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echo-of-sounds · 4 years

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halloween pt.3

Small Halloween drabbles with Aizawa, Toshi, Hizashi, and Fatgum.

Hizashi’s is for a mature audience. I realized how horrible it would be to go shopping with him. He’s definitely the type to get distracted by everything that you have to keep pulling along to get your shopping done.

Aizawa Shouta - Halloween Fair

“Let’s go down there.” You pointed to the branching street.

Aizawa took a long swig of his beer before chiding, “We’re not going to waste money on any games.”

“Sho, come on. You said you wanted to come with me but you don’t want to try anything.”

“They’re rigged and the prizes aren’t even good.”

You grabbed his hand, stopping him in the middle of the flowing crowd. “If we’re not going to do anything, let’s just go home. We’ve already walked everywhere and petted all the animals, anyway.”

He stared at you. Eyebrows weighed low. Dark eyes reflected twinkling lights. Only he could manage an incredibly grumpy expression surrounded by cute mermaid and fairy costumes and glittering jack-o’-lanterns.

Heaving a long sigh, he glared at the stuffed animals in the distance. “Two games.”

“Each?”

“In total.”

You smiled wide and led him down the street. A wall of balloons caught your attention. Orange and black balloons laid out a pumpkin design with purple ones enclosing it. A fair amount had been popped. “I’ll play this.”

“It’s the easiest game here.”

“Which is why I’m choosing it,” you whispered so the worker didn’t hear. She handed you three darts. You quickly and rather easily popped three balloons.

“You can choose from those items,” the worker said, motioning to the right side.

The giant bat stuffed animal was the only real choice. Its wings fit around your shoulders and Velcroed together in the front. You wore it like a shawl.

Shouta just glowered at it. You squeezed his hand, smiling and requesting, “Can you try to have some fun? If not for you, for me?”

“I don’t see how any of these games can be fun. Most depend on dumb luck and the very few that require skill don’t offer good prizes. It’s how they take your money.”

“Try this one. There’s skill in it.” You walked to the apple bobbing game. “Looks like a new group is about to go. Join them.”

He kept his groan to himself. A buff man was talking with, or more like to his girlfriend, about using his skillful mouth to win. His gaudy machismo grated almost everyone around him.

“Dumb place to brag about that,” you muttered, noting the kids running by.

Shouta finished his beer, then agreed with a smirk, “Cherry stems are better at proving that anyway.” He tied his hair back and handed over his cellphone and wallet. “Hold these.”

He lined up at the basins right beside the big guy. The worker explained they couldn’t use their hands and the first to catch one in their mouth, won. The contestants crossed their arms behind their backs. A whistle blew and everyone’s head dipped into the water, splashing and soaking themselves.

But Sho waited, calmly watching the apples float and spin. He bowed for one. His nose and chin barely ducked under the surface to swiftly pop back up, holding an apple by the stem. The worker blew his whistle, congratulating him as the winner. A bag filled with colorful objects was thrust into his arms.

Lifting the bottom of his shirt, flashing his abs, Sho dried his face and returned to you. He handed over the prize: a bunch of 3D puzzle cubes and toy puzzle games.

Despite knowing he didn’t like PDA, you gave him a peck on the cheek. And you couldn’t help but smile overhearing the buff man accusing him of cheating. You’d rather deal with a grumbling and grumpy Shouta than someone who’s way too into it like that guy.

Yagi Toshinori - Haunted Hedge Maze

A blast of air rocketed out. You spun, hiding against Toshi. Despite his laugh, you felt his hand shaking on your back and his heartbeat quickening. “It was only an air cannon, sweetheart.”

You glimpsed out from the safety of his chest. No monster or man stood on the path. You muttered to yourself, “Okay, alright, I’m good.”

“Let’s go. The faster we walk, the faster we get out of this.”

“Yeah.” You stayed flush behind him, holding his hand, letting him lead. Beams shot into the night sky from all over, giving a little light. The dirt walkway was barely visible under the smog.

“Left or right?”

A yelp came somewhere from the right. His shoulders stiffened for a millisecond. You answered, “Definitely left.”

“Definitely.”

Something popped out from the hedge, growling and crackling and dripping liquid. You tucked into his shoulder blade as you walked past the monster. It glared then lurched forward. You pushed on Toshi’s back, “Go, go, go!”

The corner opened to a spacious area- definitely not the end. Little girls danced around in circles, all singing different nursery rhymes. Their white dresses splattered red with blood. When you took a step, they stopped, turned, and started.

“Just walk away,” you whispered.

He nodded, slowly shuffling to a new path. Right as he was about to step over the threshold, a ghost vaulted down from the hedge’s arch. The girls shrieked. You turned, seeing them rushing at you.

Toshi gripped your arm and pulled you to another pathway. A few other demons and doctors jumped out, scaring you each time. Your heart began to beat a little too fast, fearing you were lost.

But Toshi didn’t stop. He kept his hold and hurried forward, eventually rounding a corner that revealed the end. Relief smacked your chest. You could breathe and took the finish line’s safety to kiss him deeply.

Fingers dug into your forearm, shaking more than before. He asked when you broke the kiss, “Are you alright?”

“Are you?” you said, half breathless, half laughing.

“I’m okay.” He looked at the Haunted Mansion’s front doors. “Do you want to go in there next?”

You scarcely made it through the hedge maze, but if he truly wanted to go through the next part of the haunt, you would. You croaked, “Yeah.”

Blue eyes snapped to you. “Are you sure?”

“Are you?”

A group of teens walked out giggling. They complained about the ‘lack of horror’ and mentioned heading to a nearby restaurant.

Toshi cleared his throat, “I could go for some food.”

“Me too. Let’s go.” You scurried back to the car, more than ready to leave.

Yamada Hizashi - Costume Shopping

Nothing caught your eye in any of the rows and racks. Hizashi’s laughter came from another aisle. He popped out, holding a racy maid costume, chuckling, “You’d look so sexy in this. Try it on!”

“No.” You grabbed it and hung it back on the rack. “If I’m going as sexy anything, I’m going as sexy Present Mic.”

Arms embraced your waist. Lips kissed and nipped your neck. You sighed his name, trying not to get distracted like he’s been the entire damn day. “I’d rather not get it on in a witch shop.”

“It’s a metaphysical shop,” he corrected.

“Whatever. We’re just here for costumes. Have you found anything good?”

“No.”

“Well, we’re screwed then. We’ve checked everywhere else.”

“It’ll be fine.”

He continued his kissing while you searched the hanging outfits, hoping just one was good enough to wear, but it was all sexy nun, sexy clown, and sexy Pikachu. It wasn’t too much to ask for a decent costume. Or at least something that’s actually sexy, not a children's video game character.

Hands rubbed down your hips, clearly in want. You sighed, “Go try to find something.”

“Alright,” he sulked away. But he scurried back thirty seconds later, smiling as wide as he could, holding a green cylinder with spirals. “What about this?”

“What the hell is it?”

He read the sticker, “A six-inch, Reiki infused, jade dildo that increases love-”

“Hizashi.”

“- and nurturing, and stimulates and aids in emotional-”

“Hizashi.”

“- release. It also boosts fertility and balances bodily fluids.” His eyebrows bobbed up and down as he smirked at you.

“Hizashi, did you find a costume?”

“Oh no, I got distracted in the sex toy section.”

“You were gone for a few seconds. Costume shopping shouldn’t be this hard,” you grumbled, walking the rest of the aisle.

He followed, hugging you again, kissing your shoulder. “Don’t stress about it, baby. We’ll find something.”

“The party’s tonight and unless you’re going as a sex enthusiast, we don’t have anything to wear.”

His head snapped up. And you realized you shouldn’t have given him the idea because he ran back to the sexy maid dress. “I’m totally going as a sex enthusiast.”

You laughed, “You think you can fit your shoulders in that dress?”

“I’ll make it work. I’ll educate people on sex safety and give out free orgasms.”

“You’ll give me free orgasms. No one else gets you.” You kissed him.

“Oh, here!” He picked up something from the floor. It was a gray headband with mouse ears. “You can wear your gray dress and those fishnet stockings with the lace,” he hummed, pulling your waist against him. “And that cute, little pink bow you wear for me whenever I ask because you’re such a good-”

“Are you guys gonna, like, buy somethin’ or just keep makin’ out?” The worker blew a giant bubble with her gum.

“Sorry.” You took the items from Hizashi. “We’ll take these.”

Taishiro Toyomitsu - Making Candies and Cookies

Tai meticulously spaced out the globs into four rows, measuring their size and roundness till they were perfect. When it was filled, he took out another baking sheet.

“What do you need that for?”

“Oh, there’s more.” He tilted the bowl down. A huge amount of cookie dough still remained. “I quadrupled the recipe. Gonna make seventy-two!”

“Tai, we don’t need seventy-two cookies.”

“I do.”

“We already have two pies, fudge, brittle, and a truckload of whoopie pies. I think we have enough,” you laughed.

“Nah. I found a good recipe for peanut butter bark. Looks good.” He pulled a recipe from the top of the microwave, handing it to you as he finished pouring the cookie dough. “Get the stuff out, babe. We’re making that next.”

Pans and crumbs scattered over the counter. Foil and containers were running low. Silverware lumped in the sink. All the snacks and desserts were arranged on the table. As much as you enjoyed sweets, you weren’t confident in yourself to finish all of them.

“We’re going to be sick come Monday.”

“We’ll deal with it then.” He kissed your forehead on his way to the sink.

You gathered the ingredients. The chocolate chips melted quickly. As you poured it, Tai kept trying to smudge some on your arms or nab the candies before you could use them. You fended him off each time and sprinkled peanut butter cups, toffee, and candy over the melted chocolate.

The white chocolate was next. Right when you were about to drizzle it, a finger sunk into it, gathered a globule, and moved to smear it on your cheek. You grabbed his arm, laughing, “Tai, don’t.”

“You just need a little right there.”

He poked your nose. Between your giggling and his strength, you struggled to hold his arm away.

“Trust me, baby. I know what’s best for you. It’ll look pretty.”

“No-” Fingers tickled your side. You tried dodging it, but he followed, ultimately plastering your face with the chocolate. His mouth landed next, smooching and licking it up through your laughing.

You scooped some onto two fingers and smeared it over his forehead. It clung to his hair which rubbed off on yours as he continued tickling your sides. He wasn’t going to release you until you were nearly peeing your pants.

#aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #yagi toshinori #toshinori x reader #All Might #all might x reader #present mic #present mic x reader #yamada hizashi #fatgum #fatgum x reader #taishiro toyomitsu #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha imagines

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mha-quotes-and-such · 3 years

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my headcanons about what 1-A students would be if not in the hero course (but some of them are stupid)

-kirishima: firefighter. he toughens his skin as an extra layer of protection against flames and can just,, walk through them if someone is trapped on the other side.

-kouda: hed have a degree in zoology. next question.

-bakugou: hed still want to fight people but I dont think he'd like being on the ground too much so wrestling isnt an option. he would box.

-tsu: marine biologist. she would be the best in her field and also volunteer everywhere she could on the weekends.

-jirou: an exterminator (hear me out... get it?) she can hear exactly where pests are in walls, floors, ceilings, etc. and we know she isnt bothered by bugs as seen with her working with kouda against present mic.

-mina: alas, she is Too Dummy Stupid (and proud of it!!) to understand chemistry so she would open her own dance studio for little kids.

-sero: works in an office. 9-5. but hes constantly high so it makes it bearable when people make jokes about his elbows. he's still punched a guy over it, though.

-hagakure: government agent. she is harder to pin down because she isn't given much personality (that I've seen) but her quirk would be good for undercover missions or whatever the government does.

-uraraka: manifesting that she'd be the CEO of a successful company and Get That Bread but pay her workers so far above the minimum wage.

-kaminari: youtuber. I'm not going to elaborate.

-iida: probably something boring but Professional like a lawyer. except his own morals get in the way sometimes so he fudges a few cases if he thinks someone is truly guilty regardless of evidence presented.

-tokoyami: stand up comedian. the constant back and forth between him and dark shadow would be very entertaining to watch and his delivery for jokes would be perfect. the audience laughs at him for being emo.

-ojiro: some form of martial arts instructor I dont know what he trained in but he would teach it to younger kids looking to learn.

-shouji: this man is a jack of all trades huh? anyway he would probably be a first responder. he's just Like That and his quirk is useful for listening for survivors of natural disasters and such.

-todoroki: this boy is a trust fund baby he'll most likely never work a day in his life. although he would donate a lot of his dad's money to charity. he volunteers at hospitals.

-aoyama: he's a model why do you ask (he also has his own fashion line, not a lot of people buy from it though).

-satou: some of these are SO easy. professional chef/baker, obviously.

-yaoyorozu: she is also a trust fund baby, but she values hard work so. theres a lot of things she could do with her quirk but for some reason I see her as a writer??

-midoriya: there is nothing that will stop this boy from becoming a hero. that bring said, he would be a teacher. good with kids, is passionate about learning... need I go on?

-mineta: dead. and I killed him.

I could totally see Kirishima as a firefighter! I definitely think he’d want to use his quirk to help people, same with Shouji. I could see him as anything from disaster relief to paramedic

He would need some healthy way to get out his anger, so boxing works, but I could also see him doing most types of fighting (some of the more disciplined ones not so much)

Tsu would totally wanna do something with water (and animals!) I could see anything from marine biologist, to working at an aquarium, and maybe even a sailor (she does have experience after all)

Jirou would do something related to her quirk. While I think she’d probably pursue music (maybe not in a band, she could totally do sound engineering or something) I do think exterminator works

Hagakure would make a great spy and Uraraka a great manager. You can’t convince me other wise

Iida would be an absolutely terrifying lawyer which would work well

Todoroki and Yaoyorozu would both probably do a lot of volunteering and philanthropy (is it still philanthropy if it’s technically not your money??) And Yaoyorozu could totally be a writer or journalist!

As for Mineta, thank you you’ve done us all a great service

#I wrote this in chunks so sorry if it’s a little incoherent #not a quote #ask #head canon appreciation day #long post

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luxekook · 4 years

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𝗙𝗢𝗨𝗥 | 𝘬𝘵𝘩

⇥ pairing: quadruplet!taehyung x reader

⇥ genre: crack, smut

⇥ summary: in which the reader lives next door to taehyung… and his three brothers. she doesn’t realize they’re quadruplets until it’s just a little too late.

⇥ word count: 7.5k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing/dirty talk, alcohol, general chaotic energy [as usual], one hard dom!taehyung and three soft dom!taehyungs, sub!reader, pet name: kitten, smut (breast worship, oral [f receiving], bondage, spanking, slight degrading name-calling during sex, mention of daddy kink, ownership kink, four taehyungs lovin’ on the **READER** [***NOT EACH OTHER***])

⇥ beta’d by: the lovely phia (@meowxyoong) and the cutie ally (@ally-127), and read over by the iconic heath (@shadowsremedy)

The Kim Quadruplets:

Mic Drop!Tae as “V” Boy With Luv!Tae as “Vante” Pied Piper!Tae as “Hansung” ON!Tae as “Taehyung”

Of all the days to forget your umbrella, your brain just had to choose today. You cursed your faulty memory as you shuffled your drenched sneakers across the ‘Welcome’ mat of your apartment building. As someone who prided themselves on being prepared and dependable, you were thoroughly angry at yourself for dropping the ball. Lightning flashed through the windows of the lobby, but you barely flinched - already used to the noise after a lengthy walk home from work.

You worked part-time at a small indie coffee shop called ‘Grind On Me’, which was located halfway across town. The shop was owned by an eccentric middle-aged woman named Reese who still had not gotten over the tragic loss of Vine. The menu was full of references to the fallen application: “Oovoo Java”, “Coulda Dropped My Croissant”, “Avocado Toast, Thanks!”, and “Back At It Again With The Refill”.

The best part of your job was definitely fucking around with your co-workers Jess and Cal. Reese often scheduled the three of you together because your “combined chaotic energy” was “on-brand”. Basically, the three of you would spend your shifts roasting coffee and roasting each other, while Reese looked on like a proud mom. You loved it.

The rest of your time was filled with school. You were up to your neck in your studies; but, with just one semester left until graduation, you were more determined than ever to stick it out. As a literature major, you spent many hours hunched over your trusty MacBook, fingers flying across the keys. Creating new worlds and constructing well-rounded characters was intoxicating. Every new document was a chance to bring ideas to life, an opportunity to make someone laugh or cry, a possibility to both mend and break hearts.

But, your absolute guiltiest pleasure was writing romance - and not the lovey-dovey kind. No, you wrote the racy kind of romance: the heart-pounding smut, the kinky (well-written and well-researched) BDSM, the raunchiest threesomes. You always wondered what your professors would think if you submitted one of your erotic novels to be graded; but, for now, you settled for posting to your loyal audience on Tumblr and for fantasizing about someday fulfilling the filthy scenes you wrote about.

Your most recent fantasy was inspired by the rainfall. Kissing in the midst of a storm like people did in those cliché movies… fucking as the rain poured over you… hands sliding down your slippery skin…

“Woah.” Hands grabbed your hips, halting you from continuing to walk forward absentmindedly. You jumped, your mind jarred from your fantasy and back to reality.

“I am so sorry,” You breathed out, “My mind was somewhere else.”

“I’ll say,” The deepest and most divine voice you had ever heard sounded from the figure in front of you. You looked up, desperate to know the source of such a dulcet tone. You were not disappointed.

The boy was beautiful.

His skin was the color of warm honey, his dark eyes sparkled with bad intentions, his full lips curled into a sly grin. “I would pay good money to know what you were thinking about just now, kitten,” The boy’s grin widened, displaying a cute boxy smile that did nothing to take away from the implications of his words.

“I’m not your kitten,” You glared at the blonde boy in front of you, shoving aside both his hands and the traitorous warmth that bloomed inside you at the pet name. With those words, you sidestepped around him and trudged to go check your mail. Your heart flipped in your chest when you heard the soft pitter-patter of footsteps following close behind you.

“Ever heard of an umbrella, kitten?” You could hear his smile in his infuriating words, and you shot him a glare.

“Yes, actually. Have you ever heard of manners?” You bit out, punching in the key code to your small mailbox.

The boy’s laugh sent a shiver down your spine that you tried to rationalize as a chill. God, he was maddeningly handsome. You grabbed the small bunch of letters shoved in your mailbox and were so ready to hightail it out of there, when he grabbed your wrist.

The sight of his long fingers wrapped around your wrist made your mind flash to scenes of him holding your wrists above your head as he thrusts, hips swiveling and pounding into you… him holding your wrists behind your back as he kneels in front of you, tongue deep in your—

“Kitten.” Your attention snapped back to him, your eyes wide and your cheeks flushed. Fuck, you really needed to shut your inner ho of a writer off sometimes…

He winked, “Next time you’re going to have to share what’s going on in that head of yours. I’ll be seeing you around, neighbor.”

With those parting words, he sauntered out of the mailroom, flipping the hood of his grey sweatshirt up over his wavy blonde strands as he tugged his dark bomber jacket closer around him.

Neighbor?

You were so fucked.

A few days later, you still had not forgotten your blonde self-proclaimed neighbor, no matter how hard you tried. And, god, you had tried. No amount of smutty fan fiction or archaic romance tropes could quell your thirst.

You didn’t even know his name.

Jess and Cal had urged you to just knock on his door and introduce yourself, but you knew it wasn’t that simple. First, you had more than one apartment neighboring yours. You were not about to knock on each and every door in your hallway to find some mystery boy - even if he did call you kitten and smelled like summer nights. Second, you had already written so much filth inspired by your brief encounter that you feared you might not survive being in the same vicinity as him without spontaneously combusting or jumping on him.

And third, you were just so intimidated by him and his dominating presence. Even though you spent just a few minutes with him, you knew that you would have fallen to your knees before him if he’d demanded it… And he really looked like the type to demand.

Now every damn time you entered your apartment building, your eyes sought him out. You jumped out of your skin at every ding of the elevator, half fearing and half hoping he might be getting off. Your heart pounded whenever you walked down your hallway to unlock your door, waiting for him to swing open his own door to greet you with a smirk and some sarcastic words.

But, nothing had happened. And you were beginning to think he might have just been a rain-induced hallucination. Those were a thing, right?

You shook yourself out of your disastrous train of thought. Your shift at ‘Grind On Me’ was approaching, and you really needed to make some money. Rent, unfortunately, just didn’t pay itself. Tugging on your non-slip black sneakers, you made sure to grab your umbrella - just like you had the previous couple days, despite the clear forecast. You would not be caught out - or called out - again.

You push open your apartment door, shoving your umbrella deep into your tote bag and stepping out into the hall. You were entirely unprepared for the sight you were met with.

The boy from earlier that week was fumbling near the door across from you with what looked like an entire art store crammed into half a dozen reusable bags. He was mumbling about some Han character who couldn’t “get off his ass for one second to help him”. And, his hair was a bright shade of blue.

His. Hair. Was. Blue.

You must have made some sort of choking noise because suddenly he whipped around to face you. His wide eyes latched onto yours, and you couldn’t help but think that there was something peculiar about him today - even besides the hair.

A light flush bloomed on the boy’s face that you were sure was mirrored on your own tenfold. Shit, he really could pull off that shade of blue… Your eyes involuntarily slid lower to check out his white slouchy ‘CELINE” t-shirt, his black Adidas sweatpants, his bag hung casually off one muscular shoulder. You swallowed suddenly craving some water.

“Uh, hey, neighbor,” You waved at him idiotically as he continued to just stare. You lowered your hand and fought the urge to smack yourself for your lame actions.

The boy blinked and then smiled that same boxy smile as before, “Hi! I would wave back, but I’m kind of tied down right now.”

You let out a very uncharacteristic giggle, “And I would offer to help you, but I’m already late for work. Don’t worry, I have my umbrella this time.”

Grabbing your umbrella from your bag, you waved it briefly in the air before returning it to its resting place. “Bye!” You called over your shoulder at the bewildered blue-haired boy, “Love the new hair by the way!”

“Uh, thank you?” He called after you. As you stepped into the elevator, you swore you heard him say something about having good weather with no chance of rain, but you were too busy thinking about how nice he was today.

And about how he didn’t call you kitten.

You were so, so fucked.

When you got to work, you were immediately bombarded with questions from Jess and Cal.

Jess: “Wait. His hair is blue now? Does he look like a hot Smurf?”

Cal: “So, no “kitten”? Throws phone. Stomps on skateboard.”

You: “Did you just try to use the ‘So No Head' Vine out loud?”

Reese: "She sure did." *wipes away tear proudly*

They continued to clown on you for another hour while some of your favorite regulars filed in and out, grabbing their late afternoon coffees.

One of your particular favorites was an enigmatic individual named Heath. You, Jess and Cal were about 85% certain that Heath was a sugar daddy based on his regular order (the "Valentino Flat White") and the large amount of tips he always left (at least $20 for each barista on duty).

Another favorite customer of yours was Tay. She tended to skulk in the corner of the cafe, typing away on her phone and occasionally letting out loud bursts of laughter. Once, you had asked what she was writing, but she just looked at you like you had asked for her darkest secret. You figured it was something juicy.

Sighing, you checked the clock on the wall for the umpteenth time that evening - 6:50PM. Two more hours til you could go home, throw on some sweatpants, and drink a glass of cheap wine.

Wiping down the coffee bar, you heard a throat clear behind you. "Be right with you!" You called over your shoulder, placing the wipe in the garbage before turning to take their order.

"Oh," You gasped as you took in the new customer, "Your hair!"

"My hair?" Your neighbor that you had seen just hours before tugged his hands through his now-brown waves, "Is there something wrong with it..." His dark eyes flicked to your name-tag, “(y/n)?”

"N-no," You gulped, wondering what happened to the cute blushing blue-haired boy from earlier. Your neighbor really was giving you whiplash with his different moods. "What can I get for you?"

"Your number." His boxy grin was lethal, his voice was sultry.

You blinked at him. "You could have just knocked on my door later if you needed me."

His eyebrows flew up, "Oh really? I like the sound of that. You'd have to give me your address though, kitten."

"Very funny," You scoffed. Your insides turned to mush over the return of the nickname that you hated to love. "Now, seriously, what can I get for you?"

"Surprise me," He winked, handed you $50 and sauntered to a nearby table.

Gaping, you shook yourself out of your trance and got to work on his 'surprise' - an "I Thought You Were Americano".

"Who is that?" You jumped two feet in the air at Jess' hissed question. She was hovering right behind you as you poured the espresso into his to-go cup.

"My fucking hair chameleon of a neighbor!" You whispered back, conveying your panic, “Deliver this to him, would you?“ You tried in vain to shove the hot Americano into Jess' hands but she dodged your efforts.

"Oh no, bitch,” She laughed, "I am going to watch from afar as this plays out."

"Goddamn you," You shot her your best side-eye and stalked off to deliver the drink to your godforsaken neighbor.

The boy in question flicked his eyes up to look at you as you approached his table. He was wearing a flowy button-down shirt with at least four of the buttons undone, showcasing a tan and very toned chest. His legs were spread wide, encased in tight black slacks that left little to the imagination.

You gulped, trying not to imagine yourself perched on his lap and grinding into his hard––

"See something you like, kitten?" You jerked out of your daze and looked at his amused face. "I know I do."

You decided to be bratty. "Nope, nothing too impressive for me to see." You smiled sweetly as you deposited his drink on the table in front of him.

He licked his lips slowly, "God, if you were mine..." He trailed off, eyes narrowed on yours. Your mouth dried as the image of the two of you in a dark bedroom flashed into your mind. You sprawled out across his lap, his hands smacking your ass, your underwear pulled to the side…

“Yeah, you get the picture,” Your neighbor’s crooked smirk was downright obscene as his eyes flashed to your lips briefly. “I’ll see you later tonight, kitten. You know, when I come knocking at your door.”

With that parting remark, he stood, raised his americano in your direction, and strutted out the door.

You stood rooted to the spot, gaping after him for god knows how long.

“She’s gotta move at some point,” Cal’s voice vaguely sounded from the side of you.

“I don’t know,” Jess’ response sounded from your other side, “I once saw her stare out at a speck of dust for like fifteen minutes straight.”

