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kiritella · 4 years

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A New Maybe [3]

Pairings: Bucky x Reader(plc), Bucky x Anna(rmc), Mom!Anna x Daughter!Reader

Words: 2.6k-ish (oops...)

Warnings: um...frustration? Confusion?

A/N: Finally out with part 3! I’m just sorta going with the flow on this series...

Masterlist || Series Masterlist

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Ever since the first meeting, about two months ago, Bucky is everywhere at all times. It seems that if he’s not on a mission, he is with your mom, which honestly, is probably the way it was before and you just never really noticed. Anyway, if he’s not out with your mom, then he is now coming to spend time at your apartment, apparently he even has a key now. You’re not sure if you like that idea or not, but in any case, you suppose it is a fact and there is nothing you can really do about it. You have, admittedly reluctantly, grown fond of him. More so of the way he treats your mom. He’s kind and pretty funny at times, and he seems to genuinely care. He makes your mom laugh more than she has is years and you can’t recall the last time you saw her more content and happy. He is her life, her oxygen, her steady ground, and no matter what, you never want to take that from her.

However, despite the fondness growing in your chest for the ex-assassin, there is also a sense of reluctance. The more you spend time with him, the more intense the pain in your chest grows. It radiates through your chest and down your spine, wrapping your stomach with its cold fingers and squeezes your lungs so tight you struggle to breathe, and you try to fight it off. You try to convince yourself that everything is fine because you like him, you really do, but patterns create facts and the facts have shown that this won’t last, and just that thought is enough to make your heart squeeze until it’s barely beating. The feeling coils tightly whenever he’s around, and so perhaps out of instinct, some sort of defence mechanism, or maybe it is just plain stubbornness, but you avoid him. When Bucky comes over, you hide in your room as much as you can without being completely rude, and when you all go out together, you stay quiet and focus on other things while allowing your mom and him to fall deeper into love. You wish it would be a bit different, that maybe they could simply walk into love hand-in-hand, take it in strides so when the bumpy road comes they can see it. You can’t do much when you’re in free-fall.

And maybe your decision is where things started to go wrong.

The laughter from the living room bleeds into your room and through your headphones as you finish the last of your homework for the day, closing the math book with a sigh and an unintentional roll of your eyes surprises you. The mental scolding you give yourself at your bitter reaction to your own mother’s happiness scathes you down to the bone and you blame your reaction on the day’s events. Nothing too particularly bad, a disagreement between a couple of your friends, but it was enough to shake you up, bother you in a way that you’re not really used to, deeper, more potent.

Another ring of laughter bounces across your ears and with the cringe that rolls down your spine, you strap into your shoes and text a friend, his response coming not a few minutes later. Slipping out of your room, you try to ignore Bucky’s presence and you’re almost there, the door is right in front of you when his voice cuts away your hopes of just disappearing unnoticed.

“Hey, Y.n, I was thinking we could go get ice cream, there’s this place not too far that I wanted to show you,” Bucky says and when you turn around you see his bright, hopeful smile as your mom watches from the couch.

You offer your best smile, inwardly criticizing yourself for how tight it was as you stutter out an apology, “Sorry, I was just about to meet a friend...I-I gotta go, I’m sorry,” you say as you back into the door, exiting quickly, missing the way Bucky’s face falls and his shoulders slump.

His head hangs a moment before he looks at Anna, “She does like ice cream, right?” He says and his tone is drenched in desperation, and Anna’s eyes bleed with sympathy.

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, I’ve even invited her to the Tower to meet Sam and the others, that’s supposed to be cool, right? Nothing’s working.”

Bucky says and throws his hands up as Anna stands and walks over to him and he laces his fingers behind his head, “She hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you—” Anna tries to soothe but Bucky cuts her off.

“She does, she refuses to talk to me, she avoids me no matter where we go. Does she usually do this?” Bucky asks, frustration building, but also sadness, desperation, fear bubbling under the surface and Anna places a hand on his chest.

“No, she doesn’t, she’s usually opened up by now,” she admits as she wraps a hand around his neck, pulling him down to rest his forehead against hers, “But it’s alright, she will. I’ll talk to her, okay?”

Bucky sighs, resting his hands on Anna’s hips, keeping her in place as he takes a deep breath, “You don’t need to talk to her, Sweetheart, I just want her to open up a bit.”

“I’ll talk to her, see what’s going on in her head. She’s never said anything bad about you, she’s never been that nice to anyone before,” Anna chuckles in an attempt to calm him, and with the slight tilt of his lips, she knows it worked at least a little bit.

Bucky sighs and nods, “I don’t want to lose you,” He admits, his grip on Anna’s hips tightening and she leans in closer, “I can’t get her to open up...and I don’t want to lose you because of it.”

Anna shakes her head, “Eh, you ain’t getting rid of me, Soldier, you’re stuck with me. ‘Sides, I’m pretty sure you’ve ruined all other men for me, you’ve practically raised my standards to an impossible height.”

Bucky chuckles as a grin spreads across his face, his eyes glimmering in mischief, “Is that so?”

She hums in response, “Oh, absolutely. Who else would let me be as weird as I am, hm?”

Bucky laughs, “Well, I can live with that,” he says before quickly dipping and grabbing her thighs and hoisting her up over his shoulder as she squeals, “‘Cause I adore your utterly weird dorkiness.”

——

The little, home-owned coffee shop is mostly empty besides a couple other customers occupied in their own company when the ring of the bell above the door catches your attention. Finishing your sip of hot-cocoa, you watch as your friend sends you a glance before ordering a drink, his demeanor telling you he’s worried and you silently curse yourself. You didn’t mean to make him worry, you hate that, but you really need someone to talk to and after today’s events, he’s the only one left that you know will listen.

The seat in front of you gets filled as your friend takes his seat, a cup of cocoa in his hands and a worried face to go along with it, “What’s wrong?”

You chuckle, well, more like snort, but whatever, “Hi, Jason, nice to see you too.”

Jason offers a sympathetic glare, a look that defies nature and only he can pull off, a look that basically says ‘Hi. Now quite delaying and tell me what I want to know,’ without actually saying anything at all. He can be a jerk sometimes.

“Fine,” you say with a stubborn conviction, “It wasn’t the best day and I need someone to talk to and you always listen, so...here we are.”

