonjun? Do you live with anyone?” she asks suddenly.

“Nah, my house always feels crowded, even though it’s just me and my parents, plus the household staff. I don’t like being at home though, and I think I’d actually prefer living alone, or at least away from them.” Yeonjun responds candidly.

B was surprised by how straightforward his answer was, and by how easy it was to ask him about it. “I’m an only child too, but as much as I love my parents, I wanted nothing more than a bit of freedom, so I think I understand.” she says, sympathizing with him.

Yeonjun gives a small smile. “At least you got your freedom, Baby. And at least you can say that you love your parents. I mean, my mom’s not bad I guess but my dad is just…” he says, shaking his head. “Anyway, yeah alright, I guess we’re having Hyuka’s party at Soobin’s place.”

Soobin nods. “Yep, that’s settled. Uh, we have to think about setting up now and stuff. Decorations, food, drinks, guest list, that sort of stuff. Gifts will be handled individually, of course.” he rambles, a bit flustered from the sudden change of mood in the conversation.

“I think the main problem is keeping Kai distracted while we’re setting up the party?” B says, offering her opinion. “It’s nice that we’ll be out of school early so we’ll have more time to prepare, but that also means that we’ll have to keep him distracted for longer too.”

“Well, we could do what we did today? Split up the group, 2 of us can distract him while the rest help with party prep.” Yeonjun suggests.

“No, we’re gonna need as much hands on deck as possible with the preparations, plus I don’t think splitting up the group will be necessary. One person is all we need, and I think I know the perfect one.” Soobin says.

B raises a brow at him when she notices him staring at her with a pointed look, until it clicks in her head.

“Oh… you mean me.” she says. Looks like she’d be having her one on one time with Kai a bit sooner than she thought.

•°•

“I can’t see anything.” Beomgyu says.

“SHUSH! Hyuka might hear us.” Taehyun shushes him.

“Wait, I’ll light up the candles so we won’t be in complete darkness.” B whispers. “Hold this for a sec, please.” she whispers, passing the cake to Yeonjun as she shuffles through her bag for the lighter. She lights the candles and pokes them into the top of the cake one by one then takes the cake back into her hands. “Thanks, Yeonjun.”

“Sure thing, Baby.” he whispers, and with the candles lit she could now see that he was smiling at her. She smiles back.

“Okay, are we all ready to go? Hyuka’s room is down this hall, the 2nd door on the right.” Soobin whispers.

“We know where Hyuka’s room is, Soobin.” Beomgyu scoffs.

“I, uh, was talking to B? Are we all re—oh wait! Everyone, put these on!” Soobin whisper-shouts, opening a pack of party hats and passing them around.

“We should’ve done all this before we snuck upstairs. The lights were on in the foyer.” Taehyun whispers while securing the party hat on his head.

“Too late now.” Beomgyu mutters. “Ouch!” he then whisper-shouts, as Taehyun grabs the elastic of Beomgyu’s party hat and releases it so it slaps against his chin

“That’s enough bickering, now let’s go!” Soobin whisper-shouts, holding up his huge pop out streamer like a bazooka.

“Ah, wait, shouldn’t Baby be in front since she’s holding the cake?” Yeonjun whispers.

There’s a moment of silence as everyone thinks it through.

“Okay, cake then pizzas then egg tarts then pop out streamer then camera. So that’s me then Yeonjun then Taehyun then Soobin then Gyu at the back so he can capture everything.” B whispers, getting everyone into formation.

“Why do I have to be at the back.” Beomgyu whispers, pouting as he takes his phone out to start taking the video. “Uh, guys, it’s 12:01 already. We missed midnight.”

And with that everyone runs down the hall and barges into Kai’s room.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!” they shout as they burst through Kai’s bedroom door.

“What the—?” Kai exclaims groggily, sitting up in bed and pulling the sheets up to his shoulders.

“Hyuka, were you, um, sleeping naked?” Soobin asks awkwardly.

Kai’s face flushes red as he says “No, of course not! I’m wearing underwear!”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.” Beomgyu smirks behind the camera.

“I can’t show you my underwear.” Kai says, flustered. “Wait, are you filming this?”

“Everyone sing!” B exclaims, which the boys happily oblige to.

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday to you!” they sing as they walk further into Kai’s room and surround his bed.

B leans forward, putting the cake as close to Kai as she could, and says “Make a wish, Ningning.”

As flustered and red as he was, Kai squeezed his eyes shut before whispering something under his breath and blowing the candles out.

Soobin lets the pop out streamer rip as Kai blows the candles out, which causes everyone to jump and someone to scream in surprise.

“Uh, that wasn’t me.” B says, as they all look each other, trying to identify who screamed.

Soobin sighs. “Okay fine, it was me.” he admits.

“But you’re the one who popped the streamer.” Kai says.

“Yeah but I wasn’t expecting a loud sound to come out so I was surprised as well.” Soobin says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anyway, happy birthday Hyuka!”

“Thanks, everyone.” Kai says as they all start to greet him. “How’d you get in here, by the way? And what time is it?”

“I asked Lea if we could come over to surprise you, so she told one of the maids to let us in beforehand.” B explains.

“And it’s 12:13 now.” Beomgyu says.

“Oh wow, you really came over here just to greet me at midnight? Thanks, you guys.” Kai says, smiling warmly at all of them. “It means a lot to me.”

“It was B’s idea.” Taehyun says, setting the box of egg tarts on the bed and wrapping an arm around B’s shoulders. “You’re lucky to have a best friend like this one.”

B blushed, surprised by the sudden show of affection from Taehyun. “Thanks, Taehyun. I couldn’t have done this without you guys.”

“Quick, group selfie before we devour the pizza?” Beomgyu says, holding his phone up.

As everyone moves closer together around the bed to fit into frame, Kai asks “Can I at least put a shirt on first so it won’t look weird?”

“Nah, it’s fine. Everyone say Kimchi!” Beomgyu exclaims.

Kai wraps the blanket tighter up to his neck as everyone says “Kimchi!” and Beomgyu takes pictures.

“Okay, now let me put a shirt on so we can do this properly.” Kai says. “Baba, please look away.”

B scoffs. “Oh please, it’s not like I haven’t seen you shirtless before. We lived in Hawaii, remember? Beach days? Sunburns?”

Kai’s face starts to burn red as he explains, “Yeah, but things are a bit different now, Baba. We’re not kids anymore.”

“Aw, is Ningning shy?” Beomgyu says teasingly.

“Just look away for a sec, please, Baba?” Kai pleads, giving the girl puppy dog eyes.

B sighs. “Fine, because I believe in consent and respect your adolescent boy body.” she says before burying her face in his sheets. “Just let me know when it’s safe to look.”

The mini celebration went on until 1:30 in the morning, with the boys exchanging funny stories about Kai and B in turn telling the boys embarrassing childhood stories about him. The 4 pizzas were easily devoured, the egg tarts were saved by Kai for later, more pictures and videos were taken, and they had to remind themselves that they had to be at school at 8 AM, and that’s when they decided to put the birthday celebrations on pause.

Yeonjun offers to drive Beomgyu home since the two of them live in the same area, while Soobin offers to drive B and Taehyun home since he lived closer to the 2, which they happily accept.

Before B falls asleep, she remembers to put together a quick birthday greeting in the form of a tweet.

And as she wakes up the next morning, she smiles when she sees Kai’s reply, but her smile drops a bit when she remembers what she and the boys had planned for the day, and what her role in the plan was.

•°•

“No offense to MOA, like this school is great and all, but are Friday mornings always this boring?” B asks Kai and Taehyun.

They were sitting in their homeroom, which was scheduled every Friday from 8AM to 10AM. Since it was the first homeroom of the school year their teacher didn’t have much to discuss, and on a normal Friday, homeroom period was used to prepare for afternoon club activities, but since club days haven’t started yet, so they were basically just sitting and waiting to be dismissed now.

“Kinda? Don’t worry, it’ll be less boring next week since we’ll be having club day by then.” Taehyun says, trying to reassure her.

“Hang in there, Baba. There’s only 15 minutes until the bell rings anyway. After that, we can do whatever we want.” Kai says cheerfully, trying to fight the boredom.

“You mean we can do whatever you want, birthday boy.” B says, nudging his arm playfully. “Seriously, anything you wanna do? I’ve got you for the whole afternoon, right?” she asks him. She was able to guilt him into spending the whole afternoon with her by playing the ‘I’m your best friend and I’ve missed you so much and I haven’t had quality time with you since we were kids and we need to catch up’ card. It was the perfect opportunity to keep Kai distracted from the 4 other boys.

“We could hang out at my place, maybe watch a movie or nap for a bit? We kept you up pretty late earlier so I wouldn’t mind a quick nap.” B suggests. She was feeling pretty sleepy, and she wanted to feel energized for whatever the boys had planned for tonight.

“That actually sounds really really nice. I wouldn’t mind taking a quick nap, plus we can finally catch up one on one, just me and you.” Kai says, grinning at B.

“You and I.” Taehyun says, correcting Kai’s grammar. “Honestly, I’ll probably spend the whole day sleeping as well, then I’ve got to work a night shift at the café.”

Kai pouts suddenly. “Aw, what? I was hoping you guys would be free tonight, we could all have dinner together or something. My treat.” he offers.

Taehyun fights the urge to smile at how adorably clueless his friend was. “No, it’s fine. I’m glad we were able to celebrate earlier today though. But still, you can ask the other guys if you want to but I think they might be busy too.” he says.

Kai pouts, nods, and takes his phone out to text the other boys. While he’s distracted, B takes the opportunity to communicate to Taehyun.

“Night shift? Really?” she asks, mouthing the words to him behind Kai’s back.

Taehyun shakes his head at her, mouthing back “No. Made it up.” Then he holds up his hand, showing her his fingers crossed which meant he was lying when he told Kai about it.

She nods, understanding him and then gives him a thumbs up.

Just then, the bell rings. B groans and says “Finally!” as she stretches her arms above her head. “This period was a long moment of nothingness.”

Kai nods his head in agreement. “You got that right. Let’s get out of here. Tyun, you gonna walk with us?” he asks, turning to Taehyun. “You guys walk together all the time, right?”

“Yup, let’s get going. I can’t wait to spend the afternoon in bed.” Taehyun says, gathering his things. And with that, the 3 of them leave school together.

•°•

B sent a quick update to the boys as she and Kai step into her apartment. All she had to do now was make sure that he stayed within her sight for the rest of the afternoon, plus she wanted to make sure she was appropriately dressed when they left for the surprise party later. How she could get all dressed up without Kai suspecting anything might be a bit of a challenge, but she was sure she’d come up with an excuse.

“Welcome to my humble abode! When I moved in, I decorated and organized everything by myself, so sorry if it’s a bit of a mess.” B says as Kai’s eyes scan the surroundings. Upon entering the front door, the living room was the first thing that greeted everyone who stepped in. There are 3 doors on the left side, the kitchen to the right separated from the living room by a counter with bar stools set up, and there was a round table with 5 seats set up in front of a pair of sliding glass doors that led into a small balcony at the back.

“Baba, this place looks great. Not bad at all, considering it’s your first time living alone. It’s pretty spacious, too.” Kai says, stepping further into the apartment. “Quick question, how have you survived living alone? I don’t think I could do it, I’m not a very good cook.” he says as he surveys the place, trailing a hand on the kitchen counters.

“It hasn’t been very easy, and honestly I don’t really know how to cook either, so I end up having food delivered a lot or getting takeout instead.” she admits. “I swear, I tried to cook here once on the day I moved in, and I almost burned the kitchen down, so I’m probably never gonna do that again.” she says, laughing sheepishly.

Kai’s eyes widen at her revelation. “Baba! What happened? What did you do?” he asks, almost screaming at her in surprise.

“I tried to cook and then the next thing I know, my smoke detector starts beeping nonstop, then I got so distracted by trying to shut it up, I didn’t notice that the food I was cooking was burning, then the sprinklers came on and my superintendent called to ask what was going on and I had to beg him not to tell my parents about it. It was pretty funny, but yeah, I’m probably never gonna try to cook on my own ever again.” she says, laughing at how ridiculous the whole thing sounded.

“Hey, if you want, we could try cooking a quick meal now? For lunch? I’m no seasoned chef, but I know a thing or two. You deserve to eat a homecooked meal at least once in your own home, after all.” he offers, as he starts rummaging through the fridge. “You got any rice?”

As Kai starts to scrap together ingredients from B’s almost-bare kitchen drawers and shelves, he goes into full focus and even puts on an apron. Whenever B asks him if there was anything she could do to help him, he just waves her off.

She takes a seat on one of the stools at the counter and snaps a quick picture of her bestfriend and she composes a tweet.

“Hey, remember that one time when we were still kids and we tried to cook eggs?” B asks as she puts her phone down. “I think we were at your place, we snuck into the kitchen while the maids weren’t looking, and we had to stand on stools just so we could reach the stove.”

Kai nods, though he still had his eyes focused on his cooking. “I remember you ended up with a burn on your arm cause it accidentally brushed against the pan, and when the maids caught us, you were trying so hard not to cry so they wouldn’t see your burn.”

“Oh yeah, I did get burned that day.” B says, then she lifts the sleeve of her sweater until she spots the barely-there mark just above her wrist. “Ah, memories.”

“You know, I still regret doing that.” Kai admits.

“What? Why? That was such a fun day, I miss being able to come over to each other’s houses and just playing around.” B says.

“Yeah, but the cooking was my idea, and you got hurt because of it.” Kai says, looking at her then with regret. “I know I said it a million times that day, but I’m sorry Baba.”

B scoffs, dismissing his apology. “Come on, it’s fine. I barely felt it anyway, and that was ages ago. Look, it’s your idea to cook today too, and I don’t think anything could go wrong since you’re not letting me do anything to help around the kitchen.”

“That’s cause I wanna make sure that nothing like that happens again.” Kai admits. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this. Just keep talking to me so I won’t feel too bored.” he requests.

“Alright then, anything you wanna talk about?” B asks, resting her elbows on the counter and leaning forward.

“What exactly happened to you last year?” Kai asks suddenly. B’s heart drops and she feels the knots in her stomach start to form, even though she knew he’d want to hear about it soon. “All you said was something about your family and your dad’s job and stuff, but I could tell you were having a really tough time so I didn’t want to push you into telling me all about it back then. And I guess I understand if it’s still something you’d rather not talk about, but as your best friend I’m just worried about you.”

B takes a deep breath, preparing herself to recount the bad experience. “Okay, I’ll tell you now, but to be completely honest with you, the whole thing was a bit of a blur for me too.”

Kai looks at her with his brows furrowed. “What do you mean? Like, you don’t remember what happened?”

B shakes her head. “No, it’s not like that. I remember what happened, I guess I just don’t understand why or the reason behind it? Or what exactly was going on?”

“Okay, I am very confused right now. If this is your way of saying that you’re not comfortable with talking about it, then it’s fine with me, you really don’t have to tell me.” Kai says, trying to sound comforting.

