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quickspinner · 3 years

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Guard My Heart - Ch 2 Bright as Ever

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“It looks so great, Marinette!” Tikki squealed and Marinette sat back on her heels and looked up, smiling as she rubbed a forearm across her forehead.

“It really does,” Marinette agreed, her voice slightly muffled by the mask she was wearing to filter out some of the paint fumes. She laid her paintbrush carefully aside and looked up. “How’s it going up there?” she asked, and dodged a glob of black paint just in time. “Careful,” she scolded, scrubbing at the spot with a rag even though she had a drop cloth on the floor for just this reason.

“My apologies,” Wayzz said above her, moving so that his paintbrush was hovering over the paint can and not Marinette’s head. “You startled me. I am almost done.”

“Good,” Marinette smiled, and resisted the urge to tell him to hurry up. Wayzz was careful, which was why she had selected him to help her with this final stage, filling in the last of the narrow curlicues and flowers she had roughed in days ago. His care came at the price of speed, though, and sometimes his slowness made Marinette want to scream.

It was still more efficient to have Wayzz filling in the upper portion than for Marinette to get up on a ladder to do it, and the kwami was so happy to be helping that she didn’t have the heart to rush him, so she throttled down her impatience and walked out to the middle of the room to spin a slow circle and take it all in. She’d had most of the kwamis in here helping at one time or another, because this would be their home as well and she wanted them to feel some ownership and investment in it. The walls that surrounded her were now a soft pink, with her signature flowers in darker pink and black at all the corners and coordinating scrollwork anywhere that seemed too empty. Framed photographs from her portfolio were stacked in a corner and covered with a cloth. She’d hang those tomorrow, once the paint was dry. The back wall that they were finishing up now had her flower design on a much larger scale, framing the little sales counter. Fixtures and clothing racks were all shoved to the center of the room at the moment, but now that the painting was done, she could start getting that arranged. She wasn’t ahead of her plan by any means, but she was on track.

She noticed a shadow against the paper covering the shop’s front door just before there was a rap on the glass. Marinette waited for Wayzz and Tikki to zip out of sight, and then went to answer it. She was pretty sure she recognized the silhouette, and sure enough, Luka’s friendly grin greeted her as she opened the door.

“Hi,” he said, a little sheepishly. “I’m trying to move a table and I could use a hand. Would you mind coming over when you have a second?”

Marinette smiled. “I have a second now,” she said, stepping out and checking her pocket for her key before she let the door close behind her.

Luka chuckled and tapped the mask Marinette was still wearing, and she blushed beneath it. “Oh. Right.” She took it off, embarrassed as she rubbed at the lines she was sure it had left on her face. She opened the door again and dropped the mask back inside, knowing that one of the kwamis would retrieve it for her.

“You could just prop the doors open,” Luka suggested as they walked over to his space.

Marinette huffed. “I don’t like being watched while I work,” she replied, which was only half a lie. It was true she didn’t especially want people looking in on her while she was contorted around, potentially with her ass in the air, trying to find a good position to do what she needed without leaning into wet paint. Mostly, though, she didn’t want the kwamis on display for any passers-by.

She smiled a little as Luka held the door of his own shop open and motioned her inside. It had a more industrial warehouse feel, with exposed beams in the walls and ceiling, and low voltage lighting strung over the crowded space. Marinette wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find out the multicolor slat wood flooring had come from the Liberty (it hadn’t, Luka had laughingly assured her when she asked, but he had picked it because it reminded him of home). Really, the whole place felt like the Liberty, and Marinette loved it, right down to the friendly, grinning cement turtle statue sitting by the door. The thing was knee high to Luka and while one couldn’t exactly call him pretty, his shell twinkled with embedded pieces of mosaic tile in many colors, and there was an air of mischievousness in his grinning face that made Marinette smile back every time she saw him. He looked exactly like the kind of thing Anarka would go wild for, regardless of the fact that he was incredibly, impractically heavy. She couldn’t imagine what shipping him had originally cost, and Luka’s story of actually getting it to its place by the door had left Marinette giggling uncontrollably. She was positive from the look on Luka’s face while he told the tale that it was never moving from that spot unless someone both bought it, and was willing to carry it away.

The whole shop was full of fun, eclectic things like that, as well as some more valuable antiques. Marinette loved it, and could picture in her mind the type of customer Luka was likely to bring in. She hadn’t told him that she’d already started a few sketches for his branding, based around a stylized boat. It had taken her a few days to get over the fact that he’d named his shop Second Chance Antiques and Curiosities . She had nearly laughed in his face when he told her, and that would have been really hard to explain. She’d managed to hold it in until she was alone, and then she and Sass had had a good laugh over it.

“Sorry I have to keep asking for your help,” Luka grunted, as they both took an end of the table he needed moved and shifted it. “I thought I had a plan, but there’s just so much stuff, I keep having to rearrange.”

“It’ll be easier when you get some customers in here and get some of this stuff—oof—out of your hair.” Marinette sighed as they set the table down in the area Luka had cleared out for it. “Maybe if you used the bigger pieces as sort of...display cases for some of the smaller stuff?” she suggested, stretching her back slightly as she looked around.

“Yeah, maybe,” Luka sighed, giving her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m sure I’ll figure it out eventually.”

Marinette put her hand on his arm and rubbed it gently. “You will. We’ve both got a lot of lessons to learn, but we’re both adaptable. We’ll make it happen.”

Luka made an affirmative noise, but sighed again.

“Luka,” Marinette said gently, and he looked at her with that same not-quite-there smile.

“I’m okay. Freaking out a little, but I’ll manage. I’ll be fine once the shop opens and things start happening, it’s just...the waiting is getting to me, I guess. It’s not like I don’t have a thousand things left to do to get ready, but...I don’t know, I’m not explaining myself well.” He looked away from her, and ran his fingers through his hair. It was hanging loose today, and the blue looked bright and fresh. He must have done a touch up for opening week, she thought absently, reaching up to tuck a lock behind his ear. His eyes darted to her with something like surprise and she drew her hand back quickly, self-conscious.

“You won’t know what the right choices are until you can get people in and see their reactions,” Marinette suggested, and the smile he gave her was real this time, real and grateful, and she smiled back. “You’re better at reading people in the moment rather than predicting people you don’t know—o-or at least you used to be—so I can see how you’d be frustrated trying to do this without any way to get feedback.”

“You’re not like that,” he muttered, smile falling as he looked back at the shop and sighed. “You’ve probably had a vision and a plan since before you signed the contract.”

Marinette bumped her shoulder against his. “You’re not me, though. It’s okay to do things your way, and not mine. Opening week is important, but it isn’t everything.”

Luka grinned at her, and Marinette felt her shoulders curl under his knowing look. “It caused you physical pain to say that, didn’t it,” he chuckled.

Marinette scoffed and folded her arms, and then muttered, “Maybe.”

Luka laughed and put his arm around her shoulders, giving her a little squeeze before letting his arm drop. “Thanks for the pep talk, Marinette.”

He was smiling now for real, and it didn’t fade, and Marinette felt unreasonably proud about it. She opened her mouth to say something, though she had no idea what, when Luka’s phone beeped a familiar tone. He frowned and pulled it out of his pocket, checking the akuma alert. Marinette leaned over without thinking to look as well, dread curling in her gut even as her heart pumped faster.

“It’s not nearby,” Luka assured her, and Marinette sighed, and then her eyes widened and she jerked back a bit as she suddenly realized how she was crowding him.

“Well, that’s a relief,” she said, quickly, backing up. “I should—”

“Watch out!” Luka was lunging forward before she even registered her calf hitting something hard, and he grabbed her arms just as she pitched backwards with a yelp. “I got you,” he said breathlessly, as he braced his feet and pulled her upright. “Sorry, that scared me,” he said, letting go of her quickly, his hands moving to tug the tail of his shirt nervously and nodding at the glass-top coffee table she had almost fallen into. “You could have really gotten hurt. Please be careful.” He grinned sheepishly. “At least until I get this place a little more organized.”

“Luka.” Marinette stepped forward and hugged him, and though his arms wrapped immediately back around her, she felt herself blushing, the feel of a man’s body against her instead of a half-grown boy’s suddenly forcibly reminding her that they weren’t teenagers anymore. “Couffaines don’t do organized,” she teased, keeping her head down so he couldn’t see her embarrassment. “Stop trying to make it look like you think it’s supposed to, and do it your way. It’ll be fine, and you can adjust from there.” She let go quickly and straightened without looking at him.

“I have to, um, go finish my painting before it all dries out or...something,” she said quickly, making sure she watched where she was going this time as she walked away from him, face burning. Stupid, why had she done that? Sure, they were friendly, and yeah, they’d fallen fairly easily into something like their old friendship. Luka had clearly meant what he said, about the way friendships come and go, and he seemed perfectly ready to let her take back her place in his life, and it was so easy to just go with it...

Not exactly her old place, she reminded herself firmly. That was hardly to be expected. He’d always been touch-oriented though, and had been touching her shoulder or her arm or her back just as casually as he ever had, so maybe the hug wasn’t a big deal to him. He probably hugged his friends all the time, and it’s not like he knew that she didn’t. Besides, she used to, and she probably would, if she still had friends—real friends. And Luka was a real friend, so there was nothing wrong with hugging him, especially when he was clearly so worried about whether he could pull off this new business venture. She was freaking out over nothing, surely. She could comfort him; he’d do the same for her—he had done the same for her, so it was her turn , after all, especially being the more experienced when it came to business and marketing, so...

Marinette rushed through the door of her shop and locked it quickly, and then put her hands over her face and shrieked into them.

“Marinette,” Tikki said sympathetically, flying up from her purse to pat her shoulder.

“I know,” Marinette mumbled. “Okay, um...I don’t think I can leave in spots just now without being seen so...let’s go out the back and try that alley a couple blocks over.”

Transformed and with her mind focused on the goal, she followed the general direction of the alert, and then the screaming, to a fancy restaurant on the roof of a high-rise. Chat was already there, crouched in the remains of the outdoor dining, clearly regrouping.

“What’s up?” she asked, landing next to him.

“This restaurant’s nearly impossible to get a table at,” Chat said grimly, with none of the joking humor he would have used once. “Big snob energy. Guess they snubbed the wrong person today. Best guess is the akuma’s target is the maitre’d or the manager, unless there was some random civilian that was especially rude. Looks like your standard entitled rich lady to me, though, so I’m betting on a beef with the restaurant.” He glanced at her. “You got here pretty quick today.”

“I’ve made some changes in my personal life,” she said carefully. “I’m hoping it’ll give me a little more freedom and you won’t have to wait for me so often.”

“Not like I have anything better to do, but I’m not complaining,” Chat grunted. “Give me the plan and let’s go.”

Ladybug sighed to herself. She had always wished he would take this job more seriously, but something had changed in Chat when they took Hawkmoth down, and while he had improved somewhat since then, clearly he’d been having one of the bad days before the akuma struck. Grim and cynical wasn’t an especially good look on him, and it worried her.

No time to worry about that now though. “Distract and evacuate,” she said. “We need to get the civilians out of there. Hopefully in the process we can figure out which one it’s specifically targeting.”

“Works for me.” Chat launched himself forward, ready to go as always, and Ladybug moved only an instant later.

The akuma was obnoxious and destructive, with heeled shoes that could shatter concrete and a banshee-like scream that left Ladybug’s ears ringing even after the cure. Ladybug winced as she looked back at the trail of destruction. Chat just flopped on his back on the rooftop.

“Could’ve used some backup for that one,” he muttered.

“I’m sorry, there was no opening,” Ladybug panted, putting her hands on her knees. “I was afraid to leave.”

“Not blaming you,” he said, with a hint of his old humor in the half smile he managed as he turned his head to look at her. “Just saying. We could really use a hand more often.”

Ladybug made a neutral noise. She didn’t disagree with him, but…

But, but, but. There was always a but. But the rules . But identities . But it was her responsibility.

“Ladybug,” Chat said, the smile falling away as he watched her expression. “I really didn’t mean it that way.”

“I know,” she said, her voice coming out a tad too high. “It’s fine.” She held out her fist to him and he rolled over on his side to bump his against it. “I gotta get back.”

“I’m just gonna lay here for a while,” he muttered, and Ladybug sighed, reaching down to ruffle his hair affectionately.

“Don’t stay out too long, Kitty.”

“Yeah, yeah, beep beep. I got it.” He waved his ringed hand at her and then flopped back down to the roof. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on getting stuck on top of this building.”

Ladybug huffed a laugh, and tossed her yoyo.

She transformed a couple of streets away, and glancing at the time, she went up to the apartment instead of back into the shop. Several pairs of large eyes in small faces peeped out as soon as they were sure it was her, and came to circle around her.

“I finished the pieces you asked me to,” Wayzz told her

“We cleaned up the paint and sealed the cans that were left,” Pollen piped up.

“That’s great,” Marinette said with a tired smile, giving them each a cuddle. “Thanks so much. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“It is the leassst we can do,” Sass observed mildly, bringing a damp cloth to her. Marinette took it gratefully.

“Where?” she asked, and wiped at the spot Sass patted. The cloth came away smeared with flecks of half-dry pink paint. Ugh, did she have that on her face the whole time she was talking to Luka? How embarrassing. She handed the cloth back when Sass nodded that she was clean.

“I should go finish,” Marinette sighed, but instead she sat down on the couch.

“You should eat first, Guardian,” Pollen told her, hovering. “And rest. There isn’t much left to be done. You can finish it tomorrow.”

“She’s right, Marinette,” Tikki piped up, perching on Marinette’s shoulder. “You can finish the paint in the morning, and it’s on the other side from the dressing area, so it won’t keep you from getting the curtains up over there or any of the other things you had planned.”

“It’ll just delay everything by a couple of hours,” Marinette sighed, slumping on the arm of the couch. “I’ll see how I feel after dinner. I’d rather finish it tonight if I can.”

“Then you’d better go make dinner before you fall asleep on the couch,” Tikki giggled, and Pollen agreed, tugging at Marinette’s fingers.

“It won’t do for you to be skipping meals!” Pollen scolded.

“All right, all right,” Marinette giggled, getting up. “I’ll make dinner.”

The kitchen in her apartment was separated from the living room by a small but usable breakfast bar, so Marinette hadn’t bothered to get a separate table. Instead, she lined up the kwami’s plates on the inside edge and pulled up a stool on the other side of the counter to sit at her own plate.

She was just finishing up, her thoughts already running on the next things she had to do, when she was distracted by the muffled sound of...a guitar. The kwamis paused in their chatter, and Marinette sat with her fork halfway to her mouth, listening. After a moment she smiled. “It’s Luka,” she murmured. “His apartment probably mirrors ours, so his kitchen and living room must be on the other side of this wall.” Her eyes widened slightly in alarm. “If we can hear him, he can probably hear us if we get too loud. I can pass some noise off as the tv or the radio, but we’ll have to be careful.” The kwamis nodded, but Marinette shot pointed looks at Xuppu, Orikki, and Ziggy in particular. They all made faces at her, but nodded along with the others.

Everyone was quiet as she finished her meal, smiling as she listened to the wandering guitar. “It’s nice,” she observed to no one in particular. “It’s been a long time since I heard Luka play.”

It was funny, the effect it had on her. She could feel her shoulders sliding down, and a pleasant calm seeping into her. Had he really made such an impression all those years ago, that she responded so easily to the sound of his guitar even now? She took her dishes to the sink and stood a moment, laying a hand over her heart, and for a moment she heard a different song,

When she took a breath, though, instead of the scent of metal and river wind, the scent of lemon dish soap filled her nose and brought her back to the present. She smiled at the kwamis, who had busily stacked their little plates next to the sink and were filling it with water and soapsuds.

Right . All of that was a long time ago, and they were different people now. Still, maybe sometime soon she could come to one of his gigs and hear him play for real, and not through a wall. Though...it was kind of nice, knowing she was the only one who was hearing him right now. She wondered if he knew she could hear him.

The tune changed, took on a little more purpose, and Marinette smothered a giggle. No, she doubted he realized she could hear, because he probably wouldn’t be caught dead playing Love Me Like You Do with an audience, even if he did give it a bit of a metal makeover.

She’d have to let him know. Eventually. When she could think of a way to tell him that wouldn’t make him think he had to stop.

She hummed quietly along as she and the kwami finished washing the dishes.

“Are you going to go back downstairs?” Tikki asked, tilting her head.

“Mmm...no,” Marinette decided. “There’s still plenty to unpack and put away up here, and you’re right. I can finish the shop in the morning.”

The next few days were a blur of hard work as opening day got closer and closer. The shop was coming together, and Marinette took comfort in, for once, being able to get everything just right, without anybody telling her it should be different, or complaining that she was too fussy.

It was exhausting, though, and led to some pretty silly late night giggling with the kwamis as they tried to get her to rest before she made herself totally delirious.

The day before opening, she walked into Second Chance with a box in her hands, trying not to giggle openly.

“Hey, Marinette," Luka greeted, looking up from where he was loading up some display shelves near the counter.

“Wow, Luka, it looks great in here,” Marinette said, looking around.

“You were right. When I stopped trying to be strategic and just put things in where they felt like home, it all came together. I’m still not sure it’s the best arrangement, at least it feels comfortable. ” He looked much more relaxed, and his smile was easy and true.

“I think that will work the best for you in the end,” Marinette smiled. “The right customers will like it, and the ones who don’t, well.” She patted the big cement turtle on the head. “Probably aren’t looking for the kinds of things you’re selling anyway.”

Luka chuckled. “Fair enough. What can I do for you, Marinette?” He slid the case closed and stood, turning to face her.

Marinette bit her lip, and then held up the small box in her hands. “Well, I...maybe stayed up a little late last night, and I got kind of loopy, and then instead of going to bed like a smart person, I...did something silly. And if you hate it you can say so and I’ll walk right back out and we don’t ever have to speak of this again.”

Luka raised his eyebrows. “That sounds a little dramatic. What, did you make me a lace nightie with matching slippers?”

Marinette burst out laughing. “Okay, you’re right, that would be sillier,” she giggled, setting the box down carefully on a nearby table. “No, it’s not for you actually.”

“Not for me?” Luka put his hand to his chest. “I’m hurt.”

Marinette giggled again, pulling some things out of the box and turning away from him. “You might not be when you see it.” Impulsively she added, “Turn around.” Luka did, and Marinette hurriedly went to work.

“Okay, you can look now.” She was barely holding back laughter, and when Luka turned around his mouth dropped open.

“You’re kidding me,” he said, covering his mouth with one hand as he approached, trying to smother his laughter. “Marinette. Oh my God.”

The cement turtle now sported a pair of Eiffel tower sunglasses the exact match to the ones Marinette had made for Jagged years ago. He had a choker of studded leather around his long neck and another cuff around one ankle, and Marinette had hung a guitar made of cardboard and purple glitter on him as well.

“Tada!” she said, throwing out her hands. “He’s a rock turtle, Luka. Because he’s, you know, rock, I mean I know he’s concrete but it still counts. So now he’s a rock turtle for real.”

“I think those paint fumes are getting to you,” Luka laughed, and then threw one arm around her neck and kissed her forehead before letting her go. “I love it, thank you. It’s amazing.”

“He can be your mascot,” Marinette giggled, unreasonably pleased and trying to resist the urge to touch her forehead. He’d done that the way he used to do it to Juleka, after all, and how touch-starved was she, that she kept dwelling on every little gesture of affection he made? It was Luka, after all, and he was just like that.

But he was smiling, wider than he had in days, and it gave Marinette a sense of accomplishment that more than made up for her tiredness.

“Ready for the big day?” Luka asked as he crouched to examine the turtle’s new guitar.

“I think so. Yeah, I am.” Marinette brought her hands up and rubbed her arms. “It feels like I’m going to jinx it, saying that. Like one of those dreams I’m always having where I walk into a class or a client meeting and realize suddenly that I forgot to cover half of what they asked for in my presentation, and I forgot my bra on top of it.”

Luka laughed, rocking back on his heels to look up at her. “Seriously?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “All the time. Even my subconscious won’t cut me any slack.”

Luka shook his head. “Marinette, if that ever happened to you in real life, by the end of it you’d have them convinced that they didn’t need all that stuff anyway and wearing bras would immediately go out of style.”

“What,” said a dry voice, “the hell did I just walk in to?”

Marinette’s head whipped around to look at the door, and her mouth dropped open at the sight of the tall, slender woman standing there with her arms loosely crossed and an amused smirk on her face.

“Hey, Jules,” Luka said, getting up and turning towards her with his arms out. “You made it.”

“Of course I did, idiot,” Juleka mumbled, but Marinette saw her hide her smile in Luka’s shoulder as she hugged him back. Then, to her mild surprise, Juleka peeked over his shoulder. “Hi, Marinette.”

“It’s really good to see you, Juleka,” Marinette said warmly. “You look fantastic,” she added, as Juleka came to take her hands and exchange a bise.

“I have good stylists,” Juleka shrugged. Her hair was still long, but the purple was gone and it was pulled back into a shining French braid, leaving both her amber eyes bare to stare at Marinette. Her makeup was perfect and Marinette remembered that Juleka was a cosmetics model now. Of course she always had to look her best in public. “Luka told me you were opening your own place. I can’t make the opening, but maybe...maybe I could make an appointment to come take a look?” There was something in the old Juleka in the way she asked that question, a slight curl of her shoulders and drop of her head, and the way she pinched one thumb and forefinger tightly together at her side.

Impulsively Marinette said, “Why don’t you just come over now? Everything’s set up and you can get first pick if there’s anything you like. Not that you should feel like you need to buy anything,” Marinette added hurriedly. “Just, if anything catches your eye or—okay I’m shutting up now, you probably don’t even have time, it doesn’t have to be now—just, whenever is good! If you want.” She closed her mouth abruptly before she could trip into another line of babble.

Juleka smiled, her head tilting slightly as if she were still peeking through that curtain of bangs. “I’d love to come over now, if that’s okay.”

“Really?” Marinette brightened, embarrassment forgotten. “Awesome! I’d love to have your opinion on—well, everything, to be honest.”

“I can’t wait to see it.”