Jason nods and takes a sip of his cocoa, and when you don’t continue, speaks, “Well, I’m not a telepath and, correct me if I’m wrong, neither are you, so we have to use these things called words and voices. It should be helpful in your endeavor to tell me about your sucky day.”

With a roll of your eyes, the smile on your face fades and you fiddle with the edges of your cup, “You hear about what happened at school with Katie, Sam, and Timothy?”

Jason nods slowly, “Bits and pieces, not everything though. They seemed to be pretty quiet at lunch. What happened?”

“I told the group that mom is dating Bucky and they got all attacky on me. I guess I got defensive ‘cause next thing I know we’re fighting. Well, it wasn’t really a fight, we just couldn’t really agree. Their parents keep feeding them lies and they just accept it.”

Jason has put down his drink, a crease forming between his brows that you have the sudden urge to rub away, “What was the fight about?”

“Bucky and his past as the Winter Soldier. Timothy was sort of chill about it, but had his own take which was fine, everyone has their opinion. But Sam and Katie started to condemn him, going on and on about what their parents said or what the news said. And it sucks ‘cause they’re our friends, y’know? And-and it doesn’t seem like they’re going to let it go.”

A warm hand slips into yours, squeezing lightly and you snap your eyes to Jason’s, only just realizing you were becoming a bit panicked. His voice is calm and soothing and damn him because it sends a wave of tranquility down your spine that you almost hate he has the ability to do with such ease.

“It’s alright, take a breath a second. Samantha and Katie are impulsive and subbourn like the twins they are, they don’t often think things through, just give them time to think over it, they’ll come around. Tim is level headed and can be cold, but he’s a good guy and he means well. He doesn’t hold anything against you or Barnes, to him things are just facts, you know that. Your friends aren’t going anywhere.”

A deep breath fills your lungs for the first time since that morning and you relax slightly in your seat, but you still fiddle with the top of your paper cup, peeling away a piece of the edge, “Yeah. I know you’re right, it’s just frustrating I guess. I just wish they could see that it’s not his fault. He was manipulated into doing something awful and has to live with the repercussions. It’s like having someone wake up in your body and them control you and the next day you wake up with all the consequences.”

Jason quirks a smile, “You seem to have grown fond of the guy. Well, at least more than before anyway. I’m pretty sure you terrified the entire school when you wrote that paper on him being your favorite hero back in 9th grade. Practically everyone else chose either Iron Man or Captain America, but nooo you chose the guy who just got cleared of being the Winter Soldier.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks and you shake your head, “I think half the school avoided me after that. And I’m...Bucky is fine, he’s nice and I don’t have a problem with him.”

Jason wants to laugh, he really does, because the way you say that sounds as if it is the end of the world and the worst thing that has ever happened to you. However, he can’t bring himself to because of the lurking confusion and battle raging in your eyes and in every muscle that lines your face.

“Why is that a bad thing?”

“What the school avoiding me? That was nothing, I hardly even—”

“No, I already know you’re a recluse. I meant the part about Bucky being nice.”

Your shoulders slump and the crease between Jason’s brows returns, the worry tinting in his eyes makes your stomach twist and you hate it when he looks at you like that, like everything hinges on your next words and nothing else matters, “I-I...He’s just always there. He’s even got a key to the apartment, which is a little ridiculous, right? I mean, he’s never stayed the night, but he might as well be with how much he’s around.”

“...And that’s bad because he’s...nice?”

Frustration bubbles in your chest and you claw your fingers through your hair, confusion stabs into your gut and twists sharply, “He’s just nice. He calls me to ask where I’m at when I’m not at the apartment. Once I came home after a bad day and he instantly knew something was wrong and since mom wasn’t home, he tried to get me to tell him about it and when I wouldn’t, he made me sit down and watch a movie while he made cookies. Cookies. And then he goes and hugs me. He insists I watch his stupid tricks and for heavens sakes he has the stupidest dad jokes, okay?”

Jason’s words are careful, checked as he speaks, worry building in his chest as you become more and more frustrated, almost frantic and you can’t sit still, your eyes wildly searching the room and the humorless laugh you let out grates against his ears, but he knows. He knows you need to get it out, you need to figure yourself out, so he pushes you, “And the problem is…???”

“I don’t know!” you shout, calling the attention of the other customers and you instantly soften your voice, frustration replaced with confusion and exhaustion, a mixture that tastes bitter on your tongue, “Jason, I don’t know.’

Jason leans forward, his fingers reaching out to touch you when you shift and hide your face in your hands, your elbows resting on the table as you dig your palms into your eyes, “I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but I can’t stand to be around him. It hurts and I don’t know why.”

“Y.n,” he starts, his voice soft and delicate, but not holding any sympathy or pity, only understanding and support, and that is something you have grown to appreciate about him, “You’ve always struggled opening up, you’re stubborn as hell about it, but you’ve never been like this. I think it’s because you really like him, and that scares you.”

You drop your hands and glare at him, but he continues, “I know you better than anyone, and I know for a fact that nothing scares you more than the idea of getting close to someone. You push people away, but you need to let someone in.”

“I’ve got you,” you mutter lamely and Jason’s lips twitch upwards slightly.

“And I’m not going anywhere, but you need more than that, Y.n. From what you are telling me, Bucky seems to be trying hard to get to know you, and you are keeping him at arm's length, just give him a chance.”

Your heart falls, your chest sinks, and Jason can see everything perfectly in the reflection of your eyes and it hurts to see you like this, “And what happens when he leaves?”

Jason shakes his head, “You don’t know that he will, and even if he does, I’ll be right here with a tub of ice cream and your favorite movies and we can curse him out to your heart’s desire.”

You chuckle wetly and nod, “Yeah, right. My old friends, ice cream and cursing my mother’s ex boyfriends.”

“Hey,” Jason says dramatically, teasingly glaring at you, “I’m the one that’s always there, and the ice cream gets more love than me?!”

You smile, the air thickening and you shake your head, “Never.”

Jason smiles and for a moment, it is silent, but then he stands and gestures for you to do the same, “C’mon, lets go get ice cream, you could use some.”