“No, Ninging, I promise I’m gonna tell you everything I know. The thing is, I don’t know much. How do I begin to explain this…” B wonders aloud, sighing before saying “Okay, do you remember what my dad’s job is?”

Kai nods, his eyes focused on his work in the kitchen. “He’s a lawyer, right?”

“Yup, he’s one of the most high-powered lawyers in the country, he works at CNK, which is a globally recognized law firm. He deals with a lot of high profile clients and is one of the most sought-after attorneys for classified cases, usually for big companies with dirty little secrets.” B explains.

Kai nods again, keeping his eyes focused on his work. “Okay, so what does your dad’s work have to do with you?”

“Everything, I think. At the time, my dad was working on a big classified case. I could tell it was big cause he only went home to sleep, shower, and then he was off to work again. I’ve never shown interest in the cases he works on because it’s his business, and it’s not like he’s allowed to talk about them anyway cause they’re usually classified.” B sighs as she realizes that she was starting to ramble, subconsciously stalling.

“Anyway, he was working on this one case, and I didn’t think it was a big deal, but one night he came home looking really shaken, like he was terrified. We usually have dinner together, me and my parents, but when he got home that night he and my mom immediately went up to his office. I tried my best to listen from outside the door, but at first I could barely hear anything, as if they were whispering. Then suddenly, I can hear my mom start to shout things like ‘drop this case right now,’ ‘what am I supposed to do’ and the one that sent chills down my spine was when she said ‘what about our Baby, what if they come for her?’” she says, trying her best to keep her voice stable.

“‘What if they come for her?’ What’s that supposed to mean?” Kai asks, his brows pulled together as he was trying to process everything she was telling him.

“I think there was a death threat.” B forces herself to say out loud.

There’s a moment of silence as Kai’s hands freeze, and B swore she could hear her heart pounding. She started counting her breaths, trying to slow them down as Kai looks up at her, his eyes meeting hers.

“You think there was a death threat?” he asks, repeating her words.

She nods slowly. Taking a shaky breath before continuing. “Yeah, that’s the only explanation I can think of for what happened, because since that night I’ve had bodyguards with me everyone I went. Outside my bedroom, at the dining table, they’d even be waiting for me outside my classroom and walking with me around school. Not only that, my parents put me on complete lockdown. I was only allowed to go out to school, then I’d be taken straight home. I mean, my parents were always a bit strict, but this was insane.”

“That sounds really rough, Baba. And it sounds scary.” Kai says, looking at her full of concern.

“It really was. I felt like I was suffocating, cause I never got a moment to myself. The bodyguards wouldn’t leave me alone, and of course everyone at my school started to act like total dicks because of it. Stories started going around, my friends started avoiding me because of the rumors, everyone probably thought I was a criminal or something because they all started treating me like an outcast. And I really felt like I was.” B says, remembering the stares she got at her old school.

“The kids at your old school are all idiots for judging you like that.” Kai says.

B sighs. “I don’t blame them, if a student at school suddenly showed up flanked by 2 bodyguards everywhere, I’d probably be weirded out too. But the worst part is, I don’t know why it all happened. My parents were very adamant about not telling me anything. All they said was ‘it’s for your own good.’”

“Oh wow, so they never explained anything to you? They put you through that shit without even telling you why?” Kai asks in disbelief. “I always knew uncle and aunty were a bit strict, but that’s just cruel.”

“Well if it was really a death threat, I guess they just didn’t wanna scare me. It got better once my dad’s firm won the case though. Again, I don’t know what exactly happened, but at the end of the school year my dad won the case, my parents eased up on my bodyguards, but the damage was done. I lost my friends, I was seen as a weirdo at school, and I felt so frustrated and suffocated that I just wanted to get away.” B continues. It was the first time she had said all of this out loud, and as shaken as she was, she felt a lot better to finally let it out.

“So that’s why you begged your parents to let you transfer schools? And move out of the house?” Kai says, finally understanding.

B nods. “Wow, I feel much better letting it all out now.” she says, taking a deep breath. “I’m just glad my parents let me do it. I think they only agreed because they felt bad about the whole thing, but ever since you mentioned when you walked me home the other day, I really do think that they might have secretly hired security to look after me.” she says, laughing at how ridiculous the whole situation sounded.

“You know what? Come here.” Kai says, motioning her over to his side of the kitchen. She stands and walks over to him and is surprised when he suddenly pulls her into his chest and wraps his arms around her.

“Ningning? Wha—?” she starts, but then he hugs her tighter and shushes her.

“Shut up and let me hug you for a moment, alright?” he says, and she feels his body rumble as he laughs. “Listen here, Baba. While I’m around, I promise I won’t let anything hurt you. You got that?”

B tries to relax into the hug, but he was so tall and he was holding her so tight that her face was buried in his chest and she was starting to have a hard time breathing so she lifts her head up and takes a deep breath before saying “Got it. Thank you, Ningning. That means a lot to me.” she says, smiling up at him.

They stay that way for a while longer before she says “Um, I think your food is burning.”

Kai jumps and screams then, panicking as he tries to save his cooking.

The two of them spend the rest of the afternoon picking out the unburnt parts of Kai’s cooking to eat, lying around the couch and chatting with some cheesy Netflix series playing in the background before they fall asleep.

B wakes up when she hears her phone ringing. She notices that the sky was much darker, and she panics when she sees the time and the notifications from Soobin.

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ticklybtswriter · 5 years

Text

what you deserve

summary: you had been teasing your lers too much for their liking. one particular tactic to get the tickles you craved, though, proved to be a bit too effective.

request: Finally thought of a request: could you write a scenario where you've been teasing the boys a lot, like exposing your spots in front of them or mentioning how sensitive you are, until they get frustrated and gang up on you? Love your writing btw :)

warnings: nsfw-ish themes (not soft tickles at all skdfmlksdfm), bondage, being nearly naked but not entirely, kind of submissive/dominant if you look close, excessive use of princess because this is me we’re talking about there

author’s note: brought the brat out for this one, guys... i hate saying that because it means i’ve admitted defeat... but anyway, i’m really excited for this fic!! i’m always a fan of punishment tickles akmflskmdf ahhh

Let’s get one thing straight: you knew what you had done. You were well aware of the fact that you had been teasing them, probably past the point of no return.

You had taken deliberate moves just so you could get them all in ler moods. You would show off your sides and stomach when on the couch, masking your teasing through a faked yawn and stretch. You’d also told them how sensitive your muscles were whenever you woke up, knowing that they were already aware of your nerves’ heightened state.

It seemed, though, that they had taken a page out of Taehyhung’s book. Whenever you were being bratty, he would stubbornly hold out on giving you tickles until you became a good little girl again. But for some reason, you wanted to push limits you never even neared before.

You were home alone, still deprived of your tickles. You were plotting new ways to get what you wanted, but you were drawing blanks. Well, you were until you were scrolling through a tickle blog on Tumblr and saw a picture of a girl showing off her bare tummy with a teasy caption beneath.

The smirk on your face could’ve rivaled Namjoon’s had anyone seen it.

You took a few hundred photos of every sensitive spot. From your neck to your stomach to your socked feet. You were a bit hesitant to send them at first, but then you remembered that they were being the stubborn ones. After that, you had all the confidence needed to press that “send” button before a series of pictures were forwarded to your group chat with them.

They were in dance rehearsal so you didn’t expect to get a reply as quickly as you did. It was only from one person, Jin, someone who was pretty well-tempered when it came to your antics. However, the message conveyed anything but the typically serene Jin you knew.

It merely said: Oh you’re in for it tonight kitten.

You were buzzing with anticipation; giddy or fearful, you couldn’t quite tell yet. The text from Jin kept you on edge, especially since that was the only one you had gotten and it had seemed so definite. You questioned whether you’d taken it too far, but then you realized it meant you were getting what you wanted.

Thinking too far into the outcome of this wasn’t going to last long. You heard the jingling of keys from the front door. What put you off was how silent the men behind said door were. Usually, they’d be laughing or groaning about how exhausted they were, yet you didn’t hear anything.

The door swung open. The first person you saw was Hoseok, his eyes instantly connecting with yours. It was almost eerie how quickly he captured you with his hypnotic, dominant stance.

“Hello, princess!” He announced gleefully. “Did you enjoy your day?”

It was a trick question, you were sure of it. You weren’t sure what the trick was, but Hoseok was too cheerful to actually be that, even for Hoseok.

You didn’t get to answer before Jimin was standing beside him. He held up a photo of your thighs next to his head. “Oh, I’m sure she did, hyung. Didn’t you, princess? Putting your lers in the mood while they were working must’ve been so much fun for you, huh?”

Now you saw the trick to the question. “U-Um, well, you see-”

“What I see is a little brat who needs to be dealt with,” Jungkook made his way towards you. He picked you up by your legs, making sure to steady you over his shoulder. “And we’re not going to waste any time in doing that.”

Next to feeling totally helpless in Jungkook’s grasp, the worst part about your ascent up the stairs to your room was seeing the other six men smirking at you as they leisurely strolled after you and Jungkook. It was more flustering seeing them so calm then seeing them angry like you envisioned.

“U-Um, I’m sorry?” You whimpered to Namjoon who had been closest to you.

“Aww, it’s too late for apologies, baby girl,” You simply told you. “You made your lers unfocused during rehearsal today. For that, you need to be punished.”

Your face went bright red. The promise of your demise hung in the air, and everyone around you chuckled darkly at the wide-eyed stare you gave them when you finally realized how totally screwed you were.

You’d only ever been punished by them once, and truthfully, you couldn’t feel your diaphragm for a week. You had stayed curled in a ball for hours until Jimin and Taehyung had to coax you out of bed. It was so wonderful, yet so horrid at the same time with terribleness outweighing what was so pleasing about it.

Jungkook deposited you onto the bed. He was careful as to not hurt you but also put you down in a way that let you know he was in control.

“Arms up, baby,” He commanded. When you kept your hands firmly to your chest, he sighed. “Do you really want to play that game, darling? You know how impatient my hyungs can get, and we wouldn’t want to keep them waiting. After all, the longer they have to wait to get their hands on you, the meaner they’re going to be.”

A part of you wanted to resist, just to keep up that tough facade, but even you weren’t bratty enough to go against seven angry lets. You put your wrists together and above your head like he had instructed.

“There’s our good girl~” Taehyung cooed.

With all seven of them working together, they were able to get you out of most of your clothes save your undergarments and have your arms tied nice and tight above your head.

“Look at you all pretty and tied up~” Jin purred next to your ear.

“Where should we start?” Yoongi asked the room as he cracked his knuckles, something he knew drove you up a walk.

“I say...” Jimin started ever so softly trailing his fingers across your bare stomach. “We take this nice and slow.”

Another thing that drove you insane: when they all decided to warm you up with tickles by doing this. They were the tickles that were just barely there, the ones that weren’t enough to even get a giggle out of you. The point of this was to make you squirm, and you squirming was euphoric to them.

“P-Please, don’t t-t-tease me!”

“What’s that?” Hoseok asked mockingly. “Are you actually telling us not to tease you? After everything you’ve put us through these past few days?”

“The audacity!” Jin scoffed. He emphasized his point with a quick scribble to your side.

It came as a shock from the light tracing, forcing a squeak from your lips. “AH!”

“Making cute noises already, baby girl?” Namjoon question teasingly.

You shook your head, even though you knew it was futile. Whenever they heard a squeak or a rogue giggle that was cuter than the others, it was an incentive for them to thoroughly wreck you. You were aware of their new desire when Namjoon brought this up and they knew that you knew as well.

“Ready?” Yoongi asked you.

“No!”

“Good~”

That was when the merciless torture officially began.

It was evil, beyond that. Your nerve endings were alight with ticklish sensations as all seven of them began scratching away at your sensitive skin. Not a single pair of hands relented or slowed or even showed any sign of hesitation. Even the softest of lers had taken to make sure you were wrecked with rough tickles.

“Nohoho! I’m sohohorry!” You whined.

“Are you though?” Jungkook debated with you. He hit a very sensitive part on your hips, loving the reaction you were providing him. “Because by the smile on your face, I’d say you’re pretty proud of yourself!”

“No! Nohoho, I’m nohohot!”

Someone started leaving butterfly kisses across your neck. You squealed at the soft sensations.

“Ahhh, Jin-hyung, I think she likes that~” Yoongi drew the phrase out.

“How could she not? After all, she’s always talking about how soft my beautiful lips are!” He exclaimed before returning back to his torture against your neck.

You wanted to focus on shooing him from your neck with your chin, but you had to throw your head back in laughter when you felt Jimin and Taehyung really start to scratch away at the roles of your feet. God, Jimin even went straight for the kill with your toes on one foot while he directed Taehyung to the worst spots on your other.

“Nohoho fahahair! Plehehehease!”

“Princess, I think it’s time you stop with all this complaining and just laugh for us,” Hoseok commanded of you. “Anything that isn’t a cute little laugh? Well, you remember, don’t you?”

How could you forget? Last punishment you accidentally cried out “no!” and somehow there was a toothbrush vibrating in your belly button. The seven of them didn’t bring out tools often, but you were fearful of their unpredictability... or maybe you were also extremely in love with it. Either way, it gave you shivers just thinking about it.

You nodded and just continued laughing. That was all you could do.

Your back arched when Namjoon and Yoongi tasered your sides in perfect synchronization. They gave one another a proud grin while you bucked between them. Those assholes... those freaking amazing and ruthless assholes...

You couldn’t even process the onslaught of tickles from those two for too long before Jungkook was back with his terrible hip tickles. All the while Taehyung and Jimin were still tickling your feet with such vigor. Hoseok was tracing patterns into one underarm while Jin got with other, making sure to add his tickly neck kisses into the mix.

You were in pure bliss but experiencing pure torture all at the same time. Your laughter began to go silent. Tears were running down your face before you knew what was hitting you.

“Such pretty tears, princess~” Yoongi cooed. He leaned over and kissed your cheek, showing some affection in this time of ruthlessness.

“Noho- I- ple-hehe- You were struggling to get the words out. Thankfully there was some shred of compassion left in Namjoon.

“Here, let’s give her a break real quick,” Namjoon told the others.

They retracted their fingers from your shaking body after some time. You greedily gulped in as much air as your lungs would allow while some of the guys rubbed your skin comfortingly. Tae and Jimin cuddled up to your sides, rubbing your sides soothingly.

“Having fun?” Tae asked.

“Mehehean!” You simply told them.

“Sorry, princess,” Jimin gave you a joke-pout as he pushed your hair back. “But you deserve it after everything you did today.”

“Yeheheah, I’m sohorry about that...” You apologized genuinely when you came down from your tickle high.

Jin ruffled your hair. “It’s alright, baby. But you can’t do that kind of stuff while we’re working. Your adorable tickle spots are pretty distracting, you know. Makes us want to be mean to you, which you don’t want. Well, that’s what you say.”

“We’re about to get a lot meaner anyway,” Yoongi informed you as he got closer to your body. You could see the assortment of feathers he was twirling between his fingers as he approached. “Regardless of what you say.”

