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#Hands up in a surrender but he looks like a vlogger
black-and-yellow · 3 years
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May I offer you a Loudspeaker in these trying times?
I am once again requesting you listen to Baby Don't Do It
(Click read more for the version with no filters)
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cloud9in · 3 years
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Encounter (Mc x Veronica)
Summary: Veronica goes out for drinks one night and finds herself in a situation where she needs saving. Good thing Bea exists right?
This fic was highly inspired by my boo @fundamentalromantic. Thank you so much for the idea and I hope you enjoy it.
Word count: 2,300
Warnings: Violence, implied sex, but 80% banter 
Tags: @samanthadalton @satrinadia @clowneryme @thedaft1 @alccaddsccup @penda-bear (tagged some people who I thought would like to read)
 A day before moving into Belvoire, Veronica decided she should get a feel of the area. New York was far different from the usual quietness of her small hometown in California. But on the bright side, the vlogger would get a ton of content for her Youtube channel in the buzzing city where people never sleep. The first few days of exploring involved bar hopping and recruiting Chloe to help her film in Soho and Chinatown for beauty week. Poppy took part in Veronica’s tour as well, and on Thursday the girls decided to check out the newest night club that opened up.
 Veronica stepped out of the car in a sparkly thigh-length dress with a slit, and black Louboutin heels. It definitely caught the attention of people standing outside the club, a few guys even attempting to approach her in their drunken state. Chloe basked in the attention, flirting with a blonde-haired guy who was clearly overdressed (in her eyes). Poppy dragged Chloe with her and the three girls walked swiftly past the long line of people and up to the bouncer. It didn’t take much effort to have him open the door for them, being as they were the three hottest people on the block, but Veronica also did have a killer reputation at just about any place she stepped foot in.
 An hour into partying and Veronica held her phone up as her livestream watched them all do a round of colorful tequila shots. The vlogger definitely felt the warm buzz of booze swimming through her veins as her muscles started to relax. New York was the place to be right now and more eventful than all of the years she lived in Cali. Veronica was excited to continue her career and studies in a place like this, but her peaceful thoughts are quickly cut off when someone approaches her, the smell of cheap alcohol invading her senses.
 “What’s a tigress like you doing in a raunchy place like this baby?” Veronica rolled her eyes at the hideous effort of flirting by a man who reeked of “just got divorced and into younger women”. His friends (who were probably part of the same club) seemed to laugh around him, encouraging the unwanted behavior. She shook her head and turned away from him in her chair. Don’t let some idiots ruin your night V, have some fun.
 She immediately stiffened when he wrapped his arms around her from behind, the wet feeling of his alcohol soaked beard grazing against her cheek. Veronica  jerked up abruptly, shoving the man away from her and placing her arms up in defense. “Get the fuck off of me.” 
 At this point people started to stare at them, Poppy and Chloe already standing by the Zeta’s side with anger. Veronica had left her phone on the table but the stream kept going, capturing the voices of patrons in the bar getting increasingly louder. The bearded man watched her with a predatory look on his face, well aware of the crowd that was forming around them. He grunted and turned away after realizing he probably couldn’t take on three women at once, atleast not in the way he imagined. Chloe scoffs loudly, crossing her arms, “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’re scared of us. Pathetic piece of garbage.” 
 Yeah....bad idea Chlo.
 When he whipped around to face them, Veronica finally noticed just how large his muscles were, and how they were straining against his shirt. Oh shit. 
 “What did you say to me bitch?”
 Veronica shot a nasty glare at Chloe before facing the stranger once again, her arms slightly trembling. “Look, let's just forget all of this and move on with our night. Don't mind my friend...she’s just..” Veronica leans closer, mocking a whisper, “it’s that time of the month.” The guys laughed at her comment and she silently breathed a sigh of relief, hoping this would make them back off. The last thing Veronica needed was to get her ass handed to her on live, with thousands of people watching. Poppy stood there eyeing the men, her hand already on the tip of her phone, ready to speed dial her dad, or the cops...or her therapist if things went awry. 
 Chloe sneered at Veronica, her awful balance making her stumble as she stepped closer to the men. She clearly had too much to drink. “Oh please, I’m not sorry for anything that comes out of my mouth, even if it includes vomit!” She points a finger in their direction, “give me your best you motherfuc- mmh!”
 Poppy clamps one hand straight onto the blonde’s mouth before she can spit out any more profanity. Her face a mixture of annoyance and fear as the men start to lose their smiles. Veronica can see the bearded man getting ready to lunge at her and her flight or fight instincts seemed to kick in at the last second. She dodged the hand that tried to grab her, but he caught her leg as he was spent sprawling down on the ground from something behind. She yelped and kicked free of his hold before catching the gaze of a woman who stood a few feet away from her. Their eye contact was immediately broken as the stranger glared down at the man, “hands off the lady.”
 Two men from the group with buzzcuts tried to grab hold of the brunette’s arms but she spins easily and kicks one right in between the legs, making him fall in pain. The other guy tried to knock her down from behind but she locked his arm in an odd and excruciating position, “do you really want to do this?” His persistence led her to pull on his elbow, eliciting a scream from the man until he surrendered and scurried away, along with the rest of their crew.
 The brunette swiftly kicks the bearded man in the abdomen after seeing him trying to get up, “stay down you asshole.” 
 She wipes a trickle of sweat from her forehead and huffs out, “I’ve wrestled pigs bigger than these guys, but damn that was a workout.” Unbeknownst to the woman, it was all caught on tape and would be everywhere, including Belvoire’s hottest gossip blog the T. But she doesn’t have to worry about that because she doesn’t go there, right?
 Veronica gapes at the girl who single handedly became her hero, in tight leather pants. The curly-haired woman noticed the speechless expression on her face and smirked. “Well if I were you guys, I’d leave this place before the cops miraculously show up.”
 “Somebody should call the police! These- these bimbos tried to kill us-”
 Chloe earns another hand on her mouth as Poppy starts to push her towards the exit, “Oh yeah the only bimbo here is YOU, go and sit in the car before you end up in a jail cell.” 
 Veronica turns away from the chaotic scene and notices that the brunette has gotten closer to her. She can feel her throat starting to heat up, and it was enough to take her mind off what just happened. The Zeta girl tries to take a step and immediately feels her heel slip sideways, but the woman captures her hands and steadies her before she can fall. “Woah- careful there. Maybe we should walk outside? This club is starting to get crowded.” 
 They step around the man sprawled out on the floor. Yeah someone will probably come get him, no worries. Veronica lets her lead the way until they both step out to the curb. The brunette helps her sit down on the edge of the sidewalk before taking a seat next to her. “You know, I can’t keep living life without knowing the name of my savior.” 
 The mystery girl barks out a laugh as she siddles closer to her. She holds out her hand, hoping that Veronica would grab it, “Bea, Bea Hughes. And you?”
 Veronica stares at her wide-eyed, a not so sarcastic gasp escaping her lips, “You-you don’t know who I am?”
 “...Should I?”
 Bea scrunches her eyebrows in confusion before snapping her fingers, “Oh wait! You’re a Kardashian..!” That earns her a hard smack to her leg but she can only laugh teasingly. 
 “I think that was the most disrespectful thing someone has ever said to me....You’re very lucky you’re cute. Oh and it's Veronica.”
 Bea bites her lip shyly, “You’re too beautiful to be one of them...Veronica. And you definitely look all real to me.”
 “Okay if you’re trying to seduce me, this is NOT the way to go Hughes.”
 They both bust out laughing and Veronica wraps her arm around Bea’s, letting herself sink into her side. “Thank you by the way...I mean, not like I couldn’t handle it myself.” She shrugs and looks down at their entangled arms, squeezing tighter, “I owe you one.”
 “You don’t owe me a damn thing Veronica. I’m just grateful I was there as well. This ain’t the first time those goons have harassed women in the area.”