You follow him out of the coffee shop and he leads you down the sidewalk as you walk side by side, “Jason?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

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Taglist: [Closed]

@afictionaladventure16 @coffee-habit @angryknightstatesmantrash @chloe-skywalker @klanceiscannon14

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jeonsduck · 4 years

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Smoke and Mirrors pt 6

Y/N puts 2 and 2 together

warngings: cursing, kidnapping, mentions of blood and death

You had said you weren’t going to make anything official until after you finished the case. You were going to keep it professional. That didn’t even last 24 hours. In your defense, San was hot and really good at fucking you and to be honest, you didn’t want to wait until the investigation was over. Which was how you often found yourself bent over either your or San’s desk at work. Or spread out on the backseat of his car, or anywhere he could convince you to let him put his hand down your pants. And he tried it a LOT. The guy was like a machine, but honestly you weren’t complaining. And it wasn’t just sex either. San had started buying you gifts, very expensive gifts. If the lunch he bought you the first time you met qualified as a bribe, you’d hate to see what the administration thought of the designer laptop bag, shoes, coat, and jewelry. You didn’t dare go shopping with San anymore, because if you looked at anything for longer than two seconds, he would buy it for you.

“Mhm, I could come home with you again and we could rack up some more noise complaints from your neighbors.” San offered.

You were perched on his lap, reviewing your files. Correction: trying to review your files. San was pressing wet kisses to the sensitive spot on your neck and his hand was already under your shirt, so it was very hard to focus. You squirmed when he bit at the junction between your shoulder and your neck, barely holding in a yelp.

“Sannie, stop it.”

He chuckled, but his hooked his head over your shoulder innocently and tightened his hold on your waist.

“So what do you think?” he murmured, playing with a strand of your hair.

“I think that sounds very tempting, but we both have work to do right now. Besides, I have to go to the FBI and talk to Agent Heejin and pretend that I’m not fucking you.” you said, squinting at the papers in front of you.

These were the notes you made when you had that fever and were totally out of your mind, and none of it made any sense. You might need to go back and look at the original documents…

“First of all, baby, I’m the one that fucks you, let’s keep that straight. Second, that’s gonna be pretty hard with a hickey the size of Mexico isn’t it?” San whispered in your ear, making a shiver run down your neck.

“What hickey are you talking abo- hey!” you jolted when San nipped at your neck before starting to suck a bruise into the flesh.

“Hey, stop it!” you batted at his arm and got up. San held you tighter, resting his head on your back.

“I’m sorry, I was just fooling around don’t leave. It’s so boring in this room without you.” he pouted and you sighed.

“I’d love to, but I need to go get some original documents from the file room. I’ll see you later.” You said, removing San’s arms from your waist,

He grumbled but let you go without putting up anymore of a fight. He did grab your wrist and drag you back against him to peck you on the lips one last time. You rolled your eyes and left before he could get another crazy idea to keep you in his office. When you passed by Keran’s desk, she was wearing noise canceling headphones. Oops.

There was something seriously wrong with the records that were in front of you. You were looking at all the guys payments for San’s accounting services. The payments were made once a week, way too often for something that should be billed monthly. The amount was the same every time, but the frequency was way too high. San’s services could be expensive, sure but this number was astronomical. And then there was the amount that was being paid to Yunho and Mingi for security services. Similarly, the amount was way too high, payments too frequent. And the money wasn’t being sent from commercial accounts, but personal ones. What the hell…

“Y/N, it’s time to go! We shouldn’t keep your FBI Agent waiting.” San said, poking his head in your office. You startle and shove the pages between your laptop before snapping it closed.

“Yeah, let’s head out.”

While you didn’t have a huge hickey on your neck, Agent Heejin did recognize San’s car when it pulled into the lot.

“I honestly don’t even know where to BEGIN with the mess you’re in right now, but since your investigation hasn’t turned up any suspicious activity yet and I don’t think it will, I won’t waste my breath.” she sighed, slamming a manila folder down on her desk. It flopped open and a large full page picture fell out. It was a tattoo, partially covered in blood. It looked hauntingly familiar, but with the blood covering it, you couldn’t be sure.

“Wait, I think I’ve seen that tattoo before…” you said, stopping Heejin before she put it back in the folder.

“Really? Where?”

“I’m not sure, there’s so much blood. Can I take a picture of it?” you asked, and Heejin held the page out.

“Yeah sure. Let me know if you remember where you saw it?” she says as you snap a picture of the page.

“Of course. See you next week.” you said, making your exit.

The whole way back to your apartment you were thinking about the tattoo. It was so very familiar. Where had you seen it before?

San always let you invite him up instead of just following you into your apartment. You called him up, even though you didn’t have any ulterior motives tonight. San was fine with that, just as content to cuddle you and Noodles on the couch while you watched Chopped reruns.

San was playing with your hair, and you got tired pretty quickly. At this point San had a couple changes of clothes at your place in case he stayed the night. A few more weeks of this and he might get his own toothbrush holder. You snorted at your joke as you walked back into your bedroom, to find San laying face down on your bed, petting Noodles. You eyes drifted to his left shoulder, his tattoo out on display because he tended to sleep with his shirt off. Suddenly, you were hit with a series of flashbacks. The tattoo that curled up Keran’s arm, the flash of ink you’d seen on Wooyoung’s stomach when you met him. The bloodied image of a tattoo on your phone. They were different, obviously adapted for different parts of the body and each customer’s preference, but they were essentially the same tattoo. Why did San Wooyoung, and Keran have the same tattoo as a dead person in an FBI file? Were they really triad members?

“Babe, is something wrong? Come to bed.” San smiled over his shoulder at you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning you tried to call Agent Heejin but she didn’t answer. You left at least 10 messages, but nothing. In between calls you continued to review that discrepancies you’d discovered. Yeosang’s jewelry business was making huge sales on extremely generic pieces of jewelry. The security firm was getting payments from random small businesses across town. Laundromats, tattoo parlors, restaurants. Not the calibre of clients they usually catered to. All of the companies Seonghwa was contracted to were shell companies. And strangest of all were the huge sums of money being paid too and from Hongjoong, by San. You couldn’t see where this money was going, not without looking at San’s financial records.

Technically, what you’d already seen gave you the right to look at San’s records as well. But for some reason you were terrified.

When you think back on it, deep down , some part of you knew the truth. Not the whole truth, not yet, but you knew San wasn’t the innocent ball of sunshine you thought him to be. And you also knew it was going to be a struggle to present this new knowledge without San finding out. And if the ship started sinking, he’d know it was you who sold him out. And you had no idea how powerful San was, didn’t know how deep his pockets were, what all he could do.