That got you. “It was not fifteen minutes!” You defended yourself, “And it’s not my fault that I happened to be writing a coffeehouse AU at that time!”

Your friends cackled as you stomped back behind the counter.

Your friends were evil, and so was your neighbor, of that you were certain.

And you were so, so, so fucked.

Hours later, you were still thinking about your fucking neighbor. Why were you only meeting him now? Why was his hair always changing colors? Why did he fuck with you so much? Why did you like it?

All of these questions bounced around your brain as you entered your building, your eyes seeking out the boy instinctively. But, as before, he was nowhere to be seen.

You shuffled over to the ancient elevator and punched the 'Up' button a few more times than necessary. Something must be wrong with you. You were way too infatuated with your way too infuriating neighbor.

The elevator doors parted, and you automatically sighed in relief and disappointment as you entered the empty space. Pushing the button to your floor, you waited for the doors to close.

“Wait!”

A shudder trailed down your spine as you watched the doors re-open to let the subject of your thoughts onto the lift. He was wearing yet another outfit that was different from earlier - a white tank top with loose pants adorned with decorative zippers.

And was that a fucking tattoo?

There was no way you had missed that in your previous encounters. He must have felt your piercing stare because his eyes flashed over to yours. “See something you like?”

“You have a tattoo!” You blurted out.

“Um, yeah, I do. Nice observation,” Your neighbor looked at you weirdly. “Aren’t you going to ask what floor I need?”

“You and your fucking jokes,” You rolled your eyes at him.

The boy’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked at you intently, “Ah, so you’re kitten.”

Your insides into jelly, and you decided the safest tactic would now be to ignore him.

“Now, now, kitten,” He crowded your space, backing you up against the elevator wall, “It’s impolite to ignore your neighbor.”

“Well, it’s against the commandments to covet your neighbor, isn’t it?” You sniffed, pretending to not be affected by his sheer size and dangerous aura. The tattoo curling up his neck demanded your attention, and you only wished you could pay your respects with your tongue.

“I’m pretty sure they said something about coveting a neighbor’s wife… you’re not married are you, kitten? Got a boyfriend, girlfriend or partner that we don’t know about?” His breath mingled with your own, his lips so close to your own.

Wait, we?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the elevator’s arrival at your floor. Ducking under his corded arms, you scurried out of the elevator and down the hall towards your apartment.

Of course, he lazily trailed after you.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” You shot over your shoulder at him as you neared your door. “We just met like two days ago.”

His grin turned feral, “Yes, kitten, of course we did. Hey, why don’t you come over for a drink? You’re right; we don’t really know each other. Let’s change that.”

You weighed your options. Hanging out with him could drive you absolutely crazy or it could lead to something you previously could only write about.

He lounged against the wall next to your door in await of your answer. He raised a hand to brush his hair out of his eyes, and your eyes caught a sudden flash of silver. Was that an honest to god nipple piercing you just saw?

All rational exited the building. “Sure, but only for a little bit. Let me just change real quick.”

“Great, kitten,” His eyes flared, “Wear something comfortable. Just knock when you’re ready.”

You just nodded mutely as you entered your apartment and then shut the door. What the fuck were you getting yourself into?

After ten panicked minutes of you running around your apartment in search of ‘comfortable’ clothes, you were poised to knock on your still nameless neighbor’s door. You glanced down at your cropped t-shirt, leggings and running shoes. It would do. Besides, you had your lucky lingerie on underneath just in case.

Before you could even knock, the door flew open. “I was beginning to worry you were just going to stand there all night, kitten.” Your neighbor pouts, “And then we wouldn’t get to have any fun.”

You rolled your eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to invite me inside?”

His lips twitched, “How vampiresque of you, (y/n).”

You smiled broadly, “If I was a vampire, I would definitely have killed you already. You’re really fucking annoying.”

He stared at you for a split second before throwing his head back and laughing. The amount of neck that was in your face was heavenly; and, suddenly, you questioned whether vampires actually had it right this whole time.

“Well, kitten. I’m Taehyung. Please, do come in,” He opened the door wider, still chuckling lowly, “Would you like anything to drink? I think we have wine and maybe some beer hiding in the fridge somewhere.”

There was that pesky ‘we’ again.

“Red wine sounds good, thank you,” You said, plopping yourself down on one of the deep wooden barstools lining the marble kitchen island. You watched as he poured two glasses and handed one to you. Just as you were about to ask if he had roommates, Taehyung held up his glass.

“Cheers to being very friendly neighbors,” He said, sitting in the stool next to yours and staring intently at you.

“Cheers,” You echoed, clinking your glasses together and then taking a sip. Your eyes widened both from the sight of Taehyung drinking – his throat tipped back, his eyes dark on yours – and the deliciousness of the wine. It was an intense ruby red pinot noir that somehow tasted of fruit and of smokey spice all at once. It was honestly so fucking good that you just knew it had to be exorbitantly expensive. You licked your lips, making sure not to miss a single drop.

Taehyung’s eyes latched onto the movement. “You know,” He murmured, “They say if you hold eye contact while toasting, you’ll keep having good sex.”

You almost spat out your second sip of wine. Just as you were about to risk it all and say you would actually have to start having sex for that to happen, a crashing sound echoed from the dark hallway to your left.

“Shit,” Taehyung cursed, glaring in the direction the sound had come from, “I need to go and check what that was. Are you all right out here for a minute?”

You shrugged and nodded, swirling your wine around your glass.

“Be right back,” Taehyung brushed his hand over your cheek for a split second before stalking down the hallway in search of whatever had caused the ruckus.

Your hand flew to your now-warm cheek. Fuck, were you really crushing on your cute neighbor with the mood-swings?

Ugh, you were.

You glanced speculatively around his apartment. It was so much nicer than yours… The minimalist but chic decor just screamed rich vibes. However, there were a few oddities that made you frown. Four sets of keys hung by the front door. Four sets of shoes were lined up in the foyer. Four different color coded markings were on the calendar pinned to the wall.

Four different versions of Taehyung smiled back at you from a photo stuck to the fridge.

“Hello again, kitten,” The low voice startled you from your internal panic. Reluctantly turning to face them, you cursed your own stupidity. The blonde version of Taehyung that you met a few days ago grinned back at you.

“Fucking brothers,” You moaned, slouching over on the kitchen island and placing your head in your hands, “You’re all fucking brothers.”

“Quadruplets, actually,” He unhelpfully added, “I’m V. You’re (y/n), right?”

“Were you all just eavesdropping on me and Taehyung, or what?” You knew your were being petty right now, but you felt blindsided by your own lack of awareness and the brothers’ obvious lack of tact.

“Kind of,” Blue-haired Taehyung exited the hallway, “Sorry, (y/n).”

It was honestly unfair how sweet Blue was. “It’s okay. What’s your name?”

“Vante,” He waved at you and grinned, “See? I can finally wave back now!”

If you could turn into a human version of ‘uwu’, you would have done so right then and there.

“Stop flirting with her, Vante,” Coffee-shop Taehyung enters the kitchen followed closely by the actual Taehyung, “Let me introduce myself, kitten. I…” He gripped your hand and brought it to his lips, “Am Hansung.” His lips brushed over your knuckles as the words poured out of his mouth.

You blinked at him as it clicked, “Oh, so you’re the Han that wouldn’t get off his ass!”

Hansung choked, dropping your hand as his brothers cried with laughter. “Who said that?” He rounded on his brothers, “Who?”

Vante shot you a desperate look; and, since you had already internally declared him your favorite, you kept the information to yourself. “I don’t see how that matters when you all clearly have been keeping me in the dark about the fact that there are four of you.”

“I mean,” Taehyung began, “Technically we didn’t not tell you. You just never asked.”

Your blood boiled, “And how the fuck would I know to ask? Should I have consulted a psychic? Scoured the census data? Kept tabs on the entire population of quadruplets nationwide?”

You stared down each of the boys. Vante and Hansung at least looked a tad sheepish, but Taehyung and V just looked amused.

“You were right,” Taehyung nudged V, “She is feisty.”

You contemplated your options: 1) Kill V and bury the body deep in the nearby woods, 2) Dramatically exit the apartment and never speak to these demonspawn ever again, or 3) Chug this miraculous tasting wine.

You chose option three.

No regrets.

Looking at each of them, you felt like you could be the stock image for the word ‘shooketh’. Fuck, you had thought it was overwhelming when there was just one of them in your mind. But, now? You were in full panic mode over the sheer amount of masculinity and identical good looks that surrounded you.

“You know what?” You said after draining your glass, “I really don’t like being made to look like a fool. And that’s what you all did to me this whole week.” You saw Vante open his mouth, and you cut him off, “Some more than others… but, still, you knew where I lived. You could have just introduced yourself separately.”

You stood, glancing over the boys’ varying degrees of pouts and sighing. “Yeah, I’m out of here.”

Making your way over to the door, you were suddenly cut off by V. He leaned heavily against the door, successfully blocking your smooth exit.

“V, move.”

“No, you need to hear us out, kitten,” He murmured, looking down at you with an intense expression you couldn’t quite put your finger on. “Could you do that for us?”

You spared a glance over your shoulder, and sure enough, the other three were right there. Vante stared at you pleadingly. Hansung shot you a wink. Taehyung snapped his gaze up to yours… Had he been checking out your ass?

Deciding not to pay them any mind, you turned back around to face V and shrugged, “Fine, two minutes.”

“Good girl.”

A shiver coursed down your spine. You didn’t even know which brother behind you muttered those two words, and, yet, perhaps that made it all the more thrilling.

V shot a glare over your head and then refocused on you. “Kitten, we’re sorry. We just really like to tease, and you made it so easy.” Seeing your glare, he continued, “We didn’t mean to make you upset. That wasn’t our intention at all… it was the complete opposite, actually.”

Taehyung moved in front of you, next to V. “Why don’t we start over? Come over for dinner tomorrow night at eight. We’ll have a proper introduction to our neighborly relationship.”

You mulled it over in your mind. Embarrassment warred with infatuation. Worst case scenarios clashed with the best of cases. Images of a dark bedroom with multiple partners contrasted with words typed on a laptop screen.

Finally, as the seconds ticked by, you decided to ask yourself: ‘What would your characters do?’

They would fuck them all.

“Okay,” You sighed, eyeing the two boys in front of you and then the two behind, “But you better make something edible.”

“Challenge accepted,” V’s eyes glinted wickedly.

“It wasn’t even––” You cut yourself off. Though you only had met V twice thus far, you knew it was virtually impossible to make him back down from anything he perceived as a dare. “You know what? Sure, it’s a challenge. I’ll be the Gordon Ramsey; you’ll be the crying contestants.”

A stifled giggle sounds from behind you that you suspect belonged to Vante.

“That mouth…” Taehyung muttered. His tongue swiped along his lower lip as he stared you down.

Suddenly, Hansung popped out from behind you and shoved his two brothers out of the way of the door. “Allow me, kitten,” He swung it open in a flourish, bowing as he cleared your way out. Your lips twitched. That boy was so extra.

“Thank you, Han,” You smiled and waved as you exited their apartment, “I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow night…” Walking the short distance across the hall to your own apartment, you unlock your door, step inside, and then turn back to see if they were still there.

They were.

All four of them peered back at you from their doorway. “Shoo!” You laughed, waving them away before slamming your door shut.

You were so, so, so, so fucked.

Four’s hands ghosted over your skin, caressing the dips of your curves. You shuddered as Three’s tongue slides across your pussy.

“You like that, kitten?” One asks, as he watches from the armchair in the corner of the room, “You like my brothers ruining you?” You weren’t fooled by his lack of participation; you knew One pulled the strings. “Answer me.”

“Yes, daddy,” You moan out as Two sucks one of your nipples in his mouth and asoidfjgioykl—

The ringing of your doorbell caused you to key-smash in panic. “Coming!” You called out, flustered over the interruption and over the filth you just wrote about your neighbors.

You padded over to the door and peered out the peep-hole. It was Hansung. Your breath caught in your throat as you try to push the vivid scenes you just wrote out of your mind.

Pulling open the door, you greeted him with a smile, “Hey, what’s up?”

“Hi…” Hansung trailed off, his eyes roving over your body. You glanced down at your typical loungewear - an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts. Nothing too out of the ordinary. “Do you have any sugar?”

You stared at him with a deadpan expression, “Are you serious?”

“I don’t joke about sweets, kitten,” Hansung grinned, running a hand through his messy head of hair. You would have to add a scene to your story about pulling on it… “There’s that look,” he shook his head amusedly, “When will you ever let us know some of those thoughts?”

“Never,” You vowed and stepped aside so that he could enter your apartment, “Come on in. I’m pretty sure I have sugar somewhere. Sorry for the mess.” You wandered over to the kitchen area adjacent to your living room. Hansung was assessing your apartment with a critical eye, and you decided you needed to make this fast before he uncovered any dirty secrets.

Pulling open your baking cabinet, you scoured the shelves looking for that pesky ingredient. Flour, vanilla extract, chocolate chips…

“How is it that four boys don’t have any sugar?” You complained, leaning up to snag your bag of sugar from the very top shelf.

“We ask ourselves that all the damn time,” You knew Hansung was smirking even without seeing him, “We’re getting some now though… and later.”

“Well, good,” You turned to face him, “You better stock up so you don’t come bothering me every time you need some.”

He laughed, “Oh, (y/n), we’ll always want more.”

Rolling your eyes, you shoved the bag of sugar to his chest and pushed him towards the door to your apartment. “Out you go!”

“Oh kitten, I always knew you were sweet on me,” Hansung grinned widely as he stared down at the sugar you had pushed against his chest.

“Fuck off,” You groaned, letting out a slight chuckle despite yourself. “Now, go away and cook me a nice dinner. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye-e-e kitten,” he sang as he paraded back across the hall, “Wear something sexy for me.” With a wink, Hansung disappeared back into his shared apartment.

You groaned, slamming your door shut before sliding down it onto the floor. These brothers might be the death of you. Glancing up, your eyes settled on your laptop. Had it always been in that position? Was that how you left it?

Standing up, you walked over to where your laptop resides on your coffee table and closed it. You had a dinner to get ready for, after all. You didn’t have time to return to your story.

Alas, you really should have made time; because, little did you know, the open document on your screen had a new addition courtesy of Hansung… “That’s hot. Which number am I?”

It was 7:59PM; you were pacing inside your apartment.

You contemplated cancelling for the hundredth time that evening. But, momma didn’t raise no bitch.

With that in mind, you assessed yourself in the foyer mirror. The black midi-dress wrapped around your body like armor. The wings of your eyeliner flicked out like battle knives. The redness of your lipstick warned of the biting tongue that lie within.

Yeah, you looked ready for war, and it was perfect.

With that in mind, you trudged across the hall and knocked on their door before you could talk yourself out of it.

The door opened to reveal V in all his glory. His blonde hair was tousled, his eyes were dark. He looked at you as if he knew all of your secrets.

You bit your lip, “Um, hi?”

A slow smile crossed his face, “Hi, kitten. Please come in.”

You moved past him to enter into the apartment. Taehyung appeared and greeted you with a grin. “Hey, (y/n),” He purred, running a hand down your arm, “Glad you could make it.”

God, what was up? The tension in the room was palpable. You walked over towards where Hansung and Vante were plating dinner in the kitchen.

“Hi,” You greeted them. Vante jumped two feet in the air as Hansung smirked at you.

You cocked your head. Moving your eyes from one brother to the next, you caved, “Okay, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean, (y/n)?” V moved closer to you, “Is this not going as you wrote it?”

You stopped breathing. No, there was no way… but, your laptop had seemed to be moved. You shot Hansung a look in askance.

He grinned sheepishly, and it told you everything you needed to know.

“Fuck,” You turned away from them, “I’m so sorry. This is so embarrassing. I’ll leave.”

“Who’s One?” V’s question cut through your rambled apology.

“What?” You blinked, turning to look at him.

“Who is One, kitten? Is it me?” V moved right in front of you. You gulped. He smiled. “I thought so.”

“You see, (y/n)-kitten,” He continued, “You were right. My brothers and I? We’re a unit. We do everything together. We live together, we date together, we fuck together.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words.

“We just want one girl to keep us all together, kitten… to be ours.” V murmured, twisting a lock of your hair between his fingers, “That’s what we’ve been searching for for so long.”

You finally found words at last, “And you think that girl is me?”

“We know it’s you,” Vante said, shyly approaching you, “And we’re going to show you why.”

He kissed you. You almost laughed over how cute, shy Vante was the first brother to kiss you. His kiss was gentle, but insistent in its movements. It was like he was pleading you to let him in both your mouth and your heart.

You crumbled. Your hands fisted his shirt and tugged him closer. His kiss ignited something in you that made you want more.

Your tongue darted out to run along the seam of his lips. Vante gasped, and your tongue slid inside.

As you continue to kiss him, someone moved behind you, his lips ghosted over your neck.

“Mm, baby,” Taehyung whispered against the nape of your neck, “You’re so beautiful.”

Taehyung ran his hands over your hips and tugged your ass flush with his crotch. You moaned into Vante’s mouth. Vante took advantage of your dazed state to slide his tongue against yours in a way that was so deliciously dirty.

Suddenly, Vante backed up, and V took his place before you.

His hands slid up your body, grazing the sides of your breasts before settling back down at the top of your waist.

He kissed you deeply, differently than Vante. The slight roughness of his touch was new, and it seemed to declare ownership over you.

V’s tongue twined with yours, playing with you. From behind you, Taehyung continued to slowly grind into you.

Your body felt so overheated, so overwhelmed.

Pulling back from your mouth, V glanced over your shoulder, and Taehyung slipped away from you.

V focused back on you. “I don’t think you understand what you do to us. God, this dress. Did you wear it to tease us, kitten? We’ve been wanting to unwrap you, to strip you down, since you walked through our door.”

V fiddled with the bow keeping your dress fastened.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you said, “Well, do it then.”

His hand froze. His eyes flicked up to yours. “You’re sure, (y/n)? You know what you’re asking for? You know what we’ll give you?”

You glanced around. Vante looked at you with a hopeful expression. Hansung wore a smirk, already working on undoing the buttons of his shirt. Taehyung full-on grinned at you with dark eyes full of wicked intent and promise.

“Yes.”

As soon as the word left your lips, the mood shifted. V nodded at Vante, who scurried out of the room. You opened your mouth to question his departure, but V cut you off.

“Now, kitten, I know you’ve imagined this - wrote this; but, you’re not the one in charge here. We are.”

He led you down the hall and into what must have been his own bedroom. The king size bed dominated the room. Paintings decorated the walls… Was that a real Degas?

Vante entered the room, holding what looked like long scraps of silk.

“Finally,” Hansung grumbled, and then turned to you, “Strip.”

Your hands shook as you reached down to the tie at your waist and pulled. Your dress, your armor, fell to the ground in a whoosh. You stood in just your underwear, having forgone a bra that evening.

“Goddamn,” V growled, “Such a good little slut coming to our place without a bra.”

His filthy words slid over your body like a caress and settled deep in your core. You pushed your thighs together. The movement was not lost on the brothers.

“Vante.”

At V’s call, Vante reached out and took your hand. Leading you over to the bed, he gestured for you to lay down. “We want to tie you up, kitten. Is that okay? If not, we can have fun in other ways.”

“T-that’s okay,” You swallowed hard, “I like bondage.”

“I knew it!” Hansung cheered from the left foot of the bed.

“Shut up, Han,” Vante shot over his shoulder as he focused on tying your wrists behind your head. Refocusing on you, he mumbled, “How does that feel, baby? Too tight? Too loose?”

“Just right,” You sighed, almost moaning at how hot you felt getting tied down by one man while three others watched.

Taehyung sat down at your side, his pointer finger began drawing light circles across your stomach. “Can Hansung take your panties off, kitten?”

Nodding, you looked down as Hansung leaned over you, hands briefly squeezing your hips before tugging your underwear down your thighs. Almost on reflex, you squeezed your legs together again, craving any sort of friction.

“Open your legs,” V ordered from his stance against the wall by the foot of the bed, “Show us how wet you are.”

You listened, hyper-aware of how your wetness was surely obvious. Taehyung’s fingers suddenly pinched your nipple, rolling the puckered bud between his fingers. A small moan escaped you.

“Fuck,” someone cursed. Hansung, you guessed. “She’s so pretty.”

“How wet is she?” Taehyung asked, the only brother not openly ogling your wet pussy.

“Dripping,” Vante murmurs, tongue wetting his lips.

Your eyes locked with V’s as he stared you down. “Now, kitten, do you want Vante to lick your pussy? Or Hansung?”

Both boys in question stared at you with wistful expressions. You knew your answer though. It was not an option he had given. And it was your lack of answer that tipped V off.

“Ah, I see,” V laughed. “Well, that’ll be a new one for us.”

Hansung shot V a confused look, “What?”

“She wants both of your mouths,” V smirked at your immediate blush, “What? Am I wrong, baby?”

“…No,” You pouted.

Vante’s eyebrows furrowed, “Both of us? Like at one time? Or one after the other?”

All eyes were on you once more as you squirmed under the weight of their attention and Taehyung’s continued worship of your nipples with his fingers.

“Either?” You were losing your train of thought under the building pleasure. Could you actually come from just nipple play?

“Mm,” V hummed, “Our little kitten is being indecisive. Vante?”

Again, Vante hastened to fulfill V’s unspoken command. You wondered how many times the brothers had done this together, because they were really fucking in sync.

“Are you good with being blindfolded, too, kitten?” Vante asked, kissing your cheek lightly. You nodded and lifted your head up slightly so he could tie the soft silk around your head.

Darkness consumed you. Your senses heightened. A breath coasted over your wetness and you shuddered.

A light kiss pressed over your folds followed by a tentative swipe of a tongue. “Damn, she tastes fucking amazing,” Hansung groaned, completely giving himself away.

“Shut up and make her come, Han. Or I’ll let Vante take your place.” V’s voice came from closer by you now. Was he right next to you? Was he at your feet?

His lips felt so soft as he dragged them over your pussy to finally suck your clit in between them. His tongue slid and flicked perfectly against your clit.

The small ministrations of his tongue against your clit set your arousal ablaze. You shifted your hips up in hopes he will lick harder, but a firm hand pushed you back down.

“No, no, kitten,” V’s voice sounded in your ear, “You’ll get what we give you.”

Hansung continued to stroke his tongue between your legs. Finally, by the grace of the gods, he pushed a finger inside you and hissed, “Fuck, she’s so tight.”

You clenched down around his finger at his words, and he moaned. “She was fucking made for us.”

As Han returned to worship your pussy, another tongue flicked at your nipple. Was that Vante? Taehyung?

Honestly, not knowing was high-key hot. You were hurtling towards your orgasm as one brother ate your pussy, another worshipped your breasts, and two more watched.

The feeling of having so much attention on you, on your pleasure, on your body, set you off. You came with an embarrassingly loud moan.

Lips brushed your ear as V murmured, “You’re so sexy when you come, kitten. I bet you’ll look even better when you come all over my cock.”

A whine escaped you as he teased you, licking your neck, teeth scraping over it. The afterglow of your orgasm quickly turned into the aching need for more.

And then your stomach let out an insanely loud growl.

The room quieted. A chuckle escaped someone. Then, laughs echoed around the bedroom.

“Well, someone needs to be fed,” V’s smile was apparent as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

The blindfold slipped from around your head and you blinked up at V as he untied your wrists. “Come on, baby, we can reheat dinner.”

“But–” You pouted as V placed a finger to your lips.

“We can get back to that after. We’re not even close to being done with you, kitten.”

“I don’t think we ever will,” Taehyung grinned at you as he tugged you up from the bed.

“Here you go, (y/n),” Vante handed you Han’s discarded button down.

“Thank you,” You blushed at his cuteness. Pausing, you scoured the ground for your panties.

Thwack.

Your ass stung as V’s hand massaged over the area he just smacked.

“They’re mine. Don’t bother,” His grin was feral as he squeezed your ass and then led you out of the room towards the kitchen.

As you both joined the others in the kitchen, you took the plate that Han offered you. Surveying the room, you took in your varying states of undress as you all stood around the kitchen island eating your reheated dinners.

Damn, you could get used to this… Taehyung caught your eye and shot you a wink.

Yeah, you were so fucked… but, so were they.

#basecretbunny20 #bangtanhq #maknaesmutsociety #kwritersworldnet #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #btsbookclub #bangtanarmynet #bts #taehyung x reader #bts smut #taehyung #kth #bts fic #secret bunny collab #this is a cursed fic sorry manda uwu #hope u like it

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airis-paris14 · 3 years

Text

Wonder What She Thinks Epilogue

Summary: She learns to put herself first and he loses the best thing he ever had.

A/N: A new chapter of Starlight coming up next.

Warnings: None

Masterlist

It's Never Wrong When You're In Love...

I haven’t felt this type of thing in a while. I thought I lost myself in love until I found you.

- “Natural” Sabrina Claudio

I’m telling you right now from this day on, I’ve already weighed out the pros and cons, your just the woman I want.”

-"4evermore" Anthony David (ft. Algebra)

“Mrs. Jordan,” Michael leaned over and whispered in his bride’s ear. “Yes, Mr. Jordan?” Zoe beamed as she and her new husband waited for their cue to walk into the reception party. “You look absolutely breathtaking today. Coming down that aisle I was watching you like hot damn that’s my lady,” Michael grinned as Zoe slapped his arm, laughter falling from her lips. “Shut up, you were crying too,” the bride reminded, allowing Michael to wrap his arm around her waist.

“Yeah but that was the internal monologue,” he insisted as one of the tech workers handed each of them a microphone. The intro to “4evermore” by Anthony David began to blare on the other side of the banquet hall doors. “You ready?”

Zoe nodded and took her husband's hand. The doors opened on cue and the couple walked in belting their respective parts of the song.