 “Judging by that southern accent and fighting skills, I’m guessing you’re not from here?”
 Bea smiles down at Veronica, studying her bright hazel eyes and luscious lashes. “No I am not, but….if you want to know more about me, how about over a drink? If you want to.” 
 The Zeta girl laughs softly, nudging her, “Oh so you do know how to flirt Hughes. Let's do it! But um..it might be a little difficult to do that because my heel is broken.”
 Bea peers down at her stilettos which seemed to be way past 7 lives now and smiles to herself. In one swift motion she scoops Veronica up in her arms bridal style. The vlogger gasps in surprise before wrapping her arms around the brunette’s neck. “Our problem seems to have disappeared already. And you are incredibly light like a feather.” Bea teases the Zeta, lifting her in an up and down motion.
 “That’s because I’m 40% alcohol right now, but do keep me in your arms, perfectly convenient for me.”
 “You mean I get to carry a stunning woman in my arms free of charge? This must be heaven..”
 “Okay Ms. Flirt, keep walking I’ll direct you where to go.”
 Bea fought the urge to tease her about trying to be dominant but the voices of Poppy and Chloe caught their attention. She approached the car where Chloe sat…wailing hysterically..?
 “I don’t want to go to prison! Don’t let them take me Poppy please!” The blonde grabs Poppy’s dress and doesn’t let go, desperately looking around. When Bea finally stops in front of them, Poppy looks over at the two women and rolls her eyes, clearly fed up.
 “Poppy what the hell is happening with Chlo?!” Veronica breathes out, even though this is the last place she wants to be.
 “Chloe thinks I called the cops on her and she said she doesn't want to sleep on a concrete bed with two other women in a prison cell.”
 Bea raises an eyebrow as she watches the two Zeta girls stare at each other like they’re used to what was happening right now. Veronica gives Poppy a stern look, essentially telling her “leave me alone, I’m trying to get laid”, and the strawberry blonde catches on quickly. She turns away, sighing heavily, “Go, I’ll deal with this. But be at the house tomorrow, it's our first day back.”
 The Zeta grins and blows her a kiss, signaling for Bea to carry on down the sidewalk as she lays in her arms barefoot. Poppy watches them walk away and roll her eyes.
 “So, should I ask?”
 “I think you would appreciate it if I didn’t tell you.”
 The brunette laughs easily, crossing the now empty street. The more she walked the direction that Veronica guided her to, the more quieter it got. “Um… V. Where exactly are we going..?”
 “You’ll see. It’s a secret spot. Kind of like a speakeasy, except it’ll just be the two of us and we can do whatever we want.” Veronica flips her hair seductively, catching Bea’s gaze as she bites her lips and winks. The brunette can feel her heart starting to beat faster, her breath hitching in her throat. She barely can move her gaze off of Veronica’s hazel orbs, her cheeks reddening at the girl’s shameless comment. 
 Lucky for Bea (or maybe not), their night was just getting started, and Veronica would have her blushing again, but this time on her knees. 
 ***
 Veronica saunters confidently into the gates of Belvoire on move-in day, watching as others run around campus with luggages and bags. She sips on the iced latte in her land, eyes glued to her phone on the other hand. She eventually finds Chloe yelling at some assistant girl and immediately turns around, not wanting to deal with it. A woman with a suitcase and a grey Henley shirt approaches the blonde, reprimanding her for her rude behavior. The video of the fight last night appears on the T just as Veronica looks at her phone again. Bea’s leather jacket appears on-screen and knocks the man down. Veronica smirks as she watches the woman take on 3 men effortlessly. People around start to point at the brunette while looking at their phones, and Veronica doesn’t look up until two voices that appear to be arguing, get louder. She nearly drops the cup of coffee in her hands when she sees the same face that was between her legs the previous night. 
 And as Poppy approaches Bea, the brunette catches a glimpse of familiar hazel eyes and ombre colored hair and her eyes go wide. “...Veronica..?” Oh shit.
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ashphoenix06 · 5 years
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Bittersweet
The air was damp as Jack and Marvin ran down the hallway, their steps echoing against the walls. Though cold, the YouTuber had never felt so much fire within him. That mother fucking glitch! What he had just done... making Ocea slide that knife into her own mother’s throat... MOTHER FUCKER!
Marvin’s eye had changed as soon as they left the others. Once soft while talking to the girls, it harderned to murderous intent once he turned around. Not even his mask hide the darkening rage that clouded the magician’s eye. His glass eye made it all the more frightening.
Jack still had Marvin’s cries stuck in his head on repeat, his heartbroken face tattooed in his minds eye. He had seen JJ holding Kenna, a look of utter defeat on the dapper man’s face as tears fell...
And apparently, Anti still had Chase, Schneep and Jackie....
Oh yeah.... Jack was going to KILL this virus!
They rounded the corner and stopped. Jack swore as Marvin growled beside him, green flames bursting through the slits in his mask. There, in front of them, was Schneeplestein; dressed in tattered scrubs and the white doctor’s coat all dirty. His glasses were busted on one side while the frames sat askewed on his face. His head tilted unnaturally, his red strings vibrate all around him. Someone walked out from behind him, chewing on a toothpick. Now it was Marvin’s turn to curse, Jack’s eyes widening as he recognized the fallen hero.
“Well well well,” Jackie sneered, taking the toothpick out of his mouth and flicking it away. “So it IS true... you’re ACTUALLY awake...”
Schneep scoffed beside him, snarling at Jack. The YouTuber kept looking from Jackie to Schneep, at a loss for words. Marvin was strangely quite beside him, no doubt mainly focused on the little brother he lost so long ago.
Jack took a gulp and stepped forward. “Jackie....”
It happened so fast. Jack shot his arm up and took a defensive stance as a shot of black oozing currents came his way. His green pixelated energy formed a shield that deflected the fallen hero’s attack. Jackie actually looked stunned as he curled his opened fist and lowered his arm. There was a maniacal cackle as Anti walked up from the shadows, wearing Chase’s face. The gun shot wound on his right temple oozed black ichor.
“Well hello..... Jack,” the glitch hissed out of the dad’s mouth. The YouTuber eyed all three of his ego’s, anger swelling in his chest. The doctor... the vlogger... the hero... all corrupted... all lost...
Well... maybe not lost...
“Marvin!”
On cue, he magician’s hands became engulfed in flames and he threw a blast at Anti. Jackie was over there in an instant, defensively deflecting and then shooting an attack of his own. Anti step to the side and started throwing glitched fueled blasts at Marvin. Jack felt bad leaving the magician to fight off those two alone, but he knew deep down that Marvin would win. He wasn’t called the strongest ego for nothing.
Schneep reared on Jack, catching him as he made his way to the doctor. He ran and tackled the YouTuber down, pinning him to the ground. Fuck, Jack thought. He had forgotten how the strings made the puppets stronger.
“Henrick,” he cried out, “this isn’t you! Snap out of it!”
The doctor laughed in his face. “And why should I listen to you? You, who was so weak! That’s why master abandoned you to sleep! That’s why he has saved Chase by taking him!”
“Henrick, he made you shoot him in the head!”
Green pixels started to dance on his fingertips but the doctor didn’t even notice.
“He SAVED him! And I HELPED! Master rewarded me when I finally gave myself to him! He brought Jackie to me, as well! Now I have the two brothers I care about, right next to me! Always by my side! We don’t need you, JACK!”
One of the hands that was holding the YouTuber down was instantly at his neck, squeezing tight. Jack gasped and instinctively clawed at the doctors hand.
“Go back to sleep, Jack,” Schneep hissed. “You’ve done enough... you deserve rest... go. back. to. SLEEP!”
