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missusplum · 2 years

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Since Nadia kicked Arman out of the club now, do you think he'll take Thony up on her offer to stay at the clinic? Perhaps the writers won't address the issue again but it seemed like they made a big point of her kicking him out both times (maybe just to underscore the change in the status of their relationship?) Kind of surprised that Arman seemed like he still wanted to save his marriage through most of the ep. Love his character and liked the episode but really Arman?! He still seems confused, lol. I hope the writers don't try to backpedal on the marriage again. Time to move on. I would love to see Arman and Nadia have competing clubs next season! What did you think of the ep?

hello anon! in general i quite liked the episode! aside from arman’s absence for half of it 😤

personally i don’t think he’ll stay at the clinic, though it’d be interesting if he did. i think that bit of dialogue was just to show that thony’s caught onto his marriage issues?

more to the meat: i’ve read a lot of people being frustrated with arman trying to save his marriage and while i totally understand why, i feel the need to defend him a bit lmao. incoming long post about arman/armony under the cut:

k to preface, this is all just my interpretation and me trying to make sense of the show so far, because like i’ve said before i don’t think the writing has been super clear either way. it could all change by next episode and i could change my mind and this could all be moot lmao. and it’s probably worth noting that a lot of these thoughts are mostly based on how the characters have been written this season only (because if i try to contextualize too much from last season we’ll just get into the same consistency issues we’ve already talked about lol)

ok first of all, while i totally get that it would be the most straightforward if characters made split decisions and stuck to them and moved forward and never looked back, i just don’t think humans work this way, and certainly not the characters in TCL lol. they’re all a mess in their own ways, and arman is no different. i don’t think that makes him a frustrating character, just a human one

my understanding of arman this season is that he’s more or less lost control of everything in his life that he knows. aside from the money issues, here’s a brief list of things that he’s lost this season: his place as hayak’s second, his business acumen (being forced out of the gun business and that’s all he’s known), his ability to run the club, his dignity while working for kamdar who’s intent on humiliating him, and now his home and marriage. when your seemingly stable life is unceremoniously thrown into chaos, i think it’s human nature to want to cling onto the familiar and cling onto what was your normalcy, and that’s what i see arman doing. he’s trying to salvage the clientele at the club, he’s trying to escape kamdar and buy the club, he’s trying to save his marriage so he can get back that stability again and piece back together the life that he had before

while it would make things so much easier for us shippers if arman just up and fell out of love with nadia, again i don’t think that’s generally how humans operate. melissa carter has said that she sees arman as being in love with the two women; obviously i don’t think he means to string anyone along, but i think they represent different parts of him: nadia in part represents his old life and the life that made him who he is. they had a life together that worked, they were a formidable business team, their goals were compatible. and like i said, putting back together his old life has basically been arman’s main focus this season. not being able to save his marriage (or at least save nadia from kamdar) would also be admitting that there’s a part of his old life that is lost forever. and while that may be true anyway, i think actually coming to terms with that and accepting the end of something you once loved and valued is easier said than done. he also doesn’t want to hurt her and wants to do the ‘right thing’. there was a really good meta piece written a few weeks ago that explained how blaming kamdar and thony for their failing marriage has been convenient for both arman and nadia instead of facing the core issues in their relationship. i’m not 100% convinced that the writers are leaning into this as much as the triangle/quad, but personally i think it makes a lot of sense. the relationship has its own issues, and i think a key piece is the introduction of thony in arman’s life

meeting thony has shifted his values and changed him from the man nadia married, so much so that even if arman did manage to retain everything from his old life, i’m not convinced that he would be truly happy anymore. i think thony has fundamentally changed arman (like he has changed her). it’s not necessarily that he consciously wants to be with thony yet, but i think the way that she challenges him on his decision-making and has this unfailing belief that he is a good person has awoken a subconscious need in arman to be good. being recognized as a good man is something he actually craves, and imo this is a large part of why he’s so unwilling to cut ties with thony. nadia doesn’t care if he is good or bad; thony does, and the reality is that arman does too. nadia has often mocked arman about having a complex to be thony’s hero; to me this clearly demonstrates a fundamental misalignment of their values and a core cause of the dissolution of their relationship. nadia literally cannot comprehend why it’s important to arman to do good things (helping luca, not immediately willing to sell opioids, etc), especially when they inconvenience their business goals, so she reasons it as infidelity and the silly need to be a hero. but to arman, it’s so much more than that: thanks to meeting thony, i think he’s growing more and more fed up with committing crimes just for the sake of climbing up the next rung on the ladder. the more thony challenges him, the more he craves the reassurance, the need to prove to her and to himself, that his soul isn’t completely rotten so he can live with himself at the end of the day

but i don’t think that arman is really aware or has fully recognized this, especially not this season when he’s been so solely focused on getting his old life back. and let’s not forget, thony has been actively trying to help him get his life back. it’s not like she consciously wants to be with him either. thony herself is too morally righteous and prideful to willingly be the reason why someone else’s marriage fails. in many ways thony and arman just want to help each other without anything in return. there’s a real beauty in this!

moreover i think arman and thony represent to each other some element of unknown that can be exciting but also cause for trepidation. i think they have a love for each other but at this point are they in love? i don’t think either of them would say so. like i said, in its current state, the nature of their relationship is very confusing and hard to define for them both — the physical attraction and emotional connection is clearly there, but they have such different lives and backgrounds that in many ways it doesn’t make sense for them to get on as well as they do. there are so many unknowns and enough excuses why they should be incompatible that i think it’s fair for both to question whether or not a romantic relationship would even make sense or be sustainable. even though this season has shown the boundaries of their personal lives blurring a little bit, it seems they’re both still trying to maintain some distance there. this was evident in their argument in ep5 where they talked about the motel guy threatening her family and kamdar threatening his — their families are still considered separate entities; they still see their lives as separate entities. does it really make sense for thony to invite a criminal into her home life and into luca’s life? does it really make sense for arman to give up on the club and wade into the unknown world of prescription meds? would it all just crash and burn?? maybe, maybe not. but i don’t blame either of them for shying away from it in favour of the lives that they’ve lived and known. and i think this juxtaposition of what should make sense to them vs what actually does is what makes their dynamic so intriguing

i don’t really want to get into the business of predicting what scenes or storylines will come up since every time i do i just end up expecting too much and getting disappointed lol. but if thematically the main development in armony’s relationship from s1 was that they trust each other, i think (hope?) maybe that the main development in s2 will be that they need each other. however it plays out, to whatever degree, romantic or not, i’ll leave up to the powers that be. and i’ll just keep hoping and praying that we get a season 3 so that we continue to see them develop and grow!

and thus ends another unnecessarily long word vomit about fictional tv characters

#the cleaning lady #asks #the armony brain rot is real 🫠🫠

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subiysu-chan · 1 year

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How Marie-Josèphe fell into the cycle of violence

Yes, you read the title correctly. Development volume by volume, her descent into the circle of violence, followed by it's consistency and style...

Vol 1 of Innocent:

In the very first two chapters, Marie watches her father torture Charles-Henri. Later that day, she binds the legs of her doll in the fashion of a "brodequin".

Vol. 2 of Innocent

After symbolic violence on her an inanimate object (i.e a doll), little Marie moves on to dissecting animals, and is unusually skilled at it. However, despite her young age, Marie is still more curious than sadistic, and shows appreciation for the beauty of the animal she dissected. One could say she is learning.

However, in the same scene, she says she aspires to be an executioner, just like her father and brother. Here, again, it seems that she mimics the value system of her father and grandmother: the position of executioner is an enviable one, a respectable one. At age 5, she is already a lot more desensitized to violence as Charles-Henri was at twelve. This shows that Marie seems to be negatively impacted by the violence that surrounds her. She's morbidly curious, and asks Charles to tell her his first hanging, which was a fiasco. Oddly enough, Marie doesn't show gratitude, and starts to strangle Charles, acting out physically the act of strangulation verbally described, pressing on his carotide artery. As he's strangled by his own little sister, he has a flash of his father strangling him using a similar method. Charles is only saved because his baby brother cried very loudly, annoying Marie enough to make her let go. She also says she wishes her baby brother dead, although how much she understands death at this stage is unknown.

The scene we have here is not that of a healthy relationship. It is a young man conditioned to accept violence, with his above average level of empathy barely counter acts how conditioned he is from this transgressive environment, and who's past abuse make it difficult for him to assert healthy limits, mentors a 5 year old who's even more desensitized to violence than himself.

Vol 3 of Innocent

Marie assists at Damien's execution, without her parents permission, although most of Paris does too.

Volume 4 of Innocent

Marie-Josèphe first enjoys the sight of Damien's quartering, but does offer a way to shorten his suffering. Make of that what you will.

This is also the volume we have the disturbing chapter with a timeline as messed up as the scene unfolded before our eyes. However, Marie has suture needles in her hair, which seems to indicate this isn't something unexpected of her, despite probably not being personally acquanted with it. Being on of the younger siblings, she wouldn't have spent as much time in the family torture chamber as many of her older brothers, simply because A, her mother isn't particularly punitive, B, her grand-mother has her punitive attention most of the time directed at Charles, C. her father is handicapped at this point in her life. Also, this is perhaps the most gratuitous act of violence we are shown so far in the manga, and frankly counter-productive.

Vol 5 of Innocent

So, this volume is almost entirely dedicated to the start of Marie's career as executioner...And let's say. She values it enough that Griffith is able to use it as a way to extort sexual favors from her. So clearly, the idea of an executioner position being something desirable and worth protecting, even at the cost of one's dignity, is firmly rooted into her. It gives an additional motivation of her, and we see for the first time her first act of non-mimetic, firmly transgressive violence. She deliberately botched Griffith's execution as revenge for raping her. She could have raised an official complain, and this act goes directly against the restrictions placed on an executioner, and against their code of honor.

Also, to help this essay and keep it a reasonable length, I will not adresse what she does in self-defense.

Quick note that some of her facial expressions are similar to those of Jean-Baptiste.

Vol 6 of Innocent

Now, in the first few chapter, Marie is confronted with her deliberately botched execution, and Charles reasonably chooses to take it upon himself. He outright says she's too young to be an executioner, and for once, I actually agree with him. However, Marie refuses, claiming entitlement over La Tour's head. "He's under my juridiction, therefore, his head is mine to take" seems to be her logic, on top of the personal reasons she has of wanting to be his executioner. So, again, after this episode of more "unique" violence, she runs back into the dynastic executioner state of mind. Also, some part of Marie's mind is very childish, as she doesn't take kindly to being scolded, critiqued or given limits to respect, no matter how reasonable.

Said confrontation is followed by a slap from Charles, and she hits back with a full punch. Again, this is an act of self-defense, but it is clearly a rebellious one, as it is expected of children to meekly take in correction.

However, next we are treated to Marie's more...psychological violence: using emotional manipulation to get what she wants in the form of seduction.

Vol 7 of Innocent

We are not given much, but we are given more proof that post sex Charles-Henri is not a copy of his father, and how he's his own person. In this instant, Marie-Josèphe seems to be more similar to her father, not fighting back against her marginalization.

We are treated to her worldview here, of eat or be eaten.

Vol 8 of Innocent

Here, we see that Marie is unusually agressive on the scaffold, making sure to smash the condemned to pieces, using them as a way to vent fustration. Also, again, we see in her seduction of Marie-Antoinette that she's not above predatory relationships. And it is shown as manipulative, as evidenced by the spider metaphor. The first time Sakamoto-sensei uses the spider symbol in Innocent was to demonstrate Anne-Marthe’s manipulation of her son.

Volume 9:

Here, Marie is pretty much good girl in this novel. Not much to say here. She’s not peaceful by any means, but most of her acts of violence are defensive in this situation. Even when vengeful, Marie doesn’t necessarily fights for herself, but for the children lost to the fire.

#innocent manga #my reddit posts #character analysis

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starts-the-moon · 2 years

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Roy x Larum headcanons

During one of Roy's first meetings with Larum, she took the initiative and hugged him and then made a point about not letting go

Roy finds Larum's sense of optimism adorable, as well as her willingness to look up to him and see him as some paragon

Roy is very used to his cheerful wife's antics and is good at calming her down, making him the perfect person to talk to her at her moments of utter silliness

When Larum first arrived Pherae castle, she toured the place over and over, exclaiming about how beautiful everything was and how she loved it so much that she didn't want to leave it. Roy was amused by how deeply she fell in love with a place so quick

Larum actually announced she was pregnant, Roy was stunned at the news, but readily accepted the condition and married Larum shortly after, shocking everyone

Their wedding was extravagant and talked about for years

Elffin and Echidna were certainly guests of honor

He enjoys reading to her, Larum doesn't read a lot of books, but he reads to her anyway, it helps him to relax and forget about all the stress of running the country

Roy also likes goofing off with his wife, whether it's teaching her how to play chess, or doing silly dances with her

They usually end any argument or disagreement out laughing, and somehow end up cuddling

Larum never hesitated to speak up about the rights of Pherae working class, and spends a good portion on food and other items for the workers

She's fairly well liked among the commoners, Larum gives lots of gifts to the poor denizens of Pherae, and always attends the festivals in the city

The nobles looked down to Larum due to her being non titled, but it totally flew though her head and she just laughed it off

Roy stood up for her, and some good it did, because nobody else would dare tell Roy off

Larum is excessively worried about Roy's well being, she starts obsessing over his meals, and she constantly pesters him to tell him his activities for the day. Roy's usual retort is to brush it off and tell her not to worry so much

Larum hates when Roy needs to travel. She is almost always impatient planning a party when he comes back from one his missions

Being married to this hyperactive woman can be crazy sometimes, but Roy has learned to take it and smile

Roy becomes very supportive of Larum's dreams/schemes, and is even willing to agree to unreasonable requests like spending an entire day shopping just to make her happy or giving her whatever she wants

Larum's love for gifts and generosity makes her a favorite among the servants, and she truly cares for them. Roy sometimes needs to keep a tight rein on her though

Larum teaching Roy how to dance, he was really hopeless at first, but Larum never gave up, Roy started enjoy every moment he spent practicing with her

The castle guards have nicknamed Larum "chatterbox". She doesn't exactly discourage the nickname

Larum is often the center of attention. Roy is the one who really runs the castle, but Roy doesn't mind his wife getting all the attention, it keeps them entertained.

