#acting in a whole play making a show then slipping away right at the applause | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

erodasfishtacos · 3 years

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ST. PAUL

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warnings: smut, daddy kink, 18+

—

Harry loves being the center of attention.

It’s really no surprise at this point that he enjoys when tens of thousands of people are watching him perform.

He also secretly loves that people love his wife as well. He swore sometimes he thinks his wife is more popular than him during tour.

YN was didn’t come out from backstage to stand and watch the show right away like she usually did - she was working through some merch issues with Jeff.

Harry noticed that the fans were continuously looking back to where his wife would usually stand for the show.

Between one of the sets, Harry goes about ready some of the posters that fans have brought and he huffs out a faux affronted remark as he reads one out loud.

“I’m only here for your hot wife.”

He jokingly glares at the fan as the crowds laughs, “M’gonna have t’have a talk with security about these posters! Y’hitting on m’wife in front me! She’s not even out here, tough luck mate.”

Then he shimmies away as another song comes on.

A few minutes later, a sign pops up that says, “I want to taste YN’s watermelon sugar.”

Harry gives the person holding the sign a look of disbelief and shakes his head in disapproval at the poster before turning away.

“Should I text him?”

Harry reads from a fan’s board, he holds up his left hand and wriggles his ring finger that is donned in his wedding band, “Y’asking the wrong person, love. I’ve been locked down f’eleven years, don’t know much about the new age of dating!”

He goes on to say, “My only advice is if he’s playing games - don’t do it. Trash, trash, trash. Not for you.”

When YN finally arrives to her usual spot, everyone tries to get a glimpse from where they’re at. It was a thing, everyone wants to not only get a glimpse of Harry Styles’ wife but also her outfit.

There were hundreds of instagram accounts now dedicated to their matching tour outfits.

The short dress she was wearing was made of the same material and color as his shirt *** and she looked stunning as always.

The singer notices all of the attention dart to the side of the arena, where he also spots his beautiful wife smiling with Glenne as they go to their usual spot.

When She ends, Harry walks down the catwalk with a exaggerated pout on his face, giving his wife a pointed look, “I just want to remind everyone, this show’s about me! I’m quite the narcissist so I know m’wife is gorgeous but we’re here f’me!”

The crowd erupts in laughter and playful ‘boos’ as a dimply smile spreads on his face as he adjust his in-ears.

YN bites the inside of her lip, holding back her own giggles at her husband’s boyish antics before she joins along in the boos.

“Alright, alright, no booing me now,” Harry titters like the comedian he is, “Just remindin’ y’who this is all about. Me! But let’s give a round of applause to m’wife who deals with the narcissism on a daily basis!”

The arena does so, thousands of fans capturing their interaction on their phones for people to coo over later.

YN rolls her eyes, laughing at some Glenne says before and then Harry is starting his next song with a few glances over to her until they meet eyes and he blows her a kiss which she returns.

And then a poster pops up in the pit that Harry knows he has to snag - gets a brilliant idea so he asks the fan to pass it forward.

He props his mic back into its stand before turning the poster around and showing it to his wife on the side.

“Show us your tits, respectfully.”

YN flips him off with a giggle before teasing at the collar of her dress which makes Harry’s jaw drop dramatically and he gives her a surprised look before shaking his head. ***

“Don’t y’dare flash the goods! I’m just jokin’ around, this is a family show….” He pauses before prompting the crowd, “Or is it?”

As he performs Lights Up, YN steps forward to the barricade to call over one of the fan who is awestruck as she stumbles over to YN.

“Could I borrow your sign?” YN asks the fan - who was dressed in a sequined suit that looked amazing and she had to compliment her on that too.

“Uh…yeah. He-here,” The girl stutters nervously, passing over the posterboard with shaky hands at meeting YN.

She was sooooo pretty up close, smelled like chanel number five, and smiled warmly enough to make the fan feel comfort.

“Thanks, I’ll give it right back,” YN assures her, stepping back over to Glenne, they giggle together before YN holds it over her head.

“Choke Me Daddy.”

Harry spots it in a mere minute, reading it over and unable to hide the moody, dark expression that flashes across his face before he covers it up by looking elsewhere.

Just the reaction she wanted.

Harry stay away from that side of the stage for a little, YN knows it’s to prevent a very public boner from her behavior.

YN hands it back, agrees to take a few pictures with the girl and her friends before they go back to enjoy the concert.

The girl who lent her the sign goes on to make tiktoks about the meeting.

“She was super nice and giggly.”

“She let us take a ton of selfies.”

“When she held it up, Harry like instantly got pissed or turned on or something because he gave her this look and it was intense.”

“Harry was staring at her like the whole concert after she held up that sign.”

“It seemed like YN was purposefully ignoring his signals to make him even more annoyed.”

“Her ring was so pretty.”

“I couldn’t tell who was more attractive, Harry or YN, I think they’re literally the hottest couple alive.”

When the concert ends, Harry bolts off stage - waving and blowing kisses to his adoring fans before disappearing into the back.

YN is waiting patiently by the entry, where she usually was, her stomach was tight and bracing for her husband’s reaction.

She wanted to play.

They both knew it.

Hell, the whole arena had known she wanted it.

And to her absolute disappointment, Harry arrives back stage and pulls her into a tight hug. He pulls back gently to kiss her with his large palm cupping her face.

“Hi baby, m’exhuasted. I’ll shower at the hotel,” Harry rasps, peppering a few more soft kisses before intertwining their fingers.

YN has to hide her disappointment that it wasn’t Harry coming back stage, shoving her into his dressing room, and giving it to her hard for the sign she held up.

Nope, during the ride to the hotel, he was cuddly and like a puppy - whining until YN massaged his neck and allowed him to lay his head in her lap.

He doesn’t bring up the sign, just relaxes quietly until they get to the hotel and then just grabs her hand to lead her to their room.

YN tries to settle down the itchy arousal in her belly when Harry goes to shower.

She changes out of her dress into one of Harry’s shirts and goes about folding and organizing both of their suitcases.

After the shower stops, YN hears Harry moves around for a moment until he’s opening the bathroom door.

“Do you want to order room service? I’m star-“

She’s cut off when her husband’s hand reaches down and intertwines into her hair - gentle by firmly pulling her to stand by it and tugging her back into his hard chest.

“Harr-“

“I don’t think so, baby. I think s’daddy, yeah?” Harry hisses against the shell of her ear, “Do y’think I’d forget about y’holding up a sign that said choke me daddy?”

It’s easy for her to slip in a fuzzier, submissive state because she knows her husband will keep her safe and always take care of her.

“You showed that sign fir-“ YN begins to argue back but Harry pulls at her hair to silence her.

“Y’want t’argue or do you want t’be a good girl f’daddy?” Harry asks lowly, his voice threaten and void of any of his normal warmth, “I think ten is a good number, hm? Ten t’your arse?”

“But-“ YN loved to push him, she wanted those ten but she also liked to rile Harry up which was even better when he was adrenaline high from a show.

“Say ‘yes daddy’ or I’ll add five,” He warns, his voice had a delicious rasp from singing and he wraps his hand into her thong and rips it - making her yelp as the elastic snaps against her skin.

YN’s heart is pounding out of her chest, usually she was the one who took Harry by surprise - not the other way around.

Her skin was aching already from the brush burn of the fabric being torn from her sensitive skin, scalp pulsing from the tension on her hair.

“You were so obvious on stage, H. Once I held up that sign, your face gave everything away - that you’re so easy f’me - it’s embarrassing. I’ve been locked down for eleven years,” She imitates his accent in a bratty bite.

Harry snaps, nearly picking her up as he manhandles her over to the large hotel bed and she finds herself on her belly with Harry landing a hard slap to her right cheek.

“Y’think you’re s’fuckin’ cute? Don’t act like it doesn’t get y’soaked seeing all those fans cry f’me and I come home t’you,” He chuckles meanly, “And y’want to call me desperate? Look in the mirror, love.”

YN wriggles a bit but doesn’t have much time before the second and third hit with his rings still on - making it hurt even more.

“Count f’me, sweetheart,” Harry hums, thumbing open her cheeks to lean down and teasing lick her tighter entrance before letting go to land the fourth one.

“F-four,” She chokes out, feeling herself drip onto the sheets and her nipples tighten against the cotton fabric of the shirt she still has on.

“Four what.”

The air in the room is thick, humid as she mumbles against the pillows, “Four daddy.”

“Louder.”

“Four, s’four daddy,” YN moans, tacking on the fifth to her words when he lands on her left cheek and she can tell how sore she’ll be in the morning already.

“Gonna give me fifteen, baby? Or are y’done?” His voice is cautious, checking in to see where she’s at - if they add five more that means she really wants to play. If he stops at five, they both know that means she only wanted to be roughed up a little bit for the night.

“More, please.” YN gasps, shaking her bum in his face before it’s caught with the hardest hit yet and she yelps in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

After they reach fifteen, Harry is flipping her on her back and tugging her shirt off until her breasts spill out and he tugs roughly at a nipple.

“Daddy, please, please,” She whines, her thighs were damp and she was absolutely pulsating for his touch on her.

“I think I deserve an apology f’your behavior tonight,” He whispers against her puffy lips, his cock slipping against her mound lazily, “Desperate f’me even in front of tens of thousands of people. It’s quite cute, darling.”

“Fuck me, fuck me,” YN presses her lips to his eagerly, moaning when he slips between her folds and his tip bumps against her clit.

“Y’have no fuckin’ manners, pet. I think I’ve spoiled y’too much,” Harry admonishes with faux disappoint, pulling back until their centers aren’t touching and landing a smack to her mound.

Then he’s reaching down to thumb at her bud with a relentless pleasure but as soon as she starts to lift her hips into the feeling - he pulls away and tucks two fingers up inside her - repeats that quite a few times.

She felt like she was on fire, she needed him so badly that she wasn’t able to take much more of the teasing.

They usually played for longer, hours sometimes but on tour - it was hard to, both of them bone-tired and knowing they have to get up early and do it again tomorrow.

Harry knows his wife like the back of his hand, knows when she needs more and when she’s hit her limit for the night.

When he sees hot, fat tears spilling from the corner of her eyes, lips full and swollen, and she’s mewling, “Daddy.”

He knows she’s nearly at her limit, he slips inside her with no resistance and has to push for a moment because it feels that euphoric.

“Baby, fuck. Always feel s’fuckin’ good. This body was made f’me, yeah? S’addicitng, s’warm and tight,” Harry praises his wife, kissing her before tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth.

“S’for you, all of it. Ha-Daddy, I’m so close already, do it - c’mon,” She begs, legs wrapping around his narrow waist and pressing her heels into his bum.

They both know what she wants but he wants to hear her say it.

“C’mon, tell me. Say it and I’ll give it t’you,” He rumbles as he thrusts in with loud, smacking noises echoing through the room.

She blinks up at him with twinkling doe eyes, a small smirk on the side of her lips, as she says in a kittenish voice, “Choke me, daddy.”

And like that, his hand is collaring her throat and lightly pressing down until her breathe catches in her throat.

“Come f’me, m’desperate lil’ thing. All those people with those nasty signs and all I can think about it y’perfect cunt,” He murmurs in her ears, pressing just a bit more and then just like clockwork - she tenses and begins to come and he lightens his grip and releases when he follows soon after her.

👀👀👀👀👀

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waitimcomingtoo · 3 years

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Swedish Fish

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: at an awards show where you and Tom are nominated for a lot of awards together, you poke fun at the rumors about your relationship

Masterlist

“Hello!” A journalist greeted you and Tom as you approached her on the red carpet of a low stakes award show. “You two are looking amazing.”

“Thank you.” You beamed, feeling the excitement of the night settle in with your first interview.

“Thanks so much.” Tom nodded in appreciation as he rested his hand on your back.

“So you two are nominated for quite a few awards tonight. How are you feeling? Nervous? Excited?” The journalist asked before holding her microphone out to the two of you.

“I’m really excited to be here. I’m more excited to be Y/n’s date, though. Look at her in this dress.” Tom stepped back so the camera could get a better look at your long red dress. “She’s better than any award.”

“Stop it. I don’t want to be flushed in the interviews.” You leaned against him as you briefly buried your face in his neck to hide your blush.

“Aw.” The journalist pouted at the camera. “So you two came here together?”

“We did. Almost all our nominations are together so it seemed like the right thing to do.” You explained as you kept one hand resting on Tom’s shoulder.

“That was my excuse for why I asked her.” Tom joked. “I really did it because I wanted to make everyone jealous that I had the prettiest date.”

“Oh, please.” You rolled your eyes. “He just wanted me as his date because he knows I bring snacks.”

“You brought snacks?” The journalist laughed into the microphone.

“I did.” You nodded excitedly. “I have like 6 types of candy in my bra. I have cookies and chocolate in my purse. You don’t even want to know where I’m hiding a granola bar.”

“I really want to know now.” The journalist raised her eyebrows at you.

“I’ll find out later and let you know.” Tom winked and you smacked him playfully.

“It’s the Nature Valley kind though so I’m scared to eat it.” You laughed. “They’re so crumbly.”

“Maybe you can step outside and eat it. Like a little snack break.” The journalist suggested.

“I could. I’ll do it during one of the boring speeches.” You joked.

“Who’s speech would you leave during?” The journalist asked you.

“Probably Tom’s.” You stated and he nodded along it humor you.

“Yeah. I tend to ramble.” He shrugged, making you laugh.

“Alright well I’ll let you guys get to the rest of the carpet.” The journalist said. “Thank you for chatting.”

“Thank you! Enjoy the night.” You waved goodbye to her as Tom picked up the train of your dress to make walking easier.

“She didn’t ask if we were a couple.” He whispered in your ear as you posed in front of the photographers.

“Are you upset that she didn’t?” You laughed as you looked at him.

“Frankly, I’m a little offended.” He said through a smile while keeping his eyes straight ahead.

“Don’t be. I’m sure we’ll get asked soon enough.” You told him. As far as the public was concerned, you and Tom were just friends. After being nominated for multiples joint awards for your performance as a couple in Far From Home, you had made a plan to tease the media if you won in an attempt to get them to stop asking if you were together.

“They better.” He grumbled in your ear before the both of you laughed.

He kept his hand on your back as you walked to the next journalist, the train of your dress in his other hand.

“Hi!” The journalist smiled happily at you as you stopped in front of him.

“Hello!” You matched his energy with a bright smile.

“Hey. How are you?” Tom asked politely.

“I’m doing well, thank you.” He nodded. “You two have quite a buzz around you tonight. Apparently you’re the couple to watch.”

“Any couple that’s half Tom Holland is a couple to watch. Haven’t you heard of Gyllenholland?” You raised an eyebrow and laughed.

“But that’s a bromance.” The journalist protested. “This seems more like a romance, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Unfortunately, we’re not together. There’s just something about me that he doesn’t like.” You sighed dramatically and looked away, making Tom and the journalist laugh.

“It’s the face. I can’t get past it.” Tom played along as he squished your cheeks between his fingers.

“So you’re really not a couple?” He asked as if he didn’t believe you. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Nope. Just friends.” You shook your head.

“Best friends.” Tom grinned at you before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“You two are adorable.” The journalist commented. “And you’re nominated for a lot of awards together tonight, aren’t you?”

“We are. And that’s the way it should be. I think people enjoyed our movie as much as they did because of what we created together. It was a two person job and I’m glad it’s being acknowledged as such.” You answered honestly, making Tom’s heart soar.

“Not all of the nominations are for the both of us, though.” Tom brought up. “Y/n is nominated for best actress. And guess who’s presenting that award?” He smiled proudly.

“That’s right! Congratulations.” The journalist praised you.

“Thank you. I’m really grateful for all the nominations.”

“I’m so proud of her. I can’t wait to give you that award later.” Tom looked at you fondly.

“If I win.” You reminded him.

“Of course you’ll win.” He scoffed. “I voted for you everyday.”

“Thank you.” You rested your head on his shoulder momentarily to thank him for his support.

“So if you do win one of the joint awards, who gets to take it home?” The journalist asked you.

“We’ll just have to win them both I guess.” Tom shrugged playfully.

“I hope you do.” The journalist smiled. “I’ll see you guys out there. Good luck.”

“Thank you.” Tom shook his hand before leading you towards the entrance of the building.

“Should we find our seats?” You asked him as you checked your lipstick in a compact mirror.

“Yeah. Let’s go.” He nodded before taking your hand and walking with you inside.

An hour later after a few performances and wards had been given out, it was time for you and Tom to present an award. You nervously chewed your bottom lip as you waited for your cue, going over your prepared speech in your head.

“You ready?” You whispered to Tom, sensing he was as nervous as you were.

“I’m never ready to read, especially not in front of thousands of people on live television.” He laughed nervously. You gave him an assuring smile as rubbed his back to calm him down.

“Hey, if you can’t make out a word, just squeeze my hand. I’ll help you out.” You told him. Tom smiled back and slipped his hand into yours, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“We haven’t started yet.” You laughed at his action.

“I know.” He shrugged. “I just wanted to hold your hand.”

Before you could respond, a man with a headset came up to you and gave you a thumbs up.

“You’re on in three, two…”

“Hello everyone. We are here to present the nominees for best actor in a horror film.” Tom announced into his microphone. “Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to see any of these films because the ticket guy always thought I was a child.” He feigned a sad face, making the audience laugh. Their positive response calmed your nerves as you held your own microphone up.

“But don’t worry. I made sure I explained the plot to him once I got home.” You added.

“Only two of them made me wet the bed.” Tom read off the prompter, one of the lines he and you hadn’t written yourself. He made a face that you couldn’t help but laugh at, calming you even further.

“I can’t believe you read that line.” You laughed into your mic.

“I know. Who wrote that?” He wondered and the audience laughed along.

“Tonight, Tom and I are nominated for Best Onscreen Couple.” You continued. “Our chemistry on screen has left a lot of people wondering if we’re a dating in real life. We’re not, by the way.”

Tom was quiet for a moment as he blinked in confusion, hesitantly raising his microphone to his lips.

“We’re not?” He asked you as if this was the first he was hearing of it. It wasn’t, of course, as you had rehearsed this many times. Your face fell just like your practiced as the crowd laughed.

“No, we’re not.” You answered him flatly.

“I just - I thought we were.” His eyes darted around as he played dumb.

“Tom. We talked about this.” You said out of the corner of your mouth.

“But…but we make out all the time.” He said and the audience erupted with laughter. “Like what about that time in your trailer?”

“That was strictly platonic.” You shrugged.

“And in the elevator?” He asked.

“You had something stuck in your teeth. I was just being a good friend and getting it out.” You smiled smugly as you looked out at the crowd.

“All those times in my car?” He emphasized, making even you laugh.

“I was method acting.” You said simply.

“But - but it was months after production wrapped.” He reminded you, earning some applause as the audience caught on to what you were doing.

“I like to get really deep.” You insisted.

“Oh.” Tom looked at the floor for a moment before snapping into a smile. “And here are tonight’s nominees.”

You paused and let the audience laugh at your bit before reading the nominees off the prompter. Tom put his hand on your back, making you look at him. You smiled widely at your successful joke and he smiled back before taking your hand and giving it a squeeze.

You were sitting in your seats once again, impatiently waiting for the first category you were nominated for to be announced.

“I’m kinda nervous.” Tom leaned over to whisper in your ear among the buzz of the crowd.

“Would bra candy make it better?” You chuckled as you pulled a small Swedish Fish out of your décolletage.

“Has this been on your bare body?” He laughed in disbelief as he took the candy.

“Maybe?” You said sheepishly, looking around for anyone who might overhear.

“I can’t stand you.” His whole body shook with laughter as he popped it in his mouth. “It tastes like how your perfume smells.”

“Really?” You grimaced. “I don’t know how I feel about it.”

“Me either.” He sucked it out of his teeth. “Can I have another piece?”

You shoved his playfully for the bad joke before fishing another out for him.

“Here.” You placed it in the palm of his hands. “Wait, shhh! They’re announcing the winners.”

“This is really chewy.” Tom commented ad he struggled the swallow the candy. You ignored his problem as you excitedly gripped his arm. He continued chewing but managed to slip his hand into yours and clutch it anxiously as the nominees were read.

“And the winners for best onscreen kiss are…Tom Holland and Y/n L/n in Spiderman: Far From Home.”

The audience erupted into applause for the two of you, but all you could hear was Toms incessant chewing.

“Stop chewing. We gotta go.” You giggled as you pulled him out of his seat.

“Mhhhfh hmhph.” He said through a mouthful as he pulled you into a celebratory hug. You held hands on the way up to the podium as the infamous kiss played on the enormous screen. You hugged the presenter before standing in front of the microphone and beaming at the crowd.

“Hi! Thank you so you much for this award. Its always such a huge - - woah.” You trailed off and looked at Tom up and down, gulping loudly into the microphone.

“What’s wrong?” He asked you.

“There’s a lot of sexual tension up here.” You blew out a breath and fanned yourself. “Whew.”

The audience laughed at your bit but you were determined not to break.

“I was about to say.” Tom tweaked his head and rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you. You both fidgeting with your clothing in an attempt to look busy as you avoiding eye contact.

“Um.” You laughed awkwardly into the microphone and gripped the podium. “What was I talking about?”

“I believe your last word was ‘huge’.” He said weakly, finally making eye contact with you. A chuckle went through the crowd as more caught on to the joke. You held each other’s gaze for a moment before quickly looking away.

“Right.” You nodded. “This is such a huge…a huge… sorry, what’s this award for?” You pretended to wipe sweat of your forehead as you turned around to read the screen.

“I believe it was Best Kiss.” Tom said before taking a deep, dramatic breath. You stared at each other for a long time, the only sound in the room now being your swallow breaths.

“Are we - - are we about to kiss?” You asked through a forced laugh before making your face completely serious. Tom raised his eyebrows before nodding and beginning to lean it. You leaned in to and right before your lips could touch, your heads snapped towards the crowd.

“Thank you so much!” You held up the award with a huge smile. “We love you guys! Thank you!”

This got a much bigger reaction than the last time as people cheered and laughed at your performance.

“That went well.” You gripped Toms sleeve in excitement as you walked back to your seats. “We got a lot of laughs.”

“I got a lot of laughs. You were a little flat.” He teased, pretending to flip hair behind his shoulder as you sat down.

“Mmm. Love you too.” You cupped his chin and narrowed your eyes at him. The actors and singers around you congratulated you on your first win on the night, all saying you got them with the fake out kiss.

The evening continued with an elated cloud over your seating area as you and Tom soaked up the win.

“Is it just me, or are the cameras hovering around us?” He said suddenly, calling your attention to the many cameras pointed in your direction. You waved at one and the camera man waved back.

“Trying to catch a stolen kiss I presume.” You shrugged as you gripped the award.

“Like we’d ruin the surprise.” He scoffed and put his arm around your shoulders. The second award you were nominated for together was next and your leg was already bouncing.

“I’m gonna be more disappointed in not doing our acceptance speech than I’d be in losing if we don’t get this award.” Tom said, practically reading your mind.

“I know.” You squeezed his knee anxiously. “Fingers crossed.”

“Good luck, darling.” He pulled you in closer and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“I don’t need luck when I have the best screen partner in the world.” You raised your eyebrows at him as you leaned into his body. You stayed in that position as Vanessa Hudgens read the nominees.

“And tonight’s winners for Best Onscreen Couple…Tom Holland and Y/n L/n!” She announced with a smile.

“See?” You smirked at Tom as you stood up.

“Guess I should tell you you’re welcome.” He teased as he scooped you into a tight embrace. He gathered the train of your dress in hand and helped you out of the aisle.

“I’m shaking.” You whispered to him as you made your way to the steps of the stage. “I’m gonna fall.”

“I got you, darling. I won’t let you fall.” He said as he took your hand with his free one and helped you up the stairs. You hugged Vanessa tightly once you got to the podium, whispering in her ear about being a fan.

“Thank you so much for this award.” Tom began your rehearsed acceptance speech. “I’ve always wanted to win best couple.”

“Onscreen couple.” You leaned towards the microphone to correct him. He looked at you in confusion but kept a smile on his face.

“What?”

“We won for best onscreen couple.” You pointed behind you. “Not best couple.”

“Oh.” He nodded like he understood. “So what did we win Best Couple for?”

“We didn’t, since we’re not a couple.” You said slowly, bringing back your joke from earlier in the evening. The audience chuckled as Tom made a show of reading the award and the screen behind him.

“Are you sure?” He asked suddenly, as if he didn’t believe you.

“Oh My God.” You groaned as you rubbed your eyes.

“Cause I feel like we are.” He gestured between the two of you. You shrugged a little and scooted closer to him while batting your lashes.

“I mean…do you wanna be?” You feigned shyness as you tucked some hair behind your ear.

“I don’t know.” He fumbled with the buttons on his suit jacket. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged and looked away. “What do you want to do?”

“I could get my mom to text your mom and they could set something up.” He suggested as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Okay.” You smiled and picked up the award. “Maybe later we could like, you know.”

You shrugged and he laughed shyly.

“Uh Huh.” He nodded eagerly. “Or we could do like whatever.”

“Yeah.” You let out a shaky breath. “Whatever.”

The two of you smiled in appreciation at the crowd before walking off, award tucked in the crook of your elbow and hands intertwined.

“This is the one I’m most excited for.” Tom told you as you waiting for Best Actress to be announced. Tom was the one presenting it, which only made your anxiety spike.

“But it’s just me.” You laughed as you looked at him.

“I know.” He shrugged bashfully. “You don’t need me to win. You’re the real reason people voted for us.”

“You’re just saying that.” You shook your head and put your hand on his bicep.

“Cause it’s true.” He insisted. “You got this.”

“Thanks for voting for me.” You answered sincerely, dragging your fingertips along his cheek.

“How could I not?” He tilted his head before getting tapped by one of the stage assistants. “I gotta go. Good luck.”

He brought your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles before following the assistant backstage.

You ran your hands over the arm rest, wishing Tom was still beside you to calm your nerves. You only had to wait about twenty minutes before Tom walked on stage with the envelope in hand.

“Nice to see you all again.” Tom greeted. “I know it’s strange to see me without my partner in crime, but she’s busy running through her acceptance speech in her head. Have I pissed off all the other Best Actress nominees? I bet I have.” He joked, earning a few laughs.

“Here are tonight’s nominees for Best Actress.”

You clapped for very nominated actress, noticing the wink Tom sent you when your name was displayed on the screen. Finally, it was time to announce the winner.

“And the winner of Best Actress is…” Tom’s eyes flicked up from the card before looking down again. You shut your eyes tightly and it felt like there was no air in the entire room.

“Y/n L/n.”

Your eyes flew open when you heard Tom call your name. You looked at the stage first, seeing him clapping and whistling for you with a proud smile. The people around you congratulating you, patting your back and rubbing your shoulders as you walked towards the stage. Tom had tears in his eyes as he met you at the top of the stairs, helping you stay balanced in your way to the podium. Tom got there first and took the ward off the podium and held it out to you.

“Here you go, baby.” Tom handed you the award.

Before you could take another step, he took your face between his hands and kissed you firmly. He smiled softly at you once he pulled way as you touched your fingertips to your lips in surprise.

He stepped back and let you move towards the microphone, still feeling flustered from the kiss and the win. You looked at the crowd and felt your mind go blank and they roared with applause. You looked over your shoulder at Tom, who gave you an assuring smile and mouthed “go on.” You blew out a breath and turned back to the audience, having a better grasp on what you wanted to say now.

“I can assure you, I was expecting that as much as you were.” You let out a breathy laugh and the audience laughed too.

“Thank you so much for this. This award means a lot to me.” You held up the award to punctuate your sentence. “I went into this movie thinking it would be a great opportunity to do something different than what I’m used to. I certainly didn’t go into this movie thinking I’d meet the love of my life.” You paused and smiled as a hush fell over the crowd. “Tom and I fell in love over scripts and cups of coffee at midnight, so much in love that I’m not sure I deserve this award because I wasn’t acting. Every soft touch and stolen glance, that was just me being in love with my scene partner.”