“Forever’s a mighty long time but I really wanna spend it with you. I shine when you shine. There's really no substitute. 4evermore,”

The two danced around each other singing along with the track. The audience joined in clapping as the newlyweds continued their performance. “I’m making my plans just to be with you. It’s you and me, babe, till the days are through, And I ain’t ashamed, love, to say I do,” Michael crooned

They went through the chorus again before Zoe got her chance to shine, consequently surprising the guests who’d never heard her sing, “Pick a tree to carve our names, let the world know it’s not a game. Last longer than a wedding ring, generations tattooed with the love we bring. From the seeds we sow, to the time it takes to grow. Long enough to show you, I won’t let go of you. Without you, I'm incomplete, like this love song without this beat. I’m saying you are the man I need,” Zoe sang causing the crowd to erupt in cheers.

“I didn’t know Zoe could sing,” Shuri leaned over to her brother who was carrying both of his children in his arms. “She doesn’t often, but she’s great,” he nodded, trying to stop the regret flooding through his veins by bouncing his fussy two, almost, three-year-olds. He watched as their mother spun and sang with her husband. A man that wasn’t him. A man who was making her laugh and having fun on the dance floor as Camden started the rap verse in the song. His attention was then pulled to Nakia, as she laughed and danced on the sidelines of the dance floor cheering on Zoe and Michael with the rest of the bridesmaids and groomsmen.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, give it up for the new Mr. And Mrs. Michael B. Jordan. That was the best wedding entrance I’ve ever seen,” the DJ announced as the crowd began settling back in their seats. Zoe-Iman laughed as Michael handed over their mics and pulled her in close for their first dance. “I’m serious, who giving the new Mrs. Jordan a record deal, cause sis got some mad pipes. I know all this money in here, there’s gotta be a music exec looking for fresh talent. But, imma get off my soapbox so this new union can enjoy their first dance as husband and wife.”

Soon, “Butterflies Pt.2” by Queen Naija was drifting from the speakers as Michael gently swayed with his new wife, the couple singing along softly to each other. “You going to ask Nakia to dance?” Shuri caught her brother’s attention as she grabbed her niece from his arms. Not wanting to be left behind, Meluzmi began wriggling from his father’s arms to get down to the floor with his sister. “I don’t think Nakia wants to talk to me.” The king glanced again at his ex-wife dancing with Camden. “Nonsense, you all were friends first,” Ramonda interrupted, stooping to kiss both of her grandchildren. “That is why your father, and hers, thought you would make a great match.”

“You all are running the country well together, for over a year now.” Shuri pointed out smiling as the toddlers began bopping along to the song with each other. “Business conversations do not mean she will want to dance with me. Besides, she seems like she is having a good time with Camden.”

Shuri shook her head, “I’m taking the twins to dance, Mama, do something with him please,” the now 19-year old shook her head and headed towards the floor as the song shifted, signaling that other couples could join the wedding party on the floor. “Dance with me,” Ramonda extended a hand and the son turned king accepted and escorted her onto the floor.

“You know,” the queen mother started a few seconds later, “the first time you brought Zoe home, I was sure that within a year or two, you’d be telling your father you wanted to marry her.”

T’Challa smiled, “I was that obvious?”

Ramonda chuckled, “Painfully. You were looking at her like a lovesick fool the whole time she was there. Your father tried several times to give you his permission to date him. Even blatantly asking if you all were dating, but you were so stubborn.”

T’Challa looked away and swallowed, “It was not my finest hour and it will forever remain one of my biggest regrets, but I am happy for her.”

“You are, but you are also jealous. Zoe gave you plenty of chances, she even bore your children T’Challa but you were so stubborn, you lost your chance. Now that she’s happy, you should try to find happiness of your own. If not with Nakia, try again with someone. Don’t spend your life believing these were the only two women who could ever have been a great wife. Zoe found her happiness, Nakia is working on hers, it’s time you find your own.”

“Umama-” the king started. “Happiness outside of your children T’Challa, you need adult company too. Company you actually like, the elders don’t count.”

The king sighed and glanced across the room, “I’d like to try again, but I fear I will always wonder what Nakia and Zoe think of her.”

“That is your problem, you always wonder what everyone else is thinking, son.”

“You loved Zoe, but you were so afraid that we would hate her, you hid her and lost her. You had feelings for Nakia, but you wondered what she would think about what you had done to Zoe, so you pushed her away. Stop wondering what one girl will think about the other. Find your happiness, then bring her around. You always attract wonderful people, and we all always love each other. Think about it son, who else’s ex-wife is good friends with the woman her husband was cheating and had children with?”

Ramonda laughed, watching Zoe and Nakia dance with the rest of the wedding party. The king joined in chuckling as his mother continued, “Stop pitting the women against each other before they can even meet. Just let yourself fall in love freely son. We just want you to be happy.”

Zoe instinctively held her head further back as a smirk crossed her new husband’s lips. “Now, Michael, this is a very expensive white dress-”

“And you look beautiful baby-,” he raised his hand with a piece of cake in it closer to Zoe’s face. “Michael,” Zoe whined as his smirk turned into a full-on grin, “What? I’m just trying to feed my beautiful wife.”

“No, you are not!” Zoe laughed and dodged Michael’s hand, “I don’t wanna ruin my makeup, I paid a lot for it,” the bride pouted. “Fine,” the groom sighed, “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“Thank you,” Zoe beamed and allowed him to feed her the piece of cake, she leaned in, kissed his lips, and smashed the piece of cake and icing onto his face, “Gotcha,” she cackled as Michael wiped icing from his mouth. The guests doubled over in laughter as he wrapped a giggling Zoe up in his arms and shook her. “You play dirty,” he laughed. “Mama!” two voices cried out as Ka’aulani and Meluzmi ran to their mom and stepfather. “Cake,” Meluzmi pleaded and his twin nodded her head in agreement. “Okay baby, “Zoe smiled. Michael cut them two small pieces and handed Zoe a plate. The caterers took over cutting up the rest of the large cake for the couple as they led their children over to the main table.

Michael took his self-proclaimed best friend Meluzmi in his lap and let him try and figure out how to spear the soft pieces of dessert, before eventually helping him out. Not wanting her daughter to ruin her dress or hair, Zoe still couldn't understand how so much of the toddler’s meals ended up in her curls, the mother alternated between feeding the toddler and herself. The small family sat sharing cake in silence, bobbing softly to the beat of Kiss Me More while watching their guests tear it up on the dance floor and fight over pieces of cake. “There you two are!” Shuri sighed obviously frustrated, “ T’Challa is gonna kill me, he wanted me to keep them so you could enjoy yourself.”

“Girl,” Zoe dismissed. “He will be fine. My babies just wanted some cake and their mommy.”

On cue, the twins giggled. “Are you having fun?”

Shuri shrugged, I’m just glad to see you happy,” The teen admitted. “Yeah but you’re young, you should be out dancing, and not with two-year-olds.”

“I got a cousin, he’s 20, but I think y’all get along great,” Michael grinned and called the boy over. As predicted he and Shuri hit it off and as the party forged ahead, the couple saw the two dancing and shared a fist bump. “We’re definitely the matchmaking couple,” Zoe beamed.

As the party began to wind down hours later, T’Challa approached the couple for the second time that day and cleared his throat. “My mother and I were about to leave, I was gonna take the twins,” the king gestured towards the children sleeping peacefully, each spread over two chairs pushed together. “Oh okay, thank you for coming and babysitting,” Zoe Iman Jordan hugged her former best friend, ex-lover, and the father of her children, “I’m gonna go say goodnight to mama,” she squeezed Michael’s hand before leaving in search of the older matriarch. “I’ll help you grab the kids, '' Michael broke the silence.

T’Challa nodded and they grabbed the slobbering children from their makeshift beds and headed out of the venue to the cars. Once both twins were buckled, they leaned against the car awaiting the women’s arrival. “Michael thank you.”

“For what?” The actor turned to the monarch. “For loving Zoe and for bringing the light back to her life. For taking care of her and loving my children as your own, even when I wasn’t man enough to do the same.”

Michael nodded, “You know for the longest I hated you. I didn’t understand how one man could be so self-involved he couldn’t see how amazing of a woman he had right in his hand. I hated that you messed with Zoe’s head, made her second guess herself. Then I finally got her to a good place, she opened up, we were having a good time, then she found out she was pregnant. You wouldn’t even text her back about your own kids.” T’Challa nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets, “If I could do it all again, I would do it differently believe me.”

I know,” the groom agreed, “but everything happens for a reason. I don’t approve of what you did, but if you had been a good partner, I probably wouldn’t be married to the love of my life right now. So I forgive you. And those kids, they are like my own. I am beyond glad that you’ve stepped up for them. I want them to have their father and a bonus father in their lives. You stay involved and love them, then there are no hard feelings between us.” The acclaimed actor extended a hand and T’Challa accepted his handshake. “You have my word, I’m never leaving them again.”

“Good.” Michael leaned back against the car and crossed his legs, hands stuffed in his tuxedo pockets. “So what’s next for you?” He asked a few beats later.

T’Challa exhaled, “I’m not sure, but I do know I wanna get my life back on track. Find someone and treat her right.”

“Then you do that man,” they stood up off of the car as Ramonda approached. “I just wonder what she’ll think of this family. It’s all a little bizarre isn’t it?”

“Yeah most baby mamas and ex-wives aren’t best friends, especially under our circumstances, but if she loves you and you love her, there’ll always be room in the family.”

“I appreciate that Michael.”

“Shuri staying with Nakia?” The actor asked when the queen mother reached the car. “Yes, she and your cousin have taken quite a liking to each other,” Ramonda raised an eyebrow. “You know me and Zoe will watch out for her,” Michael reassured. “I know, that is the only reason I’m letting her stay,” Ramonda answered.

“We’ll get her back to you safely later tonight. I promise,” The actor shoved his hands in his pocket and stepped back. “I guess we better get going then-”

“Wait,” Zoe walked out of the venue over to the car. “I didn’t get to kiss my babies goodbye,” the mother pouted. Michael laughed as T’Challa rolled his eyes. “Boy, don’t roll your eyes at me before they get stuck like that.” She slapped his chest before opening the car doors and kissing both of her toddlers.”

“Okay, we will swing by to pick them up after we get back. And you have everything packed for them right? You have Meluzmi’s inhaler, and enough clothes and replacement outfits? You got the earplugs too right? They hate heights and the sounds of the plane's engines when-”

“Zoe they will be fine. T’Challa reassured. “And if I don’t have it, you know my mother will make sure they get it. They will be fine. I can do this,” The king grabbed both of her hands and squeezed them gently. “I know, I know,” the young mother sighed, “This is just the longest I have been away from them ever and I’m nervous.” Michael moved up to wrap an arm around his wife’s waist and press a kiss to her forehead. “ Everything will be fine,” he soothed. “I know-”

“Then stop worrying,” T’Challa offered a sad smile, “You deserve this, to be happy, to have a break, to enjoy your honeymoon. You are an excellent mother Zoe, but they have a father too. So enjoy your break, enjoy your marriage. I promise they will be just as alive and happy as they are now when you get back from your trip.”

Zoe nodded and sighed, finally stepping back from the car with Michael at her side. “Okay, see you in three weeks. Thank you all again.”

“Anytime, you know I love my grandbabies.” Ramonda hugged the bride once more before closing the door facing the twins and taking a seat in the backseat next to them. “Ayy, Mike, it’s almost time for the garter toss,” Two of the groomsmen waved the couple over but T’Challa reached for Zoe’s hand. “Can we talk?”

Zoe nodded at her husband letting him know she was okay, he looked the king over once more before heading inside to watch from the doorway. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted you to know that you were right.”

“About what?” the bride squinted. “About deserving to be with someone who can say they love you in and out of the bedroom. You deserve someone who loves you out loud, and I’m glad you found it in Michael.”

Zoe smiled softly, “Thank you. I hope you find the same for yourself. We both deserve someone.”

“I think I already did but I kind of fucked it up...twice,” the king chuckled. “I’ll keep you updated on that front though.”

Zoe Iman nodded. T’Challa gestured to the doorway, “I think you better go though, your husband hasn’t stopped watching.” Zoe laughed, glancing over her shoulder at Michael who was, sure enough, watching from the door. “Yeah... Goodbye T’Challa.” Zoe pulled the king in for a hug before placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Goodbye, Zoe… I love you,” he sighed once she had walked off out of earshot.

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julienschuester · 3 years

Text

THIS WILL BE ( AN EVERLASTING SELF-PARA )

WHO: julien schuester (ft. joey, angel and steph) WHERE: the spotlight diner WHEN: monday, 4/12 WHAT: julien auditions for the role of ‘server’ at the spotlight diner.

Julien was a lot of things—goofy, aloof, kind, gullible, talented, insecure. Most pertinently these days though, Julien was one thing above everything else: broke. He had been scraping by on a measly allowance from his parents all year long and at the end of each month, he always found himself rationing his NYADA meal plan and walking everywhere since he couldn’t afford the subway. It was...not a very practical way to live. And with Ivy as his girlfriend? He was living way above his means. Sure, she offered to pay for stuff so that they could keep going out and doing the things they wanted to do, but Julien didn’t want to rely on her for everything. He was an adult...he should have his own money and be able to treat her and take care of himself.

Deciding where to work was the toughest piece of the puzzle. It wasn’t easy to get a good job in New York and Julien had very limited experience. All he’d ever done was lifeguard in the summer time, which didn’t exactly earn him many transferrable skills other than being good with people. He had no retail or food experience, which put him at a massive disadvantage.

Life had a funny way of working out sometimes though. When Joey brought up that the Spotlight Diner was hiring, it was like the powers that be were handing him an opportunity on a silver platter. Sure, he’d never worked as a server before, but he could definitely sing...and he had not just one, but three friends who worked at the diner who would vouch for him. It would be a wasted opportunity if he didn’t at least try.

So, come Monday, Julien gave himself a pep talk after getting ready in his dorm room and then began his trek to the diner that he’d been at many times as a patron, but never as a potential employee. Once he arrived to the diner, he immediately spotted Joey behind the register and waved. Joey had gotten him the interview ( somehow ) and as nervous as Julien felt, he was also excited. He approached the counter with a smile and just as he was about to say hi to Joey, he was stopped dead in his tracks by an older man with his arms crossed. This would mark the start of his very informal interview.

“You Julien?” the uniformed man asked with a quirked brow, to which Julien cleared his throat and nodded.

“Yes,” he confirmed, extending his hand, “you must be Jeff. Joey told me all about you! And Steph...and Angel...” he added with a quick chuckle before firmly shaking his potential future boss’ hand.

“You ever worked at a restaurant before?” Jeff asked curtly after nearly breaking Julien’s hand with his shake.

“Well, no–” Julien started saying, and just as he did, Jeff drew a sharp breath and winced. Crap. He needed to save himself...and fast. “But I can sing,” he stammered assuringly, smiling widely as he shed his coat and handed it to Joey who was lurking nearby, “and I can dance too. And I’m charming.” Gulp. “Or so I’ve been told.”

Jeff didn’t seem impressed by Julien’s promise that he’d be able to deliver. So...naturally...he came prepared with a little diddy that would speak for itself. “Watch,” Julien said with a shrug, locking eyes with Steph from across the restaurant and giving her a nod. It was go time.

Everything after that happened quickly. As Julien made his way to the stage that was lit up by neon signs, a male server dressed in the infamous black and red uniform slid on to the piano bench and began playing the opening notes of ‘This Will Be (An Everlasting Love)’ by Natalie Cole. The song choice had been a product of Dan’s email earlier this month. Natalie Cole had won Best New Artist back in 1975 and with all this talk about love and weddings, Julien knew there was really only one choice for this performance.

He found his way to the mic and began humming during the intro of the song and on cue, waitresses in red dresses spun out of the kitchen clapping in perfect harmony with the song. Steph had assured him that she would help him with his audition, but this was way better than anything he could’ve imagined. The wait staff fully had choreography to go with his number. It was beyond. With a smile as wide as New York sky scrapers were tall, he began to fully sing the song back-up generously provided by his friends and their co-workers.

This will be an everlasting love This will be the one I've waited for This will be the first time anyone has loved me

Julien’s impromptu performance drew curious and amused stares from all of the families who were just enjoying a nice lunch at a kitschy spot in the city. What was some random kid who definitely didn’t work there doing performing his little heart out on stage?

I'm so glad you found me in time And I'm so glad that you rectified my mind This will be an everlasting love for me

As Julien continued to sing, he confidently took the mic off the stand and hopped off the stage and on to one of the nearby tables, which earned him some laughs and excited applause. Jules gave one of the kids at the table a high five before hopping off and dancing his way over to Steph and reaching for her hand.

Loving you is some kind of wonderful Because you showed me just how much you care You've given me the thrill of a lifetime And made me believe you've got more thrills to spare, oh

Julien spun Steph around as he sang, knowing full well she was probably the best dancer in this joint. If there was anyone he could count on to make him look good, it was her. So, they danced and sang for a verse before Julien let her go and skipped his way over to Angel who was behind the bar.

You brought a lot of a sunshine in to my life You filled me with happiness I never knew You gave me more joy then I ever dreamed of And no one, no one can take the place of you

Julien threw himself back on to the counter top and slid down it with ease as he sang into the mic and nearly knocked over a couple of milkshakes. Luckily, his friend had been there to save him from any accidental messes and made this piece of his performance look totally effortless.

As the song reached its climactic end, Julien hopped back on to his feet and stood at the bar, singing down at the guys and dolls who littered the diner. When he reached the cash register, he hopped off and landed weightlessly on his feet to make his way back to the stage.

When he got back up on the platform and returned the mic to his stand, he finished out the song by playing off of the pianist’s energy, glancing out at the audience only to make eye contact with the friends that had helped him make this happen.

By the time he was repeating ‘love’ and ‘from now on,’ it was like everyone in the establishment had joined in with singing and clapping. Julien felt like he was in a movie. When it was over, he breathlessly took a bow and fist bumped his (hopefully) future co-worker that had been his right hand on the keys. The moment was over just as quickly as it had began. After all, this was an every day occurrence. Crazy things like this happened every day in New York City.

Making his way back over to Jeff, Julien held out his arms and shrugged. “So?” he asked, anxiously biting his lips as he straightened out his posture, “what do you think?”

Before Julien could even finish asking the question, a uniform was being tossed directly at his face. “Fill out the paperwork at the bar,” Jeff ordered, crossing his arms again and starting at Julien, unimpressed, “you start tomorrow.”

Nice!

#self para #this will be #para

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heavenlysan · 4 years

Text

Cruel Love [4]

Words: 2,494

Chapters:

1 | 2 | 3

(Y/N's POV)

Through all my life I've been always treated like garbage but tonight… what a fucking night. What a fucking exhausting ugly night. I was kicked in the ribs and slapped on the face I haven't felt so humiliated in a long time if this whole fake identity is gonna keep me feeling this way I don't know what I'm gonna do and for how long I'll be able to keep it, I admit that it could've been worse but it wasn't and that was thanks to Choi San.

At least the way back home was in complete silence this man Wooyoung didn't say much he just gave me his jacket to cover my legs and after dropping me off at home he just waved goodbye and disappeared.

I decided to take a long bath and a shower after that mess. Being around men and being treated like meat and just like shit in general definitely made me upset. But then there was Choi San, his behaviour confused completely an old man got shot by him and then the same old man apologised to him and then the owner he called him Mister and I swear his hold felt shaky he was scared of him too. But to me he was a completely different man he didn't seem scary he was… a gentleman.

My old phone started ringing I tried to reach for it as it kept ringing and vibrating but when I finally got it whoever was calling hung up. I looked at the screen to see who it was. It was Irene. But I didn't call her back because I didn't feel like talking to people right now the exhaustion was draining me completely and I just wanted to sleep.

I dropped on the bed to try to sleep but the only thing on my head was Choi San. If he is a cold blooded murderer the big head of a Mafia and a most wanted why was he so nice and even charming? And why was he so nice to me.

As I kept moving and rolling on my bed to find a good position to sleep I abruptly got up remembering that I forgot to put on all the artefacts that were given to me to record my first meeting with Choi San. I fucked up big time. If I didn't die at the bar I'm surely going to die when the moment to give all my reports to Irene comes.

"You think somebody is going to love you? You really think that? just look at you you're nothing an animal has more value than you do. You're ugly and you don't behave like a normal human being. If someone ever shows affection to you is only gonna be out of pity." I look around and I'm in a big empty room the lights are pretty dim and across the room there's that man laughing hysterically at me, the room feels extremely cold and I'm shivering and crying, as I try to hug myself to make myself warmer I realise that I'm tied up in chair. Why? "y/n you're still pretty naive if you could only be smart enough people would consider adopting you" he laughs "But you're ugly and stupid and that's why you're still here and you'll always be here" The lights go off but they come back on in seconds but now I'm no longer tied up and the man is now dead in front of me. And then I hear in the distance "RUN"

I wake up abruptly when I hear there's someone knocking on the door. I get up to open the door and before opening I check the clock it's 10am? When did I sleep so much?

I look through the peephole and I fall on my butt. What is he doing here? He knocks harder after the noise I made by falling down and I'm unable to comprehend what's going on why is Choi San at my door?

"I'm coming" I run to hide all the papers and my old phone under the mattress making sure this place doesn't look like a detective is living here. And I try to look a little bit decent before opening the door.

I shyly open the door "Hey"

He looks so well dressed he's wearing all black and his shirt is unbuttoned just enough to expose a little bit of chest.

"Hi" He says with a smile on his face, "I'm sorry, I hope you don't mind, Wooyoung told me where you live, I just wanted to make sure you were alright"

"Oh you didn't have to, everything's alright after he dropped me off I just went to sleep" I say awkwardly and then I remember that we're still on the door "Shit I'm sorry you wanna come in? I can make you some coffee" He smiles again and just enters.

"You have a nice place" he says and I get so embarrassed because all my normal clothes and my fake ones are all scattered around.

"I'm sorry for the mess let's stay in the kitchen please"

I'm doing a terrible job I'm supposed to be a confident and sexy woman but instead I'm being my normal awkward self, he's gonna find out that I'm a detective and he's most likely going to kill me.

"Don't worry about that princess I don't mind, it's making you blush and you look adorable"

I don't even want to answer that "So how do you like your coffee?"

"Black is alright" He sits and stares at me.

I try to analyze him he's staring at me but it's not the way my boss stares at me or they way Dylan does or the way any other man has ever stared at me. His stare feels… Kind and just different and Choi San keeps confusing me. I snap back when I get embarrassed and turn around breaking our staring contest.

"By the way, it's good that you're here your friend gave me a jacket last night you can take it with you" I say still not looking at him.

"That was my jacket, before you got on your car I gave it to him for you, your dress looked like it was making you uncomfortable"

"Oh" I genuinely don't know how to keep the conversation going I turn around to face him and he smiles really big… he has dimples, beautiful ones "Thanks and thanks for everything last night" I give him his coffee and I sit down next to him.

He sips the coffee and looks back at me "You were new right?"

"Yeah it was my first day there"

"No no I mean new as a…" He tries to find a better word than prostitute.

"A prostitute"

"A sex worker"

"It's the same thing but yes I'm new why?" I try to figure out where this is going to.

"It's nothing princess" He smiles and flips back his hair "I just knew it the moment I saw you"

And then I laugh not so much since I don't want to offend him "Then I probably looked lost"

"Not exactly princess you looked fierce like you weren't up to let anyone touch you and if someone even dared to you'd probably jump on them, you have this gaze that amazed me"

I look at him almost confused and lost. Choi San what do you mean with that and why did you have to appear here. I know that he's lying just to make me feel better about myself If I had looked fierce like he said nobody would've touch me but two men did.

"But anyways, another reason I'm here is because last night I paid for your services" He looks at me and I freeze completely he wants to have sex? As in right now? If he tries something what am I gonna do? I realise that I probably look like a fool when he starts laughing.

"What things are you imagining in your head? I'm not here to have sex princess I want to take you out for dinner"

"Dinner?"

"Yes" He puts a single piece of my hair behind my ear.

He is so close I can see every detail of his face he has a mole close to his eye and I must admit Choi San is extremely good looking and I kind of want to punch him in the face for that nobody should be that handsome.

"I'll go" I say and he opens his eyes not believing what I just said I give him a shy smile and he does the same.

He finishes his coffee and gets up to the door "I'll come back tonight to pick you up at 7pm" he gently holds my chin and I thoughtlessly hold my breath. "I'll see you later princess" And then he walks away.

I close the door and I drop on the floor holding my legs astonished not knowing what just happened confused it's not even the word to describe what I'm feeling right now what am I even feeling right now?

My old phone starts ringing and it brings me back to this dimension.

"Hello?"

"Miss y/ln, it's Irene I called you yesterday but there was no answer everything went alright? We don't expect you to meet Choi San right away that would be impossible he's definitely unreachable but we'll get ther…"

"I met him" There's a silence on the phone

"You what? You recorded everything right? That's crucial for this investigation"

Fuck

"No I didn't" I pause and I close my eyes with fear "I forgot to put on the mic"

There's another silence. She's pissed.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that, today you're completely free I want an extremely detailed report I told you this is important and you're not in the place to fuck this up"

"I'm actually not free I'm seeing him again tonight"

"That is not possible we've been trying to get slightly close to him for the last 2 years and you got this close in one night? There is no way" She pauses "You had sex with him didn't you? After all you're pretending to be a prostitute I guess you played too well your new role"

Her words are hurtful and I take a moment to absorb what she just said.

"Okay I want the report tomorrow morning" Before I speak she ends the call.

No I did not have sex with him you stupid bitch. "you played too well your new role" that was disrespectful and so unprofessional just because she has a higher position than I do more money than I do and more in general than I do doesn't give her the right to talk to me like this.

I get in the shower and after that I quickly grab something to eat if I'm gonna be busy with Choi San and I have to send my report in the morning I need to start writing now.

Choi San

…

Hours pass and absolutely nothing comes to my mind what should I even write? Choi San is a charming man that respects women? They would laugh at me. I can't write about him shooting a man it would be just like the people that tried to report him we have no evidence without evidence we're back to zero I don't know who's the man that he shot to have him as the victim so that's not really an option besides that man looked frightened he didn't even want to make eye contact with Choi San I'm pretty sure he would deny everything or blame someone else.