“Oh sure,” Luka mocked, and Marinette jumped a little, looking at him. “You said you were coming to see me, but really you just wanted a sneak peek at Marinette’s clothes. I see where I rate.”

“As long as we’re clear,” Juleka huffed, and walked out of the door. Marinette stood gaping like a fish for a moment, and then followed her, shooting Luka an apologetic look over her shoulder.

“I’m sure it won’t take long,” she said, but Luka, smiling, just rolled his eyes and waved her on.

Juleka didn’t exactly gush; she was too collected for that, but her quiet smile and nod of approval as she looked around was more encouraging than a flood of compliments. “It has good energy,” she murmured. “Very you. Gives a sense of your brand from the beginning. I like it.”

“Thank you,” Marinette smiled, sincerely grateful.

“It looks like a lot of work.”

“It was,” Marinette sighed, “But it’s so worth it to see it come together. It’s scary to be doing this all my own, but at least I can make things exactly the way I want them.” She pointed out the curtained dressing rooms, and the pedestal in front of the (very expensive, even second hand) full-length three-way mirror. “I’m planning to do alterations and fittings as well,” Marinette explained, “On anything, not just my clothes. In a limited capacity, of course, so that I still have time to keep the shop stocked. I’m actually hoping to bring in lines from a couple of other independent designers—people I met in school that have an aesthetic that will fit in with mine, just to broaden the range of what I can offer, but...well, I kind of wanted to open with my own things first.” She smiled ruefully and wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want to drag anybody down with me if I go under in the first month.”

Juleka laughed, and Marinette smiled at the sound of it. “I’m sure that won’t happen,” Juleka assured her, still smiling. “These pieces are gorgeous,” she added, motioning to the photographs on the wall.

“It’s nice to see you happy,” Marinette said without thinking, and then bit her lip.

Juleka seemed to freeze for a long moment, and then she took a long breath that reminded Marinette of Luka. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, hasn’t it,” Juleka said quietly, that slight curl in her shoulders again. “I—I’m...sorry, that we gave you such a hard time back when we were kids. I...understand better now. This is a tough industry and you have to be dedicated and motivated to succeed. I’m sorry that we...well, I don’t think any of us meant to be holding you back, but I understand how it might have felt that way to you.”

“Oh…” Marinette said lamely, looking away and moving to fiddle with the nearest garment rack. “I didn’t—I mean, I felt bad that I had to bail on you guys so much, but I didn’t feel that way. I just thought, you know, you guys were right and if I wasn’t being the kind of friend you needed...it was okay. You’d have every right to be just as mad at me for choosing my career over you even at such a young age. I was ditching you a lot, and...I could have done things differently. Handled it better.”

“You had a life beyond school and beyond us,” Juleka insisted, folding her arms uncomfortably. “It was wrong of us to try and take that from you. I don’t know, maybe we felt guilty that we weren’t working as hard, or something, but...we could have made it work. We always made exceptions for Adrien because he was working a career outside of school. We should have at least extended the same courtesy to you. Especially when it was obvious even then how talented and driven you were. You’ve got what it takes to really make it, and it was wrong of us to get in the way of that when we should have been cheering you on.”

Marinette’s hands stilled for a moment, and it was her turn to take a slow breath. She felt a twinge of guilt, because Juleka of course didn’t know the whole story. It hadn’t been wholly for the sake of her future career that she’d bailed on her friends so often, and it hadn’t been determination to drive forward at all costs that had caused her to stop trying so hard to meet her friends halfway. Her reasons had neither been selfish nor noble. She just hadn’t had the energy to keep up the front any longer.

But she couldn’t explain it now any more than she could then, so all she could say was a quiet, “Thank you, Juleka.” She took another breath and lifted her head, trying to smile. “You really don’t need to apologize, though. I never held anything against you guys. Besides, we were kids.” Juleka relaxed a little, though she still held herself a bit stiffly.

Time to change the mood. Marinette rallied her spirits and put the most genuine grin on her face that she could muster as she faced Juleka. “Come on,” she said brightly, moving over to one of the other racks and gesturing enthusiastically for Juleka to follow her. “I have some things that I bet will look great on you.”

They already had several outfits laid aside for Juleka to purchase when Luka knocked and came in the door, the little bell Marinette had hung over it chiming cheerfully.

“Hi Luka,” Marinette smiled, looking up from where she was laying another dress across the sales counter. “Sorry, I guess we took up more time than I realized. Did you get bored?”

“Just wondering if my sister is still going to buy me dinner,” Luka grinned. “I’m starving here.”

“Then hurry up and die so we don’t have to listen to you,” Juleka called from the dressing room.

“I’m wasting away slowly ,” he called back. “I’ll continue to exist on spite until you feed me.”

“Do you need any help, Juleka?” Marinette asked, trying to keep her giggles out of her voice.

“No, I think I’ve—there. Oh, I like this one, Marinette!” Juleka pushed the curtain aside and stepped out.

“Hm, needs a little tailoring, but only a little,” Marinette said, eyes fastened on the garment, as Juleka made a slow turn. “Let me just—” She stepped over with a couple of clips in her hand and took the slack out of the dress in a couple of key places, clipping it in place. “There. And of course I can adjust the hem if you need it, but I think this length is pretty good on you actually. What do you think, Luka?” She turned and blinked at the look on his face as he stared at his sister. He looked...happy, but his face was crinkling up in a weird way that she didn’t understand.

“You look beautiful, Juleka,” Luka said, and had to clear his throat.

“Don’t you dare,” Juleka warned, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes. “Don’t you dare get mushy on me again.”

“Better,” Luka continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. “You’re poised and confident and...I’m just so proud of you. Five years ago that dress would have overpowered you and now look at you.”

“You’re not going to cry again, are you?” Juleka asked, rolling her eyes.

“I might,” Luka said, and his voice did sound a little thick. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I swear he’s cried at every single one of the photo shoots I was dumb enough to bring him to,” Juleka grumbled, giving Marinette a look of longsuffering.

Marinette giggled as she stepped close again and adjusted a clip. “He loves you.”

“He’s a sap,” Juleka groaned.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Luka and Marinette said in unison, and Juleka snorted.

“You two are made for each other,” she muttered, and then looked back with concern when Marinette somehow got the web of her thumb pinched in the clip and yelped.

“Fine, I’m fine,” she said hurriedly, fixing the clip. “There. Take a look.”

She helped Juleka up onto the pedestal in front of the three-way mirror, and Juleka sighed. “I love it,” she said, glancing at the two dresses and the suit that were already on the counter. “I better not try on anything else though. It’d be a pain dragging Luka’s corpse out of the shop, and I’m going to go broke if you pull out any more perfect outfits. Can you check me out for these, and we can make an appointment for the tailoring later?”

“Sure! Give me just a second.” Marinette gave her a sheepish smile. “The POS system is new and it might take me a minute to figure it out. Actually you’re doing me an extra favor by letting me try this thing out before I put it through its paces tomorrow.”

“Hey, can I take a look?” Luka asked, moving around the counter at her gesture. “I still haven’t settled on one yet. I’ve got some ancient thing a buddy loaned me, but I’m hoping I can upgrade in a few months.” He leaned on the counter next to her and grinned. “I’m not above profiting from the months of research I’m sure you did before settling on one.”

Marinette giggled, shoving him with her elbow. “Off the counter,” she ordered. “You have no idea how many practice runs I had to do with the resin to get good enough to do a project this size.”

“I can tell,” Luka said, straightening. ”It looks really cool.”

“You’ve really made the shop yours in such a short time,” Juleka said, looking at the countertop. “Everything about it just screams Marinette.”

Marinette blushed, and picked up the tablet, tried to focus on walking Luka through the steps of the POS system, explaining the features that had made her go with this system as he leaned close to watch. He smelled different than he used to, she thought absently. Not so much sunscreen and fresh air and teenage boy. He wore cologne now, pleasantly subtle, and only noticeable when he was close like this. It was a more mature scent but it suited him.

“And then Juleka can put her card in here,” Marinette said, pointing to the slot in a stand on the counter. Juleka did so, and after a moment the machine beeped. “And...there we go.” She showed Luka the screen.

“Huh. Do you use it for inventory management much?” Luka asked, leaning one hand on the counter next to her as he watched her navigate the menus. She jumped a little when her shoulder brushed his chest, but he didn’t seem to notice.

Marinette cleared her throat. “W-well like you, I don’t really have standard inventory, everything is unique, so it’s a bit more work to keep the system updated, but—uh—” He was looking at her and not the screen, attentive, and Marinette’s thoughts began to scatter.

“Shameless,” Juleka sighed, shaking her head, and they both looked up at her. She smirked at Luka, and Marinette felt her face redden though she couldn’t have said why.

“Me?” Luka said innocently, straightening away from Marinette and putting his hand on his chest. Marinette was surprised to see his ears were red, and it only made her feel more flustered.

Juleka snorted. “I can’t believe you’re taking advantage of Marinette like this, you lazy jerk. I bet you cheated on your tests at school too.”

“I sat next to Dingo ,” Luka reminded her, rolling his eyes. “Believe me, I wasn’t the one cheating.”

“Whatever,” Juleka rolled her eyes. “So can we go now? I thought you were so—” Her lips curled in a smirk. “Hungry. Or was it thirsty?”

“I’m ready when you are,” Luka said quickly, coming back around the counter. “Thanks, Marinette.”

Marinette moved quickly to get a garment bag and package up Juleka’s purchases. It was Luka, though who took them from her with a warm smile. “Congrats on your first sale,” he told her with a wink, and Marinette felt that blush again.

“It’s hardly her first sale,” Juleka pointed out, picking up a small stack of Marinette’s business cards from the holder on the counter and slipping them into her pocket. “She’s been selling since collége.”

Luka rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “First sale from your first shop—first brick and mortar shop,” he hastily corrected, when Juleka opened her mouth again. “Juleka, you’re such a pain.”

“I’m just saying, if you’re going to compliment a girl, you need to be accurate,” Juleka smirked, as Luka began shoving her toward the door. “Good luck with your grand opening, Marinette,” she called back. “I’ll pass your info around the next time I’m in the studio!”

“That would be great. Thanks for coming by, Juleka!” Marinette called, waving.

“Why do you have to make everything weird?” she heard Luka mutter as he pushed the door open for his sister and nearly shoved her out of it.

“It’s not my fault you just are weird,” Juleka retorted, and gave Marinette one more wave before the door closed behind them. “Especially around—” The door cut her off, and Marinette turned and buried her face in her hands, not at all relaxed by the giggling that began in several hidden corners of the shop.

“Traitors,” she mumbled, and took a deep breath.

“It’s okay, Marinette,” Pollen said kindly, coming to light on her arm. “You should be proud!”

“Yes!” Tikki agreed, popping out of Marinette’s purse and coming to sit next to Pollen. “That was your first client consult for your brand new shop! And it went amazing! Four outfits!”

“And you impressed Luka,” Mullo pointed out, emerging from one of the garment racks. “He seemed to think you were very knowledgeable. ” The kwami giggled and poked Marinette’s blushing cheek. Marinette swatted at him, pouting, but he just phased through her hand with a toothy grin.

“Luka just needed some information,” Marinette countered, ignoring the snorting giggles that came from all three kwamis. “And Juleka was just being nice. “Though...I suppose she could have been nice without spending quite so much money,” she conceded. “It’ll be great for business if she wears the clothes, too...she works in exactly the kind of circles where word of mouth will be really valuable.” Marinette picked up her tablet and smiled as she punched up her sales history, and looked at the transaction there. “Well...I guess this does make us official, doesn’t it.” She held out her fist and Tikki, Pollen, and Mullo bumped it all in turn. “Come on, let’s get back to work and see how much we can finish up. I want to try and take it easy tonight. I can’t show up at the big opening looking like death.”

Fiction Master Post | LBSC 2021 Exchange Collection

#quickspins #guard my heart #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #lbsc 2021 exchange #rated: m

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justjessame · 3 years

Text

Starting Over Chapter 35

We had HOURS to fill before we needed to show up for forced social time at Connie’s, and while a HUGE part of me wanted to pull Bucky back into the house and make every single room OURS - he had to unpack and I had to get prints ready for my audition portfolios and I had a special one to make for Sarah. While I worked in the spare room - where Dad had set up the rest of the tools of my future trade - a photo printer that I would have probably fainted had I seen it prior to the Snap and all of the software that would give me the upperhand in taking what my camera and my eye had taken and work it into something even more amazing - Bucky put away his clothing and books.

He checked in with me as I worked to find the best shots. Asking if I wanted something to drink or snack on, or just to drop a kiss on my temple. Occasionally he’d take a peek and gasp at what he’d see - forcing a smile to creep onto my lips.

“Are you honestly impressed -” I looked up at him, studying his face as he stared at the images on my laptop that I had up trying to see which angles would work best for what I wanted to show prospective gurus. “Or are you just trying to make me feel good about myself?”

Bucky shook his head and bit his lip. “I can’t find the words to even describe how amazed I am by this -” he pointed at the pictures that were in front of us. “How can you SEE these shots?”

I shrugged. “How can you flip a knife without looking at it and NOT lose fingers on your right hand?” He snorted. “It’s just one of those quirks I guess.” I pointed to a stack of finished pictures that weren’t going in my portfolio. “Don’t let me forget to put these in an envelope to take with us?”

“Sure,” he reached for them, but waited until I nodded permission before he picked them up. They were the pictures I’d taken of Bryn on the day that Walker had - well they were the day that Bryn and I had spent in the park with bubbles and my camera. “This is Connie’s little girl, Bryn?” I smiled and tilted my head in affirmation. “She had fun with you,” his smile grew as he went through the stack. “She likes the bubbles.” I giggled at how much fun she’d had with those damn things.

“She also likes filling the swear jar,” I warned him. “She’ll shake you down even if you catch yourself before you get the entire word out.” He raised his eyebrow. “Her daddy’s promising a trip to Disney and I swear she thinks she’s partially funding it.”

“I hear the mouse is expensive.” Bucky was grinning at me when he set the prints back down beside me. Leaning closer, he let his lips trail along my jaw. “How much longer are you going to be?”

“I could be tempted into a break,” I murmured, eyes fluttering closed as his breath got closer to that sensitive spot just under my ear.

Humming his agreement, I was in his arms and in our bedroom before either of us could complain. After all, all work and no play -

“Tell me again,” I was muttering as Bucky drove the Mustang down the street as I gave him terse directions to my best friend’s house, “why are we doing this?”

“Because your friends want to see you,” he had the top down and his grin was ALMOST worth it. Almost. “They missed you, Brooke.” I sighed. “I’ve known you for less time than they have, and I missed you while I was gone.” My heartbeat stuttered. “They want to celebrate having you back, let them?”

“OK,” I agreed as we pulled into an empty spot that was close to the house, but the amount of cars I was seeing lining the street was giving me more than enough anxiety. Connie and Joey lived on a residential street that had good parking for the area - and there weren’t many empty spots. Not enough to make me feel like the words “tiny gathering” was going to be a reality.

I had the envelope with Bryn’s pictures in my bag and Bucky took my hand after he made sure the top was secure and the doors were locked. We could hear the sound of music as we got closer to the front door and I was feeling the churning grow in my stomach, his fingers gave mine a comforting squeeze as the front door opened before we cleared the top step of the porch.

“There you are,” Connie’s face looked a little too forced perky to make my stomach less knotted. Her eyes a little too wide, her smile a little too twitchy. “Brooke! Bucky!” I stared at her, wanting like hell to turn the fuck around and go home. But I didn’t get a chance, because she was pushed out of the way and someone NOT from our group came out and I knew precisely what she hadn’t texted or called to warn me - what she hadn’t had a chance to say -

“Hey, Brookie!” Kelly Taggert, wearing something tighter than anything I had ever owned in my entire life, sauntered out and slithered up to Bucky’s free side. “YOU must be Buck BARNES, the Winter Soldier!” I watched as her long pointy fake nails, painted a poisonous looking pink, danced up his arm. “My, aren't you built like a brick shithouse?”

My eyes felt like they were going to pop completely out of my head. I opened my mouth, but before anything could come out, Bryn came marching out and screamed for money for her swear jar.

“What’s that?” Kelly stared down at Bryn like she was speaking some foreign language never before heard. “Connie, what's she saying?”

“You said a swear word,” Connie’s lips were so thin I was impressed she could get words through them. “You owe the swear jar a dollar.”

Kelly laughed, a loud donkey bray of a noise and I blinked. “Sure, honey, catch me later.” Her nails seemed to sink into Bucky’s arm, which was pretty amazing since she was on his left side. “Come on, hot stuff, let’s go introduce you to everyone. Brookie needs to catch up with Connie.”

I was stunned. Just fucking stunned. I watched as she yanked Bucky away from me and through the door. He stared at me, I imagine hoping for a rescue, but all I could think was - honestly I’m not sure I have a thought in my fucking head.

I listened as the donkey braying continued even as the door shut behind them, leaving Connie, Bryn, and me on the porch. I was still blinking, trying like high holy fuck to figure out what the hell just happened.

“She overheard Mertle telling Mrs. Guinness that we were having a get together tonight for you and Bucky.” Connie’s lips were still narrow and so were her eyes, locked on her closed front door. “Joey tried to cut her off, but how do you uninvite someone you never invited?”

“She -” I shook my head. “Did she just -” I blinked. “Bryn?” Bryn took my hand, the one that Bucky had held less than a minute ago. “Sweetheart, stay very far away from that terrible woman, ok?” I looked down at my goddaughter and watched her nod solemnly up at me. “She’s a very bad thing.” Another nod. “And here,” I reached into my bag and took out two dollars. “This is for what’s about to happen.” I figured I’d better pay up, because it might get ugly.

“Brooke -” But I was already opening up the front door. Kelly Taggert was NOT a friend of mine and Bucky Barnes was MY fucking boyfriend, so this was not the day.

I found her trying to wrap herself around him. While he was doing the best dodge and weave I’ve ever seen an adult man ever do - I had a feeling that Joey and the guys would be trying to draft him for some sport teams. Squaring my shoulders, cracking my neck, I took a deep breath and heard Connie come up beside me -

“She’s not worth it,” she muttered.

“No, she isn’t,” I agreed. “But he IS.”

I walked forward with a smile plastered on my face. I watched as my friends - Joey, who was working on getting a buffet together and his brother, Mike was helping while trying like hell NOT to stare at the spectacle that was Kelly. I saw Mary and Tawny, of the often off and on coupledom with Sam (who wasn’t around, but that was kind of to be expected) who nodded with a grin at what they could sense was coming. Carrie and Chris were cringing at the scene that Kelly presented, but when they caught sight of me, the cringes morphed to smirks. Mertle was shaking her head, but then again she was the parent here.

“There you are,” I gave Bucky HIS smile, the one that ONLY he got, and he looked at me like I was an angel come to save him. “I lost you there for a minute.”

“Hey,” his voice was deep and low, and ANY normal human would have picked up exactly what he was throwing down AT ME. Kelly Taggert wasn’t even CLOSE to normal.

“Aw, isn’t it sweet that you two are like besties.” She sneered at me, and I rolled my eyes at Bucky. “Brookie here has ALWAYS been besties with the boys.”

“And Kelly here has ALWAYS been flat on her back with whoever pays the most attention to her at the moment,” I smiled at her. “Isn’t that right, Kelly?” I watched as her eyes narrowed and those pointy, ugly ass nails dug a little harder into Bucky’s Vibranium arm. “Read the room, Kel, you’re not welcome.”

“I was invited,” she sneered and I raised an eyebrow. “I was.”

“By who?” I asked, looking around the room. “It’s MY welcome back party, right?” Everyone gave the affirmative. “And correct me if I’m wrong, but was Kelly one of our gang?”

“That would be a NO,” Mary offered from the corner with a snort. “Kelly was only part of the gangbang - after the games.” OUCH, that might be a tad -

“And since she slithered in here, latching onto YOUR guy,” Connie stepped up beside me, suddenly less worried about me smacking Kelly with more than words. “And INSULTING MY child -”

“Wait, WHAT?” Joey slammed down the platter he was holding. “What did this bitch say about Bryn?” “Daddy!” I snorted, ut-oh, I guess Bryn didn’t count that two bucks I gave her towards Joey’s swearing.

It took less time than I expected - Kelly was out of the house with a bye-bitch, don’t let the door - and she threw out a threat that she wouldn’t darken Mertle’s salon with her business again - to which Mertle tossed back that -

“That’s alright, dear, we aspired to a higher class of clientele anyway.”

Once she was gone, Bryn got her cash from Joey for the “bitch” comment - even though I technically didn’t use my two dollar pre-pay, and then the party got back on track. Bucky was wrapped around me faster than a blink and I was enjoying myself more than I expected to - finally handing the photo packet to Connie.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, showing everyone the pictures I’d taken. “I swear, Brooke, this is why your Dad was so -”

I rolled my eyes, smiling as Bucky’s lips met my neck. “You know, technically no one has met you,” I murmured.

“Yeah, well, I met Kelly, wasn’t that ENOUGH?” I laughed, but insisted on introducing him to everyone - and it went far better than his first introduction into the group.

#bucky barnes/oc #the falcon and the winter soldier #alternate universe #Mild smut #fluff #FLUFF AND SMUT #humor

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avengerscompound · 4 years

Text

The Correct Paperwork

The Correct Paperwork: A Falcon Fanfic

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Sam Wilson x F!Reader

Word Count: 1582

Rating: E

Square filled: @star-spangled-bingo - Redwing

Warnings: Smut (M|F, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation, video sex)

Synopsis: Sam sends Redwing into your office while he’s away on a mission and you agree to give him a small show, but only if he sends in the correct paperwork.

The Correct Paperwork

You were sitting at your desk just trying to get through some of the mountains of monotonous paperwork that had ended up on your desk when the little bird drone came hovering in through your door. Sam had expected as much, he knew what time of the day it was and he knew what the other’s were like. People knew what the Avengers did obviously. They saved the world. They fought bad guys. They were heroes. What most people didn’t know was the absolute mountain of paperwork that there was involved with the Avengers being a functioning unit. Not even counting the mission files and intelligence reports that were the sole purview of Maria Hill, there was a lot. Incident reports that had to be filed with local authorities. Insurance claims that came through due to damage to property, both belong to Avengers or the public as a whole. Health insurance claims. Investment portfolios to keep money coming in because there was not a single company in the world that would insure the Avengers for either property damage or their medical coverage. There were lawsuits and payslips, sick leave and holiday leave, overtime and hazard pay, and so much more all needing the i’s dotted and the t’s crossed. When they weren’t, it ended up on your desk.