“W-Wait!” You stammered. “I-I-I thought i-it was done!”

“Oh, you thought that we were finished with you?” Namjoon asked with a quirked brow. “Baby girl, this is a punishment! Did you think you could get away with only a few minutes of tickling? And besides, I do beleive Hobi told you that you weren’t allowed to do anything other than laugh.”

“Sit tight,” Hoseok patted your stomach. “The night is still young, kitten~”

author’s note: i’m kind of tipsy but i finished this so i’m content!!

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milkchu · 5 years

Text

❝anyway the wind blows❞ ♔ twelve.

Summary: (Y/N) Mercury’s journey of love, fame, and pain, alongside what would become one of the most legendary bands ever, Queen.

Pairing: Borhap!Queen x Reader, eventual Brian May x Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of drinking, smoking, and drugs, p**l pr*nt*r

⇦ previous chapter // next chapter ⇨

Munich, 1984

Sitting by the piano bench, you scribbled along on the papers in front of you, making some notes for your new song. Though, it felt too quiet and empty in the room, even though you knew Paul was right there.

The phone suddenly rang. Looking over to Paul, he walked over to the phone right away before you went back to work, thinking the call wasn’t that important.

While you were too occupied with your new song, Paul answered the call, “Hello?”

A voice he hasn’t heard for a long time answered back, “Paul. Can I speak to (Y/N)?”

“Oh, Matthew. No, she can’t talk right now,” Paul said, “She’s working day and night, constantly.”

Matthew sighed in response, “Will you make sure to tell her that I called?”

“Don’t worry, she’s in safe hands,” Paul looked over to you, “I will certainly tell her you called.”

Before Matthew could say anything more, Paul interrupted, “Cheers,” before hanging up.

As Matthew looked down at the telephone in his lap, he let out a frustrated sigh, already knowing from the start that Paul wouldn’t let you answer the phone anyway.

He knew of the band’s conflict and was extremely worried for you, especially with Paul by your side. Though, that was only part of the reason why he decided to call.

Dialing another number on the phone, he waited for an answer until a voice answered, “Hello?”

“I’m sorry, Brian.”

Sitting in the recording room, you took a long drag from your cigarette as you listened to the synth rock music that was supposed to be for your new song.

Paul walked over to you from the couch, and kneeled in front of you before patting your knee, “(Y/N), it’s really great.”

“It’s shit!” You huffed.

This was basically your whole experience recording in Munich. Though constantly surrounded by a lot of people, you had never felt so alone in your life.

You also had been coughing a lot lately, and at one instance, had a few drops of blood on the napkin you used. But you ignored it, you knew you were fine. Right?

Many parties would also be held at your house, all of them thrown by Paul. He mentioned that you just needed to loosen up and have fun since you were already stressed out by the album that you loathed so much.

During one of those parties, Paul was on the phone again, except this time, it was with Jim.

“Where is she? Is she there? I want to speak to her.”

“She is working herself to the bone,” Paul said, throwing another one of his lines that he definitely used before on other calls that would ask for you, “I’m blue in the face trying to get her to take a break.”

“Paul, listen to me,” Miami said, “It’s one performance for a good cause. It’s a televised concert for the famine in Ethiopia.”

Whilst Jim was explaining it, Paul simply let his voice in and out of his ear, obviously not paying attention.

“They’re gonna have simultaneous performances, in Philadelphia and London. There’s gonna be a billion people watching, Queen should be part of it.”

“She’s just been really focused. But I’ll be sure to pass it on,” Paul said, adding it to the long list of things he wasn’t planning on telling you.

After Paul hung up, Jim said under his breath, “Sure you will.”

It was a rainy night, you were alone in the house, Paul had gone out to who knows where, and you had fallen asleep on the couch in the living room.

Within the sound of pattering rain, you were woken up by several knocks on the glass window. Opening your eyes, groaning, you looked up to see the last person you expected to see here. Matthew.

Immediately getting up from the couch, knocking over a few glasses, letting out another cough, before opening the door to Matthew, “Hi,” He smiled at you.

“Hi, come in, come in,” You said before Matthew walked forward and pulled you into a tight embrace, his scent that you missed so much filling your nose.

“Why did you come all this way?” You pulled away, closing the door behind you.

“I just haven’t heard from you in so long, and I phones and phoned, and then… last night I just had this terrible dream that something bad had happened…” Matthew paused, taking in the mess that was the living room.

“No, no. I’ve been working, that’s all,” You tried to reassure him, but Matthew didn’t take it, “(Y/N), you’re burning the candle at both ends,” He whispered, looking around at all the glasses and empty bottles.

“Yes, but the glow is so divine,” You replied, until Matthew looked over to the coffee table that had a white substance all over it.

Following his gaze, you sent him a forced smile, “Being human is a condition that requires a little anesthesia.”

Matthew looked at you with sadness in his eyes, “I miss you,” he whispered.

“I miss you. I miss you so much,” You replied, “Listen, but I have to finish the second album. I need you,” you looked up at him, “Stay. Stay here with me. Just you and me.”

Bringing your hands to his face, you smiled softly, “I need the love of my life.”

He looked at you with an unreadable expression, before gently pulling your hands away, “(Y/N)...What about Queen?”

“Jim told me he’s been trying to contact you about Live Aid and you won’t take his calls.”

You squint your eyes in confusion, “What is Live Aid?”

“You haven’t heard?” Matthew asked, “(Y/N), it’s the biggest concert there’s ever been or ever will be. It’s for the famine in Africa.”

“Well, perhaps Paul thought it wasn’t a good idea,” You looked down, “A distraction from my work.”

Looking back up at Matthew, you held his hands, “That’s what’s important, that I finish this album,” before suddenly placing your hand on his shoulders, “Stay with me, darling, and I’ll be all right.”

Matthew looked down, whispering, “(Y/N), I can’t stay with you.”

“Of course you can. I need you, Matthew-”

“(Y/N), I’m getting married to Daisy.”

Your heart stopped, looking at Matthew with wide eyes, before you managed to whisper out, “How could you?”

“How could I? (Y/N), this has nothing to do with you,” Matthew retorted, until you heard several voices from outside.

The door opened, revealing Paul and some other strangers, “(Y/N)! Sorry we’re late.”

Matthew looked back at him, before Paul stopped, “Matthew.”

“What a pleasant surprise.”

Matthew didn’t bother greeting back before Paul let in all the strangers, “Everyone, come in. Make our guests comfortable.”

Matthew looked between you and Paul, clearly knowing what the real problem is.

Paul walked over to the two of you, “I wish I knew you were coming to stay. I’d have scrubbed the place.”

“Actually, I’m not staying,” Matthew said, before walking over to the door.

“Wait. Matthew, wait. Don’t go,” You tried to follow him, pulling away from Paul’s grip on your arm.

Stopping him, you felt tears gloss over your eyes, “You told me you had a dream. What was it?” Your voice broke.

Matthew gulped, “I was trying to talk to you, but...it was like talking to my mother. You needed to tell me something...but you...you couldn’t say it.”

“Because you had no voice.”

Looking at him with red eyes, you watched as he went out the door while Paul called out to you, “(Y/N), come and say hello to our new guests. They’re dying to meet you.”

Ignoring Paul, you let out a sniff, before following Matthew out the door in the rain, “Matthew!”

You ran towards the taxi before he could close the door, and tried to smile through the tears that threatened to fall, “I’m happy for you, Matthew. Truly, I am.”

Matthew looked up at you expressionlessly, before you continued, “It’s just...I’m frightened.”

He shook his head at you, “(Y/N), you don’t need to be. Because no matter what, you are loved.”

“By me, your family, Brian, Deacy, Roger…”

Your heart broke a little at the mention of their names, your three best friends. Your family. The family you had turned your back on.

“It’s enough. And these people…” He shook his head, “They don’t care about you. Paul doesn’t care about you.”

“You don’t belong here, (Y/N).”

“Come home.”

You looked down, slowly nodding, finally letting a tear fall along with the raindrops, “Home.”

Finally closing the door, you stood there in the pouring rain, watching as the taxi drove away.

You just stood there, as if each raindrop that falls on your head was a realization. Washing away everything that you had been blinded by. Every little facade that Paul had put on. Simply washing away.

“(Y/N)!” You heard his voice, “What are you doing? You’ll catch your death.”

Refusing to look back, you stood your ground, before shouting out, “Why didn’t you tell me about Live Aid?”

“The Africa charity gig? It’ll be an embarrassment. I didn’t wanna waste your time!”

You raised your hand up for him to stop, “You should’ve told me.”

“Of course I did! You forgot! You’re always forgetting things. Come in now and have a drink.”

Nodding slowly before you looked in the distance, you have already decided.

“You’re out.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want you out of my life.”

“‘Cause I’m the only one left, you’re blaming me for everything?”

You shook your head, “I blame myself.”

“So I’m out? Just like that?” Paul snapped, “After everything we’ve been through?” He shouted.

“Just think of the photos I have. I know who you are, (Y/N) Mercury.”

Feeling a sudden wave of anger go through you, you shouted back, “You know when you know you’ve gone rotten? Really rotten?”

“Fruit flies,” You gritted your teeth, “Dirty. Little. Fruit flies. Coming to feast on what’s left. Well, there isn’t much left for you to feast on anymore.”

“So, fly off!” You yelled, “Do what you like with your photographs and your stories! But promise me one thing.”

“That I never see your face again. Ever.”

“I didn’t mean it!” Paul yelled out, trying to get you back, “I’m sorry! (Y/N), come back! I’ll make it better!”

But he could only watch you walk away from him.

tags: @b-hardys // @hunterswearingplaid // @livingforrt // @bensrhapsody // @jennyggggrrr // @little-weirdo-13 // @kemeryyyy // @yoonlatte // @geek-and-proud // @everything-you-dont-wanna-be // @itsametaphorbriansblog // @marequeenii // @killer-queen-xo // @jedi-dreea // @achernarsaa // @nevaeh-potter15 // @banana-tree-freddiemercury // @rogertaylorssunglasses // @pyrotechnic789 // @mirkwoodshewolf // @stuff-exists // @toger-raylor // @langdonzvoid // @tbird20165 // @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen // @theswedishblonde // @oliviaharddyy // @sunflower-borhap-boys // @rocknrollsavedmysoul13 // @sincereleygmg // @mylifeissucky123 // @teenwolflover28 // @perrythefrickinplatypus // @deakysmisfire // @simonedk

this means i couldn’t find your user :<

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mellifluoushood · 6 years

Text

401 - A Calum Hood Imagine

Word Count: 3,000

Trigger Warnings: none

A/N: So, I wrote this in 2015 before I deleted my original blog @fightingirwin/@punkfletch and I found it yesterday and ended up loving it so much I wanted to post it! I’m going to write a part two now because I LOVE wedding!Calum and wedding!5sos. Enjoy this teeth rotting, soul stopping, heart wrenching fluff that’ll make you all soft and gooey. - B x

P/A/N: Listen to “Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Kina Grannis from the Crazy Rich Asians soundtrack if you wanna be real messed up.

She was asleep. Fast asleep with drool dripping from her lip, her hair tangled around her face, and heavy breaths. Her face was relaxed, no worry marks around her eyebrows or tight smiles that stretched her cheeks. Though her blemishes and rosy cheeks were something she despised, she wore them to sleep with pride, happy to just curl up and forget about the day that made her breakout from stress and almost yell from irritation.

All of it was her. Every little bit. His eyes followed the soft slope of her jaw, across the love marks scattered across the soft skin of her neck, her bare collarbones, to where the silky white sheets covered the rest of her body, the one she shared with only him. The one where she would unclench her thighs so Calum could see the stretch marks on her skin and the one where she would often cover with her arms because she thought she was too heavy but would uncover herself for Calum. Because she trusted him.

She trusted him with everything she had. All of her secrets, her flaws, her dreams, her fears. Everything that was her… she trusted him with. She trusted him with the late night talks and the early morning drool, she trusted him with her stretch marks and her aspirations of her career, and she trusted him with the whimpers of fear when she was unsure.

It was so mind-blowing to Calum, that something as elegant and unique and special as she was, would ever trust him. She was something the world needed to worship and praise, but yet she lived quietly with him, trusting him. It was simple, really, how much she loved him. And how much he loved her.

He trusted her with his life… his existence… his everything. She knew him up and down, in and out, side to side, hair to toes, hand to hand, and everything in between. She knew what made him tick and what made him melt. She knew what he hated and what he craved. She knew his little quirks and absent doings and she knew his colour-coded speech. She knew what to do to calm him down after a hard day in the spotlight, working behind the scenes to make sure he didn’t go insane. She knew how to love him and talk to him, cooing at him and kissing his neck when she knew he needed it.

They were well-oiled machines that were filled with love and trust. They worked together in a way that not even an old couple could. They knew where to step to avoid the other while working in the kitchen together and they knew what place to avoid because the other would need it in a moment.

The love didn’t just keep it going, it was the friendship. It was the thrown popcorn at midnight and the ridiculous hours of eating Chinese food when one couldn’t sleep. It was the countless hours fighting over the other’s safety, just to realise they fought because they wanted the best for the other person. It was taking the driving shift when one was dozing off on their infamous road trips. It was Calum killing the bugs for her. And it was her sewing up the holes in his clothes. The friendship held inside jokes and a secret handshake they made up long ago while drunk off red wine and listening to the Foo Fighters. The friendship was covering for the other when someone needed a sick day off work. The friendship was having Jimmy John’s delivered to one of their workplaces, with no note needed, and the other’s order memorised down pat. It was the little things they shared that made all the gears fit together.

The trust was so unspoken between the two that it was the energy that kept the machine going. When one was afraid, the other empowered. When one was alone, the other comforted. When one was talkative, the other listened. It was a balance, an unspoken one that kept the machine going. The energy. There was a positive and a negative. A giver and a taker.

“I can feel you staring,” she hummed, brushing a piece of hair out of her eyesight, opening a single eye to peek at the boy.

“Did it wake you?” His voice rumbled, him scooting closer and wrapping both arms around her waist. She nuzzled her face into his chest, listening to the slow breaths and matching heartbeat.

“No… just stirred me awake slightly.”

Calum cracked a smile to himself, thinking about the engagement ring he had slipped on her finger last night without her knowing.

“Now I’m awake. I felt your heartbeat speed up. What’s up? You don’t get this excited in the mornings.” It was well known that Calum was not a morning person. He didn’t like leaving the little drool stain on her pillow and the memories of being tangled in their sheets together.

When her head poked from his chest, she used both hands to steady her on his tattooed chest. And that’s when she saw it. The huge rock sitting on her left ring finger, sparkling in the early morning sunlight. Her breath caught in her throat, immediately looking up to Calum for an explanation with eyes wide.

“Last night, we were laughing. We were laughing so hard you cried and I almost threw up. I don’t even remember what it was about, but I didn’t care because I got to hear your laugh. And I knew that was one thing that will forever remind me of you. It sounds like bells to me. Whenever I hear a loud church bell, or Christmas bells, or bells welcoming me into a store. It reminds me of you because it’s so melodic and fitting for any situation. It reminds me of warmth on cold winter days and the welcoming of me somewhere.