So, you pulled down the box of San’s records, opened a binder and got to work.

When you left work that day, you acted as normally as possible. You had the binder of San’s records as well as the others in your bag and you pretended it wasn’t weighing you down like a rock.

San kissed you goodbye when he dropped you off, and you kissed him back. You went upstairs and watched his car drive away. Then you grabbed your keys and ran back down to your car. You hadn’t turned in over in weeks, maybe a few months now. You peeled out of the parking lot as fast as you dared to and sped to the FBI Headquarters. You kept glancing in your rearview mirrors, afraid that you would see San’s car behind you.

When you parked at Heejin’s office building, there was a moment where you sat there, thinking about what you were about to do. You liked San a lot. A lot a lot. But this was your job. And you didn’t really know him, not really. The more you thought about it, the more you realized. You’d never even set foot in San’s apartment. He had access to you 24/7.

Suddenly your phone rang, startling you. The screen lit up with a picture of San you’d taken a while ago when he hadn’t wanted to get out of your bed on a Saturday. Noodles was curled into his side.

You breathed in, sent his call to voicemail, and put your phone on silent. You breathed out, grabbed your files and got out of the car.

“Let’s do this , Y/N.”

When you got up to Heejin’s floor you were surprised to find she wasn’t at her desk. One of her coworkers saw you come in and smiled sadly.

“You looking for Heejin?”

“Yeah, is she out.”

“We had an emergency on a big case last night. Heejin got hit and…. She’s dead.” they said solemnly.

You felt off kilter. What? “Yeah it’s really shocking. But weren’t you just here yesterday?” they asked.

“I found something.” you said, holding up your binders.

They quirked an eyebrow and led you to a conference room. You explained the discrepancies in the financial records and what you knew about the tattoo. You didn’t mention the fact that you’d been sleeping with San.

“Well, it’ll probably be a few days before they hand this case over to someone else, but as soon as they do, I’ll give them this. In the meantime, be careful about that accountant.” they said.

It was out of your hands now. You just didn’t know what to do about San. You were spared from agonizing over that detail when two strange men approached you. Same uniform as San’s bodyguards, but different men. You could see a tattoo peeking out from under the collar of one man’s shirt. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. How did they know?

You turned and broke into a sprint, running the opposite direction. They walked leisurely towards you, and you ran straight into someone else as you came around the corner. Wooyoung.

“Where are you going in such a rush, hmm?” he drawled.

The next thing you know, your had a black hood shoved over your head and were being dragged across the parking lot. You struggled, but whoever had a hold of you was strong, and you were unable to even get one hand free.

“Help! Let me go, HELP!” you yelled and heard Wooyoung chuckle.

“Don’t shout yourself hoarse. There’s no one around to hear you.” he admonished and you writhed again, trying to get loose.

It was futile, the person carrying you hauling you up and into the trunk of a car.

“San’s gonna kill us for putting them in the trunk.” Jongho’s voice said.

“We can deal with San later.” Wooyoung replied.

You heard two car doors open and close, and the car started. You tried to keep track of how many turns the car was taking, but panic was slowly taking over, and you couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the odds of them killing you.

After who knows how long, the car came to a stop and you relaxed slightly. The trunk was opened and you were hauled out, assumingly by Jongho. He set you on your feet and started dragging you… somewhere. The hood was still on your head, and you nearly tripped on a step on the floor.

“Oh, whoops. Here, there’s a step.” Jongho said.

Okay, so maybe your survival chances were higher than you thought. It felt like you walked for a long time before Jongho finally sat you in a chair. Your hands and ankles were tied to keep you in place and the hood was finally taken off. You squinted at the harsh white light, trying to shield your eyes with your shoulder.

“I thought we had a deal. You’re always supposed to answer if I call.” San said.

Your eyes focused to see him looking like a James Bond villain, sitting behind a large desk petting Noodles. How did he get Noodles?

“How did you-?” you started but San cut you off with a chuckle.

“I’ve had a key to your apartment for months now. Not that I need one to get in. But that’s beside the point. You didn’t pick up when I called.” San said.

“So, what you kidnapped me because I didn’t answer your call?” you asked.

“No, I kidnapped you because you were about to sell us out. My baby is very smart, aren’t you?” he says, standing up and walking around the desk to hold you by your chin.

“So you are triad.” you sneer.

“Mmmm, not exactly. But we are criminals.” he said.

San let that sink in for a moment and you scowled at him.

“Did you kill Agent Heejin?” you asked.

“No, I didn’t. I didn’t even send the order for that. That was Hongjoong. Your old supervisor on the other hand….” he trailed off.

“She’s been missing for weeks… you killed her? Why?” you asked.

“She made you cry, that day I came to visit you at the office.” he explained, like it was a simple chain of events to follow.

“Oh my God, you’re fucking sick.” you say, but San just laughs sharply.

“No, what was sick was what I did to your coworker.” he corrected.

You stared at him, blankly, processing his words.

“You killed Jacob? You did that- HE WAS MY FRIEND, YOU BASTARD!” tears quickly sprung to your eyes, and San wiped them away with his thumbs. You jerked your face out of his hold, but you could only go so far away. He tutted at you, holding you still so he could clear the tears from your cheeks,

“Hold still. I know he was your friend but.. I didn’t know, I’m sorry baby. I really am.” he said.

It was true, he felt awful about killing Jacob. San had killed a lot of people and rarely felt guilt for it. But for him, he really was sorry.

“He didn’t even do anything to me. Why’d you kill him?” you screeched, but San didn’t even flinch.

“He- I thought he was trying to make a move on you. You’re mine, Y/N.” San said with conviction.

You stared blankly at him.

“No I don’t San.”

San growled, tipping your head back.

“Yes you are. Your entire life belongs to me.” he said.

“Good luck controlling me from prison”, you snarled back.

San chuckled at that. He pet your hair, smiling down at you.

“Oh, baby… I’m not going to jail.” San said.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. The evidence I handed over was pretty compelling.” you said, and San couldn’t help it, laughing at you.

“Darling, who do you this was the ‘higher-up’ asking for you to be on this case? Baby, who do you think started this investigation?” he drawled.

You stared at him in shock, but how did he do that? How long had San been watching you?

“I’m the one in charge here, and don’t you ever forget that.”