There's a knock on the door is that him? No way it's still too early and I look like trash. I see through the peephole and there's a delivery guy. He probably has the wrong address but I open the door anyway.

"Hello package for y/n" Says the delivery man.

What?

"You have the wrong y/n then, I didn't order it"

"No ma'am I got specific instructions to send it exactly here just sign here please" Oh shit I don't have a fake signature, I improvise one and the man gives me a big red box I say thanks and I close the door.

I've watched a lot of movies and I just know that this is from him but this can't be good a mysterious box out of the blue is a big red flag, he totally found out about the real me and he probably sent a snake, a deadly one to kill me. I stare for too long at the box across the room he was too nice to be real it was just a facade.

After over thinking for too long I grow a pair and I slowly open the box there's thin paper covering whatever it's inside but thankfully there's no sign of a snake I remove all the paper. It's a dress and at the bottom of the box there's a card.

Just a little something for tonight you can wear this or whatever you want, I know you'll look beautiful regardless of what you choose

San

Wait… I take a few steps back not believing what I'm seeing. I jump on the bed and I put a pillow on my face and I let out a big and loud scream. First of all what the fuck.

I get up again and I hold the dress pressed against my body in front of a mirror it's a beautiful tight black dress with long sleeves and exposed shoulders. It's so pretty and it isn't too short and that's such a relief it's the perfect length for me.

It's 6pm he'll be here in an hour so I have to hurry up. I put on the dress and must say I don't look bad at all it fits so well it's as if it was designed just for me I check tutorials on the Internet to do my makeup no the one I'd usually wear to work or any other simple day but something more fitting to the occasion. I look at myself in the mirror I feel weird in all this since I don't think I've ever looked like this but I feel confident and happy with myself.

I look up to the clock and I apparently took too much time on my appearance it's almost 7pm and he'll be here any moment now. I run back to the room opening the briefcase and search for the artefacts to actually record my meeting with Choi San this time I grab the mic and the mini camera that look like earrings and I put them on.

I hear a soft knock on the door and I stare at myself one last time on the mirror and I turn on both the mic and the camera before finally opening.

Oh shit

#ateez scenarios #ateez #Cruel Love #choi san x reader #Choi san x female reader #Choi san x y/n #choi san series #choi san soft hours #choi san scenarios #choi san smut #choi san #choi san fluff #choi san fanfic #choi san ff #choi san fic #choi san imagines #choi san ateez #choi san angst #Choi san writings

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shaydeoffical · 4 years

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Bright as a Diamond. Shinso Hitoshi x Fem Reader: Chapter Twelve

Chapter Summary: Shouta's still not home, Mic and Shinso have to work, so (Y/n) finally has a moment to herself, but she can't stay home. So she takes it upon herself to go visit her mother. It doesn't go to plan, but she does meet an electric hero who helps her get out of her daze.

Series Summary: When (Y/N)’s co-worker decided to send a picture of her making a diamond to the paper, her life was over. Gemstone based quirks weren’t all that rare, but being able to make a diamond put a target on her back. After years of hiding in the city, it’s time to hide in the countryside with her Uncle Shota Aizawa and his more than ‘roommate’ Hizashi Yamada. With the promise of training her to be self-sufficient, she’s ready to learn.

Author Note: Enjoy this softer update!

Warnings: Dissosiation, parental abuse, arugment, feeling helpless,

Last Chapter: Eleven

Next Chapter: Thirteen

Good Friends

What is Home?

The train ride had been pleasant, as in, no one knew who I was or cared. Definitely, no one trying to make me think I had an admirer. Damn Hizashi, trying to plant a seed that Hitoshi actually liked me the whole time. What a ridiculous notion.

“Name?” I buzzed the staff, and a woman’s voice filtered through the intercom.

“(Y/n) (L/n),” I answered, hearing the gate click open immediately. Tucking my book into my bag, I went through the slightly familiar halls. We had taken a tour of the facility months before, but all I knew was mom’s room number now.

Her room was in the middle of the hall, right across from the nurse's station. That was some peace of mind, knowing that they were close enough to hear her if something happened. Still, I carefully opened the door and peered inside.

She was propped against a chair by the window, a tablet loose in her hand. Her sullen eyes were glued to the snowy sky, and her smile was hard to miss. “Hey, mom.” I sat my things on her bed and took the chair across from her.

“You’ve been keeping secrets” she didn’t take her eyes off the sky. Instead, she pointed to the scars on my skin. “Shota didn’t cause that with his training.”

“No, he didn’t.” I relaxed my shoulders and leaned back into the plush chair. “A lot of things are happening at the moment, but Shota is- well all of his people are taking care of it. They are taking care of me.” I crossed my ankles and massaged my neck. “I don’t want to spend our time talking about that, though.”

“(Y/n), are you really protected with Shota?” A small wisp of smoke flew from her mouth as he coughed, trying to test her power.

“Hey, take it easy,” I warned, grabbing her arms, and kneeling before her, feeling the heat radiate from her chest. “I’m getting better, I kind of saved myself the other day….with some help, but still.” Mom reached in my hoodie and pulled out the necklace Dad made for me. She smiled before her expression soured.

“I never wanted you to be a fighter.” She twirled the stone in the light. “Shota begged me to let you really immerse yourself into training, and I just wanted you to live a normal life. Go to school, get married, have a family, but that all went down the drain.” She clenched her teeth, ripping the cord from my throat after yanking multiple times. It was a strong string and didn’t give, so my oxygen was cut off as she fisted it up. Too afraid to push her off, I let it happen. She always calmed down. Finally, the cord snapped. “I never should have married your father.”

“What?” I stepped back, rubbing my throat, coughing with each breath. Why was she made about Dad?

“No, I loved him. I should have never had kids with him…” she shot me a fiery glance. “He’d still be here.” The air in the room heating as her breath came out in smoke lines.

“Mom, what medicine are you on right now?” I grabbed her chart and started to slip through the notes, hoping there'd be notes. It was different from being at home, I couldn't let her have a meltdown and ruin the hospital campus. I flipped faster…DNR. My fingers froze, and I held my breath. Trying to shake it off, I let my anger slip. “What the hell, mom? Do not resuscitate forms?”

“Momma is very tired,” she tossed my necklace out the window and shut it back quickly. Cracking the glass on the window pane. “I am exhausted and bitter, my dear. It’s not my desire to fight this anymore. And it's none of your concern.” Her damned hero voice slipped out.

“Then why did we put you in an experimental hospital and not hospice? Why did I have to move hours away?” I slammed the clipboard on the bed and pulled my hair, curling into myself. "This has everything to do with me." She settled down. Sweat pooled in my pits, and I became light-headed. Her quirk was pro material for a reason.

“This is an end of life facility, I lied.” She stood up from her chair and took my hands from my head. “Baby, I did everything for you. I lived my life for your father and after him, you. Now it is time I let you go. There are more pro heroes then ever, surely you can manage to stay safe in this world.” She heated her hand like when I was a child and slapped me. “But don’t you dare lie to me about being in danger. When you are in trouble, you tell me. No more of this hiding bullshit.”

"Yes." My lips moved before I could think. My body was separate from me.

A nurse stormed in. We were pried apart, and mom was held back. Nothing was moving faster than my head. Time wasn't real. I needed to find my necklace. Outside, I needed to go outside. My bag was tossed into my arms by a nurse. I was guided to the front door. Moving on my own, I searched. On the front steps, I found my necklace tangled in a bush. Once in my grasp, I ran. I raced towards where I thought the train was. Moving. Pushing. Blood rushing in my ears.

___

A pop can rolled under my ankle. Losing my balance, I swan dove into the street. Hitting the concrete and skidding to a stop by a crosswalk, I woke up. I had no clue how long I had been running or walking. My bag was filled with empty snack wrappers I didn’t remember eating, and my money was gone. How long had I been on the move? I grasped Hizashi’s phone, and the battery was drained. The sky was dark. Fuck.

A man walking by stopped, he crossed the street and towered over me. He gripped under my arms and tugged back onto the sidewalk, kneeling beside me. Pushing my hair aside, he nodded. “You’re (Y/n).” My heart froze, I had to flee. Tripping over my sore feet, I tried to sprint across the street. “Wait, hold on, I’m Shinso’s friend. Don't go.” The man chased after me with ease, I didn't have the energy to run. “I’m Denki Kaminari, pro hero Chargebolt. You may have heard of me.” He produced his hero license, and I slowed down, out of breath and freezing—Head dizzy.

“Can you please text Shinso I lost my money and can’t get home, and to let Shota know. Plus, tell him my phone is dead.” I coughed into my shoulder, and Denki produced a canteen of water. Popping off the cap, I gulped it down, taking a moment to think this through. “How do you know who I am?”

“You’re his phone lock screen.” Denki grinned, pulling out his phone, “but I’m not supposed to talk about that.” I could imagine the horrendous picture he had. It must have made Kaminari laugh, Shinso was still a smug prick.

“I’m sure it’s a sight to see. But could you text the Lint ball that for me?” I leaned against a stone wall, trying to ground myself. Cunting, the cracks in the pathway, listening to the cars pass, and the heavy scent of axe.

“Sure, I’ll one-up you and take you to the station and buy you a ticket home.” He sent the message quickly. “Hey, hand me your phone."

"I don't know about that." Standing on my own feet, I took a step back.

"Listen, I know a cool trick. Just trust me, okay?" He offered a dazzling smile and held out his hand.

I placed Hizashi’s phone in his palm, and he plugged a cable to it and put the other end in his mouth. It lit up and started to charge. “That’s super handy.” I laughed, my jaw unclenching. "Alright, I'll take your offer." He took off down a path, and I followed after the blonde like a lost duckling. Though he could have walked faster, he made sure to keep my pace, falling to walk beside me. “Thanks for helping me.”

“No worries. I can’t leave a pretty girl delusional in the streets.” He grinned, grasping the USB port between his teeth. A blush dusted my cheeks.

“Don’t say stuff like that, it might get to, my head.” I tucked my hands in my pockets, the wind nipping at my fingers. “I’m just a crazy nondescript woman you bumped into at the right time.” I was coming to my senses a bit. Grounding had helped me a lot, plus knowing this dude was slightly goofy put me at ease. Though I never imagined Shinso to have such an electric friend.

“Hey, if Shinso didn’t have dibs, I’d take you on a date. You’re absolutely beautiful.” He nudged my shoulder and nearly knocked me over, a jolt of energy passing through me.

“Dibs on giving me hell,” I puffed, tugging the collar on my jacket up. There’s no way this guy would take me on a date, he was just a nice dude. “For real, are you a tease like Shinso? Is that why you both get along? It would make more sense.”

“You don’t believe me?” Kaminari stopped, and took my hand, lacing our fingers. “Would you like me to wine and dine you, my dear.” He spun me in a circle after tucking my phone in his pocket. The cord still dangling from his lips anyway. But-“ He dipped me, and I clasped his arms for balance.

“Alright, you broke me. Come one, we’re going to have dinner before I send you off to- Lint ball?” He raised his brow and smiled at the nickname. I nodded. "Yea, Lint Ball can wait for us."

There was a small café that we ducked into. A warm breeze blew over us, and I shivered with the change. Inside there was only one couple in the middle of the café and one server behind the counter. Kaminari dragged me to a table by the window. The waiter took her time gathering menus and then skipped over to us. I could see she was tired, but trying t, get her spirits up.

“Welcome, what can I start you with?” She let the words fall from her lips. The menus dropping to the table, her fingers tapping the plastic covers in a rhythmic pattern before she separated them.

It was quiet as we read over the menu, but I could; feel the slight rush as the waiter hoovered us. While Kaminari was treating me, I still didn't want to break his bank. So I looked over the lunch deals and tried to find something that would warm u,p my insides.

“I’ll take a water, and the daily special.“ Kaminari glanced at me, “get whatever you want.”

“Umm, I’ll have a hot chocolate and the curry. Also, can I have a glass of water.” I handed her the menu, having picked one of the more affordable and warming options.

“Perfect, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She bowed and headed off to the back. My stomach growled at the right moment. It wouldn't be much longer before it was filled with real food.

“You’re pretty hungry huh? I wish I’d thought of this sooner, it would have been uncool for me to send a cutie on the train hungry. Anyway, tell me about how you know Mr. Aizawa. He was my teacher back in the day.”

“Oh, he’s my uncle on my mother’s side. We were close growing up, and when he got Eri, he relied on my mom for advice on raising a proper young girl and not just being a stoic mentor.” A smile came to mind as I thought back onto our time together. Though some parts of my memory were hazey, I could never forget meeting her. Or helping Uncle Sho become an excellent father.

“I can see that. You look nothing like the guy, so I assume your mom got all the beauty.” He grinned thanking the waiter as we got our drinks. He swirled his straw a few times in the ice before taking a long swig.

“She’s a good looker for sure.” I burned my tongue and then dropped a few ice cubes into my mug, wrinkling my nose.

“Don’t burn yourself.” Denki warned me before I took my next sip.

“Too late.” I giggled, taking a gulp. It was hot enough to irritate my burn but easily pass by the rest of my mouth. Denki grabbed my cup and added a few more ice cubes.

“Slow down, and let it cool. Hitoshi is right, you really are a disaster on your own.” He laughed, twirling his spoon in my mug before licking the chocolate remains clean.

“That’s not fair. I'm perfectly capable on my own.” I crossed my arms and looked towards the counter. His eyes had been lingering on the red mark on my face a little too long. He hadn't mentioned it yet, but I knew it was at the back of his mind. While talking with him was easy as breathing, I needed to remember we had just met. I was already mentally ushing his first name.

“So why are you in town?” The little old couple pointed at us and smiled to themselves. Of course, we looked like we were having a lovers quarrel to them. I guess we were dinner and a show.

“Trying to change the subject? Well, I’ll let it slide this once.- Oh Thank you.” I smiled as our food was placed on the table, our waiter sloppily spilling sauce all over the table. She left without another word, so I went back to my story. “Anyway, I was here to see my mom. She’s in the care facility by the bay.” A frown crept up despite my best efforts. I shoved a mouthful of warm curry past my lips and chugged my water, finishing it off. “I got booted because she had a small meltdown today. I don’t know what happened after that. I was just upset, and I came to when I fell in the street.”

“That’s rough, I’m sorry.” Denki brought a mouthful of rice to his mouth and swallowed quickly. His phone began to ring, and he dug in his pocket before pulling it out. Putting a headphone in quickly, he leaned back in the booth, resting his arm along the top. “This is Chargebolt. Oh, you want to see who I am with?” Denki changed it to facetime, then pointed the camera at me. The waiter still hadn’t come to refill our drinks. I guess I did chug it as soon as she left.

“Is it Shinso?” I asked, setting my fork down and waving lightly. Fixing my hair the best I could without a mirror, I covered the spot on my face.

“Yup, we’re on a little date.” He paused for a moment, going pale. “Hey, you can’t use your quirk over the phone, so I am safe. Chill out.”

“Did you upset him?” Pepper from the curry caught at the back of my throat, and I started to choke. I was able to stay calm at first, but my spit wasn't enough. Coughing was pushing it back deeper, and Denki's focus shifted. Shit.

“Hold on, (Y/n)’s dying.” Denki handed me what was left of his water, and I hacked so hard the water went out my nose. I caught it all in a napkin. Mentally kicking myself, I closed my eyes. This was a date, my first date, and I had made a fool of myself already. It was a casual affair, and I still managed to fuck it up. Another swig and I had my throat cleared and slumped into the plush chair. “She’s good now. Anyway, I’ll have her on the train within the hour….if she doesn’t come back home with me, Lint Ball.” He grinned, leaning into the camera.

“Hey, only I can call him that,” I wheezed, lightly kicking Denki under the table, causing him to moan in pain.

“Hey, you two need to keep it down,” the waiter returned, filling our glasses and bringing more napkins. The couple had headed out, and it was just us inside the café at the moment.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized, sipping my water.

“Yea, we will keep it down,” Denki added, pulling one headphone out. “Shinso, I got to get back to my date…yes, I won’t put the moves on. She didn’t believe me when I said I’d take her on one if you didn’t have dibs. What do you mean I need to- ohhhh. Well, that’s awkward.”

I blinked a few times and cocked my head. They were arguing for sure, but I couldn’t find the will to care, my curry was getting cold. This time I slowed down my pace and focused on rationing my water.

Still, you can’t call dibs on a real person. I was free real-estate, and just because someone wanted a tour, doesn’t mean I’m even on the market yet. Yea, I’m a house for sale-a real home. Boys had the dumbest conversations sometimes.

I shuffled my curry around for a few minutes and formed the first character of Shinso’s name. Slowly I ate away at the design, Denki still in an argument with Shinso. Their words hushed and nearly in code. Sleep was pulling at me.

Exhaustion tugged at my eyelids, and I took the opportunity to stretch out against the booth. I closed my eyes.

The next thing I remember is being lifted onto Denki’s back. I woke up long enough to jump and hold on. He carried me for what felt like miles. The gentle hum of traffic and his rhythmic steps. The sway of his hips when he turned corners. That’s what kept me semi-awake.

He carried me to the train terminal and bought my ticket. He went so far as to bring me to the train and put me in the car.

“Can you wake up for your stop?” He asked, fixing my scarf.

“Hmm mm,” I agreed, curling into the seat.

Click. “Alright, I will see you again soon. Thank you for the date.”

“Thank you for the date and all your help, really. You made for a fun first date. Just don't talk on the phone so long next time.” Heat flew across my face, Denki taking my hand into his and planting a soft kiss.

“Well, we need to have second, maybe with Hitoshi this time.” He winked, jogging out the train. The car doors shut, and so did my eyes. There was no way I was about to miss my stop, so I put an alarm and took a two-hour nap.

Halfway home, my phone buzzed. Lazily I picked it up, answered the call. “Hello?” I hummed, barley keeping myself upright.

“(Y/n), is d- Hizashi with you?” Eri was on the line

I perked up, rolling my shoulders, “no, I just have his phone for the day, sweetie. What do you need me to pass on for you?”

“Oh, I was just checking in is all. I passed my final paper with flying colors.”

“That’s amazing, good for you. You’re so bright, I can’t see you ever flopping on a paper that wasn’t absolutely ridiculed.” I chewed my lip. “I have failed a paper before actually, so maybe I’m just protecting.” We shared a small laugh.

“Nonsense (Y/n), I’m sure it was an unfair assessment. You’re so dedicated and smart, I know it was a fluke.” She said something to another person on the phone. “Anyway, I’m coming home for Christmas, so let dad know I’ll need a place to sleep. You are in my old room.”

“We can share, or I can sleep on the sofa. I’m not going to take your room when you are home.”

“Oh, thank you. We can share if you are okay with that. I’m excited to see how everything will turn out. That reminds me, how is Hisoka?”

“He’s a fighter. He caught his first mouse since the accident yesterday, so he’s nearly back to himself. I’m sure he’ll be excited for you to come home.” A yawn escaped past me, and I took a moment to relax into my seat again.

“How your mom?”

“That’s a complicated mess at the moment. But she’s well cared for. I saw her for a bit today, nothing too exciting happened.” I twirled my necklace around my fingers. Eri didn’t need to stress over her aunt. School was hard enough without family drama. “Hey, I should let you go. Finals are right around the corner, and we can’t have you falling behind.”

“Right as always, (Y/n), I’ll see at Christmas.” We said our goodbyes, and I flipped through the phone.

Of course, there were pictures of Shinso, and I cuddled up like two peas in a pod. What concerned me was the ones before either of us were awake. Our foreheads were pressed together, Shinso curling around me, our limbs tightly wound each other. The blanket was tucked loosely around me, one end in Shinso’s hand like he pulled it over me in his sleep. Of course, Hitoshi had a smile plastered his face, and my lips were lightly parted so I could breathe, eyebrows relaxed, and at peace. It looked like a photo that would come with a picture frame.

I had half a mind to delete them all but settled on emailing them to myself and putting the phone away. I had an issue with being photographed without permission, but candid photos were always the most memorable. So I’d just tuck these bad boys away and use it as blackmail one day. Yea, that’s why I wanted them.

#bnha x reader #Shinso x reader #bnha #my hero academia #my hero #fanfiction #enimies to lovers #tw abuse #tw dissociation #ambershaydeoffical #hitoshi shinso x reader #denki x reader #denki kaminari #pro hero denki #pro hero shinsou #tw argument

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atamascolily · 4 years

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lily liveblogs BBC Atlantis 1x02, “A Girl By Any Other Name” (first half)

I actually watched this months ago, but I got interrupted about halfway through, and then there was a global pandemic and I lost my groove. This got super-long, so I’m gonna post it in two parts.

Thanks to @girlwhowasntthere for her help in making sure I could see it, and also for pointing out that Ariadne draws a stone in the first episode (which I totally missed!) so she's not just resting on her privilege there. Good for her!

In the pilot, we were introduced to Atlantis through the eyes of Jason, a dude from our world who has surprising connections to this city of dragons and despots that nobody *cough ORACLE cough* wants to tell him about. But he's managed to pick up two new friends - gruff-but-not-so-secretly soft Hercules, and Pythagoras (yes, that one) - as well as a love interest, an ominous enemy, and Not Die several times in exciting and dramatic ways.

Based on the teaser, it looks like the show is about to introduce another female character, which I am super-excited about, even though the name "Medusa" brings up All Kinds of Questions.

(cut for length and for lots and lots of botanical confusion)

Forest at night. Woman running through the woods while something ominous chases her. Are there forests in Atlantis? I don't remember seeing any in the surrounding wide shots when Jason first showed up from the beach. Where the hell is this supposed to be?

(Side note because I am a Certified Plant Nerd: Where was this FILMED? I'm gonna guess England because BBC and also the leaves look SUPER TEMPERATE, there are definitely maples in there.)

Woman collapses and the camera focuses on her bracelet, which I am sure will be significant later on. We don't hear anything, she starts to get up and I brace myself for a jump scare.

She's got a necklace, too, and I wonder if that's a Plot MacGuffin or if she just has good taste in jewelry.

Ok, so we see her pursuer sneaking up on her, and she turns, and we see it for the first time from her POV and... it's a cave troll! Or something very much like it. She screams, we go to credits.

None of the credits are backwards this time, and I'm so relieved because THAT WAS ANNOYING.

I like the juxtaposition of the ocean and the ruins, then the view of the city, because this show is called ATLANTIS, which implies it's really about the city as a whole (or the city as a character) rather than Jason, even though Jason is the protagonist and audience surrogate.

There are some mountains in the background that look like they COULD have forests, and I will reserve judgement until I see the sets in the daylight, but those mountains look like they ought to be chapparral or the local equivalent, NOT the kind of forest shown in the opening. I'm just saying. I have strong opinions about flora and I will share them.

I am so curious where Atlantis is supposed to be, but I think it's Crete? I'm going with Crete for now until I get more information.

Jason is tossing rocks into a pool because... he's just that bored? Missing the Internet? He's wearing a leather tunic thing and not shirtless, but I'm sure he'll lose it by the end of the episode.

He hears something and gets up and sneaks up on the person coming in the doorway, but I already know it's either Hercules or Pythagoras, and most likely Herc, so I am not surprised when it's Herc. Herc is late AND drunk and Jason is pissed. Apparently, he and Herc are working as security guards for a rich merchant?? (So that answers my question about how they're making money and paying the rent!!)

Jason runs to the Oracle's temple because he's in dire need of Cryptic Exposition and also a Greater Purpose in Life and where better to acquire a Noble Destiny?

"You should not be here," says the Oracle, which is just a classy way of saying GTFO.

"I need answers," Jason demands.

LOL, not happening, dude. She only deals in Cryptic Sayings, not answers. (Although kinda ironic given that the Delphic Oracle’s motto was “Know Thyself”.)

Jason mentions that the minotaur dude claimed he had a great destiny and you can just see the Oracle rolling her eyes, and be all, And you believed him?? LOL.

But Jason DOES have a destiny, even though it doesn't feel like it so the Oracle has to explain that this, too, is also a part of his destiny, and he should just lean into the suck.

Jason calls bullshit. Oracle explains she's trying to protect him, and "all will become clear", mic drop. Jason walks away bummed, but it's DESTINY for him to be confused right now, and I am sure he will have some sort of Character Development about this by the end of the episode.

Herc fell asleep on the job and wakes up to being licked by a goat, which is probably not the most undignified thing that will happen to him in this episode. Also, somebody stole his keys and robbed the thing he was supposed to be guarding, so I'm sure this will end well.

Cut to Herc trying to explain this to Pythagoras, and Pythagoras is calling bullshit. Pythagoras notes the goat slobber and does the best eyeroll to Jason, I love him.

(Hercules is like the roommate from HELL here. How did he and Pythagoras end up rooming together in the first place?)

There's a knock on the door, but it's not the angry merchant, it's the CALL TO ADVENTURE... an old man who's heard that they killed the Minotaur and wants help locating his daughter. I'm picturing an Atlantis version of Sherlock Holmes starring Pythagoras and Jason and it's awesome.

Herc does not want to touch this with a ten foot pole but Jason is bored and eager to help, and so Herc is going to get dragged into this whether he likes it or not. He tries to reject it on the grounds of money, but it doesn't work. The old man talks about his "duty as a father" to make sure his kid is safe, and that's all he needs to say to get Jason on board, because Daddy Issues.

Jason and a new female character, Corinna, are in the palace, trying to be stealthy and they run into Ariadne, which is... awkward. Jason tries to explain, and Ariadne says it's forbidden for Jason to be here... why? Because he's a man? Because he's a stranger? Because he's on Minos's personal shit list? I need some context here.

Jason quizzes Celandine, a kitchen worker, and learns that Demetria, the missing girl, went to the forest to gather herbs and was never seen again. I don't understand what Corinna's role in all this is , but she persuades Celandine to help Jason out by showing him the place where Demetria went.

Time for another marketplace chase! This time it's the merchant after Herc. Meanwhile, Celandine takes Jason to a forest that's super-arid and looks nothing like the one we saw in the opening. There's rock outcroppings in the background, too. No leaf litter at ALL. All dry ever greens... and then a wide shot showing a hill that looks like chapparral, with a series of mountains beyond THAT that look more temperate and have actual snow capped peaks and those are NOT IN THE CREDITS, NONE OF THIS GEOGRAPHY MAKES ACTUAL SENSE, BUT FINE.