You stopped and let the audience clap for your statement, looking over your shoulder at Tom before continuing.

“I guess the secrets out now.” You laughed as you shook your head. “We had a running bet on who would accidentally reveal it first. So in addition to the three awards I won tonight, I will be getting twenty dollars.”

You heard Tom chuckling from behind you and felt compelled to finish up so you could hug him.

“All jokes aside, the number one person I want to thank tonight is Tom. I couldn’t have done this without you. And I’d never want to. I hope I spend the rest of my career sneaking Swedish Fish into award shows with you. Thank you.” You held up the award one last time before turning to Tom. He wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you off the ground, spinning you around as he pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek.

“Sorry about that. I couldn’t help myself. I was too proud of you.” He smiled as he set you down. You began to walk backstage together, hand in hand.

“It’s all right.” You assured him. “I always appreciate a romantic gesture.”

Tom stayed quiet as you made your way back to your seats, a strange look troubling his handsome features.

“What is it?” You asked as you sat down again. Tom pursed his lips as a shy smile lit up his face.

“That was the first time you said you loved me.” He said timidly as he scratched behind his ear. Your mouth opened and shut as you found yourself at a loss for words. In the excitement of the moment, you hadn’t even realized you admitted your real feelings for him. You’d only been dating two months and while you loved him whole heartedly, you had never had the guts to tell him. Tom looked at you expectingly as he awaited your answer. Knowing there was no going back, you shrugged it off.

“Well I do.” You said finally, making his smile grow. “Is that all right?”

“Is that all right?” He laughed and took your hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Yeah. That’s all right.”

“Good. Because I do love you.” You leaned into him and rubbed your nose against his. He scrunched his nose as you made contact, still holding tightly to your hand.

“I love you too.” He said for the first time, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. “Congratulations, darling.”

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petri808 · 3 years

Text

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Inukag Royalty Au *in honor of Tanabata coming up, it was worked into the chapter 😊

“Oh, look Rin, there’s a traveling marionette show today. Do you want to watch?” She and Kagome had been wandering around the marketplace when they stumbled onto it.

“Yeah!” The child squealed in delight. “I’ve seen them before and they’re really good!”

“I think we got here just in time,” Kagome scanned for a seat. “There,” she pointed, “let’s sit down before it starts.”

It was quite amazing to see this group of traveling entertainers. Such troops would pass through her own kingdom, but Kagome was rarely allowed to leave the castle to watch them. From what she could see on their signs, they put on different shows for adults with a variety of acts, and puppet shows for the children, staying for a few days before moving onto the next town. The story they were about to perform was a classic tale of the star-crossed lovers Orihime and Hikoboshi. It was cute, albeit a bittersweet tale of eternal longing. Just as the show was getting ready to start, Kagome felt a body sit down beside her. She glanced over with her peripheral to make sure they weren’t a problem and noticed a familiar set of claws on the persons hands.

“Prince?” Kagome whispered not wanting to draw attention. “What are you doing here?”

“Miroku and I saw you two,” Inuyasha whispered back.

Kagome leaned forward a tiny bit and noticed Miroku on the other side of Inuyasha who nodded in recognition. “I see…”

“We we’re bored,” Inuyasha threw in, “so decided to join you.”

The comment made Kagome chuckle, which then caught Rin’s attention, who looked over and saw the men. The child’s eyes lit up at seeing her uncle and in her excitement, she got off her seat and quickly plopped herself onto Inuyasha’s lap.

“Guess I’m just a chair now,” he chuckled too. "Behave and watch the show or I’ll kick you off my lap.”

“I’m always a good girl,” the child retorted with a grin before turning back to the stage.

And she was. Rin sat enthralled by the whole production. They really were as good as she’d portrayed to Kagome. From the quality of the marionettes to the actor’s voice work, they truly pulled you into the story. But for the adults, it brought on a different wave of emotions, at least it did for Kagome. While the story was beautiful, she could identify with Princess Orihime’s longing for the one she’d fallen in love with despite her father’s rules… and to be torn apart because of it… At least, the Princess in the tale got to see her love once a year. Kagome won’t be able to do the same. She didn’t notice the small frown growing on Inuyasha’s face, because she avoided looking in his direction. He was her Hikoboshi, but she didn’t want him to notice the moisture clouding her eyes or realize how much the story was having an effect on her.

Once the final act was complete, the puppeteers came out from behind the curtain to bow to the audience’s wild applause. It was a great success for most including Rin who was clapping and bouncing on her uncle’s lap with excitement. Kagome was happy the child enjoyed the performance even though it took a toll on her.

“I love this story…” both Kagome and Inuyasha mumble at the same time, causing them to stiffen and turn to face the other.

“You do?” Inuyasha questioned.

“It’s sweet,” Kagome responded with heat coloring her cheeks. “Even though I feel bad for them.”

“Me too.” Inuyasha mumbled. “It’s not fair.”

Her eyes slightly widen, fully understanding what he was feeling in that moment. But as much as she would have loved to say more, Kagome knew she couldn’t, not in public like this.

“What’s not fair?”

Leave it to Rin to bring them back to the present.

“Oh, um,” Kagome quickly gave her attention to the little girl. “What uncle Inu means is it’s sad that Orihime and Hikoboshi only get to see each other once a year.”

After a brief pause, the child’s eyes widened. “Ohhhh,” Rin acknowledged her understanding. “Yeah, that’s not very fair. But at least they found someone.” She turned around and looked up. “Isn’t that a good thing uncle Inu?”

Again, the innocence of a child worked wonders for lightening the mood.

“Yes,” Inuyasha smiled down at his niece. “It is a good thing.” But his eyes drifted towards Kagome as he continued. “I’m sure Hikoboshi appreciates all the time he gets to spend with his Orihime.”

For several seconds the pair hold a gaze with one another. No words needed to communicate a sense of longing despair. Kagome may have been painfully aware of Inuyasha’s insinuation, but so was Miroku. The princes guard cleared his throat loudly, breaking the moment. “Inuyasha, we should get back to our patrols.” He spoke matter of fact.

“Right,” the hanyo grumped. Miroku constantly warned him about letting his true feelings slip, and even though he knew his friend was just looking out for him, Inuyasha didn’t need to like it. He sighed. “Okay Rin, time to get off. Uncles gotta go back to work.”

“Okay!” Rin jumped off his lap and stood next to Kagome who’d also risen to her feet. “We should finish our shopping and get back to the castle too,” she took hold of the child’s hand. “Say goodbye to your uncle Rin.”

“Bye uncle Inu!” She waved as the pair made their way back into the throng of market goers.

For the rest of the day, Kagome pushed aside the incident in the marketplace. Why think about it when it would only make her sadder at her circumstances, especially since for Rin it had been a fun experience hanging out with her uncle. She didn’t want the child to see that side of life for as long as possible. Even at dinner, Inuyasha was quieter than usual, but Kagome didn’t want to assume anything, so she went about her routines like normal pretending everything was fine. Sometimes it was easier to ignore reality. That is until Rin was already tucked into bed and Kagome headed towards the library to get some reading done. If there was one thing that could take her mind off most things it entailed drowning her thoughts in an academic book.

Most of the time.

Of all the stories that troop could have chosen for a children's play, why a sad love story? Why not a fanciful fairytale like a prince saving a princess from an evil villain or an adventurer searching for treasure and fame? But it wouldn’t be fair to pin all her woes on the performers. The Tanabata story was a popular one after all. Kagome sighed as she shifted in her seat to pull her legs up and under her body. The book she'd chosen was about medicinal herbs because she was curious about useful treatments. She'd hoped the interest would be enough to pull her away from thinking about the play, but it wasn't working. Maybe she just needed to give herself more time to process everything. 'Or maybe you need to do the opposite and stop thinking about anything!' Kagome chided herself. She really did need to stop letting her emotions control her. 'You're supposed to be hiding out here, remember?!'

It was the sound of approaching footsteps that caused Kagome to stop reading and look up from her book. Was it a guard? Nope, just Inuyasha.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” Inuyasha dropped onto the couch next to her. “I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

“Inuyasha? What’s wrong?” She put the book down when she saw the anger brimming in his eyes. “Did something happen?”

The prince let out an annoyed sigh. “I just had a huge fight with my dad.”

“A fight? Over what?”

“You.”

“Me?!” Her eyes widened. “Did I do something wrong?!”

“No, no, not you,” he grabbed her hands. “It’s all me. I… I-I told him— I told him that I refuse to honor the agreement to marry someone else. He wouldn’t even tell me who she is, so how would I ever be okay with it? I just can’t! Not when I’m already in love…”

Kagome swallowed back hard. “You are?”

His grip tightened, gaze turned serious and focused. “I told him I was in love with you. Kagome I can’t deny that anymore no matter how much I tried.”

“But you know we can’t—”

“I know, I know, it’s crazy, but after that story…” Inuyasha let go of her hands for a moment to gesticulate. “I just couldn’t stop thinking about it! I told him I’d rather stay single for the rest of my life if it meant still being around you… even if that’s all I get to have. I just want to stay in your life in any way I can.”

Kagome didn’t know what to say. With all her heart she wished it could work, but knowing she too was living a lie that she couldn’t reveal coupled with such a major potential for scandal… her voice lowered in hesitation. “Inu this is crazy…”

“Do you love me?” Is all Inuyasha blurted out.

“Yes—” she spoke from the heart, “but—”

Inuyasha took her hands again and brought them to his chest. “Then that’s enough for me.”

Despite his efforts to reassure her, Kagome couldn't be happy about this declaration of love. She'd heard some of the whispers starting around the castle about their forbidden relationship. What if someone started to talk? What if someone started to question her true origins? All it would take is someone mentioning to the wrong person the woman in the castle who'd stolen the prince’s attention. And what about the royal family? How will they treat her now? Will they see her as a jezebel? A woman who’d infiltrated their life to cause problems?? Kagome shook her head. “But there must be consequences!” She knew all too well as a hypocrite, the rippling damages that could occur from breaking such trusts. “You don’t just break an agreement like that without consequences.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen to you, I give you, my word. As for me, I can handle my dad. He was angry but believes he can make it work, probably honor the rest of the deal just minus the marriage part.”

“Which was?”

“In exchange for the marriage, we guaranteed to protect that kingdom. They’re smaller than us, so they really have no choice but to take the amended deal because it at least assures them of safety.”

Kagome was so torn in that moment about what to do. She couldn't tell him the truth yet, not because she didn't trust him, but because she didn't want to burden him with it. If anyone were to find out who she really was, they might notify her parents and her life at the palace would truly be over with. It was selfish, but could anyone blame her? This was the first time in her life she's experienced freedom and happiness. Ugh, why’d she have to fall in love with Inuyasha? Why’d Inuyasha have to fall in love with her? Is fate always so cruel? First the idea of an arranged marriage, but now to be stuck in a forbidden one. Was she cursed? Were they both cursed?

“Y-You’re sure your father won’t hold this against me? Because I-It wasn’t planned. I never intended for any of this to happen.” The tears had begun to fall down Kagome’s cheeks at the enormous weight levied onto her shoulders.

“Neither had I,” Inuyasha wiped at the tears and cradled her cheek. “Neither of us could have controlled what our hearts desired.”

“But I’m scared Inu…”

“I swear on my life nothing will happen to you and if it comes to it, we’ll run away, far away and hide just me and you.” He leaned their foreheads together. “I don’t care about my title. I just want to be with you.”

“I wanna be with you too,” Kagome breathed out.

“Then have faith in our destiny.” Inuyasha tilted Kagome’s face up and swept his lips over hers, earning a shivering sigh. He then centered and placed pressure into a deeper kiss.

Kagome melted into the kiss as her fingers moved up and gripped to his shirt. Let her fears be damned in that moment, for if this earned her banishment in the end, just tasting his lips this once… she could die happy knowing she’d felt love. It was more than she ever thought she’d achieve in this gilded life.

“I’ll try,” she whispered an honest answer. “In you… I’ll believe…”

#inukag #inukag fan fic #inukag fan fiction #inuyasha #kagome higurashi #inukag au #royalty au #inuyasha x kagome #inukago #ch 5 #the irony of fate #petri808

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freddieslater · 3 years

Text

Rowing the Rarepair Rowboat: Josie Saltzman x Jed Tien (Legacies)

Requested by anonymous

Josie's laughing. She has been for nearly the last half hour, no matter how serious she keeps trying to be.

"No, no — that's not what it says!" she says, trying to sound stern but only laughing more as Jed continues purposefully messing up the script. She reaches to take it back from him. "Stefan would never say that!"

"It's creative freedom," Jed argues, grinning. His voice only grows more amused as he stretches his arm up further with the script, knowing that she can't reach it but delighting in watching her try. Those stupid four inches of height really do make a difference even sitting down. "Landon took creative freedom just writing this whole thing, so why can't we?"

Josie puffs out a breath, momentarily pausing her attempts. "Because — Landon kept as close to the facts as he could through history books and talking with my uncle Damon, but you—“

She lunges for the script, thinking his guard will be lowered enough for her victory. But Jed has the reflexes of a wolf and immediately stretches his arm higher, switching the script over to his right hand to add even more of an obstacle, and leaving her hands to lunge pointlessly at his wrist. Jed laughs and it's impossible for Josie not to as well, even through her groaning and slumping in defeat.

"—you're just making things up!" she finishes with another huff.

"You don't know that!" Jed insists, his eyes shining with joy at their playful bickering. "Here, listen, I feel like I can really capture Stefan's inner monolouge." He clears his throat theatrically and Josie rolls her eyes even as she bites the inside of her cheek to keep her smile from straying too far at the serious, brooding look he puts on. "I'm so conflicted. Should I tell Elena that I'm a vampire, or should I cover myself in glitter and go out in the sun in front of her in the hopes that she'll catch on?"

"Oh my god, sto-o-op!" Josie exclaims, bursting into laughter again and throwing her head back. "You sound like Uncle Damon!"

"I'm mocking Damon," Jed counters, his mock seriousness cracking to let his grin shine through as he slips back into his dramatic speech, standing up. Josie's eyes widen and she follows him, back to actively trying to retrieve the script from him. "What if she would prefer a sparkling boyfriend? Will I have to lie and tell her Twilight was real for the rest of our lives together?"

"I think she would notice you were lying when you run out of — glitter!" Josie makes another failed lunge for the script. She jumps for it, but Jed quickly switches hands again. "Or when she becomes a vampire as well and realizes that she burns just trying to open the curtains."

Jed hums and nods as if in genuine deep thought, all while still walking backwards and ensuring the script is out of her reach. She's not really trying to get it back anymore. More just making halfhearted lunges for it, only succeeding in grabbing at his arms instead.

"You make a good point," he concedes. "Maybe she'd be willing to settle for me in all of my non-sparkliness." A mischievious glint brightens in his eyes as he looks at Josie and plasters on that brooding look again. "Elena. I'm sorry I don't sparkle."

Josie rolls her eyes. "Are we really doing this?"

Jed raises an eyebrow and gives her a look that says, we are if you play along. And, okay, they have some time to spare for rehearsal. Landon probably won't need them for another half hour while he's going over Lizzie's scenes as their mom and Cleo as Aunt Bonnie. They're having some trouble getting their last duet number done, the one before the wedding after Stefan killed Enzo. It's a whole thing.

So, playing along could be fun.

"You lied to me, Stefan," Josie says, putting on her best impression of her aunt Elena. She tries not to think about how much trouble she would be in for this with her. "You told me it was all real. Was it all just an act? Are you even really allergic to garlic?"

The last part nearly makes Jed crack up on the spot, having to press his lips together. After a calm beat, he gets back into character — or at least the caricatures of them — and looks at Josie with wide eyes, pleading with her.

"I..." He turns his head away dramatically, and in a whisper, says, "No. I'm not."

Josie scoffs and takes a step back as if scandalized. Disgusted.

"Our entire relationship is a lie!" she accuses, a hand on her chest. "Did you plan on running into me that day outside the bathroom? Was this whole thing just some... some twisted, manipulation?"

"No!" Jed steps towards her, hands outstretched to reach for hers, but Josie holds one up in front of her, stopping him short. "No, it was nothing like that. Yes, I — I maybe did run into you on purpose that day, but it's because I already knew how much I cared about you. And when we did meet, those feelings for you only grew stronger."

They are partially taking words from the script, Josie acknowledges, only saying them instead of singing them, and it's only bits here and there. The rest is entirely improvised on the spot, and Josie will admit, she's kind of impressed by how well he's nailing this. She knew he was really excited about getting to play Stefan but she hadn't really thought he put that much thought into it beyond... well, showing off like a lot of the others who auditioned.

"But how can I know that you're telling the truth?" Josie says, shaking her head sadly. She gingerly reaches for the pendant around her neck, fingering it gently as she glances down at it. "You could have gotten in my head without me knowing about it."

"I would never do that to you," Jed insists firmly, trying to catch and hold onto her gaze. "That necklace protects you from any vampire's mind compulsion. I gave it to you to protect you."

"From you?" Josie snaps, her head shooting up and her chin jutting out with a glare.

A mistake, because it gives Jed the perfect opportunity to keep her eyes locked on his. Once they're there, focused on his wide, sad eyes — they're not as dark in this lighting and up this close, they're kind of like a shimmering brown, little lighter brown specks flickering like sparks off of a spell against the darker brown — she can't look away. She's too caught up in it.

"Yes," Jed agrees softly. "From me as well. So you would know, when this moment finally came, that I would never dream of doing anything to hurt you. Not on purpose." He sighs. "You don't have to trust me, Elena, but please believe that I'm telling the truth when I tell you that everything else was real, including... especially my feelings for you."

"How can you be so sure, Stefan?" Josie asks. "How -- how do you know yourself that what you feel for me is real and not just some way for you to hold on to your past?" She steels her stare as best she can, setting her jaw. "To Katherine?"

"Because what I feel for you is beyond anything I ever felt for Katherine," Jed swoops right in, saying the right words in the right voice.

He steps forward and she doesn't back away this time, but tilts her head up, keeping her ground. Then, with perfect calculation, and as smooth as if he does this all the time, he reaches out and rests a hand on either side of her neck, thumbs just barely brushing her jaw. When she says she freezes like a statue, she means it save for the shiver that runs from where his palms are touching her skin, down her spine and up the back of her neck.

"You and her… you're nothing alike," Jed says, softening his voice like melted butter, and Josie swears she's not just staring at him with her mouth open in awe, but she also can't be sure. "You share an appearance, but when I look at you... you're all I see. No one else. Because your heart is what make you who you are, and your soul. And those are things I can feel and see, and they're the reason that I fell in love with you. Because of who you are, the way you think, the way you love and feel so passionately."

He slips a hand up to lightly brush away a stray lock of her hair. His eyes follow his own fingers to tuck it behind her ear. Josie tries to recall if werewolves have heightened hearing because her heart may be turning into a ticking time bomb and she's not too sure why, but something is telling her no one else should be allowed to hear it.

"That's why I love you," Jed repeats, reconnecting with her gaze. "Even if you may never believe that."

This is her cue, a little voice reminds her, suddenly striking an alarm bell that reverberates through her mind and kicks her out of her staring —gazing, it was definitely gazing, Lizzie would call it gazing, for sure.

"I believe you," she breathes out.

Jed blinks in surprise, then a soft smile takes its place. Josie returns it.

Then the Lizzie voice echoes back through her mind, saying, this is the part in the play where you kiss. And that thought absolutely terrifies Josie, because — what? They were just joking around, but it's occuring to her now that come show night, they will be doing this again, for real, and yes, there will be a kiss. A very scripted kiss. No spontaniety.

"Even..." she continues quietly, kicking the train of thought off its tracks and diverting down a safer route, "... if I'm disappointed that you don't sparkle. I was looking forward to having a disco ball for a boyfriend."

It successfully breaks Jed out of character; he laughs and has to look away. Josie almost breathes a sigh of relief with the connection broken. It was like a spell had come over her. She just laughs with him, her shoulders easing down a little from where they had hunched with frozen tension.

Before either of them can speak again, there's an outburst of applause from the doorway. Josie's and Jed's eyes widen as they both quickly look over to find Landon, Lizzie, and Cleo standing there. All three are clapping and wearing bright smiles; Landon's eyes are wide and... in awe, his expression like an excited puppy; Cleo is simply smiling, but there's something in her eyes that dances around the knowing expression; and Lizzie has never looked so smug in her life.

The two of them break apart, Jed quickly pulling his hands back to him then hastily stuffing them in his pockets. Josie fiddles with the pendant around her neck and tries to avoid looking at anyone as her cheeks flush hot and probably red.

"That... was amazing!" Landon is saying, marching right over to them with purpose that gives Josie great anxiety. "You two — oh my god, the chemistry? You have nailed the roles of Stefan and Elena, I mean" —he's looking between them with those wide eyes of disbelief, shaking his head— “if I didn't know better watching that, I would have sworn it was real! You were obviously the perfect choices for this."

Josie's face only flushes harder, more furiously at that comment. She chuckles nervously, and it ends too quickly. When she glances up at Lizzie, she finds exactly the expression she was anticipating. The knowing side-eye, the smirk, the slightly tilted head that says she is definitely getting involved in this. That's going to be a fun conversation.

Meanwhile, Jed rubs his neck sheepishly and tries not to appear too flustered under the many pairs of eyes. "Thanks! Uh, yeah, we were just... practicising. We went a little off-script, sorry about that. Just wanted to get a feel of the characters."

"Oh yeah, I don't doubt you wanted a feel of the characters," Lizzie emphasizes to Josie's mortification. She ignores her do you have to?! look of alarm and crosses her arms. "But... I agree with Landon."

"Yes, you two were incredible," Cleo chimes in, and Josie manages a small smile of thanks back at her when she catches her eyes. "I don't know this Stefan or Elena but with you two playing them, I feel like I do."

Josie's rubbing at her neck now, trying to keep her smile in place as she nods. "Thanks. So, uh, are you guys done rehearsing?"

The quick change in subject does not go unnoticed by either of the girls. Or Jed, who slides her a glance that adamantly avoids catching. Only Landon, who deflates a little but doesn't entirely lose the strangely upbeat thing he has going on at the moment.

"Sort of. For now. We're taking a break," he says. "We've got most of the number down. It's just this bit towards the end, but it'll be all fine. You guys just keep rehearsing — all of you!"

He points a finger at each of them in turn as he starts to back away. Josie's beginning to think his upbeat thing is more of a nervous breakdown thing the more she sees him. It's like he's becoming more and more unravelled with every rehearsal. Understandable, she thinks quietly to herself, it's not exactly easy.

As he leaves the gym, Lizzie turns an arched eyebrow on them. "So, should we leave the two of you to continue rehearsing or—“

"Actually, I have Chemistry — I mean—“ Josie hasn't wished Malivore to swallow her whole so much in her life "—I have class. So, uh..." She turns to face Jed for the first time since they were interrupted and shoots him a smile, asking, "Later? We can, uh, pick back up from... pa-page twenty-three?"

Jed nods, maybe a little too vigorous and frantic. "Yeah, of course!"

"Okay! Good." Josie swings right around, saying, "Bye!" then marches straight towards the door and out of the gym before anyone can stop her.

#legacies #legaciesedit #josie saltzman #jed #jedosie #josie x jed #jed x josie #rowing the rarepair rowboat #myedits*#OKAY BUT I'M INTO THIS CAN YOU TELL #I'm so into this ship now damn it #this is like jedosie + a side of stelena lmao and I loved writing it #I'm technically cheating because this is actually part of a fic I'm writing but shhh #long post #jed tien

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starmieknight · 3 years

Text

Plus One, Two, Three (part 1)

Pairing: (poly) Jeongguk x Jimin x Taehyung x Original Character, [background OT7 implied

Summary: Hari attends a wedding with her boyfriends - a magical wedding. She’s excited, but still feels a bit out of place as she gets an idea of what her future with the boys might look like.

Contents: magic!au, college/university!au, a look at the more flirty side of this au, hari and jimin are doms, tae and kook are subs, hari has fun with that, worldbuilding, was supposed to be sweet and a look into magical culture but they’re all THIRSTY, part 2 coming soon (hopefully)

Related Work(s): Gray Morning, Golden Home

Hari and Jimin peered unhappily out of the window at the sight of the light snowfall that had just started.

“I’m going to bust my ass in these heels.” Hari said mournfully, shuffling her feet as if to steady herself already.

“And we’ll both freeze to death.” Jimin concluded, regretting his choice to forego his usual sweater for the sheer, charcoal dress shirt he wore under his blazer. It looked so good with that particular blazer though, the shirt a teasing shimmer beneath the matte black and gold accents.

He had chosen the combination specifically to match Hari’s dress. She wore an inky black, sleeveless turtleneck dress with matching heels that had shiny golden buckles. Hari and Jimin had both traded in their usual silver jewelry to match their gold theme. Hari had gone with more simple choices, thin rings and stud earrings, while Jimin wore thick, jewel encrusted rings and dangling hoop earrings.

They complemented each other while still being unique.

Their coven rings rested proudly on their right index fingers, the ever color changing metal matching their choices of the evening.

Taehyung snorted from behind them, dropping a pair of coats on their couch .

“You two knew this was going to be a winter wedding.” he reprimanded with a smirk. “You should have found some boots and a sweater instead.”

He was smartly dressed in a sharp black blazer and matching turtleneck. Taehyung matched Hari as well, but offset the effect by wearing pearl earrings instead.

He was dressed the most simply, but his natural good looks were shining through strongly.

Jimin and Hari ran their eyes over him appreciatively.

“Your hair looks so good,” Hari sighed appreciatively at the new color and cut. She left the window to steal a kiss. She couldn’t help herself when he looked that good. “And it may be winter, but it’s indoors. I’d burn up in my boots.”

“Not my little bird.” Taehyung denied, taking the chance to drape her coat over her shoulders. He tapped his earring. “I’d give you a warming charm. But I do like these heels. Sexy.”

Hari grinned, quirking a brow at the idea.

Jimin wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning over her shoulder to kiss Taehyung as well.

“Are we actually going to this wedding or was this just an excuse to get pretty and make out?” Jeongguk teased as he came down the stairs.

The older trio wolf-whistled at the sight of him.

He preened at the attention, ruffling his hair and striking a pose to urge them on. They didn’t disappoint, turning their wolf-whistling into raucous applause and shouted compliments at his sharp figure.

“Helloooo, Nurse!” Hari grinned, letting her tongue poke out of her mouth a bit in an impression of the old styled cartoons.

Jeongguk wore a white button up under a black leather jacket and topped it off with a black, silk tie around his throat.

His older lovers beckoned him over and he came willingly into their arms. Taehyung pressed a kiss to their maknae’s jaw while Jimin reached up to kiss his mouth.

Hari eyed that tie appreciatively, running a slow hand over his chest. The fabric was almost see-through and she could see the outline of his chiseled stomach, see the way his dark nipples peeked through the thin cloth, the way the crisp collar was just a teasing border to what was waiting beneath for her.

Jeongguk pulled away from Taehyung and Jimin, looking flustered and his mouth red.

All three of the boys fixed their eyes on Hari’s wandering hand as she made her way up his chest to grab that teasing silk.

She tugged lightly, pulling Jeongguk down to her level so she could kiss him.

He tasted like mint and Jimin’s chapstick and Hari loved the taste. The only way it could be better was if there was a hint of Taehyung there too.

“Let’s make a deal.” she suggested, trailing her lips over Jeongguk’s jaw to where Taehyung had kissed him. The maknae was left dazed and wanting by the loss of her lips on his. “When we get back from the wedding, you keep this tie on and I’ll keep the heels and we’ll have our own after party. I’m really liking the fit on you…”

“I vote we skip the wedding altogether.” Taehyung suggested hoarsely. His pupils were blown wide and his throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly.

