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venusiangguk · 3 years

Note

may we see the fight tae oc scene pls pls please!!! u can delete later🤔🤔🤔🤔😳😳😳😳 i’m really curious. i mean ofc u don’t have to. still 😧🙃

idealizations concerning real life relations: deleted scene

>>pairing: jungkook x reader / icrlr!couple

>>genre: fwb, angst, rated PG

>>word count: 2.5k

>>warnings: alcohol, implied smut

>>notes: this is a deleted scene from icrlr, that i omitted simply because of the length of the final fic!! feel free to skip or ignore, it doesn't change anything, but since u guys are curious about it, i'll post it as a lil ty for helping me hit that milestone <3 it takes place after the tattoo party scene, and before the lecture scene.

this does NOT provide an alternative ending.

>>summary: taehyung tries to make you see things for what they really are, but it's hard to see through the rose colored glasses.

Winter break has been long awaited and it is finally, finally here. The snow has coated the ground thick, making the town look like a winter wonderland. The air is sharp and cold but not to a miserable extent. Just chilly enough to bundle up, to hold a hand a little tighter and soak up their warmth.

Your favorite season is fall, but the later months are a close second. You love seeing the way everyone’s faces get red when snow flurries come down to kiss their nose and cheeks. Love the way pom poms bounce atop little hats as children play and have snowball fights. Winter is surprisingly one of the warmest, sweetest times of the year. Like the hot coco Jeongguk has been swapping your regular macchiato with lately.

There’s a greatly anticipated party tonight- a mashup of Taehyung’s birthday and New Year’s Eve. Anticipated for the simple fact that said birthday boy has steadily been ignoring you for weeks, and tonight was a night where he couldn’t evade your attempts of reconciliation. He hasn’t returned a single call or even sent a text back. You can’t even be mad at him really, you know it’s justified. You know you fucked up. The coffee date you had with Yoongi last week let you know what you did.

Over an iced coffee, you learned that you had unintentionally skipped out on your best friend's Winter Showcase. The important one that he mentioned multiple times. The one you promised to attend no matter what.

It wasn’t on purpose; you wanted to go, to support him. But you just got caught up. In life, in school, in Jeongguk. It happens.

When Yoongi asked you why you had missed it, when he told you how hurt Taehyung was by your absence, your heart dropped, sank deep within your chest as your mouth fell open before closing, a small pursed frown on your lips. You didn’t have a good excuse. You went to get tattoos with Jeongguk and then to a party where you fucked him, and then home after that? You were too tired to make it? You just simply forgot? Those excuses weren’t good enough for you and you knew they wouldn’t be good enough for Taehyung.

Whereas Yoongi was okay with distance, long periods in between hanging out and talking, Taehyung wasn’t. He was the kind of friend that needed support, reassurance that you cared. He liked quality time and hangs outs that were planned ahead so he could look forward to them. He was looking forward to you being at his showcase.

The party is packed, even more so than usual. Students, drop-outs, alumni, and randoms alike, all congregate to bring in the new year, to celebrate the end of finals, and a certain art majors birthday. Bodies are on bodies, music is loud and deafening. Cups, bottles, and small baggies litter the floor and the smell of weed is nauseating.

Jeongguk’s hand in yours is sweet, though. Enough to ebb the distaste in your mouth as you watch the stereotypical disaster that is a college party.

“I’m going to go find the drinks, okay?” you lie, squeezing Jeongguk’s hand lightly.

He squeezes back, kisses the side of your head as he says, “Bring me one back too?”

You nod, and slip out of his view. Scanning the crowd until you see a familiar face.

Jimin is laughing, red cup in his hand, eyes curled and happy. He’s sitting on the arm of a couch, legs swinging as he laughs with a group of people. He takes a drink from his cup and let’s his eyes roam the room like he’s looking for someone.

The way his face changes when he sees you approaching is like a punch in the gut. It goes from happy, and carefree to stony- only a small, irritated, close-lipped smile on his face. Eyes harsh and cold, no longer holding the mirth they were just seconds ago. He says nothing when you step in front of him, he just looks you over like he’s bored and waiting for you to get on with it so he can be done with it.

You shift on your feet under his scrutiny. “Where’s Tae?” you ask.

Jimin narrows his eyes at you and tilts his head. “Now you want to know where he is? Haven’t been concerned with his whereabouts for months. Definitely weren’t worried about it last week.”

You wince but carry on swiftly. “Listen, I know I fucked up. I’m here to apologize.” You look at him expectantly, but he holds his ground. When he doesn’t falter, you resort to begging, “Please, Jimin. He’s my best friend… I miss him.”

You must look pitiful, because Jimin’s indifferent facade fades, and he clicks his tongue like he’s annoyed at himself for giving into you. “He’s getting us drinks in the kitchen.”

A smile takes over your face as you rush out a ‘thank you’, quickly turning on your heel to head in the opposite direction, before Jimin calls after you.

“Yeah?” you ask, looking over your shoulder at him.

“If he’s your best friend, maybe treat him like it, yeah?”

You continue to the kitchen without replying, and you can’t help the little simmer of annoyance that bubbles in your chest. Taehyung has been your best friend for years. And even though Jimin had a point, who was he to tell you anything about yours and Taehyung’s friendship?

Before the thought can fester, however, you see the boy you came looking for, two bottles of vodka in his hand like he’s trying to decide which to use. You see the little party hat atop his shaggy hair before anything else and your heart aches a little. You really did miss him. He lets out a small annoyed sound, and knowing him, he’s probably trying to figure out which has the highest alcohol percentage. You come up next to him, and say his name gently. He jumps, but when he realizes it’s you, the ghost of a smile curls on his lips like he’s happy to see you.

Until it’s replaced with resentment just as quickly. His sharp eyes squint at you before turning back to the bottles in his hands, scowl still in place.

“So you decided you could pencil me in between getting your heart toyed with and your back blown out?” He gives you a side glance and sees how your jaw drops in surprise. He carries on, unbothered. “Or did this just work out because it coincides with New Year’s and because he was invited? Only because he’s Jimin’s friend might I add.”

“Tae-” you try, doing your best to keep the hurt whine out of your tone.

“Save it, __. I don’t want to hear the excuses you have. Just-” he looks at you again, and you think that maybe he softens when he sees your crestfallen features. He sighs like he’s tired. “Just leave me alone. Just for a bit, okay? I’ll get over it eventually,” he finishes, finally deciding on the vodka he wants.

You know his request isn't unreasonable. But it’s already been so long that the distance in your friendship has been eating away at it, that you’re scared ‘eventually’ might take too long and by the time he comes around, there won’t be much of a friendship left. That the damage done, will be irreparable.

“Tae… It’s already been months, can’t we-”

Like night and day, the softness that you were able to pull out of him is immediately replaced with that resentment and anger you were met with when you first stepped into the kitchen.

“Yeah,” he seethes, strong brows furrowed. “And whose fault is that?”

His words are sharp and the sting from them makes you take a step back. That is, until you feel anger of your own creep up your throat like venom. “You’re one to talk, Taehyung. You could have reached out to me, too. You’re no better than me when you’re in a relationship.”

He groans, gives an exasperated laugh before shrugging. “You know what? Maybe I am just as bad as you, but at least I’m actually in a relationship,” he spits, “You’re just fucking someone that doesn’t give a fuck about you.”

You know he’s hurt because of the distance. That he doesn’t intend to be so mean. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less, and it doesn’t stop the angry tears from pooling in your eyes.

And although you’re angry, almost shaking with rage at the feeling of being cornered and blamed, your heart aches at hearing his words.

Jimin, who started seeing Taehyung after you started seeing Jeongguk, had already made your friend official. Had given him the title, the commitment, the relationship that you had been patiently and understandingly waiting for with Jeongguk. The bitterness that bleeds into your heart makes you feel gross and ugly.

You know what they say; that labels are superficial and don’t mean that much. But when you don’t have them? It makes you wonder. If a label really isn’t that important, like everyone says, why is Jeongguk so reluctant to give one to you?

“Jimin’s your boyfriend?” you whisper.

Taehyung gives you a short nod. “Month and half ago. You would’ve known if you got your head out of Jeongguk’s ass.”

Almost like he was summoned, the topic of debate waltz into the room, coming up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He nuzzles into your neck.

It’s instinctual now, the way your body responds to him. The way you melt into his chest like second-nature, how your hands settle over his like they are keeping them in place. How immediately in his presence you feel calmer; the panicky, hurt feeling you were experiencing moments ago vanishing as if it were just a fleeting thought and not something that’s always in the back of your head.

Not in a possessive, ‘I need him to be mine’ kind of way, though.

More like, ‘Why won’t he be mine?’

“Hi,” he murmurs into your neck.

“Hi, baby,” you respond softly, out of habit. The room shirks around you whenever he’s near. Makes you feel like you’re in your own bubble with him.

Jeongguk’s about to reply, ask where the drinks are, but then he hears an annoyed scoff sound in front of you both. Jeongguk bristles as he looks up and sees Taehyung taking a big swig from his cup.

“Uh- am I interrupting? Should I go?” he asks hesitantly, looking between you and your friend.

“No-” you say at the same time that Taehyung says, “Yes.”

You cringe, and turn in Jeongguk’s arms, hands resting on his chest. “Just give me a couple more minutes okay? I’ll bring the drinks.”

Jeongguk searches your eyes, before looking at Taehyung one last time before giving you a stern nod and a quick kiss.

You turn back to Taehyung, ready to apologize for Jeongguk’s interruption, when he talks over you.

“You’re pathetic,” he starts, and you roll your eyes with an irritated sigh before he continues, “but I know you love him. And that you can’t help it,” he shrugs. “But as your friend, I have to tell you that it’s not going to end well. You probably don’t even need me to tell you that. You probably already know and are choosing to ignore it for the sake of the delusions you’ve made up in your ‘pretty little head’.”

You pout at him quoting you, and your brows furrow. “He cares about me. And he’s Jimin’s best friend. He’s a good person, you don’t even know him,” you argue defensively. Though you know your arguments make little sense and are flimsy at best.

Taehyung frowns. Pauses like he’s thinking.

“I didn’t say he was a bad person, and maybe he does care about you in his own messed up way. But he doesn’t care about you in the way that you want him to.” His lips are still down turned when he speaks again.

“And the difference between him with you and him with Jimin is astronomical; it shouldn’t even be a comparison, but I will humor you,” he rubs a hand up and down his face like he’s tired. “The dynamic is completely different, for obvious reasons. For one, Jimin is a safe relationship. You are not. Jimin isn’t in love with him, Jimin isn’t sucking his dick, and Jimin doesn’t want things from Jeongguk that Jeongguk cannot give, or does not want to give,” he says with a raised brow as he takes a sip of his drink.

It seems that the anger has died down some between you both, a semi-civil conversation finally being had. You wrinkle your brows in confusion at him. “What are you talking about?”

He rolls his eyes. “Cmon __. Why do you think he hasn’t made you his girlfriend? Why do you think he literally has not been in a serious relationship since high school? Why do you think he never agrees to anything more than 2 months out?” He waits for you to answer but you just purse your lips stubbornly. “He’s scared. Dare I say terrified of commitment, and that’s exactly what you want from him right?”

You stay headstrong and quiet for a moment longer, ignoring his question in favor of asking one of your own when you finally do speak up. “If I’m so scary, why hasn’t he left?”

Taehyung shrugs. “Fuck if I know? Maybe he does care about you like you say he does. I don’t think so, but hey,” He raises his hands in mock surrender, like he is throwing in the figurative towel. “Maybe you’re right and maybe I‘m wrong. Or maybe there’s some fucked up codependency fermenting between you both when you copulate. I genuinely have no clue, and frankly, I don’t care to find out. Don’t text me until you come to your senses. And don’t get mad when I tell you ‘I told you so’.”

And with that, he turns and leaves you to make your own drinks. You hope the smile you give Jeongguk when you find him is believable.

That night when you go back to his place, you voice your concerns to him in between sweet, heated kisses that taste like hot cider. You tell him hesitantly how Taehyung voiced his concerns about Jeongguk not caring about you and Jeongguk got a little irritated, a little miffed as he unlatched his lips from your neck. He asked what Taehyung knew, how he even came to that conclusion when he’s not around you both.

