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hotchley · 3 years

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because no is a complete sentence.

hi! so @m0rcia is amazing and has been talking about a spencer hotchner au, which sounds like a really cool thing. it also sounds very chaotic given that diana is still his mother, which would lead to a lot of different parenting techniques. however, she was an absolute angel that answered my asks, which kinda? maybe? hopefuly got me out of my writer’s block. so even though the spencer hotchner au isn’t a complete fic yet, i wrote a really short drabble about it. because it’s amazing. like seriously, you need to see the posts about it.

@m0rcia: thank you. i hope this is okay- i wanted to surprise you because i only followed you recently but your blog always makes me laugh and it’s just really nice okay? and you’re also really nice. right i’ll stop ranting.

this is basically spencer learning that he never needs to justify himself after saying the word no. to anyone. regardless of who they are.

trigger warnings: references to child abuse

Spencer Hotchner is four years and three months old when he first learns that the word “no” is a full sentence.

His mother had often taught him about linguistics, and the way that sentences were formed in different languages. She taught him lots of different words- some of them his dad thought were not appropriate for him to be saying. Why, he didn’t know, because adults said those words all the time with no repercussions.

His dad struggled with the explanation. Spencer still doesn’t understand, but what he does know is that when he goes to stay with his mom, he can say what he wants, so long as he isn’t rude or disrespectful to anyone else around. Dad is more traditional- something to do with his southern upbringing- and he seems a bit different when he uses the so-called bad words. Sometimes they slip out.

But his dad doesn’t shout at him when he uses them. He just takes a deep breath and explains why he doesn’t like Spencer using them. Spencer starts to understand that his dad doesn’t like hearing them, but his mother thinks it’s okay. It’s still a bit confusing for him, but he thinks he grasps it.

Mom doesn’t have a lot of friends that want to touch him. He likes that, because there are only some people who he doesn’t mind touching him. Mom is the first person on that list. She always avoids the places that make him feel weird- his stomach and the back of his neck. Dad is also allowed to hug him. Most nights, he can’t sleep without his dad holding him close. He knows that the two of them are safe people, that’s why he likes them. And Dad is always gentle with him, never holding him too tightly.

Well, he did one time. They were in the shop and it was busy and all the people were so much bigger than Spencer. He found it overwhelming and started crying. Dad dropped the shopping right there in the aisle and took him to the toilets until he was able to explain through their hand signals what it was upsetting him: the lights, the tightness of Hotch’s touch and all the people.

After that, his Dad started taking one day a week as a work from home day. On those days, they would do their grocery shopping in the morning, when it was quiet and less colourful, and then Spencer would spend the afternoon with his Mom whilst Hotch did his work.

So Spencer had never really felt uncomfortable with touch. There were certain fabrics that he hated, but neither parent ever made him wear them. Mom let him wear whatever he wanted. Dad wanted him to change out of his pyjamas in the mornings when it was a weekday, but on weekends, they both spent their time in their pyjamas. It was really nice.

Dad’s family were less so. His dad didn’t have a dad anymore, nor did he like talking about him. Mom said that Dad’s dad was dead, which meant he no longer existed on this planet. Mom told him all sorts of theories about what happened to people after they died, but Dad said the conversation made him feel “icky” so they didn’t speak about it much.

But Dad took him to meet his family one weekend. Or the family he had left. Spencer knew all of their names. There was his Uncle Sean, his grandmother, two grand-aunts and three granduncles. One of his cousins was going to be there too, but they were much older than him.

When Dad rang the doorbell, he was doing the thing with his hand. Spencer had learnt he did that when he had sick feeling in his stomach that people described as butterflies.

“Why are you nervous?” he asked, staring up with wide eyes.

“I don’t really get on with most of my family. But you might like them, and you have a right to know who they are, which is why we’re here,” Dad answered.

“If it makes you feel icky then why did you do it?”

Dad did not answer. Spencer wondered if it was an impolite question. In reality, Aaron was trying to find the words. No had never been a good word in his house. At best, it meant he was being a difficult child, refusing to eat their vegetables. But most of the time it meant his father was refusing to have mercy or listen to him.

The door was opened before he could formulate an answer that wouldn’t terrify his son.

“Aaron! I was wondering when you would get here!” his mother said, kissing him on the forehead. Aaron didn’t let go of Spencer as he entered, remembering to slip his shoes off and put them to one side.

“Well, I’m here now, so,” he said.

Spencer shifted so he was slightly hidden.

“Is this Spencer? Hello, I’m your dad’s mommy, but you can call me whatever you’re most comfortable with. I prefer Nanny, it makes me feel less old and more loved. I have no idea what it is about it, it just does.”

“Mom, we talked about this. Please don’t overwhelm him,” Aaron said, already exasperated.

“Oh I am so sorry. Sean! Your brother is here!” she yelled.

Sean came rushing down the stairs. “Hey Aaron. Hi Spencer, I’m Sean, Aaron’s brother.”

Spencer gave him a shy wave. He wasn’t sure he wanted any of these people hugging him. But it was okay, because his dad understood that and kept them distracted to the point that they didn’t even realise.

The problem came when they were leaving. His dad had gone to get both of their coats, and Spencer was alone in the living room. Dad’s relatives were looking at him strangely as he was mesmerised by the art on the walls. He wondered if his Mom knew where it came from, and what it meant. The colours were muted, but pretty to look at.

“We’ll be off then,” Aaron said, once Spencer was all zipped up.

One of the grand aunts held her arms out. Spencer looked at his dad, who was engaged in conversation with his brother. He didn’t know what the woman expected her to do, so he stood there, watching her. Her face had an expression that he didn’t recognise on it.

Before he could register what she was doing her arms were wrapped around him, in a hug, that he did not want.

He let out a shout and Dad turned around.

“Spencer?” he said, trying to work out what was going on.

Spencer was squirming, trying to get away, but the woman just tightened her grip as he frantically shook his head, not knowing what he was supposed to say. He didn’t like the smell of her perfume, or the scratchy material of her dress. He wasn’t a baby anymore, but he could feel tears forming in his eyes.

And then suddenly he could breathe again. Dad had pulled him away. He buried his head in the soft material of his coat. It was nice and familiar and safe.

“Did he say you could hug him?” Aaron asked, his voice cold.

“I’m his family member, he should just do it,” she snapped.

Aaron swallowed. He wasn’t going to make the same mistakes his own family had. He couldn’t. “No, he shouldn’t. If he doesn’t want you hugging him, then you don’t. Understood? Mother, I’ll see you soon, hopefully. Spencer, we’re going home.”

Spencer nodded. He didn’t speak the whole journey home.

“How are you feeling now?” Dad asked, when they returned.

Spencer shrugged. “I didn’t like her hugging me.”

“That’s okay. When you don’t want somebody doing something, you say no. Okay? That’s all you have to say. No is a complete sentence. You don’t need to explain yourself. Ever. To anyone. Even to me. If you don’t want me to hug you, I won’t. And if that person makes you feel bad then they’re silly. Do you understand me?”

“Yes Dad.”

“And if they don’t stop, you hit them as hard as you can, and then you tell me. Or your Mom. Whichever one of us you see first.”

Spencer nodded. No was an interesting sentence. He’d have to ask his Mom about it. She then said it was one of the most important words a child could learn, and she was glad that his dad had taught him how to use it. They even practiced using it. It was much more fun to say: no I do not want to hear your opinions on Moby Dick again than it was to say: no I do not want a lollipop- which is what dad had made him say.

He was six years old when his dad first saw him use it.

They were in the playground. Dad was talking to Haley Brooks, who was there for her nephew. His Dad was not very good at disguising his attraction to her. Spencer thought it was a bit silly that he didn’t just say he was interested in her. He’d told his mom about what he thought was going to happen. She’d listened attentively and eventually deemed this Haley a good person.

Spencer had gotten bored and wondered over to some of the other kids, who were also waiting for their parents to finish their conversations. He was actually taller than one of them, but the rest were slightly bigger than him. They were playing a more gentle game of tag. Although he’d never met any of them, they quickly let him join the game.

When it was over, because one of them had to go, they asked to hug everyone. All the other children agreed like it was nothing.

Spencer didn’t want to hug him. But he didn’t want it to be like the other time, with Dad’s aunt. He hesitated and tried to see where his dad was. Dad had one eye on him and the other on Haley, ready to step in if he was needed.

No was a complete sentence. It always had been, and it always would be.

So when the little boy turned to him and asked if he could hug him, Spencer knew what to say.

“No,” he said.

The boy looked a little saddened, but shrugged and said bye to him anyways, before going over to his mom and leaving. Spencer used that moment to go back to his dad, who was done talking to Miss Brooks and smiled at him.

“Hey buddy. How was your little game?”

“It was nice. The boy wanted to hug me, but I didn’t want that to happen, so I told him no. And he just said okay and goodbye.”

Aaron smiled, holding his hand out in case his son wanted to hold it during their walk home. “Well done buddy. I know it can be a bit difficult to say it sometimes, but you did good. Shall we go home now?”

Spencer nodded. “Goodbye Miss Brooks.”

“Goodbye Spencer. See you soon Aaron.”

Aaron blushed and turned away, leading his son out of the school. His son that had no problem taking control of his own body or making his needs and wants known. He smiled to himself. Him and Diana may have not agreed on a lot of things, but this? This he was going to tell her all about. Because this was both of them.

Aaron Hotchner may not have grown up knowing that no was okay.

But Spencer Hotchner never had any problems using the word. Because in the Hotchner household, and everywhere else they went, regardless of who or where it was, no was a complete sentence. As it should be everywhere.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer hotchner #au #diana reid #spencer reid #reid #kid!spencer #kid!reid #aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotch hotchner #tw child abuse #i don't really know if this is any good #however #it is something #which is more than i've done recently #also it's almost 11:25 so i haven't proofread it at all

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silverlightqueen · 4 years

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Tia and Tamera... and Nicole

fratboy and best friend!namjoon x reader, university!au, comedy, fluff, angst (and making out, if that counts as something idk lol) ft. twice nayeon, got7 jackson & skz hyunjin

For btswriterscollective’s 1 year anniversary contest!

Summary: y/n decides to make a big fashion change and, all of a sudden, is the object of attraction of every male within a hundred metre radius of her. Namjoon, her best friend, isn’t too impressed about it.

Rating: 15 (mature themes, explicit discussion of sex, strong language)

Word Count: 9.9k+

Warnings: lots of sexism/misogyny, the typical she-has-a-makeover-and-suddenly-every-boy-wants-to-date-her-trope, lots of gross frat boys, strong language, explicit discussion of sex, alcohol and drug consumption, making out, Namjoon is trash and doesn’t know how to text. I think that’s it but lmk if you noticed that I missed something!

a/n: hey guys ! it’s silverlightqueen back with another university au lmao i’m sorry :( thank you to the loml @silverlightprincess for proofreading, you’re the best and I love youuu !! I hope you guys enjoy this bc it was really fun to write !!

silverlightqueen masterlist

I got the divider off google (it has no relevance to the story but it kinda matches the colour scheme so we move lmao) so credit to whoever made it lol

joon: u up

y/n: don’t fuckboy text me

joon: so thats a yes

y/n: what do you want ?

joon: u free tmrw

y/n: it’s Monday tomorrow

joon: what about it

y/n: I got a lecture in the morning, but I’m free after 11

joon: ill pick u up nd take u 4 food

y/n: look at you, any excuse to drop in that you can drive now

joon: do u want food yes or no

y/n: what food ?

joon: mexican indian chinese whateva u want

y/n: yeah, sounds good

joon: rnt u gonna tell me what food u want

y/n: I’ll sleep on it

y/n: anyway go to bed, idiot, why are you even awake at 2.30 on a Sunday night ?

joon: y r u

y/n: questioning my existence

y/n: duh

y/n: now tell me why you are

joon: i just left jens lol

y/n: nvm forget I asked

joon: sure u dont want the deets

y/n: positive

y/n: goodnight you demon

joon: gn angel

‘Took you long enough,’ Namjoon exclaims as I open the front door of his car and climb into the passenger seat. ‘Wait, whoa. Hold on. What is this?’ Namjoon demands as I shut the door behind me, and I quickly turn to look at him. ‘What?’ I ask worriedly, and he shakes his hand in my general direction. ‘This. Your outfit. I’m confused,’ he says, and I relax, rolling my eyes, trying to ignore the way my cheeks are heating up and hoping he doesn’t notice it. ‘Why are you confused, Namjoon?’ I ask as though I’m speaking to a child, and he laughs, starting up the car.

‘I’m confused because I’ve never seen you wear anything other than clothes that are way too big for you,’ he says, and I make an indignant noise as he speeds down the road like the devil driver he is. ‘Don’t even deny it, you know it’s true. I started to wonder if you had something you were trying to hide. A growth on your stomach. A hunchback. A pregnancy. Or worse; no boobs!’ he says, gasping dramatically, and I hit his shoulder, holding back a laugh. ‘I wasn’t hiding anything,’ I say, and he glances over at me, eyeing my chest, before his tongue darts out to wet his lip. ‘You were. I always assumed you had small tits – a B cup, max – but obviously not. I can’t believe you hid them so well. They’ve gotta be at least a D,’ he says, and I roll my eyes, not bothering to disclose that I’m actually an E. He’d probably pop a boner. ‘And your legs,’ he says, and I look down at them self-consciously. ‘What about them?’ I ask, and he blinks before looking down at my freshly shaved limbs. ‘I’ve never seen them before. They’re nice. Smooth. And curved, with some fat on them. I’m glad you don’t have stick legs,’ he jokes, and I sigh. ‘Stop body-shaming,’ I say, and he lets out a little chuckle. ‘Am I not allowed to have preferences?’ he smirks, eyes on the road as he overtakes cars left, right and centre. ‘No,’ I reply, and he bursts out laughing.

‘So what’s with the new look? What prompted this reinvention? Because, I’m either still tripping from last night, or you’re actually wearing makeup too,’ he says, and I shift embarrassedly in the seat. ‘I just felt like it was time for a change. I wanted to experiment, try something new,’ I say, and he nods, face blank. ‘Okay. Now, do you wanna tell me the real reason?’ he asks, and I laugh, annoyed that he knows me so well. ‘I was getting changed in my room-’ ‘Okay, hang on, let me picture it,’ Namjoon says, and I hit him again, ignoring his chuckles. ‘So, I was getting changed, and Nayeon barged in and had a meltdown over… my body. She said that she was really annoyed with me for hiding my body so much, because if she had my body, she’d walk around naked. Or whatever. Something like that. I’d never really… looked at my body like that, but once she said it, I realised that maybe I could start branching out, fashion-wise. So she took me shopping, and this is the trial of new outfit number one,’ I say, and he listens intently, nodding in all the right places.

‘So how have people reacted today?’ he asks, and I get a little embarrassed thinking about it. ‘Some of the girls in my class started screaming when they saw me, and Taehyung asked if I was new here, and if he could get my number. Oh, and our lecturer asked me to stay behind to ask if I was okay, because I didn’t seem to be myself today,’ I explain, and Namjoon bursts out laughing. ‘You’re kidding.’ ‘Not at all.’ ‘Wow. All I’ll say is to ignore Taehyung. I think all that weed has caused permanent damage to his brain,’ he says, and I can’t help but agree, wondering how that boy can even breathe right anymore. ‘Well, anyway. Why did you used to cover up so much?’ he asks, and I laugh. ‘Are you just gonna keep quizzing me?’ I ask, and he nods instantly, grinning. ‘I’m intrigued, y/n. You have to understand that this is a lot for me to process. My best friend has transformed into someone else since I last saw her. My mind’s going into meltdown mode,’ he says dramatically, and I roll my eyes at him. ‘Drama queen.’ ‘I learn from the best. You. Now, anyway. Can you answer my question?’

‘I don’t know.’ ‘You don’t know if you can answer my question?’ ‘No, moron, I don’t know why I used to cover up so much,’ I say exasperatedly, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘I find that slightly hard to believe.’ ‘Fine. I wasn’t the most confident in my body. It’s hard, seeing all these super slim tiktok girls, petite and slight, and seeing them dress the way I wanted to. It’s like… I felt stupid wearing the same clothes they wear because they look so different to me. The way the media glorifies slim women… it’s hard for not-so-slim women like me. So I just hid my body in loose clothes for so long that it was what I was comfortable in,’ I explain, Namjoon still listening attentively. That’s one of the best things about him; he may be an idiot, but he always listens to what I have to say.

‘That’s… kinda sad, actually. Because – don’t get me wrong, your old look did suit you – but this new look? It’s great. You look really good, y/n, regardless of the fact that you’re not a super slim tiktok girl,’ he says matter-of-factly, and I smile shyly. ‘Thanks. So it’s a yes to the black and white check mini skirt and blazer set?’ I ask, and he nods instantly with a grin. ‘I can’t wait to see the rest of your outfits,’ he says, turning into the car park at the shopping centre. ‘There’s… quite a few to come. I’m a bit nervous about a couple of them,’ I say as he pulls into a parking space, and he gives me a greasy smirk. ‘I’m even more excited now,’ he says, and I swat at him, the boy chuckling as he ducks away from my hand. ‘I’ve just driven you to buy you food, and this is what I get in return?’ ‘Yes. You’re lucky I’m not beating the shit out of you.’ He sighs, checking his blond hair in the mirror before climbing out of the car, and I reach into the back and grab my bag before getting out too.

‘Oh, my God,’ he says, sounding shocked, and I instantly panic. ‘What?’ ‘What are those?’ he shouts, throwing his hands down to point at my feet, and everyone within a hundred metre radius turns to look at us. ‘Joon!’ I exclaim, embarrassed at him grabbing so much attention. ‘Sorry. But seriously? What are those?’ he asks, and I look down at my shoes. ‘They’re sock boots. What’s wrong with them?’ I ask, and he stares at them before taking a step back and looking me up and down. ‘Nothing. They look great. I’m just shocked to see you in shoes other than trainers. And is that a handbag I see instead of the usual backpacks?’ he teases, and I roll my eyes. We walk towards the entrance, and I struggle to keep up with him (I always struggle when walking next to him, but even more so in these boots). ‘Wait,’ I say, hooking my arm through his so I can slow him down, and he laughs. ‘Aww, struggling in your boots?’ he teases, and I huff. ‘Shut up,’ I pout, and he laughs again, looking at me with an affectionate gaze and an amused smile.

But the affection and amusement soon disappears. ‘y/n. You’re literally killing me here. Hurry up,’ he says impatiently. ‘Sorry, Joon. It’s my first time wearing heels though, cut me some slack. At least I haven’t fallen over,’ I say brightly, trying to put a positive spin on it, and he scowls. He’s been trying his best to walk slow but he’s now struggling not to walk at his normal pace – his legs are so much longer than mine. ‘Yet,’ he says venomously, and I gasp. ‘Was that a threat?’ I demand, feigning indignance, and he side-eyes me. ‘Maybe it was. I could stick my foot out right now and no one would ever know,’ he says in a wistful tone, and I shoot him a dirty look. ‘I’ll step on your foot if you try it. Then who’ll be laughing when my boots ruin your Balenciagas?’ ‘Me, because you’ll be buying me new ones.’ ‘With what money? I ain’t got money like that.’ ‘Oh, but you got money for clothes?’ ‘I always got money for clothes.’ ‘Get a sugar daddy.’ ‘You are my sugar daddy.’ ‘Huh?’ ‘Who takes me out for food at least twice a week? And buys me things out of the blue?’ ‘Damn. I really am your sugar daddy. This isn’t a good deal for me at all. You’re getting the daddy, but I’m not getting any sugar.’ ‘I’m not sure that that means exactly what you intended it to mean.’ ‘You know what I meant. I want my sugar, bitch.’ ‘Jen can give you sugar instead.’ ‘Okay, but Jen isn’t getting the daddy. You are.’ ‘She was getting the daddy last night.’ ‘Did you really just refer to my dick as ‘the daddy’?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Never do that again.’

‘Where are we eating?’ I ask, and he grins. ‘Wang and Nayeon are waiting for us at Red Velvet,’ he says, and I gasp. ‘Yes! It’s been so long since we’ve been to Red Velvet!’ I exclaim, and he laughs amusedly. ‘I know. I was worried you might start getting withdrawal symptoms.’ ‘I thought we’d never go back. Does Seulgi still work there?’ I ask, raising an eyebrow, and he pulls a face. ‘Yep,’ he says, and I feel my eyes widen. ‘And we’re still gonna go?’ ‘Yes, because I’m a great person and make sacrifices for you even though all you do is abuse me and threaten to ruin my Balenciagas,’ he says, and I pout. ‘Sorry, Joonie,’ I say, putting on a baby voice as I give him puppy dog eyes, and he refuses to look at me, fighting a smile off his face. ‘Apology accepted. Now stop being the real-life version of that emoji.’ ‘Which one?’ ‘Don’t play dumb, you know exactly which one I mean.’

We round the corner to where Red Velvet is, tucked away from the rest of the shopping centre, and Nayeon and Jackson are sat in the window booth, watching a video on Nayeon’s phone together. When Namjoon and I enter, the little bell above the door rings, and both of them look up at us. Nayeon grins so wide I’m worried her face is going to split, and Jackson does a double take, eyes wider than an anime girl’s. ‘y/n?’ he exclaims, loud enough to catch the attention of everyone in the restaurant, and I shoot him a look, shushing him. ‘Oh, my God. What’s happened to you? Who’s this sexy thing?’ Jackson says as I slide into the booth opposite him and Nayeon, shuddering at the thought of my bare legs on the worn (and most likely, germ-carrying) leather of the seat as Namjoon slides in beside me. ‘Don’t refer to me as a ‘thing’, I’m not an object,’ I mutter, but my comment is ignored when Namjoon says, ‘literally my exact reaction.’ ‘No, it wasn’t. You did not call me sexy,’ I frown, and he blinks at me, looking surprised. ‘Did I not?’ he asks, and I shake my head. ‘Well, I thought you would’ve gathered that I thought that anyway. Based on the way I had to pick my tongue up from the floor when I saw you,’ he says, Jackson and Nayeon laughing as I roll my eyes.

‘You look good. Really good, y/n. I didn’t know you had boobs,’ Jackson says, inspecting me, and I try not to squirm under his scrutinising gaze. ‘Neither did I! Until I walked in on her naked!’ Nayeon says, Jackson’s eyes nearly falling out of his head. ‘I was in my underwear,’ I say defensively, and Nayeon rolls her eyes. ‘Details. But, yeah, after I saw her hot bod, I told her to stop wearing Billie Eilish’s hand-me-downs.’ ‘And gave her your hand-me-downs instead?’ ‘Excuse me, these are brand new,’ I point out, and Nayeon nods. ‘Yeah. You should know me better. I could never pull off an outfit like that.’ ‘I could pull it off you,’ Jackson jokes, Namjoon fist-bumping him as they laugh, Nayeon and I exchanging an exasperated glance. ‘I could pull it off you too, y/n,’ Jackson says with a little quirk of his eyebrow, and I roll my eyes, willing myself not to blush. ‘Jackson! y/n’s our baby, and we’ve gotta protect her from fuckboys, so stop being one,’ Nayeon says with a slap to his shoulder. ‘There won’t be any… fuckboys,’ I say, and all three of them raise their eyebrows at me. ‘You’re delusional if you think that. Just wait ‘til a frat boy sees you,’ Jackson says, and I frown. ‘Okay. That sounds fake, but, okay,’ I say, just as Seulgi appears to take our order.