Larum's flamboyant behavior keeps the court so amused that they start to look for any excuse to invite her around

Her sense of style is also 'strange', since she's fond of wearing sexy outfits like showing her stomach or legs. She ends up creating a new incredibly provocative trend, where noble women start to wear more and more revealing clothes

Roy often finds himself having to duck many of his wife's flying hugs

Larum is forbidden from using the castle's kitchen, the servants excuse is that such tasks are beneath the marchioness dignity

The real reason is that she always makes a mess and her food is awful. Roy eventually told her the truth, she took it well

Carrot family. Their children all with every shade of red hair

Their children are also a reflection of Larum's loud and rambunctious personality, they all enjoy running around and screaming, to Roy's dismay

Roy used to wear uncomfortable clothing, but after getting married, Larum forced him to wear more comfortable and cooler outfits and he's happy she did it

#Roy #Larum #Roy x Larum #Fire Emblem headcanon #Roylarum #Binding Blade #binding blade #Elibe

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blujaysbluesky · 11 months

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Of Her II: June 1st

“Dear ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇,

I’ve just gotten back from the new Spider-Man film and an amazing day with my friends. All of my days and all of my writings cannot express my joy, it truly is ineffable. I hope you are well too

I would like to apologize for being so dick-ish. I was not yet strong enough to deny you from my life without scorning you or to forgive without wishing for you back. I will admit also that I gave up a part of my dignity in my struggle for you, though I never would have done any different.

It may please you, in some form, to know that I have accepted my being a poor son. I am working, in my own way, to repair my relationship with my Mother and continue with my Dad’s too. Forgiveness is after all not about the other but restoring peace within oneself,

My friends, I am as appreciative as ever. I realized that I found that kinship which I have long looked for in the mess you left me in. My friends have been by my side and in my corner through the thick of it, all I could ask for. I love them all

Though I am doing well, I still do not wish to see much of you. Best not to jeopardize this happiness I have found.

It’s awfully late now and I’m not sure how much to say is too much, I do mean it, all that I say that I’m doing well and hope you are too, there is no ulterior motive here. Since Spring a year ago I have been sure not to lie to you and to mean the things I say. There was one of course I didn’t entirely mean but we both know full well I intended to make it right and you’re the one who broke that oath anyways.

Anyways, that is all I have. “Live life to the point of tears”

-Someone, ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇”

There is nothing left to say of Her now, I have to do it for me

#unsent letters

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strawberrymilkgeorge · 3 years

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Part Four. "You hosted me?? In MINECRAFT??"

warnings: swearing but that’s it (i think)! just karl being a goof and dream being a little shit but whats new word count: 3k (not ncluding pictures)

behind the screen (irl dream x reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

**********

Y/n sat to Karl's left, out of the camera's view as he scrolled through Twitter on his PC.

"Um... oh, how did you guys meet?" Karl read before looking offscreen at Y/n. "Uh... school?"

"What? I was going to make up a funny story but I'm appalled by the seriousness in your voice! Is that really how you think we met?"

The embarrassment on his face answered her question. "Karl! I'm two years younger than you, how would we meet have met at school?"

"I don't know!" he said back defensively, raising his shoulders. "Clubs?"

"Like I was in any of the nerd clubs you were in."

"Well, then, how did we meet?"

Y/n sighed with a laugh. "Our moms–"

"Oh, wait wait, I remember!" he cut her off, excitedly looking towards Y/n. "Our moms are friends and they forced us to hang out." He smiled proudly and looked back to his screen as he continued scrolling for good questions. "If I'm honest, I only still hang out with you because my mom makes me."

Y/n smacked Karl's arm and he laughed but pretended to be hurt. "WHAT THE HONK, BUGSY?!"

"I can't stand you. I barely hit you, nimrod."

Karl giggled and read another one. "How tall is Bugsy? Two feet, four inches."

"No, I'm 7'6," Y/n lied easily and Karl laughed.

"How tall are you actually?"

'I think 5'10 or something? Maybe 5'11. I'm not 6' but I'm taller than you for sure, I know that much–"

"Okay, you are not taller than me. Just to be clear. Chat, Bugsy is not taller than me."

"Yes, I am. Wanna test it?"

"No," he replied quietly in defeat.

"Because you know I'm right," Y/n laughed as her eyes flicked over to read chat. They were spamming their surprise, expecting her to be short. "Yeah, no, chat, I'm tall. I'm taller than Karl."

"Only because your shoes make you tall! Doc Martens are tall and that's pretty much all you wear!"

"You're shorter than me when I'm barefoot!"

"That's literally false. Like completely."

"Just accept it, shorty."

"I'll accept that you're taller than George and Sapnap, but not me. I'm barely taller than you but I'm still taller."

"Whateverrrr. I'll move on to protect your dignity."

Karl ignored her and laughed, pointing to a message from Dream in Karl's chat.

"Dream said I have short girl energy," Y/n read.

"You kinda do."

"What does that even mean?"

"You're shy around new people and you act all sweet."

"So tall girls can't be shy and sweet? Or shy and sweet girls can't be tall?"

"Stop twisting my words," Karl groaned.

"Also, wait, what do you mean I act sweet? Am I not?"

"No, you are. But I mean you also aren't when you don't want to be. Upset Bugsy is scary Bugsy."

Y/n frowned, not recalling a time she's ever been angry or upset at Karl but she let him move on. He pointed to another tweet as he looked at Y/n, giving her an 'I told you so' look. She read it before shaking her head at him.

"Don't read that one."

"Pleeease, can I answer?"

"No!" she whisper-shouted. I don't want to be shipped with him for asking or you for answering, she mouthed so Karl's chat couldn't put together clues.

"Are you assuming I'll answer positively?" he teased, earning him a hard smack on the arm.

Y/n couldn't help but notice every time she put her hands in the frame, which was usually to hit Karl, half of the chat turned into simps requesting a hand pic because they could see her bracelets and nail polish and now that they knew she was tall they wanted to see how big her hands were. They really wanted every crumb of content they could have regarding her looks. She caught one that said something pretty kinky about her hands which she tried to scrub from her mind immediately.

"Fine," Karl sighed at her request to not read Dream's tweet out loud, instead reading another. "Bestie sleepover? Yes! Bestie sleepover! Bugsy and I are gonna cuddle all night--"

"No, we aren't. I'm sleeping on a completely different bed. Or couch. Nowhere near you."

"WHY DO YOU HATE ME?"

"Karl! Stop trying to get me to cuddle with you!" Y/n laughed as she pushed away his arms, which were trying to give her a hug. "You're a freaking heater and I don't like touching people!"

"That's my worst nightmare in a friend, how did I end up with you?"

"No idea. Deal with it. It's still a bestie sleepover even if we don't cuddle."

Karl giggled and looked back at his stream. "Oh, by the way, in case anyone ever wanted to know or was Dreaming about it, Bugsy is very cute. Just thought I'd mention it in case anyone was wondering or if anyone tweeted specifically asking..."

Y/n smacked his arm again as she yelled, "Karl!"

He grabbed his arm in dramatic pain as if it had been cut off. "Ow! Ow! Bugsy hit me!" he cried as he fell to the floor. "Oh my gosh. Someone call a doctor!"

"I cannot stand you," Y/n informed as she stared down at him. She glanced at chat, who were all joking about how bad his condition was, saying things like they might have to amputate his arm. "Chat, don't encourage him. Oh, Karl I know what we can do!"

"As long as I don't need two arms for it..." his voice still laced with fake pain.

"Karl Jacobs."

"What is it?"

"Give me a tour of Dream's SMP. Dream whitelisted me yesterday."

"Oh, yeah! What could have possibly made you think of him?" he teased as he got back in his chair.

Y/n glared at him and he cowered slightly.

"Minecraft, yes. There's a PC in the other room you can play on. Do you need help setting it up?"

"No, I've streamed once or twice," Y/n teased as she stood up.

"I'm just trying to be a good host! Gosh!"

"Wait, I have to cross over to leave the room."

"Just do it? What's the issue? Literally no problem, just walk?" he joked before zooming in his camera on his face so it took up the whole screen. Y/n laughed as she went across the room, chat now forced to look at disturbingly close footage of Karl staring directly into the camera with his eyes crossed.

Y/n called Karl on Discord after logging in. "Hi, Karl and Karl's stream."

"Are you on yet?"

"I'm logging in to my Minecraft account right now."

"Okay, join a vc on the smp discord so others can talk to us if we run into anyone. I'll be over in a minute, just give me a bit to read some donations." They both muted, leaving Y/n to herself.

She typed in the IP address to the server and joined a random voice channel that no one was in. She spawned and looked around, confused by the cobblestone wall around her. Her phone lit up so she occupied herself with the texts from Naomi.

A green figure caught her eye on the screen and she looked up. In the distance was Dream's infamous green Minecraft skin punching the air as he faced her. He ran towards her and stopped in front of her. She set her phone down and slid it away, crouching as his character did the same.

Dream whispers to you: are you streaming you whisper to Dream: no but Karl is and he's about to get on to tour me Dream whispers to you: hmmm okay here

He uncrouched and dropped a few diamond blocks before punching the air again and running away.

Dream whispers to you: shh don’t tell anyone you whisper to Dream: omg :D ty <3 you whisper to Dream: first twitch donos now mc donos you whisper to Dream: rich man over here giving out money and diamonds to everyone like it's candy Dream whispers to you: no, only to you Dream whispers to you: a little gift before our date ;) Dream whispers to you: oh and this

He came back and paused in front of Y/n before dropping a red poppy and sprinting away again. She acted cool despite the huge smile on her face.

you whisper to Dream: charming you whisper to Dream: you give me a flower and dart away before I can properly thank you Dream whispers to you: oh yeah? how would you have thanked me?

Y/n smiled, her cheeks flaming up as a dirty thought entered her mind. Stop, he's not flirting, she told herself. It’s literally a block game and he’s not flirting.

you whisper to Dream: guess we'll never know ;) KarlJacobs joined the game

"I'm back," Karl's voice filled her headset as he joined her voice channel, snapping her out of her thoughts. "Where are you?"

Y/n looked away from the chat in Minecraft and turned around in the game. "Still at spawn. Some forest and cobblestone walls."

"Go left and I'll meet you halfway."

As she ran, the Minecraft chat reappeared with new messages for everyone to see.

<Dream> hey Karl <KarlJacobs> hello Dream <Dream> thanks for answering my question on your stream <KarlJacobs> just doing my civil duty as a bugsy dream shipper <KarlJacobs> official petition for the name to be dreamsy <Dream> signed

"Oh my gosh," Y/n muttered, making Karl laugh.

"What?" Karl asked innocently, but his laugh was maniacal. "Oh, I found you. This way! I built everything on the server, by the way. So if anything is impressive, just remember that I did it."

"Karl, that's the biggest lie you've ever told me. I watch the lore videos."

"Well, I did build it all so I don't know what to tell you. Let's go this way first."

Y/n followed as he showed her stuff, including background and unknown facts about things that have happened off stream. After the tour, they messed around the chessboard. At some point, she found a blue cornflower and turned to Karl.

"Do you have an anvil?"

"I don't exactly have one on me at the moment but I think there's one over here. What for?"

She killed some chickens with her fist to gain XP so she could carry out the task in mind. "I need to name this flower I found." She followed him a few blocks away and clicked the anvil and named the flower 'love, bug'. "Okay, thanks."

"Why did you name it?"

"It's a gift for someone."

"Me?" he asked as his character jumped up and down.

"No. My presence is your gift."

"Ouch. You know, honestly, I'm really hurt by that. Like, why would you say that to me? It's just sorta rude."

"Fine, I'll go get you a flower."

"Well, I don't want it if it isn't sincere. Who's that one for?"

"...no one."

"Tell me or I'll keep complaining about not getting a gift."

"I can deal with that."

"Okay, then tell me or I'll make you sleep in my bed and I'll smother you to death with my affection."

"Ah, okay, fine. It's for Dream."

"Wow you really hate me that much!" Karl laughed.

"No, I'm just not touchy like you!" she defended. She always worried she offended Karl since he was so physically affectionate towards his friends but she just wasn't a physical person.

"Oh, speaking of Dream..." he turned and Y/n followed his characters line of sight, having to zoom in to see the green figure perched at the top of a tree.

"He's very menacing."

"He does that."

<Bugsy> come here pls dream <Bugsy> i have a gift :]

Dream ran towards Y/n and stopped in front of her expectedly. She looked at Karl then back at Dream and dropped the gift, backing up after and crouching.

