#when he takes off his jacket...... gd his body he looks so good and he way he touches himself. he's so solid I need to hug him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mysmegrace · 3 years

Note

Hi! I’d love a short fic of Zen with a shy yet bubbly MC in a Christmas Fake Dating scenario <33 Hopefully with some anxious pining and a love confession at the end if that’s okay! I’ve been musing over this sweet scenario for a pretty long time and wanted to make my small dream come true

hey hey hey~ (ew im sounding like my old math teacher lol). i'd love to write that for you! sorry this came out a little late, i've been offline and working on other things. i hope i did this justice!

summary: GD entertainment, the company zen works with, is throwing a christmas party. giving many of the actors special benefits, one of which is a free 2021 computer model for people who had brought in their significant others. zen could really use the upgrade, hence why he asked you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the night. he also asked you because he had feelings for you and figured that tonight would be the perfect night.

topics: christmas time, pretending to date, love confessions, romantic pinning, fluff.

words: 2k

For the Night, Or a Lifetime - Zen x MC

---

"are you sure this is alright to do zen..? i mean, what if rumors start to spread or they think badly of us?" you responded briskly. you were worried this would take a hit to his career, not to mention your anxious thoughts building up around the fact that you may have to speak with his boss and co-workers.

when zen had initially showed up 15 minutes prior, you were dumbfounded. last time you had spoke to him on the messenger, he had told you about some work he needed to finish up. yet an hour later, he was at your front door asking for you to act as his girlfriend tomorrow for the companies christmas party.once he had explained why to clear up your confusion, you weren't sure how to react. of course you would like to help him, but what if things didn't go as planned? what if you ended up ruining the night? you weren't secure in your acting abilities either.

"it'd be fine, i promise. we'll just act like a normal couple throughout the night and no one will suspect a thing" you heard him say, breaking your train of thought. looking up to meet his gaze, you quickly broke eye contact to contemplate your next action.

you knew zen could use the new computer, you’ve seen how old his current one was. but the fear of denting his career wouldn’t go away. you look up to meet him again, looking for a sign of reassurance or dismay.

god those puppy eyes you gave to you. how could you say no? giving it another minutes, you eventually give in, saying “alright, but if something starts to happen we have to come clean”.

a breath he was unaware of holding came free as he heard your confirmation. a weight had been lifted off his shoulders because unbeknownst to you, he was planning to come clean about his feelings for you tomorrow night. so far, the plan was going just the way he was hoping for.

“thank you babe, i’ll repay you back for this one day!” he said, giving his gratitude. “i’ll call when i come to pick you up” he adds, before turning to leave. it had already gotten late and he knew better than to stay with you for any longer while the moon was tempting him. no, that stuff would have to wait until the time was right.

watching as he left, the click of the door confirming it, your mind had completely gone blank on you. did that really just happen, you thought. you could hardly contain your excitement once he proposed the plan.

but you knew how the industry and his fans were. sure many were great, but many also say zen as a trophy they could reserve to themselves. a romantic partner could damage his career as allegations and opinions started floating around.

at the same time, it was difficult to hide. you had felt something for him that was so unfamiliar to you. something you could only identify as love. but what if he didn’t feel this same? what if...

enough, you told yourself. it was too late to get emotional and curious about what might happen. perhaps it would be better to rest and let your mind heal it’s anxiety for the time being. so that you did, drifting off while fantasying about the future, though you would never admit that.

a knock at the door caught your attention, allowing you to briefly look up from your phone. the sky had changed as christmas had arrived. everything was ready for your night as you had prepared once he had alerted you of his travel.

opening the door, you gave a smile to greet him. one he returned promptly, pulling you into a friendly embrace. your heart skipped a beat, so anxious that you might do something he wouldn’t like. your body wouldn’t even offer you peace of mind to enjoy the closeness.

eventually letting go, you pulled your jacket on in a swift motion as you followed zen’s footsteps. being led to his motorcycle, a helmet was presented to you. “don’t worry, i’ll be safe. can’t damage precious cargo” he reassured you.

god, was he trying to embarrass you, you thought as you felt yourself heating up. slowly gathering the courage to meet his eyesight again, you found him with a grin plastered across his lower face.

the nerve, though you’d have to let it slide for now. hoping on the ride, you heard the engine rear up as you went on your. wind hitting your face from all angles, moving your hair in whichever way it desired.

pulling up to the event, you fixed your hair the best you could with your fingers with little time to spare. feeling your hand being grabbed, you looked towards zen, expressing a confident smile. in reality, you couldn’t believe what you had gotten yourself into.

taking the lead, zen greeted the people at the entrance in a polite yet swift manner. in your luck, they managed to find the time to question zen about your role to him. “she’s my girlfriend” he answered, before gesturing for the two of you to walk in.

the room was full of traditional christmas decorations with the occasional piece related to acting and performance. you quite liked it if you were honest. your attention was quickly redirected to the co-worker approaching the two of you.

oh no, you thought. what would you say to leave a good impression for zen and yourself as a pretend couple? remembering zen’s past words of advice, being confident and positive, you decided to adopt that attitude for the remainder of the evening.

“hyun, who’s this?” the person asked, leaving an eyebrow subtly raised. zen flashed a quick glance at you before responding “ah, she’s my girlfriend”. now was your time to shine. don’t mess this up, you told yourself.

“hello~ i’m mc. gorgeous event right?” you said with the nicest expression you could muster up. now you were left to hope you didn’t come across as too obnoxious or nervous.

“hello mc, pleasure to meet you” the co-worker greeted, reaching out a hand in your direction. slightly taken aback, you met his hand as you were involved in the handshake. that wasn’t so bad, right? maybe tonight would be easier than expected.

leading you to make a mental note of the three things you wanted to portray yourself as this evening. that being energetic, respectful, and adding in a tad of humor.

this formula seemed to be going well. an hour had already passed and nobody seemed to have a problem with you, openly at least. yet things started going down hill when you had a couple down further in the area whisper “things aren’t adding up with those two”.

a males voice added onto that, saying “i doubt they’re a real couple. look at them, neither one of them has shown the other any form of affection since they’ve gotten here”. you couldn’t find the words to say as you stood in slight horror.

how were they able to catch on? you thought you were doing good all night, making the environment relaxed and laid back. little to your knowledge, zen had heard the couple as well.

without giving it much thought, he knew he had to prove their thoughts wrong. hence why you suddenly felt yourself taken by the hands, pinned against the wall behind you. looking up in shock, you were met with zen’s face going in a kiss. of course, you couldn’t push him away.

kissing him back, he found himself not wanting to stop. his rational mind took over quickly, pulling away. staring at you face to face, you could read the shock in his eyes. as if he was surprised by his actions.

shock was something evident in your mind at the time too. you didn’t know what to think, what to feel. too many emotions were present for you to ever make sense of.

releasing your hands, he subtly went back to your side the same way he was before. almost as if it didn’t happen. yet you promptly heard his voice whisper “can we talk about this later?”.

without giving it much thought, you nodded in reply. you had so many new things to think about, you needed time. but in a good turn of events, the couple were no longer questioning your relationship status.

time passed in a slow motion, though reality reminded you that only an hour had passed once you looked at the clock. people were beginning to say their goodbyes, being given many gifts by the hosts. you and zen included as the computer was given for your leave.

returning to the motorcycle, you put on your helmet once again, as did zen. he would drive as you held onto the gifts in the back. this time, the wind wasn’t a bother to you. it had cooled off the heat from your face, deriving from the sudden actions of zen.

reaching your apartment complex, you got off the vehicle. looking nowhere but down as your feet carried you to your apartment, zen following behind you. as soon as your entered the familiar room, the fatigue from todays events had caught up to you.

now you were left with zen to discuss all that occurred. yet it took you a second to collect yourself for the conversation. you had no idea where this would go, you only hoped it would result in something good.

you heard the males voice begin to speak, “i’m sorry about doing that tonight, i should’ve asked first. i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable”. your thoughts paused for a quick second as something new entered. you didn’t want him to feel bad about anything, he didn’t deserve it.

“no no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable, i enjoyed it to be honest” you replied in a haste. your face changed as you really started to take in what you had just told him. you hadn’t meant to let that last part slide.

on second thought, perhaps it was a good thing to get it out there. you couldn’t hide your feelings forever. now it was zen’s time to become a visible shade of pink. were you serious...?

god that made him so happy. the last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable and hate him. worried thoughts filled his head for a split second before you came in to save this sanity, as you always did.

“i’m.. glad to hear that. i was worried you would be upset. look, i have something to confess” he started, deciding now was the time. he observed as your eyes became a tad bit bigger as your mouth opened slightly in a curious form.

continuing, he said “i’ve had feelings for you ever since you joined the rfa. i couldn’t understand them at first, thinking i was juust lonely and desperate. but as time goes on, i can understand why”.

“mc, you’ve made my life change for the better. i can’t imagine life without you. so, will you go out with me? we don’t have to play pretend anymore” he finishes, lightening up the mood ever so slightly during the end.

to say you were ecstatic was an understatement. finally your prayers were being answered. you could feel as your cheeks flushed before you gave your answer.

“yes, of course i will” you responded softly, as if speaking any louder would make this go away. standing in comfortable silence, zen was content with your answer. offering his gorgeous smile for your eyes only.

“thank you, ha you’ve gotten me so stocked. i have to prepare for practice so i’ll see you tomorrow.” he says, the tone of his voice raising noticeably. you give him a nod of approval, but become flustered at the words he said before leaving through the door.

“merry christmas, sleep well love” he sang out, before closing the door behind him. how did he expect you to sleep once he’s gotten you all worked up, you thought. giggling to yourself, you felt as the fatigue became even more present now that you were home.

laying down to rest, you were grateful for the best christmas gift you had received this year. the one that would be stuck with you for a long, long time.

---

15:43 AST - 07/28/21

#mystic messenger #mysme #mysme zen #mysme fanfic #zen #zen x mc #hyun ryu

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

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we all talk about trans steve but i raise you: trans billy

my laptop crashed three times while writing this.

also all trans headcanons are more than welcome on this gd nightmare blog.

So, trans Billy.

It took him a decent amount of time to figure it out. He’s not exactly living in an environment where he can experiment with gender lines.

So he spends most of his life calling himself a butch woman. A tomboy, if you will. He figures, everyone hates their bodies as viscerally as he does, right? And all women get a pit in their stomach when they’re called girls bc of like, misogyny, right? And all women want their chests to be flat, right?

And maybe he’s in high school, and explaining this to a friend who’s like 👀 buddy pal, I think you’re a mans. And the first time Billy looks in the mirror and says “I’m a man”, it’s like a weight’s been lifted off his shoulders.

He can’t transition, not with Neil around, but he can do little things. He can cut his hair in the name of ease, and start shopping in the men’s section in the name of thrift, and stop shaving in the name of feminism.

And when he moves to Hawkins, he forms a close knit group of friends that he comes out to.

And maybe one of those friends is Steve Harrington.

The only good part about not being out is that he can date Steve publicly.

He doesn’t bring Steve over a lot bc the less time Steve ever has to interact with Neil, the better, but Neil actually likes Steve. He likes that he’s polite and that he’s rich and that his kid is dating a boy, so obviously his daughter’s not a lesbian just a gay man

And sometimes Billy gets in his head. Gets upset with Steve because obviously Steve is only dating him because he sees Billy as a girl, and sometimes he’s just so angry that he’s in this situation, that he feels so wrong in his body and can’t take the steps to make himself feel right.

But he and Steve make plans to run away together.

And Billy gets into college in California, and the first thing he does when he’s there is cut off all his hair. The second thing he does is meet with a doctor and get on hormones.

And all of his friends know him as Billy, and Steve gets to talk to his coworkers about his boyfriend, and Billy has a trans flag sticker on his water bottle and a patch on his jacket because for the first time in his life he gets to be proud and gets to be out and Steve calls him “my man” and it’s like a whole new life.

#trans billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #yikes headcanons

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atmilliways · 3 years

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I was channeling exhausted Charles a little hard, because gd is moving tiring... I know I have some messages I should really get to answering, and I promise that will happen soon.

Anyway, happy belated birthday, @insomniac-pens!

Charles is couch surfing against his will; Emeto mention; Implied/Referenced Drug Use; Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism; Early klok

C'mon, Charlie, Stay

There was, for a brief period, a time when Charles was between apartments due to an unfortunate infestation problem that had allowed him to break his lease early. It allowed him to lease a much better place, closer to both his office and the new band he was managing, but with one catch: it wouldn’t be available for him to move in for another six weeks.

To his surprise, once the band found out about this they flat out refused to leave him alone until he agreed to crash on their couch. No amount of pointing out that he had the money to just stay in a hotel until his move-in date seemed to sway them. So, he dutifully shelled out his hotel money to pay for Dethklok’s apartment to be professionally cleaned and the couch reupholstered, and that was that.

Except, dear god, when did these men sleep.

Charles tried to think of them as men, but frankly it got harder the longer he stayed with them. Murderface had only recently turned twenty-one, and Nathan and Toki were still technically underage; that didn’t stop them or Skwisgaar or Pickles from constantly partying themselves stupid.

In the very living room (which they also used for band practices) where he was trying to sleep.

The last straw was when they gave Toki shrooms for the first time and he puked all over the coffee table, including the glasses that Charles had carefully folded and placed there before settling in for the night. Without a word of complaint or reprimand, he was simply up and packed and dressed enough to drive to the nearest hotel, because this was clearly not working.

“Dood dood dood, where’re ya going?” Pickles gabbled, dragging on the manager’s arm as he tried to head out of the front door.

“To get a hotel room, a hot shower, and a good night’s sleep,” Charles replied, although personally he felt that this should have been obvious.

“But you can do all that here!”

Charles sighed, resettling his duffle bag on his shoulder. “Thank you, Pickles, but we both know it’s, ah, only a matter of time before I get vomited on, and cleaning my glasses off was unpleasant enough.”

As if on cue, there were more retching sounds from further inside the apartment, followed by shouts and whoops of “He got the couch,” “That’sch twenty points,” and “Directs hits, everiesones does to takes the drink-shots!”

Pickles grimaced. “Okay, so maybe the kid wasn’t ready for caps. That’s my bad, I’m sahrry. But dood, you should still stay. . . .” He trailed off, looking around with a kind of urgent disappointment that Charles had only previously seen when the drummer was trying to find a misplaced stash. Then, with an uncertain grin, he added, “You can, uh, you can stay in my room if ya want.”

“Ah. . . .” Charles blinked. He was very, very tired, and not entirely sure he’d heard that correctly. “I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s got a door’n everything,” Pickles continued, obviously warming to the idea as soon as he saw that Charles wasn’t rejecting it outright. “You can even have the bed, I can ride the floor. Which I can actually see again now, thanks again for hirin’ those cleaners, dood! And I think I can even find ya some clean sheets and stuff. C’mon, Charlie, stay.”

So, soon afterward, Charles found himself back in his pajamas. They were just the t-shirt and boxers that he’d thrown a jacket and slacks over to leave, really, which by his temporary housemates’ standards apparently made him a prude. He was also swaddled in clean sheets and blankets on Pickles’ bed, as promised, and Pickles had receded back out to the party with a vague, Sleep tight, dood. Despite the lumpiness of the mattress Charles was actually quite comfortable and, with the door closed and the lights off, fairly well insulated against the noise of the band’s continued revelry.

He was asleep within seconds.

Some time later Charles woke not to loud noise or something landing on him, but because he had to pee. Not bothering to find his glasses or slippers in the dark (though he was wearing socks; he wasn’t an animal), he slipped out of bed and shuffled towards the door—

His foot connected with something warm and soft, possibly a stomach, and someone groaned, “Oof.”

“Shit,” Charles muttered. He groped along the nearby wall for a light switch. “Ah . . . Pickles, is that you?”

The lights snapped on harsh and bright, and it was indeed Pickles curled up on the floor, red dreads spayed out like fireworks against the dingy carpet, without even a pillow or blanket. “Yeeeeeeah?” Pickles replied blearily, squinting up at him.

Charles sighed. The last thing they needed was Pickles unable to play gigs because he’d tweaked his back or neck sleeping on the floor—although, in the short time he’d known the man, Charles had seen him passed out in worse positions. Still, couldn’t be too careful while Dethklok was still starting out.

“Get in bed,” Charles told him.

“Nnnn.” Pickles rubbed clumsily at his eyes and swiped and the drool that had collected on his goatee. “You get the bed, couch’s fucked fer now. . . .”

It was only a twin-sized mattress. Charles squinted back at it, then gave a mental shrug. “We’ll share. Just get in, I’ll, ah, be right back.”

He stepped over Pickles and headed for the bathroom. Both the toilet and sink were splattered liberally with vomit, enough that he doubted it had all come out of Toki. He hadn’t smelled any on the man he’d just invited to bunk with him, which . . . was all Charles had the energy to care about, at the moment. He sighed again and just pissed in the bathtub, because fuck it, he was still half asleep.

When he returned, Pickles had already burrowed into the blankets in the dead center of the bed. Not in the mood to be deterred, Charles turned the light off and wedged himself into the available free space on the mattress.

“Mmmhey,” Pickles mumbled drowsily somewhere near his shoulder.

“Scoot over,” Charles grumbled back, and when he got no response gave another shove with his hip. That seemed to get the message across because Pickles did scoot, squirming over and turning into him, clinging to Charles’ arm.

“‘S cold over here,” Pickles offered in explanation. He was pressed close all along the other man’s side, mouth closer to his ear in the darkness; his breath smelled of whiskey, cigarettes, and reefer. “‘Mglad you stayed, Charlie. Hotels fuckin’ suck . . . this is better, isn’t it?”

“Hm,” Charles hummed. All he really wanted to do was settle in and go back to sleep—although the warmth of a body next to his was nice. The hint of smoke was nice too, despite it having been years since he’d given it up himself. Lulling. Like a steady surf washing over him, pulling back, washing over him again. His eyes drifted closed and he felt himself relax, sinking into the mattress as far as the uneven springs would allow.

Then, a warm press of lips against his, so soft and tentative that at first he thought it was a dream—he often dreamed that way, slipping from real to unreal so quickly the change was imperceptible. And if it was a dream, why not kiss back? Charles let his lips part, turning into it, that warmth, placidly enjoying the gentle scratch of facial hair against his own clean shaven face.

It was the arm suddenly draped over him that gave him pause. That felt real, a solid palm splayed as near to the small of his back as it could get while he still lay mostly flat. A body leaning flush into his, silently crying out for closeness. Pickles.

Pickles tasted like a shot of Fireball in a dim, crowded bar.

Charles blinked his eyes open, breaking the kiss with a hand on the man’s shoulder. A client. A boss, if the band ever made it as big as he was determined to ensure they would. This was a huge breach in his personal code of professionalism.

“Charlie?” Pickles whispered, and it sounded so much like a plea (I want you, I need you, please don’t stop) that Charles gave his shoulder what hopefully came across as a reassuring squeeze.

“Pickles,” he murmured gently, “you’re drunk. I’m, ah, not sure this is a good—”

“I’m always drunk,” Pickles interrupted, mumbling petulantly.

True enough. Charles just hoped the fame and fortune would kick in before lover failure, for all the guys. Boys, really, playing around with their music and drugs and anyone they could get into bed with them. . . . Case in point.

He just wished he wasn’t so damn tired. Or at least that he was awake enough to handle this situation with the delicacy it deserved, because he hesitated, and sensed instinctively that Pickles noticed.

Still, he said, “Regardless, I don’t, ah, think this is a good idea.”

“So? Make a bad decision fer once, gahd.” Then Pickles kissed him again, throwing a leg over his manager for good measure and crowding into him once more with an urgent but surprisingly slow rhythm.

Charles had only known Pickles for several months—personally, anyway, but he wasn’t about to admit to being a Snakes N Barrels fan back in the day now—and had seen his usual approach to getting into someone’s pants. It usually involved lots of smiling, suggestive looks, wandering hands, and friendly offers to share whatever drugs he had on hand at the time.

Not once had he turned those attempts at charm towards Charles. He’d been insistent, stubbornly helpful, and . . . nervous. Even now, there was a fluttery quality to his grip, as though he expected to be pushed away more than anything else. Charles wasn’t very good at reading this sort of thing, and was only catching up on all this in retrospect, but Pickles seemed to be acting as though this actually mattered or something.

And Charles was tired, and it felt nice. Warm and comfortable. Pickles was drunk; maybe he wouldn’t remember by morning.

He let himself kiss back, and by the time he fell asleep again it was with an uncharacteristic smile on his face.

#metalocalypse #pickles/charles #chuckles #chickles #my fanfiction #earlyklok #charles foster offdensen #pickles the drummer

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meganshinsou-tm · 5 years

Text

Crimson|Ink. (m)

↳ chapter twelve: good boy

❧ genre: tattoo-shop/hitmen au | tattoo artist/hitman kirishima

❧ fic warning: major character(s) death; happy ending

❧ chapter warnings: alcohol/social drinking

❧ chapter song: Good Boy by GD X TAEYANG

♬crimson|ink playlist | ♧ character profiles

[multi-chap masterlist] [previous chapter - next chapter]

“Where the hell is (Y/N),” Sero whined when Kirishima and Bakugou walked into the loud club without you.

“She’s on her way, calm your tits,” Kirishima smiled as all the men greeted each other.

Bakugou smirked and elbowed Sero.

“Speaking of tits, our very own sweetheart got hers pierced today by yours truly!”

Deku was sitting at the bar behind the blonde and almost choked on his drink, Shouto chuckled and pat the green haired man's back gently. Everyone gathered around and asked how the session went. Kirishima took a spot by Deku and quickly ordered something extremely strong.

While Bakugou explained everything in precise detail, the red-head quickly chugged down the drink, hoping his own gulps could drown out Bakugou’s words. Deku turned in his seat and looked at Kiri, sympathy in his eyes.

“You know he’s only doing this shit to get a reaction out of you Red.”

Shrugging, Kirishima ordered another drink.

“The two of you are still on good terms right?” Deku asked before taking a drink of his beer.

“Of course ... but the closer I get to her the deeper I fall. I can’t think rationally anymore when she’s around. I don’t know what to do.”

Deku sighed and shook his head, “Why do you keep dragging this out and doing this to yourself Kiri, I think it’s very obvious that she’s quite smitten with you as well. I’d say your feelings are reciprocated.”

“I just still don’t know if its safe.”

“If something happened to her, would you save her, friend or girlfriend?”

Kirishima looked at Deku wildly when he asked the trick question.

“Of fucking course. If anyone even breathed the wrong way in her direction I’d lose it and snap every finger until they were apologizing. Deku, I’d die for her if it came down to it.”

“I know you would Red and you’re not the only one, she’s got the rest of us too. We’d all make sure that nothing ever happened to her, if by some chance someone slipped through our iron wills, then there will be a lot of bloodshed and a lot of finger nails pulled off until we got her back. She’s family, we protect our own and we help our own. Stop over-thinking shit and do something before someone else does.”

Kirishima smirked and nodded.

“Thanks man, before I tell her anything though, she has to know about us. I’m not dragging her into this life with me, not when she has a choice.”

Izuku hummed in reply, it was fair. He just hoped his friend wouldn’t prolong what his heart truly longed for, for too much longer.

As time went on, all the men started to drink together, branching off into their own conversations until someone would bring up something that they all had to voice their own opinions on. They truly did act like brothers, playfully fighting with each other when one would embarrass the other, sharing stories of their most recent ‘clients’ and what method they used to dispose of them. Denki and Deku’s eyes both sparkling and their mouths drooling over talks of their blade and torture device collections.

Kirishima wasn’t exactly ever ashamed of what he did, he knew he was a sort of anti-hero, but after spending a few days of doing nothing but cracking skulls, hearing screams and being drenched in blood that wasn’t his own, it was hard coming back to the shop to see you there. Pure, pristine, and so unaware that you were literally inside of a wolves den. Secrets weren’t Kiri’s favorite thing, in fact keeping all of this from you gnawed at him 24/7.

