#but we’re a gig-based small business and only work when there’s work to do if that makes sense

[popatochisssp]

Would it be too much to ask what kind of jobs the new skeles might have since you already shared bram would be a groundskeeper at a cemetery?

Looks like I never officially did this one for Wave 2, just Wave 1 over here.

So, while we’re at it, let's do 2 and 3!

Ash (Undergloom Sans): He’s semi-unemployed, or self-employed depending on how you look at it. He busks, playing his trombone out on the street and accepting donations from anyone who feels so inclined. He likes playing music and the idea of brightening peoples’ days in the middle of their commute, so the money doesn’t really matter to him. Sometimes he picks up small gigs at local venues, mostly by word of mouth, and eventually he breaks into the tutoring scene—teaching his favorite instrument to young aspiring musicians who find the same joy in it that he does.

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus): He works as a professor at the local community college, teaching anthropology. He’s passionate about the subject and can’t think of anything he’d rather do than share it with a classroom of humans who probably have no idea how interesting they really are. If only one student walked away from his class with a new appreciation for what humanity’s all about then he’s fulfilled—but he tends to send a lot more away with that than just one, since he’s a very popular, friendly, and accessible teacher.

Brick (Horrorfell Sans): He’s self-employed, knitting blankets at home and selling them online. He doesn’t need a job at all, between the Queen and his brother, money’s not an issue, but he’d go crazy if he didn’t have something to do all day, and nobody wants to see what he looks like when he goes crazy. He takes commissions often, but other times he just makes things according to whatever he’s feeling and what color yarn he has handy and sells to whoever feels like buying it.

King (Horrorfell Papyrus): He works as a physical therapist. He more or less taught himself to walk again after losing his leg, and a second time after getting a replacement, so he very personally understands the need that exists for people who are injured and want to get back to their normal life—but maybe lack the discipline, the knowledge, or the tools to take that journey solo. He’s hard on his patients and sadistically merciless, but his success rate in terms of mobility recovered is very high and any complaints after the fact are begrudging at worst.

Merc (Horrorswap Sans): He’s a home baker, making cakes and small pastries for a small but growing client base. He likes the freedom of getting to pursue his passions seriously and to be his own boss, set his own hours, screen his own clients, et cetera. He puts a lot of time and care into what he makes, both in terms of flavor and decoration, and finds nothing quite so satisfying as a repeat customer or a glowing review and recommendation to someone new.

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus): Freelance programming is what he does for cash. It was something he could both learn how to do and actually do remotely, without the need for more than the bare minimum of in-person contact. He likes problem-solving, and complaining about the problem-solving, and the field is pretty much always in demand so if he’s bored of certain kinds of jobs, or sick of the person giving him the jobs, he can jump ship at any time and be a contractor someplace else.

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans): He’s a boxer, more amateur than pro so he doesn’t make a ton doing it, at least not consistently, but he likes fighting and draws in a decent crowd by being a bit of a spectacle (a blind skeleton in the ring) so the entertainment value is worth something. Aside from that, eventually, he fills in for his brother as a combination business partner/agent/accountant, helping him get jobs and keep clients and manage the money he makes doing so.

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus): He’s unemployed for a long while, but ultimately breaks into professional photography, with a specialty in travel photographs. He likes taking pictures and getting to see the world in the process, and it helps that it’s a family business so he and his brother have pretty much full control over what jobs he takes and for how much. He doesn’t really concern himself with the money numbers, though, he just likes filling out his portfolio with gorgeous locales all around the world.

Sunny (Gastertale Sans): He does a lot of odd jobs, all over the place, generally (things that are considered) unskilled labor—bussing tables, janitorial work, desk clerking, that kind of thing. He doesn’t like the thought of getting too stuck into any one thing and being unable to try something else out later if it doesn’t work out, and there’s something to be said for the satisfaction of being closely connected to the results of your labor. Sometime down the line he will end up sticking in one career, as a dealer for a casino, because it combines his social, charming nature with his sharp eye and quick hands, but until then he’s happy to bounce around.

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus): He’s a bookkeeper at a nondescript company. He’s organized and thorough with record-keeping and double-checking data, and he likes putting those skills to use to make sure his employer’s finances and transactions all balance out at the end of the day. Some might find it boring work and he could almost certainly qualify for a much more ‘prestigious’ job doing something else, but he’s satisfied having a job that doesn’t require all of his effort and brainpower, so he can save some of that for his personal life and private interests.

Spectr (Transcendtale Sans): He’s a nomad, a wanderer, he has no job. He’s a robot in the shape of a monster—ostensibly still a monster, even so—in a world full of humans that as yet believe monsters don’t exist, so even if he wanted a job, getting one would be logistically difficult. Luckily, he feels no special need to be gainfully employed and just spends his time wandering around and taking in the world. If he needs something, he’ll either just take it or use one of his brother’s accounts to pay for it.

PapAIrus (Transcendtale Papyrus): He’s a performer, a disc jockey who mixes, makes, and plays music to crowds at clubs, raves, and discos, anywhere he’s welcome. He takes advantage of the perception of his holographic form as an artist’s gimmick, like Daft Punk, Hatsune Miku, dead musicians projected onto stages to play posthumously… In his defense, that last one is sort of exactly what he is, except he didn’t really start making music until after he died. Still, he has fun doing it and adores the fame he’s steadily gaining as a popular, cutting-edge technology music act.

Xanth (Ascendswap Sans): He does aura readings for people. For those interested to know, he shares his perception of their colors and the flow of energy in and around them, and just generally describes the sense he gets about a person. What he does is really more of a soul read than an aura read, so a lot of the color meanings and terminology he uses contrast with the kind of readings his clients may get from humans who practice something a little bit different. Still, he’s earnest in his desire to help people understand themselves and their energies and emotions, so he gets a lot of recommendations and repeat clientele who trust he’s the real deal.

Piper (Ascendswap Papyrus): He works as an event planner, organizing gatherings, arranging vendors, booking venues, the whole nine. He has a great reputation for making things go smoothly and always seems to be able to talk out bumps and snags before they ever become a major problem. He also maintains great relationships with people in the industry and delights in having connections just about everywhere in case he needs to call on a favor to make something happen for a client. He's got the magic touch and the silver (gold) tongue that makes everything fall into place just so.

Carmine (Underfell Fruition Sans): He works as a clerk at a pawn shop. He gets to handle a lot of interesting items and assess roughly how much they’d be worth, and he’s pretty good at haggling and negotiating with people who might not agree with said assessments. Sometimes people will come in with broken stuff they wouldn’t be able to get too much for, but maybe he can cut ‘em a deal, fix it up on his own dime and if they come back for it, great—and if they don’t, his boss’ll be happy to have something that works to sell to somebody else at a markup, how ‘bout it? He does a brisk business and both sides of the counter love him.

Tank (Underfell Fruition Papyrus): He’s in construction. He’s huge, strong, takes direction well, and diligently follows rules and protocols—he’s an ideal fit for it. He likes to work hard and be able to see a job come together, knowing he had a part in it and being satisfied with the quality of his contribution. He especially likes to take every safety training and equipment certification course he can attend because he likes knowing what the rules are and being specifically told how certain procedures are run, machines operated, et cetera. He’s very likely to be apprenticed in as a foreman if not the inheritor someday of the construction business by its current owner for his work ethic and dedication, but that’ll be a long ways from now.

Vi (Swapfell Fruition Sans): He works as an independent auditor and combs through companies’ records, internal and external documentation, processes, and accounting and ensures everything is being done in accordance with industry standards. In short, he shows up, demands to see everything they have, and looks through it to see if they’ve lied, did something wrong, or lost information they weren’t supposed to. Sometimes he can do this remotely but other times he has to travel out to a physical office somewhere and sit down with a bunch of stuffed file cabinets, and he really doesn’t mind either way. He likes the work and he’s good at it—maybe because he’s good at it—and he finds it satisfying to catch the tiniest little misses and errors to demand an accounting of them.

Hunter (Swapfell Fruition Papyrus): He’s a trail maintenance worker for Ebott National Park. He walks the paths and hiking trails and makes sure they’re safe and unobstructed for visitors, as well as whatever odd jobs in the area that happen to come up—looking out for invasive species, helping with a bench install, directing lost tourists, that kinda thing. It’s not especially glamorous work but it’s pretty much exactly where he wants to be and he’s happy to do it, probably wouldn’t pick any other job in the world…except maybe to volunteer for a seasonal fire-watch position and do pretty much the exact same thing, but more isolated and with a big cool tower to sit in.

Kohl (Descendtale Sans): He works as a mortician at a local funeral home. He generally isn’t expected (read: allowed) to deal with grieving families, that’s more the funeral director’s purview, but he works behind the scenes embalming, processing, and otherwise preparing the dead for their final party and last ride home. He has a strong stomach—or rather, no stomach at all—and doesn’t get squeamish or emotional about the dead, so that works out. They also let him work nights so he has several long, quiet hours of methodically going through the routine with no (living) humans around to irritate him or vice-versa. Sounds like a good gig to him.

Bram (Descendtale Papyrus): Yes, still a groundskeeper for the cemetery and loving it. It was something he kind of fell into through his brother, when he didn’t really know what he wanted to do on the Surface, but his brother sends dead humans off to their final resting place and said final resting place was looking for someone to dig holes, mind the grass, keep everything looking neat and nice—and that’s certainly something he can do! He also works nights, being that monsters are almost entirely nocturnal these days, so he’s also an unintentional scarecrow deterrent to teenagers sneaking in late for partying or spooky dares when they see a slim, bony silhouette materialize out of the shadows with a shovel in hand, asking if they’re just visiting or thinking about moving in.…

[kellerybird]

Somehow…

I feel like I had more freedom when I worked full time

Yes, 8 hours of my day five days a week was spent at work, compared to the ~4 hours a day four days a week I average working part time now…

But life was steady, stable, and secure

Arguably that feels more freeing than the extra free time

I didn’t need to stress about making ends meet, about being able to afford food, about what to do with myself, abut not being able to afford to take time off

I’ve been looking casually at full time jobs for a while, but I think it’s time to push forward with getting one

[blissfulparker]

A Work in progress→T.H

Parings: Tom Holland x Actress!reader

Summary: when You and Tom both have each other as a celebrity crush, you two unknowingly take on the role of each other’s lovers in a new movie and are expected to make it real. When the director puts the two of you in a house for the weekend to get to know each other there is little more to rehearsing than just your lines.

Warnings: awkwardness in the first half, smut(oral female), sexual tension

A/n: this is based off of a blurb I did, where it was just from a physical affection prompt list that I went off on! I hope you guys enjoy 💗

Wc: 4k

Tom didn’t know why he was so nervous as he opened the large glass doors to the conference building. His palms were sweaty as he walked alone rather than with his brother and assistant Harry.

He loved working on new projects, new films, meeting new people but the scare of not knowing the new people made him nervous. At this point he normally would be able to get some sort of name, do some research on said person but this time they gave him nothing but a script.

The script was more of a love story. a serious role but one where he could be more seductive and serious, he could let go of the goofy teenager character he seemed to be stuck with.

His character, Jack, who would be the corrupt business man who falls for the one trying to bring down his company, the main female protagonist, Beth.

The meeting started at 10:00. Always being early he seemed to see someone else was too. You stand in front of the coffee machine, trying to get it to work as you waited for the meeting to start—or at least people to come in.

“Oi let me help you with that—“ he offers but a small Yelp comes from your mouth as you quickly turn around and hit your head against the British accented stranger.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry! You scared me half to death—“ you hold your head as you look up, a wave of heat washes over your body and you don’t know if it was just because you hit your head hard enough or if it was because you finally figured out who you were working with.

“I should’ve said something else first, I’m so sorry—“ fuck. He thinks as he looks at you. You who managed to make a way onto the list of celebrities he wants to work with. You who also made it on the list of celebrities he wants to date.

The fans knew quickly he had a tiny crush on you. As he once liked a fan edit of the two of you on the read carpet. He seemed to be one of the firsts to like your Instagram photos and even mentioning your name in an interview saying how pretty you were.

You were the same, with smaller fame of course. You along with half of the other population who enjoyed marvel movies and dorky characters, you fell in love with the curly haired British boy. Finding him extremely talented and a heartthrob of course, you quickly dreamt about working with him but laughed about it never coming true.

Now he was in front of you. His chin red from where your head collided with it and he only stares at you in response.

The awkward silence quickly filled as the two of you tried and laugh off the interaction.

“Tom—“

“(Y/n)—“ you both say your names at the same time. Him going in for a handshake and you going in for an awkward hug. The two of you stop and laugh it off before deciding a simple handshake was the way to go. You had never wanted to quit your entire career more than now.

“Oh! Perfect!” Finally as the tension was cut the director walked into the room. Two people followed behind and you took a deep breath already nervous for the new film and exactly what Toms role was. As far as you read, the main female character, who you were to be playing, had to be in lingerie a few times in front of the main male character. There were also sex scenes, plenty of kiss scenes and sexual tension. You were fit for the character but you were not fit for Tom. All your fantasies about him were just fantasies.

“I see the two of you have already met. But If not, (y/n) meet Tom, Tom meet (y/n) you two will be working together for the next few months as I’m sure you are aware of your roles. (Y/n) will be playing the lover and spy where Tom you will be playing the businessman. I’m sure we already know our positions…” the director starts and you swallow hard.

Tom doesn’t know if you’re looking or not to see the pink shade coming to his cheeks and making him hot. You were just an actress, he thought, an actress who just had to play the role. He was an actor as well, he reminds himself. A very good one for the fact so he didn't want to mess this up all because of one silly crush.

“We want to put you two in a house together.” The director claps his hands together making you nearly spit out the coffee you had in front of you. Tom's head snaps to look at you as you cough a bit trying to digest the words.

“You want us to live together?” Tom speaks for you it seems.

“We only want to see your chemistry! The fans, the academy, loves chemistry! Trust me, people will love the movie but they will not care if they see just two other actors acting to be in love. Not really caring you know? We want to see you guys build a bond, passion, some sort of love even if you lie to us about it to make it believable. Run through your lines, skinny dip with each other for all we care we just want to see passion!” You feel like his words are turning into a dream as he speaks. You feel your heart pounding at his words and try your hardest to keep your calm.

“And where will we be going?” You finally find the strength to speak. If it was anyone else you would not care, reminding yourself you are a good actress and have acted like you wanted to fuck a man you hate. But this was a man you actually wanted to fuck, a man you actually wanted real passion with.

“We rented you two a flat in spain,” he mentions, right, where you’ll be shooting, you think. “It’s only three days and if you want more we will give you more if you don’t we will let you free. Every expense is paid for, go to dinner, have wine, everything will be on the film. This is both of your chances at big awards this year. This is for you and for us.” You could almost feel Toms body heat as he was just as nervous as you, you didn’t know why though. He was the heartthrob, he was the actor that was wanted left and right, this was your big chance at a movie that can skyrocket your career.

The next hour feels torturous as all you could think about was what this house looked like for the two of you. Did it have two rooms? Two bathrooms? Why did your head hit his chin? Is there a bump? What if he hates you? What if he’s secretly seeing someone and just doesn’t want to announce it? All thoughts ran through your head as you had to make this your best acting gig yet. Except the most acting might be pretending not to love Tom the way you do.

-

Three days. That’s all it was. You would spend three days in whatever this house looked like and all you would have to do is pretend to get to know Tom. All while trying not to expose how much you truly like him.

There were rumors he had a crush on you, of course you saw the interview and noticed how he liked your pictures but you also knew his co-stars from Spider-Man so your thoughts were friendly.

Taking an Uber to the destination, you pull up to this beautiful Italian cottage. Gorgeous stone walls and large driveway, If there was one emotion to be real about this entire thing, it would be that you were spoiled with this house.

You were already nervous as people started to catch on through social media, his fans seeming to know his constant move now quickly knowing yours.

‘Stars (y/n) (y/l/n) and Tom Holland possibly take on a new film with one another: here’s what we know’

‘Why is Tom in Italy?’ ‘Is (y/n) in Italy?’ ‘Rumor is they are filming together soon’

Your heart rushed with comments you had read. Maybe this wasn’t for you, maybe you should stay with doing small movies where you were a side character or something simple. Keep the small amount of followers you had compared to Toms 40 million.

As you go up to knock on the door wondering if he’s already beat you to the place, the door opens and reveals the sight of Tom.

Another Yelp escapes your lips as you jump at Tom opening the door so quickly.

“If we’re living together I think you should hold off on scaring me.” You take a deep breath. His hair was wet, he was fresh out of a shower.

“Sorry darling! They told me your flight landed at 2:00 and well...it’s 2:00 so you aren’t supposed to be here until like 3:00.” He claims and you take a deep breath. Three days, you remind yourself, don’t mess it up.

“Oh…” you swallow.

“Not that I didn’t want to see you! It’s nice to see you again, you look really nice!” He says as you wear the sweats and the sweatshirt from the airport. “Let me help you with those.” He grabs your bags for you and you smile letting him take it. He leans in just close enough for you to smell the aftershave he put on, his muscles flex as he grabs your bags making this all the harder for you.

The night was young, fans already knew, this was your shot at making it big, Tom's shot of winning an Oscar, you two needed to work together. Pushing aside the worried one sided emotion and be able to make a movie that blows people away

“Have you ever done anything like this before?” You asked as you walked into the kitchen. It was now late, you were starving, you and Tom already getting to know each other but it was strange.

“No, I mean the most I’ve done for a chemistry read is take the person out to dinner.” He laughs a little and then runs a hand through his hair. “Speaking of dinner...should we grab something or make something. Unless you had plans of your own then that’s totally fine—“ he starts to ramble and you laugh.

“I cannot cook, so unless you can I prefer to pick something up.” You cut him off to make sure he doesn’t go on and on.

“Have you ever pizza from Italy before?” He asks and you lean against the counter.

“I’ve never been in Italy before.” You shrugged and he grew a smirk. He turns on his heels as if he already has an idea.

“Then I know a place.” He walks out of the room to grab his phone.

You feel your heart pounding as you check your phone. You made a mistake by opening your Twitter, 10k new followers, 50k mentions and plenty more all regarding Tom. You only hoped he wasn’t the type to use Twitter as it was flooded with people wanting you guys to be together.

Your mind swarms with the thought of your character again. Soon you’d have to stand in front of your celebrity crush, half naked, trying to seduce him. It was going to be more awkward if you guys were friends.

“Are you coming?” He calls out and you quickly shove your phone in your back pocket before grabbing your purse to go.

Three days and you feel like you’re already going to snap.

-

It was a lovely little place he brought you to. You didn’t know If he’d come to Italy often but he clearly knew a decent way around the city. The two of you sat in the corner of a dimly lit Italian restaurant, sharing pizza and feeling more comfortable with each other as the night went on. He was just another person, you thought, nothing to worry about.

“We didn’t order any wine.” You stop the server as he pours both you and Tom a glass. Tom already drunk off of the beer he had and you only enjoying his presence.

“Ah it’s on the house, such a lovely couple in such a lovely city! You two should have fun!” The server winks. You almost protest to stop him telling him that you and Tom were nearly just coworkers stuck in a house for three days.

But rather Tom thanks the server and takes the glass. Your heart pounding as you pick up the glass as well, the boys eyes already red from how much he’s had already and you can tell you have to take him home.

“You know I was nervous to be working with you.” He took a sip before setting it down. “When I saw you I was like ‘shit this is happening’ and freaked out.” He admitted and you try to hold back the butterflies in your stomach.

“You freaked out for working with me?” You swallowed and he nodded.

“Well look at you, you’re gorgeous! Anyone would be lucky to work with you, as your lover as well.” He falls back into the booth and stares at the décor on the ceiling.

“So you read all the scenes?” You ask and he nodded.

“Of course i did! I only improve when I feel like it.” He shrugs, taking another sip.

“You said you’re method too.” You remember from one interview you watched years ago. Your voice was more of a whisper, more to yourself but he grows a soft smirk as he turns his head to face you.

“So you watched my interviews.” He says feeling cocky. You roll your eyes taking another sip of wine yourself to hopefully drown out the embarrassment you just gave yourself.

“As if I don’t see you being the first to like my posts, Holland.” You avoid eye contact and rather look around the room but Tom only focuses on you.

When you catch his eyes they’re sober, this whole time he was telling stories in a drunken state and now he looks at you with glossy soft eyes as if he wants to hear more.

“So you see me liking your posts?” He teases and you finally look at him.

“I see everyone liking my posts. Why do you follow me?” You challenge and he holds back a smirk.

“You’re friends with Z, why do you follow me?” He asks back and you feel yourself straighten.

“Z is friends with a lot of people, I don’t see you following all of them?” You argue and he falls back into the booth again with a soft chuckle.

“So not only do you follow me but you stalk me?” He teases and you groan.

“Not what I meant.” You see how much wine you have left, not a lot as your nerves filled you and the wine didn’t calm you. “You liked a fan edit of us a year ago. We’ve never met until a few days ago.” You rest your head on your hand that props itself up against the table. That’s what makes him lose his game, he turns a light shade of red before quickly straightening himself up.

“You’re talented, why don’t we see more of you?” He asks about your roles.

“You’re about to see everything in a few days.” You mumble and he chokes on his wine.

Page 281

*Beth removes her robe in front of Jack, slowly stalking towards him wearing the tight black lingerie* *she crawls on top of his sleepy figure and points a gun*

It was embarrassing that such a scene turned him on after finding out who it was with. After finding out it was you, he read over every single sex scene, strip scene, makeout scene to make sure everything was real.

“Oh relax.” You hold back a smile. “You’re the Method actor, remember?” You tease. He leans forward, he’s not sure how he’s gotten so confident but he takes your glass and drinks from it before setting it down.

��Yeah, I am. We should rehearse some things, get more comfortable.” He suggests and you look at him up and down. His lips slightly stained reddish pink from the wine, his skin damp from how hot the room was, and he looked at you as if no one else was in the room.

“And where should we start?” You swallow, you can’t get shy now. You’ve dreamt about this moment and now it’s happening.

“Well, if we’re starting with their meeting, I think it would go something like this.” He leans in and places a soft kiss on your neck. You’re frozen as his lips are soft and warm, he pulls back and realizes what he’s done. His thoughts of you, his crush on you, the warm alcohol that ran through his blood all while being in Italy got the best of him.

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done—“ he started and you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to kiss lips. His eyes go wide softly as if he was a school boy getting his first kiss.

“More wine?” The waiter comes back and Tom snaps out of it for a split second.

“We’ll take the check.”

-

Your hands tangled in with his messy hair, his shirt already off as he was warm from the summer heat Italy provided. His lips trail down from your lips to your neck as he plays with the strings of the summer dress you wore.

“I can’t believe this is happening.” His words mumbled into your chest as he lets the shoulders of your dress fall.

“Why? You want to admit you have a crush on me now?” you teased and when he looks up his eyes are darker. The sweet chocolate puppy dog eyes before now darkened as his lips were swollen and his face was hot. His hands rest at your hips with a tight grip as he wants more.

“You admitted to stalking my interviews and who i follow so i should be asking you that question.” he teased and you rolled your eyes. Your Only respond by pushing his head back into your chest where he planted soft kisses trailing down.

“So soft,” he takes off the bra you wore. Hes thought about this moment but would never admit it. Hes thought about how soft your skin is and how you looked under his touch with his head in between your legs—

“Do something tom.” you groan as he is on his knees for you. Your dress bunched at your waist, all exposed for him as he takes off the black lace underwear you wore under the dress.

“All for me?” he asks and your head hits the back of the wall, your hands go to his hair and he kisses gently at your thigh. “Say something, darling.” darling, you think about the way he says that word. The simple nickname that made you melt. Darling, that was going to be the death of you.

“Y-yes!” you find the words. “I-I don’t think this is apart of the script though.” You still try and be playful and just below your eyes you can see he has a playful and cocky smirk.

“This,” his thumb rubs at your clit as he looks up. His lips cherry red and his smirk is full view to you as he sees your eyes flutter shut as your head was thrown back. “This is where I improve.” he replaces his thumb with his tongue as he pumps his middle finger in and out of you. Your hands grip his hair as you moan his name, his name that you thought of so many times before this in your dreams.

Your knees go weak as his one hand pins your hips against the wall and his other fingers thrusted in and out of you while his tongue works at your clit.

“Tommy!” The nickname slipped, you didn’t mean it but you imagined it sometimes long before you met him and just had a crush.

“Huh darling? Like that? Want to cum?” His words horse and his accent thicker. “That’s right...” he almost laughs as he can see how much you’re whimpering. “Cum for me.”

You fall under his touch with soft moans leaving your lips. The wave of euphoria washes over you and you struggle to open back up your eyes and come back to reality.

He comes back up to face you, this time you have a thin layer of sweat over your forehead and your chest rises as you catch your breath. You take Tom's fingers and take them into your mouth. Acting as if it were him in your mouth you work your tongue around his finger before taking them out with a pop.

His eyes stare and he almost winces at how hard he is. How hard you've made him.

“This is going to be the best damn movie i've ever filmed.” he nearly whispers as you bite down on your lip before pulling him back into your lips.

This was going to be the best six months of your life.

Permanent Taglist: @hoodiesparker @dahliaspidey​ @parkersvibes​ @itssss-a-bean @ppkrtingle @myfinalwords​ @bocaul @tinyplanet-explorers​ @sincerlyfan @softbaby-Tom @awesomeblackcottontail @rosebeegraham @stormyholland @unicorn-princess-1999​ @spideyyypeter​ @marshyrebelcloud​ @oh-epiphany​ @yeahimcrying @highlydisfunctional1 @disgustangg​ @pterstingle @quacksonhq​ @saturnpeter​@reblogsfics​ @tomsrebeleyebrow @dreamyyholland​ @imaginashawnns​ @alilpunkrock​ @peterspideysenses​ @lovely-valllll​ @lowkey-holland​ @hannaholland1811 @kthemarsian​ @maryjane23 @jillianaholland @dummiesshort​ @paracutepants @heartofholland​ @quacksonhehe @tomhollandssecurityguard​ @th0ttie4tommy​ @ladykxxx08​ @bellelittleoff​ @peterbenjiparker​ @cherthegoddess​ @namoreno @sunsetholland​ @lillatina004 @peterparkersbabygurl​ @augstdowny@a-daydreamers-day​ @spideyspeaches​

[spiltscribbles]

Prompt: Pro Athlete Sirius because that my and Remus' kink

~Notes: OMFG VICTOrIA!!!! I FUCKING SCREECHED!!!! lkadfjlaksdgjoiaejfalskdgjioeugisfkldshg Yes tis my kink as well!!! And then I saw this from Nonny and worlds collided and BOOM! I hope you like this my love<3<3 You incredibly talented sugarplum!!! TBH I want to write a thousand more things in this AU XD

.-

FROM THIS LIST  |  Send Me A Prompt!💜 | A REBLOG MEANS THE GALAXY!!💜

.-

When Remus was young— surrounded by the light breeze of the Welsh coast and the harmony of birds chirping in the distance— he would follow his mother to their small garden behind their cottage  at the cusp of twilight as his father cooked their supper, and he’d watch as she laid flat all sorts of newspapers written in French and Arabic and English, watch as she brought her red pen against the ink and marked the articles with underlines and shorthand he wouldn’t understand for years still.

He asked her once, when he was barely eight years old, why she bothered to keep up with so many different publications, why she read the same story penned by countless perspectives when all the facts stayed the same at the end of the day. And he remembers how she had let out a quick, shrill of a laugh, tossing back her golden head while sucking in a puff from the bubbling hookah she had set up besides her— a habit she acquired from her Algerian, refugee parents, and one that became synonymous to those late nights in Remus’s eyes.

“Facts can be wielded to someone’s personal vendettas, Remus John,” she had crooned in that adoring way of hers whenever she spoke to him— honey eyes that were the same color and shape to Remus’s own flashing alight and their matching smiles going crooked in her stunningly beautiful face. 

“Oh.” Remus had replied, still confused as all get out but was perfectly fine with just holding his small vigil, watching her beneath moonlight and the soft glow of their outdoors lamps, as he listened to the shuffling of papers while she commenced this odd quirk. 

It’s a decade and a half later—  as his editor for the Phoenix, a small, but bustling online editorial that plans on dethroning the likes of Politico and Vox in only a matter of years, scans his latest findings on the corrupt boosters linked to MP Avery from Leeds— when Remus thinks he suddenly understands what his mother, with her keen eyes and pixelated air, had meant by facts in how they can be colored differently simply by the words surrounding them. And he wonders if one day soon, one of his bylines will join her little stack of stories, if she’ll be proud of him even if she says as much even now, when he’s a lost twenty-something stumbling through life in the capitol and barely making it as is, between his actual job and the gig he has at the coffee shop nearest his dingy flat he shares with three other blokes.

“Mmm, this is good, Lupin,” Dorcas declares after what feels like an eon, dropping her long, dark legs from where they were lounging leisurely on her desk and scuffs out her cigarette in a pretty, glass ashtray. “Send it over to Flores to look into deeper, maybe it’ll corroborate the info she’s already gotten from her sources.”

Remus feels himself bristle, hopes that it doesn’t show, that his face stays passive as he contends, “I think I should at least help her write the expose, I’m the one who got this bombshell.”

“That’s not how it works, sweets,” Dorcas toots, tossing back her dark head of curls as she rises, perching on the corner of her desk delicately and looking down, straight into his gaze. “I know it’s frustrating, but you’re fresh blood. barely six months here, but Alice has been with us for years. This is her baby, and we’re just here to nurture it.”

“So I’ll have to wait another ten months, at least,  to get the same treatment?” He argues in an admittedly petulant way, making Dorcas laugh endearingly, and Remus is suddenly,  searingly reminded of his age, and how he’s the youngest staffer that this London based news outlet has on hand. 

“C’mon, love, it won’t be that long for someone as sharp as you, just be patient, and don’t try to pull a Zoe Barnes on us, yeah? You’re far too pretty to clean up on the rails of  the tube.” Dorcas tousles a hand into his dark tawny curls, and Remus holds back the roll to his eyes that he feels willing up inside of him as he stands fully.

“Thanks Cas.”

She smiles beatifically, and throws him a wink. “You’re joining Emmy for the report tomorrow on those United footballers and their fundraiser for the hospital, yeah?”

“Bright and early,” Remus replies, still feels a bit miffed that he was chosen to write up the charity function, considering he doesn’t know a lick about football and doesn’t really get on with anyone who does. But Caradoc— their typical sports reporter— is out sick with the flew, so it’s on him. “I’ll have it on your desk early enough so it’ll be published by tea time.”

“Good man,” Dorcas says in thanks, picking up her crowing cellphone before waving him off.

Remus isn’t all that surprised when he strides out of the office only to find Benjy Fenwick sitting against the opposite wall, knees pressed to his chest and quickly scrambling up when he catches sight of Remus. Sometimes it’s impossible to believe that the bespectacled man in front of him is one of the top editors for the Phoenix, that he’s a regular corespondent for places like the BBC or CNN— that his rebukes against the piss poor inquiries waged during PMQs have become more anticipated than the sessions themselves. Remus tends to forget all of that when he sees him like this, messy haired and wearing a graphic T-shirt with some marvel superhero embossed on the front. “Wotcher Remus.”

“Hiya Remus says, smiling softly and rocking back on his heels. “You wanted to talk to the sergeant then?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no. I didn’t want to talk to Dorcas, I just— Erm, I know you were showing her that stuff you got from that intern, Pettigrew, and i know you were chafed about not getting any opportunity here so—“ He trails off, scratching the back of his head and studying a point over Remus’s shoulder, and it’s all too endearing, and Remus is so beyond thankful he’s made such a good friend here.