His character picked it up and held it, pausing to read the name. After a moment, he slowly looked up at Y/n's character before jumping and spinning in circles. Y/n hid her smile in her sleeve even though no one could see her.

<Dream> wait lemme see the one I gave you <Bugsy> what D: <Dream> I wanna name it

"What is going on?" Karl giggled.

"Gift exchange. Mind your own business."

"Woah!" Karl gasped dramatically. "Uncalled for."

Dream came back and dropped the renamed flower for her. Y/n picked it up and hovered over it to read the name.

'host, dream'

She gasped and started punching his character. He backed up and ran away but joined the call seconds later.

"Wait! Stop hitting me!" Dream yelled into her headset.

Y/n laughed, trying to contain her smile as she continued to hit the green character. "Dream! Are you kidding? I tried being all cute and you hosted me?? In MINECRAFT??"

"It was a joke! You said something like that to Wilbur on Twitter a while ago, I was just using your humor!" Dream's giggles filled Y/n's headphones and she smiled but quickly dropped it so her voice could sound serious.

"Give it back."

Dream looked at her before letting out a small, "What?"

"Give me back the flower so I can go burn it with the other one."

"Bugsy!"

"What is going on?" Karl asked through a cackle. "Dream, did you hurt Bugsy??"

"Yes, Karl! He hurt my feelings! He gave me a flower and gave it back to name it something mean!"

Dream just laughed so Y/n punched him again.

"Dream! You can't hurt Bugsy!" Karl defended, also punching Dream.

All Y/n could hear was the sound of Dream wheezing, his character running as the two chased him. "Stop! You guys are so– STOP HITTING ME!"

"Fine," Y/n finally said, crouching and facing the ground as she walked into a corner to look like she was pouting. "I'm just not going to go on any Minecraft dates anymore."

"Wait, no," Dream protested in a soft voice, his character stopping to look at her's. "Take that back."

"Heart been broke so many times..."

"You're so stupid."

Karl gasped happily. "You guys have a Minecraft date? Can I help plan it?!"

"We did. In exchange for letting you give me the tour. But I've changed my mind since I've been so betrayed."

"Oh my gosh, you're so..." Dream trailed off but his wide smile could be heard through his voice.

"So what? Finish that sentence, Dream," Y/n dared teasingly.

"So... ANNOYING!"

"DREAM! SAY YOU'RE SORRY!" Karl yelled.

"Okay! I'm sorry! Bug, I'm so sorry. Really. Please let me... let me rename your flower something cute. It'll make you so happy that you'll fall in love with me all over again and–and we can go on our date. Please don't burn our flowers."

"And what if I don't give them to you?"

"I'll just kill you and pick them off your corpse."

"Woooooowwww. Okay, it's like that?"

"Yes, it is like that," he said through a smile. It was so apparent in his voice that he was grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.

<Ranboo> how is the tour going Bugsy was shot by Dream using DEFINITELY NOT PENIS <Ranboo> ah going well I see

Bugsy screamed in her mic as the death screen appeared. "DREAM!"

"You took too long!" He wheezed as Bugsy respawned.

"I don't know where I am!"

"Hold on, I'll avenge you!" Karl declared before he died too.

"You thought you could kill me with your fists? Karl, you're naked and I'm wearing full Netherite."

"You weren't when I started punching you! You pulled that out of thin air!"

<Ranboo> canon

Y/n smiled at Ranboo's comment. She had never talked to him but she knew he and Tubbo were close friends and he seemed really funny. He had already proved he had a dry sense of humor in the 30 minutes she was on the SMP and she loved that. Y/n made a mental note to befriend him before returning to being drama queen to Dream.

"So, Dream, now that you've made me an enemy–"

"WhAT? We are not enemies, Bug. I'm actually naming a flower something really cute as we speak. Enemies don't do that."

"Maybe I'm not your enemy but you sure are mine."

"Oh come on now," he mumbled lowly, running chills down her spine. What the hell was that?? "What do I have to do to make it up to you?"

"You-you murdered me in cold blood. Nothing will make it up."

"So I could get the flower! It was out of love! So I could give you a better present! Does that count for nothing?"

"Hm," she hummed. "We'll see what new name you come up with and then I'll decide."

Karl and Y/n got back to the chessboard and waited for Dream to return with his new flower.

Breaking character and turning towards her best friend, Y/n laughed at Karl. "Sorry for distracting from our BFF shenanigans time."

"This is way more entertaining," Karl assured. "Me and my chat got front row seats to the Dreamsy love saga."

"Shut up," she mumbled as she punched him in-game.

"OW! STOP PUNCHING ME SO MUCH!"

"Okay, okay, I'm back!!" Dream announced and they saw his figure sprinting and jumping towards them. He dropped the flower for Y/n and stepped back, crouching and standing repeatedly.

Y/n picked up the flower and hovered over it to read the name.

"Is it worthy of your forgiveness, Bugsy? Does it pass the vibe check?" Karl asked with a giggle.

Y/n bit her lip as she smiled at her screen.

to the prettiest girl in the world. love, dream <3

It was a joke, obviously. He was just continuing the joke of flirting with her like he does on Twitter just like Sapnap and Karl and George and Quackity do. They all joke about flirting with her and this was another joke.

But it still gave her tummy butterflies.

"Bug?" Dream called softly.

But why would he joke like that when neither of them were streaming? Karl's chat wouldn't see it so there was no one to point in feeding into the joke, unless he meant for Y/n to show Karl? She was overthinking. She needed to play it cool.

She also needed an enderchest so no one could find it and no one could take it away from her and destroy it but they didn’t need to know she liked it that much.

"Mmm.... it'll do."

**********

PREVIOUS | NEXT

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A/N: yeeee hope you guys liked this one! i think this is my favorite so far i just think dream was being too cute and i wanna be best friends with karl so much it hurts. we’re gonna get deeper into the dream relationship soon!! i just needed to indugle in bff karl content real quick!!!

taglist: open (at the time) @hydrate-tion @loraleiix @tinaswagbd @charsdummb @smileyyuta @1ghoste1 @cerberus-hellhound @gaysludge @queestionmark @carnations-red @letsloveimagines @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @boiled-onionrings @a-cryptic @fee-btheweeb @letsloveimagines @erwinss @just-a-stan @axths @kayleigh2703 @furiouspockettoad @sometimeseverythingsucks @powerpuffyn @itshaileyn @millavalntyne @automaticcomputerpaper @nikkineeky @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @sprucekot @bellomi-clarke @possiblyanxioushuman

#rpf #real person fiction #dream x reader #dream x y/n #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken x y/n #social media fic #dream smau #dreamwastaken smau #smau #mcty x reader #mcyt x y/n #mcyt fanfiction #dream fanfiction #dreamwastaken fanfiction

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ravennm84 · 3 years

Text

Payback

Hey everyone! I’ve been writing this new story for the past couple of days, and am planning to take a break for a while after this. My husband and I are expecting our first child next week and will be focusing on her. For that reason, I decided to give the class some sugar, as we all need some goodness in the world. I’ll be back when things settle down, but until then, Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!

It was just an average conversation. Alya was sitting at her desk before class with Lila since Marinette was late again. It was very pleasant until the italian girl said something… wrong.

“After I saved Jagged’s kitten from being run over by the plane and he wrote that song about me, we kept in touch.” Lila tittered away, without a care. “He ended up mentioning how he wanted a pair of special glasses for his tour, so I made him those Eiffel Tower glasses that he loves so much. Next thing I know, he’s bragging about me to all his friends and they’re all asking me to make things for them too. I ended up making a website and going by the alias MDC. Isn’t that amazing?”

Alya hadn’t had a chance to answer as Marinette came rushing into the room a second before the bell rang and Mme. Bustier began her lesson. Although whatever the teacher was saying was practically ignored by the majority of the class that had heard Lila’s claim.

Because they knew.

They had been there when Marinette had made those glasses for Jagged Stone for the work experience day at Chloe’s family hotel. They knew that Marinette went by the acronym MDC for the initials of her name. Max, Rose, Juleka, Mylene, Kim, and Alya had all helped Marinette set up her website and model her designs a couple months ago, while Lila had been traveling…

She’s a LIAR!! They all thought at once.

During the next break, Alya quickly set up a group chat with everyone but Lila and Marinette.

FoxyJournalist: You all heard that, right? She’s lying about being MDC, but that’s Marinette!

DJTurtle: So not cool, doesn’t she know that we were there? Is this some kind of joke?

MightIllustrator: Don’t think so, she’s still bragging about it back here.

GothicBeauty: @DJTurtle Agreed, not cool.

Rocker’n’Pink: I can’t believe it! I just emailed Prince Ali to see if he knows her, because if Lila’s lying about this…

BigTeddy: …

SmolTeddy: …

TrueBrain: …

Da’Strongest: … Crap

Sk8Grl: … I second that Crap

FoxyJournalist: Emergency meeting at my place tonight! We need to figure all this out!

DJTurtle: Agreed.

TruQueen: We’ll be there too. I don’t like Dupain-Cheng, but I HATE Rossi.

MissRed: I’ll bring snacks.

By the time class started again, everyone had agreed to meet up after school. The hard part, as it turned out, was shaking the liar, who practically latched onto their group and wouldn’t let them be. It was Mylene you finally came up with an idea, mentioning that they were going to the homeless shelter to help feed people and clean the facility. Lila suddenly remembered that she already had plans and couldn’t come help them, before turning to walk home.

Once she was out of earshot, Alix turned to the other girl with a smirk. “Good going, how’d you know that’d work?”

Mylene shrugged. “I was thinking earlier about all the times she talked about charity work but always made excuses to not come with us when we were doing it. I figured she’d do it this time too, and I was right.”

An hour later the entire class; sans Marinette, Lila, and Adrien, who was at a photoshoot, were gathered in the Cesaire apartment. Everyone had their phones or tablets out, looking up everything that Lila had told them since coming to school. And what they found was anything but comforting.

Connection to Jagged Stone due to saving a kitten: lies, according to articles about his one and only pet for the past 17 years, Fang the crocodile.

Connection to Prince Ali via Go-Green charities: lies, according to Prince Ali himself when he responded to Rose’s email, plus he didn’t do green charities, instead focusing on children’s charities.

Secretly dating Adrien: lies, confirmed when Adrien called Nino back during a break and let it slip that Lila was only his friend and that she made him uncomfortable at times because of how clingy she was.

Every single thing they looked up about Lila turned out to be a lie. And although they couldn’t prove it themselves, that likely meant that all of the diseases and injuries that she’d claimed to have were probably fake too. Meaning that they had been buying her lunch and giving her money for charities, and the money was probably going straight into the liar’s pocket.

“By my calculations, when including all the lunches and food we bought for her, money we donated for charities she wasn’t involved in, and tickets for events she attended with us; Lila Rossi has scammed close to €1,000 from our class. All of which we are not likely to get back from her.” Max groused as he typed away on his tablet.

Alix scoffed. “At least all we lost was some money and a bit of our dignity. I’m pretty sure Marinette went through a lot more than us. Heck, that liar tried to convince me last week that Marinette ruined her homework and said ‘if only she understood what it was like for someone to do that to her’ like she was trying to get me to destroy Marinette’s homework as revenge. I didn’t do it, but I let her copy my homework so she wouldn’t lose any points.”

Juleka’s pale complexion went stark white. “She kept telling me how Marinette was only friends with me so she could get close to Luka and make Adrien jealous, and that I was really trusting to let someone like that near my family.”

“When my headphones broke, she told me that she’d seen Marinette messing with them earlier,” Nino told them, his voice laced with guilt as he remembered giving his oldest friend the cold shoulder for days after that.

Alya’s head dropped into her hands as she struggled to hold back tears. “That liar almost had me convinced that Mari was nothing but a jealous bitch who was out to get rid of her since they both had a crush on Adrien. I can’t believe how close I came to buying that bull.”

“And then there’s the expulsion,” Rose added, her voice quivering. “She was accused of stealing, assault, and cheating on that mock exam. Even though Marinette was reinstated, that kind of stuff doesn’t just disappear from someone’s record. What if that keeps her from being accepted into lycee?”

Everyone went pale at that. Although most turned red in the face a moment later from rage for their friend.

“We can’t let her get away with this!” Kim growled as he began pacing the room.

“But is there anything we can really do?” Mylene asked with tears in her eyes.

When the blonde heiress chuckled, sitting off to the side of the room, everyone turned to glare at her, but she wasn’t phased by their looks. “And this is exactly why I decided to come here. None of you have any idea how to deal with someone like Rossi. I, however, have dealt with those types of people multiple times.” The glares ceased, realizing that Chloe was probably right.

“One of the best ways to get back at her, would be to use her own lies against her. Do it in a way that the only way out of it is to admit that she’s a liar. And while we do that, we completely tear down the empire that fake HBIC is trying to build, maybe get her expelled like she tried to do to Dupain-Cheng.”

The class stared at her in surprise, not expecting the former hero to actually be useful in this situation. But what she said…

Alya shook her head in surprise. “I never thought I’d say this, but it sounds like you’re the best option. Please, tell us your plan.”

The smirk Chloe gave them, almost made them feel sorry for what was about to happen to the liar.

~oOo~

The following morning when Lila came to class, she saw everyone fawning over something on their phones or tablets. Curious, she stepped next to Alya and looked over her shoulder to find that she was looking at the MDC website.