He assured you with gentle touches and tender words that of course he cares about you. He reminded you that he always makes time for you, he always answers your calls and your texts, he takes you out every now and then, too. He asks you what you think and when you contemplate your answer, going over what he said, you can’t really argue with him. Even if an uneasy, dismal feeling settles in the pit of your tummy.

~~~

hellooo!! again, this is just a scene and part of the plot that i chose not to use because i felt like the fic was already so long. i wish that i had ended up including it tho, so i hope you enjoyed even though its nothing special <3 feel free to do the things if you liked it: like, comment, reblog, send an ask~~ love u, ty again for helping me reach that milestone <3

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vannahfanfics · 2 years

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The Clumsy Kind of Love

Word Count: 2020

Fluff, Romance, Light Angst, Blind Dates

Summary: After a series of strike-outs in the dating game, Kyoka asks her friend Katsuki to set her up on a blind date. The night in question, however, she's wondering if it's really just bad luck, or if maybe there's something about her that makes it impossible for her to net a decent guy. This is not the time to have an identity crisis!

Here is my first story for the @kmjr-mini-bang! I had a great time working with my partner @marianamakesart again, so be sure to go shower their super adorable art with lots of love!

This is silly. I should leave; I should just leave! Kyoka thought for the millionth time as she hovered outside the bar. She’d been standing there for ten minutes now, in the puddle of light streaming down from a street lamp. That circle of life was like her safety zone, and everything beyond was cast in the gloom of uncertainty. Probably way too dramatic a metaphor for a blind date, but the anxiety gnawing deep in Kyoka’s belly didn’t exactly leave much room for rational thought.

After repeatedly striking out on the dating scene, Kyoka had grown a little desperate. She was a young college girl with a lot of love to give. She just wanted to share it all with someone! So, after a horrible date that ended with a guy crying on her dorm room floor about being dumped by his high school sweetheart five years ago, Kyoka had approached her best friend Katsuki to hook her up.

“Yeah, no sweat,” the blond had smirked at her around the straw of his bubble tea. “Matter of fact, I’ve got the perfect guy for you. I’ll text you the details later. Now will you pass me the sriracha? This milk tea needs a kick.” Kyoka had been unperturbed at the time, passing Katsuki the bottle of spicy condiment with a laugh.

But now? Now she was freaking out.

Don’t get Kyoka wrong. She knew that Katsuki would never purposefully set her up on a crappy date. Katsuki didn’t tolerate creeps or fools, especially when it came to his female friends. No, her blind date was probably a perfectly great guy! But successive failures weighed heavily on her mind. She couldn’t help but have that nagging feeling in the back of her mind that things would go wrong—and worse, that it wasn’t the guys at all, but there was something wrong with her.

Oh, no. Now she was getting in her head. She should definitely go home now. She could crawl in bed with a tub of ice cream and watch cheesy sitcoms until late in the evening. Yup. A perfect, heartbreak-free Friday night.

Kyoka turned on her heel and was met with electric yellow eyes over a nervous smile.

“Kyoka Jiro?” the young man asked.

Kyoka admittedly found herself quite tongue-tied. Not only had his sudden appearance startled her, but also, he was quite handsome. A shock of messy bright blond hair with a black lightning-shaped streak in his long bangs, dressed in ripped light gray skinny jeans and a band tee shirt with a leather jacket and combat boots, the stud of a metal earring glinting in his ear as it caught the light of the streetlamp—it was like Kyoka’s dream guy had walked off the pages of her middle school diary.

“Y-yes, that’s me,” Kyoka stammered when her tongue started working again. Her blind date, it was obviously her blind date; how else would he know her name? “And you must be Denki Kaminari?”

“That’s me,” Denki smiled with a nod of confirmation. “I’m in Katsuki’s music appreciation class. Of course, I actually want to be there,” he added with a light laugh. “Not like him, slogging through it for a required credit.”

“Yeah,” Kyoka giggled. His eyes glimmered at the way she held her hand to her mouth to hide her laugh behind it. “If I had a nickel for how many time’s he’s complained about the assignments, I could pay my tuition for this semester.”

“Ugh, he nearly made my ears bleed when we were studying operas,” he chuckled while raking his fingers through his hair. His smile was still nervous despite the fact that they were already engaged in a pretty good conversation. Kyoka couldn’t blame him; that fear was still gnawing at the back of her mind, making her own smile waver. But things were going well, so she might as well continue on, she told herself.

“So, why don’t we head into the bar?” she suggested and pointed at the door.

“Oh, right, of course!” Denki cried. A blush immediately dusted across his cheeks, and he raced to open the door for her. It was kind of cute, actually, that he’d been so engrossed in Kyoka upon first sight that he’d actually forgotten why they were there in the first place. However, just as Kyoka was passing the threshold, the doorknob slipped from his hand, and the door came swinging in to smack right into Kyoka’s arm.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry!” he squeaked. He flung the door back open so he could zoom to her side, hands fluttering all around her while he inspected her arm for any bruise or blemish. “It was an accident, I swear! You’re not hurt, are you?”

“I’m fine,” Kyoka reassured him with a wan smile. She’d certainly never had that happen on any of her dates. He looks genuine, but… Could it be that he already doesn’t like me? Denki looked like he was about to cry, pouting at the place where the door had struck her arm. No, that couldn’t be it, she reassured herself. It was just an accident.

Yet still, she wrapped her arms around herself in a hug as they walked to a table.

As the night went on, Kyoka became more and more convinced that there was something inherently undateable about her. The signs were simply too much to ignore. First, they’d gotten to talking about their college majors and their plans. Kyoka had started babbling about how she was studying music for a career in sound production like her parents; Denki had seemed particularly interested when she’d brought up that she was a singer and guitarist in her band. However, as soon as the bartender brought their drinks, Denki bumped Kyoka’s and sent the midnight cocktail spilling all over the table.

“Ugh, I’m so sorry,” Denki groaned apologetically while he mopped up the fruit and alcohol mix with a wad of paper towels. “Katsuki’s always on my ass about how clumsy I am. He even gave me a whole speech about how I had to like, totally use every ounce of my willpower not to be a klutz, and look. I’ve already goofed up twice tonight!”

He seemed so genuine. Really. It was almost enough for Kyoka to believe that it was just that, just a super-nervous guy accidentally bungling things because he was so overwhelmed in her presence. But no guy had been like that around her, none of them. Kyoka surely couldn’t be that special. No, this all had to be some elaborate act. Denki had taken one look at her and been repulsed, but he wanted to let her down easy with this whole goofy clumsy bit. It was kind, in the most twisted way.

Denki’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he looked up to see silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Oh, God. Oh, fuck. Shit. I’ve fucked up. Oh, man! Oh, man! Katsuki warned me that he would kick my ass if I made you cry!” Denki cried in panic and thrust his hands into his plumes of bright yellow hair. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I’ve ruined this. I know how much you were looking forward to a good date, I heard about all the douchebags you’ve been going out with lately, and I—Oh, man, I just wanted you to have a nice time, especially once I saw you and how beautiful you are, and now look, I’ve fucked it up—”

Kyoka looked at him with wide, watery eyes.

“You… You think I’m beautiful?”

Denki stopped babbling mid-sentence to gape at her.

“Uh… Yeah. Absolutely. You’re the most stunning girl I’ve ever seen. It actually took me, like, a full minute to walk up to you and say hi because I figured the universe wouldn’t be so nice as to hand me a drop-dead gorgeous girl like you.”

Kyoka felt the blush begin to crawl up from her neck. It crept up, gradually turning the skin of her face a rosy pink.

“Then… you don’t think there’s something wrong with me?”

It was such a weird thing to ask. Kyoka knew that Denki probably wouldn’t look twice at her after this. But she was at a breaking point. The beast had taken over her head, blackening her thoughts and leaving her in a cloud of self-doubt. Denki had offered her a slim ray of hope, and she was going to reach out and grab it, regardless of how pitiful it made her seem.

Denki smiled sympathetically. He left the sodden napkins in the middle of the table and grabbed his chair to pull it around so he could sit right next to her. Kyoka blushed, but didn’t scoot away. He slowly eased himself down next to her, and her blush furthered when his knee gently bumped hers.

“Kyoka, let’s get one thing straight here. There is nothing wrong with you,” he said sternly. Kyoka couldn’t help but pout doubtfully at him, that beast still struggling to keep her ensnared in its mean talons. “You’re pretty, and smart, and sophisticated. There is nothing about you that would drive a man away except for his own issues.”

“Really?”

“Really!” he nodded adamantly. Kyoka felt the dismal haze around her mind begin to clear, and a tiny smile wormed its way onto her lips. “I’m sorry that you haven’t had much luck in the dating scene lately. All those guys sound like crap. Especially the crying guy. Who does that?”

“Yeah, he was a piece of work,” Kyoka giggled. She reached up to wipe her tears away with the backs of her hands, smiling at Denki while she did so. He was looking at her with this absolutely lovestruck expression on his face—honestly, it made him look totally dopey, but Kyoka was honestly kind of in love with it. “I’m sorry. I’m sure when you agreed to this blind date you didn’t think you would be sorting out my issues.”

“Hey, I’m nothing if not an understanding man,” Denki huffed with a self-satisfied head waggle. He puffed out his chest, and Kyoka laughed again. Now that she wasn’t all wrapped up in her own feelings, she realized that Denki was really funny. “Besides, it’s not like I’ve been the perfect date myself. I hit you with a door and spilled your drink.”

“That is true,” Kyoka snickered. “I don’t mind, though. It’s kinda cute… the whole clumsy thing.”

“Yeah? You think so? I can go slip in that puddle of beer over there if you want,” Denki said with a point at a spot on the floor nearby. Kyoka grabbed his arm with another loud laugh, and when Denki looked at her, he was smiling dreamily.

“There it is. There’s the smile I’ve been wanting to see all night,” he murmured. He reached up with his other hand to gently touch the corner of her mouth. “Katsuki told me it was the most gorgeous thing.”

“Yeah? What else did he tell you?” Kyoka hummed. Electricity was beginning to spark in the air between them. It was a feeling that she hadn’t felt in so long. Despite her heart hammering in her chest, the air being caught in her lungs, the burning in her face… She wasn’t about to stop it.

“He told me that you like to dance.”

“Well then, let’s dance,” Kyoka smiled and stood up, holding a hand out to him. She arched her eyebrow playfully, then added, “Try not to step on my toes.”

“No guarantees,” Denki chuckled as he rose from the chair. He took her hand, his eyes glimmering like they had been when he first saw her outside. “If me being clumsy makes you smile like that, I might have to do it on purpose.”

That’s okay, Kyoka thought as he guided her out to the dance floor. Because I’m a little clumsy too, I guess. Maybe it was the clumsy kind of love she had been looking for all this time. She just needed to stumble a little to get there.

#kamijiro #jirokami #kaminari x jiro #kaminari x jirou #jiro x kaminari #jirou x kaminari #jiro kyoka #jirou kyoka #kyoka jiro #kyoka jirou #kaminari denki #denki kaminari #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha

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heroinejinx · 2 years

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‘I’m feeling like a riot.’ (Flashbomb AU, part 5 of ?)

Part 1: ‘I’m a mirrorball.’

Part 2: ‘This girl is a gun.’

Part 3: ‘You make my earthquake.’

Part 4: ‘Don’t mind me...’

After an unpleasant lunch with Silco, Jinx seeks comfort in Lux and conspires with Ekko to get to know her new roommate better...

Song inspo for this chapter is ‘Antagonist’ by Nova Twins - Jinx definitely listens to this to get herself pumped for a night out!

TW: some adult content, but it’s mostly fluff and Jinx being Jinx

(5,063 words)

‘I’m feeling like a riot.’

Jinx entered The Last Drop, headphones blaring her favourite Nova Twins song loud enough for the music to bleed out into the surrounding air. She’d showered and dressed since leaving Lux on campus. It never failed to thrill her how a splash of hot water, a slick of dark plum lipstick and her favourite biker jacket could instil her with so much confidence. Stepping into Silco’s dominion, she felt all kinds of invincible.

He was expecting her, but there was nobody around. Weird. Drifting further inside, she hung her headphones around her neck, shook off Ekko’s rucksack and left it slumped on a freshly spritzed table. Approached the bar and slumped onto the nearest stool. Its jade leather was cool against the parts of her legs exposed by the various rips in her jeans.

Already bored, she tapped her knuckles on the counter to the tune of the music thrumming near her throat.

‘Hello!?’

She continued tapping, close to fucking it off and walking out, until Chuck emerged from wherever he was hiding. As well as his usual nervous grin, he wore an apron and chef’s hat.

‘Hmm,’ Jinx grinned. ‘Silco’s got you cooking now?’

‘Uh… the pizza, remember?’

‘He was serious about that?’ She guffawed. ‘Thought I was just coming to get yelled at and sent on my merry way like usual.’

‘Nope,’ Chuck grimaced. ‘He wants to talk… over food… Ran and I laid out napkins and everything.’

‘Napkins?’

‘Uh-huh,’ he said. ‘I think he’s ready for you now… in his office.’

‘Great.’

She hopped to her feet and retrieved Ekko’s bag. Shot Chuck a devilish grin. Stood behind the bar like a fish out of water, he looked so gormless she almost wondered how he breathed unassisted.

‘What’re you waiting for?’ She teased. ‘Aren’t you gonna escort me? This is a five-star dining operation, after all.’

‘Uh…’ He tried to swallow and choked a little. Styled out a panicked cough.

Poor idiot. It was all she could do not to laugh in his face.

‘Stand down, Chuck.’ With a condescending smile, she squeezed his broad shoulders reassuringly. ‘Take a long lunch break or something, huh? You’ve earned it… probably.’

‘Oh, that’s okay.’ His eyes darted away from hers, and he edged away from her reach. Picked up a glass and scrubbed it with a dishcloth. ‘Plenty to do here,’ he said, hands shaking. ‘These glasses won’t clean themselves, so…’

‘Chuck?’ Her voice fell. Eyebrow arched in scrutiny. ‘What are you not telling me?’

She sighed, plucked her pen knife from its sash in the left breast pocket of her biker jacket. At the sight of her blade, his hands shot up in surrender.

‘See, you remember how much you hate playing this game, and yet…’ She moved her knife a fraction closer to him and he shuddered. ‘Out with it, Chuck, or I’ll start getting creative. You know how much I love my arts n’ crafts, huh? How about a little scarification? It might suit you.’

‘It’s…’ He gulped. ‘It’s not just any talk. It’s the talk… about you know who.’

‘Ugh. Seriously?’

Ekko. Again. Yet a-fucking-gain, Silco planned to convince her to abandon Ekko. Like he hadn’t tried and failed a million times before.

What was it with him and Ekko? Why couldn’t either of them accept that they both had a place in her life, and just get over themselves?

She stormed into his office, where Silco presided at the head of a meticulously laid dining table. Slammed the rucksack down on the floor. Slouched into the chair furthest from his. Within reach sat a quaint earthenware jug of breadsticks and a tiffin tray of four different accompanying dips. Fuck, he was so extra. The table also boasted a bottle of Silco’s favourite red wine. All sourced from Piltover, no doubt. Like he was one of them. He wished.

With a dramatic eye roll, Jinx grabbed a breadstick and cracked it in half, sent crumbs flying everywhere.

‘Jinx,’ Silco forced a smile. ‘Use a plate, or a napkin, perhaps?’

‘Nope, I’m good,’ she grinned back, and viciously bit into one of the crunchy sticks, half-imagining it was one of Silco’s fingers.

‘Suit yourself.’ He cleared his throat and clicked his fingers.

Within seconds, Chuck scurried through with two steaming plates of pizza and set them down. One for Jinx, one for Silco, already sliced and ready to eat.

‘Thank you, Thieram,’ Silco said, giving his goon a nod of approval. ‘That’ll be all for now.’

‘Actually, Chuck,’ Jinx chimed in, revelling in the opportunity to undermine the old man. ‘Can I get some fries, too?’ She eyed the wine, then fixed her gaze on Silco. ‘And maybe some beer, or something? Wine isn’t really my thing, you know.’

Silco snarled under his breath, thrilling Jinx even more. As if she was about to sit there and drink his stupid fancy wine and act like nothing was wrong. She would punish him in any way she could think of, and he would have to grin and bear it under guise of being a gentleman.

‘Uh, of course,’ Chuck grimaced. ‘What, uh… what kind of beer?’

‘Beer’s beer,’ she shrugged, nonplussed, and tucked into the pepperoni pizza in front of her. It was sloppy and messy to eat with her hands, but in fairness to Chuck, it was delicious. Cheesy and saucy with just the right amount of spice. Food heaven on a plate.

Chuck nodded and hurried away to fulfil Jinx’s demands.

Silco smirked at her obstinance and poured himself a glass of red. Picked up his knife and fork. Who the fuck ate pizza with a knife and fork?

‘You’ll give the poor man a stomach ulcer,’ he said, as he cut himself a small forkful. ‘He runs around after you like a headless chicken.’

‘What d’you care?’ She jibed. Bit off another mouthful of ‘za. ‘Anyone who isn’t me is beneath you somehow, right?’

‘I see.’ He stiffened. Took another bite. Swallowed. Washed it down with wine. His movements were slow and precise. Exasperating. ‘You already know what this is about.’

‘Duh,’ she snickered. ‘Hot tip: if you wanna keep a secret from me, don’t tell Chuck. Dude caves way too easily.’

‘Noted,’ he said.

Something about the way he spat the word turned Jinx’s stomach. She hadn’t landed Chuck in trouble, had she? Sure, he was an idiot with no backbone, and if she were in Silco’s shoes she probably would’ve fired him ages ago, but still, he was a good person. He didn’t deserve to get into trouble for her mischief.

‘Of course, when I say easily, I mean at knifepoint,’ she clarified, hoping that was enough to save Chuck a lecture and/or dismissal.

‘Ah, of course.’ Silco shook his head and let out a dry chuckle. Mission accomplished: Chuck spared. ‘Moving on… how was last night?’

‘Average,’ she sighed. Stared down at her pizza.

A slice and a half in, and her appetite had already left her. Oh well. It was good while it lasted. Maybe she could take the leftovers back for Ek—

No, not for Ekko. He wasn’t her home anymore. Wouldn’t be for a while.

Maybe Lux would like some instead? Did they have basic food like pizza in High Silvermere, or was it all hoity toity haute cuisine? She had so many questions to bombard her new roommate with. Her incredibly attractive and interesting new roommate…

‘Average?’ Silco probed. Huh? What now? ‘You didn’t leave early with barely half sold then…?’

Oh, right, they were still talking about last night. Fuck. The man was goddamn telepathic or something.

‘Well, sure,’ she said. ‘On average, we sold about half, then dipped.’

‘And you deem this acceptable?’

‘It is what it is,’ she said, apathetic. ‘I’ll sell the rest tonight. No big deal.’

‘Oh, is that so?’ He asked with a disgruntled scoff. ‘You decide what is or isn’t a big deal now, do you?’

‘Am I wrong?’ She challenged.

He raised a conceding brow. It was the kind of micro expression only perceptible when you really knew a person. She responded with a cocky grin.

‘On your own this time,’ he instructed coldly.

And there it was. He’d found a way of shoehorning Ekko into the conversation, like always. Instant punishment for her complacency, she supposed.

‘Yep,’ she smarted. Pushed her tongue against her bottom lip. Narrowed her eyes in a combative glare.

‘The boy has only ever slowed you down, Jinx,’ Silco pressed on. ‘Just you watch what you can accomplish without him yapping at your heels like a lovesick puppy, hmm?’

‘What about everything I’ve already accomplished with him?’ She bitterly rebuffed. ‘That doesn’t count, I guess? Doesn’t fit into your neat little narrative.’

‘It counts,’ he said. ‘But you’re capable of so much more.’

‘Oh, please,’ she scoffed. ‘Like what? Pedalling shimmer with you? Taking over the family business when you eventually kick the bucket?’

‘Your music, Jinx,’ he stressed, ignoring the insult she’d hurled even though it must’ve stung. ‘You’re brilliant. You could take it so much further than the bars and clubs around Zaun, you know that, but you’ve always been too scared to fly the nest… to truly leave Ekko behind. Beneath you, where he belongs…’

His lecture washed over her. She’d heard it all before.

‘Think about it,’ he ploughed on, and on. ‘You’re twenty-one in a few weeks and only just starting your degree. You’ve held yourself back long enough, wouldn’t you say? You have such unmatched potential, Bunny.’

Bunny. His nickname for her since childhood. He hardly ever called her that anymore. He’d used it to get under her skin. It only made his words more infuriating. More painful. More resonant. The old man sure knew a thing or two about manipulation, huh?

‘Don’t squander your talents for the sake of your first love,’ he continued. ‘You’ll live to regret it. Perhaps you’d be more suited to someone with a bit more… ambition? Someone moving in the same lane, chasing a similar goal.’

Sipping his wine, he frowned in faux thought. He’d planned this, hadn’t he? Any apparent contemplation was an act. Persuasive, but an act.

‘What happened with that girl you introduced me to a few months back—what was her name? Eva?’

‘Evelynn,’ she corrected, scowling at him with stony focus. Was he seriously suggesting that bitch was a better fit for her than Ekko just because they both studied music? Was he out of his fucking mind!?

‘Hmm,’ he grinned. ‘I liked her. You should bring her back sometime. She could perform if she wanted to. We have a stage. She has a band—’

‘They’re a girl group, not a band,’ Jinx interrupted and sank listlessly in her seat, recoiling at the notion of Evelynn stepping foot in The Last Drop after what happened between them. ‘Besides, they’re nowhere near good enough for this place.’

K/DA’s music was fine—the songs she’d produced for them might’ve even been quite good, if she said so herself—and the other K/DA girls were pretty cool, but Evelynn was just… No.

Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad.

The fact that Evelynn, Queen Snake herself, had almost destroyed what she and Ekko shared made her gut drop whenever she thought of it. That woman thrived off of drama and attention like no one else Jinx had ever met. She was toxic and manipulative as fuck. Textbook narcissist. Nearly tore Jinx and Ekko apart with her lies and scheming bullshit, trying to keep Jinx all to herself. Straight-up villain, just like her song proclaimed. Ha, no wonder Silco liked her so much.

At that realisation, Jinx saw red. ‘Okay, yeah… We’re done for today.’

Not willing to give him another minute of her time, she stood, gathered her things, and left, seething with unexpressed rage all the way back to Zaun Met.

Just over an hour later, Jinx returned to the dorm room. It was empty. Lux was still browsing that Fresher’s fair, she assumed. She tossed the rucksack onto her bed. Kicked off her shoes. Gravitated mindlessly to Lux’s side. Flopped down on that cute floral bedspread of hers.