‘Hi, and welcome to Red Velvet. What can I get for you?’ she says in the most bored tone I’ve ever heard. She must really hate her job. Even more with this moron sat beside me in here. ‘Can I get the Ice Cream Cake freakshake please?’ Nayeon asks, Seulgi gracing her with a rare smile as she writes down her order. ‘Can I get the Power Up brownie with Red Flavour ice cream please? And just water?’ Jackson asks, also getting a smile. ‘Can I get the Cookie Jar freakshake? And she’ll have Mojito cheesecake with Blue Lemonade. Thanks,’ Namjoon says, ordering for me too, but, unsurprisingly, he doesn’t get a smile. ‘Will you all be paying together?’ ‘I’m paying for mine and his,’ Nayeon says, pointing at herself and Jackson (she lost a bet with him a couple weeks ago, and owes him a meal). ‘And I’m paying for mine and hers,’ Namjoon says, Seulgi fixing him with a dirty look. ‘So this is who you’ve moved on to now?’ she demands, Nayeon and Jackson wincing. ‘Sis, you can have him,’ I say, unable to resist, and Namjoon shoots me evils as Seulgi looks bewildered. ‘Pardon?’ ‘I’m good, luv. Enjoy,’ I say, but she’s still staring at me, her mouth suddenly falling open. ‘y/n?’ she asks, and I nod, slightly confused. ‘OMG, I didn’t even recognise you. Girl, you look so good! I didn’t know you had boobs!’ she exclaims, and I have to stop myself from facepalming. ‘Thanks, Seulgi,’ I force out between gritted teeth, embarrassed as hell, but she doesn’t seem to notice, grinning away obliviously. ‘No problem. I’ll just get your orders put through and then I’ll come back for payments,’ she says, visibly perkier (nothing like seeing one of your friends unrecognisable after a makeover to cure a bad mood – apparently), before disappearing.

‘That was awkward,’ Namjoon says nonchalantly, all three of us fixing him with hard stares. ‘It wouldn’t have been so awkward if you weren’t such a dick,’ I say blithely, and he gasps dramatically. ‘Excuse me?’ ‘Don’t play innocent, dumbass. If you hadn’t had slept with Joy and Seulgi on the same day, we wouldn’t be in this situation. We’d actually have avoided a lot of situations if you weren’t such a dog,’ Nayeon says, brutally honest as ever. ‘Hey, I never made any kind of commitment to either of them!’ Namjoon defends himself, both Nayeon and I shaking our heads at him. ‘It’s common courtesy, douchebag,’ I reply, Namjoon sticking his tongue out at me. ‘I’d like to know what situations you’re referring to. I don’t get us into awkward situations,’ he says, all three of us giving him a ‘really?’ look.

‘Remember when we went out to that bar – what was it called again? Oh, yeah, Playing With Fire – and Jisoo threw that drink at you for blocking her on socials after you slept together?’ Jackson reminds us, Namjoon nodding slightly embarrassedly. ‘Oh, and when we went to Breakthrough, that club, and Sana got us kicked out by pretending we smuggled drugs in because you ghosted her after telling her you felt ‘something real’ for her?’ Nayeon brings up, all of us looking pointedly at Namjoon who nods sheepishly. ‘And that fight you got into with Daniel after you went ‘round telling people that Jihyo’s your sloppy seconds?’ I say, and he gasps indignantly. ‘I didn’t say that once!’ ‘Still. If you hadn’t had slept with her, that fake rumour wouldn’t have gone around,’ I say, and he pouts. ‘We could name several girls you’ve gotten us into awkward situations with. Chaeyoung, Hyejin, Wendy, Dahyun-’ ‘Okay, okay, damn. I get the picture,’ he says, the three of us exchanging looks.

‘Anyway, I need to go toilet. Come with me, y/n?’ Nayeon asks, and I nod. Namjoon sighs, reluctantly getting out of the booth to let me out. ‘Whoa, hold on,’ Jackson says, and I turn around to face him. ‘y/n… what you doing out here with all this ass?’ he asks, voice far too loud for my liking, and the few people in the restaurant turn to look at us disapprovingly. ‘Double cheeked up on a Thursday afternoon!’ Namjoon exclaims, before they chorus, ‘Hella ass!’ They burst into laughter, and my face is on fire, everybody in the restaurant staring at us (or, more specifically, my ass). ‘y/n, you dumb thicc, sis,’ Jackson says, and I take a deep breath before saying, ‘I’m going to go to the toilet now.’ ‘Take some ass pics while you’re there!’

joon: hey sexc

y/n: hey, what’s up ?

joon: wang wants 2 know if u nd nayeon r up 4 wing wednesday @ KPN

y/n: what time ?

joon: weneva imma get there 6.30

y/n: are there gonna be any other girls there?

joon: idk prolly the boys gfs

joon: y u asking so many qs u dnt have 2 come if u dnt wanna

y/n: I just don’t wanna be one of the only girls at a frat house with loads of stupid frat boys

joon: ill protect u bby

joon: me nd wang got u

y/n: much appreciated

y/n: we’ll come, but I’ll text you when we get there and you need to meet us at the door

y/n: I’ll feel awkward just walking in

joon: ok but call dnt text

y/n: you never answer your phone

joon: ill take it off silent 4 u angel ;)

y/n: thank youuu

joon: ofc see u tmrw

y/n: see youuu, goodnight joonie

joon: gn stupid

‘Wrong number,’ he says when he answers the phone, and I roll my eyes. ‘We’re at the door, come get us,’ I say, and he lets out a loud sigh. ‘I’m gonna lose my seat,’ he complains, and I huff. ‘Joon, please come get us. Do you know what it’s like being a girl around dozens of frat boys? You need to look after us,’ I plead, and he sighs again. ‘Give me a minute,’ he replies before the line clicks off. ‘Is he coming?’ Nayeon asks, and I nod. ‘Good, because it’s freezing,’ she says, clutching at her bare arms. ‘That’s what you get for wearing a t-shirt,’ I say, and she rolls her eyes. ‘It’s not like you’re dressed warmly either,’ she says pointedly, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘I’m not complaining about the cold.’ ‘Yeah, which I’m surprised about, because that top is thin as hell.’ ‘It’s not that thin.’ ‘Sis, I borrowed that top yesterday – it’s thin.’

I’m dressed in a black long-sleeve top tucked into a pair of greyish-whiteish joggers, with white trainers on my feet, a simple gold necklace around my neck with an initial pendant, a couple gold bracelets on my wrist and gold rings on my fingers. Nayeon’s in a pair of blue mom jeans and a black t-shirt, a cross body bag with both of our things inside it on her shoulder. Neither of us have bothered with full faces or pretty hairstyles – we’ve both got on basic makeup with our hair out and natural. It isn’t really that cold; it’s 8, and the air is starting to get crisp and cool, but the sun’s only just beginning to set, so there’s still a little warmth. Nayeon’s just a drama queen.

The door opens after a few seconds, Namjoon glowering at us, before he looks me up and down, his frown being replaced with a smirk. ‘Have I told you I love this new y/n? Like… this is a look,’ he says, and I grin at him, feeling a little more confident now. ‘I’m stood right here,’ Nayeon says with a half-hearted scowl, and Namjoon grins, grabbing her hand and pulling her into a side hug. ‘Nayeon, me complimenting you is like complimenting Mona Lisa. She already knew she was sexy as hell so what’s the point?’ he says easily, Nayeon preening as I roll my eyes. ‘You think Mona Lisa’s sexy?’ ‘Not as sexy as you.’ ‘Can we go inside? I’m cold,’ Nayeon says, not waiting for either of us to reply before she slips past Namjoon into the house. ‘Come on,’ Namjoon says, grabbing my hand and pulling me along behind him.

The second we step into the living room, the smell of strong cologne, alcohol and weed hits me and all eyes flit from Nayeon – who’s hugging Jinyoung and squealing – to me and Joon. Well, more me than Joon. ‘Woah. Who’s this? Surely not y/n,’ I hear Hoseok say, and I shoot him a dirty look, the boy grinning in return. ‘Shut it, stupid,’ I say, Namjoon continuing to walk towards the kitchen, dragging me along behind him. When we step into the kitchen, the smell of spicy wings hits me, and my eyes are instantly drawn to the takeout bags covering the countertop. But when I realise none of the bags are unopened, meaning frat boys have already been at them, it puts me off a little – I’d rather not eat food that might have been tampered with.

‘Look. My seat’s taken,’ Namjoon says pointedly, motioning to where Kai sits on a stool, beside Taemin and Seokwoo, the three of them laughing at whatever story Jaehyun’s telling them. ‘You’ll survive. What’s the point of having such long legs if you don’t stand on them?’ ‘There’s no logic in that. Go get my seat back,’ he says, and I side-eye him, wondering if he’s being serious or not. ‘How am I supposed to get your seat back?’ ‘Go flirt with him.’ ‘No! Him and Krystal have got a thing,’ I say, and Namjoon rolls his eyes. ‘That won’t stop him from flirting back,’ he says, and I glare at him. ‘I cannot stress this enough. Men are trash,’ I say before turning away from him, heading towards where there’s a couple dozen drink bottles and cups covering the countertop. I carefully pour myself a lemonade, making sure the cup’s clean and the bottle hasn’t been tampered with (I know Wing Wednesday is ‘for the boys’ so it’s unlikely it’s spiked, but it never hurts to take precautions).

‘y/n!’ I hear Mina exclaim, and I turn to see her stood there, smiling widely. ‘Mina!’ I squeal, pulling the girl into a hug. Mina’s one of Nayeon’s friends (they’re on the same course) but because Nayeon and I are inseparable, Nayeon’s friends are my friends too. Mina’s here because she’s dating Bambam, a KPN frat boy, and it makes me realise my privilege; Nayeon and I are only here because of our connections. If we weren’t best friends with Jackson and Namjoon, we’d have missed out on so many amazing memories. ‘How have you been? I haven’t seen you for ages!’ she says as we break apart, and I grin widely. ‘I’ve been good. Really good.’ ‘You look it. This style is, like, amazing! Is this new style permanent?’ she asks, and I smile shyly. ‘I think so. I actually… really like my new style,’ I say, and before Mina can speak, I hear Baekhyun say, ‘I like it too.’ Mina and I both turn to look at him, his stupid grin making me roll my eyes amusedly. ‘Hey, Baek,’ I say, the boy opening his arms for a hug, which I give (reluctantly). Baekhyun is Nayeon’s ex. They’re still friends – they’re actually on really good terms – but I’m still… cautious around him. He’s funny, and we get along, but I can never see him the same after hearing all the drama from Nayeon.

I clear myself a space on the countertop and boost myself up, sitting on the hard wood surface and Mina joins me, Baekhyun standing in front of us. ‘Have you had any wings?’ Baekhyun asks, and Mina and I exchange a glance, obviously thinking the same thing. ‘No, I’m… not really feeling wings,’ I say, Mina nodding in agreement, letting out little giggles behind her hand. ‘Aren’t you hungry?’ he asks, and, to be honest, I’m starving. But I am not about to eat those… frat boy wings, and neither is Mina. ‘Yeah, I could eat.’ ‘Let’s order some pizza then,’ he grins, and I gasp. ‘Pizza? On Wings Wednesday? Isn’t that against frat laws?’ I tease, and he rolls his eyes, pulling out his phone. ‘What toppings do you have?’ ‘Just get margherita.’ ‘Shall I get two larges?’ ‘Yeah, Nayeon will want some too,’ I say, and he rolls his eyes again, an amused smile on his face. ‘I’m not ordering pizza for Nayeon – I’m ordering it for us.’ ‘I’ll transfer you the money.’ ‘y/n… it’s pizza. You don’t need to transfer me money for it.’ ‘Why not? I don’t mind paying.’ ‘Yeah, but what kind of gentleman would I be if I made you pay’ ‘You’re not a gentleman,’ I reply amusedly, and he clutches his heart, pretending to be hurt. ‘I am.’ ‘You’re not. And you’ve made me pay for food before. Remember the Chinese we ordered after the LSG party, and you made me answer the door, so I had to pay?’ I say, and he winces. ‘Well… the pizza makes up for it,’ he says, and I just raise an eyebrow, amused.

It’s so… wrong that he’s only willing to pay for food for me now that he finds me attractive, but I won’t complain aloud; it’s free food after all. And then it gets me thinking. Maybe I should… take advantage of the effect my new look’s having. I mean, frat boys aren’t the… smartest, are they? Namjoon may be an exception when it comes to his education, but his common sense? He has next to none, demonstrated by the stupid situations his whore behaviour has gotten us into. And the rest of them are even stupider than him. I’ve always been a master of manipulation, and it’ll be even easier now they think I’m hot.

It isn’t long until the pizzas arrive and the second Baekhyun leaves to collect them at the door, Mina turns to me with a grin. ‘Girl, if you don’t take advantage of all these boys thirsting over you, I swear, I’ll be so disappointed,’ she says, making me burst into laughter. ‘I was literally just thinking about doing it!’ I exclaim, both of us laughing. ‘No, but for real. You should, like, make the most of it while it lasts. Not to sound nasty, but you know it won’t be long until there’s another girl they’re all into. You should exploit this opportunity whilst you’re still the… object of the affections,’ she says, making me laugh. ‘Exploit this opportunity?’ I repeat, and she nods with a grin. ‘Their generosity will only go to a certain extent,’ I say, and she raises an eyebrow. ‘Wanna test that?’ she asks, a challenging glint in her eye, and I grin, nodding. ‘Go look in the fridge, and when you’re asked what you’re looking for, say… Vanilla Coke.’ ‘Vanilla Coke?’ ‘Mmhmm.’ ‘Okay.’

I head over to the drinks fridge (they keep their food in the mini fridge and their drinks in the big fridge – their priorities are so fucked up) and open the door. I scan the bottles, seeing mainly lemonade and coke with a couple alcoholic bottles, but no Vanilla Coke. ‘y/n!’ I hear from behind me, and I turn to see Donghyuck stood there, a big grin on his face. ‘Hyuck! Hey!’ I exclaim, throwing my arms around him. Donghyuck and I did extra credit classes together last year, and I’ve barely seen him since. ‘You look so different!’ he says, holding me away to inspect me, hands light on my shoulders, and I grin, bending one leg at the knee and striking a pose, making him laugh. ‘It’s weird to see you in clothes that fit,’ he teases, and I roll my eyes. ‘Don’t even. Everyone’s making such a big deal of it.’ ‘Yeah, because you look hot.’ ‘Whatever.’

I turn back to the fridge, and he comes to stand beside me. ‘Whatcha looking for?’ ‘Vanilla Coke. I’m, like craving it,’ I lie, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘You’re lucky we’ve got lemonade and coke. KPN stick to basics,’ he says, and I roll my eyes. ‘Well, maybe you shouldn’t. Vanilla Coke is amazing.’ ‘Well, the corner shop down the road might have some. Shall we go get some?’ he suggests, and I’m shocked. Mina was right. He’s willing the leave Wings Wednesday with his frat brothers to go get Vanilla Coke from the shop with me. ‘You sure?’ I ask, and he nods. ‘It’s only a two-minute walk.’ ‘Okay. Let’s g-’ ‘y/n!’ I hear Mina call before materialising next to me. ‘Hey, Mina,’ I say, Donghyuck greeting the girl too. ‘Hey, Hyuck. I’m need to steal y/n. Emergency,’ she says, and my eyes widen. I’ve literally left her alone for a minute. What emergency does she have? ‘You okay?’ ‘Yeah, it’s just… I started. Do you have a pad?’ she whispers, loud enough for Donghyuck to hear, the boy wrinkling his nose in disgust, making me roll my eyes. Why boys are so grossed out about periods, I don’t know. It took two entire years of friendship with Namjoon to get him to buy me some pads. ‘Yeah, I do.’ ‘Will you come to the toilet with me?’ she asks, and I nod, apologising to Donghyuck before Mina drags me out of the kitchen, through the living room and upstairs.

‘Oh, shit! My pads are in Nayeon’s bag,’ I say when we reach the top of the stairs, and Mina lets out an annoyed noise. ‘I don’t actually need a pad, stupid! I was just getting you away from him,’ she whispers before pulling me into the bathroom. ‘What? Why?’ ‘Because now he’ll go get your Vanilla Coke from the shop and you won’t have to go with him,’ she says, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Are you kidding? He’s not gonna go.’ ‘Yes, he will,’ she says, before letting out an exasperated sigh. ‘Remember when I stayed home for a few months, because I wasn’t well?’ she asks, and I nod – Nayeon was heartbroken that she didn’t have Mina to gossip with in her lectures. ‘When I came back, all the boys were fussing over me. Trust me; he will go and get that coke.’

We spend a couple minutes in the bathroom, reapplying our lipgloss and fixing our hair, before we head back downstairs, quickly grabbing two of the empty stools in the kitchen, Bambam sat next to Mina and Namjoon sat next to me, chatting with Minho about football strategy for their next match. ‘y/n!’ I hear Donghyuck’s voice after a few minutes, making me stop mid-conversation with Yugyeom about dessert on Monday at Red Velvet (it was so good, I can’t stop thinking about it – I might have to drag Namjoon back there this weekend). I turn to see him stood at the door, holding up a bottle of Vanilla Coke, and I have to stifle a laugh, pushing down guilt. ‘Oh, my God, thank you, Hyuck! You’re the best!’ I exclaim, giving the boy a hug before he disappears to find me a clean cup. ‘I was right,’ Mina says with a grin. ‘I feel bad.’ ‘Don’t. You didn’t make him get it.’ ‘Yeah, but I’m not even gonna drink it. I don’t like Vanilla Coke.’ ‘Well, it’s a good thing I do.’

joon: u got a lecture tmrw

y/n: it’s Friday tomorrow right ?

joon: um ye how do u not know

joon: r u still drunk from last night

y/n: I wasn’t drunk! I didn’t even touch any alcohol !

joon; then y were u letting johnny touch u up

y/n: I wasn’t! there was fluff on my boob and he took it off for me !

joon: ur so naive

joon: n e ways, do u have a lecture tmrw

y/n: yeah, 1-3

joon: wanna go 4 coffee after ill pick u up

y/n: sounds good

y/n: I’ll pay

joon: no

y/n: you paid for dessert !

joon: idc, ill pay 4 coffee

joon: u save ur money 4 clothes ;)

y/n: ew

joon: bitch do u want coffee or no

y/n: yes :)))

joon: ill b there @ 3, dnt b late like monday

y/n: okayyy see you at three joonie

joon: yep, night sexc

y/n: ew

joon: fine u can walk 2 starbucks

y/n: NO I’M SORRY

y/n: joon pls answer

y/n: stop leaving me on read !

y/n: fine, you can go to starbucks by yourself

joon: sorry

joon: y/n

joon: r u there

joon: bitch answer me

joon: ignore me if u wanna fuck

y/n: you’re such an idiot

joon: gn y/nie

y/n: night stupid, ilyyyy

joon: luv u 2 dummy

‘Hi, welcome to Starbucks! What can I get you?’ the barista asks, smiling widely. He’s handsome, with dirty blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and sparkling brown eyes, and I can’t help but smile back. ‘Hi, can I get two large iced vanilla lattes please?’ I ask, the boy nodding as he clicks away at the register. My eyes flit to his little name tag. His name is Hyunjin. Cute. ‘What name shall I put on the cups?’ he asks, eyes sparkling when he looks back up at me, and I smile shyly when I say, ‘y/n.’ ‘Pretty name for a pretty girl,’ he replies, not giving me a moment to process the compliment before he says, ‘that’ll be £7.40. Cash or card?’ ‘Card,’ a voice behind me says, and I turn to see Jaemin stood there, smiling. ‘Can I add a large iced americano to that too?’ he says, holding up his card, and Hyunjin nods, tapping at the register. ‘Jaemin, don’t. I’ll pay,’ I say, though it’s Namjoon’s money in my hand, not my own. ‘It’s fine, y/n. I don’t mind,’ he says with a grin, and I smile back, touched.

Jaemin moves around me to pay for the three drinks, and I feel a little awkward, stood behind him, waiting. ‘How have you been, y/n?’ he asks once he’s paid, and I smile. ‘I’ve been really good, thanks. How about you?’ ‘Yeah, great. You look… different since the last time I saw you,’ he says with a little smirk, and I roll my eyes, an amused smile playing at my lips. ‘I’m assuming that was a compliment.’ ‘Of course. How could it be anything other than a compliment when the ‘different’ I’m talking about is this?’ he says with a flirty grin, motioning to my outfit (a pair of tight black cargo trousers and a long-sleeved black top, big black stomper boots on my feet and silver jewellery).

Jaemin flirts with me for a little while, but his americano is ready before mine and Joon’s lattes and he has a lecture at 3.30, so he leaves with the promise of continuing our conversation at the ASP party tomorrow, which I had no idea about. ‘y/n!’ Hyunjin calls and I go over to grab the lattes. I notice a caramel shortbread on a plate beside the cups, and I look up at him questioningly, the boy grinning back. ‘It’s on the house,’ he says, and I can’t help but let out a giggle, flattered. ‘Thank you.’ ‘No problem… y/n. I’m a student, at the university, and I heard your… friend talking about the party tomorrow. I’ll be there, and it’d be nice to see you,’ he says, smiling as he leans against the counter casually, my heart jumping. He’s hot, he’s confident and he’s sweet – I could definitely see myself getting to know him. ‘Yeah, it’d be nice to see you too,’ I reply shyly, breaking off our eye contact after a few seconds. ‘See you tomorrow then,’ he grins before turning to deal with the next customer.

I carefully take the lattes and the shortbread over to mine and Joon’s table in the corner, the boy instantly biting into the shortbread. ‘That is mine.’ ‘I paid for your coffee, so I can have a bite of your shortbread,’ he says, mouth full of food, and I scrunch my nose up in disgust, sitting down opposite him. ‘No, actually, you didn’t. Jaemin did,’ I say, dropping Joon’s money on the table in front of him, and he frowns. ‘Who’s Jaemin? The cute barista you were just flirting with?’ he asks drily as he picks up one of the coffees, taking a sip. ‘No, his name’s Hyunjin. And I wasn’t flirting with him,’ I say, embarrassed, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Then what’s this?’ he asks, holding his cup out to me. I can’t hold back my smile when I see that Hyunjin’s written his number on the label with a smiley face beside it. ‘Exactly what I thought. Anyway… who’s Jaemin?’ ‘KPN Jaemin. He was behind me in the queue and he paid for our drinks. And then Hyunjin gave me the shortbread for free,’ I say, and Joon narrows his eyes at me.