She smirked for a second before plastering an appreciative, yet shy grin on her face. “I see you found my website, what do you think of my designs?”

“Gurl, they are gorgeous! I can’t believe you made such intricate clothes and accessories!” Alya gushed as she continued looking through the pictures until she stopped on a design that she had modeled for Marinette, although, like all the other photos, her face wasn’t shown. “And this one here! It’s like a total dedication to Rena Rouge. Make no mistake, Ladybug will always be my favorite, but Rena’s power is really awesome too.”

“I’m glad you like it!” Lila smiled, she was about to go into describing how she was inspired by the design when Alya asked her something surprising.

“Do you think I can have it? Pretty please?”

Lila came up short, not having expected this. “Well, you can just order it from my website-” she began saying, only to stop when Alya’s expression dropped.

“I don’t understand. You always say that if we need anything to just ask you, and you have this dress listed as in stock on your website, it would be nothing for you to just give it to me, right?”

“I-um-”

“And you even told Marinette the other day that if she were a real friend, she wouldn’t mind giving us free pastries whenever we ask, right?”

“R-right! I’m just surprised that you would be so interested in one of my designs. I’ll bring it in tomorrow!”

“Thanks gurl, you're the best.” Alya gushed before giving Lila a hug that actually kind of hurt.

Hurrying back to her seat, Lila resisted the urge to curse as she got onto the MDC website to order and overnight the dress to her apartment. Luckily, the mail normally arrived before she left for school. And doing this would help her convince everyone she was the designer MDC.

~oOo~

Lila’s newest lie about being MDC wasn’t going as planned. Sure, she got a lot of praise and people wearing her designs, but it was costing her. Every time she brought in an item that she’d had to buy and overnight to her apartment to give to one of her classmates, another would practically demand another item that was listed as available on the MDC website. A hat for Alix, a hoodie for Kim, a shirt for Max, a dress for Rose, it went on and on. And when she tried to say that she couldn’t, they would say how Marinette would never do such a thing and then start to question what she told them. This left her no choice but to buy everything they wanted herself and give to them.

Sure, it made her lie all the more believable since she was able to deliver the items they asked for, but it was beginning to clear out her savings. At the rate she was going, she was probably MDC’s best customer.

Then came the day when the MDC website began offering custom orders. Alya asked Marinette for a couple sheets of paper from her sketchbook and a pencil before handing it to Lila. “Gurl, I’ve been wanting you to do something custom for me for weeks, but I wasn’t going to ask since you didn’t have it listed on your website and I didn’t want to take advantage of you. But now, I can tell you exactly what I want and I can even record your process for my blog! Isn’t that awesome?”

Lila gripped the pencil until it nearly snapped. She could barely draw stick figures and she was pretty sure Maribrat knew that, not missing the smirk that the goody-two-shoes was sending her direction. “I would but, oww! My arthritis has been acting up all day and I can barely hold a pencil.” She whimpered pathetically as gingerly gripped her left wrist.

“But that shouldn’t be a problem,” Max spoke up smiling kindly at her. “After all, it’s your left wrist that has arthritis and you’re right handed.”

Shut up, you stupid nerd! She thought, struggling to keep the scowl from her face. “You’re right, but I’m not sure if I’ll have enough time to draw something out before class starts.”

“But, Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale have commented on your website how you are really good at doing fast concept drawing for your designs. So, it shouldn’t take you too long to come up with something to start with.” Rose commented, her high voice grating on the liar’s nerves.

She was trying to think of another excuse when Chloe began laughing. “You can all stop the act, I think we’ve played it out long enough.”

To Lila’s surprise, the majority of the class nodded before their eager, friendly faces turned to scowls and angry glares as they looked in her direction. Unsure of what else to do, she started faking tears as she looked around the room. “Why are all of you looking at me like that? I haven’t done anything wrong. Did Marinette say something? You know-”

“Cut the crap, Lila! We did our research weeks ago and figured out you’re nothing but a lying bag of nothing.” Chloe cut her off as she stood from her desk and smiled cruelly at the girl. “You really messed up when you started claiming you were the MDC, the rising star of fashion. Everyone in class knows that’s Marinette.”

Unable to help herself, Lila’s head whipped around in shock to glare at the french-asian girl, sitting shocked, but a little smug at her desk. “Is that what Marinette said? She’s lying!”

Alya scoffed this time. “You know, there may have been a point when we might have believed you, but not this time. We were all there when Mari gave those glasses to Jagged Stone and then had her design his album cover. Max and I helped her set up the MDC website. And Rose, Juleka, Mylene, Kim, Max, and I were the ones that modeled the designs posted on her website.”

Lila glared at her. She knew when the jig was up, and there was no point in wasting her energy on her worthless classmates anymore. Still, she couldn’t help but be angry at them. “Well, you all better have the money to pay me back for all the stuff I bought you! Or else I’ll get all of you in trouble with Mme. Bustier and M. Damocles. If you can’t tell, from the time I got Maribrat expelled, I’ve got them both wrapped around my finger.”

“Actually, you can consider all this repaying us.” Max grinned that annoying, calculating grin at her. “Everything you bought was equal to or of similar value to all the lunches we bought you, tickets for events that we covered, or money we donated to your supposed charities, which I’m 96.8% sure was actually your own bank account.”

She growled at that, about to let out a tirade at all of them when Chloe laughed again, gaining her attention again. “Well, all that was to pay back the class, but you’re still not even with Dupain-Cheng or me. I’m sick of seeing your ugly face and hair-don’t in here every day and decided to do something about it. So, I had Daddy get a hold of the Italian Embassy for a meeting the other day. Imagine how surprised and angry they were when the ambassador’s assistant started talking about how incopitant Ladybug and Chat Noir are, since they couldn’t defeat the akuma that had forced her daughter’s school to close for months.”

Lila’s tan skin paled quickly as her head whipped around the room, looking for an escape, but Ivan and Kim were guarding the door.

“The woman was even more surprised after mentioning which school it was and Daddy told her how it was my school. Then I mentioned a girl that had been out of school for the time the assistant had mentioned, and that she claimed to be in the kingdom of Achu via Embassy funds. The Ambassador wasn’t too happy about what he was hearing and cut the meeting short. Although I did hear her mention that she was planning to speak with the principal and her daughter’s teacher. Speaking of, I wonder why Mme. Bustier is so late for class?

Seconds later, the door Ivan and Kim had been guarding burst open, revealing a very angry Damocles, Mme. Bustier, and a woman that had a strong resemblance to Lila. Without a single word, the woman stomped forward, grabbed Lila by the arm, and began dragging her out of the room. Lila tried to pull free as she pleaded for her mother to listen, but the woman didn’t say a single word as the door closed behind them, leaving a very upset Mme. Bustier standing at the front of the room.

The news quickly spread around school before lunch how Lila had done, and was likely to be expelled for truancy, bullying, lying to the staff, and trying to get Marinette expelled. If that hadn’t been bad enough, an akuma had come fluttering into the courtyard just as the two Rossi’s had been leaving. Lila had pushed her mother away in an effort to catch the akuma, only for a yo-yo to smack her hand to catch it, snapping two of the liar’s fingers in the process.

Seeing that, M. Damocles had no choice but to call the police while Ladybug and Chat Noir stood guard over Lila, with Alya recording everything from the moment she’d seen the akuma entering the courtyard. Lila screamed and raged as the police handcuffed her and took her away. Ladybug recommended using a facility outside of Paris, as they had witnessed her willingly going after an akuma.

The class never saw Lila again, although they did hear that she had been deported back to Italy and was dropped in a high security prison’s deepest, darkest hole to be forgotten by the world after being convicted for aiding a terrorist. Granted, none of them had expected that when they had set out to get even with Lila, but after seeing her willingly go after an akuma for revenge, they were glad she was gone.

The class had also profusely apologized to Marinette for not believing her, as well as keeping her in the dark about their plan to expose Lila. Marinette accepted their apology, but admitted that she had been starting to figure it out after Lila kept ordering from her website and her classmates ended up with the ordered items. Then, when she had mentioned her theory to Adrien, he’d shown her the group chat and admitted that the class had planned a way to confront and expose Lila. So, she decided to trust her friends and let their plan play out, using the money Lila had spent to buy more supplies and make matching ‘thank you’ gifts for her friends.

And that’s it! I hope you all enjoyed this bit of class sugar. With all the salt out there, I really needed something sweet and this seemed like a good way to do it!

Taglist:

@2confused-2doanything @7-sage-7 @aadnrsstar @abrx2002 @awkwardromances @bayball @babylovebug18 @botanicalfoxx @back-cats-and-broken-mirrors @caffeinetheory @cheshire5210 @chocolateherringtacofan @city-of-all-tunas @classycollectorreviewworld @corabeth11 @chocolatechipcookiesandcamembert @darkened-flame @delightfulcookiesrecipespizza @fandom-trapped-03 @ghostmaster @iamblinkmarvelarmy @interobanginyourmom @izang @jesussavedevenme @kazedancer @kitten12113 @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @lilypotter2018 @lunataravler @maskedpainter @ miraculouslydumb @nerd-nowandforever @ola-is-dead @pandacatxd @plushbookworm @plz-excuse-my-inner-ravenclaw @pheonix-biach @raiderofthelostbooks @ramos123 @rowanrouge @rowanyx @ren121 @seesea22 @seraphichana @sashakoi @shypeacekitten @tazer6787 @that-girl-sakea @thecrazyfantrollshasmoved @the-smallest-kittenz @tishwinchesterannabethjackson @t1dwarrior-of-earth @ulmban @with-forward-motion @wonderbat91939 @zoiechance

#lila lies #lila salt #lila gets exposed #class redemption #chloe redemption #alya redemption #marinette dupain cheng

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featherymalignancy · 3 years

Text

How About a Hug, Hm? REMIX

So a few days ago I got this ask about my Elriel one-shot “How About A Hug?” because I messed up the formatting and I you basically have to to read it as a reblog. I also was really unsatisfied with the end result.

So, I did the most Feathery™️ thing every and REWROTE THE WHOLE GODDAMN THING.

Please enjoy, and know that I will go back and tag people/clean up formatting tomorrow. Right now I just need to post and 😴

——————————————————

Elain Archeron was running late.

Granted, it was only by seven minutes, which—in many social circles—was still considered well within the accepted boundaries of punctuality.

The problem was that a) being late made Elain anxious, and b) there was absolutely nothing polite about Nesta Archeron when she was made to wait, even by her own kin.

Yet another reason it had been critical that Elain arrive on time: Nesta was already likely to be somewhat hacked off when she saw what Elain was wearing tonight, and Elain had hoped to avoid any further dramatics on her elder sister’s part.

She spent half the cab ride downtown trying to convince herself that it was fine that she’d borrowed something out of Nesta’s closet (even if it had been without permission) and that she hadn’t had a choice; she simply didn’t own anything appropriate for dinner at a four-star restaurant. However, by the time the cab slithered under Trump Tower’s unsavory shadow and into Hell’s Kitchen, she’d given up pretending.

The truth was she had half a dozen cocktail dresses that would have been perfectly suitable for dinner in the West Village, even if the place they were going was one of the nicest sushi restaurants in the city. No, Elain had raided Nesta’s closet for a far more embarrassing reason: she’d been in search of a dress she hoped might finally win her Azriel’s attention.

She wasn’t proud of the absurd crush she had on the guy, but it really couldn’t be helped. He was gorgeous, and smart, and darkly funny when he wanted to be, and she’d been secretly mooning over him since they’d met through Feyre’s fiancée three years ago. God, what she wouldn’t give to have him return even a fraction of her feelings.

Apparently not her dignity, Elain thought with a glance down at her neckline.

The worst part was that Azriel seemed oblivious to her interest in him. He was always polite to her, always made a point to talk to her when he caught her hiding out on the balcony during one of Feyre and Rhys’s crazy parties or sit next to her at their big family dinners, but he’d never once given her any indication that he was in any way that he reciprocated her feelings, which should have been reason enough for Elain to pack it in and stop harassing him.

And that was to say nothing of Mor.

Mor was the friend who’d first introduced Feyre and Rhys, and from what Elain could gather, she and Azriel had a long and complicated history. It didn’t seem to matter that Mor had been dating the same girl for over a year now. When she was in the room, Az’s eyes were always on her. Not that Elain blamed him—Mor was gorgeous in a way girls like her could only dream of being. Still, there was no denying the sting of watching the guy you were interested in pine over someone else.

Given all this, Elain wasn’t really sure why she’d gone to such lengths to dress up for this dinner. Mor would surely be there wearing something incredible and couture, thereby rendering everyone else invisible to Azriel. Still, Elain was a hopeless optimist, and she’d stubbornly sold herself on the idea that if she found the perfect dress, she could finally convince Azriel that she was a woman worthy of affection, rather than Nesta’s bookish, boring little sister.

She had to admit, there was nothing bookish about her tonight. The dress was tighter on her that it was her waifish sister, and dear god it deserved a Medal of Honor for the way it managed to keep her boobs looking so perky even without a bra. She didn’t suppose Nesta would be too happy about that bit, either, so she could only hope her sister was in a good mood by the time Elain arrived.

Just then Elain’s phone buzzed, and she looked down at it and groaned. It was from Nesta.

Where the 🤬 are you?

Running late, Elain quickly typed back. Is everyone waiting?

She watched the gray ellipsis pulse at Nesta responded.

Feyre and Rhys aren’t even fucking here yet. But hurry up, Cash is already driving me insane.