The red strings danced above Schneeps head. The world around him becoming blurred, Jack slapped his free hand on the doctor’s head. His pixels began to dance around his hand and Schneep’s head as the doctor screamed, Jack’s pixels trailing up and serving the strings. Jack grit his teeth as the last few strings were severed, Schneep’s grip tightening on his throat due to the pain.
Finally, the doctor let go and slumped over, finally free from Anti’s control. Jack turned onto his stomach and gasped for air, tears falling as he choked on the life saving oxygen. His reprive was cut short as he was flung back to the wall, pinned against the concrete by the glitches powers. Anti sauntered up to him, arm outstretched.
“That wasn’t very nice, Jack,” he sneered, looking over at Schneep’s crumpled form. “Do you not realize how LONG it took to get him to surrender?”
“Fuck you, Anti!”
“You haven’t learned, have you?” Anti was close to his face now, snarling out his words. Jack could hear Jackie and Marvin fighting each other in the background, both yelling at each other. But at the present moment, the YouTuber’s line of vision has filled with the dad’s green tinted face, black eyes drilling into him. Fuck, Jack thought, not again... not again.
“You’re going to lose... just like you did last time... you can’t win against me, Jack! Not with the whole love of the community on my side! Not only am I getting the power from those who follow me, but know I’m also getting the power from those that love you! That’s why I could never string you OR Brody! Still can’t, I’m afraid... but....,” his hand comes up, shining a blood red, “there’s more than one way to string up a puppet... remember, Jack?”
NO! NO! NOT AGAIN!
Fear etched itself onto Anti’s face as he stepped back. Jack felt the spell keeping him pinned to the wall disintegrate, his green pixels dancing around him. He took a few steps forward and Anti took a few back, shocked and surprised.
“What the....?”
Jack’s arm shot up qucik, green pixels shooting out of his hand and hitting Chase right in the throat. The weak spot, Jack thought as he saw Antisepticeye fall out of the dad and onto the floor, holding his throat. Black ichor poured out from between his fingers as he gagged, looking at Jack with pure hatred. Chase stood there as he turned back to normal; his eyes, his skin... the gun shot wound. The dad started to fall over.
“Shit!”
Jack ran and grabbed Chase before he hit the ground, quickly checking for a pulse. There was one there... but faint.
“Brother!”
Jackie ran over to Anti and grabbed him, pulling him back from Jack. Anti was still choking on his own black blood, his eyes never leaving Jack. The YouTuber was at a loss at the site he saw. Jackie looked... hurt... really, truly hurt.
The fallen hero snarled at both Jack and Marvin.
“I’LL KILL YOU! ALL OF YOU!”
Marvin looked broken, the fire in his eyes snuffing out as Jackie teleported them out of the room. As they left, the glitch left one final message in Jack’s mind....
This is far from over, Seán William McLoughin! I WILL see you again! And next time, I WON’T PLAY AS NICELY!!!!!
There are no strings on me, Seán! THERE ARE NO STRINGS ON ME!!!!!
*************************
There! @honestlyitsjustkenna, I hope you’re happy with this! Lol! (This isn’t part of the JSE ego universe... well... kinda... it’s hard to explain... so I won’t! 😝😝)
@goldenoceanaart @nekob00 @normallyemma @samariah-keeper @thelunarmasquerade @jackandmarksavedme88
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hanalwayssolo · 5 years
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Somewhere Between The Music and Lyrics: Ch. 1
A/N: I’m terribly off my own schedule, as usual! So. This Prompto one-shot became a monster I did not expect so I’m splitting it into two chapters. Honestly, among the chocobros, Prompto’s the first one that came to mind when I wanted to do a band AU of sorts—because I’ve heard Robbie Daymond sing on one of their LAVA streams and it is glorious. Anyway! Song featured for this first half is Gavin DeGraw’s We Belong Together. 
Tagging pals! @raspberryandechinacea @noboomoon@emmydots @bleucommelhiver @gowithme @hanatsuki89​ @valkyrieofardyn​ @animakupo​ @lazarustrashpit​ @blindedstarlight​ @mp938368 @boo-dangy
(Links in AO3) Alternate Universes in Which You and I Belong Together: Noctis | Gladio | Prompto | Ignis | Nyx | Cor | Ravus | Ardyn
Prompto had been busily sifting through The Lost Boys’ unanswered emails at the back of their tour bus when he hears his song.
Except, it’s not quite his song.
He recognizes the lyrics in an instant—and he of all people would know of course, since he had written those words as a cry for help for his hopelessly romantic soul. But the song that aches through the speakers holds none of Ignis’s electric riffs, the swell of Gladio’s drums, the steady hum of Noctis’s bass, let alone his own vocals. The one he hears is his music stripped to its rawest, the words made vulnerable by a melancholic leak of a lone acoustic guitar and an exquisitely soulful voice.
We belong together  Like the open seas and shores  Wedded by the planet force  We’ve all been spoken for
Prompto scrambles to the front lounge to find Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis huddling by the booth over a laptop set on the table, their eyes glued to the screen in wild wonder.
Curiously, Prompto eyes them—still grinning wide in awe—and asks, “Are you guys hearing what I’m hearing now? Am I dreaming? What is happening?”
Noctis snorts a laugh. He swivels the laptop to face Prompto. “You might want to check this out, my friend.”
Prompto excitedly moves closer. Immediately, he sees the video accompanying the song entitled “we belong together (cover) by my amazingly talented roommate!!!” posted by username MasterPelnaK. He barely even notices how this video has been raking almost five hundred thousand views and likes in the last twenty-four hours as his attention zeroes in on the stranger sitting on a bean bag, equipped with nothing but the guitar and that voice.
What good is a life  With no one to share  The light of the moon  The honour of a swear
Gods. The tone and vibrato is so on point it sends shivers down his spine. But then, Prompto begins to wonder why this person is not even looking directly at the camera. Were they even aware that they were being recorded? It seems all too candid given the angle, as if the camera had just been discreetly set up on a low-lying table. Not to mention the very personal space in the background, too: a well-lit room of white walls, a cozy looking sofa, an impressive shelf of books and vinyl records tucked between potted fiddle leaf figs. Somewhere out of sight, hushed whispers could still be heard. Was this only recorded from a mobile phone?
Anyway, not that any of these things mattered. Prompto has rarely come across other artists covering their songs, and when he does, each one he cherishes dearly. But this one—this one, for heaven’s sake—has moved him the way the winds bend the trees to its will, a tiny flint that sparks a flame. He didn’t realize that the words he had written could be afforded such lyrical heft, that the music he had created had been a delicate and honest confessional that could fit someone else’s voice so beautifully, like finding a piece of a puzzle he never knew he had been missing.
Where have you been all my life?
So Prompto watches it again. And then a couple times more. Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis gather to watch him curiously. Prompto briefly skims through the comments section and is thoroughly relieved to read overwhelmingly positive feedback. He didn’t even mind when he comes across a comment that says “this is even better than the original!” because fuck it, he shares the same sentiment.
And before Prompto could even scroll back up to replay the video, Gladio drags the laptop away from him.
Prompto sneers in protest. “Dude. Not cool at all—”
“What’s not cool is obsessing over a cover of your own fucking song,” Gladio says in jest.
“Hey, it’s a fucking cool cover, okay!” Prompto scoffs and flicks his eyes on the ceiling—almost rolls them, but not quite so. “And please, big guy. I’m not obsessing. I’m too chill to be obsessed, thank you very much.”
“I clearly remember you saying to the crowd earlier how you’re never the ‘chill’ person of sort, and my word. How quickly the tables have turned,” Ignis casually remarks as he takes a sip from his mug of coffee.
Prompto’s mouth falls open. He did say that onstage during their performance back at Leiden Fest. His immediate regret is letting Ignis triumphantly take it against him.
Meanwhile, Noctis lifts a suspicious eyebrow at Ignis. “Iggy, are you sure you’re not drinking tea? ‘Cause you just poured a scalding one right there.”
