#I’m not bitter that I didn’t get hired for a fucking serving position. I’m bitter because you’ve wasted my time and money

[passiveagreeable]

You know, as much as I want to try to believe that people don’t suck, like, objectively. It’s just so funny when your everyday experience don’t align to that position At All.

#literally who hires someone and then attempts to ghost them for three weeks because they realize they didn’t want to #like. whomst. the fuck. does that? #you’ve wasted my time. you’ve wasted my money. #you literally had me fill out an i9 document and fill out direct deposit forms #I spent more than an hour on their online training and on boarding process #real piece of work. truly I appreciate it #only reason he actually had to tell me he had unhired me is because I called to inquire #and well I wasn’t surprised (legit the day after I interviewed I was already suspicious) but I hadn’t exactly written a proper response #I have some now. make me want to call him back to let him know how stupid he is #so I said something like ‘whatever but I don’t understand why you even got back to me in the first place if you weren’t gonna hire me’ #(because long story short I applied for this job in may and I’m leaving in like a month. #they called me back because my dad (behind my back) called and left a bit of a sour voicemail about never responding to applications) #(then they called me the very next day. almost two months after I applied for a summer position) #and this man. this fucking imbecile. says to me #‘that’s fine. have a great day.’ #really wish I had a better comeback but I just hung up #I’m not bitter that I didn’t get hired for a fucking serving position. I’m bitter because you’ve wasted my time and money #and btw literally HIRED me then just was like jk nevermind. but you didn’t tell me you just hoped I’d forget and go away ig #anyway my faith in humanity exceeds all expectation I’m having a great week and my life is moving in such a positive direction rn #I have had the most unproductive summer of my entire life. how that is even possible I simply do not know #I would start a fight in a bar if you paid me $20 #20 bucks I wouldn’t have made otherwise so just hmu #literally best interaction I had all week was with the receptionist that transferred my call. shoutout to her she’s cool #honestly don’t even get me started on Other non job related things that make me hate people lately because everyday. #every goddamn day it is something new and it’s really wearing me down right about now #probably wouldn’t be nearly as up in arms about any of this if any single job I applied to got back to me. even as a rejection. but alas. #the workplace is a shitshow. people are bad managers. some are bad employees. companies are evil. things are just wonderful right about now! #it’s hasn’t been a long few days or weeks or whatever. no it’s been a long fucking year #and the worst part is I have no right to be mad about all this. like I understand objectively this is petty and ridiculous

[bellofthemeadow]

Blended Heart and Bitter Brews | part 1/?

Masterlist

Summary: Your life was boring, hoping for your big break, you were stuck at Starbucks for what felt like forever. The hot metalhead that just came through your door might just be the amount of shit-stirring fun you've been looking for. (2.4K)

A/N: Hey everyone, first time venturing into the Stranger Things fandom. I know I am late to the party lol, but I was off TUMBLR when the show came out and I've just recently started rewatching it and I had the need to write a series on everyone's favourite metalhead! Hope you all enjoy it and lmy what you think  😊

Warning: Swearing, suggestive language, reference to bratting and brat taming (18+)

Working at Starbucks isn’t the most glamorous job in the world. It wouldn’t even make the top 500 hundred in your opinion. The hours were long, the pay was mediocre at best, and you didn’t even want to think about the tips.

After 3 years on the job, you came to the very scientific conclusion that there was a direct correlation between your empty tip jar and the ungodly amount of Frappuccino you’d have to do on a given day. To the point: right now it was just shy of 2 pm, and you had been making so many of those blended abominations that the front of your apron looked like a unicorn and a leprechaun had an orgy on it. And your tip jar was empty. Go figure.

Starbucks was supposed to be a temporary gig, something to keep the cash flowing between college and your big break. Unfortunately, there was no big break in sight, no producers had called you back because, your sound was “too 80s, but like the wrong 80s” so you were still there serving tweens their daily fix of sugar. You wanted to ram your head on the counter, maybe you should dye your hair platinum and get into pop. Maybe then someone would sign you since the whole metal vibe just wasn’t doing it for anyone. You sighed, just 1 hour and then you’d be free. At least for today, until you’d have to do it all again tomorrow. To avoid having a mental breakdown in the middle of the coffee shop, you distracted yourself by mentally running through the list of things you had to do when you got home:

Go grocery shopping. Nah you were positive you still had fruit loops; Grocery could wait.

Go over your demo. AGAIN

Therapy Oh yeah you couldn’t afford that. Maybe a good crying session to end the night.

Go grocery shopping. Nah you were positive you still had fruit loops; Grocery could wait.  GET BEN & JERRY

Yeah, that should do it.

As you were mentally ticking things off, you heard the shrill voice of a girl at the counter order, “I wanna Venti Caramel Frappuccino with extra whip and a blended cake pop inside. Oh, and with Skim milk!” Of course. Fuck that!

You groaned and pushed your way to the till where the newly hired 19-year-old was taking the order, “Swap with me.” You made sure that your tone left no place for arguments. “Ehhh, I’m taking an order.” Looks like new girl didn’t get the tone memo, “I’ll take the orders from now on, you go work the bar.”

“But I am in the middle of tak…” “Ok look, that’s great, hard-worker is such a good look for you. But I think I’m not making myself clear here; You are going to swap the bar with Me because if I have to make another fucking Frappuccino, I will set this place on fire with everyone inside! Capish?”

Silence.

Suddenly a loud guffaw reverberated from somewhere towards the end of the already long line. Your coworker and the girl at the till looked horrified. But your monumental side-eye was the last nail into the proverbial coffin because Emma didn’t try to argue with you and instead, scurried over to the coffee bar.

Victory.

You turned toward the girl and plastered the fakest smile you could on your face “And what did you say you wanted?” The girl looked like she was going to puke on your counter “… I’ll have a grande latte… Is iced, ok?”

You smiled broadly “One grande ice latte coming right up, did you want skim milk with that?” “Oh no, no. Just regular is fine,” She stuttered.

“Great just gonna need to add your name and that’ll be 4.00 $.” “… Its Josie.” Sacharine smile plastered on your face, “Great Josie, you can go and wait by the bar over there.” You dismissively pointed in the general direction of the farthest end of the bar, “I can take whoever’s next!”

For the next couple of minutes, your other customers were rather accommodating, ordering black coffees and lattes with no mod for once.  “All right next!” You passed down the cup for a “Grande Americano for Josh” toward Emma who was still doing her best to avoid any form of eye contact. You snorted a bit, to say that Emma might be a bit oversensitive was an understatement, maybe you’d apologized after your shift… Maybe.

You turned your eyes to the new customer in line and you couldn’t help but raise a brow at the yummy stud that just stepped up to your till.  You licked your lips appreciatively; the guy must be around your age, with shaggy brown hair, big brown puppy eyes and plush lips you wanted to snap between your teeth. The guy was totally your type too, you spotted how his slightly ripped 1991 “Wherever We May Roam” Metallica tour t-shirt was hiking up his belly revealing a toned stomach. But what really made you salivate was the sight of his numerous tats that decorated both his arms. You could also peek at some hiding under his collar.  Yummy.  

You gave him your best sultry smile, leaned forward, showcasing the unfortunate non-existence of your cleavage as it was all covered by your apron, and coyly purred, "And what can I get you today, handsome?"

Hot dude seemed happy with your flirting as he responded with a reciprocating smile before leaning forward. You were so close that you could almost trace the tattoos (were those bats?!) decorating his forearms. He hummed as though contemplating it, then offered you a sultry smile. You were more than happy to respond with your best fuck-me eyes.

Suddenly his sexy smile transformed into a wide shit-eating grin before he boomed loudly, “I’ll have a Venti Caramel Frappuccino, extra drizzle, extra caramel and extra whipped cream.”

Time stopped. Crickets chirping. Jaw Dropped

What in the actual fuck?!

You jerked your head back and grumbled. Displeasure etched on your face. Hot dude wasn’t so hot anymore as you reluctantly entered the order into the cash register. "Whatshisface" still wore that irritating grin as he leaned forward even further, granting you a clear view of his sharp collarbones. He began to toy with some of the chocolate-covered coffee beans next to your cash register. "You touch it, you buy it," you grumbled.

His Cheshire cat-like grin grew even larger, if that was even possible, and he let out a loud tut. “Aw sweetheart, you don’t have to get all bratty on me. Come on, I know under that little metal act you got goin’ on, you wanna be a good girl for me.” He finished with a little wink that made you want to shove the napkin holder on his stupid handsome face.

“That’ll be 9.85 $” Grin gone. Whatshisface looked completely flabbergasted, “9.85$?!? In what world do you live in that you think its ok to charge so much for a cup of coffee!?” He loudly gasped, affronted.

You flashed your most charming smile and fluttered your eyelashes innocently, much to your delight, you noticed the tips of his ears beginning to blush. In a syrupy tone, you purred “Well sir the caramel, the extra drizzle AND the extra whipped are all extra charges. But I understand if that’s too expensive for you, perhaps you could move over and explore other parts of the menu that are more… within your means.”

Hook, line, and sinker

Hot dude turned an even deeper shade of red and began to rummage through the bag he was carrying, all the while muttering less-than-flattering expletives under his breath. You were fairly certain you heard him mutter a rather pointed “disrespectful little brat,” which senta delicious shiver straight to your core.

You were feeling quite triumphant and began tapping your manicured finger on the counter, a gesture that seemed to further irritate him. After a minute, he forcefully slid a crumpled $20 bill your way, bringing a smug grin to your face. After making a show of counting his change, you grabbed the venti cup and the black Sharpie. “And can I have your name for that?”

“…Eddie.” You slowly captured the cap of the Sharpie between your teeth and started writing his name on the side of the plastic cup. You added a wide smiley next to it for good measure.  You triumphantly noticed that Eddie gaze hadn't wavered from your mouth, as if entranced by the sight of the cap being gripped by your teeth. Maybe he was imagining something else between your lips, you snicker to yourself.

After sliding the cup over to Emma, who appeared as though she had just witnessed a car crash, before hurrying over to start his drink, you coquettishly cooed at him, “Well Eddie,” you made sure to enunciate every word as you tasted how his name felt in your mouth. “I hope you enjoy your… expensive drink, Tip jar is right here.” You gestured with your impeccably black manicured nail towards the nearly empty box "Don't you think I deserve it? After all, I’ve been such a gooood girl for you and did everything you wanted?" You batted your eyelashes, ensuring to add ample emphasis to drive your point home.

As for Eddie, well he looked like he was about to suffocate. Red and blotchy all over, you could also spot some sweat gathering on his forehead. You almost started to pity the poor guy when he tried to stutter out a response to your teasing. Almost.

 In the end, Eddie dropped a couple of ones in the small glass before making his way toward the end of the bar. You also noticed how he had a slightly slouched gait—probably because you'd turn his attempt at embarrassing you on him. He finally stopped in front of where Emma was making his sugared monstrosity. As you were taking the next order, you could feel Eddie’s gaze burning your body. So, you made sure to give him a good show, laughing extra hard at the lame jokes from the college boy you were serving. Bending down a bit too low to grab an extra roll of receipt paper giving him a good view of your shapely ass, drawing large hearts on every cup and flirtatiously referring to every guy in your line with endearments like "sugar" or "handsome."

“A VENTI CARAMEL FRAPPUCINNO WITH EXTRA CARAMEL, EXTRA DRIZZLE AND EXTRA WHIP FOR EATDICK!!!”

“Jesus Christ, no need to scream in my ears like that.” Eddie, looking mortified, snatched his drink before sitting down at one of the empty tables. One of the only ones with a perfect view of the counter. You gleefully observed how Eddie nearly spat out his drink after taking the first sip, probably dying a little bit inside at the taste of the artificial sweeteners that must invaded his mouth.  Quite the smooth move, jackass.

You looked at the time, as your other coworker Jenson joined you behind the bar to relieve you of your minimum wage duties, “I’ll just make myself a drink and then I’m outta here!” You whoop, Jenson acquiesced with a shrugging smile before taking over the till. You shuffle toward the bar area and snicker as you start to make yourself an extra special drink.

“Hey Jenson, can you do something for me real quick after I leave?”

Eddie is grudgingly drinking the caramel monstrosity he ordered. His own fault really, he’s always been a black coffee kind of guy. When he was younger, he started to order it black because it fitted his whole metal vibe; “Black like my soul,” he’d ordered with a wink to the old-timey dinner waitress back in Hawkins. But now that he moved to Indianapolis to chase his music dreams, he realized that he couldn't enjoy coffee unless it was as bitter as the disappointment that people had in him.

While he wasn't usually a Starbucks person, he had stayed up until 4 am this morning after playing a gig downtown. And to top it off, he had to be at work on the dock by 6 am, leaving him with barely any time to sleep in between. At this point, he would have traded his soul for a coffee. So, when he spotted the Starbucks on his way home, he just had to stop. Mindlessly scrolling on his phone for any notifications of Corroded Coffin, you took him right out of his zombie-like trance when you shrieked about setting the place on fire. He hadn’t been able to stifle his laughter at your words. To top it off, you were hot, as fiery as the arson you threatened everyone with. So, when he reached the till and saw that his attraction was completely reciprocated, he couldn't help but tease you a bit.

He just hadn’t banked on you being such a brat. Now he was sitting alone with an almost inedible caramel concoction of his own making, swimming in the bitter disappointment of having made a fool of himself in front of you. As he was simmering in his annoyance, a cup of steaming Americano was placed in front of him. He raised his head fast and looked at the sheepish expression of a lanky guy with a freckled face, “I didn’t order that…”

“Eh, well she made it for you. Told me to give it to you after she left.”

Eddie’s head snapped back to the bar where you had disappeared. A bitter taste of disappointment coated his mouth as he realized he hadn’t even gotten your number, “Thanks, man.” The guy gave him a sharp nod in response before making his way back to the till where a line was slowly forming again.

Eddie took a deep breath, inhaling the tangy smell of the black coffee. Exactly what he needed.  As he was about to take a sip, black writing on the side of the cup got his attention.

Hey hot stuff, You looked like you wanted to put me back in my place back there 😉 I’d like to see you try, call me at xxx-xxx-xxxx -Little brat

A huge grin broke out on Eddie’s face as he took a sip of his coffee, letting the bitter liquid burn down his throat.

Today turned out to be pretty metal after all.

Part 2: The Phone Call

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie x you #rockstar eddie munson #brat taming #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fandom #fanfiction #fanfic

[tendertenebrosity]

Prev 1, 2

I hadn’t gotten many other visitors, while I lay recuperating in the infirmary.

Or any.

I lay there for hours, nothing much to occupy my mind except my failures and my resentment. A bitter black tide lapped through me, and I moodily let it sweep me back and forth. I was despised, disfigured, left here to hurt alone, and it was all so unfair I wanted to scream. I’d kept my oaths. I had served gladly, with all my heart, and this was my reward? This?

I’d failed, though. Made a mistake somewhere. This couldn’t be right; I had fucked up somewhere to end up in this position. If only I’d… I don’t know. Maybe if I’d handled the fight differently, called for help? At least then somebody else might have seen something. Made it so it wasn’t just my word against a weight of evidence and common sense.

My word counted for nothing. Apparently. Maybe somebody else’s would have meant more.

Or maybe, I thought, turning the lucky stone over and over in my fingers, somebody else would have just died. Maybe that would be what would happen the next time - whoever was on duty would be cut down by the black shadowy creatures that they might or might not be able to see.

Wouldn’t be my problem, I thought darkly. I’d be… I still hadn’t decided where I was going to go. Would anybody in this city hire me for anything? Should I change my name? Unfortunately, I had looked kind of distinctive even before this - being ‘the redhead’ was bad enough, and I doubted ‘the redhead with the scarred face, you know, the one who did those murders’ would be an improvement. I should leave the capital entirely.

When the palace was overrun with horror creatures, would they think back to me? Like, ‘oh, we guess Keldin was right after all, damn, argh argh ughh’.

Would my Prince think of me? Before he died?

I found my thoughts turning to my closest friend in the Royal Guard, Resina. At least, I’d thought she was my friend up until the trial. Maybe she still was, I hadn’t sorted out my feelings on that yet. She hadn’t come to see me here, anyway.

The second night I’d spent with Raiden, she’d caught me tiptoing out of his room in the grey dawn. It had been an inn room, a diplomatic trip - her and I assigned to the Prince’s guard detail together. I was trying to be discreet, since Raiden hadn’t said what he wanted yet, and - well, maybe that was always doomed to failure because I was me.

I’d frozen, shirt thrown over one shoulder and boots in my hand, and given her a sheepish grin. Well. Maybe equal parts sheepish and smug.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Keldin,” she had said, with the grim air of somebody giving advice they knew was going to be ignored. I was used to getting that tone of voice from people.

I had hopped, trying to pull my boots on as I followed her down the inn’s stairs.

“Well, his highness didn’t have any complaints,” I said, low under my breath, with an exaggerated sultry look.

She sighed. “Try to think further than a week or two in advance,” she said. “I’m not saying do or not do anything, I’m just saying think. All right? Things could get messy.”

“Oh, I intend there to be a certain amount of mess, sure - ”

“Keldin.”

I laughed. Pulled my shirt on and did the final buttons up just as we entered the inn’s common room, which was sleepy and half full of Palace staff getting an early start. We’d need to stop talking about this before we got the the table where the other two people on our shift were.

“Look, just be careful,” she murmured. “If you get your heart broken, you can cry on my shoulder, and if your career goes down the drain, I’ll help you find a new job. But I’m going to be really fucking sarcastic while I do it.”

“A new job? Whoa, lighten up, I’m not that bad in…” I broke off at another severely unimpressed look from her. The table was approaching. “Look, thanks, Rez, but I’ve got it handled, all right? I’m a big boy and I can look out for myself. Besides,” I added, quickly, “Prince Raiden would never do anything wrong or unfair, so I’m not worried!”

Now, as I lay with my charm clutched in my fist and my neck getting really goddamn tired of lying on my front, I wondered if she’d known even then. Known that soon my whole heart would belong to the prince, completely and irrevocably. My heart, my mind, my body, all of it was his and there was nothing I could do about it.

Even if, apparently, he viewed me as… a dalliance.

I turned his words over and over in my head. Like itching at my stitches, which the healer had already warned me against doing several times. Raidan’s voice echoed in my head. That’s an inappropriate insinuation. You presume too much. You were exactly what I needed, for a while. You’ve always been devoted. You deserve that much from me.

The distance and chill of ‘my sincerest good wishes’ wormed its way into my heart like a splinter.

I was such an idiot. What had I thought? That he felt the same level of emotion I did, that his heart was mine? That I was all bound up in his insides the way he was in mine? I think I had known he didn’t.

But, we’d been together for well over a year now. He’d never taken anybody else into his bed, that I knew. He had kissed me with fond possessiveness, been happy for his household and his friends to know about me, given me gifts - given me fond nicknames - I’d thought - I’d thought -

I assumed that Resina’s offer of a shoulder and sarcasm was no longer on the table.

I was abruptly both impatient and kind of disgusted with myself. A threat to the royal family I’d sworn my whole life to was lurking in these halls as I lay here, and all I could think about was my own broken heart? What, did I think Raidan’s nonexistent love for me changed anything about my duty?

I held the stone and let my eyes wander around what parts of the room I could see. Nothing strange. No idea if my leg wound would still look weird and gross; I couldn’t twist far enough to see. But if more of those things were around, would I be able to see them? When other people couldn’t?

What if the plan was never to overrun the palace and kill people, but to… infiltrate?

Maybe if Raidan had taken the stupid fucking thing like I’d begged him to, I would have been able to leave. Not satisfied, but at least knowing that I’d given him all the protection I could.

He hadn’t taken it. He didn’t want it. He didn’t want me.

“Well, tough, your highness,” I said aloud, my voice very loud in the empty room. “I’m not going anywhere.”

#Keldin #fantasy whump #flashback #backstory #post-whipping #this is a glimpse of Kel's real personality when he's not having the most traumatic week of his life

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Tik Tok - A Haven Sequel

F/M Pairing: Chan x OC (original female character)

Genre: Have Sequel; Enemies to Lovers

Warnings: Explicit Smut (unprotected sex) and Language

Word Count: 4.6K

Summary: Chan would do anything for his adopted family, and maybe that’s cost him a chance or two at finding love for himself. However, when the convenience store hires a strong, independent young woman to act as assistant manager, Chan finds himself in competition with someone who is very much like him - he’s just too stubborn to admit it.

A/N: This is another anon request that I spent way too long writing.

There was only so much more that Chan could take before he inevitably fell over the metaphorical edge. It wasn’t helping that work had become a source of unrestrained anxiety and frustration for him, but he definitely didn’t need to be a victim to one of Hyunjin and Jisung’s increasingly frequent pranks. And when Chan woke-up one morning with a strange stirring in his abdomen, he was shocked to find his hand in a warm glass of water while the two miscreants in question observed him from the side of his bed.

“I told you it wouldn’t work!” Hyunjin whined.

Meanwhile, Jisung was shaking his head in disbelief. “Chan, you were supposed to piss the bed!”

Chan rolled his eyes, shaking off the accumulated water droplets from his hand before glaring at Hyunjin and Jisung. “Get the hell out of my room,” he grumbled, and the two younger members had enough common sense to obey the eldest when he was in a foul mood.

Chan sighed as he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower, attempting to do something with the messy curls laying limply on top of this head. It might be a while before he ever bleached his hair again because the sorry state of his scalp was no laughing matter. Yet, Chan eventually found himself giving up on making his hair look presentable, proceeding downstairs to offer a grumpy greeting to Minho, Sara, and Changbin who were reading something from the newspaper.

“Bad mood again?” Minho inquired while stuffing his mouth with more cereal.

“No thanks to anyone in this house,” Chan responded, and he found himself even more irritated when he looked over to see Sara giggling when Changbin whispered something into her ear. “I’m sure everyone would like to hear what’s so damn funny,” Chan said, and Changbin and Sara both immediately averted their gazes.

Meanwhile, Minho was studying him with that stupid look of his that only served to encourage Chan’s quick exit from the kitchen before he blew-up on his members. Honestly, his persistent mood changes weren’t really the fault of anyone he lived with in the house. In fact, the real source of his frayed nerves was the red-headed bitch who the convenience store had just hired as an assistant manager.

Chan had a certain order to how he ran the store, and Lisa was determined to ruin everything. She refused to obey his strict ordinances - often flaunting a change to his regular routine as if she found it humorous. It was like she was going out of her way to make Chan as miserable as possible, and he was slowly losing the battle with his patience.

Perhaps that’s why Chan was dreading the prospect of work, and when he pulled into the parking lot outside of the convenience store, he sent a silent prayer up to anyone who was listening that he might survive the afternoon.

But his mood only worsened from the second he walked through the door, and Lisa spotted him from behind the counter. “Morning, Satan,” she greeted him with a chipper tone that Chan despised.

“I’m supposed to teach you the cash register today,” Chan grumbled, and he threw on his apron before joining Lisa at the front.

“Well, this should be fun,” she remarked. “I guess you’re planning on making it harder than it needs to be.”

Chan frowned at the comment because Lisa had told on numerous occasions that he was far too strict with the store’s management. But that’s how Chan had always been taught to conduct his affairs - with a stern hand and a detailed explanation since all the little details were critical. It’s how he ran the house with the others, ensuring that the budget was maintained and that everyone was always contributing. “You might treat everything with indifference,” Chan said. “But I care a lot about this place.”

It was the first job he ever had, and Chan owed a lot to the owners who agreed to take a chance on a young man who had no experience to offer them. Overtime, Chan had proven himself more than capable, and he would like to keep things in order like he preferred. “Whatever,” Lisa said while smacking her chewing gum

Which Chan had told her repeatedly was improper.

“Listen carefully,” Chan said, and he inputted his employee ID before grabbing a few items around the register. “I’ll start with a demonstration.”

“Great,” Lisa said with an exaggerated sigh that Chan chose to ignore as he meticulously explained the various types of ways in which a customer might try to pay for their purchases. 

“Credit or debit,” Chan reiterated. “They might also try paying with cash or a check, and you have to make sure that it’s legal tender.”

“Ugh,” Lisa groaned. “Do me a favor, Chan, and skip the lecture where you explain the history of counterfeiting.”

Chan immediately tensed at the sharp jab, but he took a deep breath to steel his nerves before he ensured that Lisa understood what every button on the register controlled. “Our clientele expect quick service,” Chan said. “You can’t spend all day trying to figure out how to open the drawer.”

“Oh, really?” Lisa asked, and she raised an eyebrow in question as she reached over to press the button in question without even looking. “It’s not that hard.”

“Yes,” Chan hissed as he slapped her hand away. “I can’t expect anything less from you! I suppose you think this whole job is a big joke and you can do whatever the hell you want?”

“When did I say that?” Lisa countered. “I respect the position, and if there’s a problem with the store, then it’s you.”

Chan froze at the accusation, and he imagined that someone might be inclined to draw flames above his head because the comment was nothing short of incendiary. “I’m the problem?!”

“That’s what I said,” Lisa replied. “You take everything too seriously, Chan. I’ve spoken to the other employees, and they’re all afraid of messing up because you expect perfection.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Everything!” Lisa exclaimed. “Most of these kids are working here part-time to help get themselves through school. You act like this place is a damn computer software company!”

“There’s nothing bad about taking pride in my work,” Chan said.

“I never said that,” Lisa returned. “But you take your work to the extreme, and it really makes it hard to come in every morning just to here you complain that there aren’t exactly twelve cups next to the slush machine!”

But Chan was flabbergasted - he had never seen anyone stand up to him like this and express such vile contempt. He was just trying to make everything better! Why was that so difficult for her to see?

“We’re supposed to be professional,” Chan finally muttered. “I’ll be in the back office.”