She let out a guttural sigh. Lunch with Silco had been… a lot… more than she’d prepared for. And now she was alone, staring off into the void of her room. If she didn’t distract herself soon—

What could she do? Blast music? Head to the studio and make some damn music? Yeah, and bump into Evelynn, if her usual luck was anything to go by.

What else? Scribble her feelings in the therapy notebook she never used, hidden deep in the bowels of her closet?

Nope. Now that she had crashed, she didn’t want to move. Just stared into the white plaster above her. Blinked. Stared. Blinked. Stared. Blinked. Stared.

Did Lux ever zone out like this? Another question to ask (if she remembered to ask it).

Jinx smiled. The thought of Lux lying in that same spot, staring up at that same blinding white, brought her back into the room a little. Huh. Maybe the Demacian princess was the perfect distraction?

With a newfound glee, Jinx sprung off the bed. Surveyed the myriad ornaments displayed atop Lux’s chest of drawers. A tiny ceramic penguin guarded an ornate, varnished wooden jewellery box, engraved with the initials L.C. The whole thing screamed ‘expensive.’ Jinx moved the little guy from his post with a ‘sorry, dude, just looking,’ and peeked inside. The box opened to reveal a miniature ballerina spinning on an axis, dancing to a twinkling lullaby.

‘Wow…’ Jinx stared, mouth agape. It was the type of object she’d only seen on TV. People actually owned these things in real life…? What the fuck, Lux? She giggled, totally taken aback, and closed the box.

Still grinning and shaking her head in disbelief, she made a beeline to Lux’s closet, greeted by a rack full of bland clothes. Jinx giggled again at the sight. So many pastels and florals, creams and beiges and greys. Oh, poor Lux. Had this girl never heard of colour? Style? Self-expression? Well, evidently not.

There was no sign of any shoes, either… Did Lux only have that tatty pair of brogues to her name? Wasn’t she from money!? How did this girl have a goddamn musical ballerina jewellery box, yet only one pair of shoes? She understood wanting to feel comfy, but this was a whole new level.

Now that Jinx knew her a little better, Lux’s current aesthetic was pretty funny. The cute blonde dressed like a repressed, middle-aged schoolteacher, but that so wasn’t her. She was an artist, right? Where was the creativity?

Evelynn’s words from months ago echoed that exact sentiment. She’d called Ekko pathetic. Said he had no passion, no flare. No creativity. She barely fucking knew him.

Jinx slammed the closet shut and stumbled backwards, returned to Lux’s soft mattress. Whatever Lux’s deal was—however she wanted to express herself—was none of Jinx’s business, was it? It didn’t matter. Lux was who she was. None of that superficial bullshit mattered and Jinx hated herself for thinking it did, even for a minute. One mention of Evelynn, and she was back to mimicking her. God fucking dammit.

She curled up, dug her chin between her knees. Times like these, she usually talked to Ekko. He knew how to make her better. But they were trying to live separate lives. She couldn’t fall back on him anymore. Not like before. Who was she supposed to turn to now?

The front door cracked open, and after a second or two of hesitation, swung fully on its hinge. To Jinx’s relief, Lux entered, carrying several tote bags filled with whatever free crap they usually flog at Fresher’s fairs.

Lux. She could turn to Lux, couldn’t she?

‘Uh, hi!’ Lux grinned, suddenly standing right in front of her. The tote bags of university merch were now arranged on the floor by her closet. Neat freak, this one. ‘Jinx? Are you okay? You seem kind of… out of it. Plus—’ she donned a faux grimace and gestured to her bed, which Jinx huddled upon, ‘—this… again.’

‘Oh, uh…’ Jinx darted across the threshold to her own, significantly colder, bed. Leant on her elbows, she crossed one leg over the other. Comfortable and alluring at once. ‘All yours.’

‘It’s fine,’ Lux insisted. It definitely wasn’t fine. ‘I just, uh…’ She frowned, unable to push the words out.

‘You have a thing about beds, right?’ Jinx said. ‘Privacy, boundaries, yadda, yadda… lesson learned, blondie,’ she winked. ‘Won’t happen again, I swear.’ She almost added unless you want it to, but Lux would have probably gone into a catatonic state of shock at that.

There was ample time ahead to test those… enticing… waters. She needed Ekko on board if she planned to make any real moves, anyway, but a sprinkle of flirting in the meantime wouldn’t hurt, would it? Lux probably hadn’t even noticed.

Lux occupied herself with unpacking her loot from the fair. Emptied it all out onto her bed and rifled through it, one item at a time. Gods, that was a lot of crap in one place.

Taking advantage of the natural silence growing between them, Jinx messaged Ekko.

heyyy. miss you :’( <3 xxx

i know we said bye for now but idk, fuck it?? wyd tonight?

need to discuss princess lux… xxx

Ah, but if they met up later, Ekko would definitely ask about lunch with Silco. Shit. Jinx followed up:

oh. and lunch with s was the worst. he brought up e. wtf???

at least chuck’s pizza was good xxx

Fuck. The fucking pizza. She’d forgotten to take it back with her. What a waste. She was supposed to bring that pizza back for her and Lux to share and maybe bond over. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why couldn’t she do anything right? What a fucking idiot!

Well, at least she’d remembered the rucksack. Not a total lost cause, huh?

Ugh. Ekko needed to know about that, too, didn’t he? They had a deal. Anytime she was selling for Silco, she’d tell him first.

alsooo have to sell later – just a heads up

wanna join, maybe? <3 xxx

She hoped he wouldn’t mind her asking him to join. Sure, it wasn’t his favourite pastime, but they’d be together, at least.

also alsoooooo i really do fucking miss you dude xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Okay, enough. She was being way too needy now. How many kisses? Was she trying to kiss the poor bastard to death? And why was she making it all about her needs and how she felt? What about him? He had a life, too. A busy, difficult life.

Gods, he’d lost his keys because of her and she’d forgotten all about it. How could she be so selfish? He deserved so much better. Scar’s stupid sister Selene would never have forgotten something like that. Ugh!

oh shit i forgot, did you get ur keys? all good? lemme know xxx

Great, she was officially spiralling. Eyes fixed on her screen, she begged for Ekko to reply. Typed out another rushed message:

really hoping ur busy rn & not just ignoring me :(

She deleted it instead of hitting send. Nope. Ekko was busy, and she was freaking out for no good reason. He didn’t need to see her unravelling, each text slightly more unhinged than the last. What she’d already sent was bad enough.

A little calmer, she fired off a round of extra kisses and locked her phone. Left it on her bed. Stood and stretched out her gangly limbs.

Lux was still busy organising her Fresher’s shit. Jinx sighed. Scanned the array of tacky products and flimsy, inane brochures advertising more similarly pointless campus events. As she perused, her eyes fell upon a pack of ribbed, non-branded condoms, and she burst into laughter. Picked them up before Lux could swat her hand away.

‘Wow, blondie,’ she jibed, bashing her hip into Lux’s side, ‘didn’t know you had it in ya!’ Turning the pack over in her dextrous fingers, more laughter simmered as she realised her mistake, and readdressed the issue. ‘Or, well, I guess you don’t just yet, huh? That’s what these’re for.’

‘Okay, very funny,’ Lux scoffed. She grabbed the condoms back, ferreted them away into one of her many drawers, and continued with whatever she was doing beforehand.

It wasn’t the reaction Jinx had hoped for. Aside from the deep pink of her cheeks, Lux didn’t even seem embarrassed. Okay…?

So, was she so sexually experienced that condoms genuinely didn’t faze her (which Jinx respected and related to, but also found highly doubtful)? Or was she so virginal and oblivious that she didn’t fully understand what they were…? Yikes.

Jinx cleared her throat. Stared at Lux until she awkwardly stared back. As they held each other’s gaze, the sunlight streaming through their window struck Lux’s bluish grey eyes and turned them golden.

‘Yes, Jinx?’

Lux expected a reply, but Jinx was stuck on those eyes. Those changing colours.

‘Uh…’ It took several seconds too long for Jinx to snap herself out of her trance and refocus. Eventually, a bite to her inner cheek did the trick. She grinned, back in the room. Gay panic over. ‘Condoms, Lux? You picked up condoms at a Fresher’s fair?’ Recovery: successful… ish.

‘I didn’t pick up condoms, Jinx, I picked up rubbers,’ Lux said, deadly serious. ‘You know, to use when I’m sketching…?’

Ah, a classic autistic misunderstanding… Well, fuck.

Jinx bit her lip. Blondie’s mix up was beyond funny, but she didn’t want to offend her by pointing out her earnest mistake too abruptly. Maybe if Lux figured it out for herself…

‘Open the pack,’ she said. ‘Let’s, uh… let’s see one of these rubbers up close, huh?’

‘Sure!’ Lux grinned and retrieved the pack from where she’d stashed it. ‘They should be good, right? I mean, the uni wouldn’t give students bad quality art equipment, would they?’

Oh, wow. This girl was sinking to new, never before seen depths of cluelessness…

Her fingers slowly tore the cardboard packaging open, revealing a dozen or so multicoloured johnnies crammed inside. So unhygienic. They didn’t even look like good quality condoms, let alone whatever Lux had planned for them.

Jinx subdued a wave of obnoxious laughter, as Lux held a rubber up to the light. It was shamefully see-through. Flimsy.

What type of cheap Zaunite bullshit was that? Seriously? Were students actually expected to use those? They’d break in two thrusts.

‘Oh…’ Lux frowned at the latex coating her fingers, finally putting two and two together and hopefully making four. ‘Oh!’ She scrunched up her face, humiliated, and threw the condom in her hand straight into their communal bin. ‘What the…? The stall said they were rubbers!’

‘Yeah, and they are!’ Jinx explained. ‘That’s just what we call condoms. You… don’t… call them that?’

‘No!’ Lux stressed. Shook her head in disbelief. ‘Where I come from, rubbers rub things out.’

‘See, we call those erasers. Rubbers are… well, you’ve seen…’ Jinx furrowed her brow, too amused and perplexed to hold back any longer. ‘I’m sorry, blondie, but… You didn’t even twig when I teased you about it… What did you think I meant by my joke, Lux?’

‘I don’t know…’ She sat on the bed. Hung her head, deflated.

Jinx sensed Lux had more of an explanation than she was letting on, but for the sake of the princess’ feelings, she let it slide. Rounded the corner of the bed and crouched in front of her. Shook Lux’s knees to force her attention.

There they were again, those captivating eyes. A stormy bluish grey. Stunning.

‘So, anyway,’ Jinx said softly. ‘Rubber-gate aside—’

‘Rubber-gate?’ Lux chuckled and groaned in tandem. ‘Is that what we’re calling it?’

‘Uh…’ Jinx returned a giggle. ‘Seems fitting, no?’

‘I mean, at least something’ll be fitting around here, right?’ Lux wiggled her brows up and down, seemingly proud of her awful joke. ‘Get it?’

Gods, she was even cute at her lowest intellectual ebb…

‘Oh, the wit,’ Jinx snickered.

Their amusement faded to contented sighs, and Jinx realised she was still crouched with her hands on Lux’s legs. Not that either of them seemed to mind. The contact between them was… well, it was… Fuck. If it weren’t for Ekko…

Jinx shot up on her feet and lunged at her bed. Checked her phone. He still hadn’t replied… They really, really needed to have that talk.

She paced back and forth. Lux watched on, probably wondering what was going on in her roommate’s head. If only Jinx could answer. Oh, so many things. Too many. Far, far too many.

She hated waiting. Waiting on Ekko to reply was worse than any physical torture she could think of. Life was a string of moments, instant and impactful as they crashed into each other. Impulsivity was a better fucking drug than shimmer could ever be. She needed everything now. As and when she wanted it. She wanted Ekko. His attention, his love, his smile, his support. She wanted—needed—to know they were okay, that he wasn’t mad about her plan to deal shimmer that night, or her forgetting about how he lost his keys and had to replace them, or—

Oh, gods, she was spiralling about Ekko again. What else did she want?

Distraction. Pizza. Fuck, she was starving.

And she wanted to know more about blondie. She wanted to ask Lux whatever questions sprung to mind in the moment. Have a real conversation.

Alongside pizza, preferably…

There it was, then; a way to get everything she wanted all in one night.

Step one: take Lux out for pizza at Jericho’s and warm her up with Sump Rat Specials to get her talking. (Well, okay, she was probably a lightweight, so they could build up to the Sump Rats, but still.)

Step two: sneakily find Ekko in the kitchen. Get his approval. Discuss the Lux situation…

Step three: hang around the bar until Ekko’s shift ends at ten-thirty.

Step four: head to The Last Drop—nope, scratch that—avoid Silco, and head to…

Hmm. Where was good for dancing and dealing? Where might Lux enjoy the most? Sump Nation, maybe? Enforcers had rarely, if ever, made shimmer-related arrests there. But the music their DJ played was just… No.

Where else? There were tonnes of bars and clubs around campus, but head to any of those, and they’d risk bumping into Evelynn, or worse.

Jinx stood with her back against her poster-laden wall. Groaned in frustration. Her plan had fallen apart before it materialised.

‘Jinx, are you okay?’ Lux asked, understandably concerned.

‘Mm,’ she replied with a vague nod. ‘Sorry, just… stressed…’

She bounced back on her bed and her phone lit up. Ekko had finally replied with several cute little messages. She beamed as she read them:

got keys, dw, all chill

missing you 2, j. i mean i saw you this morning but still ahaha

bye for now be damned i guess

got called in to work so i’m busy ‘til 10:30 :( beat scar at smash bros for once tho, ahahaaa

jeri’s a hard ass, got me on the grunt work 2day but what’s new? i’m gonna be a hard ass too someday. the endless cycle…

hard on ur ass already anyway ;)

Jinx giggled under her breath. Kept reading.

and look. deal or no deal, i’m there if i can be… always.

Always. His words made her soar. Oh, Ekko.

There were two more messages:

wait. why s mention e? what context? doesn’t compute

and yeah what about lux? she’s cool no?

She replied:

oh, e’s my soulmate apparently. sry bro guess u don’t cut it anymore, need me some of that narcissist lovin’ ;( xxx

lux is a dork but she’s hot as fuck - we need to talk in person, tonight… ;) <3 xxx

alsoooo no matter how hard u are on my ass, just know i’ll always be the one beating u at smash… xoxo

Her messages marked as delivered, then read. The little bubbles showing he was typing made her giddy.

Soon, Ekko replied:

oh i’d let you beat me any day ;)

Jinx:

pffffffffttt ahaha :’) xxx

Ekko:

so lux is hot, huh?

Jinx:

you have eyes, dude. telling me you haven’t noticed? o_O xxx

Ekko:

oh, i’ve noticed… idk if she’d be into it tho

you think she’d vibe or nah?

Jinx:

idk ;(

subtle interrogation time? <3 xxx

Ekko:

my shift ends at 10:30 – after that i’m yours.

With Ekko’s approval to suss things out with Lux, Jinx’s plan reformed in her mind’s eye. This could still work. Her tummy rumbled, spurring her onwards.

‘Lux…?’

The cute blonde was curled up on the pillow end of her bed, away from the remaining crap from the fair that she hadn’t shuffled away yet. Must’ve ran out of energy for it after rubber-gate. Ha. She was on her phone, too, zoned out. Glanced up when Jinx said her name.

‘Yeah?’

‘Wanna see Zaun beyond campus tonight?’ Jinx asked. ‘We could grab a bite to eat. Have a few drinks, maybe?’

‘Oh, I don’t know, uh…’ Lux’s shoulders tensed, and she sat forwards. Crossed her legs. Gripped her toes and knees as though anchoring herself. ‘Me and going out don’t really mix.’

‘Yeah, me neither,’ Jinx chuckled. ‘But trust me, I know all the good places. Good food, good music. Good vibes.’ She cocked an eager brow at the princess, hoping it might persuade her. And the last resort: ‘plus, Ekko’ll be there, too.’

‘Ekko?’ Blondie’s face perked up. Shoulders relaxed a little. Damn, she really liked Ekko, huh? Couldn’t blame her. ‘I thought you weren’t seeing him anymore?’

‘Pfft,’ Jinx waved off her question. ‘Turns out we can’t stay away from each other!’

She giggled and bounded over to Lux. Sidled up closely, donning a sweet pout and fluttering her long lashes. It was a look Ekko could never resist, and if Lux liked her half as much as she thought, she’d find it damn irresistible too.

The princess simply shrugged in response. Huh, okay…

‘Come on, blondie,’ Jinx softly urged. ‘Please? I’d… I’d really like to get to know you better.’

14 notes · View notes

drabbles-mc · 4 years

Text

Protective Detail (4/?)

Nestor Oceteva x Reader

Warnings: language, violence, blood, guns, mild injuries, Nestor being a goddamn thirst trap

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: This chapter is a liiiiittle longer than the others have been but hopefully that’s not a problem. Did I do a deep-dive on Gino Vento’s google photos to be able to know what his body art situation is?? You betcha. Enjoy! xoxo

Chapter Index

Protective Detail Taglist: @masterlistforimagines @sillygoose6969 @mydaiilyescape @lovebennycolon @the-radical-venus @gemini0410 @garbinge @slutformayansmc @paintballkid711 (as always, if you want to be on my taglists feel free to let me know!)

Despite the fact that the only thing on your agenda for the day was going to the grocery store, you still came into the kitchen in the morning to see Nestor sipping coffee in yet another button-down shirt and pair of slacks. You wondered for a moment if the man even owned just a pair of casual blue jeans.

“I don’t know where the Galindos shop,” you said with a laugh as you poured a cup of coffee, “But the grocery store I go to doesn’t have a dress code. I thought you knew that.”

He shook his head but you could see the smirk pulling at his lips, “This is just how I dress, Y/N.”

He didn’t use your name often, but each time he did you felt your entire body turn into jello for a few moments before you regained composure again. You took your time getting ready, loving that you didn’t feel rushed or like you were on a schedule. You told Nestor that he could drive, pretending that you just wanted the extra space in his car for shopping purposes. But you were also testing a theory that if you let Nestor have his way more often, he would let you know a little more about who he was as a person. Plus, you had to admit, you didn’t really mind his driving too much. Even if he did drive without the radio on.

Having Nestor with you while you grocery shopped was nice because you got to leave him in charge of pushing the cart while you perused the aisles and picked things out to eat for the next few days. You’d shove produce in his face and ask him if he thought it was fresh, and he would begrudgingly help you out, rolling his eyes at how terrible you were at telling if cantaloups were ripe.

The two of you were walking down the cereal aisle and he was shaking his head at you while fighting back a smile, “You’re like a child with access to a credit card.”

“Listen, Nestor,” you stood on your tip-toes to try and reach towards the back of the top shelf, “Coco Puffs have no age limit.”

He reached over you with ease and grabbed the last box from the back of the shelf and placed it in the cart, not saying a word as he continued pushing onward. You smiled to yourself for a few moments before snapping back to reality and speed-walking a few steps to catch up with him.

He was helping you bag items at the self-checkout and if you were honest with yourself, every now and then you would forget that he was with you to keep you from getting shot or kidnapped. Sometimes you even felt like friends, as much as someone like Nestor would let a person be friends with him.

Once you were out on the road and heading home, you looked over at Nestor with puppy-dog eyes, “Can we stop at Starbucks?”

He looked at you, shaking his head the second he saw the way you were looking at him, “The lines are always ridiculous. The ice cream will melt.”

You sighed, knowing that puppy-dog eyes most likely weren’t going to work on him but it was worth a shot anyway. You leaned back in your seat and scrolled on your phone, wanting desperately to play music to break up the silence.

Nestor passed the street that you normally turned off to get home. You looked over at him and saw how tense his body was. You sat upright, putting your phone back in your purse, “What?”

He nodded towards the rearview mirror, “Car’s been following us since we left the store.”

Your stomach knotted and you tried to take a deep breath but it didn’t help to calm you down at all. You instinctively reached for the glove compartment like it was your own car, and you were expecting Nestor to stop you, but instead he reached and opened it for you, not having to take his eyes off the road to dig around and get the gun out for you.

“You shouldn’t need to use it,” he placed the weapon in your hand and his lingered for a moment, “But just in case.”

He did his best to stay on busier roads, hoping it would be a deterrent, and also hopefully make it easier to lose whoever it was that was tailing them. You felt your heart pounding inside your chest—you had been hoping that your father had dealt with everything and that Nestor really was just an unnecessary precaution, but that wasn’t the case.

Somewhere along the way, the road went dead. Nestor was white-knuckled on the steering wheel and you were trying not to let your hands shake. He had been steadily increasing your speed, but even so the car had kept up and pulled up alongside you. You tried to get a good look at the people who were inside, but before you could, Nestor slammed on the gas and tried to speed ahead of them in one last burst to lose them.

Before he could successfully get in front of them, they swerved and hit the back driver’s side corner of the car. With the speed that Nestor had picked up they hit you hard enough to send the car spinning. By some miracle the vehicle didn’t roll, but you swerved off the road and slammed into an embankment, trashing the front of the car and pinning Nestor’s side. Even if he wanted to open his door and get out, he couldn’t. It all happened so fast, you don’t think you would’ve been able to explain exactly how the two of you ended up in that position even if someone tried to pay you to.

The other car pulled up, opening their passenger door. You had already undone your seatbelt and you instinctively shot the gun in your hand, busting the glass window. You fired off a second bullet and got the man who was coming towards you in the leg, causing him to drop. You were getting ready to fire off a third shot when a third man jumped out of the car and dragged him back throwing him in the back seat, the only sound in the air was a slew of curses of the man who was bleeding. You froze up, unable to take an easy shot that would take someone’s life.

“Just fucking go!” the man yelled as he barely got his accomplice into the back seat.

The car started peeling away before the back door was even completely shut. Clearly, they hadn’t been planning on you being armed at all, let alone ready to shoot. You took a shaky breath as you put the safety back on the gun. You turned to Nestor, who had a harsh burn along his neck from his seatbelt, as well as a cut and a welt on the side of his forehead from where his head slammed against the window while you were spinning out. You unclicked his seatbelt and gently tried to wake him without shaking him, not knowing how hard he had slammed his head.

“Nestor?”

He groaned in response, “Fuck.”

“Oh thank god,” you let out a sigh of relief.

“How many?”

“At least three,” you gently and slowly turned his head, trying to get a better idea of his injuries. You had a feeling that it was nothing serious—he was just going to be bruised and sore for a few days. His side of the car got slammed pretty bad when you went off the road. You pressed your lips together for a moment, “Still got feeling in all your limbs?”

He laughed, although it was weighted with sarcasm, leaning back against the headrest, “Yea.”

“Good,” you sighed, letting your body sink back into your seat as well, “All things considered, this could’ve gone a lot worse.”

He looked over at you, “Looks like we’ll be using your car for a few days.”

You slowly shook your head, “The ice cream is definitely gonna melt.”