Elain rolled her eyes. She wasn’t sure who Nesta thought she was fooling when she and Elain shared a bedroom wall. Nesta and Cassian, Rhys’s other best friend, ended up banging almost every time they saw each other, which—since Rhys and Feyre had gotten engaged four months ago—was fairly frequently. In fact, Cash was at their apartment making Nesta scream so often that Elain had been forced to invest in earplugs and a sound machine. From Elain’s perspective, it seemed rather pointless of Nesta to pretend she wasn’t completely hot of a guy she called “Daddy” in bed.

Elain shuddered at the thought, hoping that Nesta would end up going to Cash and Az’s loft in Williamsburg tonight instead. Though, she realized glumly, they only ever seemed to go there when Azriel was out, and the only person who seemed able to keep Azriel out later than Cash was Mor. That meant Elain’s options were either to pop an Ambien and hope for the best, or stay out and watch Az make moon eyes at Mor all night. Neither one was particularly appearing.

Elain ignored Nesta’s text as the car pulled up outside the restaurant and she wiggled out, smoothing the back of her tight dress before giving her curls what she hoped was an artful tousle before slipping inside.

Elain’s heart felt into her stomach as she took in the elegant but understated interior of the famed Sushi Nakazawa. Given the prices, she’d assumed the place would be all black granite and swanky chandeliers—the kind of place cleavage like hers wouldn’t seem out of place. Instead the place was elegantly spare and distressingly well-lit. God, she was such a prize idiot.

Unfortunately, she was also out of time, because a quick survey of the interior found that her group was already gathered at the bar, Mor, Feyre, and Rhys having showed up in the interim between Nesta’s text and Elain’s arrival.

Elain’s eyes went to Mor first, who stunned in a cardinal red lace and net sheath. It clung to her frame like it had been made for her, and despite a latent jealous she couldn’t quite contain, she was relieved to find that she at least wouldn’t look overdressed.

Elain’s stomach only wended in a tighter knot when Mor’s eyes fell on her and lit up, a reminder that not only was Mor prettier, she was also an infinitely better person than Elain.

“There she is!” Mor beamed, coming forward and hugging Elain. “I love that dress, Ellie!”

Elain braced herself for Nesta’s inevitably remark, but it was actually Cash who reacted first.

He’d opened his mouth to comment seemingly before he’d actually looked at Elain, because the second he realized what exactly she was wearing, his eyes they snapped the ceiling, as if looking at her chest directly might turn him to stone.

“Whoa, El, all dressed up tonight!”

Nesta, wholly unmoved by his attempted chivalry, elbowed him in the ribs.

“Don’t be vulgar Cassian!” She snarled before narrowing her eyes. “And that’s mine!”

Cash smirked, seeming more at ease now that Nesta was his target.

“I knew I’d seen that bef—ow! Goddamnit woman, what was that for?”

He scowled down at the dangerous stiletto Nesta had just jammed into his toe box.

“Sorry,” she cast over her shoulder, not deigning to look at him. “Did I accidentally step on your foot?”

“I’m an adult,” Elain interjected, cheeks burning as she faced her sister down. “Stop acting like I’ve fourteen and stuffing my bra.”

“They’re just boobs, Nes,” Rhys added, arm slung over Feyre’s shoulder. “Relax.”

“Watch it,” Nesta warned him, but Feyre only laughed.

“I agree!” She said, turning to smile at Elain. “And I think they look amazing.”

“If I’d have known they were going to be such a topic of conversation,” Elain mumbled, grateful Azriel wasn’t here to witness this circus. “I would have worn something else.”

“No, I’m with Feyre,” Mor said, wicked grin forming. “Breasts that nice deserve to be shown off.”

Elain wasn’t so humble that she didn’t feel herself preening a bit at that comment, even if she was still flustered by the prolonged attention. Either way, she was grateful when Cash interrupted with a somewhat sheepish laugh.

“Teenage me would be furious if he heard me say this, but can we please stop talking about boobs?”

“Elain’s boobs or just any boobs?” Feyre said with a smirk.

However, before Elain could admonish her for it, Feyre was crushing her into a hug.

“Hey you,” she said, wrapping her arms and Elain’s neck and whispering in her ear, “let me and Rhys know if you wanna stay at our place tonight; Cash already grabbed Nesta’s ass twice when she thought we weren’t looking.”

Feyre indicated the mirror behind the bar with her eyes as they pulled away, and sure enough, Elain watched Cash’s hand as it drew lazy, dangerous circles just above the swell of Nesta’s well-formed behind.

Elain groaned, hugging Rhys now as well. God , her sister was such a hypocrite sometimes.

Ignoring a lingering twinge of annoyance, Elain forced herself to glance in false realization before casually asking, “So where’s the Birthday Boy?”

“He was on his phone out back,” Rhys said, before raising a hand in greeting to someone over Elain’s shoulder. “There he is.”

Elain tried not to look to eager as she turned and drank in all six feet four inches of perfection that was Azriel Macar. He was dressed all in black, from his prada boots to the soft, expensive t-shirt fitted enough to show off his toned physique. Elain honestly had to fight not to swoon as he ran an effortless hand through his glossy sable hair, the longer pomaded pieces on top stand up for a second before falling into an artful tousle.

“Hey Ellie,” he said, gaze on her and gone so quickly that he never even had time to notice her much-discussed cleavage. Instead, his eyes flicked to Mor and held for a long, meaningful beat before he turned back to Elain and added politely, “Thanks for coming.”

“Sure,” she chirped, trying to ignore the fact that he was coming closer, and that in another second she��d be able to smell that divine Givenchy cologne he always wore. “Of course!“

She bent her head, pretending to be fixing the clasp on her bracelet as his scent hit her and she had to bite back a groan. Sweet Jesus, he smelled good. When she looked up again, everyone else was shuffling to their table and Azriel was lingering, a soft smile threatening to the reveal the absolutely devastating dimples in both his cheeks.

“Do I get a hug?” He asked. “It is my birthday after all.”

He extended his arms, and she gave a nervous laugh, accepting the gesture by stringing her arms around his neck.

“Of course,” she repeated stupidly, trying to ignore the way the muscles in his arms flexed as he embraced her. “Happy Birthday.”

At this he squeezed her a little tighter and she fought off genuine giddiness.

It was a friendly gesture, she warned herself, and it ended the minute Mor called, “Az, come sit by me.”

Elain cleared her throat as he pulled away, turning to where Mor was still beckoning. However, before Elain could get too flustered, he turned back to her.

“Shall we?” he said, indicating Elain go ahead of him. To her delight, they reached the table to find that the only two seats left were next to each other. She tried not to give her eagerness too much leash as he pulled out her chair for her before sinking into the one between she and Mor. Mor leaned over to give him a soft peck on the cheek, and he flushed.

“Where’s Emmy tonight?” Feyre asked as Mor tried to wipe the lipstick from Az’s copper skin and he battered her away, like child trying to fend off an over-bearing mother.

“She’s sick, poor little thing,” Mor said, giving a tiny pout. “She hasn’t been able to get out of bed in days.”

Elain didn’t bother to her disappointment. Emerie had been one of Nesta’s best since they’d met in college almost ten years ago, and she not only was she like family to the Archerons, she also happened to be the only person in the group who knew about Elain’s crush. Elain had sworn her to secrecy at the time, and though it would have been reasonable to assume that once Emmy knew, Mor would know, Elain appreciated that she could trust Emerie to keep her secret.

Elain felt Emerie’s absence keenly and Nesta and Cash began bantering back and forth at lightning speed. Emerie was a master at slowing the tempo of Nesta’s quick wit, making it easier for Elain in particular to feel she could keep up.

More selfishly, Elain also missed Emerie’s ability to keep Mor distracted. When Emmy was around, she was all Mor could focus on. However, in her absence Mor’s attention had reverted almost completely to Az, a fact he didn’t seemed to mind a single bit, if his growing smiles were any indication.

Still, he seemed to be going out of his way to make sure Elain didn’t get lost in the chaos of conversation surging around them, even if he never looked at her for more than a moment or two before his eyes flicked back to Mor, studying her dark brown eyes and crimson lips.

After they placed their drink orders and the waiter came over to begin explaining the omakase menu, Elain wondered if she had time to dodge under the table to throw on some lipstick of her own. Assuring herself everyone was suitably distracted she bent down, hastily uncapping the tube before looking up just in time to see Nesta brush a very deliberate hand between Cassian’s splayed quads.

Elain jerked back, banging her head on the table.

“Fuck!” she swore quietly, straightening and rubbing her head.

Nesta shot her an alarmed look across the table and Elain flushed.

“All you alright?” Azriel asked, and she tried not to bleat in excited panic as his fingers brushed the back of her head. “What happened?”

“I—dropped something,” she fumbled, cursing her sister for being such a salacious wench.

Wasn’t it enough that she and Cash were already going to keep her up all night? Did she really have to make Elain look silly in front of Azriel, too?

“Does it hurt?” Azriel said, still studying her head before letting his eyes go to the server. “Do you need ice?”

“No, no,” Elain said hurriedly, trying to regain her composure. “I’m fine.”

“Did you at least find whatever you were looking for?” Mor asked, and Elain’s flush deepened.

“And then some,” she grumbled to herself, and Cassian gave a quiet but unmistakable laugh before letting out a surprised exhale. Elain had a fairly good idea what Nesta was squeezing to shut him up.

“Should we order, then?” Mor asked, hand falling onto Azriel’s arm. “Any particular requests, Birthday Boy?”

“He’s thirty now,” Rhys pointed out. “I think that makes him a Birthday Man .”

“Birthday Old Man,” Cassian amended. “Don’t worry champ, I’ve already put some viagra in your bathroom.”

“You’re not supposed to share your prescriptions, Cash,” Azriel said with mirth, eyes sparkling even as his face remained neutral. “And besides, I would feel dead back if you needed one tonight and couldn’t find them.”

“Checkmate,” Mor purred as Cash flipped her off.

Beside Azriel, Elain was fighting not to blush again. Cash’s comment, however sophomoric and lewd, had her imagining what Azriel was like in bed. She wondered for a moment if Mor knew before dismissing the thought and the twinge it induced.

“Let’s put this poor souls out of his misery and order,” Feyre said, smiling at the server where he still waited patiently. “Maybe if Cash’s mouth is full, he’ll stop talking.”

Cassian grinned, and, after placing their requests for the chef’s tasting menu, they all settled into an easy conversation. Cash and Rhys regaled them with stories of Azriel at various ages, from the gawky child he’d been when they’d first met him to the shy teenager who’d been terrified of girls.

“Let him be,” Mor said, touching her friend’s shoulder. “He was sweet in high school!”

Rhys laughed.

“It took him a year to pluck up the courage to say three words to you,” he pointed out.

“And they were ‘here’s a pen’ in response to you asking him the time. Nice work, Shakespeare,” Cash said, attempting to muss Azriel’s perfectly styled hair before being batted away.

“I can’t imagine Az ever being awkward,” Elain blurted. “I bet girls thought he was mysterious and cool.“

“See?” Azriel said, gesturing to Elain. “This is why I sat over here.”

“Oh please ,” Rhys said, bubbling his lips. “Ellie’s just being polite. If you two had known each other in high school, we all know how to would’ve gone: you’d have had an obscene crush on her and your dreams of true love would have been dashed after she politely signed your yearbook ‘have a good summer, Adrian’, leaving you heartbroken and alone.”

Azriel gave Elain a soft smile, and her heart burst open as thousands of butterflies flitted out of it.

“I hate to say it, but he’s probably right,” he told her. “I assume high school Elain was very popular.”

“She was,” Feyre said. “Eight different guys asked her to prom.”

“I’m not surprised,” Az said, and Elain made a great show out of drinking out of her masu to avoid having to answer.

She was relieved when the food began arriving to distract everyone, if only to save her the temptation of telling Azriel that there was no universe in which she wouldn’t have been into him, high schoolers or no.

Instead discussion turned to the Feyre and Rhys’s wedding as they ate, and as final plates were being cleared, Cash took the opportunity to once again mocked Azriel for the fact the latter had lost the rock-paper-scissors competition to be Rhys’s best man.

“I lost on purpose,” he told Elain quietly, taking a sip of the Yamasaki Single Malt he’d ordered after dinner.

“Why?” she laughed, following his gaze across the table to where Cash and Nesta were now bickering about whether Rhys’s stag night in Vegas would be better than Feyre’s hen do in Napa.

“Because Rhys told me that you’d convinced Feyre to pick Nesta as her maid of honor, and no offense, but your sister terrifies me. I’d much rather be with you.”

She laughed, biting her lip. It felt so terribly like they were flirting, but she couldn’t decide if it was her imagination or not.

“She terrifies everyone,” Elain said. “And I have a feeling this won’t our last trip down the aisle together.”

Azriel only quirked a bemused brow at this, which had Elain flushing scarlet.

“Not like that! She laughed, fumbling to pretend the idea of them being together was absurd rather than her heart’s desire. "I meant for Cash and Nesta’s wedding. Don’t tell me those two aren’t going to end up together.”

“We’ll have to work out a custody agreement when they finally get over themselves and start dating properly,” he agreed. “I’m spending a fortune on earplugs.”

She laughed, and he seemed warmed by the gesture, because he flashed a modest—albeit dimpled—smile being turning back to the larger conversation.