“Okay, but have fun micromanaging everyone,” Lisa said, and Chan started counting down from ten inside his head before he really lost his shit.

It was late when Chan returned home, and he was feeling drained from his horrible day at work. As soon as he pulled into the driveway, he rested his head against the steering wheel for just a moment to collect his thoughts. His mind was a chaotic engine of latent rage directed at Lisa, but he didn’t want to take it out on anyone inside the house.

And when he felt like he had better control over his emotions, he put on a forced smile and greeted Jisung and Hyunjin who were both sitting in the living room. “Yo, Chan,” Jisung said, and he was jabbing at the buttons on his Xbox controller. “You look pissed.”

“Just a bad day at work,” Chan said, and he lifted his head when he started smelling something spicy. “Is someone cooking?”

“Y/N and Minho were supposed to make dinner,” Jisung said.

“I think they just made a mess,” Hyunjin added, and he laughed at the pained expression on Chan’s face.

“Oh, great,” Chan muttered, and he knew to prepare himself when he walked into the kitchen to greet a cloud of smoke.

“Channie!” Y/N yelled, standing at the stove and mixing some sort of sauce in a giant pan. “I’m making your favorite.”

“I can see that,” Chan said while withholding a sigh - his kitchen was a disaster, and Minho wasn’t washing the dirty dishes fast enough before new ones piled up on the counter.

“Excuse the mess,” Y/N said as if realizing that Chan was not pleased by what she had done.

“Y/N,” Chan groaned - looking around the disaster zone that she had made of their dishes. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Both Y/N and Minho looked up at the same time - surprised to hear Chan’s bitter tone. “What do you mean?” Y/N asked. “You were coming home late so I thought I could make dinner.”

“Yeah, but look at this fucking mess,” Chan cursed, and Y/N flinched because Chan never cursed very much.

“I’m sorry, Chan,” she whispered. “I was just trying to be nice.”

“You never do it right!” Chan found himself snapping at Y/N who instantly cowered behind Minho who had come to stand between his girlfriend and Chan.

“Hey!” Minho growled, and he was suddenly crowding Chan against the wall. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

“Get off,” Chan grunted, and he shoved harshly at Minho’s shoulders. “I don’t need this right now!”

“Is that right?” Minho asked. “You think I shouldn’t say anything when you come home and act like the world’s biggest asshole?”

“You’re just making everything worse,” Chan retorted.

“No!” Minho shouted. “You’re the one who made this into a problem! We’ve been working for hours getting this together, and you have no right to come home and accuse us of anything.”

“Are you blind?” Chan snapped. “The kitchen is a war zone!”

“It can always be cleaned,” Minho said, and he turned around to look at Y/N while softening his tone. “Go upstairs, baby, this isn’t your fault.”

Y/N nodded once before cautiously tiptoeing backwards in the direction of the side door, and Minho waited until she was gone before returning his attention to Chan. “What’s going on with you, Chan? You’ve been rude to everyone these past few weeks.”

Chan closed his eyes as he swallowed down his pride and bruised ego because he knew that Minho was right. “I know,” he said. “There’s been a lot going on at work, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Figure it out, Chan,” Minho said - blunt as always. “You can’t let this affect everyone else.”

Chan knew that Minho was right, but he had never felt so conflicted.

During his next shift, Chan was determined to control his undesirable tendencies and assume a far more lenient attitude with the rest of his employees. 

“You’re doing fine,” Chan said, even though he was screaming on the inside while watching an employee attempt to stack one of the produce windows.

The young man offered him a sincere smile to express his gratitude, and Chan took that as affirmation that he could return to Lisa’s side as she restocked the candy section. “You’re in a good mood,” she remarked while offering him a look of suspicion,

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Chan asked while crossing his arms over his chest - a move that was meant to keep him from reaching out to straighten the price tags.

“Well, there’s been like a thousand violations of your unspoken rules,” Lisa remarked. “That new guy even broke the coffee machine.”

“His paycheck next week should suffice to repair the damages,” Chan said through gritted teeth - an unexpected chink in his armor. 

But Lisa caught it nonetheless, and she smirked while indicating to the display she was working on. “Do you have something to say about my section?”

“Of course not,” Chan exhaled.

“What about the expiration dates,” she said before leaning in closer. “I didn’t even check them”

Chan grimaced, and he could feel the beginnings of his patience unraveling. “It’s fine, Lisa.”

“Really?” she asked. “Would it bother you if I left the labels backwards?”

“No,” Chan muttered. “But it might be better if they were facing the customer.”

“Should they be alphabetical as well?”

Oh, that was the last straw! Chan was done with this whole good guy act, and he didn’t need Minho or anyone else to tell him how he should act towards the people who were supposed to be working under him! “I’ve fucking had enough!” Chan exclaimed, and he reached out for Lisa’s hand and started pulling her in the direction of the backroom.

“What’s this all about?” she asked, but there was an airiness to her tone that told Chan that she still wasn’t taking things seriously!

He locked the door behind them and corralled Lisa against the wall - to the point where their noses were brushing. “Do you take some sort of sick satisfaction in pissing me off?”

“Maybe I like you this way,” Lisa said, and Chan was startled when she reached out to wrap her arms around his shoulders. “This is a good look on you, Chan.”

“What?” he questioned, but he didn’t pull away because there was something strangely hypnotic about her eyes. 

“I’m really attracted to you,” she whispered, and the sound was spoken directly into his ear. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Lisa-”

But Chan was interrupted by the unexpected pressure of her lips against his - wiping all coherent thoughts out of his mind.

“I think you might want to talk less, Mr. Bang,” Lisa purred, and Chan clenched his jaw to strengthen his resolve.

“Get on your knees,” he growled, and Lisa closed her eyes around a moan before pushing back against his chest - allowing her enough room to drop down on the floor while her hands started working apart his belt. 

“I’ve been wanting this since our first day together,” Lisa said, and Chan braced himself against the wall when she took out his cock from his boxer shorts - running her hand up and down his length. “You’re really big, Chan.”

“Yeah?” Chan grunted, and he could barely hold himself together when her lips wrapped themselves around the tip of his erection. 

He watched through a haze of lust as she took him deeper - hollowing her cheeks while bobbing her head along his cock. It was the last thing Chan could’ve ever imagined, but he was experiencing so much pleasure from her warm mouth. 

“Is it good?” Lisa asked - pulling off for a moment to ask the question while exploring the slit of his cock where pre-cum was already forming.

“Keep going,” Chan replied, and dug his fingers into her crimson-colored hair to ensure that she took him as far as she could. “Is this what it takes to shut you up?” Chan snarled, forcing more of his cock down her throat.

Lisa moaned around him, and Chan almost came from the vibrations that jostled his sensitive erection. “Take off your jeans,” Chan said, managing the words around a rather loud moan that he couldn’t seem to prevent.

But Lisa obeyed him at once, shimmying down her skinny jeans while sucking on his cock and using her tongue to trace the underside. “Stand up, slut,” Chan ordered, and he was pleased by Lisa’s willing compliance as she walked over to a nearby desk - spreading her legs wide when he walked between the gap. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Lisa nodded her head, glancing back over her shoulder to give him her best sultry look. “I know you’re angry with me, Chan, and I deserve whatever you give me.”

Chan was delighted by the words, and he didn’t hesitate to push his cock inside her welcoming heat, grinding his hips against her ass just to feel her convulsing around him. “Where was this obedience before?” Chan asked, pulling out to just the tip before forcing himself back inside with as much strength as he could manage.

Lisa gasped when her hips slammed against the edge of her desk - whimpering around the discomfort. But Chan had no intentions of stopping, and he held onto her waist as he started ramming himself into her pussy with the weight of his frustrations adding to his power. It was hot and passionate, and the sounds of their fucking echoed throughout the backroom while Lisa’s moans provided the perfect melody.

“Come inside,” Lisa said, and Chan cursed.

“Are you on the pill?”

“Yeah,” she gasped, and Chan knew better than to leave her unattended, even if she might deserve it, so he allowed one hand to leave her hip and play with her clit in teasing circles.

“Come with me,” Chan said, and he pressed down even harder while nailing himself between her walls one last time before the entire world exploded around him.

There was a blurriness around the edges of his vision, and Chan was gasping for breath while Lisa hummed in content from beneath him.

When Chan woke-up the following morning, he wasn’t sure what to think of the unexpected encounter he had with Lisa from the previous afternoon. For the remainder of his shift, he had avoided Lisa as much as possible while carrying the weight of his guilty conscious. Because he couldn’t help but think that he had taken things too far, and their work relationship would suffer as a consequence.

Chan glanced at the clock on his nightstand and knew that he couldn’t delay the inevitable any further. But at least Chan could afford enough pride and apologize to Lisa? Perhaps she would forgive him, and they could forget about everything that had happened and move on with their lives.

But maybe Chan’s optimism was misplaced because Lisa gave him a dark look when he met her at the counter. “Oh, hey,” Chan said, and he winced when his voice broke.

“So...” Lisa trailed off, looking at him with an intense gaze. “Yesterday was something.”

“Uh, yeah,” Chan said, and he allowed an awkward laugh as he messed with the cash register. 

“You don’t regret it, do you?” Lisa asked, and this was Chan’s opportunity to fall on his knees and beg for her forgiveness. Because she was surely upset with Chan for his behavior. Yet, when Chan forced himself to look at her, he was surprised to see that she held no resentment.

“I don’t know,” Chan decided. “I guess I’m confused.”

“Confused?” Lisa repeated with a playful smile. “Chan, we had sex, there’s nothing to be confused about.”

“Shhh,” Chan hissed, looking around the room to see if anyone had overheard them. 

“What’s wrong?” Lisa asked with a laugh. “Chan, you were fantastic. I wish we had done that earlier.”

“R-really?” Chan stuttered, and he hesitated when Lisa leaned into his weight.

“I loved it,” she told him. “I’ve never been with someone like you before.”

Chan was surely blushing, and he could feel the heat scalding his ears. “Lisa, I don’t usually act like that.”

“Oh, I know,” Lisa said, and her fingers trailed down the buttons on his shirt. “It was refreshing, Chan, to see you so aggressive. I could get used to that.”

Her words did something peculiar to his arousal, and he found himself feeling more comfortable around her. “You mean, it’s better than how I usually am.”

“There’s really nothing wrong with your little ticks,” Lisa said. “I think you could afford to loosen up every once in a while.”

“I see,” Chan said, and he reached out for her waist. “Are you the person who can help me relax?”

“If that’s what you want, baby,” Lisa said, and Chan couldn’t stand it anymore - reaching for her hand to bring them both back to that same backroom where everything had collapsed around them.

His lips were on hers instantly, and Chan moaned when their tongues started to move between them. “Come here,” Chan growled low in his throat, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her closer.

Lisa allowed him to handle her with a sigh of pleasure, and she opened up for him like a beautiful flower - something gorgeous to behold. Chan had never experienced these feelings with anyone else, and he was certain that he had lost every bit of oxygen in his lungs when they finally pulled away from their heated session for more air.

“Woah!” 

They both jumped apart at the sound of their co-workers voice, and he held up his hands in surrender while his gaze moved between Chan and Lisa with clear surprise. “Josh,” Chan said, and his voice had a much higher-pitch than usual.

“I’m sorry,” Josh said. “I didn’t realize-”

“It’s okay,” Chan interrupted, and he backed away from Lisa with a heavy breath. “I need to check on the shipment.”

He was gone without waiting for Josh’s response, but there was a small voice at the back of his head that told Chan he needed to figure this thing out between him and Lisa before the situation escalated.

Still, he couldn’t really explain his decision, but Chan found himself standing outside of Minho’s bedroom that night with his hand raised to knock. Of course, it was one thing to think about something, and another to actually put those thoughts into action. Consequently, Chan was desperately searching for the courage to reach out - literally - and ask Minho for help.

Thankfully, his internal debate was terminated when the door suddenly opened and Minho flinched in surprise when he saw Chan. “Were you just standing out here?” Minho asked, and Chan took a deep breath.

“Can I talk to you about something?”

“Sure,” Minho said, and he stood back to allow Chan enough room to walk inside.

“It’s something kinda personal,” Chan said, and he was grateful that Han and Felix weren’t there because it was already awkward enough opening up to Minho.

“You can sit down,” Minho said, and Chan joined the younger on his bed while messing with the loose fabric of his work jeans. “Is something wrong?”

“it’s more like...someone,” Chan said.

“Oh?” Minho frowned. “The same person who’s been bothering you at work?”

“How did you-” But Chan trailed off at the end of his sentence and decided not to question Minho.

He was unusually astute for his age.

“I figured it out,” Minho still answered him. “Did you want to talk about this person?”

“Yeah, but’s complicated.”

“Why?”

Chan grunted at the question because he didn’t really know why things had gotten so complicated. “I thought there was a mutual hatred, but I think I read everything wrong.”

“Something changed your mind,” Minho said, and Chan slowly nodded.

“We had sex.”

“Woah!” Minho laughed, and he threw up his hands like he wasn’t quite ready to just jump into this part of the story. “All of a sudden?”

“She got on my nerves.”

“So, you thought that sex would fix everything?”

“I don’t know,” Chan groaned, and he collapsed backwards on the mattress. “But she said that she really liked me.”

“Did she give any indication of that before?”

“No,” Chan replied. “But she was always messing with me. She liked to ruin the way I ran the store, and she tried to change everything.

“Damn,” Minho finally remarked. “I admire any woman who has the guts to stand up to you.”

“What do you mean?” Chan asked, and he supported himself against his hands as he glared at Minho.

“Don’t take it personally,” Minho said. “But you’re a bit of a control-freak, Chan.”

“Are you sure?” Chan asked, and it was a dumb question because Minho rolled his eyes.

“I’ve been living with you for years, dude. I’m bound to notice these things.”

“Well, I don’t mean to act that way,” Chan said, and Minho sighed and patted his shoulder.

“The first step is admitting your wrong-doings, my friend.”

“But what am I supposed to do about Lisa?”

“Oh, is that her name?”

Chan groaned in frustration because nothing was going the way he expected. “It feels awkward.”

“Then, you have to talk to her,” Minho said - like it could really be that simple.

“It’s awkward,” Chan repeated with a pointed glare.

“And there’s only one way to fix the awkward,” Minho replied. “Seriously, Chan? Don’t make this into something bigger than it needs to be.”

Chan knew that Minho was right (because he was really good at helping others with their problems), but he was still afraid. He was scared that talking to Lisa would bring up complicated feelings that he’s never had to deal with before, and what was he supposed to do, then? Feelings weren’t something that his careful rules could control, and he didn’t like it when things happened without him realizing. But he was also frightened by the idea of ruining something because of his own shortcomings, and maybe it was time that he made the effort for someone else.

And Lisa was certainly worth more than all the consequences.

Chan was a complete mess of nervous energy when he started his shift on a bright, promising Saturday afternoon. He diligently cleaned down the counters, and ensured that the register was online before shifting back and forth between his feet as he stared at the entrance. Because Lisa was due to come in for her shift at any moment, and Chan was giving himself a mental pep-talk for their impending conversation.

But it still didn’t stop his heart from beating erratically when she arrived, giving him a generous smile as she took off her coat. “Good morning, Chan,” she said, and he was relieved that the old nickname of “Satan” had been abandoned.

“Lisa,” Chan said, clearing his throat. “Can I talk to you?”

“Sure!” Lisa said, and she walked behind the counter to stand next to him. “What’s up?”

“Well,” Chan started around a deep breath, “I want to talk to you about our...encounters.”

“Encounters?” Lisa repeated, and Chan could feel himself growing more and more embarrassed as she teased him. “You mean like when we had sex in the backroom?”

“Yes, that,” Chan said, and Lisa giggled. “I just think I handled everything inappropriately, especially the way I talked to you.”

“Oh, don’t apologize for that,” Lisa said with a sly wink. “I liked the things you said to me.”

“Uh-huh,” Chan agreed, and he shook his head to collect his thoughts. “I should’ve never avoided you because I made things worse, and that was wrong of me.”

“It’s fine, Chan,” Lisa assured him. “I was willing to give you all the space you needed.”

Chan was surprised by her generosity, and he pushed through to the end of his little speech. “Would it be okay if we tried things out?” Chan asked. “Like, maybe in the right way?”

“The right way?” Lisa repeated with an amused smile.

“Yeah, like I could take you on a date or something,” Chan said, hoping he didn’t look as awkward as he sounded.

“Hmmm.” Lisa pretended to consider his suggestion, running the tips of her fingers over the edges of his bright-red ears. But she eventually ended his misery - moving in closer for a sweet kiss that Chan could feel all the way down to the points of his toes. “I would love that, Chan.”

And maybe he could blame it on the novelty of the situation, but Chan quite liked the warm feeling that blossomed from the center of his chest. Almost as if he had never felt more content before in his entire life.

#stayverse #skzsmutnetwork #skzwriternet #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #skz imagines #skz oneshots #skz scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids chan #skz chan fanfic #bang chan fanfic #bang chan smut #bang chan fluff #mostlycompetent

[badbadbucky]

WIP Wednesday!! 3/31/2021

Happy WIP Weds everybody!This is a snippet from my novel, One of the Restless. 

The Restless Outlaw Pack (a werewolf motorcycle gang) has just voted to avenge their dead brother, Chuy, and to do it on the full moon rather than waiting until after. Clive is not thrilled with the outcome of the vote and is even less happy about what Eddie tells him next. 

After the vote, Clive and Eddie hung back in the boardroom while the rest of the club went to make their preparations. They would leave in half an hour. Greg hung back as well, but once he realized that he was not going to outwait Clive, he slunk out.

“What the good goddamn just happened?” Clive asked.

“Don’t matter, you’re not going,” Eddie said. 

This brought Clive up short, right when he’d been settling into the groove for a solid rant. “What?”

“You’re gonna stay here,” Eddie said. “Investigate Dev’s house while you’re changed, see if you can catch something.”

“No I ain’t,” Clive said. 

Eddie pulled out his phone. “You see what I’m doing, right now? I’m calling Chuy’s Abuela to tell her that he’s dead. I should be doing it in person, but that’s how little time I got. I sure as shit don’t got time to argue with you.”

“If you think you’re gonna stop me from--” Clive began. 

“I wasn’t fucking asking,” Eddie yelled, a look of instant regret crossed his face. He took a deep breath and slicked back his hair.  “We’ll talk more in a bit. Just gimme a minute.” He dialled his phone.

Chuy’s grandmother picked up the phone. Eddie spoke softly to her in Spanish, wandering over to the corner and staying there. 

Part of Clive wanted to stay, because he knew how brutal this was for Eddie, but he also knew that the longer he stuck around, the more likely he was to say or do something he regretted. So, he walked out of the boardroom, stepped out of the clubhouse, stalked out to his bike and threw his leg over it. 

“Clive,” a voice called.

Clive ignored it, told himself he couldn’t possibly hear anything, the bike was just too loud.

The voice called again, louder this time. “Clive!”

Not bothering with his helmet, Clive wheeled away toward the door. 

Eddie jumped off the porch and stepped right in front of Clive’s bike. Clive stopped inches from the toes of Eddie’s boots. 

“Will you stop for like two seconds?” Eddie said.

“You made your position pretty clear,” Clive said. 

Eddie spoke loudly to be heard over the engine. “Where are you--could you get off the bike?” 

Clive shut off his motorcycle but he stayed sitting down. 

“I said we could talk more.” Eddie said.“Where are you going?” 

“Ain’t no point in talkin. I’m going home. Because I gotta box of silver bullets in my safe and because I’m gonna kick you in the goddamn balls if I don’t leave right now.” Clive said. “Get outta my way.”

“You’re not gonna need ‘em,” Eddie said. “You’re not goin’.” He crossed his arms, and got that stony look on his face. Clive hated that look. 

“Eddie, I swear to Christ, I will run you over, before I let you keep me from being there. Chuy was my friend too,” Clive said. He might have voted against going, but he’d always intended to stand with his brothers and sister. 

Clive and Eddie both fell silent as they watched Arno, Marshall, and Greg carry Chuy’s body out of the clubhouse. The men loaded Chuy’s body into the back of a pickup. 

Chuy had been one of the first people in the club to be friendly with Clive, back when Clive had just been doing security consulting, and even Eddie--especially Eddie--had been standoffish. He had trouble getting work in those days, but the Restless hired him frequently, because he was discreet. When Chuy found out Clive had been in the pen for breaking some asshole’s jaw outside a gay bar, he’d seemed impressed, asked for the full story. So, Clive had told him how the dickhead had been harassing a very beautiful young man wearing Daisy Dukes and nothing else. Clive had beaten the shit out of the motherfucker and got sentenced to three years in Huntsville. The night before he left to serve his time, Daisy Dukes had stopped by to show a little gratitude for his Knight in Shining Armor. “So, you know,” Clive had said. “It was almost worth it.” Chuy had laughed his ass off at that, he’d dragged Arno over to hear Clive tell it again. After that, the rest of the club members were more friendly. 

“I loved him too,” Clive said. He didn’t realize how loud he had spoken until he saw that their conversation had drawn the attention of Diego, who had come out to ride with the others out to the desert to bury Chuy before they left. He was walking over. “Shit,” Clive murmured. 

“What’s going on?” Diego asked. He stood with his arms crossed tight across his chest, not even bothering to look at Clive, staring at Eddie.

“Clive is gonna stay here and--” Eddie began.

Diego whirled to face Clive. “The fuck?”

“I didn’t ask for this,” Clive said.

Diego let out a bitter huff of a laugh. Clive knew he didn’t believe that for one second. 

“Diego, I want to go,” Clive said.

“Then why’d you vote against it?” Diego asked, his eyebrows arching up in mock inquisitiveness. “Huh?”

“Because I don’t think it’s the right time,” Clive said. “But we voted, and that’s it. I want to be there.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you was fighting real hard,” Diego said, then--more quietly--”maricón.”

Clive shut his eyes and bit down on his lip hard. He was going to let that one go. Diego was in mourning, so he would let it go, even though he knew letting it go was going to invite more of this shit in the future. It was all playing out exactly how he knew it would.

“The fuck you say?” Eddie asked. He had not gotten the memo about letting it go. 

“Eddie, it’s all right,” Clive said. 

“Don’t do me any favors,” Diego said. He spat at Clive’s feet, keeping his eyes locked on Clive’s all the while.

Eddie lunged forward and grabbed Diego by the lapels of his cut. “You don’t do that to a brother, fucking ever, we’re all sad about Chuy. Don’t fucking take it out on him. Clive stayed up all night keepin’ him alive.”

“Lotta good that did,” Diego said darkly. 

“He was gutshot with a silver bullet. Without a hospital. Don’t start developin’ fucking amnesia,” Eddie said. “Clive did everything he could for Chuy. And now he’s doing everything to find out who killed Dev.” He released Diego. “Cuz we got two dead brothers, in case you forgot.”

Arno had apparently been watching the exchange from a distance because he suddenly appeared next to Eddie. “Everything alright?” 

Diego pointed at Clive. “He’s bitching out.”

“I’m not--” Clive started to yell, bit calmed back down. “I want to go.”

Arno looked at Eddie. “Sup Prez?”

“I want him to sniff out Dev’s house. This might be our best chance to figure out who killed Dev,” Eddie said. 

Arno shifted his eyes from Diego’s angry face, to Clive’s angry face, to Eddie’s poker face. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking very sorry to have walked into this particular shitstorm. “I mean shit, Clive, that’s pretty important,” he said. He looked genuinely distressed. “Think I gotta go with Prez on this one.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Clive said.

Arno raised his hands in supplication. “It’s important! I’m sorry! We gotta find Dev’s killer. Come on. We all know you loved Chuy. That you’d be there if you could.” 

Diego snorted and walked back over to the truck. He climbed into the back with Chuy and slapped the side to signal Greg to head out. The truck pulled through the gate.

#wip wednesday #writeblr #writblr #writing #tw homphobia #queer main characters #werewolves #horror writing #horror #one of the restless

[writings-in-ebony]

Heritage - Chapter 1 Steve Rogers/Black!reader

Summary: With only a few weeks until his departure to college, Steve must still endure the requirements put upon him by being in the Rogers family. This included attending galas that his family hosted in order to boost their ego and flaunt their successes. Steve would rather be at home doing anything but showcasing himself as the family runt, but whatever his grandfather says, goes. 

Author’s note: Welcome to the first official chapter! It took a while to write because I was trying to figure out which direction I wanted this to go in. The reader, who is not present in this chapter, will show up soon and her appearance will be explained in that chapter’s author’s note. Likes and reblogs are always well received and I love comments and asks! Thanks again, everyone!

Word Count: 2784

Warnings: If bad language counts as a warning…

Chapter 1: 1987

Steve stood in front of the large mirror positioned over his dresser, fumbling with the sliver of silk that was wrapped around his neck. He twisted the silk every which way, not understanding why it wouldn’t take shape, and it began to frustrate him. In actuality, the entire night awaiting him was going to be frustrating. It was the annual gala his family held. A night advertised as a showcasing of the achievements of the Rogers family, but it was actually a circle-jerk filled with bloated egos, secret promises, false compliments, and all the other unsavory traits that the upper percentage held. And Steve had to entertain that nonsense for an entire night. Oh, and he was livid.

He had begged, begged, his father to allow him to miss the gala, to which his father happily obliged considering he was already ashamed at the runt he had for a son anyway. But after notifying his own father, Cashel, of the news, Jeremy quickly returned and told Steve that he was required to go due to his grandfather’s orders. Jeremy didn’t seem very happy about the news either, but Steve had no choice. He’d rather face a thousand galas back-to-back than face the wrath of his grandfather, so he faced the music and was taking it like a champ.