“Everything you do is connected to some part of my world. My bass picks remind me of the time that I taught you how to play and the look on your face when you played “Wherever You Are” for me. My shirts remind me of you because you hold me close no matter the day, no matter the time, no matter the conditions. You always keep me close, always showing me you’ll protect me when the time comes. They also remind me of the times you wear them around the house and refuse to give them back until I give you a kiss. My reflection reminds me of you. I always subconsciously flicker my eyes to see if you’re there, with me in the reflection somehow, even if we’re thousands of miles away. Because you’re the better half of me, you’re the most beautiful part of what I’ve become, and I want that to be visible to everyone… not just to me.

“I think of everything and I think of you. I think of everything you do and say and act and think. You are my world. Every little piece of the world, good or bad, has you in it somehow. And I realise how boring and barren my life would be without you. Christmas bells would just be for holiday celebrations and my shirts would simply be something I wear every day. Everything would be plain. But, you make everything more.

“You make my love more, you make my trust more, and you make me more. You’re someone who’s helped me grow and prosper but find my own path. You held my hand and helped me up when it just seemed like too far of a step up, but let me fall and make my mistakes on my own.

“You are everything. You are everything to me. And I’d be stupid as hell to let that go. And I would be selfless if I let everyone else see it. I want them to know that you’re the sun, the moon, and all the stars, without seeing all the depth and stories within you. I want to be selfish and hold you close to me for the rest of eternity. I want you to be my sun, my moon, and all of my stars, even when my soul becomes a star itself. So, what do you say? Is forever okay with you?”

All 399 polaroids are strung out on laundry lines, decorated with black sharpie scribbled in dates and fairy lights twisting upon the rope. Yards of laundry lines were decorated with a Polaroid from every day of their engagement. The day of being engaged, but not quite the last day of being engaged.

He stood outside her door, listening to her giggle with her bridesmaids. He had been pestering her for just one more polaroid, to make it all complete. But, she had her firm belief in superstitions and that he was not supposed to see her before she walked down the aisle. No matter how much he tried to lure her out, she dodged his claws like a clever mouse, giggling here and there just to let him know he wasn’t succeeding. One hand shoved in his tuxedo pants pocket, placing the other on the door frame outside of her dressing room.

“Just one photo baby, and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Just one?”

“Just one.” He confirms, her steps get closer to the door. They stop for a couple of moments and he hears the snap and process of the polaroid. He smiles to himself in victory, not before hearing another one snap right behind him. He twirls around to see another bridesmaid with a matching Polaroid camera. She just smiles to herself, takes her developing photo, and walks towards the reception area to hang it on an empty slot that was right in front of the long table. Another bridesmaid appears from behind the door and slips underneath Calum’s arm, carrying the developing photo of his soon to be wife.

“You’re good, you know that?”

He can hear the smile in her voice, “I do.”

“Hey! Don’t say that just yet!” A bridesmaid shouts at his bride-to-be and he hears another laugh through the white door.

“Forever is okay with you?”

“Forever is okay with me.”

His hands were sweaty and he felt like if he wiped them once more on his tuxedo pants that the sweat stains would be visible. His arms are locked in front of him, trying not to attract attention by shaking. Everyone watches as his best man, Ashton, walks down the aisle with her maid of honour, her best friend. Then comes Michael with his sister and Luke with her childhood friend. Michael and Luke give him reassuring pats before the music picks up the volume, everyone rising for the bride.

The temptation to let out a wail is so damn tempting, but he keeps his mouth shut. He removes one hand from his intense lock to bring up to his mouth, completely stunned and in tears of her beauty. Her hair is pulled back in an elegant up-do, her makeup done flawlessly, and dress fitting her body so perfectly. She’s an angel.

Tears begin to drip down his cheeks, Calum not even bothering to wipe them away as they are accompanied by many more. His smile quivers and so do his hands as he gets wrapped up in her beauty. Their eyes don’t break from each other once, each having their own tears and own memories and own promises between the two.

And when she’s finally in front of him, he just mouths, “Wow.”

Her father smiles before kissing his daughter on the cheek, pushing back her veil, and shaking Calum’s hand.

“Take good care of her, alright?”

“You have my word, sir.” One of his hands claps down on Calum’s back, while the other guides his daughter’s to his. Calum’s hands lock with his brides, eyes meeting as well.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Calum and his bride turn to face the man who was marrying them, the friend who introduced the two of them.

She doesn’t even listen to the introduction or what story their friend was telling about her and Calum. She’s just telling silent stories with her eyes to him, him replying in this secret language that they’ve put together over the years. By the time the vows are in order, she grabs the handkerchief that the friend holds out to her with a giggle, while Calum fumbles with his piece of notebook paper.

He clears his throat, wiping at his eyes, “I wish to repeat everything I said to you the morning I proposed to you. But I want that to be between us, something special and something filled with love to hold onto when there’s a rough day and I’m not there to comfort you. I feel like I could say a billion other things about how you’ve changed my life. But, the one that stands out to me most is how you’ve saved my life,” he begins to choke on his words, “When times were dark and I kept bumping into the sides of the tunnel with no light by my side, you appeared like this little ball of happiness, so full of love and so bright, willing to do anything to make sure that I was okay. You guided me to the end of the dark tunnel and stayed by my side as I continued to walk on my path of life. You showed me loyalty and trustworthiness, you showed me unconditional love and selflessness, and you showed me a companion and a brighter world. You not only saved my life but made it the best it can be. Now, I promise you to be a companion, a loyal partner, and an unconditional love to show you selflessness, trustworthiness, and a brighter world with you just like you did for me. I promise to love you unconditionally in the lowest parts of your life and the highest parts of your journey. I promise to treat our children with the love you’ve shown me and I promise to do everything in my power to keep you safe. I love you and I will spend the rest of the time showing that to you. I belong to you, wholeheartedly, in life and in the afterlife.”

Taking a deep breath, Calum looks up at her with tear-filled eyes, noticing that she too is crying, a lot harder than he ever would have thought. She’s smile through her tears, her face painted with joy and love for the man in front of her. Calum takes one of her hands in his again while her maid of honour hands her vows. Clearing her throat and dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief that the friend gave her, she looks up at Calum before looking down at her written words.

“Calum Thomas Hood. The name has a billion different meanings behind it and a billion different stories. Stories of how the first time someone said your name that I blushed, stories of how the second time we met you shamefully told me your middle name, stories of how the third time you were over at my house and begged me to make some cookies, only to steal the batter and I had to chase after you, yelling, ‘Calum Thomas!’ to get it back. For the longest time, it was stories behind your name that made me smile and blush whenever someone talked about you, but now it’s meaning. It’s the meaning of happiness, loyalty, trust, and love. I hear your name and I think of how safe and loved you make me feel, no matter the day and no matter the distance. You have put a new meaning in your own name as well as my own life. You give my life a different meaning, one that is oh so special, and one that only you can put there. I promise to give you the same meaning in your life, that you hold dear to your heart when the miles get too high, and the day gets too hard. I promise to show you a new meaning of love and happiness and loyalty as we spend the rest of our lives together. I hope that once we part, our souls find our way back to each other, because hell, forever is okay with me.”

The tears are splashing onto her cheeks, her voice cracking and shaking as she reads aloud her vows. Calum is staring at her with awe in his eyes and a look of love on his face, his eyes burning from his unspilled tears. Calum gently wipes away her tears with his thumbs, not breaking eye contact before holding hands and looking at his friend where he continues the ceremony. When the time for the exchanging of rings is to come, the maid of honour and the best man hand both Calum and her their rings for each other.

The officiant preps and guides Calum through his words as he slides the ring on her finger, “My love, a ring is an unbroken circle, a symbol of unity and love, representative of the greater circle of life of which we all spiritually are a part of. Having neither beginning nor end, but a continuous cycle of which you are an element. For you, it begins with the gift of life, and will continue through the end of time.”

She takes Calum’s ring and slides it on his left ring finger, smiling and repeating the same thing as Calum. Taking each other’s hands, they both eagerly look at the officiant to say the magic words. He makes it short and sweet,

“By the power vested in me by the state of California, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Calum, you may kiss your bride,” everyone cheers before Calum grabs her waist, pulling her close and kissing her so passionately and softly that it feels like time itself has stopped.

#CH #calum hood #calum hood imagine #calum hood fluff #calum hood smut #calum hood fic #5sos #5sos imagine #5sos fluff #5sos smut #5sos fic #wedding!5sos #wedding!calum #wedding!cal #fluffed #isabella writes

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anarchist-puppet-on-strings · 5 years

Text

Stories Worth Telling

SUMMARY: Jackie only said yes to this interview in hopes of getting people to hate him less.

TW - VERY BRIEF MENTION OF PEDOPHILIA

Jackie’s nervous. He hopes to any higher being that may hear this that he doesn’t look as anxious as he feels. When people see him from afar they see someone calm and collected, a joke or witty comment at the ready. He prays this interview doesn’t reveal what a dorky mess he actually is to the public.

He watches with vague interest as the reporter he’d saved a week ago—Danny—got ready. A notebook was pulled out of her bag, pencil pulled from behind her ear, phone opened to the voice memo app and set on the table between them…. It seems like she really thought this whole thing through huh. Maybe she knew he'd say yes.

He fidgeted uncomfortably. He'd never done this sort of thing before. He’s talked to few people for extended amounts of time as Jackieboy Man and that was to calm a few victims, most being children—this is a journalist. The voice in his mind told him he'd mess this all up and make even more people hate him. Oddly enough, that thought is scarier than some criminals he's fought.

The phone sitting on the table, ready to record their whole conversation is more like a viper than a phone at this point. It stares at him like it’s waiting for him to fuck up once.

“Alrighty then looks like we're nearly ready!” Danny chirped happily. “I’m going to start recording our conversation—if that's okay with you,” she said, shooting him a questioning glance.

Against his better judgement, he swallowed and nodded nervously.

She tapped the screen and suddenly the interview had begun.

“So Jackieboy Man—can I call you Jackie?”

He nodded before catching his mistake. “Err yeah. Go for it.”

“Great,” she said absentmindedly, flipping through her small notebook. “First off: why’d you agree to this interview? You’ve shied away from reporters before.”

His mind blanked and he’s left struggling to pick out coherent thoughts. “Uh, well, I was kinda hoping this would clear up some questions people might have about me? I dunno, make them hate me less? And you seem less demanding and invasive than the other ones who’ve asked.”

She hummed, glancing up at him with a soft smile as she scribbled something down and flipped back a few pages. “What makes you think people hate you?”

He scoffed. “Oh please, I’ve seen the looks I get. And I can hear all the rumors.”

Someone started something saying he’s a leader of some new gang or something. While it’s kinda amusing, it hurts his fragile reputation of being the new hero in the city. Enough people didn’t trust him as it was and he didn’t need some stupid rumor messing things up even worse than they already were.

“Well, what you’re doing is illegal,” she pointed out dryly, giving him a look that he’s all too familiar with. Stay in your lane; it’s not your job. That look always pissed him off.

Jackie couldn’t help but bark a sardonic laugh, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. “Yeah, well, the cops aren’t doing shit, so I’m steppin’ up instead.”

Perhaps he shouldn’t have said that because now her interest is peaked. Her hazel eyes were glittering in excitement as she leaned forward.

“Ah, I’m sorry; that was uncalled for-”

“No, no,” she said eagerly. “Go ahead. What’re your opinions on the cops?”

Relax, Jay; this is an interview. It’s all about you. You’re not gonna get in trouble… yet.

“Well, I don’t really needta tell anybody how corrupt this city’s justice system is. All I see when I turn on the news is about how some cop abused their power and aren’t gettin’ charged blah blah blah.” Now that he’s clearly listening to himself, he realized how bitter and… sad he sounded.

“It happens pretty often,” Danny noted, pencil scratching against paper.

“Christ, it’s like this happens every few weeks!” He complained, running a hand down his face and over his mask. “It’s stupid! I mean, it’s not hard to be a good person!”

“Is that why you’re doing this?” She cut in. “Because of all the corruption?”

“Well, yeah, why else would I be doin’ all this shit?” He asked. “I have a job and stuff to do. Why would I want to be doin’ something I don’t needta be doin’?”

“People can argue that you don’t have the right to do that. There’s law enforcement after all.”

“Technically we just talked about why we can’t trust the cops but I’ll humor you. Ya can’t just sit around, twiddling your thumbs while you wait for someone to stop the people everyone put in power cuz nobody’s gonna stop them. Sometimes ya have to step up and be karma.”

“That’s… that’s quite the statement. Very raw.”

Jackie hummed.

Silence fell for a minute until Danny spoke again. “A while ago, one of my coworkers caught a video of you stumbling into an alley after a gunfight between two gangs when she arrived on the scene. Did you get hurt?”

Shrugging helplessly, he glanced down at the ground. ”Maybe.”

“Do you… do you get hurt often?” She asked. To Jackie’s disbelief, he heard genuine concern in her voice.

“I mean, yeah… not too often for bad injuries but normally scrapes and bruises here and there every night.” He chuckled. “Most the minor ones are my fault anyways. I’m not exactly graceful.”

More writing.

“Aren’t you scared?” She asked.

“Of what?”

“Getting hurt.”

“Oh, nah, not really,” he said dismissively. “What happens happens. I just brush it off and keep going.”

“Do your family and friends know you’re doing this?” She asked.

He blinked. “What?”

She repeated the question.

“Uh—no. I don’t have any family or friends.” It slipped out before he could stop it.

The look he received was of pure pity. He hated it.

Danny tapped her pencil against the edge of the table, watching as his leg bounced up and down.

“So… tell me about your spray painting.”

“Uhm, what d’ya wanna know?” His brows furrowed. Of all the things she could’ve asked, she asked about that?

She hummed. “Well, what’s with all the messages? You have some pretty meaningful ones plastered across the walls.”

Trying to recall any only resulted in a jumble of memories. All he could really remember is the fumes of paint and the dark shielding him from prying eyes.

“Which ones? I’ve done a lot.”

She flipped through her notes again and pulled out a few pictures stuck between some pages. A bright green eyeball with the optic nerve hanging down with a blue iris and a black pupil was present in every picture but...

Danny spoke before he could examine them of them close enough. “‘Don’t tell me what you want to be; tell me what you want to do.’”

He shrugged. “It’s always what d’ya wanna be when you grow up. I think what you’re gonna do is much more important.”

She furrowed her brows while nodding before moving onto the next one.

“‘Respect existence or expect resistance,’” she read aloud.

“I think that’s pretty self explanatory.”

She gave him a patient smile. “Tell me anyway.”

Jackie sighed heavily. “People don’t respect one another and then suddenly everyone is surprised when others start to say something about it or try to do something. It’s hypocritical.”

Once he made it clear he wasn’t going any further, she continued down the line. “‘Smile because you’re loved.’”