‘I can’t believe you’re making these boys do all these things for you.’ ‘They’re doing it voluntarily – I’m not making them do anything!’ ‘So you didn’t make Donghyuck get your Vanilla Coke on Wednesday?’ ‘No, he choose to go get it!’ ‘Well, you’re putting Tia and Tamera to good use.’ ‘Tia and Tamera?’ I ask, confused, and he points at my chest. ‘Tia… and Tamera,’ he says, naming each boob, ‘don’t you listen to Doja Cat?’ ‘Not religiously – Say So’s the only song of hers on my Spotify.’ ‘Tasteless.’ ‘You’re tasteless for accusing me of using my boobs to manipulate boys,’ I hiss, and he rolls his eyes. ‘Did I lie?’ ‘Yes!’ ‘Okay, maybe I did. It’s not just Tia and Tamera. It’s Tia and Tamera and… Nicole!’ he says, and I blink in confusion. ‘Nicole?’ ‘Use your brain.’ ‘Did you just name my ass Nicole?’ I ask incredulously, and he nods, seemingly proud of himself. ‘People look at it more than they look at your face, so I think it deserves naming,’ he says bitterly, and I gasp. ‘That was low. People look at my face. I’m not just my body. My face is pretty too,’ I say coldly, a little hurt, and he looks guilty. ‘Well, of course your face is pretty, I just-’ ‘You just what? Judged me, even though you’ve slept with more girls than I’ve ever been friends with? Just remember that there’s a lot you’ve done that I could judge you on, but I don’t, because we’re best friends.’

The air is tense after I finish speaking, and I feel sick. Joon and I have never argued. Our friendship has always been so laidback, so chill, so easy. I’ve never had any downs in my friendship with him because we get along so well. But I’m surprised at him being so judgmental, and so… douchey about me getting some male attention for the first time in… well, forever. ‘Sorry, y/n. I’m being a dick,’ he says softly, and I can see that he feels guilty. I decide it’s best to end our argument here, because this isn’t a nice feeling. ‘Whatever, it’s fine, Joon. Anyway… you didn’t tell me ASP are having a party tomorrow! Am I not invited?’ I tease, and he grins, the tension between us gone. ‘No, you’re not. I’m tired of you being so dependent on me.’ ‘Shut it. You’d be lost without me.’ ‘Whatever. I was supposed to tell you about it at KPN, but I barely got to speak to you. You were… popular that night,’ he says quietly, not meeting my eyes, and suddenly, I can feel the awkwardness making a reappearance. ‘Ah, well, I guess there’s no point asking you to take me to Red Velvet then,’ I say wistfully, trying to change the subject, and he rolls his eyes. ‘Ask Wang, he’ll take you.’ ‘No, it’s fine. I don’t wanna be bloated at the party. We can reschedule to Sunday – order some for a hangover cure. Can I sleep over?’ I ask, and he nods, smiling to himself. ‘You and Nayeon are always welcome. There’s enough bed space for the three of us.’ ‘You say that, and yet, you end up on the floor with us two in your bed every time.’ ‘I’ll climb in with you while you’re asleep.’ ‘Isn’t that illegal?’ ‘Shut up and eat your shortbread. Or do you not wanna be bloated?’ ‘Matter of fact, you’re right. These cargo trousers are already tight.’ ‘That’s because you’ve got a fat ass.’

y/n: hey, is this hyunjin ? from Starbucks ?

hyunjin: yeah, and is this y/n ? the pretty cargo trousers girl ?

y/n: the one and only ☺️

hyunjin: I was worried you wouldn’t reach out to me after I saw you go and sit with that boy

hyunjin: I felt terrible bc I didn’t even ask if you had a boyfriend

y/n: oh no, he isn’t my boyfriend

y/n: he’s my best friend, namjoon

hyunjin: as in kim namjoon ?

y/n: yep, you’ve probably heard of him lol

hyunjin: I have lmao he has quite a reputation

hyunjin: I didn’t recognise him

hyunjin: I just saw you go and sit with a handsome boy and I felt awful

y/n: well, you don’t have to feel bad

y/n: and he’s not that handsome lmao

y/n: he’s just… namjoon

hyunjin: well, I’ll have to thank him when I see him

hyunjin: if he hadn’t given you my number from his cup, I’d have felt like an idiot

y/n: it’s a good thing he pointed it out to me lol

hyunjin: yeah, I’m relieved

hyunjin: I know it’s forward of me and I hope you don’t think I’m out of line

hyunjin; but I just thought you were really cute and I didn’t want to waste the opportunity

hyunjin: especially after jaemin paid for your drinks and flirted with you

hyunjin: I know it sounds silly but I was debating whether or not it was worth competing with him

y/n: jaemin’s not really interested, he flirts with anything that has a pulse

y/n: but I’m glad you didn’t waste the opportunity

y/n: I thought you were cute too, and I love your hair

hyunjin: ah thank you! I was a little nervous about growing it out

y/n: it’s unique, and it really suits you

hyunjin: thanks y/n :)

hyunjin: it’s late so I’m gonna head to bed but I’m glad you texted me, and I look forward to seeing you tomorrow !

y/n: okay, hyunjin, goodnight ! see you tomorrow :)

hyunjin: goodnight ! :)

joon: do u need a lift tmrw

y/n: no, jackson said he’s gonna pick us up

y/n: but thank you for offering anywayyy

joon: ok

joon: why did it take you 30 mins 2 reply its lit rally 2am, what else r u busy with

y/n: I was texting

joon: who

y/n: oh, just the, um, the girls groupchat, to talk about what we’re gonna wear tomorrow

joon: ok

y/n: I’m gonna go to bed, I’ll speak to you tomorrow

joon: aight gn dum dum

y/n: night joonie, sweet dreamsss

joon: ill dream of u in ur crop tops

y/n: pervert

joon: luv u ;)

y/n: love you more dumbass

‘y/n! y/n! y/n!’ ‘Oh, my God, Nayeon, you’re like a child! I’m mid-conversation!’ ‘I know, but this is important!’ she says, tugging on the strap of my top, her force nearly making me spill my drink down my outfit. I thought I’d dress simple, in just a black strappy lowcut crop top and a pair of ripped blue jeans, fluffy black slides on my feet and simple gold jewellery to accessorise. ‘Sorry, Dahyun,’ I sigh with a roll of my eyes, the girl grinning back. ‘It’s fine – go deal with your important business,’ she laughs, and Nayeon takes this as a signal to drag me into the kitchen, leaving Dahyun alone in the back garden. ‘What is it?’ I ask, and she grins. ‘I found your cute barista boy! Well, I think so, anyway. Not many boys have dirty blond ponytails.’ ‘Oh… okay.’ ‘Aren’t you excited?’ ‘I think you’re excited enough for both of us.’ ‘I’m serious, y/n! I saw him, and he’s really hot! You’ve been texting all day, and you said he’s really sweet. He could be your first boyfriend!’ ‘Nayeon, you’re getting ahead of yourself – I’ve literally known him for… 32 hours. And I don’t even know him, really. All I know is his name and that he works at Starbucks.’ ‘Well… this is your chance to get to know him. He’s with his friends in the living room – go,’ she says, not giving me a chance to reply before she pushes me through the open door.

He spots me instantly, calling my name, and I scan the room until my eyes meet his, smiles breaking across our faces as he waves me over. I head around the edges of the room, not wanting to get caught in the group of people dancing, until I reach him and his friends in the corner. ‘Hey, y/n! You look nice!’ he exclaims, smiling widely, and I feel butterflies; he really is so handsome. ‘Thanks, Hyunjin. You do, too,’ I say honestly, looking him up and down; his black jeans, loose blue and white striped shirt only buttoned halfway with a black t-shirt beneath are a chic and stylish contrast to the Starbucks apron he was wearing yesterday. Half of his hair is up in a ponytail with a few loose strands framing his face and his ears are adorned with earrings, sparkling in the low light. He introduces me to his friends, who all seem nice (I think I’ve seen a few of them before – I’m sure a couple of them are KPN frat brothers). As soon as the introductions are done, he asks if I’ll go with him to get a drink. He takes my hand gently – a shock running up my arm at the contact – and leads me into the kitchen, getting himself a bottle of Soju from the fridge. ‘Do you want one?’ he asks, and I scrunch up my nose – I find Soju absolutely disgusting. ‘Thanks, but I’ll stick to my vodka coke for now,’ I say, holding up my cup, the boy laughing as he nods, shutting the fridge after him.

We stand in one corner of the kitchen, chatting, and our conversation flows so easily. He’s an architecture and design major, but he does dance on the side too, with some of his friends. I ask him to tell me the basic things about him and I find out that he has a dog called Kkami, he loves autumn, he’s allergic to cat fur, his favourite food is sushi and his least favourite foods are onion, carrot and eggplant. Even though he’s so handsome (like intimidatingly handsome), he’s so modest, down-to-earth, and just so sweet. He’s like a breath of fresh air in comparison to the boys I spend time with on a daily basis (no shade to Jackson and Joon, but they’re nowhere near as gentlemanly as Hyunjin – he gets me two refills before I even realise that my cup is empty, and he gets me two slices of pizza as soon as it arrives because I mentioned I hadn’t eaten). I can already feel myself crushing on him; every time he compliments me, I get so flustered and all I can do is giggle – two weeks ago me would have hated now me.

After what could be hours (I’m having the time of my life chatting away to him), he asks me to dance with him, and I’m filled with an inexplicable fear. Actually, no. It’s explicable; I have never danced at a party before. Ever. ‘It’s okay… I won’t bite,’ he teases, and I take a deep breath, smiling as I nod. He takes my hand again, his touch so light and gentle, and instead of pulling me along behind him, he lets me go first, standing just a few inches behind me as we head into the living room. We mould into the group of our peers dancing, and I feel a little awkward at first, but I soon loosen up into the rhythm of the Rihanna and Bryson Tiller song pulsing out into the room. He’s really the perfect gentleman; he doesn’t lay a hand on me other than to move me out of the way when someone drunk stumbles past. It’s a nice change from the boys that don’t hesitate to just come up behind a girl and grab onto her waist, forcing himself onto her.

But after a while, I can feel the several vodka cokes starting to take effect, my mind a little hazy, and a tipsy y/n mixed with the RnB baselines floating out from the speakers isn’t a good combination. Hyunjin’s tan skin glows in the low light, his eyes sparkling, and he looks so fucking handsome, his plump lips stretching up into a flawless grin when I hook my arms around his neck loosely, moving closer. We dance a little more… intimately, our bodies pressed together after a few minutes, and his hands rest on my lower back, not venturing any lower, and his eyes stay on my face, even though my cleavage is right there. His gentlemanliness just makes him even sexier to me.

I look up at him, and notice that some of his hair in his face, and so I reach to brush it back behind his ear. His hair is so soft, the locks just gliding between my fingers, and I can’t help but run my fingers through the loose hair that he hasn’t pulled up into a ponytail, my nails gently scraping against the back of his neck. He shivers a little, his neck obviously sensitive, and it makes me look him in the eyes, practically getting lost in them. And before my brain can even register it, he leans towards me and my eyes flutter shut, his lips softly brushing against mine a few moments later. My first kiss.

He moves away, almost to check if I’m okay with it, and I just lean towards him, pressing our lips together again, making him let out a chuckle against my mouth. My mind numbs a little when he parts my lips with his, his tongue sliding into my mouth, and I really didn’t know that kissing was this good. His hands press into my back, holding me against him, and I grip onto his strong shoulders, his scent of lemony shampoo and expensive aftershave flooding my senses as our lips move against each other. ‘y/n, get a room!’ I hear Jin, one of Joon’s stupid friends, shout, followed by laughter, making me break away from Hyunjin, blinking as though I’ve just woken up, Hyunjin just smiling back at me. I turn to Jin, shooting him a dirty look and telling him to fuck off before turning back to Hyunjin. I feel braver than usual due to the alcohol and the fact that I’ve just kissed a boy I met yesterday in the middle of a frat party, and so I ask, ‘do you… want to get a room?’ ‘Um… what?’ he asks, blinking, and I feel the humiliation setting in already. ‘I mean, we don’t have to… but I thought you might want t-’ ‘Yes. I do want to.’

We’re both laughing drunkenly as we head up the stairs (it seems the several bottles of Soju he’s had have made him a little tipsy), our hands clasped together. ‘Whose room are we using?’ ‘Um, we can use Namjoon’s. I’m sure he won’t mind – he’ll be proud I’ve finally kissed a boy,’ I say, leading him into Joon’s room. The second we enter, he shuts the door, pushing me up against it and pressing our lips together again, his body against mine and our hands still intertwined against the door. I tangle my free hand into his soft locks, his free hand gently roaming up and down my side, and it’s bliss, the way he touches me. He’s such a good kisser – though it’s not like I have much experience anyway. ‘Did you say I’m your first kiss?’ he asks, lips moving against mine, and I let out a little noise of affirmation, the boy grinning. ‘Good,’ he murmurs, the word making my stomach turn with butterflies.

But it’s like I’m not allowed good things. There’s a loud hammering against the other side of the door, making both of us jump, and I manage to move out of the way just before it flies open, Namjoon storming in, anger all over his face. ‘y/n,’ he says, voice shaking, and I look at him in concern, wondering what’s happened. ‘Joon, are you okay?’ ‘No, I’m not,’ he says, teeth gritted, and it’s then that I realise; he’s angry at me. ‘Oh, did you… should I have asked you if I could use your room? I didn’t think you’d mind, I’m so-’ ‘God, you’re so fucking dense!’ he shouts, making me flinch, and Hyunjin looks between us before saying, ‘y/n, I’m gonna go, you guys speak in private. I’ll… be downstairs.’ I nod, too shocked to speak, and even more shocked at the way Namjoon stares daggers at Hyunjin as he slips past him.

‘What’s your problem? There’s no need to be such a dick to me, or to Hyunjin.’ ‘Oh, so you do know his name? I’m surprised, since you only met him yesterday.’ ‘Stop being so fucking judgy! You’re allowed to fuck anything with a vagina, but I kiss a boy I met yesterday and the world’s ending!’ ‘I’m not judgy, y/n, I’m jealous! Can’t you fucking tell?’ he practically screams, and the words don’t register with me for a moment. ‘Jealous?’ I echo, and he lets out a humourless laugh, sinking down onto his bed. ‘Yes, y/n, jealous. I’ve only been in love with you for two fucking years,’ he mutters, the words hitting me like a ton of bricks. He’s in love with me. My best friend is in love with me. ‘Joon, I-’ ‘You what, y/n?’ he asks angrily, and I’m filled with such rage, I want to slap him.

‘I didn’t know! If you’d told me, I’d understand why you’re so angry! But you didn’t, so stop fucking shouting at me, and being such a dick, and making me feel guilty when I shouldn’t!’ ‘There was no point telling you, because you don’t love me back!’ he shouts, and now I feel even more guilty. ‘I love you, Joon, but as my best frie-’ ‘And that’s why I didn’t tell you! I could deal before, when I was still getting to spend time with you every day, but now that you’re getting all this attention from all these boys, it’s so… difficult.’ ‘You still should have told me,’ I say quietly, and he scoffs. ‘There was no point! It doesn’t change anything! You still don’t like me!’ ‘No, I don’t, but you shouldn’t be angry at me about it.’ ‘I think I have a right to be angry!’ he shouts, and my eyes fill with tears. ‘Well, you don’t! Forgive me, Namjoon, but you’re not exactly a gentleman. Why would I fall for a boy that has a different girl in his bed every day, who plays girls like it’s his job, who’s misogynistic and vulgar and a dog? You don’t get to be such a dick to women and have your best friend fall in love with you, because it doesn’t work that way!’

‘Oh, and Hyunjin isn’t a dick?’ ‘No! He’s sweet, and he’s kind, an-’ ‘You’ve known him for one day, and you’re already rushing upstairs to lose your fucking virginity to him! I thought you’d care more about your first time!’ he shouts, still so judgmental, and I feel myself practically shaking with rage. How dare he behave the way he does and judge me, even though he’s supposedly in love with me? ‘Why do you care who I lose my virginity to?’ ‘Because I’m in love with you! Aren’t you fucking keeping up?’ ‘No, Namjoon, you’re not in love with me. If you were, you’d be happy that I’m happy. Instead you’re possessive and judgemental and douchey!’ We’re shouting at each other now, and anyone outside will be able to hear, but I don’t care. Let them hear how much of a dick he is. ‘I loved who you were, when-’ ‘When what? When boys didn’t talk to me? When you and Jackson were the only boys I spoke to at parties? When I was pure, untouched, innocent? Now, you’re annoyed, because I’m not who you thought I was. I don’t owe you anything, Namjoon, because you can’t expect me to have just known.’

‘Just go, y/n,’ he says, all of the anger in him disappearing, and he sounds so tired, looks so tired. And, as always, I feel guilty. ‘Joon-’ ‘No. Please, just go,’ he says, and when he looks up at me, my heart breaks. His eyes are full of tears, sadness, hurt, but the second they land on mine, they’re filled with love, too. Love that I can’t reciprocate because, he might be my best friend, but he is disgusting to girls. And I can’t love that. I can’t love him. ‘Okay. I’ll go,’ I whisper, turning away and leaving his room before I burst into tears.

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johnny-and-dora · 4 years

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you and i are very close

"A younger Holt less familiar with Jake Peralta would reprimand him for being so easy to read – but it seems to be in his very nature to wear his heart on his sleeve, and the truth is, it suits him."

or, jake & holt talk about fatherhood. (post 7x10)

read on ao3 -

“…So that’s the lowdown on the Broughton case. Charles and I are gonna head out and arrest them as soon as the warrant comes through.” Jake finishes, bouncing slightly on his heels as he finishes the update. Raymond Holt leans back in his chair, content with their plan of action.

“Excellent work, detective.” Holt says – but then finds himself mildly concerned when he only receives a subdued nod in reply. While he may deem it an appropriate workplace response to a captain’s praise, it is far from the excessive energy and enthusiasm that Jake usually exudes.

Raymond recalls the previous night’s events – a biological sex reveal party that led to Jake’s father being taken to the ER – and wonders if that might be placating the detective’s usually golden Labrador-like temperament.

“I trust that your father is in good health?” He asks tentatively, gesturing for Jake to sit down- he pauses for a moment before doing so, leg jostling in a way that increases Holt’s concern by 17.5%.

“Yeah, he’ll be fine. Sorry our party was kind of a full-blown disaster. Guess I should have expected that with three generations of Peraltas in the room.” He makes the self-deprecating remark with the light-hearted bravado Holt has come to expect from the detective, though it’s notably flatter than usual.

What’s more, his smile is more of a grimace, and he can’t stop fidgeting with the badge around his neck – a classic Peralta tell. Something is clearly bothering him, likely related to his complex relationship with his father and his own fatherhood looming.

A younger Holt less familiar with Jake Peralta would reprimand him for being so easy to read – but it seems to be in his very nature to wear his heart on his sleeve, and the truth is, it suits him. It is an openness, a trust and a sincerity that Holt has earned over the years as Jake’s superior officer. Though he still finds himself exasperated by his stubbornness and fixation on action films, Holt sincerely values his respect and loyalty.

He frowns, trying to assess the best way to discreetly discern what could be causing the detective’s distress.

“I actually found the party to be rather enjoyable, save the alarming bloodshed. The carrots were rich in nutrition and I thought the cake’s green colour made a very interesting and progressive statement.”

Jake’s lips quirk up a little at that, and he sits straighter in the chair, so Holt must be doing something right.

“Thank you, Captain, but that actually wasn’t our intention. Just another screw-up.”

“I see.” He considers this new information briefly, before attempting to continue the non-case related chitter-chatter, something he usually avoids. “So, you are now aware of the biological sex of your child?”

“Oh, yeah! We’re having a boy.” Jake finally smiles genuinely, and Raymond can’t help but return it. He may not personally care much for small infants, but the thought of the bickering detectives he first met when he came to the Nine-Nine having a child together does inspire some fatherly pride over how far they’ve come.

“My congratulations to you both.” He nods again, but his gaze is still far away. Holt decides to subtly switch tactics.

“You know, whatever doubts may be plaguing you, I am certain you have absolutely nothing to be worried about. Your son is very lucky to have you both as parents.”

“What? I’m not, um, there’s absolutely zero doubts to be found here.” Jake’s eyebrows briefly shoot up to his hairline as he stammers some typically poorly concealed denial. Holt remains neutral, wishing he had done some research on the subject but doing his best to power through.

“It is perfectly natural to be anxious about such things.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the gentle encouragement is all that it takes for a veritable avalanche of emotions to trip over themselves as Jake speaks.

“I guess I just…I want to be the best dad I can be. I don’t want him to ever feel like…like he’s been abandoned or he’s alone. It’s crazy how much I already love this kid and I haven’t even met him yet, but I know I would do absolutely anything to keep him safe. And with my dad talking about this stupid Peralta father-son curse and my grandpa being a jerk and walking out of our lives all over again…I don’t know. I just know that I don’t want to let him – or Amy – down. Ever.”

Holt is admittedly, a little overwhelmed. He and Kevin have never seen the appeal of conforming to heteronormative ideals of family life, and yet he values his place as the head of the chosen family he’s found at the Nine-Nine. The mysteries of pregnancy and childcare are complete unknowns to him, yet he finds himself completely certain that Jake and Amy will be great parents to their future son.

So, Holt does what he has always found it easiest to do, and he tells Jake the truth.

“I am not sure of this family ‘curse’ you speak of, but as your commanding officer for the majority of the past seven years, I know your doubts are ill-founded. On the contrary, the dedication and loyalty you have shown me, and every member of this squad, only makes me surer you will be a great father.”

“Really?” Jake says, hopeful but apparently still unconvinced.

“This job is not an easy one. You and I know both know first-hand how our lives can be affected by circumstances we cannot control. But you would never willingly let your family down, and the fact that you are so committed to doing everything you can for them is a sure sign that you never will.” Holt pauses briefly to let his sincerity sink in.

“Your son is going to love you, Jake. He will grow to enjoy many Thomas Cruise films with you, and I’m sure he will come to share your passion for…the transforming robot sewer turtles?”

“Feel compelled to tell you those are two completely different franchises, but I really appreciate the attempt and I will be emailing Michael Bay’s team about a potential cross-over.”

“Well. Regardless of the specifics of these cartoon turtles, I am sure you have understood my point.”

“Yes. Thank you, sir. I- that means, uh, a lot.” His thanks is, as usual, completely earnest, and Holt finds himself glad to have helped in any small way. He cannot completely solve the detective’s issues with fatherhood, but he is happy to be one consistent and stable presence for Jake to rely on. Just as he knows he can rely on him.

“You are welcome. And you are free to discuss any other personal issues you may have with me, although I assume Santiago may be better suited to such conversations.”

“She’s been telling me pretty much the same thing.” Jake admits, shifting in his seat. Raymond briefly wonders about the intricacies of their home life, whether they will discuss this conversation over dinner or perhaps during the commercials of some form of media content.

“Well, I recommend you listen to her. She has proven herself to be extremely perceptive and is rarely ever wrong.”

“I know.” Jake grins, a very specific smile on his face that Holt recognises has long been reserved for talking about Amy, even before they began their courtship. “Sometimes I still can’t believe she married me.”

Holt thinks of years spent watching them endlessly bicker and argue and tease each other, thinks of the intimacy affection he sees most often when they are inebriated at Shaw’s bar. He thinks of how ragged and distraught they’ve been each time they’ve been forced apart and how relieved they were to be back together. He thinks of officiating their wedding and accidentally intruding on their honeymoon, and above all, he thinks about each moment of their shared happiness together he has been privileged enough to witness.

“I do not believe she was wrong about that either.”

It’s an expression of sentiment which breaches many of his strict rules of conduct and professionality in the workplace, and he’s partly reluctant to be debasing himself so willingly. But then Jake’s eyes are shining with gratitude and his usual enthusiastic bright demeanour has returned and Raymond can’t help but feel relieved.