Seven minutes later and Steve still was struggling to tie a fucking tie. As if sensing his frustrations, Bucky appeared in the doorway and smirked at him. Bucky was Steve’s own personal bodyguard, personally hired by Cashel himself. However, it was more of a friend protecting a friend since both boys grew up and were raised together. When questioned about it, Cashel merely waved a hand and stated that “He knows you better than anyone, therefore, he should be fit to protect you from any of the dumb circumstances you always get yourself into.” Bucky thought this was the funniest thing, but Steve didn’t crack a smile.

“You need help with your tie?” Bucky offered, already stepping into the room.

“I would say no, but I’ve already waisted so much goddamn time,” Steve grumbled, dropping his arms to his side as he gave up.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Bucky pursed his lips as he mocked his friend. Steve didn’t even satisfy him with a reply. Instead, he pointed to his tie and raised his chin.

Bucky stood a head (and a few inches) taller than Steve, making Steve look like a child next to him. It also didn’t help that Steve had a soft, boyish face and his appearance made him look like an overly grown 12-year-old. So, one could imagine how flirting with the opposite sex went.

“There, done,” Bucky announced as he patted the sides of Steve’s suit jacket to smooth out the wrinkles. Steve nodded and muttered a thanks, turning back to look at himself in the mirror. He really was a poor sight. His skin was too pale, his cheeks and eyes were sunken in, and he looked too thin. But this was the usual. He was born a runt, which meant that he didn’t possess the quality characteristics that were passed down to every firstborn in his family. He didn’t have the strong build, chiseled jawline, piercing eyes, nor the basic ability to shift into a majestic wolf. No, Steve was just fucking regular. And that’s why he hated these galas because that is all his family saw him as. A regular born to a family of gods.

He really thought that when he hit the peak of puberty, age 16, he’d have a sudden change and become the wolf he always knew he could be. But it never came and now, just a little over a year later, Steve felt like it would never come.

“Hey, what’s on your mind,” came Bucky’s quiet voice. He sounded concerned; all sense of humor sucked out of his voice. Steve didn’t want to tell Buck, his pride flaring up at the sign of weakness, but he’d been feeling shitty this entire week leading up to the event. And knowing Bucky, who was also a wolf and had gotten the gift early on, he could smell the mixed emotions flowing through his friend.

“I…I just wonder whether I’ll ever be good enough,” he sighed, pushing away his pride. “And don’t say, ‘Hey Steve, it’s okay. You know your family cares for you,’ because you know that’s bullshit.” He sounded so bitter and pitiful.

“Listen, I get it. You’re upset you have to go to this thing tonight. You’ve never liked these kinds of things. But think about it. You’ll be getting shipped off to college in a few weeks, somewhat free of the gaze from your family, and you’ll have a chance to make a name for your own damn self. They don’t define you, Steve,” Bucky finished, clapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“I know, Buck. Thanks.”

“Nah, man. You just gotta get your head in the right space and realize that you are a wolf on the inside. You might can’t shift, or do the other crazy shit, but you think like one. You’re one of the smartest men I know and to me, you act more like your grandfather than anyone.” Steve scoffed and gave Bucky an incredulous look. “What? You don’t see it?!”

Steve chuckled and pushed Bucky away, thinking this pep talk was going wayward. “Alright, Buck. I think that tie of yours is too damn tight.”

“Are you kidding? Man, don’t let me make a list of how you both compare,” Bucky started, giving Steve a look of challenge.

“Oh, so you guys are making lists now?” came a snicker from the door. They both looked up and saw it was Steve’s mother, Sara. She was giving them both a look of amusement as she walked in. Bucky, shifting into professional mode, stepped back and bowed his head at her.

“Mrs. Rogers,” he greeted. She waved a hand at him and insisted he relax. So, he did. She walked over to her son, who was still pouting, and gave him a heartwarming smile.

“Oh, you look so handsome,” she cooed. “You might just get a girl, yet!” She looked way too excited by that fact and this caused Steve to turn intensely red.

“Mam, getting a girl is the last thing on my mind right now!” he groaned, closing his eyes. “Plus, how am I going to date her when half of the women here are basically family!” He was stopped by his mother grabbing onto his arm and dragging him out of the room.

“Hush up, boy. Women have friends! Now, c’mon so we can get you set up with someone before the introduction,” Sara grinned and stared ahead determinedly. Steve whined and heard a quiet laugh behind him. He whipped his head around and glared daggers at Bucky, the asshole.

True to her word, Sara whisked Steve around the ballroom and introduced him to about ten ladies before she was called away to mingle with the wives of some other important figures. This left Steve to go finally plunder the hors d’oeuvres and sweets table at the far wall of the room. Dinner wouldn’t be served for another hour since this was the time to mingle and schmooze. So, once his tiny plate was stacked with various meats, cheeses, crackers, and tiny cookies, he placed himself at a far table and ate in solitude. Bucky, who was still on the job during this event, was briefing with the security team and keeping an eye on Steve from across the room.

About halfway through his plate, he was approached by none other than Rumlow, a neighborhood bully and Steve’s longtime enemy. He sneered as he towered over Steve’s small frame. “What’s happening, Rogers?”

“I’m happily eating my food,” Steve announced, not caring to entertain Rumlow’s shenanigans. All he wanted was to finish his cheese and crackers. Rumlow didn’t react to Steve and still had that ugly sneer plastered onto his equally ugly face.

“Well, good to know you’re eating just fine. I just wanted to let you know that I have officially been promoted to become my father’s underling. Like his assistant, with perks,” his sneer curved into a wicked smile, as if rubbing the information in Steve’s face brought him sincere joy.

Brock Rumlow and his family belonged to the Italian mafia that lived across town. His father, Vito, was a well-known caporegime and was known for his cold exterior and brutality. There were always stories and rumors surrounding the man and how he ran his section of soldiers. One such rumor, a famous one that Bucky had told Steve, was Vito beating a man to a literal pulp using only his fists and raw strength. Steve thought it was all hearsay until he had the chance to meet the man personally. He was a hulking mass of muscle, with steely eyes and a strong jaw set in a permanent grimace. Steve hated the man on the spot and made it his own personal vow to avoid him and his idiotic son whenever he could. However, Brock’s incessant need to find and torture Steve (both mentally and physically) made that vow extremely difficult to uphold.

“Congratulations, Brock,” Steve blandly complimented, hoping that playing along will speed up Brock’s departure. “I do hope you rise through the ranks and make your father proud.” He was really rubbing it in, and he raised his glass of water in a mock toast.

“Aww, Steve, no need for the fake praise. I know it’s eating you up inside to know my father actually respects me,” Brock still had a smile on his face, but it was beginning to look like his family’s signature grimace.

“Well, Brock, unlike you, I don’t need my father’s approval nor respect to have a personality. And I definitely don’t need you coming over here and acting like you won whatever imaginary competition you’ve formed in your head,” Steve waved a hand, nonchalant about the entire thing.

“Listen here, runt,” Brock growled, loud enough to attract attention from a few others. “For someone who has so much shit to say, you can’t even stand on the same level as your grandfather and father. You’re useless, pathetic, and I’m damn sure surprised you’re still here and not in the fucking garbage where you belong.” Steve felt his fist tighten its grip on his napkin. “I’ve been promoted by my father, something you’ll never have the chance of doing. Heh, I’m surprised your whorish mother is still here.”

“Enough!!,” Steve’s voice erupted, echoing off the walls of the ballroom. His voice had unnaturally deepened and he felt a boiling rage under his skin. He wanted to fight Brock, and he was seconds away from throwing a punch. However, he couldn’t act on his feelings since the entire room had gotten silent; all the attention aimed at the seething young men. “You listen here, and you listen good Brock. You can talk about me, my father, and anyone else in my fucking family. But if I ever, and I mean ever, hear you utter something other than a compliment about my mother.” Steve leaned in close to Brock, making sure only he could hear him. “I will hunt you down and kill you myself.” And with that, Steve grabbed his plate and made his way to the attached balconies. He needed some fresh air.

Conversation began once Steve reached the balcony’s doors. He was pissed. Pissed at the fact that Brock had challenged him like that, but also because he had lost his cool so quickly. He felt the rage dampen within him as he eased down onto one of the marble benches. It was cool tonight and Steve was grateful for it. It felt like a splash of cool water on his face, something he needed right now.

He placed his plate on the bench and gazed out at the gardens that surrounded the venue. There was no one out there tonight, yet, the owners had decided to cut on the lights and the fountains. All for show, he guesses.

“I saw your exchange with Brock,” came a voice from behind him. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise and he turned to see it was his grandfather, Cashel. Steve straightened his back and was about to stand when his grandfather raised a hand and motioned for him to keep sitting. The man was giving him an unreadable gaze, yet he could tell Cashel was reading him like a book.

“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to disgrace our family,” Steve apologized. There were a lot of things he’d do but piss off Cashel was not one of them. It was a funny situation really, given that Cashel has never shown him any direct animosity. In fact, besides his mother and grandmother, Cashel is the only other family member who doesn’t look at him like he’s…waste. But he’s also never been doting. He’d just sit and stare at Steve as if he was trying to solve the most complex problem. Like Steve was hiding the biggest secret and he needed to find it out.

“Apology accepted. However, you did not disgrace our family. It’d have been more disgraceful if you’d let the boy keep hounding you like a dog,” Cashel provided, taking a seat at the other marble bench. He looked otherworldly tonight. To any normal person, they’d think that Cashel was Steve’s father, but that wasn’t the case. The man looked a little over 50, but his real age was 108. One of the perks of being a wolf was you age at a drastically slow rate, meaning Steve looked like a child and his grandfather looked like an aged model. It sucked that this was the only wolf characteristic he had, but it was better than nothing.

Steve was pulled from his thoughts when he looked up and caught Cashel giving him that stare again. All he could do was blurt out a small, “What?”

“You know Steven. You fascinate me,” the older man chuckled, rubbing his salt and pepper beard.

“How so?”

“Here I have three sons, two who are nothing like myself and one who dedicates his…basically, his livelihood to me. And out of all of them, you are the one who I can see the most of myself in.” Steve was speechless. Where was this coming from?

“And I’m not just talking about your irritating stubbornness or the way you walk, no, there are more things we have in common than just on the surface.” His grandfather’s eyes seemed to glow as they aimed straight at Steve. “How do you feel about the family business, Steven?” The question was so sudden, and Steve didn’t know whether to answer it truthfully or lie. He knew if he truthfully answered, his grandfather might not like what he has to say. However, if he lied, which was something his grandfather hated, then the consequences would be far worse. Truth it is.

“I don’t necessarily like it,” he began, gaging his grandfather’s reaction. It didn’t move. “I don’t feel the need to exploit others for monetary gain, nor do I like paying others to carry out my dirty work and leave them with the consequences. However, I know why you do it. You came to America for the sole reason of protecting your family and the nature of us, as wolves. And this is your way of accomplishing that goal. It might not sit well with me morally, but some things need to be done in order to get what you want.” He had looked down at his hands towards the end, really taking into account the sacrifices his grandfather made. When his gaze raised back up, he was greeted by his grandfather’s lips quirked into a knowing smirk. “What?” he questioned again.

“That was well-spoken, Steven.” His grandfather raised himself off the bench, straightening his jacket. “I’ll have to take what you said into consideration. Now, I must be getting back to my party. Can’t have the host gone for too long,” he chuckled and walked off the balcony. Steve was left there staring at his grandfather’s back, mouth slightly parted, wondering what the hell that was all about. He looked out towards the garden again, eyes landing on the fountain shaped like a turtle. His grandfather was strange, but the man was always ten steps ahead of everyone. He was scarily accurate about everything and he always said everyone had a place in the family. The only problem was, what place was he considering giving to Steve?

Taglist: @mygirlrenee

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x black!reader #steve rogers x poc!reader #black!reader #poc!reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #fanfiction #heritage fanfiction

[drivingsideways]

thoughts on episode 28-29, spoilers under the cut

well, after a long time, I got two episodes in a row that I actually enjoyed quite a lot! Mostly because the drama spent the time on inner palace drama and not so much on court politics, though of course, plot wise, they were inter-related! 

In random order of things:

- The “subplot” of Xia Song and Jia got some unexpected screen time. I always liked these two schemy, corrupt characters and their relationship, and this episode we get the other side of Jia’s “I tried to commit suicide when he married that woman” line; turns out our crafty, moderately competent, not very good looking Comissioner Xia is also deeply in love with her??? He wrote the loveliest song for/about her!! (A song she sings in one of the early episodes, about lovers parting!) And he loves her for who she is, including that she sent her niece to his household, in a petty act of spite/ revenge, which was apparently the last straw for his wife? Like the unexpected bitter-sweetness of their relationship really came for my heart!!! I half wished Jia had left the palace when the Emperor told her that he would grant the separation, but not allow Xia Song to marry again and that he’d be sent away. On the other hand, given who she is, why would she? She’s ruthlessly pragmatic and probably realizes that Xia Song’s love for her might not outlast the ignominy of exile and poverty! But I think the decision does hurt , and I doubt we’ve seen the last of this couple! I’m kind of secretly rooting for them in my heart!! I want them to survive this clusterfuck of a world that is palace politics!!!

- Unexpected fallout of domestic drama is- more domestic drama, but within the palace walls! How much did I love that He’er goes to war against Zhang Bihan??? Like, bitch you thought????? I also loved the scenes later with He’er and Danshu- where He’er admits that (a) her daughter is more important to her than the emperor and (b) that in fact, she feels closer to Danshu than the Empress.  I feel deeply sorry for He’er, though He’er herself doesn’t seem to feel unhappy except for Bihan’s drama? Like she was barely 15 when she made that decision to enter the palace- and despite the Empress Dowager warning her, the Empress Dowager didn’t really attempt to  dissuade her either, I think. But these many years later, you can’t help wish she’d not made that decision; she was clearly someone who’d have been happier in a more normal domestic arrangement. That said, He’er showing some fire in these two episodes was a welcome change, especially when you also see how her attitude toward the Emperor has also undergone a slight change.

- Speaking of people whose feelings about the Emperor are changing- surprise, Zhang Bihan is beginning have mixed feelings about him too- he’s no longer the “ideal man” in her life, whom she must possess- instead, his whims and fancies are even more real as a threat to her and her child now. Bihan beginning to  listen to Jia and play the smart game is also a good change, though I do feel her character has been irreparably damaged by the careless writing from the start. 

- And speaking of people whose feelings about the Emperor AREN’T changing- oh, Danshu. On the one hand, I feel like this stasis is bad writing? Because I’m frankly *tired * of women pining after asshole men until one day, miraculously, their quiet devotion gets “rewarded” when the asshole “realizes” their worth. Fuck that noise. 

On the other hand, I do feel that deep loyalty and stubborn holding on to an ideal despite the hurt it causes her, is also very Danshu? Like you see that in the way she went ahead with the marriage to the Daoist dude; and re: Zhao Zhen, she fell in love with the idea of him much before she fell in love with him, and the two aren’t really separable now. And the more he fails to live up to that ideal, the less she’s able to admit it to herself, because to do that would be to destroy everything she’s given her entire life to, and the last years since her marriage(7?10? I’ve lost track) in particular.  It would be admitting that the hurt goes deeper than just being in love unrequited; it would mean admitting that the man in her idealistic heart does not exist. Hence- the always finding excuses for him, even for his grossest excesses, and I’m not even talking about the personal hurts. Yes, he sent ten thousand men to their death , but he just made a mistake, and he’s so deeply sorry, and even when he exhibits some self-awareness of that (when he admits that the decision was driven in part by his desire to be remembered as great), even when he does that, she’s more inclined to forgive him than not. She cannot, like the audience, take a dispassionate look at him and say “Alright he’s a fairly decent ruler, but he’s an absolute disaster of a human being!!”  Like that’s probably the cultural/philosophical ethos of the time too working on her, because the Emperor was the nation, and the nation was everything? At least for someone from her particular family and social class, and her own ambitions to serve that ideal. 

It makes me wonder if there’s ever going to be a point of no return for her? What would it take to crush that idea of him in her head completely? What would he have to do? We already know it’s nothing against her personally that would do the trick- she’s swallowed his insults and neglect for years and years. If the break comes, I suspect it has to be something where he acts in an unjustifiable  way to someone else- perhaps Huaiji or Huirou or (hehehe) Maoze- something that irreparably damages his image in her eyes as a kind and good and benevolent ruler. But I don’t know if it will ever happen in the drama. Historically speaking, they never separated. Which is fine, but I would also be super interested in a story where Danshu slowly changes into someone who’s comfortable to take power for herself ( and not necessarily as an end in itself, but as a means to an end?), rather than serve, as the scales fall from her eyes.  Again history says, she was practically forced to retire from her position as regent after Renzong’s death. I don’t know if the drama will go there- more likely it’ll stop a little after his death, and the establishment of her as regent and Zongshi as emperor. 

Anyways, at this point, I’ve more or less accepted that *my * happy ending for Danshu in canon would basically be her surviving Emperor Fucklord and being surrounded by people to love and admire her, and no longer having to play second fiddle to a man she’s ten times better than. 

- In Emperor Fucklord update- he gets really angry with Maoze in a way that’s not totally explicable? As a result he both gives Maoze a promotion while simultaneously sending Maoze away from him; later, when he finds out that Dong Qiuhe was hired by Maoze, I think he’s already, in his mind using it to justify his angry reaction to Maoze’s telling him that he’d failed to report Xia Song’s affair with Jia to him. Perhaps Emperor Fucklord is so angry because he feels that the whole scandal could have been avoided if Maoze had kept him informed; perhaps he feels that giving Maoze more leeway not fully in accordance with usual conventions is against the principle he was preaching to Huaiji just before- the need to control even “personal kindness” because it could lead to indiscipline and overturning of the stable social order. RULES ARE GOOD, is Emperor Fucklord’s new mantra, after spending half his life thus far blaming every woman in sight for following rules! Perhaps it’s the retreat of a ruler who’s been badly hurt by the debacle of the war, perhaps it’s just the usual thing where people become more conservative as they get older? Whatever it is, I foresee some immediate pain for Maoze and the Empress as they navigate this more rigid version of him coupled with his paranoia. 

- The contrast between Emperor Fucklord’s embrace of convention and tradition just as Huirou, in her innocence, is questioning everything is nicely done, and sets the stage for their future conflicts. 

- I like the Huirou/Huaiji friendship; her unknowing poking at his wounds, and her immediate regret when she sees that he’s hurting. I also really like that it’s essentially her friendship with him that’s setting her on the path of questioning a lot of shit that passes for “tradition”. She’s too young to know it or feel it as keenly now, but as a noble woman, she’s only a few steps higher in practice, than the eunuch. And I don’t doubt that it’s partly that kinship which will drive their relationship forward. 

The only thing slightly uncomfortable for me is that knowing these two are meant to be a couple in the future shadows all the current (non sexual/romantic!) interaction, and with the age difference between them, it’s just- weird. Perhaps if I hadn’t known their future trajectory, it would be easier. I should clarify it’s nothing inappropriate in their writing- it’s just the foreknowledge fucks it up for me. 

Anyways, the one thing I didn’t get in these two episodes was any direct interaction between Maoze + Danshu and that is unacceptable!!!!! Why am I even watching this except for them???!!!! PFFFT. 

#serenade of peaceful joy #held in the lonely castle

[inyournightmares97]

The Seventh Wedding

Part of the Thirsty Days of September series, a collaboration with @ijustwantacue. Find her version here!

It took Choi Youngjae seven weddings to fall in love with you.

Genre: Pure fluff. 

Word Count: 15k+

Nobody knows how long it takes to fall in love. Some people think a few seconds is enough, others say it is a matter of weeks, while still others believe that you can’t really be in love until you’ve known the person for at least six months.

If you asked Choi Youngjae, he would tell you that it took him seven weddings.

--

Wedding Number One: Mark

The first time Youngjae saw you was at Mark’s wedding. It was a deliberately fancy affair considering that Mark had made a small fortune through his enterprising business and his wife to-be was equally rich. The young couple had spared no expense. They had hired an enormous outdoor garden locale which had stone fountains, lush beds of green, beautiful flower beds and a little river that flowed through it with a stone bridge.

In such a romantic place, almost anyone could be persuaded to fall in love.

Mark had reluctantly agreed to let Jackson be his best man. After all, the couple had only met due to Jackson’s convenient interference. It was at one of Jackson Wang’s wild and raving parties that Mark had first met the woman he would eventually grow to love and marry, which meant Jackson had been walking around with a puffed-out chest and a painfully arrogant attitude while telling anyone within earshot that he was responsible for this entire marriage. It was only amusing for the first two weeks. It got progressively more difficult as Jackson shirked even the most basic of his best man duties in order to stop and claim credit for the entire wedding.

While Jackson was constantly describing the magical moment when Mark’s and his fiancée’s eyes had first met to anyone that would listen, Jaebum and Jinyoung were running around on the morning of the wedding to make sure that everything was in place. Youngjae had been briefly yanked aside by Jaebum, who looked annoyed.

“Listen, I need you to take Jackson and go to the venue early,” Jaebum insisted.

Youngjae glanced doubtfully at Jackson. The man was on the phone, saying something along the lines of fate and knew it from the start while sounding extremely smug but Youngjae had heard the conversation a million times before.

“Me?” Youngjae whined reluctantly. He didn’t want to be stuck with Jackson while he was being so unbearable.

“It’s hard enough keeping the groom calm without this buffoon stomping uselessly about the place. It would be better to have Jackson go there and inflict himself on Mark’s guests. Besides, we need somebody to make sure that the arrangements at the venue are all right. I’ll send you a list of what should already be set up; the tables, the seating for the ceremony and the caterers van should be there. Oh! Also, the flower delivery guys should have finished by now so make sure they didn’t do a sloppy job.”

Youngjae looked at his friend with a pout. “Hyung…”

“Would you want us to slack off during your wedding?” Jaebum demanded sternly.

If I ever get married, Youngjae thought miserably. He was fairly confident that such a thing would never happen. Jaebum had a steady girlfriend and their nuptials would no doubt take place soon. Jinyoung had been in love with Jaebum’s sister for a while now, a badly hidden secret that they were all aware of except for poor Jaebum himself. Jackson and Bambam had girls swarming around them and no doubt sweet and friendly Yugyeom would find some nice girl to spend his life with.

Honestly, Youngjae was left feeling rather bitter about his future prospects.

“Fine, I’ll take Jackson-hyung and go to the venue,” he agreed. It took a lot of persuading to convince Jackson to get into the car. It was only when Youngjae pointed out that they could greet all the wedding guests themselves if they got there early that the best man agreed that it was a good idea. They drove down to the gardens where the staff were setting up tents. Caterers were bustling about the place with the vans parked to the side and everything was coming together nicely.

“There aren’t any guests here yet!” Jackson complained, looking at the rather deserted wedding venue. It was beautiful, but there was nobody except hired staff around. Understandable, since it was barely 7 am. The wedding didn’t start until 9. Youngjae looked down at the list of things to check that Jaebum had texted him.

“So hyung, we’re supposed to make sure the caterers are setting up in the right place and that the tents are all ready by 8 am because guests could start arriving and apparently the florists should have set up all the floral decorations already-“

Jackson looked disappointed. “Fine. I’ll go talk to the caterers. You go do… something.”

Youngjae sighed as Jackson disappeared in the direction of the caterer’s vans, most likely trying to get a few bites of some spare food since there was nobody to talk to anyway. He looked around at the decorated venue. The enormous tent where food would be served was already set up, the tables and chairs placed according to the seating plan. Youngjae nervously went over to the large tent that had been placed over the ceremonial altar. It was brightly decorated with purple lilies, apparently Mark’s fiancée’s favorite flower and looked gorgeous.

And, as he stood admiring the beautiful wedding venue, he suddenly spotted you.

Youngjae would later deny having fallen in love with you at first sight since it wasn’t the first time he’d seen you. He had caught glimpses of you at the rehearsal dinner (although he’d admittedly turned up rather late for that) and mentally noted that you were one of the bride’s party. But you stood there now, in one of the pale purple dresses that had been specially designed for bridesmaids, your hair looking a bit of a mess and your heavy eye makeup looking slightly out of place considering the rest of your face was devoid of any cosmetics. Clearly you had stopped applying the makeup midway.  

Most importantly, you looked extremely distressed.

Youngjae watched for a few moments as you weaved in and out of the rows of seating, evidently looking for something urgently. Your fingers were running through your neatly made hair and you were breathing heavily. After watching you look around helplessly for a few minutes, Youngjae finally stepped closer to you and cleared his throat.

“Um, hi,” he greeted you carefully.

Your head snapped up to him and he was shocked by the intense and desperate look in your eyes as you blinked. “Have you seen a pure white flower bouquet lying around here anywhere?” you asked bluntly, your voice cracking.

Youngjae bit his lip. “Um, I don’t think so. Is it important?“

“Important? It’s the bridal bouquet!” you cried. Youngjae shifted uncomfortably as you stepped closer to him. Your lower lip was trembling and your voice kept cracking as you spoke. “The florist was supposed to bring it to my sister’s apartment this morning but they forgot and they said that they probably left it at the venue when they came to set up the lilies but I can’t find it anywhere and if I don’t have a bridal bouquet by the time I go back then everything will be ruined!”

Youngjae watched in horror as you sat down on one of the seats and collapsed into a sobbing mess. You covered your face with your hands and let tears stream down your face as your shoulders trembled. He sat down next to you and hesitantly placed a comforting hand on your back. Was that okay? Fuck, he’d never really comforted a crying girl before.

“Are… are you okay?” he asked softly. “Look, please don’t worry. There’s plenty of time until the wedding and I’ll help you find the bouquet, all right? Even if we can’t find the original one we can just make one using some of the flowers here. There are plenty of lilies around and I have some ribbon and decoration paper in my trunk because Jackson-hyung made me handle everyone’s wedding presents…”

You looked up at Youngjae, eyes shining with tears. He seemed a little nervous but he was giving you a sweet, comforting smile. Wow. He was extremely handsome. Why were you humiliating yourself like this in front of such a handsome, sweet guy?