That one made him smile slightly. It’s one of his favorites. “I think reminders are nice. People always have someone who cares, even if they don’t think so.”

She stared at him for a moment before smiling gently. “That’s a nice message.”

“Yeah, I wish people told each other more often.”

“‘Stop being silent.’” She tapped the mute button drawn next to the phrase.

He stared her in the eyes. “Citizens have power. They’re just not using it. They’re trying to scare us into silence and it’s working. We need to do something.

“‘How many have to die?’” She turned the paper towards herself and rattled off, “‘Charlie Unger, Hailey Davis, Michael Crow, Thomas Marsh, Cale Sanders, Macy Parish, Gail Sullivan…’ and there’s many more. These are names of protesters.”

“And people who the cops killed,” Jackie added steelily.

“Why those names?”

“People have argued whether some of these people were “good” or not, but here’s the thing: most of them were children. I know Macy was 16 and the others were mainly older highschool or college students. You can say they were adults but they were still in school. They had things they’ll never get to do now, and they’re not getting their justice. It isn’t fair.”

Danny’s silent as she slid the picture back into her bag. She turned her attention on the next one. “‘Divided we stand, united we fall.’ This is pretty similar to the American motto.”

“Mmm it’s switched around.”

“Why this one? Are you bashing America?”

“Nope,” he said, popping the p. “I’m bashing this city. We all have our differences, opinions, and stories, and we let those define us. But when we fall down, we fall together. We have the same fate eventually. We stand divided but we fall united.”

She hummed again (she did that a lot). “What about this one? ‘Always watching?’”

“I don’t remember doing that one.”

Danny frowned. “It has your calling card by it. Or, at least, what looks like it.”

He frowned, turning the picture to face him. The words were jagged and sloppy with little care for how it appeared. But the eye by the words was… wrong. It was black with a combined neon green iris and pupil. It looked… ominous.

“That’s not mine,” he said. He picked it up, trying to figure out where this was. “Do you know where this is?”

She reached over and plucked the photo out of his hand and flipped it over.

In scrawling letters it read: 65830 Detroit Boulevard

Drumming his fingers on his leg, he hummed.

“Can I, ah, take a picture of this?” He asked, flipping it back over and staring at the cryptic words.

“Go ahead.”

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he snapped a picture of the graffiti. He copied the address into the notes app before turning it off and putting it away. He slid the photo back to her so she could shuffle them back into her notebook.

She cleared her throat after a minute and continued. “Your latest stunt caused some controversy. People say you have no right to reveal people’s personal information like you did.”

“I’d say those rights are forfeited when you’re caught doin’ illegal things.”

“So it can be argued that your rights are forfeited as well?” She pointed out, jabbing her pencil at him.

He shrugged again. “I mean, yeah, sure.”

The answer must’ve let Danny down. “You’re pretty nonchalant about all this.”

He smiled. “Well, at least I know where my morals lie. I’m happy to say I’m not on the deep web watching little kids like McCallister was.”

At the mention of that, she became uncomfortable. “Why’d you reveal that information to the public?”

Jackie grinned. “Because he couldn’t be left off the hook with the whole city angry, no matter how corrupt the cops are. Even if he escapes criminal charges—which I doubt—people’ll throw him outta office. You have ta get people’s attention for them to listen.”

“I… I think that’s enough for now…” She said weakly.

“Oh? Am I free to go?” He asked.

She shoved her notebook into her bag and picked up her phone. “Sure, just give me some contact info, so I can get in touch to ask follow up questions.” It sounded like she didn’t realize what she’s saying. Contact info from a hero? Psssh.

He laughed as he made his way to the open window. “Nah, you’ll see me around. Just holler.”

“Hey! Wait!” She sputtered.

It’s too late—he’d already swung his legs over the windowsill and dropped down onto the fire escape.

Danny rushed to the window and peered out, watching him vault over the railing and drop into the darkness of the alleyway. She sighed, phone clutched in her hand. She looked at the new recording named by the date and time. “Oh well, at least I have this.”

This would be the biggest story since Jackie’s appearance—maybe even bigger! She could feel it.

(A/N) I’VE WORKED ON THIS FOR D A Y S AND IT’S FINALLY DONE!!!

Tag list: @assbutt-of-the-readers, @stuck-in-a-l-o-o-p, @bloodsoakedheretic

#anarchist tries to write #let me help pick up the pieces #jacksepticeye #jse fanfiction #jackieboy man #firecracker #danny de luna #character analysis #swearing #anxiety #vandalism #vigilante #brief mention of past injuries #interview #corrupt politicians #corrupt police

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lickstynine · 6 years

Note

How about fever Kit but trying to cope on his own? Maybe he has stuff to actually do, maybe he tries to go to class for once? It all finally gets too much for him but then Siofra steps in to the rescue at the end

Dedicated to my pal @ocsickficsideblog. You didn’t write this with me, but I used your idiots as a plot device, so, thanks.

Kit was sitting in Fox’s study, in the big leather chair, blanket on his shoulders and phone in his hand. He had been scrolling through his contacts all morning looking for someone to talk to. It was finals week, so Alistair and Julius were off the table - that was the only reason Kit was even at the manor. He felt like enough of a burden just lying around his cousin’s flat, he couldn’t interrupt Alistair’s studies, too.

Siofra wasn’t an option either, she had a big show coming up, she’d be rehearsing with her brothers all day. The rest of his “Favourites” were even less feasible - Kit hadn’t spoken to Nina, Isabella, or Leander since his falling out with Violet. He couldn’t even place most of the other names on his contact list. Looking back through his texts, he realized the only person he even talked to besides Siofra, Alistair, and Julius was Taddy. Did that even count? Taddy probably wouldn’t want a thing to do with Kit if it weren’t his job.

Kit sighed. He was alone. At least he was free to roam the house. Reggie liked to travel in the summer, and as far as he cared, summer stretched from May to October. He also had a wife to shop for, now that his divorce was finalized. Kit had overheard his father talking the other night: “I might get an Oriental this time. Those girls know their place.” He’d felt an uncannily Alistair-ish urge to spit in Reggie’s face.

Kit shook his head at the memory, closing his contacts and opening Facebook out of sheer boredom. No one his age really posted on there anymore, but at least it was something to do. He was skimming disinterestedly when a picture nearly made him drop his phone. John Renfrew, looking bitchy as ever, with a baby in his arms. His wife had captioned the photo: Rhoda is nearly six months now!

It took several moments for Kit to scrape his jaw off the floor. He continued to stare at the picture, as if it was going to change to something that made more sense, like John kicking a baby. How the fuck did John have a baby? Kit remembered Alistair saying his older cousin got married, but he’d assumed that would be about as long and fruitful as any of Reggie’s many marriages. And even worse was the idea of that sadistic bastard raising a child. Kit couldn’t imagine any girl who’d settle for John to be that pleasant. He clicked his tongue. Poor Rhoda.

Eventually Kit was able to tear his eyes from the post, and he continued scrolling. If he fixated on every child their family ruined, he’d never have time to do anything else. To his surprise, one of the next photos he saw actually had him in it. It was a picture Julius had posted last week, of Kit and Alistair kneeling on the floor while Oliver the hamster ran around them. Kit clicked on Julius’s name, hoping to see something a little more uplifting than his wretched family. A number on the profile page caught his eye - 28 May, 1998.

28 May? That had to be soon, if it was time for finals. Kit closed Facebook to check the date on his phone. He had a little less than three weeks, but now he also had an idea for something to do today. Julius needed a proper birthday present - it wasn’t like Alistair could afford one. If Kit went out now, he’d have time to custom-order products in Julius’s ridiculously small size. Of course, going out also required getting up and getting dressed. Ah, well. For Julius, Kit would do it. Or at least, he intended to.

As he stood up, Kit realized just how tired he was. He felt heavy and sluggish, and he shivered when his blanket slipped off. Was it really that cold in the house? He thought he’d turned the heat up when Reggie left. He shrugged it off, pulling his notepad out of his pyjama pocket.

Turn up heat, he scribbled, flicking through used pages to see if he’d actually written down what he was looking for. It was mostly just memos and musings, but when he got a few weeks back, Kit grinned. Julie Measurements, said the header. The following lines were all numbers with identifying shorthand. Kit couldn’t help being a little proud of himself for thinking to write this down last time he’d taken Julius shopping.

Walking up the stairs was frustratingly laborious; Kit almost missed Alistair’s single-story flat for a moment. He slogged down the hallway to his bedroom, leafing through his closet. The weather was supposed to be nice today, some fresh air would probably do him good (and hopefully it would be a little warmer outside). He settled on a charcoal blazer over a thin blue jumper and white button-down, with dark jeans. His earrings were already all silver, so he just grabbed a coordinating watch and a silver pendant with a small sapphire. It took a few minutes to find his charcoal boots, but he eventually dug them out, deftly loosing and re-tying the laces.

As usual, Kit spent another thirty minutes just fussing over his hair, and another ten concealing dark circles and putting on mascara. It was a bit after lunchtime by now, but he wasn’t even remotely hungry. He thought he might stop for tea on his way to the shopping centre - hopefully that would warm and wake him a little.

Gathering his phone, wallet, and keys, Kit finally made his way downstairs. He opened the door, and to his dismay, it was actually cooler outside than in the manor. He got about five steps down the walk before caving and ducking back inside to grab a proper coat. Even with his pea coat on, he felt a bit shivery, but Kit told himself it was the breeze. He just hadn’t gone out much lately, he would get acclimated soon enough. Besides, he was going out for Julius’s sake. He’d be a bit of a shit friend if he gave up at the slightest breath of wind.

Though he’d walked from the manor to the shopping centre from plenty of times, Kit found himself exhausted by the time he approached downtown. He needed to sit down, get some caffeine in his system. He spotted a familiar little cafe on the corner, trudging inside and practically collapsing in a chair.

It was hard to read the menu - the words seemed to wobble on the page, and squinting to focus them made his head hurt. Kit eventually gave up, just setting it aside and defeatedly ordering his usual earl grey.

“Will that be all for you?” The waitress’s voice sounded distorted and distant, like she was at the far end of a wind tunnel. Kit took a moment to process her question, and even longer to construct an answer.

“Me? Oh, um… yes. That’s all. Thank you.”

As the waitress walked away, Kit felt his face burning red. When did he get so bad at talking to people? Sure, he hadn’t been as social recently, but he was usually still charming when he tried. Just now, though, he’d been as awkward as Alistair. He sighed, staring quietly at the tablecloth. What was wrong with him today? He was shivering even in the cafe, with the heat of the kitchen warming the dining area. Hopefully some time to rest and a cup of tea would straighten him out.

By the time the waitress returned with his drink, Kit had completely spaced out. The poor girl stood there awkwardly for a moment before clearing her throat. That got his attention, and he looked up at her, albeit with unfocused, glassy eyes.

“Hm?”

“Your tea, sir?” The waitress smiled gently, setting it on the table when Kit gave her an affirming nod. “Careful, it’s hot.”

“Thank you.” He mumbled, not trusting himself to say more without looking like a stuttering idiot. She nodded back and hurried off to check on other tables.

Kit wrapped his fingers around the teacup, relishing the heat. His hands were always the worst affected when he was cold, often going clumsy and numb at seemingly moderate temperatures. He just held the cup for a minute, letting the warmth seep into his fingers. After staring into the abyss of his tea for a while, Kit eventually remembered that he’d purchased a drink, not a hand warmer, and he lifted the cup, taking a tiny sip.

The tea was still warm, fragrant with the familiar citrus note that all good earl grey had. Kit sipped again, sighing contently. He had always liked this cafe. Though the fog in his head refused to clear, he wasn’t shivering so much anymore. When his teacup was empty, Kit stared at it for a moment, wondering if he should have another cup.

No. He still had shopping to do. This was probably the only time he would be able to do it, too. When finals were over in a few days, Alistair would be attached to him at the hip again, and Kit didn’t trust his cousin to keep the gifts secret. He sighed deeply, pushing his chair out and climbing to his feet. He left a crisp twenty-pound note on the table and walked out onto the street.

The shopping centre was still a ways down the road, but there were some standalone shops along the way. Kit gazed in the windows as he walked past, waiting to see if anything caught his eye. Nothing had piqued his interest yet, but he was an object of interest to many of the girls walking by. A few of them stopped to stare, whispering between each other about asking for his number. They weren’t being very subtle, but Kit was too spacey to notice them, staring vacantly into the store he was walking past. He was about to leave it behind when he saw a pale beige jumper, patterned with tiny flecks of brown and grey. It wasn’t as flamboyant or avant-garde as something Kit would buy for himself, but it struck him as distinctly Julius.

He turned and went back to the entrance of the shop, pushing the pull door for a moment before realizing he was an idiot and letting himself inside. He wove through racks and mannequins, making his way back to the jumper he’d seen. Up close, it had even more subtle variations of colour, with greys and browns that were almost blue and pink respectively. Kit reached out a hand to touch the delicate fabric. It was stunningly soft, a beautiful blend of silk and cashmere. He thumbed through the racks, surprised and delighted to see that the smallest size would fit Julius superbly.

Carefully pulling the sweater away from its larger brethren, Kit made his way to the checkout. Nothing else in the store was catching his eye, and he still needed time to browse the shopping centre. He mumbled his way through the transaction, sticking his card in the chip reader without even checking the price. As soon as the bag was on his arm, he shuffled out of the store, continuing on his slog to the shopping centre.

It seemed like the road between Kit and the centre kept expanding, like some strange giant treadmill, but he knew it was just an illusion. Though he knew he couldn’t be far by now, it was hard to keep going. The tea had done almost nothing for his energy levels, and the sweater on his arm seemed to weigh a hundred pounds. Eventually, almost subconsciously, he just deposited himself on a bench, leaning back with a tired sigh. Everything was starting to feel cold again, and he pulled the shopping bag into his lap, hugging it close.

Kit wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting on the bench, or whether he’d drifted off or just zoned out, but he snapped back to reality when his phone started ringing. He had to fish through a few pockets to find it, not even checking the caller ID before answering.

“Hm?”

“Oi! I’ve texted you three different times today. You really are rubbish at texting. Anyway, rehearsal let out early, Riagán’s dumb arse scheduled a date tonight even though we were supposed to be practicing. I was wonderin’ if ya wanted to grab dinner or somethin?” Siofra jabbered away, talking too quickly to even notice Kit’s lack of response. When her question was met with prolonged silence, however, she didn’t hesitate to prod. “Oi! You alive over there?”

“Hm?”

“Jaysus, did you hear a word I’ve been fuckin’ sayin?” Siofra groaned.

Kit chuckled sheepishly. “Not really. Sorry. It’s not you, I’m just… tired.”

Siofra clicked her tongue. “I can tell. You sound fuckin’ terrible. Did I wake ya up or somethin’?”

“No… sort of… I’m not really sure.” Kit mumbled.

“How are ya not sure? I think you’d know if you were sleepin’.”