They weren’t a lot. No one liked to do their paperwork. Most rushed it. Some, like Clint and Tony, would just sign and initial where they needed to and hope the rest just magically got filled in.

You looked up at the sound of Redwing’s engine and smiled. The video through the camera of the Redwing wasn’t the best quality. It had that red filter and was a little staticky, but he was still more than happy to see you. “Why hello there, Redwing,” you said, putting your pen down and leaning back in your chair. “Shouldn’t you be locked up in the armory?”

Sam chuckled and relaxed back on the ratty mattress he was lying on. “He’s doing me a favor,” he said. He’d been away on a mission for a week and he’d missed you. There was a procedure for taking out any of the weaponry, which included both Redwing and his wings. There was a bioscan and something to sign. That way no one took things they weren’t supposed to and people knew where everything was. Commandeering one of his old Redwing units to talk to you was breaking every rule.

“Is he now?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. “Shouldn’t you be working, Mister Wilson?”

“It’s my turn to sleep,” Sam answered. “And you know there’s one thing that always helps me sleep.”

You chuckled. “And how are we going to do that when I’m here and you’re all the way over there?”

“I can see you, you know?” Sam teased, playfully. “Maybe you could give me a little show?”

“Sam!” You scolded. “I’m at work.”

Sam chuckled and put an arm behind his head. He knew from the tone you were going to play along, but you’d just need a little talking into it. “Come on, baby,” Sam teased. “It’s been a week. I’m forgetting what you look like.”

You smirked and got up going to the door and locking it. “Well, you’ve seen me now. You can put Redwing back where he belongs.”

“Please, baby,” Sam begged, his hand slipping into the waistband of his sweatpants. “Show me a little sugar. You’re so god damn beautiful.”

“You and you’re sweet talk, Samuel,” you teased, unbuttoning your blouse. You kept it pulled closed so he couldn’t see anything and when it was completely unbuttoned you turned away from Redwing.

Sam chuckled and maneuvered the drone around trying to get a better view. “You feeling shy?”

You laughed and turned again, your hands moving behind your back, unhooking your bra. He moved the drone again and you kept your back to him as you unhooked your bra. You slid it off under your shirt and held it out, dropping it to the floor.

“Baby!” Sam whined. “Such a fucking tease.”

“You know I am,” you said turning back to him, still holding your blouse closed. You ran your fingers down the button placket. Sam started to slowly stroke himself hard. “You being a good boy while you’re away, Sam?”

“When am I ever?” He teased, his palm working up and down his length. “Now let’s see those titties.”

You started laughing. “Sweet talker,” you giggled. Sam laughed with you and slowly opened your blouse, first one side, and then the other, exposing your breasts to him. Even with the static and the red filter

“Oh, yeah, that’s the ticket,” he said. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous. How about you pinch your nipples a little, make them nice and hard for me.”

“Yeah?” You teased, running your fingers around your areolae. You pinched your nipples and tugged on them a little, making them pebble and harden. “Are you touching yourself? You making yourself hard for me, Sammy?”

Sam pushed his pants down a little and wrapped his hand around his cock, groaning softly. “You know I am. You make me so hard, babe.”

You moved over to your desk, still toying with your nipples. “I’m glad to hear it,” you said. “Maybe I should play with myself too.”

“Fuck, yeah you should,” Sam groaned as he tugged on his cock. A bead of pre-come had begun to form on the head and he ran his palm over it, lubricating it.

You turned again and hitched your skirt up to the top of your thighs, before bending over. He groaned as he watched you grab the waistband of your panties and slowly pulled them down, your ass bouncing from side to side as you wriggled out of them. His breath caught at the way the elastic of the waistband pulled against your thighs as you dragged them down.

“God, you’re hot,” Sam hummed as he stroked his cock a little faster.

“Thank you, honey,” you said, hopping up onto your desk and spreading your legs. He groaned again as he caught sight of your pussy. You reached between your legs and spread your folds. The pink of your labia was darker through the red filter of Redwing, but he could see it glistening.

“Fuck,” he sighed as you began to move his finger up and down your folds. “What I wouldn’t give to bury my face between your legs and eat you out.”

“Mmm…” you hummed as your finger around your clit in tight circles. “I’d like that. You are so good with your mouth. What else would you do?”

Precum began to run down his cock and over his knuckles. He grunted softly and bucked his hips up. “I’d use my fingers on that sweet spot inside you. Maybe play with your ass a little. Would you like that?”

“Fuck yeah, I would, Sammy,” you groaned, pushing two fingers inside yourself. He could still see you were using your thumb on your clit, but your hand hid most of your movements. Not that it mattered to Sam. You were playing with your breasts again, squeezing and massaging them. First one and then the other, and your face was a mask of pure pleasure.

He worked his hand faster up and down his cock, moaning softly as it throbbed in his hand. “Then I’d bend you over that desk and fuck you,” he growled.

“No you wouldn’t,” you said, your breath coming in shallow. “Because I’d be sucking that dick first. I’d take it so far down the back of my throat I’d choke on it.”

“Fuck,” Sam groaned. “I miss you so much, baby. Do your fingers feel good.”

“Yeah, babe,” you moaned. “I wish they were yours though.”

“I wish that too,” he gasped in response. “So bad.”

He watched on as your chest started to heave and small beads of sweat clung to your brow. “Fuck you look so good,” he grunted. His cock was throbbing, but he wanted you to come first.

You began to pant and you bucked up on the dest. “Fuck,” you gasped. “I’m close, Sammy. Are you close?”

“Yeah, babe. Right there. You come for me. Let me see you.”

You kept working your fingers, rubbing your clit faster and faster, and with a loud cry, you jerked up and came. Every muscle in your body tightened and you arched back on the desk.

Sam groaned, his hand moving faster up and down his shaft, there was a tightening of his balls and with a grunt he released - hot ropes of come splattering his stomach. “Fuck, babe, you look so good when you come,” he moaned.

“You do too, I just wished I could have seen it,” you said, still breathing heavily.

“Mmm… me too. Hopefully, we aren’t here too much longer,” Sam replied as he cleaned himself up.

You got up and started to redress. “Me too. You better put the little bird back in its cage though. If someone notices he’s missing I’m gonna be filling out paperwork about it all day tomorrow.”

“Of course, honey. I love you. I really hope I can speak to you properly soon,” Sam said and started to guide Redwing back out the window.

“Oh and honey?” You said.

He turned Redwing back and saw you looking up at it. “Yeah?”

“This had better not show up in your briefings when you get back.”

#SSB2020 #sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #falcon #falcon fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #smut #the correct paperwork

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naomixhill · 3 years

Text

“Aren’t you the one who got expelled from DeSales?” These were the first words that you said to me as you approached me at David’s bonfire in 2011. We were seventeen years old. A group of us came here after a Friday night football game. There were a handful of neighborhoods in our village, perhaps five important ones, but the one we were in that night was the best – the one where sophistication meets elegance meets English-inspired architecture. There was a twenty-seven Jack Nicklaus golf course in front of David’s home. Inside the house was a grand reception room, medium sized ballroom, martini parlor, two dueling libraries, a small art gallery, and a wine cellar. Throughout the home, opulence of the tenth degree: marble floors and 18’ high ceilings and two servants. Just beyond where I was sitting, there was a heated pool, veranda, and small tennis court. Jews get everything. This whole village was Jews, new money snobs, and plastic surgery. But I never minded.

You repeated the question, “Hellooooo, Naomi, right?” I looked up at you with red, glossy eyes. I was stoned, and David’s two servants had been serving Cabernet since we got there. I smirked, raised my head at you, and said, “Who’s asking?” You extended your hand and introduced yourself with the charismatic, all consuming smile that I would one day become familiar. I did not return the warm reception; I had a magical sadness about me that year that began with the death of my rapist and ended with my name being the topic of more than one scandal. I hardly remember much of the year at all, but I remember meeting you there that night. In That Place.

You acted like you were meeting a celebrity. You mentioned a few of the rumors that spread around DeSales about me, most of which were incredibly true, and I told you that night, “It doesn’t matter what people say about you unless you believe it.” You told me that you had just transferred to the village school and that you were incredibly lucky: You lived in a modest home on the edge of town that had not been seized by Wexner for further construction of his brick empire. I was completely awestricken by you. You were so bold, so empowered to speak truth, so nonchalant in the way you spoke, and had this magnetic flowerchild persona. If it hadn’t been for you that night, I would have drank alone at the firepit of David’s home. It was true that I was still frequently invited to events that year and next, but I was never really one of these people and I always remained on the outskirts of parties and social gatherings. When the night ended, I told you not to talk to me again. You needed a fighting chance to assimilate in this odd, wealthy village school that was more reminiscent of an episode of Gossip Girl than a place in Ohio. You were never going to get that if you associated with me.

We reconnected in February 2014. It was a historically brutal winter in Ohio, frequently closing down the university, and I was frailer at 106 lbs, more contemplative, and battling an autoimmune disorder that was so severe that I was sure it would have killed me. Looking back on it now, there is no doubt in my mind that your antithesis to everything that I was saved me. From the moment we reconnected, there was rarely a moment that we were apart. Every morning, you held back my hair as I spent the morning vomiting into a dormitory toilet. When I would try to crawl back into bed, you would force me into a warm bath, lay out clothes for me, and often blow-dry my hair when I was too weak to do so myself. Without fail, and for the entire semester, you would walk me to the cafeteria, watch me eat breakfast, and we would undoubtedly end up back on the bathroom floor for several more hours. But you’d still make sure that I attended my afternoon classes, even if that meant sitting on the business halls’ floors in effort to see that I didn’t leave. You were the only person who knew how bad my health had gotten that year.

Because to everyone else, I was confident and had accomplished in my studies precisely what I had in my social circle of business students—complete mastery, complete command. I was fastidious, wearing almost exclusively Brooks Brothers button downs that tucked into dark colored slacks or designer jeans, and carried myself with an air of superiority that few ever questioned. In school and in the finance society, I was the best. I maintained a portfolio of investments that had achieved a 56% return that year, and when I shared my opinion on what our club should be investing in, I was rarely wrong. It awed some, and frustrated many male egos that couldn’t understand it. I was an excellent financial analyst to be, interviewing at several bulge bracket investment banks in New York and Chicago that year. And when anyone questioned me or alluded that I couldn’t possibly being doing as well as I was, I would raise my prominent nose nostrils at them and say nothing at all.

I didn’t dress, walk, talk, or play like other college students did. I was incredibly aloof and malicious, whereas you were a never-ending ray of sunshine. You were bohemian and buoyant and wise all wrapped into a blonde package of beauty. My persona was much more overpowering and chilling. Yet, you liked me, and you held my secret, and no one ever questioned why you—the special education major—were in the business hall at 2 pm, 4 pm, 8 pm, and 10 pm everyday. In fact, most of my companions that year really preferred you to me and it was often a relief to have you there as a shield.

In the summer of 2015, we moved into an off campus apartment in what would be considered the Chinatown of Columbus, Ohio. With my full-time job in financial services and lucrative investments from the prior year, I had tried to convince you to live downtown in a high-rise apartment, but you wouldn’t have it. You always wanted to pay your own way, and Chinatown was what you could afford. So we lived there with Ethan Allen furniture, your bohemian nonsensical decorations, including a plethora of crystals, bags of cannabis, and music posters. By the end of the summer, I was showing signs of recovery, though the months of medical bills had put me in a tougher spot financially than before. I was still able to casually pay our rent and fixed expenses, afford food, and pay my own tuition without much concern. Though it was in September that everything changed.

You worked at a Bob Evan’s right behind the university that summer to save for college, but you had racked up $17,000 on a credit card that was accruing monthly interest. You wanted to save, but you were forced to pay that down and there was never an expense that you met that you didn’t like. It has always been who you are: you spend too much on others, too much on holiday decorations, too much on latest clothing styles, too much online, too much on fast food, just too much. So even though you worked your sixty hours a week until that political bill made everyone like you work thirty-seven and a half hours and not a moment more, you couldn’t make tuition. And I couldn’t help you.

I remember one night we were in Cincinnati for a Cal Scruby concert when the idea came to me. I said, “There are a lot of girls in Pi Phi that I know that use this escort site to make fast cash, and you are much prettier and have a much better personality.” So while we waited for the concert to begin, we turned the Marriott hotel room into a glamorous studio for photos, and wrote you a descriptive, alluring profile on that website. Looking back on this now, I am not sure what I was thinking except that it seemed like a perfectly sensible thing to do, and everyone else was doing it. An older, established Cleveland man solicited you within the hour. You planned to meet him later that week. A thousand dollars just like that.

But that fateful morning, you confessed that you couldn’t do it. And I knew then that if you didn’t return to school that semester, you might never. And I thought about your credit card debt, your newly broken down car, and your ambitions slipping away from you. And I couldn’t let you, the brilliant bohemian with so much to offer to the world, possibly lose it all that easily. So I knew what this all meant for me, but the way I saw it, and still see it, is that it was the least I could do for the person who likely saved my life. So I became you: I went to a hair salon that day and dyed my harsh, almost black hair, to bleach blonde; I bought extensions; I bought baby blue eye contacts; I used makeup to manipulate a small mole on my cheek; I contoured my face, used drugstore eyelashes, and it was convincing enough. That night, I wore a pink kimono with ripped jeans and pale high heels. I wasn’t nearly as tall as you, but I hoped our Cleveland man wouldn’t notice. And he didn’t. And that was that.

These visits continued twelve times, and we never spoke about them. It was our next big secret, and one I never planned to mention them to a soul. Your fall tuition was paid and I was relatively healthy, and we had our oasis in Chinatown. Everything was finally alright, it seemed, until December.

There was only one problem: That Piece of Shit Heroin Addict. Back in the summer before the school year began, you had met Josiah. Perhaps it was my jealously of losing part of you, but I never took to him. You could have had any of my friends majoring in finance – we both know that they all loved you, and could have given you the life you wanted – but you chose him. I am certain that your biggest flaw has always been loving flawed people and thinking that you could positively influence the outcome of their lives’ through love and belief alone. Josiah was everything that I loathed about a person: he was uncouth to a fault, sported a horribly unkempt appearance with long, blonde, greasy and tangled hair, had terribly patchy facial hair, had lightly yellowed teeth from years of smoking and drug abuse. Best of all, he drove a sports car. His family was from the neighboring county, and in Ohio, if you don’t live in the capital county, you might as well live in the middle of a fucking farm wasteland infested with heroin, blue-collar jobs, and Mountain Dew.

I tolerated this boy in the summer because you loved him. But it worried me when you would come home at 3 a.m. with him and his cronies, and they would all end up sprawled out on the floor of our apartment. These people were not good enough for you, and they brought you down with them. I would have done anything to better myself that year—I associated myself with the most elite people our university could offer, all of whom today ended up becoming prominent investment bankers and private equity directors, some traveling internationally, some making over half a million dollars annually – but you always found yourself attracted to the bottom.

He manipulated you. He told you lies about me, and made you think differently about me. He fed you drugs. He sedated your sunshine and stole your youth. And then in December, he convinced you that I was nothing more than a haughty, arrogant, self-serving person, which perhaps was right to some degree, but never with you, and that you needed to leave. So one night in December, when I was traveling, you stole everything out of our apartment – right down to the kitchen table and bath curtains – and left me to come home to nothing. You never returned my calls or texts, and it was more than a year before I ever got an explanation.

You went from my fascination to my friend to my caregiver to my roommate and best friend to my deepest regret.

In fact, for the next six years, you tried to contact me sporadically, pleading for forgiveness, but there was nothing that I could offer you. At times, you would comment on my life events that you could see through social media. You told me how happy I looked in my wedding photos, but little did you know for those four years that I was getting beaten, evens sometimes being held at gunpoint, literally; you told me how successful I had become from my work, but little did you know that I was facing more than one harassment suit; you would tell me you were happy that my life had become so wonderful, but you had no idea that at the very time you sent that, that I was sitting in a hospital waiting to be radiated for cervix cancer. And through all of it, I thought of you frequently, sometimes spitefully, sometimes with more regret than a person can carry, sometimes with fondness.

But I never returned any of your correspondence until last week. And now, here we are at a Panera in a rundown suburb, and I am staring right at you. The passage of time has not been your friend: you wear bold framed glasses that remind me of Buddy Holly. Pregnancy has turned your beautiful blonde hair into an ashy brown shade and your long, cascading curls have been cut into curly short strands. You have gained perhaps thirty or forty pounds, hidden under a large, flowing hippy blouse – so that has remained, your style.

When I approach you, you throw your arms around me for what feels like an eternity. I had planned to dig into you; I had wanted you to feel the internal war that has been raging inside of me since your departure. But I can’t do it. As you pull away from our embrace, you try to speak but your lower lip trembles. Your eyes are red and strained and you weep as you grab for my hand. People around us begin to stare, but my sole focus is on you. I suppose it always has been. You begin a long soliloquy of apology, that at times is so incoherent and sincere, I can only help but think that this has eaten away at you for as long as it has me. So I don’t chide you for abandoning me, I simply smile and say, “I Forgive You.”

As we catch up, it seems our friendship is a marker in time for you much like it is for me. There was before you, you, and after you. Your “after you” is dark – things have been much harder for you for the past six years than they have for me. One unplanned pregnancy, another planned pregnancy, multiple lost jobs, government assistance, an alcoholic partner, and death threats galore. It is hard to imagine the young bohemian that I once knew has achieved such a disappointing life. You never finished college and you work as a PSA in a hospital. You mentioned repeatedly how tired you are, and I see you: it’s a spiritual exhaustion that knows no bounds. It is the type of exhaustion that one can only feel when they have done nothing that they set out to do in life. I am familiar.

I often take your hand in mine. We talk until the Panera closes, and then promise to meet again soon.

#b #memories #best friend

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kpopforthe-truefans20 · 4 years

Text

M.I.N.E CH 10

( I DO NOT OWN THIS GIF CREDITS TO OWNER)

SUMMARY:Y/N was looking for a change in her life. so she moved to Korea with her best friends. She was a makeup artist and her friend, while taking all her makeup photos, put together a portfolio and sent it to Big Hit. Where Hoseok saw her and just had to make her his.Will he make it happen?

WARNINGS: dom hoseok????, master kink, smut, slight choking, use of handcuffs, spitters are quitters, swallowing, unprotected sex(please use condoms if you don’t want top be a parents, don’t be a fool wrap your tools (please and thank you). After care because that is important. oral (reader giving), fingering.

A/N: My last chapter has gotten so much and love and I really appreciate everyone who is reading it. I hope you all are enjoying my writing and please don’t forget to follow me. I post this fic every Wednesday at 11am, ( unless I forget then it’s posted later in the day.) Anyways, Thank you all and enjoy loves ( ALSO STREAM MORE AND MORE BECAUSE TWICE REALLY DID THE THANG WITH THAT SONG SHE’S A BOP!!!!!!!!)

HOSEOK POV

As soon as Y/n told me she wanted more I couldn't control myself. There were so many things I wanted to do to her but not enough time. I wanted, no I needed her to completely submit to me.

But first I need to take it slow. Introduce her one by one to everything I wanted her to experience.

In an instant, I wrapped her legs around my waist and got up from the couch. I walked her to my room and opened the door. I threw her on my bed and closed the door the second I let her go. The way she looked up at me makes me want more and more. I grabbed her by her waist and I pulled her closer to me. Putting my lips on hers, she kissed me back and it was needy. I went from her lips down to her jaw and began softly kissing her up and down her neck. Soft moans escaped her mouth and I wanted to hear more of them. But she needed to know one more thing before we continued.

"Y/n?"

"Y-yes Hoseok."

I looked her in her eyes and I could see how much I had turned her on. Her eyes were dark and full of lust and just her looking at me like that made my knees go weak.

"No. My name isn't Hoseok anymore. When we are in this room my name is Master and nothing else. If you disobey me you will be punished and I do not take my punishment lightly. Do you understand."

I honestly wasn't even asking her anymore I was telling her at this point. I need to know I had her full attention and that she was willing to listen to me. She looked me in the eyes and began to nod her head.

"Y-yes... Master."

YOUR POV

Hoseok grabbed y/n by her legs and pulled her closer as if they weren't close enough already. He was dying to finally have his hands on her the way he wanted. He continued kissing her neck, her soft moans driving him insane from how sweet and beautiful she sounded under his touch. He grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. Surprised to see she had on a black lace bra that complemented her body perfectly. With a low growl, he pushed her back onto the bed and began to take off her pants. Again to see a matching pair of black lace panties. He ripped them off of her not wanting to wait any longer to finally taste her.

He started off as slow as he could manage, wanting to make sure she felt just as much pleasure from this as he was. He began to rub along the folds of her pussy. Making her moan more. Then he pushed one finger inside of her moving at a constant slow pace, the way she let out a small moan and a soft whimper made him even harder than he was before. Wanting to hear more he began to push a second finger inside of her. Moving at a faster pace. Her moan got louder and he was loving every second of it.

HOSEOK POV

"M-master..."

"Yes, baby girl?"

She looked so beautiful under my touch the way her back arched up with every thrust of my fingers. I wanted to get her as close as possible before I started to fuck her.

"I-I'm s-so close"

As soon as she said those words I stopped and pulled my fingers out of her. Instantly putting them into my mouth and licking them clean.

Y/N POV

When he pulled his fingers out of me he put them in his mouth and moaned around them as he licked them clean, the sight causing me to clench around nothing and feel how empty I am, which cause me to whimper out,

"H-hoseok why-."

Before I could even say anything else he had grabbed me by my neck and was pulling me closer to his face. The look in his eyes was full of lust and want and I wanted more from him.

"What did I tell you Y/n? You clearly want to be punished. Don't you baby girl?"

"N-no master I-I didn't mean it."