“Holy shit,” Denki suddenly shouted out before placing his fingers in his mouth and whistling loudly.

Kirishima looked up from his drink and turned around, his ruby eyes widening and his heart stopping briefly.

You were walking towards the group, that famous smile on your face that literally sparkled from the stud in your lip. A maroon body-con dress wrapped around your figure, catching every pliant and curvy shape of your frame, the neckline low and exposing your cleavage. A cropped black leather jacket covered your shoulders and arms, randoms straps hanging from it that the red-head wanted to grab hold of while he dragged you out of the club away from lustful eyes.

This was the first time any of the guys had seen you so dressed up and they were all showering you with compliments. Kiri loved the dress but hated the things it made him want to do.

Suddenly, purple hair peeked over your shoulder and all of Kiri’s arousing thoughts were dosed in freezing cold water.

“Sorry we took a little longer to get here, I couldn’t exactly decide what to wear,” you smiled while going around and giving everyone hugs and kisses and the purple thorn gave handshakes.

When you walked over to Kiri finally he looked at you from head to toe and chuckled.

“Even wearing heeled boots, you’re still such a little one huh?” He teased, your eyes level with his own while he sat on the stool.

“Fine, no hug and kiss for you then,” you replied and stuck out your tongue, quickly going to turn around.

“Get back here.”

Kirishima smirked and caught you by the hip, pulling your body between his knees and hugging it from behind. You hummed and melted into his chest, face turning and nuzzling his own with a smile. He could smell the lotion you used, taking in deeper inhales of it and his arms tightening as he did.

“I’m shocked you can even walk, usually you get paralyzed from the cold like some fucking reptile. You’re not freezing in this,” he asked genuinely.

Before you could reply Hitoshi leaned back from his seat on the opposite side of Deku to where he could see the both of you and smiled smugly.

“Don’t worry rock-head, I kept my girl nice and warm.”

Your eyes cut at Hitoshi and he cackled, holding his hands up in surrender and returning to his chat with Denki. Once again, Kiri’s hold on you tightened more and you chuckled.

“You didn’t mention that he was back in town,” Kiri mumbled into your shoulder, a pout on his face.

“Eijirou calm down. If it wasn’t so easy to get you riled up or make you jealous, no one would fuck with you.”

“It’s not easy and I’m not jealous,” Kiri huffed out and turned his face, cheek resting on your shoulder.

“Oh it’s not? Well then you won’t mind if I go talk with Katsu - ah.”

Kirishima tightened like a bear trap, fully pulling your entire body into his own like he was a child not wanting to share his favorite toy. You giggled and brought a hand up to pat his spiky red hair, neck craning sideways so you could place a warm peck to his forehead.

“Whatever you say Ei.”

The red-head smiled and continued holding you close to him for the next ten minutes as everyone fell back into conversations. You and him in your own world for the most part, playing red-hands and dealing each other trash talk. Suddenly your fun game was interrupted when Denki jumped up on the bar and started to light up with electricity.

“Who wants some fucking shots!”

After everyone took multiple rounds of shots together, Kiri pulled you away and decided to have you cut off from them for the rest of the night. You weren’t getting sloppy or anything but he could tell you weren’t enjoying yourself, if anything it looked like you were starting to get sick and he asked the bartender for some water and a snack to try and make you feel better.

You were compliant and very thankful, sitting in his lap and eating your fries with water. After a few minutes Kiri felt your face, the flush in your cheeks was dissipating and your temperature was normalizing.

“You feeling better?” Kiri asked and wiped a crumb from the corner of your mouth.

“Mhm, was is that obvious that I was getting a little queasy there?”

“Just a little. I know the guys can go pretty hard. I can appreciate you trying to keep up but if it's going to make you sick and miserable I rather not let you continue. You know you don’t always have to take everything as a challenge little one. No one is going to give you shit about not drinking.”

You smiled and laid back into Kiri’s chest, head resting on his shoulder. He smiled back and turned his face to place a kiss to your temple.

“I know that Ei. Thank you for taking care of me. I’m sorry if I’m interrupting your time with the guys or being a bummer.”

“Not at all little one.”

You finished your water and snack. There was a hand pulling on your own that wasn’t Kirishima’s and you looked up to see Denki standing there with a smile.

“If you’re not going to drink with me you have to at least dance with me.”

Your head turned to look at Kiri, he smirked and let go of your body, watching as you and Denki eagerly bolted to the dance floor together and wasted no time falling in tune with the music playing. Another hour or so passed and you’d drag each man out to dance with you one by one, even Shouto. At the moment, Hitoshi was the lucky guy dancing with you. Kiri stayed sitting at the bar and glanced over every now and then.

Ever since the two first met the red-head knew Hitoshi wasn’t his biggest fan, in fact the tired eyed guy made it very clear he wasn’t. In a way Kirishima respected Hitoshi and how he never budged when it came to defending you. He was glad you had such a caring friend but Kiri was always green with envy when you’d chime over the guy coming over for a few nights. You and Hitoshi acted just like you and Bakugou, but it was worse. Kiri never thought he’d meet a guy more cocky and smug than his friend but he was so wrong.

The smirks and petty remarks Hitoshi would make towards Kiri drove him up a wall. It's like it was Hitoshi’s life purpose to just aggravate the fuck out of him. If it were anyone else Kirishima would’ve beat the guy within an inch of his life a long time ago, but Hitoshi was your best friend and apparently your only family and Kirishima would be damned to come between that and make you feel like you had to choose sides. For you, Kirishima would suffer the wrath of your best friend forever.

Finally the song playing came to an end and there was a tap on Kiri’s shoulder as he took a sip of his drink. He smirked and turned to you, immediately crawling back up and onto his lap. You asked for a water and sunk back into Kiri’s chest.

“Either those shots really fucked me up or I’m really out of shape, all I know is I’m dying of thirst.”

Hitoshi chuckled and kissed the top of your head.

“I of all people would know you’re definitely not out of shape kitten. You’re just a lightweight.”

You smirked and pushed Hitoshi away towards the others. Kirishima’s red eyes watching him as he smiled smugly at him. Once your water came you downed it and sighed with content. Kiri wrapped an arm around you and brought a hand up, his knuckles feeling your cheek and forehead that were somewhat warm.

“How are you feeling little one?”

You melted more into his body and hummed. “I’m fine Eijirou, but if I stay like this much longer I can’t promise I won’t pass out so we should go dance.”

“(Y/N) if you’re tired then don’t push yourself, I can - “

Your hand came up and wrapped around the side of Kirishima’s neck, head falling back on his chest.

“Eijirou I said I’m fine, now do you want to dance with me or not?”

“Well yeah but -”

Before he could finish you were sliding out of his lap and tugging on his hand, making Kiri grunt from being dragged. You grinned back at him, leading him straight into the mass of bodies and loud bump of the bass and wasted no time as you pressed yourself back against his chest.

Kirishima didn’t move much, his ears trying to pick up the song that was playing. It was slow and moody, your hips rolled back into his, body melting and leaving virtually no space in between the two of you as you molded to him. Your head fell back onto his chest, hair squishing up against it and your eyes glimmering up at him.

Kirishima smirked down at you, his hands coming to rest on your hips and guide as you both swayed and slowly grinded. He could feel the hum rippling up from your body and out past your lips. Once your hips both started to roll in sync, your hand came up and wrapped around the back of Kirishima’s neck, his face lowering and nose brushing along your cheek to kiss it. You purred at his touch and how he controlled the slow and heavy moves.

The scent of your lotion was overwhelming as your body temperature rose and made it permeate in the air. Your face turned and kissed his cheek while he keep nuzzling your face, jaw and neck. He couldn’t help the strained breath that left his own mouth from listening to you sweetly singing along to the song as if you were telling him your exact thoughts, your breath hitching each time the tip of his teeth grazed a certain spot on your skin.

Kirishima let a hand wander from one of your hips. His fingertip lingered all over your neck and collarbone, causing it to breakout with chills and goosebumps, the touch feather light on your heated skin. Kirishima chuckled upon hearing you whimper and your voice falter as it sung. His lips kissed your cheek again before his teeth dragged across it and nipped, hand sliding down between your breasts, stomach and back to your hip. Kiri’s red eyes scanned the room and saw that the two of you had somehow made it further off the floor with your dancing and almost into a secluded corner.

“Eijirou,” you whined and pressed your hips deeper into his.

He growled and turned you around to face him.

All the grinding, the teasing, the warm air and your sounds were gnawing at Kirishima and he decided to finally give into them and give into you.

He still held you close until you were backed up against a wall, a satisfied noise dripping from your smirking lips at the rough push. Kiri smirked and trapped your head between his strong tattooed arms, eyes looking down and taking in how your chest rose and fell with your breathing and how flushed all your visible skin was. He lowered his head, your hands flattening on his chest as he kissed teasingly under your chin.

“What is it,” he asked with a husky voice, his nose running up your jaw and face until your own brushed with his and your mouths were breathing into the others.

“W-want,” you breathed out as his sharp teeth took your bottom lip and tugged, “mmm I want -“

He hummed in response and kissed the corner of your mouth, bringing in his body closer to yours and pinning it down against the wall. His arms still trapping you and his lips trailing more kisses down your cheek and towards your ear, each feeling like a match trying to strike into a full flame but barely achieving it. Suddenly there was a hand hooking under your knee and hiking it up to wrap around Kirishima’s waist, earning you a growl.

“Want what my little one?”

Your heart erratically thumped harder in its cage from Kiri subtly adding that claiming word to the pet name - your pet name.

Furiously your lips pouted with a drawn out whimper and you felt like you literally melted on the wall.

“... you.”

Red eyes stared down on you and you could hear the sound of Kiri’s hardened fingertips digging into the wall.

“Are you sure about that?”

You looked back up at him, eyes soft and pleading, begging. Your hand snaked up from his chest and wrapped around the side of his neck, thumb brushing the sharp jawline you gawked at so much and pulled him closer again.

“Please Eijirou.”

“Fuck,” the red-head huffed out before his lips were crashing with your own.

Finally the match inside of you was struck into a full flame and it engulfed you entirely. Neither of you were merciful or gentle with your kisses and touches. You were starving for each other and trying to get as full as you could.

Soon your feet were no longer on the ground at all, Kirishima hoisted you up and wrapped your other leg around him letting his body press yours even more into the wall. The end of your dress was riding up and allowing more skin for his massive hands to grab and squeeze.

Kiri was drowning in your panting between kisses, the soft purrs and mewls that would drip from your mouth and into his as his tongue controlled your own but with a tenderness. He finally broke the hot kisses and your tongue cleaned his lips of saliva.

There was a cursed and sultry smile on your face, head leaning back against the grimy wall and exposing fresh untainted skin all for him to mark. It was so beautiful to Kirishima though, how the majority of your skin was devoid of ink unlike his own, so clean and perfect.

He didn’t want to tarnish it just yet, instead he leaned forward and showered your throat in kisses and soft dragged out licks. He chuckled and his warm breath against the wet spots had you shuddering and becoming a soft moaning mess in his hold. The red-head smirked dangerously, pushing your dress up more, his hands grabbing handfuls of your ass and giving him more leverage to grind into you, earning a rough tug to his hair and cute moan from your mouth.

“Eij,” you whined out, “Mmm, mouth - kiss.”

Kirishima softly laughed as you tried your best to function, it was adorable.

One of his hands came up and cupped the side of your neck, face moving close so he could grant your wish and start to kiss you again. The two of you were so lost in each other, finally giving in and savoring every bit of it. The way your lips tasted and perfectly melded together, the way Kiri held you so close and his fingertips dug into your pliant flesh. You were so fucking soft and sweet and Kiri was becoming addicted rather quickly. He’d groan and pant when your own teeth nipped at his lip or your tongue tried to wrestle his own, showing off that spitfire attitude he loved so much.

“Yo, get a fucking room, damn,” Sero yelled out from the bar.

You and Kirishima hesitantly paused your heated make-out session, both turning your heads to look and see that the whole gang was in eyesight and watching with shit-eating grins on their faces, Denki giving two thumbs up. Bakugou was staring as well, a cocky smirk on his face and arms crossed as he leaned against the bar.

“Eijirou,” you softly purred while kissing under his jaw and bringing his attention back to you.

He chuckled, trying to hide the shudder that ran down his spine when your tongue tasted his neck.

“You know, I’m surprised,” he breathed out while you continued to abuse his skin with licks and bites.

“Surprised about what Ei?”

“That Blasty over there hasn’t tried to come over here and take you away from me,” he replied.

You paused to lean your head back against the wall and look at Kirishima with a smirk, he smirked back and leaned in closer teasing your lips with his own and making butterflies flutter in your stomach, eliciting a moan.

“Why - fuck, why w-would he,” you stuttered, letting Kiri lick the corners of your mouth and kept up with his teasing, making your thighs squeeze tightly around his waist.

Kirishima quirked a red brow and shrugged before his hips were grinding into you again harshly, making you bounce lightly against the wall and his own body with a groan.

“You know how he is when someone encroaches on his territory, especially me.”

“H-hold up,” you grunted and stopped Kiri’s mouth with your finger, pushing his face away to fully look at him. “What are you talking about - his territory, you know we aren’t a thing right?”

Kirishima nodded and took your hand, “I know that little one.”

“Okay, so why would you say that?”

“(Y/N), it was a joke.”

You looked away, fist clenching as Kirishima held it.

“Yeah? Well it wasn’t a very good joke,” you sighed and squirmed slightly, “Let me down.”

Kirishima blinked at you and shook his head, “Wha - no! Look, I’m sorry I did -”

“Now Kiri!”

Immediately Kirishima nodded and gently helped you stand on your own two feet again but he hesitated in backing away from you, his hand still holding yours and not wanting to let go.

“(Y/N), I honestly was just joking, it’s nothing to get pissy about.”

Your eyes narrowed at the massive tattooed red-head, a finger from your free hand quickly coming up and poking his chest.

“For your fucking information Kirishima, I don’t belong to anyone, I’m not anyone’s territory, I’m not anyone’s claim, I’m not anyone’s girl! Just because me and Katsuki flirt, or me and anyone else in that fucking shop, doesn’t mean I’m theirs. And what does it matter to you anyway if I get attention from someone else huh? Is there something you want to tell me maybe?”

Kirishima swallowed thickly as you put him on the spot, his heart stopping and brain trying to figure out how to reply. This wasn’t the time nor the place for him to confess to you, hell, he still wasn’t even sure if he wanted to.

There was a look in your eyes though, even if you were chewing him out, there was some sort of sick hope in those cursed (e/c) hues that maybe he’d reply with something you wanted to hear.

Kiri sighed and lowered your hand, finally but slowly letting it fall from his own. Your hand didn’t entirely leave his though, giving him one last chance to come to his senses, which he almost did. His index finger stretched out wanting so badly to hook around your own but it didn’t. You clicked your tongue and lightly swatted his hand away before brushing past him, hiding your face and sniffling.

“That’s what I fucking thought.”

Kirishima sighed and hung his head low as you walked away, his own fist clenching and teeth baring. At the bar Sero let out a curse when he saw you beelining for the exit, he went to go after you but Bakugou was already on it and halfway to you. Sero groaned, rubbing the side of his neck and he leaned back against the bar, watching Kirishima make his way to them.

“Dude what happened,” Sero questioned.

Shaking his head, Kiri took a seat between Hitoshi and Denki. The lavenderette beside him chuckled after taking a drink of his beer and twirled the bottle around on its edges.

“He fucked up, that’s what happened.”

Red eyes cut at Hitoshi and Denki tried to keep from snorting.

“Why the fuck are you even here?” Kirishima snarled.

“Whoa Red, calm down,” Sero interrupted and walked up behind his friend to squeeze his shoulder.

Hitoshi only grinned in a way that had Kirishima’s blood boiling, he really didn’t like this dude.

“Well something in my head just screamed that you were going to fuck up tonight and that I couldn’t miss it, plus she begged me to come - she does that a lot actually, but in a different way you know.”

On the other side of Hitoshi, Deku spit up his drink and Denki was trembling from trying not to laugh. Hitoshi smirked and shrugged while he took another drink.

“They think I’m funny.”

While Kirishima was trying to keep his composure and not murder the man next to him, Bakugou had you stopped at the door of the club, his hand quickly shutting it before you could fully open it and escape. Your face stayed forward looking down and being hidden behind your hair.

“Where do you think you’re going princess.”

Your shoulders shrugged at the question, eyes still refusing to look at him, refusing to answer him but Bakugou knew exactly where you were going. He knew you were dead set on escaping the club, the guys, Kirishima, dead set on going home and probably crying your eyes out all over again over his idiotic friend and whatever he did this time. You were feeling like shit, he knew that and this time it was his turn to be there for you.

“You have three seconds to answer me before I make you.”

You let out a sigh and shook your head, hand pulling at the door handle and trying to pry it open under Bakugou’s strength but failing miserably and only causing you to become more aggravated.

“One ... two …”

“Katsu ... please, just let me go home,” you replied with a strained voice.

“Look at me.”

“Katsu -”

Bakugou groaned, “Don’t fucking ‘Katsu’ me, I said look at me dammit.”

You chortled, lifting a hand to wipe your nose, finally your face turned and looked at Bakugou. He didn’t bare any expression whatsoever, he was expecting this look. Eyes showing evidence of tears, wet in the corners, jaw clenched and lips flat from you trying to keep from frowning or smiling.

Bakugou turned his head to look over at the bar, Denki and Sero chuckling as Hitoshi seemed to be saying something to Kirishima whose back was to him.

“You feel like shit huh?”

Your eyes rolled and you moved, back slumping against the wall next to the door.

“Nothing gets past you,” you replied with dry sarcasm.

Bakugou smirked and placed himself before you. Your face was turned, looking away from him once again with arms crossed. The male placed a hand on the wall behind you, his other coming up and grabbing your chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning your head to look at him.

“Do you remember what I told you the last time you felt like shit?”

Your brow quirked, eyes searching his own crimson ones for the answer. You didn’t feel like thinking, didn’t feel like recalling how you felt the last time Kirishima managed to get to you so badly. With a sigh your shoulders shrugged.

“I don’t know, a lot of things. Uh - not to wallow alone, call one of you?”

Bakugou nodded. His fingers moved from your chin and his hand fully cupped the side of your face, the pad of his thumb brushing the corner of your eye and drying it. He leaned forward and kissed your cheek. Unconsciously, your face nuzzled his own, a sad sigh leaving your pouting lips.

“I also said that if you were still feeling like shit, I’d take real good care of you,” he spoke softly, lips still kissing your cheekbone and down to your jaw.

Your entire face tingled suddenly, eyes blinking. A genuine smile finally grew on your lips and Bakugou took advantage of it and kissed the corner of your mouth.

“That was weeks ago Katsu, are you telling me you have rollover minutes or something?”

Bakugou snickered, “If I do, would you be willing to accept the terms?”

“Oh man I don’t know, do I get unlimited talk, text and data?”

Bakugou nipped your cheek between his teeth, making you gasp.

“Nah, but you get my company,” he replied, removing his hand from the wall and dragging it down your side causing you to shudder as his fingers danced along your thigh before hooking underneath it and hiking it up around his waist.

“My body,” he spoke low with a husky tone and ground his hips into yours, causing a quiet grunt to evade your lips.

“And,” he started, fingers threading in your hair and tugging to pull your head back and make you look up even more at him. His lips kissed at the corner of your mouth again, “My mouth.”

You chuckled and grinned slyly.

“If all I get from your mouth is little bitch kisses like that then I don’t want it.”

The hand on your thigh dug its nails into your flesh, only making your grin grow wider.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head princess, you’ll get what you want from my mouth, I’ll have you reduced to absolutely fucking nothing but a trembling sweet little mess for me. But before I give your spoiled ass anything else, I need to hear you agree to it.”

Your eyes smiled and arms uncrossed, hands roaming the hard and broad chest that was pressing against your own. Your lips went to answer but Bakugou cut you off to state a final term.

“But - we do it my way. ”

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, red eyes watched it closely.

“What if I agree and you turn out to be a shitty kisser. That would really su - “

With a growl Bakugou silenced you, his lips collided with your own in a heated and prideful kiss. You hummed, he gave you exactly what you wanted, hands fisting in his shirt and pulling him closer.

To be honest you expected kissing Bakugou to be a literal fight of teeth and tongue but he shocked you. The second his lips had met yours, the grip he held in your hair loosened, palm falling and cupping your face again, thumb brushing your jaw. His other hand rubbed under your thigh with a softness as his body rolled into yours making you pant on his lips. His lips controlled your own skillfully and you didn’t bother putting up a fight with them, red eyes staring into your own warned you not to. Kissing Bakugou felt - right.

Once the kiss broke you were trying to chase his lips again, whimpering. He continued to kiss you but avoided your mouth just like before, each time you’d turn to catch his mouth he smoothly evaded you. You whined his name, eyes fluttering shut when his tongue teased the corner of your mouth before another kiss was trailing towards your ear and he whispered.

“Tell me princess. Do you want me to help you forget all about him - to take care of you?”

Your cheek nuzzled his own softly, hands coming up and combing through blonde unruly hair, teeth nipping at your cheek again possessively. The hand on your thigh moved to squeeze your ass roughly and knead it as he groaned. You sighed in the Bakugou’s ear, pressing your body to his, wanting and needy. In the background there was a grungy Marilyn Manson song playing that made you grin and feel filthy suddenly. Your tongue slipped out and licked up his own cheek before biting it in return then tugging on his flesh.

“Yes, Katsu, please. Just kiss me again.”

The blonde chuckled and granted your wish but the kiss was short making you pout when he pulled away and looked at your face.

“I told you, you’re spoiled. From now on, you have to earn the things you want, like a good little girl, got it?” Bakugou spoke with a teasing tone and smile.

“Bullshit.”

Bakugou shook his head and lowered your leg, ��You agreed princess, my way. Now go tell mind-fuck over there you’re coming home with me tonight and let’s go.”

You smiled and stood on the tips of your toes to kiss the blondes cheek, “Yes sir - and thank you Katsu ... I know you’ll take good care of me.”

Before you started to walk away Bakugou grabbed your elbow and pulled you back against his body, hand cupping your throat and lips finding yours once again. You couldn’t help the smile that grew as you kissed back, body melting yet again and hand resting on his shoulder. When the kiss broke, Bakugou tugged your lip between his teeth and let a hand snake down your back to squeeze your ass, making you giggle.

“Didn’t you say I needed to earn those?”

Bakugou smirked and draped his arm over your shoulder, walking you both back to the bar, “Consider it an add on item for your rollover minutes.”

You elbowed the blonde with a laugh and applauded his humor. The two of you made it back to all the guys, ignoring the looks they gave. Bakugou started to say his goodbyes to Shouto and Deku while you made it over to Hitoshi.

He grinned at you while shaking his head and you stood between his legs. His hand came up to brush a strand of hair out of your face before kissing your cheek.

“I’d give you a proper kiss but I don’t feel like indirectly kissing Rockhead and Blasty.”

You chuckled and cupped Hitoshi’s face while kissing his cheek and giving each other a hug.

“You have a key right,” you asked your friend.

He nodded.

“Yes kitten. Go do your thing, don’t worry about me being lonely in bed tonight.”

“Wanna have a sleepover?” Denki suddenly popped his head between the two of you.

While you laughed and kissed Denki’s forehead, Kirishima watched and listened from his own spot. Blood boiling over in his veins and jaw clenched. His eyes cut from you to Bakugou who was talking to Sero, catching his own eyes. The blonde smirked at him and squeezed Sero’s shoulder before walking up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist in a greedy manner, dragging your body away.

“But I didn’t get to tell my Deku goodnight!” You whined and reached out for the freckled faced man.

He chuckled and jogged to you, Bakugou stopped long enough for you both to peck the other’s cheek. He then tossed you over his shoulder and smacked your ass again.

“We’ll see those fucking extras tomorrow. You’re mine for the rest of the night,” he stated while walking towards the door with you.