Jimin made a displeased noise. “As much as I wish that we could now,” he gave Hari a pointedly annoyed look. “Soyul-noona would curse us with blue balls for a week if we tried.”

“Hari-noona is a Curse Breaker.” Jeongguk protested, attempting to kiss her again. “It wouldn’t last.”

“I don’t know.” Hari grinned, ducking away to tease him. “I think I like the idea. It’d be fun to see what ya’ll’d get like if you couldn’t get off for a week.”

The boys’ hands froze wherever they rested on her body.

“You-” Jeongguk swallowed thickly, looking wrecked already. “You’d make us beg, noona?”

Taehyung looked similarly affected by her teasing words and Jimin looked intrigued, but more for the effect it had on the younger boys instead of himself.

In their bedroom, Jimin and Hari were a pair of doms to be reckoned with. They fed off of each other’s energy and often left Taehyung and Jeongguk limp and dazed by their effect.

He couldn’t wait to see what their dynamic could be like when their coven was whole again.

He thought Hari might be more shy with the older boys, much like she had been with him at first before she found her confidence. And he knew she could play a slightly more submissive role, even if she liked being in charge. Or she just liked to let Taehyung act like he was in charge from time to time. She and Jimin knew exactly where they stood with each other, no playing the power game like they did with Taehyung and Jeongguk.

They liked to hold the power in their hands, unable to let go as freely as Taehyung and Jeongguk could.

Jimin tsked disapprovingly at Hari. “You shouldn’t tease them like that. They’ll be unbearable during the wedding now.”

Hari laughed at him. “My bad. In that case, we’d better hurry and get this over with.”

“Right.” Taehyung murmured, blinking slowly as if coming out of a deep sleep. “Are we ready?”

“We were just waiting on you two.” Jimin confirmed. He considered them for a moment. “Who has the wedding gift?”

“I went ahead and put it in the car.” Jeongguk sighed, disappointed at the turn of events. “We’re all good.”

“Then let's get going.” Hari hummed, heading for the garage like nothing was wrong.

The boys grumbled as they followed after her.

_____

The boys’ mood lightened as they got closer to the wedding venue. They traded their frustration for light-hearted jokes and inevitable flirting, which turned to fondness as they watched Hari’s face go slack with awe at the magically decorated space.

Taehyung understood her best in that respect, having joined the magical community as a teenager instead of being born into it like Jimin and Jeongguk had. Even after nearly ten years of exposure to magic, he still felt giddy by its effect.

While Jimin went to park the car, Taehyung and Jeongguk helped Hari down the snowy path, watching her carefully in case she slipped.

She looked nervous about both potentially hurting or embarrassing herself if she fell.

However, the moment her legs wobbled even once, Jeongguk swept her off her feet and carried her the rest of the way inside.

Taehyung laughed as he followed, using his magic to float off the path a bit and just fly inside. He nearly bumped into the bride’s sister. He beamed at her.

“Soeun-ah!” Taehyung’s hair poofed around his face as he landed and hurried to take the girl’s hands into his own. “You look so pretty!”

“You charmer.” Soeun grinned, flushing a bit. “You look good, too. All of you.” She looked at Hari and Jeongguk appreciatively as the pair joined them.

“Hello,” Hari said shyly. She was tucked into Jeongguk’s side, almost hiding as she offered the other girl a tentative smile.

Soeun wasn’t having any of that and pulled Hari into a hug, “You must be Hajoon! It’s so nice to meet you - your boys talk about you so much, I feel like I already know you!”

Hari blushed, but looked pleased. “I think they just like to brag about their friends. Jeongguk went on for an hour about your photography portfolio the other day. I’m a little starstruck.”

Soeun laughed brightly and moved to hug Jeongguk too, her apparent fan suddenly as shy as Hari. “He’s too kind. I have a couple of stories about them I could tell you. Here, I’ll show you to your seat. I need a break and this is a good chance to make a new friend, too.”

Taehyung and Jeongguk were left in a stupor as Soeun swept Hari away, the girls’ arms linked like they’d known each other forever.

Hari shot them a sheepish grin over her shoulder.

“Well,” Taehyung blinked. “Jimin’ll be glad she’s making friends instead of hiding.”

“Yeah, but the ‘Hari Protection Squad’ is going to blame you if Soeun starts stealing her away from them.” Jeongguk pointed out amusedly.

Taehyung blanched at the reminder of Hari’s jealous best friends and their apparent vendetta against him.

They rarely went after Jimin or Jeongguk. Taehyung was their unfortunate victim since he was the first to openly date Hari and had a reputation as a ‘playboy’ when they first met him. Even if it had just been an exaggerated rumor.

Nothing he did ever seemed to get him on their good side.

Taehyung pouted.

Once Hari was in Soeun’s care, there was no separating the pair of women from each other.

Jimin rejoined his coven and was at a loss with the new friendship that had formed in his absence.

The trio of boys watched their girlfriend flutter around with their old friend, getting introduced to Soyul and Soeun’s family and coven before they disappeared into the back to meet Soyul herself. The boys were banned from the dressing room and resigned to greeting Soyul at the reception.

All three of them were pouting as they found their seats, jackets piled on Hari’s empty chair between Jimin and Taehyung. They didn’t trust her and Jeongguk to behave if they sat next to each other. They were both too mischievous.

Hari had been so reserved and polite when they first met her. She really had been corrupted by the boys.

By the time Soeun returned Hari to her coven, the boys were practically melting into their seats due to neglect and Taehyung’s hair had even begun to frizz as his magic grew restless. Jimin had begun oozing a mild slime on his fingertips that he kept wiping off on the bottom of his chair while Jeongguk began picking at his nails which were slowly turning into claws.

Hari snorted at the sight of them.

They were all so dramatic.

It was no wonder that the trio had gotten themselves reputations on campus if they behaved that way while the older members of their coven were gone.

Hari flicked Jimin on the forehead as she sat down beside him, smoothing down Taehyung’s hair as she went. Jeongguk reached for her, his claws receding as she held his hand over Jimin’s lap.

“Really,” Hari laughed lightly. “You can’t survive without me for ten minutes?”

Taehyung pouted. “Not when you get kidnapped like that.”

“We wanted to be the ones to introduce you to everyone.” Jeongguk whined, leaning over to rub their joined hands against his cheek.

Hari’s heart warmed at the gesture.

“Anyways,” Hari murmured, tucking herself closer to her boys. “I’m glad we’re together again. I’m feeling a little out of my element. There’s so much magic and I feel out of place…”

Taehyung rubbed a soothing hand over the back of her neck. “It’s not all magic - at least, the people here aren’t. Look, the groom’s family are mundane. They probably feel just as overwhelmed by it all.”

He nodded at the groom’s side of the venue, where most of the people gathered there were dressed more conservatively and looked like they were both in awe and nervous of the magical decorations and guests.

The children looked ecstatic at least.

Hari wondered how her own family would react to a magical wedding.

She flushed at the idea, then snorted.

Her family would probably be more concerned with her amount of lovers than the idea of magic.

It was fun to watch the groom’s family - Jiyong’s family, Jimin informed her helpfully - watch the ceremony with wonder. Hari tried her best to stay focused on Soyul and Jiyong as they made their vows, but constantly found her attention straying to the mundane humans present, her mind wandering to her own family, or the many fluttering baubles that flitted about overhead, like little shiny birds.

Hari was reminded of the golden Snitch from the Harry Potter universe and wondered if there was any correlation between the real and fictional worlds.

She caught Taehyung watching her with an amused smile and she guiltily tried to watch the bride and groom again.

“It’s okay to get distracted by them.” Taehyung breathed against her ear, lighting her skin up with goosebumps. Hari’s skin felt hot whenever his lips brushed against her. “They’re there to ward off evil. The idea is that anything that would wish the couple harm would be too distracted by the changshik to go after the actual people. They’re usually made of gold and jewels.”

“Oh, like the bridesmaids tradition.” Hari muttered, then frowned at the unfamiliar word. “Changshik?”

“Uh,” Taehyung frowned, making a small gesture around the venue. “All the stuff they set up? Like the flowers and ribbons? Gguk, what’s the English word for changshik?”

Jeongguk’s brow furrowed as he tried to remember. “Declaration? No… decoration! It’s decoration.”

“Oh!” Hari thought it might have been a formal name for the baubles. She repeated the word quietly to herself, memorizing it.

Jimin shushed them, but rested a hand on Hari’s thigh, rubbing circles against the fabric of her dress absentmindedly.

It was as soothing as it was maddening.

She liked the subtle show of affection, but every touch from the boys burned pleasantly against her skin and made her feel aflame inside.

By the time Soyul and Jiyong finally sealed their vows with a kiss, Hari was ready to explode. Once everyone began to rise from their seats, Hari practically flew out of her seat. Her ears were red and the ends of her hair were beginning to merge together into feathers. She combed through the unruly auburn locks to keep the boys from seeing how flustered she was.

“Time to see Soyul-ssi!” she announced, dragging Jimin out of his seat.

He looked surprised for a moment by her suddenness until he saw her red ears and realized that he’d managed to rile her up without even trying. Jimin grinned cheekily with pride.

Taehyung and Jeongguk shared a bewildered look, not having caught on yet, and hurried after them.

“Payback time,” Jimin whispered against Hari’s ear as they headed to greet Soyul and Jiyong. “Remember, what goes around, comes around, Little Miss Tease.”

Hari let out a quiet moan of dismay as her grip on Jimin turned into him pinning her to his side, not letting her escape as the boys happily greeted their newly married friend.

Jiyong gave her a sympathetic look, understanding her exasperation with her lovers, even if he didn’t know the reasoning behind it.

“Magical people,” Hari sighed as she rested her head against Jimin’s arm. She shrugged in a what-can-you-do type way.

“It gets easier,” Jiyong promised with a laugh. He bent down to kiss Soyul on her temple, the bride radiating happiness at the simple affection. “The being in love part helps a lot.”

It was a cheesy line, but all four members of the BTS Coven swooned at the words right alongside Soyul.

“Please enjoy yourselves!” Soyul urged them as she ushered them towards the reception room. “And work up an appetite! We’ve got lots of food, so go dance your asses off!”

Taehyung laughed heartily at that and tugged Jeongguk along, trusting Hari and Jimin to follow. “What else can we do when you put it like that, noona?”

Jeongguk reached out and wrapped his free arm around Hari, caging her in between him and Jimin. “I can think of a few other things.” he whispered, his sudden boldness and reminder of their earlier flirtations making the older coven members’ blood run hot with promise.

All four of them wondered how long they had to spend at the reception before they could excuse themselves to their own after party.

#bts x oc #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #poly bts #bts magic au #bts x original character #jungkook #jimin #taehyung #bangtan #my writing #light in a nocturnal world

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okay-klepto · 4 years

Text

Dressed to Impress - Henry Cavill x Female Reader

So... I have no motivation to write a new fic or even make an original post, so to keep things moving, I’m just gonna a fic I already published. It’s on AO3, so I might as well just put this whole thing here.

Word Count: 4,697

Rating: Explicit

CW: Wall Sex, Possessive Henry

A slow night at a charity dinner means Henry’s attention would rather be all on you - and that dress you chose to wear is making it easy to focus solely on you. All he can do it wait until you two get home to start doing what he fantasized at dinner. And he certainly delivers.

Let’s get reading!

You crossed your legs in your chair, trying to listen attentively to the speaker drone on from a podium on stage. The charity dinner you and Henry had been invited to was fine until people started giving their speeches. At least the food had been good, and you still had some bread to nibble on and a glass of champagne to sip. You just assumed Henry was as bored as you were.

Henry was definitely bored with the speaker, but he had found something else to focus on. Your movement to cross your legs caught his attention, and his eyes went right to your thigh. The slit in the skirt of your dress opened up more when you moved, and your leg looked lovely framed in fabric. Henry shook some thoughts out of his head. He turned his gaze back to the stage and began to clap when everyone else did. Someone else walked on stage and to the podium and began their speech. Henry let out a sigh and adjusted his suit jacket as he realized this evening would be longer than anticipated.

More people were brought on stage to speak, and other people were acknowledged with applause or a toast. Henry’s eyes went to you each time you moved. If you touched your hair, he eyed your neck, which was being tickled by your sparkly earrings. He watched you attentively as you reapplied lipstick periodically, wishing he could lean over and smear it over your lips with his own. You, however, didn’t notice that Henry’s eyes spent more time on you than the presentations. You thought about your jewelry and the floral centerpieces on the tables and that fact that you and Henry were probably the youngest couple in the room. Or maybe not. You looked across the room and you were pretty sure you saw someone you recognized. But the room was dark. You’d have to look when the dinner was over.

Henry tried to listen, but you were so much more entertaining. He tried to remember how you two entered and if there was a back hallway or spare closet that he could pull you into once this was done. He could just kiss you silly. He wanted those tights you were wearing off so he could see your bare legs. He wanted to cover your vulnerable neck in red and purple hickies. At the memory of other men eyeing you when you first entered, Henry gritted his teeth. A few nice marks on your neck would let everyone know you were taken and well taken care of. If only…

You shifted again, this time leaning down to adjust your high heel. You really should have taken some time to break in the new heels before the event, but at least you were sitting down now. Better try them out now than at a red carpet event with lots of standing. Henry’s eyes went to you, and he noticed every single detail. As you leaned forward and down, your dress rode up a little farther and Henry got a glimpse of the wonderfully thick part of the top of your thigh. He so badly wanted to reach over and squeeze it, then slide his hand up your skirt and feel what panties you were wearing. He assumed you were wearing a matching bra and panties set, probably the lacy black one that was one of your favorites, but you could have on the pink set with embroidered flowers you just got. Oh, or that bright blue set that was almost all mesh. That would be amazing. Then Henry’s eyes went to your chest for, as you bent over, your breasts spilled forward and nearly out of the dress. Oh fuck. Henry had to hold in a groan as he shifted to sit more comfortably with a hard-on growing in his pants. The way your breasts fell and your bare back which was exposed by the dress made him know you had no bra on. It was just panties and tights. Of course, people had looked at you - how could they not? Henry could so easily lift you up, set you on the table, and fuck you long and hard. He could reach over and run his fingers over you and play with you, but he never would out in front of everyone. He could pull you into the bathroom once everything was over and have a nice quickie, but getting in and out without being noticed would be nearly impossible. He would have to wait until you both got out to the car. There, he could get you in the back seat for some action. Henry felt himself get warmer under this jacket and in his pants as he imagined you flushed and moaning with your dress pushed up in the back of his car. He wanted that dress off. What if you wore that dress on purpose just to rile him up? Well, it was certainly working. Henry let out a small grunt and shifted in his chair again, trying to ignore you so he wouldn’t be fully erecting during a charity event.

“Henry?” You looked over to him and put your hand on his knee. You had sat up after deciding to just take your shoes off. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” The feeling of your hand on his leg went right to Henry’s pants.

“Are you sure?” You were genuinely worried as to why Henry was acting so strangely all of a sudden.

“I’m just a little warm.”

“There’s still some water. And maybe you should take your jacket off.”

Henry put his hand on yours. “I’m fine, babe.”

You gave Henry a sweet smile before removing your hand and turning your attention back to the stage. Henry subtly adjusted his pants, frustrated that you could be so cute and sexy at the same time without even knowing what you’re putting him through.

The rest of the evening was as dry as the start, and it took Henry even more energy not to just stare at you the entire time. Each time you took a sip of champagne, all he could wish was that your lips were around his cock instead of the rim of the glass. He wanted your legs on his shoulders, your panties dangling off your ankle, your neck and breasts decorated with his marks. Applause snapped Henry out of his daydream once again, and he noticed a few people standing up as they clapped. The lights in the dining room went from dim to bright.

“That speech was well done, but I didn’t understand that part in the middle,” you commented as you took a bite of bread and gathered up your clutch. “Did you get it?”

“No, no I didn’t.” Henry did his best to compose himself. He stood and put his hand out to help you up from your chair just in time to watch you lean over to slip your shoes back on, your breasts once again nearly spilling out of the top of your dress. Henry ripped his eyes away so he wouldn’t go completely hard right away. You saw Henry’s hand being held out to you and took it and stood.

“Thank you.” You smoothed out your dress and looked to Henry. “I think that I saw someone you worked with on The Witcher. We should go over and say hi.”

“That’s fine. We can just go home.”

You put your arm in his as you two began to walk away from the table. “What? You don’t want to chat for a while? I thought you got along with everyone on set?”

“We… we don’t need to spend time just talking. It’s getting late anyway.”

You walked arm in arm with Henry towards the exit of the venue. “Are you sure you’re feeling well? You’re looking a little flushed, too.”

“Once I get some fresh air and some sleep, I’ll be alright.”

You two stood outside for a moment as the valet retrieved Henry’s car. You realized that it wasn’t that late in the evening, though the stars were out. Henry just stared ahead, watching some other people get into their cars and drive off. You looked around at the people waiting near you, a little shiver going through your shoulders as the night air nipped at you. Henry didn’t flinch. You started to regret not bringing even a light jacket to wear over your dress, especially considering how much skin you were showing.

Before long, Henry’s car was brought up, and Henry was given the keys. He led you around to the passenger’s door and opened it for you, holding your hand to help you get inside. He went around to the driver’s side and hopped in. He started to drive out of the driveway without a word. You pulled out your phone and answered a few texts and checked your email. Henry remained silent, eyes focused solely on the road.

“The salmon I had was really good,” you said to break the silence. “How was your pork?”

Henry’s eyes remain trained on the road. “It was fine.”

You nodded. “I wonder if the soup was any good. Italian wedding, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, I think.”

You watched Henry for a moment. He only moved when he needed to check the road at an intersection. Maybe you had done or said something. Maybe he was mad. Maybe he really didn’t want to attend the dinner but felt obligated because you were excited about getting dressed up and going. You just sat back in your seat and played a game on your phone as you and Henry rode home in silence.

Henry pulled into the garage and parked the car. He hopped out of the car as you gathered up your dress and he helped you out. You both walked into the house and were greeted by a very excited Kal.

“Hi, Puppy!” You reached down and gave Kal lots of scratches behind the ears as he danced at your feet. “Watch the dress, watch the dress.”

“Hey, Kal. Miss us?” Henry gave Kal a big smile and some scratched before the dog went back to chewing on a toy. He seemed to be on the sleepy side.

Both of you went upstairs to the master bedroom, Henry leaving his shoes at the door. You sighed as you entered the room and sat down on the bed to take your shoes off. You reached up the skirt of your dress and pulled off your tights one leg at a time and tossed them to the side. Henry had gone to his dresser and removed his suit jacket, hanging it up in the closet. As he unbuttoned his shirt, Henry looked over to you just in time to see your tights come off, the cut in your dress exposing your bare legs. That was the final straw.

You stood and took a few steps towards Henry and turned around. “Could you unzip my dress?”

Henry took a breath before walking over to you. “Certainly.”

You pushed the little hairs on the nape of your neck out of the way as Henry held the zipper head and began to undo the zip. As the dress started to come loose, you used your other hand to hold the top up. Henry knew you didn’t have a bra on, and he hoped the zipper went down far enough that he would be able to see the panties you were wearing, but the zipper stopped short. You felt your dress go completely slack, so you shook your shoulders and pulled your arms out of the straps, still trying to keep the dress up until you could grab your robe. Fingers of rough hands caressed your now bare sides. Eventually, palms met your skin and full hands held your waist. They began to turn you around, and your eyes met Henry’s as he stepped to the side to meet you, hands still on your waist. One hand went from your waist to just under your chin.

“Henry?”

Soft, gentle lips met yours and you melted into Henry’s kiss. Henry kissed you again, slipping his tongue over your lips and into your mouth. Your hands went to Henry’s shoulders, letting your dress fall to the ground. Both of Henry’s hands were now on your waist, and he pulled you in close, continuing to kiss you. He started getting rough, kissing you harder and holding you tighter. You turned your face to break the kiss just for a moment.

“Henry, are we-”

“Yes.”

In one smooth movement, Henry looped his thumbs under your panties - the bright blue ones - and pulled them off of you, letting them fall to your ankles. You gasped and Henry locked his lips to yours again. He closed any space that was still between your bodies, his muscular torso flush with your soft one. You could feel the hard-on in his pants against your lower belly. You felt yourself starting to melt when Henry broke the kiss.

“Hold on, babe.”

“Huh? Oh!”

Henry bent down, put his hands on the back of your legs, and lifted you up so each of your legs was on his hips. You clung onto Henry’s shoulders as your feet came off the ground. His lips went back to yours as he turned and put you against the closest wall. He got rough again, and your pussy started leaving a wet patch on Henry’s dress pants. You whimpered. That was enough of a cue for Henry to start biting and sucking away at your neck and as close to your collarbone as he could. You moaned when Henry latched on hard and sucked right behind your ear. You were sure you’d be decorated with red and purple marks tomorrow morning, but that was the last thing on your mind. Henry shifted your weight so you rested on one of his hips and the opposite hand. You wrapped your legs around his waist to keep your balance. You felt his hand grip your thigh hard and the other fiddle with his belt. Henry’s pants went slack and his cock pressed against your wet folds. Before you had time to prepare yourself, Henry lowered you down to his hilt. You gasped and dug your nails into Henry’s back as he pressed you harder into the wall, groaning low in his throat. He bounced you up once to get comfortable before starting to thrust into you at a rough rhythm. You squeezed your eyes shut and linked your ankles behind Henry’s back to keep yourself secure. A little squeak or moan escaped your throat each time Henry thrusted into you, whether it was him pushing up or bouncing you with his arms. It was slower than usual, but a whole lot harder and more frustrated.

“Henry! Henry!” you moaned as Henry kept working your neck with his mouth. He stopped more often to take deep, hoarse breaths between thrusts into your pussy. You opened your eyes for a moment and saw the reflection of Henry’s back in the body mirror on the other side of the room. Only a little more than half of him was visible, but you clearly saw his back muscles ripple when he repositioned you. His thighs and buttocks tensed under his dress pants with each thrust. Not a muscle on him went slack for more than a second as he held up and fucked you hard. You let out another moan and let your perfectly manicured nails drag more red stripes across Henry’s broad shoulders. “What’s gotten into you?”

“That… stupid dress...” Henry grumbled against your neck, driving his fingers into your thighs even further.

“My… dress?” you questioned, mind only half in the conversation.

“You… wore that fucking dress…” Henry spat out through gritted teeth, “and expect me not… to fuck you senseless?”

Henry slammed into you hard, pushing you against the wall. You cried out.

“I just thought that you- oh!”

Henry slammed in again. “Everyone stared at you with your legs and tits out.” Henry’s voice got deep and gruff. “You distracted me the whole fucking night.”

His words stung just a little. You picked that dress just for Henry, but now it seemed like he didn’t like you in it. Yeah, it was a little more revealing, but it was still appropriate for the event.

“I’m sorry Henry,” you whimpered. “I won’t wear it again...”

Henry’s thrusting slowed to a stop. His lips released from your neck and his eyes met yours. His face was soft and confused. “What?”

“I… I’m sorry about the dress. I shouldn’t have worn it.”

Henry furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about? (Y/n), you looked great!”

You felt a lump forming in your throat. “You said it was s-stupid and a distraction. Your stylist helped pick it and- and- I thought you’d like it…”

“Oh, sweetheart…” Henry’s face went soft again. “I just got a little caught up in the moment. You looked beautiful. I loved the dress.”

“I wasn’t trying to distract you. I know it was a little low cut but…”

“Baby… I know you weren’t. You’re allowed to wear whatever you want.” Henry tilted his head to one side and smiled. “If I had it my way, baby, you’d be in just those little panties of yours all day. And when my evening consists of choosing between staring at some old guy giving a long-winded speech or the most wonderful, beautiful, gorgeous woman in the whole world wearing something that shows her body off so much, I think you know which I’m going to choose.”

You smiled as Henry closed the distance between your lips. He pressed you a little more into the wall so he could get a nice, deep kiss. After a moment, Henry drew his lips from yours. “You’re going to hold onto that dress because I’m planning on showing you off some more. I’m gonna talk to my stylist to see if we can get a few more like it, too.”

You giggled as Henry started working his magic on your collarbone and going into you at slow, deep thrusts. You let out a deep sigh and ran one hand through Henry’s curls. That wonderful warm and tight feeling started forming in your lower belly and pussy. You curled your toes and you tilted your head back against the wall.

Henry’s breath hitched once and his steady pace faltered. He started going again, but struggled to keep up with his pace. He grunted and groaned and gripped your thighs hard.

“Oh… ah, fuck…” Henry’s lips were slack against your skin as he came inside of you, making sure here was buried completely in your pussy. His hips jerked into you a few times with a few more grunts before Henry’s body eased and he took heavy breaths into your shoulder.

“Henry…” you breathed, and Henry looked up to you. You were disappointed that you didn’t quite get to finish. “That was good.”

Henry’s eyes met yours. “Oh, I’m not done with you.” Henry put his lips to yours, sliding his tongue over your lips and into your mouth. Holding you tight, he stepped away from the wall and took some wobbly steps to the bed. You kept your body pressed against Henry’s as he put one knee onto the bed. He leaned forward and you let yourself ease back onto the pillows as Henry moved to stand up again. Henry’s cock slipped out of you and a dollop of cum came with it, dripping down your thigh and into the sheets of the unmade bed. Henry stood at the side of the bed and shimmied out of his dress pants and let them fall into a heap on the floor. He smiled at you as he crawled back onto the bed, not fully nude. As he made his way to be on top of you and put his lips to yours, Henry’s hand went down to your clit and rubbed it with his middle two fingers.

“Oh Henry!” you gasped, feeling the warmth and tightening return. Henry’s lips went from your lips, to your jawbone, down your neck, and to your breasts. He lefts kisses on one before starting to suck with more purpose. He spent more time on the fullest part of your breast, leaving little remarks as he moved his lips. He continued to rub circles on your clit as more of his cum leaked out of your clenching pussy.

“Yes, Henry! Yes!” You ran your hands through Henry’s hair again. An electric sensation shot through your body from your clit, and your legs began to shake. Your breathing became more desperate and Henry’s circling became faster, and after a few seconds, another shock came from your clit and your pussy squeezed hard as release finally came. Your legs shook for a moment as you yelled out. Henry’s pace tapered out and you could finally breathe. His lips released from your breasts and Henry looked at you.

“Was that good too?” he teased.

You chuckled and Henry gave you one more deep kiss with those lovely lips of his.

“Let me use the bathroom real quick,” you said. Henry rolled off of you, but let his fingers linger on your skin as you stood up from laying on the bed. Your legs quivered, but you managed to walk over to the bathroom and to close the door behind you. You let yourself nearly fall onto the toilet with a sigh. You took a moment to relieve yourself and rest your legs. While sitting, you reached over to the counter to get one of your birth control pills. It was more important now since Henry decided not to use protection tonight - but it wasn’t like you were mad about it. You finished on the toilet and went to wash your hands. You caught a look of yourself in the mirror.

“Oh dear…” You looked like shit; your lipstick was smudged, your eyeliner was starting to run, and one of your strip lashes was half falling off. You clearly saw all of the red marks that were darkening on your neck. At this point, it looked like there was more marred skin than not. Your hair, which was previously in a pinned updo, was now loose and falling to one side. But it wasn’t like Henry hadn’t messed you up on purpose since that was his favorite thing to do to you at the end of an evening. You took your earrings and necklace off and set them aside. You got some makeup remover and started to wipe everything off of your face. A shower was in line, but you weren’t in the mood to wash your hair. It could wait anyway. Getting your body clean was more important, so you opted for just taking your hair down and giving it a good comb through. Once your makeup was gone and your hair was tamed, you turned on the shower and hopped in. Your body wash was the first thing you reached for, and you washed your body down, focusing more on getting all of the drying fluids off of the insides of your thighs. You let out a sigh, letting the warm water take you away. A bubble bath would be amazing right now, but it was too late in the evening for that. Maybe you could convince Henry to have a relaxing evening in the jacuzzi with you tomorrow.