“I’m impressed—that’s a good one.” Gladio gives Noctis and Ignis a thundering high-five. They burst out in a gale of laughter.
“You guys are enjoying this, huh.” Prompto grabs a pillow and smashes it at Noctis, who only yelps in between fits of laughter. He hurls one at Gladio, too, but the big guy has reflexes of a jungle cat, so he only ends up catching the thing. Ignis, however, Prompto hesitates at the last second when he shoots him a menacing glance. “Okay, I’m not even going to bother attacking you, ‘cause I’m pretty sure you will kill me if you spill that coffee.”
Ignis gives him a smile and a nod, and returns to his drink.
“Also,” Noctis says, “now that I think about it, you’re giving off that same look and vibe the first time you were crushing on Cindy.”
“What? I do not—okay, okay—” Prompto groans, jabbing a finger at Noctis— “that is different. Cindy is our road manager, so I’m choosing not to cross the line. While this…” Prompto pauses and takes a deep breath. “This is also different. A very surreal and magical kind of different.”
“Now I’d say someone’s been bitten by a lovebug.” Ignis leans back on his seat, arms crossed, regarding Prompto with a pleasant smile.
Gladio laughs. “Tell me about it.”
“I can’t believe I’m friends with you guys,” Prompto says in a miserable groan.
But frankly, Prompto is far from miserable having Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis as friends. He considers himself quite fortunate to have found brothers in them, painfully annoying as they may be from time to time. Besides, it was through their music that helped them bond and weather the toughest of their adolescent years: they were no stranger to teenage angst, to riotous episodes of rebellion, to whirlwind romances and crazy ex-lovers, and to the turbulent journey that led them to be the band that they are today. Naming themselves The Lost Boys seemed to be a fitting tribute to the misadventures of their youth: Always lost and never found.
And yet, regardless of their highs and lows, the four of them have always had each other’s back. And that has not changed even now that they are in their thirties.
Perhaps Prompto is being overly sentimental at this point, but that’s just how it is.
Or maybe, he really has been bitten by a lovebug.
“In any case—“ Noctis firmly clasps Prompto’s shoulder— “this amazing cover of your song is breaking the Internet as we speak.”
“Well, yeah.” Prompto shrugs, though he cannot hide it in from his face how pleased he truly is. “Though I do wonder who this MasterPelnaK is.”
“Definitely not the person in the video, that’s for sure,” says Gladio.
“If I may?” Ignis reaches for the laptop from Gladio. “Let’s see here—“ the boys squeeze themselves into the seat so they could also get a look as Ignis hovers around the profile page— “this Pelna Khara happens to be a video game blogger—“
“It’s a vlogger, Iggy—get in with the times,” Prompto corrects cheerfully.
Ignis exhales an exasperated sigh. He returns his attention back on screen. “Apparently, this vlogger streams gameplays and commentaries—“
“Really?” Noctis interrupts out of a sudden rush of excitement. “Do you think he has one for Assassin's Creed—“
Prompto nudges Noctis by the arm. “Dude.”
“Right. Sorry,” Noctis says sheepishly. “Carry on.”
“Anyway.” Ignis is unfazed by the interruption as he goes on: “It appears that this is the first time this Pelna fellow uploaded this sort of material.”
“Oh and look, he’s very popular, too,” Noctis says. “Ten million subscribers? What the fuck—“
“Wouldn’t be surprised now that the video got so many hits overnight,” Gladio notes pensively. “And check it out—“ he points at the bio section— “he lives in the city. Says his hub is somewhere in Downtown Insomnia.”
As if struck by the same spectacular idea, Noctis and Gladio exchange knowing glances. Ignis, of course, is quick to catch on.
It takes a while for Prompto to understand what’s going on, and when he finally does, he shoots them all a dubious gaze. His friends are up to something, and the glint in their eyes could only spell mischief.
“Guys—” Prompto starts as calmly as he could, hands raised in an almost surrender— “whatever you guys are thinking, we don’t need to do this—”
“We don’t need to—but you do,” Gladio claps Prompto’s back. “We got ya, my guy.”
“And before you all intend to push through with this,” Ignis says, “would anyone be so kind as to ask Cindy if we can change our course and make a quick pitstop. And let Iris know, too, since… well. She’s our handler, after all.”
Gladio rises out of the booth. “On it,” he says as he makes his way to the driver’s seat.
“And allow me to send a message to this fella,” Noctis adds promptly, already typing away in front of the laptop.
Prompto sinks helplessly to the seat beside Noctis. “Why are we all friends again?” he says loudly, and the meaningful response he receives is the sound of their amused laughter.
 “I want that video deleted right now.”
Pelna winces at the sharpness of your words. Crowe, on the other hand, looks like she is ready to give you everything the world has to offer. In the years you have spent sharing a flat with them, this must be the first time you have ever seen them this apologetic. Which is only fair because this is the first time they have done something quite outrageous to upset you. Yes, sure—Crowe and Pelna might think you’re overreacting right now, but you’re no video blogger or Internet celebrity like the both of them are, so that’s entirely beside the point. As they sit side by side cowering on the couch and you standing over them—hands on waist, jaws clenched, eyes seething in fury—it’s as if they have committed a crime against all of humanity that cannot be forgiven.
Except the casualty of the said crime is you, and only you.
“Look, you have every right to be mad at me for my negligence—” Pelna nervously raises a hand, trying to look at you dead in the eye but flinches as if you are burning bright like the sun— “but I fucking swear, it wasn’t me who uploaded the thing! Okay, I admit—I’ve been tempted to record you for some time now ‘cause in case you don’t know this yet, you’re a really good singer. But trust me on this! I really have no idea how that video got out, I promise!”
“And it’s certainly not me who recorded you!” Crowe adds in their defense. “My alibi may not be perfect but I was already drunk that time! And even if I’m sober, I wouldn’t dare barge in Pelna’s room and tinker with his toys. Gods know what I’d find in there—”
“Only the good stuff, my dude,” Pelna says, suddenly pleased with himself. “Nothing but the good stuff—”
“How about we focus on the issue at hand, yes?” You pace back and forth, and in dire resignation, you finally flop on the armchair next to the couch. Fucking hell. It’s too early in the morning to have a head-splitting migraine. You wish this had been from a hangover or some other sickness, but it’s insane how this is all caused by seeing a video of yourself on the fucking Internet with no recollection of recording it at all. Sleuthing to find out the events that unfolded the night of Pelna’s birthday only seemed to make throbbing in your head even worse. As far as you could remember, most of the folks had been severely battered—which was why you had the guts to pull out your guitar and sing the blues away as everyone dozed off in their drunken stupor. But in your tight-knit circle of friends, if there’s anyone who could impressively hold their liquor the same way they could hold a knife, it could only be...
“Wait a fucking second.” Crowe narrow her eyes at Pelna, and then at you. She fishes out the phone in her pocket and hurriedly dials a number. With her phone on loudspeaker, the line rings once, twice, thrice. And then, a voice.
“What’s up, Crowe—”
“Nyx.” Crowe’s tone is already accusing that you didn’t even bother butting in. “You’re the one who uploaded the video on Pelna’s channel, weren’t you?”
A suspicious pause. Then, Nyx laughs. “Maybe.”
Pelna grabs the phone from Crowe. “I swear I will kill you when I see you, man! How dare you dishonour me—” as a knee-jerk reaction to his response, you kick Pelna in the shin that he yelps when he says— “and how dare you dishonour our friend!”
On the other line, Nyx is still laughing. “Wait, on a scale of one to ten, how angry is —”
“Not the fucking point!” Pelna snaps back. “How did you even manage to get into my account, you piece of beautiful shit?”
“Well, maybe next time you should make sure you always logout, alright?”