The look in his eyes didn't waver. He pulled me off the bed and had me on my knees. He walked over to his dresser and pulled out a pair of red handcuffs before walking over to me again.

"Bad girls who don't listen don't get what they want. I gave you a warning y/n."

He grabbed both my hands and quickly handcuffed them behind my back. And walked back in front of me.

"I was going to take it easy on you but since I need to show you who is in charge... I won't."

His voice was low and deep and it sent chills over my whole body.

"How is your gag reflex y/n?"

"I-I Don't know."

"You don't? Well, looks like I will find out."

He started taking off his belt. My focus stayed on the bulge in his pants. Anticipation filled my whole body. He soon had his pants and boxers down around his ankles standing in front of me. I couldn't help but swallow the lump in my throat from just looking at how big he is. He stepped closer to me and grabbed me by some of my hair and lifted my head up so I could look up at him.

"Open your mouth, baby girl. I’m gonna fuck that pretty little mouth of yours"

Nodding my head yes I opened my mouth as much as I could. Hoseok looked down at me and had a small smirk on his face as he stepped a little closer to me.

"Good girl y/n."

He slowly slid into my mouth. Till the tip of his member was pressed against the back of my throat. Trying my best not to choke I felt the sting of tears in my eyes.

"Mm~ fuck."

The way Hoseok moaned made me want to hear more. I wanted to please him the way he had been pleasing me. Without waiting any longer I closed my mouth around his member and began to suck slowly, pulling up to the tip and teasing it before going back down as far as I could without choking.

"Fuck y/n"

He let out a breathy moan of my name and I could feel myself getting wetter by the second. He grabbed my hair tighter and pushed his member all the way to the back of my throat causing me to lightly gag.

“I need to to relax Y/n, fuck, or this is gonna make it harder on you, just relax your throat for me baby girl.”

Trying my best to do what he told me to do, I tried to relax as much as I could and as I did I felt his member slip past my gag reflex. He gave me a few second to get use to the feeling before he started a slow steady pase of fucking my mouth.

"Fuck y/n I'm close."

Seconds after him saying that he held my head in place and pushed his member deeper into the back of my mouth and soon I felt him spill his cum down my throat. Giving me no choice but to swallow every drop.

"Mm~ good girl. You better not waste any."

Hoseok reached down and grabbed me under my arms since he still had my hands cuffed behind me and he helped me stand up.

"Y/n"

"Y-yes master."

"Turn around."

I quickly turned around for him and he grabbed my hands and took off the handcuffs before speaking again.

"Lay down I want your hands above you."

Waiting to see what he would do to me next I quickly laid down and put my hands above me as he told me to. He then started to handcuff my hands to the headboard above me.

"W-wait master why are you putting them back on me."

"Because y/n it's part of your punishment."

Hoseok got on the bed between my legs and bent down by my ear before whispering

"You're not allowed to touch master because you can't seem to listen. But don't worry baby girl. I'll take good care of you as long as you behave like the good girl I know you can be."

As he pulled away from me he started kissing on my neck. Lightly sucking and started to make his way down to my chest. Once he was there he started sucking on my nipples. Using his other hand to play with the other one. I couldn't help but moan at the feeling. Then I felt something hard brush against the entrance of my pussy then he looked up at me.

"Are you ready baby girl?"

"Y-yes mas-"

Before I could even finish my sentence I felt Hoseok begin to sink his member deep inside me. Feeling my walls stretch to fit him. He let out a low moan.

"F-fuck y-y/n your so tight."

"F-fuck master, I-i want more please.”

"Don’t worry baby girl, I got you."

As soon as he started to thrust into me I couldn't help but throw my head back and pleasure and start pulling on the handcuffs.

He started off slow and deep and it felt amazing. Every time he would thrust into me he would let out a low moan and it made me want more. Then he began to kiss me. The kiss was needy and full of lust. He started to suck and bite on my bottom lip. I moaned into the kiss and he started to push into me faster. He grabbed me by one of my legs and put it over his shoulder instantly hitting my spot as I let out a loud muffled moan from him kissing me.

After a few more deep fast thrust I was close to my release.

"M-master I'm s-so close."

"Hold on just a little longer baby girl. I don't want you to cum yet."

“I-I can't m-master"

Hoseok grabbed my legs and wrapped them around his waist and started to fuck me even faster then he was before. I couldn't help but pull on the handcuffs even more. I was sure they would leave a bruise tomorrow. Hoseok began kissing up my neck making it even harder to hold off from my release. Just when I thought I would last any longer Hoseok leaned close to my ear and started to whisper to me, lightly brushing his lips against my ear.

"Cum for master baby girl."

As soon as he finished his sentence my release hit me hard. Hoseok began to fuck into me slowly helping me ride out my high while still chasing his.

Soon after he started moaning even more. Slowly pulling out of me and releasing on my stomach.

Once he was done he got up and walked out the room and quickly came back with a warm towel to clean us both up and he took the handcuffs off me.

"How are you feeling baby girl? You got luck and I went easy on you for our first time."

"Mm~"

Still feeling the effects of my release I couldn't manage to say anything else.

Hoseok let out a small chuckle before walking over to grab me and pick me up. I instantly wrapped my legs around his waist with what strength I had left.

"Come on y/n, you can't sleep yet we need to shower."

He carried me to the bathroom and ran a warm bath. Sitting me on the counter he left out to the room and came back with clothes for both of us. Picking me back up after turning off the water he set us both in the bath.

"Come on y/n you can't go to sleep yet."

He began washing me up and then himself before carefully getting out the tub with me and drying us both up and helping me get dressed after putting on some sweats for himself. He picked me up again and carried me to the bed before pulling the covers over me.

"M-master-"

"You don't have to call me master anymore y/n."

"Hoseok."

"Yes, baby?"

"Come lay with me. Please?"

"Of course baby."

Hoseok got in the bed next to me and I instantly cuddled up next to him. Not long after we both drifted off to sleep.

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this-is-a-podcast-fanblog · 5 years

Text

a short fic about Juno and Peter, relationships, and body image, written by a single person who struggles with body image and likes projecting onto Juno and Peter.

It’s late evening, early night, the time that people generally use for “winding down” before sleep. I have a comms screen pulled up and files thrown across the desk and bed. Yet, with all of the work I know I have ahead of me, I find myself getting distracted by the mirror on his dresser. The furniture is all bolted to the floor, so I can’t adjust the desk to look away; I have no choice but to continue looking into my own tired eyes and looking over the faint lines that have appeared around them. I look tired. I am tired. My body is weary from running on five hours of sleep every night. It’s been a trying week of research, and on top of that we haven’t left the ship since that week began.

I take my exhaustion and I push it down; file it away to be brought back in a few hours when it’s bedtime. My stomach rumbles, and I push my hunger away too. I have work to do tonight. And that mirror won’t distract me, not if I refuse to permit it that.

The door slides open. I don’t even glance up to know it’s Juno; I can hear him muttering to himself, something about “goddamn security portfolios” and “why the hell did Buddy decide I’m the one to go through those” before I feel his hand on my shoulder, and a kiss on the top of my head. “Hi, baby. Why aren’t you asleep? Thought you were going to bed early tonight.”

“I was.” I pick up my pencil and start writing down the information from the screen. I will not look at that mirror again. “But I decided to work on this instead.”

“Okay, but weren’t you just up late last night?”

“Mm.”

“That’s not good, babe. C’mon, we’re landing tomorrow, you’ve got to get some sleep.”

“I don’t need it.”

He shrugs and sits on the edge of the bed near my chair. “If you say so.” I feel his fingertips weave gently into my hair. I feel him tracing a pattern along my temples. We sit like that for a while in comfortable silence, before I become aware suddenly that the pattern he’s tracing is where my grey streaks have appeared.

I jolt my head away. “Stop that.”

And now he’s caught me glance at the mirror. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t touch my grey hair. I haven’t had a chance to dye it yet.”

“Dye it, why would you need to dye it?” He’s watching me in the mirror. I glance up and then have to glance back down once I get a glimpse of myself. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I push my chair back and stand up to grab another file from the bed. “I’m sorry. I just need to finish this.”

“You’ve been working on this stuff all day. I’m sure you’ve got the floor plan down by now.”

“It’s not about ‘having it down’, Juno. I must have this floor plan committed entirely to memory. To the degree that were someone to flip the entire mansion backwards and upside down I would still know the exact location of every room.”

“Okay, but no one’s gonna do that, so why don’t you call it quits? Nureyev.” He lays his hand over the file before I can pick it up. “Hey. Honey, have you eaten today?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve been too busy.” That mirror must have been placed exclusively to taunt me. “And I need to lose three pounds.”

“You need to lose three pounds?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, that’s, that’s just the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say. Nureyev, you do not need to lose weight. I’ve seen spaghetti less skinny than you are.”

“I haven’t been able to work out as much this week as I should have.” I’m having trouble looking at him. “The confinements of being off-planet.”

“Doesn’t mean you should starve yourself.”

“I’m not starving myself. I ate yesterday; I’ll eat tomorrow.”

Juno gives me that loving gaze that I don’t even need to see; that I can just feel, like sunlight against my skin. He walks over to me and wraps his arms around my waist. “No, baby,” he murmurs, and goes on tiptoe to kiss that stupid wrinkle by the corner of my mouth. “I’ll heat something up for you and you’ll eat now.”

“But -”

“Nope. No buts. C’mon.” He lets go of me to gather up my files and throws them into the desk drawer. “Kitchen.”

I know not to argue with him when he’s insistent, and with him practically pushing me out the door there’s not much of an argument to be made anyway. He half-drags me to the kitchen, dumps me in a chair, and begins to rifle through the cabinets. “What do you want to eat?” he asks. “I can make you pasta or a sandwich or something, or we have that leftover tofu meatloaf Jet made last night, or I can heat up some of this packaged pad thai Rita loves. It’s pretty good, actually.”

I mentally debate which of those has the least calories.

“Don’t pick based on which has the least calories.”

Damn.

It would be easiest to just ask him to make me something that I know will be low-calorie, but I don’t want him stuck in this kitchen on my behalf. “Pad thai,” I say finally. I do like pad thai.

“Sure thing. Gimme five minutes.” He pulls down a box from the cupboard and takes out a pan, olive oil, salt and pepper, butter. Before I can protest the high fat content he’s sizzling butter in the pan.

I love watching Juno. Right now he’s wearing sweatpants and a cropped camisole, with his hair in a wrap. I can see his curves, the lovely stretch marks over his hips and belly, the scars that I always love mapping out. He was so shy about his body at first. It took a while for him to see how beautiful he really is, and from what he’s told me, it’s been a process of over 20 years. I never get tired of looking at him. He’s humming to himself as he stirs the pad thai and dumps some horribly sodium-heavy seasoning powder over it. He has the body of a goddess and all I ever want is to worship him like he deserves.

And he’s with me. With my smile lines and my grey hair and my weary eyes. I’m not like him - my imperfections don’t enhance my beauty in the way that his do. They chip away from me, turning me into something I don’t recognize, something that doesn’t deserve to be loved. By him or by me.

He glances over his beautiful bare shoulder and smiles at me. “What are you looking at?”

I get up from the table and go to stand behind him. I wrap my arms around the softness of his stomach and press my face into his neck. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Look who’s talking.” He must realize that I don’t smile at that. “Hey,” he says. “Nureyev. I can tell you that you’re beautiful all day, but I can tell that isn’t going to make you feel better, because you don’t believe it.”

“You know me too well.”

“You don’t have to love your body. I can’t help you with that. But can you let me help you care for it?” He tilts his head and gives me the loving gaze again. “So you’re gonna eat this pad thai I made for you, and then you’re going to let your body rest. And if you need anything else, you’ll let me know, okay?”

It does help, in a way. To think of my body not as me but as a thing. Like a plant leaning into Juno’s sunlight. I think about it for a moment while I nibble on his shoulder, and then I press a kiss to his collarbone and lift my head. “You could help me get a workout in tomorrow.”

“I mean, I’m not great at working out, but sure, we can do push-ups or whatever.”

“Not that kind of workout.”

“Oh -” He starts as he understands. “OH. Yeah, I can - I can help with that.”

I chuckle and kiss the blush on his cheek. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” He sets down the spoon and turns around in my arms to kiss me on the mouth, and his hands settle on my hips. And this thing that I live in, this body that is mine, is not always something I love; but this is what I can use it for, and that is something I’m grateful about. However else I feel. I kiss Juno deeply, and when we break apart I chase his lips for just another moment before pulling him into a hug. I hold him tight in my arms and feel his heart beating through my shirt.

“Your pad thai is probably done,” he mumbles into my chest.

“Alright.” We pull back, and he places the pad thai on a plate for me. It smells delicious. He sets it on the table and pulls out a chair for me in a true lady-like fashion, and when I take a bite, it is delicious. I hadn’t realized how hungry I am.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” I murmur.

Juno kisses my forehead. “Anytime.”

While I eat, he sits next to me. He asks gently and then goes back to what he was doing before; to tracing the grey streaks in my hair. This time I don’t mind as much.

#the penumbra podcast #juno steel #peter nureyev #jupeter #my fanfiction

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writer-k-pop · 4 years

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Fear

만약 내가 이 직업은 얻지 못한다면? What if I don’t get this job?

Description: You’ve just had an interview with Bridge Company, the company of your dreams. But after the interview, your fears of failure start to cascade into your mind. The fears and ‘what ifs’ are all you can think about, even though you and Wooyoung are about to make your relationship public. Warnings: None Genre: Angst Word Count: 1.7k

Ateez Masterlist | Masterlists

Pulling back the covers on the bed, I look towards the closet where Wooyoung is changing. My mind debates whether or not I should talk to him. I tell him everything but I haven’t told him about the thoughts that have been running through my mind recently. My therapist has helped relieve some of the thoughts, my mom as well, but the bigger ones are still sitting there in my mind.

I know I have to talk to him, it’s the only way I’ll feel better. I know that. But every time I think about admitting what’s been going on to him, I tear up with the fear that if I say it out loud, it becomes real, it becomes a slap in the face, a punch to the gut.

“(Y/n)?” Wooyoung walks out of the closet in his favorite set of pajamas, “You alright?”

I quickly nod, “Yeah, just thinking about tomorrow.” I muster up a small smile and climb into bed. Blinking away the imminent thoughts, I settle into the sheets.

“Tomorrow...” Wooyoung thinks, climbing into bed next to me. “Ah, announcing our relationship to the fans?”

I hesitantly nod in agreement, not wanting to reveal anything.

“Are you nervous?” Wooyoung asks, “We can postpone it if you need. Company said that this was up to us, remember?”

“I remember,” I tell him, “I mean, I’m a little nervous, but who wouldn’t be?”

“True.” Wooyoung agrees, “I’m sure ATINY will love you though. I’ve slowly been slipping in comments and questions at fansigns and their answers were really positive. I think they’ll love you. Who wouldn’t?”

“My dream company.” The words slip out before I can catch them and I pray Wooyoung didn’t hear me.

Wooyoung turns his head towards me, “What did you say?”

I shake my head, “Nothing.”

“Are you worried about that interview you had last week?” Wooyoung remembers, “I thought you said it went well.”

I sit up in bed, already feeling the tears build, “I did.”

“But...” Wooyoung encourages and sits up beside me.

“But, god, I don’t, I just,” I stammer out, unable to form the correct sentence.

“What’s going on?” Wooyoung asks, his voice soft.

I take deeps breaths and avoid looking at him.

“I have to admit something, Wooyoung.” I stare at my hands, my heart pounding in my chest. “It’s been bugging me for a little time. And it’s nothing to do with us, it’s my thoughts.” I quickly add, knowing where this could sound like it’s going.

Wooyoung sighs, “I know something’s been bugging you.” He reveals and it hurts a little more knowing that he knew something was off. “I didn’t want to say anything until you said something first.”

I nod, silently thanking him for the time. “I just, okay.” I verbally prepare myself, “I’m scared, Wooyoung.” I let the shaky words rattle out and the tears take that as their signal to fall. “What if I don’t get this job? Bridge Company has been my dream company for years, I’ve pictured myself working there and just, what if it doesn’t happen? What if I’m turned away from the place I’ve been dreaming about?” By this point, I don’t think my words are cohesive with the amount of tears falling down my cheeks.

Wooyoung grabs my hand and rubs circles with this thumb.

“You would think I would have an alternative plan but I don’t. I have no idea what I’m going to do if this doesn’t work out. What am I going to do? Where am I going to go?” I continue to ramble out everything that’s been plaguing me for the past month. “And even our announcement isn’t worrying me because I have no room to worry about it. I’m just so scared that this won’t happen for me. I want it so badly that I’m scared to put all my eggs into that basket incase it falls through. But I don’t know what else I’d do if I don’t get this job.”

“Hey,” Wooyoung wraps me in his arms and I cry into his chest, “Hey, it’s okay. I know how hard you’ve worked for this.” He rubs his hands up and down my back while my hands cling to him. “It’s a valid thought to be wondering about this. But those what if’s aren’t going to help. You’ve done literally all you can to be the best candidate. Don’t think I didn’t see you up late at night working on your portfolio and your projects. Don’t think I didn’t feel you sneak out of bed in the mornings to check the computer for openings. All the work you’ve put into this is evident in your work and I’m sure they saw it in your interview.”

My cries has slowed but tears still slip out.

“You know I used to want to be a dance teacher.” Wooyoung continues, his voice smoothing over my frazzled edges, “I thought that was my dream job. I wanted to work for this really famous studio back in my hometown. That was my dream job at my dream company. But it changed. The studio closed a year before I became a trainee. When that studio closed, I thought my life was over. Completely.” Wooyoung chuckles to himself, “I even thought about running away and living in the forest alone.”

Though tears are still escaping, I smile at the thought of young Wooyoung being so angry that his plan of action was to run away to the forest.

“Once that door closed, though, another opened and it turns out it was just as good, no, it was better than what I thought my dream job was.” Wooyoung reminisces, “It wasn’t at the company I had originally wanted but I got to do my dream job and I got to do it even better.”

“But that’s for you, Woo.” I nestle deeper into his embrace.

“It’s similar though.” Wooyoung argues, “Why do you want to work at that company?” He asks.

“I’ve told you already.” I try to stonewall him.

“So?” Wooyoung challenges.

I let out a sigh, “Cause they do what I’ve been studying to do my whole life and they treat their employees really well compared to other companies in this field.”

“So you want to work for this company because they have your dream job?” Wooyoung clarifies.

I ponder the statement before nodding. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Then chase the job, not the company, (y/n).” Wooyoung instructs, “Companies can change but the job is what you’re good at, that won’t change.”

I stay silent, not wanting to accept what he’s saying.

“And if Bridge Company doesn’t hire you, then they’re missing out on an extremely hardworking who would be willing to sleep in the office to finish a project.” Wooyoung states, “It’d be a mistake for them to not hire you. And if they do, well, their mistake will become another company’s miracle.”

“You’re starting to sound like a prophet.” I giggle, listening to his heart beat.

Wooyoung laughs and squeezes me tighter. “You’re the only one who can make me sound like that.” He runs a hand over my hair, “Are you feeling better?” He asks.

I nod, “Yeah, a little. I’m just still so nervous.”

“I know. It’s really nerve wracking having to wait for results like this.” Wooyoung agrees.

“It is.” I nod, “And hold on, you’ve been talking about us to people already?” I accuse him, remember things he said earlier.

“Like you haven’t been dropping hints in your posts with us.” Wooyoung challenges back.

I pull back, mouth agape, and shove his chest. He laughs and simply wraps me in a hug again.

“You’re going to get the job. I know it.” Wooyoung whispers.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“The announcement video is live.” Ateez’s manager announces to the room as the nine of us sit around, munching on lunch.

“And now we wait.” I murmur, shoveling some noodles into my mouth.

“Stop being pessimistic.” San complains, pointing an accusing knife at me. “Everyone’s going to love the news.”

“Plus you’re already our friend and we’ve shown you a bunch so it’s not like you’re a mystery person.” Mingi adds, “You’re (y/n) and people know you already.”

“Let’s hope that’s a good thing, Mingi.” I comment and my phone begins to vibrate with a call. “Excuse me.” I tell everyone and venture to the hall to answer the call.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Hi, is this (y/n)?” A female voice on the other end greets

“Yes, this is her.” I confirm my identity.

“Hi, (y/n). This is Casey from Bridge Company.” She introduces herself and my heart beats against my chest like a wrecking ball, “I’m just calling to let you know that we would love to have you as part of our team. How soon are you able to start?”

I am stunned silent for a few seconds before remembering she asked me a question.

“Oh, I can come in on Monday.” I answer.

“Monday? Perfect. I’ll see you then.” Casey states, “Congratulations and I look forward to working with you.” She adds.

“Thank you.” I answer, unable to calm the smile on my face, “I will see you on Monday.” We exchange goodbyes and then the call ends.

I did it. I got the job.

With the smile still plastered on my face, I walk back into the room.

“Who was that?” Jongho asks as I let the door close behind me.

I can’t seem to formulate words, but my smile tells Wooyoung everything he needs to know.

He jumps out of his chair, knocking it over and comes running over to me.

“You got the job!” Wooyoung screams, “You did it!”

San gasps, “The job you interviewed for last week?”

I nod, happily.

“WOAH!” San exclaims, clapping along with the other members, “Congratulations!”

“When do you start?” Hongjoong asks.

“Monday.” I finally find my voice.

“They must’ve wanted you bad if you’re starting that soon.” Yeosang throws a thumbs up at me.

“Of course they want her, she’s amazing.” Yunho shoves Yeosang.

“Thanks guys.” I thank them and sit back down in my seat.

Wooyoung gives me another hug, “I told you you’d get it.” He murmurs then presses a kiss to my cheek.

The room fills with groans and gazes divert everywhere but our direction.

“She’s my girlfriend.” Wooyoung whines, “I can give her kisses if I want.”

“We let him announce his relationship to the world and all of a sudden, it’s PDA central wherever they are.” Seonghwa teases.