His next laugh was genuine, despite the pain he was in, “You have the worst priorities in the world.”

“Hey, I checked to see if you were alive, didn’t I?”

After a few phone calls made to your father and some of his connections, you had a tow-truck and a temporary replacement car there in no time. It was convenient, the only thing you weren’t thrilled about was the fact that your father was the one who delivered it.

“What happened?” he ran to you and wrapped you in a hug

“They followed us out of the grocery store,” you said, taking a slight step back when he finally released you from his embrace, “Nestor noticed right away. They never saw my house.”

He nodded, “That’s good at least,” he held you gently by your upper arms, “How are you? Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, “Neck is sore from getting spun out, but I’m alright. I should probably get Nestor home so I can get his cuts cleaned up.”

“You have things to take care of him?”

You nodded, “Yea of course.”

“Is there anything else I can get you?”

You shook your head, “No, I think we’ll be okay. I just wanna get home.”

He nodded understandingly, “Okay. I love you, mija, you know that right?”

You smiled, “I know. I love you too,” you hugged him, “I’ll talk to you later and give you a full download of the situation, alright?”

“Alright. Please, drive safe.”

“I will,” you kissed his cheek, “Te quiero.”

“Te quiero,” he walked over and shook Nestor’s hand, “Thank you for keeping her safe.”

He nodded, feeling like there wasn’t much to thank him for in this situation, “Your daughter is a very capable woman.”

“She is,” with a final nod and one last look over at you, your father went back to his own car and took off.

You and Nestor waited for the tow truck to finish loading the SUV before finally piling into the car your father had brought for you. It was pretty reminiscent of Nestor’s SUV and you knew that was probably by design. In the back of your mind you knew your father probably wanted it to be your car so he could finally give you what he considered to be a real car. Truthfully you hated driving bigger vehicles, but you weren’t about to hand the keys over to Nestor.

“I’m sorry,” he said one you were both in the car.

“What’re you sorry for?” you asked as you buckled in.

“It never should’ve come to that, to you having to use my gun.”

You shook your head, “Don’t do that. You were unconscious. Not even you are cool enough to be able to pull that off while knocked out. Thanks to you, I get to sleep in my own bed tonight. So don’t beat yourself up,” you waited for him to meet your eyes, “Self-pity is the only thing that doesn’t look good on you, so knock it off,” you offered a small smile as you started the car.

He smiled as he settled into his seat but he didn’t say anything. The drive passed in silence, and for once you weren’t itching to turn the radio on. Part of you wanted to reach over and cover Nestor’s hand with your own, but you fought the urge. He somehow managed to keep his eyes open the whole ride home.

Once you started getting what was left of the groceries out of the car, Nestor asked for the house keys so he could do a check. You told him not to bother, that there would be no way a second threat would be lurking in your house after what just happened, but he insisted. It wasn’t a battle you were going to pick, so you handed over the keys.

The house was quiet, and you didn’t make any comment on it as you started unpacking the groceries. Nestor was sat on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, and the look on his face made your heart feel heavy. You texted your father, asking for one small, very ridiculous favor, hoping that he would grant it to you.

Once all of the groceries were put away, you went and grabbed your first aid kit from the bathroom and sat down next to Nestor on the couch. This time, he didn’t look annoyed about the closeness you shared.

“C’mere,” you motioned for him to lean closer to you so you could start wiping and cleaning out the cut on his forehead. Neither of you said anything while you tended to him. He cringed slightly when you used the alcohol, but he remained silent. You told him that after he showered you would put a bandage on it just as a precaution, but the gash wasn’t really that deep. It was more to make you feel better about it. You wiped down the burn across his neck with an anti-bacterial rub, but there wasn’t a whole lot else that you could do for it.

“How’s your side?” you nodded to his side that got slammed into the door of the car when you hit the embankment.

“It’s fine,” he wasn’t looking at you.

“Can I see it?”

He stood up, ready to go shower and wash the day away, “I said it’s fine.”

“Well if it’s fine then there’s no reason not to let me see,” you weren’t yelling but it was a firm tone that you hadn’t used with him before.

He sighed, not having the energy to put up a fight. He untucked and un-buttoned his shirt, pulling the one side out so that you could see his chest and ribcage. There were a few bruises starting to come in, but it didn’t look terrible. You tried to stay focused on the real reason you wanted to look at him, but you had to admit that you let your eyes linger a little longer than medically necessary. You hadn’t been expecting to see so much ink on his skin.

“Can I go shower now?”

You nodded, “Yea. Thank you.”

You didn’t have the energy to go and get changed, so instead you melted into the couch, pushing the first aid kit to the floor. You heard the shower turn on and then, for the first time, he put music on. Your eyes went wide, thinking for a moment that you must’ve hit your head at some point too and were hearing things. After a minute went by, you finally let yourself relax, not even wanting to turn the television on and risk drowning out the melodies drifting out of the bathroom. You didn’t know what kind of music you were expecting Nestor to listen to, but what he was playing was much more mellow than you thought it would be.

You were resting with your eyes closed when there was a light knock on the door. You got up, smiling because you knew what it was. You opened the front door, smiling at your father’s newest assistant who looked like he was only a couple weeks out of college. He stood there with a smile as he held out a brown paper bag to you.

“Your dad said you needed these?”

You smiled and nodded, “Yes, thank you so much,” he nodded and went to walk away when you caught his attention again, “Hey, I never caught your name.”

“Ricardo. You can call me Ricky.”

“Thank you, Ricky.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N. Have a good night.”

You shut and locked the door and put the bag in the freezer, grinning over the fact that your father was still willing to indulge you in silly things like this even after all this time. You snapped back to reality when the sound of the shower and the music both shut off. The door creaked open and you fought the urge to peak into the hallway.

After a few minutes went by and Nestor didn’t reappear in the living room, you took it upon yourself to go to him. You grabbed the bag out of the freezer and two spoons before making your way down the hall.

You knocked lightly on the door, not used to it being shut. His voice was quiet on the other side, “Yea?”

You opened the door and fought to not let your jaw hit the floor. Nestor was lying on his bed, eyes closed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. All you could think about, though, was the fact that he was lying there with no shirt on, just a pair of sweatpants. You truly couldn’t believe the number of tattoos that the man had. His chest, stomach, and arms were completely decked out in ink of all kinds. You hadn’t given much thought to him having tattoos—you saw the one on his neck and his hands but other than that it never really crossed your mind. Your quick glance earlier didn’t do his extensive body art justice.

And his hair wasn’t braided—his long, thick curls were thrown up into a messy bun on top of his head. You were certain that there would never be a better look for him than that. You wished it didn’t take such a rough day to get it out of him. You cleared your throat slightly, chastising yourself over how your mind instantly flew to some very unprofessional places.

“I come bearing gifts,” you said as you walked over and sat on the edge of his bed, “Well, gift. It’s just one.”

He opened one eye, smiling as you set the pint of ice cream and spoon on his nightstand, “Which of your father’s assistants had to drive that over?”

You laughed, “The new one, Ricky.”

He forced himself to sit upright, “Poor kid.”

He reached for the ice cream and your eyes were glued to his forearms, figuring it was the safest place for you to study as you digested all of the new ink that you were seeing. You were trying not to gawk but he was making it really difficult for you. You bit down lightly on your bottom lip, unable to force yourself to look away.

He noticed you staring and immediately became very aware of how he looked, “Fuck, sorry. Let me grab a shirt.”

You shook your head, “Stop. This is your home too for now. I don’t give a shit,” you laughed, “After today you can wear whatever you want,” you took a scoop of ice cream out of your pint, “Your hair looks good like that, by the way.”

He smiled, slowly pulling his legs up so he was sitting cross-legged by his pillow, “Thanks. You tell anyone and I’ll kill you.”

You laughed, “Hey, man-buns are in right now.”

He chuckled as he methodically scooped away a layer at a time. You pulled your feet up and sat the same way he was, the two of you facing each other. Neither of you said anything as you ate, and you soaked up the moment.

“Can I put a bandage on your cut?” you asked as you put the top back on your ice cream container.

“It’s really not that bad.”

“I know but it’ll make me feel better.”

He shrugged, nodding, “Sure.”

You gathered up your spoons and what was left of your ice cream and walked out of the room. You tossed the containers back into the freezer before going to grab the first aid kit off of your floor. After thinking about it for a moment, you made a pit-stop in your room and changed out of your clothes, opting for a pair of sweats and a baggy t-shirt.

By the time you walked back into his room, Nestor had put on a t-shirt moved to the edge of the bed, swinging his legs off so his feet hit the floor. You sat down next to him and looked at his forehead. You sifted through the different-sized bandages you had before you found one that was satisfactory. You leaned in, gently applying it to his forehead.

You rested your palm on the side of his face, lightly tracing your thumb over the bandage to make sure it was completely on. Nestor’s eyes were closed, and without thinking better of it, he leaned slightly into your touch and you froze, not wanting to give up the contact. You tried to relax your body, but you couldn’t.

A few seconds later he opened his eyes again, and realized what he was doing. He sat upright and cleared his throat, not sure what to say or do. You forced yourself to break the silence, “Need anything else?”

He shook his head, “No. Thank you. I know I’m here to keep you safe but you definitely saved my ass today.”

You chuckled, “And you can save my ass tomorrow,” your expression grew a little more serious, “But really, you good?”

He nodded, “I’m good.”

“Okay,” you rested your hand on his knee for a moment, “Goodnight, Nestor.”

You went to take your hand away as you stood when you felt his come to rest over it, completely enveloping it, “Goodnight,” he gave your hand a soft squeeze.

You walked out of his room, shutting the door behind you. you turned off all the lights in the house before going to your room and collapsing onto your bed. You stared up at the ceiling, trying to process everything that had happened that day. You traced over the top of your hand where Nestor’s had been and, despite the day the two of you had had, you found yourself smiling.

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva x reader #nestor oceteva x you #nestor oceteva imagine #nestor oceteva fanfic #my writing #drabblesmc #protective detail #multichapter #chapter 4

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userpoe · 4 years

Note

Do you have any Poe fanfic recommendations? 🌞

*clears throat in “i definitely haven’t spent the last three months reading nothing but Poe fanfic”* I sure do, Nonnie (can I call you Sunny? Sunshine? I’m digging the emoji)! I’ve got quite the mixture of fics in my bookmarks, and I’m gonna put some of them under the cut here! You can find all my recs (and my own fics!) over at my ao3 or for reader fics, on my blog @luminouspoes

world's stopped spinning by liquidsky: mostly damerey, but has a lot of good jedistormpilot content/build up in it as well

sleep for today by braigwen_s: I will never shut up about Braigwen’s Poe and Leia fics this is a simple fact of life and there will be more of their fics on this list I promise you that.

Always comes around again by Elenothar: this fic was not an easy read but in the best possible way. It broke my heart and then repaired it a dozen times over. TLJ AU, timeloop, excellent Poe and Leia content, I still haven’t recovered.

Stand up, Stand your ground by Elenothar: I’m in love with this fic, but be mindful of the warnings! Poe decides to start up self-defense classes for the Resistance.

The Art of Falling by @brandyllyn: the first reader fic of the list. the slowburn..fellas...the slowburn ended me. The BANTER. THE SLOWBURN. THE ANNOYANCES TO LOVERS OF IT ALL *screams into my pillow* literally just any of their Poe fic is just *chef’s kiss*

Squad Goals by igrockspock: cAN WE SAY!!! RESISTANCE! FOUND! FAMILY! FEELS! Set post TLJ, is utterly gorgeous, has some really soft Poe x Kaydel in it

dancing around the point of it by braigwen_s: I have yet to recover from this one and I doubt I ever will

matchmaker.exe by nighimpossible: another damerey fic! I just read this one this afternoon and I’m here for BB-8 being a tiny little matchmaker.

Take a Gamble by ChronicCatalina: another reader fic! This one is a lot of fun, there’s sarcasm, undercover shenanigans, PLENTY of fun tropes to play around with, also BANTER (hi are we detecting a pattern in what I go for in fics yet)

Close To Me by kimmyiewrites (arosetosomeone): poe x oc! I’m only *squints* nine? ten? chapters into this fic so far and I started it a couple of days ago but it’s SO GOOD and ties into canon in a lot of fun ways anD FEATURES MY SON KAZ SO YOU KNOW THAT MAKES ME HAPPY

all the blood that i would bleed by immolationfox: CAN WE SAY JEDISTORMPILOT YES WE CAN. HURT/COMFORT! CUDDLEPUDDLES!

Meteor Showers by @bee-dameron: another reader fic, and it’s just. so damn good. you want soft poe? uh huh we got that. you want black squadron found family feels? GOT THAT TOO? a hella relatable reader character? THAT TOO.

friends? by @yoditorian: reader fic and honestly Liz had no right to go this hard or this soft and now any potential canon explanation to how Poe got BB-8 will ever compare to this fic I’m sorry Lucasfilm u can just pack it up and go now, thank you.

nobody compares to you by @commandersousa: SPEAKING OF HAVING NO RIGHT TO GO THIS SOFT, oh my god this fic is my bread and butter I cry at how soft it is we are NOT worthy. (reader fic)

Across The Hall by @starryeyedstories: boy if I thought canon!poe was the perfect man??? Nothing has made me yearn for a character quite like Across The Hall has. I Would Like A Poe Dameron in my life, thank you very much (reader fic)

in my head by @grumpyeagle: soulmate au that’s killing me slowly with the pining I love it sm! especially with the whole music thing going on, y’know how I am with music (reader fic)

like real people do by @okay-hotshot: celeste’s prose is SO beautiful and the buildup and history in this fic is so good, and the cherry on top is the hozier vibes/title. we love to see it (reader fic)

tell it to the stars by @writefightandflightclub: this fic is so good and so soft and sweet and hits so many of my favorite tropes I love it a lot and it’s a really relaxing read (reader fic)

#ask box #nonnie nonnie #there is simply too many talented people in this fandom #i REALLY had to limit myself #so many of these writers have eVEN MORE AMAZING POE FICS ON THEIR BLOGS/Ao3 (and just amazing fics in gen!) so be sure to check them out!#if i forgot anyone i am so sorry it's like 2am

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regrettablewritings · 4 years

Note

Fluff alphabet for Tadashi Hamada if you're stil writing for him, please. B, c,s w?

Indeed, I do still write for the lovely lad. Stuff is below the cut

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?):

Oh, most definitely. Tadashi is a very family-oriented man. Always has been, always will be. So it’s no surprise that he looks forward to the day he can start his own little branch of the Hamada family tree. We’ve already seen how he is with Hiro: He’s protective, he’s encouraging, he’s inspiring, he’s good at getting him to do things he may not want to do even if it’s for his own benefit -- imagine what wonders he could do if those traits were applied to a little mini-him or mini-you or mini-you-both!

Honestly, the subject goes more or less unspoken between you two because it’s kind of a given that Tadashi wants kids. You two would be taking a walk in the park or going to the mall and the moment a stroller passes by, he’s barely playing off how much he’s trying to crane his neck to gaze upon the chubby wonder resting inside. You can see the disappointment in his eyes when he fails. Some days when you’re just at the Lucky Cat trying to get some homework done, you’ll glance up and see him at a table with a baby at it, speaking all kinds of sweet words to them. You’ve seen his favorites playlist on Youtube -- it has a decade-old commercial for Legal Zoom on it. When you questioned why it was there in the first place, you had to witness your adoring boyfriend sheepishly admit that the baby in it was just too cute. And also he liked the pale purple walls and thought it’d make for good inspiration.

“Good inspiration for . . .?” you led, knowing exactly where it was headed. You watched at Tadashi’s eyes wandered and his cheeks and ears reddened.

“For . . . a nursery . . .” he responded. It was a mumble, but you heard everything you needed to know loud and clear.

Well, not everything, of course: You asked him what exactly he envisioned for the future.

He admitted he wasn’t exactly particular about whether he wanted a boy or a girl, let alone first or second -- he just knew he would like at least two children so neither one would be lonely. Corny and cheesy as it was, he would’ve preferred to live somewhere a little closer to the suburbs (“Hey, at least I don’t expect a white picket fence!” he justified). His reasoning being that he’d like a nice, quiet area in which many parks and libraries and schools can be accessible, and so any children of yours have room to grow. However, given the structure of the area, he knew that this was going to be a tough call for a multitude of reasons.

Bottom line, though, he’d be okay with living in the city if it meant he could still provide for you and your hypothetical kids the best he could. He just wants to make sure everyone is happy and healthy. But for now, he’s content with it just being the two of you . . . Emphasis on “for now.”

C = Cuddles (How do they cuddle?):

Usually with a prayer that Hiro doesn’t barge in. No, seriously: That bedroom of theirs offers only the most courteous of privacies by way of a tasteful but otherwise unpersuasive shoji. You want Hiro to see you guys trying to get cozy about as much as Hiro does -- which is not at all, given how he pretends to throw up every time he’s walked in on you two. And how he’s voiced his dislike of it.

Given that Tadashi is ever the caring brother and roommate, he can only get away with so many dry, “You don’t have to be here”s before he just feels bad about it. As a result, the two of you have actually had to create a cuddling schedule built with Hiro’s course times, your availability, and Tadashi’s availability in mind. And God forbid Hiro ever finds out about that schedule because all he needs is one more reason to call the both of you Ultra Nerds.

Worse-case scenario, you two get booted out and have to make do with the couch in the garage, cramped as it is. But you don’t mind: Usually, the reason you two are cuddling is because you’re so butt-tired from coursework that you need to relax and zonk out for a couple hours. Besides, for as lanky and more muscle-based as a guy like Tadashi is, his arm wrapped around you is unfairly warm and comforting. You’re bound to be conked out before you can even utter a complaint, or at the very least you’re way too relaxed to register the fact that you’re both awkwardly strewn about the furniture.

So if it had to be put in a different way (and less about worrying somebody might barge in), you supposed you could describe your cuddling as being the snug equivalent to how a college student eats, sleeps, or lives altogether: You both take what you can get when you can get it and try to enjoy it before it’s time to go to your next “adult obligation.”

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?):

Tadashi is a pretty optimistic person so it’s actually hard to get him completely down, let alone long enough for him to actually require a pick-me-up bigger than a brief inner pep talk. Normally all he needs to do is have a quiet moment to himself, some time to cool down, maybe remind himself that things can and will get better. But in the odd moment where this isn’t enough, Tadashi will often turn to his interests.

However, don’t assume this means he’ll hunker down in his lab and focus on one of his projects: He’s long since learned that it’s best to not robotically engineer with sad or frustrated -- way too many power outages have occurred from that.

Instead, he turns to his other hobbies: Living with Aunt Cass means he’s been knowing how to bake for years, albeit the baked fruits of his labors don’t always come out prettily; depending on how free his schedule is (read: not very at all anymore), he may go find a location to go surfing; or he goes to a park to get, like, a cart crepe. Usually being outside in a sunny place (with plenty of puppies and babies around) zaps him back to normal.

Which leaves him with plenty of time to figure out how to cheer you up!

Given his nature, Tadashi has become a wiz at cheering others up. He’s just got this nearly contagious brightness about him. And even if you don’t find yourself as readily bright as he, don’t worry: He’s not afraid to pull old tried-and-trues on you. Being an older brother/almost fatherly figure has allowed him the perfect position to perfect his trade: That is, the art of being goofy for the sake of cheering up his loved ones. He will easily pick you up and jump around with you, hollering about how he’s going to “turn that frown upside-down” -- by actually holding you upside-down.

Not your cup of tea? Then be prepared to witness the most tragic case of Dad Dancing ever recorded in a man below the age of 30, complete with cheesy disco music. You will be forced to witness his arms flailing, head bopping, mouth performing what you had once heard being referred to as “The White Man’s Overbite”. You will beg that he stop “for the love of Mochi.” You will try to have your pleas be heard over the speaker blaring “Got to Be Real” by Cheryl Lynn, only to be further drowned out by your boyfriend’s tone-deaf singing.

But the man will not stop: He must dance in your honor.

And once you’re done wiping away the tears left from cackling, he’ll treat you to some froyo.

If this still doesn’t work, there’s the slightest chance he might pull out the big guns: Tickling. It’s reserved strictly as a worst-case scenario, but he’s going to dance until his feet bleed if he can help it before he has to do that again. The last time he resorted to tickling a little too eagerly, it . . . didn’t end well.

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?):

When? A balmy evening in May. How? With a bit of difficulty. Mind you, Tadashi is a generally organized man on the average day. But on the day he proposes to you – heck, the days leading up to it? He’s a bit of a mess. And it’s in no small part due to how incredibly involved his friends and family had tried to be the entire time.

Make no mistake, he’s very glad that he has such supportive loved ones. However, he found himself constantly fighting off a heart attack every time one of them treaded the line a little too closely for his comfort. (Sure, there’s little suspicion in Honey gushing over wedding magazines with you or Aunt Cass asking you to sample a “brand new wedding cake flavor” she was planning to use for some pastries, but Wasabi asking about your ring size and Fred talking about how kaiju costumes were better than tuxes until GoGo had to slam him down really wasn’t exactly inconspicuous.)