You got out of the shower with a yawn and dried yourself off. You threw your hair into a quick bun to get it out of your face before slipping your robe on. As you reentered the bedroom, you saw that the sheets on the bed had been made. Henry wasn’t in the room; he had probably gone to a guest bedroom to freshen up like you had. Keeping your silk robe on, you put your jewelry in the box on your vanity and made your way over to the bed. You climbed under the covers and got comfy. As you waited for Henry to return, you scrolled through Instagram on your phone, a few yawns escaping your mouth. You didn’t hear Henry sneak through the bedroom door and over to the bed. He crawled in and immediately wrapped his arms around you.

You smiled. “Hey, Hen.”

“Hello, sweetheart.” Henry’s bare chest went flush with your back. He put his lips on the nape of your neck and began to trail kisses up to your ear.

“Still excited?” you teased as you put your phone down.

“I just love having you in my arms.”

You turned to face Henry, putting one hand on the side of his face to guide his lips to yours. Henry pulled you in close and turned you on your side so you faced him. A hand guided your leg up to bend over Henry’s hip, and he carefully rubbed the juiciest part of your thigh. You kissed each other slowly, enjoying each other for a moment. You eventually moved your head to rest on Henry’s shoulder. He laid down on his back and you followed him.

“All of that was really great, y’know?” you said as you rubbed circles into Henry’s chest.

“Oh? You liked that?”

“Yeah… It was a little unexpected, but you were amazing.”

Henry put his lips against your head and smiled into a kiss. “How could I have resisted?”

You chuckled. There were a few minutes of silence as you and Henry just let your hands roam over each other’s skin.

“Henry,” you began, “can I ask you a kind of silly question?”

“Sure. What is it?”

“Well…” Maybe you shouldn’t have prompted this discussion. “You said that my dress was a distraction during the dinner. What all was… distracting you?”

“It was the way you looked in that wonderful dress.”

“I know that! I thought you looked very nice in your suit, too, but I wasn’t distracted from the presentation. I was just wondering what you were thinking.”

“First of all,” Henry began as he cuddled up closer to you, “there were your lovely legs in those shoes showing through that slit up your skirt.”

You nodded.

“Every time you crossed your legs, I could see up a little farther.”

You’d hadn’t thought about that when you had selected the dress for the evening.

“Your neck was so tempting with your hair pulled up, too. I wanted my lips on it so badly. What else?” Henry puckered his lips to the side in thought. “I was thinking about what bra you could be wearing when you took your shoes off. Your back was bare and your breasts nearly fell out of the front of your dress. No bra, huh?”

Your cheeks warmed up a little when Henry mentioned your potential wardrobe malfunction. Henry worked his way down and started kissing your neck.

“I started fantasizing about just bending you over the dinner table and taking you right there. I tried to remember every private corner we passed coming in so I could pull you over for something quick when we were on our way out.” Henry’s hand started to go under your robe. “If it wasn’t for the valet, I would have just pushed you into the back seat of the car and got under your dress there.”

“Oh really?”

“I was getting desperate, and my pants were getting tight.”

You let Henry turn you towards him, and you gladly let your lips meet his. Henry pulled the ribbon on your robe so it came loose as he climbed back on top of you. Your hands found their way back to Henry’s hair and he found his way between your legs.

“It took every ounce of my will power not to throw you over my shoulder as soon as we got home and toss you in bed so I could do as I pleased.” Henry let his half-hard cock press against the dampening skin of your vagina. “But here we are now, and you are all mine.”

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #smut #female reader #fic #fanfic #klepto can write

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angelguk · 4 years

Text

→ (better) left unsaid — a jeongguk scenario

member: jeon jeongguk

word count: 2.8k

genre: angst + pining + best friends au + yes i stole a whole song from terrace house 2019-2020 (thank you kenny for the lyrics and risako for inspiring the song) + lead singer of an indie band!jk + based on (roughly) 2 requests + i slightly altered the song kenny wrote please don’t judge me 4 my song writing skills + listen to the soundtracks it enhances the experience

soundtracks: why can’t i have you, gloria laing + angela, flower face

Jeongguk looks ethereal. Even from your position in the crowd, you can’t help but slip into a state of awe over the way the golden stage lights falter through his tousled curls. He glows, up there. An angel with a guitar and a charming smile. The music moves with him, gliding from the swift skip of his hand across the strings, coaxing out a melody that fluxes through you. You’ve heard this song a million times - he’d played it just for you before he ever hopped on the stage and began singing out those lyrics for everyone else in this cramped hall. And yet, tonight feels like the very first time. Neither of you had anticipated this type of turn out. In this small town, events like this made little impact; nobody cared about a loud boy and his even louder band. They were an invisible ripple in the lake of ordinary life. But not tonight. Tonight they are everything. There are people in this hall that you’ve never even seen before. You’d heard mumbles about someone driving in from the town over. Whispers of someone mentioning streaming them on Spotify. A girl squealing over a picture Taehyung posted on his Instagram moments before the show kicked off. It’s strange, gazing up at the boy you’ve known for over a decade in this sea of bodies that jostle you around. You feel a little faceless, a little distant. Like a lump of driftwood. But your eyes don’t leave him - they can’t. He just looks so perfect up there. Like he belongs on that stage, beneath the heat of those lights, singing his heart out through songs he wrote on the floor of your bedroom.

It’s bittersweet. This moment. And perhaps that’s why you start crying.

You don’t notice the tears until some girl nudges your shoulder, wordlessly passing over a packet of pocket tissues. Her gaze is sympathetic. You mumble a thank you and wipe away your tears with the back of your hand instead.

“They’re amazing, aren’t they?” She tries instead. She has to lean in to your space to utter those words over the sharp rapping of Taehyung’s drums. Jeongguk silvery timbre can't drown out the shrill of her voice in your ear.

“Yeah. They are.” You choke over those words but you act like you don’t. The wan smile on her lips falters for a second before she swiftly picks it up. And then she’s opening her mouth again. You’d like it if she closed it instead. Something about this conversation is tainting the brilliance of this moment.

“My friends and I are gonna try and meet them after the show. Do you wanna come with us? I bet that’ll cheer you up.” You barely hid the scoff that slips from your throat. The little “I know them” sits smugly on your tongue. But you don’t want to give her that piece of information. She’d begin pestering for behind stage access immediately. And from her incapacity to read the hostility in your gaze you can tell she's persistent. That or just incredibly dim.

“No, thank you,” you say instead, handing back the pocket tissues. It’s in that instance that you properly take a look at her. Dainty smile, long straight hair, bright brown eyes and a figure you can notice without your gaze even dipping downwards. Jeongguk would like her. He always ended up liking girls like her.

She just gawks at you, a brief moment of confusion clouding over her features before she huffs and turns back to her friends. You don’t miss the way she pointedly aims her back in your direction, despite your bodies being right next to each other. You can’t even bother to pretend to care because you don’t. Your eyes float back to the stage before your brain can even register it. The song is nearly over, beads of sweat already forming along his hairline. Even with exhaustion dragging over him, Jeongguk looks good. He always looks good. Effortlessly so. And when he finishes the song with a little shake of his head and a pleasant note that pulls a vein along his neck with his eyes locked on the crowd, you feel it. A dangerous spark that pangs through your chest. Fast and hard and aching to be heard. You deafen it with the earsplitting roars of the audience, a remark from the girl beside you sailing over your head.

“He’s so hot.”

The short sentence is possessive enough for you to guess her intentions for attempting to go backstage with clarity. But she’s not wrong either. Jeongguk is hot. He’s always been hot. Hot even when he accidentally stained his scalp purple when he dyed it for the first time. Hot when he’s got an old stain marring his grey sweatpants. Hot when he’s camped on your couch playing video games when his house is right next door and the couch in there is empty. Hot when he’s dumping a whole pack of Hot Cheetos down his throat. Hot when he’s crawling into your lap, requesting for a post maths homework cuddle session for recovery purposes. Hot when he flings rocks at your window and asks you to come outside when he could just send you a text.

(Yes, he broke your window once. No, your mom didn’t come for his neck like she would have if you had done it - all because Jeongguk was the son she never had).

It makes the pang in your heart hurt even more. Because you’ve always looked at Jeongguk through that lens - even though you tried your best to never see him that way. And you’re sure he’s never seen you in that light.

Except once - once you thought you saw him look at you like that. Like you were his entire world. And he never wanted to lose you. You remember it vividly; it's embedded in your memory. A slither of hope that spurred the fire in your heart. Just that one moment. It’s all you ever needed. It’s all you ever wanted.

“New York?” There was a lilt of incredulity in his tone, followed by a quick straight snap of his spine as he examined your gaze. “You’re leaving for New York?”

You hadn't been able to say yes, your throat sealed with sentiments you’d never dared to express. So you hummed instead, the minute sound accompanied with a brief nod of your head.

He’d fallen silent, still looking at you as if you’d sprouted a second head and started levitating. And then his eyes hit the floor, soft curls tumbling into his line of vision, a strange stillness descended upon the both of you.

“New York.” He’d said it again as if murmuring it would make it any less true.

“It’s a great school, Jeongguk. I didn’t even think I would get in.” That’s a lie. You did think you had a chance to get in. You would have cried if you’d opened the email to a rejection letter instead of an offer one. But the despondency that had slunk over Jeongguk’s face made you hold onto your words. The fact that he still hadn’t congratulated you spoke wonders.

“Oh. Well, congratulations.” He had read the expectancy in your tone but there’s no jubilance in his. And when he next glanced up his gaze was guarded, like he’s hiding something from you. “If there’s anyone that deserves it, it’s you.” But he said it with his eyes trained on the wall behind you.

For some reason that didn’t feel compliment. And when you had attempted to launch into an explanation about the school and its perfect Co-Op program and all the things you couldn’t wait to experience, Jeongguk had halted you, spiralling into a monologue about the new song he’d written the day before. You couldn’t get another word in before he tugged his guitar into his lap and strummed out a melody. He was usually like that - but just for that day. Just for that one day, you expected more from him.

And then he’d given it to you. When he finally had to leave, he’d looked at you for a moment. A long moment. Something swimming behind the honey of his eyes. The sigh that fell from his lips was heavy, weighted down with words you felt trapped in your chest. The hug he’d pulled you in was tight as if Jeongguk was grappling for the words he longed to put his thoughts into. His chest pressed flushed into yours, an odd erratic beating echoing between the two of you. But the moment his arms lifted from your waist, whatever was ruminating in his head was gone. Vanished into thin air; nothing but a phantom in your room.

Remembering that doesn’t help the pain gripping at your heart. Because today was your last day at home. You had to leave tomorrow in order to make it in time for Orientation Week. This was your very last night with him - the ending of your last summer with him. Summer had been summer; saturated with memories you’ll reminisce over on nights alone, even before your age reveals itself in the wrinkles of your skin. But something about it had felt lacklustre. Perhaps it was the distance Jeongguk kept from you, a sudden barrier erected in the middle of your friendship. He'd spent less time in your home, preferring to crash over at his band-mates or just avoid you altogether. You still gravitated towards each other whenever you happened to be at the same place, an invisible thread stringing your souls together. Yet, Jeongguk still held you afar, despite your attempts to tug him closer. Which is all you ever wanted to do - hold him closer.

The final soft note of the song is strung out, suspended over the crowd like reminiscents of silage. It coaxes you out of your thoughts, gaze gravitating towards the stage. There’s a jolt in your system when your eyes lock on Jeongguk’s. He’s staring at you hard, a strange determination lingering in the way he looks at you. You don’t even hear it, the thunderous applause that spills from the crowd too caught in deciphering what his eyes are telling you. Jeongguk does though, body falling lax at approval from the audience. His fingertips stay fiddling with his guitar as he launches into a transition speech, the smile on his face radiant. You let the words drone over you, mind commemorating the happiness that illuminates his face at this moment. Nothing can describe the bashful blush rising underneath his golden skin and the bright star-like glimmer in his eyes but you try your best to commit this to your memory. Jeongguk looks effervescent up there. Burning like a star on the verge of a supernova.

“This next song,” Jeongguk states, the baritone in his voice filling your chest. “Is for someone I hold dear to my heart. It’s a new one, and I hope you love it as much as I do.” That catches your attention. Jeongguk hadn’t played anything new at rehearsal. He hadn’t shown you any new lyrics either. There’s a sudden heat building in your chest - but you can’t distinguish whether it’s from betrayal or excitement.

Jeongguk gaze skips over you, and then he sighs, a soft sound that echoes from his microphone. “Sometimes, I find it hard to say what I feel. Especially when I feel strongly about something - or someone. I end up keeping it all to myself. But, I would just like to say, to the person who this song is for, I mean every word of it. I hope you don’t mind me saying it in a song,” There’s a huff of a laugh fumbling out of his mouth, “I just can’t find the courage to say it to you in person.”

It’s like your brain stops. Every function halted. You don’t miss the pointed glance he gives your way before he starts strumming again. Taehyung follows the rhythm, his drums producing a beat that syncopates with the thrumming of your heart. You’ve never heard him play those chords before, your palms already growing clammy as your eyes glue themselves to the stage.

When his mouth drops open, a delicate note gliding from his lips, your heart stops.

“Those nights you can’t sleep

I can see you’re feeling

Alone tonight, alone tonight

In exchange for those dark nights,

Without shining stars,

I’ll be your light, be your light.”

Your head feels hot; eyes warm with the torrent of tears you struggle to hold back. The crowd is silent, swaying along to the comforting sound of Jeongguk’s voice. You can barely breathe, throat clogged with the myriad of emotions you can’t organise in your head because all you can hear is the loud frenetic beating of your heart. It doesn’t help that Jeongguk’s gaze does not stray from your own, steady despite the tremor you notice in the fingers plucking out the chords of this song. Your song. It’s evident from his direct stare that he’s singing it to you. And you don’t know what to make of it. There are too many people in this jammed hall for you to let your feelings reveal themselves, but the faint smile tugging at your lips is enough for Jeongguk to keep going, a strange burst of confidence ebbing through his chest. He projects the chorus loud and clear. The words gently glide through the air, wrapping themselves around your heart.

“Wherever you are,

Whatever time of day,

I’ll run to you,

I’ll be there for you,

Tonight and forever.”

You’re suddenly aware of the new wetness covering your cheeks, a tiny sob drifting from your throat as your palm roughly wipes at the tears in your eyes. It’s sudden, this ardent rush of adoration that saturates your system. So fast that you nearly choke again, blatantly ignoring the pointedly appalled look the girl beside you throws in your direction. The bow of your head is automatic, palm holding back the sob that threatens to escape your lips. He’s still singing, pushing past the own clog in this throat because he’ll never get another chance to tell you this again. It hurts, even from up here, seeing the shudder of your shoulders as you cry. He’d noticed it during the previous song, your tears. The doubt in him had reared its head and Jeongguk nearly tossed this song from the set list. But it had taken a lot of determination on his part to pen out the things you make him feel. He’d never been able to tell you this but Jeongguk loves you. Loves you more than anything he’s ever had the chance to love. He’d first picked up the guitar because you hadn’t been able to stop talking about Hyunmin’s guitar skills after summer camp when you were nine. And it had just spiralled from there; Jeongguk doing anything and everything to get him to look at you as more than a friend but you never did. Not once. As a result, he’d given up. Attempted to erase the lens of love from his vision whenever he looked at you. It had been hard but Jeongguk had learnt how to keep that part of him buried, too afraid to lose the most significant person in his life with the greed of his heart. Then you told him you were leaving, and he felt himself shatter into pieces.

There are people that you think are going to be a part of your life forever, simply because you wouldn’t be you without them there. Jeongguk thought that about you. You’d seen all of him; the good, the ugly and the terrible. And you had stayed. Even when Jeongguk didn’t want to be around himself, you were there. So for you to just leave - leave like you didn't need him in your life in the first place, hit like a punch to the face. He’d tried to brush it off, smiled and congratulated you when he found out, but everything in him wanted to ask you to stay. Just stay, for him. But he knows he can’t do that - doesn’t have the right to do that. You’re too luminous for this small town, and you deserve to shine with the other stars in this galaxy, not fade away into darkness.

And yet, he still aches to ask you to stay. But he'd never do that. It'd taken him over a decade to tell you that he loved you. And he was doing it indirectly too. Jeongguk doesn't have the heart to be that selfish. Even though he's hurting inside, he knows the best thing he can do is keep that little desire to himself. Let the hand holding you tight grow loose.

“How can I mirror,

Everything you pour into me?

If there’s nothing more I can do

Then I need to set you free.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook scenario #btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #jungkook fanfic #yeah this is uhhh something

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too-scared-to-do-this · 3 years

Text

Prestige

Chapter twelve - No

Sanders side fanfiction

Idea by: @hestianerd1

Wordcount: 3490

Pairings: Prinxiety (as always)

TW: cursing and a bunch of friendly competition, also there is this thing about being forced to wear clothes that they are not totally comfortable wearing... I feel like that’s all, but as always, do let me know if anything bothers you :3

The summery of the whole story: Prestige. Such a simple construct. All you have to do is act the way you want people to perceive you, keep up the image, wear a big proud smile and never ever dare make a mistake. That’s why Weltingston Heights University is such a well known school. Everybody knows that anyone who got in must have some prestige tied to their name. Educational records, family history, or even literal fame. So why not treat students the same way? Because what’s a little more pressure on their young and strong bones?

But prestige and image are precious things. You slip up even the tiniest bit, step out of the line you drew for yourself and it’s all gone. So now that the pressure is on, and everyone already knows their place in this small circle of society, only one question remains. How far are they willing to go to keep the false image up?

(Or: Very over-dramatically with a noticeable amount of sarcastic undertone: "Oh my god! They were roommates!")

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

Chapter twelve - No

“No.”

“Come on maaan. You can keep the hoodie for all I care. Just put it on.” Cassie sighed exasperatedly. They were currently standing in her room, Virgil staring at the clothing hanging from her hands.

“What even makes you think that it’ll fit me?” Virgil razed an eyebrow and pointed at the material with a doubtful finger.

Cass looked at it, then back at him with a confident smile. “Well. You’re like my height. Skinnier than me, so… It’ll probably hang a little, though.”

V’s eyebrows knitted together in whatever emotion he was currently feeling. Not even he could tell what that was, but it wasn’t excitement. Turning to the mirror by his side he eyed the make-up Ro’s little sister already forced up on him. Not anything too much, just some mascara, shades an eyeliner. She even went with the emo look he was sporting thanks to his deep eye bags. (Let it be known, that they’ve gotten a little better since he’s been living with the Velez’s. A few good nights of sleep next to Ro and they suddenly seem to be disappearing. Who would have thought.)

To be honest, he kind of liked it - the make-up, he means. Cass was really great with a brush for someone who hadn’t warn make-up once since they met (which wasn’t that long, to be fair). Even the tiny details she did - the magical way the liner curled; not in a ‘normal’ way, but rather in a what seemed like a teeny-tiny butterfly wind. And of course, the glitter. The small amount of glitter she used did it for Virgil. He’s eyelids freaking sparkled!

He looked back at her with lowered lids. “I’m not doing it.”

“Seriously?” her shoulders sunk. Expression all ‘I’m so going to force you into this if you don’t wear it willingly and I so don’t feel like doing that…’.

Honestly, our boy should have been shitting his pants at this point. Because he knew she would go through with it. There is not a single person scarier than Cassandra Velez when she wants something. And believe me, she will get it. No matter the cost. But our boy was just as much stubborn as stupid. So he set his jaw and said: “No.”

The almost taller girl pinched the bridge of her nose tiredly. Then looked up at V, sad resignation in her eyes. “You’re choice dude.”

There’s no way to describe what went down in the next ten minutes… Virgil had no idea what was coming his way.

He ended up standing perfectly still, eyes wide with full on terror, in front of the mirror, as Cass perfected the hem of the dress and some random details on him. Whistling and smiling as if a fifteen-year-old girl force-dressing a twenty-three-year-old man into a dress was a normal part of her day.

He didn’t even dare to speak after all the horror that just went down…

Cass stood up, grinning widely. “Great! My work here is done.” she dusted of her hands as if there was actually something on them. Virgil was pretty sure there wasn’t. “What do you think?”

She stepped away and for the first time Virgil saw himself in a dress. A very fancy rufly dress, might he add. He swallowed. “Ahm… I think it’s… nice?”

“I do too.” The girl nodded proudly. But then her eyes fixated on something above his face. Another wave of fear run down V’s back. He froze as she slowly walked over to him and wordlessly played around with his purple locks.

She pulled her hand way and smiled. “Now your perfect.” she nodded to herself. “I’ll go announce the beginning, stay here until I call your name, got it?”

V bit his glossed lips and nodded obediently. Cass did too and walked over to the door. Pulled it open, stepped out and just before the wood would fully fall closed, she peaked her head back in. “Oh and one more thing.” she looked straight at V, look as seriously (and menacing) as before. “Don’t you dare fuck up my work.” And with that she threw a giggly smile, as innocent as a six-year-old and with an ‘Okay, bye.’ left.

Virgil stood there for a long while until his heart finally stopped trying to murder him by escaping through his chest.

Meanwhile both brothers were in they separate rooms doing all the stuff they needed to feel as beautiful as possible. Not that Remus cared how he looked, but this was a competition after all. And who would pass up a chance to crush Roman’s massive ego a little?

Roman was more focused on getting his liner right. He was ready half an hour ago, but then he noticed that his right eye had a thicker red line then his left. And all hell broke loose.

Makeup-wipes all over the ground, brushes and liners and lipsticks and shadows all around the place. Literally. They even ended up on the ceiling-lamp (don’t ask Roman how that happened).

So when Cassie called out for everyone to gather, he was just so-so done. He told her off and asked for five more seconds, but the little annoying monster barged in - no regards for privacy - and literally dragged him away from his make-shift make-up station. He just barely managed to pull out the line (thankfully perfectly) and drop the closed bottle of liquid-liner onto his bed.

His little sister dragged him out into the living room, instructions being, everybody ways with closed eyes. Because we love dramatics in this family, don’t we? Oh and, V still wasn’t allowed out of her room, obviously.

But now, that they were all here, Cass stepped aside, sitting down at the bar and grinned. “Let the games begin.”

Both opened their eyes, surveying the competition, before sitting down on the prepared stools.

The self-acclaimed judge walked into the middle of the room (questioning why the hell did she sit down in the first place) and gave a big grin. Holding onto a hair-brush she gave an expert TV grin. “I welcome you to the fifth annual Velez fashion show! Another wonderful year has passed and here we are gathering again on the beautiful occasion.”

Roman looked around a little nervously, trying to find his roommate. But he had no idea where he was… His shoulders sagged a little, but this was a competition. He could let anybody know he was off his game.

“Today are competitors are the always charming, always smiling fairytale-like prince, Roman Velez!” she called out, pointing to her brother, who stood up with a big TV-grin of his own and waved at no one. Remus clapped enthusiastically, following Cassie’s lead.

“And give a warm welcome to our next competitor! You know him, you love him! It’s the murder-driven always laughing crazy green monstrosity, Remus Velez!”

Roman clapped a slow dramatic clap. Remus turned a playful glare at him.

Cass just smiled at this even more. She knew what was coming next, but they didn’t. And that power was something she lowed immensely. “But that’s not all that we have for today, ladies and gentleman and everyone above! No.” she shook her head seriously. “Today, on our yearly show, we have a special guest. He’s always broody, always moody, loves his hoodie and purple - give a big applause for our special guest, Virgil Riet!!!”

That’s when the door to Cassie’s door opened and a very self-conscious Virgil stepped into the living-room light. Ro’s hoodie pulled tight around his chest to cover him up as much as possible.

Roman’s eyes widened. he didn’t expect V to look that great in a dress. He didn’t even expect him to be wearing a dress let alone a full face of make-up! his tiny form fully swallowed in his hoodie, the bottom of cases dress peaking out. Stocking covering his slim legs. And the make-up. the make-up! (He wondered if v was scared for life from that experience…)

“Come in, come in! Sit down with us.” Cass ushered him to his prepared seat. “You’re our special guest today, boy, don’t shy away from attention. Our show will begin shortly.”

V pulled hard on the zipper-lines of his new-found-favorite-hoodie ad walked over to sit between the staring twins.

“You look like a hooker!” Remus observed with a happy grin.

“No he doesn’t!” the remaining siblings piped up, both a tad bit too defensive. One because this was her work Rem was insulting and the other because this was his friend/roommate/possibly-giant-crush he was insulting.

And Virgil just shrunk into himself even more. He didn’t even dare to look up. Otherwise, he would see that both boys looked just as much fancy as he did. There was no need to be ashamed.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen and everyone above! First up is our lovely nut-job, Remus. Show us what you got.”

rem immediately got up, walking the space of the living room as if it was a runway.

“Our beloved green monster, never seems to not surprise! This special day he went with his signature color-combo, wearing a black spiked leather jacked over a purposefully torn dark-green V-neck. Chains are a must with this man, hanging from his neck just as from his bedazzled black-washed torn jeans. Combat-boots to top it off. And let’s no forget the plethora of leather bracelets and of course the make-up he is sporting.” Cass commented.

Remus did a pirouette, meant as a mockery of Roman, obviously and bowed deeply, signature grin not missing.

“Great round today, Remus. I loved all the details - the drumstick in you pocked especially. You get an eight from me. Virgil, our guest judge -“ she turned to him. “-what do you say?”

Virgil blinked a little, trying to figure out what role he was playing in this insanity. “Ehrm…” he cleared his throat. “Seven…?”

“Aaaalright! You, Rem, gained fifteen points! Great job! Let’s see out next competitor.”

Rem sat down proudly, smirking at his brother. “Top this bro-Ro.”

“Oh, just wait and see.” he smirked back a little too confident compared to how he felt inside. he was about to go parade his ass in front of Virgil. His Virgil. this was going to be the end of him…

“Roman Velez, come up here, dude! Let’s see what you’ve got!” Cass stepped aside.

He stood up, as graceful as ever and glided over to the big carped - the designated cat-walk.

“Oooh, nice. Today our fairy prince came up with the perfect outfit to represent him. Dress as flowy as ever, red like his fierce fiery eyeliner! And the white stilts! Love the boa Ro, but that was the winners two years ago - are you recycling ideas, bro?”

Ro gave a triumphant grin and stretched his leg out from the thigh-slit that run ap his long sparkly dress. “Not at all, Cass. No angels today. We’re playing dirty.”

“I see, I see. The devil today then, hah?” she grinned at the fishnets that pocked out. On the sidelines, Virgil went completely red.

Ro ran a hand through his perfectly stilled hair to reveal small horns and grinned at the judge. “Full-on, sis.”

“Nice touch. I like it.”

Ro did a fancy stop, posed, and blew a kiss at Virgil. Very much feeling himself in the element. The poor short guy almost fainted at the sight. You have no idea the confidence that radiated off of Roman. The happiness. And Virgil reveled in it all, trying to swallow as much of it as possible.

“Alright people. Time for judging! I love you Roman, but today was a little disappointing. Although I loved the never-before seen make-up on you and the fishnet twist, I just don’t see you winning today, I’m sorry. I give you six points.”

“Thank you judge Cassandra.” Roman nodded solemnly. It gnawed at him a little.

“But don’t sweat it, dear, because there’s one more judge waiting for his turn.” Cass winked at V. He was a little (a lot) out of it, jaw almost literally slack open. “So, what do you say? tell me, what did you like about this contestant?”

“I-“ he swallowed. “I liked the slit…”

Jesus! did he just say that?!

Remus burst out laughing next to him, cackling his ass off.

Red as a bell-pepper Virgil shrunk back into his seat. “Nine.”