The group watched as you both left. Kirishima sighed, feeling his heart sink deep down into his gut. Hitoshi glanced at him and clicked his tongue as he turned back around to face the bar.

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

The red-head turned around as well and flagged down the bartender yet again then nodded.

“I know.”

#crimson ink #kirishima eijirou x reader #tattoo shop au #hitman au #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader #slow burn #enemies to lovers #bnha writing #mha writing #angst #eventual smut

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peremadeleine · 5 years

Text

The Empathetic Dog Thief, Episode 1

Alternative titles: “Will: Deer Hunter and Dog Dad,” “Crimes Against Costuming,” “What Year Is It: A Crime Drama”

Armed with a gin & tonic and one sleepy cat, I finally gave the NBC show another shot.

I didn’t know Will had a superpower. Cool...?

How come he’s play-acting the murderer, though? Just because he can think like a killer doesn’t mean he needs to be reenacting it himself. That’s just confusing for the audience?? The way they did it in the Red Dragon movie was still effective without coming off as “aw, Will’s playing serial killer”

“This is my design” what

Plaid shirt and striped tie, truly a costuming sin. I didn’t love Will’s “modern wild west” costume vibes in Red Dragon, but it was better than this.

Don’t pretend that Jack and Will don’t know each other. Hate that.

Do look forward to hearing how many different ways people can pronounce “Graham” though.

Oh boy, why does Crawford push Will’s glasses up on his face while murmuring “hey” softly like a lover?? They’re strangers. That was mighty uncomfortable.

is he just assuming Will is on the spectrum? Right after they met???

and then Will confirms, but wait, he just has an “active imagination”?

STAY IN YOUR LANE

at least in canon Crawford doesn’t take advantage of people on the gd spectrum, and he spins it as being for the good of the victims. jfc.

“based on the characters by Thomas Harris”

Of course all the victims in the first episode are going to be women

“it’s not about all of these girls, it’s about one of them”--seven minutes in and they’re already ripping off Silence.

“he’s like Willy Wonka. every girl he takes is a candy bar.” no. nO.

“I mean, I would. Wouldn’t you?” no Will, Crawford’s a douchebag, not a murderous psychopath.

8 minutes in, me: WHERE’S THE TITLE CHARACTER THIS IS B O R I N G

“Why is it now a crime scene?” Because Will says so and he��s his own forensic team, apparently. Next question.

Also apparently he only owns red plaid-print shirts. Huh.

Lol Will has empathy for everyone but a grieving father confronted with his daughter’s dead body???

I don’t like the way Crawford is speaking to Will one bit. It’s supposed to be sensitive, but it comes off as condescending and mollycoddling. Ew. That is SO not Jack Crawford.

"You wrote the standard monograph on time of death by insect activity"?!?

so Will IS his own forensic team. Weird flex, but okay.

Antler velvet. Christ, HERE WE GO.

“You not real FBI?” Rip-off of Silence #2!

“You unstable?” Stop coming at Will, Jesus!

Will is a serial dognapper. SIX DOGS. Maybe, maybe, people in this neighborhood are missing their gd dogs, you monster.

none of them are even UGLY dogs

Will’s also drinking tho. One point for Gryffindor.

Oh, another plaid shirt. At least this one’s got a nice pattern. And isn’t red.

The bathroom is painted red, tho. What is it with Fuller and red walls?

Hugh Dancy’s American accent slips when he tries to like...emote. Yikes.

Strangulation is neither quick nor merciful.

A forensic specialist who wears her long-ass dark hair loose down her back and shoulders in the lab should be FIRED.

Implied “we covet what we see every day” scene: Silence Rip-Off #3

nineteen minutes in, me: W H E R E I S H A N N I B A L this is false marketing

Okay, I actually kind of like the “okay, I can cover him 80%” scene. Crawford’s real good at fucking up people’s lives in order to save lives.

twenty-one minutes in, me: HANNIBAL’S HERE THANK CHRIST

will probably regret this thought later

it’s okay, Hans. I, too, hate the career choices that have led me to this point.

the fact that he has tissues by HIS chair in his office is fuckin’ hilarious, what a douche, I love him

same, tho

The costumes and sets and cars are all screaming 70s/80s. But smartphones!

I’m watching this pretty late so my volume is a bit low and I cannot understand 70% of Hannibal’s dialogue, uh oh

Hannibal is supposed to be short so I don’t think this little “oh Crawford confused the short weepy patient with Hannibal” bit is that cute...I’ve always felt like Mads was poorly cast for that reason, among others. Oh well.

I take it all back:

HIS FACE

“No secretary?” “She was predisposed to romantic whims.” Not sure whether I like this line because Hannibal’s the one acting on whimsy or if it makes me cringe because of the way they’re dismissing Hannibal’s former secretary. Hmm.

“Are these yours, doctor?” a) Duh and b) Silence Rip-Off #4

Why the fuck does Crawford think he can just examine Hannibal’s papers? Like?????????

no wonder he hates your rude ass, Jack

HANNIBAL WHY IS WOUND MAN LYING ON YOUR DESK YOU PRECIOUS IDIOT

“Very interesting, even for a layman” Wow, unexpected Red Dragon rip-off (by the Red Dragon adaptation) #1

this whole scene is made of cringe HELP

why is Hannibal dressed in his Easter Sunday suit

Tattlecrimes.com. I’M SPEECHLESS at the stupidity of that.

tabloids are, in fact, still a thing in the Year of Our Lord 2013

No way is Hannibal fucking Lecter going to drink the swill that probably is Jack Crawford’s coffee, as if.

“Not fond of eye contact, are you?” Yes, Hannibal is the only character who should be canonically coming at anyone like this. (But also poor Will.)

But Will, at least look in his direction while he’s talking to you? I also don’t love eye contact...it’s rude not to even look at a person, though.

Hannibal finally used a contraction! He’s human after all. (This is a common Fanfic-Writing-of-Hannibal problem. I used to have it, too. You think to emulate him you have to write lofty, staid dialogue. But we’re talking about Hannibal the Punmaster General here.)

“This cannibal you have him getting to know” I’m sorry, who said anything about cannibals???

Stop incriminating yourself Hannibal honestly

Wait, is the implication that the victim whose lungs were taken is Hannibal’s? I hope not, because what would he be doing in Minnesota, and since when did Hannibal cut people up alive (Krendler notwithstanding--he’s a special case), especially women????? He’s a Monster(TM), but not a fucking sadist.

Will’s wardrobe also contains gingham!

no really, when did they determine that the serial killer was a cannibal?? did I sleep through that part?

“have Dr. Lecter draw up a psychological profile” bitch, please. Dr. Lecter doesn’t work for Crawford.

I don’t like hearing/watching people eat, especially in quiet moments. That’s going to become a problem in this show, isn’t it?

Will’s dream dear is fucking awful CGI. Wow.

That brown blazer--Hannibal would never.

EVERYTHING about Hannibal that should be black--his clothes and his hair--is brown here. It’s...weird.

to quote @random-emerald-thoughts, “my homocidal boy aint about that tawny bullshit”

Hannibal Lecter: food snob--that’s canon.

Don’t like this dialogue, though. And Hannibal bringing anyone he just met food in glorified Tupperware rings very false.

“Uncle Jack” what the fuck

Wow, Fuller jumped directly into the teacup thing right from the start. Yikes. He clearly didn’t understand it. (Clarice isn’t the teacup, bro. The teacup represents time, and disorder, and will it ever be reversed?)

Lots of weird metaphors in this episode overall, though none as bad as the Willy Wonka thing.

Why is Hannibal in Minnesota? Is he a crime-scene investigator now? Is he on the FBI payroll? Doesn’t he have patients with appointments to keep? Social obligations? I HAVE QUESTIONS.

He’s not a priss or a germaphobe. DISLIKE.

Do like the phone call. Just fuckin’ carelessly with people’s lives for the fun of it, that’s our Hannibal.

FBI? Are you FBI, Will?

He shouldn’t have been issued that sidearm if he can’t hold it steady.

One shot would have been plenty. Maybe two. Jfc, the reason Clarice shot Gumb so many times was because he was going to shoot her. Hobbs had a knife, which he dropped, and he was incapacitated by the first/second shot. Silence Rip-Off #5

How the fuck is he still alive and talking?! Will plugged him about eight times!

Call the police, Hannibal, or the ambulance, or take off your jacket and provide first aid to this girl. You’re a doctor!

It really is like he wants to be arrested or something.

And then he gets to ride in the ambulance?? Just Because?

Overall, it was...not very good, imo, poorly paced, very poorly written, with acting that jumped wildly from “very good” to “awful,” sometimes from the same actors. Intense cringe throughout a lot of the script. Ripped off Silence of the Lambs, a superior movie about many of the same characters, way too many times. Will is boring and I don’t care about him, but then I also don’t care about canon Will. And I still think Mads Mikkelsen was poorly cast as Hannibal...the costumes aren’t doing him any favors, either. We’ll see if he can bring me around.

Some moments of genuine humor that I appreciated, though, and some nods to the canon that I grudgingly appreciated, too, including Hannibal being a dick and Jack Crawford fucking up people’s lives.

Hopefully if you made it this far into my observations you got a kick out of them. I probably won’t go into this much detail for every episode, but I do intend to try to watch at least all of Season 1.

Painful as it might be.

#this is long you've been warned #and it's mostly snarky #but there are some concessions; I didn't hate EVERYTHING

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honeypiehotchner · 5 years

Text

Trust -- part twenty

Hello and welcome back! The hiatus is over now that finals week has passed and I am excited to get back to this story. Here’s a lovely part where shit hits the fan. You’re welcome xx.

It’s a strange thing how the most abnormal things can happen after something so normal.

Whenever a tragedy occurs, as someone is recounting the day, they never say they knew something was wrong. They never say they felt the universe was off that morning when they woke up. That’s not something they say, because no one ever knows. The day always starts off as completely normal.

Mary Josephine, she said it was a normal morning. She was having her morning tea and reading her morning scripture when Gidon broke into her home. She was probably having a normal day when he broke in and kidnapped her. She probably had a relatively normal life before he began to target her – the reason behind that being still unknown.

Things are normal. And then the rug is ripped out from underneath their feet. Without preparation or anticipation. In a flash, the tragedy happens.

While the rug wasn’t necessarily ripped out from beneath your feet, you still got the same feeling.

The day started normal. You woke up a little after nine because you and Sherlock hadn’t stayed up that late. After he had gotten over John’s interruption two days prior, he was pleasant. He played games with you and occasionally played the violin while you slept by the fire. Things had gone back to normal.

You came up to the boy’s flat where Sherlock had made breakfast – yes, Sherlock made breakfast for once – and the two of you ate in relative silence. Sherlock solved a few cases and texted Lestrade the information, none of them being worthy of his presence outside the flat. He played the violin while you read, and he noticed that your feet began twitching at certain points, like they were itching to dance around the floor. But you never stood up to dance. You didn’t appear to even notice your feet were moving on their own accord. You were too lost in the book you were reading to see Sherlock’s eyes studying you while he played. But Sherlock wanted you to dance. He just wasn’t sure if he should ask.

Like every other normal day, you retire to your flat to finish reading and let Sherlock experiment. You also needed to dance alone, but you wanted to finish the book first.

You were in the middle of reading the last chapter on your bed that night, trying to fall asleep because you weren’t planning on going out. It had been two days since you last went – yes, because you went out after Sherlock was sulking. You can feel your body itching for something, but you’ve been trying to distract yourself, hearing John’s words in your head.

“So, if we’re gonna kill him, it’d be better if you didn’t kill yourself in the process.”

A single buzz on the hardwood floor next to your mattress. The phone rattles. Only once.

There. Tonight. –GD

The blood drains from your face – and torso, all the way down to your toes – when you read the message, and you’re thankful John is staying at Mary’s tonight. Because you have no idea what could happen or what might happen. You just hope he never finds out, unless he has to.

In a way, this is good. You’re getting what you wanted. You went into this with the idea of finding Gidon and beating him at his game. You went into this thinking you were one step ahead. And if he’ll be there tonight, then that’s good. Mission accomplished, partly.

You know it’s a bad idea. But you also know he has Mary. And if there is a single chance that you can get to her and save her before he does…whatever it is he does, you need to take that chance. Not to mention if there’s a chance to get Gidon, then you need to take it.

You leave the book you were reading on your bed, slipping into your trainers. You remember your gun, placing it comfortably at your hip – or as comfortable as it can be; you still hate carrying the damn thing – before you head for your window. And then, for some strange reason, you turn around.

You turn around and exit your flat, going up the stairs to find Sherlock Holmes. This doesn’t feel normal at all, but the only thing you can think to do is to let him know. Even though you know he’s likely to follow you, or tell someone else (John, maybe), you still want to let him know.

A final goodbye. Though you hope it isn’t one.

You step into the living room, seeing him sitting in his chair, his eyes closed, his hands steepled at his chin. You sigh. He’s thinking. And there’s no way for you to break him out of that, so you don’t bother trying. Even though he’s thinking, you know he’ll hear you. And it’ll register soon enough.

“I’m going out,” you say, essentially to an empty room. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back. I just wanted to let you know. Goodnight.”

You turn and skip down the stairs, exiting through the main door and out onto the streets of London.

~~~

By the time your words register in Sherlock’s mind, you are too far gone. Hours have passed, and the fire in his fireplace has long burned out, leaving the room dark.

He practically flies to his laptop, logging on. You let him know you were going out. You never do. Well, you go out, but you never let him know first.

Something is different. Not different. Wrong. He can feel it. That stupid tugging in his chest.

When the location device on your phone shows that it is still here in Baker Street, Sherlock nearly screams in frustration. Of course, you’d leave your phone here. That’s exactly the type of behavior you’d exhibit. He was stupid to even try to check, but he was hoping this time would’ve been different. He grabs his phone, immediately dialing his older brother.

He doesn’t give Mycroft a chance to think before he begins speaking. “Where is she?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Y/N, where is she? I know you know where she is.” Sherlock isn’t an idiot and Mycroft isn’t either. Sherlock knows his brother knows exactly where you are because it’s unlike Mycroft to continue paying someone the way he has with you when they decide not to give him any information. You had to be doing something, but still something for his guilt to get the better of him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Where is she?”

“What is wrong, Sherlock?”

“She’s in danger.”

Mycroft rattles off the address and tells Sherlock he’ll phone Lestrade before he hangs up the call, but Mycroft has already phoned Lestrade. Fifteen minutes ago.

~~~

Lestrade and his team storm the building on one of the biggest drugs busts they’ve had in…years. All thanks to a tip from an anonymous phone call.

There hasn’t been anything nearly this exciting in a while, and Lestrade would be lying if he said he wasn’t planning to celebrate afterwards.

But that was before he stumbled upon you leaned against the wall next to a smashed window. Thankfully, it doesn’t look like you were used to smash the window, which was his first worry, but you still don’t look good.

He presses a button on his radio. “Send medics up to the second floor. Now.”

Lestrade kneels in front of you, shaking your shoulder. “Y/N,” he tries, hoping this isn’t as bad as last time. Last time was much worse. Last time you were almost gone. “Y/N,” he says again, glancing down at your arms. He sighs heavily at the sight.

The medics come up the stairs, but not without Sherlock Holmes running behind them, almost pushing them there.

Lestrade stands quickly, holding up his hands to block a very concerned Sherlock from getting to you. “You need to let the medics look at her, Sherlock.”

“I can’t look at her, too?” Sherlock nearly growls, moving Lestrade out of the way – which Lestrade expected to happen.

You hardly remember any of this, but the medics are checking you over, making sure you haven’t overdosed, and bringing you back to consciousness. You’re disoriented, but fine nonetheless.

Sherlock glances out the broken window with narrowed eyes, looking for any signs of where Gidon could’ve escaped. He easily could’ve jumped down onto the crates and ran off down the road. He’s probably long gone by now, so there’s no use in trying to run after him, especially not with the state you’re in.

“Can you tell us your name?”

“Y/N L/N,” you mumble out.

“What about the date?”

“Who the fuck knows.”

“That’s good enough,” Lestrade nods, knowing you never know what day it is anyway. He’s fishing in his jacket pocket for his phone, gaining the attention of Sherlock Holmes.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling her brother,” Lestrade replies like it’s obvious. “I’m putting the two of you in my car and we’re going to my office.”

~~~

John is sleeping – snoring, more like it, is what Mary thinks – soundly next to his fiancé when his phone vibrates rather loudly and insistently on the nightstand.

He blindly throws his hand over to the phone, answering the call without looking. “Hello?”

Mary wakes then, hearing John’s voice. She blinks her eyes open to see John on the phone, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Lestrade? What’s wrong?” His eyes widen. “You what?”

Startled, Mary places a hand on his arm, letting him know she’s there.

“Okay. For God’s sake, okay, I’ll be there.” He hangs up the phone, throwing the covers off of his body. Mary looks at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. As John is throwing on clothes, he says, “Lestrade has Y/N. He found her in a bloody drug den.”

“He what?”

“Yeah,” John tries to hide his anger, but he’s frustrated. He’s angry. Why the hell would you do this? After he talked to you? He knew something was up. He suspected this. He should’ve stayed with you.

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“No, no you have to work. I need to talk to her about this alone.” He pauses, leaning over the bed to give her a kiss. “But thank you.”

“Don’t be too hard on her,” Mary reminds him softly.

He just gives her a look as he leaves, unsure of how he’ll be able to stay true to that.

~~~

In Lestrade’s office, Sherlock is pacing while Lestrade handles a few things on his computer – but he’s mostly trying to get Sherlock to stop pacing.

You’re laying on the floor, Sherlock’s coat folded under your head as a pillow. You’re glad Lestrade can’t get Sherlock to stop pacing because – oddly enough – the sound of his constant footsteps is soothing to your mind as you try to remember the details of the night.

You get nowhere, only remembering what happened before you left the flat. That’s bad…you don’t remembering getting to the drug den. You smirk, your eyes still closed. Drug den. Why do people call it that? It’s a funny name.

“Where is she?”

Is that John?

“Lestrade, where is she?”

That’s Johnny.

Wait.

Oh no.

Lestrade gestures to the floor where you’re lying, your head gently resting on…Sherlock’s coat. John would recognize the coat anywhere because Sherlock never wears anything different – and he’s not wearing it right now. But when John sees you lying there, your eyes closed, ankles crossed over one another, hands clasped over your stomach, his anger melts away. At least for the moment.

John ignores Lestrade when he says the medics have already looked you over and cleared you, moving to kneel next to you on the floor.

“Hey,” he nudges your shoulder, glad to see your eyes open almost immediately. “Can you sit up for me?”

You obey, looking him in the eyes. “Johnny?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he looks back and forth between your eyes, checking your pulse as well.

“I’m fine, Johnny, you didn’t need to…stop your date with Mary.”

He hums, placing a hand in between your shoulder blades. “We’re going to talk about this.”

“I’m tired. Can we talk later?”

He gives you a look and doesn’t have a chance to react before you’ve laid back down, curling into a ball, both hands cradling Sherlock’s coat. Sherlock’s coat. Sherlock was at the flat with you. Sherlock was there.

A newfound anger is bubbling in John’s chest as he stands, facing Sherlock who has now stopped pacing. Lestrade sees the scene that’s about to unfold, and would rather it didn’t in his office, so he rounds his desk and begins speaking.

“There’s no charges to worry about. Mycroft gave her a pardon,” Lestrade speaks slowly, turning to John. “Wait until you get back to Baker Street before you start yelling, please? I’ve got too much paperwork to do already.”