“No cigar,” he says in answer to the unspoken question, shrugging noncommittally even if he feels like shit over it.

Benjy nods, face contrite in a way that tells Remus he never thought it would’ve went otherwise. “I’m sorry, that’s bollocks.”

“’S whatever,” Remus shrugs off the apology, begins walking down the hall and straightening his report to hand over to Alice. 

“Ah,, erm. We can get a drink, yeah? In commiseration,” Benjy offers, and Remus stilts only for a beat before continuing the twisting trail to where Alice is set up with the more senior members on staff. And he feels only sorta bad about wanting to refuse. He knows that if he says yes, it’ll mean something different to Benjy than it does him, that he’ll probably take it as Remus finally giving into his pestering and deciding to actually go out with him, even if he’s refuted the other four times he’s asked as much. Remus’s simply just too busy trying to get a footing in this city, and trying to figure out where he’s suppose to go from here, and what he’s suppose to do. And yes, Benjy is cute— a complete Seth Cohen archetype. And he’s sweet and smart and funny enough. But Remus is really not in the mood for doing the whole flowers and wine and candle lit dinners shtick, had gotten enough of that while still with his university boyfriend. And yeah, he’s only just turned 24, but he already feels too old and too jaded for that sort of puppy love— even if Benjy’s got a good decade and some change on him.

Probably sensing his hesitation, Benjy is quick to rectify the offer. “I’ll ask Mary, and Fabian too, and a few others. We can make a night of it, just some drinks on a Friday after work.”

Stalling by the last turn to Alice’s desk, Remus looks at him from over his shoulder, and sort of hates himself for being such a soft hearted fuck sometimes. “Yeah Benj, sounds nice. Just let me know on the group chat, yeah?”

Benjy grins, much more genuine than his awkward quirk of the lips from earlier. “Yeah, good call, I’ll let the others know pronto.”

“Aces,” Remus says, tosses him a obligatory thumbs-up before finding an expectant looking Alice who’s tapping her foot impatiently.

Yeah, today is so bloody shit.

.-

Surprisingly, the round of drinks turns to another and then a third and fourth and Remus is currently nursing his fifth mango margarita on Benjy’s tab, and he actually feels lighter than he has since taking the job at Phoenix, feels bright and bubbling and like absolutely nothing could be wrong as long as he’s got this drink in his grasp and he’s sitting with the handful of reporters and photographers from the office that don’t all have sticks up their asses. It’s fun, it’s good. So obviously it couldn’t have lasted.

Mary is currently cackling about her Uber driver from last night who asked her all sorts of well meaning, but incredibly dense questions about her hijab— a freshly poured glass of coke in one hand, while the other is tangled into her girlfriend Emmy’s. And From his left Remus can hear Fabian ribbing Frank on his crush on Alice, while Benjy scoots intermittently closer as they watch Kingsley and Marlene sparring over something to do with a Kardashian or TikTok trend or whatever the fuck else— The guy has resilience, Remus has to give Benjy that.

“Right, who’s buying next?” Marlene asks, abrasive as ever while scrolling through her phone, ostensively finding something to prove her point against the managing editor.

“Reckon it’s my turn,” Benjy crows, standing up smoothly and glancing down at Remus with a nervous sort of half grin.

“Just a water for me, ta. I need to sober up,” Remus tells him, feels proud that he didn’t even slur slightly. Benjy bobs his head understandingly, and Remus turns to ask Marlene about her latest tinder hookup which always is a good laugh, but then he catches on it. On the sound of the pub’s doors flinging open, followed by a raucous crowd of athletic looking guys probably only a bit older than he is, clambering indoors. 

They’re all so very sixth-form, broad grins and slapping each other’s shoulders with jeers, topped off with loud, bark like laughter that makes it obvious to Remus that these wankers think that they’re some sort of group of gods amongst men, roaming around like everyone should fall to their feet and offer everything they have. It makes Remus roll his eyes so far back that it feels like he might’ve sprained them. They just give off this exhausting aura that reminds him of a past boyfriend in tenth year who was on the footie team and who’s favorite activity was either making Remus feel lucky enough to go out with someone so popular, or dragging him around like some sort of bloody trophy.

To put it nicely, Remus sorta hates them on sight. So when he sees one of the tossers— regrettably the brightest of the lot who’s all pearly teeth, and glittering eyes and incredibly impressive shoulders that tape off to a narrow waste in an objectively infuriating matter— swivels up to the barkeep and jostles Benjy on his way, well Remus doesn’t hesitate to dart forwards to tell him off.

“Oi, watch where you’re going, yeah?”

Benjy and the bloke who looks like he might moonlight as a model for Calvin briefs for when he’s not lounging in a yacht off the Tuscany coast, both turn to him at the same time. Benjy looking abashed, and the aforementioned tosser preening like the cat who’s just caught a canary.

“Sorry, love. Didn’t see you there,” he says in a delightfully deep tenner, giving Remus an appreciative once over, and Remus absolutely despises how the action makes him feel both thrilled and irritated. “Trust and believe, I wouldn’t have looked away if I saw you.”

“Not me, arse.” Remus spits back, refuses to pay any credence to how his cheeks have begun to flush. “You bumped into my mate right there, the one with the tray of loggers.”

The tosser darts his almost molten gray eyes over to Benjy for a sparing second before he laser focusses back onto Remus, the most phony expression of contrition all over his face. “Sorry to your friend,” he says the descriptor like a joke that no one else is in on. “Let me buy you a drink in sorry for the one I made slim here spill.”

Remus is officially unimpressed, hopes that his flat tone gets it across. “You’re an arse.”

“You’re mouthy,” he retorts, looks like it’s something he greatly appreciates— delights over even. 

“Ah, ’s fine Remus, really. I’ll just bring these back and get us a new glass.”

“Listen to slim, Remus, he’s got the right idea.” The tosser hurriedly interjects, strutting close enough to him that he makes it so Remus has to tip his head back just slightly so not to drop his gaze. “I’m Black, Sirius Black, just to get the pleasantries out of the way.” His leer tells Remus that the name should probably evoke some response of aw into Remus, but all it does is make him sound so egregiously pretentious that Remus wants to smack his own bloody head against a dry wall and stay in the hole until this ruddy Sirius bloke leaves him the hell alone.

“Good for you,” he says instead of all of that, and spots Sirius’s friends from behind Sirius chuckling and elbowing one another. Evidently this is a line the tosser uses frequently, and Remus is pleased that he might be one of the first who aren’t at all impressed by the grandiose way he introduced himself.

“Hah, you know I’m use to the pretty ones playing hard to get, but I’m really feeling here that you’re not exactly liking my company, love.”

Remus sucks in a frustrated breath through his nose, shouldering past Sirius and taking the tray of drinks from Benjy before storming back to their table where the others have begun openly gawping at the scene— Marlene outright squawking with Fabian just as Remus takes his seat.

“Don’t,” Remus warns them all as he silently says fuck off to the water and instead gargles down one of the loggers. And if he has to steadfastly not turn around for the rest of the night towards where he can feel Sirius’s gaze burning into his back— well then so be it.

.-

The next morning, Remus has to puke twice into the toilet, and gulps down three aspirins just to stave off his bloody hangover from the night before where he decided that getting properly sloshed would prove as a good technique to not end up making out with Sirius in some dark corner— or regrettably the backseat of his car. And if he does still remember flashes of ranting to him about how insufferable preppy, rich boys actually are while Sirius gazed at him endeared— well Remus just decides to purge it out along with the stomach acid. It’s not like he’ll ever see the douche again.

.-

He meets Arthur— one of the accountants who also helps out by taking photos for more low key news stories— outside the hospital where the conference will be taking place with the Manchester United team. There was a scrimmage that they all played with some of the kids in the cancer ward that occurred at around eight in the ruddy morning, but thankfully Remus didn’t have to show up until an hour later when the team presented their big shiny check, to the big, shiny hospital. 

However, Arthur has been here for hours, so he’s beyond chirpy and looks like he’s downed three cups of espresso as he chatters on about his son Percy starting secondary school, and his eldest, Bill, getting an award for his reading prowess, and all the strange craving his wife has been having throughout her pregnancy with the twins they’re expecting any week now. And Remus loves Arthur, he does— one of the sweetest folks he’s ever met— but God, his head is still thrumming from those misguided tequila shots and he really just wants to get his three quotes, and write up the story so he can find refuge back in his sheets.

While Arthur has moved to talking about his wife, Molly’s, plans to open up a daycare in their refurnished garage, Remus scans his eyes over the familiar face of reporters from other outlets who look just as bored as him, and then to the stage where a woman in a sharply pressed suit is ushering for the group of football stars to join her, so that the conference can finally fucking begin. 

And Remus thinks that their faces are sorta familiar, probably from all the publicity they get on the telly— but then he freezes as he stops at one of them with dark brown skin, and thick rimmed spectacles— and he suddenly can hear him chatting about his redheaded girlfriend and drunkenly declaring that she’ll be the mother of his children some day soon. So he completely expects it when his stomach drops as he moves his glance just a bit to the right, being struck by pearly teeth, and glittering eyes and incredibly impressive shoulders that tape off to a narrow waste, made all the more infuriating by the tight kit he’s got on and the blazing number twelve splayed against his chest.

And fuck.

Remus runs through about a dozen scenarios in which he can make a discrete, or not so discrete exit before he notices him, but in tandem to his spiraling thoughts, the wanker actually looks forwards, and like a creepy metal detector, his quick silver gaze pinpoints onto Remus.

They stare at one another for a beat before his smirk goes wolfish, and he runs a hand through his artfully tousled hair in a way that practically screams, fancy meeting you here. And holy fuck he looks so mouth watteringly attractive with that faint film of sweat running down his neck, and how his smile pulls slightly more to the left, and how he’s looking at Remus like he’s his birthday and Christmas presents all rolled into one.

Remus suddenly hates everything— but most of all hates Sirius, and how bloody fit he is.

“Oh, you’re a fan then?” 

Starting, Remus shifts around slightly so that he’s facing Arthur completely. “Pardon?”

“Sirius Black I mean, you’re a fan?” Arthur asks in that abrasively congenial and intensely scrutinizing way that he treats everything. “I mean he’s a great player, but I know you don’t really watch. So I bet it’s all that charity work he does, yeah?”

“Charity work?” Remus echos, feeling like a floundering fish.

“Truly some amazing stuff.” Arthur pontificates, rubbing a hand against his jaw as he tips his head back. “I mean obviously I’m partial to the fundraising for Reporters Without Borders, but of course the things he does with the more impoverished kids is great. And I know Molly likes his very outspoken posts about being anti war and his annual live streams to earn money for refugees in those war torn nations, like the last one he did for Syria?”

“Oh—“ Remus says, feeling like his head is being overrun by a fountain of new information.

“Yes well, you don’t usually see athletes get into the thick of it with political issues, but I reckon he never really minded. I mean the fact he’s the first football star from United to have come out without any fanfare really proved that. Oh, I think they’re starting, I should probably get some photos before Dorcas gives me a tongue lashing.”

And as quick as the flash of his camera’s lends, Arthur is using his considerable height to get to a more advantageous spot towards the front, and leaves Remus in the dust, as if he hasn’t just obliterated his every assumption of Sirius from after that initial meeting.

And unbidden, the words his mother had told him so many years ago, about facts and how they can color a situation just simply based off the person who’s speaking them— flood to the forefront of his mind.

“Fucking hell,” Remus mutters lowly, gets jostled by Greengrass, a hawkish reporter from a rivaling publication who always has on the most wickedly sharp acrylic nails, and perfectly quaffed curls— as she waves around her certification to speak her inquiry.

“My question is for Potter,” she announces when the woman leading the event, McGonagall, points her way. “And I was wondering how early you boys have to rise for training during the season? And how intense the sessions are that Coach Hooch puts you guys through?”

Potter, the one with the redheaded girlfriend that Remus heard so much about last night between his ranting at Sirius, parts his lips, but it’s not his voice that ends up reverberating through the outdoors space. Instead, it’s Sirius, who’s shouldering him with a goading air, obviously expecting his comment to have only ended up in Potter’s ear and not caught by the mike.

“I wonder if Lupin will let me wake up with’m so he can let me get some real training done before practices, eh?”

And just as soon as his words pitter off, the entire crowd drops to a hush— quiet enough so that they could probably hear it if a pen dropped. 

Sirius’s handsome face— strong jawline, and broad but sharp cheekbones, and a long, narrow nose— goes suddenly ashen, and he flashes over to Remus as if he’s terrified that he’ll bite his face off.

God, what an idiot.

With a long suffering sigh, Remus plucks out the microphone from a slack faced Greengrass’s hand. “We can discuss the regimen afterwards, Black. Just meet me by the front doors and let your mate answer the bloody question.”

Everyone around them falls into laughter that’s caught between uncomfortable chuckles and amazingly amused cackling, but the only person Remus is paying any mind is Sirius, and how he seems to have gone absolutely incandescent, nodding electrically before miming the zip of his lips and gesturing for Potter to carry on.

Jesus help him, Remus has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.

.-

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist

~Buy Me A Coffee 

[thefanficmonster]

Filterless

Corpse Husband x Plus-sized Reader (Female)

Warnings: Body Image Insecurities, Low self-esteem, Swearing

Genre:  Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Feeling comfortable in her skin has hardly ever been the case for Y/N who’s been struggling with body image issues all her life. However, they only get worse when she sees the ‘type’ of girls her crush is into.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your request (hits close to home 😅) I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to fulfill it and post it but here it finally is and if you’ve stuck around long enough to read it, I hope you enjoy! ALSO! - Never forget how beautiful and amazing you are. Never compare your beauty to someone else’s. We’re all beautiful people and we all shine so brightly and uniquely. No one deserves to be compared to anyone when we’re all so different yet so incredible. Love you and appreciate you with all my heart, Vy ❤

If I ever need my ego taken down a few notches - it never does, it’s barely even present, to be honest - all I have to do is go on Instagram. To be honest, regardless of how I’m feeling, opening that app is bound to make my mood plummet and come crashing into the ground so hard it drives a hole in it - probably in the form of a broken heart.

Being a content creator myself, I often get asked questions about my absence on that social platform specifically. I mean, the questions are based and rational I guess, considering I’m not a faceless YouTuber and yet my Instagram account is void of any photos. It’s not like I don’t post at all - I do! I post on my story often but it’s more often than not scenery I find pretty or a poster I’ve made for a movie/video game. Bottom line is: I barely ever allow a picture of me to make it online. The most my fans are ever gonna get of me is a selfie which is also a super rare occurrence because of how long it takes me to take and choose one I don’t hate.

Ok, but how am I supposed to find the motivation to post any sort of picture of myself when on my timeline I’m always faced with people worthy of posting pictures of themselves. People with such perfect bodies and beautiful faces. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not jealous or envious of those people - good for them! They know what they’re working with and they’re working it well. I have nothing against them, in fact, I love seeing people proud of their bodies no matter their size, shape or weight. Those are my role-models: people who are proud of themselves, their bodies, their attributes and capabilities and don’t hesitate to show them off. Those are the people I look up to but, deep down inside I know I’ll never be like.

Insecure about my body, having been referred to as ‘chubby’ and ‘squishy’ all my life. Inappreciative of the stuff I do: starting from my job as a graphic designer leading towards my job on YouTube - nothing I do, professionally or otherwise, satisfies me. Nothing I do is enough in my eyes because I feel incapable of ever being able to do enough. I’ve been called lazy and a half-asser a few too many times to be able to brush it off as a meaningless insult. 

With these problems I’ve had with myself and my own perception of who I am and the work I do, I’ve never had the time for romance or romantic relationships. I second-guess the intentions of everyone who ever shows any interest in me because in my mind I’m nothing special and I have nothing to offer - nothing attractive or likable at least. That being said, I haven’t even been one to make heart eyes at others either. I busy myself with my job and some side-gigs, brushing off any relationship questions with the excuse that I’m ‘just too busy to be in a relationship’ which is technically true.

Having spent twenty plus years with that mindset, one can imagine how surprised I was when I found myself catching feelings for someone. And that someone just couldn’t be any other than the biggest YouTube sensation at the moment - Corpse Husband.

I’m close friends with Poki - her and I were roommates at one point too - so her inviting me to play Among Us with them wasn’t so strange. One or two games, I thought, nothing unusual there, just friendly curtesy. I wasn’t expecting to warm up to the group of famous streamers nor did I expect them to welcome me among them so easily, mostly because my channel is so small and practically invisible to the YouTube algorithm. But soon enough, I became a permanent member of the team, making friends with every single one of those YouTubers I practically thought of a celebrities.

This journey of branching out to other content creators has proven itself to be surprisingly pleasant and has packed my book of friendships to the brim. All of that came unexpectedly, along with a wave of new subs and a higher view count. However, as I mentioned, it hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows. I came to finally understand what my high school friends were talking about when they were head over heels for a boy - the butterflies in the stomach whenever he speaks your name; the importance of the laugh you share with him, how special and different it is; how cool it is to be impostors with him - ok they never said that, obviously, but it’s what I have as a substitute to the ‘when the two of you make eye-contact’ bullshit since Corpse and I have never seen each other in person. That is, of course, because of him being a faceless YouTuber and me being a self-conscious and insecure girl.

We do talk all the time though - texting, calling, chilling on Discord, you name it. Our conversations range from deeply philosophical to ones that might mislead someone into thinking we’re high. There’s no topic we haven’t touched upon and yet we still manage to find something new to talk about. We have plenty of similarities but we also never seem to run out of differences we slowly come across as we keep getting to know each other better and better. 

And somewhere along that journey I ended up catching feelings.

Human nature of wanting to connect with other people, I curse you for what you’ve done to me.

You might think I’m being overdramatic about the whole ordeal and that this is just a normal, natural occurrence many people experience in their life - some even daily. Well, not only am I far from used to it, but it’s also taking a toll of a different kind on me.

It’s like a constant slap to the face. 

That slap turned into a punch when Corpse and I started following each other on Instagram and I started getting daily reminders of how out of my depth I am with this crush on him. In over my head, especially when you look at all those girls whose pics and videos he reposts on his story. Imagine how that makes me feel, what that does to me - puts me back into the ‘Constantly not good enough‘ basket, the one I’ve been fighting to get out of all my life. In the past and in different contexts I could easily say that it was all just my mind hating me intensely but now - now that I know for a fact I’m not good enough and don’t fit Corpse’s criteria - it hurts ten times as much. I’m not one to do shit for someone’s attention or to attract someone’s eyes, but it really hurts my feelings. Often times, it also leads me to doing dumb things and making rash decisions. 

Like the one I made two days ago.

Imagine me cringing and shaking my head at my own stupidity as I admit this: I, in a frenzy, ordered a whole e-girl getup with overnight delivery. 

Wait, hold up, it gets worse. 

I received it yesterday and spent the whole day regretting that decision, but then, in my most insecure hours - which was somewhere around midnight - I equipped the get-up, took a picture and posted it on my Instagram page. First full body pic I’ve ever posted on there. First pic I’ve posted there of any kind. There to stay, not to be gone in twenty four hours. First pic, and it’s not even of me. It’s of who I want to be in order to fit someone’s criteria. And that fucking stings.

As you might imagine, I’ve spent today’s day regretting that decision as well. Recently my mood’s been nothing but regretting rash decisions that have surfaced under the influence of my ridiculous, constantly-present insecurities. And I would’ve probably gotten over it rather quickly had I not received a message from Corpse that read:

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic“

I didn’t open the message, I peeped at it as it was a notification on my lock screen. It’s still there, an unread notification. It’s been two hours since I received it and I cannot think of a single thing to say in response to that. 

Truth is, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of so many things right now.

I’m afraid of becoming that girl in the photo, cause I’m most definitely not her.

I’m afraid of letting Corpse down by admitting I’m not her.

I’m afraid of what my own mind has made me do because it hates me so much and I’m terrified of what it might do in the future.

I’m afraid and stranded on things to do.

You can’t be her forever, you know. Being her won’t make your insecurities go away, it’ll only make them worse. Haven’t you learned that by now?

I sigh, frustrated and irritated with myself as I grab my phone and tap on the notification, finally deciding to face the music and allow my instincts to carry me through the interaction. Improvisation, that’s one of the few things I’m good at. Let’s hope it doesn’t fail me.

I’m just about to type out my response - not sure what it’s gonna say - when I give the message Corpse has sent me a second glance.  I furrow my brows, finding there’s more to it than that peep through the notification let me see.

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic. You’re personality is so bright and colorful, I could’ve never imagined you were into the darks and blacks“

Because I’m not

I fail to realize until the message has been sent that my thoughts are exactly what I typed out and sent.

And honestly, I’m glad. It feels like I’ve spoken my truth, like I’ve lifted a huge boulder off my chest.

With that rare confidence in mind I go on and delete the picture.

In its spot, I post a picture I just now took - a mirror selfie in my homey get-up consisting of hot pink sweatpants and an oversized blue tee, my hair in a messy bun, my face free of make-up.

I caption it: ‘Oops, had the e-girl filter on for the last one. This is filterless me tho so...Hi 🥴’

A lot better, I’m surprised to hear my inner voice say. I hope I don’t get used to all this kindness on my brain’s part, probably won’t last, but damn if I don’t milk every second of it.

Just then, I receive a new message from non other than Corpse.

“Now that’s the girl I see when I think of you. She’s super cute 😉“

My, oh my, who would’ve guessed Corpse has a game like that - and by that I mean the ability to make me blush so intensely with only a text message.

Now ain’t that better than being someone else, Y/N?

It sure is, it sure is.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse

[peachhcs]

Love Languages

Pairings Luke Patterson x reader

Summary Luke asks the reader what love languages are. 

Warnings none but fluff :)

Word Count 1.8k (short I know but I'm working on it)

I haven’t really written on Tumblr before so don’t judge too harshly because there’s some insanely talented people on here who might judge hahaha. (hopefully not though) I don't know what the boy’s love languages are so I kind of just assumed based off of what we saw but I did see somewhere that someone said Luke’s was touch so I just went with it. 

Gif is not mine so credit to the owner! I don’t know if anyone has done this idea before but I kind of like it because it popped into my head last night. Anyways, enjoy!! :) p.s. I sort of left this on a cliff hanger but idk if i’m going to continue it or not hahaha

PART 2

* * *

You were seated peacefully on the couch as you worked away on your laptop while listening to Julie and the guys practice a few songs for this weekend’s upcoming gig. You always loved listening to them practice, they sounded like absolute angels and you would never get tired of listening to them. However, Luke thought you should be doing your homework somewhere else because he didn’t want them to be distracting to you but truthfully, you really didn’t mind. If you were being honest, it actually helped you focus and the music didn’t let your brain wander. 

You glanced up at the group after realizing they had stopped playing. Julie met your eyes with a warm smile, already reading your mind,

“We’re just taking a break. I got to catch up on some homework.” Julie explained to her best friend. You nodded in response, smiling slightly as she went back to work. The boys were talking amongst themselves over by the piano, using hushed voices so whatever they were talking about you or Julie couldn’t hear. 

By some weird magical notion, you were able to see the boys even when they weren’t playing like Julie could. They haven’t been able to figure out why yet, though. Why you could see the guys but their other best friend, Flynn, couldn’t. Or why Luke’s parents couldn’t see him either but you still could. It was all just one big mystery they were all still unravelling. They had a theory that it had something to do with their unfinished business and the connections they all shared with one another, but that was yet to be explored with you and the boys. Julie and the boys sort of figured out how they were connected, but they hadn’t gotten that far with you yet. 

Julie made an attempt one time to suggest that maybe it was because you were so close with Luke ever since you guys met, the connection just helped you see all of them, but you chose to deny that theory. Especially when Julie threw the word feelings into the mix. Julie knew all too well about your “little”crush on the lead guitarist. There was no doubt that she caught on to it right away when the pair first met and hit off right away. From there, she proceeded to question you about it once they went back to her room. Of course you denied, denied, denied, but after awhile you finally gave in and agreed to your best friend’s observation. Julie saw all the looks that you two exchanged and she knew very well about the boys talking about you here and there. It was just a matter of time until one of you finally broke and admitted your stupid feelings for one another.

“Hey..Y/n?” The cautious voice made you glance up from your computer, first looking at Julie thinking it was her who called your name but then turning your head to the boys who were glancing at you with quizzical looks. 

“Yeah?” You ask glancing at Luke since he was the one who spoke up. You watch as the boys exchange a glance with one another and you push your eyebrow up in confusion. You meet eyes with Julie for a moment who was now looking between the boys and you just as confused as you were. 

“We have a question.” 

“Well, Luke does, but we’re curious too.” Alex cut in before you could respond. You chuckle slightly at their visible nervousness about what they wanted to ask. 

“Okay, shoot.” You gave them your full attention, pushing your computer screen down and a small smile sat content on your lips. Julie also gave them her full attention too, because she was equally as curious as to what they could possibly be asking you.

“What..what does love languages mean? We heard you and Julie talking about it yesterday..” Luke’s asks softly. Oh. That was what they were asking..Your face goes a little red at the thought of them hearing your conversation yesterday since it started out as band schedule and then led into your crush per usual. You glanced to Julie for help who only shook her head with a quick shrug.

“They asked you, not me. Take it away, sister.” Julie laughed and your face went even redder. It wasn’t an inappropriate question or anything, you just didn’t really know how to describe it. Or because it meant talking about feelings and relationships which was something you didn't really want to get into with them, especially Luke. 

“Uhh.. well.. I guess it’s a certain way somebody likes to express their love for someone. There’s different types of love languages like um, touch, words, gifts, spending time with that person, and doing nice things I guess..” You trail off slightly while scratching the back of your head, feeling a little flustered. 

“What do you think my love language is?” Alex asks excitedly, not really to you but just to anyone who would answer him. 

“I see yours being affirming words or something like spending time with them. You always love it when someone compliments you and reassures you if you’re having too much anxiety about something.” Julie cuts in with a smile and Alex points to her to say she was correct. Julie chuckles and you do too. 

“Reggie, yours would definitely be gifts or like spending time with people. You always like to hang around Ray and stuff.” You say glancing at Reggie who smiles warmly at your statement. 

“What about me?” You met eyes with Luke who was softly looking at you. You avoided Julie’s burning gaze into your head and Alex and Reggie’s small smirks as they waited for you to answer. You flushed again, looking to Julie for help who only shrugged. They both knew you knew the answer, that was what you guys had been talking about yesterday. 

“I’m..I’m not really sure..” You lied and you hated the small hint of disappointment in Luke’s eyes. You quickly looked away and started to reopen your laptop.

“Hey, I’m hungry, I’m gonna grab some snacks. Y/n do you wanna come with?” Julie asks making an escape for you to avoid the now awkward tension in the room.

“Yeah. Yeah.” You were quickly nodding your head and jumping up from your laptop. You didn’t even wait for Julie as you made a beeline for the garage doors and pushed them open, hurrying up the pathway to Julie’s house. 

Julie exchanged a knowing glance with the boys, reading Alex and Reggie’s glances before following after you saying you’d be back in a minute. You were pacing around on the patio when Julie finally got to you. She raised her eyebrows slightly trying to read your thoughts. 

“Y/n, why did you lie? That could have been the perfect opportunity to tell him how you feel.” Julie says and you shoot her a small glare. 

“Julie, he doesn’t like me like that. I just didn't want to embarrass myself but I guess I embarrassed myself even more by saying nothing.” You admit, slowing your pacing to look Julie in the eye. She lets out a small laugh.

“I don’t think you embarrassed yourself. You were just flustered which is understandable, but I say go for it. You never know what can happen. The Y/n I know doesn’t back down from a challenge either.” Julie puts a comforting arm on your shoulder and you were thankful for it. You squeeze her hand in response.

“Thanks. I don’t know, I guess I’ve just never felt this way about someone before..” You trail off and Julie squeezes your shoulder even tighter,

“Look, I get it, it’s scary, but you can do it. Think of this as me encouraging you to talk to him like you did for me and Nick. Just go for it. Have some confidence.” Julie winked at you and you chuckle at her actions. 

“There’s the Y/n I know. Now come on, we still need to get snacks. I gotta make my lie somewhat believable.” Julie nudged your side before making her way inside as you followed after he with a laugh. 

The two of you walk back into the garage a few moments later where the boys met your glances. Luke was now moved onto your spot on the couch while Alex and Reggie hung around by the piano still. You rolled your eyes that Luke took your spot but at least he was gracious enough to move your computer. You walked over to him where he smirked as you made an attempt to move him out of the way. 

“Get out of my spot.” You tease trying to move Luke out of the way again but he didn’t budge and instead kept holding that smirk on his lips. You rolled your eyes so you instead took a seat beside him and grabbed your laptop from the coffee table. 

“I’ll move if you tell me what you think my love language is.” Luke says and you quickly met his eyes. You glanced at Alex, Reggie, and Julie for a moment where they only shrugged. You huffed under her breath knowing you had no way out of this now. 

“I don’t know.” You say simply trying to get off of the topic but Luke kept pushing. He leaned in closer towards you and you could feel his breath on your neck. 

“I think you do..” Luke says and you meet his gaze again. You purse your lips together before glancing back at your computer for a moment. 

“Touch.” You say plainly and simply. You refused to meet Luke’s eyes as you furthered your answer, “I always noticing you touching Alex or Reggie in one way or another. Whether it’s something small or a hug or just a reason to touch them. It’s sweet.” You finish a small smile on your lips as you opened the tab you had been working on previously. A comfortable silence filled the room and you felt pretty content with your answer. It wasn't as bad or as embarrassing as you thought it would be. Luke was silent beside you and you were afraid to look at him so you just kept her gaze on your computer. 

You didn’t actually know if you could touch the boys, you just assumed you couldn’t because Julie was the only one with the real special powers. You had just been randomly gifted parts of them somehow. You all just walked around each other because the guys found it slightly weird to just walk through people they knew. Luke stared at you beside him and he wanted to at least try. If anything, his hand would just fall through like it did with everyone, so slowly and carefully, Luke reached out to turn your chin so you would look at him. The guys raised his eyebrow at his movements and then, he touched you. 

You felt his hand under your chin and you both did a double take. Luke quickly pulled his hand away in surprise that you actually felt that. The two of you exchanged a wondering and surprised glance. 

“We just touched..” 

[thedeathdeelers]

Juke fluff, right this way (based on this post)

you’re music to me (now on AO3)

“So, how come you guys are always here?”

Julie was staring down at her latest doodle, contemplating adding some more purple to bring out the details, when the question popped into her head. She had been wondering for a while now why the boys weren’t using more of their supernatural ghostly powers to their advantage, and figured that now was as good a time as any to ask.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and both Reggie and Alex had disappeared off to wherever they liked to spend their free time. Whenever they weren’t practicing, the boys usually found ways to entertain themselves, mostly at the expense of the other members of the Molina family.

Luke on the other hand, could usually be found either in the studio cooped up writing new lyrics, or hanging out with Julie in her bedroom (although even then, he would still have his notebook on him, jotting down words and melodies as inspiration struck), as was the current case.

Julie and Luke were sitting cross legged across each other on Julie’s bed; Julie doodling on a school notebook, and Luke working on a particularly difficult bridge for a new song they were hoping to premiere at their next gig in a few weeks.

So when Julie had asked Luke her question and she wasn’t directly met with an answer, she had just figured that he was busy writing down new ideas in his song book. But when the silence stretched longer than was usual for Luke, Julie finally looked up and noticed him staring at her with an odd expression on his face.

“What? Did I say something? What’s wrong?”

“Do you- do you want m- us to leave? I- I mean we thought you were fine with us living here, what with the band picking up and- But of course, if you want us to leave, that’s completely fine. The boys’ll understand and-“

“No! No that’s not what I meant at all!” Julie’s eyes got incredibly large, as she realised how her words must have been perceived. She frantically shook her head, her ponytail whipping at her cheeks with the movement, as her hands, covered in smudges of colourful ink reached out to rest on his knees.