“Uuh, look at this, ladies and gentlemen and everyone above! For the first time in years, we have a tie!” Cass stepped back into the middle, moderating the whole thing as before. She would be an excellent moderator, Virgil though.

“I congratulate both contestants! they both did a great job! But don’t go anywhere, people, because we have our guest here to show off my stilling job! Come up here, Virge. Let’s see what the contestants have to say!”

Roman was already gone the moment he walked into the room. But seeing V take a deep breath and standing up onto the ‘runway’ in his loose jacked draped over a black sport-dress with a white strip on the sides and his black sneakers he might have just died right on the spot.

“Today, our lovely college boy sports my favorite tube dress, hugging him in all the right places. I’m literally jealous how good it looks on him! Better on him then me! Unfair! But look at his gorgeous face and the black butterfly-winged liner. I even stilled your hoodie in, Ro.” she winked at him.

Ro just wordlessly nodded, ogling V with big dreamy eyes. “I…can see…”

“Also, notice the earrings. I want praise for that, because getting those on him was a fight!”

“Oh my fuck! Did she pull the whole thing on you?” Remus burst out laughing once again.

V was already opening his mouth to deny all of it, but the little snitch beat him to it: “Yes. Yes, I did.” His head fell low, cheeks pricking red. This was too embarrassing…

Cass cackled at the sigh, as the witch she was and turned back to their audience. “Alright boys, our shy contestant won’t stand much longer. Show him some love - how many points would you give him?”

Remus leaned in, hands on knees. Eyes thin as slits, running over every Cassie-made detail of his attire. He then looked at the expectant designer/moderator and leaned back all un-Remus-like (all serious and shit). Twirled his mustache between two fingers. “You look like a bitch.”

“That’s what I was going for, thank you.” Cass smiled. “Points?”

“Nine.”

Little sister literally jumped up with a happy fist in the air. This was her best outfit by far. And she was too happy to dwell on the fact that it looked way better on his tiny ass then it ever would on her.

Don’t get her wrong, she was almost as skinny as Virgil, but as curvy as humanly possible. And although the dress looked good on her, this kind of combo just wouldn’t. And that made her sad. But then again, she wouldn’t pull of her brothers’ outfits either. You needed that personality for those. And boobs. She didn’t have those either. (Not that the boys had any…)

Roman sat in his chair too scared to even open his mouth. Blatantly standing at the slowly crumbling V. He could see the tiny rapid movements of his fingers even through the fabric layer of Ro’s hoodie. And the evading looks he gave everything else but the ‘judges’.

He wondered what he was thinking. Because Roman sure as hell wasn’t thinking straight. No PG13 thought in his head.

But he couldn’t say that out loud now, could he? So, he decided to do the best thing he could - act. He leaned back just as his brother did, legs and arms crossed, a surveying look on his face. “You did well today, sis. But I feel like those shoes could have goon a different way…”

Not really. he liked them a lot. He wished V would wear dresses more often. It really looked good on him.

“None of mine fit him! this man has impossibly small feet!” the designer protested exasperatedly. Virgil turned a deep red at that. She was right… She made him try on he heals but they ended up being a bit too big…

“Hon, we both know it’s not his feet that’s the problem. Your elephant shoes wouldn’t even fit me.” Remus chimed in as always. His comment very appreciated.

“Go to hell, Remus! My feet aren’t that big!” Cassie glared at her brother.

Roman just smirked. “Alright. Otherwise, I like your combination. I give you a nine as well.”

“Oh my god, ladies and gentleman and everyone above! I guess we have a winner then! For the first time in three years, our humble moderator wins the annual Velez fashion show, placing her design at a towering eighteen points!” She grinned at no-one in-particular. then she turned back to her brothers and smirked. “You can suck it losers! Ha!”

By the time she was doing her little victory dance, Virgil had scrambled back into his seat, folding back into himself.

“And this is why we never let her win.” Roman grumbled to himself, watching his little sister dance around like a maniac.

“She get’s it from you.” V shrugged.

“What?” Ro turned on him with wide, fake-surprised, fake-offended eyes.

But the darkling just shrugged. “You heard me.”

It wasn’t long after that the four had shared a trophy ice-cream bowl (Cass didn’t want to share, but she was still the youngest and didn’t have much choice). Now they were all in their respective rooms, trying to get rid of the make-up and all the unnecessary layers of clothing.

Virgil was pacing around Ro’s room, too hopped up on nervous energy and embarrassment to sit down. Already out of the dress, but still in Ro’s oversized hoodie and comfy joggings (also Ro’s, by the way - they scrunched up at the bottom in the most adorable way). He was barefoot so every step was audible on the hardwood floor.

Roman was at his little make-shift station washing off the make-up. Virgil had already done so - even though it was done kind of shitty-ly.

“You looked really grate today.” Ro commented, smearing the beautiful liner he worked so hard on.

His roommate froze in his tracks. Cheeks pink. “You think so?”

“Very much. You should wear dresses more often. And make-up suits you, though I think your face is pretty enough without it.”

He just threw that out there, while looking like a panda from the smudges. As if this wasn’t one of the nicest things a human being has ever said to V. The guy couldn’t even wait to be finished with what he was doing!

Virgil stood there, shell shocked, face redder than a tomato for the hundredth time today. “Thanks… I guess…?”

“Oh, you’re very welcome!” Ro turned around in his stool, grinning brightly. And that’s when he noticed the very obvious smudges that were still on V’s pretty little face. He bit back a snickered. “Come over hear.”

Virgil immediately went even redder and that made Ro laugh. “Oh, don’t be stupid. Just come here.”

The shorter did as he was told, carefully walking over to his friend. Ro patted the bed next to him and v sat down obediently. “You obviously never wore make-up before.” he snickered.

V didn’t even dare as much as take a breath. Because Ro’s hand was inching towards his face. A cotton swab in his hand. And suddenly he was holding his chin so delicately, washing off the remains of his black mascara and liner.

Electricity sprung from the pales their skin connected. And Virgil couldn’t help but stare at those beautiful green eyes that were so focused on his hands.

His gaze slipped from them to the dark, lipstick bit lips, caught between Ro’s teeth. He was chewing on them subconsciously, the way he always was when he was focused.

It scared Virgil how much he waned to taste those lips. To ease the pain they were in with his own. And it also scared him how much of his attention he wanted the moment he walked out on the make-shift stage. How his focus was solely on his words and face and eyes and expression and what he thought about him.

Oh, how it drove him crazy, the thought that Roman could like him in a dress. And that he thought his face was more beautiful without make-up.

How easy it would be just to lean in and steal that sweet kiss. How easy it would be to just place his hand on his, stopping the careful motion and take what he’s been wanted for weeks now.

How easy would be to just-

Virgil’s lips collided with Roman’s and everything around him ceased to exist.

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

Oooooooooooh! Thins are going downnnnnn!!!! (About time after twelve chaps XD)

I won’t even apologize because this disappearing will be somewhat normal from now on. (School’s kicking my ass...) Let’s just be happy I finished this chap :D But as compensation, I’m making art for this one. Three pieces of (hopefully) colored art, so stay tuned ;D

But I do hope you enjoyed this mostly meaningless chap XD <3

Read ya <3 ;*

Tag list:

@a-formless-entity

@cirishere

@ray-does-stuff

@lovelivingmydreams

@mothman-juicy-ass

@akatsuki-no-katira

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thesoobfiles · 4 years

Text

your highness – a. skywalker

Jealous! Anakin x Queen! Reader

Request: anon, could we get a jealous! anakin imagine?

Words: 4k

Summary: Reader is the queen of the alien planet, Roe’ Leor, a planet very rich in natural resources and starship fuel. It was previously a neutral system; however, the Republic has finally roped them in. In celebration and in honor of their alliance, the Queen has thrown a formal party to recognize this new friendship. Invitations extend to the royal family, the royal guard, royal officials as well as the staff, Republic Senators and the Jedi of course. After Ani’s met the Queen and after the dancing begins, Anakin gets jealous when he sees her dancing with another man…

A/N: I’ve been experiencing the BIGGEST writers block and lack of time to write and I’m SO sorry this took so long. I also had trouble trying to think of something that isn’t overplayed like jedi! reader and senator! reader... I’ve had this in my drafts for a week now and I apologize I haven’t published it until now... I hope it was worth the wait though :) A couple things I want to point out: 1) Roe’ Leor is a production of my imagination; it’s not a real planet in the Star War universe, 2) I imagine the handmaiden with a soft British accent, 3) you don’t really get to fill in a lot because you’re an alien and your skin color, eye color, etc. is already pre-determined, 4) the Roe’ Leor culture is like a mix of Indian and Haiwaiian (certain thinks like names and outfits) and 5) this Anakin is kind of like a mix between rots! Anakin and tcw! Anakin. I’m sorry I talk so much and enjoy! ~

I look out of my large bedroom window as my handmaiden, Lei, prepares me for the event tonight. I just love the blues and purples that color the sky when the suns set…

“I do as well, my lady.” Lei speaks up. I jump slightly at the sudden sound.

“I hadn’t realized I said that aloud…” I said, distractedly.

“Well, I’m glad you did, your majesty. The sound of your voice is always lovely to hear, no matter the scarcity.” She replies with a small smile on her face. I smile back at her. What a wonderful girl…

The thing about being Queen is I’m not allowed to speak, only under specific circumstances like negotiations. Hearing my voice should be ‘a privilege’. I think it’s nonsense; but until my request goes through Leadership, I must adhere to the rules…

Lei adjusts the pallu part of the sari and places the traditional red flower behind my ear. She spins me around to look in the full-length mirror and I smile. She always does such excellent work making sure I look presentable. I look at Lei in the mirror and whisper a ‘thank you’ in our native tongue.

“You are quite welcome, your highness.” She smiles and bows before leaving my presence.

I look in the mirror once more and really take in my appearance. The amber color of the sari and petticoat really compliments my green eyes and the vermillion of the choli, fine stitching and border look exquisite against my light orange skin. To top the whole look off, my hair is loose, free to fall in waves upon my shoulders. Luckily, it doesn’t take too much away from the golden jewelry that adorns my body; the delicate necklace hanging upon my neck and the simple, yet elegant bangles that slip towards my wrist. If there’s one thing I love about being Queen, it’s the fun I have while dressing up.

When I’m done admiring Lei’s handiwork, I straighten my back and head for the main room of the palace; where the event is being held.

Outside my door, as I expected, are two of my most trusted bodyguards – who double as my governesses – to escort me; however, what I didn’t expect was for a women from Leadership waiting for me as well. I bow politely and she bows back.

“Your grace, I’ve come before you to inform you that your request has been received and approved.” She says with a relaxed expression and a small smile.

“That’s wonderful. Thank you for bringing me this information.” I reply, beyond jovial as a smile breaks out on my face.

“It was my pleasure, your majesty. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” She bows and leaves me with my escorts.

Overjoyed that I can now speak as I please, I hug both of them.

“Alani, Kaila, I never thought I’d see the day.” I express my extreme happiness with the information I just received.

“We’re happy for you, your highness.” Alani replies with a smile on her face.

“We’re glad your request went through successfully.” Kaila says as she pats my back.

I give them another squeeze before I straighten up, dust off my sari and clear my throat.

“C’mon ladies, we have a party to attend.”

As I walk forwards, Alani and Kaila follow suit. We make a beeline for the balcony area of the staircase and wait just behind the doorway for my cue to enter. I can already hear the noise of my guests and the party started but a few minutes ago.

- 15 minutes earlier –

“Halt.” A guard in front of the palace stops us.

“Names.” She demands and she looks at her scroll.

“Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight.” I say in a nonchalant tone and flash her my invitation. She looks at me, at the invitation and at her scroll. She nods and looks at Obi-Wan.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master.” He says politely as he too shows his invitation. The guard nods and I proceed to make my way inside only to walk into her arm. I look up at her.

“Is there a problem?” I ask, eyebrow raised in hopes of getting some answers.

“You must change your attire before entering the Queen’s palace.” She responds. Before I could open my mouth to ask my question, a women that appears to be a handmaiden approaches us with clothing in hand. Then, it dawned on me.

“This would explain why we were measured last week.” Obi-Wan voiced my thoughts as he takes his suit and I take mine.

“You may change your clothing in the rooms to the left.” She states with an authoritative tone and resumes her duties as the guard; checking the next guests invitation.

Obi-Wan and I head over to a small shack.

“Doesn’t look like much.” I comment on the rough exterior of the ‘building’.

Obi-Wan chuckles, “Wait until you see inside.” I furrow my eyebrows in confusion and push the door open. My eyes widened at the sight before me. The outside is an injustice to the interior. It was magnificently structured and much larger on the inside. The small palace was completely empty except for four decently-sized ‘rooms’ in the middle of the structure.

“Never judge a book by its cover, Anakin; Leori technology isn’t anything to bat your eyes at.” He says condescendingly as he goes to change.

“Yes, master.” I reply as I walk over to the changing ‘room’. Can it even be called a room? All of the ‘walls’ are made of curtains.

I walk inside and shed the many layers of my Jedi robes along with my boots, belt and lightsaber.

“What do you know about this party, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asks from his changing ‘room’.

“The Queen of Roe’ Leor has thrown this party has an act of goodwill to celebrate the alliance between the Republic and Roe’ Leor.” I say, repeating the words of the Jedi Council from earlier that week.

I gingerly pull on the blue button-up and thin black jacket that accompanies it.

“Have you ever met her?” He asks.

“The Queen? No. I hear it’s a privilege to even hear her speak much less be in her presence.” I recall from one of the many briefings on Leori culture.

I slide on the black slacks as well as the black pointed shoes and clip my lightsaber to one of the belt loop of the pants. I walk out the same time Obi-Wan does.

I look at him and raise my eyebrow to accompany my smirk, “Don’t you clean up nicely, master.” I say in a joking manner. Obi-Wan is dressed in similar clothing, just with different colors. His button up is a light brown while his suit jacket, pants and shoes are all a darker shade of the same color; like his Jedi robes.

He rolls his eyes at my comment then makes his way out of the shack and over to the entrance. I walk behind him and we walk back over to the guard.

She looks us up and down, “Proceed.” She says after she recognizes us and deems our outfits acceptable.

We walk inside and look around. Music similar to what was playing in Hondo’s bar plays softly in the background as the people make conversation. I notice that some members of the Jedi Council, such as Mace Windu and Plo Koon have already arrived and have switched their usual attire for suits. The majority of the people in attendance are Leori; however I do spot the occasional Senator and Jedi.

“Did you know that Roe’ Leor is predominantly female and that’s why they have a Queen instead of a King?” Obi-Wan pipes up from beside me as he examines the room and takes a bite of food from his plate.

“I did not…” I trail off and instead of looking at their species, I look at their gender and notice he’s right. The majority of the Leori are women. The men only seem to be caterers and the occasional official.

A horn of some sort is blown from the balcony of the staircase. The attendees quiet down and move their attention to a small girl, no more than the age of a youngling.

“Please welcome her royal highness, Queen (L/N).” She says in a high-pitched voice as ‘Queen (L/N)’ emerges from the doorway on the left. She looks…magnificent. She’s younger than I expected her to be.

The yellow and red of her sari compliments her skin well. She strolls over to the balcony and stands between her two bodyguards elegantly. Applause erupts from the crowd. Both guards hold a hand out and the applause ceases.

“Good evening, people of Roe’ Leor and representatives of the Republic. As you all know, I’ve thrown this party to celebrate our newfound friendship with the Republic. I hope you enjoy your evening as well as make friends with our new partners.” She finishes and descends down the stairs. Thunderous applause erupts once more from the people in attendance.

“I thought the Queen wasn’t allowed to speak?” I ask Obi-Wan with confusion, never taking my eyes off of her.

“Must have been a recent change in their rules…” Obi-Wan mused, stroking his beard.

“Oh.” I respond simply as I take notice that the bodyguard’s leave Queen (L/N)’s side as she greets some politicians. She talks with them for a short amount of time before she scans the room and her eyes on land on me.

I bow as I finish my conversation with Senator Poli and Representative Jeeloy. I’ve made it my goal to introduce myself to every Republic attendee as to become familiar with one another and explain the new rule put into place by Leadership. I look around the large space and my eyes land on a rather handsome young man who already appears to be staring in my direction. I suppose I’ve found my next conversation.

I walk over to him and his eyes never leave me. A regular man would have already looked away in fear or insecurity; an interesting specimen indeed…

“Good evening gentlemen.” I say as I bow before the young man and his slightly older companion.

Now that I’m within a closer proximity, the young man is quite attractive for a Jedi. He has dirty blonde hair that falls in waves at his shoulders. His eyes are a blue so magnificent, I’ve only ever seen it in the majestic waves of our ocean. His skin is a flawless tan color and his lips look as plush as a pillow.

“My name is Anakin Skywalker, but you can call me Anakin, your highness.” The young man, Anakin, says as he bows. He grabs my hand and places a chaste kiss upon it. I can already feel my heart racing at his actions. He releases my hand, but he never takes his striking blue eyes off of me.

“Your majesty, Obi-Wan Kenobi.” The older man, Obi-Wan, also bows.

“May I say, both of your names are quite unique?” I comment on the names they’ve given me.

“Thank you, my lady. May I ask yours?” Anakin questions me.

“(Y/N) (L/N)…”

“(Y/N)…” He whispers under his breath.

“…but no one every addresses me as such as it is customary to address me as ‘Queen (L/N)’ or other terms of respect including ‘your grace’, ‘your highness’, ‘your majesty’, ‘my lady’ and so forth...” I finish, matter-of-factly.

“Of course, my lady.” Anakin says as the mischievousness of a thousand younglings cross his eyes.

“How are you enjoying the party so far, Mr. Kenobi?” I ask, shifting my attention to his friend as the look he’s giving me makes my heart beat a little too fast for my taste.

“Please, Obi-Wan, your majesty. We are partners, not strangers.” He corrects me.

I nod in return, “Of course, Obi-Wan.” He continues.

“I must say, you’ve thrown a lovely party.” He comments as he scans the crowd.

“Thank you; do you like the food?” I ask, looking at both Anakin and Obi-Wan this time, “I heard many of these foods are popular on Coruscant, the Republic capital...”

“The food is excellent, your grace. Nothing to worry about.” He says reassuringly with a small smile.

“Wonderful.” I reply, returning his smile. “Before I forget, if you’ve been briefed on our culture, you’ll know I’m not normally permitted to speak; however, a change in the rules have been made by both Leadership and myself.” I say, clearing up any confusion if there was any.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me…” I begin.

“Obi-Wan,” I say while nodding in his direction, “Anakin.” I look in his direction.

“I must acquaint myself with the other patrons.” I bow.

“Of course, your highness.” Obi-Wan replies.

“Don’t let us distract you from your royal duties.” Anakin comments with a smile. I smile back and start walking to find the next Jedi or Senator.

- 30 minutes later –

After half an hour of walking and talking, I think I need a break. I pull a chair from one of the many tables in the hall and take a seat. I take a deep breath and exhale.

I’ve already spoken with all of the members of the Jedi Council, 8 Jedi Knights and their padawans and 300 congressmen and women and that’s not even half.

The dancing will begin shortly, so I hope I get to rest my feet for just a few minutes…

Not too long into my relaxing, I hear two chairs being pulled out. I take a deep breath, straighten my posture and put on a smile. I look up to see Kaila and Alani slumped in their chairs. I break out into a real smile and relax my shoulders.

“Hello ladies, you guys look as exhausted as I am and it hasn’t even been an hour.” I joke.

Kaila laughs exhaustedly, “Do you know how many touchy Senators we’ve had to shoo away from the poor female attendees? That Orn Free Taa? Too touchy for my liking…” I laugh.

“The men of the Republic need etiquette.” Alani agrees with closed eyes.

“Perhaps not all of them…” I say quietly. At my addition, both Kaila and Alani open their eyes and straighten up excitedly, forgetting their exhaustion.

“Oh?” Kaila asks with a smirk. I now realize my addition was a mistake; not only are Alani and Kaila my caretakers, but they are also my best friends and unfortunately love gossip.

“Do tell of the well-mannered men you’ve encountered this evening.” Alani urges with her elbows on the table and her hands underneath her chin.

“Well…” I start, going through my evening so far, “Senator Organa and Senator Farr were very polite, unlike the Senators you’ve had to deal with.” I counter with triumph.

“I’ve also met multiple Jedi who were nothing but well-mannered and polite.”

“Like who?” Kaila pushed.

“Like-like Master Mace Windu.” I reply, “Master Yoda and Master Obi-Wan Kenobi…”

“…and Anakin Skywalker.” I finish off quiet, voice uneven. Just saying his name makes my voice waver. I’ve never met a man who’s had this kind of effect on me before…

“Anakin Skywalker…” Alani repeats, “If I remember correctly he came last week with Master Kenobi for his fitting…”

“A rather handsome young man…” Kaila repeats my words from earlier.

Suddenly, I hear the ringing of a single bell signifying the beginning of the first dance. I quickly stand up, “Excuse me!” I say quickly and loudly as I rush to the balcony. I’m not even out of earshot when I hear them giggling.

I take deep breaths to steady my heartrate while I climb the stairs. I reach the top and clear my throat and the audience quiets down.

“The ringing of the first bell indicates the first of two dances. For the first dance, Leori will dance with Leori and this is the same for the people of the Republic. This illustrates our situations before our alliance. For the second dance, it will be mixed. It is mandatory for a Leori to dance with someone of the Republic and vice-versa. This illustrates our situation after our alliance. You have 5 minutes to choose your partner if you wish to dance as the first dance is not mandatory.” I finish and descend the steps for the second time this evening.

I stop at the foot of the stairs and weigh my options. I could a) return to my table and get pestered about Anakin or b) women up and find a partner.

Before I decide what to do, a familiar voice cuts into my thoughts.

“It’s been a while, sis.” A male voice announces. I look to my right and see my older brother, (B/N), with his arms open.

A huge smile replaces my thoughtful look and I rush into his arms, “Brother! What are you doing here?” I ask excitedly and squeeze him.

He wheezes, “I could tell you if I could breathe.” He manages; I immediately release him, “Sometimes you don’t even recognize your own strength, (N/N).” He says using my childhood nickname as he rubs his sides.

“You forget, I married a Senator of the Republic after I refused the throne?” (B/N) reminds me; even though our planet is predominantly female, he is older and would have been next in line.

“Ah, yes. I was so busy with the preparation of the party. It slipped my mind…” I admit, “How have you been? Is the money I sent enough? Do you need more? If you do, I can-“

“(Y/N), calm down. I’m fine and the money you sent is enough; I don’t need anymore, trust me.” He reassures me, “We can catch up later; for now, may I have this dance…” He asks, extending his hand towards me. I raise my eyebrow at him.

“…your highness?” He adds. I smile, glad he hasn’t forgotten the ways of our people.

The horn sounds as the classical music played by the orchestra in the sound room begins to play over the speakers. The first dance has begun.

The music has started to play signifying the beginning of the first dance. I’ve decided to sit this one out as the only other person I really know, Padmé, already has a partner. I sit at a table and sip my flute of one of the lighter alcoholic beverages being severed; as a Jedi, I should always be on my toes.

I scan the crowd when my eyes land on the Queen, who appears to be dancing with a man at least half a foot taller then her. The man she’s dancing with is attractive, to say the least. He has elegant features and whatever he’s saying to her makes her laugh; a laugh most likely so scarce only a select group of people ever get to hear it.

What is he saying that’s so funny? I thought when I heard the shattering of my glass. I guess my jealously paired with my prosthesis isn’t necessarily a good mix. Luckily, my beverage only spilled into the plate below with few drops of it on the tablecloth. I disregard my drink and return my attention to the Queen. Her partner spins her and she seems to be having a great time. It’s hard to be jealous when she smiles like that…

My thoughts are cut off when the music stops. The two separate and they bow before the Queen ascends the stairs. She’s most likely announcing the second dance… I suppose that’s my cue; good thing I did my research...

“I hope you had a lovely time with your first partner; however, it is now time to choose your second. The second dance will begin shortly. You have 5 minutes to choose your next partner.” I announce and descend the stairs for, hopefully, the last time. I reach the foot of the stairs when a Senator approaches me.

“Would you like to dance, your majesty?” he asks.

“No thank you.” I respond politely. He nods and walks away. Another Senator walks up, one from Ryloth.

“Care to dance, your highness?” He asks with his hand extended in my direction.

“I’ll have to pass, Senator.” I reply. He looks at me and rolls his eyes as he walks away.

“Excuse me, my lady.” A voice intervenes; not a familiar voice, but one I’ve heard before. I turn around to be met with Anakin Skywalker.

“Anakin.” I say, hopefully.

He smiles at me, “May I have this dance…” He extends his hand to me, “…your highness?” I smile and rest my hand in is, “You may.”

The horn sounds again as another song plays over the speakers. Something along the lines of classical and tango; a rather interesting mix to describe the alliance between us.

“If I may, did you really know how to ask me to dance or was it luck?” I ask out of curiousity as he leads me to the dance floor. He grabs my hand with his right and places his left on my waist. He pulls me close and whispers in my ear, “I knew.” At this, my heartrate picks up once more.

He resume our dance at normal distance.

“Your grace, if I may, who were you dancing with earlier?” Anakin asks as we continue to glide across the floor.

“Oh, that was my brother, (B/N). Many think he’s given up his prince status, but he merely rejected king status and still remains crown prince of Roe’ Leor.” I inform him, thinking nothing of the question.

“I see. So, your majesty, are you aware of the dangers that come with being partnered with the Republic?”

“Yes. Since Roe’ Leor is no longer a neutral system, the Separatists will now target us given our change in position.”

“Have you increased your security?” He asks as he dips me.

“Tripled.” I respond as he lifts me back up.

“Has the Republic asked about outposts?

“Yes.”

“And your answer?”

“Anakin Skywalker, did you ask me to dance for business of for pleasure?” I ask, finally feeling more comfortable in his presence.

“Officially, business.” He responds as he spins me similar to how (B/N) spun me earlier.

“Unofficially?” I ask. He smiles at me and whispers in my ear with a sultriness that makes my heart melt, “Pleasure.” Then, as he dips me, the last note of the song is played.

He brings me back to a standing position.

“It was a pleasure dancing with you, Anakin Skywalker.” I say as I bow, still a little disoriented from his answer.

“Please,” he bows and grabs my hand similar to our first meeting, “the pleasure was mine.” and he kisses it.

“We’ll see more of each other in the future, your highness.” He gives me a jaunty salute then walks over to Obi-Wan.

Never in my life have I ever wanted a man so badly.

Little did I know, even though I made my comment internally, Anakin was still close enough to listen in on my thoughts and walked away with a smile on his face...

I leave the Queen to return to her queenly duties and walk over to Obi-Wan.

“You looked rather cozy dancing with the Queen.” He noted.

“Really? I didn’t notice…” I replied coyly.

“Let’s just hope that you haven’t ruined our friendship when it’s only just begun.” He states as he makes his way over to Master Yoda.

I smile and look back at the Queen and she’s talking to her bodyguards.

Farewell, your highness. Until our next meeting…

The Queen’s eyes widen and her attention is turned towards me. I smile at her and she smiles back.

Farewell, Anakin Skywalker. Until we meet again.

154 notes · View notes

jimlingss · 4 years

Text

The Colour of Our Voices [1]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 1.5 OR Chapter 2

➜ Words: 3.3k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Angst, Slice of Life, Broadway!AU

➜ Summary: He wasn’t supposed to hear. He wasn't supposed to know. But the instant Jimin came into your life and pulled the curtains back, you couldn't hide backstage anymore. You were no longer merely a phantom of the opera.

➜ Notes: I’m so excited to finally share this series. I’m pretty satisfied with how it turned out, so get ready for a rollercoaster, y’all.

cr.

The moving truck wakes you. It’s deafening. You can hear the slow ‘beep, beep, beep’ of the vehicle backing up. With one eye open, you grab your phone to check the time. It’s ten minutes before your alarm.