Also, it makes zero sense that Minos would send kitchen servants to the forest WAY outside the city limits... wouldn't it be easier for everyone if they sent special people to do that and the kitchen just picked them up or bought them from poorer folk who did? Where are the roads? Are there any surrounding villages and encampments outside the walls? Shepherds watching their flocks? A road? How do the servants know where to go? What stops them from running away? Etc. Etc. I HAVE QUESTIONS, OKAY?

Cut to them in a different forest - still evergreen trees, but a different kind. Looks like a plantation. Everything is too neat and open and in rows. There's greenery, but no sign of any herbs or really any kind of understory. LOL.

Are we there yet? Jason wants to know.

These woods are rich with herbs, Celandine says, and I can't tell if she's being ironic or not because I DO NOT SEE ANY, THERE IS NOTHING BUT CONIFERS HERE, CONIFERS ARE NOT HERBS (though they can have medicinal uses!). Then she adds "If you know where to look" and pulls a knife to stab an unsuspecting Jason while he's looking at the ground, so I guess that answers that question.

(For the record, Celandine is a toxic plant that is actually native to n. Africa, and the Mediterranean and western Asia, so I kinda saw that coming from the name and also the ominous music and close-ups of her face.)

Jason wises up in time to Not Get Stabbed, and Celandine runs away. Jason chases after her, and I saw some FERNS this time in the chase scene, but again NO LEAVES or much in the way of forest diversity at all. Celandine drinks something that looks like poison and dies while Jason is interrogating her. The troll-creature lurks in the woods.

Pythagoras IDs the poison as hemlock. (LOL, of course he would know!) The only reason he doesn't mention that it killed Socrates is probably because Socrates hasn't been born yet, but I am sure the writers were tempted. Jason fell asleep in World History, and also every Literature class ever, because he has no idea what a thyrsus is, or who Dionysus and the maenads are, so Pythagoras and Herc get to explain for the audience! Apparently, the satyrs kill any men who crash their clubhouse, so that's what the troll thing is, I guess?

So apparently the maenads just kidnap girls to join their cult? This is not how I remember it, but okay, fine, let's have the all-female religion be EVIL for DRAMA. Does this mean the trio's going to cross-dress?

Demetria (?) is trying to dig her way out of cell, only to get called to a Secret Evil Ceremony that involves blood, chanting, and tearing apart a dude with their bare hands. Oh, wait, no, they just toss him to the cave trolls (LITERALLY LURKING IN A HOLE IN THE GROUND), which is easier to show on network TV, I guess.

Jason breaks the news to Demetria's father, and he's... aghast. "I won't allow it!" he cries. The show has not explained why it's a bad thing to be a maenad... aside from the whole killing people bit, but I mean, the king kills people all the time in the name of the gods, what makes this any different? (I mean, Minos's evil, but still! He's in charge!) Why can't Demetria be a maenad and still work in the palace and visit her dad? Isn't that what Celandine did?? I AM SO CONFUSED.

Also: father trying to control his daughter's actions is historically accurate, but sits poorly with me, even though she WAS kidnapped in this case and doesn't want to be there. But what if she wasn't? So far the show hasn't explained to me why EVERY WOMAN wouldn't want to be a maenad. Hanging out in the woods without any men and a lot of intoxicants sounds... way better than almost anything else they could be doing.

The old man collapses in grief and Pythagoras is also a healer, because he makes an infusion of what sounds like "Magnolia remenalis" (??). Which is odd because that genus is located in the Americas and eastern Asia, and even assuming trade routes from China are a Thing here, that wouldn't likely be a part of the typical pharmacopeia, especially if Pythagoras has no money...? And I know there are a bajillion species of magnolia, but I've never heard of this... and would he call it by a Latin binomial anyway? But if it's not that, what is he TALKING about? THIS IS WHY I HATE WATCHING THINGS WITHOUT SUBTITLES.

The old man guilts Jason into going after Demetria, of course, thanks to Daddy Issues. Herc is pissed, especially when he realizes they put the old man in his bed. I love Pythagoras's little smile when he explains that Herc is in charge of their guest, since he's not going on the Mission of Certain Doom!

Herc is so predictable, lol. He brings up the prospect of faking his own death to get out of his debts, and I CANNOT HELP BUT WONDER if this is going to be relevant later on. Like... faking your death so the maenads don't find you, perhaps? And changing your name??

(dear writers, if you don't want me to guess your plot twist, please don't PUT THE WHAM LINE IN THE TEASER, kthanx.)

OH MY GOD THIS IS THE SAME FOREST WHERE THEY FILMED THE FIGHT SCENE IN THE FORCE AWAKENS ISN'T IT? I *RECOGNIZE* THIS PLACE!!

(yup, definitely England. Puzzlewood, almost for certain.)

Of course, the most appropriate way to spend the night is to make a fire, eat soup, and tell ghost stories about maenads first, right? Right. The forests rustle. There's a cave troll stalking them. (Yes, it's supposed to be a satyr, but it looks like a cave troll from LOTR, okay??) He tosses something in the food, which probably means it will only impact Hercules, lol. Hallucinations, maybe??

Why anyone would trust Herc with night watch given his track record, ESPECIALLY these two, I don't know, but PLOT.

Yep, definitely the old mine in Puzzlewood. I'd bet money on it.

Herc follows a woman who looks like an elf from LOTR, lol... but it's a satyr in drag. (Or a hallucination?) IDK why everyone is making a big deal about the maenads when they mostly just stand around and let the male satyrs handle everything.

RUN, HERC, RUN! He's rescued by... Demetria, who also wants to get away. Somehow the satyrs don't see them? *shrug*

Demetria uses Herc's knife and cuts herself and walks out with a bloody mouth, claiming the satyrs killed Herc and she drank his blood... I mean, won't the satyrs call her on it?? But the ruse works and she leaves with them.

Meanwhile, Jason and Pythagoras slept through the entire night without incident, and I just... the satyrs KNOW THERE ARE THREE OF THEM. How come they didn't just slaughter them in their sleep, or at least attack them??

Also, if the satyrs only eat human flesh, how does the ecosystem even WORK? How many of them are there?? How often do they eat? Are they omnivores or obligate carnivores? I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS.

#bbc atlantis #lily liveblogs

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dropsofletters · 4 years

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the midnight call

title: the midnight call pairing: choi seunghyun/reader genre: bar!au/singer!au/bar owner!au summary: as the owner of a bar, the sight of less and less clients coming to her place feels like the end of it all. however, when one drunken man appears to the bar’s ‘open mic’ night with his deep voice singing in the microphone, albeit a bit funnily, she feels the place coming back to life with the appearance of this midnight singer, who introduces himself as seunghyun. type: fluff/romance/humor word count: 9,260

This bar is dead. In soul, in essence, in the glow that had once coated it. People no longer stand itch to go to the place, to have social drinks or bask in some nightly romance, instead, they opt to leave the boring getaway. The music is the same electronic beat any mall would have, leading to anxiousness rather than relaxation. The atmosphere is dusty, bartenders sporting awkward smiles and drinks becoming bland. Margaritas are the words of the day, all that seems to be going around in such a spot, it is plain and simple and a routine she wishes she could spare.

Last year, though, last year the bar had been at its peak. Everyone loved and adored the atmosphere, the variety of drinks, the clean space in which people would worry more about themselves rather than the people around them, given that there were no illegal business going around. People trusted them, the somewhat average sized bar a dream of her best friend that had died along at the same time her friend did and even when she tries to save it, salvage everything that her friend had worked so hard for…the blame goes on the fact that she would have never thought to have to be the owner of a bar, much less keep it afloat. Her life had been changed in just one night and before she could even grasp it, she was thrown into a world that wasn’t hers.

This year, the bar may finally live its last course and it saddens her, makes her feel useless and pointless. What is she but a failure?

A deep sigh leaves her lips when she sees the same four to five individuals seated by the counter, all tables empty and getting filled with dust, the stage blasting electronic music like it always does, though it is fainter than most times, like she has given up already. Tiredness takes over her, catching herself with her eyes closed from time to time—that means the bar is as boring as it can get, simply not a good spot to have drinks. Somewhere, she can see one of the workers cleaning, another one is wiping the glasses that are not even stained by wine but by dust and finally, her most hardworking bartender, Jitae, is already tired of serving the same drinks.

Whiskey and margaritas. What a catch.

She tries her best, she really does. In the crack of the morning, she leaves to her home to rest the full night of sleep, waiting for more people to arrive, expecting this to be just a bad era for the bar before it awakens again. In the afternoon, she gets ready and tries to make everything look impeccable, she searches only for ways of improving the business, but there is no amount of online publicity that can already save what has been broken. Slowly but surely, the nights become duller, other bars or clubs earning more attention than the non-outstanding bar that had once welcomed so many people in…but has now turned old.

Not to be a pessimist, people tell her with the saddest smile on their faces, pity both angering her and making her feel accompanied. Those people have obviously passed such eventful moments in their lives that has people questioning just how much they are worth. Right now, with her eyes half-closing from boredom and sleepiness, she believes there is nothing else that she could do rather than let the place run its course, apologizing to her best friend for not fulfilling her missions even after her death, and simply basking in organizing glasses and drinks.

The night is holding a sword, poking through her skin too quickly for her to ever catch when she feels the weight of someone’s hand placed on her back. Whiplash hits her when she turns around, perhaps needing a bit more of food in her system after the half-assed meal she prepared before getting to work. Firstly, she greets one of the usual customers seated by one of the tables, lifting her hand in a wave and receiving one back. She remembers the businessman, the reason of plenty of tipping for her workers, and also a lover of the place from the moment it was created, warm enough to welcome her nicely as the new owner. On the other hand, the person that had touched her was none other than Jitae, one of the hardest working bartenders in the entire bar.

He’s one of the oldest workers there, as well, everything about him exuded comfort and calmness, mainly because he reminds her that this place was once alive, when it feels like it is not. “Boss, how are you?”

She is a ‘Boss’ now, when a year ago she was simply one of the people who would pass by to greet her friends whenever she had time. People expect her to do everything, anything and something, but she feels paralyzed in her spot. No one showed her how to be the owner of a bar, or showed her the importance of atmospheres and aesthetics to be able to keep people going. Charisma is lacking in the bar, in the owner, in the corners that had once been lively but now shadow everything else. “I’m doing great,” She eyes him up and down, surprised that he is not working on something else. He is not the type to talk much, simply leaving conversations for the start or the end of his shift. “I shall ask the same thing, since you never really…talk during workhours.”

Jitae’s caught in his little game, because his eyes immediately light up with something that she can’t pinpoint. Usually, she is not able to read people, but Jitae is a difficult man to read—everything he does is silent, sacred, secretive. “Actually, I am not doing so great.” He tells her, earning a nod from the woman who leans her weight against the counter, back pressing into the surface tautly. “The paycheck here is not enough for me…” He mumbles, afraid to speak too loudly and let anyone else hear, but her heart picks up at the sound of his words. Terror, this is definitely worse than a horror movie. “And my girlfriend and I are planning to move in together and I don’t think…I can find a good place with the money you’re giving me.”

“Oh no,” She doesn’t know what to do and god, her best friend would be perfect for this situation, but her heart is moving too quickly, hands resting against the counter as she tries to count her breaths. While she does so, she realizes that the bar is simply falling down, there is no going back from such a bad time in a business. “Jitae…I…Just give me a little bit of time, I’ll give you better paychecks, to all of you, but I’m trying my hardest to keep this bar alive and the money is just not coming in.”

His eyes soften, clicking his tongue before speaking. “I’m sorry, Boss. I would love to stay here…I love it here, but I just want to move on with my life.”

Silencing herself for a moment, she weights the possibilities of keeping Jitae tied down there. Maybe, she wants to keep the thought and fervor of the old bar alive or Jitae just has become a friend for her in the loneliest time of her career. “I understand…” She manages to say, concentrating on the blinking lights at the bar, the faint sound of people talking and most of them may come from her workers, unused to their biggest potential. All it took for the bar to turn into a mess was for it to fall into her hands and it is such poetic destruction, considering that she has simply leave it to rest, tried to paint its walls and turn it into her best friend’s dream, only to watch it burn. “I—Is there really nothing I can do?”

“Sorry, Boss.”

“Do not be,” She lies, swatting her hand before letting out a soft breath. “Really, nothing?”

“A better paycheck, maybe.”

“Okay, I can’t do that now…” She trails her voice, rubbing the back of her neck before sighing. What does it take for life to get better? Does it take a million years or it never does? Sometimes, she thinks of this only to come up with the conclusion that…eventually, happiness will take place in her body, one day in the future when she least expects it, but every throw of life that hits her is only bound to make her stronger. “So, is this your last night working here?”

“Yes.” Jitae indicates, leaning forward and grasping one of her hands to give it a shake. “Thank you, though, for trying to keep me here.”

“It won’t be the same without you.”

“But it could be better.”

“I doubt it.” Dust is kicked off by her shoes, straightening her back and pulling away from Jitae before pointing towards the entrance of the bar. “I’ll be back in a second.” With no further explanation, she leaves the bar, or rather stands in front of it, hoping to find answers in the stars, a waltz of happiness in the moon. Perhaps, just like in The Little Prince, they’ll teach her a lesson about life, love and starting again.

The night is bathed in white, even the city lights are not as bright as the full moon, at its peak in the sky waiting to be acknowledged. Her back digs on the rough and dark walls of the outsides of the bar, releasing a big, slightly disappointed sigh when she looks up at the sky. There are plenty of answers she needs, a map that leads her from point A to point B, but instead, she is tied to the liquor at the bar, the darkness of it all, the frustration she feels from the collapse of her dreams and her friend’s all at once.

The only sound she hears, though, is the cars passing by, people chatting somewhere nearby and the faint noise of music she dislikes. Breathing in, her chest expands and her eyes fall closed, wishing upon a start that her midnight call comes with a new start.

🍺

Twenty people are a minority in the eyes of the world. Twenty likes in a picture seem like too little. Twenty listeners in a podcast are not many. Twenty people in the bar, however, are far more than she has had in a while.

At this point, sobriety is not a statement anymore. Around two in the morning, it is, and the smell of alcohol is thick in the air, leaving her in a state of stress for she knows far too well that drunken people only want more entertainment. In the old stage, now dusted away and cleaned by the two new members of the staff, there is a microphone that is illuminated by a faint light and even though the open mic idea had seemed interesting the moment she had heard it a couple weeks ago, now that she has put it to test, she thinks it is failing. People remain glued to their spots, somewhat expecting to be drunk enough to get to the stage. No one does and there she is, wondering if all it takes to save the bar is simply getting on that stage and singing her heart out…because she may not be a singer, but she’ll do it if that’s the case.

A human being’s worst friend is definitely frustration, for it leads to impatience and impatience comes with bad decisions to rush to a conclusion, and if bad decisions happen…the conclusion could be wronged. This is just a cycle, easy and understandable math for whoever knows how life works. She decides to sit behind the counter, hands gripping the edge of her apron—that is only there to serve as a uniform, for she has not served any drinks tonight—and waiting for a damned miracle. Her eyes are shaky, though there is a little bit of hope lingering in the back of her brain. For a pessimist, she feels pretty optimistic.

Or as optimistic as it can get.

Her cheek presses against her palm, letting her fingers trail over the counter in rhythm. She is waiting and waiting, not so much patiently so, looking at the microphone as if it is challenging her. It isn’t, really, but destiny has the past few months and all she wants is a damned break. Her mind is ready to simply turn off the lights to the stage without thinking too much about it, but just as she looks down to groan to herself, her ears catch the sound of the microphone beeping uncomfortably, her eyes settling on the person that had just grabbed it wrongly, giving a small apology through the device.

Messy strands of black hair frame his face, though it is as clear as day that he had once gelled them back but they fell back into their natural stage; they, too, welcome a set of enigmatic eyes—they may as well be the eighth wonder of the world or he may have looked at art in its purest form, leaving him with a profound, alluring and deeply felt gaze. Although, his face is visibly made to capture anyone’s attention, sharp cheekbones accompanying his elongated gaze, his lips thin yet quirked up in an embarrassed smile. The lights may be misleading her, but she can swear his dimples are showing, an adorable contrast to the shape of his eyebrows, an ode to frowning even though he’s smiling.

He’s elegant, that much she can tell, or he is trying to dress up like a man of wealth. He may be one, too, but she has no idea what a person of money would ever do there. Either way, skilled tan fingers hook on the first button of his shirt and undoes it, then quickly follows for the second before turning his gaze towards the poor pianist she had hired, if Jitae’s brother even counts as a pianist rather than just a guy who liked playing it sometimes.

“Good fucking night.” The man announces into the microphone and for some reason, she finds herself smiling. His voice is as profound as his eyes, deep before he chuckles at his own slurred tone. He doesn’t stutter though, liquid courage is quite clearly there with him, shining beside him. “I’m Seunghyun and I’m going to sing…something for you.”

Naturally entertaining, she finds him, watching as his tall body moves towards the pianist and whispers something in his ear before the younger man gives him a smile. The beat that plays soon after reminds her of nights out with her friends, nostalgic and yet deeply romantic; kisses that she shared in hopes of finding love and instead, she found turmoil; nights that she spent thinking about nothing and everything at the same time. His deep voice continues soon after, singing the words of Drunken Truth, his breathy and yet heartfelt tone bringing a smile up her face. The serious song is cut off by fun bits he adds, simply arranging something that makes sense in his mind and while he doesn’t reach the high notes with as much confidence as he should—granted, his voice is as relaxing as it can get—, it is far more than she had expected.

People gather, drinking joyfully at the sound of more songs, sometimes little and drunken dances included in between every verse of the songs he decides to pick. Seunghyun, as this man calls himself, has the time of his life in that stage, bringing to her eyes that he is completely alone in such a place…though, not for long, because some curious individuals looking for casual drinks at the eventful time of midnight peek their heads inside, earning a few more clients that ask for drinks and enjoy the entertainment in between laughter and shouts of the songs as well.

That is the night a new hero appears to their side of town, dressed in long coats and button downs, singing to his heart’s content and never once faltering. He’s clearly drunk and yet, he’s giving his heart out to people, saving her business absentmindedly. Maybe, the open mic was not so much of a mistake…given that she got to see the bar live in the name of this stranger.

🍺

“Did the singer come today?”

Three Fridays ago, she saw an artist disguised as a drunken man, holding in between two elongated and long fingers a cigarette while he sang into a microphone with the other hand. His long eyelashes, reason of everyone’s fluttering feelings when he closed his eyes, are one of the many things she should not remember, but she does. A man like that, like Seunghyun, had brought her such happiness and laughter in a second, in merely an hour of performing before he disappeared, like all good things do and someone as elegant as him probably, and most definitely, will not return to such a place but damn her for wanting him back. Three Fridays ago, Seunghyun had been the main reason why so many people gathered for ‘Open Mic Fridays’ and some individuals ask for his whereabouts.

She never knows how to answer, for she has not talked to the man in all certainty. All she has done is inspect him from afar that one midnight she got to see him, but other than that, there have been no interactions. It is to be expected, after all, he must have been too good to stay or simply, too embarrassed to come back, but she wants to throw that insecurity out of the way when she reaches the spot of the bartenders.

Chanhee, the youngest bartender with short hair and rounded glasses, spoke after fixing them from falling from the bridge of her nose. “He hasn’t gotten here. I don’t think he’s going to come again.” She tells her, all inspiration and hope drained from her body. After all, the clock is already touching its one o’clock nature at midnight and that means that it is an hour closer to the moment he had used to sing three weeks ago. Chanhee inspects the boss, blinking rapidly when a brief grin appears on her face. “Why, Boss? There’s someone singing already.”

The truth falls on the fact that the bar had never been as lively as that night with Seunghyun. People had never laughed with their endless attempts, much less had they spoken about the bar to their friends. Everyone was asking for more drinks, more entertainment, more of a getaway from the complicated life at the city right now. They didn’t want to think of nine to five’s and divorce papers, all they needed was the simple touch of Seunghyun’s voice. She’s afraid that, in her hands, the bar will die…but with Seunghyun’s voice, it grows back into its roots and becomes a bigger place. “He…He just made this place feel different.” There is not more to her statement, biting down on her tongue softly when one of her workers, presumably one of the cleaners, Jiwon, hums from her spot.

“He made plenty of things in me feel different.” The cat-like woman speaks, eyes sharp and elongated, lips sultry in the smile she gives before she bursts out on laughter. “Really, Boss, lighten up! Any person who has good tastes in men would want him back. Right, Changhee?”

“Right.” She tells Jiwon before returning her gaze to the task at hand. Luckily for her, all clients are served for the moment and in a while, she’ll have to be serving again. “But…I don’t know,” Her lips pucker up when she rests her cheek against her palm. “I feel like Mr. Seunghyun was more fitting for the Boss than you, Jiwon.”

“Oh, come on girls, don’t talk about that stuff—”

“Did you ever have a partner, Boss?” Jiwon asks, now totally interested as she clasps her hands together. “I have never heard of you liking someone, actually. I think Changhee might be right…if you’re asking about the midnight singer, it’s because—”

“Because I want this bar to succeed and everyone adored him. It’s been a while since we’ve felt this place being so alive.” She utters, although part of her knows that she is also deeply entranced by the midnight singer. Something about him just gives out an air of comfort, like everything is going to be okay as long as he is there, and she may not know him—but he brought clients in, like a moth drawn to a flame. Before anyone of the staff could question her further, a frown plastered on her face, whisking away all thoughts of Seunghyun. “If you see him, tell him I’m looking for him. But get back to work, okay?”

“Yes, Boss.”

The simplicity of the situation goes away the moment he doesn’t arrive that Friday, but instead, his tan god-like appearance shows up on a Saturday, claiming the bartender’s attention as they immediately go look for the Boss. She feels him, really, even from far away, such a presence is to be felt and admired, even when it is from afar. Seunghyun doesn’t exude confidence, rather he leaves a cloud of smoke with him, those damned cigarettes his lover for all she knows. In the smoke, she reads the impressionable yet confusing state of him, how he is everything in just one person, stuck in complexes and complex himself. He pushes his pack of cigarettes down on the pocket of his coat and just as he sits by the counter, there is already someone telling her to go over him. Usher her is what her workers do and she should just get close, considering that a few steps into the bar had already lit it up with happiness.

Not that he is the type of person that is represented by flowers, growing on a tiny garden to bring felicity to this world…but in his seriousness, his straight face, his frowning eyebrows, there is some glint of fun. He is fun; not a lot of people would stand on a stage and simply own it by making a fool of themselves, but also delivering talent to the world.

Talent that he, quite clearly, does not know about.

“Seunghyun.” She curses herself mentally for greeting him like that, widening her eyes when the man turns to look at her, cocktail brought up to his lips when he quirks one of his eyebrows elegantly.

“Depends on who asks.” He answers intelligently, crossing one leg over the other after his statement. Her eyes connect the dots on his face like figures, tranced in the beauty of him and the fact that he was not a dream she had in her hazy mind, but he was real. That midnight singer is a person that could potentially save this bar.

“I’m sorry. I should have greeted first—Hello.” She says, leaning her weight against the counter before sighing. “I’m the owner of this bar. I—I know your name because of the open mic thing…” Her voice is trailing, faltering in a sense of embarrassment when she only manages to give him a soft smile. His expression remains stoic, a man of seriousness standing in front of her proudly and maybe, that rich persona that he has portrayed the two times that she has seen him comes from the fact that he may as well be a businessman, too in his mind to even understand how difficult it is to talk to him.

“I see.” Seunghyun mumbles. Meanwhile, his elbows press on the counter, the black coat not doing justice to the outline of his taut muscles, but his thighs looked marvelous under the fabric of his dark jeans. Some people are meant to be mysteries, with unknown words dangling from their every action, tongue speaking in a tone that always leaves her wanting for more. The unknown is thrilling in its own way, darkness to follow in search for light, and he is the exact epitome of that. “I’m…Choi Seunghyun.” He tells her, nodding along to his words only to throw her name at him. “Did I do anything wrong?” He asks, downing a bit of the cocktail in between his fingers, such sophistication showcasing in his gentle fingertips.

“You didn’t.”

“Good.” Awkwardly, he continues, only to show that smile that she remembered from the eventful night of meeting him.

“I…Listen, this bar is dying down slowly.” Now she is releasing the truth, keeping it away from its confines to show it to a complete stranger, but she is absolutely scared—petrified, even, of losing her best friend’s dream. “I got more clients when you performed that night and people keep asking for you because you were both hilarious and such a good singer.”

Seunghyun chuckles, placing his cocktail down before sighing. “I don’t think I’m that good.”

“You are!” She pushes, earning an unreadable gaze from Seunghyun before she continued. “I—I would really appreciate it if you sang something tonight. Anything, really, you can do it now or later, it’s okay.”

“So…you want me to perform.”

Her hands join in front of her chest, clinging to each other for dear life as she flutters her eyelids softly. “Please?” Her voice is tiny when she speaks, earning a somewhat amused look from Seunghyun. The man stands up from his seat, looking at the stage that is waiting for him with a microphone. Her hand comes up to rest on his back, patting it softly and momentarily, the touch only lasting for a second. “I’ll make sure to give you free drinks for this.”

His big ears seem interested by the idea, turning his gaze towards her before nodding. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I keep my promises.”

“Alright.” He whispers one last time, his eyes glancing across her features before rushing towards the stage, taking the microphone in between his hands and sending a greeting to the public, far more charismatic than his quiet persona.

She can’t help but clap for him, cheer like she has never done for the artists that she has seen in concerts, for they were not as raw as Seunghyun is with his show, as personal, like a friend that invites you over to karaoke and simply sings what makes him feel happier. The place shines its light on him, people laughing at his words, singing along to the popular songs he gives his own redemption to, trying not to sound too serious, afraid of seeming too given. The night, once again, is bathed by the glow of Seunghyun’s voice, deep and yet welcoming, the night turned into a sonata.

🍺

“You’re back.”

“I imagine. I’m here, aren’t I?”