“You’d think…” Kit sighed, “It’s… it’s been a day. I’m just… out of it.”

“Obviously. It’s fine if you’re not up to dinner or whatever. You need to talk?” Siofra asked. She was properly concerned now - normally Kit would at least invite her over for dinner, even if he didn’t want to go out.

“No, I… I’m alright. I just need a rest.” He insisted.

Siofra wasn’t particularly convinced, but she didn’t want to pester. “Rest, then.”

“I will, once I get home.” Kit said.

“You’re not home? Where are you?” Siofra was even more worried now.

“Shopping.” Kit answered, “Julie’s birthday is coming up, I was looking for gifts for him.”

“Didja buy a truckload’o Xanax for yourself? You sound fuckin’ out of it.” Siofra fussed.

“No, I just… I’m tired. It was a long walk from the manor.”

“You walked? Why the fuck didn’t you just call Taddy?” Siofra cried.

Kit sniffled quietly. “Taddy doesn’t like me. He just puts up with me because I pay him.”

Siofra groaned. “What are you on about? He clearly likes ya, he’d get up at half four if ya needed a lift somewhere.”

“Only for the sake of the paycheck. I’m just a job for him, and a burden for everyone else.” Kit said morosely. “I had to leave Al and Julie alone this week, they have real responsibilities. They don’t need to deal with my pathetic arse on top of that.”

“Chrissakes, are you drunk or somethin’? You’re talkin’ nonsense.” Siofra muttered. “Look, where are you? I’m just about to drop Cilli at home anyway, I can come pick you up.”

Kit looked around, but he wasn’t near any street signs. “Uh… I’m… I’m downtown. By the shops.”

Siofra sighed. “Just send me your location. Put me on speaker, open our texts. I’ll walk ya through it.”

It took several minutes of “no, not that,” and muttered Gaelic curses, but eventually Kit’s location popped up on Siofra’s phone. She sighed again, this time in relief.

“Oh, you’re not far at all. I’ll be there soon. Stay put, don’t do anything stupid. Try not to get mugged.”

“I’ll try.” Kit said, squinting at the buttons on his phone. They were wobbling out of focus again, and he couldn’t figure out how to turn off speaker. Siofra saved him the trouble, hanging up so she could drive. Kit locked his phone, tucking it back in his pocket and slumping down further on the bench. He must look like the most expensive bum, he thought.

As promised, Siofra pulled up barely fifteen minutes later. Still on the bench, Kit had spaced out, staring into the middle distance beyond the street. Siofra rolled her eyes, parking the car and climbing out. She walked over and patted his cheek, shocked to find it hot to the touch.

“Oi. Time to go, Princess. I need to get ya home.” Siofra said, feeling his forehead with the back of her hand. “Lord, I really need to get ya home. You’re burnin’ up.”

“I am?” Kit asked, standing obediently when Siofra tugged on his arm. She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, you’re bloody boilin’, what are ya even doin’ out’o bed?”

“I… didn’t notice.” Kit mumbled.

Siofra sighed so hard, it made her curls bounce. “Jaysus. How do you not notice bein’ a walkin’ space heater? You’re normally a fuckin’ ice sculpture.”

Kit shrugged. “I mean… I’ve been a little cold today. I thought it was just the weather.”

“Christ…” Siofra shook her head, buckling Kit in the passenger seat. “Come on, we gotta get you in bed.”

“Can I have my special blanket?”

“Is it at yours?” Siofra asked.

Kit’s face fell. “No… I left it at Al’s.”

Siofra rolled her eyes. “I’ll call him.”

#whump #illness #fever #kit #raycraft #siofra #rafferty #caretaking #anonymous

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ninja-librarian · 6 years

Text

Commission for @equalskiersten, a story of Pidge/Atlas! Dedicated to all the antis and everyone who has ever said “You can’t ship that”.

For info about commissions, click here!

There had been many things in Katie Holt’s life that she loved. Her parents, her older brother, her dog Bae Bae, peanut butter…

But robots… Robots would always be her greatest love.

She just never thought that, one day, a robot would love her the same way.

*****

It began with discovering King Alfor’s notes from when he built the Lions of Voltron. Pidge found details about how Allura’s father had developed the sentience that the Lions had, which also had the potential to enable Atlas to communicate directly with the ship’s crew. Of course, Pidge had wanted to test this information out immediately.

With the encouragement of her teammates and the equally eagerly curious Garrison engineers and commanding officers, Pidge got to work. Hours later, Pidge stood on the bridge of the Atlas, heart pounding, ready to test and see if her efforts were a success or not.

She activated the ship and said, “Hello, Atlas.”

There was silence. A beat. Then two. Then three. Then…

“Hello, Katie Holt.”

Pidge gasped, grinning. It worked!

The voice was crisp and clear, but with a slight accent that was similar to the posh accent Allura spoke with. The voice was also male, which Pidge found interesting. Though the same tech had been used with all five of the Lions of Voltorn, it seemed that each machine assumed its own gender rather than be assigned one.

“Tell me about yourself, Atlas,” Pidge said, adjusting her glasses and snatching up her notepad, ready to take notes. She hoped Atlas’ Artificial Intelligence could pass the Turing Test, but she had to establish a baseline of the ship’s knowledge and thinking patterns first in order to see what needed to be worked on.

“I am Atlas. I am a battleship. I have weaponry. My design was based off of those of King Alfor, of the planet Altea. I protect Earth and the people of Earth.” Atlas dutifully explained. “When necessary, I can change my shape into a larger version of Voltron.”

“Do you know who pilots you?” Pidge asked.

“My captain is Takashi Shirogane, and his co-pilots are Commander Mitch Iverson, Commander Samuel Holt, Cadet Veronica Ramirez, and Coran Smythe.”

“Okay,” Pidge said, nodding. “So, are you aware of what happens when you are being piloted?”

“Affirmative. I can feel their quintessence. It lends strength to my transformation.”

“Interesting…” Pidge said, scribbling down a note. This was something that she and the other engineers and theorized; though the Garrison built Atlas, and Coran and Allura were undoubtedly the experts regarding King Alfor’s work and Altean technology, there was so much about the Atlas to discover. The ship was quite an enigma. “So. How do you feel about your pilots?”

Atlas was quiet for a moment.

Pidge frowned. “Atlas?”

“I am sorry, Katie Holt,” Atlas said, voice a little clipped. “But I do not understand.”

“Would you like me to rephrase the question?”

“Negative. Your question is understandable. You are asking for my personal opinion of the pilots. However, I do not understand how to respond, as I do not know how to ‘feel’ about them. They are my pilots. They do their jobs well. I do not understand why my opinion matters, even if I did know how to express that opinion.”

Pidge relaxed her shoulders. “Do you… Do you not know what feelings are?”

“Negative.”

“Well, that’s okay,” Pidge reassured. “Everyone has to learn what feelings are at some point, I guess. I mean, everyone feels something emotionally but may not have the words to describe what that feeling is. There’s a range of feelings, too. Happy, sad, angry, scared, jealous—”

“I have no context for these words,” Atlas interrupted.

“Hmm, I guess you don’t.” Pidge said. She thought for a moment. “All right. Then we’ll just introduce context to you.”

She could have easily brought in the Lions; after all, they had some form of emotional capacity—at least enough to bond with their pilots. But if she wanted Atlas to pass the Turing Test, wanted him to be mistaken for a human, then she’d have to teach him like a human.

“Young humans typically learn best by experience and example, both of which typically involve interaction with other, older humans. So, I’ll share my experiences with you, as well as download some media material to your database in order to help you understand.” Pidge explained.

That was how it began, Pidge and Atlas spending time together.

Pidge shared stories of her experiences with joy, with anger, with jealousy, with sadness. She told him stories about adopting Bae Bae and finding the Green Lion, of being bullied as a child and explained why she had been afraid of the dark as a child. Atlas listened, asked questions, used his own logic to comprehend why Pidge felt all of those emotions at various times in her life.

“The saddest I have ever felt…” Pidge trailed off one afternoon when they were discussing sadness. “Was when I found my brother’s grave. His second one, actually. He has two. One on Earth and one deep in space that the rebels created.”

“Your brother Matthew is alive and in good health,” Atlas commented. “Why would there be not one but two death rituals performed?”

“Matt’s been declared dead twice,” She explained. She smiled. “He, Dad and Shiro like to say that the reports of their deaths have been greatly exaggerated. The first time, it was after the Kerberos mission. But the second time… I believed it. I believed he was gone. I was searching for him for so long, and I just felt so alone.”

“Loneliness is what made you sad?”

“Yes. But, also, yeah, that I thought he was dead. Permanently dead.”

“Death is a natural part of the life cycle. All living beings experience death; it is to be expected.”

“Not usually with someone so young and healthy.”

“But in a war that you knew he was fighting in?”

“Hmm, how do I explain this?” Pidge said, tapping her chin. “It doesn’t matter if someone dies when they are very old or very young. You can still be sad because someone you love is gone.”

Atlas was quiet for a moment, then, “Love? Explain love.”

“Love is…” Pidge trailed off. “It’s a strong emotion you feel for someone or something. There’s different types of love. There’s platonic love, which is love for your friends. Like I have for my friends, the Paladins. Then there’s family love, which I have with my parents and Matt. Then there’s love for animals, or colors, or types of objects like tech, books, art… That’s more of an appreciation, I guess. Then there’s romantic love, which is where you form a deep connection with another person; it’s kind of like a more intense version of love for friends, and in a lot of cases a romantic partner may become family through marriage ceremonies.”

“How does one know that they love something or someone?”

“Well, it’s things that make someone really happy. Like I love technology and robots; they make me happy, and I get enjoyment out of learning and interacting with them.”

“Is love with another being similar?”

“Right. It’s being happy with other people. Enjoying spending time with them. Wanting to make sure that they are happy and safe, with their needs met.”

Atlas was quiet again, then, “I understand, Katie Holt. I understand.”

Pidge, however, didn’t understand. At least, not until weeks later…

*****

Pidge sat, giddy with excitement as Hunk took a seat in front of the computer. Today, they were finally performing the Turing Test on the Atlas. She, Hunk and a few curious bystanders were on one side of the Garrison; the Atlas was in a hanger on the other side. In the middle, in his office, was Commander Holt. Hunk was going to ask both the Atlas and Sam a question, and both were to send their answers electronically to the computer, where Hunk would then try to determine whose answer belonged to the man or the ship. Meanwhile, Matt—who had chosen the questions and format of the test—sat at another computer, able to see who the answers truly belonged to.

Hunk challenged questions of science, literature, math, and various other topics. He asked for the word ‘milk’ in Spanish. He asked for each of them to make-up a short story involving a narwhal. He sent images and told them to answer with how the picture made them feel or how the photo’s subject felt, such as a child with a dropped ice cream cone or a bride and groom.

“All right,” Hunk said. “One last photo, with one last question.”

Pidge was surprised when Hunk pulled up a picture of herself and posed the question, “In one word, say how you feel about this person.”

The results were instantaneous. One anonymous response read HAPPY. The other read LOVE.

Hunk sorted them just as quickly, placing LOVE under Commander Holt’s answers and HAPPY under Atlas’.

Done, Matt stood up. “Let’s go analyze the data in Atlas’ hanger.”

They all moved to the hanger and inside the ship in question. Matt stood at the helm, looking at the assembled pilots, engineers, and top brass. “It is with great pleasure that I announce that Atlas has passed the Turing Test! His answers are indistinguishable from that of a human being!”

There was a great amount of cheering and celebrating. Pidge beamed with delight.

“I’m so proud of you, Atlas!” She told the ship, resting her hand on one of the walls.

“Thank you, Katie Holt.” Atlas said. “I am grateful for the experience, and the time we spent together.” The ship hesitated, then asked, “Will we be able to continue to do so, now that the Test is completed with success?”

“Of course!” Pidge said, but feeling a little confused. She had a feeling that Atlas was trying to convey something to her…

Matt smiled at her, and beckoned her over. “Come walk with me, little sis.”

Pidge did so, following Matt off the bridge, away from the people.

“There’s something you need to know,” Matt told her. “That last question? The one with your picture? That’s the one that allowed Atlas to pass.”

Pidge frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I picked that photo, that question for a reason,” Matt said. “I thought Dad would have been the one to respond with ‘love’ or something similar.”

Pidge’s heart did a small leap. “You mean… Atlas was the one who responded with ‘love’?”

“Yeah,” Matt said, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Kind of crazy, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…” Pidge whispered. “Excuse me.”

She ran into the heart of Atlas’ engine room, a private place where she knew the ship’s AI could hear her. She placed her hand on a piece of cold metal and said, “Atlas?”

“Yes, Katie Holt?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You may. It is the day for asking me questions, after all.”

Ah, so he developed a sense of humor and snark, too…

Pidge took a deep breath and asked, “Do you love me?”

“Affirmative, Katie Holt. I love you.”

“Do you… Is it… As a friend?”

“Negative.”

“As family?”

“Negative.

Pidge’s heart was pounding in her chest. “Do you… Do you love me in a romantic sense.”

“Affirmative.”

Pidge’s eyes filled with tears. “I love you, too, Atlas. I love you, too…”

#Pidge/Atlas #Voltron: Legendary Defender #VLD #Pidge #Voltron #Atlas #Katie Holt #Writing #Commission #Writing Commission #Pidge x Atlas

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scatterpatter · 6 years

Text

Tumblr chomped my submission so here's Take 2 in an attempt to send the rest

Scatts: oH BOY LET’S DO THESE UNDER THE CUT BECAUSE IM HYPE

*Colorless torn the photo :<

This is where we left of last time hell ye

*One of the tags on that post: mi—–

*sssssips tea*

*Colorless is sad (not about killing though darnit Colorless that anon is dead do you have any remorse red-eye boy?)

He has... a lot of emotions XD

*Mention that he wasn’t always this unstable/a killer

He’s not lying. He didn’t come into existence chill with severing anons, that’s a trait that evolved in him over time.

*Tag notes: Mik—-, Nat——

*sssssssip*

*Strangely no quiet noise from Scatter through out all of this

He doesn’t want to interject- he found someone who C is finally opening up to- to Scatter that’s huge because he reeeeaaaally just wants C to stop this bullshit

*“It’s all HIS fault” -Colorless

;)

*“HIS” is in blue hmmmmmmmM

;))))) It’s almost like I chose that color for a reason ;)))))

*One of the tags is “colorless loves the pronoun game” which is… interesting? The other tags of interest: Mik—, Nath—–

The pronoun game as in “HIS fault” rather than just sAYING HIS FUCKIN NAME WE STILL DONT KNOW BLUE’S NAME YOU EDGY WALNUT- Also continuity error, Mik was supposed to have another dash in it, oops.

*Colorless gave up control on the verge of tears. Was that on purpose?