You begrudgingly rise, getting ready for the day and humming while you brush your teeth to warm up your throat. You change your clothes, then eat cereal in silence at your kitchen counter. Once you’re ready, you leave. But not two steps out your door are you clumsily tripping over a cardboard box. You make sure not to scream too loudly in case you draw attention. So with a muffled sound and your ankle throbbing at how it was twisted, you stand again. Someone’s moving in next door. There are messy boxes littering the hall, the door wide open, and from what you can see inside, the living space is empty. But you don’t dwell, making your own way down the hall to the stairwell. The timing is poor. By mere seconds, you miss the brunette boy sticking his head out the door with pouty lips and cute eyes, peeking down the hall to catch your retreating form. You limp to the station and as your shitty luck would have it, the train becomes delayed while you’re squished in the middle cart that’s packed like sweaty sardines. It halts suddenly, everyone jolting and you flinch when someone stomps on your right foot by accident. There’s no apology. “Hey, watch it,” the man beside you grumbles and you’re pushed again, at least with your foot free this time and throbbing inside of your worn shoe. “S-sorry.” The delay makes you late by the time you arrive in Time Square. You run through the street, shouting more apologies as you dive through the busy crowds and tourist groups. Once you make it to New 42nd Street Studios, you sprint down the stairs to the basement of the building. You nearly trip and tumble downwards to your death, but you catch yourself on the sticky railing. It’s three minutes past nine o’clock. “You’re late.” “I’m sorry.” “Sorry doesn’t make you earlier.” The director sighs and rolls his eyes. He turns away from you and claps his hands together, scanning the rest of the bustling crew. “Today’s the day folks! We have dress rehearsal and then the show begins at six sharp! It’s showtime! So let’s get moving. You there, intern, go get coffee. And try not to be late this time.” “Y-yes, sir.” Up the stairs you go again. It seems like you’re always running, whether it’s for this job or to this job. But you quickly remind yourself that it’s a privilege to be here. Years ago, you would’ve cried tears of happiness if you knew you’d be on the production team of Phantom of the Opera. Of course, you would’ve assumed you were performing. But being an intern was good enough. Everyone had to start somewhere. “Hi, can I get ten americanos, six iced and four hot, three chai tea lattes, four vanilla lattes, three espressos, seven cappuccinos, and a green tea?” The barista runs the company card into the side of her screen and then her eyes flicker up at you. “Sorry, it keeps saying declined. Do you have another method of payment?” “O-oh. Sorry about that.” You end up paying out of your own pocket for the drinks. There’s no point in telling the director the company card failed — he’ll find some excuse to pin the blame on you, and it’s a small problem not worth the trouble. You run back while balancing the plastic bags and cup holders in your hands, trying not to spill any of them. Once arrived, you hand them out to the crew members, actors, and actresses. “Intern! What’s this?!” The director approaches and sighs. You prepare yourself, already reading that expression on his face. “I said six hot and four iced americanos. You got the order wrong!” You bow your head. “S-sorry, my apologies.” “You and your apologies!” His teeth are gritted, face reddened in anger. “Apologies doesn’t make my americano hot does it?!” “I can go get another one if you need—” “Don’t waste my time more than you already have.” He waves you off, sighing, and you’re left to drown in the humiliation as the others around you snicker underneath their breaths. You release the air held in your throat and you narrow your eyes sharply into his backside as he walks away from you. You hold your tongue, reminding yourself that being here is a privilege. // The curtains draw. There’s bated breath held in the audience, a certain sense of anticipation that builds the suspense until everyone’s on the edge of their seats. The lair is shown, mist spiraling on the floor, candles all around. The phantom with his cloak and half-mask sits at the organ. Christine is enchanted, walking closer towards him slowly like she’s been bewitched by a spell. The actor recites his lines, and then the music begins. “Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation.” It’s a baritone voice, rich and seductive, but still sweet. “Darkness wakes and stirs imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defenses.” The violin strings pull as if echoing after the voice. You hold the microphone to your lips, singing and pulling the notes from deep in your stomach. The mic has been moved down several pitches to match the baritone vocal range that you wouldn’t be able to reach on your own, but the tone is rich and believable to be of the actor’s. After all, one of the biggest efforts the director made was to be able to pull this off. “.....the darkness of the music of the night.” Your eyes are shut, headphones on and you press the left side closer down to your ear, drowning in the lovely instrumental. “Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world. Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before. Let your soul take you where you long to be.” The note is belted out, streaming out from your lips like silk. And when it’s over, you grin. It’s thrilling, a kind of pride blooming inside your chest that’s rare for you to experience. Even if you’ve done it so many times, it never fails to bring you delight — you’re unable to believe that you actually did it. Once the song is complete, there’s thunderous applause. A smile spreads into your cheeks, one that’s infectious but no one sees when you’re hidden behind the curtain. And had you been standing on the stage in the spotlight, you might’ve noticed the brunette boy with pouty lips and cute eyes amidst the crowd. He’s become enraptured by your voice. He’s enchanted, heart stuttering, speechless beyond words. This was the voice he was waiting for. This was it. The show eventually comes to a close and everyone holds hands to bow to the audience. You peek out from backstage to watch the curtains being brought down. “Good job everyone. Nice job crew. Taeyeon, beautiful job as Christine once again. You were lovely, darling. Your sound is like melted caramel.” The director continues with his praises, and the other girls playing more minor roles flock to Taeyeon’s side to also shower her with compliments. The whole gathering parade themselves into the dressing room, brushing right past you. “Oh, yes, there’s the star of our show! Kim Seokjin, you never cease to amaze me! Beautiful job as Phantom!” “Of course.” Seokjin grins, charismatic and charming as always. “You shouldn’t expect any less of me. With a face like this, how could I ever fail?!” There’s bellowing laughter that rings and pierces your eardrums. “You’re right!” You wait as they come closer. Your breath is held. Maybe today, you did a good enough job that he’ll acknowledge you— But then the director walks past you like you’re a plant. Wallpaper. A backstage prop. “I loved that emotion you expressed in the final piece. Almost moved me to tears.” “I tried to do a different interpretation of it this time…” Their voices fade off and you sigh. You’re envious. Kim Seokjin has a good face. He can act. He can dance. He has stage presence. He’s magnetizing and charming. But he just can’t sing. The man can’t hold a steady note for the life of him. You suspect he’s tone-deaf. Understandably, the director couldn’t give up on his godly face, so you became his voice. A ghost singer. It actually works out well. You don't have to be on stage in the spotlight where every single person can scrutinize you, but your voice can be heard. In a way, it’s like you’re performing. But you can still be comfortable. You just wish you were acknowledged. Even if it’s just a little. You’re suddenly shocked out of your thoughts when one of the crew members hands you a stick, clearing his throat obnoxiously. “Start sweeping.” You carry the broom and dustpan, beginning to brush away at the confetti that exploded, clearing the floor of dust and dirt. And you end up missing the boy who sneaks himself backstage, who looks around and slips into the shadows. He walks down the corridor, luckily finding the dressing rooms and he follows the nameplates until he discovers the one that reads ‘Kim Seokjin’. The boy knocks three times in rapid succession. He puts on his best smile and tries to push the wrinkles out of his suit jacket that’s too small and worn. The door opens. The laughter tapers off. Jin’s makeup and fake burnt skin have been removed. What’s left is pure godlike genes, and he’s blinded by the older man’s handsomeness, having to resist the urge to shield his eyes. “Who are you?” “M-My name is Park Jimin. I’m a fan, I-I absolutely loved your voice on the show.” “You want an autograph? Of course you do.” “Who’s that?” the director calls out, lounging on the sofa and drinking a glass of red wine. “A fan,” Seokjin turns his head to say, and then he grabs a piece of paper. He makes an enormous signature with permanent marker and several loops in his name. Once finished, he slaps it to Jimin’s chest before the younger can even breathe. “Thanks for your support.” “Wait. Mr. Kim.” Jimin puts his foot between the door before he can shut it. The actor raises his brow and looks at him. “My dream is to be on Broadway. I know this is a lot to ask of you, but can you please mentor me?” Jin stares at him and then frowns in annoyance. “Mentor you?” Jimin quickly adds, “I promise I’ll try my best. I am willing to give up anything and learn and you seem to be the best of the best. I haven’t heard such a great baritone voice like yours in so long. Please accept me as your student.” There’s an extended silence. “Sorry. I don’t accept students.” “W-wait. Please!” “Security!” Seokjin shouts outside the door. “Get him out of here!” Jimin’s shell-shocked, unable to move when his feet are rooted in the ground. His bones have been frozen. The precious image of his idol that he’s created in his own mind for the past two hours has shattered. He’s left in utter shame and disappointment. “Hey...you’re not allowed to be here!” One of the crew members suddenly points to him. And then a hand plops down onto his shoulder, a grip firm and intimidating. Jimin looks up to find a stocky security guard, and he sighs. He drags his own legs, shoulders slumped, escorted out. // It takes an hour to help the crew clean up. You assist them in sweeping and putting away the props, all while waiting patiently with your eyes pinned on the entrance of the corridor. You dust your hands off, and you’re lucky with your timing. The director is walking out with his bag slung over his shoulder, jacket over his arm, busy sipping on some warm tea. “Director Kang!” You stop right in front of him and he looks at you in boredom. “Why haven’t you gone home yet, intern?” You’ve been cleaning up the entire time, but you don’t bother telling him in case he tells you that you’re too slow to complete tasks. You’re too preoccupied anyways, catching your breath. It’s the moment you’ve been waiting for. “D-Director. I know we’ve talked about this before, b-but I really hope you’ll reconsider the referral.” He sighs, rolls his eyes, and continues walking. You follow beside him frantically while he pulls out his phone to message someone. “I think I’ve been trying my hardest at this job and I've been putting in a lot of hours. I’ve thought about what you said and your advice and I feel like I’ve improved in my singing, s-so….please give me a referral to an agent.” All you need is a referral. One measly call and you can be in touch with someone who could expand their hands and help you. You could finally make a break in the industry, make a debut on Broadway. It’s what you’ve been trying to achieve your entire life. It’s your dream. Your goal. The reason you left everything back and home and came all the way here. But he’s not paying any attention to your desperate pleas. “Director?” He’s irritated — you can tell with the way he huffs out. It makes you flinch, but he at least stops. “Intern, don’t make me repeat myself. You need to focus on what you’re doing now. Frankly, you’re not even good at this insignificant job. How are you supposed to achieve big things?” “B-But…” “You can’t take big leaps when you can’t even take small steps yet. You’re not ready. Not yet. If I happen to notice that you’re finally putting in some real effort and some hard grind, then I’ll think about it again. But now’s just not the time.” “I…” You’re at a loss, on the verge of sobbing. “Now if you’re finished, I have a call to make.” He presses his phone to his ear, a universal sign that he’s not continuing the conversation. You watch him get into his car, driving away, and you’re left there on the street in a cloud of his gas exhaust.

Jimin is at a loss. He paces around in his empty apartment room with still taped boxes scattered everywhere. He doesn’t feel like unpacking and putting away his belongings. Not when his mind was stuck on something else. He came all the way here to look for a mentor — having followed his community theater director’s instructions to work on his singing. But without a teacher he can’t make his big break. “What am I going to do now?” he sighs. Maybe he jumped the gun a little too soon. It was pretty intense of him to go to a show right on the day when he moved in when he probably should’ve gotten settled. But there’s no time to waste when time is of the essence! Maybe he could somehow convince Seokjin to take him as a student. He is pretty insistent and not one to give up just after a single rejection…. Jimin sits on his couch, the only piece of furniture intact in his home, and he folds his hands together. His brows are furrowed, in deep contemplation onto the next step. But then suddenly, he hears a voice. “—your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams.” It’s coming from the window. Sweet and melodic. Jimin’s captivated and stands on his feet, following the sound as if he was being gently tugged by a red string tied around his finger. “Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before.” He steps out barefoot onto his chilly balcony. His eyes are fixed on the balcony beside him, the tiny flower beds that are wilting, the warm lights that pour out from inside the home, how the doors are slightly open to welcome a breeze. “Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar!” He hangs onto the note, relishes in how it stirs his very soul, and then rushes out. “And you'll live as you've never lived before....” Jimin throws his front door open and then pounds onto the door next to his with his fist. Three beats. One — two — three. And it opens. He smiles. Then it falls. His line of sight comes a little lower than expected. He was anticipating a man singing, perhaps someone alike to Seokjin, lean and handsome. But instead, it’s a timid girl in pajamas — you. “H-hello?” you squeak, nervous. “H-Hi. I...I just….” He taps his ear, trying to explain himself. “I thought I heard…heard....never mind.” Jimin hitches his thumb over his shoulder and awkwardly tilts his body. “I just moved in.” “Y-Yeah. I saw this morning.” “So…it’s-uh-nice to meet you, I guess. I mean I don’t guess because it is great to meet you. I swear I’m not usually like this. What I mean is usually I’m not so direct. And, um, bad at speaking. We’ll be neighbors from now on. So I wanted to say hello, since usually, that’s the polite thing to do. Or at least what my mom tells me. She’s great. My mom. But right, I didn’t even tell you my name. My bad. I’m Park Jimin.” He extends and opens his hand. Then he realizes it’s idiotic for him to shake hands with you. It wasn’t like this was some sort of business transaction. So Jimin lowers his arm….right when you’re opening your palm. It’s a missed handshake, and he’s cringing so hard, he’s tempted to jump off the balcony. But instead, he musters up stiff laughter and raises his hand to shake yours. He muses how soft your skin is, but tries not to think about it too much in case that’s a weird thought. Which it is. God, he’s usually not this nervous. It’s a fucking mess. Yet, you still offer him a polite smile. “I’m Y/N.” “Nice name. I mean all names are nice, but yours in particular. Not that I mean anything by it. Like it’s quite normal, but not normal in the sense that it’s overused. Not that overused names are a bad thing.” It’s terribly awkward. That blank stare you’re giving him doesn’t help with his perspiration either. Jimin tries to smile to show that he’s not a freak. But it might also be doing the opposite effect. “Well, I should get going now. Lots to unpack.” “Okay.” You’re about to close the door, and he steps away. But in the last second, Jimin spins around before you can seal yourself inside. “Um, were you playing music?” You’re silent and you blink at him owlishly. “Sorry, I’ll try to keep it down.” Jimin nods. It’s not exactly what he meant — he wasn’t complaining. But he doesn’t linger to tell you so. He doesn’t want to make you feel tense and he feels like a creep enough. The last thing that Jimin wants is to be kicked out before he’s even fully settled in for being a complete weirdo. Typically he’s not this socially inept. But he accepts that he’s made a horrible first impression and shuts the door. Though as he leans on the smooth surface of it, he quirks his head to one side and his brows furrow. Strange. That voice sounded so familiar. And so tangible as if it were here and not a recording. But he doesn’t dwell, going on about his night. In the meanwhile, you try to sing quieter.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jimin fanfic #jimin fluff #jimin scenario #I AM SO EXCITED TO PRESENT TO YOU: THE COLOUR OF OUR VOICES #deadass I feel proud of this one #was sobbing when I wrote the finale #it's like a softer version of LaLa Land #except there's a lot more trial and tribulations #anyways it's gonna be great #I can guarantee it

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scullysexual · 4 years

Text

hunger games au (with mulder and scully)

purely for my own self indulgence.

- - -

Chapter Two

The walk to the Square is always solemn. Everyone is quiet. There’s an sombre energy that buzzes around. No one wants to talk. No one even wants to be there.

Dana keeps hold of Melissa’s hand. That is, until they reach the cordoned areas. Squares blocked off with rope. They are pulled apart, directed to their appropriate squares. Dana watches as Melissa follows the crowd of 17 to 18 years olds to the front. When she looks behind, she spies Charlie on the other side of the Square and not too far away. She can’t see Bill or her mother. They’re somewhere around the edges, on-lookers now, on standby, unable to say or do anything.

Cameras are everywhere, multiple. Pointed at the stage, at them, at the audience. Ready to catch any reactions.

On the stage stand two glass balls, one filled with girls’ names, the other filled with boys’. Dana thinks of how many times her name is in that ball. How many times Melissa’s is in it, how many times Ethan’s.

But how many times are other names in that ball? Dana looks around at the people she can see. There just as underfed as she is, just as hungry as she is, if not worse. Their names have to be in there just as many, if not more times, than the people she’s worried about.

She watches Ethan’s eye and he smiles reassuringly, a hidden thumbs up towards her. Dana smiles back, a bit more optimistic.

“Welcome!” a happy shrill sounds from the speakers around them. Dana turns back to the stage to where District 12’s Capitol escort Monica Reyes stands at a microphone between the two podiums. As far as Capitol people go she’s the most normal Dana’s ever seen; her hair is a natural dark brown colour and even her clothes could pass as plain. She has the accent, however, and the mannerisms.

Monica is new, only having became an escort two or three years ago. She always sounds happy whenever she comes here but Dana knows she’s itching to go to a better district.

Behind her is the Mayor and on the other seat sits 12’s only surviving winner, and mentor, Walter Skinner. It’s the only time Dana ever sees him. On this stage, looking lost, not paying much attention to what’s going on.

Monica is saying something but Dana doesn’t quite catch it, not until the end where she says her signature May the odds be ever in your favour and makes her way over to the left podium. The girl’s podium. Always the girls first.

Everyone holds their breath. That anxiety that Dana tried to keep at bay creeps back in. Her stomach clenching uncomfortably. She wants Monica to hurry up, to stop with the act and just read the damn name but she also wants the whole thing to slow down, the whole thing to never happen.

A repetitive thought enters her head as Monica reaches into the ball.

Please don’t be me. Please don’t be me. Please don’t be me.

Dana doesn’t want to watch. She wants to shut her eyes but instead opts for clenching her fist, her nails digging into her palm, breath unsteady.

The name slip is pulled out and Monica makes a show of walking back to the mic, of holding the paper out before her and slowly opening it up.

Please don’t be me. Please don’t be me.

The name is read. Loud and clear so everyone and the cameras can pick it up.

“Melissa Scully.”

.:.:.:.:.:.

Dana and Billy had a fight once when they were younger. It had ended with the much bigger and stronger Bill kicking Dana off the bed. She’d landed with a thump on the bedroom floor. As their parents had rushed in, Dana had struggled to breathe. She had been winded, her chest tight and constricting.

She feels that now, that same feeling as when she had landed on the floor. Winded. Struggling to breathe.

The Square is silent. Families grateful there children have been spared once more. All except one family. No one will stop this.

The sight of Melissa approaching the steps up onto the stage kickstarts something in Dana. She ducks beneath the ropes separating them, shouting words she doesn’t hear herself saying but the look on Melissa’s face, her eyes widening as she stops dead with a single foot on the step, Dana doesn’t need to hear her own words.

I volunteer.

The Peacekeepers Dana had dodged catch up to her. They grip her by her arm intending on dragging her back in place.

“Well…” begins Monica. “Up you come then.”

The Peacekeepers release her arms and the reality of what Dana’s just done hits her. The adrenaline gone, she slowly begins walking to the steps, passing Missy on the way. Her sister manages to grasp hold of her hand on the way back, gives it a squeeze then goes back to her square.

As she stands on the stage, Dana can feel herself shaking. She looks down towards her hand, sees it jittering limping. She grips the edge of her dress to still herself.

“Now the boys!” cries Monica. She does the same thing as she did with the girls. Walks to the podium, takes out a name, stands back at the mic.

As Dana surveys the faces of the audience, her eyes lock with Ethan’s. He looks sad, shaking his head. Is he disappointed?

Lost in thought, she almost misses the name of the boy called out. Her fellow tribute. Someone she’s about the spend next week with.

“Fox Mulder.”

The name doesn’t spark much recognition with Dana. When she sees him approaching the stage, she thinks she’s saw him around school. He’s in the same class as Melissa, she thinks.

There’s no one to volunteer for him. Maybe no brother or sister to take his place. There’s no hesitation from him either. He leaves his spot near the front without a second thought, without waiting.

“How about a round of applause for our tributes!” says Monica, her voice forever happy and cheery.

But there is no round of applause. This isn’t entertainment for these people. This is murder.

With no luck from the crowd, they hurry along, playing the anthem and when it finishes Dana and the boy are taken by the Peacekeepers into the Justice Building behind them. As she’s taken away, Dana tries to find her family but chances are they’re already being ushered to the side, preparing to talk to her one last time.

That thought sends a chill through Dana’s body. This could be the last time they speak to me, she thinks.

Once inside, another Peacekeeper leads her to a room on her own. It’s tiny but still one of the richest places she’s ever stepped foot in, thick carpet, velvet chairs. It’s even nicer than the first house she lived in.

The Peacekeeper leaves and Dana sits on one of the chairs. She tries to occupy herself, cement herself in the present and not think of the future by running her hands against the fabric. It doesn’t really work.

What had she done?

Of course, she had done the right thing. Melissa may be older but Dana has more of a chance of surviving.

Melissa couldn’t even kill an animal. How would she ever kill a person?

A person.

If you commit murder here, you get executed. You commit murder in the Games, you’re praised. She’ll have to kill people. Real people. Not for food but for fun. Another chill runs through her body at that. At least she’s got the argument of survival.

The door opens and it’s her family, Missy leading the way. As soon as the door is wide enough, her sister bursts in, pulling her up from the chair and hugging her tightly.

“Why did you do that?” she asks still hugging her.

“I had to,” Dana answers calmly.

She pulls out of her sister’s embrace and sits back on the chair. Missy sits on the other. Everyone else stands.

“You shouldn’t of,” Melissa says. “You’re useful. Me…”

Dana looks towards her mother and sees the agreeing look in her eyes. Dana gets them food. Dana keeps them alive. It makes Dana angry at her mother, that if her mother had a choice, she would put Melissa in the arena.

“You’ll be fine,” Dana cuts in. She looks towards Bill who stands a bit away near the door. “The money Bill gets should be enough.” They all know it isn’t but there isn’t anything they can do about that.

“I could try to hunt,” suggests Melissa.

Dana shakes her head. “Don’t worry about that,” she tells her.

“Are you gonna die?”

It’s Charlie who asks. Dana hears her mother gasp quietly and shut her eyes.

“She isn’t,” says Melissa, her voice firm and certain. “Promise me you’ll do everything you can to win.”

Everything means killing but Dana knows Missy knows that.

“I’ll try,” Dana promises. It’s in that moment that she means it. She will try. She’ll try until she can’t.

She turns to her mother then.

“No matter what you see, you can’t leave them,” Dana tells her. It doesn’t matter if Bill and Missy are now adults. It took an eleven year old to fetch the bread for this family the first time. Now that eleven year old isn’t there.

“That goes for all of you,” she directs to all family members. “Nothing stops because I’m dead.”

Maggie nods. As does Bill and she thinks she sees Charlie do it, too.

They talk a bit more until it’s time to leave. Dana thinks that’s all the visitors she’s getting before the door opens again and Ethan appears.

“You’re an idiot,” he says upon greeting.

“Rather me than Missy,” Dana says.

Ethan nods. He knows how hopeless Melissa is.

“It was really brave what you did,” he tells her. “I don’t think anyone else would have done that. Even if it was their sibling that got called up.”

He moves from the door to sit beside her, the same seat Missy sat in.

“Are you scared?”

She throws him a look as if to say what do you think? then nods.

“Just think you’re in the woods,” he suggests. “You’re hunting.”

Dana pulls a face. “Only problem is, they hunt back. More importantly, they think. Like people think.” She looks away. The belief in herself from earlier evaporating away as she’s just left with fear and hopeless.

“Besides, there’s no guarantee it’s even going to be a woods or a forest. It could be water or even a desert.”

“I doubt it,” says Ethan. “They tried a desert a couple of years ago. Wasn’t very…entertaining.”

That was true. Too many tributes died to the elements; dehydration and even sunburn. It didn’t make for good entertainment.

“Still though…” she says with nothing more to add.

She wants to pull the conversation away from this and begins to talk of other things.

“I told my family they would get by with Billy’s wage but—”

“I’m already on it,” Ethan buts in. “I’ll make sure they’re eating.”

She wants to jump up and hug him but they’ve never had that kind of relationship before.

It’s not friendship really more companionship. Somebody to make the hours hunting a little more fun. It’s easier to focus on you’re prey knowing someone’s got your back, someone’s looking out. Maybe ally is a better word for Dana and Ethan.

A Peacekeeper is coming to tell them there time is up. She wants to grab Ethan, keep him on the seat. If he stays on the seat it means she can’t go anywhere.

But they don’t want any trouble so Ethan goes with one last thing for her.

“Stay alive, Dana.”

Dana smiles and nods really hoping she can.

#txf #hunger games au #for myself #i write

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kaemulti · 4 years

Text

(this is for the like five people who liked my post about me writing this 😤✊🏾and i have an AO3 account but i don’t want my kpop fan life and my non kpop fan life to clash right now so hopefully i can post the chapters for this fic here. i hope i’m doing this right, i literally got tumblr like a month or two ago so pls be nice 💀💀)

DEADLY DANCE:

—————————-

Story Summary: Korra Kuruk is an eighteen year old agent of The Air Temple Agency that has been tasked with bringing a rival company’s top teen agent to justice for her crimes. Korra, code name Water Tribe, must figure out what the true identity of the elusive Metal Bender is and what heinous acts her villainous agency is currently planning. How will Korra handle finding out her target is the one person she least expected and what will she do when that same person needs saving?

Deadly Dance : Chapter One : Little Miss Perfect

Kuvira shut her eyes tightly, taking a deep breath through her nose until it filled every inch of her lungs. She slowly let it out once she couldn’t take in any more oxygen and opened her eyes with new determination, deep breath centering her thoughts and calming any nerves that might be lingering. She could feel the whole room’s eyes on her, whole class practically on the edge of their seats as they watched her prepare for the final part of the combination. Kuvira smirked, an evil, sly smirk that would have easily given away her true personality if any of her peers were actually that observant. Fortunately, they were all far to enthralled with her movement, eyes widening as she extended her arms and raised her head. A beat, and she was off, turning and waltzing like she was floating through the air as the music rose in volume. She could feel the sweat running down the sides if her face, causing her skin to itch, but she couldn’t care less, she was electric right now, practically on fire as she completed all the steps without a hitch. Her face never broke from the innocent and vulnerable look of the character she was playing. Her limbs were long and free, passion practically seeping from every pore as the combination came to a close. She ended the fouetté sequence flawlessly, face refusing to show how increasingly uncomfortable her pointe shoes became pain an afterthought to the captivating performance she was seconds away from nailing. With one last turn, she took her ending position, chest slowly rising and falling as the music faded away to silence.

“Absolutely fantastic as always, Kuvira! Everyone please give her a round of applause.” The teacher said enthusiastically, smile wide as she praised her best student.

Kuvira smiled softly as she bowed for the applause from the class. The praise was cut short as the third period bell had rang, meaning they had spent their five minute time period for changing back into their normal clothes watching Kuvira complete the combination.

“Oh, spirits! That’s the bell, sorry I kept you everyone! Hurry and change, those of you headed to lunch should be fine but I’ll write slips for anyone who is going to a class period! Hurry, hurry! Great work today!” The teacher said as her students scrambled around the room.

Kuvira quickly dropped to the floor, hastily taking off her pointe shoes and shoving them into her dance bag. She jogged to the dressing room and begun to change, ripping off her constricting tights and deciding to exchange her bra for her leotard to save time. She finished pulling her skirt on and adjusted her turtle neck, haphazardly slipping on her sneakers as she rushed out of the door.

Luckily for her, the lunch room was only a couple doors down, unluckily for her however, she didn’t pack a lunch and waiting in the line is known to take half of their lunch period. She pushed passed some students in the hallway, raising the tone of her voice to give half hearted apologies as she did so, not that they knew that of course. When she finally made it to the lunch room she scanned the area for the table with her friends, smiling once she caught sight of them.