“Well, fuck you.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.” Nyx says breezily. Even in a phone call, his voice never fails to carry his air of arrogance. “But hey, kidding aside. You all said that we should help each other in living to the best of our potential, right? And our friend right there with you, Pelna—yes, you, I know you’re listening, too—do you even realize how fucking talented you are? You have been serenading us all our life, and this is the least I could do to share how proud I am to have a gifted friend like you. I’m sorry if it’s a jackass move, but I know if I asked for your permission, that thing would never see the light of day.”
The four of you bask in a sudden uneasy silence. You should not have been touched by Nyx’s words, but here you are, almost moved into tears. Despite his occasional display of pride and vanity, Nyx is one of the kindest human beings you have ever had the pleasure to meet. He may not seem like it, but he’s the very definition of a jerk with a heart of gold. You just hope he could completely forego being the jerk and stick with his golden heart instead.
This time, you take the phone from Pelna and say, “Treat the three of us for dinner for the next two weeks, and I’ll decide if I should forgive you.”
“Consider it done. I’m a man of my word,” Nyx says, and the sound of his relief is evident in his voice. “Now... am I out of trouble?”
“Certainly not, you dickhead. Later.”
You drop from the call and hand the phone back to Crowe. The two of them gape at you as if you have finally turned out to be the monster they have always known you to be.
“Wow. You really did that,” Crowe says, looking very impressed. “You actually shut Nyx up and made him agree to pay for two weeks worth of dinner. Aren’t you a delight.”
You manage a small smile. Pelna heaves one loud sigh of relief. “Now that we’ve finally cleared things up, are you sure you want me to take the video down? You’re really getting a lot of hype from my channel, I mean we’re close to half a million views! And—“
The shrieking sound of the doorbell cuts your conversation in an abrupt halt.
“Wait, I’ll get that,” Crowe gets up and rushes toward the door.
“So? Whaddaya say?” Pelna urges fervently. He is still invested on persuading you, and you can see it in his kind eyes. “It’s one video, I know… but you gotta believe us, you really are a fucking talent—”
“Pel, it’s not that. It’s...” You get on your feet, circling around the coffee table, as if it would help you articulate all the reasons behind your sense of trepidation. Honestly, you appreciate having Pelna and Crowe as friends for their selfless outpour of love and support for your craft. But how can you explain to them that sometimes, your own music terrifies you? Is there any logical explanation behind being scared of your own voice? So here you are, standing in front of Pelna, falling extremely inadequate to gather the words out of your mouth. Instead, you say, “I’m… just worried. What if The Lost Boys had seen it? And what if they’d hate me for it?”
Pelna offers you a weird, strained look. “Well, about that—”
“I don’t think there should be anything to worry about. We love it!”
The bell-like bounce of the voice that spoke clearly does not belong to Pelna nor Crowe, nor does it fit in the ordinariness of the space of your shared apartment.
You turn—hesitantly, too carefully—to see three of The Lost Boys standing by the doorway with Crowe. And standing in front of you is their frontman, Prompto, smilingly extending his hand to reach yours.
  This horribly sunny day is getting stranger and stranger, and it’s not even noon yet.
Pleasantries have been made—and a little bit of internally slapping yourself in the face to make sure this is all happening—and now, it has all come to this. Leaning from the bar counter, you watch as the four infuriatingly beautiful men of The Lost Boys struggle to squeeze themselves in the poor thing you all call a sofa. Across from them is Crowe, sitting cross-legged on the coffee table, analyzing each of them from head to toe with the sole purpose of intimidating the shit out them. Which is no surprise, of course; Crowe rarely gets star-struck in the presence of famous people, and even if she does, she hides it effortlessly well. Meanwhile, Pelna is playing a staring game with the band’s drummer—and frighteningly the tallest and largest in the group—that you cannot help but wonder if Pelna has some sort of a death wish that he needs to get fulfilled right this instant.
“So, let me get this straight—” Crowe says, crossing her arms— “and I hope you don’t mind if we’re being cautious ‘cause, well, we don’t want our roommate to get dragged into something sketchy, but… you came all the way down here to this shabby neighbourhood after you saw the cover of your song, and now you want to collaborate on a song? Is that it?”
Prompto is the one who willingly answers with a vigorous nod. He seems unfazed with Crowe’s intention of scaring them off. He glances your way before he says, “And there’s no need to worry about the contract and all that legal stuff, ‘cause we’ll have that arranged. Right, Ignis?”
“Indeed,” says Ignis. “I know this arrangement seems completely out of sorts, seeing as we came here on such a short notice, but I can assure you that we offer nothing but the best of intentions.”
“Really?” you say as you move from behind the counter to sit together with Crowe. “But you’re all men. And you know what’s more dangerous than men? Celebrity men.” No one said a word. A moment’s silence lingers as you study each of their faces, and then: “So how do I make sure that I could trust you with… this? That this isn’t some publicity stunt you’re trying to pull—”
“It’s not like that at all,” Prompto says firmly. “And if you have any doubts with your safety, well, I’m sorry if our friend Gladio looks so menacing for our image—”
“Seriously?” Gladio scoffs, turning to Prompto. “You really hurt my feelings.”
You try to stifle your laughter. Somehow, now that you look closely at the four of them, they remind you of Nyx, Libertus, and Pelna.
And suddenly, you feel bad for putting them in a hot seat like this.
As The Lost Boys begin to discuss amongst themselves with what you assume to be a stream of their inside jokes, Pelna sidles up to you while Crowe loops her arm around yours. Whispering, she says, “I think you should do it.”
Pelna discreetly adds, “And if they ever get you into trouble, Nyx is a lawyer so he should have your back. I already texted him and he’s ready to keep an eye out for you.”
You let out a rueful sigh. You have to admit, it’s hard to stay mad at Crowe and Pelna and Nyx when this is the way they exhibit their unwavering friendship: with a flourish of genuine love and steadfast support.
Empowered by your friends’ confidence, you clear your throat and you turn your attention to the four men sitting in front of you. You fix your eyes at Prompto, and you ask, “So. When do we start this thing?” 
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septic-dr-schneep · 6 years
Text
JSE Fanfiction - All That Matters
Summary: How far will Jackieboy go to protect one of his own? Would he take a life for a life?
When it came down to it, Jackieboy had three rules he would teach any citizen if he had the chance. First: Don’t be a victim. Second: Don’t be a perpetrator. Third: Don’t be a bystander.
Today, the first and the third were essentially forfeit—and the second? He was dangerously close.
The group of robbers holding the restaurant hostage honestly had no idea who they were threatening. He had gone out in plainclothes today; Chase had insisted on it.
“We should get a chance to eat in peace before somebody recognizes you and tackles you for an autograph,” he pointed out, only half-teasing, and Jackieboy had relented. Chase deserved that much for all of his hard work lately. He was getting a better sum than usual; ever since his suicide attempt, it seemed as if he had been working from the ground up to regain his followers’ trust and support. After months, it was finally paying off. Chase had come to him today with a smile of all things and he’d asked if he could treat him to brunch.
“Marvin’s getting ready for his next show and Schneep’s taking the midmorning shift at the hospital…It’s rare that we get a chance to hang out just the two of us.”
Jackie couldn’t have argued with that either, but his casual gray hoodie and torn blue jeans did nothing to disguise his naturally heightened sense for danger. As soon as he noticed the trio of shifty men slink into the restaurant with a suspiciously large duffel bag in tow, he’d straightened, gripping his fork with more force. He wasn’t in his vibrant jumpsuit and mask, he’d reminded himself. He didn’t have the authority to confront them like this.
How could he have let that be an excuse? His duties as a hero didn’t stop with his attire! As soon as he saw the outline of the gun tucked neatly into the band of the shortest one’s pants, he flagged down the manager, but the minute it had taken was a minute too long. The next thing he knew, one of the men was barring the doors, swinging a shotgun out in front of him as the others hollered over the panicked patrons, ordering them to gather on the other side of the room.