#ateez #san #ateez san #choi san x reader #choi san #ateez x reader #san fanfic #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios

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vexedtonightmares · 5 years

Text

-sens de la vie-

for: 75 dates in the skam universe @theskamlibrary

prompt: museum date

pairing: eliott demaury/ lucas lallemant

ao3 link

To preface, Eliott loved Lucas, he really did. More than anything. That said, if he didn’t shut up, Eliott might have to kill him.

“I just don’t get it,” Lucas said for the millionth time that afternoon. What wasn’t to get? It was art, you didn’t have to understand everything to appreciate it. Besides, Lucas was the one who suggested a museum date, it wasn’t like Eliott had forced him to come or anything.

“So you’ve said,” Eliott grumbled in response, moving to look at the next painting. Lucas jolted as he moved, and Eliott remembered with a small laugh that they were holding hands. Sometimes he forgot when they were touching because Lucas felt so natural to him that it was like an extension of his own body. He’d said something along those lines to Yann, Arthur, and Basile once, and they’d just laughed at how whipped he was. That was true, he knew that, but there was something stronger to him about this feeling. He’d never felt like that about Lucille.

He liked to think it meant that they were soulmates, but he would never say it aloud. He could only imagine the monumental eye roll that would follow.

“Oh,” Lucas said in surprise, pulling Eliott from his thoughts, “I like this one.”

Eliott smiled in relief, that, finally, Lucas could appreciate art the way it was supposed to be appreciated, until he saw what Lucas was looking at. “I’m going to murder you.”

“Eliott!” A laugh bubbled out of Lucas, lighting up his whole face.

“Those are the directions to lead to the next exhibition. It’s literally just telling you where to go,” Eliott explained patiently, trying not to let his exasperation show on his face.

Lucas frowned. “Oh. I thought it was some sort of ‘break-the-third-wall’ piece with like, a deeper meaning about society and the direction of our lives. How we choose who gives our life direction, and how that’s the true secret to the meaning of life.”

“I think you meant the fourth wall,” Eliott said, completely dumbfounded. The one time Lucas actually puts thought into a piece of art, coming up with a beautifully analysis, he’s talking about the directions. Eliott was caught between strangling and kissing the hell out of him.

“Isn’t that what I said?” Lucas asked airily, continuing to walk to the next room. He scrunched his nose when they got into the room, and Eliott felt his own blood pressure spike the second before Lucas opened his mouth again, and said, “I don’t get it.”

“I swear to god Lucas, you’re killing me,” Eliott said, putting his face into his hands.

“What?” Lucas asked with genuine surprise.

Eliott couldn’t help but laugh. Lucas was something else, wasn’t he? “You’ve said that about every piece of art, except the one that wasn’t a piece of art.”

“Well I’m not all arty like you, I just don’t understand this stuff. Like, what is this supposed to be? Those pairs of headphones aren’t connected to anything,” Lucas said defensively, crossing his arms.

“Did you just call me arty?”

Lucas smirked. “I was going to call you an art hoe.”

Eliott ignored this, reaching for Lucas’ hand again and pulling him closer to the art in question. It had a title that looked to be in a different language. “Look,” he said, pointing to a sheet of instructions, “It’s an interactive piece, you’re supposed to plug the headphones into your phone and play a song that reminds you of love, or falling in love, and there’s a recording device installed in each pair that records the song. Then the songs are added to a playlist and broadcasted over a video about love in the next room over.” He blinked in appreciation. “That’s really cool actually.”

But Lucas was no longer listening, giggling to himself. Eliott took a deep breath and raised his eyebrows in question, silently asking what was so funny. Lucas bit his lip to contain his grin, pointing to where he’d pretended to plug a pair of headphones into a rock from a different display, a table over. When Eliott didn’t react, Lucas explained, through breathless giggles, “It’s rock music.”

Why and how had Eliott fallen so hard for this utter dumbass. If it was Lucille, he probably would have been livid that she was making a joke of the art, but with Lucas he wanted to laugh along. So he did, even taking out his phone and recording Lucas pretending to dance to the music, not caring if they looked like they didn’t belong there or if other visitors were judging them for not taking it all seriously.

That was just it, wasn’t it? The fact that he wanted to share in Lucas’ joy, no matter how stupid it was, that was true love. He couldn’t imagine getting mad at Lucas, even if he didn’t get things the same way Lucas did. Because he knew that if their roles were reversed, Lucas wouldn’t get mad at him. Annoyed, maybe, but it was a fond annoyance, the kind that said You’re such an idiot but I love you so much anyway.

Although, Eliott was still going to teach Lucas a bit about art. He planned on filling their lives and the lives of their future children with so much art, which meant Lucas had to be able to understand what he was so passionate about. Even if it meant he had to let Lucas teach him a bit about science.

“Do you want to do it?” Lucas nodded at the headphones, and Eliott smiled in agreement. “Got a song in mind? I know that ‘Sexyback’ just screams Lucas Lallemant, but I don’t know if that’s the vibe they’re going for.”

“Hmm, I was thinking more along the lines of ‘Sexy and I Know it’,” Eliott responded emphatically. Lucas flashed a quick grin, nudging his arm.

“No really,” he said, “Do you have a song in mind?”

Eliott nodded. “I do, but I don’t know what it’s called.”

“How is that possible?” Lucas laughed.

Eliott shrugged, raising one eyebrow at Lucas. “Because you never told me.”

“What?”

“That song you played for me on the piano, the first time we hung out. Pretty sure my heart was yours from that moment on.”

Lucas’ face went bright red, but his expression screamed embarrassment, not love. “Oh, right.”

“Something wrong…?” Eliott prompted, confused.

“I don’t remember what it’s called,” Lucas said quickly, “Oops, sorry.”

Eliott didn’t believe that for one second, but he could humor Lucas. “Ok, I guess I can try to look it up, I remember some of the notes.” He didn’t, but Lucas didn’t need to know that.

“No, no, don’t do that. Just pick a different song,” Lucas tried fruitlessly.

“Can’t remember any others at the moment, unfortunately,” Eliott said with an exaggerated sigh.

Lucas grimaced, closing his eyes. “I love you.” He peeked open one eye, glancing at Eliott before closing it again.

“I love you too?” He did, it was just a little bit out of nowhere.

Lucas groaned. “No, I mean, I do love you, but that’s not what I meant.”

“Ok?”