Being at this school was her least favorite thing ever so the fact she had actually found a couple people that cared enough to talk to her had been a blessing.

“Nice job today, Kuvira!”

“You totally owned that combo! I wish I could dance like that!”

“You should be proud of yourself.”

The praises weren’t new to her so Kuvira simply offered a smile and a couple thank you’s as she reached the table.

“Well if it isn’t the swan princess herself.” Wing teased as she sat down.

“Haha, very funny, Wing. I told you not to call me that when we’re not in practice, especially because we aren’t even doing that ballet this year.” Kuvira said light heartedly as she pulled out her makeup compact.

“My apologies, Great Uniter.” He said with a bow and smirk. The Avatar ballet had been widely requested by everyone in the dance department and Kuvira was beyond happy when she got picked to play the avatar’s ultimate rival, The Great Uniter.

“How was class?” Baatar asked shyly, barely making eye contact with her as he did so.

“It was fine, my feet are killing me but ballet is my second favorite dance class so I don’t mind.” She replied sweetly as she put on her eyeliner.

“I’ll never understand how you can do that so flawlessly, are you just perfect or something?” Wei asked as he practically inhaled one of his spring rolls.

“I wouldn’t say “perfect”, just skilled.” She lied, adding a sharp tail to the liner. She was playing a character right now and, sadly, acting cocky wasn’t in the script.

“I just don’t get how she got here so fast!” Korra panted, placing her backpack on the floor as she slumped on the table. She had gotten lost in the sea of people all trying to get to lunch on time from dance and had to race to avoid the hall monitor.

“Maybe you’re slower than you thought.” Mako joked, offering her part of his sandwich like he always does. He loved Korra to death but that girl was so frantic she basically forgot her lunch three times a week.

“Must you bully me after I almost got trampled in the hallway, again?! I’m hurting.” She pouted, taking her half of the sandwich from him and eating most of it in one go.

“Maybe if you actually started telling Mrs. Xiao when you have five minutes left of class you’d be here on time.” Asami smirked, not even looking up from her chemistry homework to tease the panting girl.

“I would have but she was too busy watching Kuvira prance around the room.” Korra said with her mouth full, rolling her eyes as she thought of the older dancer flawlessly completing that day’s combination.

“I’ll never understand why she gets under your skin so bad, Kor, she’s literally an angel. Honestly, I don’t even think she’d hurt a fly if she had the chance. Besides, you guys are rivals in the ballet, not real life.” Bolin said, blowing on his noodles to cool them down before sucking them up violently.

“And I don’t see why you don’t, just look at her! Being the center of attention every chance she gets.” Korra pouted, gesturing to the girl doing her makeup in her small hand held mirror a couple tables down.

“Are you gonna leave your hair like that the whole day?” Huan asked Kuvira, face contouring to a grimace.

“Shoot, (spirits, she wishes she could’ve cursed) I didnt even notice, thanks, Huan.” She said, placing the compact down so she could dig through her bag for a brush. She always forgot to take her hair out of her ballet bun and Huan, being the guy who was absolutely incapable of staying out of other people’s fashion choices, never let her forget. Kuvira still remembers how she had to force a smile and act like she didn’t want to bust his jaw that one time he said she looked like a snob when her hair was up.

He was right of course, but it still annoyed her.

Kuvira pulled out the brush she was looking for and set it on the table as she started removing the bobby pins from her hair. She smiled a bit to herself as she got the last one out, her favorite part was next, letting her hair down as she felt everyone watch.

She let the bun unravel as she gracefully shook her head, long, dark waves cascading down her back, almost reaching her butt. Honestly, she needed a trim, she’d have to remind Unalaq to make time in her schedule to get one.

Kuvira picked up the brush and ran it through her hair just enough to make it look neat but not enough to brush out the waves. She could feel several eyes on her, both male and female, as she did so. Kuvira wasn’t oblivious, despite how she acted as her character, she knew she was way above average in looks and she liked the eyes on her, craved them even. She opened her eyes and smiled as she caught Baatar looking at her.

Kuvira liked catching him watching her the most because she knew he’d never have a chance with her, no matter how much he wanted one.

“Looks like the line is shorter now, I’m gonna go grab lunch.” She said sweetly, quickly whipping her head around to eye how many people were still waiting in the line. She was fast enough to identify ten sets, five more than last time, of eyes on her before they frantically looked away as she searched for eye contact. She stood up and flipped her hair, strutting to the lunch line with an innocent smile.

“Ok, but it’s not her fault she’s gorgeous, Korra, that’s hardly a reason to hate her.” Bolin said, back at their table, pulling Korra out of her daze as she watched the older girl strut to the lunch line.

“I never said I hated her, she just...bugs me...” Korra replied, crossing her arms with a huff. Ever since the first day Kuvira had transferred to their school something about her seemed too good to be true, leaving a nasty taste in Korra’s mouth when interacting with the older girl.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a crush on her, Kor.” Asami said, finally looking up from her, now finished, homework to quirk her brow at the pouty girl.

“Wha-no. No! I do not have a crush on little miss perfect, sprits!” Korra said, annoyance clear in her voice as she furrowed her brow at her friend’s accusatory tone.

“Whatever you say, you should really just ask her to the formal in two months.” Mako said before he drank from his water bottle.

“I will not! I don’t even like her like that. Tui and La you guys are impossible!” Korra said, standing up from her seat and heading to the lunch line—because she was hungry! Not so she could stand next to Kuvira, she had more dignity than that thank you very much.

“Hey, Kuvira! How are you today?” Ms. Li, one of the lunch ladies said sweetly.

“I am great, Yuyan, thank you for asking. How about yourself?” Kuvira replied politely. That was one thing Unalaq could never shake from her, her manners for people less fortunate than she was. She had spent a lot of time talking to the school staff when she first got this assignment, she would tell her bosses it’s so she could find her target quicker but that was all a lie. To most, she might be considered to be on the wrong side of history, even if she thought that was nonsense, but that didn’t mean she was soulless. She only wanted the best for these people, why would she be cold if she didn’t have to be?

“Well, I could be better, these kids really don’t know how to say a simple please and thank you. It, um, it gets to you sometimes, you know? But, hey, I guess it could always be worse. Thank you so much for ask—Oh! That reminds me, me and a couple of the other lunch ladies made this for you, since you are such a big help around here.” Ms. Li said, reaching behind her to grab a small chocolate cupcake before handing it to Kuvira.

“Thank you so much, it looks delicious.” Kuvira said, accepting the sweet treat and placing it on her tray with the rest of her food.

“Of course! Anything for our favorite student. Congratulations on getting the part of The Great Uniter by the way, we look forward to seeing you shine!” Ms. Li smiled.

Kuvira smiled brightly as she punched in her lunch number, swiping her school card quickly. She appreciated the praise and she new she deserved it, but too much of it could make her uncomfortable. She said one more thank you to Ms. Li and headed back to her table.

As she was walking however, she almost ran right into someone who was clearly not watching where they were going. If she had been anyone else, her tray would’ve went flying, along with the items on it, and there’d be a huge mess, luckily she wasn’t anyone else. She was Kuvira, member of the Metal clan, the most highly trained spy organization in the world, and she’d be damned if she let her special cupcake get squashed. She easily spun around the person, gracefully hoping one of the railings to catch her airborne tray, every single item she had purchased returning to their places. Well, all except her juice box, which was still airborne, about to land on the ground behind her. She whipped her head back around and made a move to catch it but instead saw her onstage rival, The Avatar, played by Korra Kuruk, hopping the same railing to catch the juice box before it hit the ground, her own lunch items fully intact on her own tray despite the vigorous movement.

“I am so sorry about that! Here, wouldn’t want you to lose this.” Korra said apologetically as she held out the juice box to a wide eyed Kuvira.

As soon as they made eye contact Korra seemed to have picked up on what had actually happened, her own eyes going wide as Kuvira snatched the juice box from her hands.

Before either of them could say anything, the pieces finally falling into place and their initial shock quickly flipping to furry, the fire alarm went off, blaring loudly in everyone’s ears and causing several people, excluding Korra and Kuvira of course, to flinch in their seats. They had been trained better than to get startled by a sudden noise.

“Ok, ok, everyone please grab your phones, and I mean only your phones, and exit the building!” One of the lunch monitors said, ushering kids out of the back entrance so they could head to the field.

Both girls glared at each other, breath heavy in a rage as they did so, before going their separate ways to their respective tables. Kuvira grabbed her phone and followed Baatar out of the lunch room, not bothering to look back at Korra. Nobody at her table asked questions, not having been paying attention to Kuvira when she left the table.

Korra however, returned to a table full of wide eyes and slacked jaws, her friends having watched the whole ordeal after Korra bailed at the mention of a crush.

“That was some ninja shit, Korra! Wh- How- When! When did you even learn how to do that?!” Wu asked, most likely coming off of his hall monitor shift to eat lunch with them moments before the alarm sounded.

“Movies. Come on, we need to get outside.” She said, anger clouding her eyes and lowering her voice. Nobody asked any more questions and, even if they wanted to, Korra was already walking away, one foot out of the door

One thing’s for sure, Korra now had more reason than ever to hate Kuvira.

Kuvira was undoubtably the Metal Clan Protegé that Korra was tasked with arresting for crimes against the environment and the less fortunate.

#lok #tlok #the legend of korra #legend of korra #korra #korra and kuvira #tlok kuvira #kuvira #the great uniter #great uniter #korvira #korvirasami #kuvira week

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laxtolhr · 3 years

Text

Title: Tomlinson. Louis Tomlinson.

Summary: “Louis… These new lyrics are kind of…” Niall tries to find a way to vocalise his thoughts without tearing his friend down. “Well they seem darker than what you normally write.”

“Yeah. This almost sounds like heartbreak.” Harry friend and flips through the lyric sheet he was handed. “Hauntingly beautiful, but definitely not what you usually give us.”

Louis shrugs. “That’s all I have right now. Take it or leave it.”

Written for @wrckmyplans for the @sololouiegiftexchange . It’s super late, but I’ve never been good with deadlines. I really hope you enjoy it!

1949

“I just don’t understand this need you have. Can’t you just be happy settling down and working at an office?”

Louis sighs as he shakes his head. “I crave attention. During the war, I would do comedy routines in the trenches at night and it… Well it helped make things a bit more bearable. And it showed me I could be the next big thing. Imagine, me! The next Abbot or Costello!”

Jay continues to wipe furiously at a sticky spot on her counter. “I don’t know, Lou. The girls are still in school and they need a good strong role model to look up to. Just think about if your father was still here how-“

“Well he’s not. He was a dirty lowlife who walked out of his family. I don’t want to think about what he would do.”

A silence falls over the kitchen.

“Fine,” Jay says quietly. “If you think London is where you have to be to make this work then go to London. Just promise me you’ll keep your name. These show business names are getting too much nowadays.”

——————

“Hi, I’m Tomlinson, Louis Tomlinson.” He throws his suitcase onto his bed and holds his hand out for his new roommate to shake.

The boy, Louis assumes he can’t be much older than sixteen, tentatively takes his hand and shakes it. “Is that your real name or stage name?”

“Both,” Louis pulls his arm back with a shrug. “Told me ma I’d keep it the same. She’s not a huge fan of fake names.” He takes a look around the room.

It’s not much. A single roomed flat with enough room for two beds and an even tinier kitchen space. There’s just enough space for a framed picture of his family and his radio, but he guesses it will do. He’s always heard of the actress accommodations in New York City across the ocean, but he never realised London had the same kind of boarding set up for both men and women.

“And you are?”

“Oh, right.” The boy grins sheepishly before pushing his curls away from his eyes and smiling widely. “Harry Styles, at least that’s my stage name. Didn’t think anyone would look twice with a name like Edmond Thatcher so I decided on something simple and elegant sounding.”

Louis nods. “I like it. Easy to remember too. Are you a comedian as well or a more serious actor?”

Harry shakes his head as he sits on his bed. “I’m actually a singer. There are two other blokes down the hall as well who are singers. We do some gigs together when no one is looking for a single, but a quartet is really in right now. We want to be the British equivalent to the greats in America- Sinatra, Martin, Lawford, you know?”

“Sounds like a laugh, mate. I’m not the best singer, but if you all ever need a fourth I’d be happy to accompany you. Figure knowing some friends might be a good place to start in the city.”

——————

1951

“You sure about these lyrics? They seem a bit… Cheeky.”

Louis rolls his eyes and takes the papers from his friend’s hands. “Liam, what did we talk about last week?”

Liam frowns, eyes going soft. “You take care of the lyrics and I do the instrumental. The big band sound though doesn’t really lend itself to these types of lyrics.”

“Oi, that’s the beauty of music, Payno. You can cross genres.” Louis pulls out a cigarette from his jacket pocket and quickly lights it as he continues to look at his work. “Think about it. Bing Crosby, one of the biggest names in music, was doing a spin on Irish folk songs. Mixing and melding genres is innovative.”

“But these lyrics-“

“Are risqué and real and what we should be singing.”

The door to the studio opens to reveal Harry and Niall, the fourth member of their quartet, carrying sandwiches from the local deli. “Honestly, Louis, do you have to smoke without the window open? Some of us need to protect our vocal cords from the damaging effects of smoke.”

Rolling his eyes once more, Louis moves to the other side of the room and opens the window. “Need you both to take a look at these lyric sheets and give an honest opinion. Payno and I were having a discussion about them, but a fresh set of eyes might be helpful.”

Niall picks up the papers and begins to read over the words. “I’m feeling something deep inside, hotter than a jet stream burning up. I got a feeling deep inside, it’s taking, it's taking all I got?”

He frowns and looks at the lyricist. “Are you singing about an orgasm?”

“Thank you,” Liam says exasperatedly. “It’s too risqué for us.”

“Hold on.” Harry has Niall repeat the lyrics again. “I see where you could think he’s singing about an orgasm, but what if he’s singing about his feelings? Maybe he’s in love and it’s just overwhelming? Sounds like he’s being consumed by feelings.”

Louis takes the last drag of his cigarette before stamping it out against the window ledge. “Honestly, it is about an orgasm, but like Harry said it could be about feelings. I’ve personally never been in love so I can’t relate, but I’m sure someone out there can or even one of you three. Come on, lads, we’ve got great content. Why are we scared of a little controversy?”

The room is silent for a moment as they all have a quick think.

Finally, Liam sighs. “Fine. We can move forward with this song, but we cannot continue with your song about an actual erection.”

——————

“And so I told him he could go fuck himself.”

The whole table laughs at the witty banter of Nick Grimshaw. He was one of the most influential men in all of England and being on his good side meant you went far. He was out with his colleagues to enjoy a simple lunch at the Ritz and that was it.

“Excuse me, sir, but we have an act coming in soon and I know how much you despise having live music while you dine. They are set to take the stage in about ten minutes.”

Nick thanks the server and slips him five pounds for the information. “Well, that seems to be my cue to wrap up this impromptu lunch affair. Quite sad though. I was so enjoying catching up with all of you.”

“Maybe,” Aimee interjects, “we could stay then. I know you’re not one for live music, but perhaps just this once would be alright. Consider it a fun impromptu concert just for us.”

There’s murmurs of agreement around the table. It had been a long time since the last entertainment party Grimshaw had thrown and his guests were eager for more glitz and glamour.

“I guess a few songs wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

The restaurant lights dim slightly as a quartet takes the stages.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to Amor Amore.”

A smattering of applause is heard as the swelling of the strings start. The table watches in glee as the four younger men entertain and sing their hearts out for the esteemed guests.

A couple songs turns into a whole set, which quickly turns into a few hours. Grimshaw barely realised that it’s nearly the late afternoon hours until he had been asked if he and his guests were staying for dinner as well. He politely refuses, but demands that one of the quartet comes out to meet him.

“What are you up to, Nicholas?”

“I want to know if they have a record. I’d love to have their music playing at one of my small gatherings.”

——————

December 1955

Louis exhales slowly and watches the smoke curl up into the wintry air. He hates these high class functions. They’re so ostentatious and over done. It’s always the same shitty jazz and same men and women drinking the same old champagne and laughing at the same old jokes. It never meant anything and he wondered how much longer he had to be there until it had been long enough and he could leave. “There you are,” a voice whispers in his ear and there’s a gentle hand on his elbow. It’s Liam, of course it is, and he’s looking at his friend with worry in his eyes. “You can go in like twenty minutes. I know this really isn’t your scene, but being here means the world to Harry, you know?” “That’s why I’m here at all. The whole party and schmoozing scene belongs to Harry and Niall. Sometimes I wonder if you even like it, but then I remember that Sophia is always with you so you have a reason to enjoy it.” The older boy shrugs and downs the last of his champagne as a man up on the stage clears his throat. A hush falls over the partygoers and soon enough the man on stage- Nick Grimshaw- smiles brightly. “Welcome, elite and A-listers. Tonight, I wanted the very best for you all, but I couldn’t very well ask Amor Amore to perform since they’re guests tonight.” A laugh rips through the group of celebrities and important figures. “So, I asked around and I’d like to introduce Zayn Malik to the stage. He’ll be providing the music for tonight. Thank you all for attending tonight. Enjoy the party and happy Christmas everyone.” The guests cheer and holler happily before going back to what they had been doing, ignoring the singer as he took the stage. Louis rolls his eyes and grabs another glass of champagne as the overused jazz sound starts to come from the piano. He can’t see the man, but he assumes he’s like every other wannabe jazz singer- a head of clean cut lines and a smart looking suit wanting to evoke visions of Frank Sinatra from across the pond. “The field was bright with clover, I saw the finish sign. I started as a rover and then victory was mine. I thought the race was over, but they just keep moving the line.” The brunet freezes as the voice pours through the speakers around the room. The voice is breathy and washes over him in gentle waves. He thinks over the name that Nick had mentioned to see if he could place this beautiful voice, but nothing was coming to him. “They cheered at my persistence, but prayed for my decline. The path of least resistance led to Hollywood and Vine. I tried to go the distance, but they just keep moving the line.” He pushes through the women in beautiful little numbers and men in expensive suits to get to the stage. He has to see the man and know what the owner of this voice looks like. He knows he accidentally spills a drink on some woman’s gown, but he doesn’t even have time to apologise as he spots the edgy pompadour sitting atop the performer’s head. “I jumped all of the hurdles to break out of the pack. I started on the outside and then hit the inside track. I left the other fillies back at the starting gate; was ready, on my mark, I got to set to hurry up and wait.” Louis finally pushes through the last of the crowd and finds himself at the foot of the stage. His mind goes blank as he sees the man is his element. He watches as the man tenderly holds the microphone stand and sways to the sound of the jazz music that swells behind him. The man loves his craft, something Louis hasn’t been able to relate to in a long time. The passions and emotion radiating from the man and his voice are enough to send shivers down Louis’ spine.

The attitude was infectious. It made Louis want more for himself. More than just being one of four. He wanted to be appreciated for his lyrics instead of being censored. He wanted that jazzy sound that didn’t quite fit with a melding of four voices.

He wanted to be solo. He wanted to be free of record producers and radio play and measurements of success for a company. He wanted to be successful for himself. He wanted to be more than just a number. He wanted to be a true artist. “So talent and ambition won me a chance to shine. I aced the big audition, but it's rainin' on Cloud Nine. Can't beat the competition 'cause they just keep moving the line. I handled every corner, each bump along the track, and when I saw the ribbon, well, there was no turning back. I won the photo finish, I posed for all the men, but before I got my trophy, well, the race began again.” Louis lets his eyes drag up to the singer’s own and he startles when he notices that they are locked on him. He’s looking straight at him and winks lightly as he continues to sing his song. “So I made friends with rejection, I've straightened up my spine! I'll change each imperfection till it's time to drink the wine! I'd toast to resurrection, but they just keep moving the line! Please give me some direction, ‘cause they just keep moving the line!” The song ends and there’s polite clapping before the chattering continues as if the singer was merely an inconvenience to them. Louis claps loudest of all and reaches a hand up to him. He quirks his head to the side and takes his hand, smiling brightly when Louis shakes it emphatically. He looks at him, trying to read why one fourth of the biggest music in all Britain is interested in his music. “Can I take a request for you, sir?” “Just another song in general so I can watch a wonderful performance. I assume you already have a set planned out, so I won’t bother you with extra songs. When you take your break though, I’d be delighted if you’d join me for a chat.” Louis whispers to the man as he smiles at him and backs away so he can sing again. The singer’s eyes follow him until he’s swallowed up by the crowd and he wonders what just happened.

——————

“Thank you. I’m going to take a small break and be back in thirty minutes. Have fun and happy Christmas everyone.” Zayn says as he ends his seventh song and heads off stage. He’s immediately accosted by the man from before and handed a glass of champagne. “Do you smoke, Mister Malik?” Zayn nods quietly and follows the man outside to the balcony where he lights up a cigarette and hands his one as well. “You have a lovely voice. I thought Nick was just going to hire another wannabe Marilyn, but you’re actually talented.” “Thank you, Mister…?” “Tomlinson. Louis Tomlinson,” he sips at his drink and waits for the recognition. Zayn doesn’t disappoint, although he tries to conceal his excitement. “Louis Tomlinson? Like, from Amor Amore? Oh god. You’re one of the most influential men at this party. I’m lucky to have caught your ear then.” He chuckles, eyes crinkling with his smile. “Your lyrics caught my attention. The fact that you look like you actually enjoy what you do is just a bonus. I was wondering… Would you want to accompany me home tonight? I’d love to hear more music from you.” “You mean… You want to work with me?” Zayn frowns and tries to see the downside to working with someone as powerful and influential as him. This could make or break his career. “Of course. Why else would I invite you back to mine?” Louis seems genuinely confused for a moment before he realises just how rude that may have come across. “Oh! Not that I’m saying you might not be a good friend or anything, but I hardly know you. I’m sure that if we work well together a friendship won’t be far behind though.” Zayn’s sigh of relief and happiness must have been evident. “Well, music I can do. The friendship stuff will depend on how well we work together, Mister Tomlinson. I’m more jazz and Elvis inspired and you’re well known for… Well, big band don't exactly mix with my genre at times.” He smiles and the conversation continues as they laugh and get to know each other. Time seems to go by so fast and soon enough, Nick and Liam are joining them on the balcony. “Malik, you’ve been on a break for well over the thirty minutes you promised.” “Louis, we’re leaving if you want to join us.” Louis looks up at the two men and smiles easily enough. “Sorry about keeping your star, Grimshaw. He’s got a great sound and an ear for music. If you hire him for more events, I’d actually enjoy coming to these parties.” He shakes Zayn’s hand once more before he has to hurry back to the stage. “Oh. And, Liam, I’ll be catching a taxi home tonight. I’ll be waiting for Zayn to finish his contracted set.” He heads inside and leaves the two men on the balcony as it begins to snow lightly. “Oh, Nicholas Grimshaw, what have you started.”

——————

Mid-January 1956

Louis smiles politely up at Zayn as he continues to play a melody that only he knows. He brought the other man to the studio a few hours before the lads were set to join him on another writing session. He doesn’t know what the appeal and draw is to Zayn Malik, but all he knows is that he’s drinking it up like milk and honey.

“All I want is to be up on a stage singing songs I can relate to.” Zayn scrunches up his nose. “Instead, I made the round at parties and corporate events and I sing the same thirty songs in rotation. It’s tiring and makes me want to pack it up and go home.”

“So do it then. Stop singing all these songs by others and start singing your own.” Louis looks up at him with a confused expression. It isn’t that hard for Louis.

Zayn leans heavily onto the baby grand piano and smiles softly. “I can’t write songs. I’ve tried. I’m not good at rhythm without a melody and words just aren’t my strong suit. The song I sang at Mister Grimshaw’s party was an original and that alone took me ten years to write.”

Louis perks up. “Let me write for you. I’m sure I can get some great material and have you headlining in no time.”

“Writing for someone else?”

Zayn and Louis both turn to see the other lads standing in the entranceway to the studio room. Zayn has the decency to look like he’s been caught doing something naughty.

Louis just shrugs, not seeing the issue. “Of course. It’ll be great! He’ll be a proper performer in no time.” He straightens up at the piano and starts to play a quick and jaunty melody as he hums along to the music in his head. “It’s simple. Just have to think of an image you want. You want to be the next Elvis? Easy.”

He taps back and forth between two notes as he tries to think of lyrics to put as his opening lines. “If…” he pauses until it hits him. “If you say something is taboo, well, that’s the thing I wanna do. Do it till we’re black and blue, let’s be bad.”

Zayn laughs as he watches Louis start to create a song on the spot. “How do you come up with stuff so quick? Those lines alone would have taken me days! I should introduce you to my friend Taylor. She’s good at this kind of stuff too”

“It’s easy! You just have to think about the message and go from there.” Louis smiles brightly, the praise feeling good. “And I’d love to meet your friend. Would love to bounce songwriting ideas and tips off someone new.”

Liam, Harry, and Niall all look at each other with worry in their eyes. It could only get worse from here.

——————

February 1956

“Has anyone seen Louis?”

Niall shakes his head as he watches Liam pace the radio station lobby. Being invited to spend air time at the BBC with Nick Grimshaw is a privilege that not many artists got, but of course, Louis is nowhere to be found.

“We’ll just say he’s feeling under the weather. Nick won’t mind if there’s three instead of four of us. In fact he’ll probably prefer it.” Harry shrugs. He’s quite upset with Louis, but there’s nothing that can be done about it now.

Niall has a feeling that they haven’t finished with this conversation, but he plasters on a fake smile when Grimshaw rounds the corner.

——————

After the interview, they’re all piling into Liam’s car when the conversation starts back up again. “Let’s just go to his house. He can’t ignore us if we just show up. That would be entirely too rude.”

“Would it? Well, knowing you have an appointment and not showing up is rude as well. Unless you are on your deathbed, you show up. You’ve booked someone else’s time, so don’t waste it.” Liam starts his car and heads towards the absent singer’s home. “If he’s there, then we need to have a serious talk with Louis.”

Niall frowns. “I think it’s nice that Louis found someone to occupy his time. You know he’s never really been one for singing. He wanted to be a comedian and was just helping us out when we got this big. He’s just along for the ride. Maybe Zayn will be good for him.”

“Good for him? Niall,” Liam tightens his grip on the wheel as his anger grows. “He’s throwing away his career- ours as well. He’s only thinking about himself which he can’t do anymore. He has to realise that he can’t take a break or write what he wants. We’re a group- a team.”

“Yes,” Niall decides to cut off the angry tirade before it really starts growing, “but we’re also friends. As his friend you need to realise that he’s never been happy doing this and we’re killing his creative ideas more than letting them flourish. Maybe… Maybe we should give him an out. He seems so much happier writing for Zayn.”

Harry clears his throat. “Or we could stop insisting he choose. He loves writing for Zayn- we know that- but he also loves performing. So we get someone else to write for us or one of us finally steps up and helps out, big deal. Louis deserves to be just as happy as the rest of us.”

Liam sighs as they pull into the wrap around drive out front of the singer’s home. “Can we at least be upset with him for missing the interview this morning?”

“Depends on why he missed it.”

Turning off the engine, Liam grabs his spare key to Louis’ home.

It’s fairly quiet when they enter. The usual record music playing softly in the background and a warm glow coming from the main room is the only hint that Louis is even home. Niall is about to call out when a giggle catches his attention.

And then a woman’s shoe.

“Guys? Do you think we should-“

“Oh, Lou!”

Harry’s face turns bright red. “We should come back at a later time. I don’t think now is really an opportune moment.”

——————

March 1956

“Taylor, I promise.” Louis softly speaks into the telephone. He’s meant to be warming up for the show, but he had called Taylor instead. The girl was staying at his place to take care of his dog while he was away, but he found himself calling every night to check up on her.

“I just want to hear you say it again, Lou. Please? Just one more time- for me.”