Hiro might’ve been the closest thing to normal throughout it all, much to the elder Hamada brother’s surprise. But even then, he was more of less gesturing for Tadashi to just go ahead and pop the question – albeit, at the most inopportune times in the latter’s honest opinion.

“I can’t propose to my girlfriend in the campus library!” Tadashi rejected Monday.

“There’s nothing romantic about being in the middle of a pizzeria and going, ‘Hey, will you marry me?’” he scoffed on Wednesday.

“Hiro, if you ever propose to somebody in front of a mall fountain, then I’ve failed you,” came his dry response Saturday. He knew his younger brother meant no harm by applying the lightest of pressures; he just wanted all the anxieties over with! But this was you Tadashi was proposing to: You deserved only the best. Only the most heartfelt . . . Which was why, in the end, the where of it all was the Lucky Cat Café. Was it the fanciest establishment he could have done it in? Not really. Thankfully, Aunt Cass was all too eager to oblige his request to have the café to yourselves one evening; it allowed him to properly decorate your favorite table with a tablecloth and a bouquet of your favorite flowers. It was admittedly a tad cheesy, but you certainly didn’t mind it.

But this was where Tadashi had grown up. It was where his family – the core of his being – was, where his friends congregated to relax. This was his home in so many ways and if he was to invite you into his family, he wanted it to be done here. Even if it meant Aunt Cass and Hiro were not too discreetly peeking out from the back. Or that the entire time Tadashi was trying to recite his proposal speech, he kept getting distracted by your friends, whose faces were mashed against a window behind you, waiting to bear witness to this milestone.

Suffice to say, it was a very group-oriented situation. But neither you nor Tadashi would have had anything less.

Thank you for your patience!

#tadashi hamada #tadashi hamada x reader #tadashi hamada imagine #big hero 6 imagine #big hero 6 imagines #tadashi hamada headcanons #regrettablewritings #fluff alphabet #fluff headcanons

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btsmosphere · 4 years

Text

Crossfire | KTH

~summary: The night your life blew up sent you on a collision course with the campus bad boy, Kim Taehyung. Though you were well aware of his reputation, it was his doorstep you ran to when you were bleeding with nowhere to go.

~word count: 2.3k

~gang!au, mafia!au, college!au, angst, fluff, action, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers

Warnings: swearing, drugs, injury, mentions of death and fights (warnings apply to each part individually, please read them)

~a/n: a smaller, slice-of-life update this week, maybe definitely inspired by lockdown! I hope you guys like this, as the next update will be longer and bring more drAma...

Taehyung must be superhuman. How he had managed to go to sleep with only a few hours left before college and still be awake and gone in time, eluded you.

You, on the other hand, were still tired as you tried to convince your body to crawl away from the warm covers long after the sun had risen. Not that you had anywhere to be. Once again, Taehyung had left food and water right beside you, and even the painkillers you took yesterday.

Groaning, you let your head fall back onto the pillow.

You inhaled deeply through your nose, then finally sat up, eyes still shut. Familiar pain lanced through your side at the movement, making you grit your teeth. At least your eyes were forced open in order to grab a pill.

Next, you figured there was no use lying in bed all day. Open the curtains which were still drawn. Great. What next?

As if in answer, your stomach growled a bit, so you sat back down to eat.

What next?

Teeth. Shit, you hadn’t cleaned your teeth in over a day now.

With dim hope, you made your way to the bathroom, but to your surprise, an unopened toothbrush sat by the sink.

Unfortunately, the surprise of a toothbrush turned out to be the biggest excitement of the day until Taehyung came back home. By that time, you had given in to lying down, mapping out the blemishes on the bedroom ceiling, so the moment you heard voices, you sprung up.

Peering around the door first, you saw Taehyung waving at someone on his doorstep. You waited until they had left and the door closed behind him to come down the stairs.

“Hey.”

You followed Tae through to the living room where he dropped his bag carelessly beside the sofa, reminding you unwillingly of days when you were younger, waiting up when your dad was late home and latching onto him straight away.

So you hung back, chewing your lip without realising.

“How’s college?” you asked his back as he went to the kitchen.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” he said, coming back around the corner with a drink, “nearly fell asleep in Professor Han’s lecture though.”

“You still take his class? I dropped that the minute I could,” you chuckled.

“I think you made the right decision,” the corners of his mouth turned up even as he took a sip. For a moment he savoured the drink, then lowered it.

“They’re talking about you.”

“They are?” you took a step forward as he nodded, but he quickly held up a hand.

“Hey, curtains,” he reminded you, then tossed his head behind him, “you should come round to the kitchen.”

A glance behind you revealed wide open curtains, so you sped out of sight and down the hall, meeting him where he now leant against the island.

“Did you really think they wouldn’t notice you going missing?”

“Well, I guess not,” you shrugged, “them knowing, is it… bad?”

“Bad? No,” he grinned, “I’m still going to hide you.”

“Thanks,” you smiled back, then, “have you… has Jungkook, you know…?”

“Oh, um,” Taehyung’s grin faded, telling you all you needed to know, “that was him at the door, but he hasn’t had the chance to look for him yet. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Staring at your hands, you mentally cursed yourself. Clearly the time you spent doing nothing had got to you, to make you so impatient.

“Hey, look at this,” Tae was suddenly smiling again, and you watched as he raised the now empty bottle like a dart in his hand before shooting it off towards the bin, where it bounced from the rim with a hollow clunk.

Unable to help the laugh that burst from you, you collected it from the floor.

“My turn!”

Taehyung laughed and stepped aside while you lined up your shot, but just as the bottle left your hand, he pushed your arm and sent it careering off into the wall.

“Hey!” you elbowed him as he creased in laughter.

The next thing you knew, he was running around the island towards the fallen bottle. Realising this, you took off too, shouting after him, but were too late to wrestle it from his arms.

“You cheated! Let me try again!”

Your shouts were in vain as he easily held off your flailing body and dropped the bottle into the bin at last, then proceeded to do a victory lap. Scoffing, you stuck your leg out to trip him up as he reached you again.

“Sorry, sorry,” he lied as he got his breath back between laughs, “draw?”

“No, you win,” you rolled your eyes, “what should be your prize? I could cook tonight?”

His eyes lit up, grin still wide as ever, and accepted your offer.

Really, cooking wasn’t a punishment for you. After the most boring day on earth, you were happy to be doing something with purpose, and it came with the bonus of treating Taehyung for taking you in.

Later, once you had stored in your memory the cupboard where he kept the pans, and where the salt was, you finally sat down to eat- on top of the counter.

Still being light outside, you both agreed you couldn’t sit in the living room due to the open curtains, and this had led to your current state. Your knees were touching as you both sat cross-legged facing each other to eat from the bowls in your hands. Unfazed, Taehyung was wolfing it down in enormous bites, but you hoped that meant it met his approval.

“I have to go out again,” Taehyung spoke, causing your heart to sink, “the food was really good, by the way.”

Jumping down from the countertop, he looked up at you.

“Want me to get anything while I’m out?”

“Oh, no, no,” you assured him automatically.

However, this made him stop, turning back to you fully.

“Really? I don’t mind getting anything. You pretty much live here now so you don’t have to be polite.”

You furrowed your brows, mind instantly going blank as you tried to think.

“Maybe a book?”

“Sure,” he nodded, then his eyes widened, “wait, should I get you two? Five? What have you been doing all day without a phone or going out?”

“It was okay,” you tried, but quickly conceded, “okay, I was sort of bored out of my mind but-“

“Okay, I am definitely getting books. What’s your favourite food? We can have it tomorrow,” he suggested.

“I love anything with chocolate,” you smiled, “and I like most things, but… Italian?”

He smiled back at you just as his phone buzzed aggressively against the counter.

“Oh, shit…” he muttered as he turned it over, “I really need to-“

But he was in the hallway by then.

You fell asleep waiting for Taehyung to get back. Honestly, cooking had tired you out, as embarrassing as it was. Earlier you had found yourself needing to pause and catch your breath a few times while making dinner, but you supposed that was a minor side effect of being stabbed. It could have been much worse.

Washing up had been the final straw, after which you promised yourself you would find the energy to go and find the red pills after a short lie down.

A promise easily broken.

When Taehyung found you, you were sort of sitting, half slumped, against the headboard. As he shook you, sleep was reluctant to let go.

Therefore, by the next morning, you didn’t even remember seeing the boy. It barely crossed your mind that your clothes had changed and you were under the duvet. You were excited about the books, though.

Of course you hadn’t had time to give Taehyung any detail on what books you enjoyed, but anything was better than nothing, so after breakfast you began to read. It seemed he had been to the library at college given the stamps on the inside cover, but it was never open late and Taehyung had left in the evening yesterday.

Strangely, you didn’t feel too strongly about him having potentially broken into the place. Wow, your life really had got boring fast if even crime now counted as excitement. But if only you could go with him, break in somewhere for an adventure-

You shook yourself.

There was a small stack of books, non-fiction (being from a college library) and ranging from art to music to fashion.

Today, you didn’t run to Taehyung like a small child when he got back. Despite being later home than the previous day, he actually had to knock on the bedroom door to shake you away from the book you had almost finished.

“Oh sorry, hi!”

“Evening,” he smirked, stepping into the room to reveal a bag in his hand.

“Is that-!” you gasped at the smell wafting from it, and he grinned.

“Italiano,” he faked an accent, making a chef’s kiss with his free hand.

Practically bounding from the bed, you eagerly joined him on the kitchen counter again.

“I am so full,” you groaned after the last bite of pizza was gone.

“Really?” Taehyung raised his eyebrows.

“Yes, really! I just ate that whole thing!”

“That’s a shame…” he looked at you, amusement lingering at the edges of his mouth, “I guess I’ll have to have this by myself then.”

Your eyes grew huge as he leaned over to a drawer, pulling out an enormous chocolate bar. Paying no mind to your staring, he opened it and took a large bite, eyebrows drawing together in pleasure.

“Hey, wait-“

“I thought you were full?” you could barely make out his voice around the mouthful of chocolate.

“Can’t I have just a bit?”

“I don’t want you to be sick-“

Just then, you lost patience and took a swipe at the chocolate, but were easily evaded.

“Tae-“

Another bite.

Almost growling in frustration, you lunged forward, but he swiftly slid off the counter and took off down the hall, waving the bar over his head.

You had no choice but to give chase.

Taking the stairs two at a time, you caught up to him in the bedroom doorway and wasted no time in tackling him, throwing your arms around his waist.

“Hah! I win!”

You yanked the chocolate from his grasp and were raising it to your mouth at last when you saw his face.

As if he had burnt you, you shot up, taking your weight off him. All humour had suddenly gone from his expression, though an unconvincing smile appeared as he sat up, a hand hovering over his ribs.

“You won,” he laughed. But you weren’t having it.

His smile fell rapidly when you didn’t respond. Something was wrong.

“What is it? Did I hurt you?”

“No, it wasn’t you,” he looked down at the floor.

Lowering yourself to sit opposite him, you fixed him with a stare.

“Taehyung…”

“There was another attack tonight. Shinhyuk took someone out in one of our bars this side of town.”

“Wait… took someone out? You mean he actually-“

A grave nod.

“And… and you-?”

“I was there with Jin and Hoseok to collect something. Then, next thing, the bar goes into chaos, people saying we couldn’t get out. Shinhyuk caught a big dealer of ours as he was leaving, and shut the place down for… I dunno, dramatic effect? But we got in a fight with the men on the door to get outside…”

“Shit,” you breathed, “I’m so sorry, can I do anything?”

“It’s just bruised,” he shrugged, standing at last, “now eat your chocolate.”

For once, you were awake early enough to see Taehyung leave, his bruised knuckles lingering on the door before finally it clicked shut.

Two books later he came home.

Although you had sworn not to go downstairs after last time, you had been thirsty enough to risk it today. Being out of breath after just one set of stairs was worrying, but found the red pills you had forgotten about in the kitchen as you filled up your drink. Gulping one down, you hoped missing a couple wouldn’t affect you.

Then your fears came true.

A click heralded the opening of the door, and you were instantly moving out of sight. Pressed against the wall by the side door of the house, you prepared to open it and run if you had to, though you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep going for long.

“Y/N’s upstairs, I’ll just tell her I’m back-“

Your eyes closed as you let yourself breathe again.

“Uh, Taehyung,” you spoke, making yourself known in the doorway.

He stood on the lowest step, Jimin and Namjoon standing behind him in the hall.

Hastily, you apologised and passed them to go back upstairs, complete with your glass of water. It became clear soon after that an important discussion was being had, their voices sounding serious even though you could barely understand them from up here. Luckily, it was easy enough to make a guess as to their topic of conversation.

“He’s fighting a war with no opposition right now! He’ll steamroller us if we don’t do anything,” Namjoon’s voice was rising, and now that your book lay discarded beside you, you couldn’t help but hear. Perhaps it was against your better judgement, but the situation was relevant to you, and besides, you needed some drama to liven up your boring life hiding away.

“But Jungkookie told us he might already be in danger,” Jimin fired back.

A loaded pause.

“You know I wouldn’t put him in harms’ way. Never question that – I would do anything to protect every one of you. But that’s exactly why we need to do something.”

Taehyung’s voice cut in here, lower in volume, shepherding the conversation away from your prying ears.

“We need a plan.”

Reblogs are better than likes so please consider reblogging! Comment or message me to be added to the taglist!

Taglist: @kim-ji-hyeons-world @preciouschimine @just-a-dorito @ireallylikefoodandyoutube @veronawrites @tatastaetaemainblog @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @ironica-m8 @min-shadow @harleygirl808 @aianloveseven

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tasteofgummies · 4 years

Note

hey, that dynamic thing sounds very cute!! 👀 i'd like to request Mista + nsfw for the prompt. i'm nb and use he/him, my sign is taurus, and i'm studying illustration and am working towards my dream job of being a concept artist someday! lookswise: i'm pretty short, AFAB, and i like punk fashion. i love playing video games, listening to music, watching anime, and making fanart in my free time. i love going for walks at night/stargazing. i'm pretty laid back, also very introverted, but once i really connect with someone i want to talk with them all the time, and i'm a little clingy. i also love cuddling/physical touch, and cheesy romantic things! possessiveness is also a bonus for me 😊 i would definitely want to spoil the shit outta my f/o, like cooking meals at home and giving surprise gifts once in a while, but i'd also love to be spoiled in return. i do struggle a little with fears that i might be inadequate, and trauma from previous abusive relationships that might bleed over to new ones. uhh i have some body image issues from scars of physical abuse (from a past relationship) that make me very hesitant to show my body to anyone else. however, i don't like to dwell or think on that too much, and throw myself into my art whenever things get really bad.

whew, i hope that's not too long 😅 thank you for doing these requests!! i love scrolling through your writing 💗💗

Mista x you ✨

•This himbo loves you and will try to do anything to spend time with you

•He admires your art, and how you can express though it, and will say it very often, all the time, actually

•He didn't knew what was so special about stargazing, but when he tried it with you, he felt so joyful, mostly because he was with you

•After enjoying stargazing, he decides to try your other hobbies together!

•You said you love cuddling? you better be true, because he's not letting you go, Mista is such a clingy guy with you, and gets a little jealous if you're being touchy with other person

•Mista loves your details a lot, he's not very used to be treated like that, he wasn't lucky in love until he met you, he is normally rejected unless they know his reputation in passione, or even just know he's in passione, seems to attract a lot, he had a couple of one-night stands with that kind of people, but never something romantic and cute like you

•As i said, Mista is not a virgin, but he isn't a playboy either, he knows some basic sex things... But this man be horny, very very horny

•He acts like he's such a seductive expert, but he is not, the first time he saw you naked, was like "ahaha your handsome, your body is handsome, i mean, can a body be handsome? I just think your body look so good, uh... is not like i'm saying your face isn't!" But of course this is in the beginning, then he becames much more outgoing and shameless

•A few of his kinks are: gunplay of course, but is not a must, he knows his s/o may be into softer stuff, lingerie on his s/o, but in fact, is way more enjoyable when it's a surprise, and exhibitionism, he just really like the danger of being caught, and if it happens, he knows everyone will be looking at you two, knowing that you're his

•Jealous Mista has two moods: "you love them more than me! *Pouting*", "take your pants off. No asks"

•Ok, this guy may have pretty "straight-cheap-pornmovie" kind of fantasies, but he's more than willing to take care of you in bed, and make you feel like the goddam king you are, he thinks your body is a masterpiece and you should know it, no matter if you got any ""imperfections""

•Doesn't understand how someone that had the luck of being with you could hurt you, it just don't fit in his head, after you tell this to him, he'll be more protective than usual, and if you get emotional, he's there to hold you. Also, Sex pistols are really fucking pissed after knowing that, they are ready to search for every single person that caused you harm and do what bullets do.

•"Is hard for me to know how, but i will love you and protect you every second of my life, because if you leave me, then i'm not alive anymore"

#jjba #jjba headcanons #jjba x reader #jojo headcanons #mista x reader #yandere mista #guido mista #jjba mista #jojo mista #jojo golden wind #jjba golden wind #jjba part 5 #vento aureo #jjba vento auero #bucci gang #relationship headcanons 🌼

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lovejustforaday · 3 years

Text

2021 Year-end list - #4

Roadrunner: New Light, New Machine - Brockhampton

Main Genres: Alternative Rap

A decent sampling of: Hardcore Rap, Pop Rap, Conscious Rap, Alternative R&B, Experimental Rap

WARNING: This review discusses suicide-related topics.

I still don’t understand the lukewarm reception the past few Brockhampton LPs have gotten. The group is consistent enough that my favourite BH record has actually changed multiple times (though after much analysis I'd say SATURATION III is their best). But people have gotten so weird about this band ever since Ameer got kicked out.

I'll admit that I myself was a little worried about their next project back in 2020 when they were dropping the Technical Difficulties singles, which mostly felt like unfinished demos and ideas that didn’t really go anywhere.

Thankfully, the band dropped “BUZZCUT” this March and hit it out of the fucking park. A top 3 Brockhampton song, a fucking DANNY BROWN feature, and a gloriously fucked up music video. The boys were definitely back.

Likewise I’m happy to say that ROADRUNNER: NEW LIGHT, NEW MACHINE is yet another exceptional alternative hip hop record from our generation’s most creative self-proclaimed boy band. There are many reasons to praise this album as a fine entry in Brockhampton’s discography.

I actually really like the murky, darker production style on this album. Sure, it’s not the wacky, infectious, ass-shaking, and colourfully *cough* saturated production style that the band rocked during the Saturation trilogy, but then why does the band have to revisit the same sound over and over again? There's a really lowkey, gritty, sci-fi-esque quality on a lot of tracks here that I just love.

Thematically Roadrunner is also Brockhampton’s most cohesive record yet, matching the degree of vulnerability displayed on 2019′s Ginger. These qualities can largely be credited to Joba’s bravery for tackling a subject so personal and nightmarish with such brutal emotional honesty.

During the creation process of this record, Joba’s father tragically took his own life, and Joba does not shy away from this topic at all, discussing it extensively and with poetic insight on tracks like “THE LIGHT”, “WHEN I BALL”, “DON’T SHOOT UP THE PARTY”, and “THE LIGHT PT. II″. In many ways, Joba's story defines this Brockhampton record.

Brockhampton rarely misses the mark on making an absolutely spectacular opening track. “BUZZCUT” is easily on par with “BOOGIE” and “NO HALO” for building the hype and setting the tone for their respective records (In fact it might even be my new fav Brockhampton track and probably my SOTY). That twisty little sample thing in the intro gives me bhangra vibes, Kevin's verse on this is his best since the Saturation trilogy, and everything is turned up to eleven; I fucking love it.

"CHAIN ON" is a spaced-out, psychic hip hop track featuring a slick verse from JPEGMAFIA, and Dom absolutely killing it with his syncopated flow. If I'm ever on an alien spaceship then this better be the elevator music.

"THE LIGHT" is one of the bleakest songs Brockhampton has ever written. Organ samples and menacing rap rock provide a backdrop to some of the most uncomfortably personal lyrics I've heard in a while as Joba bleeds everything out on this track. This didnt even make my top 3 on the LP but fuck if this isn't some of the realest art I've witnessed all year. Mad respect for Joba, and I hope he's in a better place right now.

The band takes an unexpected dive into the more soulful side of R&B on "WHEN I BALL", easily one of the lighter tracks on the record. I feel like I got my head in the clouds listening to this. It's a really heavenly sound for a band that mostly drops hardcore bangers and/or depression anthems.

Speaking of bangers, "DON'T SHOOT UP THE PARTY" goes just as hard as "BUZZCUT" with a more sinister atmosphere. I love every performance on this track; Kevin's all-caps PSA of an introduction about internalized racism, Matt's playful taunts during his verse, and Joba's bitter reflections at the end. This sorta feels like "BOOGIE PT. 2" with the siren synths and the propulsive dance-hop beats. A worthy successor in my opinion.

The biggest criticism I’ve seen of Roadrunner is the record’s under-usage of half the boy band’s vocalists, and this is mostly true.