Chase was one of a few that went too slow, letting out a sharp, stuttered cry that tore at Jackie’s chest as the tallest gunman dragged him back by a fistful of his mussed green hair. Even as he spat curses and thrashed and strained, flailing his limbs in a desperate attempt to fight back, the enemy had him in a stranglehold in seconds—and as soon as the gun was pressed against his temple, he went dead silent. Jackieboy’s heart skipped a few solid beats at how sudden the shutdown was, as if he was a lamp that had its cord ripped out of the wall.
Don’t be a perpetrator.
Translation: Don’t fight out of rage or spite. Don’t try to take revenge. Don’t fight with the one motivation of pounding your enemies into the ground.
In this case, Jackieboy knew he had the right to. He knew it would be all too easy, but for now he held still, acting like just another member of the alarmed crowd, keeping his lifted hands steady and watching the gunman’s every move, his jaw working tightly as he risked a glance at Chase. The raw emotion in the younger Ego’s eyes made his stomach twist like taffy.
“Stay calm,” Jackieboy mouthed slowly, firmly, hoping that his own eyes didn’t reveal the fear pounding in his gut. Perhaps they did, as Chase promptly began trembling—the opposite of what he wanted. “Stay calm, stay calm—”
Clutching at the thick, hairy, unyielding arm of the robber drawn across his neck, Chase shook his head just a fraction, whispering soundlessly. “Help me…” Jackieboy had never imagined two simple words could break his heart more.
“It’s going to be okay,” was all he could think to say. As he registered the message, Chase swallowed hard, shaking his head a little, and the gunman noticed.
“You tryin’ to say something to him, kid?” he growled, retightening his hold on Chase’s throat by pulling his arm in and up, until the toes of the vlogger’s boots were scuffing against the floor for the lack of air.
“Stop! Stop,” Jackie burst out, drawing sharp breaths from the other hostages and a sneer from his enemy.
“You want me to stop, you set yourself down on the ground and look pretty next to the others! You’re not gonna slip anything past me, so you better just stay still and quiet or I’m gonna make your little pal a redhead,” he warned, prodding the barrel of his gun further into Chase’s hair.
All color draining from his face, Chase went limp in his hands, his eyes rolling back and fluttering closed as he visibly tried not to shudder from the familiar sensation, and it took everything Jackie had in him not to lunge and tear off the gunman’s arm for making Chase ever feel that cold, unforgiving metal on his skin again. As he slowly sank down next to the other quivering hostages, the undercover hero’s mind was awash with a thousand thoughts at once.
My identity—
If I act here, everyone will see—They’ll know—
Try to make it into the kitchen to change—
Who knows who’s back there to see me? Could be more accomplices—
Chase. Chase, Chase, Chase—All that matters is Chase—Gotta save Chase—
Time slowed without warning and all at once, Jackieboy was keenly, infinitely aware of everything around him. He could hear the heavy beat of his own heart against his ribcage, the shaky breaths of the hostages just beside him, the garbled cries of panic from the manager and the shuffling of bills as one of the other robbers forced him to withdraw the money…
Yet all that mattered was Chase.
He wasn’t about to stand by and let this happen.
The fire in his blood awoke with a roar in his ears, giving him a burst of adrenaline that his body could never supply naturally. Within a second he had thrown himself across the dirty linoleum and into the air, his fist narrowly grazing the top of Chase’s head as it cracked the gunman’s jaw.
The gun jolted with the impact and went off but Jackieboy ignored it; he was single-minded, already skirting past the fallen gunman and targeting the second one at the doors. He panicked, reacting too late to lift his shotgun before the hero had seized the barrel and wrenched it out of his grasp. His free hand smashed the shotgunner’s head back into the door pane, leaving a web of cracks in the glass from the force.
Two down, one left—the one with the manager. Hefting the shotgun up into his hands, he turned and trained it on the last man, who froze as the manager escaped through the kitchen doors a few feet away.
“You should probably drop the gun and the duffel bag,” Jackieboy warned, grim and cold.
Don’t be a perpetrator. This rule was constantly in his mind, but apparently it had decided to take a leave of absence from his memory. Even as he registered the disbelief, the panic, the helplessness in the robber’s eyes, there was no trace of sympathy or mercy in Jackieboy’s.
The hostages on the other side of the room murmured apprehensively as they looked on; Jackie could sense their tension even from this distance. He did his best not to let it distract him and instead focused on the robber’s train of thought. It was predictable: Where did it all go so wrong? How can I get out of it? I can’t go back to prison! Should I explain why I’m doing this? Should I risk lifting my gun? Should I run? Should I beg?
Jackieboy decided to make it easier on him, cocking the shotgun with a heavy, decisive clank. “Drop them or…what was it your friend there said? I make you a redhead?”
“Jackie…” Chase’s breathed word caught his attention, but it wasn’t needed; the last gunman was muttering nervous surrender, tossing the gun into the duffel and throwing it aside. Clenching his teeth, Jackie did the same with the shotgun, crossing the distance in three strides and snatching his new captive by the back of the neck, steering him toward the door.
It wasn’t long before the police arrived to take the criminals off Jackie’s hands and aside from a few odd looks, none of them seemed to question who he may or may not be. The other hostages, to Jackie’s surprise, didn’t breathe a word about his inhuman speed in taking out the perpetrators. They simply said that everything had happened so fast.
Chase, however, didn’t seem as relieved as Jackie would have expected. Instead he stood in the corner of the restaurant, staring at the bullet hole in the wall. Jackie moved up behind him, following his gaze and exhaling bitterly.
“That bullet was meant for you…” he growled, to which Chase nodded numbly and glanced up at him.
“Jackie—” He hesitated, measuring his words for a few moments before seeking his courage to venture softly, “You wouldn’t have shot him, would you?”
“Of course not,” Jackie retorted—perhaps a beat too quickly, if Chase’s expression was any indication. The vlogger shifted away so he could face him more easily, his brows furrowing in concern.
“Jackie,” he repeated, slow and incredulous, “would you have shot him?”
The older Ego blinked, let his shoulders slump and jammed his hands in his pockets, accepting the other’s judgmental stare as he took a moment to actually mull it over.
“…I don’t know,” he allowed at last, cautiously. That was the honest truth. To protect Chase, to protect any of them, who knew what lengths he would go to? He was confident without the shadow of a doubt that he would die for them. No hesitation necessary on that point—but to kill someone else for them?
Maybe.
“Well, don’t. Don’t go anywhere near there, Jackie,” Chase broke through his thoughts, his voice low and terse as he retrained narrowed eyes on the bullet hole. “I’ve shot someone before. We both know it didn’t exactly turn out like I hoped it would.”
Jackieboy wasn’t so quick to answer that time.
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namjoonchronicles · 6 years
Text
Commitment - [BTS] Vlogger!Hoseok Au
[A/N] If you like it, then you should’ve put a ring on it *dances to Hoseok* His fingers unf
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The camera focuses on you, it shifted and is twisted to focus on you. The cameraman, Hoseok, was really determined to get a good shot. The little figurines and impressive poster of Michael Jackson at the background, must show. Also, the view is you.
You in your most natural state. Looking like a devoted wife. Hoseok smiled at you being entirely oblivious of his actions, and whispered to the camera softly, “One day, I’ll marry you.”
The counter tops are filled with new figurines Hoseok bought. He had left his earphones on the stool again, his headphones next to your almost-empty cookie jar. He went home quite late last night, so probably he just plopped next to you on the bed due to exhaustion.
Hoseok was editing in his office slash studio a whole 24 hours and you were alone at home. Apart from vacuuming the whole house, you were occupied with choosing a string of polaroid pictures you took with Hoseok on your last trip to Hawaii. He promised to return home for dinner. But you had a feeling that he won’t.