#ateez #ateez imagine #ateez wooyoung imagine #wooyoung imagine #wooyoung #jung wooyoung #jung wooyoung imagine

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thej-word · 4 years

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The modern gay male: Consumer profile research- “A”

The social butterfly

Issue: Lacking representation

A was the first gay man I interviewed for this series and I learned a lot about what it means to be a queer, social extrovert in the traditionally introverted, clean-cut environment that is finance. Outgoing and social, A has always known inside his intentions are to work in a face-to-face, people centric environment. In some respect, his degree of finance has opportunity in that way; working with clients on investment portfolios, building meaningful relationships and establishing a solid reputation coinciding with that theme. However, as revealed throughout the interview, representation has squandered that idea in the eyes of a young, gay finance major.

Somehow organically, A began with “I realized with what I wanted to get out of my life, maybe finance wasn’t for me.”

Right off the bat, we may be asking ‘Why is that? ‘ A revealed that he believes several reasons are attributable to his difficulties finding his place in the professional world of finance as a young gay man. “I always knew I wanted to go into finance, I have a math brain,” but acknowledging, “I didn’t really think of the lifestyle.” I wanted to understand the lifestyle portion, and he expanded upon the topic, stating as another point “I never realized as a gay man where we stand. I put myself lower than others. In classes I’m surrounded by straight white people, no one’s doing it to me, but it’s like I’m personally beating myself up, comparing myself to others. Kind of like women in the workplace.”

Clearly, there is a reason why someone would either consciously or subconsciously be inclined to be self- critical to the extent of doubting their path into the future. I asked A his thoughts on how representation directly impacted his experience both academically and personally, and he brought up the reality of suppression. “Employers are gonna go for, naturally, the straight people. I feel like I’m naturally put at a disadvantage because of my sexuality.”

This was interesting, because I was wondering what experience he had which created this perception. “Why do you think you have this preconceived notion that this is going to happen to you?” I asked. “I feel I have to put in extra effort to match everyone else,” being straight professionals, “people look at me like I’m immature, like I’m a crazy, wild gay person. I think professionals would look down on me because of how…gay I am.”

Playing devil’s advocate, I argued, “There’s a difference between personality and sexuality. I think you’re confusing the two in terms of introspection.” A replied, “I know what you’re saying but I feel like when it comes to my personality a lot of this comes from me being gay, being flamboyant. It has its ties to promiscuity and theatrics, and I beat myself up. In a professional workplace sense, I just think the whole flamboyant gay thing is not a thing. Have you ever seen someone like me be a financial advisor?”

I brought up the topic of being in the closet, “There might be people like that but they’re very repressed.” I further praised A for living his truth and reiterated there are and will be people hiding because they are intimidated by an unwelcoming, underrepresented sector.

While on the topic of representation, I wanted to get his opinion on pop culture, media and the stereotypical identity of our community. “I think its entertainment,” I said. A then agreed, saying “People like to paint us out as dramatic and stereotypes are very strong. Our stereotypes are so very strong in media, you know, gay-best-friend” he replied.

We then agreed on noticing some inclusive commercials starting to rise, but he believes “The gays on social media are vultures, easily offended and trying to not walk on eggshells. People are bending with that to fit in.”

“I hear what you’re saying about commercials,” I said, “what kind of ads or brands would you want more representation in for our community?” This is when things got real.

“More in the finance sector. Business. Inspiration. I’m struggling because I don’t see myself in the finance industry and it’s not because I’m not good at finance but me as a person I don’t fit in…Even my finance internship.”

We paused. “Everyone treated me amazing…People were so nice, I loved it. This could be just a ‘me’ thing, but I could sense everyone was stepping on eggshells around me, making sure I was well-fit-in and it made me feel weird. Didn’t want to make me feel different. Us gay people, we can see right through that. Previous interns? Straight white jocks.”

“This says a lot,” I replied, asking “Do you think it has to do with the gay community being underrepresented in the finance world?” He agreed, “I definitely don’t think that’s out-of-pocket; I can’t wrap my head around me being in the finance industry. How do I act? Do I repress myself more?”

I asked him, “Do you think the way you repress yourself now would continue into the future?” “I would change things up,” A said, “I wouldn’t repress myself as much.” “What about starting your own firm and defining what gay finance is?” I asked, “The less a community is represented, the less awareness.” “Well,” A said, “In part…Lack of representation doesn’t make me see myself in finance at all.”

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polygamyff · 5 years

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19.

Things change with me so fast, like shit come out of nowhere and now I’m going to New York. I think I can make the scan but Robyn hasn’t once spoken to me, I am being calm about this because honestly Leon has been telling me all. She hasn’t be doing much but work and has been staying at her parents, she is hard headed and it’s killing me. It’s been a week, I am on this jet going to New York, the joys of New York. My dad is legit wanting me to do this interview, my dad is now meeting the Saudi Prince so I don’t need too, the blessing. My sister is on the jet with me, now I can see Malik and slap the back of his head. I’ve got such a nice tan and honestly, Nalah is bad for me. She has got me a fan base on social media, she done nothing but hype me up about trying these websites, I’ll pass on that, I would get my ass in trouble. I am so nervous about this interview, they going to rip my ass to shreds but my dad said everything is dealt with “Honestly, you got these girls saying in my comments, can they be your side bitch? These girls do not care about you being married, not going to lie. You already had girls at you, I just didn’t say anything. Imagine after the interview. Pussy galore” I groaned out “you know who’s pussy I want, quit playing” sitting back in the seat “she ain’t called you once, she mad, mad with you. But I understand and I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, she is a very beautiful girl and she is with you, poor that” kissing my teeth, she ain’t funny.

“So, you need to tell me Robyn’ place. I’m just going to see her, look she is having my niece and that’s our blood. I am doing you a favor here, we can go shopping and I will just explain to her. I mean look at this turn around, you’re going New York now, shit switches up quick. If you really can’t make it then I will step in for the scan. I think me and Robyn need to have some girly talk, about you of course but I’ll hype you up Maurice. She needs to be let into the family a little more, you know?” Nodding my head “can’t believe I’m letting you do this, I swear you better not make her hate me even more. Please buy her something, for me ok? I miss her so much and I’m jealous you are getting to see Robyn. Make sure you say hi to Bonita, the mini one” my sister gave me the stankest look ever “I don’t know what the hell you speaking about, I am just helping you out. She needs to be involved more, slowly bring her into the Davenport lifestyle and I’m the best person to show it” I might regret letting my sister do this but I am so sad, Robyn hasn’t text me or call me and then I won’t do it either “why are you always sad? Stop it, I feel like she needs to be just shown what you do, how you are. I promise I won’t be stupid” I will murder my sister, I really will.

I am leaving my sister to Robyn, she actually offered so who am I to decline such help. Robyn may come to her senses with everything which I am hoping happens, I can only pray that it happens. Malik is about to get a slap from me, I don’t know what he is doing here with the bullshit assistant issue. I told him to get a male and he hasn’t done it but he’s not wrong, women make a good assistant because they do get shit done. Walking up the steps to my hotel in New York “sir” the doorman opened the door for me “morning” yesterday I was just in Dubai, shit changes up for me so quick and now I’m here in New York. It’s always nice to see a busy hotel, this is what I like to see. Busy hotel means money, waving at the receptionist. Her old ass been working here since I was a child, one of the best “Malik? Is he in my office?” I asked her “yes, he’s interviewing someone” I had to laugh, he isn’t doing shit. That nigga done nothing I have told him too and I am still without an assistant. Walking down hall, using my office and shit like he owns the place just because I don’t come here anymore don’t mean I won’t make surprise visits. Knocking on the door before opening, Malik stared at me all wide eyed “sorry about this” who does he think he is, stepping inside “oh wow” looking at the female sat, she got her legs on show, some shirt open too “hi, I’m Maurice” holding my hand out to her “oh wow, hi” she said wow for the second time, shaking her hand “so proceed Malik, pretend I’m not here” I sat down on the spare seat next to the female.

I think I have made everything very awkward, Malik doesn’t know what to say and the girl keeps on messing up on her words which I find hilarious “so Isabella right?” I interrupted the conversation “do you think you will be able to handle my demands? For me to tell you what to do even at nights? Are you able to not fancy me? To keep your hands to yourself because you know, I am married” her face turned bright red “uhm yes, I am not here for anything else. I am always available” Nodding my head “you’re pretty” She is nice, she blushed looking away. Looking over at Malik he is hating me “so anyways, thank you for coming Isabella, that will be all” Malik cut it short, getting up from my seat “nice to meet you Isabella, Malik will be in contact” Shaking her hand, she stared at me in awe and it was crazy, I had her my hand back from her “yeah nice meeting you” Malik said all annoyed, I sat back in the seat. Malik looked at me all annoyed, he put a finger up at me as the door closed “nigga, you a flirt. You got a wife, girlfriend and now you looking for another one?” I snorted laughing “that is just me nigga, step ya game up. I ain’t looking for another girl. Trust me, I have enough on my plate with Robyn” acting like I want another female to drive me crazy, I’m good “you too in love anyways, why are you here” slouching down in the chair “I got a interview here, come to see you. Look at you doing fuck all, I keep on telling you I want a male. You keep bringing pretty women, stop” Malik chuckled “but it’s best that way, males are boring” he needs to get his act together quick.

Malik thinking he is boss, he is funny “so what have you exactly got for me? Have you done anything? Not even an assistant?” This is why I like him being close in regards to all this shit “erm, a few females?” Shaking my head at Malik “good one bro” Malik annoys my life, rubbing my eyes “so you just ignored what I said? Is that it? Please, listen to me. Isabella is a no, please” Malik finds it funny “you just don’t know how to stop flirting, that is you issue” he pointed “I am just that but my heart is with Robyn, I love her and that is it” Malik cooed out “I get that, ok. I will do better” the intercom in my office went off, Malik got ever so scared “Maurice, oh wait. He is walking in” I frowned “boys” I jumped at my dad’ voice, looking behind me. I closed my eyes sighing out seeing Naomi, turning my back rubbing my face “my son” feeling my dad hit my back “hey dad” lifting my head up “I made a quick stop before London, I am sad you didn’t come to Texas though. You not heard?” shaking my head “what is it?” did I do something now “Kellen is doing well, I just though you would like to know he is back in Texas with his wife. Speaking of wife, here is yours” this is so awkward “that is great dad” I smiled at him, I am so annoyed.

My dad has come because I didn’t know I am having the interview today, like now I mean what the hell. Walking behind my dad, Noami behind me. I don’t want this, he is wanting to show we are a unit, a family and I just want to hide. Seeing this big guy “T, my son. Maurice T” who the fuck is this, Mr fucking T “hi” my dad is crazy “it’s a little hectic out there, let’s go to the studio” this is a joke “I am not stepping out, nope not doing it. She can go, why is there paparazzi out there dad? What are you doing? This is not me! The fuck?” I shouted in the middle of the lobby “just walk” this is bullshit and he knows it.

I have been so unwell recently, I had to go off work sick but it doesn’t really affect my sick days because I am pregnant. Pulling the blanket up a little more over me “I am so glad you’re actually back with me, it’s been lonely making food for one person. It was horrible” Leon placed my water on the table “well I am back but ill, I think my mom had enough of me complaining about life” resting my head “well I will look after you friend” Leon touched my forehead “stop it” I chuckled, a knock at the door “who is that? You inviting niggas while I been gone?” I questioned Leon, I just want to watch TV and not be bugged about shit “it was just one guy, he was cute. He was bisexual and he saw your picture because I have a picture of me and you and he was like I would have sex with her, and I was like nigga she is taken and pregnant, I am not having that shit” Leon dragged open the door “you’re actually stupid Leon” I laughed to myself “I will watch it, don’t worry” my eyes bulged out seeing Nalah, my mouth fell open “well hello to you too” she just walked in and Leon looks confused “yes ok, just calm down” she disconnected the call “oh hi Robyn, hope you don’t mind. I came to see you, are you ok?” I am just staring at the fact Maurice’ sister is in my apartment “erm fine” I stuttered a little “can you just change the channel to CNBC, Maurice is going to be on there” Nalah made herself comfortable.

I am trying to get my head wrapped on the fact Nalah is in my apartment and now this “now we have an exclusive interview, Davenport Hotels, once was a hotel in Texas ended up being a popular place for people to go too. They now have just over a thousand hotels around America and Europe, their portfolio is impeccable, the Davenport family name has been a name that took the hotel business by storm, then they young CEO took over, his father well known for opening the tallest hotel building in New York. Which took everything by storm, now his son Maurice Davenport has stepped in” the camera moved “welcome to the studio” my heart melted, look at him. His smile, my baby. I feel emotional now “thank you” look at his overbite gleaming “he still has his blonde hair” I said smiling “he cute, isn’t he!?” Leon spat, I have missed his face so much and he has a tan look at him “he’s such a goof ball” Nalah said “it’s a pleasure to meet you, I have heard of you I mean we all have been and heard of Davenport hotel. To meet the man himself, the man to build a different style because there was a point where it was touch and go?” that interviewer is smiling too much at Maurice “uh yes, before I was given the role. Before my dad said to me, look son. Here are the hotels, do you. It was declining, we had to change it. Straight away, I did that. Shares went up” that bitch needs to stop staring mad hard “you look so disgusted, look at you!” Leon said laughing, I can’t help it because she is staring at my man.

He is doing so well in this interview, I am proud “so what is next for you? The next steps for Davenport Hotels” she asked “we are opening new hotels next year, you will be looking at a new hotel everyday, we are branding with other hotels, I can’t say who with but it will knock any competition. When I mean branding, I mean our name will be on it. We are taking over what we can. Just before the New Year, Dubai. Our first hotel there. We will still have that choice for customer, we don’t just cater to wealth. Customers like that we cater to every need” I really don’t like her, what the fuck is her name now “that sounds promising, am I going to see you on the top ten on Forbes next?” Maurice laughed “possibly, I just take it as it comes” he shrugged “well I do enjoy the fact I always get free wifi, don’t change that” she pointed “would I ever? That is something I would keep” Maurice is doing a fake white laugh, it’s ugly “he is ugly for that laugh” I said “he really is you know” Nalah agreed “what do you want to be known as, what do you think your legacy will be? Is it just hotels or do you want to broaden that?” he does actually look so sexy “real estates, there is a few in New Jersey and some in Texas” he is doing too much, this is why he is busy “that is something you are doing with your wife, she is heir to one of the biggest real estates known to America. Both of you together, that could create something big. You have both been together for a long time now, well five years” Maurice looks so uncomfortable “well I am trying to do this with Davenport, I am trying to be independent with this. When you married, it’s just something on paper” Nalah gasped “but yeah, it’s something she does help me with. We do help each other” all of a sudden I got bored.

“Before that interview he was calling me about Naomi being there but anyways, anyone want a shopping spree. I have Maurice’ card” Leon and I just looked at each other “I am supposed to be ill from work, well I am” I mumbled looking over at her, she is so beautiful. So fresh skinned, stress free and always full of diamonds, she is spoilt “you really got his card?” Leon asked “oh yes I do, I bullied him for it. Treats on me” Leon shrieked out “oh my god, you my favourite, wait. Can I come?” he cheering without knowing “sure, a friend of Robyn’ why not” Leon clapped “let’s go shopping” Leon ran off to his room, a lot is happening right now “I think I should stay here” this is weird “what do you do?” Nalah asked “residency, well I am near my next stage of being a surgeon” Nalah stared at me all wide eyed “oh wow, that is amazing. How did my stupid brother get you, wow. That is so good. But I honestly want you to come, I came here for you” I look terrible “I am not well” making up excuses here “love sick?” Nalah openly said and I couldn’t help but laugh “you’re funny, how come you’re here? I fully expected Maurice, is he in New York?” Nalah nodded her head “it’s weird, like it can change so quick. We was in Dubai yesterday and now I am here. I came because I want to get to know the woman that has made my brother look like a lost puppy in Dubai, and the woman that is going to be the mother to my niece. It’s time you know us more and for me to get to know you” this sounds like a lot of talking, I didn’t expect this at all and I am in shock.

#chrianna #chrianna ff #fanfic #fanfiction

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qualitylu · 6 years

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Babygirl // 6 (c.h.) (series)

Summary: Stella, a prospecting art student, is attending her dream school, NYU. When she goes to her first college party she runs into the local drug dealer, Calum, where she finds herself suddenly wrapped up in his world.

Word count: 1,749 (sorry its shorter but it’s getting good)

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: mentions of drugs and slight swearing

Taglist: @crownedbyluke @lurhemmings @nostalgia-luke @lmao5sosimagines @clum-thomas @irwlns @biggestslutforcalum @clementinethenerd @rexorangecouny @lukesback

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After my classes ended I was walking out of art building and making my way towards a personal studio I rented out with a fellow girl from a previous semester’s art class. As soon I was done placing my portfolio in my trunk I heard my name being called, causing me to look around. I noticed Ashton walking towards me before I saw Calum trailing closely behind him. My heart raced at the thoughts of the past two days I spent with him. He smiled down at me as he made his way over, standing beside Ashton.

“What are you doing?” Ashton asked while leaning against my trunk.

“About to head over to my studio. Do you all want to join?” I gestured towards my backseat before moving closer to the driver side door.

“I can’t. I have class in twenty minutes but if you go, Cal, I can catch up later.” Ashton suggested before moving closer towards the direction he was headed earlier.

“Yeah, I think I might tag along,” Calum said while climbing into the passenger seat after waving bye to Ashton.

We sat in silence on our way over, it wasn’t too terrible of a distance but it felt awkward with the silence that was shared. Once we reached the building, I quickly got out of my car and grabbed my portfolio out of the trunk before making my way to unlock the door. When we walked in I sat my things down before walking over to the small painting I had started the week before.

“I didn’t realize you did all of this,” Calum said while going through my small drying rack.

“What did you think I did?”

“I wasn't sure, but it wasn’t this.” He stood behind me as I began to run the brush across the canvas, creating depth into the pair of eyes I had started on the portrait.

“You’re so talented Stell,” I looked over at him, my heart swelling at the new nickname he decided to use. He was staring at a piece I had just finished for a class.

“Thank you Cal,” I focused back on the painting in front of me after I pulled up my hair into a ponytail.

“I love it when you call me that,” he sent a shudder down my spine as I felt his hands run down my sides and his hot breath flow across my neck.

“Do you now?” I giggled as I turned around before connecting our lips in a brief kiss.

“Very much, babygirl.” He smirked before kissing me again.

“I’m still not your babygirl, Cal,” I laughed out, watching his eyes turn to slits as his smile faded into a smirk.

“I think you are,” he squeezed at my sides, causing me to giggle.

“Not sure I am, now let me paint.” I shooed him away before I turned back to my painting. He found himself busy on his laptop after going through my side of the studio.

Once I finished up for the day I messaged Ashton asking if he wanted to meet for dinner later on. It wasn’t long until he replied with a place and time before asking if Cal would be joining us.

“Hey, Cal,” I asked while packing up my things.

“What’s up?”

“Would you want to get dinner with me and Ashton here in a little bit?” He started to back up his things before answering.

“Of course, I’d love to third wheel,” he let out a breathy laugh before winking at me.

“I think it’ll be more like that Ashton,” I smile before walking over to him to lead him out. As I locked up I messaged Ashton back to tell him that we would see him soon.

When we pulled up to the small Italian place right outside the main city I was met with Ashton who was waiting outside. I felt Calum’s hand on my lower back as we were lead to our booth towards the back of the restaurant. As I slid into the inside corner of the booth, followed by Calum, our waiter came over with menus and to take our drink order. I looked over the menu, not really sure what I wanted just yet, as Ashton and Calum had started a conversation.

“What do you think Stell?” I heard Ashton say, snapping me back into the conversation.

“What’s up?” I look in between them as their smiles grew.

“Double date this weekend?” Ashton repeated.

My eyebrows furrowed at the question. I nodded my head before looking back at the menu and sipping on my water. Calum gave my thigh a light squeeze before trailing his fingers against my jeans. My smile grew a little bit at his action before I gripped his hands in my own.

‘I mean we acted like a couple, so were we?’ I thought while the boys ordered their food.

“I’ll just have the chicken alfredo, thank you,” I smiled at the waiter before going back to my thoughts.

‘I don’t get it,’ I thought, ‘does he not want to be with me in that way?’

I let out a sigh, rubbing slightly at one of my temples as a small headache came on.

“What’s wrong, Stell,” Ashton asked after he saw my actions, forcing Calum’s view to focus on me as well.

“I’m fine, just a small headache. I think the paint fumes are just now getting to me,” I laughed lightly and gave them a small smile.

“Well, I hope you feel better,” Ashton said before our food was set in front of us. I began eating quickly, trying to ward off this headache with food. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I realized almost half my plate was gone and only a fourth of their plates were done with. I blushed when I heard Calum let out a small laugh.

“I’m guessing you were hungry,” he whispered to me before pulling me closer with the arm that was wrapped around my body.

“Yeah, I guess so. Didn’t realize it though,” I smiled up at him.

Once we were all done, the waiter brought us our checks, handing me an individual one as well. ‘I could've sworn I said to put me on Cal’s ticket’ I thought before looking. Not only was my order there but so was the man’s phone number. My eyes widened as I shut the small black booklet, rather quickly and a little too loudly, gaining a look from the two boys.

“I thought you were supposed to go on my tab?” Calum questioned before reaching for my own.

“No, it’s fine, I’ll get my own.” I insisted but Calum was too quick and snatched the book out of my hand. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at the ten digit number written in blue ink. I was surprised when I saw him smirk before taking out my ticket and placed it inside of his as well as his card.

“Guess I have to show him who you’re with, babygirl,” he whispered into my ear before kissing me on the cheek, sending a wave of giddiness through my entire body. ‘God, can I be anymore of a teenage girl?’ I thought to myself as I notice the waiter come back. As he was reaching for the black books Calum sat our intertwined fingers on top of the table. The man’s eyes went from our hands to the books in his hand before he blushed and quickly walked away.

As soon as our tabs were paid and Calum slipped his wallet back into his pocket we made our way back to my car, saying goodbye to Ashton in the process. I made my way towards Calum’s apartment building, parking in front of his building and following him inside.

“Calum!” I squealed as he lightly groped my ass as we walked down the hallway towards his door.

“Babygirl, shhhh,” he whispered as he pinned me up against the outside of the door.

“Why?” I challenged him, brushing my nose against his lightly.