After dinner they’d gone a cocktail bar, then an Irish pub, and finally—much to Azriel’s chagrin—a karaoke bar. Rhys and Cash spend the majority of the evening trying to wrestle Azriel on stage while Mor and Feyre sang duets to Beyoncé and Spice Girls.

Elain was content enough to sit back and simply observe the scene as it unfolded around her. It was hard to contain her giddy, dreadful anticipation when Mor left around one to check on Emerie and Azriel—besides bidding her farewell with a soft kiss on the cheek—didn’t move a muscle.

Less than an hour later, Cash and Nesta both disappeared about an hour after without so much as a goodbye. Elain groaned, hoping they’d be asleep by the time she got home.

She’d have to rally if she wanted to manage it; they would be at it for hours yet.

By three the place was clearing out, and besides them, only a few tables of marathon drinkers and a girl on stage performing a beautiful rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide” remained.

“We’re gonna go,” Rhys said, arm slung around a rather drunk, giggling Feyre. “Ellie, do you want to come with us?”

Elain glanced at Azriel, who’s glass still had two fingers of whiskey in it. If she wanted a chance to be alone with him, this was it.

“I think I’ve got one more in me,” she said, smiling.

“If you mean drink, I’m in,” Azriel said.

“Oh c’mon, brother,” Rhys goaded. “Just one song. I wouldn’t even film it….much.”

“Do Beyoncé!” Feyre chimed in, and Azriel shook his head.

“You know I’d play in traffic before I ever sang karaoke,” Azriel said mildly, making Feyre laugh. "Thanks for coming.”

He rose, embracing Rhys and pressing a kiss on Feyre’s head.

“C’mon, my little drunkard,” Rhys told her. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Let’s have sex when we get home,” Feyre said, her attempted whisper fully audible. Rhys pretended smack his forehead with his palm and a mimed, “ Oh brother ”, to Azriel and Elain before coax a still-singing Feyre outside.

Azriel chuckled before draining the last of his drink and rising. Elain pretended not to notice the way his well-tailored jeans fit his lean legs and…other parts of his anatomy as he adjusted his belt buckle and glanced down at her.

“Bud Light?” he asked, and she nodded, bobbing to her feet as well.

If she wanted a way to get closer to him that was more elegant than her increasing urge to crawl across the table and into his lap, this was certainly it.

“I’ll come with you.”

He flashed her a modest smile before indicating she lead the way. He ordered and waved off Elain’s attempt to pay before leaning on the bar to avoid towering over her. The gesture brought them nearly eye-to-eye, and Elain had to actively fight not to let hers roll back in pleasure at the bergamot and amyris wood notes in his sinful cologne. Up close Elain could see how much green he had in his hazel irises, and she wanted to tip into them and swim until she drowned.

“Did you have fun?” she said, desperate to get the conversation flowing again, and he smiled, making her stomach flop.

“I did, yeah,” he said, glancing around the bar in bemusement, as if still wondering how he’d ended up there. “Thank you for coming.”

Elain shrugged, grinning.

“You say that like you didn’t think I’d show,” she said, resting a cheek in her hand. She knew by now her expression was not her less than a swoon, though she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Hadn’t been this been her plan all along? Finally get Az’s attention long enough to tell him how she felt? Now was the best chance she’d probably ever get.

“No, I figured would,” Az said, interrupting her reverie. “Or hoped you would, whatever.”

Was that—

Did that mean what she thought it did?

Normally she would have chalked it up to wishful thinking, but the way he rubbed the back of his neck, dimples appearing as he huffed what almost sound like a sheepish laugh, had hope igniting in her chest.

“What does that mean?” she pressed, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

For the first time all night, he didn’t look away. Instead, his eyes skated back and forth across her face, as if she were a riddle he only had seconds to memorize. She watched, transfixed, as he wet his plush lower lip with his tongue before biting it almost self-consciously.

“It means I’m glad you came,” he admitted. “And that you didn’t go home with your sister and Rhys.”

It wasn’t the confirmation she’d been hoping for, and the ambiguity of the statement had her conviction waning. That could just as easily have been mean platonically, and if she pushed him and ruined things between them by making it awkward—

“Of course I’d be here for your birthday,” she said, giving his shoulder a playful shove. “That’s what friends are for.”

She couldn’t help the way her voice got stuck on the word, not when her throat suddenly began to clog with tears.

She had to get out of here, right now. Before she started crying and made things worse. She made to retract her hand but Azriel grabbed it, grip gentle but intent.

“El, don’t go,” he said, and she was surprised at the frank discontent in his normally-impassive expression.

She waited for him to explain himself before instead he let out another strained laugh, grip on her wrist easing. However, he didn’t let go entirely, choosing to intertwine their fingers instead.

Holding hands.

She and Az were holding hands.

And he—

She glanced back up to find he was studying her again, his face a mixture of terror and delight. When she gave his hand a soft squeeze, he let out the breath he’d been holding.

“Jesus, I am bad at this,” he said, reaching up to tuck a curl behind her ear. She wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it, but she thought his gaze flicked down to her lips as he continued to study her with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Bad at what?” She asked, though she’d begun to suspect she knew exactly what, even if it seemed too good to be true.

“At least my timeline is improving,” he breathed instead. “And I haven’t offered you a pen you didn’t ask for yet.”

Hoping she wasn’t misreading the situation, she let her finger trail down to trace the circular buckle of his Gucci before glancing back up at him and purring, “Do you have a pen?”

He smirked before raising his right wrist and glancing at his watch face over her shoulder.

“It’s….3:17 am,” he said, smile spreading as she gave a low sound of approval and flicked her gaze to his lips.

“Smooth,” she said, and tried not to lose her mind as he let his raised hand fall to the back of her neck and bent to kiss her.

He had almost girlishly full lips, and they opened for her as they settled into the kiss. Immediately his hand tangled in her hair so he could alter her head position slightly and get a proper taste of her. She groaned into his mouth he pulled at her lower lip with his teeth. He tasted like oranges and the expensive Japanese whiskey he’d been drinking all night, and pleasure tightened in her low belly as his tongue brushed hers. Her brought his free hand up to cradle her face, and in response she pushed closer to run her hands underneath of his shirt and down the silken skin of his back.

“Fuck,” he breathed with a heated half-laugh, nose brushing her cheek as he bowed into her touch. “You’re killing me, woman.”

She only smirked, feeling more confident now that she had before. She could hardly believe this was happening, but she was too excited about it to fully care.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, and he bit his lip, as if restraining himself from kissing her again.

“Like to another bar?” he asked, dazed as he continued to stare at her lips.

“Like to my bed,” she said boldly. “Or yours, depending on where Cassian and Nesta ended up.”

He didn’t speak immediately, just studied her, and she panicked.

“I mean, only if you—I’m sorry, should I not have—?“

He only kissed her again in response, more gently this time.

“Please stop apologizing,” he said, kissing her jaw now before seeming to realize something and pulling back, brows synced.

“I—Jesus, do you seriously not know?”

She felt a bit sheepish at his incredulous tone and fought not to stiffen.

“Know what?”

He laughed softly, though their was a edge of self-deprecation in it that kept the gesture from seeming conscending.

“I really am the worst at this.”

“At what?”

“El, I’ll crazy about you. I have been crazy about you since we met.”

“You have?” she blurted, horror fading into genuine—if elated—confusion.

He laughed.

“Did you think it was coincidence that you and I are always sitting next to each other at dinner? That I always find you at Rhys’s dumb parties?”

“I—“ she began, still trying to decide if this was a dream or not. “What about Mor, though?”

“Mor?” he repeated, confused now, too. “What about her?”

“I thought you and she—“

He leaned in to brush his nose against hers, and she blushed at the innocent affection in the gesture.

“Not at all,” he assured her. “I did have a thing for her in high school, but I got over it after she and Cash slept together at prom. We’re just friends, I swear.”

“But she’s always touching you, and every time I see you together you can’t stop looking at her.”

At this he laughed, his smile so genuine and open she almost didn’t recognize him.

“She’s always been touchy-feely,” he said. “She grew up in Madrid, and people are just more affectionate there, I guess. And I only watch her when you’re around because she called me out for having an absurd crush on you, and I was afraid she was going to get drunk and blow my cover by telling you.”

Elain shook her head, still not quite believing what she was hearing. Reading her expression, he bent to kiss her softly.

“What guy wouldn’t be crazy about you?” he breathed. “You’re incredible.”

This seemed to break the spell, and she twined her fingers in his hair and pulled him down for another steamy kiss.

“Text Cash,” she said a little breathlessly when they broke away. “I don’t want an audience.”

She couldn’t felt but feeling smug when he almost dropped his phone at those words. It felt good to know that she wasn’t the only one affected by all this.

“Cash and Nesta are at the lof—“ Az began after a minute, but Elain cut him off with a kiss.

H rose, pulling her against him as his tongue brushed the roof of her mouth.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he said as she kissed his neck and tugged on his earlobe with her teeth, earning a low groan. “You’ve been drinking.”

She grabbed his chin so he would look at her.

“Not that much,” she said, and it was true. “And besides, I wanted this way before tonight.“

“Good,” he breathed, pressing a hand to her low back to bring her close to him. “Because so have I.”

Though they spent the majority of the ride up town and the elevator up to her apartment making out, something seemed to shift as Elain’s door clicked shut behind him, as if the gravity of what they were about to do had finally caught up to them.

Reluctantly Az peeled his lips from where they’d been glued to her neck as he took a small step back, as if to give her space.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, feeling embarrassed for how much she still wanted him even now that he seemed to have come to his senses.

“Maybe we should—” he broke off, looking somewhat guilty. “Hold off.”

She nodded, trying to keep the tears at bay again.

“Are you worried this could mess things up in the group? Because I understand—“

“No,” he said hurriedly, coming forward again, as if he could no longer stand to be away. “Not at all. I just—you’re special, El. You deserve to be taken out and spoiled.”

“Az, you just took us to a $1,800 dinner! Or did you think I didn’t see you pulling our server aside?”

Azriel opened his mouth, and she covered it with a finger.

“You don’t need to earn my affection. It’s yours already, free of charge.”

“I’ve just been—I waited so long to make my move and I’m terrified of fucking it up,” he said with a soft laugh.

“Why, are you bad at sex?”

Azriel laughed, seemed to relax at her teasing.

“I’ve never had any complaints,” he breathed again her lips, kissing her deeply again.

She gently bit his lower lip in response.

“Then I’d say you’ve gotten nothing to worry about,” she said, kissing him a third time.

She moaned softly when drove his fingers into her hair, hips canting towards her as he pressed her more fully into the door.

She could feel his body’s reaction to her pressing between her thighs, and she moaned again.

“Fuck,” he breathed onto her skin. “You are so gorgeous.”

“So are you,” she said, running her hands up the back of his t-shirt and feeling the mosaic of muscles flexing underneath. “Take this off.”

He laughed and pulled the offending garment over his head, making her groan in delight.

“God, this body ,” she breathed, running a hand down his chest and enjoying his shiver at her delicate touch.

He responded by spinning her away from him and gently dragging down the zipper of her dress until he could slip a hand inside of it.

“I knew you couldn’t have a bra on underneath this thing,” he said, voice a touch smug as he cupped both bare breasts and her breath caught in her throat..

“I’m surprised you even noticed,” she said, voice somewhat. “I wore this dress for you, and you didn’t even look at it once the entire evening.”

She laughed, the sound into a soft moan as he twisted one nipple in experimentation. When she sighed and let her head fall back onto his shoulder.

“Of course I noticed the dress,” he corrected. “You have the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen. I just knew that if I let myself look, I might not be able to stop looking.”

“You shouldn’t say that until you’ve seen them without the sorcery of underwire,” she said.

With that he spun her to face him, catching her gaze to ensure he had her permission before tugging down the top of the dress so her breasts fell free.

“Gorgeous,” he said, easing to his knees so he could replace his fingers with his mouth. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

“If I known this was going to be your reaction, I would have worn a bodycon dress in front of you ages ago,” she said, threading her hands through his hair as he dragged his teeth and tongue along her nipple.

“You don’t need some tight dress to be sexy,” he said, resting his chin her her sternum so he could gaze up at her. “I’d take you in your overalls and pigtail braids any day.”

“Is this some Pippy Longstocking fetish we should all know about?”

He grinned, rising to his feet and giving one of her curls a playful tug.

“Because as devastating as you are playing dress up in your sister’s clothes, I prefer you as you.”

“You can’t say that when I’m naked,” she said with a smile, touching his cheek.

“Why not?”

“Because I may start crying and ruin the mood.”

He cocked his head to the side, tracing her lips with a finger.

“I wouldn’t mind a few tears from you in bed. But only if it’s from you sobbing in pleasure.”

His words sent blood pooling south, the intensity cause a dull throbbing.

“Why do I feel like you could do it, too?” She asked, reaching down to free his belt as he heeled out of his boots.

“Don’t tempt me,” he said, taking her hand and guiding it between his legs. “Forget this,” he said, squeezing gently so she could feel how hard he was. “I could go down on your all night and be the happiest guy on Earth.”

Emerie had said as much once, at a drunken girls’ night.

Azriel strikes me as the type of guy who loves eating girls out. It’s why gay women find him so easy to befriend; we recognize kindred spirit.

Elain vowed to never tell the others she’d been right.

“Will you let me?” He asked, gently nudging her dressing off her hips until it came free and pooled at her feet.

“Is this a trick question?” She said, voice going hoarse as he slipping a hand into her underwear.