“No, Luke. Of course I don’t mind you guys staying here - I really do like- love having you guys around. I just meant- I mean you guys can literally teleport anywhere, do anything, and not have to worry about getting caught. But as far as I can tell, you guys just hang around here all the time, or meet up with Willie every now and then at some random celebrity’s house.” Julie pulled her hands back in her lap, shrugging. “I don’t know, I guess I was just wondering why?”

She could see him visibly deflating, the odd expression on his face having morphed into a more composed look. He let out a breath, tapping his pen loudly against the pages in front of him with one hand, while the other rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Yeah, we- I mean we just haven’t felt the need to do anything else, I guess? When we first got here, we explored all of our old haunts,” insert smirk here, “checked out some of the new music that’s been taking over the scene - we even went to a few concerts.” He shrugged, his hand coming back down to rest on his knee. “But nothing’s really pulled at us enough to seriously want to leave for any extended period of time.”

She found that quite strange. Here she was talking to the boy who told her that their instruments were attached to their souls, and he was simply shrugging at the idea of being able to go to any concert anywhere, for free, without any consequences.

“You’re telling me you’re not even interested in checking out some of the older bands you guys were really into? Attend some of the concerts you always wanted to go to but couldn’t because they were on the other side of the country? Of the world?” She could hear how dubious she was starting to sound, but she couldn’t help it. None of this made sense.

Luke tilted his head to the side as he looked at Julie with a look that made it seem she was missing the obvious.

“But you wouldn’t be able to come with us? Where would the fun be in that?” He smiled at her, a small glint in his eyes. She rolled hers at him in return.

“Ha ha, very funny. Seriously, Luke, aren’t you, for lack of a better word, dying to go see certain people, certain bands, live? For free?”

He shrugged again, seeming unbothered by her line of questioning.

“Not really. I haven’t really felt any pull to check out new music in a while. I’ve been more excited about the stuff we’ve been making anyway.” He paused, playfully tapping her knee. “Plus I’m not sure I’d be able to properly enjoy a concert if I knew you couldn’t be there. Not as fun.”

She stared at him, wondering if his sanity had been touched.

“Not as fun? Really? I hope you realise you’re not making any sense. You know damn well that having Reggie with you alone would be enough. He’s the life of every party, dead or alive.”

She heard him snort, his head bending back down as he prepared to refocus his attention on the song book in his lap.

“I don’t know, Julie. It’s hard to explain. I just-“ He stopped himself mid-sentence, suddenly seeming to be too engrossed by the words on the pages in front of him. Only she knew better.

She put her notebook aside, and crawled across the tiny space between them, coming to rest on her folded knees right in front of him. She put her hands on his, stilling the tapping of the pen, and covering the words on the pages. She patiently waited for him to finally look up, focusing his attention back on her.

“Luke, you know I’d never hold it against any of you guys if you were to go and have fun without me. You guys deserve it - all you do is hang around here, unless we’re playing a gig somewhere. You should be enjoying your afterlife, not spending it constantly practicing or writing new songs or worrying about our next gig. Live a little!” He was frowning throughout her speech, but she could see the corners of his lips twitching a little at her choice of words.

He stayed quiet though, just staring at her, his eyes searching for something on her face. What it was he was looking for, she couldn’t tell you.

But after a few minutes of silence, he took a deep breath, tilting his head backwards as he closed his eyes, his hands twisting around, threading his fingers through hers.

“It’s not that I- that we would feel guilty, Jules. We’re happy with the way things are here. And to tell you the truth, I haven’t really felt the need to look for new music for a while now - what we create, you and me and the boys, it keeps changing and shifting and surprising me everyday.” He sighs, bringing his face back down, his eyes opening as they centred back on hers. In a softer tone, he continued. “Why would I go looking for something else, when everything I need is right here?”

She had a feeling he wasn’t just talking about music anymore.

“Why would I want to go searching for something else Jules, when I’ve already found the best? Something that I have right here, right under my fingertips?” He let go of her hands as he reached for her face, hers falling limply into his lap. His fingers brushed her cheeks lightly, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind, before they settled under her jaw, cradling her face in his palms. She couldn’t speak even if she wanted to.

“I have no desire whatsoever to go to concerts or look for new music, new talent, when you literally live under the same roof as I do.” His thumbs caressed her cheeks, his face moving closer to hers.

“You are music to me, Julie. As long as you’re in my life, my afterlife, whatever you want to call it, I see no reason in looking for anything, or anyone, else.”

He closed the distance between them, his forehead coming to rest against hers. She could do nothing but stare up at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly open, her mind furiously trying to process Luke’s words.

You are music to me, Julie.

Her heart was beating so quickly, so loudly, it felt like it was about to burst out of her chest and take flight. She tried to focus on her breathing, taking deep breaths to center herself, before she gave up and threw herself into the stunned ghost’s lap. She wrapped her arms around him, and pressed her face into the crook of his neck. With the shock of the impact, Luke lost his balance, sending both teenagers tumbling backwards onto the bed. But even then, all Julie did was press herself closer against Luke, hoping he wouldn’t try to pull away.

To her delight all he did was readjust their position, tucking her head under his chin as he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tighter against him.

“What did I do to deserve such enthusiasm?” He chuckled, his hands rubbing soothing circles on her back.

Julie just shook her head, her lips moving against his neck. She felt him shiver beneath her, causing her lips to tilt upwards.

They remained in this position for a while, Luke rubbing her back, as Julie continued to breathe in his scent, enjoying this quiet intimate moment with him for as long as possible.

But then she felt Luke shift as he turned to his side, her head softly hitting the mattress beneath her. With their legs still tangled, and her arms still securely wrapped around him, she looked up at him, his face hovering a few inches above hers.

“I just want to try something,” was all he said.

And with that he moved down until his head cane to rest against her chest. His arms snaked around her waist, as he pressed his ear closer to where her heart was currently beating a mile a minute.

With a loud sigh, Luke stilled, remaining in that position. Julie tried to stay quiet, tried to keep her curiosity at bay, but she simply couldn’t.

“Luke, what are you doing? I mean, not that I mind but, is there a reason you moved?” She tugged lightly at his hair, her fingers finding refuge in his soft brown locks.

She could feel him shake his head under her fingers, as he quietly started to hum a melody she couldn’t recognise. His fingers then joined in, tapping along to an unknown beat on her waist. She shifted her head to the side, craning her neck trying to get a glimpse of Luke’s expression.

She could see a smile making an appearance on his face, and could swear she could feel his touch getting warmer, see light emanating from his every pore.

“Luke?”

A beat of silence. He opened his eyes, as he looked at her with a tender look and the softest smile gracing his lips.

“I’m just listening to my favourite song.”

“Oh? What favourite song? I heard you humming it, but I’m not sure I recognised it?”

“No, no. I wasn’t humming the song, I was just adding a little melody as an accompanying piece.”

Julie was thoroughly confused. “I don’t get it. Accompanying piece to what?”

“To my favourite song silly, I already told you. It’s more of a beat, really, but when I’m listening to it I swear I can hear the sweetest sounds in my head.”

When Julie still didn’t understand what in the world he was talking about, that frustrated look refusing to leave her face, Luke took pity on her as he started tapping out the beat on her waist again, demonstrating to her what he meant.

It took her a little while, but once she focused, she realised he was tapping along to her heartbeat. It stuttered at her realisation, and Luke’s fingers followed, not missing a beat.

Oh. Oh.

Her hands tightened their hold on his head as she tugged harder, guiding him back up towards her. She couldn’t hold it in anymore, refused to hold it in anymore. Once he was at her eye level, close enough she could feel his breath on her lips, she whispered-

“I love you.”

The brightest smile she had ever seen took over Luke’s face, his eyes shining as they competed against the brightness of his smile. His hands reached up, cradling her face again as he whispered back against her lips:

“You are music to me now, you are music to me forever.”

Forever. She liked the sound of that. If she could somehow manage to keep him for that long, it might just be enough.

FIN

[sleeperswakewriting]

First time smut? Could be both or one inexperienced with a dose of comedy ^^

Summary: Childhood friends to lovers, Levi finally works up the nerve to ask Petra to go to prom with him. After years of pining, they decide to lose their virginity to each other on prom night.

Rated: M

Word Count: 5.4k

Prom outfits based on this!

now playing inevitable by anberlin and I think we're alone now by tiffany

If you told Levi Ackerman that the best night of his life would include loud music, drunk teenagers, and a broken air conditioner, then he would have called you crazy and told you to piss off.

Except, of course, unless you mentioned one small detail.

He would be attending prom with his childhood crush, Petra Ral.

Friends since they were babies, neighbors both raised by single parents, they were the best of friends.

Even if they were polar opposites.

Petra was on the cheerleading team, doing cartwheels and somersaults by the time she could walk and was a social butterfly with a heart of gold.

Levi had exactly five friends, not including Petra—Erwin, Hange, Mike, Eld, and Gunther. He met them when they were in elementary school and his friend group had stayed the same ever since.

Throughout the years, their friendship faced trials and tribulations, mostly due to the fact Levi had been in love with her for as long as he could remember, and Petra was absolutely oblivious to the fact.

So much so, that she would dance around the room while they did homework, clad in booty shorts and a loose t-shirt with no bra on. He knew she saw him as a brother, going as far as to kiss him on the cheek in times when she was feeling particularly affectionate, and allowing him to wrap his arms around her with each heartbreak she faced.

"Levi, why don't you ever date? You could get any girl you want!"

He didn't dare tell her why. Even though Petra would never actually leave him, he enjoyed their affable candor, her free touches, and smugly, their Friday night movie nights, a ritual they had since they were children.

Which was also the point of contention between her and her current boyfriend.

He had a bit of a reputation as being a hard ass, also Petra's silent bodyguard even though she didn't need it, and one guy in particular—Oluo, had the nerve to come between their sacred time.

And Petra being Petra, invited him to their movie night, to Levi's chagrin, but miraculously, Oluo had taken a liking to him and the three had a few more movie nights together.

Eventually, they broke up amicably, with Petra teasing Levi that it was because Oluo had a bigger crush on him than her.

It was their senior year, which meant college applications were rolling out, and for the first time in Levi's life, he faced the reality that he might be alone.

Petra had gotten a full scholarship as a cheerleader, Erwin was going to business school, Hange to a STEM school, which left him...

"Directionless!" His mother called him. "I've worked so hard raising an intelligent young man and you can't pick a school?! Application times are ticking, Levi, you need to choose something—-a major, a school, something!"

He asked Petra what she thought about him going to school across the country, and in her infuriating smile, she patted him on the shoulder and said whatever made him happy.

I want to make you happy, he wanted to say.

The summer of their junior year was filled as it always was; late nights talking around the bonfire, camping, and summer jobs.

Petra had gotten him a gig as a camp counselor, a job he wouldn't have gotten if it weren't for her since he had "the personality of a boar," as Hange aptly put it. But, with her sweet persuasion and way with people, she had convinced the manager that Levi would be a fine addition to the team.

And he could lead the children's soccer league!

As luck would have it, he was pretty good with kids, and they latched on to Levi's stoic personality with glee.

It was a sleep-away camp, and while the girls and boys slept in separate cabins, counselors included, Levi knew Petra had a rule-breaking streak (that she got from him) and snuck out after curfew so they could watch the stars.

"The night sky is easier to see than in our hometown!" She exclaimed, leaning against his shoulder.

There was no way she would be able to hear how fast his heart was beating, how his cheeks were heated from how close she was, but all of that seemed to change when she took his hand in hers.

"This is our last summer like this, isn't it?" She whispered, and he dared to wrap an arm around her, even though it was far from the first time.

"Yeah," he agreed gruffly, not wanting the cruel reminder. Would they stay friends? Would she leave him? Did he fuck up all his chances to be with her?

Erwin and Hange kept telling him to tell her how he feels—they weren't getting any younger, and Levi morosely pointed out that she's dated several people, with none of them like him at all.

Well, there's a reason why none of them worked out, they observed.

Petra leaned in closer, burying her face into his shoulder as she sniffed. "I'm not ready for senior year. So many choices to make. I mean, I'm glad to be more independent, but I like living with my dad, you being right next door, and our friends all being in one place. Everything is going to change."

Levi swallowed, her words like bile in his throat, but choosing to placate her.

"Well, not everything."

She looked at him, eyes watering with hope.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, looking away from her, not being able to tolerate her steady laugh, her playful friendly shove, and an "Oh, you!"

But she did neither of those things, and he looked back cautiously, noticing a different look in her eyes.

Maybe it was the moonlight, but her gaze was tender, her lips puckering in a way that he'd never seen before, and before he knew it, she was leaning in to kiss him.

Levi had his first kiss when he was 13 years old in a game of spin the bottle, with Petra in attendance. She had been making eyes at a boy all night, and in a fit of frustration, he spun the bottle furiously, hoping it would land on her, but instead, on another girl who he was fairly sure had a crush on him.

Petra walloped with the rest of their friends, cheering and loudly goading, and it was over before he could blink twice.

Hange took pity on him later, locking them in a closet for 7 minutes in heaven, but it turned into Petra crying over the boy who wasn't paying attention to her, with him consoling her as best friends do.

She was bliss, her sweet pea body spray engulfing his senses, as he tentatively kissed her back, wondering if this was some delirious dream he was having.

Petra was moaning in a way that he thought was only in fantasy, at night when he dared imagined himself as her boyfriend, and when she pressed her body against his, breasts deliciously folding against his chest, he groaned in return, releasing them from the kiss to catch his breath.

"Petra, what's going on?" He asked, caressing his forehead to hers, begging that this wasn't some mistake.

She kissed his cheek, then his nose, as she giggled, "I love you, Levi. You've always been there for me, I guess what I've been looking for has been here the whole time. You...You feel the same way about me, right?"

Nifa and Nanaba had teased her relentlessly that she was building a harem since, for every guy she dated, Levi was very much a part of her life, even accompanying her on some group dates.

"I don't want him to be lonely!" She argued, putting on her watermelon lipgloss. "You know how he is, all by his lonesome. Everyone knows he's like my brother."

Nanaba laughed, giving her a look, "Well someone better call the cops because brothers shouldn't be looking at you like that. I can't believe you wear this around him," she said, pinching Petra's thigh that cut off just at her ass by her extra-large PJ shirt.

Rolling her eyes, "Please, we've seen each other in diapers. And in cringey Halloween costumes. I think we're past feeling embarrassed."

"Whatever you say," Nanaba said, noticing the pink hue on Petra's cheeks as she talked about him.

Levi thought he would be caught dead before he said I love you to anyone but his mother, and even then, it was given in brief, stilted tones.

But with Petra, he said it as quickly as he could, pulling her in for another kiss, wanting to hold on to her for as long as she would allow him.

His mother was thrilled, always having a feeling that her son harbored feelings for their ginger neighbor, and her father awkwardly patted him on the back.

"Glad it's you, son. I'm tired of all the jocks she brings around," and with a crane of the neck and a stern look, he said, "By the way, Petra, same rules apply, door stays open at all times!"

Petra groaned, stomping up the stairs. "Daddy, it's Levi! We used to listen to music on my boombox when we were 10, remember? We'd keep the door closed so you couldn't hear the CDs we bought from the thrift store."

Her father gave her a cautionary glance to her, then to Levi, who for the first time in his life, felt scared of the serene man.

"Door. Open." Her dad said with a final word, and Petra huffed, dragging Levi into her bedroom as she bemoaned how much she wanted to kiss him, earning a cough from downstairs.

Their relationship was "going steady" as some would call, with it being Levi's first relationship (he hoped his only), and Petra getting used to the idea that he was now her boyfriend.

He got jealous quite often, to the extent where he would hold her hand in the hallway or would walk with one arm wrapped around her shoulders. If he was feeling particularly whipped, he'd hold her books, but he wasn't sure if the snickers from Erwin and Hange were worth it. Not the one for PDA, Petra was surprised when he asked to hold hands, and she was more so endeared at his exuberant affections.

So far, these were the happiest days of Levi's life.

When springtime came around, with the seniors abuzz with the promise of graduation and more importantly, prom, he came to the dreaded realization that Petra was expecting a "promposal," something he had seen throughout his four years of high school but always wrote it off as annoying.

He supposed he didn't think he'd be lucky enough to go with the girl of his dreams.

It started with Nifa, who received a promposal from Gunther in the most saccharine way possible, a candy gram.

Then Nanaba and Mike, the latter coordinating a flash mob with their friends. (Levi didn't dance, but Petra told him all about it and showed them the final video they recorded).

It was a given that Eld and his long-time girlfriend would be going together.

Hange dropped on Levi that she and Erwin were also going as a pair, but it was nothing serious, and decided to go together just so they wouldn't have to deal with the headache of finding an actual date.

Which left Petra, waiting for Levi, and not being the one for grand gestures, he sat himself down to work on a promposal in the only way he knew how to.

Coding a video game.

Petra may be a cheerleader, but she was also a huge nerd thanks to Levi, where they spent most of their childhood playing every video game between his Gamecube, her PS2, and subsequently, their Nintendo DS's, and trading and exchanging games throughout their adolescence.

Their personal favorite was Zelda, with Petra often handing the controller off to him for the harder dungeons, and he knew just what to do when they had their usual Friday night movie, this time at his house.

Cuddled up on the sofa, they were kissing, barely paying attention to the movie as the white of the TV illuminated their bodies. A half-eaten box of pizza was open and cups of soda were on the table in front of them.

It was getting late, and he knew Petra had to be home soon, and he tried to focus on not losing his nerve. Hands at her waist, her plush body against his, he told himself there was nothing to worry about since this was Petra and she chose him when she could have any guy in the school. Eight months of dating should have said so.

Petra seemed to catch his hesitancy as she broke the kiss, but suckled at his lower lip in a way that he adored before she whispered, "Something wrong?"

She knew him so well.

Pulling her in for one more kiss, he reached for the remote to shut the TV off. "I coded a game," he said seriously, wondering if his face gave away his nervousness. "I was wondering if you could try it."

Eyes sparkling, Petra nodded excitedly. "It's been a while since you've made something!"

He ran to get his laptop, already having the file ready while he opened his computer, sliding it in front of her.

"It's, uh, standard WASD to walk, and you can use the numbers to click on objects," he explained as a black screen opened, showcasing a pixelated version of Petra. She held a magic wand with some fire at the end, and she was smiling, wearing her cheerleading outfit.

"Is this me?" She asked, giggling as she went through the dungeon, shooting fire bolts from her wand.

He nodded, staring at the screen in apprehension.

"Not to be a critic, but it's a little easy. Maybe add some mazes so it's not as linear?" She suggested, blasting through a monster.

"Sure, yeah, I'll keep it in mind," he said absently, chewing at his lip as she made it to the final room.

A dragon with a letterman jacket appeared, and Petra easily dodged his fire while she gave more flicks of her wand. The dragon poofed away in a cloud of smoke, revealing a chest, and as she clicked to open it, the chest opening sound from Zelda played, making Petra squeal.

"Oh boy, what am I gonna get?" She asked with an excited clap, and the screen enlarged, a picture of a blue rose and a question in pixelated letters asking,

IT'S DANGEROUS TO GO ALONE. WILL YOU GO TO PROM WITH ME?

YES / NO

Mouth gaping, Petra looked to Levi, who was nearly squirming out of his skin in panic, clasping his hands together firmly.

Petra smiled, moving the cursor over to "YES" and clicked on it, playing the item received sound from Zelda, and confetti popped on the screen.

Crashing into Levi, Petra kissed him, wondering why it took her so long to see that she had been adored her entire life.

"You're so romantic," she sighed, tugging at his hair and running her fingers down his undercut.

Levi wanted to nearly cry from relief but quickly forgot about his distress as Petra flicked her tongue down his earlobe. She whispered she had five minutes until curfew, and it was a good thing they were neighbors so she wouldn't have to hurry home.

---

It's too damn hot, Levi thought to himself, tugging at his cravat that contrasted with his black button-down and white suit. A chain tied the two ends of the jacket together, also accompanied by a white pocket square, and even though he liked his ensemble when his mother first helped him pick it out, it was starting to feel too tight as sweat clung to his skin, the layers of the fabric suffocating him in the mid-spring weather.

Maybe it wasn't the only reason he was hot, he entertained, seeing Petra dance with their friends, dressed in a spaghetti strap orange dress and matching cream ribbon. Around her wrist was a blue rose corsage, the one he gifted her when he picked her up from her house in his mom's beat-up minivan.

She looked radiant, and perhaps what made her even more attractive was the fact that she was dressed for him. He had seen her in dozens of outfits ranging from sweat pants to middle school formals, but tonight, this was just about the two of them.

Blushing, she accepted his flowers and corsage, posing for pictures by the stairwell he used to climb with her, pretending monsters were chasing them.

Wrapping his arms around her had never felt so right as they slow danced, the dim light and rainbow disco ball illuminating their touch starved bodies. Levi Ackerman didn't dance, but for her, he would do anything as long as she was by his side.

Pressing her cheek to his chest, happy she chose only an inch for her heels so he was still taller, she whispered to him, "Are you nervous about tonight?"

Petra had agreed to go as fast or slow as Levi wanted, especially with it being his first relationship, but there was one request she had after he had asked her to prom.

"I want to have sex with you if you're ready," she said after a heated make-out session.

"Here?!" He asked, looking at his childhood bedroom, the same navy walls he had known for 18 years staring back at him.

"No, not here!" She giggled, flopping down onto his body.

"Prom night," she said quietly. "I've been saving myself for someone special and I want it to be you. I've never gone all the way with a guy...."

"Really?" He asked in wonderment, assuming Petra had sex, a thought he kept firmly shut off at the back of his mind.

"It just never felt right before. Until you." Scooting up to meet his lips, he groaned, evidence of his arousal for her apparent from the first time they kissed and then after. Sometimes she palmed his pants, sometimes he took care of himself right after she left, but he never wanted to push too far, or come across as inexperienced to Petra.

"We're both 18, I was thinking we can rent a hotel room. I can tell my dad I'm sleeping at Nifa's. You can say you're at Erwin's."

A million thoughts and images flashed through Levi's mind, but the only thing he could hear was I'm going to have sex.

"Prom night, then," he agreed.

He had stayed up hours the night before reading up on sex, the technical side of things, the intimate parts, and discussing protection with Petra the weeks leading up to it. They agreed on condoms, so he went to the store in the middle of the night to get a box, and stuffed them in the back of his underwear drawer so his mother wouldn't find them.

Before he left for Petra's, his mother embraced him, giving him the speech that he was growing up so fast, how proud she was of him, and that she was so happy he and Petra were dating.

It was then she pulled out a plastic shopping bag of condoms and started putting them in his pockets, both his jacket and pants, and Levi nearly pushed her to the ground, face flaming.

"What the hell, mom?!"

She gave him a stern look. "I know what kids do on prom night, Levi. I just want you and Petra to be careful—Don't make me a grandmother just yet! Look, I got you different sizes and flavors—"

They were not having this conversation, and Levi haphazardly unlocked the front door, barely sliding his shoes on, "Stop. Just stop. We're, uh, we're fine. We have everything we need."

Kuchel breathed a sigh of relief, placing three more condoms into Levi's hand, accompanied by forty dollars. "Good. Just be safe. Tell me if you need anything, and have fun at the hotel," she winked, and Levi gaped at her.

"What?" She asked innocently. "I know you guys are 18. And I might have heard Petra in the grocery store gossiping with her friends."

He facepalmed, groaning. Of course, Petra would be broadcasting losing her virginity.

To you, he reminded himself.

Levi stepped back into the house, kissing his mom swiftly on the cheek, muttering I love you as he took the car keys and drove down the half a block to Petra's house. Kuchel waved as she closed the door, happy her son was finally with Petra.

"A little," he admitted to Petra, back in the present. He kissed the crown of her head, holding her close. "Are you?"

Nodding, she raised her head to look at him, though they were nearly at eye level.

"But I'm happy it's with you."

A more upbeat song began, causing the numerous couples on the dance floor to break away and spin onto the dance floor. Petra let him go, but grasping his hand as she guided them back to their friends, encouraging them all to hold hands.

"To senior year!" They shouted, and as much Levi wanted to say he hated crowds, the sweat, and the lack of personal space, he found himself not caring, savoring the last tendrils of adolescence.

---

Petra was talking nonstop as they drove to the hotel, only 15 minutes away from the prom venue, and while she was usually a chatterbox, she found it was more from nerves than actually having anything significant to say.

Levi had one of their mixtapes in the CD player, burned during their middle school years written in sharpie Levi and Petra's mixtape, volume 5. Stolen songs from the internet, coupled with tracks from both of their iTunes libraries, Petra always marveled at how opposite they could be, and yet shared similar interests.

The songs were so familiar to her that she involuntarily sang along, reminiscing how often she played their shared songs and rolling over in excitement on her bed when she found a track she knew Levi would like.

Levi parked, hand still resting at the clutch as he looked to her with a steady breath. "We're here," he said quietly and Petra nodded sweetly in return.

Both brought two small duffles to change out of their prom clothes, and shuffled into the hotel, checking in, trying not to look like two teenagers about to have sex for the first time, but ultimately failing as Levi's hands shook as he slid the key card in.

Booking the cheapest room they could find that wasn't a motel, there was little space to walk other than the perimeter around the king-sized bed, a TV with a dresser, and a door leading to the bathroom where Petra excused herself to.

Levi switched the lights on, checking for anything unsavory, and dropped his duffel bag to the floor, checking himself in the door mirror.

Should he change? He didn't want to look too casual, not having the faintest idea of what "sexy" pajamas looked like for men, and he awkwardly paced, debating to at least take his jacket off, unhooking the chain to let his lapels break free.

He hung the jacket over the nearby loveseat, then fiddled with his cravat, wondering if he should take that off too since Petra may find it to be a nuisance, and before he could debate with himself any longer, he heard the bathroom door open up, revealing Petra in a pink baby doll outfit.

Blinking at him with doe eyes, she blushed furiously, not meeting his wandering eyes.

She was definitely not wearing that before they got in, so she must have changed, and suddenly, Levi felt very overdressed as his mouth went dry.

Licking his lips, he hurriedly got the "sex stuff" from his bag, throwing the box of condoms onto the nightstand, followed by lube, and Petra started giggling as he undid the condoms from his pockets as well.

"How many times do you think we're going to have sex tonight? 50?" She joked, eyes raking at the varieties.

"My mom insisted," he grumbled, heat creeping up his neck and Petra's eyes widened in embarrassment and fear.

"You told her?!"

"No!" He blurted defensively. "She figured it out. You know how perceptive she is."

Petra hummed in agreement, scooping up the condoms and putting them back into his duffel.

"I think it's safe to say we can just use that box," she said, pointing to the Trojan extra-large, then running her hands down his arms.

Levi shuddered, unsure if he wanted to keep staring at her or rip the lingerie off, but found himself unable to speak as Petra kissed him heatedly, tongue diving in, and placed his hands on her breasts.

"You can touch them, you know," she whispered, and Levi could have come alone from the contact, his hands touching the silken mounds he had fantasized about ever since they hit puberty.

He backed them into the bed, with Petra's back falling against the plush sheets, and she moaned as Levi pressed his weight against her, gently rocking against her body. She reached for his cravat, tugging it off so that it hung around his neck, and began unbuttoning his dress shirt.

"Have I told you how handsome you look tonight?" she purred, her pearl earrings catching the light in the room.

"Yes, but I can stand to hear it a bit more," he replied, daring himself to touch her legs, each graze of his fingertips like electricity down her spine.

The babydoll deliciously pushed her breasts together as a cute little ribbon sat in between her breasts. The material was nearly opaque, and his mouth watered, thinking of Petra in a thong, despite the number of times he'd seen her in a bathing suit.

"And you look, uh, amazing," he breathed above her.

"Really?" Petra exclaimed in relief. "Nanaba helped me pick it out, said that you're probably more into cute-sexy than sexy-sexy."

Gently sliding the straps down so he could kiss her bare shoulders where her freckles met, he said, "Anything you wear for me is sexy."

"Mmm," Petra sighed as he continued working at her top, finding the ribbon in the back and letting it fall off her arms until she was left in her bare breasts.

Instinctively, she went to cover then, but at Levi's eager and furtive look, she released them, guiding his hands back onto her chest, encouraging him to knead and caress her.

He was clumsy, but in an endearing way, fascinated that he was able to elicit such sounds from her, and when he realized she was only wearing her underwear, and he was wearing too much, he immediately discarded his shirt, then moved to unbuckle his pants.

"Let me help you with that," Petra said, sliding onto her knees to unzip his fly, then eagerly sliding them down his legs as he kicked it off.

"Wow," she breathed at the tent in his boxers, and he had the urge to cover himself as well until Petra reached for him, stroking his length and he moaned loudly.

"Y-you can't do that, I'm gonna come," he coaxed himself to say despite how magnificent it felt.

Blushing, happy she was able to make him feel so much with so little, Petra removed her hand and embraced him as they fell back onto the mattress.

They kissed again, feeling each other's bodies for the first time in this state, hands needy but asking for permission, Levi skimmed the tips of his fingers over Petra's ass, earning a hiss of pleasure.

"I need you," she whined, and unsure of how to proceed, Levi detached himself and grabbed a condom, hands shaking as he undid the wrapper.

"You know how to put it on?" Petra asked out of concern and fascination.

He nodded, slipping it down while pulling the tip. "I've done a test run just to make sure. I, uh, was thinking of you the entire time—-" Fuck, this was not romantic in the slightest, Levi chastised to himself. Petra didn't want to hear how he tested the physics of it, how to avoid using it incorrectly which led to him snapping it against his fingers.

But practice makes perfect, and he felt confident as he hovered above Petra, kissing her neck softly while feeling awkward from the latex between them. She hooked her thumbs over her panties, taking them off, and spread her legs for him, her expression yearning and hopeful.

"I've heard it might hurt," Levi said, breath heady at the sight of her womanhood, a cute ginger patch of curls.

"It's okay. You can't hurt me, it's you," she said gently, resting her hands against his shoulder blades, egging him forward.

Levi placed the tip at her entrance, holding his breath as Petra wriggled beneath him, gasping from the friction and he slid in very slowly, both moaning from the contact.

Petra was slick with arousal, and as he continued to push in, they gasped in time, and Levi had to keep himself from moving too firmly because she felt absolutely wonderful, all warm and tight.

"You okay?" He asked, noticing her wrinkled expression, and Petra gasped, opening one eye.

"Y-yeah, you're just really big. But I feel okay."

Pride swelled within him, kissing her gently as he throbbed with desire, and asked her permission to move.

Lifting her hips, he groaned, pumping into her once, then twice, then on the third—-

"Argh!" He gasped, already coming, not being to restrain himself because that's how good she felt.

Shame washed over him as Petra realized what was happening, and she held him gently as goosebumps danced across his skin.

He immediately removed himself from her, hobbling to the bathroom, and Petra looked worried as she processed what had just happened, but pleased that nothing unsafe occurred.

She squeezed her legs together, disappointment and frustration throbbing between her legs, but Levi reappeared, looking thoroughly abashed as he tucked his underwear back on.

"Petra, I'm so sorry about that. Let me make it up to you—"

And before Petra could protest, he crawled to her on all fours at the base of the bed, and placed his hands on her knees, opening them slightly.

"I read that most girls like this better away," he began, kissing her inner thigh, and Petra rolled her head back, happy he was tending to her, but squeaking as he immediately dove his head between her legs, then licking her core with an unpracticed tongue.

"Eek!" She screeched, kicking him in the chest out of reflex from the surprising sensation.