Merlyn and Bearface are barely on this thing. Matt gets the spotlight on a couple of tracks, and Dom’s verse on “CHAIN ON” is a phenomenal standout just like he always delivers, but for the most part Kevin and Joba really dominate this project, both having the most verses by far as well as many of the best verses.

I'm a little conflicted on this myself; One of Brockhampton's greatest assets is the chemistry that comes from the interplay of its many members. But then Joba and Kevin really had a lot to say on this project, and I feel like their focus is what really makes the narrative of the record so cohesive.

Either way, the songs on here are mostly top fucking notch. Brockhampton continues to do their own thing on this record, and like always it ends up being one of my favourite projects of the year. Roadrunner: New Light, New Machine is just one more reason why this band continues to be one of the best hip hop acts over the last decade.

9/10

Highlights: “BUZZCUT”, “DON’T SHOOT UP THE PARTY”, “WHEN I BALL”, “CHAIN ON”, "THE LIGHT", “WHAT’S THE OCCASSION?”, “THE LIGHT PT. II”, “BANKROLL”, “DEAR LORD”

#brockhampton #dom mclennon #joba #matt champion #kevin abstract #merlyn wood #bearface #roadrunner #roadrunner new light new machine #alternative rap #alternative hip hop #hip hop #aoty #year end list #list #2021 #album review #music reivew

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ateezmakemeweep · 5 years

Photo

sk8erboi!yeosang x ballerina!reader

word count: 10k

angst, fluff, smut (tw: implications of an eating disorder)

whoever made the executive decision to put a skatepark directly across the street from a dance studio really should've put more thought into just how poorly that would've gone.

because ever since its grand opening four months ago, you've been losing your mind. you remember when the only sound coming through the large studio window was birds chirping or the faint sound of an ice cream truck or the occasional barks of dogs greeting each other.

but now. now it's the constant racket of wheels rolling on concrete, boards flipping and clattering off the large, graffitied ramps and, of course, the obnoxious quarrels and curses coming from the group of punks you always have the displeasure of seeing (and more so hearing) every monday, wednesday and friday.

"i'm gonna kill them, i swear i'm gonna kill them one day," you complain to your friend as you untie the ribbons of your ballet shoes, "i've had enough of them!"

the sound of her snort has you whipping your head to the side, eyes squinted and eyebrow raised. "what was that laugh for?"

"oh, c'mon, you've been saying this shit for months, y/n," she says while rubbing her bruised, battered feet, "have you even spoken to them?"

"god no," you say, the disgust so evident in your voice, it's like she asked if you'd make out with them.

"well, maybe you should!" she chirps, jumping up and walking over to the windowsill. "they're really ho...nice, really nice."

"oh jesus christ," you grumble, sneering at the girl whose chin is perched on her hand like she's admiring works of art outside the window. "have you talked to them?"

"a few times," she says and you roll your eyes at the breathy, dreamy tone in her voice.

"don't tell me you like one of them."

"of course not," she says, neck craning back to shoot you a wink, "maybe just like three of them."

"oh my, god! i'm leaving." and leave you do, with her laugh echoing through the studio as she shouts that she'll see you at the next practice.

once you're outside, you peer up to see her head is still outside the second-story window staring dreamily across the street and you can't help but shout up at her. a smirk makes its way on your face when she at least has the decency to jump away and hide in embarrassment before seeing it was you.

"not nice, y/n!"

you shake your head as you make your way across the street, popping in your headphones so you can go over the routine in your head over and over and over again until your ears start bleeding and brain turns to mush.

it had been your mom's idea to stick you in dance the second you learned how to walk, wanting to see her daughter follow in her footsteps in the form of pink tutus and glittery makeup and first place trophies from competitions.

but you quickly realized dance was more than that. that it brought sense of stability and purpose you so desperately craved, a work ethic that made you want to master the art of ballet.

because even though it makes your feet ache and bleed and you'll spend the rest of the night screaming into an ice bucket, you really have come to love it. it serves as a stress reliever for when schoolwork or your mom's nagging becomes too much.

you're only a minute and 20 seconds into the song, the pirouette techniques you've rehearsed for hours beginning to plague your mind, when a skateboard flying through the air misses your face by just a few inches.

you rip out your earbuds, classical music blaring out of them as you snap your head to the board that nearly knocked you out. a figure running past you snatches it up, about to turn and run passed you again with the quietest of hums; rage fills through you because not even an apology?

"yeah, i'm fine, thanks," and you're even a little thrown off by how how biting and sarcastic your voice sounds.

the figure turns to look at you, a smirk threatening to cover his face as he looks you up and down in your pink leotard under white shorts and sneakers.

"my bad."

"yeah, no kidding. you could've knocked me out."

he rolls his eyes, tucking the skateboard under his arm and advancing toward you a bit more. a black hat is placed backwards on his head, your eyes narrowing at the holes in his baggy long-sleeved shirt and scuffed up vans.

"it was an accident," he says, tone calm and relaxed, "and maybe if your mozart wasn't so damn loud, you would've heard me shout."

a scoff leaves your mouth, leaning on one foot as your arms cross over your chest.

"it isn't mozart," you snap, annoyed by how calm and teasingly he's looking at you. "and you'd think you'd be a little bit better since you're here all the time. isn't the board supposed to stay under your feet?"

a laugh bubbles out of his mouth and you're gonna pretend it's the ugliest thing you've ever heard, not a nice deep boy chuckle that would normally make your heart flutter.

"you a stalker or something?"

a annoyed sigh leaves your mouth as you roll your eyes because this guy is unbelievable.

"as if. you and your annoying little posse make it really hard to concentrate during practice with those stupid deathtrap boards."

his neck cranes around you ever so slightly to survey the studio, the brick building with a large white window overlooking the picturesque town. he had figured it was a dance studio, after seeing girls walk in and out with buns and leotards and bags detailed with ballet shoes.

"ah, so you're one of those prissy dancers i take?" his head nodding across the street.

your mouth drops open at his statement only causing the smirk on his face to widen; you have half the mind to smack him with your bag.

"we're not prissy! i bet it takes a lot more skill and pain tolerance than balancing on that-"

"stupid deathtrap board? yeah, you're probably right," he says before turning his head and taking another step closer to you. "but you have to admit we look a lot cooler. where's your little tutu, constanze?"

your eyebrows pinch in confusion, giving him a strange look because who the hell is constanze?

"what are you even talking- you know what, who cares," you huff, irritation flooding through you the more you humor him with a conversation. you pop your headphones back in to start over your song, throwing him one last sneer with squinted eyes. "try to keep the board on the floor next time."

"wear a tutu next time!"

but he knows you definitely don't hear him because you just continue to walk straight, your head moving in circles and arms making subtle movements side to side. he smiles to himself watching you ‘dance’ until you turn the corner before hopping on his board and skating back into the park.

and it's the same way he skates up to you two days later as you wait to cross the street, your pink bag thrown over your shoulder as hear the familiar sound of wheels on concrete that causes your blood to boil.

"constanze, where is your tutu?" his voice whines and you look to the side to see the obnoxious boy from a few days ago now wearing a beanie.

"why are you calling me that?" you ask with an annoyed tone.

"you mean to tell me a priss like yourself doesn't know who constanze is?"

"stop calling me that! you don't see me calling you a punk."

again, that deep chuckle leaves his mouth and you wish it didn't sound so nice. wish he wasn't so carefree and calm when you can't help but feel so incredibly irritated by him.

"a punk? really?"

"yeah, really."

"what makes me a punk? the fact that i skateboard?"

your foot bounces impatiently on the concrete waiting for the walking man to appear on screen, eager to get far far away from this headache of a boy.

"amongst other....attributes."

"oh?" he hums, leaning his head against the dirty metal pole and you wanna cringe thinking about how many germs are on it. "you don't even know me, though.”

"but i know your type," you spit, now turning your body to look at him, "i know i've heard your obnoxious cursing and screaming for the past four months. and i know you call me names when you don't even know me."

"oh, but i know your type as well constanze. so stiff and rigid and orderly, i bet it's killing you that i'm on this germ infested pole right now."

your eyes widen for a split second because can he hear my thoughts? before you shake them out and squint your eyes at him.

"what's wrong with liking routine? sorry we all can't just skate off into the sunset and do ollies all day."

"oh, ollies?" he says, voice teasing and eyebrows raised like you've genuinely impressed him. "now how do you know about those?"

your cheeks warm at his tone and you praise the gods above when you see the white man signal to cross the street. you quickly turn, hitting his stomach with your bag and rushing across the street.

"come by when you’re done if you wanna learn how to do an ollie, constanze!"

you resist the urge to throw your middle finger up when he calls after you, pulling open the door and stomping up the stairs muttering under your breath.

"why the hell does he keep calling me constanze," you grumble, "and who does he think he is assuming he can just-"

"oh my gosh!" your friend squeals as she runs up to you, "what were you doing talking to yeosang!"

your body stiffens at the name, yeosang, and despite never meeting anyone else with it, you're convinced it's only reserved for annoying punks.

"how do you know his name?" you ask, walking over to plop down and take off your shoes, "he nearly knocked me unconscious with his stupid skateboard the other day!"

"oh?" she squeaks, "and you talked again today?!"

her excitement causes you to sneer at her, shaking your head because "you sound way too happy about this."

as you put on your toe cap and spacer, you listen to her mule on and on about how cool the boys look flying through the air and how hot their scars probably are and you could seriously throw up when she starts to talk about one of the boys and his skilled technique.

"what do you even know about skateboarding techniques?" you chirp; she had never seemed interested in it before.

"i don't know, there's like ollies or something, right? that's basic stuff. i'll go over and be like oooh your ollies are just so impressive-"

"i am so embarrassed, please stop talking."

she throws her head back with a giggle, plopping down in front of you to tie up your ribbons and begins to, thankfully, talk about one of the parts of the dance she's been struggling with.

but after the next two and a half hours of practice, feet bleeding and throbbing in pain, it's safe to say not a single one of you are having any more issues.

"they hurt so bad," you whine the second your shoe is off, squeezing and rubbing at your abused toes.

"that extra time was rough," your friend says, laid out flat on her back with her eyes closed.

you both just sit there for a few minutes, hoping that the throbbing in your feet will simmer so your trip home won't be spent limping and suppressing groans. but no such luck because the second you say goodbye and walk down the stairs, you wanna die.

you make your way across the street, headphones in but no music blaring because you can't even think about dancing right now. but you can absolutely think about murdering who you now know as yeosang when a very familiar looking skateboard rolls out the park gate and runs into your ankle.

"you're kidding," you snap, kicking the board roughly so it falls on it's side, "you did that on purpose!"

"i didn't, i promise," he says, "but since i caught you...can i teach you an ollie now? i've been waiting for you."

"well you waited for nothing, i'm not interested."

"c'mon, a skillful ballerina like yourself will pick it up in no time."

you roll your eyes at the sarcasm in his tone and you'd step on his skateboard if your feet weren't aching.

"i don't think i wanna learn from someone who can't seem to keep his feet on the board."

"well, then you'll just have to see how good i am," he hums lowly, flipping his skateboard over with his foot and kicking it up so he grabs it with his hand.

"wow, you can catch it," you say dryly and a smile covers his face as lets out a scoff.

"not that, wiseass, there's a competition on friday. come."

you feel your eyebrows shoot up in surprise before you squint at him suspiciously. why on earth would he be inviting you?

"and why would on earth would i do that?" you echo.

"to see me, silly constanze. and let me prove that i can teach you."

you ignore his use of the mysterious name despite the irritation flooding through you, simply rolling your eyes as you shake your head.

"not a chance, i don't feel like getting rendered unconscious. and i don't even wanna learn."

"but your friend's are coming too," he says and your eyebrow raises again because that's news to you; but then you think he may be using that as bate for your interest.

"they would never," you spit, as if they don't fawn over them constantly before and after practice. and the smirk on his face is like he knows it, too, all smug and teasing and you think it's about time to get the hell away from him.

"i'm leaving," you bluntly state, "good luck on friday. you'll need it." you hear him laugh as you turn around coldly, taking three steps before you hear

"i won't, i'll have you there."

"no you won't!" you shout before starting your music and trying not to focus on your aching feet.

"because you wouldn't!" your friend whines to you after your friday practice, "that's why i had to spring it on you, like, right now, in this very moment."

and damn yeosang who was very much correct when he said your friends were going to the competition because the second your teacher left, she ran up to you with puppy eyes and a small smile begging you to join her.

"everyone else is going, you don't need me!"

"but you're my best friend, y/n, i want you there," she whines before looking side to side and whispering, "i want you to meet wooyoung."

"who the hell is-"

her hand covers your mouth before you can get the name out, her eyes bulging and you feel your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"don't talk so loud," she whispers, "i don't want everyone knowing i like him."

"something tells me you make it very obvious," you say the second she removes her hand from your mouth.

"ugh, see, that's why i need you there!" she says while perking up, "so you can stop me from becoming an obvious, flustered mess. what if i blurt out about ollies to him."

your cheeks heat at the memory of yeosang's teasing and you let out an annoyed huff. because you know she won't stop until you say yes and she is one of your best friends and you truthfully just want her to stop looking at you with her borderline creepy puppy eyes.

"fine," you huff out, "but you're buying us food after."

"yay, yay, yay, yay! okay, deal, perfect, let's change!"

and with that, she runs off into the hallway to change and you know with absolute certainty it probably took her an hour to pick it out. like how nearly an hour later, you're sitting on the uncomfortably hard bench with far too many people shouting and whooping like this is the damn super bowl.

you look at your friend in annoyance who's just bouncing in her seat excitedly, her eyes roaming the boys lined up near the ramps until you see them light up.

"there he is!" she whisper-yells to you and you crane your neck to look at the group.

"which one?"

"the hot one! with the dark hair, in the red plaid. next to- omg, he's next to your man."

"shut your mouth," you mumble but you can't even lie that he's looking extra good today, sporting a burgundy beanie with black jeans and matching converse. he really looks like the embodiment of a skater boy, the most unfortunate tragedy being how annoying he is the second he opens his mouth.

his eyes graze the onlookers and you watch him do a double take when he sees you not only in the crowd but looking his way, a wide smirk covering his face as he waves at you. you shake your head, pointing to the girl next to you and squinting your eyes.

he squints his own back at you, nodding his head sarcastically before throwing you a wink and walking off with wooyoung to the top of the ramp.

an annoyed huff leaves your mouth, turning your head to see the dreamy look in your friend's eye. "okay mrs. obvious, calm it down," you hiss lowly, suppressing a laugh when she shakes out of your lust-induced gaze.

"who's obvious? obvious about what? their love and affection for wooyoung? nope, not me."

you can't help the laugh that rings out of your mouth now, pushing her lightly before someone welcoming guests and announcing the events into a loudspeaker cause to smirk at your friend.

"they're kidding with this loudspeaker, right?"

"sh! it's a sporting event."

and like a sporting event it was, the crowd cheering during their favorite skaters or "oohing" at the rare occasion when one would wipe out. and even you have to admit this was exciting to watch. how freely they throw themselves into the air, how smoothly they'll land on the moving boards and flip their bodies in ways that truly look like it should end in disaster.

when the voice on the speaker booms "kang yeosang" the cheers pierce your ears and you look around in surprise at the clapping and wooing crowd. they get considerably louder when he appears at the top of the ramp and you snap your head back around to see him craning his neck side to side before plopping his board down and adjusting his two feet.

you watch his fluid movements the second he starts, balanced and sharp as he dips down and then flings himself all different ways and soars into the air.

you find yourself flinching when he takes a particularly steep turn or deep dive, feeling shocked and impressed when he lands it each and every time. you don't even realize how much time has passed until he's done, standing back on the ledge holding his board up and shaking it side to side as his chest heaves in and out.

the audience is clapping, yourself included and you see him point out into the crowd before stepping off just as the name "jung wooyoung" is called out. the figure next to you jumps up, her squeals piercing your ear and successfully doing the job of snapping you back to reality.

you halt your clapping hands, tugging her down by the arm with a chastising tone.

"you're so embarrassing, stop it," you say through gritted teeth but she only shrugs you off, wiggling in her seat happily as her eyes zone in on the boy. you watch too and if you realize you're not quite as interested in watching him, you'll never admit it.

"congratulations, wooyoung!" you friend squeals when you find him and a group of boys towards the front entrance of the park afterward, "you were amazing!"

a big smile covers his face upon seeing her and you'd be lying if you said it didn't make your heart soar; perhaps he likes her as much as he likes him...

"thank you babe," he says and you try not to scrunch your nose at the term of endearment.

"i was so scared when you-"

"and look who decided to show up, after all," you hear a teasing voice say from behind you. you spin around and roll your eyes at the boy skating up to you holding a first place trophy.

"by force and harassment, don't flatter yourself," you say, eyes roaming the metal in his hand and he smirks.

"told you i was good."

you purse your lips to the side because you can't deny it now, after watching him and genuinely being impressed.

"well pardon me for my hesitance after you flung that deathtrap at me not once but twice."

"only a deathtrap if you don't know what you're doing," he say, rolling the board under his feet, "which is why we gotta schedule your lesson now."

a shocked look crosses your face, eyebrow raised skeptically. "oh, i didn't realize you were so booked and busy."

a cocky smile crosses his face as he cooly responds, "well didn't you hear all those cheers for me? i have a lot of fans."

your face pinches into one of disgust because you had realized majority of the yells were those of females.

"well, then let's not waste a highly anticipated lesson on someone who doesn't want one in the first place."

he hops off the board, sauntering towards you and turning his head to you.

"but i insist," he says, that signature smirk crossing his face, "it's the least i can do for my good luck cha-"

"ay, yeosang! let's go!" wooyoung yelps before eyeing you and a smile covers his face.

"you must be y/n! are you coming with us? i'm wooyoung, if you didn't know."

you turn your neck to the side to see your friend with a big smile on her face and you don't think her body's stopped wiggling since you guys got here. she nods her head frantically, failing her hands in a 'come on!' motion and you plaster on the fakest smile you can muster.

"sure, thank you for inviting me," you say through gritted teeth, meeting the boy’s gaze before snapping back to your friend mouthing the words 'you owe me.' you watch the two take off, his arm thrown happily around her shoulder as she observes his second place trophy in fascination.

"you wanna see mine?" yeosang quips, holding his out in excitement but you can only roll your eyes. you side-eye a group of girls lingering next to you, pretending to plan for their next event or look at their phones when you know damn well they're trying to sneak a peak at the kang yeosang.

"i think there's others far more interested," you quip before turning around to catch up with your friend; you hear the familiar sound of a board clattering against the ground and rolling after you seconds later.

the four of you end up walking to a nearby diner, 50s inspired with red leather booths, a black and white checkered floor and elvis presley currently singing through the speakers about a devil in disguise. you were given the spot next to yeosang, listening to him and wooyoung banter back and forth about their performance.

"maybe if you didn't almost eat shit, you'd have this!" yeosang teases, patting the trophy next to him while taking a sip from his chocolate shake.

smug and cocky from his win, it felt really good to see wooyoung put the end of his paper wrapper in his straw and blow it towards yeosang; but it felt even better when some excess of his vanilla shake went with it, promptly splattering all over the boy's face.

and yeosang really wishes he could've gotten mad but your soft giggle of a laugh just left him cursing playfully at wooyoung, wiping his face with a napkin before the waitress places your food down.

he wishes he heard you laugh more often.

you pick at your salad with your fork, letting out a quiet sigh as you smell the salty fries and burgers wafting around you. but you know the wrath of your dance instructor and most importantly, your mother, would not be worth the taste of any food.

yeosang watches you from the side of his eye pick at your meal, finishing just his burger before promptly shoving his plate next to you.

"eat."

you turn your head to look at him with hard eyes and furrowed eyebrows.

"what?"

"eat," he says, pushing his own plate until it hits your arm. but you only shove it away with your elbow, sticking your fork through a piece of lettuce and popping it in your mouth.

"i have my own food, but thanks."

an annoyed huff leaves his mouth, eyeing you seriously and you turn away from his gaze so the unfamiliar feeling of nervousness doesn't creep up on you. and then, as you open your mouth to eat another piece of lettuce, you feel the saltiness of a french fry graze your lip.

you knock your head to the side but he only follows, placing it further into your mouth. you chew the food and resist the urge to groan out in pleasure because it's been so long since you ate food like this.