John clenches his jaw, but honors Lestrade’s request.

~~~

John barely waits until the door to 221B has closed behind the three of you before he begins raging.

“Why didn’t you follow her?” He nearly shoves Sherlock in the chest. “You follow everyone every-bloody-where, why didn’t you follow her?”

“He was thinking,” you offer, not really meaning to throw Sherlock under the bus even more, but you are. You lie down on the couch, wrapping Sherlock’s coat tighter around your shoulders.

“You bloody machine, you—You were thinking, so you didn’t know she left?”

“I knew she left, but it was too late. John, I—”

“You knew, you—” John takes a deep breath. “This is your fault.”

That gets your attention, causing you to sit up off the couch rather abruptly. “Wait, no it’s not.”

John turns to you with wide eyes. “I don’t wanna hear a word from you right now.”

“Oh, calm down,” you stand up with a roll of your eyes, tugging on the corners of Sherlock’s coat. “It’s not his fault.”

“And how is this not his fault?”

“Because in case you haven’t noticed, I’m an adult.”

“You’re right, I haven’t noticed because you’ve been acting like a child.”

“Rude,” you furrow your eyebrows. “But I have two legs and a brain. I walked myself there on my own decision. Sherlock had nothing to do with that.”

“He was here with you.”

“In spirit, yes, but he wasn’t really here.”

“And that’s the problem—!”

“That’s not the problem,” you cut him off. “The problem is—I don’t know what the problem is. What’s the problem?”

John levels his expression, his glare turning deadly. “Lay down.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Go to sleep. You’re sleeping up here. And we’ll discuss this when you’re not high.”

“Fine,” you grumble, lying back down on the couch. “But you’ll have to stop yelling. I can’t sleep when you do.”

John gives you another look, but you don’t see because you’ve already closed your eyes. Sherlock smirks, but quickly wipes it away when John turns to look at him. With a heavy, annoyed sigh, John settles into his chair.

Sherlock, with almost no hesitation, picks up his violin and begins playing the piece he’s been composing with you in mind.

#Trust #sherlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #john watson #greg lestrade #mycroft holmes #shit hit the fan #and i'm so sorry #angst #drama #you know i had to add some angst in here #it was inevitable

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the-everlasting-dream · 5 years

Text

The Revelation, TRR AU - Part 16

Summary: Elizabeth, Liam and Drake come face to face for the first time in months at Olivia’s ball.

A/N: Welp I’m trying to finish this gd series so here’s another chapter. Hope you like it.

Word Count: 4000 approx

Warnings: Language,

Drake shifted uncomfortably in the limo as it sped down the highway. They’d been in the car for two hours and were due to be stuck inside for yet another hour on the trip to Lythikos for the Ice Festival. As much as he’d tried to resist, Olivia had insisted his presence was mandatory. He sighed internally not knowing when that she-devil would stop ordering them around and leave him in peace. He glanced up to where Elizabeth’s eyes were already on him already from across the car and he gave her a cheeky wink to which she fought to hide her grin, breaking their eye contact, a slight blush forming on her tanned skin.

Their first date was a few days ago and while it didn’t exactly go as he’d hoped, Drake couldn’t complain. He was just beginning to realise that romancing Elizabeth after her brain injury was much different to romancing her before. He was learning that she still needed a lot of time and space to process things and infringing that only ended up with a bad reaction. Despite every urge in him to just grab her and kiss the life out of her, Drake knew he should be patient and let her come to her own conclusions in her own time.

It was difficult, testing the length and breadth of his patience to take it slow when all he wanted was to gather up the woman he loved and kiss her until he could kiss no more. As frustrating as that was, he knew it would be worth the wait, she always was. He only hoped that they'd get to spend sometime together amid the winter festivities and hopefully talk about what had happened.

Guilt still sat in the pit of his stomach when he thought about the whole Kiara fiasco that was still weighing it's constant presence on the back of his mind and he knew he should tell her soon... but things were finally going well for him and Elizabeth for once. If he told her now, he risked everything they’d rebuilt and it would drive her further from her and maybe this time, she wouldn’t come back. After all there were only so many times he could be lucky right? I’ll tell her after this weekend, he resolved, settling back into his seat. If everything goes well.

The thought occurred to him again when they were all gathered for the opening of the Lythikos ice festival. He found himself standing in the courtyard, surrounded by his friends and the people of the duchy as they watched the fire lighting race.

‘You okay?’ Drake asked, looking over at Elizabeth who stood beside him, wrapped in a thick coat, clutching her mug.

She nodded but he could hear her teeth chattering so he slipped off the shearling lined leather jacket he was wearing and draped it over her shoulders. She looked up at him in confusion. ‘What about you? Aren’t you cold?’

He shrugged, glancing over to see that her mug was empty. ‘I’ll be fine. I’m going to see about getting you a refill.’

Elizabeth nodded again, pulling his jacket closer around her and when she looked visibly warmer, he set off on towards the drinks stand. Along the way, distracted by the winner of the fire lighting race begin announced, Drake didn’t realise as he ran into someone, almost knocking them over.

‘Pardon m-Oh!'

Drake found himself staring into the eyes of Kiara herself, the sight of her immediately inducing the feelings of guilt and shame all over again. The two of them stared at each other awkwardly for a moment, not knowing what to say because what could they say? They’d avoided each other for the last few months and although Kiara didn’t have anything to do with Elizabeth’s accident, he could tell she was still beating herself up for it. It had occurred to him that he should find her and tell her that none of this was her fault, that it was him and only him that was responsible for the mess they were all in but the selfish part of him, the real dark, ugly side wanted someone to blame, wanted someone to yell at so that he wouldn’t have to face the core truth that he’d fucked up. An apology was forming on his lips when Kiara beat him to it.

'I heard Elizabeth is back..' She finally spoke up, voice unreadable, eyes flitting around like she didn’t know where to rest them..

Drake blinked. 'Yeah... yeah she is.'

‘C’est bien, that's good I suppose.'

'Mhmm.'

Another silence stretched out between them completely separate from the festivities that unfolded around them. He couldn't bring himself to look at her, her face was a constant reminder of all he was hiding.

'Have you told her?'

There was no need to define what she meant. And yet his tongue failed to move, feeling like lead in his mouth, heavy with the weight of an answer he didn’t want to voice out loud.

‘Drake, does she know?’ Kiara’s voice pierced through his brain almost painfully, notes of desperation, she needed this almost as much as he did. He dragged his eyes up to her anxious ones, her gaze revealing the answer before his mouth ever could.

‘No.'

‘Know what?’

Shock rippled through his body and the hair on the back of his neck stood upright as Drake turned to see Elizabeth approaching. The pool of guilt bubbling in belly had grown until it was brimming in the back of his throat, constructing his airways slowly but sure and he fought hard to swallow under Elizabeth's gaze. How much of that had she heard?

‘Know who I am,’ Kiara replied like the diplomat she was her expression sweetening so quickly he could barely keep up. ‘Do you remember?’

Elizabeth’s forehead creased for a moment in thought and the apprehension that was twisting in his gut only grew until- ‘You were one of the suitors for Prince Liam — King Liam’s hand. Kiara?’

Her small smile spread to Kiara’s face. ‘Thats right.’

‘Were we… were we close?’

Even Kiara’s diplomacy training couldn’t hide the tiny shift in her facade where if he had not been paying attention, Drake would have missed the guilty look.

‘Not really…. Enjoy the rest of the festival.’ Kiara raised the glass of ale Drake hadn't realized she'd been holding and set off, blurring into the crowd almost immediately.

His breath caught in his throat as Elizabeth watched her leave, gaze lingering long after the other woman disappeared into the crowd.

‘Richmond?’ he burst out finally, unable to stand her silence and she turned to face him.

‘That was strange,’ she pondered before nodding to the mug in his hands. ‘Am I still getting that refill?'

‘Yeah,’ he choked out, swallowing thickly, glad to have a distraction from the apprehension that twisted through him. Maybe if he ignored it hard enough, it would go away..

Drake had no such luck as hours later he was still wrestling with the guilt that was gnawing at his stomach while waiting for the girls to finish getting ready and they could make their entrance to Olivia’s ball together. The black tie he was wearing seemed to suffocate him and he anxiously tugged at it, vaguely aware of Maxwell’s excited chattering in the background, thoughts elsewhere. In his mind he pictured the cold look Kiara had shot him when they’d met eyes after the festival, her meaning clear.

Tell her or I will.

He would tell her but just not now… Elizabeth was just warming up to him, to the idea of them and if he wanted to have any chance of repairing their relationship the last thing he should do was bring up the thing that drove them apart in the first place.

The question was: Could he trust Kiara to keep it a secret until he found the right moment?

Drake didn’t get a chance to ruminate on it further before Hana’s excited chirp rang out.

‘We’re here! Sorry!’

About time… The words were almost off his tongue as he turned around but they never made it out loud when his eyes fell on Elizabeth.

Clad in a long sleeved ballgown, the navy fabric complimented her dark complexion perfectly as she made her way down the staircase, arm in arm with Hana. Silvery beads entwined across the bodice and sleeves so that when she moved the entire outfit shimmered. Dark hair twisted into an elegant undo, her makeup was applied just so to let her eyes sparkle leaving him starstruck for a long moment at the sight of her, unable to find the words to describe the vision he saw before him.

‘Little blossom you look phenomenal,’ Maxwell announced, taking the words right out of his mouth. ‘Hana you are a fashion fairy godmother!'

'Thanks! Plus it has pockets!’ Hana piped up, proudly gesturing to the dress but Drake couldn’t keep his eyes off Elizabeth.

As she approached him, he caught a sliver of skin where the presumably conservative dress parted in the middle to reveal the barest hint of her legs. Realising he was stating, she reached up to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear, glancing shyly up at him from behind dark lashes. He swallowed hard, trying to string a sentence together.

‘You look… just… wow.’

Cheeks dusted with a light blush, her nervous expression giving way to a shy smile, mouth opening as if to say more but Hana interrupted.

‘I think we’d better get going, Olivia will have our heads if we’re later.’

Maxwell seemed to jump to attention, immediately offering Hana his arm. ‘Oh jeez yeah, I’m very attached to my head!'

Drake did the same, bending his arm at the elbow. ‘Shall we?’

Elizabeth paused for a moment just long enough for him to start doubting himself before her slim hand slid into the crook of his elbow, drawing close to him as they began to walk. He had to bite back a gasp at the weight of her hand against his arm, keenly aware that all that separated them now was a few layers of clothing. He could feel her tension burning through their contact, with every step she seemed to wind tighter into herself, jaw set as the grip she had on him grew steadily tighter as they approached the ballroom.

‘Lord Maxwell Beaumont and Sir Drake Walker. Ladies Hana Lee and Elizabeth Richmond.’

As soon as the herald pronounced her name, all eyes in the ballroom were turned on them and as their small group made their way through the aisles, Drake could hear hushed whispers rising from the crowd around them, no doubt surprised at his and Elizabeth’s presence together. HIs chest tightened at the unwanted attention only to be disrupted by her nails digging painfully into his arm. The distance to the front was mercifully short but there was no denying it, the entire court now knew that Elizabeth Richmond was back in Cordonia. Olivia awaited them at the front of the room, ready to greet them as the hostess and nearby rising from his chair was… Liam.

At Elizabeth’s slight intake of breath, Drake felt tension curl tighter inside him as he laid eyes on his childhood best friend and kept his eyes intensely trained on her to gauge her reaction to seeing the King of Cordonia.

‘Lady Elizabeth,’ Liam was saying, dipping into a bow. ‘It is wonderful to have you back with us.’

‘It’s uh… good to be back,’ she replied nervously, the same stray lock of hair falling into her eyes as she curtsied. Drake couldn’t say for certain but he saw a jolt of familiarity run through her body as the king pressed his lips to her hand politely. Drake felt Liam’s blue eyes settle on him and the tension between them cracked like a whip in the air.

‘Drake.’

‘Liam.’

‘Its nice to see you again.’

‘Uh huh.’

Drake knew he should have made an effort to act cordial — they were in public after all — but couldn’t find it in himself to put on a front even for a moment as his feelings spun into a tempest. This was the first time the three of them had been in the same room since… He shoved the mental image down as they took their seats and dinner was served. While conversation around him remained amiable, anxiety wound him into a tight knot.

On one hand, there now was a deep rooted resentment. He could not forget the lengths he’d gone through since the early stages of the social season to control his feelings for Elizabeth, to force himself to banish them knowing that he could never betray Liam like that but when the tables were turned, he seemed to have no qualms denying him the same courtesy.

Years of friendship weighed on his conscience too, he knew Liam, probably better than anyone else, in that there was not a malicious bone in his body. Ever since they’d announced their engagement in the safe house months ago, Liam had done a pretty good job of hiding his feelings for Elizabeth but some part of Drake always wondered whether they were still lingering under the surface. He wouldn’t try to steal her from him now would he? If he hadn’t been so distracted, he would have noticed Elizabeth curling further into herself from where she was seated in between Hana and Maxwell, obviously uncomfortable from all the attention she was receiving from members of the court.

By the time Liam was sweeping Olivia onto the floor for the first waltz, Drake managed to picking up her subtle signals. Wanting to put her more at ease, he stood up and offered her a hand, his mind going back to the memory of how relaxed she’d been on their date.

‘May I have this dance?’

Her gaze dipped from his face to his hand and back up again, and for the tiniest of seconds he swore she was going to refuse but she gave him a tentative smile, placing her hand in his. Drake was highly aware of the whispers that stirred up as they made their way to the dance floor, quickly arranging them into the starting position of the first song.

‘Oh!’ Drake gasped as distracted by the extra attention, she'd immediately stepped on his foot.

‘Sorry,’ she murmured and he dismissed it with a nod, drawing her closer into his arms.

Tonight felt like it could have been a do over, he realised as they began to trace the steps to the Cordonian Waltz. Months ago in this very same ballroom, he’d lied to her face that he couldn’t teach her the waltz in fear that if he ever got that close to her, he might never want to let go. He twirled her once, the motion jerking as she faltered in her steps, eyes engaged elsewhere, watching as Liam lead Olivia into an elegant dip. Drake barely composed himself and attempted to lead them into the dance again but realising too late that they were jumping in on the wrong beat resulted in Elizabeth's foot digging into his again.

‘Drake I-'

’No we’ve got this,’ he insisted not sure if he was talking to himself or to her, fighting to keep his voice away from the edge of desperation. He resettled his hand on her waist pulling her closer, feeling the stares and twitters around them of nobles highly entertained by both of their presences, taunting him almost to fault, to fall, to mess this, the smallest of things up again like he had the first time. From out of the corner of his eye, he could see Liam twirling Olivia in a series of complex circles, much too advanced for his skill level and his third attempt to execute a similar move only ended with them barrelling into another couple who had taken the floor with them, earning him an angry scowl from the count.

‘You okay?’ He murmured to Elizabeth who was strung taut with anxiety, as he lead her to a quieter section of the dance floor away from the band and the crowd.

‘Uh huh.’

‘Hey, look at me,’ he soothed as her uneasy gaze flicked from the crowd up to his. ‘Its okay. Just focus on this.’ Quietly counting out the steps, he lead her through the basic box step and when he felt the tension release from her figure, gradually increased the complexity.

’That’s it,’ he encouraged as she turned in the perfect twirl this time, bringing her back to his chest as they swayed slowly from side to side.

He could smell the familiar peach scented shampoo she always used, feeling the warmth of her body pressed so closely to his and tilting his head, he allowed the tip of his nose to graze her cheek gently. Elizabeth inhaled deeply at his touch, eyes drifting up to gaze at him through her long dark lashes. They were barely moving now aside from a gentle swaying, lips inching closer and closer as if magnetised until they were a hair’s breadth away. It was at that very moment that the band struck up a lively tune, drawing up a quiet cheer from the crowd, effectively shattering whatever mood had built up.

‘I can get you a drink if you’d like?’ Drake offered as they separated regretfully and she nodded.

‘Water please.’

Feeling his hands shaking a little, he took a little detour to the bathroom first.

‘C’mon Walker,’ he growled to his reflection. ‘Pull yourself together.’

Being here with her, in Olivia’s ballroom brought back memories of months ago. It felt like a lifetime had passed since Elizabeth had pretended to faint so the waiter would bring them some bisque and he’d found himself leaping (almost literally) to her aid. The thought of her in his arms grinning up at him as she made a quip about keeping him on his toes made him feel warm inside. They’d almost kissed.

Again.

To have her so close to him, again, Drake knew he had to be patient but the anticipation was killing him. He wanted so badly to go back to the way they used to be, for her to be his again, to be able to draw her into his arms and never let go. Baby steps. When she’s ready it will happen, he repeated, glancing at himself in the mirror once before heading for the bar.

‘Water and a whiskey on the rocks.’

As the bartender got to work pouring the drinks, a murmur of surprise from the crowd made Drake turn around. He followed their gazes to where Liam was escorting someone else to the dance floor.

Elizabeth…

Drake’s stomach dropped as he watched his best friend take his ex-fiance in his arms for the starting position of an English waltz As they moved fluidly, much more fluidly than he had, across the floor, he felt his inhibitions creep back in. She looked so calm in Liam’s arms, almost as if she was meant to be there. Maybe she was… Maybe she was never mine to begin with and all this was just a twisted game fate was playing with him, to dangle the thing he wanted most of all just within his grasp only to pull it away at the last possible second.

He picked up his whiskey and drained it, leaving her water untouched as he stalked out of the ballroom. He paused in the door way, unable to help a backward glance towards the dancing figures and headed back to his room.

Drake wasn’t sure how much time had passed before someone knocked at his door. He rolled his eyes, knowing if he ignored it, they would soon give up and leave. Like everyone else he knew. But the knocking persisted despite his efforts and finally he sprang out of the chair he was sitting in to pull open the door.

‘What?!’

‘We need to talk,’ Liam told him from the other side of the threshold.

A bitter taste filled his mouth. 'I don’t think theres much to say. Aren’t you meant to be at the ball? Y’know dancing with my ex-fiance?’

‘Grow up Drake. This,’ the king motioned between the two of them, ‘has to end. I want my best friend back.’

Even though deep down he agreed, he couldn’t fight the resentment that welled up. ‘What kind of person kisses their best friend’s fiancee?’

The other man blinked for a moment before the memory from months ago kicked in. ‘Drake.. ahh it was complicated. Back then, she was confused, I was confused..’

‘So knowing she had lost her memory, you took that as your chance to swoop in!’

‘That’s was not my intention and you know it,’ Liam growled back, anger piquing in his tone. ‘She kissed me remember? And I would never go behind your back, you know that!’

‘Really? Did she kiss you again when you went to New York? Or does that not count as going behind my back?'

Liam ran a hand over his face. 'Yeah I went New York. I went to see her hoping she would change her mind and come back if I asked her. And guess what Drake? She didn’t. She didn’t want to come back for me.’

‘You sure about that?' Drake scoffed in reply but the king barrelled on.

‘No you’re going to shut up and listen to me Walker. She came back for you. Dude, she doesn’t remember your relationship and I’m still not who she came back for. She came back when she heard you were injured defending her honour. She wants you, she just doesn’t know it yet, and if you screw things up with her...I’ll never forgive you.'

They were standing toe to toe now, glaring in each other’s face and Drake noticed the look in Liam’s eyes, he was telling the truth. Nothing more happened and that was the truth. There was also a hurt there. A little bit of bitterness too. He’d recognised the same one in Olivia’s eyes when she’d glared at Elizabeth with Liam in the early stages of the social season. You have everything I wanted, you better not waste it.

Liam swallowed with some difficulty, voice weaker now. 'You got the girl man so why are you here sulking instead of holding onto her and reminding her that she belongs with you?’

'Guys! Maxwell’s voice interrupted whatever answer Drake would have produced as he came jogging up the hallway. ‘Have you seen Elizabeth?’

‘What?’

‘I thought she was with you.’ Liam replied, eyes narrowing.

‘She said she wasn’t feeling well and she was going for some air and told me not to follow her. A-and now I can’t find her.’

‘And you listened?!’ Drake gaped at the younger Beaumont.

‘Well yeah, you know how persuasive she can be.’

Drake was already down the hallway before Maxwell could finish his sentence, Liam on his heels. ‘Which way did she go?’

'Out the door nearest the ballroom.’ He took the stairs two at a time, barely able to keep himself from tripping as his eyes raked the halls, in search of her glittering navy dress.

‘She was headed that way,’ Maxwell called out, pointing at an open door that lead out to the white covered estate.

Drake’s stomach urched as a low rumble of thunder could be heard overhead as the amount of falling snowflakes began to increase.

‘A storm’s brewing tonight, if she gets lost out there…’ Liam shared a look with his friends.

Drake didn’t need to think twice, ignoring his best friend’s warnings, he brushed past them into the cold night.

Tags: Idk who reads anymore lol

@chantelle-x0x , @choicessa , @drakewalkerwhipped , @ooo-barff-ooo , @mariamulroney, , @boneandfur , @lizeboredom , @topsyturvy-dream , @american-duchess , @withice , @majesticmintyj @ninamckenzie22 , @drakelover78 , @h3llostrang3r , @cocomaxley , @zarina-x-zig , @nicestrokepam , @enmchoices , @kellyale1804 , @mrswalkerreynolds, @kamybelen-blog , @hhiggs , @jenjosh5 , @bruhvs , @natalievgoodehenry , @choiceswreckedme , @laniquelovewrites , @theroyalweisme , @jamielea81 , @penguininapinktuxedo , @tmarie82 , @crookedslimecreatorpasta , @asprankle , @drakewanker , @client-327 @graceisgone56 , @mfackenthal , @smritysriv , @drakewalkerfantasy, @bobasheebaby , @ineedpeetalikehekneadsbread , @srawesleyghuewrites , @ekhw1989 @mymandrake , @writtenbycandy , @andy-loves-corgis , @alwaysthebestchoice , @snyggflicka @mrsdrakewalkerblog , @moodygrip , @barbaravalentino , @agent-zephyrkah , @radpicklebakeryhero , @innerpostmentality , @fairydustandsarcasm , @speedyoperarascalparty , @debramcg1106 , @gardeningourmet , @blackcatkita , @meladoridarcy @lovelylittlewren @walkerduchess , @caz1003 , @annekebbphotography , @guilia3272 , @eileendannie , @jovialyouthmusic , @wickedgypsymoon , @sirbeepsalot ,

IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO REMOVED LET ME KNOW

#the revelation fic #the revelation au #drake walker #drake x mc #drake x elizabeth #elizabeth richmond #king liam #maxwell beaumont #olivia nevrakis #hana lee #The Royal Romance #the royal romance au #trr #TRR AU #choices #choices fandom #choices fanfiction

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thelanguageoflovers · 6 years

Note

Hello! The angst anon again and sorry for making u uncomfortable oops. But hey, how bout some fake/pretend relationship w lots of fluff?? Tyrus is gd but anything is fine :)))

You didn’t make me uncomfortable, I just wouldn’t know how to go about tackling something like a school shooting. It has such a gravity to it.

Anyway, yesss cute prompt. (Also I’m ignoring the fact that Josh said Cyrus can’t cook because I feel like he absolutely can and is super extra about it)

—

“I need a really really big favor,” Cyrus started, skipping a greeting, as soon as TJ picked up his facetime.

“Why hello to you too, Underdog,” TJ sat up in bed, readjusting his skewed glasses. “But shoot.”

“Oh no! I woke you up? I’m so sorry!” Cyrus exclaimed.

“No no it’s fine! I just fell asleep reading, but you’re worth waking up for,” TJ shamelessly flirted. “What do you need?”

“Brace yourself,” Cyrus warned, oblivious to TJ’s romantic intentions.

“I’m ready,” TJ chuckled.

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend,” Cyrus said quickly, bracing himself for TJ’s response.

“Okay,” TJ shrugged.

Cyrus spent a few moments staring at TJ. His dark brown eyes met sparkling green, and for a moment all else was lost. Cyrus could feel his heart fluttering in his chest, and felt a newfound appreciation for his rib cage, for he was sure it was the only reason his heart was still within his body.

“Uh… What? I- I had reasons prepared. I was ready to beg and plead and- and you’re just. You’re just saying okay?” Cyrus stammered in disbelief.

“I mean, yeah. You seem like you just dug yourself into quite the hole, and you need me to take away the shovel,” TJ smiled at his own comparison, and Cyrus could have sworn he could feel himself falling more in love with the boy by the second. “So of course I’ll do it.”

“Really?”

“Anything for you, Underdog. On one condition,” TJ said, smiling coyly.

“Oh no. What’s the condition?” Cyrus asked nervously.

“It’s really not that bad, don’t worry! I just want to know the whole story as to why I’m doing this?”

“Ugh, fine.” Cyrus exaggerated. “I was basically ambushed today by all four of my parents. I went downstairs to find something for lunch, like a normal person, and I found not only my mom and step-father, but all FOUR of my parents. And boy let me tell you. You have no idea how awkward it is to walk into a room full of therapists, all talking over coffee, and then they just stop talking. It was so obvious they were talking about me, oh my god. Anyway, I walked in and all four of them just stared at me the entire time I made lunch- fajitas, by the way. I swear they didn’t even blink. It was terrifying, they were like porcelain dolls, just staring at me.”