Since he slept past his alarm this morning, you decide to leave him alone on the bed. But shortly after you got up, he did too. He gave you a back hug, first and foremost. “Sorry I didn’t reply.” He mumbled sleepily, his eyes were droopy while you rubbed the back of his head, brushing your teeth. Fast forward a few hours later, you were in the kitchen.
You were arranging the clean plates into the cabinet underneath the counter top, when Hoseok came with his newly bought camera.
“...and this here is our love and sunshine,” he turned the camera to you and him, while he rested his chin on your shoulder, “She’s camera shy but, I say, you looked good. As always.” He boasted to the lenses, winking at you through the square view of the camera flap.
He steps away from the frame next, and focused on you again. You smiled shyly at him, pressing a smile on your lips like ‘it’s too early for this’—face.
“...To the viewers watching this, honey, say a few words...” he asked and you dead-ass replied him, “A few words.” Hoseok threw a heavy-lidded gaze at you through the camera and stopped recording, abruptly. Annoyance, decipate through his entire face.
“You’ve been hanging out with Yoongi too much.” He slaps the flap closed and set the camera away. There’s a hint of jealousy in his voice. Also, a grudge. Because you’ve been picking up some of Yoongi’s aloof attitude. “Maybe if you tone down the broadcasting, I would be spend more time with you...” you shot.
Hoseok propped an elbow up and rested his chin on the heel of his palm, giving you a lopsided smile from the tall stool by the counter you were wiping. “...are you hungry now?” You asked, desperate for a diversion of topic to speak of, because you know you strucked Hoseok’s feeling a bit, with the words you say.
Stupid feisty mouth.
Hoseok pouts and pressed his lips together, next. He was clearly arranging his thoughts and words in his mind for a respond, but stayed silent for a minute too long.
“What do you want to eat? I’ll eat what you want to eat... Should I call the delivery? You liked those fried rice,” Hoseok blabbered, softly. As if to mend the distance that you unintentionally created. If it was just a day, you wouldn’t mind.
Honestly, you won’t.
But he only comes home when he wants the comfort of bed. He completely ignores the doctor’s appointment about his ankles and backbone, despite you telling him not to. He had been spending a few nights, drinking and just, being an incomprehensible mess.
“Okay. To the fried rice,” you surrendered. Hoseok immediately grabbed the house phone and start dialling. He marched to the fridge door to see the restaurant’s operating hours and passed a nonchalant look to a tiger cub magnets Taehyung gave, while pressing the phone to one ear.
You heard him opening the fridge while speaking through the phone at the operator, ordering everything you liked in a flash. Before he could even snap open the can of beer, you snatched them from him, shaking your head. “Isn’t it too early to be drunk...” you muttered at him, under your breath. Glaring.
He looked at you with puppy eyes as you placed the can back in the fridge. Then you gently slapped his butt twice as a punishment while fetching a banana before rushing to the couch and turn the television volume louder but not loud enough for Hoseok to be bothered while he is making calls.
The call ended shortly after. Hoseok joined you and you put your legs on his lap. He immediately starts massaging your feet, while his eyes stuck on the television screen. “Didn’t the heroin died?” He asked, voice a little higher than usual. “She drowned but she came back alive because the fisherman saved her... you missed two weeks episodes.” You explained and hissed when he rubs the sore area of your soles.
“Doctor’s assistant called me to say you missed the appointment.” It felt like dropping a bomb because Hoseok literally froze temporarily at the mention of it. “The appointment. I forgot...” He let out an awkward-forced-giggle, glancing at you, short. “They called you. And texted you.” You chewed on the banana.
“Must have missed the text. It gets overlapped with something else?” He fish out another excuse. You recoiled your legs and tuck them underneath you, facing him. He avoided eye contact. “I know when you’re lying. I asked Yoongi where you’ve been...” Your patience is waning. “Don’t lie to me Hoseok.” You warned.
He clasped his hands together, and dropped his head. “I have friends other than Yoongi, you know that.” He said, leaning back to the couch. “You’ve been drinking a lot too. Anything wrong that you want to tell me?” You lay across his laps and he instinctively ran his fingers through your hair while looking into your eyes.
“...Can I tell you? I really shouldn’t.” That was really odd. Hoseok isn’t the best secret keeper or the best at hiding things, but his odd behaviour had been giving you red alarms. “Is there something troubling you?” You asked, gently, capturing his hand, and stroking his thumb. “You’ll scold me if I tell you.” He said, short.
“What is it,” you sat up, curled in his arm.
“I have deadlines I can’t keep. I’m drained. I’m out of inspirations and I’ve been having shoulder pains from it.. Liqour makes it go away... temporarily. I’m consumed at work because I couldn’t produce the way I did before... that’s why everything is taking twice as long.” He spilled them out.
“I’m scared that I won’t be able to meet the expectations of my fans,” his face fell. “The back injury is from back flip, isn’t it? I see you can’t crouch down anymore... you grunt in your sleep...” you pinched his chin and pulled his face to yours. “...ever heard the magic of hotpacks?” You gave a chaste kiss full on the lips and that’s when the doorbell rang.
“Sit down. Let me get that.” You skipped out of his lap and he let out an appreciative smile. “But we’re still going to the doctors.” You added. Hoseok watched your back getting smaller as you walked to the main door and whispered one more time to himself,
“One day, I’ll definitely marry you.”
And a commitment from a man that is as desirable as Hoseok, who repeatedly say that he would like to be seriously involved with you?– was surely something to be envious of.
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prettytoxicrevolver · 7 years
Text
You’re mine | Jonah Marais
Requested? Yes! by @amelie-wolfbane​
Could it be something like where your dating Jonah but Logan comes to the Why Don't We house and starts flirting with you. Jonah gets super annoyed and almost starts a fight with Logan but Logan backs off once he understands.
Warnings? Swearing I guess 
Summary: After you meet the famous vlogger, Logan Paul, Jonah gets a bit jealous. 
Word Count: 1,165
"Babe?" 
You turn slightly at the sound of Jonah's voice but still don't fully wake up. Suddenly you feel kisses pressed all over your face and you immediately break out into a smile. Your eyes flutter open to see Jonah leaning over you, his smile reflecting your own. You lean up and press a kiss against his lips before laying back down. "What time is it?" You ask while laying your head back onto Jonah's chest. "Almost 10:30." He says kissing the top of your head once again. Jonah was always more affectionate in the morning and you loved every second of it. Waking up to those beautiful blue eyes staring into yours, short kisses in between falling in and out of sleep, and legs tangled  together in a mess was nothing short of blissful. You and Jonah lay there for a few more minutes just drinking in each other's presence before having to get up for the day.
You slowly sit up to go get ready for the day when you feel Jonah wrap his arms around your waist and pull you back towards him. Before you can protest you feel Jonah’s lips attach to your neck making your previous thoughts slip away almost instantly. He travels from your neck to your jawline before kissing just behind your ear and then letting go. You turn to look at him and see a smirk resting on his perfect face. You can’t help but roll your eyes before getting up and heading into the bathroom to take a shower. Once you get out and dressed you walk back into yours and Jonah's room to do your hair.
“Aw, you took a shower without me?” Jonah asks as you sit in front of your full length mirror.
“Someone's affectionate this morning.” You say smiling up at him.
He winks at you before walking into the bathroom to take a shower. He comes out about 15 minutes later with wet hair and only a towel hanging from his hips. Your face immediately reddened as you take quick glances of him through the mirror.
“Like what you see?”
Before you can answer you hear someone open and close the front door and then shouting from downstairs. You turn to give Jonah a confused look and he shrugs his shoulders before walking back into the bathroom to change. Curiosity gets the better of you and you head downstairs to see what all the commotion was without waiting for Jonah. You jog down the stairs to the living room to see the rest of the Why Don’t We boys standing and talking to a tall blonde guy.
When he turns around you recognize him as Logan Paul, the famous vlogger who was close friends with the boys. He stops talking as you walk into the room and you flash him a shy smile. You see Zach nudge him from behind causing Logan to stop staring at you, making you blush.