;) Mayhaps~

*Also the words of Colorless and Scatter were smoothly transitioning during this event? Maybe Scatter was conscious of what’s happening then. Or…more on this later

uwu very conscious

*Colorless never left during his own hiatus. He’s still here. He can add tags Scatter :)

*S I P*

*Scatter wants to be kidnapped. How fun!

iMMA STOP YOU THERE-

*You can’t convince me otherwise. Perhaps for Roleplay Drama? I was tempted to kidnap :3c

I REALLY ENJOY DRAMA OKAY NOW S H O O S H

*I mean he never said “no” that was Colorless

SHOOOOOOOSH

*Maybe another time… :)

*INTENSE SHOOSHING*

*Plz don’t snap my neck Colorless it’s for fun the door will be unlocked and He Can Leave At Any Time

KJFSKJFNEKSJNFEJKFESNSFUNEKFUENUUSIN C DONT TRUST LIKE THAT

*AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Big mood

*Colorless is not good in hiding Moods

I kNOW RIGHT HOW IS HE THIS RELATABLE

*emotional boy

He’s not good at expressing feelings

*It’s alright Colorless

It’s really not

*I mean the killing thing is not but

*wHEEZE*

*The Shipping of Colorless And Apathy.txt (Ray’s character) Happens

edGELORDS 4 LYFE

*THAT MEANS COLORLESS CAN FEEL LOVE MAYHAPS?

Oh definitely! He’s more than capable of falling for Apathy, but first he’s gotta really trust him. Like, they gotta get really platonically close and develop a deep trust in each other before Colorless can start feeling attracted to him. I think it’s safe to assume Colorless is a Demiromantic Asexual.

*Though I’m unsure what of it may not be canon…

As of right now: Colorless and Apathy know each other and live together with The Game. C and Apa are... “friends”? They don’t hate each other but friends implies C isn’t an asshole at all times.

*Colorless can code. Is Scatter robot? Jkjk. The code reads (as much as I can tell(: “if (edge = true {run angst.exe} ints x = 4 lol Narrwashere)” Darnit Narr…. and “while (int i = 0) {delete blue.file} run owo.exe int ++ returntrue”

Since I’m a comp sci major I like to implement coding in things XD Most of it is clutter/nonsense to give the illusion that he’s doing some complex shit. Narr is a bean just let them mess around-

*Is that a stitch on his belly? :O Scatter what happened?

;) Something really bad ;)

*“Unfortunately, I need to steal Scatter’s body in order to do any physical tasks ever since the Incident.” -Colorless

Correct! They shared a body so C couldn’t do anything physical without taking Scatt’s body first

*More coding (and me squinting at a screen): “err: blue.file .file is not a real file format you dingus run edge. avi” and “While (true) {Convert blue.file to blue.mem} erase blue.mem” and “Do you even know our real names? Do you?” That last code is weird, huh?

Very weird ;) Odd how Scatter doesn’t ever refer to him by his real name, only Colorless.

*Colorless is… planning something big.

What an asshole

*New code “Run seperate.exe”

This is probably fine

*“Yes, finally, I did it!!! After all this time, I’ll be free of THEM!!!”-Colorless. THEM is blue. Is them referring to two people… or one?

“Them” is colored blue and purple. Them is referring to plural. Blue isn’t the only one Colorless hates ;)

*Colorless pulled Scatter and himself apart….

This is still fine

*Scatter is still purple

Key note- He’s still drawn in normal pencil while Colorless isn’t ;)

*Colorless is crying black. Or bleeding black?

I didn’t explain this because I accidentally left the last event on a cliffhanger but: Scatter Blue and Colorless should NOT be separated. They’re veeery physically unstable when apart, and they would both be dead right now if Colorless hadn’t coded a way to keep them... slightly stable. The black is to signify “tHEY ARE NOT OKAY LIKE THIS”. It’s a mess. It’s a bad idea. Someone stop him.

*Scatter portrays, well, Scatter.

*sQUEAKU*

*Colorless is confirmed to be like a Darkiplier or an Antiseptiplier

What can I say I’m a sucker for edgelords

*“ He’s a character that looks similar to Scatter/me, but has a different personality.” Also pronoun is he.

Oh yeah, all 3 of them use he/him pronouns!

*“Colorless was not a planned character… He was supposed to just be a “Scatter finally snapped” before I made him his own thing. Now, Colorless and Scatter share the same body. Either ego can come out at any time, and we’ve seen them abruptly shift before: So yes. Scatter and Colorless are in the same body. It’s like one of those “he’s a part of me” kinds of things because, you know, alter ego. Someone found a photo of Colorless(with normal red eyes, important to note), Scatter, and someone else with their face crossed out. What’s odd here is we see Colorless and Scatter in separate bodies, which is strange because we always see them sharing a body, NEVER separate. Important to note that Colorless is fully red(save for the eyes and that other black stuff), implying he’s far from a normal human in this form.”

uwu

*“So yeah tl;dr: Scatter is a persona, Colorless is an alter ego. They used to share a body, but are now in two separate bodies. Something bad happened in the past that caused this whole mess to happen…”

uuuuwwwwuuuu

*And then Scooterpooter appears. He’s great tbh give him more screen time plz

I never meant for him to be an actual ego but I love him too much to get rid of him

*Also Scoot’s a demon. Yes.

I want to make more content of the misadventures with him and his summoner kurnsjfndkdjfn

*Blue in a photo. He has a “cool guy/cold guy” aura or something. He blu

DA BA DEE DA BA DI DA BA DEE DA BA DI

*Then red blue and purple scribbles him out :<

Actually the colors crossing him out are red purple and green ;)

And there’s a tag that just says “gone”

uwu *sssssip*

*Colorless’s fear: "Losing any more of himself. Losing his identity. Being forced back together. Being alone with his thoughts. Being lost and forgotten. Forgetting his real name. His fears are very existential/abstract.”

;)

*Colorless’s past can cause him to cry and he hates himself… oh dear

;)))

*“Scatter can and will tip toe around the subject, while Colorless absolutely despises Blue and blames him for everything that happened to them.”

They are b a d for each other

*Man I am excite for the sunrise comic

You and me both ;)

*Scoot isn’t evil and has no moral compass good demon roller boy

He’s doing His Best(TM)

*Latest art of Scatter shows some blue peeking out of one eye and… some black tears dripping there. Concern.

This is no longer fine

*Oh and more shipping and edge squad is a thing, neat

I was gonna make a post explaining this but basically- after Scatter and Colorless split apart, C abandoned him and eventually found Apa and Game, and that’s when they started to hang out and live together. He cares about Apathy and Game but shhhhh you didn’t hear that from me ;)

#long post #The Colorless #apathy.txt #The Game #Scatter #Blue #Scoot #sunrise comic #gOOD OBSERVATIONS MY FRIEND #submission

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you-andthebottlemen · 8 years

Text

7 - (ayyy wink wink)

Request: “Could you do one where you guys are childhood friends and there was always something between you but he goes off on tour and you guys don't see each other until a few years when he's back in town? Thank you!! xx”

So this one’s a little dramatic...rather that just cute. Idk how I feel about it??? What do you all think??

P.S: I know I’ve screwed up the timelines a bit and they’re not accurate to real life events but hey I don’t know everything and this is a fic...so cut me some slack :p

*****

“Come on y/n, we are going to the McCann’s for dinner hurry up and get ready!” Called your mother.

You stomped down the stairs and looked at her with a frown.

“Do I really have to go?” you questioned.

“Come on you love them, you’ve never had an issue with going before?” She said.

Yeah you did love them and yeah you’d never had an issue before but that was because before, you didn’t realise you had a great big crush on Van.

“Please, can I stay home?” You begged.

“No, y/n, you can’t.”

You rolled your eyes at her and stormed off back upstairs.

“Van will be really disappointed if you don’t show up!” She yelled in a teasing tone as you walked away. You groaned and slammed your door shut.

......

So later that evening, despite your protests, you found yourself at the McCann’s bed and breakfast, having dinner. After the meal, you and Van escaped off to his room as usual. You’d basically grown up together. He was your best friend, although you weren’t his. Your mum and his mum, Mary, had gone to school together and stayed friends. Your mum helped out with the business sometimes. Mary also employed you and Van to do the odd job but it usually resulted in you just screwing around and Van probably breaking something.

You lay on his bed on your back, looking up at the ceiling. He sat on the end playing his guitar and fiddled around with some new chords he’d thrown together into a new song. Every song he played just got better and better. You listened to him intently but were kinda zoned out. Usually, you never felt safer or happier than in this exact position but now all you could feel were butterflies and all you could think of was kissing him; it felt wrong and stupid.

“What��re you thinking about y/n?” Van asked as he stopped playing the guitar.

“Just about that song, it’s really good what’s it called?” You lied.

“Hmmm ‘Tyrants and Trippin’’ I think,” he said thoughtfully.

“It’s gonna be a hit,” you told him, because you knew it was true.

He put the guitar down and climbed on top of you, in a straddling position. You tried not to blush and turn sweaty but it didn’t work.

“I have something to tell you,” he said quietly, playing with the zipper on your jacket.

“I’m leaving. I’m going on tour and I don’t plan on coming back,” Van whispered. You’d never heard him sound so serious or scared.

“Oh my god Catfish are touring?” You exclaimed.

You pushed him off you sideways and sat up. This was huge. They’d played gigs and that but an actual tour...fuck. Your heart filled with pain silently. You didn’t want him to leave you. But that was clouded by your happiness for him and your pride in his hard work. You pushed all romantic thoughts and feelings about Van aside. He loved that fucking band so much. You knew he’d make it proper one day. You pulled him into a hug, sharing his excitement. Secretly, you held on longer than you should have because you couldn’t help but feel like everything was going to change from now.

......

So after that night, you dared not bring up how you felt. You kept it inside. Weeks went by and you helped him and the lads prepare for going away. You told them which songs were great and which ones sucked. They listened to you respectfully and trusted your judgement.

The day finally came where you said goodbye and wished them luck for the UK tour supporting you weren’t sure who. You told Van to call you every day and he promised he would. You helped pack his guitar into the shitty white van and hugged all the guys goodbye. When you got to hugging Van last you held on extra tight and buried your face into him. He did the same.

“You know, you’ve always been there for me y/n. You’ve always had faith in my shitty little band and one day I’m gonna do you proud. I’m gonna write so many fucking songs about you,” he whispered in your ear as he held you close.

That made you think that maybe, just maybe he felt something for you too because you knew he only ever wrote about girls he was into. And there was a lot of them. But you also knew that Van was like a puppy or a child at times and he often didn’t mean to sound as deep as he did.

Bernie beeped the horn, giving you a fright. Van quickly kissed your cheek and jumped into the passenger side before you could say anything. They all waved at you as they drove away.

That goodbye wasn’t meant to be permanent. But it was.

Van started off calling you every day like he promised. You were so happy for him and the success they were finding. But you couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss in the bottom of your chest. You wished you could have gone with them. But as the weeks went by, he was getting further and further away. This all rang true when eventually he called less and then stopped altogether. He’d become too busy and gotten carried away with his new life. But you understood and never got angry with him. You would never give him shit for living his dreams, even if that meant leaving you behind.

Eventually, Bernie came home and you heard an unlimited stream of stories. He was absolutely beaming with pride for his son. You were proud too but you still felt sad and empty. You felt alone without Van around.

Soon months went by, then a year.

Van and Catfish stayed in London or wherever they could find an empty bed or space of floor, you weren’t sure. They gigged as often as they could and worked harder than ever. You didn’t speak to any of them but saw their posts on social media. Every time there was a picture of Van on your feed, your heart got just that bit heavier. You had to unfollow them all, it was too much. He was obviously loving life and you were stuck here in this small town, hopelessly in love with your best friend who you probably wouldn’t ever have time for you again.

......

You knew that over the years Van had, in fact, come home, but it was never for long and he never once tried to contact you. Catfish had completely blown up in such a short time, he could afford to buy his own place with Larry in England. So he was never around for anything other than seeing his parents.

In time, your feelings had eventually faded and you had tried to push all thoughts of Van aside. Which was really fucking hard as not only was he the absolute talk of your shit little town, there were photos of you and him all over your house thanks to your mother. You were grateful for the time you spent living away at uni where you could be someone other than the girl Van left behind.

You didn’t really have any negative feelings for him. You never resented him for any of it. How could you? He didn’t know how you felt and he was out there achieving all he’d ever wanted and all you’d ever wanted for him. After all, really you were just kids when he left. It was a friendship that had simply drifted.

“Hey y/n...I thought you might want to go to this?” Your mum asked one night at dinner, pushing an envelope towards you across the table.

You opened it to find two tickets to the show Catfish were playing in the major venue near Llandudno. You looked at her and sighed.

“Come on y/n it’s been years. Aren’t you at least curious about what they’re like?” She pleaded. Her tone reminded you of the night you pleaded with her to stay home and not go to the McCann’s. The night where Van said he wanted to leave and not come back.

“No. I’m not.”

That was a lie, you were. But you didn’t want to open old wounds. You’d tried to avoid Van and Catfish where you could. But every so often you’d hear the unmistakable growl of Van’s voice on the radio even if you didn’t know the song. Other times there’d be posters advertising their albums plastered all over town. Not to mention their online presence which you avoided like the plague.

You turned the tickets over in your hand and thought back to all the nights spent in garages or Van's bedroom where he would soulfully scribble out songs that were way too big for the grimy pubs they played them in.

I suppose just popping in wouldn't hurt too much, you thought.

So later that night you and your mother got all dressed and ready and set off for the gig. The traffic was worse than you thought and you’d already planned to arrive well after doors so you and your mum only made it for the end of their set.

You walked through the security at the doors and had your ticket scanned. Proper bouncers at a Catfish show? You laughed.

When you walked into the concert hall you suddenly understood why. It was completely packed. There was a sea of people jumping, shouting, singing, smiling... It took your breath away. However, there was no band on stage. Had you missed them?

That’s when you heard it. The first few notes of Tyrants and Trippin’. Your breath caught in your throat and your eyes widened and almost fell out of your skull.

Van came out on stage thrashing himself around and playing his guitar messily. From a distance, he looked the same. But when he looked up finally to sing the intro, you could see how he’d changed. The song had changed too, it was eerily similar to the one he had played for you that night in his room but like him, it had grown up.

You had to lean against the wall and breathe. You were so overwhelmed with feelings you didn’t even recognise. The crowd was loving it, they were going mental actually. You were bursting with pride as each and every one of those people sang the words back to Van. The room was absolutely electric. It was the best thing you’d ever seen. Suddenly it all made sense why he never came back to that small town you both, once, called home.

After the massive ending, he said a sincere thank you to the crowd and walked off dripping in sweat. You saw Larry come out and hand out set lists which everyone went mad for. He looked older too, but just as proud of his best mate. You were glad to see he’d stayed by Van’s side all that time.

“They were incredible, weren’t they? I never knew Van was actually good? Always thought he just messed around in school a lot,” your mother said and you nodded, fighting a smile.

Your mum pulled you over to the back entrance, she was trying to find Mary and Bernie. You started to panic.

“Oh god no, mum I can’t see them,” you insisted.

“Yes you can, you’re nearly 23 for God’s sake,” she was pushing you.