“Cyrus, if you could move past the petrifying porcelain parents, I’d appreciate that,” TJ joked gently, smiling through his phone.

“Right. So I sat down at the head of the table, on the opposite end from them, and they just watched me eat for like a solid five minutes. And then finally my dad said something. But that was even worse because he flat out asked me if I have a girlfriend. I got flustered and didn’t say anything, so they assumed that was a yes.”

“Okay, but at this point couldn’t you still clarify that you don’t have a girlfriend, right? Not to mention the fact that I’m a guy?”

“Oh it gets worse. They started going through a list of every girl they’d ever seen or heard me interact with, and when I said no to all of them, they decided that then would be a good time to clarify whether or not I actually have a girlfriend. I said no, and they asked who I spend all of my time texting. At this point I was wildly uncomfortable and wanted to leave as soon as possible, so I told the truth, and told them I was texting you. Then, they asked if you were my boyfriend and I kinda had a moment of gay panic and said yes.”

“I see. But why can’t you tell them the truth now?” TJ asked, trying desperately to make sense of Cyrus’s story.

“Because I am still digging myself into this hole. They invited you to this party they’re throwing, and I said that you’d come,” Cyrus confessed.“And I also made up a whole backstory for our relationship, to avoid telling them I lied.”

“Ah okay. So, what’s the backstory?” TJ asked, sitting up further, and moving backwards to sit against the wall behind his bed.

“It’s nothing special, it’s basically just our actual backstory, except you won the one-on-one with Buffy and when I congratulated you, you kissed me. And then we went on our first date that Friday. Which makes our anniversary the 28th of the month.”

“That’s fair. I swear I just had a question to ask- Oh! When’s the party I’m going to? And what should I wear?” TJ asked, counting questions on his fingers.

“Okay I kind of underexaggerated there,” Cyrus confided. “It’s not a party, per se. It’s kind of a charity ball? It’s also very very soon. Tomorrow night at 6, in the ballroom at Hancher Hall. Formal attire.”

“The things I do for you, Underdog. I’ll ask Amber to help me find a suit, Lord knows I have no sense of style.”

“Thank you thank you thank you!” he exclaimed, and TJ was sure Cyrus could have jumped through the screen to hug him if he tried hard enough.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Underdog,” TJ said fondly, hanging up the call.

TJ took a deep breath, standing outside Hancher Hall. He was wearing a dark green button down that brought out his eyes, a black suit jacket, and black pants. He’d lost his contacts that morning, so he was resorting to wearing his glasses. He finally stepped into the hall, and into the ballroom.

“TJ!” he heard a voice call from his left. TJ looked around, and his eyes settled on Cyrus and his parents.

TJ walked over to Cyrus and, remembering the role he was supposed to be playing, kissed him on the forehead in greeting, an arm wrapped around Cyrus’s waist.

“Hey, Underdog. You look great,” TJ said in reference to Cyrus’s dark blue suit, white button down, and black bowtie.

“Thank you! So do you, I’ve never seen you in a suit. It- well I was going to say it suits you but I am now seeing the fault in that particular phrasing. The point is, you look good in a suit, TJ. I like the green, it brings out your eyes.”

“Thanks, Underdog. Amber thought the green would be a good idea. She was right, as always,” TJ chuckled. “Oh God, don’t tell her I said that though. She’ll never let me forget it.”

“I won’t tell, I promise,” Cyrus held his hands up in surrender. “I’ll spare you from her wra-”

“Cyrus, are you going to introduce us to your boyfriend or not?” they were interrupted by Cyrus’s step-father, Todd, stepping forward to nudge his step-son, a glass of champagne in one hand.

“Oh! Yes,” Cyrus turned around to face all four of his parents, taking TJ’s hand and intertwining their fingers. “Mom, Dad. Step-mom, Step-dad. This is my boyfriend, TJ Kippen.”

“Hi, it’s great to finally meet you,” TJ smiled politely, extending the hand that wasn’t holding Cyrus’s to shake all four of their hands.

“How long have you been together?” Cyrus’s step-mom Sharon asked, shaking TJ’s hand with a smile.

“It’ll be four months on Tuesday, right TJ?” Cyrus interjected, realizing that TJ probably didn’t actually know that.

“Cyrus! Tuesday is the 27th, not the 28th, it’ll be four months on Wednesday,” Cyrus looked at him, astounded that he’d remembered.

“Oh, you’re right! I could have sworn that today was the 26th. I’m sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it, love,” TJ added the pet name at the last second. Cyrus’s phone started ringing at that moment, and he checked the screen.

“I’m sorry, this is Buffy. I’ll be right back,” Cyrus excused himself from the conversation, squeezing TJ’s hand as he left. TJ watched Cyrus step out of the ballroom, standing just in his line of sight as he held his phone to his ear, before turning back to the younger boy’s parents.

“So, do you play any sports, TJ?” Todd asked.

“Oh, yes. I’m the captain of the boys’ basketball team,” TJ stated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Do you intend to break my son’s heart?” Cyrus’s father asked, unaware of the fact that Cyrus had hung up the phone and was now within ear shot. TJ took a moment to recover from the initial shock of the moment, considering what to say.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Cyrus, having heard his response, wrapped his arms around TJ’s waist, rising onto his toes to rest his chin on TJ’s shoulder. “Ah! Why hello there, Underdog.”

“Hi,” he whispered. “Can I talk to you?”

“Yeah, of course. Is everything okay?” TJ turned around, concerned.

“Oh, yeah! Everything’s fine, I just wanted to talk to you?” TJ nodded, allowing Cyrus to lead him out of the ballroom, weaving through silk, satin, and velvet skirts.

“So, are you sure everything’s alright?” TJ asked when they got outside the room.

“Yeah, I just- Um. I have something to tell you,” TJ gave him an inquiring look, urging him to keep going. “So, um… I just. I don’t want to pretend we’re in a relationship anymore.”

“You don’t? Do you want me to pretend to break up with you? Or the other way around? Why?”

“No, TJ. It’s not like that. I just- I want to actually be with you, TJ. I don’t want this to just be for tonight. I want this to be real, TJ,” TJ was stunned into silence. “And I get it if you don’t want this, or if you don’t even want to be friends anymore, but I had to tell-”

“Cyrus! I’ve been flirting with you for literal weeks. I don’t want this to be fake either.”

“Really? Because you don’t have to-” Cyrus was cut off by TJ leaning down to kiss him. Cyrus wrapped his arms around TJ’s neck, standing on his toes to be closer to the other.

“Are you gonna break my heart, TJ?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

#tyrus #andi mack #cyrus goodman #tj kippen

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juunshua · 6 years

Note

Fashion anon again thanks for answering, I know that was a lot! It's exactly as you say, anything you owned came with a place in the hierarchy. But you only actually had to worry if you wanted to be part of the in-crowd. If not, there was judgment and derisiveness but not outright bullying. It was safer not to be cool, less pressure in the long run. (cont.)

You are right about Hao. He IS a rebel in the sense that it's easy to be laughed at if you slip with your choices, especially in Korea where they tend to play it very safe and classic. The stage is one thing, but street fashion is different especially for men. So even if he wears trendy labeled things, he is being gutsy in even choosing to stray from a certain line, he could become a fashion victim (GD anyone?) but he wears things with conviction because he has faith in his own vision.I agree about Gyuhao! What I see from Gyu is that while Hao cares more about self-expression through getting a certain look/making a style statement, he wants to be aesthetic himself, his goal is looking and feeling good, so in doubt less is more. Hao would make sure you got a stunning dress that was very you, and Gyu would prioritize you feeling stunning in the dress, so yes, they balance each other since Hao deals in the fantasy and Gyu in the concrete and practicalities.Investment pieces in fashion are typically things that are high quality, versatile, and "timeless" classics , so they will keep their value or even augment it with time. The kind of thing you pass down to your kids, or resell well if in good condition. Different brands (esp. Big-name) have different specialties. Chanel is iconic for quilted bags and tweed jackets, Burberry for Trench coats etc. Or as you said, Rolex for watches. Gyu's Hermes belt is not a BIG investment piece, but it's a start.I think my favorite style is Vernon's not because I find it pretty itself or flattering, but for how "him" it is and because I love his use of color and accessories, however jarring it may be sometimes.( Like seriously, he sometimes looks like a stoner hobo who had an accident in a paint shop😅😂) Whose style is your fave? :) (and sorry for the rant again)

response under the cut! sorry that this is super late!

hmmm...i don’t know if it was safer to be not cool...it could result in stuff that could affect you for the rest of your life. esp when you’re a kid and you don’t necessarily know that its okay to not be cool? yeah as you get older and you realize ‘oh i don’t have to do everything society tells me to,’ that can put less stress on yourself but to me, thats a different story. as a child you don’t really know that. i think judgment and derisiveness can be bullying too ahaha...but maybe im getting a bit too personal and projecting haos ‘faith in his own vision’ is really such a central aspect in his artistic life i think thats one of the things that i really respect about him, even if i dont necessarily sometimes agree with some of his artistic choices, just him going out there and pulling it off with such confidence is always super respectable to me i dont think ive paid attention to mingyus fashion choices past its general simplicity. i think its interesting that you find that his priority is making himself an aesthetic so his goal is looking and feeling good? it may not be an easy question, but what about his fashion makes you think that? but wowowow!! you put it to words! “Hao deals in the fantasy and Gyu in the concrete and practicalities.” yesyesyesyes!!! exactly that! and i even think i mentioned in my tags of some post that i always felt like if gyuhao were to design clothes, mingyu could be the fundamental layer and lay the foundations, while hao would take on the more creative expression aspect of it, which is, i think, in essence what you yourself said as well!ooh thank you for the definition!vernooonnn omgggg yes his use of colors is really something else! hes not shy at all with them either, often opting for the lighter or more neon shades of them, instead of the darker, more muted ones (though he does have his muted fashion style as well, i believe). hmm its a bit difficult for me to answer that question because i dont really pay attention to fashion all that much, but i do have some commentary on some of the members (basically recurring thoughts when i see the members im about to talk about). my current fashion is woozi, the person id prefer to dress me up if i had to dress up nicely to go somewhere would be mingyu, i realllyyyy love how clothes fit hoshis body, i love how rebellious minghao gets with his fashion, and finally seungkwan has had some amazing looks and i will never shut up about how good he looks in a simple white t shirt and jeans but i also love his overall style just in general? its hard for me to pinpoint a favorite style specifically i think but minghao might win, just because its always so refreshing to look at his outfits. i feel that because fashions do have their ‘ins’ and ‘outs, ‘ a lot of outfits end up looking similar or have similarly derived themes, at least to the untrained eye ahah, like when i go out in public i feel like i see everyone wearing the same style of clothes more or less? just variations on a theme tbh. but for hao, those themes are either used as loosely tied in inspiration or not even present in his choice of clothes. you dont know what hes going to wear ever but when he wears it, you always think ‘yup this is minghao.’ i think i find his fashion the most exciting, aesthetically pleasing, and unpredictable

#oof anon you have such a nice way with words i could never #replies #fashion anon #anon

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lowdenfordays · 7 years

Text

Settle Down With Me, Part One

Y’alright folks? Long time no see, how’re you getting on? Excited for Christmas (if you celebrate it)?

So I received a request to write an imagine based on the song ‘Kiss Me’ by Ed Sheeran, and was hit by a wave of inspiration, so wrote this. It’s going to be a mini series, with probably four parts (if you saw my earlier post that said three, I changed my mind). So thanks to the anon for the request, and I hope you all like it!

Part Two

You stopped, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door. The sounds rang harsh and hollow, and an eternity of silence seemed to follow it.

“Come in!” came a familiar voice from the other side, muffled but cheerful.

You opened the door to a conference room with a large table in the middle, stretching across the room, and a hive of people sat around it, with only a few empty seats scattered about. Some were chatting in hushed voices, some looked up at you as you entered, others scribbled absentmindedly on their notepads. You searched for your godfather’s face amidst the crowd, and quickly located him at the head of the table. Emma was sat to his right, and she smiled warmly at you as you met her eyes. She wasn’t technically your godmother, but you knew it wasn’t Chris who remembered to buy you a birthday card every year. You hurried towards them as Chris beckoned you over. You went to him first, acutely aware of all the eyes fixed on you. When you reached him you stood awkwardly, unsure how to greet him. You would usually go in for a hug, but this was a professional setting. You didn’t know if you were allowed to tell people that the director of the project they were all here for, one of the most renowned and talented film directors of your time, was your godfather, and he’d got you a job on the film – or even if you wanted people to know.

But he took the decision out of your hands when he stood and wrapped you in a big hug, like he had been doing since you could remember.

“Don’t be nervous,” he whispered, “Today is just about getting to know each other and setting out our vision for the film. It’ll be really casual.”

You nodded, a little shaky, before moving into Emma’s open embrace. She didn’t say anything, but held onto your hands as she pulled away and gave them a squeeze, rendering words redundant. You gave a small smile, then left to take your seat further down the table.

The producers sat closest to Chris on the one side of the table, and actors on the other, with the various departmental directors filling in further down. In your best attempt at a purposeful walk, you made you way down the room, trying not to stare at the famous faces along the way. Kenneth Branagh, Tom Hardy, Cillian Murphy, Harry bloody Styles…

You found two empty seats together and sat in the further one, hoping no one would sit next to you. The last few people filtered in and you sighed in relief as the seat remained empty.

Chris broke the relative silence by standing and announcing, “Well, we’re still waiting for Jack but I think we’d best get started without him.”

Nods of approval and the shuffling of papers signified general agreement, but just as Chris made to start the meeting, the door burst open.

In the doorway stood a tall, slightly dishevelled-looking blonde. He wore a dark grey, woollen jacket, unbuttoned to reveal a navy-blue sweater, with a dark green tartan scarf hung loosely around his neck. He was undoubtedly stylish, but far more striking was his face. Despite his angular features, he looked soft and boyish. His hair was already fairly long, but you could see that it would go curly if it grew a little longer. He smiled sheepishly through light panting, exposing deep dimples in each cheek, and his vibrant blues eyes darted around the room. He was easily the most handsome man you had ever seen, even against the wealth of good looks that sat around that very table.

You swallowed a gasp.

“Mornin’ all, how ye daein? Sorry I’m late, the traffic this morn’ was summin’ fierce.”

Good God, he’s Scottish.

The smile in his voice rang around the room and vibrated in your chest.

This is not good. This is very not good.

“Not to worry, Jack, we’re only just starting,” Chris replied and indicated for him to sit.

You watched, fixated, as he scanned the room for a seat. He caught your gaze and grinned, prompting you to snatch your eyes away and fight the blush that threatened to creep up your neck, with questionable success. You kept your eyes trained on the pad of paper on the table in front of you, but listened as he walked around the table and sat down in the empty seat next to you. You risked a glance at him, only to find he was already looking at you. The curiosity painted on his features morphed into a smirk, and he winked at you.

Bollocks.

You spent the meeting doing your best to concentrate on what Chris was saying, ignore the man beside you, and supress the groans of frustration that rumbled in your throat at his every movement. The vaguely sweaty musk carried across the inches between you, which was hopelessly distracting. Why does he smell so good? He fidgeted often, scratching his arm or chin, shifting in his seat, crossing and uncrossing his legs, and every time he did your mind wandered to him and his perfectly chiselled face. In the end, you had to focus so hard on concentrating that you basically wrote down every word of Chris’ brief. You had never been more relieved than when a break was announced and you could get up and get some refreshments.

You pushed your chair out to head towards a table laid out at the back, and as you stood you saw that his scarf had fallen off the back of his chair. You picked it up, and as you straightened found yourself face to face with the blonde bombshell that you had been trying so hard not to fall in love-at-first-sight with.

“Um, this is yours, I think,” you mumbled, extending it towards him in an attempt to put something between you. He really was standing very close.

“Oh thanks very much. I should really be more careful with it,” he chuckled, “It’s new.”

“It’s very nice,” you said, trying to be polite and friendly.

“Ye know what it’s made of?”

“Boyfriend material?”

As soon as the words left your lips you were horrified. It was a just instinct, as was the heavily sarcastic tone it came dripped in, but he was sure to think you were being far too forward.

“Nay,” he said, inclining his head and fully laughing now, “Cashmere, I thought it was fancy.”

You bit your lip to hide your embarrassment. “Sorry, I guess I’ve heard that line one too many times.”

You made your way to the refreshments table together, in silence, and each made yourself a cup of tea. You felt him watching as you poured in the milk, and had to force your hand not to shake. You didn’t know why, but he made you far more nervous than the whole experience did.

“Ye make a good brew,” he said over your shoulder, “Ye cannae trust someone who can’ make a good brew.”

You smiled, “Thanks. I’d usually make it in a teapot, but needs must.”

“Oh, she’s classy.”

You inclined your head a little smugly, but internally gasped. Where had that sudden burst of confidence come from? Your voice was steady and you somehow managed to appear sophisticated and nonchalant. In an attempt to quit while you were ahead, you shuffled to a relatively quiet corner and cradled your drink, but were surprised to see that he had followed you over.

“I’m Jack, by the way.”

“Y/N”, you replied and took his outstretched hand.

With a knowing look he asked, “Is this yer first time workin’ on a film?”

You nodded, “How did you guess?” with a mix of sarcasm and curiosity.

“Ye wrote down Chris’ every word. I get it though, got massive respect for the guy but he’s a wee bit intimidating. I feel like I have te learn everything I can from ‘im.”

Little he knew, you couldn’t be further from intimidated by Chris, and it was his own charisma that had you furiously scribbling. For some reason, however, you felt disinclined to tell him about your relationship with Chris, and only nodded.

“So what’s yer role on the film then?”

“I’m a sort of assisting assistant director, I guess. I’m pretty sure my official title is ‘General Dogsbody’. You can call me GD for short.”

That made him laugh richly, causing a warm, joyful tingling to rush over your body in a way that you had never experienced before.

“It’s a foot in the industry though, once ye’ve go’ that, as long as ye work hard, ye’re set.”

“Well, that’s the idea anyway.”

“How’d ye manage te get the job?”

Internally cursing, you opened and closed your mouth like a goldfish, trying to come up with a way to sidestep the question without outright lying.

“Umm…”

Thankfully, you were saved by a dark, curly-haired man whom you recognised as one of the actors, rushing up to Jack and crushing him in a hug.

“Jack, mate, how’ve you been?”

You stood awkwardly as they caught up briefly, clearly friends beforehand. But after a moment Jack looked over to you and smiled, “Aneurin, this is Y/N, she’s a GD. Oh sorry, an AD.”

You giggled, and marvelled that you had known his man for an hour but already had an inside joke with him.

“Okay everyone, that’s great. I think we can call it a day.”

You sighed in relief, all but dead on your feet. You’d just finished a busy day, filming on the beach in the morning with Fionn, Harry and Ni, then doing some spitfire stuff with Jack in the afternoon. You technically didn’t need to be there for the afternoon, but you liked seeing Jack in his uniform. Anyway, you were there to learn, so that’s what you were doing whenever you had the chance. It was still very early days in the shoot but you were already knackered. This film-making business was hard work. Chris had given you the role of organising the lads, to keep them in check and on schedule, as well as being a runner on set. He’d even consulted you on a shot once or twice, but you reckoned that was probably just to make you feel a bit important.

“How’re you doing petal?” Chris cooed, pulling the monitor off from round his neck and wrapping an arm around your shoulders in a sideways embrace.

“I’m good, just tired. These early mornings are killer. How about you though? Your job is much harder than mine!”

He smiled, “I’m doing what I love, it’s never a chore.”

As Jack was clambering out of the spitfire, you noticed out of the corner of your eye that he was watching your exchange with some curiosity. When he caught your eye, he shot you a quizzical look, one eyebrow raised and brow furrowed. You looked away, ashamed that you still hadn’t told him that Chris was your godfather, and focused on the ground as Chris placed an affectionate kiss on your head.

You scuttled off to your hotel room faster than usual to avoid Jack’s inevitable questions.

That evening, after you’d had a warm shower and some food, you were sat cross-legged on your bed, enjoying some well-earned me time. Much to your displeasure, however, it was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Y/N!” Harry sing-songed through the door; of course it was Harry.

You unfolded your limbs and got up to open the door.

“What do you want?” you huffed.

“Don’t be mardy, come hang out. We’re all in Glynn-Carney’s room.”

“I’m in my comfies.”

“Comfies?” Harry smirked.

You rolled your eyes and pointed at your sweats and baggy jumper – sweater paws and all.

“Oh who cares. Look, doesn’t a bottle of wine and some good company sound better than sitting here on your own?”

“The company is questionable at best, but the wine is tempting.”

Harry led you down the corridor and the door was opened to reveal a group of already giddy twenty-something year olds and more than a few bottles.

“There’s a little more than a bottle of wine here I see. Who started on the whiskey?”

Everyone instantly pointed to Jack, who shamelessly raised his hand.

“Dumb question,” you muttered.

You sat down, and took the glass of wine offered to you.

“So, Miss Y/N, you’re in charge of us, right?” Tom said with a twinkle in his eye, “What shall we do?”

“I don’t know,” you scoffed, “Watch a film or something?”

“We were thinkin’ summin’ more along the lines o’ a drinking game” Barry chuckled.

“We have work tomorrow. I don’t think Chris would be too pleased if we all show up hungover.”

“Best make it something enlightening and/or educational then,” Aneurin grinned.

“Enlightening and/or educational,” you huffed in disbelief. “You can wipe that shit-eating grin off your face Ni,” you laughed, somehow expelling the disgruntled attitude from you. “We’ll play truths. Someone asks you an uncomfortable question, you answer or you drink. It’s a bonding exercise, so we can get to know each other better.”

They seemed to like your idea, and began asking each other questions, which were mostly, unsurprisingly, sex-orientated. When it was Jack’s turn to ask you a question, he rounded on you and asked, without hesitation, “What is the nature of your relationship with Christopher Nolan?”

Harry gasped and exclaimed, “Is Y/N screwing the director! You sly fox!”

“Ew, no mate, he’s her godfather,” Fionn corrected, hitting him on the arm.

You shrugged, indicating that it was true, and looked a little sheepishly at Jack. You watched as the realisation dawned on his face. “Wait, Fionn, how did you know?” he questioned, once he had fully processed the information.

“Viv told me.” Vivienne, the head make-up artists, was a notorious gossip and somehow knew everything about everyone. You all nodded in understanding.

“Well, now you know,” you said with a little uneasiness, “Let the piss-taking commence, I suppose.”

“Us lot? Take the piss? Never. Anyway, it’s not like you’re only person on the film that’s not here purely on merit… oh wait.” Harry grinned.

“Purely on merit, Styles? I thought you were just here to bring in the teenage girl demographic,” you retorted, followed by a chorus of ‘ooohh’s.

Thinking you’d got off the hook with your question, you tried to move on, but before you could, Barry proclaimed, “Y/N needs a new question, she didn’t even answer tha’ one.”

“What’s your sexual fantasy?” Tom piped up.

You groaned, as your eyes skipped to Jack’s for just a second. You were unwilling to share, as in recent weeks your sexual fantasy had involved one blonde-haired, blue-eyed Scottish arsehole, so instead took a big gulp of your drink.

Part Two

#jack lowden #jack lowden imagine #jack lowden fanfiction #jack lowden fanfic #jack lowden x reader #jack lowden series #dunkirk #Dunkirk movie #dunkirk cast #Fionn Whitehead #Harry Styles #Aneurin Barnard #barry keoghan #tom glynn carney #imagine request #imagine series

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dragonasheswrites-blog · 7 years

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The Heaven We Didn’t Choose, Chapter 19: In Which Piracy is Encouraged

...But no one seems to mind.

First: Chapter 1: In Which a Child Makes a Friend

Previous: Chapter 18: In Which Sans Has a Heart

Next: Chapter 20: The Trouble With Paperwork

Click here for the story overview.

Sans came back to reality feeling disoriented and he automatically tensed. Pain was what woke him, and for a long moment that was all he could focus on. Taking a few deep breaths to calm down, he took stock of what was making his bones scream at him.

His injured arm felt like it had been shattered, which sent a pulse of fear through his soul. A quick glance down confirmed that it was still only fractured, but the sight of the injuries seemed to only increase the pain. He hissed, trying to find some way to release the tension that wouldn’t bring Boss to his door.

It helped - a little - and he fought to focus on something else instead. Why was he injured? Why was he so sore? Slowly, memories of the fight trickled back. The kids, the cops, Undyne. The damn dogs that ran off without a second thought. The alleyway…