There is magic within him, in the secretive state of him that always has a smile pulling on her muscles, bringing a sense of happiness to her chest when she sees those carved masterpieces that are the dimples with his grin. It’s Friday, the fifth night of the week, the time in which he is supposed to make a home out of the bar and indeed, there are more people than ever in that eventful night. He received some greetings in his way there, chattering barely giving them enough room to speak, the sound of people in the open mic and others speaking causing too much commotion and yet, making it seem comfortable.

She didn’t ask for Seunghyun to be there, far too scared of seeming too pushy that night, but there he is…as if he has read her mind, over and over again in just the span of two days. Fridays just have his essence, the finalization of a tough routine to enter the nightly matters of the weekend. Her hipbones dig into the counter, splaying her palms over the shiny and soft texture of the surface as she looks into his eyes. Tonight, she doesn’t have to take a smile out of the midnight singer. He’s already beaming by the time he is there.

“You know, I really enjoy…singing here.” Seunghyun says, sincerity dripping from his deep voice when he leans forward, wanting to capture her gaze with his. “I would have never thought I’d do it again, but here we are.”

“There you are.” She points out, nodding her head along to his words, tucking a strand of air behind her ear. What a talent he has to turn her into a teenager, reminding her of the embarrassing day, the stuttered words, the shy remarks, all piling up to construct a mountain, a bump in her road to remind her that he once existed. This mysterious singer, thrown to her like a gift from heaven, could very much be part of her imagination or he could be an angel in disguise as a demon, but he is definitely the salvation of her business—an intriguing one at that. “To be honest, I never thought you’d be back either.” She says after breathing out softly. “Something about you just doesn’t scream staying in one place for more than a week.” Though, she doesn’t mean to offend him and it doesn’t seem to do so, either.

“I don’t,” Seunghyun confesses. “What’s the fun in that?”

“The friendships that you make in said place. The memories.” She tries to sell before pointing around the bar. “And this is a good place for that. I can tell you that we have the best margaritas in this side of town.”

Scrunching up his nose comically, Seunghyun hums. “Margaritas are not my taste.”

“Whiskey guy?” She tries to cling to the manly part of him, that exuding confidence that radiates from within him—like he knows he is good looking, like he has heard it a million times. However, he shakes his head.

“Too…strong. That’s for boys.” He tells her, quirking his eyebrows before pointing at her with his chin. “Try again.”

“Wine?” Now, her voice is much more uncertain, shrugging her shoulders soon after as if to facilitate her answer. “I’m not much of a drinker myself. Left that trial phase of my life back.”

“I’m a wine guy, indeed.” His fingers rest on each side of his face, moving his gaze away to study the architecture of the room. “I like to pretend I’m an elegant guy.”

“You are elegant.”

“Do you think so?”

“Of course.”

“Are you saying that to get me to sing here?”

A big smile appears on her face and she ponders if all this—this thinking, gullible reasoning taking up most of her brain, comes from the sense of desperation she has earned from the fear of losing this bar. That, or Seunghyun is simply a paradoxical being she wants to resolve. “I could. But I mean it, actually, I really do.” A once-over to his body is given, wanting to engrave him in her brain for the days in which she wonders where the good in the world is located. “Speaking of singing here…” Her mind gets filled with the ideas that had been running through the spaces of her brain, going from one hemisphere to the other. “I was wondering if you would want to work as entertainment here full time. Or just on Fridays. I would pay you for this, since you’re actually bringing clients and I can’t continue paying you with drinks.”

Hopefulness clads her vision, though Seunghyun is quick to give her an answer. “I have a job already…and I can’t promise to be here every single Friday…” His voice trails slowly, trying to show his apologies through his gaze instead of saying them. “I could try for you, since you are being so nice to me and apparently it helps you.” Tender, he is when he speaks, before shaking his head. “But you can’t hire me.”

“What’s your job?”

Seunghyun’s chest gets filled with pride at that question. “I work at an art museum. For now I’m only an arranger, but I hope to have my art up there at some point.”

Familiarity is a weird feeling when memories that she tries to hide come crashing down like waves, leaving her eyes widened when she gapes at his words. “No way, I was in art school before I had to drop out to help my best friend out with this bar.”

He hums at her words, as simplistic as he is. “So you help each other out?”

“I used to help her with whatever she needed, drive her here and there because she never learned how to drive. In the end…I kept the bar when she died.” Her words are softly spoken, afraid to open that Pandora box within her memories, still feeling her, hearing her voice, missing the woman that had grown alongside her. Seunghyun’s face softens at that, all traces of flirting long gone from his features.

His hand reaches for her, almost tentatively and by the way he simply pats the skin, she can tell he is not the type to be this touchy on the very first few meetings with someone. “I’m sorry.”

“…It’s okay.” She whispers, fixing the apron around her waist to distract herself. “So, Seunghyun…you say you want to get your art in that museum someday. Are you an artist?”

His face lights up at that, as if all the stars had been placed in his eyes, excitement taking over them when they talk back and forth, throwing knowledge and praises that lead to a long conversation, hours and minutes basically imperceptible with the reception of the other’s conversational skills. Of all colors, he’s golden that night, like the pen she gives him when she asks for his number, like the sound of his voice when he invites her out to have dinner sometime.

🍺

Unfortunately for her, or rather fortunately, Seunghyun rarely feels embarrassment. The notion comes to her knowledge a month after his constant appearances every Friday at the bar, where he simply brings people together and opens a door for those who are drunken to simply have fun while singing. His eyes say that he is busy; a man too serious and tranquil to ever partake in something like this, but his lips are the ones to speak louder, simply singing into a microphone, leading the way for seas of people who come to forget about the seriousness of real life.

In most occasions, she is seated by the counter. Her usual spot with her common apron, her hair tied away from her face, strands always messily sticking out after hours of working. This is her habitat, to simply look at him from afar but to earn all of him throughout it all. If Fridays are their days at the bar, then Saturdays are their moments to get over to late-night rendezvouses, sipping on cups of coffees, rubbing their eyes to simply get that drowsiness away from them. Life with Choi Seunghyun in it is a cycle, some days he is more open than others, but he always brings a smile to her face. If knowing him is two steps forward and one step back, then she is willing to do just that.

A dance, that’s how she would describe meeting Seunghyun.

This night, he seems to be the most joyful—there is only a bottle of beer in his system, and yet he’s excitedly singing to the tune of a song she doesn’t really know. Not that she is trying, either, considering that her head is thumping with the stress of a long week of clients. The good kind, though, thankful that she is able to keep her best friend’s dream afloat. The feeling of Seunghyun’s stare on her does make her feel better, though it only magnifies the electrification in between them. He doesn’t do anything over the top, he simply uses those brown and beautiful eyes of his to glance at her, share a smile or a momentum, something that is sacred and secret in between the two. If she had to guess, Seunghyun is simply happy that he is able to have an outlet, something different from his usual job…but maybe, she has something to do with it, as well.

But she tells herself not to ponder too much on it, for Seunghyun is designated to leave one day. They are not meant to be more than just two people who happen to spend time together. Catching feelings for the obviously attractive and incredibly interesting male is expected from her, yet not the best decision.

When he walks towards her, someone else taking his spot in the stage like some drunken group of women that seem to be over their twenties, she doesn’t expect to have her smile returned or feel the warmth of his body when he nears her. Almost absentmindedly, her hands come up to rest at his chest, the contact foreign for the supposed duo of friends and his arms perfectly wrap around her shoulders, bringing her chin down to his collarbone as they swing from side to side, the sound of his deep voice mixed with the tune of the piano and the wronged voices behind them serving as music.

“We should dance.” He says, as untypical as he can get. Seunghyun is a hard man to read, full of surprises like a thriller movie. On the other hand, she could be one as well—definitely not as mysterious, though.

“Why should we?” She asks. “Is there anything we’re celebrating?”

“No.” Seunghyun’s voice is soft as he speaks, pulling away to look into her eyes before he holds on to his hands, his comical blood pumping when he swings them from side to side. “But you need to loosen up a bit.”

His hands are anchors, going down her arms and towards her waist, keeping her held tight as her eyes inspect the room. Her life has only exuded stress for the company, for she had never given herself the option of enjoying other things or even being the person she used to be. Swinging her body from side to side, slow steps matching his that are not so elegantly grazed as his existence, she wonders if she really did need Seunghyun’s appearance in her life to realize that there is a different between her professional life and her daily life. “So, you’re calling me boring.”

“Yes.” Seunghyun teases, a hiss escaping his lips when she grabs his face.

“Say that again and I’ll fight you.” She jokes back, joyful laughter flowing in between the two when Seunghyun pinches her waist.

“You’re pretty.” He pronounces, the words barely going through his lips when he continues with one of his unusual comments. “Not in Picasso type of way though. You’re not pretty like one of those paintings. I would compare you to a Dali piece of work, actually. I prefer his portraits.”

“…I’ll take the compliment and ignore the part in which you compared me to cubism.” She retorts, his face getting washed with what seems to be embarrassment before he continues his waltz with her. In the middle of the bar, she can already feel the gazes of some of her staff on her, wondering and pondering what their unlucky Boss is doing with the midnight man…but just like the bar calls her late at night for it to be taken care of, Seunghyun keeps bringing her in with his different charms. His smell, deeply engraved in her brain, becomes more prominent when she leans forward, their chests pushed together by the action. “I was meaning to tell you that I think you’re quite good looking, yourself.”

“You don’t do much of a good job at hiding it.” He chuckles, everything about him making her feel unlike anyone else. Not to say there weren’t people before him, all faces contorted in different shapes, either of heartbreak or absolute adoration. All of them she had to let go of and in the long run, she knows the morning will stop her call with midnight, it will eventually lead to a short and abrupt end, leaving her wanting for more but her eyelids won’t be powerful enough to keep herself awake through the night. “Want to have coffee tomorrow?”

“Don’t we always have coffee? Why do you even ask?” She tells him, sending a pointed glare at the man before sighing. “Thank you so much for helping me out with the bar, Seunghyun.”

“I come here for the drinks, what are you talking about?”

Pushing her body away from his, yet a bit unwillingly, she curses him under her breath before smiling. “Ah, seriously, I’m like…so close to kicking you out of my fucking bar.”

The reality falls on the fact that she doesn’t know what would die first: her heart or the bar, if Seunghyun ever were to leave. She knows that he shouldn’t be anything special, that she shouldn’t hold on to the conversations about art and the memories of their past, their imminent fears of the future coming afloat whenever they simply brush the topic with the tip of their words. Finding someone alike her won’t lead her to growing as a person, rather it could only bring her down, and finding interest in a man who has so clearly been a memory of the weekend and not much more than a flickering light must be a sin. Yet, there she is, his body positioned behind her as they walk through the crowds of people, going over to one of the tables to talk while enjoying the show.

For now, the morning still greets her with the sight of Seunghyun, waiting outside her home with his hands hidden in the pockets of his jeans, looking for his box of cigarettes to get his first drag of the day. For now, Seunghyun is the taste of coffee and not the taste of leaving.

🍺

“No way, this is signed?!”

Seunghyun only prides himself in a few things and more often than not, he tries to cover his insecurities with overflowing confidence that sometimes he lacks. Though, that rarely happens with art. When he spoke, two months before that day, about his art collection storage room, she thought it was just some room in his apartment that he kept filled with art. Mind her, it’s exactly that—but it’s even better than her mind could have ever mustered. The dark room has the perfect lightning, black walls cladded in the most gorgeous of art, some statues here and there, though not many, canvases of different sizes appearing at every spot she looked at.

Some art supplies are gathered by the table Seunghyun is sitting by, his black hair down as a pair of nicely framed glasses fall upon his nose-bridge. Still as cozy as ever, he is wearing a sweater at home even though the weather for her was not cold enough to even wear something long sleeved, but that is just Seunghyun’s style. Just as she lets her fingertips graze the beautiful piece of realism art, Seunghyun hums from his spot.

“I met the artist when I was putting a few pieces of his up in the museum. We talked and he gave me a copy or some shit like that.” Seunghyun adds, always honest as shall be. When she turns to look at him, there is a smile on her face, extending her arms on each side of her body to twist and turn around the place, surrounded exactly by what she had been loving from the moment she could recognize what art was. Art school called out her name, but she thought it was too late…and now that she saw her longtime lover, she could admit that she missed it. “Are you having fun?”

“A lot, really.” She comments, stopping just in time to place her hands on the armrests of his chair, a big smirk displayed on her face when she speaks up. “You really know how to get to a woman’s heart, huh?”

“I do.” It is not the first time she has ever spoken about their obvious interest towards one another but something about the other simply kept them in place, paralyzed and afraid of ever coming closer. Sometimes, she catches herself believing that there is really nothing in between the two—Seunghyun is a nice friend, she proclaims it to be, but deep down she knows she feels much more than that. Like her heart is being ripped out and her lungs have run short with breaths after so much laughter coming from his jokes. As if the world is alive, beaming, shining and sometimes, she swears he feels the same way, too. “Anyone who has good taste likes my storage room.”

“Excuse me,” She adds sarcastically, moving the seat back and forth to get his attention. “Let’s paint something.”

“Now?”

“When else?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you paint…or a piece of art from you, actually.” Seunghyun announces, turning on his chair until he is face-to-face with the painting products in front of him. A rainbow of different shades, brands and types of paint, all waiting for them to use them. “It’s like you hide your past, too. I mean…you’re always talking about the bar and about how much you like art, but what else is there to you?”

He doesn’t mean it wrongly, rather, he is asking her to open up to him, absentmindedly or not, she is not certain. Seunghyun is like that; what goes through his brain is told and sometimes, he gets impatient in his little rendezvous through life. Surprise takes over her, though it doesn’t show through her expression, hyper aware of the fact that she, too, has been hiding from him. A game of hide and seek has been going through their lives, afraid of getting too close, of speaking too loudly, of getting too fond of each other. She only knows this—how to run away, how to concentrate in one thing at a time and love is not one of those. Just like him, she is used to breathing out the name of love in repulse, with hatred.

Her finger coats itself in the color yellow, running it over his chiseled cheekbones and jaw in two motions. The tanned man turns to look at her, eyebrows raised as an amused smile appears on his face. “What do you want to know?” She asks playfully, trying to mask the seriousness of the situation with something lightweight and when he takes the color violet in between his fingers, letting it paint her black shirt with the color, he finally speaks up.

“I don’t know, something interesting.”

“Nothing about me is interesting.” She comments, though Seunghyun doesn’t seem to have it.

“It is to me.” He confesses, scrunching up his nose soon after before he picks up a few brushes.

“Okay, big fact about me. I don’t like Salvador Dali’s art as much as you do.”

“That’s enough. Out of my house.” Seunghyun jokes, his voice tainting in the color gray with its faux anger, though the smile on his face is as white as it can get, coming from an angel. “Tell me something real. You’re not only art and the bar. There’s more to you, isn’t there?”

To him, she is not the simplistic color of black or gray or white. To him, there must be shades to her, different shapes and styles, isms that she should be able to show to him but is unable to. She realizes this at that moment, holding a few brushes in between her hands when she finally pushes all insecurities aside. If it is meant to end, then it should end with the most gorgeous of colors. Their story should not be doomed by restrictions simply because the morning is bound to come.

The day it ends she wants to say that she tried and if she ever falls in love, she would adore to say that there is nothing more gorgeous than the midnight that rests in Choi Seunghyun’s eyes.

🍺

She feels him.

She feels him stirring by her side in the small couch of her office at the bar, his strong back suddenly becoming prominent under her touch when he extends his arms over his head and he turns to his side to continue sleeping. It’s uncomfortable, yes, but even if the apocalypse were to happen Seunghyun would be able to sleep through it. His thighs are warm against hers, the friction of skin becoming a bit damp by the heated weather. His lips ghost over her forehead for a second and maybe, it is her sleepy state talking for her because Seunghyun is not the type to go for a morning kiss, much less is he the type to wake up earlier than her, so she continues to keep her eyes closed and basks on the smell of him.

But she feels him, she swears she does, in every corner of her body, in every fingertip, even in the space between them because Seunghyun is imminently a reminder of Fridays and Saturdays, and that morning her lips are tingling from all the kisses they shared, all the laughs they gave. Her waist is practically holding the shape of him with how he always likes to cling to the skin, running his fingers down to her hips and then back up. He loves to bring her closer when they are alone, but in the eyes of the world he is just a serious man. She feels his irrationality when he told her at midnight, right after closing the bar, albeit silently, that they could simply take their joyful attraction to the couch and when he said that they could sleep there, too tired to even move from his spot, she had retorted with the fact that he was crazy. Her neck now begs for a break, but pulling away from Seunghyun is the most difficult task she could do in her life.

She has tried to, not to say that she hasn’t. The mark of three months of knowing each other had filled her with insecurity, afraid of getting too attached to the man that had never done so much as kissing her after a night at the bar, but then…as the months passed, she found herself in his arms again. Each time, Seunghyun welcomed her with something new. At first, she started seeing him in days other than Fridays and Saturdays. Then, he introduced her to more parts of him and consequently, she opened the gates of her past and welcomed parts of her personality that she had buried to give entrance to responsibility. Each time she tries to leave, she takes a good look at Seunghyun—not his beauty but his soul, the one he shows in his eyes, that gleam that she had once judged from a man who only wanted to leave…when in reality, he was a man that feared the forthcoming state of being abandoned. Betrayed. Left alone with his hatred for love.

Once again, her skin makes out the figure of him; this time, his arms wrap around her waist and he brings her up his body until she is resting in between his legs, her cheek pressing down on to his chest. Seunghyun is not touchy, she has learned, not because he is embarrassed but because he doesn’t seek for it. To him, there are a million ways to show appreciation and touch is not one of them. Unlike her, who simply adores the reassurance that physical touch brings. Yet, there, where she lays she can feel his heartbeat like the tempo of a song, the ones that he used to sing at the bar but now become a rare occurrence, youthful in every given way. Seunghyun is not the type for love songs and yet, she swears she hears them every time she sees him.

This time, she really does open her eyes because feeling him can also be compared to seeing him, touching him, remembering those thin lips that had kissed her with all the fervor in the world and those closed eyes that would once again open to welcome her with happiness. This is the type of feeling that she had never wanted to attach to the midnight singer, the one who is bound to leave, and yet, she can say to herself that she never wants to let go of this moment. The leather of the couch is uncomfortable and the AC is doing a poor job at keeping them fresh, but she is far too lost in tracing the outline of his sharp cheekbones, his nice jaw and when she gets to his lips, she can already hear the groan in his voice.

“What are you doing?” At this point, it would be a rarity to say that she is simply grasping the feeling of him and remembering, through the touch of their bodies, that they are more than two hurt souls could ever admit. Seunghyun is not the type for a confession and neither is she, but they know they hold a relationship with the other. Romantic, yes, but also in the shape of souls that are connected in hopes of bringing joy to the other’s live. His tone is a bit annoyed and yet, with his eyes closed, she swears she sees a smile appearing on his features.

“Just…” She whispers, trying to find the correct reasoning for this, but nothing comes to mind, leaving her to her poor attempts at poetry. “Remembering you.”

“Remembering me?” Seunghyun’s deep voice asks, even deeper when he is just waking up and when his eyes finally open, he closes them once again, the light coming from the blinds suddenly too strong for him. “…What does that even mean?” This morning, he is more curious than ever and she hates him for that. He loves uncovering even the deepest secrets of hers.

“I don’t know.”

“You say it as if you’re going to leave.” Though, there is a bit of a question in his tone and when a soft breath leaves through his nose, a bit deep in its delivery, she knows that there is a monster in the back of his mind, telling him that this is not forever…this is temporary. This comfort they feel with the other, sometimes holding a name and other times not doing so at all, is definitely not going to last for a long time.

“I’m not.” She promises, though she doesn’t know why she says it in such seriousness, unlike any of them. Leaning her head down, she presses her lips down on his, the soft touch reciprocated by the man when he parts his lips softly and lets his hands rest on top of her back. “I’m not leaving you, Seunghyun.”

He opens one of his eyes at that, chuckling at her words before closing his eyes once again. “Me neither.”

“Good.”

“Good.” Seunghyun pats the back of her thigh after that, the sound booming against the walls. “Now get off me, this couch is burning my back and I need to breathe.”

“Asshole.”

Though she curses at him, she knows her intentions are clear. Even when the morning comes, Seunghyun will continue to be here and she’ll wait for the midnight to appear again just to get a chance to touch his lips.

#t.o.p scenarios #t.o.p #bigbang scenarios #bigbang #kpop scenarios #writing #t.o.p au #t.o.p fluff #bigbang au #bigbang fluff #bar singer!t.o.p #because 1) seunghyun's singing doesn't get enough recognition and #2) bigbang is going to coachella i'm hyped

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arabellaflynn · 4 years

Text

Hello, all. It has been a rough pandemic.

As you may have figured, since I am in the performing arts, I have been completely out of work since this shitshow began. The earliest venues will open up here in MA is September, which is not helpful for me, because I need to be out of my current place by 8/31. No one will rent to me on my Patreon income, so I've been trying to figure out how to supplement that with other online work.

My first thought, frankly, was camming. I'm attractive and I know that, and I don't care about being naked in "public". I have a lot of opinions on the legitimacy and legalization of sex work, but making a statement would be a convenient bonus; I'd be in it for the tips. As the appliance menagerie on the Flintstones used to say, "Eh. It's a living."

The best camera I currently have is attached to the slightly-less ancient laptop. You know, the one with the broken hinge that won't hold the screen up on the right. Only the wifi on that computer has quit working. The onboard chip was always kind of flaky, but for some reason it has chosen now to deteriorate to the point where it no longer acknowledges a router on the other side of the goddamn wall. Shooting in the living room with an ethernet cable is not an option, because another housemate is already doing that.

I bought a dual-band USB wifi adapter with antenna. It's a Realtek chip -- not gold-plated, but also not total junk. I specifically checked to make sure it worked with Ubuntu Bionic before I ordered. I have now installed three separate sets of drivers in three completely different ways, read everything ever written about this on AskUbuntu, and still the computer refuses to acknowledge its existence. Not even if I blacklist the onboard chip to keep it from falling back into previous bad habits.

The other elderly laptop (with the working wifi) has a cam that tops out at 640 x 480, which I suppose might squeak by as a tiny facecam on Twitch, or for tutoring where no one cares about pixelization. The microphone, however, is crap. It's a tinny omni on the screen bezel that likes room noise more than my voice. I don't have an external microphone, and there's no onboard Bluetooth for my wireless headset. So I bought a USB Bluetooth adapter, which this computer is ignoring as hard as the other one is the wifi dongle. I have a wired headset with a mic, but because this computer is probably mere months too old to know what to do with an inline mic on the same jack as the output signal, it doesn't register at all.

The camera on my phone is potato quality, because that is honestly about how much the phone cost. Ditto the refurb Kindle. Neither is smart enough to keep up with streaming video, which I found out when I tried to do a video rehearsal for something months ago.

I have no place to do any kind of professional non-entertainment streaming work (e.g., tutoring) with my terrible equipment in any event. I don't own a desk. If a free desk appeared on my doorstep tomorrow, I would have nowhere to put it. My bedroom is small enough to contravene the Geneva Convention requirements for POW cells and I'm basically stuck in here, for reasons of both air conditioning and not having to interact with a house full of people who very much want me gone.

What I do have is a set of working emulators and some free video editing software, so I decided to take a stab at a subtitled Let's Play. I can certainly ramble on for 30 or so hours of Final Fantasy II. At the very least it'll give me something scheduled to do. So I pulled everything out and set it up, only to find that my controller was "pining for the fjords" -- no lights, no acknowledgement from RetroArch, no response to any button presses.

...

...okay, well, at least we're down to a level of equipment I can afford to replace. So I am waiting for the mail carrier to bring me another $10 gamepad, whilst stuck in bureaucratic hell. I'm down to emergency public assistance, which keeps asking me to send them random documents, inconveniently one at a time. Even when I can submit them online I'm required to wait a minimum of 2-3 business days before a human can look at them. I'm trying to not be mad -- they are clearly horribly overworked -- but it also leaves me with a lot of time to do nothing but busy-wait. They've finally decided I'm destitute enough for food stamps, so now I have to sit on my hands until the card arrives in the mail.

The chronic, crushing lack of resources is not helped by (or helping) the fact that I'm just not functioning very well. I was already on the edge of disintegration when the lockdown orders hit anyway; I was taking every piece of work I could find in an effort to scrape together enough for first/last/deposit on a new apartment, and honestly that's more than I can handle. I can consistently get to about 20 hours of "stuff that can't be done while in bed, wearing pajamas" per week, with occasional spikes up to about 30, before I start losing the ability to take care of myself. I skip showers, let my living space become a complete disaster area, and go to bed without dinner because the whole process of choosing something to eat, preparing it, eating it, and cleaning up after myself is so overwhelming that I just burst into tears and don't do it. I fed the rats twice a day and cleaned their cage once or twice a week, but couldn't manage to do the same for myself.

It's difficult to explain to people the state of being physically and mentally exhausted without also being sweaty and shaky from muscle fatigue. Perhaps the single most salient example I can give is lying in bed at night and realizing I kind of vaguely needed to pee. Not like urgently -- just enough that I knew if I didn't, I'd wake up the next day with an uncomfortably full bladder. Then just lying there anyway, not because I thought suffering was noble or I deserved it or anything idiotic like that, but just because taking care of it would involve standing up, walking into another room, and initiating a new task, and I did not have the capacity to do any of those things.

If you suggest I start making a to-do list, I will sit down right now and invent a brand new Blunt Object Transfer Protocol (botp://) expressly for the purpose of punching you, personally, in the face over the goddamn internet. I will even credit you in the patent application. I will not share the licensing profits, which judging from social media right now, would be approximately all of the money on the face of the Earth. I do not need "life hacks".

What I really need is a case worker, or possibly a babysitter, or just to have shown up at the ER about two months ago, because that is the only way I have ever found to get people to pay attention when I ask for help. Otherwise I get triaged out of sight and out of mind -- they ask if I'm suicidal, I tell them no, they tell me 'okay, here's a prescription for six Xanax and a packet of resources, go home and fix it yourself'. I'm just like, you sons of bitches, do you think I don't know how to Google things? If I could fix this on my own, I wouldn't be talking to you. Except I can't right now, because plague.