“S-sorry,” you mumbled, wiping your tears. “I’m not a freak, I swear. And I’m not really crying about the bouquet. The last couple of days have just been so stressful because it’s my older sister’s wedding and she trusted me enough to make me the Maid of Honor even though she has so many friends that wanted the position and I just love her so much, I don’t want to let her down.”

Youngjae smiled and shrugged. “I can understand. I’m one of Mark’s friends and things have been pretty messy at the groom’s end as well.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh my god, there’s nothing wrong, is there?”

“No, no, no! Don’t worry! Everything is completely under control!” Youngjae insisted, waving his hands to reassure you. The last thing he wanted was to see you cry again. To his surprise, you let out a soft giggle that made him blush. He smiled back at you and cleared his throat. “So, um, we should probably look for that bouquet, huh? Why don’t you finish checking here and I’ll go check out the lunch tents and the stage for the DJ…”

You smiled at him softly. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

You spent almost forty minutes scouring the venue with Youngjae for the bridal bouquet but you were forced to accept that it was nowhere to be found. Youngjae had even offered to call the florist for you but they were closed this early in the morning and the delivery boys seemed mostly clueless. “What do we do?” you whined miserably. “No other florist will be open and it’s not like they keep bridal bouquets lying around anyway, they almost always have to be pre-ordered. I have to get back to my sister’s apartment in half an hour and I can’t go without a bouquet!”

Youngjae folded his arms across his chest. “So we have no other choice. We’ll have to make one ourselves. I have some colorful tissue paper and ribbon in the trunk of my car. Let’s just pick some flowers off these decorations. There are way more lilies wrapped around that pillar than anyone needs.”

You folded your arms across your chest and raised an eyebrow at Youngjae. “You don’t know very much about wedding traditions, do you, Youngjae-ssi?”

Youngjae flushed. “Well, I’ve only been to two or three...”

“The bridal bouquet has to be white. But my stupid sister insisted on the entire wedding having a purple theme. Purple bridesmaids’ dresses, purple tablecloths, purple lilies. I don’t see a single white flower anywhere in this area, do you?” you whined. You sat down and sighed heavily as you ran a hand down your face in frustration. “This is a huge mess. Where am I going to get enough white flowers to fill a bouquet? My sister is going to walk down the aisle empty handed and all the other bridesmaids will kill me because she won’t be able to do the bouquet toss and-“

“There’s a white rose bed on the other side of the garden.”

You sat up and looked at Youngjae sharply. “You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not. I noticed it on the way to the venue. There was an enormous rose bed down behind that grassy hill and some of them were white, I swear,” Youngjae insisted. He grabbed your hand and pulled on it so that you were forced to follow him as he hurried down the grassy slope. You had moved a good distance away from the wedding venue and you weren’t sure if you were even allowed to be here because Mark and your sister had only rented a portion of the garden for the wedding.

“Yes! White roses!” you cried once you saw the enormous flower bed. There were lots of roses and at least ten of the rose bushes had pure white roses. You hurried down but you stopped short at a small wooden sign that was just next to the rose bed.

Please do not pluck the flowers.

Your shoulders slumped. “Oh no. We’re not allowed to pluck them.”

Youngjae turned and looked at you with a small twinkle in his eye. He had never been one to break the rules but the heartbroken expression on your face made him want to do something bold. In a brief instant of foolish bravery, Choi Youngjae decided that he would never respect himself again if he couldn’t get you the white flowers for the bridal bouquet. “There’s no one here,” he pointed out, even though his heartbeat was thudding unnaturally. “I’ll hide some in my jacket. You wrap a few in your dress shawl and we’ll make a run for my car.”

You stared at him. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Let’s do it now, before anyone who works at the garden comes by.”

You swallowed. “Fuck it. They’re just flowers. Let’s do it.”

Both of you laughed nervously as you raced around the rose garden, plucking white roses as quickly as you could. You bundled whatever amount of roses you could under the shawl that came with your bridesmaid dress and Youngjae carefully draped his jacket over one arm and hid his share of roses underneath it. Clasping your spare clammy hands together, the two of you made a dash for the parking lot where Youngjae’s car was parked. Once you were sitting in the car you looked at him and you both started laughing.

“Wow, that was crazy,” you giggled.

Youngjae beamed at you, his angelic smile causing you to smile even harder. He had a beautiful laugh and you couldn’t take your eyes off him even as he pulled the roses out from under his jacket. He set them in his lap and then winced as he looked at his finger. “Ouch. I pricked my thumb on the thorns, I think.”

You leaned over. “Oh no! Let me see that. Hold on, I have a handkerchief.”

“It’s okay, it’s just a little prick, it’ll go away“

“No, no, it’s an occupational hazard,” you told him with a laugh as you wrapped your handkerchief around his finger. “You sustained that injury while saving your friend’s wedding, you should wear the scar with pride. But you should also put some antiseptic on it the first chance you get.”

Youngjae nodded as he started the car. “Well, we should get these flowers to the bride first.”

“We should. Thanks for your help, Youngjae.”

He smiled at you softly, blushing. “No problem.”

--

Youngjae was nervous as the wedding hall filled up with guests and the time for the ceremony approached. You had gone back to your sister’s apartment after Youngjae had helped you wrap up the roses into a makeshift bouquet and you would only return to the venue with the bridal party. Youngjae couldn’t get you off his mind. He misplaced the rings while thinking about you twice, after which Jinyoung snatched them from him with a dirty glare.

The wedding ceremony was beautiful and so were you. Youngjae was positive that your eyes had met as you walked up the aisle with the bridesmaids. You gave him a small smile and he smiled back, his entire face flushing a furious red. Jinyoung, who was standing right beside him, frowned.

“Why does the maid of honor keep looking at us?” he muttered.

Youngjae bit his lip. “I don’t know.”

Jinyoung merely raised an eyebrow but kept silent as the ceremony progressed. Youngjae tried to concentrate on the wedding. It was amazing that Mark was getting married to somebody he loved so much. Jackson and Yugyeom both shed tears at the wedding and Youngjae had to admit, it was all very beautiful and overwhelming. He was disappointed to have gotten a seat far away from you during lunch but when the band started up at the reception and everyone began to dance, you made your way over to Youngjae yourself.

“Hi,” you greeted shyly. “Join me for a dance?”

Youngjae felt embarrassed. You looked much prettier than you had this morning with your hair finally done properly and the rest of the makeup on your face finished. He panicked when you held your hand out to him with a shy smile. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not much of a dancer…”

“Please? You can’t be worse than Jackson. He asked me to dance, said something about the best man dancing with the maid of honor but all these other girls keep trying to cut in and I hate having to fight women off for a guy that I don’t even like,” you pointed out.

“Y-yeah, okay.”

Youngjae was extremely flustered as you led him out to the dance floor during a slow dance. You placed your hands on his shoulders while Youngjae carefully placed his own on your waist and you looked up at him. Wow, he was handsome. “So, Youngjae, I tried asking around about the mysterious, chivalrous man who was willing to commit such a daring act for me this morning but my sister doesn’t seem to know very much about you,” you teased.

Youngjae bit his lip as he looked down at you. “There’s nothing very interesting about me, frankly. Plucking those flowers was the most daring thing I’ve done in a long time.”

You giggled. “To be honest, me too. I guess we don’t think about breaking the rules so much after we become adults.”

“But it was kind of fun,” he admitted.

“It was, wasn’t it? I wonder what poor bridesmaid will catch the bouquet later. I just hope she doesn’t get framed for our crimes.”

Youngjae chuckled. “What if it’s you?”

“I think I’ll let some girl who actually has a man in her life catch the bouquet,” you replied dismissively. “Not because I don’t want to get married but because I love the horrified expression on the boyfriend’s face when he sees that everyone is staring at him with that you’re next look.”

“Wow. That seems almost cruel,” Youngjae joked but his eyes were looking down at you with adoration. You couldn’t help but blush. Why were you so flustered in this man’s presence? Was it possible that both of you felt this sudden, exciting connection? You opened your mouth to say something bold but before you could, somebody tapped you on the shoulder. You turned around to see one of the other bridesmaids looking apologetic.

“Hey. I’m sorry to interrupt, but uh…” she gave you a sympathetic look. “It’s your mother again. She’s crying behind the catering tent.”

You sighed. “Damn it. I’ll go talk to her.”

“Thanks, darling.”

You turned to Youngjae but he had already released your waist and stepped back. He looked a little disappointed but he forced a smile. “Well, you should probably go comfort your mother, I’m sure it’s not easy to see one of her daughters get married away. I’ll see you when you get back?”

You nodded. “I won’t be long, I promise.”

But you were. You were so long that no matter how much Youngjae waited, he just couldn’t get another moment alone with you at the reception. Youngjae went back home with Jinyoung and Jackson, disappointed and cursing himself for not being more bold and making a move sooner. After all, when would he ever get the chance to see you again?

--

Wedding Number Two: Jinyoung

Everyone expected that Jaebum would get married next including, it seemed, Jaebum himself. But a few weeks after Mark returned from his honeymoon and when the boys all gathered to grab a drink at the local pub, an intoxicated Jinyoung blurted out the secret that he’d been hiding for almost an entire year from his closest friend.

“Hyung, I’m madly in love with your sister. I want to marry her.”

It hadn’t gone down well. Almost everyone had been drunk, nobody was in their senses and Jaebum hadn’t been able to take the shocking revelation with much dignity. He threw an entire pint of beer at Jinyoung’s face and created a mild ruckus in the pub; all of which Mark and Jackson had to apologize and pay for afterwards. Youngjae briefly worried that their group was broken forever. But it only took Jaebum a few hours to sober up and apologize to his best friend.

A few warm, brotherly hugs and cautionary words later, the break had been mended and the date for the next wedding was set.

--

“Thanks for giving me a hand with the invitations, Youngjae,” Jinyoung told him with a grateful smile while Youngjae helped him address the envelopes that were to go out the next day.

While Jinyoung’s wedding wasn’t nearly as expensive or extravagant as Mark’s had been it was very meticulously planned down to the last detail. Youngjae had to admire the patience and perseverance with which Jinyoung and his fiancée planned their cute little church wedding. “Honestly, I’m glad you’re around. Mark is too busy with his newly married life. Jackson is completely useless at everything except sweet-talking his way into discounts and I feel like Jaebum has these brief moments when he regrets giving me permission to marry his sister.”

Youngjae smiled up at his friend and patted him on the back. “It’ll all work out fine, hyung.”

“You think so?”

“I’m positive.”

“Okay. Well, we’re not really inviting anyone except close friends and family because we don’t want to splurge too much on a lavish wedding,” Jinyoung muttered. “So the guest list is pretty small. But I did invite Mark’s sisters-in-law.”

Youngjae looked up, his heart skipping a beat. “Sorry, did you say Mark’s sisters-in-law?”

Jinyoung looked down at him with a mischievous grin. Nothing escaped this man’s sharp eyes and he had certainly noticed Youngjae’s behavior during the last wedding. “I’m sure you remember them. The older one was the Maid of Honor at Mark’s wedding? She kept making eyes at you but you were too shy to do anything about it. You can’t stay alone forever, Choi Youngjae.”

Youngjae flushed and opened his mouth to protest, but there was no use. “Thanks, hyung,” he admitted finally.

Jinyoung grinned and clapped him on the back. “At least make a solid move this time, yeah?”

Youngjae nodded. He planned to.

--

Youngjae was extremely nervous. Jinyoung had left him in charge of greeting the guests at the entrance and showing them to their seats because he didn’t trust any of the other boys not to run their mouths. Both Jackson and Bambam had been kept as far away from the guests as possible. But that meant that Youngjae had the seating plan in his hands and your name was on it. He would have to show you to your seat.

Youngjae had just finished helping an elderly couple (Jaebum’s grandparents) to their seats when he spotted you walking up to the church with your sister. He gaped at how pretty you looked in a cute dress and with your hair swept over your shoulders. You approached Youngjae with a bright, happy smile that made his heartbeat thump faster. He found himself subconsciously adjusting his black coat and smoothing down his hair.

“Youngjae-ssi!” you greeted him excitedly. “It’s so nice to see you again! How are you?”

Youngjae cleared his throat. “I’m-uh, I’m doing great. You… you look wonderful.”

You blushed prettily. Youngjae looked extremely handsome himself and it seemed like he’d gotten even better-looking even though it had been barely three months since you saw him last. You smoothed down your dress and tried not to look too flustered. “Thank you so much. I was a little surprised that Jinyoung-ssi chose to invite us since we don’t really know him personally but I love weddings so I couldn’t resist,” you explained happily.

Youngjae smiled. “I’m glad you came-“

“Is Bambam here?” the girl beside you interrupted.

Your youngest sister was standing by your side and she looked a little bored with the conversation. You glared at her, telling her to behave herself but you both knew that the only reason she had come to this quaint little church wedding was because she had an enormous crush on Bambam. She hadn’t been able to stop talking about him ever since they met at Mark’s wedding. Youngjae rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh; Bambam is helping with the caterers right now but he should be back soon. Can I help you both find your seats?”

Your sister looked disappointed but you beamed at Youngjae.

“That would be wonderful, thank you so much.”

--

Youngjae couldn’t take his eyes off you during the ceremony. You and your younger sister were sitting two rows in front of him and a little bit to the right, so he could see most of your profile while you watched the wedding. Jinyoung and his wife kissed sweetly and chastely at the altar. Jaebum, meanwhile, walked around the church with his jaw clenched and tried to appear manlier than he felt. He glared daggers at anyone who accused him of having watery eyes and even choked up a little while delivering his best man’s speech to the amusement of everyone present.

Youngjae made a beeline for you once the band started to play. You were standing around and looking a little uncomfortable because you didn’t know too many people here and your younger sister had abandoned you in search of her crush. Youngjae took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and walked up to you confidently.

“Hi there,” he said with a smile.

You beamed at him. “Hi.”

“So, um… we never got to actually finish that dance at Mark-hyung’s wedding,” he said shyly. “I couldn’t find you afterwards. Would you like to dance right now?”

“I would love to.”

You allowed Youngjae to guide you onto the dance floor and you were surprised to note that he seemed much more confident than the last time you had met. He placed his hands on your waist gently and pulled you closer to him. Youngjae had a beautiful innocent smile so you couldn’t help but smile back. The band was singing a sweet love song, and everybody was cooing at how cute Jinyoung and his bride looked together as they danced. But Youngjae had eyes only for you.

“I, uh, I was really looking forward to seeing you again,” he admitted bravely.

You smiled shyly. “Me too. I was surprised to get an invitation, since this is such a small and reserved wedding. I thought it might be awkward not knowing anyone except my sisters but I really wanted to see you again.”

Youngjae beamed. “Really?”

“Yeah. I had fun with you last time,” you admitted. “I’m sorry I acted kind of crazy, breaking down into tears when we couldn’t find the bridal bouquet and everything. I felt like I had to prove to you that I’m not insane. I’m really not. I’m actually a rather boring person. I mean… not super boring, I can have a little fun, but I, um... wow, I’m not sure what I’m trying to say.” You looked up at him with an embarrassed smile. “You probably think I am crazy, right?”

“No, I think you’re really cute,” he blurted out.

Both of you became extremely flustered as soon as he said that, and you couldn’t speak for a few moments. Youngjae couldn’t believe that he had such a sweet, beautiful girl in his arms. The band kept playing slower songs and by the third song you and Youngjae had moved closer to each other and you rested your head on his shoulder. He kept the conversation going, talking about how he had helped Mark and Jinyoung so much with their weddings that he could probably plan a wedding single-handedly if it came down to it. You loved listening to Youngjae talk. He sounded like an angel and you bit your lip, deciding that you wouldn’t let this wedding end without asking him out.

“Weddings are kind of weird, aren’t they?” you mused as you both swayed to the soft music. “I’ve never really wanted to be married because I’ve never found the right guy but… I think even people who don’t want to be married would like to have a lovely wedding.”

“But they can be super stressful. All the planning and the money you have to spend…”

You grinned. “Yeah, but I think there’s something romantic about successfully planning a wedding with someone you love. It’s like the first test for your married life isn’t it? It’s like saying well, if we can pull off this together then we make a great team and we can pull off life itself together. How are you going to spend your life with someone if you can’t even plan a wedding with them?”

“I never thought about it that way,” Youngjae admitted.

“That’s because you’ve only been planning other people’s weddings so far, Youngjae-ssi,” you teased.

He raised an eyebrow with a smile. “Oh? And how many of your own weddings have you planned, then?”

You sighed and pouted. “None. Please don’t rub it in. If I get invited to one more wedding while I’m still hopelessly single then I might just cry. It doesn’t bother me normally but attending a wedding alone is just so sad and makes me feel bitter. Especially ones like this where I barely know anyone.”

Youngjae’s hands tightened on your waist. “You know me,” he pointed out gently.

“That’s a nice thought but you can’t help me with every wedding that I have to attend,” you joked. “All my college and high-school friends are hitting their mid and late twenties now, I’ve been getting an invitation almost every month. In fact, one of my seniors from college is having her wedding today at a different venue. I had to choose which wedding I wanted to attend.”

“And you chose to come to this one?”

Ah, shit. Would Youngjae think it was weird that you came here merely in the hopes of seeing him? What if you scared him off? You had only met once before and everything was rather delicate. You cleared your throat and tried to stop the blood from rushing to your cheeks. “I mean…um… I never really liked that senior anyway. And my younger sister! Yeah, she’s had a huge crush on Bambam since Mark’s wedding so she insisted that we come here. Apparently they really hit it off.”

Youngjae looked a little disappointed. “Oh. Right, of course.”

“But I’m glad I came,” you told him honestly.

He gave you a soft smile as he noticed the sparkle in your eyes. You could feel this too, he was sure of it. Why else would you look up at him with those big eyes of yours and smile at him shyly like an angel? Youngjae was suddenly tempted to make a bold move. He leaned down until his face was right in front of yours and smiled at you. “Maybe we should get through this wedding season together. Let’s be each other’s date to whichever wedding comes next so that we’re not alone and bored.”

You bit your lip to hold back your delight. “That’s an interesting idea. I like it.”

“A-are you sure? I meant that it’s a real date…” he clarified hesitantly, suddenly feeling shy.

“Oh, I know.”

“Okay, then. It’s settled. The next wedding invitation either one of us gets, we go together,” he told you with a laugh. You nodded and smiled back at him. Why was he so adorable? You felt the urge to lean up and kiss Youngjae right then, to cut off his sweet laugh with your lips. But you couldn’t gather the courage so you merely stepped back from him as the song ended. You hadn’t even realized how much time had passed since you’d started dancing. It was getting dark outside, and the celebrations were coming to an end. You were about to ask Youngjae to get one last drink with you when the bride suddenly weaved her way through the crowd of dancers, making a beeline for you and Youngjae.

“Youngjae! I need your help!” she insisted, struggling to hurry towards him in her white gown. Her expression was a little irritated and Youngjae blinked at her in surprise.

“Is everything okay, noona?”

The bride huffed while running her fingers through her hair. You felt a tinge of jealousy; she was so beautiful in her gorgeous gown and with the afterglow from her wedding. The bride merely shot you a polite, apologetic smile before she turned to Youngjae. “No, everything is not okay. Both the men in my life are enormous idiots who thought it was a good idea to get shitfaced on my wedding day. Can you please help me get them home? Jaebum-oppa’s girlfriend is mad at him so she won’t come and my husband will definitely regret his actions in the morning so I’d rather keep it all on the downlow.”

Youngjae blinked. “Is it that bad? Noona, I had a few glasses earlier, I can’t drive.”

The bride looked distressed and you piped up softly. “Um, I can drive if you want. My car is in the parking lot and I haven’t had anything to drink.”

She looked at you hopefully. “Really? You wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course not.”

You followed Youngjae and the bride to the smaller tent nearby, where both Jaebum and Jinyoung were alone with empty bottles of champagne and wine littering the ground around them. To your surprise the two men were embracing each other and both of them had red, tear-filled eyes. You and Youngjae froze in shock as drunken Jaebum let out a loud wail.

“Jinyoung-ah! I-I’m so sorry I thought you weren’t good enough for my sister!” Jaebum cried out loudly. He was patting Jinyoung’s back in a clumsy manner as he sniffled. “You’re the best person my sister could have found, I would never trust anyone more than you!”

Jinyoung’s own voice cracked at he looked at his friend. “Hyung, that means so much to me, you have no idea!” he insisted, his words slurring from the effect of the alcohol. “I-I’m so sorry we went behind your back! I wanted to tell you! I really did! It was all her idea to keep it secret! You know I would never lie to you, hyung, you know that, right?”

Jinyoung’s finger jabbed out to point accusingly at his newly wedded wife, who was glaring daggers at him with her arms folded across her chest. Jaebum nodded emphatically and reassured Jinyoung that he trusted him not to lie and the men exchanged I love yous before hugging each other. Youngjae’s lips were pressed together tightly as he held back a laugh and you had to admit that the whole situation was rather amusing. You’d never seen two such rigid and well-behaved men humiliate themselves this way. When you let out a stray giggle though, the bride glared at you.

“Do you think this is funny? It’s my wedding night and my husband is drunkenly confessing his love to my brother. I want them out of my sight,” she insisted, her fingers rubbing her temples. “What was I thinking, marrying one of Jaebum-oppa’s friends? God, I’m such an idiot.”

Youngjae chuckled. He knew that she loved Jinyoung more than anything in the world and that they fought often. He gave the bride his usual blinding smile and reassured her that he would get both Jinyoung and Jaebum to their respective homes before anybody saw them. The bride merely thanked Youngjae tersely and left the tent to go meet her relatives. You gave Youngjae a confused look and he smiled at you apologetically.

“Sorry for getting you roped into this.”

You laughed. “No, it’s very interesting!”

“Would you mind starting the car? I’ll bring these two idiots to the parking lot. Oh, and I’ll message Bambam to take your sister home safely so don’t worry about her.”

You went out into the parking lot and started your car while Youngjae struggled to support the two heavy men and convince them to get inside. Jaebum stumbled a little and Jinyoung paused to throw up in a nearby bush for a few moments but somehow Youngjae managed to buckle them up into the backseat together. You started your car and turned to Youngjae, who had slid into the passenger-side seat beside you.

“Are they going to be okay?” you wondered. “Where are we taking them?”

Before Youngjae could respond, Jinyoung suddenly leaned forward and poked his head in between you and Youngjae, giving you an open-mouthed look. His finger pointed at you as he beamed. “Hey! You’re that girl! The one who was making eyes at Youngjae at Mark’s wedding! What are you doing here?”

Youngjae felt nervous. “You invited her, hyung.”

Jinyoung looked dazed. “Right, right, of course…”

“Hyung, just sit back and try not to puke in her car, okay? Don’t worry about anything,” Youngjae insisted, pushing Jinyoung back before he said anything embarrassing. How had these two men gotten so drunk out of their senses? Youngjae turned and smiled at you. “Jinyoung was supposed to spend the night in a hotel they’d booked with his wife so we’d better drop him off there. But Jaebum has to go home. His girlfriend is likely waiting for him.”

You nodded and started the car. “Yes, sir.”

It was all a very amusing series of events that night. You and Youngjae had to help Jinyoung up to the honeymoon suite of the hotel that they’d booked. It was a struggle to convince him to get up there because he kept alternating between apologizing to Jaebum for keeping his relationship a secret, and loudly proclaiming that he was extremely drunk. Jaebum, on the other hand, found a cat in the hotel lobby that he refused to leave without petting. The cat looked distressed and you had to apologize to the owner several times. Jaebum only agreed to let go when it hissed and scratched him across the arm.

“Wow, this is exhausting,” Youngjae said with a laugh. Jinyoung had been unceremoniously dumped on the bed of his honeymoon suite for his wife to find whenever she returned, and Jaebum shoved back into your car. You turned and looked at the gorgeous man sitting beside you. You normally hated dealing with drunken people but nothing seemed too bad when Youngjae was laughing that angelic laugh of his. You had to admire how he never lost his temper at the two drunken men and only dealt with them with his bright smile. How could somebody be so positive and bright? Jaebum started making loud groaning noises in the backseat as you drove to his apartment and you and Youngjae couldn’t help but exchange looks and giggle.

“Okay, hyung. Try and sober up now, you know that noona will be upset if she sees you this drunk. Remember your girlfriend? She’s waiting for you at home? She probably just got off work so let’s not upset her, okay?” Youngjae asked as he coaxed Jaebum into the elevator. The older man was slumped against his friend and his eyes were unfocused.

Jaebum nodded. “Hmm. Let’s not upset her.”

“Good, good.”

“What if she’s already upset?” Jaebum asked, eyes widening. “What if… what if…”

Youngjae patted him on the back. “I’m sure she wouldn’t be upset without a reason.”

Jaebum shook his head and he suddenly straightened up, his eyes filling with tears. “But she does have a reason! I’m a terrible boyfriend! I know that she was hurt that Mark got married before us even though she never said anything about it but now Jinyoung is married now too and I’ve kept her waiting for so long. What if she doesn’t want to wait anymore? What if I lose her?”

Youngjae looked helpless so you interrupted in with a gentle smile. “I’m sure that a woman would wait any amount of time for a man that she loved and trusted. You should have more faith in her,” you insisted.

Jaebum blinked at you. “Who are you again?” he demanded.