The cat was mewling softly when he rolled over to examine it, looking a bit more wobbly than it had earlier. Abruptly, he realized that neither he nor the cat had eaten dinner. From its size, the cat was probably pretty young; babies needed to eat regularly, if he remembered correctly.

He pulled himself upright with a grunt and slipped his jacket on. It was still damp, and smelled awful, but it was a layer of protection.

The clock in the kitchen confirmed that he’d only been asleep for about two hours. He was feeling it in every bone of his body. He felt heavy and light at the same time, and he wondered idly what would happen if he just collapsed. Would he float, caught between the two odd sensations? Probably not, his logical mind concluded. He’d just tip over like an idiot and jostle his already-aching bones.

There was still some canned food in the cupboard, and Sans scanned the labels. Cats were carnivores, right? He thought back to the few times he’d encountered Mettaton’s torture assistant, a cynical and depressed cat monster. A hazy memory of the guy removing the bun and pickles from a burger tickled the back of his skull. It was unusual that any monster would turn his nose up at food, so the incident had stuck with him.

Hopefully surface cats acted on the same principle. There was a can of shredded chicken in the back of the cupboard; he grabbed it and, after a bit of quiet shuffling through the shelves, an old clamshell takeout container that Boss had insisted on washing. He filled one half with water, then carefully made his way back to his room.

The cat was extremely grateful for the water, which Sans found surprising considering it had nearly drowned just a few hours before. He let it do...whatever it was doing with its tongue (flicking water into its mouth? It looked inefficient) while he wrangled the canned chicken open one-handed.

Thankfully, the chicken didn’t have any weird flavorings. He was fairly certain that it wasn’t the healthiest thing to feed a cat anyways, but it was that or starve. He carefully dished out some smaller pieces onto the empty half of the container and set it beside the water.

Almost immediately, the food was gone. Sans reluctantly took a few more lumps and plopped them onto the lid.

“That’s all ya get,” he grumbled. “I’ve gotta eat too.”

The cat responded with a plaintive meow, indicating its displeasure at being cut off.

“What? I don’t even know how you’re eating all that. You actually have a real stomach, doncha? Isn’t it full by now?”

Another meow.

“Shhh. If ya wake up Boss, we’re both out on our asses. You feel me?”

He finished up his portion of the chicken quickly, not really tasting it. His arm was starting to heal as his body converted the food into magic, but it was a slow process. He considered asking if Tori had some time to look at it; he hadn’t properly talked to her in months, since before he’d started watching Att...her. The last time he came close to visiting was when he dropped off Frisk’s Christmas gift, and he’d just left that on her front porch. Who knew what she thought of that.

On second thought, he could probably power through it.

“‘Kay, then. I’m gonna head back to bed for a few hours. You good in the box?”

The cat blinked at him.

“...I’m gonna take that as a yes.”

He rolled over carefully, taking the pressure off his injured side, and tried to sleep.

“SANS”

“Whazzit?” Had he slept at all?

“WAKE UP THIS INSTANT AND TURN YOUR ALARM OFF! ALSO, DO NOT THINK I HAVE FORGOTTEN ABOUT LAST NIGHT! BE PREPARED FOR PUNISHMENT WHEN YOU RETURN THIS EVENING!”

Loud footsteps echoed down the hallway, and Sans’s soul sank. There went his plan of avoiding Boss.

He sat up carefully and turned his alarm off. He’d gotten so used to waking up at a certain time that he’d been getting up before his alarm even went off lately, which was useful but flat out annoying. Apparently the night before was enough to throw his sleep schedule off.

A soft cry from the corner of the room brought his attention back to the cat. Sure enough, it had made some kind of icky sticky mess on his shirts; just as well that they’d be tossed in the wash.

“Ya good in there, bud?”

The cries paused for a moment, then resumed.

“I, uh, don’t speak cat. ‘M not sure what ya want. Are ya hungry? Thristy? Throw me a bone here. Heh.”

The cat didn’t speak any language Sans knew, but it apparently recognized when his attention was on it. Its noises changed in pitch and frequency to the point where Sans half-expected Boss to come storming up the stairs to investigate the racket.

“Okay, okay. Shhh. Shhhhhhh.” He picked it up and ran his phalanges over the impossibly soft fur. This calmed the creature a little, enough that its noises weren’t quite so high-pitched and distressed.

“I tell ya what. If you can keep quiet 'til I get out the front door, we can raid the hot dog stand supplies for breakfast. How’s that sound?”

The cat made a few little mruph sounds that he took as agreement.

Boss had already headed out for the day by the time Sans made his way downstairs, which was helpful. He had to set the cat down to pull his shoes on, which prompted more crying, but it stopped when he settled it back into his jacket. He decided to leave the zipper alone; the little critter didn't like being restrained. The way it was sitting didn’t exactly look comfy to him, but the cat was purring again. It felt strangely nice against his bones.

The walk to the hot dog stand was worse than usual. The cold rain had turned to snow sometime in the night, and his usual path along the side of the road was obscured by a light dusting of white. He could feel the ache in his bones from the fight the night before with every step, and halfway there the cat decided it liked the cold even less than it liked being confined and had retreated further into the jacket.

It was a relief when his stand was set up and he could finally settle his bones onto his stool. The cat, interested by the fun smells, popped its head out to explore.

CLANK CLANG KA-CLANK CLANG CLANG

...And immediately retreated as far back inside his jacket as it could manage. Sans peered in the direction of the noise, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Heya, GD! Want some breakfast?”

Greater Dog bounded up, slobber flying everywhere as he panted excitedly. *YESYESYES,* he barked. *WANT WARM PUP TREAT FOR BREAKFAST PLEASE.*

“One hot dog for a cool dog, comin’ right up.” He dressed the ‘dog up the way he knew GD liked it: a few generous slices of cheese, some bacon crumbles, and a bit of steamed mustard greens. (He’d been testing new ‘healthy’ toppings a year or so back, and while most of them were total flops the dogs really liked the mustard greens. Since they couldn’t eat most of what he served, he kept it on the menu.) “There ya go, big guy. Bone appetite!”

Greater Dog barked a laugh and took the ‘dog with one large prosthetic hand. *THANKS, FAVORITE BONE BUDDY. LOOKS GOOD. GOOD FOOD. GOOD GOOD GOOD.*

“Glad it suits you. Hey, don’t forget to pay again, yeah? I’d give you all the ‘dogs you want for free, but I get in trouble when I don’t come home with cash.”

The dog whined an apology, then disappeared into his suit. A moment later, he re-emerged and spat a few gold coins onto the counter.

“Thanks, buddy.”

*BONE BUDDY HAPPY? GREATER DOG HAS BEEN GOOD BOY??*

Sans sighed. “Yeah, you’ve been a good boy. C’mere, big guy.”

Greater dog leaned forward, his metallic suit half-splayed across the counter of the hot dog stand. The wood creaked under his weight, and he adjusted so he wasn’t in danger of collapsing the poor booth.

“Yer a good boy, GD. A real good boy.” Skeletal fingers scratched behind the dog’s ears, past the scruff of his neck, and around the sides to that spot up under his chin where he could never seem to reach properly.

Finally, after a small eternity of petting, Greater Dog sat up. *PATROL, NOW,* he barked, ears drooping. *NO TIME FOR MORE PETS. SAD.*

“Hey, you’re filling in for Dogamy on patrol tonight, right?”

*YES. DOGAMY HOME WITH PUPS. PUPS GOOD. PUPS NEED PROTECTION.*

“Cool. I’ll see you then, ‘kay? I’ll be at my usual station.”

Greater Dog whined. *WILL MISS BONE BUDDY.*

“I’ll miss you too, GD.”

The dog licked the hand that had been petting him, then tensed. *WHAT? CAT? BONE FRIEND HAVE CAT?*

“Uh...yeah?”

*CAT GOOD! CAT FRIENDS FUN! CAN CHASE!* He leaned in closer.

The cat tucked inside Sans’s jacked hissed and made another rather poor escape attempt, thwarted by the fact that it didn’t quite know its way around. Sans huffed at the unusual feeling of something furry clinging to his spine with tiny claws. “Not this one. I found it last night. It’s just a baby, and I’m trying to figure out what to do with it. It’s, uh…” he looked up at Greater Dog. The dog’s eyes were bright with excitement, every muscle in his fluffy body tensed with the thrill of the hunt. None of this was getting through. “It’s...shy?”

*SHY NOT FUN,* he huffed. *IS SECRET?*

“...Yeah. Please don’t tell B...uh, Papyrus.”

*WILL KEEP BONE FRIEND’S SECRET.* He whined. *WILL MISS BONE FRIEND. WILL SEE BONE FRIEND SOON.* He barked a quick *HELLO, GOOD BYE, PATROL NOW* at something behind him and bounded off, enthusiasm barely waned. Which was odd; GD didn’t like many people, but Sans couldn’t be bothered to care.

He was about to put his head back down for a much-needed nap when his eye sockets caught the person who’d been standing behind Greater Dog. Someone he didn’t think he’d see again in...well, ever. “...Uh…”

“Hi, Mr. Sans!” Attie called, waving enthusiastically. “I was going to come get a breakfast hot dog and tell you hello, but I didn’t want to interrupt Mr. Greater Dog’s petting. He really likes petting, right?”

“Y-yeah, he sure does.”

“I know. He sometimes lets me pet him outside his armor, but only when he’s security for me and Mommy. If he has other jobs, he doesn’t let me.” She pouted a little.

“Hey, uh, where’s yer mom? Isn’t someone supposed to be watching you now?” That was the rumor, anyways. If Frisk had gotten sick again...

“Mmm-hmm. She’s coming in a minute. She’s prob’ly talking to somebody.”

Some part of Sans was screaming that he was being creepy, but he couldn’t stop looking at her. He hadn’t seen her in...gosh, over a month. 44 days, to be exact. It had been two weeks and five days since Frisk followed him home, and it had been three weeks and five days between that incident and Boss slipping Attie out in the middle of the night.

There was a strange sensation in his throat, a tightness he wasn’t used to. It didn’t feel like strangulation - like when Boss lifted him by his collar - but more like there was something stuck there, in his vertebrae. It was uncomfortable. The sensation distracted him from the prickling in the corners of his eye sockets that he was far too familiar with; he blinked rapidly to avoid embarrassing himself.

“Are you okay, Mr. Sans?”

“Y-yeah. ‘M fine.”

She bounced on her toes, making her shoes light up. Those were the ones she’d told him about on one of the first days he’d watched her, he realized. They did indeed have pink flowers on them, with little lights that flashed from their centers. He wondered if that was a human invention or if she’d somehow charmed the mad Royal Scientist into making her customized shoes. He thought about anything he could to distract himself from the fact that he’d remembered something, something small from almost two months ago, and that meant his mind wasn’t falling to pieces just yet.

Attie was dressed in a puffy white jacket with faux fur lining the hood. On her hands were mittens, knitted in a pattern he recognized; Tori must have been busy since he last saw her. The edges of her sleeves were stained in browns, greens, and reds.

She looked just like any other little girl. Nothing about her appearance indicated that she was the daughter of the Ambassador of Monsters, that she had any security presence at all.

He felt it, though. The glow of Frisk’s protective wards - much stronger now that she was recovered - was apparent in every bounce of her daughter’s feet. There were few weapons wielded by humans or monsters that could touch someone with that much protection, and anyone stupid enough to try would be in for more than one nasty surprise.

“I don’t think you’re okay,” Attie said. “You just keep looking at me funny and you haven’t even said ‘hello’ or ‘how are you.’ Are you gonna be a asshole again?”

“Not tryin’ to be. So, uh, hello, Attie. How are you?”

“I’m doing real good! Um, really well, I mean. How are you, Mr. Sans?”

“I’m, uh, okay.”

“Undie said you were in a big fight last night. Is that true?”

“Yeah…? I didn’t know she’d talk to you about that…?”

“She didn’t. She told my mommy when she stopped in for a quick meeting while she thought I was getting dressed. Mommy said we could come have breakfast hot dogs and make sure you’re okay, just in case.”

“Uh...cool? Yeah, I’m in one piece.”

She looked expectantly up at him.

“...Oh, right, hot dogs. So, uh, what do ya want on yours?”

Attie wanted bacon, cheese, onion, ketchup, mustard, and relish. Sans handed the ‘dog to her with its toppings balanced precariously, then gave her a small stack of napkins. “Don’t wanna get your nice jacket all messy.”

“It’s okay. I can wash it.”

“I’m sure ya can, but you wanna look nice, right?”

“The lessons are finally kicking in, then?” Asked Frisk from RIGHT behind him.

“Holy shit.”

“Language.”

“Uh...” He glanced at Attie, who was giggling, then twisted on his stool to get a good look at Frisk.

...A good look was an apt way to put it. She had a long tan coat on, red buttons in two neat rows down the front. Her waist was accented by a simple brown belt that twisted into a casual knot on one hip. The hat and gloves tucked under her arm were dark brown, matching her knee-high boots, but he could see the lines of a familiar pattern on them. Tori hadn’t waited until Christmas to deliver gifts, apparently.

Slowly, hesitantly, he met her eyes. She looked a lot better than he remembered, even from the last time he saw her in person. Maybe it was the light - even the dull, filtered light of the winter sun through the clouds did her more justice than the harsh yellow bulb that lit the dining room in his apartment - but she looked more than ready to take on the world.

It was a far cry from the helpless mess she’d been when he found her, so many weeks before. And she was completely focused on him in a way that she - or, frankly, anyone else - had never been. He felt his face starting to turn pink.

Say something, his mind begged. Come up with something - anything - to keep her from thinking you’re a complete fool.

“What-” No! Not that! “-do you want on your hot dog?”

He could feel his voice squeaking a little and resisted the urge to clear a throat he didn’t have.

Frisk smiled at him anyways, and he felt his soul stutter in a way that couldn’t possibly be healthy. “I haven’t had a hot dog in ages. Surprise me.”

The challenge in her voice was both clear and terrifying.

ABORT MISSION, ABORT MISSION!

He gulped and examined his options. With phalanges that were definitely not shaking, he dipped into the small stash of fresh bakery buns he kept for his best customers, then put a few slices of cheese on it. That went into the small, warm space behind the hot dog roller. While it was warming he grabbed a paper plate and a sharp knife and started chopping a pickle spear and some of the baby tomatoes he’d picked up on a whim. He pulled the bun out once the cheese was melted and put a ‘dog inside, then added bacon crumbles, onion, and his sliced pickles and tomatoes. A drizzle of yellow mustard completed the masterpiece, and he held it out to Frisk with a flourish that (probably) disguised the slight tremor of his hands.

Attie applauded uselessly through her mittens, her own hot dog mostly gone. “That looks really yummy! Mommy, can I have a bite?”

“May I have a bite,” Frisk corrected.

“Sure, but only if I can have a bite of yours!”

She rolled her eyes and took a tentative bite of her hot dog. Sans watched her chew and swallow, feeling as if quite a bit more than customer satisfaction rode on that simple action. Finally, she nodded. “It’s really good, Sans. Thanks!”

“Yer welcome.” Relief made him slouch against his counter.

“I never would’ve thought to put fresh tomatoes on a hot dog, but it’s not bad. What was the inspiration?”

He thought, for a moment, that she was mocking him, but her face showed only sincerity. It threw him for a loop, and he stuttered for a moment before he found his bearings. “I, uh, well, I was doin’ a bit of research. Gotta keep a femur upon the competition and all. See, ketchup is pretty salty, and a lot of what I have - cheese, bacon, even the hot dogs themselves - is pretty salty too. The tomatoes give you some flavor without the extra salt and give some texture, too. Can’t really take credit for the idea, but...well. Thought I’d give it a shot.”

“It’s brilliant. You should keep it up.”

His face was definitely turning colors. Thankfully, Frisk was distracted by Attie wanting a bit of the ‘super-special hot dog’ and he had a moment to compose himself.

Naturally, that was about when his little friend decided to make its presence known once again.

Attie squealed, nearly losing her grip on her hot dog. “KITTY!”

“No way!” Frisk said looked at Sans, then down at the cat that was clawing its way up his shirt, then back at him. “You have a kitten? Since when?”

He tried to pry it off, but the claws were deceptively strong and he didn't want to break anything. “Since, uh, last night? It was caught in the rainstorm. Found it when I was walkin’ home.”

“Can I hold it?” Attie asked, tugging Sans’s sleeve harshly. Her protective wards flared-

“Gah!” Sans pulled his arm away, clutching at his fractured bone, and accidentally banged his bad arm on the edge of the counter. He froze, cursing himself. He hadn’t meant to dodge away from her like that; it was just so unnerving that someone would try to touch him (and someone with that much magic on her besides) that he hadn’t tried to simply maneuver away from her. She hadn't registered as a threat, so she'd gotten closer to him than most people normally did. He shrunk in on himself, taking his bearings, then remembered that she’d asked a question. “S-sure. Just, uh, give me a sec.”

Frisk crouched down so she was eye level with him. “Sans, are you okay? Undyne said you’d been injured last night in the confrontation with those humans on the mountain, but she didn’t know the details. She thought it wasn’t serious since you shrugged it off. Are you okay?”

Sans checked his HP before responding. He was down to a single point. When had he gotten so low? He felt his breathing pick up, fear of his own mortality overpowering his pride. “I...I...uh, I…” He couldn’t seem to force the words out.

He felt the familiar chill of someone else’s magic invading his own, just enough to get a good read on his stats, but despite his embarrassment he allowed it. More than that, he took a chance and showed his real stats; she'd been sympathetic before, hadn't she? Across from him, Frisk took a sudden breath. “Sans. You need help immediately. What are you even doing out of the house like that?”

“W-wasn’t that bad e-earlier. Had somethin’ to eat...g-gosh, early this mornin’ and brought my HP up a f-few points. I-I’ll be fine. G-gimme a sec to grab a ‘d-dog.”

“Sans, I’m going to call my mother to take a look at you.”

“No...uh, n-need...”

“Yes, there is a need. You and her get along fine, right? She has some healing magic. Just...please, let me do this. I’m worried, and Attie’s worried too.”

They had a point. A ‘dog probably wouldn’t bring his HP up far enough for him to get through his shift, and sentry duty later that night, and whatever Boss had planned. He let out his breath in a solid woosh and nodded.

Frisk stepped away and started dialing. Sans deliberately didn’t listen in on her conversation, instead focusing on carefully extracting the cat from his person. Its nose was twitching but it allowed him to maneuver it into his lap without a whole lot of fuss.

It kept turning its head towards the counter, though. It definitely knew where the food was.

“Here,” he said, gesturing to Attie. “D-didn’t ya wanna hold it?”

“Can I?” she asked in a very small voice. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Sans. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t know your arm was hurt.”

He took a deep breath, willing his stutter away. He wasn’t a babybones anymore, he reminded himself. “Eh, ‘tsokay kid. No real harm done. If you’d meant to hurt me, well. I’d be dust right now. You didn’t, though, and ‘m fine, see? Now help me with this little cat.”

He used his good hand to cup the cat as she lifted it, making sure it wasn’t actively trying to claw her. It seemed a little upset at the movement, but its protests were more vocal than physical. After a moment of Attie’s tiny fingernails scratching behind its ears it settled down and started purring again.

“Huh. It likes you.”

The girl’s smile was smug. “Of course! Everybody likes me.”

For most kids, Sans thought, that would be a laughably arrogant statement, but...everyone did seem to like Attie. She’d survived Boss. She’d charmed the dogs. She’d even melted Undyne’s heart a little, and that was a feat worthy of some kind of medal.

Frisk stepped back into his field of vision. “Mom will be by within a few minutes. She’s finishing up some paperwork that needs to be done before lunchtime. Will you be okay until then?”

“Yeah. Of course.” It wasn’t like he hadn’t existed on one HP before. Much as he’d come to regret how he got his LV, he would’ve been dust years ago without it. He shuddered at the thought.

Frisk apparently mistook that gesture and hunched back down in front of him. She looked at him for a long moment before narrowing her eyes in DETERMINATION. “Attie, you can go play. I’m going to keep an eye on Mr. Sans for a bit.”

The girl looked at her mother, then down at the cat in her arms. “But...I’m holding his baby kitty! I can’t go play!”

“Alright. But no more grabbing, alright? We’ve talked about this. It’s one thing when you do it to me or your grandma and grandpa or Undyne, but you have to be careful.”

“Okay. I said I was sorry.”

“I heard. Good girl. Now, Sans, where did you find this kitten?”

Sans explained how he’d found the cat in the alley the night before. He deliberately ignored the small smile on Frisk’s face, as if she knew something he didn’t.

(He was sure she knew a lot of things he didn’t.)

Thankfully, her only remark was, “Are you even allowed to have pets in your apartment?”

“Eh, yer mom lets some of the dogs stay downstairs. Why wouldn’t a cat be okay?”

“Uh-huh. And how did Greater Dog react to your little friend there when we were walking up?”

“Heh, point taken.”

They both watched Attie play with the cat for a few minutes. When it's meows became too insistent, she handed it to her mother. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” she pouted. “I thought it liked me.”

Frisk turned the critter over with deft hands, poking it gently along its stomach. “He’s probably hungry. Sans, has he eaten anything since that chicken you gave him last night?”

“Nah. I was gonna give it - uh, him - something from the stand, but I didn’t get the chance. Think he’ll eat a ‘dog?”

“It’s worth a shot. Here - I’ll pay for it.”

“What? No-”

“Please. It’s the least I can do.” She handed him enough to cover three hot dogs with the fixings. He handed her back the change, but Attie scooped it up instead.

“Can I put the change in the tip jar?” she asked.

Frisk patted her on the cheek. “Go ahead. Don’t break anything.”

“Yay!”

Sans chopped up a ‘dog into tiny pieces and scooped it into a paper plate for Frisk, who tried to coax the starving cat to eat something. He made another for himself and choked it down against the rolling feeling of nausea.

“Did you set that up?” Frisk asked, gesturing to his tip jar.

“Uh, yeah. The old coin funnel on top is something I found years ago in the dump. Can’t remember why I bothered carting it home in the first place, but it’s come in handy now that we’re on the surface. I, uh, had to fix it up a little to get it to accept g as well as human coins, 'n it doesn't work quite right all the time, but the kids like it.”

They watched Attie drop a pair pennies into a slot at the top of the funnel, the coins passing each other several times before dropping into the clear jar below.

“It’s hard to believe that monsters are able to enjoy things like this now,” Frisk said. “I remember back in the Underground how, um, tense everyone was. They’re a lot more...whimsical, I guess, now.”

“Yeah, well, fighting for space and food kinda takes the fun outta ya. We didn’t really have time for things like this - not in public, anyways. Heck, I didn’t dare leave a tip jar out back then; someone would’ve come by and stolen it. Now look at me. Some days I make more in tips than I do selling ‘dogs.”

She hummed in agreement. Attie sent a few more coins down the chute, watching them intently. After a moment, she turned to Sans. “Why to they go around and around and around like that instead of dropping straight into the jar?”

“It has to do with gravity, angles, and the shape of the funnel.”

She held out a coin. “Can you show me?”

Frisk frowned and raised a hand to stop her daughter. “Attie, don’t bother-”

“Eh, it’s fine,” he said. “Kid’s not hurting anything, and I’ll still be right here if someone wants to buy ‘dogs.” He pushed himself up. “Uh, feel free to take a seat if you want. There’s just the one stool and it might be...a bit short for ya, but…” he gestured awkwardly and turned away.

Attie was a brilliant audience, holding onto every word as he explained the ins and outs of accelerated gravitational motion and centrifugal force. He was pretty sure most of it flew straight over the seven-year-old’s head, but she didn’t interrupt.

“...Sans?”

He looked up to see someone approaching from the direction of the park. “Oh. Hi, Tori. Thanks for, uh...y’know.” He shrugged.

“It’s no trouble. I heard that you were in a fight last night, but not that there were complications. What seems to be the trouble?”

Frisk sent Attie off to play on the slides (one of the few areas of the playground without a coat of snow) while Sans reluctantly explained his situation. Tori stood quietly through it all, her eyes occasionally flicking to her adopted daughter.

“I do not approve of healing every small hurt, but I also do not want to send a sentry out injured after what happened last night. Hold out your arm, please.”

Sans did so, bracing himself. Healing was an agonizing process at the best of times, and Tori was at least a little bit irritated with him. He could feel the bone shards grating against each other as the fractures knit. He hadn’t registered it through the general haze of pain, but there were even cracks in the small bones that comprised his wrist. Tori’s firm grip on the damaged bones made his vision waver, and he grabbed the counter of the hot dog stand to keep from embarrassing himself.

After what seemed like hours, the pain ebbed and he came to his senses. He didn’t realize until he extracted his hand from Tori’s that he was shaking from pain and exhaustion; the accelerated healing process was draining his reserves faster than the ‘dog he’d eaten earlier could replenish them.

“Frisk, let him sit,” Tori said, shooing her daughter off the stool.

With great effort, Sans managed to maneuver himself around the back of the hot dog stand and collapsed onto his stool. He could feel the strain on his spine and hips from the position, but at least he was less likely to tip over in front of his…

...friends?

He decided not to think too much about it.

“If that is all, I shall be off,” Tori said to Frisk. “Do you need me to watch Atlas this weekend?”

“That would be great, Mom. We can talk it over this afternoon at the Embassy.”

“Very well. I shall see you then.”

Tori walked off without saying goodbye to Sans, and he winced. It was only half because of the little twinges of pain that kept shooting down his spine. Shifting didn’t help much, either.

“I thought you and Mom got along?” Frisk asked, looking concerned again.

“We do. It’s just - ugh! - I haven’t seen her in a few months.” In hindsight, he probably should have at least called.

“Well, I hope you get back on speaking terms.”

“No kidding. Don’t want her to bleat me up.”

Frisk snorted. “That was terrible.”

“I notice your lack of surprise.”

She just smiled. “Oh, hey, your kitten’s back asleep. Want him back?”

“Nah, I think he’s comfy.” Both Frisk and the cat looked comfy, actually. Realization dawned slowly on him. (He blamed it on the lack of sleep.)