but you're taught to use food as fuel, the fuel being in protein and greens and fruit and healthy fats; you know for a fact the amount of salt on this potato would not be mom approved.

"yeosang," you growl and he raises an eyebrow at you.

"constanze."

you hear the faint confused voice of your friend sitting across from you, "did you tell him that was your name, y/n?"

"no," you growl, side eyeing the boy who's holding out another french fry with a stern look, "he insists on calling me that and i don't know why."

"what an odd name for him to- wait, mozart! his wife's name was constanze!"

you fully turn to stare at the boy whose mouth is now quirked up into the biggest smirk on his face.

"it appears you're not the real priss of your group, y/n. now that is shocking."

"you are so dumb, why do you even know that," you hiss at him, smacking his arm lightly and ignoring how nice his voice sounds saying your real name, "and i wasn't even listening to mozart!"

his laugh rings through the air and you huff before attempting to turn back to your food. but his pushy, annoying, obnoxious self shoves his plate to you again and you'd scream at him if you weren't in a public setting.

"you really are such a-"

"i can't sit here and watch you pick at your food any longer," he tells you and you're surprised to hear his voice laced with the smallest hint of concern, "just eat some fries."

you meet his gaze and see they’re surprisingly soft, no hint of his usual teasing or judgment, and you sigh before snatching one up and putting it in your mouth.

"happy?"

"very," he says, smiling down at you and you ignore the way it makes your heart feel light and fluttery when your eyes occasionally meet.

but that light and fluttery feeling quickly fades away by monday. because when your mom said she’d pick you up from practice for once, you knew she had to have ulterior motives.

"hi, mom," you chirp the second you get in the car and she smiles softy at you. but there's a forced, stiffness about it.

"i checked your log before," she says before even a greeting and your face immediately drops; she makes you keep a log of your weight and hours put into practice every week.

"two pounds, y/n?" she asks and you just knew you shouldn't have put that in there. "what's that about?"

your swallow nervously, shame running through you as you tuck your head into your chin; perhaps you had ended up finishing all of yeosang's fries.

"i'm not yelling at you, dear, i just...what is that about? you know gaining weight isn't good for-"

"i know, mom," you snap, irritation running through you at the fact she thinks dear is gonna lessen the blow, "but it's only two pounds. i probably just burned it off at this practice."

"i hope so," she hums, staring up at the building and smiling softly in remoteness. "you have to work hard, every second, mind and body. you remember that, right? but especially what you put in your body and what you put-"

"on the floor mom, yeah, i know."

she lets you sit in silence for a few moments, making no attempt to put the car into drive and you look up at her curiously.

and then there's something in her gaze, in the way she didn't tell you to put your seatbelt on or make any moves to put back on the sunglasses perched on her head that you just know what she's about to suggest.

so before she can, before she can hurt your feelings and spirit anymore, you say the words she's thinking.

"i'll walk home," you say shortly, open the door and slamming it after you jump out, “work off some calories.”

"that's a good idea, y/n," she says before trying to soften her own guilt and be a good mother, "but are you sure? your feet must be in pai-"

"i'm sure, see you at home," you say, tears pricking behind your eyes and you quickly walk to the crosswalk so if they do happen to fall, she doesn't see. you wait for the walking man, hearing the sound of your car driving off and it's like you don't have any strength in your body.

in an effort to not completely break down in public, you walk around to the side of the building where you sometimes have outdoor practices when it's especially nice out in the spring. you open the squeaky gate and plop down against the wall, bringing your knees up and burying your head in your arms to cry just for a second.

cry because your feet and body are always in pain, cry because you're deprived of flavorful food and have forced yourself to pretend it's because you like it, cry because your mom, the person you do all of this shit for, just called you out and made you feel so incredibly shitty for gaining two pounds on your already slightly underweight body.

"y/n?" you hear and your head snaps up, hand moving to wipe your wet face quickly; but you know he already saw what was happening.

"please not now, yeosang," you beg, voice wobbly and wet and you close your eyes when you hear the squeaky gate open.

"what's wrong?" he asks, kneeling down in front of you and turning his head to the side questioningly.

you hesitantly meet his gaze and a frown immediately covers your face when you see his eyes roaming over you with true, real concern. and you don't know if it’s that or the dozens of other factors but it causes the tears to leak from your eyes again, face crumbling before you quickly bury them back in your legs.

"please leave me alone," you cry out quietly.

"i can't do that, y/n," he says and you feel his warm hand graze your bare leg after a few moments, his thumb gently rubbing over your skin and you don't even try to fight it.

because you think you need the slightest bit of comfort and affection right now, even if it’s him. and he does just that the whole time without uttering a word, plopping down on his butt after the squatting position burns his legs.

you look up after you feel like you've drained all your sad and frustrated and pain-ridden sobs out and he pouts after seeing your red, tear-stained eyes and puffy cheeks.

"will you tell me what's wrong if i ask again?" he asks softly, bringing his hand from your knee to your face to wipe at the excess tears under your eyes.

"no," you squeak and he swallows the lump in his throat but nods his head regardless.

"okay."

you bite your lip when you feel it start to tremble again, maybe at his understanding, and his eyes immediately move down to your lip, swallowing again when he notices the tremor.

"was that...can you at least tell me...was that your mom?" he asks, moving to wipe the tears off the other side before retracting his hand.

you sniffle, leaning your head back against the brick and nodded your head silently.

"yes, that was my...lovely mother," you say and you can't help the bitterness in your tone.

he nods his head understandingly, still roaming your puffy eyes and sad face as he finds himself saying, "parents suck."

a small humorless chuckle leaves your mouth as you nod your head against the wall, lips pursed to the side as you bite the inside of your cheek.

you two sit there silently for who knows how long, long enough for the ice cream truck to make its rounds around the park three times and then for most of the chatter coming from it to simmer. your eyes had been grazing each other ever so often, but most of the time missing each other.

because when you would look at him, you saw him staring off outside the gate absentmindley, like he was reliving some kind of memories.

and when he would look at you, you were watching your finger trace the concrete underneath you and his stomach sank at the thought that you were practicing parts of your routine.

so that's what urges him to get up abruptly, causing you to look up to see him holding his hand out to you.

"come with me?" he asks and you look at it warily before meeting his gaze.

"where?"

"just come," he says pleadingly and you find yourself sighing before taking his hand. he pulls you up gently, interlocking your fingers and you supposed you shouldn't have been surprised when he starts dragging you across the street into the park.

"are you kidding, yeosang," you say but the usual snark in your voice is empty; you just don't have the energy.

he walks you over to his board laying on it's side, kicking it up with his foot and moving so you're standing right in the middle of it.

"get on."

"i don't wanna," you whine, "what makes you think i wanna do this after having an emotional breakdown?”

"just try," he says, "and if you hate it, you can smack me over the head with the deathtrap. payback, right?"

a smile tugs at your lips so you drop your head, looking over the scuffed up board and taking a breath before looking up at him again.

"i'm holding you to that."

and with that, you step onto it hesitantly. one foot, then the other. you shudder slightly, a squeal leaving your mouth as your hands shoot out to grab onto him. a chuckle leaves his mouth at your tight grip and hesitant face.

"that was good," he says and you squint your eyes at him challengingly.

"i can't wait to knock you out."

he attempts to cover his laugh with one of his hands but you quickly reach out and grab it, an appalled look on your face.

"well, don't let me fall!"

"i won't," he says, "let's go slowly."

"i don't think that's a-" a little yelp echoes through the park when he slowly starts walking.

"you're fine, you drama queen," he mutters and a scoff leaves your mouth, "just get used to the board under your feet."

and you do as he says, grounding yourself on the board and familiarizing yourself with the slightly wobbly feeling under your feet. you loop around the park once, your screeches and his laughs echoing during the few instances he let go of your hands.

"alright, get off," he says, both hands still in yours when you get down slowly.

"that was a great lesson, glad we did it," you say sarcastically but he only rolls his eyes, moving his hands down to your hips and turning you to face the front of the board.

"not quite done yet," he says and the way his breath fans against your ear has you biting your lip because whoa, has his voice always been so deep and nice? "put one foot on the board, leave the other one on the ground and just travel slowly."

you huff as you put your feet in the positions, his hands on either side of you but not touching you. you begin to slowly move, your foot on the ground slowly stepping forward; it's slow and basic but you're doing it.

"this really is skateboarding for dummies," you say and he lets out a chuckle.

"alright then mrs ollie, let's see you put your traveling foot on the board."

you roll your eyes at him before stepping three times and then bringing both feet up onto the board. but you quickly wobble, his arm wrapping around your waist before you have the chance to fall off.

"see what happens when you get cocky," he mumbles and you elbow his stomach lightly.

"shut up, i should make you do a grande jeté."

"okay but we're skateboarding right now, not learning french."

you nearly fall off the board again from the sheer power of your laugh, your head leaning to side as it lands on his shoulder.

"oh my, gosh, it's a ballet jump!" you squeal and you only realize how close you are to him when you hear his chuckle right by your ear. you pick yourself up and stay on the board, flustered by your closeness but before you can even dwell on it, his hands are off of you.

"let's try again."

you practice and practice and practice until you're able to fully push off and stay steady on the board.

"yeosang! look! i'm doing it!" you squeal happily and he smiles, humoring you by clapping his hands together for the 8th time.

"you'll be doing an ollie in no time," he teases and you squint at him before getting off the board, turning it around, and charging towards him.

he chuckles seeing you flying toward him, moving to the side and grabbing you by the waist when you pass him on the board.

"ah, stop it!" you screech but your giggling ringing through the air says otherwise. he plops you down in front of him, the sun about to set as the town around you turns quiet. it's like you two are the only ones out right now, with squeals and smiles and laughs filling the park.

"so, am i a good teacher or what?" he asks, eyes teasing as they look at you.

"you're okay," you drag out, smiling softly when he squints his eyes at you. "i mean, good for a first place winner i guess."

his eyes move to your lips for a second, his heart warming at the smile broad on your face and small giggles leaving it.

"you should laugh more," he says and your smile dims ever so slightly as you stare at him blankly. "it's really... it's nice."

his voice is so quiet and soft, it's reminding you of how he comforted you just a few hours ago. you bite your lip ever so slightly, shy eyes meeting his before you advert them down to your sneakers.

"i guess i have only yelled at you..." you say quietly but the guilty amusement in your tone causes him to chuckle lightly. he lifts your face with his pointer finger, his soft smile making your heart warm and constrict like it did at the diner.

"the yelling is fine too," he says, "but i definitely prefer your laugh." you scrunch your nose up at him when his finger bops it softly, turning your head to the side as you roll your eyes playfully.

the quietness between you two is back, not an awkward or tense silence. just a calm, peaceful silence thats making something in you feel so... settled and content. like the last few hours were able to wipe all of your negative feelings from after practice away.

"thank you," you find yourself saying quietly, "i...i was so upset before but you really..you really helped me then and even with this, so..." you fumble over your words, your eyes switching from his to the park behind him back to him as you say, "thank you, yeosang."

he's never heard your voice so quiet and unsure and he thinks he might be crazy for feeling the urge to kiss you right now. the air feels thick and charged and buzzing between you both, all lingering gazes and soft smiles. but he still doesn't. doesn't think it's the right time or place and can't properly gauge if that's something you'd even want right now.

but he does lift his hand to your hair, tucking the slightly sweaty strand behind your ear as he smiles down at you softly. "you're welcome, y/n."

and without much protest, you're back in the park friday after practice watching wooyoung help your friend on the skateboard like yeosang did with you just a few nights ago. your heart warms at the memory, his gazes and soft, warm touches and the way you see how he's nothing like the obnoxious punk you first accused him of being.

you sit on the bench with your legs crossed, watching him show a group of young boys (and to your pleasant surprise, three girls) the safest way to attempt to ride down the railing of the three-stair drop in the park.

you watch as the kids look at him in amazement, clapping their hands and whooping every time he lands it. he watches them attempt it with a guarded gaze, his eyes flicking to you every so often and you either nod your head at him or wave at him with your fingers and a small smile on your face.

your smile drops a few moments later, however, when you watch his skateboard wobble on the rail, promptly sending him flying off as he lands right on his shoulder. you shout his name in surprise, making your way into the circle of kids surrounding him and bending down to look at him.

luckily, he was wearing a helmet for once and there's only the slightest presence of a pained sneer on his face.

"jesus! are you okay?" you ask and soon enough, you see the huge gash start to ooze blood.

"i'm fine," he grunts out, "see what i did there kids? definitely don't do that!"

"does anyone have a tissue or napkin?" you ask and a little girl with long hair tied in a ponytail fishes one out of her pocket. "thank you."

you hold the tissue to his shoulder, cringing when you see how deep it is as you help him to his feet. he snaps off his helmet, twisting his neck to the side and you hear a crack.

"oh my, god please tell me your neck is okay," you breathe out in a panic, "neck injures can be potentially-"

"i'm fine, y/n," he says and you could smack him if he wasn't already bleeding at the amusement in his tone.

"you're bleeding through this pretty damn quickly for someone who's fine," you snap, holding the red tissue, "come with me."

you drag him across the street and up into the dance studio, plopping him down on one of the folding chairs before hurrying into the back office where your instructor keeps the first-aid kit. you quickly get to work, apologizing softly when you dab at his wounds with alcohol before smoothing over an antiseptic cream and large band-aid.

"are you hurt anywhere else?" you ask and he shakes his head, leaning back on the chair and tapping his arm lightly.

"all good now, thanks to nurse y/n."

you roll your eyes at him, throwing the wrapper of the band-aid at him before sauntering back into the office. you come out a few moments later to see him in front of the mirror, his hand running over the bar before he stands in front of the window. he can hear the bustling of the boards and wheels on concrete, smiling when the kids land a trick and cheer in unison.

"see, we hear all your punk nonsense," you say teasingly and he turns around with a smirk on his face.

"punk nonsense that you're a part of now."

"oh please, i can barely turn around on the deathtrap," you say as you walk up to him, catching both of your appearances in the mirror and it's a little surreal that he's here with you right now.

you had convinced yourself you hated him the second you saw him, heard him, not even knowing him but having an irrational dislike flood through you just at the sound of his wheels on the sidewalk. and now you can't tear your gaze away, swallowing nervously because you think you might like him a little bit and you have to get out of here.

he turns and his eyes meet yours through the mirror, smiling when he notices the pink blush covering your cheeks.

"we should go ba-"

"now wait a minute," he interrupts, grabbing your hand the second you try to walk off, "aren't you gonna teach me how to dance."

he pulls you further into him and you swallow the nervous lump in your throat. why are you all the sudden so nervous and warm?

"you can't when you're injured," you say, rubbing over his band-aid and inhaling sharply at his warm, exposed skin.

"i am not injured, y/n," he says teasingly, "come on. show me a little something."

you squint your eyes at him, cursing your heart that's starting to pick up and you let out a huff.

"do that french shit."

and because you're completely under his spell, you shake your head to lessen the laugh rumbling through your chest and proceed to walk over to the other side of the room.

"move back, i don't wanna hit you."

you take a deep breath and position your feet on the ground, extending your arms into fourth position before raising your leg and taking a deep breath. then, like you're basically permanently ingrained to do, you leap into the air. your other leg quickly follows, both of them now in a full, airborne split before landing securely on your feet and into the finishing position.

you take a breath before turning to yeosang who's looking at you with his mouth in a small o, surprise and admiration in his eyes.

"that was...i was...you're amazing."

a humorless laugh leaves your mouth, rolling your eyes at him as you shake your head.

"that's a simple ballet jump," you tell him and he looks at you with a hint of disbelief.

"nothing about that looked simple."

"that's because you're a measly skater boy," you tease, walking up to him and poking his chest lightly.

a small chuckle leaves his mouth, grabbing your hand before you can take it back and intertwining your fingers. "you did tell me early on that ballet takes a lot more skill."

a guilty smile makes its way on your face and he smirks upon seeing it. "it's okay, perhaps you were right."

"no," you say softly as you shake your head, "watching you fling yourself into the air made me nervous and impressed even when i hated you."

his eyebrow raises ever so slightly, his hand tightening in yours as the other one makes its way to your face. "yeah?" he muses, moving over your cheek gently, "and now you what? like me?"

your mouth snaps shut and you feel your cheeks grow red. you hadn't even meant to...confess like that but you're just feeling so...overwhelmed and warm and surrounded by him for some reason.

maybe because he's in your space, where your mind was secretly already plagued by him.

or maybe because there's something about seeing both of your reflections in the mirror, seeing how his eyes rake over your face and body and how you look standing pressed up to him, how you now look with him bending down and bringing his face closer to yours.

"i...i didn't...i-"

"i hope so," he mumbles lowly, his hand moving to tuck your hair behind your ear so he can whisper, "because i think i like you."

you let out a breathy exhale, the feel of his body pressed up against yours and his hot breath in your ear causing you to shudder against him. he takes your strangled breaths as confirmation back, his chest warming and a smile on his face; but he wants the words from you.

he hums lowly in your ear and it causes you to press yourself just a little bit more into him as you mumble, "i like you too."

he pulls back to see your flushed face and roaming eyes, adams apple bobbing as he tries his best to control his fast approaching arousal. but when your gaze meets his lips, it all goes out the window. the hand grasping yours moves to your face, both now cupping your cheeks softly and as his brings his lips down.

but before they graze over your mouth, he mumbles a deep "can i kiss you?" and it's all the motivation you need to pull him into you.

your lips collide and part on one another, your hand reaching to brush through the back of his hair as he slips his tongue in your mouth. you stumble around the floor for no other reason than your need to kiss and tongue ever part of each other's mouth is overwhelming the both of you, teenage hormones and pent up frustrations and emotions being poured into one another.

you feel yeosang move you until your back hits the bar, his hands running down your body until his hands land on your hips. he squeezes them softly, breaking the kiss to get air before his wet lips meet your neck.

"i wanted to kiss you when i first met you," he mumbles against your skin, "but only because you were such a brat. had so much shit pent up, didn't you?"

you bite your lip to hold back a moan, his voice and words quickly sending sparks through your body. you hadn't expected him to be like this during....

"but i have you quiet now, it seems," he says and you feel his smile against your skin. "i saw you watching us in the mirror."

your eyes widen and cheeks flame even more; you were hoping he wouldn't notice but you were kind of openly gawking.

"i-i'm sorry," you say and you're not exactly sure why you're even apologizing, "i don't know, i just....like seeing you. us."

he presses his hips further into you, finally letting a moan escape you at the feel of his bulge against you. you grind yourself further into him and he hisses, gripping your hips roughly before dragging you back towards the middle on the furthest side of the mirror, strategically away from the window.

"can i try something," he mumbles as he moves to stand behind you, "i want you to watch."

"i..o-okay."

"if you want me to stop, say the word."

and with that, your eyes bulge and wetness pools as you watch him run his hand along the side of your body. his hand grazes over the side of your boob, moving to palm you until your nipple hardens under his touch and he slips into your shirt. he groans quietly in your ear when he feels your skin against his hand and you throw your head back onto his shoulder.

"yeosang," you mumble but then he quickly removes it and you let out a tiny groan.

"eyes in the mirror or i'm not doing anything."

he wishes he could kiss the pout off your face when you look back up, glossy eyes meeting his in the mirror as you cock your head to the side. "more, please."

and more he does, his hand back in your shirt tweaking at your nipple before he quickly starts work on the other one. he continues to hum in your ear, praising you when your moans echo throughout the studio and you push back onto his growing bulge.

but it's when his hand snakes between your thighs and you have to watch as he rubs over you that you really start to lose it, cry out his name and feel your legs start to wobble as you see the way his hand strokes you over and over and over again.

"yeosang, please," you whine and his smile at you through the mirror is nearly sadistic, so far off from the fun, teasing, cool-tempered boy you've come to know.

"please what, baby?" and your stomach swoops because that's the first time you've heard those words leave his deep voice.

"i...i don't know, just..." your eyes roll back and the second he sees they’re not focused on the mirror, he pulls his hand away.