Youngjae sighed. “Hyung, don’t be rude. I told you a hundred time, she’s Mark-hyung’s sister-in-law-“

Jaebum snapped his fingers and grinned at Youngjae. “That’s right! She’s the girl from Mark’s wedding, the one you had a huge crush on! Jinyoung told me all about it but he said not to say anything to you because you were probably embarrassed,” Jaebum said with a cheerful laugh. He turned to look at you with a smile. “Youngjae really likes you but he’s shy and kind of stupid. But he’s a really nice boy at heart, aren’t you, Youngjae?”

Youngjae looked like he wanted to die. “Hyung, please…”

You smiled despite the blush reddening your cheeks. “I know. I think Youngjae’s great too.”

Jaebum beamed and clapped Youngjae on the back a little too hard. “See? She likes you, you idiot! Now don’t mess things up. Take her home safely and don’t forget to get her number and show her your guitar, girls love guitars-“

Youngjae looked horrified as he avoided eye contact with you and he breathed a sigh of relief when the elevator opened up on the right floor. He hurriedly dragged Jaebum towards his apartment and rang the doorbell. A few moments passed before a beautiful women opened the door, dressed casually in sweatpants and with her hair tied up. She sighed when she saw her boyfriend being supported by Youngjae.

“Thanks for bringing him home, Youngjae,” she said gently, before turning to frown at her boyfriend. “Your sister called me nearly in tears because you and Jinyoung made a big scene at her wedding. Are you proud of yourself? I should never have let you go to that wedding alone, I knew you couldn’t handle it but I had to work and-”

Jaebum had fallen silent and he was staring at her, an odd look in his eyes. “I love you.”

She was flustered. “Huh? I-I love you too Jaebum, but… what are you doing?”

Jaebum had stumbled down to the floor. At first you thought that he’d just fallen over because he was drunk, but he gingerly balanced himself on one knee and dug into his pocket to pull out a small ring box. He opened it and held it up in front of her while she grasped the doorframe to steady herself from the shock. “I love you so, so much. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and I’m sorry for making you wait so long. Can you forgive me? Will you be my wife?”

The scene made you feel warm. Jaebum’s girlfriend burst into tears and pulled him up to his feet before they both entered into a passionate embrace. You couldn’t hold back a smile of your own. Love was so beautiful, it made people so happy. You wished you could find a love of your own that could make you as happy as the woman in front of you.

“Well, this is awkward,” Youngjae mumbled with an embarrassed chuckle as the couple went back into their apartment, kissing and ignoring the both of you. He turned and gave you a soft smile. “I’m sorry you had to put up with all of this tonight.”

You shook your head and smiled back. “No. I’m glad I got to see that. That was beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful.”

You turned and looked at Youngjae in surprise. His cheeks were red and he looked a little flustered, but his eyes were staring straight into yours. You felt a sudden burst of hope inside of you. You barely knew Youngjae but there was something about him that made you feel that perhaps you could find that sort of love with him. Unable to resist, you leaned up and gently pressed your lips against his in a shy kiss. Youngjae’s eyes widened and he froze for a moment, unable to react before you pulled back and smiled.

“I guess we know whose wedding our first date will be at, huh?” you joked.

Youngjae grinned. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

--

Wedding Number Three: Jackson

“Hyung, are you sure about this?”

Jackson nodded firmly. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

Youngjae felt uneasy as he helped his friend fix his suit. Despite the fact that they were all headed to a wedding, there was something extremely uncomfortable about the atmosphere. Jackson had disappeared for a few weeks after Jinyoung’s wedding and had been completely out of contact. When he returned, he suddenly announced that he was getting married in a few days. Apparently the girl he had been casually seeing had gotten pregnant and he now had to step up to take responsibility for his child.

Bambam was quite vocal about his disapproval. “Hyung, there are ways to take responsibility for the child without having to marry her. You could offer child support, you don’t need to get trapped into a legal relationship with this woman-“

Jackson paused mid-way through fixing his suit and glared at Bambam through the mirror. His voice was icy. “Her family were very clear about the fact that they would disown her if she had a child out of wedlock. Besides, my child isn’t going to grow up in a household without a father. Do you think I would sit and let that happen?”

Bambam recoiled. “I didn’t mean it like that. But you never wanted to get married and I don’t know if this is a good enough reason to bind yourself to a woman-“

“Then what is a good enough reason, huh? Tell me, Bambam. How could there possibly be a reason more important than the safe upbringing of a child? I know what it’s like to grow up in a dysfunctional family and I would rather die than put another child through that. I was the one who got drunk and failed to use protection. I have to take responsibility for this. I can’t leave a woman to raise a child that I am equally responsible for bringing into this world. This is my choice and if you don’t like it then don’t come to the wedding.”

Bambam looked hurt. “Of course I’ll come to the wedding. I would never miss it.”

Youngjae bit his lip. He hated this tense atmosphere. Jackson was normally such a frivolous and carefree person that it worried everyone to see him so serious and stressed. The wedding wasn’t a proper one either. The bride’s parents had refused to come due to the ugliness of the situation and Jackson insisted that he wanted it done as quickly as possible in order to avoid too much talk. A small church had been booked for the ceremony and they would all go out to a restaurant for food and drinks later.

Jackson took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of his bed before looking up at Jinyoung. “Do you know how she’s doing? She’s been having morning sickness and if she doesn’t feel well enough to come to the church…”

Jinyoung patted his friend on the back, reassuringly. “She’s fine. My wife’s gone to help her get ready. Everything will go smoothly, Jackson. Don’t worry about the wedding. You’re doing the right thing, I promise.”

“I hope so.”

“We should head down to the church. I’ll call and ask how the girls are managing and the priest is waiting there already. Youngjae… don’t you have to go and pick up your date?”

Youngjae bit his lip. “Are you sure I can bring her? I mean, if it’s not appropriate for me to bring a date to something like this…”

Jackson forced a bright smile and stood up, clapping his friend on the back. His loud, falsely enthusiastic voice boomed in the small room. “Don’t be stupid. You have to bring her Youngjae, everyone knows how crazy you are about this girl and we want to meet her. Can you guys stop acting like this is a funeral? It’s a wedding for heaven’s sake. I’m getting married and you guys are supposed to be the ones cheering me up! Where are the dirty jokes and the teasing? Do I have to do everything myself?”

Bambam rolled his eyes. “We’re not worried about you, we’re worried about this poor girl that’s going to be stuck with you for the rest of her life.”’

Jackson beamed. “That’s the spirit!”

--

You smiled as you stood beside Youngjae and watched the wedding.

Youngjae had called you a few days earlier and told you frankly about the circumstances; that this was a shotgun wedding arranged because the bride had gotten pregnant and that there would be nobody there except for close friends. But you couldn’t resist the opportunity to spend time with Youngjae so you had agreed. You had made a deal to attend the very next wedding that you got an invite to, after all, and Jaebum’s invitations hadn’t gone out yet.

The bride was very different from what you expected. Unlike the gorgeous, confident model-like women that Jackson Wang was known for playing with, she was a naturally pretty and shy girl. She seemed extremely nervous and her face turned a brilliant red when you mentioned to her that she looked beautiful in her plain white wedding dress. The ceremony was over quickly and without much fuss. You got into Youngjae’s car as the entire group drove to a hotel that they had made reservations at for dinner.

“Do you think it’s okay to marry someone you’re not in love with?” Youngjae asked quietly, his eyes fixed on the road. You noticed that he seemed a little bit tense. Nobody at that wedding seemed entirely happy somehow and it suddenly struck both of you that maybe, weddings weren’t always places of celebration and love and beauty after all. Maybe, for some people, it was a lifetime of being bound to the wrong person.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Maybe love and marriage don’t always go hand in hand.”

“What do you mean?”

You sighed and shrugged, leaning back in the passenger-side seat. “Sometimes you’re not always compatible with the person you fall in love with, if you get what I mean? Love is an emotion. It’s unexplainable and it’s just a rushed feeling. But what really holds a marriage together is compatibility and understanding. If you ask me, two determined people who want to make a marriage work and have honest intentions can make a marriage work even if they’re not in love.”

Youngjae bit his lip. “Sort of destroys the romance aspect of it, though, doesn’t it?”

“True. But real life isn’t always so romantic.”

“But there are people who manage to find both love as well as happiness in marriage, right?”

You gave him a small smile and nodded. “I’m sure there are.”

Youngjae reached over and took your hand, squeezing it gently. You had both been talking a lot over the last couple of weeks; through text messages and the occasional phone call. The more you talked to Youngjae and heard his angelic voice and saw how much of a wonderful person he was… you found yourself falling harder and harder for him. His hand was warm as it enclosed over yours and you found yourself gripping it tightly, that same hope filling you once more.

Maybe this was the man that you could finally experience love with.

--

You had fun at the wedding dinner.

Youngjae’s friends were all loud and wild, there was no end to the ruckus that they caused. Glasses of wine were passed around the table to everyone except the bride (and Jackson, who refused to drink in order to keep an eye on his pregnant wife). Before long, Youngjae was tipsy enough to confidently put his arm around your shoulder and gently pull you into his side. You blushed deeply at the comfortable yet exciting feeling of sitting so close to him.

“Are you okay?” Youngjae asked you with a smile as the meal came to an end. You had been quiet for a while but it wasn’t because you didn’t have anything to say; it was just difficult to get a word in edgewise with the noisy group. You merely looked up at Youngjae and nodded with a giggle. You were slightly drunk and you were worried that you had a stupid smile on your face but Youngjae grinned back at you.

“You’re adorable,” he told you softly.

You flushed, your hands coming up to cover your warm cheeks. “I think I’m a little drunk,” you admitted lightly. “It’s kind of warm in here.”

“Do you want to go outside and walk it off?”

You nodded eagerly and waited while Youngjae told the rest of the group that you were both going to get some fresh air. Bambam said something that made Youngjae frown at him but you were a little too drunk to care. Your heart leapt as Youngjae took your hand in his and led you out of the restaurant. It was getting dark outside and you both walked down the street while swinging your entwined hands together. Youngjae laughed when you skipped slightly on the sidewalk and turned to face him.

“I want ice cream,” you decided randomly.

“Ice cream? Right now?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, right now. There has to be a convenience store somewhere around here, right? Let’s go find it! I want ice cream, Youngjae-oppa!”

Youngjae blushed a furious red as he looked at your small figure smiling at him adorably while you squeezed his hand. He had never been so completely smitten with a girl before and his heart skipped a beat when you blinked at him cutely. “O-oppa?” he stammered, with a nervous laugh. The sudden endearment made him flustered. You had typed out the word while texting him once but it was his first time hearing it from your lips.

You nodded firmly. “Yup. You’re my oppa for today. Please buy me ice cream?”

“Okay, let’s go.”

You smiled before moving closer to him. Youngjae was disappointed when you let go of his hand, but you wrapped both of your arms around his instead, and tucked yourself into his side as you walked. Youngjae blushed when your head came to rest on his shoulder and you cheerfully talked about the ice cream flavors you liked.

“Dark chocolate is for sad days,” you explained to him with the patience of teaching a child. You tended to ramble about stupid things while tipsy. “Because it’s bittersweet and that’s how life is sometimes. Normal chocolate is for happy days. Toffee and cookie dough are for celebrations. Coffee ice cream is for cold days. Mint chocolate chip is for rainy days,” you listed off happily, ticking off the flavors on your fingers as you leaned your head against Youngjae’s shoulder.

“What about vanilla?” Youngjae interrupted.

You looked at him, aghast. “Who eats vanilla ice cream? That’s so boring!”

“I like it,” he told you with a small pout.

You bit your lip and sighed, looking up at him for a long moment. Your mind was clouded over since all the wine you had drunk was hitting you a little harder than you’d planned but you remembered thinking that Youngjae was so sweet, you would give up all the ice cream flavors in the world for him.

“Okay. I guess vanilla can be for lovely days,” you teased. “So now you have to make sure we get vanilla ice cream, since today is a lovely day.”

Youngjae grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

You managed to find a convenience store a few streets down and Youngjae went inside to buy vanilla ice cream for both of you. You sat on a bench outside and ate your ice cream, swinging your legs and chatting about random things. Youngjae was a little nervous in the beginning but once he opened up he became rather fun to be with. He laughed at you when you dropped your first ice cream on the ground. It was only when you almost burst into tears that he hurried inside to buy you another one. Youngjae liked you, but he wasn’t eager to see you cry again.

“Don’t drop this one,” he warned you lightly, his hand closing over yours to help you hold the ice cream cup. His fingers were warm and you smiled as he helped you eat it without your drunken butterfingers spilling it all over you. You enjoyed the attention and couldn’t help but admire how gently he helped you hold the ice cream and placed a paper napkin on your lap in case you spilled it.

“Youngjae,” you said suddenly.

He looked up at you and blinked. “Yeah?”

“You’re really sweet and caring and handsome. Why don’t you already have a girlfriend?” you blurted out.

Youngjae looked embarrassed and rubbed the back of his neck. You stared at him, struck by how gorgeous this man was and how completely unaware he seemed to be of his own charm. You had never felt so warm and comfortable in someone’s presence before. Youngjae cleared his throat and his lips twisted into a small smile. “I guess I’ve never really found the right girl.”

You blinked at him. “I want to be your right girl.”

Youngjae stared at you as you leaned in to kiss him. Unlike the sweet peck that you’d shared outside Jaebum’s apartment this was a proper kiss. Your heartbeat thudded while your hands came up to slide into Youngjae’s hair and you pulled him down towards you. His lips pressed back against yours eagerly, tasting the vanilla ice cream and wine on your tongue and smelling your soft perfume. You were breathing hard when you pulled back and Youngjae’s gaze had turned from his sweet, friendly expression into something more dark and lustful.

“Are you too drunk?” he asked you doubtfully.

“No, I’m just the right amount of drunk,” you reassured him. “Please kiss me again.”

You’re not sure how long you and Youngjae sat on that bench outside the convenience store, just kissing and whispering while you leaned against each other. Youngjae was extremely attentive once he relaxed. He placed sweet kisses on your eyelids and your forehead that made you giggle and you both talked and laughed and kissed until the ice cream had melted onto the bench, completely forgotten.

“It’s completely dark,” he pointed out after a while. “We should head back to the restaurant…”

You both walked back to the restaurant where you realized that everyone else had already gone home. Their cars were gone from the parking lot and only Youngjae’s was left. He fished his keys out of his pocket and looked down at them doubtfully. “I’m not sure I should drive after all that wine. Should I call us a cab?”

You looked up at him for a moment, a sudden burst of confidence hitting you. You weren’t sure where it came from. You were normally extremely nervous around men and made sure to tread carefully. But Youngjae was different. Youngjae was sweet and warm and he made you feel safe instead of the other way around. You suddenly grabbed his hand, closing your fingers over his cellphone as he started to call a taxi. “Youngjae…” you said, biting your lip as you looked up at him. “Let’s not call a cab. Let’s stay here tonight.”

Youngjae blinked down at you, confused. “Here? You mean… in the car?”

You gestured towards the restaurant which was on the ground floor of a hotel. “They have rooms.”

His entire face flushed red when he realized what you were insinuating. You wanted to spend the night together in a hotel room and Youngjae knew the moment your lips formed an adorable pout that he was helpless to say no. He cleared his throat and looked down at you, heartbeat thudding as he nodded. You entwined your hands together and leaned up to kiss him once more.

“Okay. Let’s do that.”

--

Wedding Number Four: Jaebum

“Youngjae. Youngjae… Youngjae!”

Youngjae jerked his head up from his cellphone and blinked at Jaebum, who was frowning at him. He hadn’t realized that the older man had been trying to get his attention; he was too busy texting you. You had just sent him a couple of selfies with your dog and Youngjae was admiring how gorgeous you were, as well as how adorable your pet was.

“Sorry, hyung. What were you saying?” he asked, confused.

Jinyoung laughed. “Leave him alone, Jaebum. The poor guy’s in love for the first time in his life. He hasn’t stopped texting her since Jackson’s wedding. Clearly something happened there. Didn’t it, Youngjae-ah?”

Youngjae blushed and lied. “Nothing happened!”

Neither Jaebum nor Jinyoung looked like they believed him. No wonder, because you and Youngjae had spent a wonderful night together at that hotel. Even though it wasn’t easy for you both to meet often due to your busy schedules you had managed to have dinner a few times since and even caught a movie together once. Youngjae had been secretly pleased when you referred to yourself as his girlfriend the last time you went out together. He still couldn’t believe that he was dating somebody as beautiful and wonderful as you. You and Youngjae texted each other almost every day and nothing made him happier than seeing a notification from you on his phone.

“Yeah, they’re in that honeymoon phase,” Jaebum grumbled. “I went through it too. But it ends eventually and the women become monsters. Speaking of which, my fiancée is going to kill me if I go back home without having picked out a wedding suit. What do you guys think of that last dark blue one?”

Jinyoung tsk-ed. “Black looks classier, hyung.”

“Youngjae?”

“Uh, yeah. Black is good. The blue one is nice too.”

Jaebum frowned. “Do you mean that, or are you just saying it so that you can go back to texting your girlfriend?”

Youngjae looked up suddenly, eyes widening. “Hyung, I can invite her to the wedding, right?”

Jaebum looked like he was going to explode as he tossed the clothes hanger he was holding aside. “Yah! How many times do I have to say this? There will be no fucking wedding if I can’t pick out a goddamned suit by today! Are you two dickheads going to help me or not? Damn it, I should have brought Bambam instead…”

“Hyung, relax, we’ll help…”

--

You beamed as soon as you saw Youngjae, running over to him and throwing your arms around his neck. He laughed and hugged you back despite feeling a little flustered. Youngjae’s arms stayed around your waist as you let go of him and stepped back, admiring how he looked in his suit. You ran a hand down the smooth, dark material.

“Somebody’s extremely handsome today,” you teased him lightly. “Why do you keep looking better in a suit every time I see you? It’s like there’s no end to your charms.”

Youngjae blushed and leaned down to kiss your lips briefly. “You look beautiful,” he told you honestly.

You giggled and kissed him again despite a few of the wedding guests glaring at the two of you and your little display of affection. No matter how many times you saw Youngjae, your heart still skipped a beat as if every time was the first. He was looking particularly handsome today. You had called him up earlier that morning and begged him to style his hair up so that it revealed his forehead. Youngjae had sounded reluctant but finally agreed; now your cute and lovable boyfriend suddenly looked extremely sexy and you wondered how you were going to keep your hands off him.

Jaebum’s wedding was absolutely gorgeous. Youngjae told you in a low voice while you found your seats in the enormous abbey, that Jaebum had gone way over budget while planning it and his girlfriend had been so furious that she’d forced him to cut their honeymoon two days shorter than originally planned. You laughed at the anecdote and squeezed Youngjae’s hand. You were seated next to Jinyoung and his wife, both of whom greeted you warmly.

“I heard Bambam invited your younger sister,” Jinyoung told you with a casual smile. “I heard her arguing with Mark’s wife earlier, noona didn’t seem happy…”

You blinked. “Really? I haven’t heard about this. Why would my unnie have a problem if Bambam invited my younger sister?”

“She probably doesn’t think Bambam is a very good influence. He has a good heart but he tends to act first and think later, which causes problems sometimes. Maybe you should talk to your younger sister and tell her to be a little careful,” Jinyoung told you frankly.

You merely nodded and turned away. Jinyoung didn’t know your younger sister the way you did. She was just as much of a brat as Bambam and telling her not to do something would only make her want to do it even more. Besides, she had always been able to handle herself. You turned to Youngjae sitting by your side and smiled at him. You were much more excited to spend quality time with your boyfriend. You both sat with your hands entwined in your lap and watched the wedding.

Whatever arguments Jaebum and his wife might have had before the wedding, there was no doubt that they were madly in love. They both looked at each other with pure adoration in their eyes and you couldn’t help but feel extremely warm inside. Watching a happy couple promise to spend their lives together would never fail to make you happy… and for once, you didn’t feel quite so bitter. Instead, you felt extremely hopeful as Youngjae put his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him.

“I’m happy for Jaebum-hyung,” Youngjae told you with a chuckle as the bride and groom kissed. “But to be honest, I’m hoping that we’re done attending weddings for a while. It’s getting kind of exhausting, going through the same routine.”

You smiled. “For once, I don’t have any wedding invitations left with me.”

“Yeah and I doubt either Bambam or Yugyeom are going to get married soon, so that leaves me with like a huge gaping hole in my schedule,” Youngjae explained. He looked down at you with an amused smile. “Wow, it’s so weird. I can’t remember a time in the last six months when I wasn’t helping at least one of the hyungs plan their wedding.”

You grinned and entwined your arm with his. “I would be glad to help you fill that gap in your schedule.”

Youngjae leaned down and kissed your forehead fondly. “That sounds wonderful.”

--

The wedding dinner was extremely entertaining.

Jinyoung was the best man and he made full use of the opportunity to poke fun at Jaebum, reminding everyone of his own emotional and tear-filled best man’s speech as Jinyoung’s wedding. You laughed along with everyone as Jaebum turned visibly red and looked like he wanted to die. Jackson gave a speech as well, by the end of which Jaebum had slid down in his chair and looked like he wished the earth would swallow him up. You spotted Jackson’s heavily pregnant wife scolding him lightly for making so much fun of the groom, but he merely kissed her on the cheek and laughed.

Everyone seemed extremely happy. Too happy, somehow.

Youngjae kept his arm around your chair and smiled at you whenever he saw you laugh. He fell a little harder for you each time he saw you and he was suddenly struck with the image of you in a bridal gown, sitting beside him and looking beautiful as ever. The thought was a little scary yet somehow exciting and Youngjae kept it to himself as he enjoyed the dinner.

As the meal neared a close, you were approached by your older sister who had wrenched herself away from Mark’s side to come and talk to you. She greeted Youngjae with a kind smile before turning to ask you if you had seen your younger sister recently.

“Uh, I can’t remember,” you admitted. “I think she and Bambam were sitting a few rows behind us at the ceremony… Is something wrong, unnie?”

She sighed but shook her head. “No, never mind. I just have this nagging feeling that those two are up to something fishy. Just let me know if you see her, will you?”

You nodded as she hurried back to her seat beside her husband. Youngjae squeezed your hand and looked at you, worried. His hand came up to caress your cheek gently. “What was that about? Is everything okay?” he asked you softly.

You shrugged. “Yeah, fine. I guess unnie just doesn’t like the idea of my younger sister dating Bambam. She’s always had a preference for quieter, more mature men and I guess loud and spontaneous Bambam doesn’t inspire a lot of trust in her. But it’ll be fine. They’ve disagreed before. I’ll just go home and play peacemaker once this wedding is over,” you said with a sigh.

Youngjae smiled and wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “Ah, the struggles that the soft-spoken ones like us have to go through,” he joked.

You rolled your eyes at him. “You are not soft-spoken, oppa.”

Youngjae pouted. “Why would you say that?”

You giggled, leaning up to whisper into his ear while your hand slid onto his thigh and caressed the soft fabric of his suit. Youngjae stiffened when your lips brushed his ear and your soft hair tickled his skin. “Because we both know exactly how vocal you were at my apartment last week. Do I need to do what I did that night again to show you how loud I can make you?” you teased.

Youngjae flushed and his hand came to rest on yours, stopping it from creeping further up his leg. “Yah! Not here!” he hissed although he was laughing.

You giggled and withdrew your hand. “Okay, okay. Later tonight.”

“You’re scary,” he told you with a pout. “It’s not fair. You look so cute and innocent at first glance.”

“So do you. We were both fooled on that front so it’s no use complaining to me.”

Youngjae tucked a strand of hair behind your ear gently before leaning down to give you a soft kiss. The band had started playing nearby and many couples were getting up to dance, including the bride and groom themselves. You kept your hand on Youngjae’s thigh. He got more and more flustered as you whispered mildly suggestive things into his ears and after a while he suddenly grabbed your wrist and looked down at you with dark, heavily-lidded eyes. “Let’s get out of here.”

You laughed. “What do you mean, out of here?”

“I mean somewhere where no one can see us.”

You were surprised when Youngjae took hold of your arm firmly and stood up, leading you away from the dancing couples and out of the building entirely. It was deserted outside and rather dark as well. Before you could ask Youngjae where he was planning on taking you, he suddenly spun you around and pushed you lightly against a wall outside the building. His arms pulled you against him and his lips covered yours hotly.

You had to admit, Youngjae’s hungry kisses excited you. You loved the cute, cheerful and innocent side of Youngjae but you were definitely pleased to find out that he was hiding a darker, more passionate side that only came out when you pushed him a little. His eyes would narrow and his breathing become heaver as he whispered into your ear in a soft husky voice.

“Do you think you’re cute, playing with me and getting me excited like that?” Youngjae growled into your ear while he placed kisses down your neck. His teeth grazed your skin and you couldn’t help but gasp lightly. Youngjae’s hands were around your waist, one of them slowly travelling up your back and sending shivers down your spine.

“Yes,” you admitted breathily as his lips came down on yours again.

You pushed yourself against him excitedly. You had never made out in public like this, especially not at a friend’s wedding where somebody could come by at any moment and the two of you could get caught. You had always been too scared to do rash and risky things like that. But somehow, with Youngjae, you felt safe. You knew that he would never take advantage or go too far, you knew that your comfort was more important to him than anything else. You grabbed hold of your boyfriend’s suit lapels and giggled as you pulled him closer. Your lips danced together eagerly.

Youngjae’s phone buzzed.

“Shit,” he mumbled, keeping one arm around you while he dug in his pocket for his phone. He pulled it out to reveal the caller ID: Bambam. “Why the hell is he calling me now?”

You bit your lip. “Answer it. Is my sister with him?”

Youngjae held the phone up to his ear and shrugged. “Bambam, what is it? Huh? You’re where?” he demanded, suddenly releasing you and clutching the phone harder. You tensed as Youngjae listened to Bambam’s response. “Why did you take her with you… you’re getting what? Look. Stay there, don’t move and don’t do anything.”