“‘I Love You’ is the name of the song,” Lucas admitted quietly, and Eliott grinned involuntarily, before he even registered what Lucas said.

“I’m sorry?” he clarified.

Lucas crossed his arms again, opening his eyes to glare at Eliott. “You heard me.”

“I can’t believe you were so whipped for me that you played me a song called ‘I Love You’ the first time we ever hung out. You had a crush on me, didn’t you,” Eliott cooed, wrapping Lucas up in his arms, grumpy hedgehog that he was.

“We’re literally dating! What does it matter if I had a crush on you, you had a crush on me too, Mr. I like surprising people,” Lucas squeaked indignantly, fussing in Eliott’s arms. Eliott kissed the top of his head to make him stop squirming, pulling their faces close together.

“I’m just teasing. I love that song and I love that it made me fall in love with you. Can we both play it at the same time?” he asked, nodding to the headphones. Lucas glanced at his lips with heavy eyes, and Eliott indulged him, pressing their lips together in a brief but deep kiss.

“Let’s do it,” Lucas said, pulling out his phone and plugging it in as Eliott did the same. They both searched the song and hit play at the same time, wrapping the headphones around their ears. The minute Eliott heard the first few notes being played, he smiled so wide he could barely see out of his eyes. Lucas leaned into him, holding out his phone to take a picture, but Eliott couldn’t even dim his smile for it one notch. Lucas didn’t seem to care though, placing his phone back on the table and wrapping his arms around Eliott’s waist.

They listened to the whole song in silence, holding one another and letting themselves be transported back to the night Lucas had played it, their first unofficial date, really. If Eliott teared up a little bit, Lucas didn’t say anything about it, and if Lucas’ face was so red it was practically a tomato the entire time, Eliott didn’t say anything about it. They shared a few kisses, only because they really couldn’t help it, not only pressed softly onto lips, but also the top of Lucas’ head, Eliott’s cheek, Lucas’ forehead, Eliott’s hand, and everywhere in between.

Once the song finished, they followed the path to the next room, where there was a large projection on the wall and a small bench with a remote. Lucas headed for it immediately, clicking a button to start the video, only to be greeted by a selection screen.

“Oh, cool, Eliott look at this. We can choose what song to listen to with the video,” he said, pointing at the options. He looked so cute that Eliott just had to capture the moment, taking a quick video before sitting beside Lucas.

“We’re listening to our song, obviously,” Eliott said, taking the remote.

Lucas rolled his eyes in fake exasperation. “Duh.”

They clicked play on ‘I Love You - RIOPY’ and saw their own faces looking back at them. Eliott saw his face split into the widest grin he’d ever seen, saw Lucas lean into him, saw them take a photo, saw Lucas’ arms wrap around his waist, saw them look at each other as if no one else in the world existed, watched them kiss one another, try not to cry, and fall in love all over again.

Eliott didn’t think either of them moved an inch during the entire video, gaping at it with mouths hanging open. As the song faded out text came over the screen, explaining the installation, and Eliott cursed himself for not thinking of something like it.

The theme of this project is love, but love has many forms. No one video could ever express the idea or feeling of love in the way you, yourself can. Music is a universal outlet for love, one that transcends language, race, sexuality, gender, and all else. So I gave you a task: find a song that is love in its purest form and play it. I’ll do the rest of the work, recording it and playing it over a video all about love. Simple, easy. But as much as love is universal, just as music is universal, that universality comes from individuality, of being the only person who can feel what you feel. The person I love once told me that, and it’s stuck with me ever since. There are cameras recording all over the gallery, activated once you plug in your device to play music, and they record what love means to you, the individual, through your choice of music. Love may make you happy, sad, angry, embarrassed, excited, all of the above, and more, so I compiled the footage to make a database of what love means to you, all of you, to show that no matter how love makes you feel, remember that at the end of the day love always wins, and you deserve all the love in the world. Alt er love.

The screen faded to black and Eliott turned slowly to meet Lucas’ eyes.

“Wow,” Lucas said, and Eliott could only nod. Because, wow. It was a genius idea, and such a meaningful one at that. Eliott could only imagine what other people thought when they viewed themselves up on that big screen, awestruck if not somewhat confused, at least until the artist’s note at the end. “That was incredible,” Lucas continued.

“It was so unexpected, but it was perfect,” Eliott agreed, standing up to let the next person waiting come and experience the art. Lucas took his hand as he stood up, walking slowly as if still in a daze.

“I get it now,” Lucas said once they were back outside the gallery space. “Why art means so much to you, why it’s so important. That was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, and I’m so glad I got to do it with you. If it hadn’t been you, I probably never would have come here, and this probably sounds dramatic, but I feel like my life and view on the world has changed for the better.”

Lucas put one of his hands over his face, cheeks reddening. “God, that sounds so stupid, look what you’ve done to me.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid at all. That was one of the most amazing installations I’ve ever seen. My life and view on the world have changed too. I might never have come here if you hadn’t suggested it either, you know,” Eliott said. In all honesty he probably would have, but it meant a whole lot that Lucas was there with him.

Lucas smiled a smile that nearly melted Eliott, and Eliott had to look away so he wouldn’t be publicly indecent with his affection. Upon doing so, he realized where they were, right in front of the art that wasn’t art that Lucas had analyzed so thoroughly it was all Eliott could think about.

“Stand in front of that wall,” Eliott said abruptly, pointing at the words on the wall. “I want it to look like the arrow is pointing at you.”

“Why?” Lucas asked, standing where Eliott had positioned him, glancing through his long eyelashes and laughing softly.

Why? Because Lucas had thought a set of directions was art, and because Lucas gave his life direction. And that direction had led him, just as Lucas had said, to the meaning of life. He’d always known it deep down, but it was to love and be loved unconditionally, at least to him. Everyone could have a different interpretation, but that was the great thing about art, and about love itself, as the installation they’d viewed had stated.

Lucas’ face was serious as Eliott took the photo, and Eliott’s heart grew about ten sizes in his chest, so much so that he was worried it might be so big he’d have to carry it around for a while. Lucas placed his head on Eliott’s shoulder, blinking with bright eyes. “Onto the next exhibit?”

“Look at you, you little art hoe,” Eliott said, tapping Lucas’ nose and ruffling his hair. Lucas scrunched up his face and narrowed his eyes in regret.