“Cause, I said so,” he growled before catching me by surprise and opening the door. I was quickly ushered in and then placed onto the opposite side of the door I was previously on.

Our lips molded together in a heated kiss as my fingers tangled into his hair. His hands wandered down my body before landing on my hips and bringing me closer to him. As my fingers moved to his chest to grip onto his shirt one of his hands made it’s way into my hair, pulling on it slightly, making a gasp leave my lips.

“God, you’re hot,” Calum said between kisses that were planted on my neck.

I pushed him away and began walking towards the bedroom, followed slowly behind him. As we reached the door and he closed it behind him his phone began to ring.

“Are you kidding me?” He mumbled before pulling it out and walking out of the room before answering it. Once he came back in I looked at him questionably.

“What’s wrong, Cal?” I saw him digging into a drawer before pulling out a small tube filled with weed.

“Gotta make a delivery real quick, I’ll be back, babygirl, don’t worry.” He kissed my forehead before making his way out, followed by me.

“Why can’t I just go with you?”

“Too risky,” he stopped while grabbing my chin lightly and placing a kiss on my lips.

“Are you serious? I went last time,” I whined.

“Stella, stop, you’re not going.” My blood boiled by him using my actual name.

“How is it so risky, Calum?” I stomped my foot like a child, trying to get my point across.

“Because, you don't know what you’re getting yourself in to.”

“Why don’t you show me then? I want to be part of it but you don’t seem like you want that, even though you just agreed to go on a double date with Ashton and whatever girl he’s seeing this week.” I rambled while grabbing my things.

“You don’t need to be a part of it, Stella,” he sighed before speaking again, “look, why don’t you just go home and I’ll call you when I get up tomorrow.”

I huffed before storming out of the apartment and getting into my car, leaving Calum in the dust. I didn’t understand how it was so risky, but I guess I would just have to find out for myself.

#calum hood #calum 5sos #5sos calum #calum hood 5sos #calum hood blurb #calum hood blurbs #calum hood imagines #calum hood fluff #calum hood smut #calum hood one shot #calum hood fic #5sos fic #5sos fluff #5sos blurb #5sos imagines #5sos one shot #5sos blurbs #5sos fanfic

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minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong · 6 years

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Dissonance Chapter Nine

Description: After spending a year studying abroad in America, Y/N returns to Seoul hoping to greet the familiar city as a new girl. But what will she do when she’s met with old friends she’d rather forget? It seems the strings of fate are determined to test her resolve…and her willpower.

Genre: Fluff and Angst

Pairing: Taehyung x (f) Reader

Word Count: 10.5k

Tags: Badboy!Taehyung, Non-Idol!Au, Rockband BTS!Au, Bassist Taehyung!Au

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of alcohol, although infrequently

A/N: Uh.....so uh.......these chapters just....haha....keep getting....longer.....haha... I’M SORRY!!! I GOT ON A ROLL TOWARDS THE END AND I JUST NEEDED TO GET IT ALL OUT MY GOD I’M SORRY HAHA. Anyway, I hope you guys like the chapter ;) It is probably my favorite so far, but I can’t say for sure. As always, please don’t be shy and send me anything you want! I love talking with you guys. I’ll answer all asks within a day of receiving them. And please feel free to send me feedback, critique, concerns, or questions and I’ll do my best to address and fix them!

That said!! It has come to my attention that all of my formatting gets washed when you read the story on mobile. THAT’S SO ANNOYING!! I’m working on remedying this, but in the meantime all of the flashback scenes will be written in italics for the first sentence so folks on mobile don’t get too lost. I’m sorry about that you guys! Hopefully this works as a temporary fix.

- Mercury

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Masterlist

“What the hell are you doing here?” asked Jimin with a sneer.

Hyerim smiled softly and rested a hand on her hip, pursing her lips. “Well, I need technical experience to put into my portfolio for jobs and Mijin was kind enough to let me help style you guys,” she said.

Mijin stared between Jimin and Hyerim in the circle, brows furrowed as if she was trying to figure something out. “Wait…,” she trailed.

“Sorry, I’m not comfortable having snakes so close to my face,” said Jimin.

I gave his side a pinch and he turned to me with wide brown eyes. “Jimin,” I whispered, gaze still trained on Hyerim.

She tilted her head to the side, silky pink locks slipping over her slender shoulder. “Are you still upset about what happened before? Jesus, you guys need to lighten up,” she said with a laugh, tossing me a smile.

I blinked at her. Truthfully, hearing her say that made my nerves settle slightly. If she was willing to bury the hatchet… “Wait,” repeated Mijin, watching the discourse with puzzled eyes.

Taehyung was tense at my side and I could see Hoseok glancing anxiously between us beside him. How could one person’s presence turn us all to stone? “Hyerim, we all know you’re not here with good intentions,” said Taehyung, his tone measured.

She scoffed. “I told you! I’m trying to get more looks in my portfolio. If I’m being honest, things haven’t been easy for me since I left. I barely got into cosmetology school and after that…,” she sighed, rubbing her temples. She looked briefly familiar. “I haven’t been able to find a job. I’m not even asking to be paid! Just to use you guys as…canvases.” She flitted her hand with a smile.

Taehyung glanced down at me with raised brows. Jimin too gave me a loaded glance. “What?” I asked them both.

“What do you think?” asked Jimin quietly, but nonetheless the whole group could hear.

“Wait, are you looking at me to decide what to do?” I asked, pointing at my chest.

Jimin nodded. “Obviously.”

“Hold on!” called Mijin, raising her hands to draw our attention. All eyes turned towards her. “You guys know each other?”

“We went to high school together,” said Hyerim, chuckling as she patted Mijin’s shoulder. “Well, I went to high school with them. They were friends before.” Mijin, still perplexed, looked over at Hyerim. “So you knew them when you asked to work with me?”

“I thought it might be easier,” she said, then sighed heavily. “Since I’m still nervous with clients I don’t know.”

Jimin feigned a cough that sounded dangerously close to the word bullshit and Taehyung continued to gauge my expression. “Hyerim, surely you can practice somewhere else,” said Taehyung, finally turning back towards her with slightly narrowed eyes.

“So who knows who now?” asked Mijin, rubbing her head with one manicured hand. “I’m so lost.”

Hyerim laughed. “Keep up, grandma,” she said. “I know Taehyung, Jimin, and…,” she paused to slide her gaze across the empty space towards me. “Y/N,” she finished slowly.

Mijin nodded. “Oh…okay…?” she began, but it ended like a question.

“I know her from stories,” offered Yoongi, raising a hand as he glanced lazily around the circle.

Mijin pouted as she thought. “Okay…”

“Oh, me too,” said Jungkook.

“And Hoseok,” offered Taehyung, pointing to the boy at his side.

I blinked as realization washed over me. Of course he knew her. How else would he have known to come grab Taehyung and me? I turned to him to find his eyes focused very intently on a crack in the concrete floor by his left foot.

“Am I the only one who doesn’t know this person?” asked Sunny, her voice high and pitchy as her slight features contorted with a frown.

“I don’t know who these two people are,” offered Hyerim, pointing at Namjoon and Jin before returning her gaze to Sunny with a smile. “So we’re clear now?” she asked, chipper.

Mijin sighed, still rubbing her head. “Alright. Whatever. Point is, she’s here to help me. I never have enough hands to get my makeup done and the boys always get onstage looking a little sloppy. If Sunny gets Y/N as an assistant, then I get Hyerim,” she said, nodding resolutely.

Hyerim turned to me, our eyes locking. I wasn’t sure what passed between us. It felt volatile, slightly dangerous…but not aggressive as it had at one time been. Perhaps she really had moved on. Perhaps I could move on too. Seeing her smile and interact with everyone tugged at something hidden in my chest, something for which I had been carrying guilt for the better part of a year.

“Y/N?” asked Taehyung gently from my side, placing a hand softly on my shoulder.

I glanced back at Hyerim, her doll-like features smoothed into a blank peacefulness. She looked healthy, her skin glowing and her eyes somehow warmer than before. Had she reformed? She seemed to implore me with her gaze alone. I couldn’t help the part of me that wanted to answer that call.

“I…I don’t know why you guys are asking me like I’m the authority,” I said slowly, still locking eyes with her. “But I don’t have a problem with her helping out. Lord knows we need more hands to keep you guys from burning the venue down.”

The group chuckled in response, and Hyerim even cracked a smile my way. She bowed her head slightly my way and I nodded back to her. “Thanks,” she said quietly.

I felt myself blush. Would it have been this easy to reconcile had I chosen to find her sooner? Was it supposed to be so seamless? “No problem,” I said. “Ah, you might wanna take a look at Taehyung’s makeup. I had to finish it and it’s…questionable.”

She laughed, the sound of bells, and at long last approached me, staring up at Taehyung with squinted eyes and crossed arms. “When are your makeup skills not questionable?” she asked with a smile. “Hyerim Ace is on the job,” she said, grabbing Taehyung by the arm and leading him backstage. He walked stiffly at her side, all the while tossing glances over his shoulder at me.

Jimin smacked my upper arm as the circle disbanded and furrowed his brow. I winced. “What the hell, Y/N?” he exclaimed.

I shook my head. “What the hell yourself!”

“She sabotaged your piece for that writing contest. She almost ruined your college specs,” he said.

“Almost,” I said, glancing towards the ground as conversation picked up around us.

He scoffed. “You’re just gonna forgive her?”

“Jimin…Taehyung told you why I freaked out the night before I left, right?” I asked quietly, mindful of Hoseok standing a few feet behind me.

He sighed and nodded. “But Y/N, that wasn’t your fault. That was your parents,” he said.

I nodded. “But…I can’t help but feel like all of this was avoidable. Because of that she started to hate me. I would have hated me too. And instead of asking her why she was doing it, all I did was hate her back. I don’t want to be that person anymore,” I said, shaking my head.

He stared down at me, eyes scanning my face as he chewed on my words. “Y/N,” he said softly.

I smiled. “I left so I could come back and be better. How can I be better if I don’t do better?”

He sighed. “Fine. But I don’t like it,” he said, eyeing me cautiously. “And I don’t like her.”

I laughed and wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him into a loose hug. Reluctantly, he returned it. “Thank you for always standing up for me,” I said into his side.

He laughed. “Someone has to.”

“She’s sitting alone,” said Jimin from beside me as we entered the cafeteria, his eyes trained on a figure in the distance.

I followed his gaze and found that he was right. Sitting by herself, pushing broccoli around with a chopstick, was newly seventeen Lee Hyerim. Her complexion was poor and she looked sallow, as if she was sick. I’d taken care of her when she was sick just a few months prior. Oh how quickly things could change. I felt a familiar pang of pity in my gut and forced myself to ignore it. I couldn’t afford to feel anything for a person who was capable of being kind to my face while silently trying to ruin me.

“Maybe someone will come,” I said quietly as we took our seats beside Taehyung.

He eyed me carefully. God, was I ever sick of that. Ever since Hyerim and I had had our obligatory meeting in the principal’s office and the truth came out, the two of them had been too keen to keep an eye on me. Too careful. Too cautious. It was as if I was suddenly a porcelain doll that was dangerously close to breaking.

But I felt fine.

Aside from the guilt tearing holes through my stomach.

“I hope nobody goes,” spat Jimin, leaning over his rice and shoveling a spoonful in his mouth.

I smacked his arm and he looked at me with wide eyes and full cheeks. “Don’t be a dick,” I said, then rolled my eyes and picked at my food. “And chew your food.”

He obliged on my second command, but as soon as he had swallowed he was turning my way with furrowed brows. “Excuse me, but she deleted the essay you’ve been working on for months,” he said, leveling his eyes with mine.

I looked over his shoulder and saw her still sitting alone by the window, her gaze far away. There was something sad in her posture, and I hated myself for wanting to know what it was. Her narrow shoulders looked slouched and thin, and her hair formed a curtain between her face and the rest of the cafeteria.

“Thanks, I almost forgot,” I quipped, still staring at her.

He sighed. “You’ve got that stupid guilty look on your face,” he said, snapping his fingers in front of my eyes. “And it shouldn’t be there. Nobody even knows what she did because you told the principal you deleted it yourself. You’re the only reason she’s not expelled-,”

“They wouldn’t expel her, Jimin,” I said.

He held up a finger to silence me. “You let her off because you’re nice. And because of that, her life doesn’t change. At all. The only one exiling her is herself,” he said with a huff.

Taehyung glanced at me over Jimin’s head and I looked away. I didn’t like him being so wary of me. “You know she doesn’t have a lot of friends. She’s shy,” I said.

Jimin scoffed. “Not shy around a computer apparently.”

I shrugged. “She made a mistake,” I said.

Taehyung continued to stare at me, his gaze far more serious than usual. He hadn’t said a single word. “Y/N, I’m telling you, you’re punishing yourself for no reason. She’s a bad person.”

I furrowed my brow. “We’re more than our mistakes,” I said slowly, trying to tease out what I really meant.

Somehow, those small words seemed to sum it up. She wasn’t one bad action. She was endless nights spent giggling in my pitch-black bedroom. She was reassuring hugs after poor test grades that I didn’t have the strength to show my father. She was evening trips to the traveling fair, sharing cotton candy and screams at the top of precarious roller coasters. She was more than a bad choice. She was more than a bad person.

“Tae, what do you think? You’re being…like, uncharacteristically silent,” said Jimin, giving Taehyung a shove with his elbow.

Taehyung glanced at me before inhaling sharply and, with a shrug, saying as if to dismiss the conversation, “She’s getting what she deserves.”

I awoke in the morning to a clean bedroom. I still wasn’t quite used to that, I supposed. Looking around at the pristine floor, devoid of all the usual clutter felt like a good omen for that quiet Saturday morning. Distantly, my phone gave a shrill call, screeching into the air to remind me to get ready for my date. Outside my door I heard Yuna and Haewon chatting and slowly I slinked out of my cozy bed and made my way into the living room. The girls sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, talking over an episode of Hello Counselor. In it, a girl was being confronted about her addiction to ramen.

“All I’m saying is if that’s how I go then that’s how I go,” insisted Haewon with a shrug.

Yuna gaped. “Excuse me, but that’s a horrible attitude. Health is important!”

“Health is important,” mimicked Haewon, crossing her eyes.

Yuna shoved her shoulder. “Oh! Morning, Y/N,” she said as she noticed me chuckling just outside my door. I plopped down beside Haewon and rested my head on her shoulder. She gave my hair a rub. “I hear through the grapevine that you and Hoseok had a date yesterday.”

I glanced at her with wide eyes before readjusting on Haewon’s shoulder. “It wasn’t a date. We were just hanging out,” I said. “And what grapevine?”

She hummed. “Park Jimin,” she said.

“You two seem to talk an awful lot,” I remarked, smirking.

“He’s a good friend to have!” she said, and without looking I could hear her pout.

I laughed. “Don’t talk about me with him!”

“Grapevines are stubborn! I don’t know what you expect me to do about it.”

“Spray it with weed repellant!” I called.

She scoffed. “Grapevines aren’t weeds-,”

“Sh!” exclaimed Haewon, shaking me off her shoulder. “Jaehyun is talking.”

I groaned and leaned back against the couch. “How many boyfriends do you have? Kai from EXO, Jackson from Got7, Taehyung, and now Jaehyun?”

She rolled her eyes at me. “You’re one to talk. You’re the only one out of all of us going on actual dates. Don’t you have one today too?” she asked.

“It’s wasn't a date!”

“Today’s a date,” said Yuna from over Haewon’s shoulder. “Anyway, how was the concert? Did they do well?”

I sighed as I recalled it. Jimin was significantly more aggressive onstage than usual, which given his docility and gentle frame was pretty jarring. Taehyung was the same as normal, and I wasn’t sure if I liked that. After that moment in the dressing room, I would have figured…

I glanced at Haewon and scolded that stupid voice in my head. “They were a little distracted,” I said, recalling how Hoseok’s drumstick had gone flying halfway through their second song. He’d almost tripped poor Seokjin.

“Oh? Why?”

“Probably because of Hyerim,” I said, grabbing for Haewon’s unfinished bowl of Lucky Charms and spooning a bite into my mouth.

Yuna turned to me, wide-eyed, and blinked. “Wait, the Hyerim?”

“Do I know any other Hyerims?” I asked, thinking.

She rolled her eyes, tossing the remote at me which hit me squarely on the shoulder. I winced. “Well you never tell me anything, so maybe!”

I nodded. “Fine! Fair. But yes, it’s that Hyerim.”

“Why is she nosing around?” asked Yuna, her tone growing agitated.

I shrugged. “She’s friends with Mijin so she’s working as like…assistant stylist or something,” I said, examining a cuticle.

Yuna snorted. “Who needs an assistant stylist?”

“Who needs an assistant manager?” I asked.

Yuna glanced at me. “Trust me…Bangtan needs it.”

“Anyway, that’s why Hyerim is there. So I’ll be seeing her a lot and I’d appreciate it if we could all just think of her as a new member of Team Bangtan,” I said resolutely with a stiff nod.

“Uh…,” Haewon hedged beside me. “Sorry, but who’s Hyerim?” she asked softly, puzzled.

I turned to her. “Ah, just a girl I used to be friends with when I was younger. We…kind of had a falling out.”

“She almost kept Y/N from going to college,” offered Yuna, her attention once again seized by the TV.

I shook my head at Haewon as she turned to me with surprise etched into her features. “That’s a little severe,” I said. “She lashed out at me because of…well, something I didn’t really do. But I wasn’t there for her either so it’s really nobody’s fault-,”

“It’s her fault,” said Yuna.

“It’s not.”

She glanced at me slowly. “What could have been so bad that she turned into literal Satan?” asked Yuna with a stern look my way.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s complicated,” I said, but hot shame began to bubble inside me, signaling that this topic was a danger zone.

“You have a lot of weird friends,” said Haewon, pursing her lips. “It’s probably because you’re weird too.”

“Probably.”

“I wanna meet her,” Yuna said suddenly.

I gaped at her. “Pardon me?”

She nodded. “If she had anything to do with what happened the night before you left for America, I wanna meet her.”

“It’s not that-,”

“Were you or were you not sobbing uncontrollably in a park at four in the morning that night?” asked Yuna.

I flushed. She’d never been so blunt about it before. “I mean…yeah.”

“And was she or was she not involved in said sobbing?”

“Involved, yeah. But that wasn’t why-,”

“Then I’d like to meet her please. When are you seeing her again?” she asked.

She was speaking like my mother… “Tonight,” I replied quickly, and unconsciously my spine straightened out a little.

Yuna nodded. “Then I’ll be coming to the dress rehearsal,” she said.

“Me too!” offered Haewon, raising her hand. “I don’t like the sound of this girl.”

“You just wanna see Taehyung,” said Yuna with a smirk.

Haewon shoved her shoulder with furrowed brows. “No!” she shouted. “But…I mean, it’s a pretty nice bonus.”

I laughed, but something inside me felt ill at ease. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to involve so many people. Although, to be fair, most of Bangtan already knew her. It wasn’t just a private thing between Hyerim and me after all. It never really had been.

But I had a particularly bad feeling about bringing the girls tonight…

Hoseok slowly laced his fingers with mine, intertwining them as we strolled through Namsan Park. Despite being back in Seoul for a while and living there even longer, I hadn’t really spent much time in the park. It was precisely the kind of date I expected from Hoseok: wholesome. He peeked down at me as if to gauge my reaction and instead of pulling away I simply smiled.

“You’re wearing my scarf,” he said with a grin.

A couple slid past us, tiring of our easy pace as we wandered aimlessly through the falling leaves. “You told me to take good care of it,” I said, resting my chin in the fabric.

He squeezed his eyes shut in an animated smile and cringed slightly. “It’s too cute,” he shouted. He began releasing ambiguous yells as he wiggled slightly, putting on a show.

A few other park-goers glanced at us with worried eyes and, frantically, I reached up to clamp a hand over his lips, halting his string of screams. His eyes went wide as he stared down at me, our bodies closer now, our hands still clasped. Slowly, his expression slackened into something more relaxed and he snaked his free hand back around my waist.

“Don’t scream in public places,” I scolded, but my voice was quiet, timid. “Besides, you have a concert tonight.”

He hummed and I let my hand fall. “Are you worried about me?”

I flushed. “I mean-,”

“I worry about you too,” he said. We’d stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and a flurry of people were filing past us on their morning walks. “I should explain a few things.”

At the shift in his playful tone I backed away slightly and he released my waist, opting for simply holding my hand as we began walking once more. “Can I ask how you know so much about me?”

“Taehyung,” he said quietly, eyes settled on his sneakers as they stepped one in front of the other, crunching autumn leaves.

I blinked ahead and nodded, trying my hardest to digest the information without reaction. “Oh.”

“He and I became roommates when I moved into the apartment and started drumming for the group,” he said, our pace becoming decidedly more slow.

I nodded. “What did he tell you?”

“He told me you two used to be very close. And he said that there was…something between you,” he said, then cleared his throat. “He said that he fucked it up.”

“We can agree on that,” I said.

Hoseok let out a laugh that felt a little disingenuous. “Yeah. We became close pretty naturally. I told him some things I’ve never told anyone and in return…he told me about you.”

My body was hot and the wind felt crisp and heavy like when you have a fever. “Really?”

“I think…as he told me more about you I started to kind of…I don’t know, idealize you? Like, you seemed like the kind of person I could really respect,” he said, then chuckled. “Which, despite how I may act, is kinda hard to find. I don’t really…like people as much as I pretend to.”

There were moments, I’d begun to notice, with Hoseok in which his words became dark and his usual chipper demeanor faltered in lieu of something…different. Something sad. I’d glimpsed it the night he’d come back for me after the show, and the night he’d kissed me. There was something splintering in him that only emerged when the mask slipped.

“I understand,” I said, then chuckled. “To be fair, I think I’m a better concept than I am a real person.”

He squeezed my hand. “That’s the thing with people. It’s easy to make them more than what they are which is…well, mundane. Flawed.”

I nodded. “I’m…I’m a little shocked that Taehyung told you about me. I figured he’d talk about something more important.”