He hung up and looked at you nervously.

“What’s happening? Is my sister with him?”

Youngjae cleared his throat. “They uh… they just ran away and are getting married, apparently.”

“What?”

--

Wedding Number Five: Bambam

“We have to tell somebody and stop them.”

You shook your head. “We can’t. My older sister would completely flip her shit if she found out about this. You don’t know how scary unnie can be when she’s mad. Besides, we can’t let this ruin Jaebum-oppa’s wedding. Imagine if we went in there and caused a scene and everyone went running over to stop Bambam from getting married? It would be our fault that their special day is ruined.”

Youngjae frowned. “It’s would be Bambam’s fault, if you ask me, but okay. We should go and talk to them ourselves first. Maybe they’re just messing around. Maybe they won’t really do it.”

You both hurried over to Youngjae’s car and he started it quickly, inputting the address of the small, non-descript church that your sister and Bambam had apparently escaped to during the noise and distraction of Jaebum’s wedding. You felt tense and worried. Why the hell would the two of them think it was a good idea to run away and get married in secret? Did they consider themselves Romeo and Juliet?

You sighed and leaned back in your seat as Youngjae peeled out of the parking lot. You could only imagine the sort of chaos this would cause once your older sister and your parents found out. They would never be okay with your sister marrying somebody like Bambam. Especially not without a proper wedding or any of the usual formalities.

“Do you think they’re drunk, or high or something?” you asked Youngjae nervously.

“Bambam sounded pretty sober to me.”

“I thought he was a playboy? That’s all I’ve heard about him. I can’t believe that he and my sister want to get married. They can’t seriously have thought this through, can they? They’re being stupid and reckless and we have to stop them from making a mistake, right?”

Youngjae’s fingers on the steering wheel were stiff. “Honestly? I have no idea.”

You groaned. “Fuck.”

“Let’s just go there and see what happens, okay? Don’t worry too much.”

--

You arrived at the tiny church to see your sister and Bambam waiting outside. They waved at your car as it approached and you stared in horror to see that your sister had already changed into a simple, cute white dress and was carrying a little bouquet of flowers.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you demanded, your voice rising hysterically as you nearly leapt out of the car the moment it stopped. Youngjae reached out to grab your hand and calm you down but you couldn’t believe what was happening and you shook him off as you glared at your sister and Bambam, both of whom winced at your anger. “Are you two insane? When did you even leave Jaebum-oppa’s wedding? Do you think this is some kind of amusing joke?”

Youngjae laughed nervously. “Baby, calm down…”

You frowned. “Don’t tell me to calm down.”

Bambam piped up. “Noona, we can explain. Honestly, we just wanted-“

You pointed a finger at Bambam and frowned. “Don’t call me noona. I’m not your noona. What is wrong with the both of you? If you wanted to get married then why wouldn’t you do it like normal people by setting a date and inviting your families and maybe not by running away to a creepy, abandoned church?”

“It just seemed like such a hassle. We wanted to do it quickly and without a lot of fuss,” your sister told you with a pout. You were surprised when she came closer to you and grabbed your hand, her eyes looking straight into yours. You were shocked at how genuine her expression was. For once she didn’t seem to be joking around or playing. “Unnie, I love Bambam a lot. I’m not joking and I know what I’m doing. I know it’s hard for you to understand because you’ve always dreamed of a grand wedding and our older sister got married in such a beautiful place and with all our relatives and friends, but… we don’t want all that. We want it to just be the two of us. We don’t want to expose ourselves to people who are just going to judge us or criticize us. We prefer it this way.”

You stared at her. “You’re not making any sense. Are you pregnant?”

“God, no. I know you don’t agree with me, but… can you try and understand? Please? For me?”

You paused for a moment, confused. Youngjae was standing beside you and when you looked up at him he merely gave you a small smile. It’s your decision, his soft gaze seemed to tell you but he placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly.

Bambam cut in. “Noona, we’ve thought about this a lot. It’s not a rash decision, I promise. We’ve been planning this for a while now and we both know what we’re doing. We just need you both to be our witnesses for the official ceremony.”

You felt yourself crack. “I… I can’t… Mom and Dad and unnie would kill me if they found out I helped you two with this insane idea…”

“Please?”

You couldn’t deal with the pleading eyes staring at you. You had never been one to deny true love and something about this whole situation seemed eerily genuine. Taking a deep breath, you pointed a finger at Bambam and frowned. “If you hurt my little sister, I will track you down and cut your balls off so don’t even think about pulling anything funny.”

Bambam smiled. “I won’t, I promise.”

You turned and looked at Youngjae, who gave you a small smile and a slightly helpless shrug. His eyes were shining and you could tell that he was gently encouraging you to say yes. Damn it. If you were making a huge mistake then Youngjae would have stopped you by now, right? You took a deep breath and then looked at your sister.

“Fine. Let’s go in and get you two married.”

--

Youngjae squeezed your hand as you got back in the car after the simple wedding ceremony was over. He looked a little worried and he reached out to cup your cheek gently.

“Hey, babe. Are you okay?”

You bit your lip and turned to him worriedly. “We didn’t make a mistake, did we? I mean… they’re going to be okay, they’re not going to get the marriage annulled in a month or something are they? Did we help two people in love get married or did we help two kids who don’t know what they’re doing commit a foolish mistake?”

Youngjae took a deep breath and sighed. “Maybe we should give them more credit than that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Everyone wants different things. If they don’t want a huge wedding and they wanted to get married in private then… who are we to judge?” Youngjae wondered. He entwined your fingers together and leaned over to place a soft, gentle kiss on your forehead. “Love is different for everyone, baby. Maybe just being married is more important to them than having a grand ceremony and making a big deal out of it. We can’t tell them what to want or how to live their lives.”

You smiled at him. “You’re right. When did you become so profound?”

“I was always profound!” he told you with a laugh although he looked a little flustered. You beamed and suddenly realized how grateful you were to have Youngjae by your side. Filled with a sudden rush of affection for the handsome, kind and caring man sitting beside you, you leaned up and pressed your lips against his hard. Youngjae chuckled against your lips but let you kiss him.

“Why the sudden affection?” he asked you.

You smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know. I just realized that I’m really glad to have you.”

“I’m glad to have you too.”

--

Wedding Number Six: Yugyeom

You couldn’t make it to Yugyeom’s wedding.

It was apparently a rather scandalous event; Bambam was the best man and he’d taken his responsibilities with plenty of liberties. Youngjae explained to you that apparently bling was a mandatory part of the dress code and Bambam himself had stood at the entrance to the venue and handed out gold chains to the people who had failed to comply with the code. You were shocked that Yugyeom’s bride was all right with something like that… but it turned out that he was marrying a blind girl that he’d met back in college and she didn’t care since she wouldn’t be able to see what the guests were wearing anyway.

It was sweet yet slightly amusing. You only hoped that they had told the poor girl, even if she couldn’t see it herself.  

You had to work that day and your boss refused to give you a day off. It was the fifth wedding that you were attending that year and he’d grown a little tired of hearing your excuses. You’re not taking any more days off unless you decide to get married yourself, he told you firmly and you had called Youngjae to tell him that he would have to attend this wedding by himself. He whined a little bit but there wasn’t anything that could be done. You weren’t going to lose your job over something like this.

You came back home after a night of working late and planned to just take a shower and go to bed, when there was a knock at your door. You opened it and were surprised to see your boyfriend in a rather handsome suit. Youngjae beamed when he saw you.

“Baby!” he greeted you happily, stepping into your apartment to wrap you into his arms. You laughed and patted him on the back as he squeezed you. You could smell a little bit of alcohol and realized that he was probably tipsy.

“Hello, there. Had too much to drink, did we?” you cooed as you led him inside and sat him down on the couch. Youngjae bobbed his head in a nod, still smiling at you a little stupidly. You laughed and reached out to pinch his cheek. Youngjae was good at handling his alcohol so it was hard to tell when he was drunk, but once he crossed a particular limit he became extremely cute. “Do you want a drink of water, sweetie?”

He pouted and wrapped you into his arms, pulling you down beside him on the couch. “No, stay with me.”

“Okay,” you said with a smile and leaned up to peck him quickly before smiling at him. “How was Yugyeom’s wedding, then? I hope everything went well?”

Youngjae sighed. “It was really boring.”

“Even with Bambam there? And all the gold chains and sunglasses?”

“It was boring because you weren’t there,” Youngjae told you honestly, his voice a little bit slurred. He tightened his grip around you. “I felt so lonely and miserable for a long time and I wasn’t sure why I was feeling so down. Then I came out of the wedding and I sat in the car for a few minutes and then it hit me. I felt miserable because you weren’t there with me. I don’t like going to weddings without you.”

You giggled and rested your head on your shoulder. “I promise I’ll come to the next one. Is there even anyone left?”

“That’s not enough.”

“Huh?”

“The promise of the next wedding isn’t enough,” Youngjae told you firmly. “I want you to be there for every wedding. And not just weddings. I want to do everything together. We… we make a good team, right? Everything just seems so much better and easier and just more fun when you’re with me.”

You bit your lip and held back a smile. “I feel the same way, Youngjae.”

“Do you really?”

You nodded.

He cleared his throat and you were surprised when he suddenly let go of you and stood up. Youngjae kneeled down on the floor beside your couch and you watched as he dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small black box. He held it out in front of you and bit his lip, looking at you nervously. His dark eyes pierced into yours and for a moment he looked completely sober, completely genuine. His fingers were trembling as he showed you the ring.

“Then promise me,” he whispered. “Marry me and be with me forever.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you looked down at him and nodded.

“Yes,” you said softly. “Yes, let’s get married.”

--

Wedding Number Seven: Youngjae

“Thank God this is the last one,” Jinyoung muttered.

Youngjae pouted as he adjusted his suit. You had called him the night before and insisted that he wear his hair up, so he had struggled to get his dark strands to stay in place with hair product. He wasn’t sure if it looked all right but it was too late to fix it now. He was already standing at the altar of the church and waiting for you to turn up. Youngjae took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down before glaring at Jinyoung.

“Hyung, that’s hardly fair. I addressed over 120 invitations by hand for your wedding. How can you complain at mine?” he hissed, hoping that none of the guests would hear him.

“It would be kind of nice if you hurried this one up though, Youngjae. My wife’s due date is coming up soon,” Jackson pointed out with a chuckle, from his own position. Youngjae stopped fumbling with his suit and turned to glare at his friends.

“Hey! This is supposed to be a special moment for me-“

Jaebum laughed. “Relax, you know they’re only messing around and trying to get riled up, Youngjae. Stop looking so nervous. It’s not like you have anything to worry about. The only one of us likely to get ditched at the altar on his wedding day was Bambam and he solved that problem nicely by making sure that nobody could attend his wedding.”

Bambam stuck his tongue out. “Hyung, you’re just bitter that your anniversary and mine are on the same day-“

Jaebum rolled his eyes. “Why would I care about something like that-”

“Would you guys shut up? She’s coming! Do I look okay, is my hair fine? Do I have anything on my face?”

Yugyeom beamed and gave him a big thumbs up. “You look great, hyung! Just go for it!”

Youngjae stiffened and hurried to his original position as the doors opened and you entered, hand-in-hand with your father. Youngjae felt his heart racing as he looked at you. You were beautiful and his mind went blank when your deep, sparkling eyes met his. You were giving him a shy smile. He gaped at you as you approached him and climbed up onto the altar to stand across from him. Your cheeks were flushed pink and you bit your lip.

“Hi,” you whispered with a flustered giggle.

“Hi,” Youngjae replied, beaming at you. “Nervous?”

“Why would I be? I have you.”

In that moment, as he looked at the woman who stood across from him in a gorgeous white dress and prepared to commit to spend the rest of her life with him, Youngjae was absolutely positive that he was marrying the right woman. He was madly, passionately and deeply in love.

And it had only taken seven weddings.

--

#got7 #got7 scenarios #got7 scenario #got7 fluff #got7 fanfiction #got7 fanfic #choi youngjae #got7 youngjae #youngjae fluff #youngjae scenario #youngjae scenarios #got7 reactions #got7 imagines #got7 drabbles #got7 romance

[laur-rants]

Fic Update - Steady the Sword Ch 2

Fandom: Dishonored Pairing: Corvo/Daud [eventually] Rating: Mature Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence AO3 Link Previous :: Next

“I always knew that Hiram Burrows was a snake, I was just too young and eager to see it when he hired me. You know he had me do spy work all over Tyvia under the pretense that I was serving Tyvian interests, the crown’s interests? It wasn’t until Hiram ran off and the High Judges were after me with at least six counts of treason that I realized I’d been had.”

Zhukov talks with his hands. It’s one of the first things Corvo notices, as they sit across from each other in the mess hall. Corvo winces against the bandages on his face as he eats, keeping his good eye quietly on Zhukov.

Chatty, animated Zhukov.

After the fight, Zhukov and a guard had helped Corvo to the infirmary, where they patched him up and sent him on his way. Afterwards, Zhukov suggested dinner, and since it wasn’t like Corvo had any other plans in this frozen death trap, he obliged the offer.

Besides, the man had made it obvious that he knew who Corvo was. Is? Had been, at the very least. And, curious as he is, Corvo has to figure out how and why.

So he stays quiet, asks few questions, and listens to Zhukov as he talks with his hands.

“It wasn’t until after I’d been here for six months or so that I heard from one of my Dunwall contacts what had happened,” Zhukov continues, shaking a fork at Corvo. “That the Royal Protector had killed the Empress, and Burrows was acting Lord Regent. I was shocked at first, but as soon as I had heard that Void-damned man was involved, I knew you weren’t at fault. He was just using another scapegoat, like he did with me.”

Zhukov stabs at his horned seal meat angrily before scooping up another bite.

“And now you’re here. Another sad victim in his game of pawns. Outsider’s bastard.”

Corvo is half listening by this point, chewing on his food absently, but something in Zhukov’s implication causes him to slow to a stop. He eyes the Tyvian man carefully, looking up and down his slim frame. His good eye squints, and the other man looks up, an eyebrow raising. A few beats pass between them before Zhukov sighs loudly.

“You really are a man of few words aren’t you, Attano. Do I have something on my fucking face? Spit it out.”

“I’m not here because I killed…” Corvo pauses, looking around the mess hall, his Mark itching. Zhukov knowing what happened in Dunwall was bad enough; Corvo doesn’t need additional eavesdroppers.

However, everyone else in the hall is too engrossed in their own going ons to care about their long-winded conversation. He meets Zhukov’s gaze and watches as the man shakes his head a bit, eyes large, hands open to coax on whatever Corvo was going to say. Corvo sighs, and starts again.

“Yes,” he states. “I was used as a scapegoat for Hiram to cover up the fact that he hired an assassin to kill the Empress. But I’m not here because of that false accusation.”

Corvo pauses, licks his lips carefully.

“I’m here because I killed too many people getting the crown back. Emi- the Empress considered me a danger to Dunwall as a result, and sent me here on a sentence of freedom.”

Zhukov gives Corvo a scrutinizing look, and Corvo goes back to his food, too self conscious for this kind of conversation.

“And the Lord Regent?”

The Lord Regent’s voice bellowed over the speakers as Corvo looked down at the man himself, cowering like the worm he was. He begged for his life, but it was already gone; his sins were being broadcasted far and wide across Dunwall. The rat plague that devastated the city was his fault, and now everyone knew. If Corvo didn’t kill him now, the populace would do it for him. And yet, still Hiram Burrows had begged. He cried, bargained, and pleaded. He pissed himself in the face of Death.

It was disgusting.

Moments later, Corvo watched from a perched position as the guards inevitably came in to arrest Hiram Burrows, only to find him slain on his bed, face still contorted in fear, smelling of blood and feces. His arm was pinned to the wall behind him with his own sword; a closer look found his very heart stabbed through and pinned to the fabric, blood soaking through the sleeve.

“He was dealt with accordingly,” is all Corvo says, giving no indication of the finer details of his assassination of the man who betrayed the crown and sold out his Empress. A silence settles between them. Corvo busies himself with eating while trying to ignore the sharp ache of his cut cheek; Zhukov digests both his meal and this new information.

“Well,” Zhukov says awkwardly, after a time. “Good riddance, then.”

“Mm,” Corvo affirms. More silence follows.

Corvo scratches a hand over his beard. He’s going to need to trim it soon. Zhukov fidgets with his food.

“I’m going to be honest with you, Corvo,” Zhukov starts again. “This puts me in an awkward position.” He waits, but when Corvo doesn’t respond, he continues on. “You are still an honorable man. So honorable, in fact, that you probably feel you deserve to be here, working out your sentence.”

Corvo snorts and finishes chewing as he looks at Zhukov, a mirthless smile playing at his lips.

“Yes. Of course I do.” But that does not make me honorable , he thinks bitterly.

“Then you are probably not interested in escaping this place, hm.”

If he hadn’t sounded so serious, Corvo may have laughed again. Now though, Zhukov’s voice lowers dangerously, and Corvo can feel the creep of unease on the back of his neck. His brow furrows but he has no response for Zhukov, not yet. Zhukov takes Corvo’s silence as an invitation to continue talking, his lips twitching up in a quick smile as his voice rushes out of him.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed that this place is more than it appears. I’ve noticed it too; I even know a thing or two about it. Comes with whole ‘being an ex-Tyvian spy’ deal. And regardless of your feelings, I think we’re both floating along in the same screwed-over boat. And – if we continue the boat metaphor – if we both grab an oar and start paddling, we can help each other–”

“No.”

The answer comes out with such force that Zhukov shuts his mouth with an audible snap. Corvo clenches his left fist, opens it, desperately trying to get the deep itch of the Void out of his fingers. Corvo’s eyes darken and he takes a steadying breath. Zhukov visibly shifts, distancing himself from the wave of wrath that is, no doubt, about to be directed right at him.

“No,” Corvo repeats, softly this time. “I agree, but no. I can’t take that proposal. For my sake, if not yours.”

“But Corvo–”

The Serkonan stands, the action so fast Zhukov is taken aback. A shadow falls over Corvo’s features and Zhukov shrinks.

“ No .”

Something is wrong here. Terribly, irrevocably wrong . Corvo doesn’t know why, but his gut is roiling, head spinning from all the alarm bells blaring in his ears. Walk away from this , his instincts yell at him. Forget this interaction . Avoid Zhukov as much as possible. It is stupid; he should have known as soon as Zhukov recognized him that–

“Okay,” Zhukov shrugs out, his body relaxed and fluid once again. His voice drops when he next speaks, a whisper over the noisy tables. “Just know there are strange happenings afoot here. An ever-present energy. So if you change your mind and want to help…”

Zhukov drums his fingers atop the table as his eyes flick to Corvo’s hand and back up to meet his eyes. Corvo’s intake of breath is sharp as a shock of fear fills him. Did Zhukov know about…but how could he?

“Just let me know,” Zhukov finishes. “I’ll be around. I mean, it’s not like either of us are going anywhere any time soon, right?”

And just like that, Zhukov’s mannerisms switch from serious and deadly to light and amiable. The shock of it fills Corvo, and he’s still standing there, watching the other man go, until he is alone and adrift in the sea of humans filling the mess hall.

It is never a good night for Corvo when he falls asleep only to wake to the sound of whale songs lamenting in the distance.

Corvo’s eyes open to see his tiny dorm filled with a soft blue light. He sits up and the chill that greets him is both unreal and familiar, all at the same time. It is a far cry from the bitter, permeating cold that Tyvia is so known for; no, this is a cold that came from within and surrounds him like a veil. It is the chill of deep water, of whale oil, of death.

It’s the chill one gets from entering the Void.

Preparing himself, Corvo opens his quarters’ door and steps out into a very different landscape. It’s a world that is no longer the icy, bitingly cold halls of Utyrka, but a empty space that stretches until eternity. Islands made of a black, obsidian-like rock hang suspended, their long paths breaking and stretching into the distance. Sometimes they lead to moments of time, pulled from Corvo’s mind and frozen for all eternity. It is a land where a soft blue hangs over everything, a dark gold light threatening on the horizon. It is a place where water flows upwards and whales cry and still-beating hearts tell the secrets of men.

Slowly, carefully, Corvo clenches his left fist and blinks out, embracing the Void stretching before him. He jumps and crosses multiple platforms, passing the happenings of the world suspended in time, before Corvo finds what he’s looking for.

In the shape of a slender young man dressed in grey and black, the Outsider stands on a crumbling stone island, studying a frozen image of Zhukov. The form under scrutiny looks marginally younger and more clean-shaven than the man Corvo met earlier, but the sharp black hair and long nose are indistinguishable. As Corvo grunts and walks up, the ethereal form of the Outsider turns to face his Marked, black eyes boring through him, as if watching his very soul.

It smiles. Corvo manages a frown in return.

“What do you want, Outsider.”

The whale god tilts Its head, manages to look sad, if only for moment.

“Oh, Corvo. Not even a hello for an old friend such as myself? You must be so lonely out here in this frozen world, so far away from Emily, and everyone else you wonder about in the dark when you assume nobody is there to listen to your thoughts.”

Corvos fist clenches and he closes his eyes, counting to five before reopening them. “If you cared about how bored I am out here, you would have visited a lot sooner than this. What. Do you want.”

The Outsider was a being that held the visage of a young man, but this only barely hides Its true, immense nature. The Leviathan dematerializes into smoke and obsidian, only to rematerialize next to Corvo, pacing, hands folded behind Its back.

“Oh but Corvo, you aren’t bored here! There’s so much work to be done: mining, electrical upkeep, making friends…or is Zhukov more truthfully an enemy?”

The being disappears and settles before Corvo, sitting on a block of Void, chin in Its hand as It smiles at the man innocently. Corvo watches back, shaking his Marked hand nervously.

“He knows about the Mark, doesn’t he.” Corvo doesn’t pose the statement as a question. The Outsider doesn’t really answer it anyway.

“Kristopher Zhukov knows many truths of the mortal world. If he doesn’t know the full truth of something, he will know enough to scare. He likes to have secrets, and he loves his current secret most of all. He’s torn between telling you that secret, and letting you guess after it.”

The Outsider frowns now, looking back to the frozen form of the younger Zhukov.

“So I’m here to… caution you, Corvo. Zhukov can help you escape, it’s true. But what will it cost him? What will it cost you ? Even I do not know. Something about him makes his future clouded. Unknown. Perhaps he has already seen what his end will be.”

“What does that even mean?”

The Outsider turns to face Corvo, the movement stiff and unnatural. Those black eyes pierce him like shattered glass.

“It means to be careful , dear Corvo. There are forces at work here in the cold wastes of Tyvia, forces more powerful and awful than even myself. However… if you tread lightly, your feet will find the way out.”

Corvo opens his mouth, ready to ask more questions, but the air rushes out of him like a breath after plunging into cold water. He gasps and coughs as he abruptly awakens, nearly rolling onto the hard floor of his room from the force of being thrown out of the Void. Cursing, he shakes his smoking left hand, willing it back to normalcy.

“Damn that Outsider,” he growls out angrily. “Damn It to the Void and back.”

Despite the inconvenience and annoyance he feels, however, Corvo can’t get the Outsider’s words out of his head. Instead, he quietly repeats them, like a mantra.

Caution, Corvo. Be careful.

Tread lightly and your feet will find the way out.

Paranoia is a natural state of being for Corvo Attano. He doesn’t trust easily and he never has; it made him a great swordsman and an even better protector. It is a sense of awareness that has helped keep alive more than once in the past; now, though, his paranoia is no better than a festering wound he can’t stop picking at.

For all the cryptic warnings and messages he had received from the Outsider, Corvo got next to nothing for them. Time passes at the prison in its increasingly weird way, and Corvo itches with worry. With the sun now up and getting higher, Corvo doesn’t feel safe using his powers to blink and survey the compound, causing him to itch even more. He catches himself massaging his left hand more than he’d like to, trying to calm the deep-seated ache that dwells right under the surface. It reached a point to where a guard noticed, asking if he needed to get his stiff hand checked. He had to hurriedly throw out an apology, saying he was fine before scurrying off and back to work.

Caution, Corvo, the Outsider had told him. Be careful. Tread lightly.

He thinks on the words often but they just leave him with more questions. Caution towards who ? Careful of what ? Tread lightly where ? The Outsider never appears to give him more answers. Instead Corvo is left to stew in his paranoia, cursing the Outsider for every passing day that leaves his nerves on edge. Another month passes. After a while, Corvo can’t tell if he really thinks there’s a strange presence in Utyrka, or if his mind is playing tricks on him.

The worst of it all is Zhukov is still ever present. Corvo swears up and down that he never once saw Zhukov, but now, he’s everywhere. Perhaps he had spent most of his time stuck in the mines, where Corvo didn’t see him. Or perhaps now that the sun  was constantly up, his shifts had moved  to  the compound  at large. Or maybe he had always been there, and Corvo just recognizes him now and can therefore pick him out of the crowd. Whatever the reason, Zhukov is now a constant presence in the prison, always just on the edge of Corvo’s vision. Corvo does his best to ignore him, but as time passes and no answers come forth, he realizes the inevitable.

Sooner or later, Corvo is going to have to confront Zhukov for information. So, despite the way his Mark sears in his hand and how much his senses tell him to leave, he sets his food down across from Zhukov one day in the Month of Clans, his face as stony as Zhukov’s is bright.

“Corvo! It’s been some time since we last saw each other! Are you well?”

Corvo tries not to think about how he’s sure that Zhukov has been watching him just as closely as he has been watching Zhukov. They both “saw each other ” less than a day ago. It’s moments like this that Corvo is not surprised Zhukov was once a renowned spy. He is very good at keeping up appearances. Which also means he expects Corvo to do the same.

“Fine,” Corvo says, a little less stiffly. “The weather is good for my hand; my joints tend to get stiff in the cold.”