“Oh my god, I always knew you were our secret number one fan. Charles is going to be crushed.”

“You are dismissed.”

“Noooo, but I really want to stay and talk about how invested you are in our relationship- “

“-Please leave my office.”

Holt maintains his usual stony-faced composure until Jake shuts the door – only then does he allow himself to relax in his seat a little, fondly thinking of Kevin, Cheddar and the family he has found in the Nine-Nine. He makes a note to discuss stuffed animal varieties with Kevin at a later date so that they may have something to present Jake and Amy’s son when he arrives.

And when he gets to meet the newest addition to the Santiago-Peralta family a few short months later, held oh-so-carefully and preciously in the arms of a man he has come to consider a son, it is a meeting that he treasures for the rest of his life.

#b99 #b99 fic #brooklyn 99 #listen. i have a lot of emotions about soon-to-be-father jake and his gay work dad #so here you go #my writing #shut up sian

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oofchris · 3 years

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⌠ MADISON BAILEY, 19, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, CHRISTINA ' CHRIS ' ANDERSON! according to their records, they’re a FIRST year, specializing in MACGYVER SURVIVAL SKILLS & NAVIGATION + PROTECTION & ENFORCEMENT; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of ( speckles of dried paint on fingers, cruising round on a longboard, joints tucked behind ears wrapped in colourful papers ). when it’s the ( sagittarius )’s birthday on 12/27/2001, they always request their PHO from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. ⌿ mochi, 24, she/her, gmt ⍀

@gallagherintro

hi uwu, here is a new baby who is not very baby but still a lil baby

. . . it got quite long so tldr; she’s a stubborn art hoe from california who’s dad died so she’s come to gallagher bc her mom is a professor in the p+e major <3

parallels

wyldstyle — the lego movie: 85%

mulan — mulan: 84%

nymphadora tonks — harry potter: 83%

princess fiona — shrek: 83%

robin buckley — stranger things: 82%

here is a full list

HISTORY

potential triggers — car accident, parental death, divorce

so she’s grown up on on the west coast p much ??? her whole life. her mom worked as a bodyguard for sum famous peeps, dad was doctor but occasionally also a medic in the field — they didn’t always see eye to eye and divorced when chris was around nine. it was mostly to do with chris’ future like whether she’d go to spy prep school and follow in their footsteps and her dad didn’t want that for her so they disagreed, and she lived with him instead, living a more or less normal life. her mom then moved away when the opportunity to become a professor at gallagher presented itself, so they’ve really not been close at all since then

lived fairly comfortably, either way her dad had money and her mom sent support too. her father definitely earns less from no longer being in the spy world but he vowed to leave that behind when he divorced his wife and other than a few people from his past popping up unannounced, he kept that vow. they moved around a couple times in order to keep chris safe, and especially when someone did find them ( even if it was friendly ) but mostly grew up in california, and a lot of it is to do with the fact chris loves it there so much

but chris knows about the spy world, what her mom does and the type of school she works at, but it never interested her enough to try and reach out or fight her dad on it as she enjoyed her life

she remembers her mom as someone stubborn, argumentative, volatile which is the opposite of her dad who was patient, loving and endearing — so it’s a no brainer for her, she loves her dad a lot and he gave up a lot for her while her mom gave chris up for that world, her job, etc aka nada

BUT her dad died in a car accident recently that she was also in but was only a bit beaten up at most ( has some cuts / new scars, learn more below ) leaving her mother to swiftly pick her up and enrol her into gallagher, more to keep an eye on her than anything.

her mom chose her majors and some of her classes for her, which chris is mad about, but mainly bc looking at what ones were offered she’d def pick macgyver anyway, and her mom argued p+e was a step into the physical and combat side of thing without being too heavy on it ( tho it’s the major she teaches so she’s biased and chris just thinks she wants to be closer ) but tbh ? chris just doesn’t want her mom to be right whatsoever or have the satisfaction of thinking she knows her daughter in anyway at all but she knows if she went undecided she’d probably pick those up again in her second year so she’s just ‘ going with it ‘ begrudgingly as if she has no choice

PERSONALITY

extremely stubborn, which she gets from her mom, would rather ruin her life than go back on something or admit she was wrong, if she apologises for something she'll find a way to do it where she's not actually ever saying the words ' im sorry ' or ' i was wrong ' and would rather start another argument than do that — but obviously she loves other people apologising to her

she is generally nice ??? i just think she can be irritated easy ?????? like a bit of a hot head tho she'd argue she's chill, she is mostly chill but likes to debate, be right, and can be very my way or the high way at times — i’ll figure her out more as i play her bc i can’t tell if she’s mean or not but i don’t think so, just a bit tougher than she needs to be

in my head she’s like a seb/luc hybrid so . . . take that as you will

doesn’t dislike gallagher ( mostly ) but thinks all the legacies — even tho she technically is one, she doesn’t identify as one — are entitled spoiled brats and should get their heads out of their ass, doesn't like that being a legacy is even a thing though a lot of it definitely comes from her bitter resentment towards her mom and how she'd have rather leave her and her dad than leave the spy life hbsjhbsjhb also i think bc of her mom she has level 5 clearance which . . . she’s not complaining about but definitely complaining that clearance levels are even a thing, she’s gonna contradict herself a lot, i feel it

MISC

i THINK she’s only arrived, like, at the start of spring semester tbh, she wasn’t here for fall so she is new new

halfway through her first year at stanford studying art alongside film and media as a minor before her mom brought her to gallagher — which she's kind of not happy about like she understands her dad didn't want it for her, she also wanted to just stay in california but the only family she has now is on her mom's side.

she's still enrolled at stanford, though dropped her minor, and is studying online for her major as she's made it clear to her mom she doesn't want to be a spy so she pulled a few strings with the stanford admission board to allow her studying to continue ( idek if this is allowed i'm just pretending her mom is powerful enough to do it ) — it was a big reason chris agreed to come to gallagher, not that she had much of a choice, bc she wants her ‘ normal ‘ life and her ‘ normal ‘ degree regardless of being at a spy school

only her mom calls her christina and she actually hates it so pls dont unless you are trying to get on her bad side — also she probs avoids her mom like the plague so don’t bring that up either

often covered in little cuts and bruises from her skating but she’s got two fresh / soon to be scars on the left side of her face on the top of her cheek bone and on her jaw from a shards of glass when she was in the car accident — she is the type to pick her scabs until they bleed again, too, so i picture her with loads of little scars especially on her hands, elbows and knees

she did learn self defense from her dad growing up and she has studied jiujitsu and akido since she was around thirteen, she also boxes but it's more casual like for stress and stuff rather than something she takes overly seriously

she likes surfing, diving, enjoys the kind of world that exists underwater where it's just peaceful and calm so she will be around the lake a lot / at the pool if you need to find her

she’s 5’3 and never wears heels

pansexual and while it might change i wanna say she's not overly sexual, like wouldn't have hookups for no reason ?? but potentially some one night stands or drunken mistakes or whatever. doesn't look down on sluts but i think she doesn't have the most confidence in that area, or in self esteem in general, so she'll ??? only really have a frequent thing if she feels Hella comfortable

the type to have crushes tho, but not act on them at all bc again self esteem issues

bit of a tomboy, skater, stoner — though she wouldn't identify as one — really loves movies and can be a proper filmophile, probably has more film soundtracks on her spotify unwrapped than she does actual artists and don't get her started on Women— in film bc she won't stop

very active, sporty, probs trying to parkour around campus

enjoys painting, sketching, simply creating things — often is filming, riding a longboard, working on some kind of little project she'll take too seriously but won't show people until it's perfect

is a little pretentious at times ??? doesn't necessarily mean to be but if it's a debate on a topic she's passionate about ( such as art, film, etc ) then she will try to ensure you know just how knowledgeable she is on it, she's not afraid to flex but she wouldn't outwardly flex for no reason if that makes sense

she also . . . feels p dumb at gallagher tbh, a lot of her strengths lie in her creativity and art and now she’s very ??? wtf am i doing ?? but she will continue to act like she knows !

can speak english, french, german and spanish all pretty fluently, italian well enough to get by, knows a bit of japanese bc she’s . . . a weeb sometimes but also bc of her martial arts

CONNECTIONS

FAMILY / CHILDHOOD FRIENDS ( SPY ) — so this would more than likely be before her parents divorce, but she’s not against keeping in contact a little if she liked you, it could have also been a family who reached out to her dad afterwards because while he’d move away / hide his location promptly after, he would still help them if they needed it ( 1 / ? )

FAMILY / CHILDHOOD FRIENDS ( NON SPY ) — same thing, but would have probably been after the divorce, just normal families that her and her dad knew, neighbours, work colleagues, school friends, would more than likely have also needed to be west coast sorta area but if your muse was there briefly, they could have kept in contact once they’d left ( 0 / ? )

LEGACIES — she potentially . . . won’t like you if you’re a legacy and you are egotistical / assholey even a tiny bit, bc that basically proves her argument that they’re ALL like that jshbjsbjs but i wud like her to have legacies that she . . . hates that she likes as well, i think she’ll realise p quickly most are fine lmao

ART HOES — whether they’re into painting as well and they do it together or they let her paint them !

SMOKE / SKATE BUDS — one or the other, both, whatever !!

A HOOK UP THAT’S EITHER ALREADY HAPPENED OR GOING TO — in my head she’s a bit ??? w sex tbh so maybe plot this out a bit more but can be a ?? positive relationship or a negative one idm

CRUSHES !!!!!!!!! — she’s not even been at the school long but im certain she probs has some already

i’m not good w wanted connections so pls just hmu if u have ideas and as usual like dis for plots / jus message me, i’ll be on discord !! if you don’t have/use discord just message me first on tumblr bc otherwise i wont realise jhbsjhbjhbsj

#GOD ITS SO LONG #gallagher:intro

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igirisuhito · 4 years

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Title: Afflicted Relationship(s): Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito Rating: Mature Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / ? Chapter Summary: Monokuma has a fresh new motive! Monomi has been a bit too comfortable lately, so why not let the chains go and let the biggest secret they're trying to suppress manifest within the simulation under the guise of illness? Trigger Warnings: Vomiting, Illness, Personality issues Author’s Note: This fic is an AU of sdr2 chapter 3. Rather slow to update. Can’t tell you how long it will run for but if you like to keep track, I recommend subscribing on Ao3.

[Ao3 Link]

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"Hghh-GAH!"

My body shot up involuntarily, kicking me from my sleep. My breathing was laboured and sweat dripped down my forehead, was that a nightmare? As quickly as it had come, the nightmare had completely dissolved, feeling out of reach in the depths of my mind yet leaving a bad taste in my mouth

My body was hot, unusually so. It's so hot here on tropical Jabberwock Island but I was finally starting to get used to it. This heat was more...feverish. Have I come down with something? Can I even get sick here? Surely not.

…Can viruses travel across water?

Pocketing the thought in my mind to ask Tsumiki later, I buttoned my shirt and lifted myself from the bed. My body was heavy, exhausted, like I hadn’t rested in years. Vertigo made the floor deceptively uneven beneath my feet.

Oh god. Something is wrong.

I picked up my jeans from the floor and pulled them on, stumbling slightly as I tried to balance and get my legs in the right holes. I wrapped my tie around my collar and knotted it loosely before quickly slipping my sneakers on, not even bothering to redo the laces. I really should have had a shower with how sticky with sweat my skin was, but I really had to get to breakfast.

A weird thought floated through the back of my mind, it was almost as if I was…underdressed? This is what I wear every day…?

I stepped towards the door slowly. My heart was pounding in my ears, like I'd been running a marathon. Ohhh something was definitely off.

I turned the knob and stepped outside into the daylight. Crap the sun was bright. With slow steps, I made my way from the cabins to the restaurant where everybody usually met up.

My fingers glided along the banister as I stepped up the wooden stairs. This mundane task felt so much more difficult today. Upon making it upstairs and entering through the diner’s side entrance, I was confronted by the sound of loud sobs.

I assumed it was Saionji or Tsumiki, but the sobs didn't quite match those two. They were louder, less whiny. The sight that appeared before me was Owari leaning into Tsumiki's chest, bawling her eyes out and staining the nurse's white apron. It was such an unusual scene, I found myself glancing multiple times to see if it was actually happening.

"Ah! H-hinata! I-i-is there any ch-chance you could please give- give me a hand here?" The Ultimate Nurse stuttered out, clearly distressed and overwhelmed.

I attempted to step forward to help her with Owari, but my body was frozen, stuck in place.

Huh?

"My assistance won't make any difference to her condition."

A deep, unfamiliar voice spoke. I snapped my head around the room attempting to find its owner, but there was only there was only the three of us here.

Was that…? No, surely not. I don't talk in such a pretentious way.

"H-hinata…"

I stared at her with what I assumed was panic. Tsumiki flinched and was now clinging to Owari tighter than Owari had been clinging to her.

"Hey, what the fuck is going on here?" A familiar gruff voice broke the tension.

Kuzuryuu emerged from the stairs and looked towards the two girls clinging to each other desperately. He then glanced to me, expectant of an answer.

"At first glance it would seem the stress of Nidai's loss has finally tipped Owari over the edge and into despair, but it's rather something much more sinister."

There that voice was again! I could feel my lips moving and the words coming out, but there was absolutely no thought of these words going through my mind! The Ultimate Gangster appeared shocked as well.

"Wait what the fuck is wrong with you? You sound like fucking Komaeda."

"Huh? Who sounds like me?"

As if on queue, Komaeda arrived to the scene with Nanami in tow. The girl barely looked up from her device before sitting down at a table.

"Oi, say to Komaeda what you said to me!" Kuzuryuu barked at me.

Oh god this is going downhill so fast.

"I see no reason to repeat myself." Desperately seeking her help, advice, anything, I approached the dining table and sat myself next to the gamer girl.

Nanami paused her game to look at me with a wide eyed expression. "Hinata…" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Amazing! You've finally developed a personality fit for an Ultimate such as yourself!" Komaeda clasped his hands together excitedly. "What brought this on?"

It seemed whatever had possessed me and myself both agreed to ignore the Luckster.

Soon Saionji and Mioda were entering the room, Saionji giggling nefariously behind her small little hand.

"Hey guys look! Ibuki will do whatever I tell her to today!" Saionji yelled across the dining hall enthusiastically. "Ibuki! Go jump on Tsumiki!"

The colourful girl made a salute "Right away, Hiyoko-chan!" and threw herself at the Ultimate Nurse, who was still cradling Owari. Tsumiki screamed as she hit the floor with both Owari and Mioda on top of her.

"My my what's going on?" Sonia and Tanaka emerged from the stairs with a dejected looking Souda trailing behind.

"A new motive!"

A shrill voice shrieked excitedly. Suddenly, a familiar monochromatic bear popped up at the end of the dining table. Man, way too much is happening too fast, especially when I'm feeling like this.

"Motive?" Komaeda was the first to speak up, sounding almost excited.

"That's riiiight! The motive for the next murder! I've decided to inflict some of you with a bad boy I like to call 'Despair Disease!" Monokuma grinned a toothy smile as he addressed everyone in the room.

"I'm sure you've all gotten a good idea of what's happening by now, but I'll give you a nice little rundown regardless, just so you brainless bastards can understand." Monokuma pointed a furry paw at Owari.

"Akane Owari has Coward Disease."

Then to Mioda. "Ibuki Mioda has Gullible Disease."

Then to me. "Hajime Hinata has Apathy Disease."

Huh…me?

I was one of the motives…?

The words left my mouth too quickly once again. "There's no cure then, unless a murder occurs?"

The bear nodded. "That's right my hollow friend! Unless you take advantage of your 'no strings attached' state and kill somebody, you could be stuck like this forever!"

The room got suddenly hotter, forcing me to loosen my tie a bit so I could breathe. My eyes were becoming unfocused and everything was drifting away. The only sounds I could hear were Monokuma's rambles, Owari screaming about her fear of death, and the blood rushing in my ears.

Monokuma had made us the perfect candidates for a killing.

With this thought the world began to spin, even though I was still seated.

"Hinata-san…are you okay?" Chiaki's soft voice was distant as my head became unbearably heavy and the world slipped through my fingers. The last thing I felt was my forehead hitting the wooden dining table.

I awoke to the sensation of my muscles being stretched. Specifically, the ones in my arms.

"...ant…d...t...an…….'s t-...eavy…."

"urel….n…..t-m-t….ike…..you -an…ft another person, Souda!"

"I can't! It's not my fault he's so-"

"Ah! Hinata-kun!"

My eyes slowly fluttered open and I groaned. My head ached and there was sweat coating my body from head to toe. I could feel the hard floor on my back, pressing my shirt to stick damply to my skin.

A mess of fluffy white hair and sunken grey eyes was leaning into my gaze. The very sight of Komaeda made me want to close my eyes again.

The two boys were stood at either end of me, Souda still holding my arms up. His face was twisted into an uncomfortable look.

"You pick up heavy machinery almost daily, Souda. You're only feigning this weakness so that you don't have to carry me, right?" I mumbled, letting out an exasperated sigh and glancing back at the pink haired male.

Souda let go of my arms with a shocked expression, allowing them to fall to my side with a thud. "W-what?! I wouldn't do something like that to my soul-friend!"

I examined his expression closely, Souda wore a nervous smile. "How boring. It's not of any issue, I can walk by myself."

I set my palms down on the floor beside me and sat up. Komaeda reached out and uttered a "Wait" when suddenly I was overcome with an aching pain in my head. A small hiss escaped my lips and I faltered.

"It's so incredibly brave of you to try to move yourself, Hinata-kun! However, Tsumiki-san said you shouldn't try to in your state.” Komaeda spoke, concern apparent in his voice. “Souda and I planned to take you to the hospital, unless you don’t want talentless scum like me carrying you!”

“I don’t. I can take care of myself.” I had another go at lifting myself off the floor. My knees stuttered for a moment, but I managed to stand. My head was still pounding, but it was so much more tolerable than allowing myself to be carried.

Komaeda’s expression morphed into one of hurt, but his eyes gleamed with a whole different emotion; intrigue. “Hinata-kun…”

“Seriously Hinata! You could hurt yourself!” Souda objected, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I swatted his hand away and began to walk towards the stairs of the hotel. “Why are you two looking at me like that? You should have expected this.”

Komaeda and Souda stayed silent as I made my slow descent down the stairs. If my hearing was a little bit worse, I probably wouldn’t have heard the “stubborn bastard” Souda eventually muttered out.

I gripped the handrail tightly once I stepped off the last step, now finding myself in the games room. Son of a bitch- my head hurts so badly. It was almost as if somebody was shoving an ice pick through my brain. My body was still glazed with sweat and my eyes bleary. Whatever Monokuma had inflicted us with, it was pretty unbearable.

I know I’ve always been a prideful person, but even in this situation I should be completely fine with leaving my health in the hands of Tsumiki. Being the Ultimate Nurse, she would definitely be able to relieve my symptoms somewhat. But the very thought of seeking help seemed anything but of interest.

What is wrong with me? I thought Monokuma said I had apathy disease, not ‘huge prick’ disease. I felt like a completely different person. The very thought made my throat dry up.

On another note, what does apathy mean again? It means like...not caring, right? So I surely couldn’t be concerned about what Tsumiki thinks of me...I don’t get it. Something just feels incredibly wrong about putting myself in her, or anyone's, hands.

Shoving those thoughts down, I decided to make my way to the third island. The sun made my fever all the more excruciating and I found myself feeling faint, but I powered on anyway.

I crossed the bridge to the centre island, then took the bridge to the third island. I've never been so incredibly grateful for that red and white building to not be on the other side of the island.

I pushed open the door of the hospital building, finding myself in a small reception room. It was painted a dull blue-green colour, and bore a large white reception desk. There was also a small assembly of chairs, forming what I presumed is a waiting area. Kuzuryuu was lounged in one of these chairs in a seemingly uncomfortable position.

The Gangster jumped up the second he saw me, as it he had been awaiting my arrival. “Dude, did you fucking walk here? Did Komaeda and Souda ditch you?!” “Yes, and no. I left them at the hotel.” I explained, making eye contact with the shorter boy.

“Why the fuck would you do that? You’re sick as a dog! You passed out at breakfast, remember?!”

“I recall.”

“Then why’d you-”

“I don’t need to explain my actions to you.”

Kuzuryuu’s face twisted in a scowl, before he sighed and dropped all emotion from his face. “Man I don’t get this shit. Just go talk to Tsumiki okay? She’s in the first room treating Owari’s fever.”

I nodded and made my way into the hallway past the desk. There were doors on the left, labelled with numbers, patient rooms. On the right were windowed rooms with various…Monokuma displays?

Something about this place made my headache even worse.

I swallowed down the feeling and opened the door to the firsr room, stepping inside and quietly closing the door behind me. The room was filled with the loud sound of Owari sobbing her heart out. At this point, her voice was beginning to break, sounding hoarse and desperate. Tsumiki whirled around to face me, a wet rag in hand.

“H-Hinata! I-I-I’m glad you’re- you’re here. If y-you’d like, um, y-you can go rest in the second room. I’ll be- um, w-with you in a sec!” She stammered out, flashing a forced smile.

“I’ll stay there, as I assume the others will see me as a contagion risk, but I don’t wish for you to treat me.” I spoke sternly.

Tsumiki looked shocked, and then tears began to drip from her eyes. “I-I-I’m s-sorry! I-I didn’t know that- that I-I was in-in-inadequate in my n-nursing!”

I left the room before I had to listen to her cry any further, it was boring to listen to somebody act to so pathetically. As I stepped back out into the hallway, a rush of dizziness and nausea overcame me. I staggered slightly and leant an arm on the nearest wall, squeezing my eyes shut tight and trying to still the room around me.

Jesus Christ I feel like crap.

Light footsteps approached in my direction. I couldn't see who it was, but the sound of metal chain clinking against itself hinted as to who the footsteps' owner might be.

Komaeda's voice sounded cheerful. “Hinata-kun! Kuzuryuu-san told me you made it here okay! Ah, you look awfully-”

“I’m going to throw up.”

“Oh, I understand. It’s only natural for you to have that reaction upon running into somebody like me.” Komaeda laughed at his own self-deprecation.

“No, Komae-” I gagged on my words and quickly pressed a hand over my mouth.

Komaeda’s eyes went wide, followed by a soft “oh”. The boy then grabbed my wrist, pulling me into the second patient’s room. The room had a small ensuite bathroom, much alike most hospitals. I didn’t bother looking around too much, instead opting to make my way into the bathroom as quickly as possible. I spied the toilet and removed the hand from my mouth, opting to lean it against the cistern and sinking to my knees.

I heaved into the toilet, tears pricking at the corner of my eyes as my throat burned and my head screamed. This feeling was utterly...despairing.

After what felt like hours, my stomach had finally begun to calm down. I wiped my mouth with a groan and laid my face on the cool tiles of the floor.

“That’s kind of unhygienic, you know.” A breathy voice spoke from the doorway.

“It doesn’t matter.” I mumbled.

I heard Komaeda’s footsteps come closer, followed by a cool hand being pressed to my forehead. A quiet sigh escaped my mouth in relief.

“You’re incredibly hot, Hinata-kun.” Komaeda paused for longer than necessary, “Hang on, I’ll go get Tsumiki.”

He removed his hand from my forehead and I groaned out in annoyance. “Nooo.”