"Ow!" Levi exclaimed, falling back and looking like a mixture of pissed off and fear.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked, inching back to her, and Petra plopped her head against the pillow, laughing hard to herself.

"I should be asking you that, I'm sorry I kicked you," she said, giggling into the popcorn ceiling, then turning to face him. "I think for that, we need to warm up a bit. But...I don't want that tonight. Another time," she added with a hopeful look and Levi smiled sadly, hanging his head.

"I'm shit in bed."

Petra weaved a hand through his hair, realizing how much pressure he was under. "No, you're not, Levi. You were just excited. If anything, it's flattering," she said, an adorable pink blush filling her cheeks.

"We'll get better with time and practice. While we wait for you to reset, I brought something for me. I figured something like this would happen."

She padded to her duffel bag, taking out a pink dildo, and clicked it on. It vibrated, and Levi looked at her with a dumbstruck face as she smirked in response.

"Maybe we'll need all those condoms anyway."

[authoressofdarkness]

His Perfect Model - Chapter 1

Tony doesn’t need the money from porn shoots, Lord knows. It’s just a fun, extremely well paying side gig. But when he somehow acquires permanent... ah, custody... of the omega from his latest shoot, he knows he’s found his perfect model. And their fun together is only beginning. It may take him some time to convince Peter of that, but really, he’s not too worried.

Read on AO3 here. Notes, warnings, and Chapter 1 under the cut.

Notes: Hello hello! I'm back again! This is another random plot bunny that I've been fidgeting with for a while, but I was eventually convinced to get it up sooner rather than later, so here it is! This first chapter is very explicit, and it probably will be rather smutty most of the way through. Not sure how long this will be yet or what it will deal with, but just for transparency, there may be talk of past trauma that could extend to noncon, dubcon, kidnapping, human trafficking, and more. I'll tag each chapter accordingly as we get there, but none of it should be too explicit. Also, anyone familiar with GMSTS will be familiar with how I write ABO, but, as simply as possible, omegas have vaginas, alphas have cocks, and betas are what we would consider "binary." Again, I say so ahead of time just in the interest of transparency so I don't accidentally trigger anyone's dysphoria. Aaaanyway, if you've made it through my rambling and are still interested, yay! Thank you for being here, read on, and I hope you enjoy! <3

He tries not to judge.

That was probably why he gets hired for so many gigs. That and his insane amount of talent, but — well. Anyone could have that amount of talent with working with equipment if they tried. Now the fact that he builds his own… that is something special, he knows.

And, really, his technical prowess was what pays his bills more than anything, and is what made him rich. That, and his father’s name, but he tries to keep that part more under wraps. He’d turned away the responsibility that normally came with being a Stark a long time ago; but the intelligence and the mechanical prowess is practically in his blood. Unable to be rejected.

Anyway, the point is, he doesn’t need to do porn shoots; yet he still enjoys taking these side jobs. He always had, even on his way to the top, and he never made any attempt to hide it.

He doesn’t just shoot porn, of course. He’d lend his camera skills to anyone who asks and has the money to back up the offer. But of course the dirty jobs tend to be his favorites. Any alpha that says they don’t like to pose an omega how they like and look at their pretty pussy for any amount of time — and get paid the big bucks to do it — was certainly a liar.

And yeah, he takes some weird jobs included in that. But he doesn’t ask many questions except on the preferences for stylings of the job, and he’s kinky enough himself to never dream of judging the extremism of it, so… yeah, he makes pretty good money.

Today might be testing the extent of it, though.

The scene he is shooting today isn’t particularly extreme or out of the ordinary, on first glance. The omega was to be strapped to a chair with a wand tied in place to tease his pussy, and Tony is supposed to capture it in photo and on video as his torture goes through stages of multiple denials until he’s hypersensitive and begging to stop. The rest was put as to be determined based on the way it comes out.

It is far from the craziest thing he’s ever shot, and he planned it out easily enough, with a few of his favorite toys and set pieces, and he’s easily ready to go.

The weird part starts when the omega gets there.

It’s apparent immediately that this is no porn star. Aside from his experience in the field and the number of them he actually knew from it, Peter doesn’t carry himself like one. He is small and shy, with a lithe, gorgeous body, as Tony can see from the moment the two gruff alphas accompanying him strip him out of the poor excuse for a covering the omega had been wearing. All he was left in then was a slip, and it’s sheer fabric did nothing to hide the pretty nude form underneath.

Most people arrived in normal clothes and then would either change or strip.

The second thing was that he is already bound. Again, unusual. Clearly he hadn’t driven himself, of course, but… this must be a really elaborate scene for him to already be tied up. And the rope isn’t even the good stuff; it’s plain and grainy, certainly hurting his wrists and not at all his color. Tony always used rope that complimented the style of the scene and the person’s skin. It would be a waste not to.

Peter is gorgeous, and he could have used a lot of colors, admittedly. But the boy is delicate and pale — his pussy much the same in the photos — and so he’d chosen a light pink, one that didn’t wash out his already pale form and almost matched the pretty color of the soft bits he’d been paid to pay special attention to. It’s easy enough to match the background of the scene and the colors of the toys and rope together, thematically.

But that aside, all of the choices up to this point were strange. Stranger than he’s used to. But he makes it a point not to say anything. He’s not being paid to judge.

Even if Peter looks almost scared of the two men he came in with. Even if something rings off about this whole gig.

Tony isn’t stupid, but he doesn’t care much for the loss of business — at least — pushing for the truth would cause. So he pushes the thoughts down and finally approaches the omega.

“Hi, princess. Gentlemen.” He kneels down to be at Peter’s level. “My name’s Tony. I’m going to be the one taking your photos, honey. Can I get you anything before we start? A water? Bathroom break?” The omega silently shakes his head. “Alright. Let's get started then.” He holds out a hand to help him up.

Peter takes it, and Tony helps him to his feet and guides him over to the chair. “Now we’re going to start with some photos on the floor and make our way into the chair. I’m going to change out your ropes. I want you to leave the slip on, for now.” It’s white, a nice color to highlight the details of the creamy skin underneath, and doesn’t contrast with his ropes, either.

He cuts the bonds on the omega’s wrists and reties them in front of him with the pink rope, then has him lay down on the floor, propping his ankles up on the edge of the chair so the slip falls back to expose creamy thighs and stomach and the top of that tantalizing slit from above his pressed-together thighs.

Tony suppresses the urge to purr. “Perfect.” He moves behind the chair and starts taking pictures, ignoring the stir of arousal in his gut at the sight of the gorgeous omega as he does, throwing out occasional changes in position for him to follow.

Peter, for his part, is pretty demure throughout all the photos. He’s quiet — whether shy or afraid to speak, Tony doesn’t ask — but he doesn’t look sullen or make any faces to spoil the photos. He just complies with Tony’s directions, usually silently or with an occasional “yes, sir,” allowing Tony to direct and shoot him in a dozen different positions before allowing him to actually sit in the chair.

Feet on the chair. Legs crossed. Legs open. Spread your folds with your bound hands. One leg up, then the other. Knees bent. To your chest, pussy exposed wide without your fingers. Pull the sheer over it for a few shots. Hold the wand to it. Hands above your head. Hold still while I get shots of it resting there. Tied with the rope like it will be in the video. Lick the wand. Close your eyes and hold it there. Take off the slip. Repeat a few sultry shots without it.

Finally, he picks up the slip and helps the omega to his feet. “You can sit in the chair now. Put the slip back on for a few minutes.”

Peter nods and does as he’s told, and Tony watches, unable to help himself. He doesn’t find himself incredibly attracted to a lot of his clients, at least after so long of doing it, and what with his tastes being so specific… but Peter seemed to hit everything on the head, and god, it was a bit of a problem for him. He’s supposed to be setting up his camera right now, but instead he’s admiring the curve of the omega’s spine and his plump ass as he heads for the chair he’s going to tie him to and-

He snaps out of it. He’s going to shoot the video he’s being paid to shoot, and that’s it. No fantasies allowed. At least not until after when he’s jerking off to the memory of this.

He sets up his video camera, then returns to the little omega, waiting patiently for him to come to him so they could shoot the scene. Tony grabs some more of the pink rope, setting about tying the pretty thing down, wrists to the arms, ankles to the legs, back to the back, and the wand added with a loop through the middle tying his back to the chair, letting it sit perfectly against Peter’s pretty pussy. He tops it off with a blindfold, and purrs at the completed look.

“Perfect. I’m going to get a few more shots before we start filming. Just relax.” He can smell the omega starting to get slick, even just from the wand resting against his pussy. He definitely knows what’s coming. Even though it’s not Tony’s idea, or Tony’s omega, even, he’s getting slightly excited at the thought of being in control and being the one to do this to him.

He gets a lot more excited when they actually start.

He does. He can’t help it. From the moment he turns the toy on and watches the omega’s head loll back in pleasure, eyes fluttering under the blindfold, he’s rock hard in his pants, watching, smelling the omega’s slick as he goes from slightly wet to absolutely drenched and dripping down his own thighs by the third denial. And his moans… the way he meekly whines out for alpha and those little cries of pleasepleaseplease! when he’s on the cusp of orgasm… it’s pornographic, there’s no other word for how obscene and arousing it is, matched only by the way his lithe body squirms in his bonds, fabric around his eyes darkening from tears-

By the fifth denial, Tony is convinced he could probably come in his pants right now from this, if he let himself. He’s half-ass tempted to. The alphas that had brought him in have stepped outside, and Peter is slumped as much as he can be and panting in the chair, still blindfolded, just waiting for him to turn it back on. It would be so easy to rub himself to a quick and dirty orgasm out of any of their lines of sight.

He doesn’t. He turns the toy back on and lets his cock twitch and strain in his pants at the sound of Peter’s broken cry instead, finding this edging to be just as satisfying for him as how it’ll probably end for Peter. At least it’s fair.

One of the alphas that brought him in returns sometime around the eighth denial. He joins him off to the side this time.

“How many?” He sounds almost bored, eyeing the crying and squirming omega with minimal interest.

Tony tried to keep his voice even as he answers, despite the arousal threatening to roughen it. “When I turn it on again, it’ll be nine.”

“Good.” He nods, looking satisfied.

There’s a long moment of silence except for the pitiful whimpering of the omega. Tony breaks it again. “How many times am I supposed to deny him?”

“At least ten.”

“And then?”

The other alpha turns to him. “That depends on you, I think.”

“On me?” He can’t hide his surprise. The paperwork had said to be determined, yes, but he assumed it was to be determined based on what Peter could take. “What do you mean?”

The older alpha gives him a once over and purposefully scents the air before answering. “You want him. Don’t you?”

It’s not like there’s any way of hiding it, but his cheeks still tint pink. “Yes. Who wouldn’t?”

“Well, you have a chance at him before anyone else.” The alpha tilts his head. “How much are you willing to pay?”

“Excuse me?” Tony straightens. “Pay for what?”

“Him.” The alpha tosses his head in Peter’s direction.

Tony lets out a little breath. God, is it tempting, but he doesn’t need anyone else used whore, no matter how pretty he may be. “He’s pretty, I grant you, but I’m not paying to fuck an omega used by how many others before me. Thanks, but no thanks.” It sounded crude, but really. Why would he take a risk like that?

“He hasn’t been. He’s fresh meat.” The other male shrugs. “The shoot is for material to advertise him. He goes online for sale tonight… unless you pay me for him right now.”

Tony doesn’t need him to say it flat out to understand that his suspicions were right — there’s definitely something illegal going on here. And he has a choice.

But what kind of choice is it, really? He only knows two people’s names out of what is surely a ring, and in all likelihood, they’re fake names. These two alphas probably wouldn’t have shared this with him if they weren’t confident that he wants Peter enough to take it. And even the fact they were here and they did this shoot would be enough to get him in trouble, even if he turned it in himself. Not to mention the fact that they know his real identity. These two men or someone else would surely come back after him if he tried to turn them in — if they didn’t kill him flat out.

But if he bought Peter and kept quiet… it was better for him, better for business, and surely better for Peter. He couldn’t be as bad as whoever the boy would end up being sold to on the black market.

Tony meets his eyes. “How much?”

The alpha grins, pretending to think about it. “To have first go round at him? A couple grand. I’ll go back outside and let you have him until sundown, if you give us our material and the cash. To keep him? Well, I still want the photos for promotional material, but… a mil or two.”

Two whole million. For a pure, untouched, gorgeous, terrified omega straight out of his wet dreams.