He sighs, but can’t help the soft smile on his face as he thinks about her. He can picture her all curled up in his most comfortable chair in the study with Cliff and Bruce at her feet and a heavy book of poetry resting easy on the table where the phone receiver sat. He knows that she’s in those highly fashionable pants that hike up to her navel and a shirt that stops just above so the smallest sliver of skin is visible. Her hair is probably up in a high curled ponytail with a bow tied around it and all he can think about is how much he wants his fingers to be running through her blonde locks. It’s a domestic scene that he never knew he wanted until now.

“I’ll be home tomorrow night. I’ll be home and I’m going to fuck you good and hard until you’re begging me to let you come. It's just how you like it, isn’t it, darling?”

Her giggles are the only reply.

“Tayor, love, I’ve got to go. I’ve got to head to the stage soon.” He bites back those three words on his lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

——————

“So what kind of music are you leaving me with?” Grimshaw asks as he takes the record from Louis’ hand.

Louis shrugs, trying to keep it light. “Nothing. It’s a record of a friend of Zayn Malik- the man who sang at your Christmas party. I’ve been writing and recording with her and I thought maybe you’d want to be the one to discover her. Give it a listen, yeah?”

“Well,” Nick pushes his chair back from his desk and quickly crosses the room to his record player. “If you’ve written for her, I’m sure the lyrics will be great. I’ve always wondered why you hadn’t written for other artists before.” He places the record on the turntable and carefully moves the needle to the edge of the vinyl surface.

It takes a moment before the striking piano chords are playing loudly in the room. Suddenly Taylor’s voice joins in.

“We were both young when I first saw you. I close my eyes and the flashback starts: I'm standing there on a balcony in summer air. See the lights, see the party, the ball gowns, see you make your way through the crowd and say, ‘Hello.’ Little did I know...”

The music swells slightly and Louis tries not to smile as he can tell Nick is already hooked. He wrote this song drawing on Taylor and his relationship. He had always wanted to tell a story that wasn’t quite so dirty all the time and finally Taylor’s voice was his own.

“That you were Romeo, you were throwing pebbles and my daddy said, ‘Stay away from Juliet.’ And I was crying on the staircase begging you, ‘Please don't go.’ And I said, ‘Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone. I'll be waiting. All there's left to do is run. You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess. It's a love story. Baby, just say “Yes”.’”

Nick grabs the needle, plunging the room into silence.

“What are you doing?” Louis is bewildered.

“I want it. I don’t need to hear anymore. She’s got a lovely voice and your writing talents are brilliant, we already knew that. I’ll find a segment to play it on. The sentiment is beautiful, just what this country needs. We’ve had the death of our King and hundreds of countrymen die because of the heavy fog at the end of last year, but this whimsical sentiment is perfect.”

Louis smiles brightly. “So you’ll play it?”

“Absolutely!”

——————

“'Cause we were both young when I first saw you.”

Niall turns towards his friend, smiling happily at the two artists. “You wrote that?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Niall.” Louis laughs as he grabs his cup of tea from the table beside him. “I know all of our music is erections and orgasms hidden with colourful language, but I can write lyrically beautiful pieces when I want.”

“Well I think you’re brilliant, darling.” Taylor smiles brightly and kisses at his cheek.

Harry rolls his eyes. “You’re only saying that because he’s taking you to bed almost every night.”

“Harry!” Liam looks scandalised. “That is not polite conversation. We don’t speak of that type of thing.”

Taylor just laughs harder. “Oh it’s perfectly alright, Liam. He’s quite right- about the bed part. I think he’s brilliant with or without the sex.”

Liam watches in disgust as Louis falls more and more in love with her. He needs to put a stop to this before it goes any further.

——————

They’re at another party when Liam sees his opportunity.

“Taylor,” he says nonchalantly towards the girl on Louis’ arm. “Have you met Simon Cowell? I do believe he’s over there.”

Taylor’s eyes widen as she cranes her next to see the music mogul. “Simon Cowell? He’s only the biggest name in music that isn’t an act. Anyone who’s anyone is contracted by him.”

Liam nods. “Would you like me to introduce you?”

“Would I!” Taylor lights up like a Christmas tree. “You wouldn’t mind, would you, darling?”

“Of course not.” Louis smiles and kisses at her cheek. “In fact, I’m going to use the lavatory. Liam can introduce you while I’m gone.”

Taylor smiles brightly and watches him walk away. Her eyes shift to Liam, the smile turning into something a bit darker as her focus shifts. “Well aren’t you going to introduce me?”

Liam can only smirk. He knew there was a reason Taylor stayed with Louis. Hook, line, and sinker.

——————

August 1956

“Louis… These new lyrics are kind of…” Niall tries to find a way to vocalise his thoughts without tearing his friend down. “Well they seem darker than what you normally write.”

“Yeah. This almost sounds like heartbreak.” Harry friend and flips through the lyric sheet he was handed. “Hauntingly beautiful, but definitely not what you usually give us.”

Louis shrugs. “That’s all I have right now. Take it or leave it.”

“Does this have anything to do with Zayn and Tay-“

“Don’t fucking say their names.” Louis lashes out. “Why would it have anything to do with them? It’s not like they used me to get connections or anything. They didn’t take a journal I had filled with song ideas for- full songs with lyrics and piano chords- and just fucking leave in the middle of the night. It’s not like they suddenly found someone better and left me.”

The studio space is quiet.

“Oh, Louis,” Niall is the first to hurry to his side and pull him into a hug. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Louis tries his best to keep his composure, but he catches sight of the song sheets in Harry’s hands and the title hits him hard. Love you, Goodbye almost seemed too sweet compared to the way things actually happened. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Do what?”

“This!” Louis shouts and flings his arms around to encompass the space. “I don’t want to write anymore! No more writing, no more singing, no more performing! I’m done. I’m going back to Doncaster and… I’ll figure it out there.”

“What! Louis, you can’t just-“

“He can though.” Niall cuts off the line of protest he can already feel brewing in his other friend. “Louis, you need to do what is best for you. If that means washing your hands of the industry, so be it.”

Louis nods. He never wanted to sing anyway.

——————

February 1961

Louis sat in his home staring at photos from a different time. His mother, god rest her soul, had made him keep everything he brought back to Doncaster- even photos that brought back bad memories. He’s busy staring at one of him and Taylor smiling brightly with Zayn off in the background smirking like he knew something they didn’t. In the end, Zayn did know something Louis didn’t; he knew the plan to break Louis’ heart and rob him of any creativity.

He doesn’t know why he pulled this album out. He knew looking over these pictures were going to hurt more than anything. He chalks it up to the wave of nostalgia he felt this morning after hearing Niall’s voice singing to him through the radio.

It was weird, hearing Niall solo for the first time. He kept expecting Liam to join in with his higher harmonies and round out the sound, but there was nothing but Niall’s soft baritone crooning away about love and loss.

Finally something Louis could relate to.

He had felt his hand twitch at the first note from Niall’s mouth. The usual twitch that meant he should be writing. He hadn’t felt it in awhile and figured it had been a knee-jerk reaction. That had been hours ago though and he could still feel the tug in his mind and heart.

He hadn’t written anything in five years? Why would he try again? Was if he was shit at it?

Letting out a long suffering sigh, he grabbed a pencil and some paper. He stared at the photos for inspiration. He could take this pain and make a song. He had done it before. He could do it again.

He just needed the words.

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

December 1962

Louis stood backstage, nervous and ready to pass out. Tonight at the London Palladium, the biggest variety show in all England was trying to pull off the biggest surprise of the decade.

He looked to his left and smiled as he saw Niall tuning his guitar. He looked to his right and saw Liam doing vocal warm ups. They were all performing individually and then were going to perform a melody of their old songs together. It was going to be a night to remember.

He knew he was on after Niall, but he was still debating on which songs he should do. His backing band was well versed in all his tracks so he could do a last minute change in setlist if he wanted, but he had chosen the four songs for a reason. The lyrics were some of the best he had to offer and he was not going to disappoint.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, premiering his songs for the first time anywhere Mister Louis Tomlinson.”

Louis blinked a few times before it registered that he had to take the stage. He took one final breath, catching a smile and good luck from Niall, before taking his place on the stage. He thanked the host before turning to his band. “We Made It, yeah?”

He turns back around and looks straight into the camera. It was his time to shine.

#My writing #sololouiegiftexchange

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thatesqcrush · 4 years

Text

Karaoke Night

Rafael Barba x Reader. AN: Using “No Diggity” by Blackstreet at part of @thefanficfaerie’s song fic/3500 follower/birthday challenge. Also using fluff prompt #4: “you’re staring again” as requested by @lotsahugginbear.

***

“Much overdue, but cheers to Captain Benson. Well deserved,” Fin raised his beer to toast Olivia. The bar was filled with a hodgepodge from the 16th precinct to One PP to the D.A.’s office. The crowd cheered before taking sips of their respective drinks.

You smiled as you swallowed your beer. You sat at the high-top watching the crowd mix and mingle. You were a junior detective, having transferred over from white-collar crimes. Your eyes landed at the bar where one Cuban ADA who was busy talking with Olivia and the newest ADA, Sonny.

“You’re staring again,” Amanda replied, clasping a palm onto your shoulder, causing you to be briefly startled.

“Am not,” you protested before taking another long swallow of your beer. Suddenly the loaded potato skins in front of you seemed more interesting and you started to pick at one.

“You should just ask him out already,” another voice popped up. You looked over your shoulder and saw the newest detective, Kat had joined.

“What? I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” you said, bringing your hand to cover your mouth as you chewed.

Kat cocked a brow. “I may be new, but I’m not stupid. You like Barba.”

“Would you shhhh!” you hissed, your eyes darting back to the trio ahead of you.

Kat reached over and popped a potato skin in her mouth. She pinched her thumb and forefinger together and made a zipping motion over her mouth.

Amanda shrugged. “I think you should go for it, that’s all.”

At some point, enough booze had gone around to where someone thought it would be a good idea to do karaoke and a machine was brought out.

Kat and Amanda were finishing up their rendition of Salt n Pepa’s “Push It.” You had lost count of how many drinks you had. You were definitely buzzed.

“I think I am going to head out,” Rafael replied, approaching you. “Give the twosome my best,” he replied as he shrugged on his peacoat.

“No, no, no,” you protested, standing. A waitress walked by with a tray with a full round of shots. You grabbed one. Before Rafael could try to take it away, you had tipped it back. “You can’t.” Your legs were wobbly. Rafael instinctively reached out to stead you. His hands were on your waist and a jolt went through you.

Rafael could smell the alcohol on your breath mixed with the scent of your perfume. “Y/N, I think you had enough to drink.”

You shook your head and pressed a fingertip into his chest. “No. I have to do this,” you confidently stated. You never were one to be bold but alcohol always had a way of lowering inhibitions. “Sit,” you commanded.

A puzzled look flashed on Rafael’s face as you pushed past him to the karaoke machine. He watched you bend over and speak to the person working at the karaoke machine. His eyes drank in your curves that were clothed in a fitted shirt and joggers. You approached the microphone and raised your arms to tie up your hair, causing your shirt to ride up. A hip tattoo peeked out and Rafael felt his mouth go dry.

The familiar musical backing of “No Diggity” came over the bar. Rafael immediately recognized the tune. When you started to rap the intro of the song, Rafael all but fell out of the chair he was sitting in. Amanda and Kat who were talking stopped. Their jaws had dropped to the floor. You had taken the liberty to changing the gender of the lyrics and were dead-on staring at Rafael.

Shorty get down, good Lord

Baby got 'em open all over town Strictly biz, he don't play around

Cover much grounds, got game by the pound

Getting paid is his forte

Each and every day, true player way

I can't get him out of my mind

Someone who sounded much like Fin did the “wow wow” part of the lyrics. You pointed a finger at Fin and thanked him before continuing.

Baby, you're a perfect ten, I wanna get in

Can I get down so I can win?

“Oh my God,” Rafael replied. He looked over at Olivia who was stifling a giggle. He the turned towards at Amanda who shrugged. The smirk on her face though was dead giveaway that she knew more than she let on.

He’s got class and style

Street knowledge by the pound

Baby never act wild, very low key on the profile

Catchin' feelings is a no

“Did you have a clue?” Sonny asked, approaching.

“None,” Rafael murmured. Unbeknownst to his friends, Rafael had harbored a thing for you. He thought you were completely adorable and was practically smitten with you from when he first met you in his office when you came in with Amanda in need of warrant. You were off the charts smart and had a dry writ that matched his own. However, his caseload and work schedule wasn’t exactly relationship friendly so he didn’t pursue it.

The crowd began to catch on to the chorus and it became a bit of a spectacle. Rafael covered the smirk on his face as you continued.

I like the way you work it

No diggity, I got to bag it up

You sauntered over to him, still singing.

I like the way you work it

No diggity, I got to bag it up

You winked at him, before making your way back to the stage. Rafael watched your hips sway and he felt his cock twitch slightly.

We out, we out

You finished the song to thunderous applause. You sauntered over once more to Rafael and wrapped your arms around him.

“Detective,” Rafael acknowledged, his voice low. “That was quite the performance.” Your eyes searched his. “Raf—“ you began before you stopped suddenly. You hand flew to your mouth but it was too late. Your stomach recoiled and you bent over, sick and upchucked everything you had consumed.

Rafael pinched the bridge of his nose and banged his head against the wall behind him.

“Okay, the show is most definitely over,” Sonny grimaced. “Let’s get Y/N home.” A bartender came by with a rag and key so that Rafael could use the bathroom and clean up. Rafael muttered his thanks as he made way to clean up his ruined shoes.

***

Bright and early the next morning, Rafael stopped by his abuelita’s house to check in on her. Normally he would have taken a town car from the Bronx to the city but something in him decided to forego that option, choosing to take the 4 downtown to City Hall. In another lifetime, Rafael would have stood out like a sore thumb in his three-piece suit on the subway. Due to gentrification, Rafael blended right in. He slipped his AirPods into his ear and hit shuffle on his phone. Rafael chuckled to himself as sure enough, “No Diggity” came on.

Quickly he opened the his messages and texted Olivia.

A little over an hour later, Rafael found you hunched over your desk. Olivia put you on desk duty for the day and you were grateful for it. You were leaning against your arm, the hoodie of your sweatshirt was covering your face.

“Good morning detective,” Rafael greeted brightly. He placed a large coffee on your desk along with a brown paper bag. “Liv told me I’d find you here. Call it what you want, but I got you a donut - you know, being a cop and all.”

Your brain registered who the voice belonged to and suddenly you wanted nothing more than the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

“Not so loud counselor,” you groaned. Even the lights of the squad room and glow from your computer were too much; you wore your sunglasses inside. You reached over to grab your bottle of aspirin and you shook out two before chewing them dryly.

Rafael cocked a brow. You and him were too alike. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Clearly winning at life,” you grumbled. You removed your glasses and Rafael inwardly cringed at your bloodshot eyes. “I’m so sorry for last night,” you apologized.

“Interesting choice of music.”

You ignored him and instead chose to focus on the report in front of you. “I ruined your shoes-I’ll pay for them to be cleaned. I embarrassed the two of us.”

“Though, in order for the song to be accurate, I have to bag it up.”

You stopped what you were doing. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“You heard me,” Rafael replied, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile. He stood up and opened the brown bag, reaching in to take out one of the two donuts he bought.

You furrowed your brow and tried to rack your brain for a response. “I—“ you began, but no other words came out.

“I’ll pick you up at 7... shorty.”

You watched Rafael saunter off, the swagger in a full effect and you died a little on the inside feeling your panties dampen. ‘Did that just-what?’ you wondered. You reached for the coffee. A smile twitched onto your face.

“No doubt,” you murmured before taking a bite of the donut.

FIN.

***

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ofmargos · 3 years

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chicago’s very own margo rosas has been spotted on madison avenue , with a striking semblance to camila mendes ! you may know them as @margo or hitting the front page of tmz as margo rosas is making her comeback on broadway ! according to tmz , you just had your twenty-third birthday bash . your chance of surviving new york is uncertain because you’re overdramatic , but being passionate might help you . things that would paint a better picture of you would be the sound of stilettos hitting the pavement , the thunderous sound of applause , and having the poise of a well-mannered lady but the mouth of a sailor . ( cis female + she / her )

omg hey y’all it’s ya girl lia back at it again with the broadway b*tch herself , margo ! fun fact : i’ve been writing for margo off n on for THREE years ?? that’s wild . no matter what i do i cannot get rid of this muse akjsdnk but i love her and i hope y’all do too ! under the cut is far too much info on her ( i’m sorry it’s long !! ) pls go ahead and give this post a like if you give me consent to come bug you in the im’s / discord ! <3

*+:｡.｡ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒 ｡.｡:+*

–;; 𝐅𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞: Margaret Lucia Rosas – ;; 𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞(𝐬): Margo ( preferred name ), Mars, Mar, Pain in the Ass, Drama Queen – ;; 𝐀𝐠𝐞: Twenty-Three – ;; 𝐃.𝐎.𝐁: 31 October 1997 – ;; 𝐙𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜: Scorpio sun, scorpio moon, leo asc ( yikes ) – ;; 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫: Cis Female – ;; 𝐎𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Bisexual Biromantic – ;; 𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭: 5ft 2 – ;; 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞: Chicago, IL – ;; 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: Luxurious apartment in Manhattan – ;; 𝐎𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Singer / Songwriter + Broadway Performer ( Julia Michaels VC ) – ;; 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬: Passionate, creative, dramatic, distrusting, outgoing, ambitious, fun-loving, loyal, daring, sarcastic, stubborn, overconfident, impulsive, hard-working, petty, secretive, short-tempered, vindictive

*+:｡.｡ 𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘 ｡.｡:+*

*TW: undiagnosed illness, death

grew up as an only child in chicago, illinois. her family was definitely in the middle class but her parents both worked hard to provide their pride and joy with everything she could’ve wanted out of life

and it became apparent early on that what margo wanted was to perform. she was always singing around the house, putting on one-woman shows for her parents, and following along to the choreography of her favorite DCOM on tv. and in order to keep her satisfied, and also out of the house while they were both working, her parents threw her into an abundance of performing arts classes: ballet, tap, and jazz classes + singing lessons + acting workshops-- you name it. it was a very expensive hobby but her parents were willing to put in the extra work hours to fund her passions

she honestly grew up blissfully unaware of the sacrifices her parents were making on her behalf. they just never made her feel like she was inconveniencing them in any way. if she wanted to spend her day turn acting, singing, and dancing then so be it. they supported her emotionally and financially 100%

*ILLNESS TW* but the rose-tinted glasses were ripped from her eyes around the age of fourteen / fifteen. her mom had always had a weak immune system-- the first one to catch a cold or the flu, knocking her on her ass and leaving her bedridden for days at a time. it only got worse as years went on and she avoided doctor appointments out of fear of being charged unnecessary costly fees. she downplayed her compromising situation for as long as she could until she physically couldn’t carry on any more and had to stop going to work

margo and her father urged the stubborn woman to seek medical attention for any sort of relief for months until she finally conceded. soon it became the new norm for her mother to be in and out of hospitals, getting tests done, trying various medications. but nothing helped in the long-term and they were unable to come to a strict diagnosis *ILLNESS TW END*

and she had been right, it was terribly expensive. their funds were short considering the family was down to one income. so margo took on more responsibilities by working part-time jobs as well as going to school. she was sixteen and teaching dance lessons at her childhood studio in exchange for a small amount of pay + free lessons as well as working at a local movie theatre 6 days a week. she cut back on extracurricular lessons to save some money, instead pouring all her creative energy into only school related clubs such as choir, theatre, and so on

honestly, if you knew margo in high school you’d likely not even know about her familial situation. she liked to keep her cards close to her chest and portrayed herself as this larger than life character that no one would believe had experienced any hardships. she distracted from her own worries by playing the role of ‘queen bee’ or more accurately rachael berry from glee ( a cursed character at this point but it’s true unfortunately )

margo had big dreams of making it to broadway one day and had planned to get there by going to college in new york and make a name for herself. but with her mother’s healthy declining the closer margo got to graduation, the more put off she was by the idea of moving away from home. she was willing to put all plans for her future on hold and take care of her mother but her parents wouldn’t let her. being as encouraging as ever, they convinced her that she needed to follow her dreams. she had already given up a majority of her teenage years to help them out when they needed it most. they wouldn’t let her miss out on anything else

so with a heavy heart but on a good scholarship, she left for columbia university without any idea of what to expect. new york was a whole new world for her and she was thrown off by how talented, beautiful, and wealthy her peers were. she had felt like a big fish in a really small pond during her high school days. but for once she was a tiny fish in the big wide ocean

her larger than life persona came back into play-- masking her worries and insecurities with a version of herself that was so confident that she even began to fool herself. she got a bit lost in the fantasy. her true self-slipping away. she almost had this alter ego ??? ( come thru hannah montana moment okay ) wannabe starlet rubbing elbows with the future CEOs and celebrities of the world by day and local pizza parlor waitress by the night, working to make a decent living while also sending money back home when she could

she also had to maintain good grades to keep her scholarship and participate in performances that her department put on in order to rise in the ranks

honestly the only time she got a little peace was when she was hanging out with her few GOOD friends. like the people that actually got to know her past her fake personality. they were also music people so they spent a lot of time together just messing around with instruments and vocals and writing songs in their own little makeshift studio / hangout spot

it started off as just fun and games, but with their help margo created some original songs and released them as an indie artist. she put herself out there on her social media profiles like “hey stream my new single!!!!!!” and people ate it up. after releasing a few tracks and establishing her own following, her music eventually got to the right people and she was given the opportunity to sign to an actual label which was wild ???

and while it was an amazing opportunity, releasing music under the label was also very demanding. when she was releasing music from the comfort of her friend’s studio it was purely a fun creative outlet and done on her own time. it was just... rough. but how could she complain when she was making a name for herself in the music industry + making bank from royalties + getting to meet all these cool famous people and go to parties with them and y’know ... spiral and slack off on other responsibilities

*DEATH TW* it was around her junior year that things started to go from bad to worse. she remembers exactly where she was and what she was doing when she got the call from her dad informing her of her mom’s extended stay in the hospital. things weren’t looking too good. there wasn’t anything they could do for the older lady and honestly she was done fighting. margo flew back home to chicago immediately and stayed at her childhood home for the following weeks until her mother passed. it was absolutely devastating. she stayed in chicago with her dad for months as they worked through their grief together *DEATH TW END*

columbia was pretty understanding of her situation and was willing to be accommodating so she could finish her degree plan, but margo put things off for so long that she eventually just withdrew from the university and was dead set on just living in chicago forever

i’m not gonna lie, margo was down and out for a little while. didn’t talk to anyone really, rarely left the house, stopped making music, and just sorta fell off completely. the only good thing that came out of the year or so that she spent back home was she stepped away from the false reality she created for herself in new york, which helped her realize that she didn’t love the person she was becoming or the things she was doing. she wasn’t even really involved with her one true passion which was theatre / acting

it was with a little boost from her dad ( literally her biggest fan , i love this man okay ) that she started acting like herself again. he told her that her mom wouldn’t want her to give up on everything and neither would he. so with a new found determination ( and a pretty exciting career opportunity ), margo put on her big girl pants and moved her ass back to new york to finally do what she loves to do

and here we are now ! she’s stepping into her break-out role onto broadway as lydia deetz in bettlejuice the musical

she’s only been back in new york for a few months at this point i’d say ??? and i can’t wait to see her come into her own and grow into the margo i know and love ... but also hate because she’s so so dumb :-) <3

*+:｡.｡ 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 & 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒｡.｡:+*

she has no chill, probably will never have any chill, and i am sorry for that ASJNDLK she’s just overdramatic as hell !!! she’s a theatre kid at heart and i would expect absolutely nothing less from her

generally good-natured though and has good intentions. just simply has piss-poor execution sometimes

down to clown and ready to have a good time all the time all in the name of enjoying life to its fullest while we all have a chance

the only thing she takes seriously is her work life. she’s on her grind okay, it took a lot for her to get to where she is today and she’s not going to just let it slip away that easily. she’s doing everything she can to make not only herself proud but her parents :’-)

still releases her own music under the label but her primarily focus is on her budding broadway career and the label is understanding of that ... mostly because she called an executive meeting ( against her manager’s better judgement ) and was super up front and threatened to walk out if they didn’t see reason ... but at least things worked out well !!!

she mostly writes songs for other people at this point in her career. some big names too ( just like ... google julia michael’s career and apply it to margo okay thank u )

honestly her management teams worst nightmare simply because she does not listen and will do whatever she wants and post whatever she wants and will not apologize for being her authentic self in media

like, she’s just starting to figure out who she is again and they want her to stop and act fake because she’s not being very “family-friendly” or because it doesn’t make her “look good to the public” ??? nah f*ck that !

while she is sociable and fun-loving, she’s also hard to seriously get to know sometimes because of all those years of putting up a front. like sometimes she doesn’t even realize that she’s not being 100% genuine ??? so you could be hanging out with her every single day and still not know her completely and she might not open up and that’s okay, she’s working on it

she is a pretty good friend tho ! super loyal, a true ride or die, will want to fight anyone that you have a problem with, showers you in compliments and gifts, truly 10 / 10

but if she doesn’t like you or if you’ve mistreated her in any way at all she will in fact hold it against you for the rest of her life. just petty as a mf and i hate her for it like sis pls leT SH*T GO !!!!

didn’t grow up rich so now that she’s making bank she’s one of those people that just buys dumb things just because she can ??? the size of her closet is absolutely ridiculous, just overflowing with clothes and accessories, and the amount of random packages that get delivered to her apartment that she doesn’t even remember ordering is even more so ... just ... irresponsible spender

stubborn ?? what is compromising ??? doesn’t know her but will try ( begrudgingly ) if she really likes you

hates being bored. can and will go to excessive lengths to avoid boredom

partygirl margo has not stopped, will not stop, and cannot be stopped much to my own disappointment

self-proclaimed dancing queen. really puts all those years of classical dance training to good use by hopping on top of tables / countertops at parties to shake some ass

surprisingly a responsible adult that can cook and clean and get shit done when she really puts her mind to it ??? this developed over the years that her mom was sick and bedridden and she stepped up to take care of household chores while her dad worked doubles

very family-oriented and talks to her dad all the time. like, calls him daily for really dumb reasons. any time she feels down the first person she wants to talk to is him ( well it’s actually her mom, who was her best friend in the whole world, but since she’s not here anymore they make do as just the two of them )

her ego is LARGE. GRANDE. thinks very highly of herself as a result of being praised too much as a child probably. not to mention she is very very good at what she does, has more talent in her little pinky then i do in my whole body. she’s secretly insecure on the inside but she presents as an overconfident bad bitch

a staple to her character that i wish she would shake is her inability to handle her own feelings in a healthy way ... she just sorta ... shuts down ?? runs away ?? acts like nothing is happening ?? it’s bad. would rather leave than get left and bottle up all her feelings and kick them under the bed then ever open up

has a terrible sleeping pattern and cannot stay on a solid sleep schedule to save her life. undiagnosed insomniac. when her mind just won’t calm down she often goes out to keep her occupied and avoid any overthinking that might occur when she’s in her own company

her life motto is #YOLO and does a lot of stupid sh*t because of it

probably uses tiktok too much both as a consumer and a content creator. vlogs her backstage experiences and also just posts dumb, amusing things

this is so long i’m sorry if you read this whole thing i just have a lot of feelings about her after writing her for so many years AKJSDK i’ll shut up now BYE

i have margo’s wc page HERE but just some ideas are best friends, frenemies, confidants, fellow music people, party friends, pr friends or pr rivals, crushes, on and off again, exes, roommate, childhood friends, family friends, good influence, bad influence, honestly truly anything and everything PLS i love to plot and write w/ all of you ! <3

#wealthyhq:intro #i finally finished this so imma post it #pls love my baby 🥺

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