“Huh? Why don’t you want me to go get Tsumiki.”

“I don’t want to be treated.”

“Wh- why?”

“I want to see what happens.”

Komaeda laughed a wheezy little laugh. "Hinata-kun, normally I'd agree to anything you say, but an Ultimate like yourself shouldn't force yourself to go through something like this."

“Your opinion on the matter isn’t important, Komaeda. I’m just telling you not to get Tsumiki.” I stated firmly. “Besides, knowing the people here, it won’t be long before a murder occurs and I'm free from this.”

Komaeda tilted his head, looking somewhat intrigued by my statement. He had hardly reacted to my harsh words. “Not that I disagree, but why do you think that will be the case?”

I shrugged slightly and pushed myself up from the floor, now sitting up. The room was still spinning dangerously around me. “You’re all psychotic. That’s all.”

This statement seemed to tickle Komaeda, as he laughed and drew a big grin on his face. “It’s surprising how much more honest you are at the moment. Has your new apathetic outlook made you unbothered with hurting people’s feelings?”

I sighed. “You can sit here and philosophise all you like about the despair disease and its impacts. I’m going to go get a drink to calm this migraine."

I pulled myself up, slowly rising to my feet when a shocking pain pulsed through my head again.

"Ghuh-!"

My legs went weak and Komaeda reached out, grabbing hold of my torso to keep me from crashing to the floor below.

"You probably shouldn't try to do that." He muttered, gripping my waist tightly.

"No shit. Let go." I hissed, reaching out and latching on to Komaeda's shoulders.

The boy laughed heartily, making no attempt to remove his hands. "You tell me to let go whilst using my body to prop yourself up? You're awfully strange Hinata-kun."

Komaeda moved to my side and, removing one of his arms from my waist and now placing his hand over mine. "Please put your arm around my shoulder, we should just get you to your bed."

I sighed loudly in defeat and placed my arm around Komaeda's shoulder. The boy nodded and slowly started to move forward.

"I really don't need your help for this Komaeda."

"I know. Thankyou for allowing me to assist you, even if garbage like myself isn't worthy to."

I didn't bother to entertain Komaeda with a response. Instead I leaned more of my body weight onto the boy and groaned.

"It's alright, Hinata-kun, you're doing an amazing job." Komaeda breathed in a hushed tone.

The sound of his voice so close to me made me shiver, but it provided a momentary distraction from the pain.

My knees bumped into something hard and I looked up, realising we had made it across the room. Komaeda slipped his hand out from my waist and helped me lower myself to sit on the mattress.

"God I'm so hot." I murmured.

Komaeda pressed a cool hand to my cheek, making me sigh in relief. Using his right hand, he pressed his fingers into the knot of my tie, pulling it further undone from my neck.

"You should probably change into a hospital gown, it would at least be much cooler than wearing jeans." Komaeda spoke in a low voice.

He must be trying to help my migraine by being quiet. How…considerate of him?

"I...you're right." I sighed, bringing my fingers to undo the top button of my shirt.

Komaeda backed off, removing his hand from my face quickly. "Oh, Hinata-kun! Should I leave?"

I undid the rest of my buttons and shrugged off my shirt and tie. "Do what you want."

The boy nodded quickly, his cheeks were slightly flushed. "I-I'm going to get you a gown." And with that, he dashed out of the room, shutting the door gently behind him.

Weirdo.

I undid my belt and lifted my hips from the bed, carefully wiggling myself out of my jeans. They were awfully tight on my body, probably from the sweat of the fever.

I discarded my jeans and laid back on the bed with a groan. I probably shouldn't lie down yet, but I'm so goddamn sore and tired. The bed was hard and uncomfortable, but it was so nice to be off my feet for even a moment.

The door opened again and in stepped Komaeda, holding a folded up gown in his hands. "Ah, Hinata-kun, are you okay?"

"No." I mumbled, rolling over so I was now face-down in the pillow.

"I'm sorry, can I get you anything?" Komaeda spoke softly as a weight sat on the edge of the bed, most likely him.

"Water."

"Can do." The weight disappeared once again. "I left your gown on the bed if you want to change."

"Mhm." I mustered the strength to push myself up before scanning my eyes around the room. Komaeda was gone once again, I never heard the door click when he left, how strange.

I picked up the gown from the edge of the mattress. It was incredibly lightweight, but the linen was soft. I slipped my arms into the sleeves and pulled it up onto my shoulders. I then tied it around the waist loosely and sat back down on the bed.

Komaeda returned a few moments later with a tray holding a jug of water and a cup. He set the tray down on the bedside table and began to pour a cup of water.

"Are you feeling any better, Hinata-kun?" He quizzed, not taking his eyes away from what he was doing.

"I'm less hot." I mumbled.

"That's good." The boy turned to me, holding a plastic cup of water in his outstretched hand. I took it carefully with two hands, raising it to my lips and sipping.

The cool water felt like heaven on my burning throat. I squeezed my eyes closed tight and drank the whole cup, finishing with a pleased sigh.

"Ah, you probably shouldn't drink too fast, you don't want to make yourself sick again." Komaeda smiled and took the cup from my hands.

"That would be exciting though, wouldn't it? To be desperately seeking a release from pain only for it to make things worse? Actually, no, that's so incredibly predictable…" I babbled out, somewhat dazed and sleepy now that the ache in my throat was relieved.

"Haha, you're starting to sound a bit like me. How scary." Komaeda chuckled to himself, pouring another cup of water.

I slowly lowered my body back onto the bed, resting my head against the pillow. "Mmnn...it would be most unfortunate to have a mindset as boring as yours."

Komaeda gave a sad smile and placed the plastic cup onto the tray. "I think I'll go. I need to talk to Kuzuryuu-san about what everybody else is doing. Please call for Tsumiki-san if you need anything."

"Mmm."

The last thing I heard was the sound of Komaeda muttering to himself and the click of the door behind him. Fatigue took hold and I found myself falling into a deep sleep.

#Komahina #Kamukoma #Kamukura Izuru #Hinata Hajime #Komaeda Nagito #Ficgiri

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randomoranges · 3 years

Text

have some very soft xmas fic

O Come, All Ye Faithful [I Just Want You and Me Warming our Frozen Feet]

Early Morning December 25th 2020

Edward pads towards his kitchen in search for two things. He’d woken up thirsty and had gotten up to get a glass of water, only to notice that Étienne was not in bed. He’d decided to give a quick search while fetching his water and thus, had found himself in the kitchen. He notices the Christmas lights on the tree are still on and it’s odd, considering the fact that they’re on a timer and should have gone off ages ago. He decides to investigate and continues his journey, after he finishes his water.

By the time he reaches the tree, he finds Étienne standing by it, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Edward pauses, a few feet away and takes in the sight of his boyfriend’s body illuminated by the multi coloured lights and there’s something tranquil and otherworldly about the spectacle. It’s in the quiet of the moment and the gentle sway of his body that’s nearly impossible to see.

“Hey, you okay?” Edward chooses to break the silence and Étienne turns, slightly startled by the interruption in his pondering and is quick to nod.

“Couldn’t sleep,” He offers as an answer, before Edward steps in beside him. Étienne leans against him and Edward reaches out to wrap his arm around his waist. This, unfortunately, is nothing new. “Figured I’d come and contemplate life here instead of tossing and turning in bed and waking the both of you up.”

“Well, as the saying goes, misery loves company, so, penny for your thoughts?” He hopes it’s nothing too bad. Étienne’s had a rough time of it and he’d hate for his boyfriend to have another setback – especially on Christmas.

“Penny’s gone, Edward,” Étienne tells him, but there’s a grin on his face that goes from blue to green and Edward can’t help but chuckle. He takes the joke as a sign that Étienne isn’t off in the deep end and it reassures him a little. It’s the holidays after all and Étienne deserves a break.

“Humour me; nickel for your thoughts?”

Étienne snuggles up to him and lets out a content little sigh. Edward rubs his side and finds himself thinking that despite everything, it hasn’t been a bad Christmas Eve. Different, sure, but for the first time ever, he’d gotten to spend it with both Calvin and Étienne and it had been more than nice. The smaller crowd had allowed them to enjoy each other’s company and even though it hadn’t been like the other times, it had also been very nice. Perhaps, he reflects, it had been the Christmas Eve they had needed. In any event, he’d found himself hoping that in the future, regardless of location and crowd, he’d still get to be with Calvin and Étienne.

“Just reflecting. On Christmas and such.” Étienne shrugs, trying to dismiss the importance of his thoughts, but Edward won’t let him. “It’s – It was different,” Étienne offers after a moment, “but it wasn’t bad.” He says and Edward’s glad and relieved to hear it. Deep down, he’d known that Étienne hadn’t hated it, but he also knew that this wasn’t what his boyfriend normally did.

Étienne liked the busy aspect of Christmas Eve with the big crowd. He liked to drink in the boisterous atmosphere and thrived in the chaos of a large gathering. “I’m glad I was here – thanks for having me – for everything,” He murmurs, soft and quiet.

Edward had even gone so far as to make some of his favourites for supper, knowing how much he looked forward to some of these meals and – he’d been touched and surprised by the gesture. Edward had assured him that it was nothing – that he knew this entire year had been terrible and that this was the least he could do, if it meant it would make him just a little bit less homesick. Étienne had hugged him, wordlessly, and Edward had held him close for a moment longer.

Edward can’t help but hold him tighter still this time around as well. He still wishes he could chase away the dark clouds that linger in Étienne’s mind, but he’ll have to settle with what he can do, and so he holds his boyfriend close.

“Of course; any time,” He reiterates again, over and over, but he wants Étienne to know that he’s an integral part of his life now; he doesn’t need to wonder if he’s wanted anymore. He is. Always. Always has been, but, he is. Edward spares him a glance and finds a soft smile splayed on Étienne’s face. He’s beautiful, he thinks, shifting lights dancing on his face and Edward still tries to grasp how it is that they both got here, somehow.

“It was nice,” He says and looks up to the tree, his smile growing a fraction and Edward’s breath hitches for a moment, but he doesn’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt Étienne’s train of thought, “Despite everything, it was nice. I think this was my first Christmas in a long time that I did things differently and – I’m glad you were part of it.” Étienne turns and looks at him, before leaning his head back on his chest, most likely hearing the erratic beating of his heart, but he doesn’t comment if he notices it and for that Edward is thankful.

“It would have been nice – to be with Élyse, and I think overall, that was the hardest part – not being with her. She’s been my one constant, always and it still feels a bit off not having her around...” He trails off with a small sigh and Edward places a tender kiss to the top of his head, unsure what else to do or say. “Other than that, however, I didn’t hate this – I’m glad we got to spend the holidays together again. I had forgotten how much I missed having you around for them.” Étienne reaches for his other hand and twines their fingers together.

“It made me hope that – I don’t know – we can do this again, next year, or in the future, or something. Spend the holidays together again. We can figure out the logistics of where and with whom, but it’d be nice. I’d like that.” He pauses and Edward lets the quiet of the late night envelop them both in its embrace. “Obviously, with Calvin,” He adds, wanting to reassure Edward that he’s not being a callous egoist – that he’s aware that Calvin means a lot to him and Edward appreciates Étienne more for the comment. Appreciates the effort both Étienne and Calvin keep putting towards each other, for his sake.

He’s seen it in their interactions; the slow and tentative progress they’ve made. How Calvin had introduced Étienne to his Christmas Village – how they’d set it up together under Calvin’s careful guidance and how Étienne had volunteered to fix up some of the buildings that had needed a fresh coat of paint (and the work he’d put into making some of the pieces even better.) It’s also in Étienne’s offer to have Calvin join him on his walks with Mercury more often than not and in Calvin’s attempt to teach Étienne to knit.

Then, there’s the presents they’ve gotten each other that had warmed Edward’s heart. Calvin had knit Étienne some thick socks, saying that he’d heard Étienne complain about being cold so often, that he figured this would help – hopefully. Étienne had genuinely liked the socks and Edward now notices that his boyfriend is already wearing them.

Or the throw Étienne had found with tiny horses and cowboy hats that came with an accompanying horse pillow that also served as an adorable plushie. Étienne had hesitated when he’d found the items, but Edward had assured him that Calvin would love them. (And he had. His entire face had lit up and he’d nearly knocked Étienne over in his excitement to hug him tightly for the gift.)

“That sounds lovely – I’d like that too,” He says and it’s true. It would be nice. To spend it with Étienne (again) and with Calvin. He’d missed spending the holidays with him as well, and now that they don’t have to step on eggshells – that he doesn’t have to worry and second guess himself, he knows that it would be even lovelier. “We’ll figure it out.” Étienne nods to that and they fall silent once more.

“I must say though,” Étienne starts again, a lifetime later, the lights still merrily twinkling away, creating a mosaic of colours, “I did not miss going to midnight mass or having to freeze my ass off waiting to get into church.”

Edward laughs and they chuckle over the comment. “Remember that time Samuel made a big stink over getting to the church too late so we couldn’t sit in the usual pew or whatever?”

Étienne groans, but doesn’t stop grinning, “God; that was the worst. The insufferable melodramatic asshole.” Anyone else would have thought that Étienne meant it, but Edward knows that despite it all, even though they haven’t always gotten along and haven’t always seen eye to eye, Étienne does care for his older brother and he might even dare to say that he’s missed him. Not that he’s about to mention that last bit to his boyfriend. Étienne would be affronted Edward would even deign to think that.

Instead, they observe the effect of the lights on the ornaments Edward has collected over the many years. Étienne had been surprised to find some familiar ones – some Edward had gotten for himself when they’d travelled off to warm places together, a memento of the place they’d visited. Then, Étienne had found one he himself had given Edward one Christmas over thirty years ago and he’d been shocked to see that Edward still had it. Edward had shrugged, saying that it was a good ornament and he’d always been fond of it, but Étienne had still been surprised – still thought that Edward had gotten rid of absolutely everything that had to do with him after their fall out.

The last ornament that had surprised him had been a simple snowman of which he had a similar one at home. It had been a gift from Suzette, one year, and she had placed one on everyone’s dishes as a table decoration. Étienne had noticed that his and Edward’s matched – had the same coloured scarf and hat and he’d wondered if it had been intentional. He hadn’t mentioned anything and had never known if Edward had noticed, but he’d kept his snowman, put it up on his own smaller tree every year and had been greatly surprised to find Edward’s on his own.

There had obviously been a slew of ornaments that Étienne had never seen, from tacky-cute-silly ones, to the more traditional, and even some that Étienne had been surprised to see (notably; one rainbow coloured snowflake and another simple rainbow) and Étienne had gorged himself on the stories Edward had shared of how some of the ornaments had come to be.

“It was nice putting up the decorations with you and Cal,” Étienne says and he smiles to himself as he recalls the excitement he had felt when Edward had announced, late November, that it was time to start decorating. He and Calvin had helped Edward bring down the boxes and slowly, the house had turned into a real holiday wonderland. He’d wished he had asked Suzette to ship him his Christmas stocking, realising that he wouldn’t have one to put with Edward’s and Calvin’s, but then the other two had surprised him with one of his very own that they had made together. He’d been – touched, by the gesture and had never expected something of the sorts, but Calvin had been quick to tell him that he needed a stocking, or else how would Santa give him anything – even if it was only coal and Étienne had laughed at the comment.

“Wouldn’t mind doing it again,” He says and looks at Edward again.

Edward pulls him in for a proper hug and seeks his lips for a long overdue kiss, the words failing him to say how all of this makes him feel – how relieved and glad he is. He wants this as well, no doubt about it and he really hopes that next year, and the one after that, he’ll be able to spend the holidays with both Calvin and Étienne by his side, again. And again and again. Étienne cups his face with his hands and responds back to his kiss as the lights keep dancing about for a moment longer.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” Edward murmurs, when they pull away, before Étienne settles back against him. They stay there by the tree for a little longer, before Edward suggests they get some rest, and once the lights have been turned off, they return to the bedroom and Étienne snuggles back by his side. Edward falls back asleep, content and at peace.

FIN

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #étienne maisonneuve #fic #projocanondoko

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stattic-writes · 4 years

Text

Baby Daddy: Intro

https://statticscribbles.tumblr.com/post/639099629845233664/masterlist

Support My Writing?

#charles xavier imagine #charles xavier #charles xavier x erik lehnsherr #charles x erik #charles xavier request #erik lensherr imagine #erik lensherr #erik lehnsherr x charles xavier #professor x #magneto imagine #magneto #james mcavoy #micheal fassbender #written #i mainly wrote the summary so i could use the puns #im so sorry

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fortune-fool02 · 4 years

Text

Marriage Proposal

Robert. E. O. Speedwagon x female reader

Requested by: anonymous

Please enjoy.

This was it. This was the day that Speedwagon would ask his beloved [Name] to be his wife. The two have been together for four years. They have been by each other’s side through thick and thin, refusing to leave the other regardless of their situations.

Speedwagon loved [Name] and [Name] loved Speedwagon. There was no denying about that. She was his world, his stars and everything in between. In truth, Speedwagon doubted that he would feel such happiness each day if he didn’t wake up beside the [Hair colour] woman.

With a simply, gentle smile, she could melt away all irritation and annoyance of the day. Her presence alone made him feel whole, complete in a way he did not even realise he was missing until he met her.

Each night they laid together, her in his arms, everything felt right; as if Fate itself had destined for them to be together. He had no fear of the darkness as long as she was by his side, lightening his way through the darkness. How could he have lived without her for so long? Where has she been all his life? He knew exactly where she had been: Heaven, for God has blessed him by sending his most precious angel.

She was his light, his night; the rising moon and the setting sun. His candle-light in the evening and his star light at night, always there for him even when the sky was shrouded by clouds, her beauty continued to glow.

And he wanted to make her his. He wanted to marry [Name] [Surname].

***

Johnathan yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, as he walked over to the front door after hearing the mad series of knocking on the door. It was late, who could be knocking at this time? He opened the door to see Speedwagon standing there, face riddled with nerves as he fidgeted with his hat.

“Speedwagon? What’s wrong? Has something happened?” were the first things that left Johnathan’s lips. For Speedwagon to be here at this late hour, something must be worrying the blonde man. Speedwagon nodded his head then shook it, unsure of how to phrase his words.

“Yes, I-I mean no, nothing’s wrong. I need some help.” Johnathan stepped aside, allowing him to enter and closed the door behind him then led him into the living room. Johnathan took a seat beside his friend, waiting for him to speak.

“You know how me and [Name] have been together for a while now?” Johnathan nodded, keeping quiet as Speedwagon spoke. Whatever it was that was bothering Speedwagon, it was certainly something important for him to come knocking at this time of night.

“I... I want to ask [Name] to marry me.” Under normal circumstances, Speedwagon would have tried to work through this himself but he was nervous. He has never felt this way about anyone before and he wanted to make [Name] see how special she was to him. Yet, he needed guidance. An upbringing in Ogre Street was not a place where romance bloomed, it was a place people avoided like the plague. Some women would stand on the corner and charge for a cheap thrill. And he refused to use the things his own father taught him of love to ask for [Name]’s hand in marriage.

Speedwagon needed help with this. And who else to go to for advice other than the man who’s heart was made of gold and his soul as pure as holy water?

Johnathan smiled. The fact Speedwagon had travelled all the way from London -which was no short journey, even by carriage- to ask for advice was something he felt honoured by.

“That is amazing news, Speedwagon. But what is the issue?” the young man asked with confusion on his face at the question. If Speedwagon wanted to marry [Name], what was the problem?

“I... I don’t know what to do.” Speedwagon admitted, seeming to be almost embarrassed about that. “i know I need a ring and all that but I don’t know how to show her how special she is to me. I want her to know just how important she is to me.” Johnathan gave his friend a warm, comforting smile, like a parent teaching their child an important lesson of life.

“That is simple,” he said, earning a look from the blonde man, “Tell her.” he made it sound so simple. “Make her feel like the only woman in the world, a dinner maybe. Tell her how your heart beats for her and how you feel about her. And then, when the moment is right, ask her.”

Speedwagon blinked once then twice. He made it sound so simple as breathing. How the hell could he make it sound so simple? “B-But, how?” Johnathan smiled, resting his hand on Speedwagon’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

“I cannot tell you that. You know [Name] better than anyone else, do what you know she will love.” Johnathan was right. Speedwagon knew [Name]. What she loved, what she hated, all the little details that seem irrelevant but she was anything but that to him. Like a crushing weight had been released, Speedwagon sat upright straight, eyes widening when he realised he was right.

He turned to his friend, wrapping his arms around him and thanking him like the God he was before dashing off, giving his best to Erina and leaving with a bright smile on his lips. Johnathan smiled, pleased that he had been able to help Speedwagon on his way and wished him the best of luck.

***

Ever since Speedwagon had gotten back from his trip to Johnathan’s house, [Name] had not seen him as often as he was occupied with important jobs, which she understood and held no grudge with. Being the leader of a gang of thugs may sound unpleasant to many but she knew it was no simple task, the long nights and tending to any injuries he had was evidence of that.

However, one day, Speedwagon had gotten home earlier with a bright smile on his face. He had told her that tomorrow night he was going to treat her to something special. He didn’t say what, he only told her to wear something lovely and prepare for a wonderful night.

So here she sat in the living room, her beautiful [Colour] dress on, [Hair colour] locks tied into a lovely plate, waiting for her lover. A knock at the door had caught her by surprise but she answered to find one of Speedwagon’s closest friends, dressed as formal as he could, and giving her a bow when she answered, motioning to the carriage.

“Your carriage awaits, m’lady.” [Name] giggled lightly at this. When Speedwagon said he was going to make her feel special, she wasn’t expecting this. She followed his friend to the carriage and he opened the door for her, helping her up then closing it behind her.

The carriage ride was short as he took her to a small clearing in the woods close to the town, a place [Name] and Speedwagon often visited to spend time together and to get away from the worries of the world. It had become their special place.

When she stepped out of the carriage and saw the trail of rose petals leading up towards the clearing, her heart bloomed at it. Once she reached the clearing, a small gasp of awe escaped her. The tree they often laid under was decorated with candle-lit lamps, creating a soft, warm environment. Under the tree was a table set up, decorated with more rose petals, as well as flowers as a whole, and a couple of candles. It was beautiful.

She saw her lover standing beside the tree, dressed in his best suit that he only wore for special occasions, along with his best hat, with a warm smile on his lips. He approached her and took her hands into his, pressing a loving kiss on her lips.

“I’m glad you made it. You look stunning.” he told her, dusting her cheeks red slightly. Even after being with him for so long, he could still make her blush.

“Thank you, you look dashing tonight, my love.” she replied with, making him smile before he led her towards the table, where a meal was already waiting for them. The pair ate, making small talk as they did, all the while Speedwagon looked at her with that expression of a man struck by Cupid’s Arrow.

Once they had finished dinner, Speedwagon took a breath before standing up and walking over to her, taking her hands into his and lifting her to her feet. [Name] looked at him, his hold was gentle, loving, as was his gaze as he looked into her [Eye colour] orbs.

“[Name], my love,” he spoke, his hand caressing her cheek slightly, “I don’t know what good I did to deserve you, and frankly, I don’t care. All I care about is seeing you smile each day. Seeing you happy is something that I can never replace because there is no greater treasure for me.” he told her, his voice soft yet serious. He didn’t read from a paper before she arrived, he was letting these words fall straight from his heart and soul, because that was where [Name] belong to him.