“Some people don’t like it.”

“I’m not one of them,” she said, he smiled, coaxing her legs around his waist so he could carry her.

“Thank God,” he replayed. “That would break my heart. Which way?”

She pointed him in the right direction before giving into temptation and kissing him again, looking to way she could feel like body reacting to hers as he held her close. Only when they reached her room—which was decidedly messier than she’d have liked considering Azriel Macar was now in it—did he set her down.

He wasted no time into coaxing her onto the bed, taking only a moment to admire the silky black thong she wore before dragging into down her thighs and discarding it.

“Spread your legs for me, El,” he said, brushing kisses to her knee as she slowly did as he commanded.

The light from the nearby street lamp made the room a lot less dark than Elain was used to during sex, and for a moment she though to be embarrassed or postpone. Then she glanced down to admire the contrast of Azriel’s inky black hair framed against the pale skin of her thighs, and she forgot what it even meant to be self-conscious as he finally put him mouth on her.

She swore at the first brush of his tongue, which was both deliberate and extremely delicate. She threaded a hand through his hair at his second stroke, the touch more intentional this time.

“Azriel,” she breathed.

She watched the muscles in his beautiful back shift at this, as if hearing her moan his name had untethered something in him. When he put his mouth back on her, it was clear he was no longer attempted to tease her. Instead he felt right to where she needed him most, refusing to relent until she tipped over the edge.

Even then he didn’t seem satisfied, it and it was only after he made her come a second time did he pull back, licking his lips before bending to kiss her.

“Take your pants off,” she demanded. "Right now.”

She felt him grinning against her neck as he peeled off of her, slowly working the buttons of his pants before sliding them down his trim hips. He wore black boxer briefs underneath, and he honestly looked like an Armani model. She bit her lip, eying the sizable swell of him through the cotton.

“Those too,” she breathed, greedily drinking in his well-defined adonis belt and the bare trace of hair above the band.

He did as she commanded, and she nearly melted. Naked he was a God, all rippling muscles and smooth unblemished skin, save for the chest piece tattoo that extended onto his shoulders and halfway down his arms. She let her eyes sink lower. Even half-hard he was big, and her belly clenched.

Wasting no time, she urged him to take her place on the bed before kneeling at his feet and putting her mouth on it.

“Shit,” he hissed, driving a hand into his hand then down his face. “Ellie, you’re kiling me.”

She looked up at him through her lashes, and he growled in approval, seeming to decide something before breaking her grip on him and hauling her to her feet. He kissed her again, and she could feel his cock as it practically pulsed between them.

She still wasn’t sure she could believe it was for her, that somehow he wanted her as much as she did him, and had for almost as long.

“Condoms,” he breathed against her mouth. “I need to be inside of you.”

She froze.

“I don’t have any,” she said, dismayed.

How could she be so stupid? Why didn’t they stop on the way home? The closest bodega was six blocks, and she knew everyone who worked there. The last thing she needed was all of them knowing—

Azriel pressed a swift kiss to her lips before tangling from her.

“Where are you going?”

“To grab a condom.”

“Naked?

He flashed her a slight grimace, “Let’s agree you won’t ask where I get it from.”

“Oh Moses,” Elain said, face flushing scarlet as she listened to Nesta’s door creaking open.

Azriel was back in less than a minute, tossing an entire box onto the nightstand as he pulled open one of the foils with his teeth, using his free hand to push his damp hair, long enough to brush his cheekbones now that it wasn’t styled, out of his eyes.

“You found those distressingly fast,” Elain said, unsure if she was amused or mortified at the situation.

“Cash is predictable with his hiding spots,” Az said, eyes hooded as he stroked himself several times before rolling the condom onto his length.

“And why did you take the whole box?”

Azriel laughed softly.

“Because I have a feeling we’re going to need them.”

Without another word Az sank to his knees again, one hand lazily stroking himself to maintain his erection as he went down on her again.

This time it only last three seconds or so before he pulled back, resting one knee beside her hip to steady himself before pulling her onto his shaft in a single wet stroke. Using her left bent leg as leverage, he adjusted his angle, smirking at her low, guttural moan of pleasure.

“Good to know your g-spot is as sensitive as the rest of you,” he breathed, and she laughed and tugged him into an ambitious rhythm.

Soon the only sound was their shared breathing, and the sliding on their bodies against one another. She came first, and he followed even before the dizzying waves of pleasure ceased. He pumped lazily in and out of her for another half dozen stroke before gently extracting from her and peeling off the condom.

She curled against him, cheek pressed to chest as her hands continued to explore. Her fingers caressed his swelling pectorals and each of his abdominal muscles before lazily venturing back between his legs. He gave a hiss of pleasure as she began to work his silken shaft in earnest, and in minutes he was fully ready again.

He groaned when she snatched one of the condoms and rolled it onto him before swinging a leg over and sinking astride him.

Her third orgasm hit her only a short time later, and she sighed when he bucked up into her before going languid under her ministrations.

She leaned down to kiss him as he ran a soothing hand down her back.

“Jesus,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to hers and swirling his hips, still inside her despite his orgasm. “That was incredible.”

She purred her contentment, feeling something even more alluring than desire swell in her chest as he discarded the second condom and tugged her into his arms, tangling their legs. He still smelled like cologne, but it had mixed with her perfume, and sweat, and the scent was intoxicating. She wanted to bath in it—in him—until she died from bliss. She listened to his breathing even out, and as she was drifting off to bed, he felt his breath ruffle her hair.

“Do you like pancakes?” he murmured. “I want to make you breakfast in the morning.”

“Really?” she said, looking at him over a shoulder and melting at the warmth in his smile, less guarded now than it had been even hours before.

“I want to make breakfast for you every morning,” he breathed. “I have since I met you.”

She smiled, nestling closer to him.

“I’d love that, but I should probably be the one making you breakfast. It is your birthday, after all. You have to let me give you something other than a bj and a few orgasms for your birthday, even if it is your dirty 30.”

Az choked on a laugh.

“Say you‘ll dinner with me, then. No family or nosy friends around, just us.”

“I think the word you’re looking for it ‘date’,” she said, laughing as his cheeks flushed before realizing something. “Or is the idea just too formal for the situation? I know we did things a bit backwards...”

“We did,” he agreed, stroking her cheek. “But that doesn’t mean I want to spoil you any less. So yes a date, if you’ll still have me.”

“I will,” she said, meeting his hazel eyes before gently kissing him. “With pleasure.”

He smiled against her mouth.

“Then that’s the only birthday gift I want or need from you.”

She smiled, feeling happy to the point of bursting when he kissed her ear and closed his eyes again.

"Happy Birthday, Az.”

His hum of contentment vibrated through her back.

“The happiest,” he breathed.

#featherywrites #elriel smut #elain x azriel #acotar modern one shot #four word prompts

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iamnmbr3 · 3 years

Note

I saw the ask about having the person feeling like that the Loki show is objectively bad. I liked the show, here is why.

I love Loki, and I love the MCU, but I don’t go into any of it expecting consistency. Tony and Loki are my favourite.

Tony goes through character development in his own movies, IM3 especially that main canon just kinda ignores. So I didn’t go into work he Loki show expecting them to get him consistent or right. I just went in prepared to enjoy the show for what it is in isolation. I also know that no one looks at the stories they write for the MCU critically, so I try and turn off that for a first time watch.

I really like the show, that doesn’t mean I think they made it consistent or in character for Loki. I get why people don’t like it.

I really like the TVA and all the concepts it introduced. I really liked seeing Tom acting his heart out. And I really like Loki/Sylvie because I find something very compelling about a character who hates themselves, meeting another version of themselves and being able to love them. It is not a ship I’m going to write fic about but I like them within the show.

Basically what I am saying is that I go into MCU media with the expectation they will mess up at least one character or plot point badly every time. I like the media for what it is, and I appreciate whatever it brings to the table that I can then cannibalise into da works.

Yeah that's fair. Everyone has a right to their own opinion. Fandom is better when there are a diversity of opinions and we can all respect each other and engage in open and good faith discussion rather than attacking people for having the "wrong" views or trying to harass them out of fandom.

For me personally I feel like the show fails on 3 fronts.

1) To me it fails as a Loki show. I really enjoy Loki as a character and I wanted a show about him. And I didn't personally see him in the show at all. I saw a completely different character who does not behave, speak, act, respond, react, stand, emote, or make choices like Loki does. He doesn't even LOOK like Loki because they did his hair and makeup wrong. And that's really what I wanted. I didn't want Larry (as I call the show character). I wanted Loki. That was what was advertised and to me he was so ooc that he was unrecognizable. If I just saw a clip out of context and didn't know what it was from I would have assumed I was seeing Tom in a totally different role.

Thor Ragnarok felt like a different take on Loki that definitely retconned some of his personality and history, but still felt like an alternate interpretation of the same character in the sense that I could recognize the character as Loki (albeit a different version of him); some people liked that, other didn't. But here it wasn't that. It just felt like a completely new (and to me far less interesting and compelling) character. And beyond that it felt like the show went out of its way to make a mockery of the character played by Tom and by extension anyone who ever cared about Loki's character. Like it felt like a mean spirited caricatured parody. Loki is also extremely sidelined in what is supposed to be his own show. And it most certainly didn't feel like a show about Loki, which is what I wanted. So for me the show didn't provide what I was looking for.

2) To me it also fails on its own merits. If I view it in isolation without comparing it to previous canon and just view it as its own thing it also fails. The quality of the dialogue felt very poor. None of the humor made me laugh and it all felt very juvenile and forced. The plotting and characterization seemed nonsensical and all over the place. Like Sylvie sets off those charges and the episode ends on a cliffhanger with that but then it's never addressed later.

The reason that Loki and Syvie allegedly falling in love breaks the timeline didn't really make sense. Sylvie is going around murdering timekeepers and yet Mobius somehow immediately like and trusts her and says he prefers her to Loki. Loki and Sylvie are simultaneously presented as the same person and also totally different people. Loki allegedly learns self love but we never see that - we see him call himself degrading things like pathetic. And we see him think that Sylvie is better than him. That doesn't seem like self love. The romance feels extremely rushed and unrealistic and awkward and we aren't given a compelling reason for why they are in love or what they even have in common. Sylvie doesn't really have much of a character. Mobius and Loki don't interact much and Mobius consistently mistreats him but Loki somehow thinks of him as a friend. Mobius is portrayed as a good guy for cheerfully carrying out the TVA's ends but Kang is a villain for creating the TVA. The TVA seems to be all made up of humans even though it's in charge of all reality.

If Loki did bad things, then the TVA did worse things and thus are not moral authorities. If the TVA’s actions are acceptable then so are Loki’s. If Loki was wrong to violently impose his will on a planet (let’s forget about the context with Thanos for a minute) then the TVA is wrong to violently impose its will on all of reality in order to eliminate free will. If Loki was wrong to kill a few people, then the TVA was certainly wrong to kill trillions. And thus neither Mobius nor the TVA are moral authorities when it comes to Loki because they are infinitely worse. If the actions that Mobius and the TVA took are acceptable, then there is no reason to criticize Loki because he did far less than them. Etc etc etc.

The cinematography is also very poor and unprofessional and the costumes look extremely cheap and unprofessional. The whole story feels confused and disjointed. The directing is bad because the actors are all very capable but the performances often feel wooden and forced and fake. And the pacing is terrible. A lot of it drags and then plot twists come out of nowhere with no setup so it just makes them feel jarring rather than earned or entertaining.

3) To me it also fails on a moral front. The show contains a lot of problematic depictions and messages and promotes messages that are offensive or even downright harmful.

Mobius gleefully subjects Loki to physical torture by leaving him to be repeatedly beaten in the genital area. This is a very clearcut and straight forward example of physical torture. And Mobius feels no compassion for Loki or remorse over what he has done to him. If anything he seems to find it amusing. And certainly the audience is supposed to find it amusing (which is gross and harmful messaging on Disney’s part). He also subjects Loki to psychological torture. This is a fact. There are multiple instances in the show where the TVA and Mobius subject Loki to treatment that would meet the legal definition of torture under both US law and international law. Furthermore, Mobius and the TVA are holding Loki against his will and forcing him to labor without compensation or any hope of release because they view him as belonging to a group of people (Variants) that they view as inferior and not really people. That’s a pretty textbook case of slavery. So objectively Mobius is Loki’s jailer, torturer, captor, and enslaver. And yet Mobius is presented as justified in what he does to Loki. The writer and director have even called it therapy. And a result many people have parroted this which is very harmful.

The queer “representation” feels straight out of bigoted propaganda. Loki’s personality traits have been retconned to map onto harmful stereotypes about queer men. He is overly expressive, makes grand gestures, is flamboyant, cowardly, dishonest, weak, bad at fighting, lazy, spineless, meek, unused to exercise etc. Now a person could be all these things and also happen to be queer. However, Loki was never like this before. His character was retconned to be this way only in this series where he is confirmed to be queer.

Furthermore, the entire premise of the series seems to be that it is funny and entertaining and justified when Loki is dehumanized, mocked, humiliated, hurt, tortured, beaten, assaulted, and/or robbed of his dignity. That’s the premise. That’s the whole show.

In addition to pro torture and pro authoritarianism and pro victim blaming messaging the show also has problematic depictions of black characters (see here and here), Asian people (see here) and also has a lot of fludphobia and transphobia issues. And much more.

@nikkoliferous has put together a great compendium here of various posts explaining the various issues with the show if you're curious about why some people disliked it.