"yeosang!" you whine, your eyes popping open immediately and craning your neck to look back at him. but he bumps his hips into the back of yours, holding you against his body so you don't fall forward as he grabs the waistband of your shorts.

"you know the rules, you priss," he bites and you can't believe how quickly that name changed from irritation in your veins to wet arousal pooling in your underwear.

"i'm sorry," you whine and it's all he needs to dip his hand into your shorts, sinking his hand down to rub the wet patch on your underwear and you moan out at the feeling.

"you're so wet, baby," he muses in your ear, "this is all for me, yeah?"

"yes," you moan out and you're so tempted to close your eyes at how good it feels.

"you've been so good for me lately," he hums, slipping passed your thong and hissing himself when he feels your wet arousal on his fingers, "but i have to make sure you keep being good."

"yes," you moan out again and your knees nearly buckle when you feel him brush his finger across your clit. "oh my, god." your breathy whines fill the room and it's enough for him to quicken his pace, flicking and toying at your clit while one hand holds your waist because he feels your legs shaking in front of him.

"yeosang, oh..oh, my-" a loud moan leaves your mouth and your head dips back for a second before you quickly fling it forward, eyes half open as you watch him his hand move in your shorts and his mouth by your ear.

"you feel good, baby? like seeing me with my hand in this pretty pussy?"

"yes," you moan out, "yes, yes, yes." and you moan it like a mantra. a mantra that only gets louder when he pushes his finger into your tight hole, moving in and out and making you feel full as he rubs over your clit until a tightening in your lower half has your legs vigorously shaking under you.

"yeosang! fuck fuck, fuck! i think i'm gonna-"

and before you can get it out, your eyes shut and moans leave your mouth as you come apart from his fingers, your eyes desperately trying to stay open just in case his rules still apply and he takes away the best, most intense orgasm you've ever felt in your life.

your legs are shaking and you would've collapsed right on your knees if yeosang hadn't tightened the arm around your waist, holding you flush against him and even in the middle of an orgasm, the feeling of his hard cock against you has you wanting to do more.

only the sound of your harsh breathing can be heard in the room after a few moments so he pulls his hand out and guides you around to plop you down in the chair a few feet away. you stretch your legs out, leaning your head back and holding your hair away from your sweaty neck.

he smiles at the sight of seeing you fucked out from just his fingers, resisting the urge to make you watch him taste your arousal; but he thinks that may be a little too much for you right now; he also needs to calm down the raging boner in his pants.

your head flings back up a few moments later, vision a bit hazy and your legs tingling but the smile on your face almost immediate.

"hey there, baby," he says and your smile widens because you hope that name is here to stay. "so the ballerina has a mirror kink, after all."

a choked laugh leaves your mouth, embarrassment flooding through you as you cover your hands over your red face.

"stop," you whine, "i....i guess we just confirmed that one," you mumble and you hear his chuckle fill the room as he bends down. he places his hand on your exposed knees, kissing both of them before squeezing softly.

"you good?"

"i'm great," you assure before looking at his face, "but wait...don't you need to...?"

"i'm good," he tells you, his soft smile an indication he's telling the absolute truth, "i think i wanna take you on a date before we do that again."

warmth and excited butterflies run through your stomach and chest, a small, sweet smile covering your face.

"really?" and he can't help but laugh at the sweet, almost disbelief in your voice.

"what the hell, did you miss the part where i said i liked you?"

you purse your lips to the side, shrugging your shoulders teasingly.

"i don't know...a lot did just happen," you say, "like i found out about my mirror kink."

a snort leaves his mouth, looking back and waving at you through the glass with a wink.

"we got tons of time to find out more of your kinks," he promises, "but for now. a date. how's tomorrow?"

"tomorrow's great," you say and he stretches up to place a chaste kiss on your lips before pulling away and admiring your smiley, pink-tinted face. he watches as you look back at the mirror, your eyes lowering until another embarrassed laugh bubbles out of your mouth.

"what?" he asks, humor in his tone.

"i just...i don't know how i'm ever gonna look at this mirror the same."

#yeosang #yeosang angst #yeosang fluff #yeosang smut #ateez #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez smut #moodboard #yeosang moodboard

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noah-moth-cursed-chaos · 3 years

Text

Museums and Abstract Art (A Quinnby Fic) chapter three

Trilby was wondering what in his handler’s right mind made her think him and Chris would do well on a job together. Yes he’d come to consider the other somewhat of a friend but, they had entirely different methods. Trilby went in undetected, did what he had to, and left, with as little destruction as possible and doing all he could to avoid any deaths. Chris took a more... guns blazing approach to things. Trilby wasn’t eager to have his good impression of this man ruined when he saw him live up to his blood thirsty reputation. Still, he waited outside of the ministry building for the other. Chris walked out with a smile on his face, seeming almost *excited* for this. They were being sent to close a rift of some sort, some idiot’s attempt to bring something that belonged in another realm here. Whatever they were trying to summon didn’t come through, but some smaller creatures and a few demons had. “Hey partner! Ready to go kick some demon ^ss?”

“.. I’m ready to do what we have to to get this job done.” Trilby said, “Come on, we’re taking my car.”

“Well someone isn’t very chipper while he works.” Chris said, following the other to said car, “You don’t like field work or something?”

Trilby glanced at him, “I’m fine with it, I just prefer to take it seriously.” He got into the car, turning the engine on.

“Oh.” Chris climbed in the passenger side, “Yeah I’m not good at that.”

Chris was used to Trilby seeming uptight and serious, he’d only seen the guy smile maybe *once* and it was so quick he wasn’t sure it happened. But outside of work at least he’d respond to Chris’ crappy jokes and pestering. However, after their short conversation Trilby had gone stubbornly silent, probably going over details of the case in his head. Deciding to break the silence, Chris turned on the radio, classical music played quietly. “Ew boring.” He scoffed, turning it to the rock channel and cranking the volume. Now that got a response out of the ex thief sitting next to him.

“Did you just insult *my* music and then turn on that sh^t?” Trilby reached over, switching the channel back.

“Dude nobody under 80 listens to f^cking classical!” Chris argued, “How do you not fall asleep listening to it?”

“It’s nice, calm, I like calm things.” The thief scoffed, “Don’t touch my radio.”

“Fine, fine, but calm stuff is overrated and calm music sucks.” Chris leaned back the chair, putting his arms under his head.

“Maybe if you didn’t hate calm stuff so much you wouldn’t be so insufferable.”

“Hey nobody said you *had* to hang out with me!”

“Today I do have to, for work.”

“Yeah, yeah, so, what’s the plan when we get there?”

Once the two arrived at the scene, Trilby was noticeably tense. This place felt... off, the same way the hotel did almost. He didn’t like it. It didn’t help that this was his first field mission since the hotel too. It was an old warehouse, it looked like it’d been a while since it’d been used. A good, isolated location to do something stupid. He took a deep breath and got out of the car, this wasn’t the hotel. It wouldn’t be as bad, it’d probably be easy. Chris would be more concerned if there was something too wrong here.

Chris got out too, reaching into his trench coat, “We should stay close to each other in here.”

“Yeah, that’s what we talked about.” Trilby responded.

“Yeah well, it’s important, long as we’re together there shouldn’t be an issue but I heard you’re more the pacifist type, you wouldn’t last against a demon alone. And we don’t know what else is here.” Trilby didn’t know if he should be offended. He was sure he could hold his own against a demon. How bad could they be? When they first walked in it was quiet, nearly too quiet. Chris seemed calm enough however, so Trilby wasn’t worried.

“So.. is a demon actually like the red horned things?” Trilby asked.

“Sometimes, they come in tons of forms, most of them are more disturbing than that though.” Chris said, “They look worse than they are if ya know what you’re doing.” Great. Good. Fine. This was fine. As they traveled further into the warehouse the off feeling got stronger, and stronger, suddenly a creature with one bug like leg, it’s head a bulbous mass of pulsating flesh, it let out a low gurgle of a growl that made Trilby’s skin crawl, before coming right for him, it took him a second to respond, before lifting his grolly.

He tased it at the same time Chris put about five bullets in it. The blood looked more like pus, and it smelled like nothing he’d ever smelled before. He had to put in genuine effort not to throw up at the stench. “Ooookay, more than just demons here, yep, don’t know what that is.” Chris said, gripping a pistol tightly, “God it reeks doesn’t it?”

“Let’s get moving.” Trilby wondered if his words betrayed how freaked out he was, he was trying to keep his composure.

“They must’ve been trying to get to the realm of magic if they got something like that coming after them.” Of course Chris had to confirm Trilby’s fears. “But they failed, so that’s good.” Yeah like that makes it better.

They encountered a few similar creatures, bloated and disgusting and just... not anything that belonged on earth, before coming across something that at first glance looked human. Like an injured human. Trilby was sure any demon would look at least as bad at the other things they’d been fighting, and rushed over, “Hey, are you hur-“

“Get away from that!” Trilby was shocked as Chris ran over and practically threw him back, before the thing stood up, revealing a twisted and disfigured face, sharp claws, and other things that made it clear it wasn’t some helpless wanderer, it lunged for Chris, quicker than either had expected, and tackled him to the ground. Chris’ gun was knocked out of his hand, the two wrestled for mere moments before Trilby grabbed the gun and fired into the thing’s head, it screeched, before turning to the ex thief, eyes burning coals in its head. Chris quickly retrieved a book from his trenchcoat, reciting something that sounded Latin, and in the demon’s place was now... an energy drink?

Chris got up, picking up the drink, opening it, and... chugging it.

Trilby was so confused on what he’d seen, and why Chris was drinking the demon drink.

“Book of transformations.” Chris said, “Useful when you’re fighting something stronger than you, given you’re lucky.” He grinned cheekily, “And I’ve got amazing luck.” The claw marks and rapidly forming bruises showed otherwise but Chris seemed significantly less concerned than Trilby was. “Let’s get moving again, I wanna get this done with before you try to help some other demonic stranger.”

“I thought they were human.” Trilby countered, pausing as he walked after the other, “Are you okay?”

“I’ve had worse.”

Chris was shocked a rift that had let that much through wasn’t more trouble to close, and that the two didn’t get more hurt than a few scratches on himself and Trilby getting slammed into a wall by something that looked a bit too much like it used to be human for either’s tastes. Trilby however was clearly more concerned with the situation, Chris was vaguely aware the other mainly went on retrieval missions and stuff of that sort, stuff that was usually much less volatile. When they got to the car Chris pulled some bandages out, “Are you bleeding anywhere?” He asked the other agent, who looked at him as if he had two heads.

“You should be more concerned about yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. That was easy compared to my normal jobs.” Chris said, starting to wrap up his own injuries, he could get better care at the infirmary but for right now making sure he didn’t get an infection was always a good move.

“What are your *normal* jobs?” Trilby seemed bewildered.

“Infestations, cults gone wrong, usually stuff that’s been going for a good while, definitely more organized than what we just faced.”

“And you do those jobs alone?” Trilby started the car and began to drive, but didn’t hide the shock in his words.

“I get it done fine. I haven’t failed yet.”

“But it doesn’t seem safe.”

Chris was confused, “Trilby, do you really think ‘safe’ matters all that much? Alive is good, our job is a death sentence. They send you at stuff they *think* you’re good at until one day you’re not good *enough* and then you’re gone.”

“They seemed concerned about my safety after the hotel..” Trilby frowned at the other.

“Yeah well, you’re connected to a god, I’m just some wack job who knows a few incantations, you’re more valuable to them than me.”

@i-go-unwillingly

#chzo mythos #I need to rework the tagging on these #quinnby #Chris: (turns a demon into an energy drink)#Trilby: Am I on drugs-#btw this isn’t proof read or anything I just post them and deal with my f^ck ups later #writing #my writing #museums and abstract paintings

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riotwritesthings · 4 years

Text

The Curious Witch and the Cursed Wolf

Chapter 2: A Meeting and A Revelation | AO3

Chapter 1 here!

art by the fantastical @gayspacesprinkles

Haha I’m so happy I wrote all of this ahead of time this has been a MONTH so far

Title: The Curious Witch and the Cursed Wolf (Chapter 2) Collaborator(s): Riot @buckybarnesbingo Square Filled: K3, Just do it Ship/Main Pairing: WinterIron Rating: T Major Tags/Warnings: fantasy AU, witch!Tony, wolf!Bucky, fairytale vibes, Non-graphic injury Summary: Once upon a time there was a man, and a wolf. They both went into the forest looking for different things, and instead they found each other. Word Count: 1,871

Once upon a time there was a wolf, injured and alone, crawling his way towards the forest, looking for safety.

The wolf waits until all he can hear is the rush of the water, the rustle of the grass on the cliff above, until the hunters leave.

They must think he’s dead. He should be dead, still unsure how he managed to drag himself out of the cold water and onto the shore.

He still might die, bleeding heavily until the scent of it fills the air, drowns out everything else. He needs to move, he can’t risk that the hunters are just circling around to finish him off.

The forest still seems so far away.

The wolf forces himself to move, and slowly, so slowly, he begins dragging himself on three legs towards the tree line.

He wakes up to the snap of a branch and the wolf snarls weakly, sluggishly looking around for the source of the noise.

There’s a man, hidden behind a tree and given away by the loud, terrified pounding of his heart.

The wolf snarls again because it’s all he can do, too weak to move.

The man doesn’t smell like danger, he smells like rain and clean earth. When he pokes his head out around the tree his hair is a mess, leaves caught in the loose brown curls and dirt smeared across his face.

“Hi,” the man says softly, and then squeaks when the wolf growls low in his chest, big brown eyes going wide.

The wolf stops growling, feels a little bad about the scared-deer look in the man’s eye because no, that’s not what he wants. He doesn’t want to be a monster, what everyone accuses him of being.

So he whines instead, and the man steps out from behind the tree, moves carefully closer.

“Okay, okay hi,” the man says. “I want to help you, but um- fair warning I have very little medical expertise, unless you count bandaging myself up, but I do actually have a surprising amount of experience in that, so, oh—“

The man’s rambling cuts off with a soft sound as he gets closer, close enough to see the missing limb, the ground dark with blood beneath them.

“Okay,” the man says again, voice breaking, but he’s still stepping closer. “Wow, you- we gotta stop the bleeding, I-I’ll be right back.”

He wants to tell the man not to bother. The man’s clothes look torn and he looks tired, like he has enough to worry about. The wolf has been running for so long, it was bound to end eventually.

But the man is already turning, running off into the trees. The wolf lets his eyes fall closed again.

He's just so tired.

The man comes back with a couple uprooted plants clenched in one hand and halfway through stripping off his tattered shirt with the other, the scent of goldenrod and yarrow thick in the air.

He approaches slowly, warily, but he smells more like worry than fear. There’s a slight glow around him, spreading from a point in the center of his chest like trapped starlight.

"I'm going to try and stop the bleeding," the man says, voice shaking. "Please don't eat me, I'm going to go slow and tell you everything I'm doing, so- well, I guess that's assuming you even know what I'm saying, but I've seen a lot of crazy shit the past couple weeks—"

Just do it, the wolf thinks, and the man’s eyes widen a little.

He doesn't pause though, drops to his knees beside the wolf and gets to work.

His hands are calloused, but gentle, pressing crushed herbs against the wound, using his own shirt as a bandage, talking softly the entire time.

His name is Tony, and he came to the forest to learn, because he wants to know more, wants to learn how to make things better.

Alone? The wolf thinks, trying to distract himself from the agony of Tony tightening the makeshift bandage.

Tony gives a tiny shrug and his smile is even smaller.

"I'm always alone," he says.

The wolf whines softly, because he understands, but Tony apologizes in a broken voice, gentles his hands impossibly further.

He strokes along the wolf’s side, fingers gentle and so warm as they slide through his fur.

The wolf falls asleep to warm blue light growing brighter around him, the scent of sun-warmed stone and clear nights.

Tony’s hands are warm and the pain is slowly fading away.

The wolf wakes up feeling rested, feeling healed, still down a leg but the ache of it is completely gone.

Tony is still there, retreated across the small clearing to give the wolf some space.

“Hey,” he says, perking up when he sees the wolf watching him warily. “You’re awake, I wasn’t sure—“ he pauses, lets out a slow breath, and then smiles so wide that his eyes shine with it. “I’m glad.”

The wolf flicks his ears forward, thumps his tail once against the ground. When he works up the energy to shift his shoulders there’s no pain.

He’ll live for now.

Thank you, he thinks, and Tony smiles, and the wolf expects that to be the end of it.

Tony will leave, or demand a favor and wind up very disappointed when he learns he wasted his time saving something with very little power of its own. Then the wolf can get on with figuring out if he can actually survive.

But instead Tony just stays, brings him rabbits and tries to hide his wince when the wolf gobbles them up in one bite. He sleeps on the other side of the small clearing, dug in amongst the roots, shivering slightly.

He stays until the wolf can stand, until he can walk, only a little unsteady on his three legs.

“Lookin’ good!” Tony cheers, curled up against his tree with plants and rocks scattered around him, a tiny notebook spread across his lap.

The wolf knows that he should leave, before the hunters find him again, or someone else, before Tony realizes that he’s saved a monster.

Instead he steps carefully closer, head down, trying to look as harmless as possible, making himself smaller. A careful smile starts to grow on Tony’s face.

"Well," Tony says slowly, "I guess, you probably want to be on your way, unless—“

“There you are!” Comes a tiny voice from the bushes, startlingly close to where Tony is seated, soft and sweet if incredibly frustrated.

The wolf is across the clearing before he knows it, standing protectively between Tony and the noise and growling low in his chest, fur standing on end.

“Finally staying in one place, been following you since you activated the damn crystal," the voice continues, and whoever it is is talking more to herself than anything, leaves rustling around the source of the noise.

"Do you know how hard it is to keep up with you when you won’t stop exploring?!” the voice demands, raising again. “Damnit Tony, I am very small!”

Sure enough, the creature that emerges from the brush is quite small, barely bigger than a rabbit and the wolf can definitely eat it in one bite if he needs to.

Maybe he shouldn't though. The ball of light with fluttering wings glows a soft blue that matches the glow in Tony's chest, and maybe they're friends.

He probably shouldn't eat Tony's friends.

Except Tony's quick heartbeat still echoes in the wolf's ears, fuels the low growl still rumbling through his chest, and Tony's voice shakes a little as he asks “Um, do I know you?”

The wolf growls again, snaps his teeth, and the ball of light floats up a little higher.

“Call off the dogs,” she says, sounding more offended than anything, “I have something important to tell you.”

"Wait,” Tony says, crawling out of his nest in the tree roots. “Were you the one talking to me by that river a little while ago?"

"Yes!"

"Oh my god I thought that was a bird!” Tony groans, slapping his hands over his face and further smearing himself in dirt. "I gave it my last bit of bread!"

"I told you not to!" the ball of light cries, bobbing in the air in apparent distress.

"I thought it was a trick!" Tony whines, slumping back against the tree and kicking his bare feet a little.

The wolf isn’t sure what to think. He sits back on his haunches, tilts his head to the side. The ball of light doesn’t seem aggressive, at least, even if she does smell strangely of rain.

“Okay,” Tony says, pushing himself upright again, warm eyes shining in amusement. “Okay, you had something to tell me?”

“Yes,” the ball of light says, then makes a sound like a tiny throat clearing. “You’re a witch, Tony.”

Tony blinks slowly. Opens his mouth and then closes it again. The wolf whines.

“I’m a what,” Tony finally says.

“A witch,” she repeats and the wolf whines again, slinks backwards.

He knows that word. It’s what the hunters called themselves, makes him think of smoke and fire and screaming and changing.

But Tony isn’t like that. Tony smells like sunlight, like fresh air, like the forest around them and the dirt rubbed into his skin, like the leaves caught in his hair and the herbs he’s always collecting, like life.

Tony isn’t like that, he can’t be.

Even now, Tony is still blinking in confusion, face open and eyes so warm as he glances down at the glow in his chest and asks “Because of this?”

“No,” says the ball of light, then wavers in the air a little. “Well, kind of. It’s why the crystal called to you, although you weren’t supposed to just grab it.”

Tony grins sheepishly, and the wolf huffs softly.

“You seem to be alive though,” the light continues, tiny voice dry and still musical. “And if anything embedding that shard in your chest has just made you crazy powerful, so, congratulations I guess.”

“What do you—“ Tony starts to ask and then pauses, turns to look at the wolf with eyes widening in understanding.

And suddenly the wolf understands too. It’s why Tony was able to heal him, why there’s no pain, why he’s alive.

Witch or not, Tony isn’t much like the hunters at all.

A wide smile spreads across Tony’s face, eyes nearly glowing along with the stone in his chest, and the wolf completely forgets that he’s supposed to be leaving.

“What happened to your clothes?” The ball of light asks, floating a little closer as the wolf’s fur finally smoothes down, his ears flicking forwards.

Tony isn’t listening though, too busy pushing himself to his feet and excitedly asking ”Wait, can I fly?!”

“You know you can just make more clothes, right?!”

“Flying,” Tony insists, staring at the ball of light flatly.

The wolf lets his tongue loll out in a fond smile.

The light seems almost reluctant to answer, but finally says “Yeah, if that’s what you really want, but—“

Tony drowns out the rest of the sentence with high pitched excited noises, and the wolf whines again, ears ringing with it.

#my fiic #bucky/tony #winteriron #starkbucks #buckybarnesbingo #buckybarnesbingo2020

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