Everyone wants to fob me off on someone else. I was referred to an SSDI attorney by a friend, because frankly that's where I'm at right now. I wrote to them, specifically mentioning his name and the associate who helped him, and explained that I was basically a vegetable and I needed help applying for disability. I'm a college-educated suburban white girl, who grew up hearing her parents make rude jokes about welfare queens -- I have no idea how any of this works and I'm so broken I kept losing my place in a blanket whose pattern was literally "knit-purl-knit-purl to end of row; turn work over; repeat". Their response was "Sounds like you need some help applying for SSDI/SSI disability. Here's the website for the Boston Bar Association, good luck!" Crisis lines of both the psychiatric and financial varieties keep directing me to one of two national clearinghouse sites for social support services, both of which direct me to each other, because neither has any programs in my area.

I am trying really, really hard not to resent the ever-loving fuck out of anyone who has any sort of support system right now. One housemate has almost the exact same list of medical problems that I do, and is also completely out of work right now. She is married to the one who has a grown-up salaried WFH IT job, and will never have to worry about having a roof over her head or food in the cabinets. The single housemate has supportive family literally a five minute walk down the street; if she ever gets her feet kicked out from under her, she can stay with them temporarily while she scrambles back up. Another friend yote out to California right before lockdown to stay with his family. A local offered to help me with paperwork, then ghosted me intermittently before explaining that he was having a hard time himself right now and barely had the capacity for his own life. I have an elderly rat, no more savings, and no options.

I don't even know how I'm going to move the little I own. How do you even ask people to do that in the middle of a pandemic? If I don't have the money to move, I definitely don't have the money for a moving company, and I'm envisioning all of my community-minded friends pursing their lips in judgement and declining because like all the good people they are diligently social distancing.

I have also discovered, while hauling an empty suitcase out to Watertown and a full one back home again, that I do not cope well with face masks. It's fine if I'm not doing much, especially if I'm in a climate-controlled space like a store or the T, but as soon as I exert myself at all, I see spots. And no, it is not a matter of "just get used to it"; I have tested this by trying to wear a mask during my home workouts. It is just stuffy enough under there, and there is just enough reduction in air flow, that the world keeps going all film-grainy and dark on the sides, which I know from experience is the first step on a very short path to the Magical Land of Syncope. I had to stop during the outdoor trek and sit on the suitcase about twice a block through the commercial district, where it stayed on because there were people. This was when it was 72 whole degrees out (and the AC is generally on 74°F inside) which doesn't bode well for moving my heavy shit around in late August.

I'm normally good at catching things at the weird-vision stage, although enough random strangers and T employees have asked me if I'm okay that I have to assume I look as ill as I feel at that point. And I have an absolutely tragic talent for talking people out of calling emergency services when I do actually keel over, but everyone is so health-panicked that I don't think it would work right now. I know what's happened and why, but I can't exactly communicate that to bystanders when I'm unconscious. As nice as EMS is, I don't feel like waking up to a round of Twenty Questions ("How many fingers am I holding up? Who's the President? Do you have a seizure disorder?"). So I just don't go out.

Alison over at Ask A Manager got a question about this the other day that suggests this is considered legitimate can't-(always-)wear-a-mask territory, and I am able to wear a mask where required in MA, which is indoors/during interactions with other people when it's actually useful, so I don't have any qualms on the scientific or legal front. I have just never been a good judge of how much potential peril/damage it's "reasonable" to put up with, and I don't have the capacity to explain myself over and over again a million times a day.

I'm fucking tired. I'm tired of covid, I'm tired of living in a big glitzy continent-spanning banana republic, I'm tired of anxiety, I'm tired of other people carping at me to do things I can't in order to fix their anxiety for them, I'm tired of not having the space to dance, I'm tired of asking for help before things fall apart and being told 'well, come back when it is an emergency', and most of all I'm tired of this cycle where I tell myself "I'm going to stop being lazy! I'm going to put on my big-girl pants and wake up early and work 40 hours a week and support myself like an adult!" and then fail at it again because I just do not have the capacity to do that. I do not know how to make the system understand that I need some kind of support right now.

Sorry for yet another depressing update, but that's where I am right now.

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jessahmewren · 5 years

Text

“i didn’t know it could be like this”/ Queen / Bohemian Rhapsody Fan Fiction

Chapter 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Summary: Roger and John don't really understand the Dom/sub scene, until they meet two Doms who actually care, or that fic where Rog and John are in a bad situation until Brian and Freddie show them what good sex is all about.

Rated E: for Exceedingly smutty from the first sentence

Chapter 1 of ?

Pairings: Freddie Mercury/John Deacon, Brian May/Roger Taylor, Roger Taylor/John Deacon, eventual puppy pile (It’s Poly y’all)

Words: 3081

Also on AO3

*space for youngsters to scroll past, and please do*

-0-0-0-

Roger pulled off the man’s cock with a sputtering gasp, working to keep his head up. His vision swam, blurry with unshed tears.

“Chin up, cutie,” the gruff voice above him commanded, and he obeyed, tears dripping from his lashes as his head went back in time to catch the warm load that painted his face white.

Roger sank bank on his heels, his wrists bound behind his back. The man’s hands on him were rough, fingers twisting in his blond hair as he forced his face up.

“Such a slut for my cock, huh?” The hand in Roger’s hair tightened until he squeaked out a weak ‘yessir.’

The man leered, a low chuckle bubbling from his chest, and unbound Roger’s hands. Without a word he left him kneeling where he was, come and tears dripping from his chin and onto the lime green carpet.

---

John’s arms shook, his head tucked between his shoulders as the two men took turns pounding into him. Their thrusts were shallow and sloppy, and to John, at least, it was clear they had never done this before.

Of course, they wouldn’t touch his cock.

He had chewed his lip raw from the discomfort of them rutting into him, their sweaty bodies draped over his, heavy and suffocating. John bit back whimpers and silently prayed to anyone listening that they would finish soon.

“Let’s flip him over,” one of them said, out of breath. “I wanna see his face.”

Dutifully, John rolled onto his back, wincing as they roughly entered him again. The larger man slapped John suddenly on the thigh, making him jump. “Say something bitch,” he taunted, “aren’t you enjoying yourself?”

John swallowed nervously. “Yes sir, very much,” he managed. “Keep fucking me sir. I love it.”

After all a client was a client, and you had to keep them happy.

“You damn right you love it, you whore.”

John’s eyes welled, but he blinked the tears away. One day, he would stop being so sensitive. He clenched the bedsheets, trying to relax as the man jerked his hips, gasping and rutting his way through his orgasm.

---

Brian set his guitar down and sighed. “That’s the third bassist this week Freddie. And we can’t keep relying on the drummer down at the pub to practice with us.”

Freddie put the mic stand back into its base. “Darling, relax. Everything’s going to fall into place! We’ve got fliers up all over campus.” The singer winked at Brian. “What we need is a night out.”

Brian shook his head, his curls bouncing. “Oh no. We don’t have the money for that Fred. And I need to study, anyway.”

Freddie pouted. “You’re always studying! A little hedonism is good for the mind.” He grabbed Brian’s arm. “Come on love. Off we go. Into the night to see what it holds for us.”

Brian reluctantly followed Freddie to their beat-up van, secretly hating how the charismatic singer could talk him into anything.

---

John and Roger met downstairs for their weekly meeting with the club manager, Ray Foster. He was an outright creep, but he did keep everything running well and was quick to supply the club goers (employees and patrons) with whatever they needed. As long as you didn’t find yourself alone with him for too long, he was tolerable.

“It’s Saturday night, gents. Big fucking night around here, as usual. Look your best, be your best. Make the customer happy. Any problems, report them straight to me. Anyone have any questions?”

They both shook their heads, quietly holding hands on the couch. John had met Roger at Club Orchid, and he had taken John under his wing. Both of them were painfully new to the Dom/sub scene, but had caught on pretty quick. It was pretty much sink or swim, and both of them desperately needed the money.

John and Roger broke apart before heading to the lounge, each of them giving the other an appraising look. Roger was wearing a pair of tight leather pants and a sheer shirt. His blond hair was tousled and lustrous, and the way it caught the light almost gave him a halo. John's short shorts accentuated his bum, and the billowy white shirt he wore was half open. They smiled at each other.

This was John’s favorite part of the evening…just hanging out with Roger, drinking and waiting on clients. Drugs were available to workers as well, but John never took them. He did drink though. It helped take the edge off. And he rarely held back.

---

“So where are you taking me,” Brian finally asked Freddie, noticing they were headed downtown.

Freddie smiled. “Well, I figured it was about time we got back on the scene.”

Brian nearly choked. “You mean, THE scene? NO, Freddie.”

“Darling, you can’t let one bad experience put you off! You are one of the most splendid Doms I’ve ever seen.”

Brian was shaking his head. “This isn’t a good idea, Fred.”

Freddie was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and humming. “It’s the best idea I’ve had in a long time. We’re in for the night of our lives.”

They pulled up to Club Orchid, and Brian's frown only deepened.

“Don’t give me that look, Bri,” Freddie began. It’s technically not prostitution. There’s a cover charge, and then you get inside and do whatever you want. If you leave a tip, well you leave a tip.”

“Freddie—“ Brian began, rubbing his hand over his face.

“It’s done, my darling. We’re already here. Might as well enjoy ourselves.”

Walking into the club was a little disorienting at first. It was almost like a parlor, set up with couches and chairs and a little receiving desk. Deeper inside the club, though, it was dark, with purple and blue lights in the corners that emitted a soft glow. There was music playing, but surprisingly to Brian, it wasn’t too loud.

And there were men everywhere. Tall men, short men--of all shapes, sizes, and colors--leaning over small tables, drinking, laughing, and chatting. Freddie smiled, adjusting the collar of his jacket. “What a garden of forbidden fruit,” he muttered to himself.

He was the first one to step out, easily charming himself around the room. Everyone he spoke with, of course, was happy to see him and went out of his way to be accommodating and polite.

Brian was somehow stuck to the wall.

It was a bit overwhelming, suddenly, to be back on the scene so quickly. To be gone for so many months, and then to be thrust back in, with all of these partners to choose from. Brian thought briefly of simply walking out.

Then men started walking up to him, and strangely he felt a bit better…more comfortable. Until a blond came up to him in a sheer shirt and large blue eyes and he lost the ability to breathe.

“Hi there.” The blond flashed a shy smile. His lips were full, and he had a small collar seated around his neck.

“Hi,” Brian managed.

“I’ve never seen you here before,” the blond flirted. “And I would’ve remembered you.”

Brian swallowed thickly, already growing hard in his pants. “Never been here before.”

Then he laughed. The blond laughed, a throaty sort of laugh, but somehow still high and lilting, before placing his arm on his. “Well, do you want to get to know each other better?”

Brian nodded dumbly before letting the blond lead him upstairs. “I didn’t catch your name,” he asked stupidly as the door opened in front him.

“It’s Roger,” the blond purred as he reached for Brian’s fly. “And that’s all you need to know.”

---

John stirred his drink, staring down into the fruity concoction a little woefully. So, he wouldn’t get a client tonight. It shouldn’t cut into his and Roger’s rent money too much, not if they cut back on food. He couldn’t resist a sigh.

“Well hello darling! I haven’t spoken to you yet.”

John looked up at the sugary sweet voice to find the most beautiful man he’d ever laid eyes on. Sparkling brown eyes, tan skin, long dark hair sweeping his shoulders. John usually wasn’t attracted to people who came in the club, but…

“What has you looking so glum, sweetheart?”

John forced a smile onto his face. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m John, by the way.”

Freddie smiled, then took the hand and kissed it. “John. It’s lovely to meet you. But it didn’t look like nothing when I sat down,” Freddie prodded.

John quirked his mouth. “You wanna go upstairs and talk about it?”

---

Roger settled on his knees, the rug burn comforting and familiar. “There’s toys in the dresser,” he said as he looked up at the curly-haired man. “I’m yours for the hour.”

His blue eyes lowered to Brian’s cock, pulling it out of his pants before the man could say anything.

“Whoah, we need to have a talk first,” Brian said, panting.

“Condoms, and lube,” the blond said, shaking his head. “Bedside table.”

“No,” Brian said as he pulled the blond off of his knees. “About limits. And about your safeword.”

Roger just looked at him in confusion.

Brian sat down on the bed, his head in his hands.

“Roger, have you never had limits? Things that you definitely aren’t comfortable with?”

The blond just shrugged. “I didn’t know I could.”

Brian grimaced. “Oh you poor dear. I’m so sorry.”

Roger looked at him strangely. “Have I done something wrong?”

Brian just shook his head. “No. Everyone else did.”

Roger was still standing there looking at him sort of helplessly, so Brian decided it was time to take control. “I want you strip Roger, and then lie down on the bed.”

Roger dutifully complied, and Brian took the opportunity to fully appreciate the young man’s pale, perfect skin and his slender physique.

Brian palmed his growing erection, clearly visible where he reclined on the bed. He wanted very badly to praise the young man, but he didn’t know his needs yet, so he bit his tongue.

“Alright Roger, come lie down on the bed,” he said as he gently patted the spot beside him. When Roger was in place, he went to the dresser and withdrew a blindfold and some soft cotton rope.

“Think of a word that you can remember,” Brian said, “and if things get to be too much and you need me to stop, just say that word and things will stop, no questions asked. That word is called your safeword. Ok Roger?”

Roger blinked up at him with those liquid blue eyes. “You won’t be mad if I say it?”

Brian smiled. “No, of course not. I have one too. Mine is dessert. If I say the word dessert, everything stops. Now what about you?”

Roger finally smiled. “Rainbow,” he said.

“Ok Roger now what’s mine?”

“Dessert,” Roger said.

“And yours is rainbow,” Brian said.

Roger nodded.

“Good, we have an understanding. Now Roger, I’m going to put this blindfold on you. Is that alright?”

Roger smiled, his tongue stuck cutely between his teeth. “You don’t have to ask, it’s your hour.”

Brian tutted. “I do have to ask. Because good sex is always consensual. So is that OK with you?”

“Yeah,” Roger finally said.

Brian blindfolded Roger and then bound his hands, again asking his permission to do so. He could tell this type of communication was a foreign experience for Roger, who was probably used to men having their way with him and then just leaving. It made Brian unspeakably sad.

Brian looked down at the blond, the red silk blindfold over his eyes and his arms tied over his head, and something twisted in his gut. “You’re so beautiful,” Brian whispered, as he trailed over Roger’s chest, eliciting a gasp from Roger.

“You want me to suck your cock,” Roger whispered.

“I want you to stop talking,” Brian said flatly. “You’re being very naughty, speaking out of turn, and you’ll need to be punished. Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Roger responded immediately, jerking as Brian plucked one of his nipples.

“On your knees,” Brian commanded. “Elbows together so you can lean on them.”

Roger did as he was told, bum in the air with his back arched in a beautiful bow. When the cool sensation of Brian’s lubricated fingers hit his rim, his whole body jumped.

“Easy now, love,” Brian soothed, “nice and easy.” One finger went in easily, making teasing circles against Roger’s walls. A little puff of air escaped Roger’s lips, and he immediately clamped his mouth shut tight.

“Have you been told to be quiet love?” Brian frowned. “I would love to hear you sing.” He slipped another finger in, aiming for that little bundle of nerves.

Roger tensed immediately, crying out as Brian began working him open in earnest now. “Wh-what was that?” Roger’s legs were trembling, and tears were straining his voice.

Brian couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Don’t’ tell me you’ve never had your prostate massaged before.” For some reason, Brian felt like crying. “Why, you’re practically a virgin.”

Tears soaked the blindfold as another shudder of pleasure shot through him. Then Brian removed his fingers, and a strange calm settled over Roger.

“On your back,” Brian said roughly. He was touching himself with his slick fingers, almost ready to come apart.

The blindfold slipped free, and Brian’s hands were on him.

“You’re so good for me,” Brian murmured into his neck, “so good,” the praise falling so easily from his mouth whether the young blond was ready to receive it or not. The slick fingers settled around Roger’s cock, and Roger jerked into them, his breath hitching.

“I usually don’t…no one ever…”

“Shh baby,” he cooed as he slowly worked him. “Let me take care of you.”

Brian spread the precum already gathered over Roger’s aching cock, easing the way for his able fingers, applying delicious pressure up and down the throbbing member.

And Roger began to cry.

With his head buried in the curly-haired man’s shoulder, slowly fucking up into his hand, he cried. Because no one had ever cared enough to treat him like this before, and their hour was almost up.

---

Freddie slammed John against the back of the door, his hand going down to grab his ass. “I gotta say I got the belle of the ball,” he said between wet kisses. “Can’t wait to get you out of these little shorts.”

“Yessir,” John gasped as Freddie lightly pulled his hair, leading him in the direction of the bed.

“We use the traffic lights, OK,” Freddie got out between kisses. He was tugging on the edge of John’s shirt, his hands under the hem.

“Sir?”

“You know, green, yellow, and red,” Freddie said distractedly. He was busy getting John naked, and missed the question in his voice.

“Oh, right,” John said, not knowing in the slightest what he was talking about, but afraid to lose a client.

Then Freddie gasped, and John remembered.

He should’ve just given him a blow job.

“Oh, darling.”

John put his arms around himself, as if that would do anything to hide the deep angry gashes on his back and buttocks. Tears began to well up in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said to Freddie.

Freddie could feel the rage building just beneath his skin, manifesting itself in a slight tremble in his limbs. “You have nothing to be sorry for my dear. The bastard who did this and then left you like this is the one who should be sorry.”

John ducked his head, a tear escaping his thick lashes.

“Come on,” he said as he put his arm around the young man’s shoulders. “Let’s get these tended too and then we’ll have a cuddle, hmm?”

John sniffed, looking at him through his long silky hair. “A cuddle?” The concept seemed so foreign.

Freddie smiled. “Go ahead John and lie down on the bed. I’ll get us a blanket.” Freddie rummaged around in the dresser drawers until he found some cream. It was a little late to tend John’s wounds, but he couldn’t not do anything. And it would be soothing.

Freddie settled on the bed, the pot of cream in his hands. He looked at the brunet, spread on his stomach with his hair spilled around his shoulders. He was certainly a lovely young thing, and so trusting. It was a shame he had been mistreated so.

John couldn’t stifle a moan when the cool cream hit his burning skin. He relaxed even further into the bed as Freddie treated the ugly wounds, causing Freddie’s mouth to twitch.

“You’re breathtaking John,” he whispered. “No one should’ve ever done this to you. Not ever.”

“I’m ugly,” John said quietly. “And I deserved it.”

“Darling.” Freddie nudged him where he lay on the pillow. He could tell the young man was crying from the quiet sniffs he was making. “Turn over. Look at me.”

John obeyed, turning over to look at Freddie. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, but his lips were full and sweet.

“Why do you think you deserved a punishment like this, love?”

John averted his eyes, almost afraid if he divulged his reasons he would be punished again. “I couldn’t swallow,” he said as he chewed his lip. “He wanted me to swallow, and I had to spit it out.” John looked nervously at Freddie. “It was an accident,” he added as an afterthought.

Freddie felt heart flip at how vulnerable he looked lying there making his confession, which was no confession at all. This rare flower deserved nothing but to be loved and cared for, not to be used night after night.

“John, darling,” he said as he ran a hand through his hair. “May I blow you?”

John’s eyes grew wide. “Why?”

Freddie chuckled good-naturedly. “Because it’s my hour and that’s what I would like to do.” Freddie smiled at the timid young man. “Is that OK with you?”

John nodded, a bit dumbstruck.

Freddie’s mouth sank onto John’s cock, hot and heavenly, and John instinctively arched into his mouth. Freddie held his arms, letting his hips move, allowing him the freedom to fuck up into his mouth, to wiggle and writhe like it was the first time he had ever been touched. Maybe it was. Freddie didn’t care. He just knew he wanted to do it again and again. But his hour was almost up.

-0-0-0-

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years

Text

Chapter 6 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream?

Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox)

Warnings: mentions of death, sexual assault

Important note: the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one.

Chapter six

~|Charlie Gillespie|~

To say I’m nervous is an understatement. I haven’t been back to the Music Store since Monday. Too scared Emily might actually kick me out because she doesn’t want to see me. Too scared if I don’t practice enough, I might totally flop on Saturday and risk a contract or Emily not joining our band. It does make me wonder if she ever missed me. If she’s been searching for me. If she’s listening to other music while cleaning instead of listening to me play the guitar. If she’s been thinking about me as much as I have been thinking about her. Whether it’s been her tiny little smile betraying her tough façade or her voice blending in with mine or belting out the lyrics, she’s been on my mind non-stop. “Another practice after school, boys?” Owen suggests when we’re at Jeremy’s locker, waiting for him to be ready to get to our first class. Jeremy and I both nod in agreement. We all need as much practice as we can get. Owen watches me tentatively, then says, “I went to the Music Store again last night, to make sure they got our name written down.” I don’t notice my eyes widening at this. “How was she?” I blurt out without thinking. “She seemed a bit off, actually. Easily startled, that one,” Owen chuckles, and I do too but I don’t know why. “I found her at the guitars, she was tuning one of the acoustic guitars when I walked up to her and tapped her shoulder. She jumped about five feet high before registering who I was,” Owen keeps his eyes on me tentatively, making sure he’s not overstepping because he knows how I’ve been feeling in the past week. “And when I asked her about the Open Mic Night, she had no clue what I was talking about at first, but then she checked the documents and she had us written down.” I can’t help but smile a little at his story. Sounds about right. That’s the Emily I’ve been keeping my eye on for the past two weeks. “She had us written down as Sunset Cure, but I made sure to change it.” “Sounds like her,” I mutter. Jeremy and Owen both chuckle and then the silence falls over us like a soft blanket until the bell rings and we all split up to get to class. I’m nervous with everything I do. Paying attention in class is hard because I can hear her voice singing that song she sang to the girl in the Music Store mixed in with the song we sang together. Then it makes me wonder if she’s been working on that and if she’s finished it. I left the piece of paper with the bridge on the piano, I hope she’s seen that and hasn’t thrown it out. Then my mind jumps to the question whether she was off yesterday when Owen saw her because she hadn’t seen me, but then again, that would be ridiculous. She’s pushed me away. Why would she think of me when she doesn’t even like me? “Charlie?” A voice shakes me awake from all my daydreams about Emily. When I look up, I find out every student in my class is staring at me, including the teacher. “Can you tell me the answer to the question I just asked the class?” I rack my brain trying to figure out what we were talking about. What class am I even in? “Pay attention, please, Charlie.” I simply nod my head in response but sulk back into Emily-thoughts the second the teacher turns away from me. This day is going to be hard. Tomorrow is going to be even harder.

“You’re still here?” Owen asks on Saturday morning when he finds me still in Jeremy’s garage. We’d been rehearsing until late last night, writing some more songs until we find the perfect one to perform tomorrow night at the Open Mic Night. We’d promised to pick it back up in the morning, but I never left. I’m not even sure if I slept at all. I kept singing Emily’s song. “Did you even sleep at all, bro?” Jeremy questions as he picks up his bass. His eyes are still squinty, meaning he hadn’t slept too much either. “I’m not sure,” I shrug. Owen sits down next to me on the sofa and I’m sure I’m getting the infamous Owen-pep-talk. Even though he’s solely interested in men, he does give some killer advice on women too. “I’m not telling you to forget about her, Char, but maybe don’t get your hopes up too in case she really, really doesn’t want to be a part of Sunset Curve.” He gives me a sharp look. “Then again, judging from how out of it she was Thursday, I think she kind of missed her favorite returning customer.” My heart swells up at the thoughts of her missing me. I push the feeling down because Owen is right. I can’t get my hopes up too high. “Can we rehearse Now or Never?” I ask, getting up from the sofa to pick up my electric guitar, “I think that one gives us the most chances.” Jeremy and Owen both hum in agreement and get to their instruments. While Jeremy grabs his bass, Owen settles behind his drums. “1-2-3!” Owen counts us in, clapping his sticks together in the air and off we go. Even though we’ve practiced this song the most out of repertoire, it’s still a bit rough and not good enough for any music execs. Or Emily.

We spend a good portion of the day rehearsing the song, having minimal breaks for food and toilet visits. I think my bandmates might already be sick of me saying “it’s not good enough, it needs to be perfect!”. I’m not sure if I care about what they think. “We’re doing it one last time, Charlie. If it’s not perfect after that, I think you might just have to take the odds and hope it’s good enough for the music execs,” Owen says an hour before the Open Mic Night. He’s a great friend, but he can’t hide his annoyance from me. “Or Emily!” Jeremy adds, a bit too excitedly, pointing to me for emphasis. “Yeah, sure, or Emily,” Owen agrees with an eyeroll. “Fine, one more time.” I grumble and put all I have into the song. We’re definitely going to need a shower after we’ve packed everything up to get to the Music Store. If I say the nerves are really kicking in, I mean my heart is nearly thumping out of my chest and I’m very near death. I don’t get this nervous for any other gig we’ve ever had.