“I would die a happy man knowing that you were happy, safe and healthy. I would do everything in my power to keep you safe, even if I have to fight my way through Hell, I’ll do it if it meant I could be by your side.” As he spoke, one hand released hers and slowly reached into his pocket before he lowered himself down onto one knee, pulling a small box from his pocket.

His hazel brown eyes locked with hers as he opened the box to reveal the most beautiful ring [Name] has ever seen before. “And I would be honoured if you would allow me to call you my wife. [Name] [Surname], will you marry me?”

Tears pricked her [Eye colour] eyes at this, her heart drumming against her rib-cage, ready to burst from her chest. H-He... He was asking her to... Before she could stop herself, the tears trickled down her cheeks, catching Speedwagon off-guard.

“I-I do... I mean, yes. I will marry you, Robert.” she spoke through the small tears, easing any panic that threatened to rupture inside him. Speedwagon rose up, picking her up and wrapping her in a tight, loving embrace. His own tears threatening to spill as he pulled away, gently slipping the ring onto her finger.

Finally, after so long of dreaming about it, thinking about it and wishing for it, his dream had come true. [Name] [Surname] was now going to be his wife.

The two lovers stood there, arms wrapped around each other as they shared a loving kiss; their first kiss as engaged lovers and soon to be husband and wife.

#speedwagon #robert e o speedwagon #jojo bizarre adventure #speedwagon x reader #robert e o speedwagon x reader #jojo bizzare adventure x reader #jojo #jojo x reader #speedwagon jojo #phantom blood #phantom blood x reader #jojo phantom blood #female reader #reader insert

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juleswolverton-hyde · 5 years

Text

Induratize | 01

Genre: Smut, PwP

Pairing: Sugar Daddy/Creative Writing Professor!Namjoon x Student!Reader

Warnings: Male masturbation, public rutting, swearing/cussing, dirty talk

Summary: It is near impossible to guard one’s heart against love, especially during the prime years of youth. Slowly but surely, resistance is harder to keep up when affection is shown on a daily basis from a forbidden side.

However, forbidden does not always necessarily mean wrong.

Such is the argument of a wolf longing for a little doe.

Author’s Note: Induratize (v.); to make one’s own heart hardened or resistant to someone’s pleas or advances, or to the idea of love.

Masterlist

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Writing brings a certain liberty with it for it can transport an individual anywhere in this world or an existence entirely stemming from a person’s fancy.

The reader can go anywhere.

Between the sheets.

With anyone.

With him.

Perhaps find what they are looking for.

Happiness.

Feel anything.

Slender fingers trail up the thigh before gently albeit forcefully pushing them apart, claiming what is craved as foreheads rest against each other. As locks the colour of wet sand are run through while basking in the grunts of union. As he and I are finally one.

Such are the fancies written down in the story which has been handed in this week, once again stirring hands into motion to relieve the strain in the sweatpants which replace the formal yet casual attire required of a professor. However, at home, there is the freedom to wear baggy clothes that make for comfortable and easier judging of student assignments.

And let personal imagination run wild thanks to the desired girl who every thought has belonged to since the matching day for the study well over a year ago.

‘Do you like that, little doe? Like seeing how I stroke my big cock, thinking of you?’ A dark chuckle cannot be suppressed at seeing the true manifestation of the character somehow miraculously standing a few steps away, the upper lip supported by a shy curled index finger. ‘You really don’t know what you want, do you? First you want me to fuck you against the wall.’

Last week’s story.

‘And now you want me to take it slow.’

‘Pro- Professor, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to walk in like this-’ Flustered like when being called upon in the classroom, eyes briefly avert before daring to look up again with innocent rosy cheeks.

The same look as when trying to deny the payment of the coffee offered out of goodwill or the quick lunch foods when coming across one another in the nearby supermarket. Always the well-meant proposal is refuted by insisting on paying for whatever it is herself. Besides, personnel should not have to provide for students.

Or so is the little doe’s argument.

But what a beautiful mind fails to see is the wish to take care of her, to allow a well-meaning wolf enraptured by tales clearly meant for him to act as wanted.

To be what she wants.

What she needs.

Guidance, encouragement, care.

Love.

And be loved in return.

To mean more than the title of professor.

‘Shh, Y/N, it’s alright. But how about you come over here and appropriately tell me you’re sorry instead of just standing there.’ An unoccupied kind hand stretches outward to beckon the timid pretty girl, smiling kindheartedly to insist on good intentions. Slowly, shuffling steps come forward and reach out hesitantly to entwine fingers instead of hiding behind them. ‘Good girl.’

Eyes widen in an instant, immediately looking away but brought back by a caress of the cheek. The grip on Y/N’s hand tightens, tugging a little to breach the last of the distance and press wanton craving left alone ignited by stories against the thigh clad in today’s dusk-shaded legging. ‘Don’t look so surprised. I know how much you like being called that. Now, on your knees and properly say you’re sorry.’

Digits let go of all contact to feel small palms wrap around the knees for support while sinking to the floor. However, soon they reach for the grey waistband and tug the loose sweatpants alongside equally stone-hued boxers down to the ankles, in the meanwhile locking gazes and constantly silently asking with doe eyes if what is being done is to a wolf’s satisfaction. To ensure the little beauty that what she is doing is to much more than mere delight, the left cheek is lovingly cupped and carefully brought closer to make lips brush over leaking desire.

But swiftly the palm takes flight to the back of the head to entangle in smooth locks once the seemingly not so innocent mistress fully shows how apologetic she is, evoking a smug grin at the memory of another tale that resurfaces once pushing further into wet warmth and holding an adorable nose pressed against the abdomen for a bit. Notwithstanding, hips relentlessly come into unrelenting motion leading to almost suffocating choking. ‘Reminds me of the story wherein I’m your stepbrother. Breathe through your nose, little doe. Good girl, like that.’

After a brief repose to adjust breathing, the advances resume in the same fast pace as a teared-up face is held close. Admiring with the bottom lip caught between teeth, the tongue cannot help but fall into the language of the recalled tale as the mind of the ego takes over that of the professor. ‘You were right when you wrote about me being rough. You don’t- fuck, keep licking like that. Good girl. You don’t want a man, you need a beast.’ A hard thrust makes Y/N gag, watery lashes blinking rapidly as they try to pull away for air yet are pinned in place by a firm grip on velvet strands. ‘An animal to roundhouse you whenever. You want a fucking wolf and still, you don’t notice you already have one. You have me.’

Almost laughably, a contrasting sweet thumb wipes away the drool dribbling out of the corner of the mouth after forcing a lock of gazes by grabbing the chin. ‘You’ve had me since the first time I saw you on the matching day last year. I jerked off to you after you first took my proof poetry class, you simply looked too gorgeous. Did so again when I saw you on the first day and I was assigned as your tutor.’

The pretty face is pressed against bared lower skin again, grunting when hitting the back of the throat. ‘I love you. Am what’s good for you. I want us to be more, little doe. And I know you want it as well, behaving like such a slut around me.’ An appreciative hum accompanies thighs rubbing together to find relieving friction, enjoying the degradation but also content in being pleasurable.

As she always will be.

‘Do you know how much fucking restraint it took not to call you back after class? To put you on one of the tables and rip those leggings off of you?’ Each advance is rougher than the one preceding it, the frustration of unrequited love manifesting itself in the covenants of flesh.

‘God, I’d have forced you down and made you milk me for what I’m worth after making you cry. Fucked that pussy open like a wolf and let it drip with cum. My cum. You’re mine.’ Breathing becomes shallow as random chaotic thoughts portraying the promises uttered to a phantom arise, vividly painting the picture of what could have been had Reason not barged in at the last second. ‘Mine to put my thick throbbing cock into. To be pounded into submission for being such a brat, leading me on. Denying me.’

Velvety locks are harshly pulled back, the most sensitive part remaining between the swollen lips of a beautiful ruin. ‘That’s right, little doe, keep sucking the tip. Shit, you’re so eager for this cock. I’ll make you mine, show you the wolf within. Make. You. See!’

With a final shout, consciousness completely empties of the fanciful ideas and imagined phantom as it is kicked into glad oblivious nothingness. Warmth spreads throughout body and soul, heating up the last of the chill from the September rain ticking heavily against the window.

Of a lonely apartment.

Wherein there is merely a wolf with stained hands.

And the stories of a little doe.

Chronicles take time to tell yet have to be in order to not let them get lost in the echo, even if it comes at the cost of a good night’s sleep. After all, it is a small price to pay to write in a genre that is not fully accepted in the academic environment lest the works stem from earlier times. Fortunately, tawny short locks came to the creative rescue at noticing the lack of heart in the first few pieces that were submitted during the first two weeks of the course, calling back an aspiring author when class was dismissed to talk about the seemingly emotionless stories. Fairly directly after a timidly uttered explanation offered with burning cheeks, the ones that actually shape the genre of personal expertise were accepted. Of course, with the promise of not publicly discussing them, simply glad to allow a student to do what she is good at.

To erase boundaries.

Namjoon…

Professor Kim tends to do so regardless of the situation, offering to pay for the cheap coffee served in the cafeteria or offering to go out for brunch at the end of the morning lecture when not suggesting to pay for the last-minute picked-up ready-to-go lunch foods at the supermarket. While surely meant as a sign of goodwill and the man being more than easy on the eyes, it would have been highly improper to accept the proposals in spite of how tempting they are. After all, they are the manifestation of the fantasies oft written about.

Albeit with a sensual turn.

Which proves to be very distracting every time even when not actively writing, resulting in zoning off while drinking coffee after sleeping in and thus almost not making it in time for the train. Luckily, sneakers jump aboard a split second before the whistle sounds and the doors close.

Walk down the few steps to the lower compartment.

And come to a halt at spotting familiar tawny locks fast asleep.

Only to approach them with a flustered face for the seat next to professor Kim is the sole unoccupied one and standing for an hour and a half has never formed an option nor will it ever. Furthermore, it is preferable to sit next to a known face than a complete stranger, even if their friendly gestures stretch beyond the bounds of appropriate behaviour.

On academic grounds.

Not here.

Outside the academy, there are no prying eyes to spot the entwined fingers on the thigh upon awakening from a shallow additional nap or think anything of a great mind resting his head on that of a pupil.

Nobody is there to exact judgement.

Nobody but us.

A glance outside the window tells of being one station removed from the final destination, the name on the board barely visible through the storm of shoes and trolleys yet enough so to pinpoint the current location.

‘Nam- Professor?’ Entirely improperly, for there will never be more than a student-teacher relationship, the free thumb reaches out to wipe the bit of drool threatening to fall from plush parted lips. It is more of a service than anything, exactly like waking the man imagined and reimagined over and over in a storyline. ‘Professor, wake up. We’re almost there.’

It has to be a favour because there is nothing else.

‘Hm?’ Drowsily, yawning earthen eyes open to reality and clearly have trouble adjusting as they turn to the voice of an unrequited heart. ‘Y/N? How... how’d you mean? Or what? What did you say?’

‘We’re almost at the central station, sir. The next stop-’

‘Call me Namjoon.’

‘Sir, I-’ The sudden remark confuses due to its suddenness, head tilting to the side while swiftly throwing a slightly uncomfortable look outside to the storm of feet. Apparently, the passengers of the train will be like fish in a barrel until the next stop.

‘Or Joon. You don’t have to be formal with me. I said you didn’t have to at our first meeting, didn’t I? So, please, speak informally. Although,’ the fresh scent of a forest after rain fills the nose as tawny strands lean forward to whisper lowly although the baritone timbre makes it sound more like purring, ‘it does sound good when you say it.’

The intimacy is wrong in any aspect even though it has been dreamed of time and again, secretly wishing to be the lucky woman to actually experience it. Nevertheless, in spite of actually not wanting to do the right thing, distance is soft-spokenly put between the two seats in the halted train. ‘Namjoon, I- We- This is wrong.’

‘And yet you’re the one holding on to my hand.’ A low chuckle rolls from full maroon lips as fingers shamefully slip from the warmth of the palm perfectly enveloping them.

I need to do the right thing. I couldn’t let him hold my hand. I shouldn’t have let him nor have been happy about it. It’s wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong!

The urgency of thought flows over in rambling speech, hands tucked between the thighs of heated panicked cheeks bravely facing a humoured wolf… man. ‘I never meant to! I woke up and it was like this. So, not to be disrespectful, but it would appear you grabbed mine instead of the other way around.’

The whistle sounds just as an elderly couple enters the compartment. As naturally expected from people with good manners, we get up from our places to offer them to the newcomers and move to the stuffy section between carriages.

‘Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.’ Mouth formed into a smug smile, the topic comes to a self-satisfied close. ‘But I’ll take the blame and, to apologize, treat you to coffee.’

Withal, a whole new subject to argue about arises as the stomach growls due to skipping breakfast in favour of throwing on a fairly alright-looking outfit and rush out the door.

Neatly trimmed eyebrows raise at the noise, sternness slipping into demeanour. And while the concerned undertone is wonderful to hear, a voice in the back of the mind stresses it is merely imagined to be truly solely preserved for a girl perversely fallen in love with her professor. ‘You haven’t eaten?’

Because, in reality, she has only herself. ‘N- No. It’s fine, though. I’ll pay for my own food.’

‘You don’t have to, ba- Y/N.’ Abruptly, the end of the sentence is altered awkwardly.

Ba... Babe? Was he really just about to call me that? I must be imagining things. Surely.

‘And drink.’ Determined in persevering through the inner war fueled by the great joy of desire seemingly turned real and logic nullifying every argument that arises proving the creative writer harbours genuine feelings, the back is turned towards forbidden love in the smothering crowd.

‘Y/N, you really don’t need to. I just said I’d pay.’ Desperation underlines the statement, weirdly mixing with the mature severity of care put towards any other.

I mean nothing to you. Stop talking, stop promising. Just stop.

A bump in the tracks causes a split second of imbalance, everyone holding on to the nearest point of support. And just like in the recent story, Namjoon’s is found by grabbing the hip while the other wraps around the nearest pole, thus also accidentally bumping more intimate parts against the behind.

Pressing them against it.

Until the hot presence cannot possibly be denied.

‘And I just said you... you don’t need to. Furthermore, don’t you think it’s- mhm, shit, it’s highly inappropriate to ask-’ teeth bite down on the bottom lip as the big tawny wolf continues to distractingly move against a body gradually losing muscle strength, ‘ask a student out li- fuck~ like this?’

‘It’s just a coffee before going to the university where, may I remind you, we both need to be. Might as well go together then.’ Harshness fades from tone as the cheek is gently compelled to turn and caressed, contrasting starkly with harsh hips. ‘I mean you no harm so what are you so afraid of?’

That this is nothing but a quick affair. My trust in you. That I’ll fall deeper in love while I essentially mean nothing to you. Too many things hold me back.

‘Is there anything I can do to make you change your mind, little doe?’ Lips scented by a fresh forest brush over hapless ones, seducing them with a wolffish promise sung by a pied-piper.

Show me this means something. That you’re not just trying to get in my pants.

‘No, you can’t.’ With a shock, the train comes to a halt as the intercom announces this is the final station. However, all attention is still paid to the dominant writer rutting like a beast against the dark leggings beneath an oversized sweater. Pressing hotly against increasing wetness, turning speech into whimpering. ‘We should g-’

To be cut off with a surprisingly tender kiss that is stupidly answered without hesitation. For a moment, the world is perfect as every tale ever born from a mad mind comes alive and every female protagonist moulds into the manifestation of a girl not believing her luck.

Wishing dearly to consent to the proposal muttered during what would have been a swift reprieve to regain breath from the perfect cushiony movements of mouths. ‘I could try. Let me try, Y/N.’

But is cut short as reason violently makes consciousness aware of reality and what could be the consequences of entering into a relationship with Namjoon. The grounds between student and professor need to remain professional. Henceforth, this cannot be.

There is nothing for us.

‘I need to go. I- I’ll see you at uni.’

Refuge is sought in the mass of anonymous bodies, moving with their flow. Slowly, within the bubble of the public, ears turn deaf to the baritone shouts of my name.

Nevertheless, there is only so long one can run from a wolf.

#BTS #BTS smut #BTS x Reader #hyunglinenetwork #thekimlinenet #Namjoon #RM #Kim Namjoon #Joon #professor!Namjoon

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mizukiri · 4 years

Text

Penny Dreadful - Chapter One:

DECEMBER 16TH 2028

"Hello Urchin." He softly greets her, and Penny needs to remind herself that her father and Linda have been worried sick about him.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" Penny continues in her cold disapproving tone while she nears Lucifer, her arms crossed. Her previous quadruple D (drunk-dead-demon-dude) is not forgotten so easily.

Lucifer's brilliant white wings are a vision to behold, as usual, flexing to their grandest state before he tucks them away into their incorporeal-other-dimension form. His black suit reveals no signs of wear, although there are traces of blood on his dress-shirt collar. He smells of brimstone and smoke again, and she's pretty sure she knows exactly where he's been for the last six months.

"I considered you may react as such, and I can explain." He tells her, holding up his hands submissively as she continues her march towards him. At twenty, she knows she has always terrified him, but instead of binding him with the torturous embraces of her youth, she seizes his elbow and turns him on the heels of his Louboutins towards her original bounty.

"You can explain as we follow one of your friends. I assume that's what this is about." As soon as the words are out of Penny's mouth, he roots himself and her momentum has her turning to face him.

"I'm afraid that we share a mutual interest in your target—"

"Fuck—"

"Pardon? My child I have no need—"

"WHATINTHEACTUALHELLPENNY?!" Seems to come out in one singularly loud breath, as though she is angrily singing her way over to them. For the briefest of moments when he appeared, Penny had forgotten her. But Lucifer had a way of causing that within her, visions of tackling him repressed deep in her heart.

"Penny?" Lucifer lifts a brow at Beatrice Penelope Jane Espinoza, standing in front of him.

"Want to go there right now Sam?"

"Duly noted." The corner of his mouth curls up, and he bows his head gently at her.

Vae swallows, her eyes bright and wide. Penny can see she is breathing erratically solely from the steams of breath coming from her mouth.

"And who might your uh, angel-winged-five-seconds-ago-and-now-clearly-not, friend be?"

My mom's partner. Satan? My step-devil? That had always been Penny's favourite moniker he held, but she decides against it in this instance.

"Vae. This is my stepfather I was telling you about," and she swears out of the corner of her eye she can see Lucifer stand a little taller (if that's even possible) and smile.

"You speak of me?"

"Of course, dummy." Penny gives him a dubious look. "How on Earth can I get around that?"

Vae starts to giggle, her whole face going red as she looks back and forth between Penny and Lucifer.

"Right, of course. Are we still not going to address the issue I'm currently having with the ethereal white wings?" Vae is doing that thing she does with her whole arm when she's circling a situation in front of her that she needs to get to the bottom of. Penny also registers that she is looking at her step-devil with a longing that Penny has watched women project for as long as she can remember. But Vae also seems far more interested in finding out precisely what she had seen more than throwing him to the snowy ground.

Penny looks over to Lucifer and sighs.

"Lu...ook Dad, could you maybe, help a daughter out and explain to my roommate and longest friend, since I left home... exactly, what she may have seen?"

Lucifer's eyes travel between the two young ladies in front of him, and his shoulders sink as he resigns to Penny's request.

"Right. Well, first— is it possible to meet you back at the loft? I never actually allowed Hell to freeze over and while immortal I'm not impervious to this..." and she watches him wave his hand with fluid grace at the snow falling around them, "temperature."

A brisk wind picks up, and she watches as he fights a shudder standing there in nothing but his suit. They're wasting time, and he doesn't seem to be that concerned about her quadruple D.

"Are we not tracking... someone?"

"You might be Urchin. But I have no clue what you are talking about."

"Well that's just fucking perfect. Isn't it?"

Scowling, Penny turns from him and takes Vae by the arm, turning her back towards the park entrance.

"Come on Vae," Penny sighs, "Let's go home."

"What about—" And the sound of Lucifer leaving interrupts Vae, who was turning around to address him.

"Right. Wings."

~***~

"Are we not going to talk about the fact that your stepfather has wings? Like straight up, gorgeous angelic—"

"We'll talk about it when we get home," Penny tersely answers. They are almost halfway home before Vae has seemingly come down from whatever level of shock she had been suffering from. Vae feeling better, however, also means Vae being her usual talkative self.

"How about the fact that he smelt like sulphu—"

"We'll talk about it when we get home."

Penny relishes in a brief reprieve before Vae starts again.

"He said 'allow Hell to freeze over.' "

"We'll talk—"

"He said immortal."

"—about it when we get home."

"I guess the immortality makes sense. I mean when I was processing it all, images of your Mom as a hot cougar or having you when she was like twelve kept popping up."

"Vae."

"Nicely done by the way, Penny's mom because DAAAAAAMN girl, your dad—"

"Vae."

"Yes?"

"Please don't tell me you want to sleep with my stepfather."

"Don't you?"

"NEVAEH!"

"Oh please. You have eyes," and Vaeh dramatically rolls hers before crossing her arms and adding, "don't pretend you don't know that kink exists."

Penny remembers when they had boundaries. Vae did warn her, but Penny wasn't expecting L.A. to catch up with her so fast.

~***~

In her bedroom, she finds Lucifer, freshly showered, and redressed in a crisp white dress shirt covered in a grey cashmere sweater. He's brushing his hair in her vanity mirror when he sees her.

"I see you found the extra clothes Linda sent me in your in my closet." Penny tells him, sighing and leaning up against the doorframe.

"I would have preferred more than just one suit, and a Burberry at that. If it's black it might as well be Prada. Nonetheless I appreciate the good Doctor thought of something a tad warmer. Now, your friend—"

"Vae."

"Vae, what exactly is you're expectation?"

Penny sighs. "I don't expect you to lie, if that's what you're asking."

"Yes," and he places her brush down before rubbing the bridge of his nose impatiently, "but what, for your sake my dear, am I omitting here?"

"Just, take it as it comes. She thinks Mom is dead or maybe has dementia? It's easier when they don't straight out ask. She knows you were missing; she saw your wings, and she knows me as Penny. The name we chose when we agreed I was being stationed here undercover, so... that being said."

"Right. Well as you know time in Hell moves much differently than here—"

Penny cuts him off. "Yes. Yes. Millenia’s, probably ten. Put it back in the deck Lucifer. You're choice this time."

"Right..." He stares off beyond her and nods, swallowing. "Well, I'll do right by you Urchin, as best as your favourite celestial parent can."

"That's... not fair, regardless of how accurate, in the moment."

"Well, we're all doing our best."

"Are you? Because after Vae goes to bed you and I," Penny practically snarls, "are going to have our own conversation about how you abandoned training Charlie—"

"About that—"

"—After being an absolute asshat to both Dad and Maze."

"So, you heard about that did you?"

"And you know how I got to hear about that? From a very concerned Linda who took your note to mean something COMPLETELY different than what I think you intended."

"I was TRYING to communicate!"

"Then the same day I receive three bloodied feathers from Maze, after a text that read, and I quote, 'A gift from the King of Fuckery.'"

"Oh, so you got my gift!" He exclaims.

A giggle echoes from the floor below, and Penny steps out of her room to see Vae waiting for them in the living room. Turning back, Penny leans in towards him.