Tony swallows. It’s hardly a decision. Not when he’s smelling how wet and ready Peter is sitting a few feet away and he knows he could have the money out of the bank as quick as a phone call. It’s not as if he doesn’t have it. “How soon do you want the cash?”

~~~

By the time Peter reaches the tenth denial, Tony officially owns him.

The two other alphas leave with a flash drive with the photos, the money in an account, and the promise that they’ll get the finished product of the video soon.

Soon, but not today, or the next couple, probably. He’s going to be a bit busy.

He fixes the angle of the camera so it’s situated mostly below the neck; the focus of it, of course, on the omega’s creamy open thighs, and the wet pussy forced open between them with the wand. Then he moves around, approaching the omega from the back while he’s slumped in the chair, panting and crying weakly.

He slides the blindfold off the omega’s wet eyes from behind, and Peter immediately straightens, tugging at his bonds. “H-hello? Alpha?” His voice is thick and raspy from crying.

“Hi, honey,” Tony purrs, setting his hands on the omega’s shoulders, enjoying the way he jumps at the touch as he runs them down his body. Deft fingers free the wand from its loop, and Peter sobs in relief.

“Oh alpha, thank you, gods- ngh- “

Peter starts to thank him for removing the wand, but chokes off with a broken cry when it returns, this time in the alpha’s hand. Tony smiles at the response as Peter’s head lolls back into his shoulder, turning it up a setting and shushing him gently at the sob that tears from Peter’s lips again.

He runs his other hand back up Peter’s body and settles it against his chin, grip firm on his throat, forcing him to keep his head back and on his shoulder. He drops his lips to the omega’s ear. “You can sob and struggle all you want to. I’m not going to let you come. And I’m not going to stop torturing you until you stop all of it. Don’t cry, don’t struggle, don’t beg me to let you ruin yourself. When you start saying please and thank you for the pleasure and for what I’m doing to you, and be a respectful, obedient omega, we might stop.”

“It hurts-“ Peter whimpers. “Alpha, daddy , please… I’ll do anything- oh- “ His face presses against Tony’s chest with a tortured cry. His thighs tremble viciously against Tony’s hand, back arching a little over the chair.

Tony feels a pang in his chest, but presses on. They have to finish this video before he starts going soft, at least. “You’ll sit still and be quiet. Here. I’ll even help you.” The hand not holding the wand in place comes up and covers his mouth, holding his head firmly against his shoulder. “Now be good, and I’ll make it stop.”

It takes time. Another few denials, kind of time, but it doesn’t matter. He has as long as needed. He’d given the omega an order, and he’d learn to listen, or they’d keep going all night.

Eventually, shaking and exhausted, Peter goes limp against him, eyes closed, pitiful little sobs audible but no words even trying to come from behind the alpha’s hand, still clamped on his mouth. Tony makes a triumphant little sound, and pulls the wand away. “Look at me, omega.”

Peter’s eyes flutter open, red and wet, fixing on Tony.

“Since you’ve listened, now, we’re going to be done. I’m going to take my hand off your mouth, and I want you to thank me. Don’t stop thanking me, and don’t say please, again, or we’ll stop until you can get control of yourself. Am I clear?” A nod against his hand. “Good.” He lets him go.

Peter takes a small breath. “Thank you.” His voice is barely a hoarse whisper.

“You’re welcome, omega.” Tony presses a kiss to his neck and lets the wand trail back up Peter’s thigh, suppressing a smirk at the way his breath hitches again. “Again.”

“Thank you, Alpha.”

“Good boy. Remember, don’t beg. Just be grateful.” He pauses, then slides the blindfold back on his eyes. He knows they want his full body in this shot, but he isn’t too keen on the possibility of the omega being recognized, either, knowing what he does now. Then he steps away just enough to tilt the camera back up, allowing it to get Peter’s face, and a small portion of his own neck and torso behind him.

When he returns, he takes his chin, turning his head toward the lens. “Look toward the camera, now. Think about how many people are going to see this, honey, and try show them how good you are. Let everyone see how pretty you look when you’re coming, just this once, before I take it all for myself.”

“Yes, alpha. Thank you, alpha.”

“Good boy.” With that, he turns on the wand again.

The omega’s body jumps visibly in the camera lens when the toy finds his swollen clit again. He lets out a broken little cry, but his hips don’t move, even as he starts to tremble again immediately. “Alpha- feels so good, Alpha, thank you- so close, Alpha, so close, thank you- oh god, oh- ngh- “

The force of the orgasm rocks his little body, and he nearly screams at the intensity before going completely limp in the chair again, clearly seeing stars, seeming to have blacked out.

Tony flicks the toy off and lets Peter’s head go, watching it fall to his chest as the omega pants and struggles to regain his senses. He walks over to the camera, taking it off its stand and coming closer.

He trails his fingers from the inside of Peter’s bound leg, up his core, pausing for just a moment to tease that oversensitive little bud, tearing a strangled cry out of Peter that he shushes, and then clear up to his face. He cups his cheek, stroking it as the omega’s unfocused eyes try to open under the fabric, clearly barely holding on to consciousness.

“You know you want one,” he murmurs, just loud enough to be heard. “So come get it.”

Then he shuts the camera off, setting it aside and turning completely back to Peter. It was time to get the omega home.

Taglist: @snowstark @serrabloodsong​

Let me know if you would like to be added! <3

[mistymark]

the one with the ex boyfriend. [mark]

summary: you and your ex boyfriend, mark, take part in a video interview surrounding your past relationship.

based off of ‘the exes confronting each other’ seventeen series by @skydivingstars

[ex boyfriend interview series masterlist] [main masterlist]

[The video begins with a bare set. Both the wall and the ground are grey, save for the two black spinning stools in the middle of the screen, only a metre or two apart.]

[Two people walk in, from opposite sides of the screen, gently taking a seat on the stools. They give each other awkward smiles, both nervously fiddling with the caps of their drink bottles before placing them on the floor.]

[We’re currently doing a series on exes and past relationships. I believe your mutual friend asked you to do this? Okay. Well, we’ll just be asking a few questions. If at any time you feel uncomfortable, or if you just need need a break, just let us know. We can skip a question or edit a section out if you would like. Ready?]

[Could you introduce yourselves and your relationship?]

[Y/n is biting her lip, zoning out.]

Mark, shyly raising his hand slightly as if he were in a class: uh, I'm mark. y/n’s ex boyfriend.

Y/n, suddenly zoning back in: I’m y/n. mark’s ex girlfriend.

[And how did you meet?]

Y/n, smiling at the memory: orientation week in freshman year.

Mark, nervously giggling: I, uh, ran into her during the club sign-up-

Y/n: literally ran into me. I dropped my coffee!

Y/n, beaming at the camera: but don’t worry, he was super sweet and offered to buy me a new one.

Mark, scratching the back of his neck: I saw it happen in a movie once

[Y/n looks to the side at him, their eyes meet and they both send each other small smiles as if sharing a private joke.]

[When did you first realise you were interested in each other?]

Y/n, trying to stop herself from smiling: pretty much straight away, actually.

Mark, shyly: really?

Y/n, briefly glancing at him before focusing on the camera: he was cute and he bought me a coffee. of course, I wanted to get to know him a bit more, but, you know-

Mark, refusing to look at Y/n: I, uh, I honestly didn’t think I had a shot with her after I spilt her coffee

Mark: but when I bought a new one for her, she was really nice about it

Mark: and I, um, wanted to ask her out

[And did you?]

Y/n, straight away: no

Mark, scratching the back of his neck: er, no, I didn’t

[So Y/n asked Mark out?]

Y/n: um, no, not exactly

Mark: our friends, they knew we liked each other

Y/n: they left a note at my apartment that was asking me out on a date and they signed it from Mark with his number

Mark, doing air quotes with his fingers: I got the same note “from Y/n” with her number

Mark: I texted her first, though

Y/n, dryly: oh yeah, you really took a leap of faith there

Y/n: does sending nothing but emojis even count as texting?

[Mark tries to kick her stool from where he’s sitting.]

[Why did you break up?]

[There’s silence for a moment. They both speak at the same time.]

Y/n: we were too busy

Mark: too busy

[They both say ‘too busy’ at exactly the same time. They look surprisedly at each other, shocked they said the same thing at the same time.]

Y/n: we’d been dating for-

[She turns to look at Mark.]

Y/n: just over two years?

Mark, nodding: yeah, 2 years and 4 months I think.

[She offers him a grateful smile before turning back to the camera.]

Y/n: we’d been dating for over two years and we were in our junior year of college and we both got really busy.

Mark: we both had internships and side jobs and studying. and then there was a lot of family stuff, too.

Y/n: it was really difficult to find time for each other, and we missed our two year anniversary.

Mark, glancing at Y/n for confirmation: I think that was the... first time? we thought something was wrong.

Y/n, nodding: yeah, first time for me.

Y/n: it sucked having to break up when you never even lost interest in the person

Mark, nodding: yeah

Mark: it felt like- it felt like you’d gone overseas or something. like we were still dating and I just never saw you. it didn’t register straight away that we weren’t together.

Y/n, smiling at him sadly: yeah. I felt the same.

[Zoom in on Y/n]

Y/n: I think I cried for a week when we called it off.

[The camera zooms out to show Mark staring at Y/n, his expression unreadable.]

[What did you love most about each other?]

[Again, neither of them answer straight away.]

[Mark clears his throat.]

Mark: I don’t think there is just one thing.

[Y/n is surprised by this answer - she clearly had one thing she planned on saying. She listens to him talk.]

[Zoom in on Mark]

Mark, blushing: I kinda- I thought Y/n was perfect.

[The camera pans to Y/n, who is blushing, too.]

Mark: she, um, she was perfect to me, at least. I loved everything about her.

[He turns to see her reaction, and finds comfort in her expression. They both smile at each other, though it’s clear they’re both deep in thought.]

Y/n: I loved how in touch he was with himself.

[Mark laughs briefly at her answer.]

Y/n: like, he knew exactly what he wanted to be when we first met and he strived to become that person. I thought it was very admirable.

[It is obvious that she’s being sincere due to the blush on her face.]

[What did you hate about each other?]

Mark: the schedule

Y/n, laughing loudly: oh, god, the schedule

[The schedule?]

Mark, now laughing, too: we had this, like-

Mark, turning to Y/n for help: what even was it?

Y/n: like, a system, I guess? we had this calendar thing where you put your activities and meetings and stuff in - obviously we just had work and classes and stuff - to see when the other was free.

Y/n: we found that, most weeks, the only time we were able to meet was before 8am on a Monday or after 9pm on a Thursday

Mark: because, half the time, we were studying or working or had training sessions or something until late at night

Y/n: we had a schedule so on Monday mornings I’d pick Mark up at 7:30 with a coffee ready and drive him to his morning class

Mark: and I'd pick her up from her Thursday shift at work and we’d hang out then.

Y/n: it was so weird - having scheduled times to see each other

Mark, quietly, pointedly as he reaches for his drink bottle: it was the best part of my week, though

[Would you say you were in love?]

[Y/n thinks for a second before nodding.]

Y/n: uh, yeah, I would.

[Mark’s cheeks go even brighter red.]

Mark: me, too.

[Silence.]

[Zoom in on Y/n]

Y/n, smiling fondly at the memory: I used to think we’d get married

[The camera pans to Mark, who is smiling fondly at Y/n.]

[Would you give it another shot?]

Y/n, looking to Mark briefly before answering: I, um- yes.

Mark, feeling secure now that Y/n has answered: yes.

Mark: definitely.

[Now?]

Y/n: errrr-

Mark, gigging at his own blatant obviousness: yeah, I would.

[Well, that's it for today. Thank you so much for coming in, guys. You’re free to go.]

Y/n, smiling at the staff behind the camera: thank you!

Mark, bending down to get his drink bottle: thank you, everyone!

[Y/n hops down off her stool, swiftly grabbing the unopened bottle at her feet. She stands up to find Mark waiting for her.]

Mark, checking his phone: so, I, uh, know it’s a Saturday but I was wondering if you had time to go for a drink or something?

Y/n, wincing: I can’t today, I’m meeting Chaeryeong after this.

[Someone off-camera gestures for them to clear the set and they begin to walk off, the sound beginning to fade.]

Y/n: how about tomorrow?

Mark: I’m busy all day tomorrow.

[They are no longer visible on set, only a snippet of their conversation is caught.]

Y/n: ....Monday?

Mark, laughing: 7:30 still work for you?

Y/n: yeah

Mark: great, it’s a d-

[The sound cuts.]

[hansolmates]

vernon; blossomed (m)

feat. tattoo artist!vern x flower shop fem!reader based on nonnie’s big brain

genre/warnings: flangst, lang, wild generalizations of how tattooing works, gratuitous love for side characters, mild drinking, phineas and ferb references, mild foreplay

word count: 12k

Vernon called you his Rose. 

Not exactly his Rose, because you were definitely not anyone’s property and he wanted to give you nothing but your full autonomy, but it’s because he’s never had the chance to ask for your real name. 

But when he first spotted you in the little lavender and honey colored flower shop across the street, you were tending to the rose bushes at the front entrance. You were cutting roses and you didn’t look utterly graceful, in fact you stabbed yourself more than once with the thorns. He couldn’t help but laugh when you laughed when your co-worker had to hand you a new bandage every minute. 

He decided then that he liked you, even if it’s not wholly sexual or romantic, he liked you. 

Or maybe he just liked the idea of you, the way you’d lounge around in the canopy swing with your boots tucked under the seat, fluffy yellow socks wiggling out in the sun. Sometimes you’d read a book, sometimes for well over an hour. He liked how you soaked up the heat and created your own little world, happily unproductive. 

It was only a seven meter walk from the flower shop to the tattoo parlor, but the view from his front window required zero walking distance and a sure-fire lack of ever bumping into you. 

“Vernie’s got a crush on the Flower Girl,” Yoongi sing-songed, chugging along a box full of random-ass materials that Vernon was supposed to clean in the morning. 

Vernon scowled, and swatted away the older one’s hand when it dived in front of his face. 

Yoongi whistled like he was an old-time animation, singing the day away. “Vernie’s stalking his crush.” 

“I’m not stalking,” Vernon snapped, swiveling around in his rolling chair. “that involves shit like literally following her around,  photography, I dunno, being a weirdo?” 

“You definitely qualify for one of those.” Yoongi replied tartly, and he fought the urge to grin when Vernon finally turned back to the window, only to narrowly miss your form. The swing was now unoccupied, the only thing remnant were your working boots lined up against the entrance. “It’s been what, two weeks? Just ask her out already.” 

“You think I would’ve done that by now if there wasn’t a reason why?“ 

Soooo you were dating someone. Some super tall, super handsome guy would stroll up to the flower shop every morning, coffee in hand. Before you’d take your proffered coffee, he’d pucker his lips for a good-morning kiss in repayment. Vernon looked back to Yoongi, who was staring right back at him and confirming his suspicions that yes he was being a fucking weirdo for paying attention to things like that. 

Yoongi pressed his lips together, puffing his cheeks out in slight irritation. “So you’re stalking a taken girl,” he whistled lowly, “should I regret hiring you?” 

“Not funny.” 

“As repayment for effectively creeping me out,” The older one slipped his hand into his electric yellow windbreaker to twirl Vernon a ring of keys. “You’re closin’ up for tonight.” 

The brunette’s jaw dropped to his lap, and he got up from his spot by the window. “What? What happened to Minghao?” 

“Sick,” Yoongi shrugged. 

Closing up meant that Vernon had to stay until 12AM, at the very least. The area was off a college town and that meant a lot of young lucrative artists would stop by pretty late, hence the closing time. Usually Yoongi and Minghao were the night owls, but tonight Minghao was supposed to fly solo because Yoongi landed a last-minute recording gig. “C’mon, can I at least close early?” Vernon whined, “it’s summer. No one’s here.” 

“What, ya gotta date or something?” Yoongi smirked, swinging the entrance open. Halfway out the door, he added loftily, “don’t forget to water Patricia. It’s been two weeks.” 

The door slammed and Vernon was left alone. He spared a glance at the window, only to see that your boots were now gone from the patio and only one light was on in the shop. Vernon turned to his company for the night, their jade succulent, aptly named Patricia Planty. 

With Patricia Planty watered and a stomach full of Wendy’s nuggets in his body, Vernon busied himself up for a grueling five hours. Thankfully he brought in his laptop, as if he were expecting Yoongi to pull a fast one on him tonight. He drew some random things on his tablet: rockets, stars, the occasional squirrel, and roses. When he was tired of drawing, he’d blast the speakers off the joint and mess around with some of his music programming. When he was tired of doing both, he’d vegetate on the couch and read Reddit articles. 

It was past eleven when the first customer of the night stumbled in. Vernon fought the urge to groan, putting down the pen of his tablet on a particularly intricate constellation. 

“We’re closed!” He yelled through the office door. A white lie, but who would know? 

“Google said you were open until 12!” A voice yelled back, sounding slightly strained. 

Crap. Vernon lowered the volume and pushed away the swivel chair, swinging the office door open. With a rough clear of his throat and hoping not to look like too much of a jerk, he faced his customer, “Welcome to Nu ABO—” 

It was you. Cheeks ruddied, and your eyes glassed with a fresh glaze of tears. Your lower lip worried into a wobbly frown. Vernon’s Reebok’s glued to the concrete of the parlor, effectively stopping him in his tracks. The smell of mulch and a mixture of flowers penetrated his nostrils, but it did nothing to distract the utter hurt etched on your face. 

“Um, hey,”  his voice was gentle, yet unsure. “What are you doing here?” 

You just looked at him, incredulous. Vernon could have sworn he saw your left eyebrow twitch. Of course, you’ve never met him in your entire life, yet Vernon felt like he knew you since the beginning of your summer work. “Gettin’ a tattoo.” You replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, rubbing away a stray tear. 

He didn’t want to say it, but Vernon sighed and reasoned, “But it’s just that, ya kinda look—” 

You brushed past him, going straight into the artist room and plopping on the worn leather chair meant for customers. It was still high up because Vernon was cleaning the underside of the metal, so you had to do a little hop to get on. “I don’t care what kind of design. I looked up your Yelp online and everything looked pretty good.” And you then proceeded to unbutton the top of your blouse. 

“Holy shit,” he bounded over to you, grappling his fingers between your shirt before you could undo the rest of it. His breath was probably hot and heavy, compared to yours which was fresh from the cool summer air. Your faces were so close, closer than he ever fathomed. He didn’t think you two would meet this early in the year, as he was emotionally preparing to visit your flower shop at the end of the month, making up some spiel on how he needed to purchase real roses to replicate a commission. Not now. Now was a spontaneous episode, where he was trying to refasten your shirt and ignore the petal pink lace of your bra baiting his eyes. 

When he sensed that you would in fact, stop taking your shirt off, he backed up. “It’s just that, after eleven we don’t really apply tattoos. We just take consultations.” He tried to sound defeated, rubbing the back of his neck. Again, another lie. But Vernon wasn’t about to ink you on the spot, especially when you looked like this. 

“Is it because I’m upset?” You cried, “because I assure you, I’m in the right mind!” 

He winced, lolling his head back and forth. “That’s debatable.” 

You frowned, “C’mon, I have money. Just do me this one solid.” 

“What? No, you don’t even know what you want!” Vernon was exasperated. Not that he imagined the first time meeting you would be a walk in the park, but at the same time he wasn’t expecting to argue with you. 

"Don’t you want to be part of my spontaneous young life? Give me a tattoo that I’ll think about with my children 30 years from now?” He would laugh if you didn’t look like you were crying a river ten minutes ago. “As long as it’s not a tramp stamp, because I don’t think I can pull that off—" 

"Did you break up with your boyfriend or something?” Vernon blurted out before he could regret it. 

Your face morphed into something Vernon couldn’t understand. Pain, for sure. But a sort of relief knowing that you didn’t have to hide it. “Damn,” you give him a tired smile, “does the whole town know or something?" 

You cried again. This time, Vernon reacted quicker. Pulling out a Wendy’s napkin from his flannel pocket, he proffered it to you. He was thankful you didn’t question whether it was clean or not (it was!) and you proceeded to cover your snot and tears all over it. 

"Do you wanna talk about it?" 

You sniffled and blew a particularly large chunk of snot before you shook your head. 

"Do you… want fries?” He gestured to the small table in the room, which had some leftover fries from his combo. “I can heat ‘em up in the microwave." 

Due to the fact that you ran out of tissue room, you rubbed your face with the entirety of your sleeve. You peeked out mid-rub, and replied with a soft, "hell yeah I do." 

His heart twitched. Even betwixt your teary expression, you were so freakin’ cute. He shuffled back to the office, nuking the leftovers in the microwave until they were piping hot. Vernon waited a bit for them to get cool, and fiddled with the music so a soft R&B playlist bounced off the walls. He couldn’t believe you were here. Scratch that, he could, because you were bound to run into him one day due to pure proximity. 

But he didn’t imagine you’d be plopped in his artist room at 11:32, bleary eyed and shoving potatoes in your mouth. 

Vernon busied himself with his phone, and typed a hasty you wouldn’t believe what just happened… to the employee group chat. 

[June 11, 11:33PM]

Bo$$ man: dont tell me u put aluminum in the microwave AGAIN

Hao hao: the chinese mafia came for me, didnt they? good thing I called out 

Jeonghan is a prick: use your resources! sharp items are everywhere :) emergency money is under Patricia’s table

Bernie: tf is wrong w all of you 

Bernie: SHES HEREEEEEE

"M'sorry,” you mumbled with a mouthful of fries, breaking Vernon from his mid-text crisis. He felt his phone buzzing like hell as he shoved it in his pocket, but ignored it for the sake of you. Your previous high of emotions has long worn off, and now you were looking a little embarrassed as you fixed your gaze on the empty container of fries. Your face is blotchy and red, and you’re especially puffy due to the salt you just consumed. “I should go home." 

He didn’t want to be intrusive, but the look on your face showed it was clear that you didn’t want to go home just yet. Drumming his fingers against the metal table, he casually suggested, "Why don’t I do your back?" 

You looked at him like he was crazy. "You still wanna tattoo me? After I cried like an idiot and ate your fries?" 

"You’re not an idiot for being upset. And I offered you my fries.” He pulled out an ink canister, and a thin needle. “This is temporary ink we use to practice, or for customers who wanna test out the look. Lasts one to two weeks. And y'know, it’s a nice distraction." 

You looked skeptical, unsure of his kindness. "Why my back?" 

He shrugged, "It’s the biggest canvas. And if you don’t like it, you don’t have to look at it." 

Still, you’re not convinced. There was something strange about him, something almost too sweet. While your schema may be marred by television and movies, the man in front of you didn’t seem like he quite fit into this little shack. He’s full of color, in his eyes and in his stature, his words clean and pure as he tries to soothe your aching heart. And as much as you tried not to check him out, you spotted no tattoos on any viewable part of his body. 

"And it’s kind of cathartic, really.” He watched your lips quirk up in a smile at the word usage. Not only sweet, but probably smart. Your first smile all night. Cheeks effortlessly heated, he continued, “you kinda just let go into the feeling. And it’s always fun to not know what’s been drawn until the very end." 

You’re curious. There’s excitement in your vision as he gestured to the available cot, inviting you. "Alright. Ink me up." 

Vernon grinned, and started preparing the workspace. Handing you a medical gown, he quickly shuffled away to prepare the ink and needles. He didn’t really work with the clients as deeply as this, he was really just a glorified secretary that took care of the consultation. While he washed his hands, he heard the faint rustle of fabric, definitely your shirt and bra. He turned up the temperature of the water, acutely aware of how hot his hands were getting. 

"Um,” your voice is muffled from being pressed up against the cot, your face presumably propped with pillows. “So are you Yoongi?" 

"Nah, I’m Vernon.” He wheeled over a cart full of supplies, the metal clanging against the concrete. “’M usually the guy who wipes the sweat off his brow." 

You hummed your own name in response, resting your cheek in the plushness of the cotton pillow. There’s a number of sounds paired with the R&B in the background. The smack of Vernon putting on gloves, the click of the needles and the slickness of the balm Vernon has applied on your back. His touch was warm, as his palm crescents across your back to soothe the balm into your skin. He then wiped it down with a paper towel until your skin was smooth and dry. 

"Any ideas yet?” He asked, and from the corner of your eye you see him switch out a needle for a new ink pen. 

“Maybe, stars?” Your voice is muffled against the cushions, as you’re hugging them close to your body. “And maybe something inspired by Spiderman? I liked that new one with Miles, he’s a cool one." 

You could hear the smile in his voice, "I liked that one, too." 

You stuff your own smile in your pillow, how embarrassing could it be that this stranger can make you feel better so fast? Mingyu would be groveling if he saw you now, topless, letting a man ink you up in however way he wished. "Will it hurt?" 

He chuckled at that, "Nah. The ink will sit on top and sink in, I barely have to apply any pressure. Just relax." 

Under the discretion of Vernon, who offered you fries and liked Spiderman, you relaxed. The first stroke of the needle and you were a goner. You closed your eyes and let him do his thing, You couldn’t tell what exactly was going on through his mind as he was painting your back, but you could tell his art was rather cacophonous: stiff pokes here and there, smooth strokes, and wide breaths of ink staining your back. The ink melted into your skin, bonding to your cells under Vernon’s careful control. 

It was almost 1AM when he finished. He tapped your back, urging you up. Tired, and slightly dazed, you sat up. You realized a little too late that you’re only wearing a thin hospital gown, the straps having fallen midway through the process. The air was cool against your skin. 

Vernon totally would’ve gotten a complete view of your sideboob if he wasn’t blushing like a maniac and looking away, and you respected that. His arm is punched out, fisting your button down. You hastily snatched it away, and turned around in order to look decent. 

“The ink won’t show up fully for another six hours, so until then let me know how you like it.” 

“Thank you so much,” you smiled gratefully as you do the last button of your blouse, and pulled out your phone. “Do you accept Venmo or Cashapp?” 

“Oh, yeah.” He accepted the proffered device, and put in the necessary charges. 

Once he gave back your phone, you added a sizable tip to the price he typed up. “The time really flew by,” you noted the time on the corner of your phone, 1:07. “It was really, an experience like you said.” 

He shrugged, and threw you an easy smile. “I try.” 

"Can I get a real tattoo from you someday? Y'know, when I’m ready?" 

"Ah, no. I’m not really under the apprenticeship.” He looked bashful when he said it, as if he were caught doing something wrong. “I just work here for the part time money. I do art on the side, though.” 

You had the urge to ask what he doesn’t do on the side, but it was late and you were probably holding up the poor guy for your trivial questions. “Regardless, I’m still thankful it was you that did this for me.” 

In three strides, he opened the small door for you. “My pleasure. Have a good night. Or, morning. Or if you’re one of those people who don’t consider it morning unless it’s light out, then good night?” 

“Good night,” you giggled, “get home safely.” 

“You too.” 

The screen door slammed shut behind you, along with the main door. Your car is parked in the grass patching of the flower shop. You jogged over, and the summer air made you shiver, your back still raw and warm under Vernon’s touch. 

You couldn’t wait until the flower shop closed. 

If Wonwoo noticed that you moved the porch swing relative to the placement of Nu ABO, he hasn’t brought it up. You weren’t spying on Vernon, no. But your skin was starting to itch with curiosity and in your haste to leave last night, you didn’t even ask what he designed on your back. 

“Are you stalking the tattoo guy?” 

Despite the voice being petal soft, you flinched. Assistant Manager Joshua Hong with a bouquet of boat lilies, was accusing you of stalking. His Converse tapped rhythmically against the wood paneling, looking down at you like a guilty child.  

“What?” you floundered, waving around the florist magazine in your hands. “Josh, I’m studying! And the sun was in my face so I moved the swing.” 

“You’re studying,” Joshua flickered his eyes to the run down shack across the road. “The tattoo guy?” 

“I already said I wasn’t!” 

“Then you’re telling me you spent all last night doing that,” he reached over to tug at your starched work collar, “all by yourself?” 

Your hand flew to your neck, as if you were trying to hide Vernon’s hard work. “I just wanna see what he did, all right? And I’m trying to be very patient until closing because if Wonwoo sees me going there,” you jerked a head none-too-gracefully at the direction of the parlor, “he’s gonna tell you-know-who.” 

Joshua frowned, because he already knew. After all, he stayed in the back room with you all last night, wiping away your tears. “Well, whoever did it is truly an artist,” he said genuinely, “it’s beautiful.” 

Joshua finally left you alone, and you suddenly felt emptier than before. Sure, the breakup with Mingyu was conventionally bad, but why were you so conflicted with your feelings? You didn’t want Mingyu to know you were hanging out with other guys, but you wanted to let go of him. Maybe you were trying too hard too fast. 

But Vernon made everything so, so easy. 

No, you are not letting him be a rebound. The inner conflict in your head was giving you a massive headache, you couldn’t tell if the vibes you were feeling last night were because of the recent breakup or just an authentic spark. 

The storm door shuttered boldly, and you jumped. Wonwoo stepped out, and gave you a weird look. “You alright?” 

“Me? Yeah, fine.” You gripped the collar of your shirt and pretended to fasten the buttons. 

He was unconvinced, either that or the pinched look he was sporting was an indicator of a bad day. “Listen, I know things are gonna be weird because my best friend is your, y’know,” he trailed off, painfully trudging through this conversation as easily as trudging through quicksand. “He’s gonna stop by a couple more times during the week, doing me a few errands. So if you wanna take the week off, recalibrate before the the month ends, just let me know. ” 

“Won, please,” you wanted this to end, “we don’t have to talk about this, alright?” 

He awkwardly twirled around his car keys. “Alright.” As simple as that, he threw himself in his sedan and drove off, dirt brushing the pavement. 

You glared at the dust cloud until his car was far from your sights, the mustard color blinding your vision. “Honestly,” you said to yourself, finally hopping off your swing into the direction of the shack, “he thinks I’m five and never experienced heartbreak.” 

“Welcome to Nu ABO!” this voice was different, and you slowed your steps. It doesn’t quite have the husk that Vernon’s voice held, but definitely matched the energy. The boy stepped out, and his eyes sparkled in recognition. “Flower Girll,” he said to himself, and you suddenly felt like you got caught, “I don’t think we’ve met before.” 

"We haven’t,” you replied warily at the pet name, “where’s Vernon?" 

"Oh, he’s around.” The guy waved noncommittally to the air in the room, crouching his head to look down at you. He stuffed his hands in his black overalls, which covered a painfully bright rainbow tye-dye tee. “Curious to see Vern’s ink though. He’s only ever done small stuff.” 

“I thought he wasn’t an apprentice.” 

 He flicked his wrist around to show you a beautiful line of Chinese calligraphy. "Keep the secret between us, ‘kay?” He winked. 

“Minghao, leave her alone.” Vernon stepped out of the small bathroom hidden in the artist room, a white towel behind his neck. You took in his disheveled appearance. His face was red from washing his face, and he wore the same clothes from yesterday. “Hey.” He said. 

“Hi,” you replied, “did you sleep here last night?" 

"Uh, yeah.” Vernon rubbed at his neck again, and stuffed the towel in his backpack. “I usually do the morning and afternoon shifts, I covered for this guy last night,” he jabbed his fist in Minghao’s shoulder, “but still had to do my day shift.” 

“So,” Minghao rocked back and forth in his boots, “why are you here?” 

You suddenly felt self-conscious, and gripped your phone between your two palms. A little part of you was disappointed that Vernon was not alone, but another part of you was relieved. It helped slow down the pace of your feelings (feelings?) that was heading in a direction you were not anticipating. “I wanted to say thank you again for last night.” You coughed, and Minghao grinned wider at your explanation. “And I was wondering if you could take a picture of my back? I haven’t had a chance to look at it.” 

He beamed, and you could tell he was happy that you wanted to document his work. “Oh, of course! I completely forgot last night.” 

Vernon moved to grab your phone, but Minghao swiped a hand in front of him. “Can I take your photo?” He asked you, although the look in his eyes said that you didn’t have much of a choice. 

Your cheeks burned at the sudden intrusion. “Huh?” 

“I mean, have you seen this guy’s Insta?” Minghao scoffed, albeit playfully as Vernon mirrored your flush. 

“What are you talking about?” Vernon exclaimed, thoroughly insulted, “my profile is tastefully abstract.” 

“It looks like it was tastefully done by a three year old.” Minghao pulled out his iPhone, and adjusted the filters. “I’m doing you a favor here, Flower Girl.” 

You looked warily at Vernon, who slumped in defeat, “If you’re going for that e-girl vibe, I guess Hao’s a better photographer.” 

“Better than your pictures coming out blurry.” Minghao shot back, holding the camera to your face. “There’s no light in here,” Minghao glared at the singular window in their tiny studio, the sill decorated with a single jade succulent. “Got any ideas?" 

Vernon shrugged, "You said I have the taste of a three year old, so." 

With Wonwoo gone for the day, you realized that you did have an idea of where you could take a tasteful picture. The thrill excited and terrified you. You only wanted a simple picture to see what it looked like, but Minghao looked as equally as excited to see your ink. Maybe it was the fact that the art was fleeting or that Vernon was really that talented, but it encouraged you to offer the setting up.

"I think our greenhouse has plenty of light,” you gestured out the studio’s only window, which was in perfect view of the flower shop. “We should be closing up soon, so it’s free." 

Minghao nodded approvingly, "We can try." 

And with a hasty "be back @ 4:20!” sign taped on the front door to Nu ABO, the three of them walked across the street to the greenhouse. 

You went in first, nearly bumping into Joshua who was bent over, pot in hand. 

“Hey Josh,” you grabbed the keys from the front desk, “borrowing the greenhouse." 

"Hey Josh,” Minghao and Vernon mimicked, who found it amusing that you just brushed by without an introduction. 

You rolled your eyes, hearing them exchange pleasantries and bro fists. The plexiglass doors to the greenhouse unlocked with a turn of your key, the smell of heat and grassy rain hitting your nostrils. Joshua placed the pot somewhere, following suit as the boys were right behind you. 

“Awesome,” Minghao exhaled, stepping further into the greenhouse. It was a small one, but comfortable enough for a couple patrons to browse around. “I’m gonna move around some plants if that’s okay, I gotta vision.” 

Joshua looked a little frazzled watching Minghao talk to himself and start moving the settings around (“The hydrangeas don’t go there, are you crazy?”) and started helping Minghao move the pots and placements around. You and Vernon hung around the entrance, giggling to yourselves. 

You tried to bump his shoulder, which didn’t even reach his. “So, what’s your Insta handle?” 

He quirked his brows at that, “Why, so you can judge my aesthetic too?” 

“No,” you replied, faking your shock. “I would never insult your taste!” 

With a roll of his eyes he said, “Speaking of taste, since your shift is over and my shift is over,” Vernon rocked back and forth on his feet. “Wanna grab a bite?” 

Something’s fluttering in your stomach, and you stomp it down. It’s an innocent invite, yes. Unfortunately it was not-so-innocent in your twisted mind knowing that you are still fresh from a breakup, yet your backed is marked with Vernon’s work. “You must be tired though,” you tried to reason, “you should get some rest, I don’t wanna bother you.” 

“Not a bother,” he said immediately, “besides, I wanna ask you something.” 

That got you curious. Before you had a chance to ask, Minghao was ushering you over, telling you to stand in front of a bundle of orchids. They’ve bloomed a Canary yellow, encasing you in a golden ring of flowers overlooking the terrace. The new friend has gestured for you to undo your shirt and he turned away in respect. It’s different with an audience and an expectation.  You made haste to undo the buttons of your blouse, then your bra, throwing it aside. You felt the warm, moist air kiss your back, and you heard a low whistle coming from Minghao. 

“Beautiful,” Minghao exhaled, “Vern, you’ve outdone yourself." 

Beautiful. Vernon made you beautiful.

Your body was simmering, and you could do nothing as you let Minghao photograph you. You focused your eyes on a puddle dripping from a faucet in front of you, counting the seconds between each droplet. 

“And, done.” 

You shoved on your clothes, and felt extra awkward as you fumbled to reach for the straps of your bra. You nearly slipped on the puddle as you walked back to the boys, who were busy over Minghao’s shoulder. 

“Super awesome,” Minghao handed you the phone brightly, “so much texture and feeling.” 

The screen showed a halo of foliage that surrounded your bare back, blush orchids kissing the frame with color. Your work shirt bundled under your hips, and fell under your elbows to reveal a city sky. You were breathless, zooming in to capture every detail of the ink. A navy sky, blanketing buildings across your back in a diagonal, splaying from the bottom right to the top left. On the bottom, skyscrapers reaching for the stars. 

If you zoomed in enough, you could tell that the stars were shaped like roses. 

“I don’t know how many times I’ve said thank you in the past two days,” you started, causing Vernon to grin widely. “But thank you, I’ve never felt so beautiful.” 

Vernon scoffed, “I didn’t do anything, I’ve only enhanced your beauty. That’s our shtick.” 

You handed Minghao back your phone and thanked him. He then rushed off, saying he had to stay at the parlor since Yoongi was coming soon. Immediately, Joshua began putting back the plants in their rightful places. You and Vernon followed suit, starting with the smaller ones. 

“So,” Vernon picked up a tray of succulents, “are we still on for dinner?” 

Wide-eyed Joshua crept in-between the foliage, laughably appearing under a series of hanging plants like a madman. “Dinner?” he asked, looking between you two. 

“Yeah man,” Vernon reached to pull Joshua away from the plants, “wanna come?” 

Simultaneously disappointed and relieved, you let out a subconscious exhale. Joshua was coming, which meant that there would be no possibility for feeling weird (or catching feels), being awkward or fighting any oncoming feelings with Vernon. 

"On Thursdays there’s this really good half-off sushi deal by my place. We can take out and eat at my apartment?” Joshua’s kindness was palpable at the offering of his home, and the both of you smiled gratefully.

Not more than two hours later, the three of you are bundled away in Joshua’s two-room, empty boxes of carryout stacked high. The television was playing reruns of Full House, the only source of light in the dim space. 

“Are you gonna go home soon?” Vernon asked, and turned his head to the corner of the room. Joshua is cuddled up in the single couch, tucked in a wearable blanket with the armholes. 