“Don’t push it,” he said, but Eliott could tell he was holding back a grin.

“Just one second,” Eliott said, pulling Lucas to the information desk at the front of the museum. The attendant looked up in surprise as Eliott approached.

“What can I help you with?” she asked, looking between the two of them.

“I was just wondering,” Eliott began, “Who is the artist of the ‘Alt er Love’ installation?” He planned on becoming their biggest fan.

The attendant smiled knowingly. “It’s a beautiful exhibition, isn’t it? We’ve received a lot of positive feedback so far.”

“It’s incredible,” Eliott said, only, it wasn’t Eliott, it was Lucas. Eliott had opened his mouth to speak, but Lucas had stolen the words before they could be spoken.

“‘Alt er Love’ was created by a Norweigan artist named Even Bech Næsheim,” the attendant told them, and Eliott thanked her before walking off with Lucas to wherever they would go next.

Whoever Even Bech Næsheim was, Eliott felt quite inspired by him and would definitely be researching him more when he and Lucas returned home from their date. He owed this artist more than just a simple gallery appreciation. It was one of the most impactful experiences of his life, there was no way he couldn’t acknowledge that.

Alt er love. Eliott still didn’t know what it meant, but he liked it quite a bit.

#skam france #elu fic #75 dates in the skam universe #eliott demaury #lucas lallemant #elu

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antandjas · 7 years

Text

The Boy Next Door (A Janthony Fic)

hey guys! this is the fic of the day and it really got away from me and became a whole thing! enjoy!

prompt: based off of a story I heard from college. Jasmine can’t sleep because her neighbor is always having loud sex and her neighbor is...Anthony.

------

Jasmine can let it go the first time.

It’s two in the morning and she had to be up early for classes. The insistent banging against her wall had woken her up and in turn woke her roommate, Pippa, up too.

Living in a shoebox sized dorm room with paper thin walls was not Jasmine’s dream come true but she had to get used to it. Even when her neighbor was having very, very loud sex. Not only was it loud, it was also shaking the walls around them. Jasmine had only made eye contact with Pippa who only rolled her eyes.

But Jasmine lets it go, this time.

She wakes up extra cranky in the morning. She doesn’t bother to even try to look presentable; no makeup on and her hair up in a bun, constantly trying to rub the sleep from her eyes.

Pippa is still sound asleep, the girl could sleep through anything and Jasmine was jealous of that.

As quietly as she can, she grabs her bag and walks out the door and as luck would have it, her extremely loud neighbor is coming out of his room too. He’s shirtless, only clad in a towel with his hair up. She tries not to glare at him but they make eye contact and the little smirk on his face almost sends Jasmine reeling.

She remembers seeing his face during move-in day, the curly hair and freckles impossible to forget. She also remembers telling Pippa that she thought that the boy next door was cute but now that’s out the window. There was no other feeling than annoyance.

He’s about to say something to her but before he can, she tightens her grip on her bag and storms off down the hall, leaving before she has a chance to yell at him.

---

“I’m going to the library.”

Jasmine is barely in the room when Pippa tells her this. Without asking her why, she can hear the reason.

“Is he seriously blasting his music right now!?” She tosses her bag on her bed and watches as Pippa gathers all of her stuff from her desk.

“It’s been like this all afternoon, can’t even call a noise complaint because it’s not ‘quiet hours’ yet.” Pippa huffs, pulling on her shoes.

Jasmine grinds her teeth as she hears the music blasting and reverberating off their walls. The room was already too small and now they had to yell in order to hear each other.

“That’s it!” Jasmine jumps off her bed and pulls open the door. She walks out into the hall and walks the few steps to his front door and stands there for a second, contemplating if she should yell at him or not.

Instead she chickens out, realizing she’s not one for confrontation, and instead leaves a note on the whiteboard outside his door.

“Did you give it to him good?” Pippa jokes, standing at the doorway, laughing as Jasmine quickly scrambles back into their room.

“I left a note.” She pauses to watch Pippa look over to read the whiteboard. She hears her roommate giggle and Pippa comes back smiling.

“Please be courteous to your neighbors? Really Jas?”

Jasmine shrugs. She wasn’t sure what to write, not really wanting to start any issues with their guy neighbor. They both look at each other and share a small laugh when the music shifts to another song.

“Alright, I’m going with you to the library.” Jasmine declares, packing up too. They leave the room while some random Chance the Rapper song starts to play.

----

Two nights in a row of silence; peaceful, beautiful silence. It’s almost too hard to believe, almost.

Jasmine wakes up to the sound of a bed frame banging against her wall. It’s followed by the moans and screaming of whoever is doing it. It takes everything in her to not bang back, instead grabbing the sides of her pillow and curving them up to try to cover her ears.

It doesn’t work of course, only muffling the noises.

She sits like that for what feels like forever until the couple next door is finished. Jasmine turns her back to the wall and tries to fall back asleep, a quick peek over to see that Pippa is still fast asleep.

Her eyes begin to close and she slowly starts to drift off again before the soft banging begins again. This time she grabs for her headphones off her desk and starts to blast her music, hopeful it’ll drown them out.

In the morning she’s more than grumpy.

Pippa doesn’t even bother to say anything to her and she’s out of the room for her early class while Jasmine’s first class isn’t until later.

She decides that a shower might help her relax, release the built up tension in her muscles. She can’t remember what time she fell asleep, the hours droning on. It felt like all she did was blink before her alarm had woken her up.

Wrapped up in a towel, Jasmine steps out into the hall not paying attention and colliding with a solid body, dropping her shower caddy and all of her stuff falls out.

“Oops, sorry!”

She looks up and her blood begins to boil. It’s Freckles again in only a towel coming back to his room. He leans forward to pick up her stuff but Jasmine is too quick and is already putting everything back in her caddy.

When she stands back up her cheeks turn a soft shade of red when she sees that she’s only in a towel; that they were both only in towels. Jasmine is so close to him that she realizes that she can count all the freckles on his face if she wanted to.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you.” He tries to say but Jasmine just shakes her head.

“Don’t worry about it.” It’s harsh and quick, trying to speed up the awkward encounter. She quickly moves around him and walks towards the bathroom again leaving him to stand there.

When she comes back from her shower, she’s more tense. Not even the warm water could wash away how annoyed she was.