"Lucifer?" She whispers harshly.

"Yes, my dear."

"You have ten seconds to get downstairs or so help me Mom you're going to lose more than three feathers."

~***~

Vae sits in Penny's favourite chair, where she keeps her knife and scotch, sitting on her knees. Her hands are placed in her lap like a child waiting for their instructor this evening, amber brown eyes wide with wonder.

She had always imagined Penny had some insanely wild upbringing. Vae had fantasized that it involved chauffeurs and private jets, boarding school and the social elite.

Months ago, Vae had found a hidden photo of what she had assumed was Penny's incredibly beautiful parents, all surrounding her as she blew out nine candles on a cake. It had been tucked in Penny's dresser and had been accidentally seen while putting Penny's socks away. So when Vae witnessed him appear out of nowhere, with ethereal white wings, she had assumed that he was Penny's father. Their colouring had seemed to her, the most similar.

But this?

Vae isn't a private investigator, but she has always been keenly inquisitive and observant as far back as she can remember. That and an hour trip back home? She's pretty sure she's figured out some details.

He said Hell. He said immortal. No one denied angel wings.

Penny is sitting closest to her on the couch, her feet tucked up underneath her as she takes a knife and soap carving out of the end table that separates them. Vae watches while Penny takes the tumbler of scotch and pours him a glass. He takes it graciously from her and sips, slightly wincing.

"I'm not legal yet. It's not like I have Macallan or Woodford Reserve on hand." Penny tersely tells him.

Penny's impossibly-handsome-most-likely-an-angel-possibly-the-devil stepfather crosses, then re-crosses his legs, placing his hands over his knees and exhaling loudly.

"Alright Vale,"

"Vae—"

"Vae, what would you like to know about?"

"Wings. Angel?"

"Once."

That adds up. Vae looks over at Penny, who is doing an excellent job of pretending her soap carving is far more interesting than the conversation happening in the room currently. Vae swallows down the silence. There is one part that isn't making much sense to her.

"And Penny called you Sam."

"For Samael. The name Father gave me."

"Father as in God?"

"The only Father I've ever had."

"Right."

Silence once more. Penny's impossibly-handsome-definitely-a-fallen-angel-was-there-a-Sam-name-for-the-devil? Stepfather holds her gaze with a wry smile plastered on his face, but she senses sadness in his eyes. He told her his name, so why does she feel if she were to refer to him as Sam, it would bother him immensely?

"Why do I feel like I'm being lied to?"

"I do NOT lie Miss Vae, friend of my daughter."

"What should I call you then sir?"

He looks at Penny, and she sighs before saying. "She's going to find out sooner or later."

"Lucifer Morningstar."

Vae's signature giggle of wonderment springs forth in awkward waves. Lucifer laughs, charmingly along with her, but Penny, Penny, chooses to remain silent if the point needs to be driven home. Vae's eyes go slightly bigger as the realization hits, and then...

And then she's laughing hysterically, a gasping wheeze as tears are falling out of the corners of her eyes.

"Vae?"

"It's natural Urchin, although the delay seems to be a new variable, almost all humans go slightly mad at the sight of divinity."

Vae finds this even more amusing and is holding her side and going slightly red.

"I didn't."

"Yes well, you were never for following norms were you dear?"

"Vae?!"

"I'm sorry..." Vae manages to get out, "I'm sorry Penny... but... You don't like taking the Lord's name in vain?" And she's back to dying of laughter as she tries to spit out, "But then you called him a flying fuck?!"

"Once." Penny's eyebrows almost lift into her hairline as she turns to Lucifer, her hand holding the blade lifts a finger in protest. "Maybe twice. And sorry-not-sorry."

"So, let me get this straight Miss Vae, you just found out that celestials, divinity, God, and the Devil are real, and your reaction seems to be one of mocking my adopted offspring?"

Vae nods her head fervently. "You can't see the humour in this? How can you NOT see how bullshit-cuckoo-bananas this all is?"

"Oh, so you’re merely mocking me, and calling me a liar," and flames are alight in his eyes.

"Lucifer!" Penny chastises.

But whatever Lucifer's desired effect may have been, it doesn't seem to have worked because now Vae is practically falling out of the chair laughing at Lucifer and Penny.

"YOU DO THE EYE THING EVEN!"

"Urchin, I don't know if I have the fortitude to handle this ridiculousness much farther."

"They literally relaunched the Diablo television series last year, and she wouldn't let me talk about it at ALL with her! I mean Penny even told me that all her parents worked in law enforcement in some way or another. So, I mean, while I'm aware this is my current reality. You can't blame me for thinking I've had a stroke and have woken up today to live in this fairy tale wouldn't you agree?"

Lucifer leans back on the couch and takes another sip of the scotch.

"This is so unfair, Penny. This whole time we kept listening to Rose and David talk about future religious upbringing for their non-existent progeny at our dinner party and you didn't even mic drop them? And we have lived together for almost a year, and this is how I find out? What the Hell was going on back there? What were we chasing? Why does Satan have bad ass angel wings? I mean I'm an arts major and I've heard of the Gentlemen Devil archetype but this," and she waves her arm at Lucifer. He is sitting there, his hair in light curls from no product, a five o'clock shadow already appearing even though he seemed to have shaved before they got back.

"This, I gotta say seems a tad on the nose."

"Archetypes exist for a reason Miss Vae."

"I'm not finished." Vae tells him, and he appears shocked by her blatant rudeness. "—sir, Morningstar sir. Sorry. But again... but I'm going to roll with it."

"Like do I watch that show and I know your entire life story? Is that on purpose? How did you meet Penny's Mom? I know she said you were partners for years before you got together. I thought you guys had married, does the Devil write vows? Is it before God? Do Satanists get it right, or do you despise them?"

"Vae—"

"If you're here what's going on with Hell? Wait are Hell and Heaven real? You don't seem evil; do you work with God? That's what always threw me off... why punish the bad if you're all about it am I right?"

"Vae—"

"Urchin, dear, let me." Lucifer says, holding his hand out gently in Penny's direction and placing the glass of Scotch on the table in front of him. He turns his gaze back towards Vae and smiles.

"No. No. Through a case. We were partners four years before we became partnered. Yes. Yes, I wrote them and yes. They get some right and some wrong, like every being and organization on the planet, and yes because I abhor most organizations that misinterpret the truth. I am here, meaning Hell has no ruler currently, and yes both are very real." He pauses to take another sip of the scotch Penny poured him but does not seem to wince this time at the lacklustre taste, "I am pleased to hear that you skipped past the exam's evil portion. So yes, I punish the wicked, those whose guilt sends them to my kingdom, and yes, I work with God. I think that covers everything. So please, do you have any more banal queries you'd like to subject me to Miss Vale?"

"Vae—"

"Or will you relinquish my time so I can spend what little I have with my daughter before returning to my post?"

Vae rolls her eyes. "Passive aggressive gentlemen devil? You've underhandedly praised my ability to weather this, but then chastise me for wasting time? You can just say you'd like some alone time, just please don't kick me out, I also pay you rent."

Both look at Vae inquisitively.

"Right Penny. A top floor apartment that's 2300 square feet in Greenwich Village and you're telling me that one of your other three parent's name is on the deed?"

Penny and Lucifer exchange looks and shrugs in understanding. It seems Vae is more than capable of deducing elements without the two other investigators in the room.

"Penny, I know how articulate you can be and how well-bred, but I've also seen what you can do in 5.4 seconds to that—" and Vae points to Penny's practice target, "—you lovingly rename every month depending on who has pissed you off. I know to buy you the ramen that is spiciest, that you need at least three expressos a day just to function, and that when I really annoy you, I can always rely on chocolate cake to get back into your good graces. So I am asking you, as what I had assumed was your best friend: What. The. Actual. Fuck?"

"Vae." Penny sighs, turning her body away from Lucifer and towards her friend.

"I know I have ALOT to catch you up on—a lot. And you deserve answers, and you know I don't lie."

"OOOOH OOOOH You said you don't lie." Vae is snapping her fingers and pointing at Lucifer, every snap causing him to wince. "Why do they call you the prince of lies?"

"My twin brother Michael used to bare a striking resemblance to me, even though I've never been one to see it, it's all in the posture. Anyways, he has always been the one to enjoy deceiving humans. From my understanding, he has changed a lot also since his fall."

"When did that happen?" Vae asks.

"When I was twelve, or was I eleven?" Penny asks Lucifer.

"It was after you initiated martial law at our family dinner, Urchin."

Vae looks slightly horrified.

"I started a food fight. Martial law to him means I started a food fight."

"You're little act of vigilantism ruined a very lovely Armani suit that night Beat...iful daughter of mine?"

Vae gives them a confused look. Lucifer and Penny so weird around each other, she assumes it's because he's been missing (from the smell of sulphur probably back in Hell) for the last six months. But there's an undercurrent that Lucifer needs to do a lot more than show up to get Penny to calm down.

"So, you're saying that Michael liked to lie and because he looks like you everyone associates it with you because you have a bad wrap." Vae postulates.

"That would summarize the situation very well indeed."

"Twin stuff."

Penny eyes Vae as though she can tell Vae is bringing another new thing to the table she wasn't expecting. Vae doesn't give in to Penny's expectant look. Vae is now acutely aware of JUST how much Penny keeps from her, and she's allowed to have secrets too.

"Vae we need to talk."

"Yes, we do."

"No, I know that. I understand you and I, but I'm saying, Lucifer and I, we need to discuss some things. Privately. And tomorrow? Tomorrow when you get up? We will go grab breakfast," And Penny turns around, "ON HIM, wherever you want to go. And if he is still here in the morning, I will make him come with us, and you can subject him to as many questions as you want."

"Please," Vae eyes him suspiciously, "He's already made it clear he's going to be gone by morning."

"True, but he's still going to leave me an allowance because regardless of who he is, Lucifer's still my dad, and if he leaves, I promise I will fill you in. But I have to find out first."

~***~

"My child—" but Penny holds up a finger to Lucifer and waits for Vae to leave the bathroom and return to her room. She looks up to see Vae watching them suspiciously as she walks out of the upstairs bathroom and into her room, a brush stroking her hair as she paces towards her door. The door closes, and then Penny puts her finger down.

"Cut the crap Lucifer, I heard you say he was a mutual suspect."

"Then why call him a friend? you knew I could deny that."

"For that reason. You don't have friends in Hell, you have subjects. If you wanted me to track him, you would have agreed."

He looks at her with such wistful pride she is taken back. "You have so much of her in you. Her bravado, and keen mind."

"Dad stop! I don't want to talk about Mom." They both stop and break eye contact; the emotion is a little too raw for either of them. It was a slip into old habits, comfortable years ago, yet painful in their current state.

"Well then, the next part is going to be rather difficult, as that is why I'm precisely here."

FEBRUARY 6TH 2020 7:06 P.M. | |

Trixie thumbs her iPod's volume to the max, watching everyone around her argue in a pantomime to the music. Gathered with her at the table are angels, adults, a demon, the Devil, and God.

Charlie is asleep in the pack-and-play that Linda set up in her bedroom.

She kind of envies Charlie right now.

She tries to get her mother's attention by staring lasers at her, but Chloe is too busy yelling at her Dad sitting to her right, wincing. The bench that they share with Maze and Michael is vibrating underneath the eleven-year-old. She looks at Maze to her left, who is currently pointing at Linda and Amenadiel.

No one is paying her any attention, except for one.

She looks back at God and gives him her best Who-do-you-think-you-are? Scowl, the one she mastered last year when she met Eve.

No one asked Beatrice if she wanted to be here, listening to this.

She had no choice in the matter.

Okay, well, she did demand a seat at the table, but she thought it would be a typical awkward family dinner, not watching every adult in her life outside of Ella and school lose their temper on each other.

She picks up her fork and scrapes a bounty of mashed potatoes on to it. Maybe it's the music that inspires her, or perhaps it's the frustrations of being trapped with a bunch of adults who are behaving worse than her seventh-grade peers. Still, she looks up at God once more, meeting each other's eyes, and he smiles kindly at her, an invitation for what is about to happen next.

Like a miracle, white fluffy clouds of potato fly through the air catching the attention of the adults around her as they reach their final destination, landing with a resounding sloppy sound on God's right cheek.

And as the track dies out, the adults– speechless stare at her in awe, and she pulls off the headset of her ears and sighs.

"Finally," she murmurs and picks up the knife to cut into the roast beef on her plate.

She hardly participates as carrots begin to bounce of chests, potatoes slap against faces and into hair. There is still an uproar, but the cacophony now has squeals of laughter interlaced between ridiculous insults. She looks up at her original target, and he continues to smile warmly at her, not engaged in the foolishness around her.

FEBRUARY 6TH 2020 11:06 A.M.

Eight hours before Trixie started pandemonium at the dinner table, she had been sitting in her room listening to the hurried whispers of her mother on the phone.

"Dan, he asked that you be there, and really? After everything in the last few days you owe him."

She's anxious. And bored. And continuously feeling the battles that her mother and father seemed to be facing. Her birthday is next month, and she's pretty sure they both haven't even had time to think about it because usually, they're asking her what she wants for a special treat, perhaps a gift, anything at this point.

"No... Nonono... I mean God, as in you friend Amenadiel's dad. Your once frenemy Lucifer's father? HIM. He's asked that you be there. So essentially you're saying no to God Dan."

She moves from sitting on her bed to the chair at her desk and pulls out her coloured pencils and some paper before slapping it on the surface.

The school counsellor took her aside recently and helped her understand that she's frustrated and sad when she feels like this. And that when she does, she can always turn to her artwork, and so she does. She draws aliens and herself on Mars, even though she realizes that her childish dreams of being the first president of Mars are soooo three years ago.

But she doesn't see the harm in pretending, so she draws her mother first, a smile on instead of the tears that Trixie has gotten used to pretending not to notice. Then her Dad, his arms up in the air, cheering her on. She draws Maze because Maze was the first to take the dream seriously and can't imagine what life was like before she met Maze. She loves Maze and misses coming home to her every day. She doesn't understand how adults can be so hot and cold with each other. A few weeks ago, before Lucifer got back, Maze was spending almost every day with them.

"And you know what, Dan? I can't wait to watch you squirm because it's God Dan, and now that we are aaaaallll up to speed, I know you dated Lucifer's Mom, and so do you!" Before lowering her voice and harshly whispering, "because I'm petty, and you tried to kill my boyfriend."

Trixie had missed Lucifer, but it had been a long time since he and her Mom had been getting along. It seemed like ever since they left for Rome, her Mom had just been lost. So, when he left, and she could see just how upset that made her mother, she talked to Maze about it and found out exactly where he had gone. Maze doesn't ever speak to her like she's a child; Lucifer does.

Trixie finds herself drawing him, using red to create his glowing eyes. Trixie learned from her father and mother a long time ago you don't give up any information on anything unless someone asks you a direct question. Trixie has known precisely who Lucifer is and what that entails from the moment she met him.

Sure, she has accepted she'll always be urchin, or offspring. But he doesn't push her away like he used to. She also knows that he praises her most when she's clever and conniving, which makes her feel great. He saved her from those scary men who showed up when she went to see him and Eve. She saw his eyes then, even with Eve desperately trying to hide her behind her skirts. She watched him throw them through the stained glass and pick them up like they were nothing. It made her feel safe. He and her mother saved her from Malcolm. He came into her life, saving her mother, and her mom told her that he left it doing the same thing.

Lucifer never lies to her; everyone else in her life has. More than once.

Trixie also now knows what a hooker is.

"Trixie-babe?"

Trixie turns around to see her mother standing in the door-jam.

"Time to pack up; I've got Ella coming to get you to go for a girl’s night."

"What? Come on."

"What's wrong with that? I thought you liked Ella?"

"I love Ella, but why can't I have dinner with you and the family?"

Chloe pauses for a moment, her left eye twitching slightly, but that's all her face betrays.

"Why would you wanna hang out with a bunch of boring old adults? Come on Monkey, you're going to totally love this!"

"No! You're lying!"

Chloe squints her eyes at Trixie, and she can tell her mom is deducing right now, so she sits still while she assesses the situation.

Trixie watches as her mother's eyes fall on the drawing on the desk.

"This is really important to you hey?" Chloe asks, sounding resigned.

Sometimes her mom doesn't talk to her like a child; That helps.

"Mom, I know you're worried. It's God. It's a big deal."

Her mother's eyes narrow again.

"You're not that quiet, and even if you were. I figured it out pretty early. Maze and Lucifer have always told me the truth."

Chloe removes herself from Trixie's door and heads over to her daughter's bed. Trixie turns in her chair so she can face her.

"Yeah, I guess that helps, hey Monkey? Having adults in your life who treat you like your not a little kid."

"Lucifer treats me like a little kid Mom, he just never lies to me." Trixie looks back at her drawing. "He saves that for himself."

Chloe's eyes go wide.

"Well, that's definitely not a deduction a little kid would make, especially one so astute." And Trixie looks back to her mother, shrugging.

"We all have our moments. Can I ask you a question Mom?"

"Anything baby. You can always ask me about anything, and if I have made you feel like you can't, for however long, I'm really sorry about that."

"When did you start believing?"

Trixie watches Chloe's eye twitch.

"Was it when you took us to Rome?"

Chloe's eyes fill up with tears, and she nods quietly.

"Was it because you were afraid?"

"So afraid baby. Afraid for you, afraid for me. Afraid for Lucifer even."

Trixie nods and gets up from her chair and moves over to the bed. Trixie knows if she tells her mom that she overheard that her dad tried to hurt Lucifer, it will break her heart. Sometimes adults forgot she was there. She knows it's not just her mom though, she and her friend Celine have been talking about it when they walk the school halls at recess. So instead of bringing up Dan, Trixie tries a different approach.

"Who... doesn't know?"

"Ella."

Trixie's shoulders drop. She knows how this conversation is going to end. Her mom is going to tell her that she needs to go for her safety. That angels and demons, while totally wicked-awesome, are also dangerous. And everyone is kind of mad at each other right now, and Lucifer really doesn't like his dad, and it's just not the place for an eleven-year-old mortal kid from Los Angeles.

"Well, I'm going to tell you the truth then, Monkey. I'm still not entirely comfortable knowing about angels and demons, and God and the Devil are real. Monkey don't you ever miss when it was just you and me?"

Trixie shakes her head; it's a lie. She does miss it, but she fears that if she admits to her mother, in this moment, that that information will be fodder for her mother to send her away. She needs this; she needs to see Maze and her dad, Lucifer, and Charlie. If her mom makes her go with Ella, she feels like it's her mother lying too. So, she lies.

Chloe looks slightly hurt, but she smiles sadly and nods. "Okay baby, I'll call Ella and you can stay."

~***~

Penny sometimes lies awake at night, remembering this lie. Now that loft is silent, and Lucifer's headed back to the Penthouse to make arrangements for her upcoming travels, Penny finds herself thinking about that day once more. As she rolls over to try once more to go to sleep, she twirls the ring she wears and sigh, biting her lip in a way that would remind most of her mother. As she drifts off, she can't help but let her guilt remind her, once more, that if she had not lied— if she had gone with Ella if things may have ended up differently.

#lucifer fanfiction #lucifans #trixie espinoza #rating: mature #Penny Dreadful #trixiefic #lucifer #Trixie Espinoza/Lucifer #trixie espinoza/original character #dazikeen #deckerstar #michaella

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emotionally-imbruised · 5 years

Note

Can you write something about Harry sick at Christmas and he calls his sister's bff (YN) crying because his family isn't in the US for the holidays and he's alone and been sick all night and wants someone with him especially at Christmas and she comes over but doesn't know that he's had a crush on her for years (and vice versa)?

Slightly offended if you ever thought I wouldn’t write something that had the potential to be so damn fluffy… I changed it a teeny bit, and please don’t hate me for the ending *hides*

Accidentally In Love

Pt. 2

(Yes after that Counting Crows song from Shrek 2)

A low groan leaves your mouth as you struggle to push the front door of your apartment open. You’re juggling the multiple grocery bags you carry from last-minute shopping before everything closes up for Christmas tomorrow, and making a strong attempt to not drop any of it. You kick off your boots and begin shuffling across the floor towards your kitchen counter which luckily is nearby and just as you’re about to set the bags down—your cell phone starts ringing loudly from your jacket pocket; causing you to jump slightly, but enough to drop a couple of the bags.

With a much louder groan, you dig your phone out to see the picture of your best friend’s brother smiling widely as he has his arm wrapped around you after he’d just finished messing up your hair; light up the screen. Which leaves you to be no less than confused by it, and even a little panicked as to why he is calling you on Christmas Eve.

“Harry?” You ask into the phone as soon as you answer it; feeling your heart drop into the pit of the stomach when he doesn’t respond right away and only a few sniffles can be heard from his end of the call. “Oh my god, did something happen? Is everyone ok? Is it Gemma? Your mum?”

“No Y/N, m’just sick is all,” he explains and chuckles a bit before he’s overwhelmed with a series of raspy coughs.

“Oh,” you reply monotonously as you reach to pick up the items you dropped; hearing a scoff from the youngest Styles.

“Sorry to disappoint,” he grumbles dramatically, and you roll your eyes. “Ok calm down with the attitude, I can basically hear you rolling your eyes from here.”

“How did you- never mind,” you reply and start pulling your coat off to hang up on a nearby hook. “It’s Christmas Eve Harry, you had me worried that something happened to someone in my second family. Speaking of which, aren’t you in London with them?”

“Well I was,” he explains grumpily. “Had to come back here for a last-minute thing at the studio. Mum and Gemma were going to fly here instead, but the weather's a bit nasty back home, so their flight got canceled.”

“Ah shit, that sucks H I’m sorry,” you tell him honestly. “If it’s any consolation – I can’t get home to see my family until after the holidays, so I’m stuck in LA alone as well.”

“Well, that’s why I’m calling actually… Was gonna see if you’d like to come over and watch some Christmas movies or a rom-com instead of wallowing in self-pity about being alone for Christmas,” he proposes, and a smile begins tugging at your lips.

“Is that why? Or is it because you’re sick and don’t know how to take care of yourself?”

“Ok… it’s a bit of both,” he confirms, and you let out a small laugh. “So, is that a yes?”

“Yeah, not like I have anything better to do,” you state, and hear him scoff again. “Oh, don’t get your silk Gucci pajama pants in a twist. I’ll be over in an hour.”

“Wow. Low blow,” Harry responds with a tone of fake hurt and sadness. “I’ll have you know these track pants I have on are quite different from the silk Gucci pajamas I could be wearing.”

“Whatever drama queen, I’ll see you in a bit.”

An hour later; once you’ve put your groceries away and gathered up snacks and some cold medicine, you make way across town to Harry’s home… Spending time during the holidays with members of the Styles family is really no new thing to you. For years you’ve grown quite close to the family after developing a great friendship with Gemma. She and her entire family wasted no time in accepting you as one of their own; which has allowed you to form significant relationships with some pretty amazing people such as Harry, and their mother, Anne. They really have become a second family to you, and you wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.

Soon enough, you’re making your way through the community Harry lives in and are not long pulling up the long driveway leading to his large home. Once you’ve parked, you make your way up the stairs only to be greeted by the man himself bundled up in a fluffy housecoat and holding a steaming mug of tea. “Wow, you’re really milking this whole being sick thing, yeah?”