You shrugged, “I dunno. Usually I crash here for sushi nights,” you patted the couch lovingly, “This is my second bed.” 

Vernon chuckled, tucking his feet under his thighs. It made him look impossibly small in comparison to how tall and lanky he actually was.

“So, what did you want to ask me?” 

Vernon looked between his legs, as if he were trying to piece his words together. “Long story short, I got waitlisted at my top graduate school option,” he then pulled up his phone, revealing the picture of your back that was taken that afternoon, “but I was thinking that if I made a portfolio of this kind of art, it would really tip my application over the edge. Originally I was thinking of just sending my usual art, but it just popped in my head today while we were doing it.” He looked up through his eyelashes, wisps of copper looking expectantly at you. “If you’re comfortable with it, would you be my canvas?”  

“Live art,” you surmised, “honestly, I’m honored that you would want me to be a part of something so big. You think I’m that good?” 

No, you weren’t doubting Vernon’s art one bit. The fact that your back would be out on display for a bunch of strangers was unnerving, to say the least. 

“Are you kidding?” Vernon zoomed out of the image, revealing the curve of your back and the generation of life reflected in the greenhouse. “This is wicked. You’re stunning. We’d make a great team!” 

You felt your body heat at the statement. His presence was almost too refreshing, and you wanted to return the favor of helping you out last night. 

“Lucky for you,” you shot a quick text to Wonwoo, “I’ve planned to take this week off.” 

Over the course of the week Vernon wanted to do an artistic timeline of sorts, adding and retouching the already existing ink on your back until the canvas was full. It felt fulfilling, letting yourself become a vessel of success for someone. The following day, Vernon shot you a text revealing his portfolio, and said how excited he was to see you. 

You met in the shack after his shift, and Vernon let you into the office and locked the door. You can hear the rap being played in the artist room where Minghao and Yoongi were working with a client.

The artist was muttering to himself as he invited you to sit at the couch. Something about whether he wanted to start from the “top-down” or “bottom-up.” Instead of contributing to his madness, you turned away from him and started shedding your shirt. Today was a plain cotton shirt, and you shucked it off and balled it in your arms. 

No less than five seconds was Vernon’s hands on your back, and despite the warmth radiating from his fingertips, you couldn’t help but shiver. Vernon had explained that while he did a large portion of your back the first time, there was still room for growth and he wanted your back filled by the end of the week. 

“Do you mind if I,” his hand hovered over your bra. 

You shook your head, and with his thumb and forefinger he flicked off both your bra straps with ease. Your hands flooded themselves in the fabric of your t-shirt, which silently accepted your death grip. 

“Sorry, do you feel weird?” He definitely sensed your lack of vocality, and put one strap back in case. 

“I’m fine,” your voice is light, what else could you say? 

“Whatever you say,” he hummed, and resumed his work. 

You opt to take in the sounds. Minghao laughed about something in the other room, coupled with the zing of the needle. The music pulled to a stop and boomeranged back into a smoother arrangement. 

“I think we’ll start from the bottom-up and build from there,” he then placed his hands around your waist, poking at the dive between your waist and your bottom. 

There’s an unmistakable heat that pooled within you, which caused you to wring your shirt harder. It was going to be a long week. 

By Wednesday, he was in your apartment, working on the sides of your waist. The day after every session, Vernon would take a picture of yesterday’s work and show it to you. A gummy grin would always take over his face, either proud of himself or happy that you loved the new addition. 

Despite the fact that the only thing covering your body was a thin gown medical taken from the shop, every pore of your body felt unbelievably hot. You really shouldn’t be mixing alcohol on a Wednesday night, but Vernon was excited that he was halfway done with the project and it was time to be “poppin’ bottles.” 

You felt a little drowsy as a result of that, but nothing terrible. Like he said, the feeling was cathartic. 

“Aren’t you drunk too?” you murmured into your navy blue whale plush, “what if you accidentally stab me?” 

Vernon laughed, and it shook the couch. You couldn’t see his face as he sat on the floor, getting in the crevices of your skin. He poked at your skin a little harder than usual, as if he were testing the possibility. “That’d still take a lot of strength.” 

“You’d be surprised,” you sighed, “those little sticks florists use to keep the babies upright? Flat as a thumb and I still manage to impale tomatoes with them.” He doesn’t respond to that, and you’re left drowning in your own answer. You wondered if he truly thought you were a crazy tomato-killer, or was concentrated on detailing a particular patch of skin. “Can I tell you a secret?” you blurted, “honestly, I think flowers are beautiful, but I really hate working at the florist. The only reason I’m doing it is because Joshua really needed the help and he knew I wasn’t going to do shit until my city job starts in September.” 

“Huh,” Vernon stopped, resting the heel of his hand on your back. “That’s funny. Explains all the cursing when you’re cutting roses outside.” 

“You’ve watched me outside?” you grinned into your cushion, “creepy much?” 

“Do you wanna know a secret?” Vernon blurted, evading your question with one of his own, “I’ve had the biggest crush on you since you came by in May.” 

You tensed, and if Vernon noticed, he didn’t react. He kept on doing his business, marking your back with baby’s breath. It had to be the alcohol talking. If he drank at all, you couldn’t even tell because you couldn’t get up and he was strikingly coherent. All this time, and you didn’t even notice? 

“You don’t have to answer,” he said, as if he knew you were strung speechless. “I just, wanted to say it. We’re cool.” 

And you agreed, pretending to fall asleep. 

Friday was around the corner before you knew it, and Vernon wanted to photograph the final piece where it all started. The greenhouse was devoid of human life at the crack of dawn, unless you counted Joshua who was asleep on the counter because he was the only one with a key that knew of your recent escapades with Vernon. 

Vernon was just as tired as you are, but he was adamant about having the photo taken at dawn, as the first picture was taken in the late day. There was some contrived symbolism attached to it that you didn’t really understand, but you trusted his vision. Besides, your panda eyes wouldn’t be revealed in the photo, so you could master the art of sleeping upright while he took photos. 

“Alright,” Vernon set up his camera. He was dressed in a university zip up and matching sweatpants, like he just rolled out of bed. “Everything’s set up, whenever you’re ready.” 

Likewise with you, and you pulled off your hoodie, not bothering with a bra. Despite the fact that the room was temperature controlled, the cold morning air still managed to worm its way to your bare top. You quickly rubbed down your gooseflesh with your palms.  

You two engaged in a comfortable silence as you tested out your poses and he adjusted his frame. After a couple of practice shots, the air seemed calmer.

“Cold?” Vernon asked casually.

“Anything that isn’t under the sheets of my bed is cold as hell,” you muttered, trailing your fingers delicately across your waist. 

“That’s a nice pose,” Vernon said to himself, “we’re almost done. Then you can go to bed for the rest of your day. Unless you’re down for breakfast?" 

You two still haven’t spoken about his little confession the other day, but in all honesty there was no reason to bring it up. Your lives were going in different directions, and you knew Vernon deserved more than a halfhearted summer fling. 

"I think I’m down for bed and breakfast,” you replied wryly. 

“Smart girl,” Vernon chuckled, “can you change your pose for me? Like, pretend that you’re stretching.” 

You didn’t understand what he meant by that, so you ended up flexing your arms in different directions. 

“No, we’re not doing yoga.” He let his camera swing around his neck as he rushed over to you. The sun was a soft white, the antithesis of golden hour as you two rushed to make the magic happen. He grabbed your arms from behind, twisting the left wris in an unusual angle. 

"Ah, Vernon!” You jerked around to face him, now fully awake. “I’m not a Barbie doll, you can’t just move me like that." 

Vernon doesn’t respond. He let go of you as soon as you screamed, eyes blown wide and pupils a thick black. His stare is frozen to yours, and his hand is in mid-air, a centimeter away from your bare breasts. 

"Oh,” you said, “did I whack you with my boob when I turned?" 

"Yeah, you boobed me.” Vernon looked afraid to stare anywhere but your face. “I’m so sorry." 

"It’s okay,” you bit the inside of your lip, “I don’t mind if you touch me there." 

Now, Vernon looked terrified. 

It’s been a long week. A long, surreal week. You wanted to tell Vernon about your conflicted feelings, you wanted to ask about his little crush, and what on earth did he find appealing about you. You wanted to tell him how much you trusted him with your body, and how you wanted him to do more to you than just ink. 

It’s then, the gaping boy shook himself together. His hands encircled your neck, haloing at the finishing piece of his work, an echelon moon. Vernon’s fingers trailed to cup your face, and you felt your whole body warm in anticipation. Patient, you waited for his carmine eyes to flutter shut, and you smiled, finally closing yours—

"The fuck is this?" 

In an instant, the air was sucked out of you like a blackhole, and Vernon immediately shielded you, throwing his jacket across you like a towel. 

"Mingyu,” you said shakily, clutching the cotton coat tighter around your form. 

It’s then that a no-longer bleary-eyed Joshua stumbled into the greenhouse, seconds too late. 

Mingyu threw down the sack of fertilizer he hauled on his back, black dirt smattering the floor.  “Its been barely a week and you’re fucking someone in the greenhouse, of all places?” Mingyu was angry, plain and simple. “I thought we agreed on a break." 

"You agreed on a break,” your thighs were numb from leaning on them, but Vernon’s hand on your back encouraged you to get on your feet. “I agreed that two years was too long to wait." 

"And who are you?” Mingyu squinted his eyes at Vernon.

“He’s none of your business,” you stepped in front of him, tugging his hoodie  closer around your frame. 

Mingyu’s face fell in realization, and he looked between you two with forlornness that made your stomach churn. “C’mon baby,” your nails embedded themselves in your palm at the jab, “can we go outside and talk about this?” 

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” your voice was paper thin, but loud enough for Mingyu to hear across the room, “I’d prefer you leave us alone, and do not talk to me ever again.” 

It took all your composure to turn around, and you glared a hole into Vernon’s chest. You felt your body bleed goosebumps around your arms and legs, not out of weather, but out of anxiety. You hugged yourself to shut the prickly feeling down. You heard Joshua do the only helpful thing this morning and it’s his soft utterances that finally pulled Mingyu out of the greenhouse. ,

What’s left is the drip of the hose, and the two of you, unmoved.

Thankful for the silence, you looked up at your companion, who was speechless. Vernon’s lower lip was puckered out slightly, face contorted as if to say I’m sorry, that kinda sucked. The tell-tale signs of emotional overload began to prick at your eyes. 

“I’m so sorry,” you wiped your face. Since when did you start crying? “I’m so sorry that I let all of this happen, and I let myself let this happen, and I’m such a mess and I’ve been trying to hide it all this time, but I’m selfish and I just wanted to see what would turn out of it.” 

“What are you apologizing for?” Vernon tried to lighten up the mood, and offered you an easy smile and reached for a hug.

“I’m sorry because I don’t know if I like you or not!” you outburst, and pushed him out of arm’s reach. “I feel so fucking guilty I just got out of a relationship and I can’t tell if I like you or I like your attention, honestly. And it isn’t fair because you’re just so sweet and kind and easy to love. Either way at the end of the summer I’m moving into the city for my full-time job. And I, I, I don’t know!” 

Vernon forced his way into your space, barely a foot apart. He didn’t touch you, but his warmth still emanated from the jacket you were wearing. He didn’t seem upset, then again you were probably upset enough for the both of you. 

“Hey, I offered to do your back because I knew you needed a distraction,” Vernon said softly, “no strings attached, ever. You do you, right? Focus on yourself.” 

You wished he was mean about this. It would’ve made it easier. “What if this is the last time we talk? What if I want to ignore you for the rest of the summer?” you murmured, already knowing you. should enjoy these final moments. 

“We’ll live,” he shrugged, and finally broke the space between you. His lips planted themselves between your forehead, melting away the lines that marred your brows apart, “and we’ll heal.”

The city was daring. The city was unforgiving. 

You tugged your scarf closer around your neck, which constricted your airflow but also prevented any possible windchill from slicing your neck. In your other hand you were hauling a week’s worth of work in a luggage that had once packed your things in August and sent you to this very career path. 

As much as you loved your new life, you wished things would be a little more boundless. The box of your workspace, the box of the elevator, and the box of your goshiwon apartment were starting to feel particularly stifling this weekend. 

It was Friday (or FriYay, as your co-workers dubbed) and that meant a weekend vegging out with a comfort meal and a new movie. There was a Burger King and a Gongcha under your apartment complex, both calling your name. 

Boba and burgers, the perfect way to end a week. 

You munched on your fries as you scanned the Gongcha menu, craving something sweet to contrast with your salty meal. 

It is then a low, sultry whisper sauntered in your direction (in a Gongcha, with children) and you almost choked on your fry. “I would know that back anywhere,” the offender drawled. 

What a strange pick-up line. The paper bag crinkled in your grip, and you turn around to see a familiar perky face in a scarlet Adidas tracksuit. Of all the places, he was here. 

“Hey, Flower Girl.” Minghao greeted, wiggling his fingers in a wave. He was on a tall stool, long legs splayed out and a cup of oolong milk tea hung lazily in his grip. His cup was at least 50% ice, and he was shaking the cup like a rattle every ten seconds.

“Normally, people would start with a simple hello,” you replied wryly, ushering him over to wait with you in line. 

“Normally,” Minghao shrugged, and slipped an arm around your shoulders as if you were long lost friends, “how have you been doing? Planting gardens for the spring?” 

“Please,” you scoffed. To Joshua and Wonwoo’s chagrin, you’ve forgotten a lot since the summer. “I can’t even make a corsage anymore, my brain’s on overload. What about you?” 

It looked like he was waiting for you to ask that. You barely got your order in before he started spitting out his story. “Didn’t you hear?” Obviously you didn’t, and he didn’t give you a chance to answer. “Two letters. RM.” Again, nothing. “The RM? The hottest rapper in Korea? Anyway, he was one of our clients in August—he got a sick design of a koala and an alpaca, cooler than you think—and gave us a massive tip on his Instagram story. We were famous overnight! We were getting crazy clients left and right—fuckin’ Sana wanted a little heart on her sternum, hottest thing.” 

“So you were able to relocate the parlor to the city?” 

“The big push was when Yoongi dropped RM his demo,” he shook his cup furiously, ice clanging, as if he never got tired of this story. “Like, I didn’t even know they were texting! I’ve been running the parlor mostly, I’ve always wanted to live in the city, but RM funded a lot of it and is helping Yoongi make his mix.”

In the back of your head, the question of an aspiring grad student was niggling in your brain, but you pushed it down. “So, if Yoongi’s working on his demo and you’re supposed to be running the parlor, why aren’t you there now?” you asked.

He stared at you as if it were the most obvious choice. “Because I’m here, drinking boba with you.” Minghao then grabbed your finished drink from the employee’s hand, ushering you out the door. “And now you’re going to follow me, because my break was over fifteen minutes ago.” 

“What?” 

“I have your boba,” he’s already out the door, waving your precious beverage like a fish to its line. “Hurry up, now I’m sixteen minutes late!” 

You groaned, lugging your suitcase full of work and now cold french fries back into the freezing weather. The wheels of your suitcase are cracking in exhaustion, mirroring yours. You just wanted your damn milk tea, hot fries, and a Netflix catch-up. What was the point of following Minghao to Nu ABO, when there was no reason to be there other than … 

“Oof!” your face slammed into Minghao’s back. The light was red. “Did Vernon move here too?” 

“Duh, who else would be covering for me?” 

“You’re trying to set me up!” You cried in betrayal, jabbing him in chest with your finger. “Y'know what, I’m just going to get another boba. You keep that.”

You two glared at each other. Minghao looked relentless, ignoring whoever was bumping into him on the streets. His eyes suddenly glinted to your rolling luggage, and he snatched it from your grip, running into the streets. 

“Can’t replace your work, right?” He laughed, forcing you to chase him down the block.

You felt sweat start to develop on your back, contrasting with the icy weather. Your work blazer and pinstripe loafers were not suited for vigorous activity. Minghao has an unfair advantage, being tall and athletic, and you had just finished half a bag of Burger King. Damn him. 

Minghao stopped in front of a sunken in building, with stairs leading downwards to a neon-lit parlor with the name glittering in electric periwinkle font. Flustered, you gasp at the cold air, finally able to stop. Despite having lost your breath ten meters ago, you managed to tell Minghao you’re proud that they have a real parlor. 

Your heart was beating in your ears, and you can’t tell whether it was because you haven’t worked out in months, or because Vernon was behind that door. 

Minghao dumped your luggage behind the reception area, and went straight into the artist room. This new parlor was much bigger, so when Minghao disappeared into a hallway he was out of your sight. You wait around, letting yourself sink into the familiar hip hop playlist. There are pictures littering the walls, all covered with a clean black frame. You see Yoongi and the supposed RM, sporting his koala and alpaca ink (which actually did look sick) and some photos of Minghao’s work, all of his designs being simultaneously colorful and graceful. 

It’s then in the epicenter of this wall is a long black frame that cut across the horizon, seven images of a woman with flowers and stars inking her back. 

Your back. 

“Beautiful, right? I’m sure it takes you back.” Minghao was over your shoulder, flicking his fingers between the photos. “Lots of customers have requested these designs. He never makes them the same way, though.”

Instead of answering, you followed Minghao down the hallway and into the artist room. Vernon had just finished with a client. Poking in head first, you saw him ticking off protocol off a printed list, speaking concisely. The client was listening intently, and you see he has an arm sleeve with peonies. It’s then he noticed Minghao intruding once more, and frowned. 

“Dude, you got milk tea without me?” Vernon said, affronted. 

“Ya didn’t ask.” Minghao vigorously shook the ice in your tea like a baby rattle. 

“You didn’t mention it, therefore I couldn’t have asked.” 

“You’re so smart, Hannie,” he beamed at him like a proud parent complimenting his son, “that’s why he’s going to grad school.” 

You let yourself in fully, and you felt shy as Vernon’s lips parted slightly upon realizing who his second guest was. 

“Hey,” Vernon exhaled, and gave you a small smile. He looked happy, content. As handsome as ever, he ran a gloved hand through his hair, soft curls bouncing as he shifted around the parting. “This is uh, a surprise.” his eyes flickered to Minghao, who held his arms out in a passive shrug. “A good one to end the week.” 

“Hi,” you bit your lip, feeling shy, “so, you decided to get certified and you’re going to grad school? I missed out on a lot.”

“That’s okay, we got time.” Vernon assured, “besides the fact that I got a project due tomorrow morning that I’ve barely started, and then I have a field trip I gotta go to on Sunday—”

Before it could drag on any longer, Minghao hacked out a very loud, and very fake cough. You broke out of the rêve, and muttered a “gimmie that” before snatching your precious bubble tea out of Minghao’s hand. 

Vernon mirrored the cough, more out of embarrassment than annoyance. “Lemme finish up with this client, yeah?” And he jerked his head back to the patient, going on about safety. 

Minghao led you out of the room, whispering a “you’re welcome” in your ear that taunted you for the rest of the night. 

Vernon finished at 5, just like he did back in the little shack at university square. He came out in a 2XL neon green hoodie, leading the client out the door and telling him to “take it easy”. As soon as the client’s gone, he comes over to you. You’re still staring at your pictures, as if you couldn’t believe that you were on display, looking like a tasteful nude model. 

“Hi again,” he said, dusting the imaginary dirt off his pants. 

“Hi,” you replied, feeling tingly at the sound of his voice. Did you really miss him that much? 

"Um, is it cool if I hug you?" 

It certainly has been awhile. You nodded, unsure if you could form a coherent response because you could tell Vernon was blushing and he was being too damn adorable for you to handle. 

Upon permission, he brightened. The warmth of his cotton hoodie enveloped you like the way hot chocolate feels after a cold day. You breathed in his scent, realizing how much you missed the scent of fresh laundry, especially on him. 

"How are you?” He asked casually.

“Uh, m'okay.” You answered softly, “a little cold nowadays." 

He hugged you tighter in response. With one more squeeze he let himself go, but kept you at an arm’s length. "Wanna get dinner?" 

You looked at him funny, "didn’t you say you had a project due tomorrow morning that you haven’t started?" 

Without missing a beat he altered, "Wanna get takeout? I’ll do work and eat while,” his eyes darted to your luggage, “you do work?" 

While you wanted to say that it was Friday (FriYay!) and you weren’t planning to open Pandora’s Box until Sunday night, you obliged and followed him to his place. 

On the way over, Vernon got his well-needed milk tea (and your second round) with two matching cartons of jajangmyeon. You trailed behind him rather than next to him, due to the fact that he was also lugging a Joshua-sized canvas on his back. In fear of being knocked out or ruining his work, you settled for walking a meter apart. 

Vernon lived on the second floor of his complex. You imagined a sizable one-room similar to your goshiwon, but you’re in awe when you see a fully furnished living room and kitchen. You smiled at the singular jade plant decorating the windowsill, one you remembered as Patricia Planty one session months ago. The hardwood was so shiny you could see your reflection in them. Kicking off your shoes, you stumbled over the kitchen countertop, reveling at the onyx granite. 

"I’ve never seen this much granite in my entire life!” You cried, spreading your hands over the cool rock. It was so well polished, you could see your reflection.  He was certainly living the high life this year. 

Vernon shook his head, setting the take out down and pulling out the containers. “It’s RM’s old place. I rent it out with the guys." 

"God, this is ten times better than my place! Your kitchen is bigger than my apartment!" 

He flicked your bowl of jajangmyeon over to your side of the countertop, the sauce and noodles premixed for you. "Eat up, babe.” He stuffed a radish in his mouth, now working to mix his own noodles, “we got a lotta catchin’ up to do." 

Whether it was your hunger or the casual use of the word "babe”, you abandoned the granite for now and did as told. 

An hour later, you’re flipping through their mounted TV, taking full advantage of their Disney+ subscription as Vernon is laying on the floor.  

“I thought you were working,” you chastised, letting yourself sink further into their couch. It was like resting on a big, fluffy marshmallow. You never wanted to leave. 

Vernon is splayed out like a starfish, papers and watercolors spread around him. His large body stood out against the white linoleum floor, his neon green hoodie reflecting on the shiny surface. “I am.” he replied blandly, “I’m waiting for lightning to hit me with a burst of inspiration." 

"Grad school’s biting you in the butt?" 

"Big time." 

Another bout of silence hit the two of you, and it was surprisingly nice. You finally started to notice that Vernon is picking up some art utensils and is doodling something. (He still is on the floor and hasn’t sat up properly, but progress is progress.) 

It felt oddly domestic, but you didn’t mind. There was no need to ask about the past, Kim Mingyu, or any other silly drama you two entrapped yourselves into last summer. What mattered now was the warmth of each other’s presence on this chilly night.

Your eyes are heavy and fighting against the long day, and before you know it, you’re asleep just as Rapunzel escapes Gothel’s tower. 

You haven’t awoken to the morning sun in a long, long time. While the notion sounded awfully depressing (because it was), you really didn’t have much of a choice because the goshiwon was closet sized, and closets had no windows. But today, the sun blasted you, forcing you up. This was accompanied by the the tell-tale sounds of breakfast, which was weird because you only ever ate cold food in your room, because there was zero ventilation. The scent of dark roast muddled your senses, forcing you awake. You twitched at the sudden stench, and snapped your back straight. Were your walls always this pristine white? 

"Didn’t know you were this early in the game, Flower Girl." 

You never went home. While Vernon was long gone and probably off presenting some haphazard art, Minghao and Yoongi (for the first time, in the flesh!) were watching you from their marbled island, while you rubbed the crusties out of your eyes. "Usually, encroaching on a significant other’s apartment is reserved for the 5th or 6th date.” Minghao teased, waving his Nutella toast in your face. 

“Oh, shut up,” you glared at Yoongi, who was slowly chewing on his own toast. There’s was black spark in his eyes, like he’s relishing on whatever has unfolded. “And you, you. I know this is the first time we’ve met and you haven’t said a word. But shut up too. Your thoughts are awfully loud.” 

You’re embarrassed, and you pull up your hands to mediate your fired cheeks. Instead of your palms, you feel worn cotton dabbing at your face. You wiggled your fingers under the neon green hoodie. Vernon put on his clothes for you to wear. You were in a very uncompromising position, and his roommates were reveling every second of it. 

Yoongi shrugged, throwing you a flippant grin. “Whatever you say, Flower Girl.” 

Contact emerged in the form of texts and images. You wondered how Vernon managed to keep things casual in light of how sudden your meeting was, but you relished in the way things fell naturally. 

[February 19, 2:10PM]

Vern: Is this still your number 

Vern: If so, here’s what i submitted for my project

Vern: IMG.934

Vern: if not, pls enjoy this picture of a pink platypus. the medium was watercolor nd if you’re curious, i got the idea from sunsets and phineas and ferb. Enjoy your day

You: hey look, there’s perry

Vern: nice

Vern: wait, this doesn’t confirm if ur u or a stranger

Vern: are u just a perry enthusiast 

Vern: evidence pls

[February 19th, 6:08PM]

You: IMG.48

[February 20th, 12:22AM]

Vern: ooh

Vern: look cute in my hoodie 

You’ve toggled with the idea of just cutting straight through the bush and asking him out the next time you see him in person. A little part of you liked the chase, however. That feeling where you’re tugging between friendship and something more, and you can’t help but feel like you’re fifteen everytime his name popped up in your messages. You self-dubbed it the-honeymoon-to-the-honeymoon phase. 

[February 27, 5:34PM]

Vern: what are you up to 

You: it’s hour 32. I’ve been under the covers and have survived solely on celery and honey-butter chips. currently binging all netflix comedies. debating on whether to send for help otherwise i may never get up

Vern: that’s the spirit 

By the time two weeks passed, you felt confident enough to ride off the mutually weird text messages and constant contact to meet with him. By then, you’re knees deep in the honeymoon-to-the-honeymoon phase. You’re languidly floating in that river, hoping you’re not rushing it by agitating the waters. 

[March 8th, 10:10PM]

You: hey

You: you up? 

Vern: nah. mastered the art of sleep textin

You: just wanted to ask if you could help me pick out a tatt that would fit me

You: if you were available. I’ve heard from the mullet-monster that you’re a hot commodity drowning in appts and deadlines

Vern: wait forreal? 

Vern: i can pencil u in. tomorrow night @11? 

You: so soon? What happened to being busy

Vern: not for u. Already have an idea in mind

By the time you arrived Saturday night, Minghao was slapping your back across the door, gabbing on about a “major banger” they were missing uptown. He looked the part, the only person you knew that could fill out an all-studded denim fit. Like a disco ball at a rodeo. He barely said good-bye before he hopped in a Lyft, cheering for freedom. 

You poked your head into the artist room, and saw Vernon playing on his phone. His fist dug into his cheek, carob pupils glazed over. You almost felt bad for wanting his attention this late.

“You usually do the day shift,” you commented quietly, holding up a bag with two milk teas in hand. 

Vernon looked up, illuminating in a half-smile. “Y’know me, always covering. Just for the hour though, this shouldn’t take long since we’re just looking at ideas.” 

He slapped a hand on the client chair. This one was much better than the cot they had in their shack. This one was pure leather and gleamed high quality. You placed your drinks on the countertop and eagerly bounced onto the seat. “Comfy,” you murmured, and wriggled your sneaker-clad feet.

“Good,” there’s a sharp snap from the plastic seal and Vernon is sipping into his milk tea seconds after you put it down. He’s chewing on a particularly large gulp, gnawing on pearls like no one’s business. With his rolling chair, he slid over to you, seamlessly reaching for your wrist. 

If he noticed that you’re wearing a particular neon item, he doesn’t comment. He turned on the overhead lamp, letting a soft white light bathe your form. When he finally spoke, he chanted your name in a sing-song, tapping your wrist in beat. It’s as if he  were envisioning the color blooming on your skin. 

You let him do his thing, and he pulled out his phone, scrolling through his gallery. You see pictures of his friends, some of his family, and digital art. He scrolled slower at the myriad of images: a colorful orca, lavender constellations, and budding roses. 

You were seeing a lot of flowers nowadays, with the burgeoning of spring and the recent ending of Valentine’s. It’s only now that you notice how apparent the theme is throughout the parlor, particularly in Vernon’s affinity. 

“Why don’t you call me it?” you asked softly, peering over his form to see him mulled over a picture of periwinkle lupines. 

“Huh,” he’s distracted, and has now swiped back to the colorful orca image. 

“Flower Girl,” you uttered, “they call me that, but you don’t.” 

Vernon clicked his phone down, the lupines flicked away. He peered at you through his lashes, the white overhead making his eyes appreciably bright. “Before I knew your name,” he started slow, making faces to himself as if he were debating on whether to tell you, “I’d call you Rose. You were always by the rose bush planted outside the shop.” 

“Avoiding work,” you crinkled your nose, however relished in the endearment, “being named after a rose is too big a compliment.” 

He snorted, “That’s what they said. Hence, Flower Girl was born,” he’s easy about it, but now he’s put his phone down and is rubbing circles in your wrist. You wonder if he felt how clammy your palms were getting from the minute intimacy. 

“You know what flower I’d compare to you?” you asked, “freesias.” 

“And what do those mean?” 

“Thoughtfulness,” the pad of his thumb still lingered on your skin, his grip painfully apparent. “And renewal.” 

“Why renewal?” 

“Because,” you swallowed, “you make me feel renewed. And this time I’m sure it’s because it’s you.” 

Vernon looked like he wanted to smile, trying so very hard not to embarass you whilst you poured your heart out with delicacy. His coral lips were tucked in a thin line, teeth biting at his lower lip. Drop by drop, he was going to accept that dew with as much care as possible. “Only me,” he inquired, pressing into your pulse. 

Your mouth was sand dry.  “Uh-huh.” You exhaled a breath long clutched in your throat, hot air fanning into Vernon’s face. He paid no mind, and (to no avail) was still trying to hold in his smile. “You’re dimples are showing,” you whined, poking the little dip in his cheeks with your free hand. “Use your words.” 

“Like?” he elongated, playing dumb. You supposed you earned his brand of torture, after all, seven months is a long time to make up for. 

“Like how we want the same thing?” you tried. 

“How do you know I want what you want?” he feigned, furrowing his thick brows. Acting could’ve been another career possibility for him, portrayed by the way his eyes were blown with confusion, his mouth parted like a kitten.  

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Forget words!” you broke, nearly shaking from the nerves. 

It’s then that Vernon finally gave you a concrete response. His grip on your wrist was near painful as he eagerly tugged you closer, kissing you. There’s enthusiasm in every action from the way he pulled you closer, large hands melding to cup your cheeks. A little part of you is both breathless and invigorated at the energy stinging the room, and you can barely keep up until Vernon spilled kisses down your neck. 

He threw up the armrest holding him back, tucking his knee between your legs as he lapped you up, kissing you fully. The chair was much too small for the both of you, his large body pressing you further into the cushions. 

He sat up a bit, bumping his head on the lamp. He paid no mind. “By the way, I like you, too.” Vernon puttered cheekily, rubbing his scalp. Just as swiftly, he latches onto your neck and sucks at a sensitive spot. You can feel his teeth showing from the smile in his kisses. His thumbs rubbed lazily over your jaw, enjoying the feel of your soft skin under his rough palms. 

“Really,” you exhaled, relaxing against the headrest as Vernon’s wandering hands traveled lower. “Had no idea.” 

“But I’m happy,” Vernon is fumbly and sweet, mumbling in the crook of your neck while his fingers toyed with the waistband of your sweatpants, “happy you’ve healed, and happy for us.” 

He’s excited, almost too excited. The space between you two was warm, the lamp beating under your skin, awakening something between you two that was left behind that summer. It’s as if winter left him dormant, and you were the fresh flower waiting to be bloomed under his touch.

“Are you always,” you gasped, two fingers already worming their way inside your panties, “talkative at this part?” 

“Not if you wanna talk,” and the ever-zealous Vernon Chwe gets to work, sticking out his tongue in surprise when he finds that you’re already drenched. “Shit, you’re so beautiful,” he holds onto that word dearly, and pressed his forehead against yours, “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to hold you like this,” he reached for your delicious bud, and you felt your senses flower into pleasure. 

He makes a noise, low in his throat as he watched you melt against the seat. “I like you like this,” he said thickly, his voice matching the slick sounds emitting from yourself. “Comfy, relaxed. You always looked so stuffy in those work suits,” you feel wholly undeserving of this worship, as he licked a long strip from your collarbone to your neck, “would love to help you chill out a lil’ more.” 

A whine bubbled from the back of your throat, your eyes rolling shamelessly as you feel the pads of his fingers working circles between your folds. “Ah, I’ve—I’ve fantasized about this,” you confessed, “every time you’d ink my back. At one point we just stopped covering myself with those stupidly thin gowns. All you had to do was turn around.” Vernon blinked rapidly, mental pictures ticked like film in his pupils. His hands stuttered across your slick, inserting two fingers between your folds as you continued. His pace was slow, yet purposeful as he made sure you felt him with every thrust. Rings adorned his fingers, and the cool sensation surprised you. You shivered in pleasure. “Mm, I’ve imagined us kinda like this in that little shack, hard against the cot overlooking the shop,” 

“Dirty,” he said, as if recalling the weather. 

“And ah—wondering what kind of tattoos you have,” and in your haze you reached for him, your hand gripping firm at his gunmetal belt buckle. You tucked your fingers between the button of his light wash jeans, palming the telltale signs of something hard, “please? You’ve done too much for me, lemme return the favor.” 

“Not now,” he pressed his forehead to yours, “you can guess my ink on our way home.”

“Wha?“ You’re dazed, feeling warm with affection and drowned in the moment. You feel his fingers, slowly pumping out of its rhythm and resting on your thigh. You groaned at the premature end, his shiny digits resting on your fleece sweats. 

“They’ll kill me, this is new leather,” Vernon said, “and now we can afford security cameras, which are so small even I can’t find them.” 

“Unbelievable,” you laughed. You’re not frustrated, only endeared. 

“Besides, I’d rather have our first time somewhere private. Undisturbed,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, "somewhere where there’s lots of granite." 

You melted, pulling at his collar to pepper kisses on his nose. The mention of coming home to his pretty kitchen was icing on the cake. "You know how much I love your granite." 

(After your granite fantasy was fulfilled, you spent the rest of the weekend huddled in Vernon’s room. You’re living off take out and mutually satisfied with the unhealthy means. When you’re not eating or watching movies, the two of you are drafting your first piece. 

Freesias and pink roses.)

(His tattoo was also very cute.) 

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Chapter 25 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream?

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox)

Warnings: mentions of death, sexual assault

Important note: the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one.

~|Emily Fox|~

The boys and I have spent every waking hour together, working on music, working on the band. The dark void in my heart having been filled up by these three wonderful dorks and our music. While I’m building up my idea of a new future again, the boys have been building me up; giving me more confidence in my singing and my being. They supported me with every thought or idea I had about what college to go to or what idea I had for the band. Anything I said, the boys were 100% behind. It’s rewarding and refreshing to find a group of people to vibe off of so easily, especially after being a time apart and realizing how big of an impact they make on your life. It’s brought life back into a world that has crumbled apart. “That sounded tight, you guys!” I say, high-fiving Jeremy when we call in a break on rehearsals. “I can’t wait to play these songs live!” The boys chuckle while putting away their instruments or, in Owen’s case come from behind their instrument. “If we ever book a gig again,” Owen says solemnly. “Don’t give up hope, you guys. I’m sure we’ll book something soon,” I reassure them, and myself. Besides the Open Mic Night, we haven’t had the opportunity to play anywhere. Mostly because I was coped up in my room, crying all the time, and didn’t see the band for a good week. But you know… Still sucks. “Yes. You. Will!” Mitch’s voice resounds in the store. I hadn’t even heard the bell over the door ring; we were too busy chatting about gigs and rehearsals. “I think I might have a gig for you, Muffin.” He holds up a piece of paper, smiling smugly. “At the Orpheum,” he replies. I glance over at my bandmates to check if they heard it too. Judging by their bulging eyes and surprised glances, I’m sure they did. “Albeit it’s a school event, but you know… Still the Orpheum!” “What’s the gig exactly?” I ask, urging him to elaborate. “Bobby’s old school is holding a benefit. At first, they wanted to just do it in the school, but they booked a lowkey famous band and sold so many tickets, they can’t pack them all in the gym. And they’re looking for a band to open for them. You want me to make a call? I think you being Bobby’s niece will help us out a little.” I look up at the boys to see what they’re thinking. They’re eyes are sparkling like never before. The Orpheum has been a dream since they were Sunset Curve. “Please, try!” I tell Uncle Mitch. He grabs his phone and dials a number. The boys come closer to me as we watch Mitch in anticipation. We just hear a lot of ‘yes’ and hums until Mitch hangs up. “What did they say?!” I ask impatiently when he’s not telling us anything for an agonizing minute. Mitch almost looks upset, like he doesn’t want to disappoint either of us. “EMILY AND THE FOXES IS PLAYING THE ORPHEUM, BABY!!” He shouts really, really loudly. The four of us burst out into cheers and happy jumps and high fives. Without thinking twice about it, I grab Charlie’s face in my hand, staring into his eyes, and yelling, “THE ORPHEUM, CHARLIE!” When I realize how close we are, I slowly let go. For a while, we just look at each other until Jeremy and Owen make us snap out of the trance. That night, we celebrate in Jeremy’s garage with pizza, a movie and just each other’s company. My heart is full.