“Hi, I’m so sorry I’m being rude. I’m Logan.” He says taking a few steps towards you.
“(Y/N).” You say taking his outstretched hand. He smiles widely at you staring for a beat longer before turning back to the boys.
“How have I not met her yet? She’s gorgeous.” He fake scolds the boys.
“Cause she’s mine.” Jonah says suddenly appearing behind you.
“Damn Jonah. You sure as hell know how to pick em.”
You hear Jonah huff in annoyance before heading into the kitchen. You give Logan an apologetic smile but all he does is wink at you causing you to blush once again. You head towards the kitchen to find a very upset looking Jonah leaning against the kitchen island. You stand in front of him but he refuses to make eye contact. You carefully lift a hand to touch Jonah’s chin making him finally look at you.
“Whats wrong?” You ask quietly.
“Don’t worry about it.” He says stepping away from you once more and walking into the living room.
You sigh in annoyance but follow him out to where the other boys are, trying your best to brush off his bad attitude. You walk into the room to see the boys practicing for what must be a mashup they're about to film. You go and sit on the couch and pull out your phone to pass sometime. Logan walks towards you making you look up and flash him a smile.
“So, how did you and Jonah meet?” He asks sitting next to you on the couch.
“We grew up in the same town and have been friends since middle school.” You say while putting away your phone to place your full attention on Logan.
“How long have you been dating?”
“Three years.”
“Damn. Well little homie definitely got lucky. You are one hell of a catch.” He says flashing you an award winning smile that most girls would swoon over.
“Why thank you.” You say looking down at your shoes shyly.
You two talk for a bit more, bonding over your love of youtube and music. Out of the corner of your eye you can see Jonah walking over and flash him a smile. He doesn’t return it only stares Logan down.
“Can I talk to you for a second?” He says anger flashing in his eyes.
Logan wordlessly follows Jonah out to the backyard and you can’t help the worried expression that crosses your face. You follow after them and hear Logan’s voice responding quickly to Jonah.
“I seriously don’t know what you’re talking about bro.”
“You’ve been flirting with my girl all day long.” Jonah snaps.
“I honestly didn’t think I was.” Logan starts defensively.
“I don't care.” Jonah snaps once again. “Back off my girl.”
“Okay bro I will.” Logan says holding his hands up in surrender. I hear Jonah sigh and I assume they bro hug before deciding to head back inside.
When you hear them start to walk towards the door you go to move back to the living room, but Jonah walks into the room and spots you first. He walks towards you and takes your hand in his and pulls you towards the stairs. Just as you step into the room and shut the door behind you, Jonah pushes you against it attaching his lips to yours.
Your taken by surprise but only hesitate a second before kissing back. He grabs onto the back of your legs signalling for you to jump. Barely breaking the kiss you jump up and wrap your legs around his waist, while your hands go towards his hair. You tug at the ends of his hair slightly causing him to moan quietly into your mouth. When you two finally break for air you push your face into his neck breathing heavily.
“You’re mine.” He whispers into your ear. You nod in agreement before attaching your lips to his once again hoping to convey your feelings. You were his and you always would be.
~~~~~~~~~~~
I hope you liked it! Feel free to request imagines for Jonah or any of the other boys :)
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cloud-maan-og-blog · 7 years
Text
Don’t Look Back
Friday - August 20th, 2017 - 9:43 PM
Two men in casual business attire stood next to the water cooler in the sparsely decorated, first floor break room at Richard and Peters Law Firm in South Chicago. To say that this room was plain would be an understatement. The walls were all an off-white color and no pictures hung on them anymore, and the only color left in the place was from the cardboard boxes that lined the walls and seemed to fall out of the doors of every empty office. A long trail of gasoline ran throughout the building to the front door. You see, the firm had been a part of some shady dealings and, as a result, fell into the inescapable trap that is public scandal. Richard was arrested hours after the story broke and Peter, having decided to carry on the business model elsewhere (preferably in a place where no one knew who he was or what he had done) and was currently on his way to Florida where he would spend the next few months laying low only to reemerge suddenly in California with a new Lamborghini, a new name, and a shiny new talent agency. But until then, someone had to do the dirty work and clean up the mess they had left behind and that responsibility fell to Brad and Gary. Brad and Gary had been heavily involved with their bosses dealings, mostly disposing of evidence and occasionally a key piece of evidence, and time had undoubtedly taken it's toll on them. They were good at what they did, and how could they not be? A child could do it. But they were tired of constantly sneaking around and endangering their livelihoods, and occasionally their actual lives, just to make the same paycheck your average-joe lawyer makes across town. Brad had a family and Gary was a prominent travel vlogger in some small circles of the internet and they just wanted all of this to be over so they can get back to the things they love and, hopefully, not go to jail. So there they stood for what would be the last time. The silence between them only masked by the electrical hum of the water cooler. "How did this happen?" Said Gary rhetorically, dropping his empty cup to the floor and starting the short walk to the door. "I'll tell ya why," replied Brad, "disposin' of evidence, bribin' the witnesses, dealin' with the Mob, gettin' called out for it all by that dirty snitch James..." "Don't you say his name!" Shouted Gary angrily, interrupting his long-time friend and associate, aggressively pointing into his chest with his outstretched index finger, "he's dead to me and he should be to you, too!" Brad raised his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, man." They began walking again. It was a long, fateful, silent march towards the solid oak, double-doors of freedom. At least it seemed long to them "It's cool, it's cool." They walked until they reached the doors, those great wooden doors beyond which lay anything and everything that could go wrong if they took the wrong step or said the wrong thing. Gary raised a cigarette to his lips with one hand, searching his pocket for a lighter with the other. He looked to Brad, who was already two steps ahead and holding out his already lit lighter. Gary leaned in with his cancerous tube of tobacco between his lips, allowing the flame to pass gently onto it and set it's contents to pyre, and took a deep drawl. "It's just.. I don't know, man, he was one of us. And he crossed us, crossed us bad." "He won't be a concern anymore after this," stated Brad confidently, "I sent him a 'package' in the mail." "I hope it's more effective than last time you tried to take him out, mighty assassin." "What's that's supposed to mean?" Brad's voice became defensive. "You didn't really take him out," retorted Gary, "you just pushed him. He fell down some stairs and went to the hospital." "If it weren't for that goody two shoes cop being in here I'd have finished the job." "I'm sure you would've, big guy." Both men looked back at the empty hall one more time. "So where are you going after this?" "Leaving the country," replied Brad. Goin' somewhere third world to lay low. Might move to Kansas in about ten years. You?" "I just wanna go home and see my wife and my kids and tell them I love 'em and that Daddy's got a new job at the power plant and hope to God that the fuzz don't come knockin'." Gary took another hard hit off of his cigarette. "This is the end, isn't it?" "Yup." "And after tonight we'll never see each-other again." "Most likely," Brad choked. "All good things, right man?" "All good things." Brad and Gary shook hands and patted one another's back before fully dedicating to a hug that only the truest friends who have been together for years through thick and thin will ever experience. "I'm gonna miss you, Brad," Gary said, a tear rolling down his cheek. "We had a good run." "We're at the finish line, man. All we gotta do is open those doors and leave. All we gotta do is leave." But the two stayed there, locked in the embrace of friendship for what seemed like an eternity; the shortest eternity. They could have been there till Doomsday but it wouldn't have been enough time. Finally they separated and Brad opened the door. "Don't look back, man." Gary took the barely-burning cigarette from his mouth and flicked it into the hallway before quickly walking down the front step and turning right. Brad stopped at the curb, taking one final look at his brother of four years walking away and turned left. This chapter of their lives was over and the only thing they had to show for it was the inferno consuming the life they had left behind at Richard and Peters Law Firm in South Chicago.
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