“Hello to you too,” he grumbles as you brush past him before he shuts the door behind you. “M’starting to wonder why I called you of all people now.”

“It’s because I’m just such a blessing to have around innit?” You ask sarcastically, and he’s quick in rolling his eyes at you. With a smug grin, you hang your jacket onto a hook by the door before making a sharp left into the large living room; looking over your shoulder as Harry follows close after you. “Well, I was promised a rom-com marathon. So, let’s get this thing started then, shall we?”

Another few hours, and two rom-coms later; you find yourself curled up on the couch right next to Harry. Just as the final ten minutes of When Harry Met Sally begin – you slowly glance around at your surroundings and smile in contentment. The soft cream coloured blanket that is draped across yours, and Harry’s legs blend in with the matching coloured lights that cover the massive Christmas tree next to the window a couple of feet away. Christmas has never been anything you made a big fuss over; however, being here with Harry is making you have a bit more appreciation for the holiday as you mindlessly allow your head to gently lean against his shoulder and let out a pleasant sigh.

He doesn’t flinch or move away from your gesture, and that causes the butterflies that have been collecting in your stomach from being so close to him; to begin swarming. Unfortunately, this is not an unfamiliar feeling to you – it’s actually a common notion you have whenever you’re around Harry but have decided not to act on out of fear it would make things weird if it were known you were crushing hard on not only a really good friend but also your best friends’ brother.

Silence resumes between the two of you as the movie comes to an end, and neither of you makes a move to leave your current position. He doesn’t say anything as he slowly begins tracing circles over your hand that has delicately found its place upon his thigh, and your eyes slowly flutter up to glance at him.

“Y’know,” he starts almost as if knowing exactly when your eyes landed on him and stifle a cough before continuing. “If Grimmy were to see us right now, he’d be losing his mind.”

“And why is that?” You question and begin rubbing your thumb over the material of his track pants; curious as to why the radio talk show host you’ve also become quite good friends with would be going off about your current predicament.

“Well, he’s been saying for years now that it’s a miracle you and I haven’t at least hooked up,” he explains, and your heart-rate instantly picks up speed. You both fall silent again, and you’re the one to break it as you chuckle awkwardly as you begin inching away from him.

“Too bad for Nick, because that literally could never happen,” you reply nervously, and brush a hand through your hair. Your gaze moves to his intense green eyes as they seem to be burning holes into you while he waits for you to continue. “Ever.”

“How come?”

“I don’t know… it’s us, Harry,” you state and motion between the growing space between the two of you. “You’re Gemma’s brother, also one of my best friends as well. It’s weird… I mean, sure I’ve thought about it, but that doesn’t mean it can happen. Gem would hate me.”

“Wait, you’ve thought about us hooking up?” He asks, and you feel your face instantly redden.

“Well I- er, ok maybe,” you stammer, suddenly feeling more embarrassed than you ever have before. You bite down hard on your bottom lip as you continue feeling Harry's gaze burning into you, but try your best to shake it off. No point in dodging the facts and making things more awkward than they already are… right? “Guess that’s why they call it a crush right? It’s something that tends to literally crush you, regardless of how badly you try to ignore it. Pretty pathetic if I-. “

Your spiel gets cut short by Harry pressing his lips firmly against yours; his tongue desperately begging for access. The motion catches you entirely off guard, and you waste no time in pulling away to stare at him with wide eyes. As soon as you look at each other in complete and utter shock – it doesn’t take long before you’ve each moved closer and are pulling the other in so your lips can collide once again.

The kiss is softer this time but soon deepens as his arms wrap around your waist and he pulls you in even closer to him. His lips eventually part from yours as he begins leaving slopping kisses along your jaw while making his way to your neck and starts sucking harshly on the sensitive skin. A low moan leaves your mouth, and you can feel him smirk against you as his hands continue roaming around your body. “M’gonna get sick because of you.”

“Seriously Y/N?” He questions with a groan and moves away to look at you, but you just smirk before leaning in to meet his lips again. The two of you continue making out as he pulls you in even closer so that you’re straddling his waist and begin tangling your hands into his curls before he starts mumbling against your lips. “Thought I had a bit of a crush as well, but I think it’s become a bit more than that.”

You smile at his words and can feel those butterflies in your stomach begin fluttering again as you pull away to stare into his captivating green orbs. Your bottom lip gets tugged nervously between your teeth as you shyly look away from him – but he soon has his hand under your chin so that your eyes are meeting his, and his thumb gently tugs your lip out from your teeth’s grip. His intense but affectionate gaze causes you to smile like a complete idiot before leaning in towards him for another kiss… however, just as your lips are about to connect; the front door swings open and in walk Anne and Gemma looking at the two of you with unreadable expressions.

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secretkingdomjellyfish · 4 years

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Another day, another penny...

Here we are again. Life has become even harder with COVID doing the rounds and offing every poor sod and his granny. I actually thought I had already witnessed or experienced the worst of what humanity had to offer but no, life and society continued to surprise me. From the hypocritical ‘clap for our carers’ movement (The same people who clapped where the same people in the supermarket the next day sneezing on your eyeballs - two meter rule, people!!) to our world leaders and celebrities telling the world ‘we are all in it together’ whilst they lounged in their 20 room mansions. It was all a bit...shallow. Every month is like opening the world’s shittiest advent calender only rather than getting a nice little piece of chocolate behind each window, we get some new unseen horror unleashed on us.

Then came the BLM riots. Another black man was killed by corrupt cops who gave absolutely zero fucks about him or anyone else. People were, entirely and justifiably, angry and the protests began but then something else happened. I had already seen this phenomenon slowly creeping it’s way in with COVID making the rounds but I just put it down to me being bitter and angry at life, therefore my perception of people (I had already set the bar WAAAAAY low) was skewed.

I saw people take advantage of an entire society’s grief. I saw the vultures circle to loot and hate or to share their idiologies of hate and pain and recruit more angry, tired teenagers to do their twisted bidding.

I saw both extremes of the coin take advantage of the situation to spread that same hate and lash out at the other side. ‘Don’t look at us, look at what the other side are doing!’ I heard them cry. ‘The people protesting are just violent thugs, look at them causing all this damage, how else are the police meant to act?!’. ‘It’s not us, we are just so tired of the police taking advantage of us and I REALLY need these new Nikes’.

But then there were the people in the middle. The people who just wanted real change. The people who just wanted the hate, the pain and the injustice to stop. Those people marched and protested and wanted their voices heard. Who were seeing what I and many others were seeing and wanted to restore the balance. Unfortunately they were quickly drowned out by the screeching of the two extremes and it became a game of ‘who could sling the most mud to deflect from their own actions’.

To say I’m sickened is an understatement. I’m embarrassed and I’m ashamed. I’m ashamed to even call myself a human being. My heart is utterly breaking at how broken we really are, how much trauma has been ignored and how easily we are influenced by shiny, new things. How the media continually drives us, like the herd animals we are, to consume, to buy, to hate others that are different to us. To make us think that our little tribe, family, race are the best and everyone else is wrong.

Do me a favour. Find a story. Any major story and then go read/watch/listen to several different news outlets (on both sides of the coin - you know who they are) and see how they report it. I can assure you, it will be like watching a different story altogether. Don’t get me wrong, they all have the very basic facts but they simply cater to their audience. No wonder people think they are right, they are surrounded by others who think the same way. They feel a kinship in a really scary world. The leaders (not the real movements, not the real game changers) take with one had and point with the other.

Plato had it right with his cave anology. Those shadows that the people can see are just that. Shadows. Boogymen. Nothing more than smoke and mirrors. I get that the world is scary, I get that we don’t understand even a fraction of how the world works and I understand so SO well that it feels good to find others who think the same way as you and even if you ‘see the light’ and see the world for what it really is, there are few who will listen to you. Most of us took the blue pill because the truth is just too painful to bear.

However, a new pattern has emerged here. A much more dangerous way of thinking. We just don’t allow ourselves to be wrong, it physically hurts! Everything we do is so emotional today. Everyone just wants to think emotionally rather than taking all of three seconds to think about something logically and rationally.

Society is full of adult toddlers who have a tantrum when they are challenged. Rather than giving them our time, we should be giving them a sippy cup with chocolate milk and a nap. I get it, it feels bloody good to scream and be angry. To blame someone other than yourself or your leaders for the life you have lived. All those missed chances? Not your fault, not your parents or your leaders fault. It was those pesky (insert blameless minority here)

Now I can already hear many of you shouting ‘I hear you lamenting but I don’t hear you coming up with any answers’ but the solution is simple. The implementation is incredibly complex and difficult and (unfortunately I believe it is also impossible but I’m praying I’m wrong) will require everyone to do their part but the answer is so SO simple. Equality.

I don’t mean the bullshit ‘everyone should be treated the same’ that’s not equality. I’m saying EVERYONE should be given the same chances regardless of their race, gender, sexuality, sex, wealth. Instead, the world is incredibly unbalanced and unequal and I have strong feeling that mother nature is about to shift it back into balance because she is a bad bitch who is fed up with us just taking but not giving back.

In my teens I went through a phase (I can hear the sniggering in the back). I found wicca (I can now hear louder sniggering). Now this phase lasted about 6 months and generally involved me wearing a lot of black, buying some coloured candles and generally trying out some cool spells because I could now do motherfucking magic biatches! But, soon enough, it fissled out and I got bored and moved onto something else (mainly the grunge scene - they, just, like...got me, you know?). But, I took one of my very core beliefs away from it. As at the heart of this beautiful religion it was all about balance. Whatever you took, you had to give back and EVERYTHING came back threefold - you had pay the dammed ferryman (you always have to pay eventually and not always in the ways you expect) . So, you sent out good vibes? You got those good vibes magnified right back atcha! Kind of a witchy butterfly effect.

Furthermore (check me out with the academic phrasing..eh? eh?!) many of followers of Wicca believed that their main deity was simply like a multi faceted diamond with many faces and each aspect simply reflected a different religion, deity or belief system and that she was always with them no matter what deity they believed in. (disclaimer - It’s been a long time since I was involved in this so if I’m wrong, please accept my deepest and most sincere apologies) but, again, it kinda made sense to me at the time (and still does). When I first started, it was new, it was different and it gave me purpose but then the glamor kinda got scraped off and I actually had to do some hard work and, being a teenager, I was just not into that.

Now I know many of you are asking ‘what the hell has this got to do with the price of cheese’ but bear with me because the answer is, again, relatively simple.

It’s all about balance. We have taken but not given back for so long. As a society we think that being successful is hoarding as much wealth as possible, drinking champagne and eating caviar whenever we feel like it, occasionally giving a few quid to charity to show that ‘we’re in this together’ because that is what the media have us believe. That it’s the ULTIMATE goal to have your own private jet and generally just whittle your life away doing nothing but pamper yourself.

We think the only way to achieve this is to take it by force. To be ruthless and cutthroat and step on as many heads as we can to get to the top, right?! That’s always been the way it was done!

However, that might have worked for a while but, as a society we have kinda went full circle and are right back at the start - openly rejecting facts and evidence for emotion (well it feels better to believe in x therefore it must be x) and anecdotal evidence (if you crack an egg at the fulll moon whilst hopping on one foot, you will totally get rid of that cancer - it totally worked for a friend of a friend so it must be true).

Right now the world is a giant carnival game and we all know those carnival games are rigged as shit. Step right up, Steeeep right up! Come along, try your luck! Why you look like an amazingly (add appropriate adjective here) individual, I bet YOU could win - not like any of these other chumps. The whole thing is rigged in favour of the wealthy and powerful and, in all honesty, I completely understand. It’s in our very nature.

It’s been so insidiuous and we have been bombarded so much with this message that we now have an entire generation of very broken and exhausted individuals who think that surviving and living are the same thing. News flash. They’re not.

This is why we are in the situation we are in. We have simply been sleep walking and ignoring what is right in front of us. In order to move on, we need to accept some really hard truth and take a long, good look at who we are as both individuals and as a society. Honestly? I don’t think we are ready for that yet the other two options are to continue the way we are going and let mother nature do her thing or simply destroy ourselves in the process. We are quickly running out of options and I REALLY don’t want to be the guy who said ‘I told you so’.

Now before anyone starts with the whole ‘you’re so wrong because (insert appropriate defense here) just stop and think for three seconds. Let that knee jerk reaction go and give it time to sink in. Even read it again if you have the attention span to do so and then think. Is he really wrong? Maybe the truth just hurts.

TL;DR - society is really broken and there’s no easy fix.

#wtf #covid #blm #hardchoice #depression #anxiety #currentaffairs

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ma-ri-yana · 5 years

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Vendetta

A/n: Funny story, I started writing this before I started my Castlevania fic, I just decided to start posting the Castlevania one first. Weird, I know, considering my pfp is John Shelby. This fic takes place in season 4 of Peaky Blinders. Since this is a John x reader fic that takes place in season 4, it’s Esme that dies on Christmas day instead of John. Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy this story. Please try not to cringe, thanks. 😔👉👈 In the spirit of cringey gang names, I’ve made a hella cringey one of my own, because, well, ‘why not?’

Warnings: Cursing, I think? It’s not that crazy in my perspective, but I still wanna warn y’all just in case.

Word count: 2240

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5

Chapter 1

December 31st, 1925.

Bronx, New York.

23:30

That night was a night full of celebration as it was New Year’s Eve. All the children ran about, playing together to pass the time at their parent’s boring New Year’s party. While the adults in the vicinity were anxious to find out how much their pay was going to increase and anxious to hear about the plans for the coming year; and with good reason, too. They were never this rich or comfortable before and they only stood to grow richer. The Nieves family name spread like wildfire throughout the city, and with that, they sold more and more booze, drugs and guns each day. Their business rivalled the Changrettas. The Rowdy Cowboys, controlled by the Nieves family, were just as feared as the Changrettas in New York.

Contrary to what may have been assumed based off their name, they didn't dress like cowboys. At least, not in New York. They reserved that for the rodeos they ran and attended down south a few times a year. They typically dressed like everyone else did at that time. Wore suits, caps, etc. However, their affiliation is typically given away by their belts. Their belts had metal spikes all around, and they were known for taking their belts off during fights and beating their opponents to death with them. Sometimes, they’d even choke them with the belts.

Their leader, very uncommon for the time, was a woman. Y/n Nieves was her name. She was known for being very stoic and hardly one to party. But that wasn't the case at this point in time. She let herself get hammered, let herself have fun, because the news she was about to tell them made her the happiest she'd ever been in years. She danced away with all the men and women, her brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, enjoying this night like it'd be the last she'd have at home for a while. And it was true, this was going to be her last night in New York for, at a minimum, a few weeks. There were just too many opportunities for her plans of expansion for her to ignore, she knew she needed to pursue them. More important than spreading her work ethic around, she had a personal vendetta. After five torturous years of building all of this and making a name for herself, she'd be officially free once this, as her enemies liked to say, “vendetta” was carried out.

As she and everyone else danced to the different genres of music played that night: cumbia, swing, jazz, etc. she couldn’t help but think about how she’d gotten there. Why she suddenly became motivated into creating something this big and how she’d give them the announcement that they were about to make this baby of hers bigger. If she weren’t as good at hiding her emotions, even when drunk, she might have let a tear slip by. But she was different. She wasn’t the way she used to be, wasn’t as expressive. She smiled at her little sister, twenty year old Ramona, who was currently dancing with her. Ramona had black, naturally curly hair that reached her neck; much like her older sister, y/n did, except y/n kept it long, wearing her hair at hip length. In a lot of ways, her and her older sister were alike when it came to the physical points. They were both very curvy. Y/n’s face was sharp in the shape of an oval. Ramona’s was soft and square. Their eyes were upturned and amber in colour. They were both short, though, barely peeking at 5'2. They both had light brown complexions and thick eyebrows. And they were both considered the most beautiful women in New York.

Y/n wasn’t much of a fan of “conforming” to fashion trends. She liked to keep her style her own. Whatever looked good on her was what would be worn; however, today, she and her sister were matching outfit-wise. That was something they used to do a lot when they were much younger.

Ramona wore a long red dress that showed off her curvature nicely and her face was coloured with the least makeup she could wear. She found it unnecessary to wear a ton of makeup when she knew she was already beautiful, much like all the women in her family. The most she tended to allow herself to wear was a bright red lipstick to accentuate their naturally big lips. To protect her body from the freezing cold they were experiencing that night, she wore a fur coat.

Ramona seemed to understand what this smile meant almost immediately, “what’s your announcement about, mana?” She asked with concern. Y/n wasn’t the type to keep secrets from her. A piece of her felt frustrated, another felt worried. Apart from being sisters, they were life-long best friends, and, in her opinion, it was a shame she didn’t know what the twenty five year old woman would say or do.

Y/n’s smile remained on her face as she spoke, “you’ll find out when I make it, manita.” She giggled before running over and grabbing a chair, dragging it to the center of the space they occupied and standing on top of it. A few people noticed her sudden elevation of height and watched her carefully, eager to see what she was gonna do. She silently ordered the musicians to stop playing with a single hand gesture. Everyone’s attention was now on her, the woman who cut off the music, their boss and/or familiar.

“Damas y caballeros, family and friends: I’d like to thank you all for coming to my little New Year’s party!” She began. Although this was no small shindig, this party alone had a little more than twenty people present, all involved in the shadier business she handled as well as the more refined business. Of course, these weren’t all the people she had some form of authority over, this was a small percentage of workers she’d invited, not including her family. “I want to thank you all for your hard work over the years, you all were here with me from the start. You all know the hardships we’ve faced in making this lil’ organisation we’ve got goin’ on here. For all the hard work you’ve done this past year, I want to start this new year off by giving you all a late 50 clam Christmas bonus as well as another fifty-clam New Year’s bonus!” She paused as everyone interrupted her little speech by clapping and cheering. She didn’t mind, though, she was pleased that everyone was happy so far.

She dropped her acquired New Yorker accent and switched to her deep-rooted Texan accent. “But, in spite of all the hard labor we’ve done so far in this city right here, we have more comin’ to us. Ya see, there’s a big opportunity, big big opportunity, that needs some grabbin’ for. I’m fixin’ to leave for England. Birmingham, specifically. As you all well know, the Italians got themselves quite a thang cookin’ up, bless their hearts. They’re after the Peaky Blinders; tryin’ to kill all them fuckers.” She shook her head in disapproval. “Now, we all severely dislike them Italians, have disliked them for quite a while.” She paused yet again once she heard the several ‘yeah, fuck them’s and the boo’s and continued shortly after. “They’ve made life quite difficult for a little lady like me and hard working people like you; and I see this as an advantage-- a good ol’ way of gettin’ in there and returnin’ the favor thanks to the offer I got from Mr. Thomas Shelby himself.”

“About time!” They cheered.

“But, I’m not gonna be here for a bit, so I’m gonna need you all to continue to work hard regardless. I’m gonna be goin’ with some of my cousins 'cause I know they aren’t afraid of fightin’. Since I may need a little firepower should anythin’ go wrong.” She then switched back to speaking like a New Yorker. “And I obviously can’t just leave this establishment without someone to look over it. That’s why my brother, Victor, is gonna be runnin’ the place while I’m gone. I don’t want anythin’ goin’ wrong up ‘ere while I’m gone.” She told them. “I’mma say it a bit louder for those in the back.” She cleared her throat and raised her voice, “I do not want anythin’ goin’ wrong up here while I’m gone! Am I clear? Y’all are in charge of helping keep the order ‘round ‘ere, too!”

“Yes!” They all answered enthusiastically.

“Good! We’re gonna rip them Italians out, root and stem, if it is the last damn thing I do. Now, let’s get this party started back up again.” Y/n had barely gotten down from the object she’d used to elevate her when a very furious Ramona stomped over to her.

“So you’re gonna ignore me for two days straight, then dance with me, refuse to tell me what your fuckass has been planning for said amount of time only to reveal it to a room of strangers--” “They’re not strangers--”

“Well, they ain’t me, either. I should’ve been the first person you told.” “Sorry, Mo.” “You should be.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you.” “You’re the smartest person I know, I’m sure you could’ve figured it out if you really wanted to.” Ramona sighed. “When are we leaving?” “I’m leaving at eight tomorrow morning. You’re staying here.” “And why do I have to stay? I’m a twenty year old woman, I’m sure I can handle going with you.”

“You’re a twenty year old girl that needs to stay home."

"You're not so old yourself."

"No, I'm not, but I've experienced things that you, hopefully, never will, so I know more than you do. And I'm telling you, as your older sister that knows better, that you need to stay. If you’re so bored, you can start spending some time with Saraí and help keep her out of trouble. All you ever do is crawl up my ass and crawl back out to fuck anyone you find immediately after.”

“Did you just call me a terrible sister and a restless whore in the same breath?"

Y/n shrugged, "those are your words, not mine."

"Honestly, Y/n, fuck you," she spat.

"It's not that serious, Mo."

"You may be my older sister, but you do not get to boss me around. I'll go wherever the fuck I want, fuck whomever the fuck I want, and do whatever the fuck I want. I don't need your permission."

"You're right. You don't need my permission, just like you don't need me to pay you to sit on your ass and fuck around and cry and complain all day without even glancing in Saraí’s direction."

“So now I’m useless?” “Again, your words, not mine,” y/n took a sip of wine from her glass.

Ramona scoffed, “honestly, fuck you.” She stormed off and made sure to shove y/n roughly as she moved past her. Y/n didn’t care enough to react negatively, swaying and moving her hips to the rhythm of the music that played in the vicinity. Her body stopped moving once she made eye contact with her older brother, Victor. She sighed, mentally preparing to get chewed out for the second time in the span of five minutes, watching him make a beeline toward her.

"Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?"

Y/n gulped down some more of her wine before acknowledging him, "here we go again." She groaned, "what's your problem? I left you in charge. Should anything happen, the business is yours."

"Oh yes, I'm left with my little sister's business for who knows how long with no guarantee I'll ever see her again."

"There's nothing to worry about--"

"That's why you're signing everything over to me--?"

"I'm doing it because I've been thinking about it for a long time, not because I think anything is going to happen to me while I'm gone."

"And how do you know nothing will happen? You're going to a foreign country alone."

"I won't be alone. I'm going--"

"--with our cousins, yes. I heard your little speech. Shit can still happen while you're there. Let me come with you."

"Even if I let you come with me, things can still go wrong."

"Yes, but I'd be able to rest easier if I were there with you."

Y/n took another swig of her wine, "fine." She muttered, her lips were still attached to the top of the glass.

"I can go?"

"Yes."

"¿En serio?"

"Yes, but I'm only making the exception for you. So don't give anyone the idea that they came tag along as well. The less of us go, the better. We need to maintain a strong front both here and in Birmingham. I'm very confident everything will go according to plan, however, you can't get too comfortable. You know this, brother." Victor only nodded.

"Come on, let's dance. Did you think I wouldn't notice your rude ass hasn't offered to dance with me yet?" Y/n called him out, offering her brother a hand, which he gladly took. There was no way they could attend a party together and not dance with each other. No matter how angry they were with each other, it was just something that had to be done if they wanted everything to be okay. Dancing could fix any problem in their eyes.

*Mana/manita: sis/little sis.

*Clam: 20's slang for the word "dollar". 50 clams = 50 dollars.

*En serio: seriously.

*Damas y caballeros: ladies and gentlemen.

#John shelby #john shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders bbc #another one #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine

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