“Your VIPs are here,” Amanda, the showrunner, tells us as she knocks on the door of our dressing room. Today is the day; we’re playing a gig at the Orpheum. The gig we’ve been practicing all day and night for. “Come in!” I shout and get ready to greet Mitch, Madi and Charlie’s and Jeremy’s parents. Instead, I find my parents head in first, followed by two people I don’t know. They’re around my parents’ age. Neither of them seems too happy to be here either. “Mom? Dad?” I hear Owen say as he joins me at the door. “Surprise!” Madi and Mitch say at the very same time, showing off jazz hands. “Y—You… What? Huh?” Owen stutters and stumbles over his words, not sure what to say. I know they don’t have the greatest relationship either. He must be as surprised, if not more, as me. “Your Uncle Mitch called us,” mom starts with a small, careful smile on her face. “He caught us up on everything and told us about your show tonight…” dad continues. “We didn’t believe our little girl was playing the Orpheum!” I glare at my mother. “I thought you didn’t want to support my music career?” I ask, gritting my teeth. “We didn’t at first… But you have to know, Princess, we’re very proud of how far you’ve come,” says dad, placing his hands on mother’s shoulders. “Yeah, I came this far without you. Instead of you supporting me and believing in me from the start, I had to turn to my uncles. They didn’t choose to take care of me, but they did anyway. They love me and support me with everything I do.” Mitch gives me an appreciative smile. “I came this far because of Madi being by my side every single moment of every day I was angry and sad about my own parents not even loving me enough to be behind me 100%.” She grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles. “I came this far because of Charlie, Jeremy and Owen. They all became my family who supported me and cheered me up and comforted me because my own family couldn’t even do that for them.” I turn to Owen’s parents. “With all due respect, misses and mister Joyner, but your son is the most amazing and thoughtful person I have ever met. He’s been like a brother to me, and I can’t believe you as his family would ever do to him what you did to him. So, I’m sorry…” I turn back to my own parents. “But unless you’re all 100% behind us, I want you to leave.” “Emily…” Owen starts, but his father interrupts him. “No, she’s right, Owen. We should’ve been there for you and listened to you to learn about your world. We shouldn’t have reacted the way we did and we’re so sorry…” “We’re really proud of who you’ve become, Owen,” his mom chimes in, “Because you’re proud of who you are and everything you’ve achieved all by yourself. So, I hope you find it in your heart to forgive your old folks?” Owen glances at me, and after I’ve given him an encouraging smile, he launches forward and embraces his parents. My heart swells at the sight. “Emily…” my mother captures my attention. “Please, let us stay? We really are sorry for what we did to you. We should’ve never kicked you out. We should’ve never doubted you could make something of yourself. You’re part Mancini after all…” This is the first time she’s ever even slightly mentioned Uncle Robert. “I see so much of my brother in how you act and how ambitious you are… Please, let me just witness how you grow into a performer the way he did?” She sniffles, and that’s when I realize I’ve started crying too. I nod my head, granting them the permission back into my life, and the three of us hug. Mom holds me the way I wanted to be held so many times since the day she kicked me out. It’s nostalgic and rewarding. “What a sight this is,” Uncle Mitch says and when I look up, I find Charlie and Jeremy hugging their families too. For a while before the show starts, all of us hang out in the dressing room with our families. Luka, Owen’s sister has joined, as well as Jeremy’s two brothers. I’m glad I got to know all of them. Now, our Emily and The Foxes family has grown from the band-plus-Mitch-and-Madi to one big, happy family. Nothing can take this away from us now.

I take a deep breath, glancing over at our families in the front row, and after hearing Charlie’s “You got this”, I start playing the first notes on the piano to our new song. “Running from the past Tripping on the now What is lost can be found, it's obvious And like a rubber ball We come bouncing back We all got a second act, inside of us” The boys then chime in with their instruments as I grab the microphone, joining the boys to jam out with them. “I believe I believe that we're just one dream Away from who we're meant to be That we're standing on the edge of Something big, something crazy Our best days are yet unknown That this moment is ours to own” I turn from Jeremy to Owen and then to the crowd. I can’t look at Charlie yet. I know that if I do, I’ll want to kiss him, and we can’t have that. Got to stay professional. “'Cause we're standing on the edge of great” “On the edge of great” “Great” “On the edge of great” “Great” “On the edge of great” “'Cause we're standing on the edge of great” Charlie then takes the next verse whilst I walk out to the edge of the stage to interact with the crowd. “We all make mistakes But they're just steppingstones To take us where we wanna go It's never straight, no” I glance back at him as we sing together. He even gives me a little nod to beckon me to him. “Sometimes we gotta lean Lean on someone else To get a little help Until we find our way” Instead, I walk to Jeremy’s side of the stage, giving those people a bit of attention. “I believe I believe that we're just one dream Away from who we're meant to be That we're standing on the edge of Something big, something crazy Our best days are yet unknown That this moment is ours to own” I make my way back to Jeremy, dancing along to the rhythm he and Owen are giving me. “'Cause we're standing on the edge of great” “On the edge of great” “Great” “On the edge of great” “Great” “On the edge of great” “'Cause we're standing on the edge of...” I step onto the piano stool to give me a boost onto the grand piano itself. I crawl across, staying put on the edge as the boys and I go for the bridge together. “Shout, shout C'mon and let it out, out Don't gotta hide it Let your colors blind their eyes Be who you are no compromise Just shout, shout C'mon and let it out, out What doesn't kill you makes you feel alive Ooh-oh” Jeremy and Owen quit playing their instruments, and though we’d said this would be an a Capella moment for me, Charlie’s guitar riff surprises me instead. As I kneel in the middle of the piano, he makes his way over to me, giving me an encouraging smile. “I believe I believe that we're just one dream Away from who we're meant to be That we're standing on the edge of great” While I hit the high note, standing up onto the piano, the boys continue with the chorus. “Something big, something crazy Our best days are yet unknown That this moment is ours to own” We lapse into the chorus again, the crowd getting rowdier and cheerier with the second. This feeling right here is one I want to feel forever. With Charlie and Owen and Jeremy. And with Madi and Mitch next to me. The boys quit playing their instruments after the last chorus as I take my seat behind the piano again, securing the mic into the stand. To my complete surprise, I feel Charlie coming to sit next to me, and we sing the very last bit together in the same microphone. “Running from the past Tripping on the now What is lost can be found, it's obvious” As the crowd breaks out into a loud cheer, I can’t move anymore. All I can do is stay put and stare into Charlie’s beautiful hazel eyes that I’d missed so much. I inch closer. He inches closer. All the way until our lips touch in a soft, love-filled kiss. A kiss I’d missed for so long. “I love you, Emily Fox,” he whispers, his forehead pressed to mine. “I love you too, Charlie Gillespie,” I whisper back. Little do we notice my microphone is still on until the crowd bursts into even louder cheers. The both of us look up into the crowd first, then to Jeremy and Owen, who simply give us a proud smile, and then back at each other. He grabs my hand in his and leads me towards the middle of the stage where the boys join us too. Jeremy takes my hand, and Owen and Charlie hold hands too. The four of us take a bow, soaking in the feeling of the cheers at the Orpheum. We actually played the Orpheum. Emily and the Foxes. Me and my boys. Me, my two best friends and the love of my life. Forever. Together.

Taglist: @parkeret​​ @lukeys-giggle​ @gingerxarmy​ @lovesanimals​ @hannahhistorian92​ @marinettepotterandplagg​ @thequirkybookaholic​ @ashleyleblancx​ @calamitykaty​ @lolychu​ @bookdealer5​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @hemmingsness​ @siennanoelle01​ @iainttakingshitfromnobody​ @ifilwtmfc​ @luckylouiebug​ @kiss-themoongoodbye​ @camiladelrio98​ @myfriendscallmebeans​  @caitsymichelle13​ @thedarkqueenofavalon​

[masterhandss]

Hamefura♪ Idol AU! (part 3)

Thank you so much to the people who have voiced their interest for this AU! I honestly wouldn’t have planned on writing any of this and just planned to keep it all in my head if no one asked :’’DD Special thanks to @ineedglassesalways​​ for the song reqs for this one! please check her out she has amazing art!

Please bare in mind that my thoughts are an absolute mess and that what i’m talking about switches between Fortune Lover and Hamefura at the snap of a finger. Most info is the same, so just try to understand which i’m talking about while reading fjhgsdjhfg

(Also i’m gonna start calling this “My Next Life as an Idol?! All Routes lead to Doom!!!” or HameFura♪ now hgfjsdgf)

Directory: Hamefura♪ Part 1 - Fortune Lover ||  Hamefura♪ Part 2 - hamefura

Edit: I added a cut bc i’m starting to sympathize with the people who has to scroll passed all this gjshgf

Random Plot and World-building stuff

Sorcier Entertainment is the biggest entertainment business for the past 2 decades, bringing out and producing the best quality of idols, actors, models, composers, musicians, DJs etc. It is a parent company to a lot of branches and agencies. 

Sorcier Pro. is the main sub-branch of SorEn, being the most popular agency for producing the current hit in the market, which are idols. There a few other agencies within SorEn, but they wont be important until later. Geoffrey Stuart is the president of Sorcier Entertainment, and is the overseer of the main idol branch (no one knows why though, probably bc his lil bros are there). Entertainment is such an important and prevalent part of Society that the combination of the Stuarts holding power of the the entertainment industry, as well as Mr. Stuart being the prime minister, they are truly considered to be the most influential family in the country, which is added by the fact that every member of the family is an outstanding and well-respect individual. 

Sorcier Pro. has a variety of high quality facilities for their idols, and even had a dormitory where they can stay in. This was done for the sake of maximizing the idol’s work hours while giving them a comfortable and accessible place of rest. Not all idols are living in the dormitories, and is usually just housing the popular ones at the time. 

All of the main characters (except Sirius, and Villainess!Katarina) are living in the dormitory during the events of the “game”. Nicol and Sophia has rooms there, but they usually return to their home because they are more comfortable there. Katarina and Keith also regularly visit their parents whenever they are free, so their stay is a 50/50. Maria doesn’t visit her mother often (as her house is too far from her private school and work) so she’s always at the dorms. 

A lot of the well known powerful, political and celebrity families (that are the equivalent to “nobles” in this world) are collaborators and sponsors of the company, one of the main sponsors being the Claes Family.

I thought of just making the setting an “Idol Academy” like in Aikatsu! and EnStars!, but I though nah, that’s just too easy. Industry idols are much more interesting to me, and that plot works better for a “idol rhythm game/producer simulator”, specifically for what M.C. gets to do in the game (plus I was listening to IM@S when writing the first part so hgfsdjhfdgsj)

Most prestigious families has their kids be home-schooled, especially ones that are involved in the entertainment industry. This is so that they can focus on their career while they are still young. The exception to this was Maria, until she became an idol and had to take a hiatus from school as Sorcier Pro. expects her to focus on expanding her career. She takes supplementary classes on the weekends.

Katarina’s solo unit name in Fortune Lover is Nobelia (a combination of “nobilis or noble” and “lobelia”, the blue flower of malevolence or evil). She sometimes gets temporary teammates to join for tournaments and projects, but she is a solo idol. 

So the units are Fortuna (Gerald, Keith, Alan and Nicol), Amour (Maria, Sophia, and Mary), Nobelia (Katarina solo), Picotee (Sophia solo), Marigold (Mary solo), Alcea (Maria solo), Regalis (Gerald and Alan), Edel Herz (Keith and Nicol). 

The name’s origins being: Fortuna as the greek of ‘Fortune’, Amour as the french of ‘Love’, Picotee as the dual colored flower (that can be white and red), Marigold (bc obviously) as the flower of passion, Alcea from alcea rosea (the pink hollyhock, which almost means strength and healing), Regalis as a root word/synonym to royal/royalty, Edel Herz being just a google translate of “noble heart” in german teehee (pls appreciate all the googling I had to do dhfgsjhfdg yes it’s mostly flower names bc I have no originality)

yes i changed the names form my original post, don’t call me out asdfgh

Idols don’t really need a stage name if they are a solo idol, but most popular idols are associated with one so it just became a trend to have both stage names and unit names. 

In the original game, Maria’s default stage name is “Cinderella”, which you can then change into the username or player name. This is so that Maria can keep her name while still giving the players a custom name. 

Maria’s original stage name is a nod to a lot of things: the “Cindrella syndrome” that her character is based on, The name of Fortuna’s fans/fanbase (as most players really are a fan of the boys), and is also a reference to how you are the main love interest for the boys (as you are their true Cinderella)

Katarina doesn’t retain the same stage name “Nobelia” as Villainess!Katarina does, in fear that it might her more similar to her, leading her to a doom end. She doesn’t have a stage name, unlike her friends. Her fans would call her “Bakarina” online though, but she never finds out about it jhagjsfg

Fortuna is an all-around male idol unit, one that can take on different images and genres with ease. The image of the unit changes depending on which boy is the center/lead of the song:

With Gerald, the music focuses on the instrumentals or the orchestra, giving a royal or heavenly vibe. The songs have an emphasis on righteousness, the beauty of life and a prosperous future. The songs for the fans usually has a theme of “reminiscent love” or “looking forward to a future with their partner”. A good example of a unit center song for his is Genuine Revelation from EnStars, and Flower as a solo song from his VA

With Keith, the music becomes more mature. The songs have more seductive lyrics, and has an emphasis on “forbidden love” or “having a secret relationship” with the fans. The lyrics are usually innocent in nature, until you read in-between the lines. Sometimes, his center songs throw a curveball and becomes about a “pure and innocent love” or “longing to be loved”. A good example for his solo song is Gekkoujou no Aria from A3 (please listen to it, it’s by Keith’s VA and the lyrics screams “Keith”)

With Alan, the guitar, violin and piano take the center stage.The music usually has more instrumentals than lyrics. The songs are primarily about being one’s true self, loving who you are and looking back at the past. Friendship and Identity are common themes in his songs. Sometimes, his center songs would throw a curve ball and be about something like “not acknowledging one’s feelings until it is too late”. A good song that represents his usually themes is Bokura no Kizuna from A3

With Nicol, the music is more slow and deep. The songs are usually about self-conflict, self-development and change. His songs sometimes have a theme of having an extreme adoration for the fans, a love so strong that time nor age can make it falter. “Being the only one for him” is the theme of his more popular songs. A good example for his solo song is Sword and Soul from his very own VA!

Yeah, basically the image of the center idol is reflected in the performance.

I don’t have a full list of idol song recommendations yet, but my friend who i mentioned above already recommended a bunch of good duo songs for the boys!: (feel free to suggest stuff if you guys have any :DD)

Gerald/Keith - Es No Yutsu from A3

Keith/Nicol- Plastic Poker from A3

Alan/Nicol - Don't Cry from A3

In the original game, all four boys we’re scouted while the girls all auditioned to become idols. Now, since they are all close friends, Gerald was able to market the talents of his friends and was able to get them all scouted into Sorcier Production. 

Fortuna has a producer before Maria, but by the beginning of the game, he had to leave due to health reasons, leading to the sudden application for a new producer. While many producers offered to take care of the boys alongside their other idols, Fortuna insisted that they want a new producer who would focus solely on them. 

Mary and Sophia also have their own producers, but they are barely present because they are busy handing other idols (and eventually, will let go of Mary and Sophia once they decide that they want Maria to produce them)

While Fortuna, Mary and Sophia’s careers were able to skyrocket quickly do to their appeals and talents, Katarina’s career grew slowly compared to her friends. This is because, despite to protests of her Producer Anne, she usually takes smaller gigs in far away towns, malls and small live houses. This is because Katarina wanted to perform in front of people who can’t easily access or attend live performances outside of the internet, just like her own small town in her previous life. She knew how happy she’d feel if there was an idol performance near her area, so she wanted to share that joy to other people. 

Katarina doesn’t join her friends in doing acting and modeling jobs until much later, when Maria joins their group. 

Anne Shelley acts as Katarina’s fitness instructor, personal health manager, and producer. She was brought into Katarina’s life even before she regained her memories, only exclusively as a health manager recommended to the Claes Family. She ended up taking on more jobs that involves watching over Katarina as the years pass by, as the young girl started gaining more and more interests and hobbies. Katarina wonders how Anne is able to be qualified for so many jobs, but she just sums it up as Anne being amazing! (Katarina: I guess she’s kind of like a maid!... or a babysitter...) Anne was (somehow) able to become a producer in Sorcier Productions and was easily recommended for Katarina due to their history. Anne cares a lot about Katarina in her happiness, and will do anything to support her (both version of her, in fact), so much that she is willing to juggle so many careers in order to stay by her side. 

Katarina has a small farm that she tends to in her free time (since she doesn’t get a lot of job offers in the first place) that is located in the garden grounds near the main office of Sorcier Pro. Her visitors/helpers differ each day, depending on who is available (and who intentionally made themselves available to make sure they can spend as much time as they can with Katarina)

While her friends constantly get fan mail, the delivery man is always wondering why Katarina always specifically gets a small light box. In reality, it’s packages sent by Tom the gardener, from the Claes Mansion, showing her all his new prototypes for the snake toy. While Katarina first started out as making them out of paper before deciding on buying them online, she knew her family would be suspicious and question why she’s making such a purchase, so she was surprised when Tom started joining her in making fake snakes, until the snakes started to look even more realistic than the plastic ones online!

Maria Campbell: A Girl Chosen by Destiny

Since “Maria” is an involved protagonist, she gets to keep her name in the game, with her idol alias being the “username”of the player

Just like in HameFura, the game doesn’t give much on Maria’s actual history. 

The game does have an implied personality for her, being a kind and hardworking girl who puts all her focus on the task at hand. The game implies that she is also a bit introverted, with her personality becoming more open and outgoing as the game progresses (implied through the slight changes in dialogue choices).

She’s a bit of a country bumpkin who moved into the big city in order to experience the world outside her town. She was able to gain a scholarship to a school in the city, and moved alone to stay with her aunt from her father’s side.

Due to her father leaving the family when she was young to due to rumors that she might be the daughter of a different man, Maria’s relationship with her mother is still very strayed. Thanks to these rumors, her father left her and her mother when she was young, and her town heavily criticized the two for the adultery that her mother apparently committed. These rumors stemmed form the fact that even as a child, Maria was beautiful (with clear blue eyes and bright blonde hair, that are in contrast to her mother’s dull eyes and dull hair). While her mother was fare-faced, the appearance that Maria had was usually associated with celebrities or artists, making people believe that Maria didn’t come from her father. Despite Maria’s mother claiming that none of it was true, the rumors got so out of hand that Maria’s father became ashamed of his family, leading him to leave without a word.

In the beginning of the game, she stayed with an Aunt from her father’s side, on the condition that she somehow pays the bills by herself, leading her to want to get a job. 

Maria saw the announcement of Sorcier Production being in need of new staff, so she applied quickly in order to start saving money. Thanks to a set of misunderstandings, she accidentally got the role as a producer, despite her lack of credentials (not knowing that she was the beginning of a big project of SorEn)

Maria is an extremely hardworking person, believing that if she worked hard enough, she will be one day rewarded with the love that she’s always dreamed of receiving.  Fortune Lover makes you think that Maria is naturally able to produce 7 idols, but in reality, it’s at the expense of Maria overworking herself to the bone, with almost no time for herself at all. Sometimes she sleeps in her small desk office instead of the household that she’s paying the bills of, in order to maximize her work hours. She dedicates every second that she has on the four boys, so when they shower her with love and attention, she was able to easily fall in love with them as well (and sadly becomes dependent on their validation as a personal reward for her efforts). 

A month before one of Fortuna’s biggest live performance (or a little bit after Maria joins them as their producer), Maria oversaw the training of another idol who came to her and ask for help (not knowing that she was just trying to get close to Maria to get close with the Fortuna boys). Maria helped her train her dancing and singing, and even memorized her choreography in order to critique her steps. She became too dedicated in helping that idol improve, thinking that the girl wanted to be friends with her. When the event happened, the female idol was hit with bad karma and injured her leg just as the live started, leaving her unable to perform. This causes an uproar among the staff, as the set list was too complicated to change in such short notice. Gerald, who is aware that Maria has been helping their colleague, encourages Maria to take her place since she knew the lyrics and the dance. Thanks to the encouragement of the boys, Maria debuts in front of a huge crowd, gaining instant popularity as the cinderella idol that saved the live event. 

Most of Maria’s job as a producer in arranging the schedules of the boys, staying in contact with their costume designer, staying in contact with their personal composers and lyricists, sorting through job offers, keeping watch of their health, watching them while they practice and accompanying them in their jobs. When she isn’t there to accompany any of them, another producer temporarily takes her place. 

As Maria’s popularity increases, she is given job offers that prevents her from focusing on being a producer. Since the boys are very fond of Maria, they are very encouraging of her desire to become an idol too, and offers to help support her and themselves moving forward. 

The game itself doesn’t make the changes in Maria’s occupation obvious, since Maria’s idol life is only prevalent in the Idol Rhythm Game Mode, but in reality the increase in workload is slowly eating her up (not that she’d let anyone know that)

Maria, as an idol, gets constantly harassed by her peers (especially Katarina) for being a nobody idol who took the spotlight away from them, as well as for being a close ally to Fortuna. A lot of scenes in the story mode is the boys saving her from the harassment (leading to a lot of good CG art that are sold as posters :P)

Depending on whose romance route you are on, Mary and Sophia start out as very hostile towards Maria, as her existence takes away the attention that their loved ones were supposed to give to them. Sophia warms up the fastest, as Maria’s lack of hostility towards her makes both her and Nicol easily attached. Even after the three starts as unit as Amour, Mary’s relationship with maria is mostly professional, before she slowly warms up to her somewhere near the end of the Alan Romance Route. The three can be considered friends, but they still seemed more like colleagues in the eyes of other people. 

When Katarina meets Maria, she was very surprised to know that the Maria she played as in the game was a more humane person than the game shows up (somehow who isn’t perfect in every way, and works hard and long to be able to provide for both herself and the four boys)

Their meeting and friendship bloomed in the same way as the Otome Game version (because i’m too lazy to jot down every minor difference hgfjsdgf), surprising Katarina that baking hobby that was just mentioned in text or used as a plot device is actually real and flourishing, and is something she actively supported Maria. 

Due to Katarina’s slow popularity gain, and Maria being a novice idol, they usually took and accepted jobs together since they both needed a boost. Instead of the quick burst of popularity that Maria has in the game, this time she wants to take each step slowly with Katarina, with the desire for them to grow at the same time.

Since Katarina is now aware of the hardships that Maria must be facing as both a producer and an idol, this time Katarina and Anne often help Maria with her paperwork and organization. Whenever Maria isn’t there to follow Gerald, Keith, Alan or Nicol, Anne now takes over if she’s available or she’d recommend a colleague that she knows would assist the boys like a pro. 

Katarina insists that Maria doesn’t have to shoulder all her burden alone, and that she has all their friends around to help her and support her as they do with each other. Katarina tells her that it’s okay to ask for help and even offers her hand constantly (wow, Katarina can easily carry all these boxes of documents? My hero~) and Maria takes this lesson to heart.

Even though Maria felt nervous about joining Katarina’s friend group so suddenly, which even includes the very idols that she’s meant to watch over, Katarina was very insistent that Maria’s wonderful and warming presence would let her blend in so easily (Katarina isn’t aware of how the relationships of the characters were like in the original game since she never finished). Maria is eventually able to become friends with everyone, and is easily able to hold conversations with Mary and Sophia without Katarina around. Maria is there to act as a straight man to Mary’s exaggerated attempts at hindering the boy’s time with Katarina, and Maria often acts as an ear to Mary’s gossips about other idols. Maria, while not an avid fan of novels as Sophia and Katarina, can still join conversations about books by asking details, recommendations and insights on books she’s already read. Maria can easily get along with the boys as well, since they are in each other’s presence most of the time due to her role. They don’t hesitate to help Maria whenever they can (despite her resistance), and she’s usually the one who stops the arguments between Gerald and Keith whenever they are in the middle of a job. 

Since Katarina ended p being so attached to Maria, the boys sometimes takes advantage of Maria’s role as a producer to have her work instead of attending to the woman of their affections (of course they feel somewhat bad about it, but it’s better than watching them look so love-struck with each other!) but it ends up backfiring when Katarina lets go of all her activities in favor of assisting Maria with her job as a producer.

Whenever Maria is free, she insists on borrowing the small kitchen in the Office in order to use the small over to bake some pastries and treats for her friends. Katarina constantly endorses the amazingness of Maria’s sweets, and they are both happy whenever their friends compliments the results of Maria’s hard work.

Compared to her work schedule in the game, Maria can now work comfortably as both an idol and a producer, thanks to the support and help of her friends. 

Sirius Dieke: The 5th Love Interest

Sirius Dieke is a non-payable character in Fortune Lover, who usually appears in Gerald and Nicol’s stories and side story events to explain things about the world and the past relationship of the characters.

He is another idol in Sorcier Pro, and is an old friend to Nicol.

In reality, he’s actually a hidden character within the game that can only be playable if you get a Friendship Ending in the first playthrough. Getting a neural ending is already super hard, so Sirius being playable wasn’t revealed until two months after the game initial release. The game is so good at hiding this fact that not even the dataminers were able to find evidence of his existence outside of being an NPC. 

Getting a Sirius Route is only possible in the New Game+ Mode, with story events and side story events dedicated to him alone. He only comes with only one new song though, so people in forums usually don’t recommend going to the Sirius Route in the second playthrough (unless you’re a completionist dgjfd)

There’s also the fact that Sirius’ Route has a completely different tone than the rest of the game. The developers of the game planned on removing his route in their game update, but due to the outcry of his fans, they kept it in, and even included a payed DLC where you can instantly unlock his route on your first playthrough. 

In Sirius’ Route, it’s revealed that he was the son of a former celebrity and one of his maids, and that his real name is Raphael Wolt. His mother quited her job just before he was born. They were ultimately hunted down by Mrs. Dieke, who refused to believe that her husband had a mistress.

Raphael and his mother were kidnapped by people payed by Mrs. Dieke, and as his mother begged for her to spare their lives, Mrs. Dieke’s plans were revealed: Her own son is ill and was slowly dying from an illness, and in her jealousy of Raphael’s strong physique and health, she has decided to take Raphael as her own son, as both him and her original son both looked like their fathers more than their mothers. 

In front of his eyes, Raphael’s mother was murdered in cold blood and Raphael was left to suffer from various degrees of shock therapy and blunt forces to the head in order to forcefully induce amnesia without killing him. He wakes up in the hospital bed with no memories of who he is, and Mrs. Dieke graciously plays the part of a concerned mother who is visiting her own son in order to sell the idea that Raphael is her own. 

In the background, a news headline states that a mother and son was found dead in an abandoned warehouse.

The doctor tells Mrs. Dieke that her son “Sirius” might not recover his memories, and despite the glee in her voice, Mrs. Dieke acts and pretends to be devastated by the news. Unbeknownst to both of them, Sirius did eventually regain his lost memories over time and realizes that the woman claiming to be his mother is in fact the very person who had killed his only family. 

Sirius learns that the reason Mrs. Dieke is so insistent on having a son was to be able to nurture and create a new star that would dazzle the entertainment world, with hopes of being able to live vicariously through her son’s career and success. Feeling disgust and hatred towards the woman that he is now forced to call “mother”, he plans to enact his revenge by destroying the entertainment world from the inside, exposing its ugliness to the world.

Sirius ends up becoming an idol because of the encouragement of his “mother”, leading him to be affiliated with Nicol and Gerald. He had already met them when they were all young, and he even planned to have them as allies in his quest to destroy the entertainment industry, only to find them as disappointingly bright eyed teens when they reunited.  

When Sirius finds out that it was the effect of Maria Campbell, their new producer, he decided to wage war against her for acting as a thorn to his perfect plans. It’s revealed that a lot of the bullying scenarios in the story mode was orchestrated by Sirius himself, in an attempt to get maria to lose her reputation and her job. 

Maria was able to trace back all the incidents to him, and confront him alone in the Office at night, before he left to go home. Sirius laughed and admitted to all of his past and crimes, and mocked Maria for having no proof against him. Instead of condemning him, Maria hugs him while telling him to change his ways. Despite the violent ways that he tries to get Maria off him, she doesn’t let go, trying to convince him that his way of acting in correspondence to his grief is wrong. Sirius cries as Maria spoke sense into him and dissected the flaws in his grand plan, until only the sound of his crying is left in the cold and empty office that day. 

In Hamefura, When Sirius finds out that this was the effect of the “saint” Katarina Claes, he had orchestrated various events that could lead Katarina to being condemned by the public through her supposed “bullying” of the public darling Maria. This plans fails, so he plans on using Maria as a form of blackmail to get Katarina to leave the entertainment world in exchange for her friend’s safety. Maria disappears for a few days, causing her friends to be very worried for her, especially Katarina who is somewhat aware of the events that were occurring. During the search, she was able to find Sirius and tried to engage in some small talk, until she remembered a detail that her old friend Acchan said about a dark and secret love interest. Without any thought, Katarina questioned Sirius about Maria’s disappearance, surprising him with her sudden awareness.

Sirius admits to his crimes, and before Katarina can escape, Sirius hit her on the head so she can lose consciousness, but not before screaming about how he hates her ignorant enthusiasm, how she changed his pawns and made them better people, and how he wont let her take his heart and change him as well before he could enact his revenge, with tears in his eyes. This act leads to Katarina going unconscious for a few days. In this come state, Katarina was able to gain information from her old friend Acchan that she can use to save Sirius and Maria. 

In the abandoned warehouse where “he” and his mother supposedly died, Sirius has Maria locked up, with no plans of letting her escape until he can guarantee that Katarina is out of the picture. He is shocked to find out that Katarina and her friends were able to find both of them; he goes on a rampage about how he wants to destroy the Dieke family and everyone associated with them and the cruel world they have created, before the feeling of despair and fear for his future leads him to almost taking his own life as a final escape. 

Katarina stops him, and tells him that both of them has no future, as a secret love interest and as a villainess, and how she can’t save him the way Maria can. But that if anything else, she can a least stay by his side and take some of the weight off his shoulders, like what her friends have been doing for her since the beginning. Katarina calls him by his real name, Raphael Wolt, leading him to unlocking the final memory that he had lost from his temporary amnesia:

A memory of his mother, in her final moments, telling Raphael that she will always be by his side, and that she wishes for him to have a happy future, even if it wouldn’t have her in it. Katarina’s words made him realize that this wasn’t what his mother would wanted for him, leading him to see the error of his ways. 

In both versions, it ends with Sirius turning himself in and confessing to the crimes of both him and Mrs. Dieke, leading to both of their arrest and the return/resurface of the Wolt Family murder case investigation. Sirius’ contract with Sorcier Entertainment gets terminated, and heavy manipulation of the media was used in order to prevent the story from coming into light. 

Since Raphael lacked any crimes that would have him arrested, he was set free and left the Dieke family as it slowly fell apart from the controversy. He announced that he wants to spend his freedom as himself, but will one day come back to all of them as a better person. 

Without Katarina realizing it, Raphael confesses that his rampage was caused by his fear of his desires for her and her company, and that he was scared that if she continued to open her arms to him in such an easy-going and warm fashion, he would lose all his will to have his revenge on the entertainment industry. Much to the annoyance of Katarina and Raphael’s friends, he takes her hand and promises to come back, to stay by her side, like she had promised to him. 

In the Raphael Ending, Maria and Raphael meets again years later as both were on the way to work. Maria has already left the entertainment business and had no plans of returning, while Raphael became a changed man with a good heart and a steady job. Eventually, Maria was able to fall in love with the good man that Raphael was always meant to be/has become, and Raphael was able to rekindle the love and affection that he felt for Maria when they were still idols together.

Raphael had declared that he will back, better than ever! As an idol? who knows :3c But where will he go from here...?

Fortune Lover 2/Fortune Lover Re:Dive

Spoilers for Volume 3 of Hamefura and beyond, since this is about FL2

I’ve had a bunch of ideas that I’d like for Fortune Lover 2, but I’m not really sure if I want to put it out there because it seems too fanfiction-y in a way?

I feel like my ideas are straying far away from the original version, which disappoints me in a way, but then again, My Idol Game version of Fortune Lover is nothing like the Otome Game counterpart, so I’ll still write about it. 

If you like the premise for an Idol Game style Fortune Lover, then feel free to just absorb the content above because for (my version of) Fortune Lover 2 to happen, Katarina will still get her bad end: Public Humiliation and Self-Banishment. I’ll save how it happens in part 4 

In Fortune Lover 2, there would be 3 new produce-able idols, but in My Next Life as an Idol, there will be 5 new idols:

this is what i meant when I said the plot is gonna feel like a fanfiction :DD

Fortune Lover 2 isn’t really a sequel, as it is like a bulkier and softly rewritten version of FL, like how Persona 3/4/5 remakes are to their original games.

FL2 introduces a new Idol Agency that is affiliated with Sorcier Entertainment: Mahouka Production (also known as MahoPro), a recently established talent agency created by a mysterious Director. Despite being new, they were able to quickly gain a following through the eccentric idols in their line-up.

With a longer story, halfway through the game you start being introduced to three new male idols: Sora Smith, Cyrus Lanchester and Dewey Percy. They are idols that are under MahoPro, who dislikes the idols of SorPro and claims to be their rivals.

They start out as rival characters in the game, taunting you (Maria) and the idols of Fortuna constantly for a few chapters. Some time after your initial introduction, you slowly get to know the boys, until you’re finally able to gain their trust. You can then start to secretly “produce” them without their Director knowing (just like Shika from IM@S Stella Stage), which leads to gaining events, scenes, idol clothes, songs and CGs of the three new boys.

As the new character gets introduced later into the story mode, they are more of an optional route, as the game still prioritizes the original 4 boys over the new cast. You can still “romance” the 3 new characters, but since they are introduced late, it can only be done at the expense of focusing on them almost exclusively during story events and side stories so that you can quickly gain Relationship Points for them.

So basically, halfway through the game, you have the option to produce 11 idols: Yourself (Maria), Gerald, Alan, Keith, Nicol, Mary, Sophia, Raphael, Sora, Dewey and Cyrus. The first 5 being obligatory, while the last 6 are optional

Rufus Smith (or “Sora”, as he reveals to you his real name during the story) is new idol in MahoPro who was able to quickly gain a female following due to his attractive figure and maxed-out sex appeal. Many compare him to Nicol Ascart due to the fact that he is slowly taking a lot of his jobs (or works alongside him at times) due to his handsome face. While both of them are handsome models, the public is aware that there is no point in pining the two against each other since their beauty works in different ways.