This is lie. He watches to see if Zhukov catches it. The sparkle in the man’s eyes tells him he did, in the worst possible way.

Be careful.

“ Hmm! Yes, I suppose neither Dunwall or Serkonos gets quite this cold. Even during the summer thaw, it isn’t that warm up here.” Zhukov motions for Corvo to sit and he does so, only now realizing that he’d been standing with only his food set onto the table. Zhukov makes a subtle look down the table.

“Mind if I take a look at your wrist?”

Corvo’s eyes flick up to Zhukov’s face. The man interlaces long bony fingers evenly on the table. Corvo responds by rolling his wrist and stretching his fingers.

“Don’t worry about it. It won’t get in the way of my work, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Of course, didn’t mean to pry. But you may want to look into getting a new wrap. That one is quite frayed.”

“Thank you. I’ll look into it,” Corvo says lightly, and they both fall into a silence as they eat their food. After they are done eating, Corvo and Zhukov say their goodbyes, both quick to head out to their respective manual labors for the day.

“Same time tomorrow?” Zhukov asks conversationally. As if this was a regular occurrence.

Corvo glances at the clock. Glances at Zhukov.

Tread lightly.

“Sure. I’ll be here.”

They part ways as if nothing more than a casual meeting happened, both knowing that isn’t the case at all.

They meet the following day, as well as the day after that. With the sun high in the sky now, almost everyone was up out of the salt mines and working while the weather was fair. Schedules align more easily. Nearly every day, Zhukov and Corvo are able to meet, eat, and exchange pleasantries.

Except they aren’t pleasantries at all.

It’s subtle, but the veins of serious conversation run just below the surface of each word. The meetings, however, are amiable enough. Zhukov has many stories and makes for an interesting companion. Despite this, Corvo is not sure what trust means to the other man; even as the secrets slip by, Corvo is not sure yet how much to tell Zhukov, and watches each step with a calculated eye.

As a result of his own careful efforts and Zhukov’s intel, Corvo’s mental map of Utyrka grows.

For example, Corvo has now learned through their banter that Utyrka utilizes an underground railway for the guards to rotate shifts and renew supplies. Corvo has known about this railway because the inmates come in through these tunnels, but that was basic knowledge. Now, he knows rough schedules of the railcar comings and goings. He knows how long the tunnels are. He knows most people who try to escape through those tunnels die because of a lack of oxygen, a lack of food, a lack of water, or all of the above.

Corvo has learned the true perimeter of the grounds, and how that changes based on visibility. He knows the furthest body from Utyrka succumbed to frostbite 25 kilometers out. It’s been out there for 74 years, roughly, untouched even by the wolves and so perfectly preserved it looks like the person dropped yesterday. The guards don’t pursue anyone, because nobody has ever really escaped. The Tyvian wilderness is just too harsh for the mere mortal human to handle on their own.

Corvo has also learned that in the over 500 years since the prison has been operational, only about a thousand prisoners have ever served their full sentences. No matter the length, almost all prisoners die here. Some will be here for life, though very few have lasted longer than ten years. Many will try to escape; most, though, succumb to the harsh labor and maddening lack of sunlight. There are even stories of prisoners losing their minds and just wandering off, only to be found months later, dead and curled in a salt cave alcove. No matter their demise, nobody ever has escaped, and only a few have survived.

By the time the sun sets, Corvo’s knowledge of Utyrka is much greater than it was when the sun rose.

Despite this, Corvo never relaxes. His skin still prickles when around Zhukov, his heart still races like he should blink away and never look back. Against his gut instinct, Corvo stays, listening and learning because, just like him, Zhukov has a secret. And Corvo is so close to that secret, he can practically feel it brush up against his fingertips.

It’s the day after the sun finally dips under the horizon that Corvo makes his move. Like a cat, he plans every step, silently stalking closer the breaking point.

“Zhukov,” Corvo says after they eat, grabbing the attention of the thin man. Zhukov doubles back, eying Corvo curiously. The good weather and lack of salt mine work has been good for Zhukov; over the summer his skin had tanned and his eyes had cleared. He also found time to keep his beard trimmed; now, it twitches, a subtle smile tugging at his cheeks.

“Corvo!”

“Can I talk to you for a second? I was going to look into that new wrap you suggested…”

Zhukov doesn’t need a second hint; the eager curiosity shines on his face even as he makes his way over to Corvo slowly and evenly. Corvo motions him around a corner of the complex, just out of the guard’s earshot. It’s deadly cold without the sun, the darkness stretching away from them and only punctuated by the occasional whale oil lamp. When Zhukov pauses, Corvo tugs him a little further along, pulling them out of the light entirely. Hot vapor billows from their mouths in clouds as they hurry along.

“Corvo, what is it? I, uh– woah. ” Zhukov stops only to be started again by Corvo’s powerful grip pulling him along. “Ow– yikes , hey is it just me or is your hand really…warm?”

Corvo looks down at his hand and abruptly lets go, shaking it off. Steam rises gently from under the wrapping. Corvo swallows hard, composing himself.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize–”

“This meeting has nothing to do with a new hand wrap, does it.”

Corvo looks at Zhukov, who knowingly looks right back. He takes a deep breath, his fingers flexing nervously, instinctively.

“No,” Corvo starts, between breaths. The cold air bites at his lungs with each inhale. “It doesn’t. But–”

He pauses, choosing his words.

Caution, Corvo .

“Zhukov, you’ve told me– a lot on what we need to do to get out of here. But I haven’t told you how I can help us.”

Corvo hesitates only a second before he starts to carefully unwrap his hand. The Mark underneath burns, as if wanting nothing more than to be exposed to the cold air, to be used. Zhukov’s eyes watch, confused, until the long strip of cloth falls away, revealing Corvo’s left hand in its entirety. Corvo exhales in relief, watching the Mark as it burns and glows with a sensation that goes deeper than just skin.

Corvo can just barely hear the sharp intake of breath from Zhukov over the Tyvian wind.

“Oh,” Zhukov breathes out. His hands tremble as they hover over Corvo’s Mark. Somewhere in the back of Corvo’s mind, an alarm bells rings and his Mark sears painfully as the other man nears it. He does his best to ignore it.

“You know what this is, don’t you,” Corvo says, keeping his hand just out of reaching distance.

“I–yes, but only the stories, never in person.” Zhukov’s breathing is short. “To think that…all this time…”

More alarms, more pain. Corvo gently pulls his Marked hand back, and it’s like a spell is lifted from Zhukov. He meets Corvo’s eyes as Corvo slowly wraps his hand, hiding the Mark of the Outsider from the cold.

“ This is what I can offer you. The darkest months are when I can use my…abilities the most without being seen.” Careful . “But even my powers are not enough for an assured escape. I just can’t stretch that far. I still need your help, Zhukov.”

He stares Zhukov down, eyes burning like dark embers.

“Can I trust you with this secret?”

Zhukov inhales. The Outsider didn’t lie; the man loves his secrets. Zhukov is nearly shaking in excitement and triumph, as if he always knew but Corvo telling him made it official.

“Yes, of course,” he says, his voice barely over a whisper. “I didn’t work for ten faithful years under the royal spymaster just to sell out your secret here. I want to get out of here and clear my name too.”

Corvo nods, massaging his wrist. He shifts, turns.

“Good. Now, we should get back before the guards ask, and before the food gets–”

“Wait.”

Corvo turns, watching Zhukov carefully, a frown on his lips. Zhukov is fidgeting, as if on the verge of explaining something else.

“I have something else for you, too. That I need to tell you, because maybe you can help me understand it. You might be the only one who does. I would have mentioned it sooner, but I didn’t know…about…” he finishes by gesturing towards Corvo’s left hand.

Corvo’s frown deepens as his insides chill over. “What is it?”

Before he can respond, a guard yells out to them. Both of them jump, turning to see who it is that’s calling out.

Two guards plow up to them, waving for their attention. They are in full Utyrka gear, their heavy coats and thick eyewear hiding their identities.

“Oi! Is that you, Attano, Zhukov?”

Shit . Both of them straighten, fearing the worst. Zhukov squints in recognition.

“Stine, is that you? Yes it’s me, I’m here with Attano.”

Zhukov waves back, and Corvo eyes him carefully. Whatever he was about to reveal, Zhukov has already buried it away like a mouse buries its storage.

“Excellent,” Stine says as she nears. “I’m glad we found you. I have a new assignment and you’re just the man I need. Attano, you can help; this is a two-man job at the very least.”

Somewhere, soft and faint, a ringing starts in Corvo’s ears. It almost reminds him of another sound, singing softly, beckoning him, led by a still-beating heart. He squints against the reverberation, shaking his head to be rid of it.

“What can we do for you, Stine?”

“We found a new tunnel in the mines – need to see if it leads anywhere fresh. You’re the best man for the job, Zhukov. Follow us; they’ll be wanting you both down in the mines, effective immediately.”

#dishonored #corvo attano #zhukov #the outsider #dishonored au #temper the blade #steady the sword #fic #my fic #fanfic #my fanfic #writing #my writing #chapter twoooo #up and running #and very cold #almost out of tyviaaaa

[saintbalor-blog]

“ THERE’S ALWAYS THAT ONE COUPLE IN THE BEDROOM AT A HIGH SCHOOL PARTY ! “

REQUEST: Lil request where Patrick shows up to readers Halloween party and wears a mask to hide who he is and obviously in classic Patrick manners stalks reader and you decide how it ends :o love yours works!!! Keep it up!

REQUEST: stalker Patrick please 😫

AUTHOR’S NOTE: happy friday the 13th, i’ll try to get another out with one of the other boys 🎃💗



 Fingers coated in cheap, fake, blood wrapped around the flimsy body of the red plastic cup filled with her choice of alcoholic drink. Bringing the cup up to her scarlet lips resting in a smiling position, her back pressed against her kitchen’s counter and her skeptical eyes glued to her boyfriend in his full get-up, she shook her head in disapproval at her boyfriend’s attempt to look frightening. Taking a sip of her bitter drink and ignoring the burning sensation at the back of her throat, she discarded the cup into the sink and stepped closer to male in front of her.

“I don’t know.” She honestly answered as her opinion on his halloween costume, her voice loud due to the multiple people yelling and the music blaring in the background. “I don’t see what’s so scary about a fucking clown.”

Placing her hands on either side of the mask he bore, she tilted his head from side to side as she took in the sight of the chipped painted clown makeup against the smooth white surface, lacking any horror characteristics and just appearing as a harmless clown you would hire on your child’s fifth birthday. Sighing and dropping her hands from his mask, she reached for his white gloved hands and gave him a reassuring squeeze that her boyfriend wasn’t having, the tainted corn syrup on her hands staining the soft cloth.

“Come on, babe. You’re telling me you wouldn’t piss yourself if you saw someone coming at you with this costume?” Her boyfriend hopelessly asked, the disappointment evident in his voice at the lack of fear he evoked from her when he first came up behind her and only received an ‘aw’ from her.

“Maybe if there was a psychopath under all this but I know it’s you.” Releasing his clothed left hand from hers, she curled her fingers around the plastic edge of the mask and slid it up, exposing her boyfriend’s handsome facial features underneath the mask. “Aw, babe, I’m sure you’ll scare someone.” She tried cheering him up before balancing on her tippy toes to place a gentle, comforting, kiss on his lips; the heels she wore not serving enough height to close their difference.

“I just —“ Her boyfriend began, narrowed eyes catching a glimpse of an unsettling image behind her shoulder before he could continue, his blood going cold at the sight he was met with. “Gimme a sec.” He abruptly excused himself and marched off towards her living room packed with all their friends, the sudden mood change startling and confusing his girlfriend.

Glancing behind her shoulder, eyebrows furrowed and mouth presenting a frown, she was only met with the sight of her clown boyfriend getting lost in the crowd of drunk students with a strong purpose that she didn’t understand. Shrugging her shoulders at his sudden outburst when she lost sight of him, the alcohol in her system not aiding her usual rational thinking that would yell to go after him, she allowed herself to become engrossed in conversation with her friends nearby.

🎈

Stumbling into her empty bedroom, closing the door behind her with the heel of her shoe and reaching for the light switch, she was sobered within seconds when it dawned on her that she wasn’t the only one in the dark room. Moving back into the wall behind her for a sense of comfort, the newly found light illuminating the room and revealing the unwelcome culprit sitting at the edge of her bed, her rapid heart race slowed down when the figure began walking towards her and her boyfriend’s familiar clown mask started to register in her mind.

“Woah, hey there.” Y/N calmly greeted him as her body relaxed, her shoulders flat against the wall and her feet planted a good inch or four away from it, putting her body at an odd angle that she found comfortable at the time of her drunken state. “Cat got your tongue?” She teased when she was met with silence, arching an eyebrow at him and crossing her arms over her chest, the dress she wore exposing a little more than she usually would but hey, it was Halloween.

The clown mask she had previously ridiculed her boyfriend for and the eerie silence in the room was making her uneasy, her body tensing when he pressed his hips against hers, pushing her back up against the wall and caging her in with his hands on either side of her head. A needy hand, lacking the gloves he was wearing earlier, brushed through her mess of hair and twirled a loose curl along his finger. Her doe eyes, filled with fear and want, moved from the way her hair was locked around the slender finger to the clown mask hiding the face of the boy she was currently under.

“I see you added fake blood, nice touch.” She tried once again at getting a response out of him again, taking note of the various splats of deep red scattered across his previously clean mask that hardly resembled the corn syrup and food coloring mix they had made earlier. “Y’know, this silence is actually making this costume work for you, baby. It’s actually spooking me a little —“

Her nervous rambling was cut of by his hand leaving her hair and sliding up her slim neck instead, taking a hold of her by the back of her neck and gluing her gaze up at him. The feeling of something pressing up against her bare thigh deeply contrasted with the dark racing thoughts she was having, none of them of them being too friendly when the small details she had passed over at first glance where starting to come to the surface now.

The way the hand holding her by her neck was significantly larger and rougher than her boyfriend’s, the lankier body body pressed up against hers not as toned as her athletic boyfriend’s, the actions of the masked stranger void of the usual sweet undertone her boyfriend had. Had it not been for the mask Patrick had ripped off of her boyfriend’s now bloodied face, Y/N would’ve seen the way his devious lips curled up into an excited grin when he knew she realized she wasn’t in the safety of her boyfriend anymore.

Squirming under Patrick’s suggestive hold, only helping in turning him on even more, Y/N’s usual playful demeanor was dropped when he wrapped his hand around her neck and gave it what he considered a gentle squeeze. Her breathing hitched when she watched him remove the once innocent mask off of his face and reveal a much scarier sight to her, the face of the teen who’s been working on making her life a living hell recently. The mask plopped to the floor beside them with a thud, serving as a taunting reminder that her boyfriend was nowhere to be reached as of now.

“What the hell?” Y/N cursed, her voice weak from the hold he had on her throat, making it harder to breath with each second that he tightened it — getting hard at the sight of her growing flustered in fear that he’d choke her to death right then in her bedroom. “Let go of me.”

“Not a chance.” Patrick smirked, his green eyes boring into hers helping bring out the fear hidden behind her pupils, making her even more uncomfortable under him with all his attention directed on her. “You wanted scary, didn’t you? Is this good enough for you or should I take out a little something extra?” He tortured her with her own words she had exchanged with her boyfriend in what she thought was privacy, giving her the unwanted knowledge that he had been around the chaotic party longer than she thought, his free hand taking out the knife he had swiped from Henry earlier.

“Stop.” Y/N pleaded as wide eyes glanced down at the weapon in his hand, her body flinching and a whimper shared between them when he pressed the button on the side and the blade came to life in between them. “Patrick, please, stop.” She desperately tried when the blade softly grazed over her the skin on her shoulder, the cold metal from the knife making her body tremble as she waited for him to just go through with it and kill her right there — unaware that Patrick found her as too much fun to kill her just yet.

“But isn’t this fun, Y/N? It’s just like those horror movies you’re always talking about with your loser friends.” Patrick’s voice was filled with excitement as he mocked the girl who shut her eyes in fear, hurrying in opening them when she felt him draw blood near her shoulder. “Didn’t you always want to star in one of them?” 

“No.” Y/N unconsciously lied as her mind was focused more on the trinkets of blood trailing down to her torso than discussing mildly serious plans she had joked about with her friends in class. 

“Oh, Y/N, you shouldn’t have lied to me. I don’t take too kindly to that.” Her small, harmless, lie had tumbled into something far more serious in Patrick’s mind, proving the disloyalty he knew the girl had towards him. “Now, I’m gonna have to show you that lying comes with consequences.” His bottom lip jutted out in a playful pout at his words, creating a false sense of disappointment at having to teach her a lesson as he moved the knife away from her body for a split second, allowing her a brief moment of false security.

“What-“

Y/N’s innocent question was cut off by the sharp, sudden, pain crawling down her body, the clean knife dirtied from the large wound it left on the side of her face, her hands immediately flying to cover the cut oozing what felt like a million gallons of blood. Staring up at him in disbelief, the blood seeping through her fingers and mixing in with the fake one, her face stung horribly from the wound and her shaky hand could only offer so much comfort. 

“Look at you, you’re a mess.” Patrick softly spoke, putting the knife back in the pocket of his jeans and placing a hand over hers on her face, gifting her the opposite of comfort. “How ‘bout you come home with me and I’ll fix you all up, huh?” 

The offer standing in the air would have been a nice romantic gesture if he hadn’t been the one that cut up her face in the first place. Meekly shaking her head at his offer, unable to process the needed words from the amount of shock instilled in her, she only worked on riling him up even more. 

“Or would you prefer for me to go screw with your pansy of a boyfriend some more?” The tense silence was enough of an answer for him, removing the bloodied hand from her injured face and lacing their fingers together, pulling her shaken up body off of the wall and towards the door leading to their grand exit of the night. “I thought so.” He mumbled to himself as he led them away from the safety of her home. 

#Patrick hockstetter one shot #patrick hockstetter imagine

[hayjeon]

Sutures and Stitches [m] (ft. Jeongguk) Part 1

→ Genre: Angst, action, fluff, mature (mentions of blood, wounds, medical jargon) (smut in future chapters)

→ Jungkook/Reader

→ 1.7k words

→ Summary: hitman!jeongguk and medstudent!Y/N bestfriends!au; Jeongguk always shows up to your place or hospital whenever he gets hurt because you guys are best friends and you patch him up, but he has no idea that every time you stitch up his wounds, it tears open new wounds in your own heart. 

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

It was your secret that your best friend was a hitman, and his secret that his best friend was a medical resident currently $200k in debt and working 80 hours a week saving people. But it worked out somehow. He kept you safe by walking you home to your dingy and dangerous apartment every night after your rounds ended in the dark hours of the night, and you helped him patch up any wounds and kept it secret from his friends and yours. It was a symbiotic relationship, dangerous anyhow, but it worked.

“Y/N? Your friend Jeon Jungkook just came up to the desk again and asked for you, do you have time between your appointments to see him now?”

The pager next to your bunk bed crackled to life and you groaned and lifted your head up from your nap on the desk littered with textbooks and coffee rings.

“I’ll be right down.”

You stretched your stiff limbs and your sore neck, aching from the hours of rounds in the hospital you were serving your residency at. After picking the wrong slip of paper out of the bowl, you had been sentenced to a week of rounds in the emergency room along with a few other residents who were no more happier than you to have to endure the endless hours of horrible and demanding patients and unexpected medical cases.

You had finally gotten about 45 minutes of a lunch break and decided to take a nap instead of stuffing your face with whatever junk food you would’ve gotten your hands on. But duty called, and this time, it was a muscly idiot who always came to your hospital to get his idiotic wounds patched up by yours truly.

You gathered your stethoscope and your pager into the pockets of the white gown and slowly rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. Chugging a gulp of coffee from a cup that you had no idea who it belonged to, you winced at the bitter cold liquid before shuffling your way to your office.

“Could you send him up to the residency office in the emergency room please, Nurse Oh? I’ll be there in 3 minutes.”

“Sure! He’s on his way up right now.”

Thanking her, you exited the dorm room area and quickly made your way into your office. Thankfully, the other residents had been taking their rounds so that each of your lunch breaks were staggered. Since it was your turn for the break, no one would end up running into you and Jungkook for another 20 minutes, which you deemed, enough time to patch up whatever trouble he’d gotten into this time.

When you got there, somehow, the idiot had already settled himself onto your desk, sitting atop hours of papers and readings, and had already taken off his shirt so that you could take a better look at his wound. He was inspecting a bloody wound on his forearm and lowly cursing whilst poking and prodding at the skin.

“Those curse words are exactly what go through my mind every time I get a call about you coming again.” You sneer as you make your way around the desks and up to him.

Grinning, he winks and shoves his arm in your face, “What are best friends for? If I go to any other hospital they’re gonna charge me so much money and question me and fuck, it’ll be so annoying. I’d rather come here to my awesome, smart friend and get patched up like new free of charge.”

You pinched him, right underneath the wound, close enough to the gaping cut to hurt him but far enough as to avoid contaminating the cut or tearing it further. He yelped and gave you a sheepish smile as you put on your rubber gloves and rolled the cart of emergency supplies next to him. Even when he was sitting on your desk, he was a little taller than your standing figure, and it gave you the perfect position to tend to his wound.

It was an open cut, about three inches long and laterally spanning across his forearm. It seemed to be pretty deep, but his muscles had kept the wound from hitting important arteries and nerves. It would take a few weeks or so to heal completely, but would definitely scar, adding to the collection of other wounds littering his body.

Without having to ask, he began listing off the details. “It was a gambling mogul and I was hired to take him out today but I accidentally got tangled up with a few henchmen and one of them had a knife. I think it was a swiss knife but I dodged it pretty well and didn’t notice the cut until after. But damn! Y/N! You should’ve seen how I dodged it and smashed that motherfucker’s face in, it was fucking awesome!”

You rolled your eyes and made a quick motion to punch him, making him flinch and laugh in the process. “You’re such an asswipe, why would you run into them? I told you to start being careful! This is gonna hurt.” After disinfecting the wound, you filled a syringe with anesthetic and flicked the barrel to make sure there were no air bubbles. Jungkook winced and turned his face away as you slowly began to inject the liquid around his wound.

“It wasn’t my fault, I couldn’t hear Yoongi tell me that they were there. He was watching all the cameras but then the connection got cut off since these motherfuckers always work in deserted areas- ow! Y/N! Fuck that hurts.”

“It’s supposed to hurt you dickwad.” You were sewing up the wound now, slowly working the tiny hook needle through the skin and carefully making snips after each suture. You prided yourself on having one of the best suture techniques out of all the residents, a skill that gave you a little advantage to the other residents. Little did you know though, that this skill would be wasted on your douchebag of a best friend. Years of growing up with him did nothing to change the kid-mentality of the grown man who was pouting at the sight of a needle, and neither did it help that he constantly got himself involved with a job that required physical and mental dedication and risk.

“Your wound isn’t deep enough to hit any important arteries or nerves. But it’s gonna take a bit to heal and is definitely gonna scar. You need to disinfect it a lot too, but I’m guessing you’re just gonna whine about it and force me to do it anyway. It’s a good thing the knife didn’t go too much past your muscle cause they might’ve hit the tendon.”

He ignored everything else you said and focused on what you expected his idiot mind to focus on. “Are you saying my arms are muscular enough to deflect a knife? Fuck yeah, I knew I was getting bigger. The training I’ve been getting from Hoseok is definitely working.”

You never really tried to pry into the details of his work. You just understood that he did something along the lines of “saving innocent people from fuckers who take advantage of the weak” in the way he explained it to you one night years ago. He was hired to kill and spotlessly take out dangerous men in the industry, while you were hired to save humans from any incident, no matter who they were or what they did. And that included your duty and loyalty to your best friend Jeon Jungkook.

It was your secret that your best friend was a hitman, and his secret that his best friend was a med resident currently $200k in debt and working 80 hours a week saving people. But it worked out somehow. He kept you safe by walking you home to your dingy and dangerous apartment every night after your rounds ended in the dark hours of the night, and you helped him patch up any wounds and kept it secret from his friends and yours. It was a symbiotic relationship, dangerous anyhow, but it worked.

Oh and it didn’t help that you began feeling things for your best friend, feelings of responsibility and missing him whenever he disappeared on his “missions” for weeks at a time. Your heart always skipped a beat whenever he showed up silently to your apartment or hospital, and your cheeks always threatened to give you away whenever he flirted.

As you quietly worked on the remaining sutures, Jungkook got distracted and bored again, and began flexing his other arm. “Look Y/N, look, its so big now. Damn.” You glared up at him to catch him flexing his arm and throwing the cockiest look at you. Holding the pair of sharp scissors up to his line of sight, you growled, “Don’t fucking test me Jeon Jungkook, i’m holding one of the sharpest tools in the tray right now.”

He laughed it off and straightened up. “You’re just jealous of my abs. But you look kind of hot in your black scrubs and those scissors. You should wear those more often.”

And there it was: the incessant flirting. But it had become such a norm in the friendship that it didn’t bother you besides the flush that would creep up your face every time he threw those offhanded comments at you. You knew he had to be joking; you were on your 14th hour at the hospital, with day-old hair, no-makeup, dark-circles down to your chin, and those damn crocs the senior residents insisted on you wearing. But you kept your face down, and your hot cheeks hidden behind the protective mask around your face.

You finished the last suture and snipped off the thread, and began dressing the wound. “You need to re-dress this everyday and make sure to disinfect it three times a day. Make sure to drop by in a few days so I can check that its not getting infected.”

He smiled and put his t shirt and jacket on. “I’m just gonna sleepover your house every day until it’s all better! I’m done with the missions for a few weeks, Namjoon told me to take a break.”