“You’re very important to him,” said Hoseok, his tone serious. I cleared my throat. “When you came back and we took you on as a co-manager, he didn’t know what to do. He doesn’t really confide in people,” he said, then chuckled and glanced my way, catching my eye. “But you’d know that better than me.”

“Yeah…,” I said, but it felt like I was offering nothing to the conversation. I was processing the information, but it wasn’t digesting easily.

“Well, he kind of…asked me to look after you. Keep you out of trouble since he couldn’t do it,” he said.

I stopped walking and stared up at him with wide eyes. “Excuse me?”

Hoseok chuckled. “I knew you’d have that face.”

“It’s just my face,” I said, then shook my head. “But…he asked you to do that?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I even tried to play matchmaker a little bit in the beginning. I tried to lead you into his room, hoping you’d see the pictures on the walls and-,”

“And realize he still cared even if he pretended he didn’t,” I finished with a scoff. “Funny thing is, I did see the pictures and they convinced me he didn’t care. The most important one…it’s missing.”

He shook his head. “At any rate, I thought I might be happy seeing him happy. He’s pretty precious to me. But…I started to get a little too greedy.”

“Greedy?”

“The night I went back to the venue to get you,” he said. “Taehyung was the one who asked me to. He noticed you leave the group and worried about you. He felt like he couldn’t worry. Like he wasn’t allowed.”

“But you were allowed,” I said, thinking back. To be fair, I’d made it pretty much impossible for Taehyung to approach me.

He nodded. “I started to feel a little special. And when we spoke that night…I kind of…I don’t know, I found myself being honest with you.”

“Are you not usually honest?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No. I’m usually…pretty much the opposite.”

The mask was slipping ever further. “Hoseok…”

“Anyway, I felt something towards you. Something that I wasn’t sure was right. And things just kept happening. He hooked up with Haewon that night, and he pushed you away. I kept having to come in and care for you,” he said, letting his thumb slide smoothly over the skin of my hand. “Somewhere along the way, I stopped doing it for him and started doing it for me.”

I blushed. “You…”

“I realized that I kind of liked myself when I was with you. Which is…kinda rare.”

“Hoseok, wait-,”

“I realized that you brought out the version of me that wasn’t horrible, wasn’t made-up. I started to envy Taehyung, and I started to want you for myself-,”

“Hoseok-,” I interjected again, worry edging my voice higher.

He smiled softly as his gaze remained frontward. “All the things I’d heard from Taehyung, all the stories…they created this composite of you that I admired. But meeting you and making memories of our own, not just relying on his memories, it made me feel…kind of happy,” he said. “Like I’d met someone who could look at me at whatever stage I was in and be okay with me.”

“Hoseok!” I finally called, halting my step and so halting his. He finally looked at me and again that sadness was there, thinly veiled with a weak smile. “Hoseok, do you hate yourself?”

He blinked at me and pursed his lips, thinking. After a moment, he chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “Doesn’t everybody? Just a little?”

Without realizing it, I released his hand and fell forward into his chest, wrapping my arms about his waist and placing my cheek beside his heart. I realized then that it was racing. Hoseok stood, as if the action of embrace had shocked the motion right out of him, stiff and still as stone. Slowly though, his arms slid around my shoulders. He rested his chin atop my head and I heart his heart rate slow down gradually, his breathing return to normal.

“Please don’t think you’re unloveable. Whether you smile and laugh or cry and scream you have people in your life who care for you,” I said carefully, rubbing his back. I wasn’t used to providing comfort this way, but the words kept tumbling as I felt him nod his head. “You have so much to give. And so much that you deserve to receive. I don’t know who put it in your head that you don’t, but they’re wrong.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly against my hair. “Thank you,” he repeated once again.

I didn’t know where to go from there. The more I knew him, the deeper entrenched I became in this whole mess. I could no longer view our relationship as casual or fun. There was a new dynamic between us that had been emerging for some time. I worried that perhaps that dynamic would further complicate things. But as he hugged me back, his grip almost desperate, I realized that this person trusted me. And I had to be whatever he needed.

“Are you sure you’re not tired? You look tired.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Jimin pouted at Yoongi as the three of us sat atop the stage, our legs dangling over the edge. “You need to practice self care,” he insisted.

Yoongi glanced over Jimin to lock eyes with me and I fought a laugh. “Self care is me leaving this conversation,” said Yoongi as he stood to his feet and ambled backstage.

The rest of the boys were being taken care of by Mijin and Hyerim, and the girls were sitting cross-legged beside Sunny on the floor below where Jimin and I leisured. I had seen neither Taehyung nor Hoseok since I’d entered the building, and I wasn’t sure if that was unsettling or comforting. With Hyerim’s reappearance and Haewon’s eagerness to get to know Taehyung, part of me just wanted to bury my head in the sand and bide my time.

“He’s such a shit,” mumbled Jimin as he scooted closer to me and rested his chin on my shoulder, examining me with furrowed brows and a pout.

I shrugged him off and squared my gaze with his. I raised my fists in defense and he gaped. “You’re weird today. I don’t like it.”

“Weird how?” he asked, shaking his head. “Can’t I care for my friends?”

“You’re being extra mom-y,” I said.

He scoffed and crossed his arms. “I guess it’s a crime to love you guys,” he said.

“Jimin,” I chided, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I can tell you’re upset.”

He glanced at me out the corner of his eye before, reluctantly, his posture fell with an exhale and he let his expression relax. “It’s Hyerim,” he said.

“I figured.”

“I just don’t trust her,” he said.

“Did she do anything today? When she was doing your makeup?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I won’t let her touch me. Mijin does my makeup,” he said. “I don’t talk to her either.”

“Isn’t that a little much?” I asked. “This isn’t high school.”

Jimin pulled his knees to his chest and shrugged. “I don’t know. I just…you and Tae are really important to me. And I worry about you because you’re not gonna be stern when you have to be. I want her to know someone is watching her, even if it’s not you,” he said.

I sighed. “She was lonely our junior year. After everything happened.”

“So?”

“We didn’t do anything to help. Years of friendship…dissolved after one mistake,” I said.

He rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t a mistake. It was calculated. And then she and Tae started hooking up once she switched schools-,”

“Don’t remind me,” I said with a soft laugh.

His eyes went wide. “Shit! I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “Anyway, I guess…now that I have the opportunity I want to give her the chance I didn’t give her back then. I have a lot that I feel regretful for,” I said. “And a lot that I still resent her for.”

Quietly, Jimin exhaled. “I understand.”

“So try not to worry too much. Focus on doing your best tonight,” I said, smiling his way.

He returned it. “You too,” he said, then snapped his fingers and pointed to me, letting his knees fall into a criss-cross position. “That’s right! I forgot to tell you yesterday, but my mom wants to see you. We had our weekly phone call and I mentioned that you’ve been back for a while and she yelled at me for not telling her sooner. She misses you.”

I laughed. “I miss her too,” I said. Of all the parental figures in my life, Mrs. Park had always felt the most like a real mom.

“Next weekend then. We can go back home and stay with her for the night, okay?” he asked. “She’s been bugging me to come back home anyway.”

I nodded. “Sounds like a plan. But…if you could, maybe don’t tell my parents.” “Still cold shouldering them?”

I furrowed my brow. “Can you use that like a verb?” I asked.

He bumped my shoulder with his and laughed. “Answer the question.”

“Yes,” I said. “I don’t want to see them yet. Not until I can figure out how I want to face them.”

He placed a hand in my hair, ruffling it a little with a smile. “Alright. I’ll tell my mom you’re coming then.”

“Y/N! Can you fix Jungkook’s mic stand please? It’s lopsided,” called Sunny from below, giggling over a pile of snacks with Haewon and Yuna.

I smiled at Jimin and gave his knee a squeeze before standing and stretching. “Duty calls,” I said. But as I turned around I found myself met with a very close view of Kim Taehyung’s broad chest. I stumbled back slightly and glanced up towards his face, shocked when I saw what awaited me. “Your hair!”

He grabbed a lock between his middle and forefingers, pursing his cherry lips. “Hyerim thought it was time to revamp my look,” he said.

I blinked at him. Gone was the cold silver that made his skin look particularly warm. It had been replaced entirely with the same blackish brown he’d had in high school: the same deep color that brought me in an instant back to the days when we’d sit outside and the sun would cast reddish streaks through his hair. The days I would pat his head just to feel how soft it might be. The days when he would laugh brightly in response and pat my head in response.

I flushed as the memories became too much. “Looks nice-,” I began, but Jimin was quick to stand to his feet and cross his arms.

“Looks stupid,” he grumbled.

I sighed. “Just because Hyerim did it doesn’t mean it’s bad,” I said, then turned back to Taehyung who was gazing down at me with a soft smile playing on his face. “You look handsome.” I cleared my throat after my sudden confession and stepped around the tall boy to reach Jungkook’s crooked mic stand.

“She’s just saying that because she’s a girl. Trust me, Tae, you look really, really dumb,” said Jimin.

“If Y/N approves, then that’s enough,” he said with a chuckle before hopping off the stage without so much as crouching to minimize the impact. He sauntered towards Sunny and the girls and began chatting with them. I couldn’t look away from his back, and the way his white t-shirt and dark hair made him almost resemble the Taehyung I’d been madly in love with.

I stood in the crowd the whole night and, even though I enjoyed watching the boys perform I had a hard time focusing. Or rather, I had a hard time knowing where exactly I should focus. Half the time my eyes were stuck on Hoseok as he smiled and laughed, and I couldn’t figure out why the dichotomy of this man on stage and the boy who had hugged me in the park made me so uneasy. The other half of the time I would catch myself locking my gaze on Taehyung as he smoothly plucked strings, occasionally shooting smirks into the crowd which were met, each and every time, with a chorus of squeals. Seeing him up there, smiling and maneuvering gracefully around the stage…it reminded me of when I used to watch him practice in Jimin’s basement. No stage, no lights, no screaming fans. Just him and his smile.

Bodies pressed close to me, shoulder-to-shoulder, and the air was hot with sweat and exhalations. But soon it was over and I stood in the middle of an empty floor looking up at an empty stage. Haewon approached me from behind and wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

“So when do I get to see this Hyerim girl?” she asked.

I glanced at her. “Uh…I don’t exactly know. She might not even be here anymore,” I said.

Yuna sighed beside her. “She’s here. Jimin told me.”

“Jimin told you,” teased Haewon with a laugh. “If you and Jimin are so close why don’t you just date?”

Yuna stiffened and scoffed. “We’re acquaintances because of our mutual concern for Y/N. It’s a friendship of convenience,” she said.

I smirked at her. “Seems pretty convenient.”

“Stop!” she called. “Seriously! It’s just-,”

“Y/N,” said Taehyung’s deep voice from the side.

I turned to him, still flustered looking up at him, handsome face framed by dark locks of shiny hair. I swallowed heavily and nodded. “Yeah?”

“Um…nobody wanted to be the one to tell you so I offered, but…,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck.

I sighed. “Spit it out,” I ordered, facing him properly with crossed arms.

“Hyerim is throwing a party for us tonight and wanted to know if you could come,” he said.

I cocked a brow. “Why didn’t she ask me herself?”

“Because you haven’t been backstage and that’s where she works,” he said, deadpan.

I nodded. “Um…she…she wanted me to come?” I asked, perplexed.

He smiled softly. “Yeah. You’re fun,” he said.

I flushed. I wondered why he was being so gentle to me, so kind. It felt sudden. “Uh,” I floundered. “I…I guess it’s up to the girls.”

“Yes!” called Haewon.

“If it means meeting the demon spawn, I’m in,” said Yuna, picking at a hangnail.

I shrugged and turned back to Taehyung. “I think that’s a yes,” I said.

He smiled, another tender smile, and nodded. “I’ll let the guys know. She lives right around the corner so we’re just gonna walk together.”

I returned it, but I could feel the heat in my cheeks, in my joints. “Okay. We’ll meet you out back.”

“See you soon,” he said, giving the top of my head a soft pat before turning on his heel and walking backstage once again.

I stood still in the middle of the room, eyes wide in his wake, and couldn’t distinguish any noise apart from the wild pounding of my heart. “Y/N?” called Yuna from beside me.

I blinked and turned to her. “Yeah?”

“The hell was that?” she asked.

Haewon stared at me with furrowed brows. “He seemed different.”

I shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you,” I said, then stared in the direction he’d left. “All I know is that I need a drink.”

I forgot how much I hated house parties…

I stood in Hyerim’s kitchen, nursing a red cup full of soda and rum. I wasn’t sure where either had come from, but it was my third glass. I’d caught sight of Hoseok briefly, but as soon as I’d glimpsed him he was gone once again, dancing like a madman in the massive living room.

I wasn’t sure what I’d expected of Hyerim’s apartment. Perhaps something modest and manufactured like mine. Perhaps something artsy and small. But I was wrong on all counts. The place was massive, sprawling into tons of bedrooms and a balcony big enough that all of Team Bangtan could stretch out, fingertip to fingertip. It was furnished lavishly with pop art paintings and gold trimmings and accents. I wondered where she’d gotten all the money, but I knew better than to ask.

Yuna and Haewon had attached themselves to Jimin who, like Yuna, was pouting. He’d only agreed to come because I was there, and he was none too pleased about it. I couldn’t blame him. If the roles had been reversed, and someone had done wrong to him I would have had a horrible time trying to accept the person back into our lives.

But here I was.

“Hungry?” asked a voice from behind me.

I turned quickly to find Hyerim leaning back against a countertop, looking long and slender and sober and beautiful. She smiled. “Oh, uh…sure,” I said, approaching her.

She walked to her tall fridge and produced from the freezer a tub of mint chip ice cream. She offered me a spoon from her silverware drawer. “I bought this because I thought you might come,” she said.

I blinked. “That’s right. You hate this flavor,” I said, digging a spoon into the tub as she set it down on the counter.

She nodded, staring at the ice cream softly. “So you and Taehyung made up?” she asked.

I thought a moment. “I…I don’t know exactly.”

“Well, you guys aren’t awkwardly shuffling around each other anymore which is an improvement,” she said, laughing.

I joined her. “You’re right.”

“I always wondered about that. After how things got between you senior year I was curious if you guys would ever make amends,” she said.

It seemed strange for her to contemplate something like that, as our relationship suffered those hardships partially on her own account. “I suppose…I’d like to make amends.”

“Mature,” she said, smiling. “The old Y/N would have pretended things were fine and never tried to fix it.”

I shrugged. “I’m still like that,” I said. It was true. I was too cowardly to face Taehyung properly, to really hash things out. And I was too cowardly to be honest with Hoseok about my mixed-up feelings. I was too cowardly to apologize to Hyerim, too cowardly to admit to Haewon that I might feel something for the guy she liked, too cowardly to rewrite my essay. And, God, was I far too cowardly to talk to my parents. “I haven’t changed.”

“Don’t,” she said with a laugh. “Watching you make simple things complicated was always my favorite part of being friends with you.”

I turned to her as she took a hearty bite of ice cream. “I-,”

“Don’t change,” she said again. “If you change, I’ll have to change too.” She stuck the spoon straight into the mound of ice cream and turned on her heel to exit the kitchen. “Feel free to eat as much as you want, okay?” she asked with a smile before she wandered out into the living room from which heavy music bumped lowly.

I stared down into the minty ice cream, stared at her spoon sticking upright. I stared at the space she had been occupying only seconds before, now empty. She’d always been that way. Someone whose absence you could feel.

I sighed and removed her spoon, placing it inside her nearly full dishwasher and sliding the tub of ice cream back into the freezer. Quietly, I slipped through the crowd in the living room and made my way to Haewon who had finally managed to get Taehyung alone. The two were chatting close, Haewon grinning up at him with cheeks reddened by a cocktail of shyness and alcohol.

“Hey,” I said, standing between the pair as they hovered near the TV.

Haewon glanced at me and smiled. “Speak of the Devil!”

“Hey,” said Taehyung in response, tipping his cup.

“You were talking about me?” I asked. “Better not be telling her any of my embarrassing stories,” I warned Taehyung with a sever glance his way.

He laughed. “I would never betray your trust that way.”

I almost made a cheap joke about him betraying my trust in other ways, but retained my self control despite the drink in my hand. “What then? Talking about my staggering beauty?” I asked, running my fingers through my hair.

Taehyung scoffed. “No! We were talking about you and J-Hope!” she said.

The stage name hit my ears strangely and I squinted before I realized who they were talking about. “Ah!” I said, then laughed. “Right.”

“I think you two are cute, but Taehyung thinks Hoseok would look better with Irene from Red Velvet,” she said with a pout.

I gaped. “Excuse me?” I called. He laughed boisterously, that high-pitched one that he did when he was drunk. “Irene may be beautiful and talented and perfect, but I’m-,”

“Attainable,” finished Taehyung with a snort.

I smacked his chest. “Shut up!” I called, then laughed with him.

Haewon laughed too, but in a moment her expression fell. It was only midnight, and we hadn’t been at the party all that long, but I could tell from the paleness in her face that she was becoming ill. She glanced at me and before any of us could move, I slung an arm around her waist and pulled her as quickly as I could towards the hallway on the right, Taehyung in hot pursuit as I opened every door and found no restrooms. Nearing the end of the hallway, Haewon began to dry heave and I pleaded with the universe that this door would be the one. I wiggled it once, the silver handle shaking against the wood, and someone called something indistinguishable from inside.

I sighed. “Someone is about to puke!” I shouted.

“Should’ve gotten here sooner!” called a voice, completely different from the first one.

I cringed away from the door as the picture became clearer and I turned towards Taehyung. “She’s gonna blow,” I said, Haewon slumped over her stomach and only holding onto my shoulders limply.

“Must be Hyerim’s room. Maybe she has a bathroom,” he said, pointing to the final door. A piece of paper was taped to its surface reading: Please stay out~

I stared at it. “Do we wanna go in there?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Do we have a choice?”

I glanced down at Haewon, at the blanket of dark hair shrouding her face as it dangled towards the floor. “Good point,” I said, pushing the final door open and fumbling clumsily with the light switch.

Soon the room was flooded with yellow light and I spared no time trying to absorb what it looked like. To our luck, the door on the left of her massive bed opened into a large bathroom and Haewon immediately collapsed beside the porcelain toilet.

In seconds she was puking and Taehyung, sickened, turned away. I kneeled beside her and smoothed the hair out of her face, using the sleeve of my sweater to dab the cold sweat along her forehead. “It’s okay,” I chided.

She wretched for a moment longer before resting her flushed cheek against the seat. She shut her eyes, exhausted. “I drank too much,” she said.

“You always do,” I said, but I tried to keep the scolding tone out of my voice.

She chuckled and nodded. “I know. I think,” she paused to cough. “I think it makes me more fun.”

“You’re always fun.”

“Taehyung said you’re fun,” she said.

I stiffened beside her and began rubbing her back gently. “Stop talking,” I said. “Just rest a minute.”

Taehyung stood in the doorway staring down at us and I heard him sigh. “She should go home,” he said.

“No!” Haewon cried.

I smiled and shushed her. “She won’t go even if we drag her,” I said. “She wants to meet Hyerim.”

“Why would she ever want to do that willingly?” he mused.

I shot him a glare. “We are entering a new, mature era, Kim Taehyung. Don’t ruin it,” I said, but I found it hard to be at ease with Hyerim’s strange words looming in my brain.

He chuckled. “I won’t. Just…I don’t know, be careful okay? You don’t know her like you think you do,” he said.

I glanced at him with furrowed brows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just-,”

He was cut off by the sound of Haewon puking once more, her back arched as she curled her face into the toilet bowl. I was quick to rub her back again, holding her hair in my free hand. I caught Taehyung turn around in the corner of my eye. He’d always been a bit squeamish.

“Ah,” Haewon exhaled with a tired laugh. “I feel better.”

“Yeah?” I asked.

She nodded and sat up straight, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment before opening them and staring at me. “Mhm,” she said with a smile.

I wiped her lips with a piece of toilet paper and frowned. “Taehyung’s right though. You should go home,” I said.

She rolled her eyes. “If I went home every time I puked I’d never go out,” she said.

“Haewon,” I said.

She smiled. “I’m good now!” she said. “See?” She turned side to side, giving me a look at her face as the color returned to it.

“Jesus! There you guys are,” said Yuna, having left the bedroom door swinging as she rushed into the bathroom. “God dammit, Haewon. Again?”

Haewon chuckled and flitted her fingers in a wave. “Hi,” she said.

Yuna sighed. “I saw you guys stumble back here. Haewon, let’s get you some fresh air,” she said.

I turned and saw Jimin behind her, soft eyes rich with concern. “Balcony?” she asked with a grin.

“Sure. Let’s go,” said Yuna, helping her to her feet and guiding her from the room. “I’ll take care of her. You two just…do whatever it is you do when we’re not around.”

And so the trio left, closing the door behind them.

I flushed. Suddenly I was all alone in my ex-friend’s bedroom with my other ex-friend who just so happened to be my first love. I turned to Taehyung as he sat down with a heavy sigh on Hyerim’s bed. He patted the space beside him and, having no reason to say no, I joined him. To be fair, I also had no reason to say yes…

“So…,” he started. “You and-,”

“If you say ‘you and Hoseok’ one more time I’m gonna deck you,” I said, turning to him.

He laughed. “Sorry. I’m just…curious.”

“To answer your question, we had a date today,” I said.

He glanced at me quietly. “And?”

“It was really nice,” I said, then shook my head. “No, well, it was sort of nice. I guess…the more I get to know him the more I worry about him.”

He smiled. “That’s how it goes with him.”

“That’s how it goes with you too,” I said.

He stiffened and I caught his cheeks go slightly pink. He looked away, towards Hyerim’s closed door. “Ah,” he said. “Y/N…can I ask you something?”

“You just asked me something.”

“Something else.”

I nodded. “Sure.”

He pursed his lips and played with his hands. Maybe it was the new hair or the flush in his cheeks. Maybe it was the softness in his eyes. But for a moment I wanted to wrap my arms around his stupid neck. “Why are you giving me another chance?”

I blinked. “I…I mean…that’s a good question.”

He laughed and looked down at me with a smile. “I really wanna know.”

“Tae,” I said, letting the nickname settle in the dim room. We were alone anyway. It was only me and him. “You told me to remind you that people are more than their mistakes. And I didn’t back then.”