“Hey, uh, do you know anyone who wants a cat?”

“You’re not going to try to keep him?”

“Nah. You were right ‘bout the dogs. And, well, I don’t think Boss is gonna really go for ‘cute and fuzzy.’ He might, but it's 50/50.”

Frisk looked at him, then back to the cat, then back to him. “Attie...has been bugging me about getting a pet for a while, actually. She wanted a dog but, well, I’m sure you can see how that might get a tad awkward.”

“No kiddin’.”

“We also spend a lot of time at the Embassy, and when I travel Attie spends time with her grandparents. A cat on the other hand...well, you don’t have to walk them, for one. If you’d be willing to stop in every once in a while to feed him while I’m on trips, I don’t see why we couldn’t keep him. If you’re sure…”

“Yeah, that’d be great!” Attie had turned out... mostly alright, after all, short bouts of chaos and terror aside. A cat raised by Frisk would probably wind up ruling the world (or at least the neighborhood), but Sans could think of worse things.

“Okay. Um, do you want to keep him with you for a bit, or…”

“I, uh, don’t even have food for ‘im. I made a little bed out of old shirts, but that’s it. If you don’t mind takin’ ‘im now, go for it.”

She looked at the little cat, stroking gently behind his ears and smiling. His eyes were closed, and Sans could hear the faint rumbling of that purring thing cats did when they were happy. He grinned.

“I’d say he’s in good hands.”

“...Yes. Hopefully. We’ll see.” That smile got just a bit wider, though.

Attie stomped up a little while later, shivering. “It’s too cold to play much,” she said. “And one of the big kids kept trying to get me to stick my tongue to the monkey bars.”

It took Sans a moment to register why this was even a thing humans would want to do. That’s right; humans had drippy ‘saliva’ stuff inside their mouths. Putting her tongue on the unprotected metal of the monkey bars would have probably caused it to freeze and stick. “You tell that kid off?”

“Yeah. I told him that if he wanted to do science so bad then he should try it first, because a good scientist doesn’t use other people as test subjects.”

“Ooookay. I mean, you’re not wrong, but did he do it?”

“No. I guess he didn’t believe in his hyp...hypoth’s.”

“Hypothesis?”

“Yup!”

Frisk chuckled. “Fair enough. Now Attie, I have an important question for you.”

“Okay?”

“Mr. Sans lives in a building with some of the dogs.”

“I know. I heard them when I was having the long sleepover while you were sick.”

“...Right. Well, dogs and cats don’t always get along, so Mr. Sans said he’d let us take the kitty home with us. Would that be alright?”

Attie gasped and turned to Sans. “Do you really, really mean it? We can keep your kitty?”

“Sure, kid.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sans! Thank you a whole, whole, whole bunch!” She shuffled over and gave him a very soft, very careful hug.

He patted her on the back, feeling awkward under Frisk’s observation. “Uh, no problem. I’m sure he’s gonna be happy with you.”

“Does he have a name?”

“Nah. I guess you ‘n your mom get to name ‘im.”

At Frisk’s nod, Attie began petting the kitten, her brows furrowed. “You said you found him in water, right, Mr. Sans?”

“Yup.”

“And he’s got a bad eye, like Undie.”

“Sure does.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to name him...Terror Of the Seven Seas!!! Because he’s a pirate cat.”

Frisk snorted. “That’s a long name, honey. Want to come up with something shorter?”

“Nope! But he can have a nickname if you really want him to.”

“Terror Of the Seven Seas it is, then.”

“Guess you could call ‘im ‘TOSS,’” Sans piped up. “Short for Terror Of the Seven Seas. Pirate extraordinaire.”

The little girl hummed. “That sounds okay. He can be called TOSS for a nickname.”

Frisk was snickering behind her hand, he knew it.

Suddenly, a loud ringing noise interrupted the peaceful morning. Frisk dug through her pockets for a moment, then produced a familiar-looking phone. “Oh...Sans, I’m so sorry, but we’ve got to run.”

“Okay.” It was expected, he told himself. Frisk was an ambassador and a busy woman.

“Can we bring Terror of the Seven Seas with us to the embassy?” Attie asked.

Her mother glanced down nervously. “Well...just this once, I guess.”

She cheered. “See ya later, Mr. Sans!”

“See ya, kid,” he replied.

And then they were gone, and his morning seemed all too quiet.

#Dragonashes writes #Undertale #Underfell #The Heaven We Didn't Choose #Sans #Papyrus #Frisk #Attie #Greater Dog #Greater Dog is a good dog #TOSS #Surely this won't come back to bite anyone #Don't mess with pirate cat

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xiumin-on-this-shit · 7 years

Text

Bad Girl Ch 27: When You Aren’t Around

I know you guys wanted a sexy scene with GD but for the life of me I could not write a sex scene, I don’t know why it just wasn’t happening so this will have to do. So if you don’t like this...that sucks. Side note! I have gotten two fan arts, one for bad girl of Joo in her wedding dress which is absolutely gorgeous by @chenrise! And another for Two bosses by @oh-beyond who is amazing! I was just wondering if anyone else would be willing to make me more? I love them so much! Pretty please! Not just for this story but any or all of them?

“Where do you think you are going?” Jiyong coos when he comes into the apartment and sees me with my jacket on. I was late kicking Jihyo out ten minutes ago and I can just imagine how anxious my daddies are getting with me still being out.

I raise a brow at his question, “Jiho is taking me back.”

He shakes his head, “Nope.”

“Oppa, we talked about this.”

“I just got back from a meeting with EXO,” He informs me.

I freeze and narrow my eyes on him as he swaggers over to sit down on the couch in front of me. “You did?”

He nods, he calls me over with a single curling finger, I come to stand in between his legs, his face level with my stomach. His hands snake around my waist and pull us closer together. “You are mine for tonight.”

“Why is that?”

“We had a meeting to discuss a better schedule that will work better for all of us.” As he speaks he pulls me down to straddle his lap.

“You guys were able to sit down and discuss without murdering each other?” I question suspiciously.

“Anything for you.”

Even when he gives me his usual heart warming smile I can’t help but hesitate to fall for it, “So if I call they will know about this? They won’t think I’m dead or out with Jihyo?”

“Beautiful are you really doing this?”

I raise my brows at him.

He huffs, “Fine, call them!”

Without hesitation I pull out my phone and dial Minseok’s number, he answers on the second ring, “Missing us already?” He teases but I hear the hope behind it.

“Is it true you guys had a meeting today and discussed my living arrangement without killing each other?”

He chuckles, “We did, are you impressed?”

“Very, though I would be impressed if you guys sat in a room together for more than five seconds without threatening to kill each other.”

“Oh there were death threats, mean words, people jumping to their feet but without you actually being there made things easier. We weren’t constantly worried about who is touching you at the moment, who is sitting closer, things like that.”

I hum, “Well if I would have known that me being gone would solve some problems I would have suggested it sooner.” I chuckle.

“Don’t say things like that.”

“Right, no disappearing jokes, I’m sorry.”

Jiyong’s fingers dancing on my thigh remind me that he is staring and waiting, mostly patient.

“Well you boys enjoy your night of freedom, it won’t last long.”

“He has you until Thursday night,” Minseok informs me.

“Two whole nights? Wow, how did you manage that?” I question the man now gripping my hips.

“I don’t want to discuss that at the moment, there is something else I would much rather be doing,” Jiyong winks with a soft thrust of his hips, grinding up against me. My thighs clench around his hips, warning him.

“Since you all know where I am and that I’m alive I hope you all have a good night, okay? See you Thursday.”

“Make sure to get some rest, there are young upset boys here still waiting for their time with you. I love you little one.”

I smile, “I love you too Daddy.” I end the call and set the phone aside before looking down at Jiyong.

“I have never been the daddy type but when that word leaves your lips it does something to me.”

I scoff, “I could say anything and it would do something to you!”

“That it true, but why have you never called me something like that?” He halfway whines.

“Because,” I muse wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him closer, “we both know you prefer when I’m screaming your name, not some pet name.”

He closes his eyes and rolls his head back with a moan, “That is also true. My god what in the world did I do to deserve you?”

I only chuckle as I bring him closer to place a few kisses on his exposed neck. His hips stutter once more, “Should we take this to the bedroom?” I purr in his ear.

He shakes his head, “I want you right here, like this.”

“Of course my love.” We kiss slowly at first, I make quick of his suit, throwing his jacket off, his shirt not far behind. He does his best to return the favor but I end up having to take my blouse off myself with a little chuckle at his frustration.

“Do you have any idea how much I missed you?” He mumbles in between our kisses.

I pull away to look down at him, “Jiyong, I thought you didn’t want to talk right now.”

He sighs, cupping my face his thumbs brush my cheeks, “I just want to tell you how much I love you, how I worship the ground you walk on. How I can’t even begin to imagine my life without you. Everyday I stop and think this is it. This is the day you will stop loving me, you will realize that you love all of them more or that you don’t love any of us anymore and leave.”

“Kwon Jiyong,” I snap gripping his face between my hands like him. “Listen to me, I am not, I repeat, I am not leaving you. I need you to look at me and realize that I love you. I’m not going anywhere.”

He smiles, wrapping his arms around me he pulls me into a tight hug with his face in the crook of my neck. He pulls away a moment later lacing our fingers together he brings my left hand to his lips and kisses the rings their softly, never breaking eye contact. “I know, I’m sorry, I forget but this,” He raises the same hand slightly, “will always remind me that I’ve got you. Till death do us part.”

“Till death do us part,” I echo, leaning in closer until our foreheads touch. He smiles.

“Now that we have that out of the way, I’m pretty sure we still have whip cream from last week in there, lets bust that out and have some fun.”

…….

I wrap my kimono around my body as I slip from my bedroom and tip toe down the hall. With Jiyong sleeping I try my best to not wake him up, don’t need him questioning me on where I am going. I reach the elevator easily, I just have to hope and pray to someone that he doesn’t hear the golden box ding when it opens on my floor. Stepping inside I press the button for Jiho’s floor, feeling the strong need to talk to him about this meeting. Even though I’m happy that my daddies and Jiyong were able to talk without murdering each other I’m not a fan of people talking about me behind my back when it actually effects me.

The door opens and I scamper across his apartment to the bedroom, at four in the morning I imagine him passed out in bed, most likely going to be upset by me busting in. I am not expecting to open the door and see Jihyo lying on the bed, her phone in hand wearing one of Jiho’s shirts. She must not be expecting me either because she rolls out of bed in surprise, hitting the floor with a thunk.

“What the hell did you do you idiot?” Jiho groans, stepping out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel around his waist. He freezes in the doorway of the bathroom, I freeze where I am at the bedroom door and Jihyo is still on the floor.

“Apparently you,” I giggle out with my hand over my mouth.

His face turns a bright red, with huff he grabs some clothes from the dresser near his door before stomping back into the bathroom. He slams the door with one more huff, Jihyo and I lock eyes for a minute before I join her on the ground in a fit of laughter. Jiho comes back out a minute later in sweats and a t-shirt, his face still that bright red.

“What are you two still laughing about?” He snarls, pulling me off the ground.

“Oppa!” I continue to die laughing in his arms.

“This isn’t that funny so stop with the giggles. What are you doing here so late?” Jiho sets me down on the bed before going to Jihyo to do the same thing.

It takes Jihyo and I a few tries to stop laughing, I have to remind myself why I’m here in the first place, with a deep breath I finally manage to stop dying and speak like a normal person.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to have a guest,” I wiggle a brow at him.

“I wasn’t expecting any visitors so I didn’t think it mattered. Shouldn’t you be with those idiots?” He accuses.

“Didn’t you go to that meeting today?”

He shrugs, “I was only there for a few minutes, yelled at some people, got yelled at, left.”

“Well apparently they all got kind of buddy buddy and figured out a schedule for me.”

“When was Jiyong going to tell me about this change? As your head of security I should know your schedule better than anyone.”

“As me I should know my schedule better than anyone,” I snap back.

He sighs as he sits down next to me, “It really bugs you doesn’t it.”

I nod, “I’m happy that they were able to get along for me but I would like to at least know when they are discussing me. I’m not some child they are fighting for custody over, I’m able to voice my own opinion.”

“This is what happens when you let thirteen insane guys control your life,” Jihyo chimes in.

“Thank you so much for your opinion,” I glare at her over my shoulder.

She shrugs, “I told you Paris is still an option. You can even bring this one along.” She nudges Jiho with her toes.

“Really?” I tsk, “What did he do to deserve such an honor?”

“Me.”

Once again Ji and I are dying of laughter.

“Focus,” Jiho snaps his fingers in my face. “We are talking about your asshole boyfriends plotting behind your back.”

“Okay that is an exaggeration, they weren’t plotting, they were just figuring things out.”

“I say that they were plotting as well,” Jihyo once again chimes in with her hand raised.

“Plotting what? Are they going to fake my death again?”

She grimaces, “I mean do you really wanna go threw that again?”

“That will not happen,” Jiho deadpans.

“You’re right, it won’t because they are not trying kill me again.”

“Well what about Jiho oppa? Maybe they are trying to get rid of him, or what about me? They were not my biggest fans the last time I checked.”

“You guys are being ridiculous.”

“Maybe we are, maybe they are trying to get rid of us, maybe we are on a plain to Paris tomorrow morning, there are lots of maybes.” Jihyo clicks her tongue.

I sigh, realizing this conversation is going nowhere, “This was stupid, I’m going home, you guys continue whatever you were doing. Jiho, we are going to talk more in the morning.”

“Wait, let me walk you out!” Jihyo jumps to her feet and begins dragging me along with her. With a glance over my shoulder she leads me into the kitchen where she quickly begins digging in the fridge.

“Ji, what are you doing? I’m leaving.”

“We need to talk.”

Her sudden seriousness throws me off guard, “Is everything okay?”

“No, not really.” She pulls away from the fridge with a container of milk in her hand. Without anymore explanation she continues digging through his cabinets until she finds two bowls and a box of cereal. She sets up on the kitchen island, making us each a bowl before sitting down, dragging me down next to her.

“What do you mean? He didn’t hurt you or anything did he?”

She takes a few bites before mumbling, “I mean that they are hiding something.”

My brow crunches in confusion, “Who?”

She looks over my shoulder again, “All of them.”

“Jihyo could you stop being so cryptic? You are freaking me out.”

“Good! This whole situation should have you freaking out! These guys are full of bullshit!”

“What makes you so sure that it’s all of them?”

“Jiho mentioned something about them being pussies, that they think they are all high and mighty when they don’t even know how to handle something they should have figured out from the beginning. Mumbling something about how they don’t have the guts to tell you. Which means they are hiding something from you, whether it is about Jiho or Jiyong, I’m not sure but it has to be about one of them. I think that’s what they were talking about at this meeting, sure your schedule was an after thought but the main reason I’m sure was for this fucking secret.”

“That’s why they didn’t even mention it to me,” I rub my face in frustration. “Not because things are so much easier to discuss while I’m not there, they are just hiding things from me still. Will they ever just be completely honest with me?”

Jihyo hums, “Probably not.”

“What about Jiho though? I mean you said he could come along, why him?”

“Because I feel like he had a small part in it. Even though I imagine he has done some fucked up shit I feel like he was just the pawn.”

I hum, thinking all of this over. I groan as a headache begins to set in.

“I was thinking about it,” Jihyo mumbles softly which must mean she is about to rip my heart out. When she raises her voice at me, I know she is telling me things I need to hear and she happy to tell me because she knows that it is for my own good but when she does this. When her voice is soft and light and sounds similar to a mother talking to a child I know she doesn’t even want to say the words about to come out of her mouth. These words are never necessary, just something she feels that she needs to add when she really doesn’t. They are always things I never noticed, things I probably should have noticed but choose not to. “I think that they were able to figure things out easier because you weren’t there to hear how they talked about you.”

I just glare at her.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear it but once you think about it, it speaks to their idea of you. That you are theirs not your own in anyway. You said that you aren’t a child they have to fight over well you are wrong. In your daddies eyes you are a child, no ifs and or buts about it. I thought Jiyong would be bigger but he’s not, as much as you wished when it comes down to it he sees you the same way as them.”

“Jihyo please stop,” I half beg, my head begins to pound as I get more and more frustrated. “I need a moment to process this.”

She just eats her cereal in silence. I stare down at my own bowl, not hungry in the slightest. My minds swirls with her words, with all of my loves smiles, with all of their lies.

“Everyone thinks they know what’s best for me.”

“Do you think you think any of them really do know?”

I shrug.

“Do you know what is best for you?”

I don’t answer.

She sighs, “You don’t have to know, you know. As long as you know what is not best for you and avoid that like hell, you should be fine.”

I chuckle.

She pulls something from her bra and sets it on the counter, “Just in case.”

“Jihyo,” I give her sad look when she pulls her had away, revealing a passport I know is not my own but has my picture. A fake.

“Like I said,” She smiles softly, “Just in case.”

#exo #exo daddy #exo mafia #xiumin #GD #kwon jiyong #zico #zico mafia #jihyo #she's just trying to help a sister out #everyone is lying #this maybe confusing #I don't know what I'm doing #no smut #because it hates me

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kookie-vith-suga · 7 years

Text

Ordinary VI

Word count: 1189

Warnings: Angst but not too much..you could maybe even say it contains a little fluff

Author’s note: Let me say some! I am so hyped up for BTS comeback!!!! And in two weeks I will see GD in Berlin ♥.♥ Very very happy atm :P

I won’t be home for the weekend so I probably can’t update before next week... Sorry

Please ALL have a nice and safe day/night ♥

–> Masterlist <–

I II III IV V

!! Requests are closed !!

Excerpt: “Don’t act like you care even a little bit for me. You think you can play with me and use me till you suddenly get bored and leave me behind. I know how this works. My life is a joke to everyone but me. To you all I am just one out of hundreds. All these girls you must have abducted, I am sure they never went home. I will not go home either. Am I right?”

Sixth encounter

Free. You felt the foreign body detatching from yours. Immediately you sank down against the wall and curled into a ball. The only way you could think of as a defense. You heard screaming in the distance: “I will find you and take my revenge!”

Arms touched your knees and shoke you lightly. “Go away! Don’t touch me!”, you yelled totally frightened.

“Y/N it is me! Taehyung!”, you felt something was lied down over your body. Slowly you looked up and your eyes met his dark brown ones. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“I can’t”, you whimpered holding onto the jacket he had placed over you. Your whole body was shaking.

“Come on. I help you.” His hands reached for your arms.

“D-d-d-don’t touch me.”

“What can i do for you then?”, he questioned a helpless. You didn’t answered. He withdrew his hands and straightened up. “Get the boss. Be fast”, he ordered another man who started running.

A few minutes he came back with Yoongi following him with an angry look. “I told you to stay by her side. How could this happen!”, he shot at Taehyung. Yoongi’s expression changed as his eyes fell on you.

“Y/N”, he breathed out and ran over to you. “Are you alright? Let me see that!” He carefully reached for your arms and you let him. He inspected the bruises where the man’s hands had marked your skin. They were slowly turning blue.

“We need to let Chanyeol see them”, he murmured first, “Tell him that we are coming”, he said out loud. “Can you walk, princess?” Yoongi’s presence somehow calmed you enough so that the shaking stopped.

“I guess.” You supported yourself on the wall and also held onto Yoongi. Your legs felt wobbly but you nothing happened after the first steps.

Taehyung came to your other side to help you as well. That was when a wave of anger overcame you. You let go of Yoongi and with all the force you could afford you pushed Taehyung away. He stumbled back and looked shocked at you.

“This is all your fault”, you hissed in a sharp tone, “Don’t ever come near me again.”

Taehyung opened his mouth but Yoongi shot him a warning glare so he shut it again. You left with a racing heart, trying to cover yourself with what was left from the dress and the jacket around your shoulders.

This time you had the chance to view the inside of Chanyeol’s house but on the other hand it was pitch dark outside so there was not much to see. He had brought you to some kind of treatment room on the ground floor. He was currently taping the few wounds.

”So we are done here. The bruises will stay for maybe a week or so but then faint again. I can imagine it is not nice to see them the whole time but there is nothing we can really do about it.” His tone was pitiful. “How do you feel?”

“Tired.”

“That is good I guess. Get some rest. You can take the room upstairs”, he offered.

“Thank you.” You slipped of the couch.

“Y/N”, he called you before you had walked out, ”Did he... umm you know...did he raped you?”

“Does that matter?!”, you scoffed.

“Of course. It is not li-”, he started.

“Don’t act like you care even a little bit for me. You think you can play with me and use me till you suddenly get bored and leave me behind. I know how this works. My life is a joke to everyone but me. To you all I am just one of hundreds. All these girls you must have abducted, I am sure they never went home. I will not go home either. Am I right?”

His face showed an emotion that could easily be mistaken for empathy but you knew better.

“Where is the room?”

“Go up the stairs, the second door on the left.”

You bowed before leaving. A new feeling spread in your chest every step you take. Emptiness.

You looked around and spotted the man coming towards you. You started running but your did not moved any centimeter forward. You tried harder. The man had nearly reached you. This can’t be. You screamed out of fear.

That was the moment you woke up with a start. You were sweating. You wiped over your forehead. Your stared at your shaking hand. It was only a dream. You hugged your legs and laid your head on top of them. Tears were streaming down your face.

“Y/N! Is everything okay?!”, Chanyeol rushed into your room. As he heard you crying, he walked over to you and pulled you into his arms without further comments . It was the very right thing for you at that moment and you leaned to his shoulder.

“What is wrong?”, he asked again after you had calmed down a little.

“It was just a nightmare. I don’t even now myself why I am crying about it.” You snuffled noisily.

“I think I know. What happened to you...”; he breathed out, “is not easy. Dreaming helps you to process the trauma. It is important that you don’t bottle up your feelings and let them out.”

“Thank you for that lecture”, you mumbled.

“Aish I’m sorry. I know I tend to sound like a parent. What I really wanted to say is that you can always come to me if you want to talk. This business is fucked up.”

You kneaded your fingers. “Why are you working for them then?” This question seemed logic after his previous statement.

“For the excitement, the money, I don’t know. I guess daily routines were never my specialty so I searched for something to spice up my life. I was a greenhorn back then. Actually it is funny how I went to university all these years to learn how to cure people’s illnesses and in the end I became a person who makes them sick in the first place”, Chanyeol answered starring to the distance. It sounded like he just realised all that.

You did not know what to say so you just stayed silent. Bu you appreciated his honesty. He seems like not such a bad guy.

“Umm...I think i should go”, he snapped back after some time and got up. “If you need me I am down-”

“Stay.” Your hand reached out and your fingers interwhined with his. You really did not want to be alone in this dark room again.

“B-but.”

“I think I will sleep better if you lie with me.” You pulled him a little towards you.

He scratched the back of his neck contemplating what to do.

“Only till I fallen asleep”, you suggested desperately.

“Fine.” He kicked off his shoes and you made space for him. Lying there with his arms around you somehow felt right. It was only a little later that you had fallen asleep.

I don’t think the original description is fitting anymore. I think that story is turning a lot different than I thought it would. Not that I don’t like that :D It is interesting. Please anticipate the next parts as well @parkchimchimworld @hyewondobre @baekyeoljesse @pcy-suga! ♥

!! Request for part 7 are open !!

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bigbanggot7stories · 7 years

Text

Across the Hall (Part 1)

I’d just like to say that general admission for the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston was free the day after the concert, and bitch I love me some art/history/free things, so my friend and I went and I loved it. This is going to be kind of an exaggeration of my actual experience going to this concert with my best friend, so I hope you like it! Anywhooo………I’m gonna try to write my first smut, okay? Okay. Let’s see how this goes!

Fluff/Smut/Angst

Kwon Jiyong x Reader

____________________

“God, I still can’t believe it’s here. Can you believe it?”

I shook my head and chuckled, keeping my eyes on the road ahead of me while my best friend, Ash, set up a playlist of G-Dragon’s set list. It was finally here, and even at the beginning of a 3.5-hour road trip to Houston, we couldn’t calm our nerves. It might have been eight in the morning the day before the concert, but we were determined to have a little fun before we had the best time of our lives. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt if we just happened to run into the one and only Kwon Jiyong.

“I know, I still can’t believe I made the fucking impulse decision to buy the damn tickets with my entire paycheck. And maybe without my parents being too entirely happy with it.”

“Honestly, let’s not even talk about it. Like Meme said, let’s just go and have fun!” I smiled at the nickname for my grandma. She was so pumped for this concert for me that I almost felt bad for not buying her a ticket. After all, she was the only person in my family that would jam to Kwon Jiyong’s newest album and fangirl over T.O.P. with me.