Jasmine changes into her comfy, studying clothes before she walks back out into the hallway. She checks to make sure no one is around before she writes “be courteous to your neighbors” again on the guy’s whiteboard, slamming her own room door before sitting down to study.

-----

It’s at the point in the semester where she’s overworked.

Most of her days are spent in the library, studying and making notecards or holding study sessions with other classmates. She’s also at the point where she thinks she’s made up of 95% coffee with how much she’s had in such a short amount of time.

This is also the point in the semester that she’s fed up with everything and any little thing could set her off. She’s passively written about ten notes on her neighbor’s whiteboard all ranging from “be courteous to you neighbors” to “stop being so damn loud” with nothing really in between.

Jasmine’s learned that it’s best to just keep her headphones in at night. Her lovely neighbor seemed to be bringing in a different girl every night (not that she was keeping track, they all just sounded the same) but she couldn’t hear most of it with headphones it.

But tonight was different. Even with her music blasting in her ears she could still hear everything.

Her eyes pricked with tears, frustrated and the over exhaustion taking over. She turns over to face Pippa, who surprisingly is awake too.

“Seriously? How can anyone be that loud!?” Pippa groans. If she can’t even sleep then Jasmine knows it’s an issue.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow, I swear.”

And she keeps her promise.

Jasmine is up early, even though her morning class was cancelled. She’s alone in the room, mustering up all her strength to go knock on her neighbor’s door.

She’s made a speech up in her mind and recited it over and over again. When she hears his door open and close (probably coming back from his morning shower), she gets up and takes a deep breath in. Slowly but surely she makes her way to his door.

Her nerves slowly taking over but she knows that she has to do this. When she knocks on the door it’s so soft she doesn’t think he’ll hear it but within seconds, the door opens.

Jasmine is face to face with her freckled tormentor and suddenly her whole planned and prepared speech vanishes from her memory, every word disappears when she meets his hazel eyes.

“Hey.” He says, smooth and easy, smiling at her.

Jasmine blinks rapidly before she realizes what she’s here to do.

“I, um, I just wanted to let you know that your obnoxiously loud sex keeps me and my roommate up every night. Well mostly me. My bed is right next to the wall that connects our rooms and...and it’s really loud.” She spills it all out, crossing her arms across her chest and furrowing her brows together.

She watches his reaction morph into a million different things before he starts laughing. It’s almost enough to make her scream.

“Are you really laughing at me!? I get no sleep because of you and all of the girls you bring around!” Jasmine screeches, her voice getting louder with every word.

“Sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t stay here at night…” He begins to explain, holding his hands up defensively, probably because Jasmine is slowly closing her fists against her sides.

“I work a night shift most nights and it’s probably my roommate, Brett. He moved in this semester, you and your roommate weren’t here when he moved in.” He scratches the back of his neck, the blush creeping up his cheeks.

Jasmine peers into their room to see two beds now inside and she turns back to look at him. She closes her eyes briefly in disbelief and chuckles, all this time she’s hated him and it wasn’t even his fault.

“I’m really sorry about him. He’s really taking this college experience to the extreme. I’ll talk to him about it.” He offers.

“Okay, thank you.” She murmurs, embarrassed that she blamed him. Awkwardly she begins to turn back to go to her room.

“I’m Anthony, by the way.” He calls out after her, causing her to turn back to face him again. “You’re the one that’s been writing the passive aggressive notes on our whiteboard huh?”

Jasmine purses her lips and tries to look everywhere but him but when she finally looks back up she’s met with the softest smile.

“My personal favorite was “don’t be a dick and shut up,” I think that was a real highlight for me.” He teases her.

Jasmine chuckles, that wasn’t one of her finer moments. “Yeah, sorry again. I-I didn’t know it wasn’t you. I’ve been so mean to you.”

Anthony shrugs his shoulders. “I would’ve done worse honestly. Maybe thrown eggs at the door or something.”

That gets her to laugh, all the tension releasing from her body as she casually leans against the small space that separates their rooms. They stand in silence for a few seconds before she spots Pippa walking up to them.

“Hey!” Jasmine greets her but Pippa looks both amused and confused.

“Hey...what’s going on?” Pippa looks between the two of them and raises an eyebrow.

“Um, we settled the issue...with the whole noise thing.” Jasmine tells her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and smiling.

“Oh please don’t tell me you two are gonna have sex, please Jas, just wait until I’m asleep.” Pippa groans and rolls her eyes at her.

“What!? No! We just figured out that it was his new roommate!” Jasmine quickly explains, frantic, her eyes going wild.

Jasmine feels all the heat rise up from her neck to her cheeks and when she looks over at Anthony he looks the same exact way.

Pippa just looks between them again and laughs. “Oh...okay, you two were just looking at each other like you were mentally undressing one another so I got nervous.” Pippa says and leaves them with that before she walks into their room.

Silently, Jasmine is cursing Pippa in her mind.

“Sorry about her...she’s so crass when it’s midterms week.” Jasmine gives him a small smile before she too turns to head back into her room. She’s probably taken up too much of his time already and she was ready to hide in her bed until the end of the year so she didn’t have to see him again, every bit of her embarrassed.

“Wait, hold on, I didn’t even get your name.” He approaches her and they’re face to face again, so close that she’s back to counting his freckles.

“Oh, it’s Jasmine.” She takes the hand he’s holding out and shakes it.

Anthony smiles and nods. “Are you busy tonight? I know it’s midterms but I know this great coffee shop that’s open all night, for studying…”

Jasmine’s lips curl up when she realizes that he’s asking her out and that they’re both still holding hands. He’s the perfect stranger, sweet and funny and most definitely not the sex rabbit that she thought he was.

“Sure, for studying though. And it’ll keep me away from that roommate of yours.” She jokes around with him, the little smile never leaving her face.

“True but I heard the coffee shop throws some major ragers though,” He pauses and finally looks down at their hands, “I’ll come knock on your door later tonight?”

And she doesn’t know why but the little smile he gives her makes her heart jump. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

Slowly (and a little awkwardly) they both say goodbye and part their ways, Jasmine walking into her room. She peeks over at Pippa who is giving her a look.

“Really?” Pippa just shakes her head and laughs when Jasmine doesn’t answer.

Instead she jumps into her bed, smiling like a damn fool, and not getting over meeting the boy next door.

#janthony #janthony fic #janthony snippet #jasmine cephas jones #anthony ramos

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