“Y/N-,”

“You’re more than your mistakes, Kim Taehyung,” I said, meeting his eyes squarely. “You are.”

His eyes scanned me, leaping from my eyes to my nose, my jaw, my cheeks, then back to my eyes. “Are you sure?”

I nodded. “I’m sure.”

“Are you sure I’m not just a bad person?” he asked. There was a vulnerability in his voice that I had never heard before, not even when we were the closest.

“You’re not a bad person,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re insecure. And sometimes you’re too quick to lash out. You’re headstrong and stubborn. And you don’t listen to other people very well,” I said. “But…you’re not a bad person.”

Quietly, I pulled my hair to the side so I could reach behind my neck and fiddle with the clasp of his grandmother’s necklace. His eyes trained on the skin of my neck. I’d worn the chain that night with the intention of keeping it safe, as I’d been moving things around in my room and didn’t want to lose it. But somehow, it felt like the right thing to to. I met his eyes again and presented the silver chain to him.

He held the pendant between his fingers as I still held the chain and then glanced at me. “It hasn’t been a month.”

“I trust you.”

He blinked at me. “Are…are you sure?”

I nodded and pressed the necklace into his palms. I moved to let go of his hands, but he held on to me. Surprised, I turned to him with wide eyes and he simply scanned me wordlessly. I stared up at him, and his thumbs began smoothing shapes into the sides of my hands. Just like Hoseok.

But nothing like Hoseok.

He continued to stare at me, his deep eyes boundless as they took me in from above. The light made his skin glow, made his parted lips glisten slightly. I wondered what he was thinking, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask. Instead I stared at him too. It took me a moment to realize that his deep eyes were getting bigger, his parted lips were coming closer. But when I did I kept perfectly still. Slowly, his nose brushed mine and I watched him close his eyes. I did the same and butterflies flew through my stomach. All those years of friendship, and we’d never done something like this. I felt his breath fanning out across my lips and I could hear nothing buy my own thundering heart. What was he going to do? I could almost feel his lips brushing mine.

“Ah,” he exhaled, and as soon as he’d leaned in he was leaning away. I opened my eyes and caught a flash of horror on his face before he stood and cleared his throat. “We should go back out or Hoseok might get the wrong idea.”

I blushed. Hoseok.

It was again like a spell was broken and suddenly we were free again. It was odd. The thing that kept us from making that choice wasn’t circumstance or interruptions. No fated force had banged on the door, nobody had called for us. Nothing had fallen off a shelf. Nobody had sneezed. It was just the two of us in that room, and it was purely him who had stopped it.

Why did that hurt more?

He slipped out the door, leaving it open and not sparing even a moment to wait for me. I scratched my cheek and as my hand slid from my face, my fingers brushed my lower lip.

“Haewon?” I called through the rapidly dwindling crowd. “Yuna?”

I’d spent the rest of the evening drifting from the drink cooler to the living room to Hoseok’s arms to a particularly comfortable sofa across from the TV. I had spent little time in any one place, choosing instead to move all over: a desperate effort to keep my mind busy.

But the party was winding down and I found myself amidst a small group of people I didn’t know. Across the living room I glimpsed Hoseok and squeezed through a few small bundles of people to reach him. Upon seeing me he grinned.

“Hey, love,” he said, resting a hand on my cheek as his eyes went heavy. He’d had a lot to drink.

So had I.

So had everyone, really.

“Hi,” I said, leaning into his hand softly. I was allowed to touch this person. He was mine to touch. “Have you seen my friends?”

He shook his head. “Nuh-uh,” he said. “Not since way earlier.”

“Way earlier when?”

“When they went to the balcony with Jimin,” he said, nodding. His eyes had slipped shut standing up.

I smiled and grabbed his face, shaking it a little. “Wake up!” I called.

He laughed and his eyes opened once more. Quickly, he leaned down to peck my forehead. “I’m gonna go call a cab. If you see Taehyung tell him I’m down on the street.”

“Are you sure you’re okay to go alone?” I asked, pouting.

He laughed again. “I am!”

“Be careful.”

“Roger that!” he said before turning towards the front door and shuffling towards it.

I waved after him, chuckling, and decided that perhaps I ought to try calling one of them. I pulled my phone from my back pocket. It took my sensitive eyes a long moment to adjust to the brightness of the screen and I winced as I slid it unlocked. But as I did I noticed a notification in my text messages. Curious, I tapped the icon and read the message.

Dad: Mrs. Park told us you’re coming back to the neighborhood next weekend. I wasn’t aware you were back in the country. Stop by and see us while you’re here.

I stared slack-jawed at the message as icy dread filled my limbs. I had to see them? I was an adult. I didn’t have to listen, right? I could avoid it, right? The familiar panicky feeling I’d grown to know too well began rising in my throat. My heart started to beat fast and my face felt hot in a bad way. I blinked at the rapidly emptying living room before me and wanted to crawl away somewhere and hide. How was I supposed to see them? After what they’d told me before I left. After what they’d done. After what they’d said to me.

I felt tears pricking at my eyes and I fought them with a light slap to my cheek. I shook my head. I had to keep it together. I had to.

In my panic I slipped my phone back into my pocket and decided that taking my time finding the girls might be a good idea, an opportunity to settle my frazzled nerves before seeing them again. I didn’t want them to worry, and I didn’t want them to ask why.

“Yuna,” I called, although this time it was quieter, less urgent. I wandered around couches and tables until I was standing beside the massive door leading to the balcony.

Hoseok had mentioned the balcony. Could they still be out there hours later? It was as good a guess as any, I supposed, and I laboredly pulled the heavy sliding door open, embracing the cool night. I inhaled the fresh air and exhaled slowly, but it did little to settle my racing heart.

“Yu-,” I began, but stopped when I heard the sound of sloppy kissing in the distance. I cringed away from it. It was the bathroom all over again.

I would have turned right back around and stepped back inside had it not been for a giggle I recognized far too well. High, like bells, ringing clearly through the quiet night. I went stiff. No, no, no. This was different. Things were different. We were different. This wasn’t high school.

It wasn’t high school.

I turned slowly towards the source of the giggle and found in the dark corner of the long balcony, far from prying eyes except for mine, Hyerim’s back arched and her head tilted to the side. And, with his lips attached to her neck, was a brown-haired boy that I wished I didn’t recognize like the back of my goddamn hand.

I stared with wide eyes and mouth agape at Taehyung as his hands roamed her sides, his kisses clumsy and hungry. Their lips connected and I felt suddenly quiet ill. Why couldn’t I look away, just like before? Why was I mute and paralyzed, just like before? Why had I allowed myself to become hurt, let him close enough to squeeze my taped-up heart until it once again burst, just like before?

“Y/N! Were you looking for me?” asked Haewon from the doorway, sounding remarkably more sober than before.

I couldn’t turn away, still rooted in place. I didn’t have the words in my vocabulary to describe the aching, burning, frozen feeling in my chest. Haewon approached me quickly, sensing something was off, and followed my eyes towards the scene in the corner.

Only they’d stopped as the crowd had grew, likely alerted by Haewon calling my name. Hyerim stared at me with a smile and Taehyung’s face was contorted with shock and shame. I shook my head as he opened his mouth to speak. He stepped forward into the light of the balcony and I stepped back, breaking my gaze with him and turning to Haewon. After all, she would be far more hurt than I was.

Only she was looking at me, all concern. “Y/N,” she said. “You’re crying.”

I wouldn’t have noticed had it not been for the plump droplets hitting my chest but those tears I’d been holding in since before came rushing forth with impossible strength. Startled, I dabbed my cheek and found water on my fingertips. I turned back to Taehyung who was by then shaking his head vehemently, his hair a mess, his brows upturned.

“I…,” I began, but my voice cracked.

“Let’s go, okay? We can catch the Owl Bus,” she asked, rubbing my arms.

I blinked at the tears that fell into my open palms. “I’m…”

“Let’s go,” repeated Haewon.

Taehyung shook his head. “Y/N, please don’t-,”

“Don’t!” I screamed, alarmed at the volume of my own words. With a shaking hand, I covered my mouth and shook my head. “Just…don’t,” I said, the tremors rocking my voice.

“Y/N!” he called as Haewon and I turned back inside and rushed out the front door. The tears persisted.

“Let’s just go,” she said again, like a mantra, repeating the statement again in my ear.

We emerged on the street and I couldn’t stop the tears. Just like before, everything came to a head at the same time and, just like before, the three factors were there: Taehyung, Hyerim, and my parents. It was like a horribly predictable algorithm. I sniffled, but I knew the tears were far from finished. We stood quietly at the bus stop and Haewon rubbed my back, much like I’d done for her before.

“Hey,” she said softly after a long minute of silence and crying.

I glanced at her. “Hey.”

“I’m over Taehyung now, if that makes you feel better,” she said.

Despite myself I chuckled, wiping beneath my eyes. “Good.”

“Are you okay?” she asked carefully, an arm still wrapped snugly around my shoulders.

I met her beseeching eyes. “Mhm,” I said, then rolled my eyes. “I’m starting to think it’s a right of passage for all of my close friends to see me like this.”

“Yuna too,” she said, nodding. “She mentioned something this morning. About a park.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“I want to understand,” she said.

I blinked past the tears blurring my vision. “You don’t need to say that.”

“Y/N,” she said, and I turned my head to look at her again. “I want to understand. But you need to explain it to me.”

“It’s a long story.”

“It’s a long bus ride,” she said, expression serious.

I sniffed and wiped my eyes once more, inhaling sharply as she released my shoulders and gave me her full attention. The moon was bright above our heads and the night was quiet, waiting for dawn as we waited for our night bus. I wasn’t sure where to begin or how. I wasn’t sure what it meant to finally share the story. But in Haewon’s soft eyes I could see a margin of unacknowledged hurt, covered by a gentle smile. She deserved the truth more than anyone.

I released my breath and nodded. “Okay,” I said, glancing into the placid nighttime street. “It all started when we were kids.”

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts v #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fanfiction #bts au #bts imagine #bts reactions #bts reader insert #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts fluff #bts angst

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pixiedurango · 7 years

Text

Just another extra - A Richard x ambiguous fem.character oneshot

OK, I blame @deepestfirefun for this one by throwing the following prompt at me:

I only slightly changed the wording but followed the prompt to the letter. It turned out as absolute fluff with a little internal fangirling (how relatable) Pairing: Richard Armitage x ambiguous female character Word Count: 2.000+ @xxbyimm, @fizzy-custard @patanghill17 @tinkertailor1212 @hannibatchsmuse @tinkertailor1212 @lady-jessica-9 @inkededucatednnerdy Enjoy!

4.30am – what a heathen time! It probably has not been one of his brightest ideas ever to be on set this early. The catering has nothing more to offer than coffee and he can't decide whether it's freshly brewed or the heated leftover from yesterday. The make up department will not open for another hour so he is stuck in a windy hall with nothing else to do but work on the upcoming scene. Richard flips through his script, finding his notes. Considerations of measurements since he'll oppose Thranduil. He'll have to look up for this one. Also: Anger. Frustration. Receiving an offer which a lesser man than Thorin would probably take. Or a smarter one? How often has he thought about this. Has gauged different ways to act out this scene. He tries this and that. Uses his vivid imagination to create the room around him. The intimidatingly beautiful Elvhen hall surrounding Thranduil's throne. Stubborn dwarf king. Angry dwarf king. Greedy dwarf king. He tries them all, but none of them feels right enough. Maybe a combo of them all will do the trick. He finally stops, going back into his notes again, brooding. Taking more notes. Thoughts tend to be way too volatile so he writes them down. Rustling noises and shuffling footsteps almost make him jump. Way too deep inside your head once more, Rich. He scolds himself. And way too early too handle.. people, he silently decides.

A girl in ugg boots and an overlarge quilted coat has entered the hall. A beanie pulled down so barely her eyes are visible and an overlarge woolen scarf covers the lower half of her face. She's carrying a big black rucksack and it seems to be quite heavy. A big thermos stuffed under one arm is she pulling on a pair of mittens to free her hands. He's actually chuckling on the view and he only realizes that he laughed out loud when he hears the noise echoing from the empty green walls and she visibly jumps because she clearly has not considered another soul being around at this time of day.

He does a soothing gesture, arms open, empty palms. Showing he's no danger. “I apologize. I did not mean to startle you.” She stares for a split second. Recognizes him, petrifies a bit but plays it down. She'll have to get used to meet other actors who – unlike her – were well known stars with an impressive portfolio of work. And disturbingly handsome but this is an entirely different story. “It's early.” She mumbles some kind of apology which actually is not even supposed to be one. “I think I'm still half asleep.” But she keeps coming closer, getting rid of her beanie and the scarf and finally a human being appears underneath all that warming layers. He chuckles once more. “I guess I can relate. Horrible idea being on set at this unholy time.” “You're not shooting for the next 5 hours and even make-up won't be open for the next hour, why are you here anyway?” Internal gasp as she realizes that she just invaded Richard Armitage's personal space by asking questions which are not her concern. But he keeps up the friendly smile and shrugs, not offended in the least. “I'm some kind of an insomniac once in a while, I suppose? And then I thought it was a smart idea being on set early would help me catch the spirit for the upcoming scene. I mean we had a rehearsal yesterday and I don't think it went too bad but...” He shrugs, frowning at her, trying to put her somewhere. Has he even seen her on set yet? Maybe one of the many assistants to whatever? “What are you doing here at this ungodly time, then yourself?” He feels his ear tips warming and knows his cheeks will follow with a rosy blush. “I have to apologize, I'm afraid. I think we never met. There are just so many folks around all day...” Her face is definitely burning in the cold windy air on this set, when she hears him... ramble. Why is he getting nervous because he can't put her anywhere? “I'm just another extra.” She replies. “Assigned to whatever is needed. Been a Hobbit already, some Human town girl at some point and they even tucked me in a Dwarven armor for a sequence. Today I'm going to be some random Elvhen archer. But hey...” Sporting a proud grin, she squares her shoulders. “At least I can brag one day, by saying, I've been in the Hobbit, right?”

“That's the spirit!” Returning her smile is easy as it's rather contagious and he claps his hands in some kind of overbubbling agreement. “So you're a fellow actor then?” He asks while he's watching her unzip the puffy coat leaving her with an oversized black turtle neck jumper. The answer is some weird kind of gigglesnort which makes him grin. “Actually I've just... stumbled into this adventure along with my work and travel experience to New Zealand. I'm no actor at all, but don't you tell anybody.” Along her answer she's fumbling with her thermos and the coffee finally running into the big steel mug is still steaming hot and emits some heavenly scent. She holds it out to him to share. “My lips are sealed.” Curling his fingers at the corner of his still smiling mouth to lock it down, demonstrating how he can keep a secret, then taking the hot mug from her hands with a thankful nod. Warming his fingers by wrapping them around it before he takes a careful sip. “So you're on some kind of adventure quest yourself.” Not even a question but showing he actually listens to what she's telling him, pointing out parallels to the journey he has to portray along with the company, to the whole journey, the Hobbit represents. She still can't believe it. It's 4.30 in the morning and she shares a coffee with Richard Armitage in a deserted set of the Hobbit. “Yeah... it's kind of... wild.” She agrees to his final statement and then there is a moment of peaceful morning silence one only achieves through the power of a mutually shared coffee with a friendly soul.

“I was wondering...” He finally asks after a moment of quiet consideration. “Would you be willing to help me with some rehearsal stuff? I could use a sparring partner with this one. Just stand opposite to me and throw me the lines?” He holds out his script to her. “I... ummm... well...” Now definitely entering beet root status, but she automatically takes the crumbled papers from him. “I don't know... if you think I can do it?”

“Sure!” He nods towards the construction with the gap in front of Thranduil's throne where he could stand on a lower level to keep the measurements and she follows him like a puppy. Who actually wouldn't? Still, she's not sure whether to freak out on an anxiety attack or just get off bouncing from excitement. The blushing rather dumbfounded grin never leaves her face.

She's way shorter than Lee, even when standing on the pedestal but he'll manage to act around this obstacle.They both take a few minutes to get into the scene before they begin.

Actually she's terrified but there is no way of showing him. Her personal utterly stubborn pride forbids it.

He asks her to throw him the lines? He shall receive! Maybe she's not a trained actor but a little stage experience done back home at school and university she still has on her account.

She'll have to start this scene and eventually she closes her eyes for a moment to make herself phase out and just be what she's supposed to play. And right in the beginning she already has to deliver a fucking wall of words... dammit, she deeply hopes she's not fucking this up!

“Some may imagine that a noble quest is at hand. A quest to reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon. I myself suspect a more prosaic motive: attempted burglary, or something of that ilk. You have found a way in. You seek that which would bestow upon you the right to rule: the King´s Jewel, the Arkenstone. It is precious to you beyond measure. I understand that. There are gems in the mountain that I too desire. White gems of pure starlight. I offer you my help.”

Breathe girl! Breathe! You are holding up just fine. He should be able to work with that, she keeps on running self affirmation through her head in order to not freak out.

He's surprised, but he doesn't show or says anything. Focuses on his own part but the way she turns herself into some kind of divine majesty on a fingersnap is remarkable.

“I am listening.”

Daring. Annoyed. Playing cool. He feels here somewhere lies the right approach to do this part.

“I will let you go if you but return what is mine.”

OK, this seems to run smoothly, she decides. He catches up and takes up on the dialogue. She can do this.

“A favor for a favor”

Should he phrase it as a question? No, he's the king under the fucking mountain. Kings do not ask questions. They make statements.

“You have my word. One king to another.”

She actually has no idea how she's doing but she can sense him picking up what she's offering to play with. She has no idea how an Elvhen king would be like but she's seen and read enough of Tolkien's and Jackson's work to have an idea how the Elves are supposed to be portrayed here. She may not be the epitome of ethereal Elvhen glory but she certainly can offer some arrogance.

Now it's his turn to rule the scene. Two majestic stubborn characters. Each hurting and suffering in their own ways. And she stands facing him with a resting bitch face as if she owns the place. Which Thranduil actually does. Probably eighty percent of made up self defense from being terrified, he assumes but who cares when the delivery is so spot on. Either she'd been running an extremely low profile on what she actually has done acting-wise so far or she's just a natural. He takes a deep breath and just channels all the feelings of anger, frustration and distrust he knows his Thorin nurses deep inside for far too long. And the way she's just challenging him makes it possible to act it all out on her, well on Thranduil that is, but borders had become fluid already so who can say,

“I would not trust Thranduil, the great king, to honor his word should the end of all days be upon us!

You lack all honor! I´ve seen how you treat your friends. We came to you once, starving, homeless, seeking your help, but you turned your back. You turned away from the suffering of my people and the inferno that destroyed us!

Imrid amrad ursul!”

He's not sure whether he is entirely happy with what he does here. Maybe a second run will clear up things for him. More anger? More hatred? Or better stone cold, playing some callousness Thorin definitely does not experiences here at all? He'll have to explore this.

Hot damn, he's good! And drop dead handsomely gorgeous. She needs to focus! To stay in character but it's a challenge. A bigger one than pulling off to impersonate an arrogant and scared Elvhen dude king in the first place. Almost there, now her favorite part comes up. The part Thranduil reveals himself, the dragon burns. She loves when creatures let go off their glamour and show their vulnerability. The source of all of his fears, this is such a divine moment. And since she has no glamour to drop herself she'll just pretend she does. But in order to do this she'll have to ignore this stunning blue eyes. Oh, holy crap! And she has to get way too close to face him in this one.

“Do not talk to me of dragon fire. I know its wrath and ruin. I have faced the great serpents of the North. I warned your grandfather of what his greed would summon, but he would not listen.You are just like him.

Stay here if you will and rot. A hundred years is a mere blink in the life of an elf. I am patient. I can wait.”

She walks up the stairs while she strides upstairs. Wobbly knees, well more of wobbly everything. Happy to escape this closeness which actually means nothing and she should better stop being a childish fangirl over this. They are colleagues here. Staying professional is essential and beside that she'd rather not humiliate herself over making puppy eyes on him. The physical distance and actually standing so far above him now should help.

“Whoah, girl! That was marvelous!” He actually pays her a round of applause as she slowly steps back from the throne. “You can't tell me you've never been on a stage before. Because if you do, I'll run and hide under a rock forever.”

“Sweet talker!” Waving it off dismissively. “Been in a few plays at school and university. Nothing big or wild. Not even a lead.” “Well, it should have.” He reiterates. “This was quite good. Shall we try once more for when Thorin gets agitated over that Elvhen asshole?” Waggling his eyebrow at her, bringing in a lighter note because he actually starts having fun with this. She shrugs, stepping closer again. “Fine with me. As long as it helps.” “It surely does.” Giving her an encouraging smile and an encouraging pat on the arm he watches how she cracks the joints of her neck and rolls her shoulders and then phases out once more to deliver him Thranduil's lines. He wonders how she can be so spot on without any kind of training. Wonders how he could challenge her, whether he's able to throw her out of focus. Not to be mean. Far from it, he's not the kind of person who draws fun from giving people a hard time. So when she now stands on her measurements pedestal, literally towering him despite the fact that she's about a whole foot shorter than he is, he can't help but getting silly. Overacting so much she just has to recognize. And he finds himself wanting to draw some laughter from her. There's not moving a single muscle in her face. There might be a slight curl in one corner of her lips but he's not sure. He keeps reciting and at some point he starts making funny faces while keeping a straight voice just to see what happens. Nothing with her face or her posture obviously because she manages to keep a straight face the whole time. But when she eventually starts speaking what are supposed to be Thranduil's words he bursts out in laughter. This girl is a genius!

“Listen, bro! Stop shitting on me with that dragon fire crap! It's fucked up and we both know it! See my face? Dude, that's what you get from snuggling in with a dragon, man! I did for once and I tell you: Don't even try! Because no fun, man! Your grampa was an asshole about listening to me and so are you! So, what about just shutting your face and chill. I have no rush, I'm a fucking immortal! And now what about you go and fuck yourself very much! You're welcome.”

#Richard Armitage #The Hobbit #this happens when you throw prompts at me #imagine #pixie writes #no way this is a self insert #because I'd rather die than being of any help

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