“Alright, let’s pack up!” Jeremy claps his hands when we’re finally done and lifts his bass over his head to put the instrument in its case. Even though I think we could do with one more try, I follow his example and place my electric guitar into its case. “Oh, no! Emily actually told me we could use the equipment they have there,” Owen informs us right on time. “Let’s just all go home, take a shower, get dressed and meet each other there, okay?” Jeremy and I glance at each other, place our instruments in their cases anyway, and then leave the garage. Once I’m showered and dressed for tonight; my grey ‘RUSH’ muscle tank and black skinny jeans will do. Or should I make a proper effort since I’m seeing Emily again? Then again, I’m going to sweat my balls off during the song, so it’s not like I’m actually going to look hot. No. This will do. In attempts to boost my confidence a little bit, I comb my fingers through my hair and mess it up a little bit, looking up into the mirror. I never wanted to be that person that gives myself pep-talks in a mirror, but here we are. “You can do this. Whatever happens, it’s good exposure for the band.” After taking another deep breath, I grab the stuff I need and leave the house. Once I get to the Music Store, something inside me stops me from going in. Something is holding me back. I’m not sure if it’s the nerves of the gig or the nerves of seeing Emily again. All I know is that I can’t go inside. “What are you waiting for, Char?” The familiar voice of Jeremy’s relaxes me a bit. I look through the window of the shop, immediately spotting the girl I’m afraid of seeing again. She has a smile on her face as she sweeps up the shop, getting it ready for the Open Mic Night. I think she’s talking to her co-worker. “Ah! That girl! I’ve given her a three cent tip the other day. I think she appreciated me.” I turn my head to look at Jeremy for a moment, wondering what’s going on in that head of his. That’s when I notice someone else has joined us too. “Do you want us to go in first?” Owen asks. He’s halted behind me and Jeremy, looking at what we’re looking at. “Yes, please,” I squeak out, then cough, “Yes, please,” I repeat in my normal voice. Owen and Jeremy head inside while I trail behind them. I’m not sure if I’m hiding or just don’t want her to see me straight away. “Oh, hey! You’re the Three Cents tipper!” Her happy voice sounds so much prettier than the one she uses on me when she puts up that tough façade. Not prettier than her singing voice though. “I didn’t know you guys were in a band together.” “I’m Jeremy, I play bass.” It’s silent for a moment, probably as she’s figuring out how a bass player and a drummer would form a band by themselves. “Where are we playing?” he doesn’t leave her the time to think about who’s missing. He knows that if she thinks about it long enough, she’ll know I’m the third member of the band. “In the back,” she points to an open double door at the back, “Ash will show you. I’ll be in in a minute.” How is she so abrasive whenever she’s with me but a completely different, sweet person when talking to them? What did I do wrong? I follow Owen and Jeremy, who are following after Ash. In my mind, I’m praying Emily wouldn’t recognize me from the back, but as soon as I take a step, I hear the voice she’s reserved just for me. “Thought it would be you.” I turn to face her with my best apologetic smile plastered on my face. “You were hiding from me, Charles?” She points to my bandmates, who’ve left me to my devices. “Uhm… Not technically… I just stood behind them and they’re taller than me, so…” I hope my excuse is plausible enough for her to believe. Then again, she’s not stupid. “Haven’t seen you stalking my store too much this past week.” Her voice is somehow softer. Somewhere between how she sounds when talking to Owen and Jeremy, and how she sounds when talking to me. “Yeah, no… Uhm, I’ve been busy… You know, writing songs by myself and stuff.” I don’t mean for it to come out so passive-aggressive, but I can’t help it either. “I mean—” I want to correct myself, but Emily interrupts me. “It’s fine, Charles. I don’t care,” that stings, “Don’t you have a soundcheck to get to?” “Uhm, yeah… I guess…” I look at her one last time for just a second before trailing behind my bandmates who are already settled behind their instruments. At least we had that.

By the time soundcheck is over, the room has filled up to the brim with people. Some of them look very professional, others are really here for just the music. My lungs clasp together due to the nerves now even more kicking in. “Ready, Char?” Owen claps his hand on my back. “Nope, I think I might die,” I would never be able to hide these nerves from the boys. “Let’s hope you come back as a ghost then,” Jeremy jokes – I think, “Ooh! Maybe we could start a ghost band!” I can’t help but chuckle at that, and neither can Owen. “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to our monthly Open Mic Night!” Ash says into the microphone, her voice booming off the walls and filling the entire space. The crowd claps and cheers, but I doubt it’s because they know who’s coming. This is all Ash’s applause or maybe just excitement for some music. “First up, we have an up-and-coming band from our very own Los Feliz. Give it up for Sunset Cure!” I slowly turn my head to Owen, who’d told us he had made sure he changed the name. “I swear, I told her to correct it!” he says, holding up his hands in defense. When I look into the crowd and spot Emily in the back with the most mischievous grin on her face, I’m sure she did it on purpose to mess with me. As the three of us make our way onto the stage, surrounded by the excited cheers of the crowd, I glare at Emily at the back, but I can’t help but let a smile shine through. If this was her attempt to get rid of my nerves, it’s working because I’m distracted by all the questions about why she’d do this. “It’s actually Sunset Curve,” I say into the mic, not taking my eyes off of Emily. The mischievous grin isn’t going away anytime soon, I think. And for some reason, it makes her even more sexy. I strum my guitar a little, and so does Jeremy with his bass until Owen counts us in and we start rocking out. All of the nerves that had built up inside of me have subdued. Mainly because I don’t take my eyes off of the girl standing at the back, looking at us with her arms crossed and the mischief still persistent on her face. “Take off, last stop Countdown till we blast open the top Face first, full charge Electric hammer to the heart” Jeremy and Owen join in for backing vocals on the next part of the verse. “Clocks move forward But we don't get older, no Kept on climbing Till our stars collided” Jeremy and Owen now stop, leaving me to sing the next few lines by myself. “And all the times we fell behind Were just the keys to paradise” The chorus is for all three of us, our voices blending together nicely. “Don't look down 'Cause we're still rising up right now And even if we hit the ground We'll still fly Keep dreaming like we'll live forever But live it like it's now or never” While singing, I don’t tear my eyes off of Emily. I think I even caught a smile during that chorus. “Hear the noise, in my head It's calling out like a voice I can't forget One life, no regrets Catch up, got no time to catch my breath” I throw her a wink when Jeremy walks up to me to sing the pre-chorus with me into the same mic, as we do pretty much every show. It gets the most cheers, most of the time. “Clocks move faster Cause it's all we're after now, oh Won't stop climbing Cause this is our time, yeah” I push him away from me, focusing on Emily again. “When all the days felt black and white Those were the best shades of my life” We lapse into the chorus again and the crowd gets up from their chairs to dance along with us. Emily, however, stays put in the position I saw her in when the song started. Besides the occasional head-bop, she just stares with that mischievous grin and her arms crossed. “Don't look down 'Cause we're still rising up right now And even if we hit the ground We'll still fly Keep dreaming like we'll live forever But live it like it's now or never” As Owen takes the bridge, I walk to the edge of the stage to interact with the crowd. “We ain't searching for tomorrow” “Tomorrow,” Jeremy echoes. “'Cause we got all we need today” “Today” goes Jeremy again as I walk back to my microphone. “Living on a feeling that's been running through our veins,” I sing. “We're the revolution that's been singing in the rain,” Jeremy’s high note sends shivers down my spine, and I almost forget to move away from the microphone to do my favorite part. Owen and Jeremy move from their mics too, and all of us stop playing the instruments, shouting the first part of the chorus into the crowd whilst clapping our hands. Thankfully, the crowd obeys and claps along with us. “Don't look down 'Cause we're still rising up right now” We pick up our instruments and move behind our microphones again, finishing up the song. “And even if we hit the ground We'll still fly Keep dreaming like we'll live forever But live it like it's now or never It's now or never.” The crowd erupts into explosive applause and cheers. But all I see is Emily, slow-clapping her way towards us, but stops when she reaches the last row of the crowd. I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips as Owen and Jeremy join me for a bow. “That was explosive, you guys!” Ash says into the mic as she runs up the stage again. “Sunset Curve, everybody!” The applause doesn’t die down yet, instead, it just grows louder. “Tell your friends!” Jeremy yells, earning even more cheers from the ladies on the first row. The three of us walk off stage as Ash announces the next artist. The second I walk into the crowd; my eyes are scanning ferociously for any sign of Emily. “Sunset Curve,” a stranger approaches us, “My name’s Bob, I’m looking for hot new talent such as yourself,” he shakes hands with all of us, but I’m only half there. Emily is in the store again, cleaning up and sorting through stuff. It’s when I realize I don’t care what Bob over here thought. I need to know what Emily thought. “Yeah, yeah, just a second, Bob,” I say, not even looking at him and making my way to the store without saying another word or waiting for a response from Bob or any of the guys. “Hey,” I greet once I’ve approached the girl in the Music Store. It feels exactly the same as it did when I first met her, and she just sang that beautiful song. The nerves kicking in again, my hands getting clammy and my throat closing up. Exactly like that first day. “Ah, Rockstar,” she mumbles, not even awarding me with a glance. She does recognize my voice, though. That’s a plus. “That wasn’t half bad out there.” I raise an eyebrow at her. “Half bad?” I ask, “Ems, me and my band rocked it out there.” If she’s surprised by the nickname, she doesn’t show it. I’m surprised myself that I used it. “Eh.” There’s that mischievous grin of hers again. Something tells me that means she doesn’t mean a word she says. I follow after her like an obedient puppy as she walks towards the piano again to sort through her sheet music. From over her shoulder, I can see my crumbled up paper sticking out of the bundle. “I think you liked our song, but you’re just too shy to tell me,” my mouth says without permission of my brain. She turns her head to me, giving me a sharp glare. “Sure, you tell yourself that, Charles.” I shake my head at her while she walks away from me again. “Can I help you with anything else? I still got work to do.” I bite my lip to make sure my mouth doesn’t go off without permission of my brain again. Because there are so many things I want to tell her. “Hey Emily!” Owen’s voice sounds from behind me, and when I turn my head, I find both bandmates standing beside me. Emily turns her head at the sound of Owen’s voice, a smile immediately turning her scowl reserved for me upside down. “Oh hey boys! You killed it out there!” My mouth drops open as I glance from my bandmates to Emily and back. “But—you,” I point to Emily, “W—me, Huh? What?!” All I get from her is that mischievous grin again. I knew she liked the song. Why can’t she just tell me the truth? She’s messing with me. “Thanks, girl!” Jeremy says with the widest grin on his face. “She’s nice, isn’t she, Char?” He pats me on the back, pointing to Emily for emphasis. “Yeah, very nice,” now it’s my time to scowl at her. “We just wanted to thank you for giving us a head’s up about this Open Mic thing,” Owen chimes in to simmer things down a little. “We had a very important guy talking to us just now.” I know the snarky emphasis on his words are directed at me, but I can’t be bothered to care. I just want to know what Emily’s deal is. Why can’t she warm up to me like she did to Owen and Jeremy? “Oh, that’s so good! But if it’s Bob, don’t believe him.” The boys and I glance at each other with wide eyes. “It was Bob, wasn’t it?” All three of us nod our heads in response. “Yeah, he’s a scammer. We try to keep him out, but he always manages to weasel his way back in.” “That’s why Ash came between us,” Owen now realizes. “Yeah…” Emily trails off, “Sorry, guys.” “Oh, it’s fine! At least you liked our song!” Jeremy says excitedly, “So much so you might join our band? Charlie over here tells us you’re an amazing singer-songwriter.” He pats my shoulder again. Emily’s smile falters, her eyes growing sadder with the second. She glances up at me. “I’m sorry, guys. I can’t do that. I – uhm… If I told you I had a really decent reason that I can’t talk about, would you believe me?” At least this answer is a bit less harsh than what she’s given me the other day. “So she is a witch!” Jeremy whispers with wide eyes. “What?” Emily’s sad face makes room for a confused face. Exactly the face Owen and I pull every day at least fifty times. “She’s not a witch, Jere!” I tell him off with an eyeroll. “We believe you have a good reason not to join our band,” Owen replies to Emily, “If you change your mind, we’ll welcome you with open arms.” His words seem to put that gorgeous smile of hers back on her pretty face. I sometimes forget how beautiful she really is until she smiles like that. With her long, dark hair pulled up into a ponytail that cascades alongside her neck, and her magical dark eyes with a fleck of green. I think she might just be the most beautiful girl I ever did see. “Thanks, I’ll try to remember that.” She glances at me and for once, her smile doesn’t turn back into a scowl. There’s a fuzzy, warm feeling in my chest. One that calms my heart down. One that seems to solve all of my problems at once. “See you around, Emily,” Owen taps the counter and turns around to make his way to the door. Jeremy throws up a peace sign whilst muttering a “Bye” and following behind Owen, leaving me with her. “Thanks for telling us about the Open Mic,” I tell her, pointing to the now closed double door with the music streaming out of it. “I guess I’ll see you around.” I raise my hand in a wave and turn around to go and find my bandmates again. “Hey,” her voice stops me halfway there, “Don’t be a stranger, okay?” I turn my face and get rewarded with an actual, genuine smile from Emily. It even turns the corners of my mouth upwards. “See you, Charles.” Still calling me Charles. “Right, yeah,” I wave again, “See you, Ems.” I still catch a glimpse of a blush before I head out the door to find my bandmates waiting for me. “She liked our music?” Owen tries to cheer me up, even though that’s not necessary. I’ve been rewarded with the most beautiful, genuine smile from the most beautiful woman on this planet. I don’t need cheering up. “I’m sure she’ll join our band in no time,” says Jeremy with a reassuring smile. Even if she does, she’s not that abrasive towards me anymore. She even gave me a smile. A smile. From Emily.

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not-close-to-straight · 5 years

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Cupid Comes Calling (Stuckony) (Part One)

This is a continuation of SECRET SANTA SHENANIGANS which featured hot but dumb weatherman Bucky, gorgeous but useless sports anchor Steve, and Tony as the station manager that is both Done with Their Shit and Hopelessly In Love all at the same time.

PART TWO HERE

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“It's Valentines Day this weekend and we have a list of unique places you can take that special someone that are sure to make this weekend one to remember.” Sam smiled broadly at the camera, all smooth words and perfectly timed facial expressions, looking handsome as only he could in a soft pink shirt and darker pink tie. “Stay tuned, New York. We'll be right back after the break.”

“Commercial!” Someone in the back shouted, and everyone in front of the cameras breathed a sigh of relief, slumping in their chairs for the few minutes before they had to go back on air.

“Sam, gorgeous.” Tony jogged up to the front and handed over a piece of paper to the anchor. “Slight change in that Valentines Day line up though. Turns out that bakery owner is a homophobic prick so this station is definitely not endorsing him even if he makes the most amazing sweet tarts in the world.”

“Aw.” Pepper took her paper with a frown, scanning the information about the new bakery they would be promoting. “We have to find a new place to get Friday morning treats?”

“Yeah, I’m not happy about it either.” Tony clicked his tongue in disappointment. “But it’s gotta happen. Works out actually, because the new place is owned by about the cutest couple you’ve ever seen in your life and they’re saving up money to adopt a couples kiddos. They could use the advertising.”

“New bakery it is.” Sam flashed Tony a thumbs up, then tilted his chin so the make up girl could freshen up real quick. “Thanks Tony.”

“Steve.” Tony had to work hard to keep his expression even semi neutral as he approached his sort-of boyfriend, his smile as professional as he could make it considering how badly he wanted to grab Steve by that stupid tie and kiss him half to death.

This is why we're not supposed to date co-workers, huh?

“Steve.” He started politely. “The Rangers are a hockey team, not a baseball team.”

“The Rangers are definitely a baseball team, baby.” Steve felt no need to be anything even approaching the vicinity of professional around Tony, so he leaned right over his desk and smacked a loud kiss onto Tony’s mouth. “I knew that without even looking it up on my phone.”

“What Tony’s trying to say-- hey baby doll--” from Bucky, who sauntered over from the weather station and bent Tony over for a kiss that had the station manager blushing bright red. “--is that yes the Rangers are a baseball team, but they are also a hockey team.”

“Wait--” Steve’s brow dipped in confusion. “No… that’s not… no?”

“Yes.” Tony said emphatically. “Yes they are.”

“Well that’s just stupid!” The blonde declared. “How am I supposed to know which one I’m talking about?”

“You could do your job and a little research.” Tony blew out a deep breath, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Or you know, you could Google whether it was baseball or hockey season?”

“Um--”

“It’s hockey season, sugar.” Bucky supplied, flicking at Steve’s ear and scowling when his hand got slapped. “Baseball don’t start until the end of March.”

“How do you know that?” Steve challenged and Bucky retorted. “I Googled it!”

“Okay guys.” Tony blew out another breath, grimacing when his head started throbbing. Apparently not even his mega hot boyfriends were enough to distract from his migraine. “Focus for like two seconds for me, alright?”

“You still got a headache, sweetheart?” Steve’s blue eyes darkened in sympathy. “I’ve got some ibuprofen if you want, it's just in my locker. You know my combo, go grab it.”

“I took some out of your nightstand before I left this morning.” Tony winced when a piece of equipment knocked over with a loud clatter. “I don't know why my head hurts so bad today, but if we can just make it through the broadcast then I can go home and lay in the dark and cry for a little bit.”

“Aw honey.” Bucky stepped up behind Tony, one big hand settling low at his hip, the other massaging at the back of his neck until Tony went a little limp, sagging back into his shoulder. “I got some of that essential oil stuff at my house. Don’t use it for nothing except rubbing on Stevie when he gets all--”

“MICS!” Sam shouted and Bucky chuckled, letting go of Tony long enough to turn his mic down.

“He was going to say when I get a knot in my back.” Steve finished. “But that’s fine, Sam definitely deserves to believe Buck was gonna say something terrible and inappropriate.”

“You two are the worst.” Tony straightened with a sigh, squeezing at Bucky’s hand in thanks as he went. “Steve, remember. This is hockey season, the team is in New York, please do not make another comment about how the Texas Rangers don’t strike you as the type to play hockey since you’re pretty sure they rode horses back in the day, yeah? And please stop saying ‘yee haw’ after every other comment.”

“Fine fine fine.” Steve kissed Tony one more time, then turned and kissed Bucky too. “Now that I know they aren't in Texas I won't make any more horse references.”

“It’s a good thing you got a sweet ass, cos you sure are dumb.” Bucky muttered against his mouth. “Careful or you’ll have to go back to stripping to pay your rent and I dunno if you fit into those buttless chaps anymore.”

“I’m sorry--” Tony leaned closer. “Steve you wore what to do what to pay what now?”

“Nothing.” Steve shoved Bucky away, clearing his throat loudly to overshadow whatever Bucky was saying. “Tony, babe, I did nothing to pay nothing and Bucky needs to shut the hell up about absolutely nothing before I start saying everything about everything about his days as a clown!”

“Good Christ, there’s so much I don’t know about you.” Tony reached out to adjust Bucky’s hair, smiling a little when Bucky caught his hand and kissed his palm. “One minute till we go back on air. Steve, remember the teams please. And Bucky--” he paused to think about what tip to give their weathermen. “Um-- keep your pointing perky. Those are happy clouds not sad clouds.”

“My pointing will be the perkiest.” Bucky swore. “And by the way? Your ass looks so great in those pants I just wanna--”

“MICS!” Sam shouted. “Your mics are on! Do not compliment my boss’s ass while your mics are--”

“We’re back!’

“--Welcome back to Channel Eight.” Sam switched gears in a split second, professional and put together and definitely not annoyed by the antics of the his coworkers. “Ready for Valentines Day, New York? We’ve put together a list of the cutest places to take that special someone, so when Cupid comes calling, you’ll be ready.”

“We sure do, Sam.” Pepper, who could make the most plastic line sound as sincere as a prayer. “Do you know, I had the best cake I think I’ve ever eaten in my life from Sweetheart’s Cafe over on 67th?”

“Sweethearts Cafe?” Even Tony rolled his eyes at how cheesy Sam sounded. “It’s practically meant to be for Valentines Day with a name like that Lets take a closer look at how great this place is.”

They cut to a video, Sam and Pepper oohing and ahhing over the sweets in the cafe and Tony grinned when Pepper kicked Sam in the shin over a particularly terrible joke.

His news team was the worst and he loved them a ridiculous amount.

********************

“Hey sweetheart, are you sure we can’t get you anything before we go?” Steve stuck his head into Tony’s office as he and Bucky headed out the door. “At least a drink? Or you can catch a ride home with us, so you don't have to deal with a cab. Traffic won't help your headache at all, you know?”

“My place is in the opposite direction from both of your apartments.” Tony didn’t look up from his paperwork. “So thanks, but no thanks. Don't want to put anyone out.”

“Aw, did he figure out our master plan to get him to go home with us?” Bucky peeked around the door as well. “Come on baby doll, you don’t need to work so late tonight, just take off a little early. You have a headache anyway, you’re not gonna get anything done.”

“Shockingly enough, I was getting plenty done before you two started bothering me.” There was no sting in Tony’s words, a fond smile towards the pair. “And I do have to finish this before leaving. Don't worry, I'll text you when I leave, shouldn't be more than an hour.”

“Alright.” Steve waited a beat, then added. “But are you sure? Because you spent the night at my place last night so we were going to spend the night at Bucky's tonight to keep things fair and--”

“You’re making my headache worse!” Tony said loudly and this time he meant it, so Bucky and Steve ducked out, shutting the door quietly behind them.

“You coulda told him sex cures headaches.” Bucky said thoughtfully as they headed down to the parking garages. “Everyone knows a nut is good for what ails ya.”

“Everyone knows a nut--” Steve sighed. “Bucky, where do you learn this shit?”

“My entire job is pointing at things.” Bucky unlocked the passenger door so Steve could get in. “I have a lot of time to watch stuff at work. Learning videos and all that.”

“Stuff.” Steve repeated, tossing his bag in the backseat. “Learning videos? You mean porn. Are you watching porn when you’re supposed to be learning weather patterns and predictions? Is that what you’re doing?”

“Nah Stevie, I’d never watch dirty stuff at work.” Bucky said earnestly, pushing his hair out his eyes so he could blink over at Steve as innocently as he could. “I mean-- I’m not you.”

“It was one video, one time--” Steve huffed a breath when Bucky cracked up laughing. “And it wasn’t porn I was watching body building competitions--” Bucky laughed even louder. “--BECAUSE I WAS THINKING ABOUT ENTERING A COMPETITION-- you know what, fuck you. Have your nut by yourself.” Steve grabbed his bag again and jumped out the car, slamming the door behind him.

“Stevie!” Bucky was still laughed too hard to talk, but he made an attempt at grabby hands through the window. “Stevie come back! It’s so boring doing sexy things by myself! I have two boyfriends now, it ain’t right for a man to sleep alone!”

“Oh hey, that reminds me.” Irritation put aside for a few seconds, Steve turned back to the car. “What are we doing for Valentines Day? It's coming up real soon.”

“We could do the same thing we did last year?” Bucky suggested. “Drink super sweet pink drinks and get nekkid on various surfaces?”

“Well I mean--” Steve’s smile was a bit goofy. “Yeah, but we’re a real couple this year and we have Tony so maybe we should do something besides pound Barbie Ferrari’s and have black out sex on my kitchen counter. Like dinner? Buy each other presents? Maybe get a hotel room for the night? What do you think?”

“I dunno, Tony’s place is nicer than most hotels.” Bucky thought a moment, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “You get your ass back in here, maybe we’ll talk about it.”

“Are you-- are you holding Valentines Day plans hostage unless I come home with you?” Steve straightened to his full height, crossing his arms menacingly. “Bucky, if I didn't know better I'd think you were trying to coerce me into the car and have your wicked way with me. What kind of guy do you think I--?”

“It’s snowing, dummy.” Bucky cut in. “Quit talking ‘bout how you want tits and get in the damn car before you freeze. We both know your ass ain't gonna walk through the snow or even stand on the sidewalk to get a taxi, you're way too high maintenance for that.”

“You think I want tits?” Steve got back in the car. “That’s what you took away from my speech?”

“You crossed your arms under your bosoms, Stevie.” Bucky pulled out from his parking spot and headed towards the exit. “What else was I s’posed to think about with them all pushed high like that? Course I figured you were thinkin' bout getting tits.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Steve glanced down at his chest, flexing a little. “So anyway, Valentines Day. Think we should plan something nice for Tony. Something that lets him know we’re in this for the long haul, you know?”

“The long haul?”

“I don’t know Buck, sometimes it seems like Tony thinks that we’re dating but we aren’t dating him.” Steve frowned. “You ever get that vibe?”

“Like the other night when we said we wanted to go out to dinner and he asked if he could come too.” Bucky supplied. “Or when we order lunch and he asks if we mind if he eats with us, as if we're gonna tell him no? Because yeah, that was weird.”

“Or how he wanted to know whose house we were going to a few weeks ago?” he added. “Because if we hadn’t made plans yet, maybe we could come over to his place. It’s like he thinks we have a whole thing going on that only includes him sometimes.”

“But that’s stupid.” Bucky said flatly. “Because we told him at Christmas that it wouldn’t be like that, that we were crazy about him. You thinkin’ we should do some grand gesture so he knows this is real? Like a big romantic thing from a movie. Chocolate and fancy cards and like… musicians and stuff?”

“We could surprise him with something sexy.” Steve suggested and Bucky's eyes lit up. “Something romantic.”

“Oh!” Bucky cried. “Like edible massage oils!”

“And I do like the idea of a hotel.” Steve continued. “Big bed, maybe something with a jetted tub or at least a shower that can hold the three of us at once.”

“Edible underwear!” Another nearly shouted idea. “A thong made from licorice!”

“And we could order in fancy room service so we can eat in bed.” Steve side-eyed Bucky when the brunette made a yummy noise. “It’s sexy to feed each other things, right-- Buck, are you hungry? Do we need to stop for a burger or something?”

“OH! What about warming lube? It comes in all these random flavors and you can get it whipped.” Bucky licked his lips. “Whipped lube, Stevie. Imagine what we could get up to with that mess.”

“Babe.” Steve pointed out the window. “If you’re hungry let’s stop and get some food, but stop naming edible sex things. You’re weirding me out with this conversation. First tits and now edible sex things? What’s wrong with you?”

“I am starving, yes.” Bucky decided. “First food and then Valentines Day plans. But there’s nothing wrong with getting experimental with fun things in the bedroom Stevie. Stop being such a prude.”

“Okay.” Steve was instantly offended. “I am not a prude. Not a prude. I’m up for fun things, but it’s sort of a leap from lets try a new position to you wearing a thong I’m supposed to eat off with my teeth!”

“Who says I’d be the one wearing a thong?” Bucky dug for some cash as he pulled into a drive through. “You’re wearing a thong. Me and Tony are eating it off with our teeth.”

“No way. I don’t want teeth anywhere near my dick.”

“Well then, you should have thought about that before saying you were up for fun things.”

********************

#ncts fics #stuckony #valentines day #tony stark #steve rogers #bucky barnes

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