In the story (and as hinted in a few side story events), he was a slum rat who didn’t have much for himself. One day, he met a man who had join him and his fellow slum dwellers into their territory, a man by the name of David. The man was able to give Sora a new perspective on life, his new name, as well as how to sing. After David died, he wandered around the country, doing dirty jobs for shady adults for money. A few years later, we was caught singing in the streets by a man who offered to take care of him and cultivate him as an idol at the age of 13, complimenting him for his beauty and his singing. While Sora rejected the offer, the man’s words never left his mind. He started out by singing in the street for change, then getting singing jobs at cafes/live houses/restaurants for money, until he suddenly got a small following as an underground idol. The Director of MahoPro offers a place for Sora, alongside with giving him jobs as a full-fledged idol that can help him provide for himself, leading him to be affiliated with Sorcier Entertainment. 

Sora starts out having a rather sarcastic relationship with Maria, thinking that she is one of the many women who throws themselves at him to get his attention. He always gives her back handed compliments as always has a vicious tone when speaking. As the story progresses, Sora realizes that Maria isn’t disgusted by his history, and realized that Maria is truly a good and kind person. Sora starts to unconsciously seek her out, trying to reverse the bad impression that he must have left on her and to be with someone who doesn’t look at him lowly, like the other adults and idols of SorEn who dislikes people that aren’t of celebrity-upbringing.

Dewey Percy is a young idol that auditioned for Sorcier Pro. and won, but was rejected at the last minute in favor of a less talented wannabe-idol who was related to a famous actor. The Director of MahoPro came to Dewey with an offer as an idol, acknowledging his talents in music and dancing that he evidently have been polishing for years. In his town, Dewey was known as a Music Prodigy, as he was talented in singing, dancing, acting and playing instruments, though that’s not to say that those weren’t the effects of his own hard work. Because his family wasn’t the absolute best financially, he decided to audition as an idol in order to get jobs despite being young.

Dewey is revealed to be somewhat of a childhood friend to Maria, as he lived in the same town as her. Despite this, he is very wary of her due to the bad impressions left on his by Sorcier Pro. after he almost lost his chance at becoming an idol. Dewey absolutely hated asking for help, even when it was draining him down. He is very desperate to keep his title as a music prodigy, even though he knows it’ll be drowned once he’s in a battlefield of idols. (Also he tries very desperately to be seen as a mature and hot idol, despite his youth and appearance giving him a cute one instead lol) 

Maria realizes how hard Dewey is pushing himself, and convinces him over multiple instances that he doesn’t need to be hard on himself and suffer alone. Maria offers herself as a shoulder to lean on, making Dewey embarrassed but happy at the idea that he can finally have someone to rely on, and that he doesn’t need to be alone anymore. They were also able to bond about their similar upbringing, making Dewey feel at home in the arms of Maria despite being miles away from their town. 

Cyrus Lanchester is an idol from a different agency, who was transferred to MahoPro by the time the events of the game began. He has a very strict personality, and is an overall perfectionist as an idol. He was let go from his original Agency because his strictness and tendency to scold his fellow idols caused his peers (who are a bunch of lazy and stuck up children of celebrities) to take him out because they didn’t vibe with his attitude. Before his original producer was able to tell him that he was done as an idol, the Director of MahoPro offered a place for him in their new agency. 

While being grateful to the Director for taking him in, he does not hold back in letting everyone know about his distaste for their odd Director. While is he very talented as an idol, he is just using it as a chance to learn more about the industry and gain connections that he can use to be a part of it in the near future. 

While he doesn’t start as wary of Maria as his fellow male idols, he insist on keeping distance with her due to the fact that they are of different agencies, as well as the fact that he is not good at dealing with women.

Notes

(I’ll have to rewrite Cyrus and Dewey’s descriptions after Volume 7 comes out, since I don’t have much to work with. I’ll add the Sora, Cyrus and Dewey endings in the edit as well.)

I know some part of Maria and Sirius’ backstory doesn’t make any sense but just use your imagination lol hgjgfjsfgd

More about Katarina, the silhouettes, the Director, and how it affects the story on the next part :DD my fingers really hurt from all this typing hgjsdgfjs

If ever i’m dissatisfied with what I have here and end up changing things, don’t be surprised jhfjshdgfs

Next Part is gonna be plot points that I want for this AU and a bit of FL2, so sorry if the next one might not be that exciting fsjhgfjsd

feedback and suggestions are very much appreciated! Thank you to the few people who are interested in this AU :DD

[mostlysignssomeportents]

QE, inflation, slave labor and a People's Bailout

The Obama administration inherited a vast economic crisis. They responded with Quantitative Easing, pumping trillions into the finance sector to rescue the banks that had knowingly gambled on bad mortgages, losing so much they were about to go under.

https://www.cnbc.com/2017/11/24/the-fed-launched-qe-nine-years-ago--these-four-charts-show-its-impact.html

At the time, deficit hawks predicted inflation, which is a commonsense prediction: inflation is what happens when the amount of money chasing goods and services goes up faster than the supply of those goods and services, creating bidding wars.

They were right...and wrong. What we got was asset bubbles, especially in housing markets, driving up the price of putting a roof over your head rewarding speculators and landlords, especially Wall Street landlords.

And Obama's handling of the financial crisis put a lot of us under the thumbs of landlords! Obama bailed out the banks, but not the mortgage holders, kicking off waves of foreclosures.

Thanks to lax oversight, banks that had cheated to originate or service mortgages were able to cheat on foreclosures, too - stealing houses from borrowers who were up-to-date on payments or who were entitled to forebearance.

https://web.archive.org/web/20101017014628/http://news.yahoo.com/s/yblog_upshot/20101014/bs_yblog_upshot/is-david-j-stern-the-poster-boy-for-the-foreclosure-mess

I mean, literally stealing houses by the hundreds or even the thousands. The very same people who created the great financial crisis got bailed out, rather than punished, and used their new lease on life to commit even worse crimes with total impunity.

The houses that were foreclosed (and sometimes stolen) were flipped to Wall Street, who LOVE financial products based on peoples' homes. After all, people will move heaven and earth to keep shelter over their kids' heads.

https://www.motherjones.com/politics/2014/02/blackstone-rental-homes-bundled-derivatives/

Corporate landlords built a sturdy, three-legged stool to guarantee the flow of rents to their investors.

I. Jack up rents to consume the majority of tenants' income:

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2017/09/wall-street-owns-main-street-literally.html

II. Cease maintenance, knowing that your tenants have no recourse if their homes are crumbling and unsafe:

https://www.reuters.com/investigates/special-report/usa-housing-invitation/

III. Perfect the eviction, heretofore an American rarity:

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2017-01-03/wall-street-america-s-new-landlord-kicks-tenants-to-the-curb

America's housing crisis - substandard homes rented at unsustainable costs to people who had their own homes stolen from them by the same investors they're currently paying rent to - is a major legacy of QE, and it's definitely inflationary.

But it's a highly selective form of inflation. Many people won't experience it at all: if you owned your house before the crisis and weathered it, the asset bubble has made your home more valuable, while falling interest rates let you refi at rock-bottom rates. You're great.

You're paying less than ever for a home that's worth more than ever, but that's a spillover effect of the main show, which is the process by which millions of Americans were robbed of their homes and then moved into high-priced slums to the benefit of the 1%.

Both Obama and Trump have boasted of the economy's performance since QE, pointing to soaring share prices - share prices that are totally decoupled from company performance. Companies lose money and still gain value.

Indeed, predatory companies (like Grubhub, Postmates, Door Dash and Uber Eats) that destroy profitable companies (restaurants) while still losing money are booming in value.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/18/code-is-speech/#schadenpizza

Investors understand that consumers have no money, due to rising housing costs plus crashing wages, largely thanks to the "gig economy," a polite term for "worker misclassification."

Companies that get bailouts would be stupid to spend the money on jobs or new productive capacity to make stuff no one can afford to buy. Instead, they buy their own shares and declare dividends, driving up share prices.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/10/20/the-cadillac-of-murdermobiles/#austerity

We have seen an incredible market bull-run since the Great Financial Crisis, a run that has largely continued since the pandemic. It's the other asset bubble: a bubble in investment assets.

Corporate leaders claim responsibility for these rises, but the reality is that it's the predictable result of bailing out banks and companies rather than workers and homeowners.

Société Générale's analysts say that about half of the stock market's gains since 2008 can be attributed to QE.

https://www.marketwatch.com/story/without-qe-the-s-p-500-would-be-trading-closer-to-1-800-than-3-300-says-societe-generale-11604688442

Top-down bailouts have multiplier effects. The banks are made whole, then they get to steal our houses, then they get to steal our rents, then they get to goose their share prices.

This is how the super-rich got even richer, before and after the pandemic. It's also why the tiny minority of Americans with adequate retirement savings saw them swell - it's another spillover effect of the great upward transfer of national wealth.

Why does all of this matter now? Well, between my writing my first paragraph and this one, Biden was declared, giving us what the Biden campaign signalled would be "Obama's third term."

Biden's taking office amidst a financial crisis that's far worse than 2008.

Biden has a long track-record of giving legislative gifts to the finance sector at the expense of the American people. They called him "The Senator from MNBA" for a reason.

https://www.gq.com/story/joe-biden-bankruptcy-bill

If he addresses this crisis the same way that he did in 2008 - the way that Congress and the Senate addressed the crisis in 2020 - by bailing out finance, not the public, we're seriously fucked.

Sure, the stock market will continue to rise and rise, as will house prices.

If you are in the 1%, you will get SO MUCH richer. If you're in the 10%, your retirement savings will swell, your mortgage will get cheaper, and your house's value will go up.

For everyone else: evictions, foreclosures, soaring rents, worse wages.

Last week, California voters passed Prop 22, safeguarding the right of gig economy companies to misclassify their workers as contractors and pay them sub-minimum wages, withhold benefits, evade payroll and unemployment taxes, etc.

Uber/Lyft spent $200m to secure that win.

As Prop22's promoters remind us: Gig work is the new unemployment benefit: it's a private-sector jobs guarantee, work you can get at the tap of your screen. It's a perfect labor market - workers effectively bid to offer the best price to perform servant work for others.

The more workers there are, and the more desperate their situation is, the lower the payments go. A lot of those savings are siphoned off by the (money-losing, stock-soaring) gig companies, but some of it is passed onto customers.

This is by design.

Since the Reagan years, neoliberal regulators and lawmakers have hewed to a radical anti-monopoly theory called "consumer harm." Under "consumer harm," monopolies are only a problem if they drive up prices.

Since gig companies lower prices, they are totally kosher - even if they secure monopolies through predatory pricing.

But there's an even more insidious side to "consumer harm" and the gig economy.

Misclassifying workers as independent contractors converts a brutally exploited workforce into a collection of "small businesses." If they get together and demand higher wages, THEY violate the consumer harm standard. They're a group of companies fixing prices!

We're 12 years into the QE experiment and it has demonstrated the relationship between government money-creation and inflation: inflation isn't the result of government spending, it's the result of government spending that leads to bidding wars.

Giving trillion to the rich created inflation in the things that rich people buy: our houses (out from under us) and stocks.

Now, imagine what a People's Bailout could do.

Imagine replacing the gig economy job guarantee (a workfare program with no workplace protections, job security or minimum wage) with an actual Job Guarantee as described by the economist Pavlina Tcherneva:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/05/the-hard-stuff/#jobs-guarantee

Federally funded, locally administered: good jobs at inclusive wages that served community needs proposed by community groups and approved by local governments.

Would that be inflationary? Recall that inflation is what happens when the number of buyers goes up and the supply of things they're buying doesn't keep up. Inflation is the result of bidding wars.

For a jobs guarantee to be inflationary, there would have to be a bidding war for the US workforce. That is the opposite of what we have now.

https://wolfstreet.com/2020/11/06/picture-emerges-of-a-weird-recovery-to-still-historically-awful-levels/

The reason no one wants to buy Americans' labor is that no one has any money to buy the things Americans make with their labor. The only people with money - the wealthy - primarily buy our homes out from under us, and stocks.

QE for the wealthy has made the economy incredibly perverse. Productive companies are being driven to bankruptcy by gig economy companies that lose money. Millions of workers compete to provide services for the lucky few, for dwindling wages.

Workers can't afford to buy stuff so companies have no reason to make stuff and so they become finance grifts, until they collapse, like Hertz did (after it converted itself from a car-rental company to an accountancy trick company):

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/27/literal-gunhumping/#hertz-uranus

The gig economy jobs guarantee can't last. Eventually the number of workers bidding to serve the wealthy will exceed demand by such a wide margin that wages turn negative - the depreciation and payments on your gig economy car will exceed your income.

But a real, public sector, federal Jobs Guarantee? Yes please.

Paying workers good wages to do productive things that their communities need will create demand for the thing companies have decided not to make anymore.

In other words, it will enable companies to make profits again, and it will drive out the companies whose share prices soared on the expectation of losses (accompanied by dividends and buybacks). It will dampen the stock market, but improve the economy.

This will mean the end of those spillover effects - soaring house-valuations and 401ks for the lucky few - but those came at a VERY high price - vast un- and underemployment, the gutting of the productive economy, crushing debt for the majority.

America bought those house price rises and 401k gains at a steep price: it cost the nation its resilience and political stability.

If the goal of QE was to secure middle-class Americans' retirements, it was spectacularly wasteful.

A tiny fraction of QE's trillions went to middle-class retirements, while the vast majority went to making the 1% far, far richer. Most middle class Americans still don't have secure retirements - their dotage will be spent competing for gig economy jobs.

For the price of QE, the US government could simply have guaranteed the necessities of retirees: shelter, food, care. This spending would crowd out jobs, sure - the worst-paid, most precarious jobs, from fast food to gig economy "jobs."

It would make America into a country of secure and prosperous people, instead of food-delivery drivers and dog-walkers.

12 years of finance bailouts and 0 years of People's Bailouts have only exacerbated this, and the pandemic metastasised it.

When it comes to stimulus, America can't afford a third Obama term. We need to demand better of Biden - we need to demand a People's Bailout.

For almost* all our sakes.

*Offer not valid in America's richest ZIP codes.

[hotchxprentiss]

Maybe Baby: Chapter One *

Ao3 Link

Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: How Emily and Aaron’s one night stand came to be.

Word Count: 2.4k

Chapter Warnings: fluff, smidge of angst, SMUT (oral sex-male receiving, vaginal sex)

1995

“Mother, do I really have to go to this thing? I mean they really only need you to attend. Besides I don’t want to spend my spring break at a meeting between France and Italy,” Emily said as she was adjusting her dress.

“Emily, dear, we’ve already discussed this. You attending this meeting would be good for your image. Plus you might even change your mind and decide to follow my footsteps,” Elizabeth told her daughter.

“I’ve told you plenty of times that I don’t want to become a diplomat. It’s my dream to join and be part of the FBI. C’mon, mom, you should know this by now.”

“But Emily-”

“Excuse me, ma’am, the meeting is going to begin in half an hour. Are you two ready to leave?”

“Yes, we’ll be down in five minutes. Thank you, Aaron,” Elizabeth responded.  

Once the mother and daughter pair were inside the vehicle, Aaron began driving to the hotel. After fifteen minutes of complete silence, Emily was about to speak up when Aaron interrupted her.

“Ambassador, Miss Prentiss, we’re here. Would you like me to escort you inside?” he asked

“Oh no it’s alright. Emily and I will be okay.”

“Alright, ma’am, I’ll just meet you inside the hotel. If you need me I’ll be outside the doors of the conference room. Have a good time, ladies.”

As the meeting continued, Emily started dozing off while the prime ministers of the two European countries babbled about their agreement. She remembered what Aaron told her and her mother, so she decided to pay him a little visit. Emily quietly sneaked out of the conference room and saw Aaron standing by the door.

“Hey, Agent. Wanna get outta here? I’m bored.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Prentiss, but I’m afraid I can't do that.”

Aaron took a quick glance at the diplomat’s daughter and suddenly his crush on the gorgeous woman came crashing back down on him.

He began working as a security agent for Elizabeth Prentiss after he finished college, around five years ago. Every once in a while during his shifts, he saw a fair skinned young woman roaming around Elizabeth’s home. He assumed it was his supervisor’s daughter since they both had the same raven colored hair and coffee colored eyes. His suspicions were confirmed when the woman called the ambassador “Mother”. After a few years of working as an agent, Aaron started to gain feelings for Emily. He couldn’t help but notice the curls that framed her small face, or the way she smiled whenever she saw him in the room. When she was around, he found it quite difficult to resist staring at the way her breasts would𑁋

“Aaron. Aaron. Are you listening to me?”

The sound of Emily’s voice interrupted his train of thought. He took a look at her face and saw her pink, plump lips pouting at him.

“C’mon, Aaron, let’s leave already. I promise you won’t get in trouble with Mother. I’ll tell her it was all my idea. Please?”

He couldn’t say no to the beautiful woman in front of him, so he gave her a quick nod and she took her hand to lead them out. They both arrived at the SUV and Aaron asked her where she wanted to go. Emily told him that she wanted to go to the diner near her home since she enjoyed their burgers. During the ten minute drive, they made small talk before they arrived at the small, family owned diner. They both found seats and Emily decided to strike up a conversation with the tall agent. 

“So, do you have any plans after this whole security agent gig, or is this going to be permanent?” she asked as she looked through the menu. 

“Well, I actually have an interview with the FBI in two weeks. The opening position is a profiler at the Seattle field office.”

Aaron couldn’t help but notice her disappointment at his words. However, she quickly covered it with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. 

“Oh wow that’s amazing! I’m sure you’ll get in. It’s actually my dream to be part of the FBI. Maybe we’ll work together one day,” she chuckled.

He gave her a small smile and without thinking twice, he took her soft hand in his. He felt her tense up a bit but she quickly relaxed in his touch. 

“I’m sure we will. I can’t wait to see you with your FBI vest, you’ll look cute.”

Emily blushed at his statement and gave his hand a small squeeze. She raised her other hand and placed it gently on Aaron’s left cheek.  She slowly leaned in and𑁋

“Hello, my name is Linda and I’ll be your server for today. Are you two ready to order?”

The pair quickly let each other go and looked up at the waitress. 

“Uh yeah we’re ready. We’ll both have the burger and fries and she’ll have a strawberry milkshake.”

The waitress wrote down their order and left to give it to the diner’s chef.

Emily gave him a confused look and asked, “How do you know I like strawberry milkshakes?”

He let out a small laugh and said, “I’ve seen you sipping down on one a couple times. Your eyes would always light up when they got delivered to your home.”

Emily took both of his hands this time and smiled at him. For a while it seemed as though they were the only people at the diner, staring into each other’s eyes and enjoying the other person’s presence. The hot steam from their food ruined their movement and they pulled apart. They ate in silence, occasionally asking if they’re enjoying their meal or if they want to order anything else. After the pair finished, they split the bill and headed off to the Prentiss household.

When they arrived, Emily asked him if he wanted to join her upstairs in her room.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Miss. Your mother might be arriving soon.”

“Don’t be such a killjoy, Aaron, we’re just gonna talk. And please stop calling me ‘Miss’. I call you ‘Aaron’ instead of ‘Agent’ so might as well call me ‘Emily’.”

He took a while to think it through, but he eventually agreed. 

“Alright, Emily.”

She smiled, took his hand, and the pair went upstairs. They started walking towards the end of the hallway and Emily led him inside the room with the letter ‘E’ at the door. Her room was completely neutral. Barely any color or decorations. The only thing that stood out was the queen sized bed and the large picture frame of her family. 

“There’s not much in here. Why do you keep it so plain?” Aaron asked as he sat down in the armchair at the end of the room.

“Aren’t you applying to be a profiler? Why don’t you tell me?” she replied with a hint of a smile.

He flushed of embarrassment before Emily interrupted him. 

“I’m just kidding! Geez, Aaron, let loose a little.”

He visibly relaxed at her statement and leaned back into the chair.

“My room is like this because there’s really no point in decorating it. I’m not home for most of the year because of college. Plus I don’t want Mother to judge me based on what my room looks like. You know how she could be.”

Aaron had a look urging her to go on. He could tell she had more to say and he wanted her to let it all out. Emily sighed and continued.

“Growing up my mom and I were never really close. She never abused me or anything but she was just never there. We moved all over Europe and the Middle East because of her job. It was hard to maintain a permanent life because of it. Then as I grew older she forced me to attend all her businesses and shit. If she actually put in effort into being a good mother, she would’ve known that I want to be in the FBI.”

She took a deep breath as her eyes started to brim with tears. Aaron immediately went up to sit beside her on the bed. He pulled her into his chest and gently rubbed her back. Emily wrapped her arms around his torso and softly cried into his shoulder. Aaron whispered sweet nothings to help calm her down. At the sound of his voice Emily’s cries started to die down and she unwrapped herself from him. 

“Thank you for today. I know you didn’t want to join me and had other important things to do. I just didn’t want to be alone and I thought you were the best person to be with me. I’m sorry for dragging you into my problems,” she sniffled. 

“Oh, sweetheart, please don’t apologize. I’ll always be here for you, not because it’s my job, but because I care for your well being.”

Emily blushed at the term of endearment and slowly leaned towards Aaron. He noticed this but didn’t stop her, instead he started leaning towards her, too. Once their lips were merely a few centimeters away from each other, Emily placed her hand on Aaron’s cheek and stroked her thumb against it. She then placed her soft lips on his. They stayed in that position for a moment, their lips pressed against each other. Emily grew impatient and started moving her mouth against his lips. He immediately kissed her back with more passion and intensity. He placed his arms around her waist and continued the assault on their lips. After a few minutes of deeply exploring each other’s mouths, they pulled apart to catch their breaths. 

“Kiss me again,” Emily said.

“We can’t do this. I’m here to protect you, not have sex.”

“Aaron, please. No one has to know. It’s just the two of us here. And I know you’re gonna say it’s wrong for me to be intimate with one of my security agents but𑁋”

He grabbed her face and kissed her again to shut her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged his hair. He let out a soft moan which prompted Emily to bite his bottom lip. Aaron took that as a sign and opened his mouth so she could explore it with her tongue. The pair fought for dominance but he eventually won. He pulled away from her mouth and started pressing light kisses on her neck causing her to arch her back.

“Mmm fuck, Aaron.”

She began to unbutton his dress shirt as he nibbled and sucked on her sweet spot. Once she got it open she gestured him to take it off, which revealed his pale and toned chest. Emily pushed him down the bed and placed small kisses on his muscles. She reached towards his pants and immediately noticed his arousal.

“Hmmm do you need help with this?” Emily seductively asked as she palmed his hard on. 

Aaron let out a loud groan and she took out his cock. There was precum leaking from the tip and Emily used her thumb to spread it. She brought her tongue down as she licked from the base of his cock all the way to the tip. Aaron placed his large hand on her head and Emily took his thick length inside her mouth. She found it difficult to take him all the way but after a few tries she managed to bring his tip to touch the back of her throat. He could feel the vibrations of her moans on his cock, causing him to buck his hips up. Emily let out a small gag but continued her ministrations. She could tell he was close due to the twitching she felt in her mouth so she took him even deeper and massaged his balls.

“E-emily, I’m so close. God fuck, baby, you’re so good.”

She gladly accepted the praise and soon enough, he spilled into her mouth. She swallowed all of him dry and smiled.

“You taste amazing by the way. Can’t wait to do that again,” Emily said as she wiped her mouth. 

Aaron grabbed her by the neck and kissed her roughly. He tasted himself in her mouth and she let out a small whimper. Emily stood up and quickly took off her dress. Once it was on the floor he stared at her white, lacy bra and panties. He growled and took her in his arms so she was on top. She unclasped her bra and he took her pink nipple in his mouth. Aaron sucked the hard bud while pinching the nipple of her other breast. Emily released a loud moan while he moved one of his hands to her core. He used his thumb to rub her clit through the thin fabric of her panties. Aaron flipped them over so Emily was underneath him. He ripped off her panties and his mouth watered at the sight of her glistening pussy. He placed his tongue flat on her core and licked a stripe up to her clit, leaving Emily in a moaning mess.

“Stop teasing, I want you inside me,” she begged.

“Are you sure you want to do this? We can stop right now. I won’t judge,”

“Of course I want to do this.”

Aaron took his pants off completely and lined himself at her entrance.

“Wait do you have a condom?”

“It’s okay, I’m clean and on the pill. Just hurry up and stick it in already.”

He chuckled at her eagerness and slowly slid inside her. Emily’s face contorted into a mix of pain and pleasure, telling him to stop moving for a second. After a few moments she gave him a small nod and he started to thrust back and forth. Aaron picked up his pace at the sounds of her erotic moans. Groans and skin slapping echoed throughout the room and they were pretty sure if there were other people inside the house they would hear their pleasures. 

“Shit I’m so close, Aaron.”

He reached down and rubbed her clit with his thumb. Aaron felt her walls clench around his cock and Emily screamed his name as she reached her climax, her warmth putting him closer to release. He traced kisses down her neck and bit down as he spilled inside her. They stayed in that position for a few moments before he gently collapsed on top of her, keeping his weight at his arms. Emily looked up and kissed him softly, letting Aaron cup her right cheek.

“So when’s round 2?” she asked with a giggle. 

He traced his index finger along her cheek and responded, “Anytime, baby. Anytime.”

[kaleidoscopeminds]

Get on your dancing shoes, there’s one thing on your mind

having some feelings about missing gigs this evening and this is a thing that occurred? tiny fluffy gig lashton for @tirednotflirting as she dutifully listens to me complain about the lack of live music in my life. This scenario is based on something that actually happened to me, but unfortunately there was no Ashton in that turn of events.

Title from Dancing Shoes by Arctic Monkeys because what else?

“Okay then turn left at the end of that road,” Michael says down the phone to Luke, who has it cradled in his shoulder as he clutches his umbrella and squints into the dark.

“Yeah, okay I can see where I’m going now, I’ll ring you back when I’m outside,” Luke responds. “See you in a sec.”

“Bye!” Michael calls down the line before hanging up.

Luke sighs and stuffs his phone back in his pocket, hunching his shoulders up against the rain. He’s a little annoyed by the evening already, having to get a train and then a bus to Michael’s boyfriend’s house (Calum, he keeps having to remind himself) and once again wonders why he agreed to come along.

“Look I’m saying we can go, I’m just saying that Calum wants to come too,” Michael had shrugged at him.

“But Mikey, gigs are our thing,” Luke had responded petulantly. He knew he was being childish but his best friend agreeing to go to see a band with his new boyfriend instead of him was not news that he wanted to hear.

“They still are,” Michael had responded, rolling his eyes a little. “We’re going together, Calum will just be there as well.”

“But then I’ll have to third-wheel you all evening,” Luke had whined, frowning.

Michael had laughed, “It’s funny, because Calum said the exact same thing about the two of us. Now stop being a big baby and buy your ticket.”

That’s how Luke had found himself a month later, trudging in the rain to Calum’s flat, because it was only a short bus trip to the venue from there. He did honestly like Calum, he was quiet but wickedly funny and clearly smitten with Michael, he just didn’t know why he also had to like the same music as the two of them. He sighed to himself again and looked up at the flats in front of him and pulled out his phone again to call Michael, resigning himself to an evening of standing next to the happy couple.

X

“Can we go down?” Luke said excitedly, sipping his drink and bouncing on his toes.

“I think we’re gonna stay up here,” Michael responded, shrugging. “Better view.”

“What?” Luke asked, frowning. “We never stand at the back?”

“It’s just a bit busy,” Michael replied, shrugging.

Luke shook his head and sighed. “Okay fine but I’m going down there. I’ll see you at the end, give me a text if we can’t find each other.”

Michael nodded absently and turned to say something to Calum who was looking at his phone. Luke rolled his eyes and left the two of them to it, quickly going down the steps and beginning to squeeze his way through the crowd. He wanted to be right in with everyone, nothing comparing to the feeling of being in a crowd at a gig just before it starts, the hum in the air and the excitement fizzing at the tips of everyone’s fingers, almost palpable in the slightly sweaty beer scented air. He was also mindful of how tall he was though, not wanting to slap himself right in the middle where he would be a nuisance to everyone, so he skimmed the edge until he found himself a spot on the right hand side, with a good view of the stage.

“You’re a better door than a window aren’t you?” He heard a voice from slightly behind him to his right.

Luke turned around with an apologetic smile on his face but was met with a twinkling grin and a pair of hazel eyes glinting wickedly at him. 

Luke coughs embarrassed, “Yeah I know I’m sorry it’s the - ,” he gestures in a vague way towards his body.

“Stupidly long legs? Big blonde head? Ridiculously broad shoulders?” The man winks at him and Luke can’t help but notice how good looking he is, curly brown hair falling onto his forehead and a dimple in his chin as he smirks at Luke. He’s wearing a white short sleeve shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, showing off both a bit of chest hair and his tanned arms.

“Sorry,” Luke apologises again, blushing and giggling slightly. “Maybe I can buy you your next drink to make up for my big blonde head.”

The other man grins delightedly at him. “Now don’t tempt me. How about you budge over a bit so I don’t have to stand behind you?”

“I might be able to manage that,” Luke responds, shuffling over slightly in the small space. He hears a frustrated sigh from behind him when he inevitably blocks someone else’s view, but he just shrugs apologetically at them, he now has a bigger priority in the form of this hot man who may or may not be flirting with him. 

“I’m Ashton by the way,” The man says, holding his hand out in the small space between them.

Luke laughs at the formality and switches his cup to his other hand so he can shake Ashton’s hand. “Luke,” he responds.

“So Luke,” Ashton cocks his head slightly at him. “What brings you to this part of the floor with no friend or girlfriend in sight?”

“Unlikely to be a girlfriend I can tell you that much for free,” Luke snorts, he notices Ashton gets a pleased smile on his face when he hears this and files that away for later thought. “I came with my mate and his boyfriend and I have abandoned them being boring up there somewhere.” Luke jerks his head in direction of the back of the room.

Ashton laughs. “A serious third-wheel moment then?”

“Yes,” Luke replies disgustedly. “Even though I was assured it wouldn’t be.” 

Ashton laughs again, tilting his head back and giggling, and Luke thinks he might have fallen in love a little bit.

“What about you?” Luke asks. “What’s a guy like you doing lurking solo over here?”

Ashton smiles a little embarrassed and rubs the back of his head. “Was meant to be on a date, but the guy decided he didn’t want to come last minute. Thought it would be a waste to not come because I fucking love this band regardless.”

Luke laughs and notes Ashton’s deliberate use of “guy”. Interesting.

“Well I think you made the right decision,” Luke responds, smiling at Ashton and biting his tongue slightly.

Ashton’s eyes track the movement before coming back to meet Luke’s. “We’ll see about that I suppose,” he responds, returning the smile slowly. “In the meantime, I know you promised me a drink, but as you were so kind as to move over for me, what would you like?”

“Whatever you’re having,” Luke responds, smiling. “I’ll save your space.”

“You better do,” Ashton winks and moves off through the crowd, brushing his hand around Luke’s hip and across the small of his back as he leaves. 

Luke watches him weave up towards the bar and manages to catch Michael’s eye who’s looking at him questioningly. Luke just shrugs at him, and Michael waves his phone at him pointedly before beginning to furiously type a message. Calum just smiles amused, and gives Luke a little wave, which Luke returns before fishing his phone out of his pocket just as it buzzes with a message from Michael.

whos that???

Ashton

who tf is ashton

Ashton is the nice man who’s date cancelled on him and is now buying me a drink

!!!! Is he gay????

…. Possibly (he suggested the date was with a man)

!!!!! he’s fucking hot luke

I know mikey i’ve got eyes

don’t fuck this up just be normal

what the fuck is that supposed to mean

just don’t be so luke

you’re not helping in the slightest here

he’s coming back act normal

you’re absolutely the fucking worst and i hate you so much

stop talking to me your new boyfriend is coming back

Luke sighs exasperatedly at his phone before locking it and shoving it back in his pocket as Ashton squeezes through the gap next to him and hands off the second cup he’s holding. Luke downs his current drink and slides the new cup into the empty one.

“Thanks,” he says, moving over slightly and noticing the space he was in has gotten significantly smaller.

“No problem,” Ashton says, wedging himself in the gap next to him. “Although you didn’t keep up your side of the bargain,” he says pointedly, wiggling his shoulders to bump against Luke’s in the narrow space. 

“Sorry,” Luke responds, smiling apologetically. “I got distracted.”

“Who said I was complaining?” Ashton replies, smirking. “Everything okay? You were really giving your phone a dirty look there.”

“Yeah it was nothing,” Luke shakes his head, but his eyes flick over to where Michael and Calum are standing, and Ashton follows his look. Michael is staring at them intently, but quickly pretends to be deep in conversation with Calum as soon as he sees Luke and Ashton looking at them. Luke hears Ashton laugh quietly and he blushes furiously.

“Were you talking about me?” Ashton teases, his twinkling grin back firmly in place.

“Don’t be so big-headed,” Luke responds, still blushing.

“That means yes,” Ashton says smugly, taking a sip of his drink and brushing his arm against Luke’s.

“Why would I be talking about you, I don’t know anything about you,” Luke says, raising his eyebrows.

“Well what would you like to know?” Ashton responds. “I’m an open book.”

“Uh, how old are you?” Luke asks and then sighs at himself at such an infantile question.

“Getting right to the important stuff straight away I see,” Ashton replies seriously before breaking out into a grin. 

“Stop making fun of me, I’m regretting standing in front of you now,” Luke says, pouting at him.

“Aw you don’t mean that Lukey,” Ashton says, placing a hand over his heart. Luke tries not to blush at the nickname (try being the operative word). “I’m 24,” Ashton adds, taking pity on Luke.

“22,” Luke responds, taking a sip of his drink. “And as we’re doing the boring stuff I’ve just graduated and currently work in a bar whilst I try to discover my true passion.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Ashton responds, tapping his plastic cup against Luke’s. “I work in a record shop at the moment.”

“That’s pretty fucking cool to be fair,” Luke says honestly.

“Yeah it's not bad, not necessarily what I want to do forever though,” Ashton says ruefully.

“What do you want to do?” Luke asks, genuinely interested.

“Producing I think,” Ashton says thoughtfully, “but working in a record shop is as close as I’m gonna get for now.”

“See and you were worried we weren’t going to get to the important stuff,” Luke says, grinning cheekily at Ashton. 

Ashton laughs again and nudges his shoulder against Luke’s. “Yeah something about you has got me spouting about my ambitions within minutes.”

Luke bites his lip and ducks his head. He honestly can’t believe his luck managing to bump into and hold a conversation with Ashton, who seems unbelievably sweet and interesting. He’s saved from responding as the lights dim and people start cheering around him.

Luke squeaks and grabs Ashton’s wrist, bouncing on his toes as excitement flows through him, his heart rate picking up as he feels the crowd shift and pulse with anticipation, voices of enthusiasm and shouts beginning to ripple across the sea of people. The lights begin to flash and Luke can feel the energy thrum through the air. He catches Ashton smiling at him out of the corner of his eye and turns to face him with a huge smile on his face.

“What?” Luke has to almost shout over the growing noise of the crowd.

Ashton leans forward slightly. “You’re cute,” he says directly into Luke’s ear, making him shiver slightly before pulling back and tucking one of Luke’s curls behind his ear, smiling and turning towards the front. Luke stands for a moment, dazed before being pulled out of his reverie by the band appearing on stage, cheering loudly with everyone else.

X

The gig is insane, especially with Ashton at his side, singing the lyrics along with him, dancing stupidly in his favourite instrumentals and laughing every time Luke clutches his arm and shouts “I love this one!” In his ear.

And maybe when it goes dark after the band goes off and whilst the rest of the crowd chants for the encore, Luke might slide his hand in to Ashton’s and pull him closer to find his lips in the dark, breathless and skin slightly damp from all the dancing, mouths sticky with the taste of beer and ears still ringing.