You’d seen Mary and Bernie around yes, but you all had grown apart since Van left. It had been almost two years since you’d seen them properly, with living away at uni and everything. Mary and your mother embraced tightly and Bernie kissed her cheek. When they saw you they smiled and both pulled you in for a hug, commenting on how much you’d grown and what a ‘fine young woman’ you’d turned into.

They led you past more security and up through to the dressing rooms in the back of the venue. You felt like everything was going to go horribly wrong. Van obviously didn’t want to see you and you had no idea about how you even felt yet alone how you’d treat him. He hadn’t even thought to contact you about their first massive home show. Your palms were sweaty and your vision was starting to blur a little from anxiety.

Bernie knocked at the door and some guy you didn’t recognise who had curly hair, a hat and a hideous velvet shirt on, opened the door. He shouted excitedly as Van’s parents went inside, Mary pulled you and your mother behind her. The hat guy looked confused but said nothing.

The room was full of a crowd of people you didn’t know. You awkwardly stood behind your mum, feeling like a child, looking at the floor and wishing it would open up and swallow you whole.

“Holy shit!” Larry came over and bundled you into a hug before you had the time to realise what was happening.

“Um hi...” you said shyly but smiling.

“I’m actually at a loss for words, it’s been so long!” He exclaimed.

“Yeah, it’s been ages. I caught the last song, Tyrants and Trippin’...it was so good,” you said, unsure of what else to talk about.

“It’s just Tyrants now...but yeah they’re class eh?” Larry told you, his eyes shining with enthusiasm.

“Oh right...yeah,” you trailed off.

Your mum had walked off with Van’s parents and was talking to the hat guy.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why’d you stop having anything to do with us? When the boys took off, you just disappeared. Van said you didn’t want anything to do with him?” Larry asked quietly when you were finally alone in the doorway.

“What the fuck?” You said a little too loudly.

“Me disappearing on him? Oh, that’s rich, I never said any of that shit. He’s the one who totally stopped calling me, never returned my texts and never once came to see me in the last few years. Didn’t even tell me he was playing Llandudno. Only here because mum dragged me. He disappeared on me!” You felt angry and like you were going to cry.

“What the fuck...” he said slowly. “I had no idea. I’m sorry, I would have said somethin’ to you but Van...”

Larry grabbed you by the arm, led you through the dressing room and out the back door into the loading area. You stopped dead in your tracks when you saw Van leaning against a wall with a cigarette in his hand, smoke gliding through the air around him.

He looked up with a smile, expecting it to be the boys, but his face fell into a look of sheer shock when he saw you standing there and Larry's hand around your upper arm, making sure you wouldn't run away.

You all stood there in silence. You stared at Van, taking him in. You saw his beloved necklace still hanging between his collar bones. His hair was the most different; it actually looked good. And his clothes were stylish, his black jeans and button up made him look effortlessly sophisticated. But you knew he wasn’t sophisticated...well he never used to be. He was dressed like a man; not the boy who left you at those years ago.

“Give us a minute mate,” Van eventually said. His voice sounded the same, maybe just a little lower.

Larry let go of your arm and turned to go inside without a word. Van dropped his cigarette on the ground and squished it with his boot once he was done. He quickly took out another and lit it as if his life depended on it. He held the pack out to you as an offering and you shook your head. Although you considered it, as your nerves were going through the roof.

“I don’t smoke anymore,” you said.

“I guess a lot’s changed then,” Van responded simply.

You let out a small, sarcastic laugh.

“You look nice,” he said, obviously avoiding the elephant in the room.

“Why the fuck did you tell the guys I cut you off when you left?” You questioned, tears starting to well up in your eyes.

You started to ball your fists by your sides and shake a little.

“I understand stuff got mental with the band and you got successful and I’m so fucking proud of you Van. I never got angry that you stopped calling but it hurt like hell feeling like you just forgot I ever existed, like I’d never meant anything to you,” you told him, letting it all release. It felt good.

He said nothing.

“So what’s your excuse Van? Why’d you never see me when you came home? Why’d you never, in almost 4 or however many years it’s been, even try to contact me once? Did you not care? Did you not get curious? Or was I just someone you stepped on in order to get to the top?” Tears were falling out of your eyes like a river now and all the emotions you’d been too scared to feel over the last few years took over your body.

He looked down at the ground, clearly your harsh words had hit home. He’d finished the smoke already and you could tell he was battling nerves of his own.

“I don’t have a fucking excuse okay? I left, my life changed, I was in love with you and I handled the whole thing really fucking badly. I was young and stupid. What do you want me to say? I was embarrassed at the fact I’d left it so long...I just couldn’t bare the thought of finally coming home and seeing you with someone else. I decided to just leave it and let you do your own thing without me. I know it’s fucking pathetic and wrong, I just didn’t know what to do, I’m sorry y/n,” Van was almost shouting, he was really upset and it hurt you to see.

“You were in love with me?” You asked quietly, whispering.

Everything suddenly felt calm, as if you were in the eye of a storm and you let the last few tears fall from your cheeks to the ground.

“Of course I was. Thought about you every fucking day since I left you kissing your cheek,” he told you, running a hand through his hair.

“What would you do if I said I was in love with you too?”

“Then or now?” He asked.

“Both.”

As soon as those words left your lips, he collided into you like a magnet and kissed you. It was like some ungodly force. Nothing had ever felt so right. Van kissed you with enough passion that it somehow, made it feel as though you’d never once been separated. You knew then, that despite what you told yourself, your feelings for him had never left you and that there had always been something between you.

#catb #catfish and the bottlemen #van #van mccann #vanfic #vanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic

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omgnsfwisnsfw-blog · 5 years

Text

NSFW #2.1 It All Begins Again

OOC: title is intentional :P

A few months ago, the two of them watched from their knees as their world was ripped away from them. After that, John felt it was necessary to reevaluate his worldview. A source of their misery had confided to them that now they finally understood the lesson he was trying to impart. To be like him. Those ideals would soil their legacy as champion just as John believed they defined this person that while he begrudgingly respected, cared very little for. And so he wanted to go home. His request was obliged by his partner, a person who, deep down, couldn’t deny him anything. If John Bishop Church asked for the moon, Mike McGuire would find some way to pull it from the sky for him, catastrophic tidal activity be damned. Yet, even though they granted him what he asked for- the immediate cessation of their current occupation- it didn’t sit well with them. Far from it. The abrupt loss of something they’d loved so much for so long, for the second time in their life no less, filled Mike with a heaving sea of bitterness. One night’s full expulsion in the form a destructive eruption of white-hot temper should have quelled it, at least they’d hoped. They didn’t want to direct their anger at John, as he’d had enough denied him in his life. And after a long discussion, Mike resolved to let it go, to get over their bad feelings over leaving what was, in truth, a toxic environment and start over. No more complaints were made on Mike’s part, no sulking or wanton destruction. There was, however, a slightly distressing amount of Labatt Blue. John noticed. Usually sat in his recliner and read as Mike imbibed. Whatever was on the television became the subject of their anger. The Mets losing. The Bruins winning. The worst though is when Mike flipped to their previous employer. The anger was laser focused. Two weeks prior to their sudden reemergence, it had been a night just like that. “Motherfucker.” Green eyes, slightly hazed over, glared at the handsome Texan brandishing the ornate gold belt, their lips curling into something between a sneer and a snarl. The ugliness being directed at the screen seemed out of place in the cozy, if not mismatched, living room. Their hands balled up into taut fists- well, one did, and the other gripped the amber glass bottle so tightly that it seemed that it might shatter. “Look at that fuckin’ pukestain. Sittin’ pretty at the top of the goddamn heap. Somebody shoulda knocked him into the fuckin’ pits by now. And a’course the tag division’s going down the diarrhea dumps. All that fuckin’ work for shit. Good job, guys, fuckin’ A.” There was a mild slur to their words, though it was hard to tell as they spoke through gritted teeth. The bottle was raised to their lips, sucked dry of its last dregs, and dropped to the side of the couch, clinking against two of its previously drained fellows. John looked up from Sue Monk Kidd’s The Invention of Wings. He adjusted his reading glasses on the bridge of his nose. “You could always change the channel.” Mike blinked as if they seriously had not considered this as a possibility, eyes flicking to the remote on the end table, staring at it bemusedly before picking it up and starting to idly run through the channels, little split-second mismatched bits of programming fusing themselves into an incomprehensible chain with every flick of their finger, before finally sighing hotly and clicking the TV off altogether. “Or turn it off,” he turned the page. “...don’t it piss you off at all, though? We busted our fucking nuts to make something outta nothing, and the moment we leave it’s just as big a pile of shit as before. It ain’t just pointless, it’s fuckin’ disrespect.” “Yes. We said as much,” John didn’t look up. He agreed to the joint statement but he also thought it gave people false hope as if the two were coming back to right a wrong. But that is where the business decision came in. He had concluded that they would never be featured and that tag team wrestling would never be taken seriously. It would always be considered an afterthought or a contingency plan. Jealousy was an ugly emotion to confront but it felt justified here. So he let go. Something tugged at the corner of his mind and it was an obvious declaration at this point, “Why not go somewhere else?” If they’d still been holding their beer bottle they would have dropped it, and legit surprise seeped its way into their somewhat drunken expression.“Are you serious? I mean… I mean I thought you were done, outside the one-offs here an’ there. All that stuff you said about not knowing how much you had left in the tank an’ not wanting to push it.” He remembered as such. Part of him enjoyed playing local celebrity. There wasn’t a day out there when someone didn’t ask about about NSFW. About reclaiming what was theirs. They shared his partner’s drunken sentiments. John marked his place and set the book aside, “You’re right. I don’t know what I have left. But I believe that leaving this unsettled could cause issues.” As if in a moment of sudden clarity, Mike glanced briefly down at the trio of empty bottles, and thought about the few others dropped into the recycle bin at various points in the day. Giving a soft sigh, they looked down at their hands, teeth nipping at their lower lip, “If it’s just because of me I don’t wanna do it. Look, I’m sorry. I’ve really been trying and maybe I ain’t being altogether fair. But I said I’d deal and I’ve been doing my best. It’ll come in time, I just don’t...” They swallowed, sighed. Looked up almost sorrowfully. “...don’t want you to do something you really don’t want to just cuz I’m being an ass who can’t cope like a normal person.” John leaned back in the recliner, “No, that’s not it. I wouldn’t still be training. But beating on kids fresh out of Race’s school at the fairgrounds is starting to lose its appeal. One of them asked for your autograph right before you broke his nose.” “His nose oughtn’a been in the way of my fist. Learn to dodge, kid, fuck,” Mike laughed, the peal fading off into a sigh, albeit a lighter one than before. “Alright. So if this is something you really want- and you know I’m on board- then where do we go? I mean we’ve been getting offers from everywhere from Atlanta to fuckin’ Zanesville, and I… heh. I may have been holding onto ‘em in case you changed your mind.” “I’ve seen those,” John didn’t mean to be dismissive of Mike’s excitement but he had seen those offers. Middling gigs that were of little substance. Although, a few weeks ago, they’d been walking out of the aforementioned fairgrounds. Someone, he couldn’t remember their face, handed him a flyer. The slip of paper had a curious logo on it. An inverted triangle made up of three letters. For some reason, John kept it. He retrieved it from his wallet and handed it to Mike, “But what about something more international?” They took the piece of paper, gave it a once over, and smiled broadly, “Valor Pro, huh? Shit, some of the best times we’ve had’ve been travelling the world. Let’s do it.” With business conducted, the newly minted Valor Pro Wrestling tag team looked ahead to a major challenge. Church and McGuire had talked a big game and their new employer clearly took notice. These sort of sessions between the two were usually private. But something about this place compelled them to be more intimate with their discourse. And so propped up on a kickstand, Mike’s phone filmed their discussion. Start of next month, NSFW would make their official debut in the capital city of Morocco. There was a palpable excitement between the two as they wouldn’t be hand held through a corporate approved set of appearances. Their promotion would be their own. That rush dissipated as the pair sat at the dining room table with an open manilla folder between them. Bio sheets of their opponents, scribbled with John’s notes and Mike’s doodles. Berlin’s mustache suddenly had roguish curls while Brenna had devil horns and a forked tongue. Mike gestured to the former. “If you want me to be honest, an’ I know you do? I got no clue what to make of this guy. I mean, Brenna we know, kinda. She’s dangerous as shit and just as unpredictable. This Berlin dude, though… damn. Might’s well be an alien landscape.” Mike looked up to their partner- he’d always had an uncanny gift of insight that would definitely serve them well here. “What do you think?” “It’s what we wanted.” “I know that. New places, new people. I’m excited. But what I mean is, I can’t get a bead on Berlin and you’re really fuckin’ good at reading people. You see something I’m missing?” “He seems nice.” Mike sighed, shaking their head with a mild chuckle. That, it seemed, was that. “Yep. He sure does. So… how do we approach this, you think?” John looked at the still photos of Brenna and Berlin. Notably, the warm expression lent towards Berlin after coming up short just moments prior. His fingers touched them briefly, “That’s new. Well, not new,” he shrugged and closed the folder. For a brief moment, John’s eyes steeled, “We aren’t here to make friends. These two are in our way.” “Good eye. But I’m wondering if the same kinda tactics people tend t’ try and use on us- the separate and destroy shit- would be an advantage or an invitation to get ourselves killed. Unless…” Mike’s eyes found their partner’s, a devious grin flicking over their lips. “...the one on the ‘destroy’ end is the one most likely to get all murderous-like.” “It’s a matter of not hesitating,” John answered, “because she won’t. Our association with her has always been at arm’s length and her career aspirations have always been unclear. And while these two have a history, she’s shown that walking out on her partner isn’t out of the realm of possibility.” “Yeah, just because she’s flirty as shit with me doesn’t mean she won’t beat me up. Nothing personal, but it is what it is,” Mike shrugged, “For that point, Berlin doesn’t seem like the type who likes being tied down to anything either. Talks a lot about nomadic wandering and shit.” “And so why is he here?” John’s question was rhetorical. Mike picked up on the flicker of sarcasm but not many others would, “This is our chance to reestablish just who we are. The premier tag team in this sport. And what I’ve seen out of Berlin thus far is a kind of lip service towards this business. Coasting on an undeniable level of ability. Thus far, I get the inclination that he thought he had it easy coming up on his last time. And for the first time, he faced some real adversity and the result was…” He tapped his fingers on the table three times in an all too familiar cadence. “And Mike, believe me, we’re a brick wall.” Mike nodded, beaming, “They’re good, but they’re still two guys. We’re a team. We’ll show ‘em what the difference is. This ain’t a hot date, this is a Number One Contendership shot for those gorgeous-ass Chimera Tag Team belts. They belong to a team who eats, sleeps, and breathes tagging, not just another combo of two people tagging cuz it’s convenient. I mean, fuck. It’s not like being a couple alone makes for a good t--” They stopped themselves. “And that, I think…” They looked to the camera, their palm hitting the lens in an abrupt cut to black.

#archive

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