He hopped off the table and threw his arm around your neck, “And we’ll have so much time to catch up and play!” He leaned in and smack on the top of your head and made his way out the door as you began to clean up the tools you used. As you watched him leave the room with a flirty wink and a cocky smirk, you sighed and shoved your hands into your white gown.

It was gonna be an interesting couple of weeks.

part 2 part 3

#fics #jeongguk fic #jungkook fic #bts fic #bangtan bookclub #jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #bts smut #jungkook angst #jeongguk angst #bts angst #bts scenario #junggook scenario #jeongguk scenario

[6bunnies]

i promise ☆ zelo scenario

word count: 1,991

skydive au series: yongguk - himchan - daehyun - youngjae - jongup - zelo

It was the last thing you’d ever thought you’d be doing; working as a bartender at a club owned by one of Seoul’s most prominent gangs; serving some of the most powerful men in the entire country.

Associating yourself with these types of people, working late into the night. You knew it was bad. You knew it was dangerous.

But you didn’t have a choice. In your mind, being able to get a college education was something worth the risk. And if you had to work in unideal conditions in order to make tuition money, then so be it.

“____, refill this for me will ya?” your boss’ gruff voice boomed as cigarette smoke filled the air.

“Yes sir,” you approached him, never able to look him in the eyes as you took the glass from his hand.

It was 4 AM, the club long past closing time. It was merely you, your boss, and two of his right-hand men. They always stayed late, and you were forced to stay as long as they were there.

You walked over to the bar, taking a bottle of scotch of the shelf and pouring the glass half-full before you hearing a bang on the door.

“Who the hell his that?” you heard your boss yell, commanding one of his men to answer the door.

Mere seconds later, you heard gunshots. Several of them, coming one after another.

Your heart slammed against your chest, panic setting in immediately. You had feared something like this happening. Someone coming for your boss while you were in his presence.

You quickly scanned the room, trying to find some sort of hiding spot, some sort of escape as the footsteps of intruders neared closer and closer.

Seeing the small supply closet behind the bar you rushed to the door and locked yourself inside, hoping to god no one would find you.

Tears began to form in your eyes as more gunshots bellowed through though the club.

“B.A.P?! Why the fuck are you in here!?”

Your eyes shot wide open at the sound of your boss screaming.

B.A.P

The city’s most notorious group of hitmen, known for being one of the most lethal groups on the entire continent, were ransacking and taking down some of the most prominent figures in the gang world mere feet away from you.

And you were frozen, with nothing but a fragile, old wooden door to protect you.

You began sobbing, trying to be as quiet as possible. If they found you, you’d be dead. No doubt about it. They wouldn’t even think twice before sending a bullet straight through your head.

“Please, please don’t find me, please don’t find me,” you softly whimpered to yourself, hoping to god they wouldn’t think anything of the little supply closet behind the bar.

But, boy, were you wrong.

You heard one last gunshot fire before hearing a deep voice command, “Start searching the place high and low. They’ve their money stashed around here somewhere.”

Oh god.

Oh god no.

Your hands were shaking uncontrollably, sweat poring down your body. You knew there was no way they wouldn’t look in the closet. If they were searching the whole place, there’s no way they wouldn’t come across it. No way.

You looked everywhere, trying to find something that would possibly be used as a weapon but it came with no avail. The closet was full of nothing but old empty boxes and cigars.

You had nothing but hope left. Hope that somehow, they wouldn’t find you. That somehow, they’d give up and move on.

But that hope was fleeting, for it was then that you heard the sound of bottles rattling as someone hopped over the bar, footsteps nearing closer and closer.

You watched as the person tried to open the lock, your hands flying to cover your mouth.

Please give up, please give up, please.

Suddenly, the knob of the door stop moving. You breathed a sign of relief, believing that the person had moved on.

But before your heart even had the chance to calm down, you watched as the door was violently busted wide open, your throat uttering a blood-curdling scream.

“Please don’t kill me, please, please!”

“Hey, hey it’s okay it’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise.”

You looked up to find a man with a soft, almost child-like face. No doubt around your age. He was tall, with black and blonde hair and a small piercing on his delicate nose.

You watched as he tucked his gun back in his holster before he slowly bent down to join you on the floor.

“Are you okay?” he asked you. His voice was soft, and gentle, his eyes bright and kind but still filled with concern.

“I…I…” you could barely speak, still unsure if this man could be trusted.

“Are you one of Jung Hyunwoo’s girls?”

“No…I…I…he’s my boss,” you stuttered out, your eyes barely meeting his, “He…He hired me to bartend at the club.

“You got lucky then, you were about to be for sure. It’s how he reels in all his girls.”

“His girls?” your eyebrows furrowed, not having the slightest idea was this man was telling you.

“Jung Hyunwoo runs a rather notorious prostitution ring,” he watched your eyes go wide as he continued, “He finds girls in need of work, so he offers them positions in the club and gains their trust before kidnapping them and forcing them into sex work.”

“You’re alright now though. My name’s Zelo,” he reached out his hand, offering to help you up.

“____,” you told him, shying away from him.

“I swear we’ll help you out. We’ll take you back to your place, make sure you get home safe. None of us will hurt you.”

You paused a moment before hesitantly giving him your hand.

Pulling you up, he gave you a soft smile; his hand still holding yours as he lead you out of the closet.

“Himchan,” he called out as your eyes travelled to the five men at the table sorting through what looked like thousands of dollars, “I found a Hyunwoo girl.”

You stood behind Zelo as Himchan’s sharp eyes turned soft at the sight of you.

“It’s alright,” Himchan told you while your mind still reeled over everything Zelo had said. “We will assist you in anyway that we can.”

Your eyes traveled across the faces that looked at you, their eyes filled with sympathy.

You weren’t sure how to process it all. This was a group of men that murder people. A group that ruthlessly shoot down people an not even bat an eye. Why were they being nice to you? And could you really trust them, knowing what they do?

“Youngjae, drive Zelo and the girl to her home,” Himchan ordered as he worked to gather more cash into bags, “I am trusting you two to return her safely.”

“Yes sir,” Youngjae and Zelo answered in unison.

“As for the rest us; we will be taking the money back to our downtown hideout. Everyone should report back to the mansion by 6AM.”

“Yes sir.”

You watched the men scatter as Zelo turned to face you. “Come on, _____, let’s get you home.”

You hesitantly followed him out of the club and into the car where Youngjae was waiting, Zelo sitting next to you in the back seat.

“Where do you live?” Youngjae turned to look at you but you avoided meeting his glance.

“The apartments 15 minutes from here, near the subway stop.”

He nodded, starting the car and driving off.

You remained silent in the back, still shaken over everything that had happened. Still uncertain if  you could trust these men to get you home.

Glancing over to your left, you watched as Zelo sat calmly, his delicate features illuminated by the passing city lights. You wondered how someone who looked so soft, so innocent, could do such cruel and aggressive work.

But yet at the same time, he was kind towards you, and seemed to want to help you.

You were perplexed by the boy. Completely and utterly perplexed.

“We’re here.”

Youngjae’s voice snapped you out of your train of thought as you unbuckled your seatbelt and opened the door.

“Thank you for the ride,” you sent them a soft smile, knowing it was the least you could do for them.

“Wait,” Zelo hopped out the car with you closing the door behind him. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

“Oh,” once again, this boy seemed to catch you off guard. “Thank you.”

The two of you began walking, your apartment on the very top level of the building; footsteps the only sound filling the air.

It stayed silent like that for awhile before your curiosity finally got the best of you.

“Zelo, why did you help me?”

“What?”

“Why did you save me? Why didn’t you just kill me?”

Zelo chuckled a bit, his hands traveling to his pockets.

“Is that really how bad our reputation is?”

You looked up at him quizzically.

“We aren’t savage murders, _____,” he looked up to the sky, taking in the stars that would soon fade once the sun arrived. “We don’t kill for fun, we kill for money. We kill the people we’re paid to killed.”

“But even then,” he continued, “it’s not always that black and white. Sometimes we get asked to to kill perfectly innocent people in which case we refuse. We don’t believe in a bitter husband wanting his cheating wife dead, or killing of some innocent kid just because their father pissed someone off in the mafia. We have a sense of humanity and we pride ourselves on that.”

“Regardless of what you’ve heard, we aren’t bad people, we really aren’t. I know we’ve done some pretty extreme stuff but….” he paused for a moment, looking down at his feet, “…I don’t want you to see me as some animal hunting for his next prey. I’d like for you to see me as a regular person, if that’s possible.”

Your body that was once tense relaxed at his words. Certainly his occupation was by no means normal, but at the same time, his words showed another side of him; a better side of him. One you could respect.

“I understand, your job doesn’t define you. I mean, just an hour ago I was a bartender at club owned by gang bosses. I’m sure people have their bad perceptions of me too.”

“I don’t,” Zelo quickly cut in, “I mean, I don’t know you very well but…I can tell that you’re kind. I can tell your job was never something you really wanted.”

You smiled at him, your cheeks turning light pink, “Well thank you Zelo, I’m very flattered you think that way.”

Continuing your way upstairs the two of you eventually reached the door of your small apartment.

“Thank you for everything, Zelo. For taking me home and walking me to my door, you’re very sweet,” you told him as you fumbled through your purse for your keys.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his face turning red, “It’s nothing, ____, really…and hey you know, if you ever don’t feel safe walking home alone I can always…come pick you up you know?”

You looked up from your purse and chuckled at him, “Really?”

“Yeah! Or you know if you’re just bored, and wanna you know, get some food or something that’s totally fine too.”

“Well,” you reached in your bag to grab your phone, “If you’d like we can exchange-“

“Yes!” he quickly cut in, whipping his phone out of his pocket. “You can text me or call whenever it’s fine, emergency or otherwise.”

“Anytime? Anytime at all and you’ll come help me?”

“Of course.” he grinned, typing his number into your phone and handing it back to you, “I promise.”

#zelo #b.a.p #bap #bap scenarios #b.a.p scenarios #skydive au

[teejaydeetrip]

A Bandaged Left Hand

I had an extremely vivid dream last night in which I gave myself a vasectomy with a pair of scissors and some extremely small plastic pegs. I remember the skin of my ball sack felt like plastic or polyester and there was no blood. At some point the stitching came undone and I had not taken the pegs out and I ran around the house trying to find some kind of tool to fix it. I was worried mostly about infection. I can’t remember how it started and I don’t think it ended on any proper note on account of a loud truck rumbling past my window and waking me up. The first thing I did was check my balls. The second thing I did was breathe a sigh of releif, and the third thing I did was fall asleep again, because it was only 11.30am and I had been up late the night before. 

Being awake at night in Australia is tormenting. Nobody is awake after 1am and nobody is really up for chatting after 12. I don’t think anybody was in Japan either, but at least I had drive there. On the rare night that I wasn’t singing karaoke, or trading stories with other travellers, I was driven. I had things to write. I had things to say. I learned Japanese or sketched ideas. I watched movies in little booths on futons in internet cafes and drank ramen and lay back, contented that the moment I wanted to, I could walk outside into the bright shining lights of 3am in Osaka. Are there many places that bright at 3am in other parts of the world? I hear New York is pretty lively. 

Here, even in the trendy parts of Sydney, I’d be lucky to find a service station. Here, I watch Netflix on autopilot. I just watched the second season of The Man In The High Castle, on complete autopilot. I barely registered it at all. It’s a good show, but not at the same time. It’s intensely boring, yet utterly compelling at the same time. TV shows take up too much time. I need to learn to write more. To use this diary. 

I haven’t written in days. What have I missed? I don’t think I’ve written yet about The Dove and Olive. This bar hired me as a bartender. I applied for a bartender position, and trialled as a bartender, yet when I started, they put me on the floor. My job is not to pour beers, but to deliver schnitzels and steaks to baby boomers for 5 hours a night, then clean the shitty gross plates up and gather their shitty gross napkins and bin their shitty gross leftovers. I made it known to some of my co-workers. They told me that is just the way it is here when you start. Then others added that that is just the way it is for guys in general. Floor staff have to change the kegs over and girls are too weak for that, apparently. 

There are like 7 or 8 girls tending bar here, meaning most nights will have me on the floor. I was not happy with this and I made it known. I didn’t say to the managers what I wanted to say; that any place with an initiation process is not the kind of place that I work at, or that I came here to be a bartender, not a fucking waiter. But I made I certainly didn’t have a smile on me when I had to do these. Every day I started I would walk behind the bar and start pouring beers until someone said “Hey aren’t you on the floor today?” to which I would respond, “I don’t know, am I?”.  On Friday, the Manager On Duty didn’t know how to answer me, and just let me pour beers. I don’t know if I was supposed to be on the floor or if he was just shy, It was St Paddy’s day. Pouring Guiness is a bitch. I dropped a pint glass while trying to hang it up and tried to catch it but ended up just slamming it down even harder onto a bench. It shattered and the shards cut my pointer and index finger.  

The licensee emailed me on Saturday, after working 3 shifts. She had gotten the hint. It had been passed up the chain of command from the MOD to the DM to the licensee. She asked me if I was comfortable and I checked the Sydney Bartender Exchange group on Facebook and found an ad for a cocktail bartender in Redfern and messaged him asking for the position. 

He messaged back 3 hours later to ask if I wanted to come in for a trial shift on that evening. 

I emailed the licensee back at the Dove and Olive telling her I wasn’t happy with the way things were at the ol’ Dolive and that I would be happy to finish the shifts I had been rostered on for next week, but that was it. It was all very amicable. She thanked me for my time and I thanked her for hers and we agreed I’d finish next week, then I went and got drunk with Nigel, my old lecturer from uni. 

I haven’t seen Nigel in 5 years. Kat and I, both students of his, had emailed him from Japan, when we met up and had a drink over there. He spent some time living and working in Japan and constantly joked about how hot Japanese girls are. He was the perfect sleazy old man charming rogue stereotype, only with real experience in the music industry and genuinely funny things to say. I told Kat and Nigel to meet me at Goro’s.

I drank a lot the night before, and was early. My eyes were pounding in the back of my head and I had a sharp fuzzy feeling scratching at the back of my head. A slight pounding headache. Goro’s was shut. I couldn’t bring myself to do anything except smoke and wait. Nigel and Kat arrive eventually, and we decide to walk to El Loco, a Mexican themed place that used to be The Excelsior. It’s only a few minutes around the corner. You can’t smoke in the outside tables because they serve food there but nobody is eating, so we do anyway. 

Kat tells us about her time in London and I tell them about my time in Japan and Germany and Nigel tells us about his time at the uni, where his employment is tenuous at best, and he tells us about how he hates Germany because he got into lots of trouble there and spent some time in German prison. His story was the kind of thing you can see in your head as a movie. Nigel in a leather jacket in the 80′s, careening across Europe like a flaming satellite crashing back down to earth, bringing with it information gleaned from the void. 3 day benders without leaving the same bar in Spain, dangerous meetings with dangerous men in dangerous alleys in Germany, snuff film screenings in warehouses in Amsterdam.

Before it’s all over, we have had 4 or 5 jugs of beer and a full packet of cigarettes in the space of 2 and a half hours and my spiky hangover has been replaced by a groggy hair-of-the-dog hangover and I need to go pretend to be a cocktail bartender in Redfern. I hug the both of them goodbye and we promise to do this again sometime soon. 

Moya’s Juniper Lounge. That’s the name of the place. It’s a small bar in Redfern specialising in gin and gin cocktails. On the way, I swing by Henry and Amanda’s place to borrow a black button up shirt. Henry only has two black button up shirts. One has a floral print and the other is a tuxedo shirt. I go with the tuxedo shirt. 

The owner, Charlie, sits me down the moment I get in. I apologise for the tuxedo shirt, it was the only one I could get at late notice. He says that’s fine. He gives me the run down. The place sticks to gin classics and sours. He has like 200 different kinds of gin and a handful of whiskeys. Charlie asks about my experience. I answer. He asks me what my availabilities are like and what kind of work I am looking for.  I answer.  I pretty much have the job interview before the trial, which is a good sign. He introduces me to Nick, the other bartender, here from The Wild Rover, a whiskey bar in Surry Hills. A gangly kid that doesn’t look a day over 17. Nice kid, but a bit standoff-ish.

I fumble my way through conversation with the two of them whilst nobody comes in at all for an hour. A small group come in and I make my second ever Martini. The guy likes it so much that all his friends ask for one two. 

So my conversation skills aren’t so great while I feel this whacked out, but I have made the best martini this group has ever had, so at least my martini game is strong. They make them vintage style here. Charlie says he wants his bar to look and feel like it came straight out of the 1950′s. All the stuff you usually have in speed rails is on a table behind the bar, the furniture are all antiques or rescued from Charlies grandparents farm, music from the 30′s, 40′s and 50′s plays through the PA. and the martini’s are made with: -60ml Tanqueray gin -20ml Dry vermouth -2 Dashes orange bitters -1 Olive

We have no other customers until 9.30pm, when about 6 groups of people all mill in seemingly at once. We are chocked. I pump out Negroni’s and Martini’s and Aviation’s and Charlie Chaplin’s with relative ease. I get stuck on the Clover Club. It’s a sour whose ingrediants have escaped my mind, so I’ll have to list next time. The important thing to note here is that I have never worked a cocktail bar that didn’t have it’s egg white’s kept in a squeeze bottle, pre-cracked by whoever does that. I drop the egg yellow into the first mix by accident and ditch the whole mix. On the second attempt, I put the ice in the wrong side of the shaker, and attempt to put the other side, with is mix on top of the one with the ice, spilling the whole mix all over the prep station. On the third attempt, we have run out of squeezed lemons. so I begin to cut up a lemon and slice my thumb open and start bleeding everywhere. I have to ask Nick to finish it, and Charlie finds me a band-aid and opens it up while I keep the bleeding at bay with a tissue. 

After I’ve been patched up, I make a couple more negroni’s and aviations (aviators?) and when it hits 10, I check Facebook and realise that I’m shifted on at the club at 10, not 11. I’m about to tell Charlie this, and as I do, he tells me that’s good for tonight and if I need to get off to the club, I’m free to do so. 

I’m concerned, but he handshakes hard and strong and smiles many thank you’s He tells me that another lady is finishing up here, but he would be happy to split the time up between us if I have enjoyed myself. To top it all off, he pays me for the trial. It’s a sign of a decent man, if not heavenly entity to pay for a trial shift in Sydney. 

I change out of my tuxedo shirt and into a black T and thank Charlie again on the way out. I wave goodbye and walk right next door, into a hip hop bar called Hustle & Flow. I order a shot of tequila, tip the change and grab a cab from outside. I message Marina, letting her know I will be late, and it ends up costing me 20 dollars to get one suburb over. Fucking cabs, man. 

I can’t remember the name of the girl who is promoting the party, but she is turnt as fuck. She used to work here, and keeps letting herself in behind the bar to make Margarita’s for herself. I try to tempt her with the offer of a margarita-ish drink but she never takes me up on it, so I offer one to Marina and make her a Whisky-rita. (-60ml Bourbon -30ml Drambuie -30ml Lime)

I try to make Matty a St Croix Sour, but it turns out Creme De Ginger is way different to the ginger liqueur I am accustomed to using. 

I drink heaps of tequila on shift. And a beer or three. It’s all good fun. I clean up the bar fine and learn how to use the bottle crusher (Step 1-turn it on. Step 2-put empty bottles into it) and a broken bottle inside it makes a small cut on my finger, but only a tiny drop of blood emerges. It’s on the same hand as the other two.

I walk to The Strawberry Hills Hotel in Surry Hills with Matty and drink a red wine and run into Steve, an old uni friend, and the bar shuts nearly immediately. I take a cab home and stumble into bed at 5.30am on Sunday morning. My weekend has barely even begun.

#depression #bipolar #sadness #sad #writing #journal #tequila #gin #bourbon #tanqueray #bartender #cocktails #cocktail #bars #redfern #sydney #osaka #japan #nightmare #weekend #martini #negroni

[edgeasaurus-blog]

Suburbicon, 12%: Jesus Christ...

So I just saw “Suburbicon” and I am in awe! I didn’t think there would be a film that came out last year that was worse than “The Snowman”, and I still don’t know if it is; I’m not sure if sheer disappointment compared to the rage I felt at “The Snowman” is clouding my judgment so for now I am leaving them the same rating.

So with that disclaimer, lets get into this shit show!

Positives: Trying the save the ship...

- Most of the actors were completely adequate with the exception of Matt Damon, who I feel was phoning it in; maybe after realizing how this film was going to turn out.

- Oscar Issac is always a win.

Negatives: Sinking like The Titanic!

One of the problems I had going into this film is my love for the 1950′s aesthetic and setting. I love this setting and I attribute this to Bethesdas Fallout games and style, and from the trailers “Suburbicon” seemed to utilize the same forms of marketing, which got me very excited. The trailers show then nuclear family, the idealistic post war optimism and the general nostalgic feel from the 50s/60s. Its done to such a high caliber much like the Fallout games that for a moment I thought I was about to see the post-nuclear wasteland come to life on the silver screen. The trailer then devolves into a stylistic but basic trailer but it was enough to get me excited for the film. I think this is a testament to how powerful and how abused the medium of trailers are, with “Suburbicon”, “The Murder on the Orient Express” (Which I will not be posting about at risk of suicide from fear of reliving that film) and “The Snowman”, trailers can be so well crafted now as to completely change and mislead audiences. This could be argued that its a masterful form of marketing, because with these films; with the exception of some actors, the films don’t seem like passion projects or art, they seem to be made purely to get the masses in seats and take their money or save a dying film before release. I don’t mean to get preachy but its just a thought I had... I mean, we all remember the Suicide Squad trailers... So now I will get into the modern day masterpiece that “Suburbicon” is:

The Plot: Fuckery of the Highest Regard

“Suburbicon” has a problem, very similar to “The Snowman” where it doesn't seem to know what the fuck it wasn't to be. Is it an nostalgic look at the 1950′s life? Is it a murder mystery which keeps you on the edge of your seat? Is it a look into the twisted mind of an unhappy man? Is it an interesting crime film full of action and suspense? Is it a look into racism in the 50′s/60′s and the effects that segregation and bigotry can have in small communities? No. Its all of these things done very very poorly. So I am going to try and dissect this mishmash of a plot and story threads and try to explain how and why each of them do not work alone or in conjunction with each other.

Is it an nostalgic look at the 1950′s life? Short and sweet; the 1950′s setting is completely wasted and pointless. The aesthetics and marketing are done very well, so credit to the set designers and location scouts etc, but it serves no purpose. This film could've been set in modern day at much less cost and the narrative wouldn't change, more is less, the setting seems only to be in there to sell tickets and look pretty, wasted opportunity.

Is it a murder mystery which keeps you on the edge of your seat? No, not really. After the murder the reveal is basically ‘revealed’ immediately, that it was the father who hired the two hit men. Oops, spoiler warning... No but fuck off fuck spoilers, don’t see this film. Seriously though, the film is marketed as some crime mystery but its painfully obvious even before the reveal. Like if even the trailers are going to heavily indicate the big reveal to your shitty mystery, why would you act like its this big thing WHEN YOU FUCKING REVEAL IT 15 FUCKING MINUTES, AFTER THE MURDER FUCKING OCCURS!.. Sorry I got a bit agitated there, I think this film has damaged my psyche, we’re even getting meta here as if I’m really speaking to you rather than this being a piece of text written by a bitter man you found on the internet... But speaking of a messed up psyche:

Is it a look into the twisted mind of an unhappy man? The film actually showed some glimmer of promise here, Matt Damon is a good actor regardless of any preference you may have, his portrayal of the Father in this film is similarly unhinged reminiscent to his character in Christopher Nolan's “Interstellar”. Its a shame this wast properly executed. It essential comes down to his character wanted to fuck Julianne Moore so had his wife killed.. woo..

Is it an interesting crime film full of action and suspense? Not really??? The film is pretty boring honestly, with the only scenes of suspense being sort of worry for Damon's son? See how I used “sorta”, kinda shows my complete indifference here. At the very least its not interesting, there isn't much action and my suspense was waiting for the film to end. Bottom line? Boring.

Is it a look into racism in the 50′s/60′s and the effects that segregation and bigotry can have in small communities? Haha... Hahaha... HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! FUCK OFF! The film basically puts a fucking carrot in front of its audience and says: “HEY LOOK A BLACK FAMILY BEING ATTACKED, YOU SHOULD FEEL BAD!” This was done appallingly, its a cheap shot at the audience to get an emotional response that serves no purpose but to to get said emotional response! Its not only a wasted opportunity with the 50′s/60′s being a prime time to tell a story about racism, segregation and bigotry in America, but its almost disrespectful in its portrayal and manipulation tactics. There is a time and a place, this was neither, this was borderline offensive and manipulative.

Everything Else: B.O.R.I.N.G

- Cinematography: The cinematography was boring and uninspired. There were maybe two or three shots in the film that I enjoyed but the rest was an over abundance of basic camera angles and an over reliance on shot reverse shot.

- Soundtrack/ Original Score: Boring generic bollocks, little to no use of music from the time period, another wasted asset from the time period the film uses pointlessly.

- Performances: As previously mention, performances were fine, Damon felt constrained, Julianne Moore was rather flat, Oscar Issac was completely wasted and his scenes and dialogue were some of the only enjoyable moments in the film.

- Design: The costume design, set design and effects were great, shout out to this side of the production team; Bethesda, if you ever decide to make a fallout film, please get these guys on it!

This film is a boring ride with so much wasted potential it hurts. The worst thing is that people seem to actually think this film is good. They think its insightful, that its clever and intriguing. Some people even seem to think its portrayal of racism is done well. I just don’t understand people sometimes, this film will be a waste of your time and energy, don’t see it. 

Thank you for reading, now fuck off and go do something productive.

trailers problem