“That’s true, I guess. But thank God we both found good paying jobs. Oh, and probably also that you were able to get off for the rest of this week! Could you imagine doing this with the little money we made before we got our degrees?” We laughed at the thought of traveling to Houston with the small amount of money we made at our part time jobs. Ash was working at a hospital closer to home after graduation until she would move on to grad school in California, and I was lucky to land a training job with a Fortune 500 company that allowed me to work from home, traveling occasionally, and keep my law internship before moving on to law school. To say the very least, we were lucky.

“I know, right? We wouldn’t have been able to afford this nice ass hotel we’re staying at, either. It would have been the Rat-Hole 6 or something.” She laughed, taking a swig from the coffee cup I had just placed in the cup holder.

“Hey! Should’ve gotten your own!” I chastised, but smiled. “So true. I guess we could call this our late graduation present.”

Ash agreed with me, and we soon slid into a comfortable silence, jamming out to the songs we would soon hear live with our own ears.

Walking into the hotel lobby had Ash’s eyes bulging out of her head before we even made it ten feet toward the front desk. She was not prepared for the 30-foot ceilings and the luxury furniture dotting the room. She took in the bellhops, the restaurants on either side of the lobby, and the bar smack in the middle. When her eyes landed on the bar, I knew exactly what she was thinking. I smirked and took her by the elbow, dragging her slightly until we made it to the check-in line.

“I know, that was my exact reaction the first time the company sent me to New York. I think I almost fainted until someone brought me water. It was fucking nuts.”

I smiled as I watched her continue to take in the grand lobby, remembering that first trip to New York. The forty-story building being something out of a movie for small-town Y/N, and I had never been even close to that kind of treatment. It was still hard getting used to the luxury hotels even after the numerous trips I had taken. In fact, I hadn’t planned on staying at this hotel during this trip, but when I mentioned taking off for the concert to my boss, she insisted we use her membership and have a good time. I was not about to pass up that offer.

“And, if you want, we can even get massages in the spa. I know you’ve been pretty stressed lately,” I mentioned, causing Ash to whip her head in my direction.

“You’re not serious, are you? Oh my gosh, that would be so great, honestly.”

I laughed and nodded my head, finally stepping up to one of the workers at the front desk to check in. We found ourselves put on the 18th floor, and while approaching the elevators, we noticed a small group of three men waiting for an elevator to make it to the lobby. As the doors sung open, we followed the men into the elevator, stopping dead in our tracks as the doors closed and we came face to face with the men we were riding with.

There, leaning against the railing of the back wall of the elevator, was the man himself: Mr. Kwon Jiyong. As we made eye contact, both his manager and body guard opened their mouths to say something. I quickly made a small oh and spun on my heel to punch in our floor number.

“Ohhh no,” I said, seeing the button for the 18th floor already lit up. From beside me, I heard a small gasp, causing me to whip my friend around to face the doors of the elevator.

“Isn’t tha-“ Ash had no time to finish her sentence as I slapped a hand over her mouth and shook my head with wide eyes. I was in shock, to say the least, and I had no idea what to do other than avoid and ignore. I had dreamt about running into GD randomly and creating a wonderful relationship out of a small encounter, but now that it was actually happening, I couldn’t even turn to look at the superstar. From behind us, I heard a chuckle and a throat being cleared.

“Uhm, excuse me—miss?” His manager slightly tapped me on the shoulder. “Aren’t you going to push your floor?”

Ash looked past me toward the numbers and gasped again. “Holy shit,” she said barely loud enough for even me to hear.

“Um I—uh…we’re on the 18th floor, too…” I stuttered quietly, flashing my key cards in his direction as proof. As Ash and I exchanged looks of shock, the three men started speaking to each other lowly in Korean.

Ash nudged my side, knowing full well I could understand them, but I was reluctant to listen in on their conversation. After receiving dirty looks, however, I finally gave in to both Ash and my own curiosity.

“All I’m saying is that maybe you should switch with me. You might not have a body guard right down the hall, but you won’t have fans bombarding you,” his manager whispered, trying to make his tone light-hearted to mask their heavier conversation from us.

“Is it really that big of a deal, though? I mean, they aren’t even being annoying right now. I think I can handle this one, man.” My legs almost melted at the sound of Jiyong’s smooth voice, and the sound almost kept me from hearing his body guard’s response.

“Yeah, but you never know. They could just be in shock. Didn’t you see the girl in the camo? She looks like she might be a crazy one when the shock dies down.”

Before I could stop myself, I gasped and whipped my head in his direction, sending off a glare that met three confused and bewildered faces. My eyes widened with the realization that I had just given myself away, and I was lucky when Ash pulled me out of the elevator.

“Oh, yeah, she speaks Korean, by the way!” she yelled behind her, speed-walking with me in tow. As we rounded the corner closer to our room, a maid dropped a stack of folded towels right in front of us.

“Oh, miss, I am so sorry,” she began, but I cut her off by reaching down to help her pick up her fallen linens.

“Please, don’t apologize, accidents happen.” As I smiled up at the maid, Ash started to chuckle and look past us to the three men also coming down the same hallway as our room. I sprung up to get closer to our room, taking the key out of its sleeve to unlock to door.

As I make my way quickly into the room, Ash yells behind her. “Oh, and she’s a huge fan of yours!”

Throwing my bags on the ground and myself on one of the beds, I covered my face in embarrassment.

“So, what did they say in the elevator?” Ash asked, scanning the room with her newly found luxury. I sighed and sat up, looking at my outfit in the mirror across from me. My ripped jeans were hiding under the oversized t-shirt and camo jacket, and my black boots were now hanging half-way off my feet as I tried to get comfortable. My face was red as I took off the yellow-tinted glasses I was wearing to look at my best friend.

“Basically, they’re worried about GD being on the same floor as us, he doesn’t seem to mind much, and then the big guy said we could be crazy and that the ‘girl in the camo’ looks like the crazy one,” I said, using my fingers to quote the air before resting my chin in my hand.

“Wow, I guess I’m not the crazy one anymore.”

-----

Later that afternoon, Ash and I headed downstairs to dinner and to find a liquor store that sold cheaper alcohol that what they sold by the drink at the bar inside the hotel. We briefly ran into GD and his entourage as we left our room, finding Jiyong to be in the room exact opposite from ours. We ate an expensive burger at one of the restaurants in the hotel, and by the time we made it back to our room after shopping around and buying a good-sized bottle of vodka, it was midnight.

We made ourselves drinks and talked about the events of that day, and how lucky we were to see GD up close and personal, even if his body guard said I looked crazy. In the end, we decided to brush it off and take it as him just doing his job. After all, we wouldn’t want him to slack off and put Jiyong in actual danger if we really were super crazy. As we finished off our drinks, I continued to tell Ash how excited I was for the concert the next night, only to find her sound asleep when I turned to face her. Although I wanted to keep talking to her all night, I knew she was tired and figured I should get some rest, too.

Thirty minutes later, however, I realized I was just not getting any sleep. Slipping out of bed, I shoved my feet in a pair of slippers and threw a silk robe over the shorts and tank top I had put on for bed. I grabbed my phone and a room key before quietly making my way down the hall to the sitting area next to a wall of windows. I sat in the silence of the night, watching the way the city lights twinkled across the sky, something I had found a fascination with in every city I stayed in. As I took a couple of photos with my phone, I noticed a tall figure out of the corner of my eye plopping themselves down in the chase across from me, making me yelp and jump a foot into the air above my seat.

“Hey, oh, I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the voice cooed with a heavy accent, seeming to be laced with genuine concern.

When I brought my crossed arms away from my face, my mouth automatically positioned itself into a perfect ‘o’ as I got a good look at the man in front of me. Jiyong’s face shifted from concern to a shy smile as we made eye contact, and I curiously scanned him for any signs of potential danger. He might have been my personal favorite artist, but it was 2 AM and this was a hotel. He chuckled and scooted to the edge of his chair, extending his hand towards my guarded figure.

“Sorry, I just recognized you from the elevator and thought I would introduce myself. I’m Jiyong, but I’m guessing you already knew that? I don’t mean that to sound very…full of myself, I just never know how to introduce myself to people who are already…you know, who already know me.” His smile was wide, and I found myself relaxing as I reached for his outstretched hand.

“Y/N. Sorry about the incident in the elevator. I really didn’t want you worrying about two fangirls when you’re in your hotel. I bet it could get really annoying to not have much privacy,” I explained, trying to make the situation earlier seem less awkward. “And please, if you would prefer you can speak to me in Korean. As my friend, Ash, kindly yelled out, I do speak it pretty well.”

He smiled and leaned back into his chair. “Thank you, really. My English is pretty good, but it’s hard sometimes to gather my thoughts. Are you fluent?”

“I guess so. I’ve been speaking it since I was maybe twelve. It’s a long story, but it has to do with my grandfather and my impending business career,” I laughed, waving him off.

“That’s really cool, though. It’s tough to learn a language other than your mother tongue. Believe me, Japanese and Cantonese kick my ass.”

I laughed and gave him a big smile. “So, what are you doing out here this late, anyhow? And without your babysitters? Oh, sorry, I really hope that isn’t rude…” I started to backtrack, realizing how it sounded.

“No, it’s true! Sometimes I need a break from them,” he genuinely laughed, a sound I had never heard through the internet. “I just sometimes can’t sleep and need some time for myself, you know? It sometimes gets lonely in a big hotel room that’s big enough to sleep a family of four. Sometimes I just get…lonely. Anyways, why are you out here at 2 in the morning? You can’t even use jet lag as your excuse!”

“Oh, I just couldn’t sleep. Ash fell asleep on me and I just thought I’d sit out here for a bit. Just feeling a little grateful for my life right now,” I smiled before continuing in a small voice. “Plus, I’m pretty excited for your concert tomorrow.”

Jiyong threw his head back with a laugh, a sound I was beginning to crave after the little time we had been sitting together. “Well I hope I don’t disappoint.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fantastic.”

He smiled and his gaze felt heavy on my cheeks, causing me to flush with embarrassment.

“So, what do you do for a living?”

“Well, I just got my bachelor’s degree almost a year ago in Business Management, and I landed a big job right before graduation at this huge company writing their training programs. It’s a really great job. I get to work from home, unless I’m traveling to give a seminar. I originally had plans to go to law school, I even have an internship with some pretty big lawyers in my area, but I’m not sure anymore. It’s not official yet, but a CEO position is in the works with a company that my grandfather was close with. I don’t know, we’ll see. Anyways, it actually sounds pretty boring out loud. It definitely dulls in comparison to your job,” I chuckled, leaning up against the back of the lounge chair I sat on.

“No, no! You sound like a very dedicated person. I like that. What do you want to do? Do you want to go to law school?” He leaned forward, seemingly interested in my answer. This was bizarre. My favorite superstar sitting across me, asking me about my life, and genuinely being interested. I could feel my entire body heating up in the center of his attention.

“I mean, I do. I did. I don’t know, this CEO position will allow me to travel and have creative influence on the products and projects. I just almost feel like I’m not earning it, you know? Like I’m only being offered because my grandfather was some big shot. I work really hard for what I have, and I don’t like the icky feeling when someone tells me I only have what I have because of who my grandfather was. I mean, he wasn’t even that present in my life.”

When I was finished, Jiyong sat with his lips pursed for a few seconds before responding to my spiel. “Well, maybe you aren’t being given the position, maybe you were chosen because of your drive. From what little you’ve told me, you seem like a very dedicated and hard-working person. Maybe you should give it a shot; you can always go back to law school if it ever comes back up.”

For the first time that night, I gave him the biggest smile I had to give. We sat in a comfortable silence, gazing out the window to the city beyond. It was nice, but I was afraid our moment would be cut short any time soon.

“So, are you really that lonely?”

Jiyong’s gaze slowly met mine before it drifted off to the city lights again. He stood and approached the window, sliding his hands in his pocket with a sigh.

“Sometimes. When I’m performing, I feel the adrenaline and I am so grateful for the life I was given. Not that I’m not grateful when I’m off the stage, too…”

I timidly made my way to his left side, standing a couple of feet from his position in front of the window. “But other times, I feel like everything and everyone is watching my every fucking move and I have to be beyond perfect. It’s suffocating sometimes.”

I watched as he used his index finger to outline the buildings of the skyline in front of us on the glass. “I can understand that. It’s like when you’ve been carrying a box full of shit just fine until someone starts watching you and says, ‘hey don’t drop that,’ and you fucking drop it.”

“Great metaphor,” he chuckled.

“But seriously, you shouldn’t have to sacrifice your own happiness and well-being for someone else’s. It’s human nature to want to create the most happiness, but sometimes we forget that we can only feel our own, you know? It’s hard to do, I know. I’m probably being really hypocritical right now, but I do believe it.”

Jiyong turned on his side, leaning his slim frame against the thick glass of the window to look at me with a small smile on his face.

“I really enjoy listening to you talk,” he said, no doubt turning my face into a tomato.

I hadn’t realized we were standing so close until he took a hand out of his pocket to move the piece of hair I didn’t know was dangling at the side of my face. It was a seemingly innocent gesture at first, swiping at it as a good friend would, but when his hand slid past my cheek and behind my ear, I noticed the first glance towards my mouth. His tongue darted across his bottom lip and I found myself leaning in closer to the sight. When our lips touched, it seemed like the world had stopped turning for a second. The kiss was light and sweet, his lips soft and his mouth tasting slightly of spearmint and tobacco. He held my face delicately in his hands, as if he might break me if he held on too hard, and my hands moved up to rest on his stomach. I was definitely turning into putty in his hands, and I knew he was getting weaker with every peck.

Suddenly, a gasp interrupted us, and we jumped apart in shock. The cleaning lady quietly and quickly said her apologies before rushing past the sitting area, avoiding any and all eye contact. I looked over to see Jiyong’s pink face with his hand rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. He shyly looked over at me and smiled, running a finger through his hair.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” I asked, crossing my arms in defense.

“I shouldn’t have done that without…warning, I guess? Being so in the open? I don’t really know what I’m apologizing for. I’m definitely not sorry for liking it,” he smiled, taking a few steps closer.

“I—uh…yeah,” I said, hanging my head down to hide my flushing cheeks.

“Anyways, do you want to hang out a little more in my room?” he said before his eyes went wide and he started backtracking. “I-I…I mean you don’t have to if it would make you uncomfortable, I just wanted to hang out with you some more and I didn’t want to chance someone who knows who I am seeing and I know your friend is asleep so I just thought…you definitely don’t have to if you don’t want to.” I smiled as he became visibly anxious, hoping I didn’t take his invitation the wrong way.

“Sure, I’m really not very tired anyways.”

------

The mood was light and fun as Jiyong and I sat cross-legged on his bed playing Never-Have-I-Ever with our fingers. We had learned many things about each other, including Jiyong’s embarrassing mistake of getting in the wrong car and his concert being the first I would ever attend the next day.

“I cannot believe you have never been to a concert before!”

“Nope, you’re going to be my first,” I said, causing us both to laugh at my choice of words.

“Well, how about you and Ash come to the rehearsal, too? I can get you tickets and backstage passes, if you want.”

I stared at him in bewilderment and wondered just how I got into this situation, sitting in front of the one and only G-Dragon, being offered VIP tickets. “Uhh—yeah! That would be so cool! I mean, if you are okay with it, I guess,” I said, backing off when I heard my inner fangirl bubble at the surface.

“Okay, then. Now, it’s my turn I believe. Never have I ever…” he looked down at his one remaining finger and my two while strategically thinking. “Never have I ever ridden a horse.”

“What?! Oh, come on!” I cried as I held up one remaining finger. “You’ve seriously never ridden a horse? Not even when Youngbae rode one for the Bae Bae music video?”

“Nope, not even then. I’ve always wanted to, though!”

“Ugh, okay. Well let’s see…I’ve got to make you lose.”

“Wait! I have an idea. Loser grants winner one wish. Deal?”

I eyed him warily before nodding my head in agreement. “Okay, fine. I have the perfect one. Never have I ever made out with a dancer!”

He laughed and pointed his remaining finger at me. “Not true! You just kissed me!”

“You’re far from a dancer!” I fought back, making Jiyong fall back onto the bed in a fit of laughter.

“That’s fair, but also…” he said, sitting back up. “I’ve never made out with a dancer, either.”

He laughed again when my eyes widened and my mouth hung open.

“What!? Ugh, okay, lay it on me.”

Jiyong contemplated for a minute, tapping his finger on his lips, showing you every chance he got that he was still in the game. After a while, an evil grin took over his face, and I nervously awaited his statement.

“Never have I ever…made out with someone of the same sex. And kissing and making out is totally different, by the way.”

I gaped at him, eyeing him up and down before slowly pulling my last remaining finger down into my palm.

“What?! I didn’t really think it would make you lose.”

“It was a long time ago, I was drunk, let’s move on,” I said, falling back onto the bed.

“Okay, okay. I guess it doesn’t really matter, since I won! You owe me one wish, Y/N.”

“Okay, Jiyong, one wish. What is it your tiny black heart desires?” I asked, leaning up on my elbows to look at him.

Jiyong laughed and leaned forward slightly before whispering his wish.

“Kiss me.”

My head whipped in Jiyong’s direction as he made his wish, biting my lip when I found him already staring at my mouth.

“Well, I mean, I don’t want to be a sore loser,” I said before sitting up better to reach his face.

He slowly leaned into me, our noses barely grazing each other’s until our lips finally touched for the second time that night. His lips were still soft, his most still tasted intoxicating, but unlike the kiss before, this one was a little firmer, a little hungrier. He pulled away for a brief moment as a sort of test before he repositioned his lips back onto mine. I placed my hand on the back of Jiyong’s neck, pulling him into me more as he took it as a sign to deepen the kiss. His hands found my hips, pulling on me until I was straddling his waist as he sat flush against the headboard.

He sucked my bottom lip into his mouth, eliciting a small moan from the bottom of my throat. I could feel him smile into the kiss, and I decided to get a little revenge by biting lightly on his lip while gently pulling at the end of his hair. The groan I received in return was more than enough to set me on fire, subconsciously moving my hips slightly into his. As my clothed core made contact with his sweat pant-clad bulge, we both made an audible gasp, our lips parting for a mere second, and Jiyong pushed his hips further up to meet mine.

With our hips still moving together and his bulge growing bigger and bigger, Jiyong pushed his hands up under my tank top to caress my waist and slip his hands past the back side of my shorts. He soon left my mouth to trail his kisses down to the base of my neck, to the backside of my ear, and the top of my cleavage. All the while, the feeling of his rough fingers sent shivers down my spine, and I flung my rode across the room in one quick motion. Jiyong chuckled into my neck and continued to raise my tank top until it sat just above my bra, suddenly trailing his hands back down my side.

In frustration, I unhooked my bra and pulled it off along with my tank top in a rush. Jiyong’s mouth left my body to gawk at my chest, and I suddenly became very aware of my naked breasts, covering them with my arms as my face and neck turned red.

“Don’t, baby.”

Jiyong’s eyes were full of adoration as he peeled my arms away from my chest and rested them on his clothed chest. He reached up to take a breast in each hand, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over each nipple gently. I threw my head back at the feeling of him touching me, letting a small moan run past my lips.

Jiyong’s t-shirt soon became a barrier that needed to go, and he was more than happy to shed the material when I tugged on the hem. Our lips reattached briefly before he flipped us over, nestling himself comfortably between my legs. I moaned into his mouth as I felt his dick pressing against my core through our clothes, twitching my hips up in need of that sweet, sweet friction. His kisses began to travel once again down my body, leaving open mouthed kisses down my chest, on each of my nipples, and trailing down my stomach until he reached the hem of my shorts.

He looked up at me and I moaned as he hooked his index fingers into the top of my shorts, pulling them down slowly until I was left in my dark blue panties. He came back to my mouth, kissing me urgently as his fingers slowly outlined my lips through my panties. The slower he traced, the wetter I became, and I was soon pulling on his hair and wanting more. His lips left mine and he locked eyes with me as his hand slipped inside my panties, my mouth dropping open in pleasure.

“Damn, baby, you’re so wet. Who made you this wet?” The sweet, shy boy that had innocently invited me into his room was long gone, and all I could do was moan in response.

Jiyong’s body once again moved down my body until his mouth hovered over my clothed core. He placed an open-mouthed kiss to the outside of my panties, just south of my clit, before he vigorously tore off my panties in one swift motion. I thrusted my hips up with the new-found breeze, but Jiyong locked his arms around my knees to keep me in place as he kissed around my lips.

“Fuck, would you just—please baby,” I moaned as he finally plunged his tongue deeply along my slit. His tongue worked hard as I moved the little I could under his hold. He looked up at me as he came up to suck on my clit, driving me closer to the edge that I was already quickly approaching.

As I pushed my fingers through his hair, Jiyong circled his index finger around my opening, slowly pushing it in as I began to moan louder at my approaching orgasm. His mouth sped up to drive me off the edge, and his finger curled up to hit a sweet spot as I spasmed and crunched up with the intensity of my release.

I twitched as I pulled on his head, trying to pull his mouth away from my oversensitive lower half. When he finally made his way up to my mouth, he replaced it with the flat of his hand, slowly rubbing me in soothing circles.

Jiyong sweetly kissed my lips, as if he hadn’t just given me the best orgasm of my life, and I laid there trying to catch my breath.

“Oh my god.”

“Yes?” He giggled, the cockiness vanishing as a genuinely caring smile graced his face.

I pulled him by the neck to kiss him again when I noticed he was still in his sweatpants, a dangerously hard cock just waiting to be freed.

“Um, Jiyong? You need some help here?” I said, ghosting my hand over the outline of his hardness through his pants.

“Oh, please. I thought you would never ask,” he groaned as I slipped my hand inside his boxers.

I pushed him down on the bed beside me before kissing down his chest and pulling his boxers down along with his sweatpants. The sight of his erection made me tingle, and I settled myself between his spread legs. I looked up at Jiyong as I lightly licked the tip of his length, sliding my hand down the shaft towards the base. I slowly started to move my hand as I engulfed the head of his cock, watching as his face contorted in pure bliss. His hand came down to the back of my head, and I welcomed the slight thrust he gave for me to take more of him into my mouth.

As I moaned around his dick, he screwed his eyes shut, stroking and moving the hair out of my face. Suddenly, Jiyong pulled me away from him, causing me to look up in confusion.

“I want to fuck you, so bad.”

All I did was nod before Jiyong sprang off the bed in search of a condom he had seen in his suitcase. When he returned, I spread my legs in anticipation, rubbing my still-sensitive clit until he managed to roll the condom on.

Jiyong placed a pillow under my lower back and lent down to kiss me sweetly. As we kissed, I could feel his tip lightly pushing against my entrance, and it took all that I had to not buck my hips and force him to enter me.

“Are you ready?” He whispered against my ear.

“Yes, baby, please.” I would have usually hated that I sounded so whiny, but in the moment, all I could care about was feeling him deep inside of me.

He slowly entered me, giving me time to adjust to his cock, and paused when he was all the way in. I threw my head back in pleasure at the feeling of him filling me up, and in no time I was ready for him to move.

“Jiyong, please move. It feels so good.”

The moment the words left my mouth, Jiyong was drilling into me with more might and speed than I had ever experienced with any past boyfriend. He was set at a relentless pace, and I was going to cum any minute.

“I’m c-cumming, oh my god!”

Instead of letting up, Jiyong fucked straight through my second orgasm, and a few strokes later, he emptied himself into the condom. He collapsed onto my chest, keeping his weight on his elbows, as he buried his face into my neck, placing soft kisses there. He finally peeled himself away from my sticky body and threw the condom away, quickly making his way back to the bed.

“You can stay here, if you want?” Jiyong commented, not waiting for a response before throwing the duvet over our naked bodies and pressing himself up against my backside. I hid my face behind my hand and nodded, a smile taking over my pink-tinged face.

“Why not?” I said, turning to peck his lips one last time before sleep overtook us.

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