#asks #loki tv series #loki series #loki 2021 #loki show #loki tv show #Marvel #MCU

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lsholland · 3 years

Text

London Lights (pt. 1) - Tom Holland

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader (1st person)

Genre: Party!Tom

Warnings: swearing; alcohol; nothing much but I don’t recommend -18 to read.

Word count: 1.9k

Author’s note: Hey guys! That’s my first story on this blog. I hope you’ll like it. I’m not native so there may be a few mistakes. I’m trying a new genre of fiction. It’s my first Tom Holland fiction. It’ll be a series of 2-3 chapters. If you want to be part of the master list for Tom please like this post and message me.

Synopsis: Quarantine has been tough. I’ve lost my boyfriend, and I’m feeling lonely. Clubs and restaurants are open again, but I feel like it’ll never be like it used to. My friends have been pushing me to install Tinder and go on dates. Well, tonight, I’m going on a date. I don’t really want to but I’m going to try and have fun for once. Just a few drinks and I’ll go home. What else could happen?

PS. You can read the story on Wattpad.

What am I doing here? I think to myself.

I matched with this guy on this famous dating app . . . And now I'm supposed to meet him here, at this bar. But I don't want to. I'm just hoping he won't show up so I can escape from this shit-place.

I've been seated at the table for a good 5 minutes. The waitress cleans up the table next to mine and asks if I'm ready to order.

No, I want to leave.

I quickly glance at the drinks menu.

"Ehm . . . A pour over Irish coffee, please."

She nods and leaves. I don't even know what I just ordered. I hope it tastes good. Hopefully it'll make me drunk enough not to remember this awful date.

It hasn't even started yet.

I'm sweating.

"Hey there" says a husky voice right behind me.

I turn around and see my date. His name is Jordan. He's good-looking and I bet he's intelligent, but I don't have this feeling with him. I don't know why I accepted to go on a date in the first place. It's awkward.

"Hey!" I grin.

"Have you ordered something already?" he asks, touching his short, clean beard. "I'm thirsty!"

He looks nice.

The waitress hands me my third drink. They help the clock tick a little faster.

He's been talking about his job, his passions. He loves football and practises daily. He has 2 sisters and lives in Camberwell.

Cute.

For a moment, I feel sad for him. He drove all the way to this East London bar, put effort trying to look nice and being cool . . . and yet, he doesn't know it but he has no chance to get lucky tonight. Not with me.

I shouldn't be sorry.

But I am.

I glance around looking for something that might be a little more entertaining than him. I realise I've avoided eye contact since he arrived. I finally glimpse at him. He has beautiful hazel eyes.

Still not enough.

I quickly check my phone. It's getting late. I don't know how to end this.

"Look," I slightly bend over the table. "I'm so sorry but I don't feel like it tonight"

"I noticed." He smirked. "Kinda awkward, innit?"

I chuckle. I am so embarrassed.

"It's okay, though." He added. "I'm just trying to meet new people. I broke up with my ex-girlfriend a few weeks ago. My mates told me I should try these apps."

Okay, now I feel worse than ever. He's been so nice with me and that's how I treat him. I grab my drink and gulp it down.

I shouldn't have done this.

"Let's go dance. I owe you one." I say as I grab his hand and walk towards the dancing area. It becomes difficult to keep my head straight.

I'm drunk, I must admit.

I'm going to regret it, my sober-self shouts in my head.

I don't care is what I reply.

The dancing area is not crowded, but there are already a few people. Most of them are girls.

Girls . . . I wish my friends were not so busy all the time. I would've come to this bar with them instead of wasting my time with strangers.

I start dancing. I stare at him. He looks amused.

A group of guys join the dancefloor and all the girls on my right start screaming. It's so high pitched I cringe.

"What the fuck guys?" I shout, trying to focus on the music.

"Woah, that's Spider-Man!" says my date. He grabs my chin and makes me look in his direction.

No way, I think. It's actually him.

I know he lives in the area, but I've never met him before. It's always weird to see movie stars in real life. They look so much more attractive.

He is so much more attractive.

I try not to be a drunk fangirl and shyly wave to him. He doesn't notice.

"You wanna go and take a picture with him?" my date asks.

"Oh, no, no!" I answer. I'm blushing. "I don't even know what I'd tell him."

He laughs.

The worst thing that could happen is to annoy him during a night out. He needs privacy and I must respect it.

But it's so difficult.

I can't stop staring at him. I don't even control it. Being drunk doesn't help.

"D'you want a beer?" I ask my date whose name I completely forgot.

He nods.

I weave my way through the crowd. I can't believe there are so many people on the dancefloor. The area is so busy since the Spider-Man actor walked in.

Even the bar area is crowded.

I let my body rest against a barstool but quickly lose balance and almost fall on the dirty floor. The flickering lights are making me feel dizzy. I grip the counter and get up. I peer around to make sure nobody saw me.

He did.

I dust off my dress trying to save the dignity I have left.

"Want something?" someone asks behind me. I turn around, it's the barman.

"Two pints of Guinness, please."

I glance back at the same spot, but he's gone. It must've been a dream. I'm so drunk I can't trust everything I think I see.

I'm grabbing both my drinks and look around trying to find my date, but there are too many people. I take a sip of my beer and hold the other one above my head.

Someone hits my arm.

Oh no.

"Oh my God I'm so sorry!" yells the drunk blond girl.

I look at my dress. It's soaking wet. I politely smile at her. "It's okay," I mouth.

What a mess. I glance at the lavatory door. I need to go and save my dress.

"You haven't been lucky here."

I turn around to find out who's talking to me.

It's him. Tom Holland. Talking to me.

"What?" is all I manage to say.

"Do you need a hand?" he politely asks.

I blush so much it's noticeable in the dark.

I'm choking. I'm panicking.

I give him my two beers and walk towards the lavatory. I'm surely starstruck. And drunk. This isn't a good mix.

Once in the room, I grab a handful of tissues and try to soak up my dress. I groan. Did I expect to make that beer mark disappear? Yes. Did it work? Of course not.

I watch my face in the mirror.

I look like shit, I think.

A door slams shut. Two young girls just walked in.

"OH, MY G—THAT'S TOM HOLLAND!" shouts one. They are both panting.

I roll my eyes.

Oh . . . I've given him my beers. What about my date?

"Shit!" I hiss.

I violently open the door and frown my eyebrows as the lights blind me.

He's just here gazing at me. Two beers in his hands. One of them is half empty, the rest being displayed on my dress.

"I'm so sorry!" I say embarrassed as ever.

He smirks. "No worries." He hands me the full glass of beer.

I give him a questioning look as I grab it. What about the other one? Oh, right—He's drinking it.

"What's your na—"

I stop him.

"I know who you are." I peer down. "I'm sorry I didn't wanna disturb you" I say as I'm walking away.

This time I'm smart enough to avoid the crowd on my way out.

"That's rude to leave without saying goodbye!" Tom shouts from a distance.

I turn around and stare at him. He's got a soft smile; he doesn't look drunk at all. I wave him goodbye.

Now, he's approaching me.

"I meant to your boyfriend" he nods in the direction of my date who was dancing with a group of other people.

"He's not my—" is all I can say before he chuckles.

"I figured."

"How?" I clench my jaw. I'm hypnotised by his hand running through his hair. And his smile. And his lips.

"I can barely hear you," he points at a booth in the corner of the room "maybe we could sit there" he suggests.

My mouth softens into a smile.

It's difficult to walk with Tom Holland. Every couple of seconds he's stopped by fans requesting a picture. And he accepts every time.

I'd never be so patient.

"What's that?" he asks.

"It must be so annoying sometimes." I tell him as I sit on the booth.

"When they're nice and ask me, it's cool." He chooses to sit next to me. I can feel his arm touching mine. My heart is racing. He uses his other arm to hold his chin; he looks at me with so much intensity. Sometimes peering down my lips.

His face is so close, but he keeps talking. I can feel his breath on my skin. I'm going to burst into flames. "But when they're taking pictures without asking first, that's delicate."

I nod. I can't really listen to what he's talking about. I'm trying not to lose control.

"So, what's your name?"

He smiles when I tell him. "Why did you leave your date alone?" he asks.

I'm so nervous I stutter. I can't find my words. "I . . . I wasn't in the mood. He knows it. I shouldn't have come here."

"I'm happy you came." He says looking me in the eyes.

I raise my eyebrows. "Are you flirting with me?"

He barks out a laugh and breaks the eye contact. He rests his head on the wall behind us.

He isn't as confident as I thought he'd be. I don't know what's up with him, but I enjoy it.

I suddenly remember he's a movie star. He's always being watched. I glance at the crowd and see flashing lights. They're taking pictures of us.

I'm getting dizzier.

I don't want to see my face on a dumb article talking about Tom Holland's mysterious partner. I don't even know him.

"This is stupid" I mumble.

Tom is intrigued. He hasn't got a clue what I'm talking about. He hasn't even noticed the fans stalking him.

"I'm sorry, I gotta go" I abruptly say as I stand up. "Have a good night."

I grab my phone and leave the venue. I'm upset because I really wish I could've met him in a different context. I open my Uber app: there's no driver available.

Shit.

How's that even possible on a Friday night? In London?

I refresh the app, but it doesn't work. I guess I'll have to walk home.

A part of me wants to go back in this bar and spend time with Tom. He's sweet and I'm sure we would've had so much fun together. I glance through the window trying to see his face one last time, but I can't find him.

"What are you looking for?"

I cringe.

"Oh, sorry I didn't mean to startle you."

It's him. It's Tom.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"Going home too. The fun of the party is leaving . . ." he sighs. I smile back at him. I'm embarrassed.

I stand in front of him, none of us say a word. It's awkward. I'm getting anxious and walk away. I'm so overwhelmed.

He grabs my shoulder. "Wait, are you walking home?"

"Yeah, it's okay don't worry." I smile.

"I can drive you home."

"Sorry, but you've been drinking. I won't let you drive me." I curtly say.

He grins. He looks at one of his mates and nods.

"No way I'm letting you walk home alone," he sighs "besides, you're drunk."

"Come with me then" I instantly reply without thinking.

He nods.

What?

He's coming with me. My heart is racing. I won't survive a 30-minute drunk walk with him.

Not with his beautiful glossy eyes staring at me.

Not with my burning desire to kiss him.

#tom holland #London lights fic #Tom Holland one shot #tom holland fiction #Tom Holland imagine #Tom Holland x reader

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lazarettta · 3 years

Text

The Babysitter

Characters ( Ally Mayfair-Richards x Reader )

Rating (T) Word Count ( 2.9k) Warnings ( None, bad flirting, writing while intoxicated)

“For dinner! I'd love to come home with you for dinner.”

“Well what else would you be coming for?”

“Dessert.”

It was another late night studying on the living room floor of the Mayfair-Richards household. It wasn't uncommon for you to spend a majority of your nights here during the week and sometimes the weekend if you were needed and you usually weren't. Not that you would've minded anyway, your weekends weren't busy—mostly spent either dead asleep or trying to get out of plans you didn't want to be a part of anyway to get more sleep.

But it wasn't everyday that you were able to work for a Senator either, so even if you were busy, you weren't going to tell Ally Mayfair-Richards that. Not that she was a mean boss or anything, she was the Senator for crying out loud. And...okay yes, maybe you idolized the woman a little though it may be because you're studying law but honestly who wouldn't idolize this woman? She went through so much shit getting to this point in her life and career.

And she was hot. She was really hot but you kept it in your pants, but your eyeballs? Different story. You were just grateful that she chose you to watch her son when she was away, especially after you knocked over your entire cup of tea in her living room on the very carpet you were sitting on, and you were just a hot mess.

You thought you blew the whole thing, but the moment she produced the NDA to you a few days later when she called you back for a 'second interview' which included Ozzy this time, you'd been ecstatic and nearly knocked over another fucking cup but Ally was faster than you that time.

The giant TV was playing in front of you across the room but it was just the news channel but the volume was pretty low because Oz was asleep upstairs and you weren't really watching it anyway, you had your airpods in listening to Beyoncé and trying to create a decent scenario for one of the ten theories your professor assigned. It was due the next day so you thought picking the easiest one would work in your favor but it was turning out to be your worst nightmare—and you'd regretted choosing sleep over this, kind of.

You'd been so engrossed in your work, and music, you didn't hear the front door open and shut somewhere behind you or hear Ally quietly talking on the phone, her high heels click clacking on her polished wood floors as she came into the living room. Ally paused slightly at the sight of you and her coffee table, your books and yellow pads scattered everywhere, your head bopping slightly to whatever you were listening to as you scribbled away.

Ally smiled softly, and continued on her way upstairs to check on Ozzy knowing that she was going to find him safe, clean and fast asleep with a full belly. You'd been his nanny for four months now and you were such a blessing for Ally, she'd been reluctant to hire and trust another person with her baby boy but her career was too demanding and Ozzy was only ten. He could stay home alone for a few hours maybe, but not days or even a week or two.

After everything, Ally did have cameras around her home on the outside and she had one directly over the stairs because it overlooked the foyer and parts of the living room from an angle. She didn't want too many camera's inside of her home in case they were hacked but she wanted something at least.

Ozzy's room was dark except for his nightlight by the door and Ally quietly made her way inside, carefully sitting on the edge of the bed and pushing his curls from his face. She was ever thankful that he finally stopped having those horrible nightmares, it meant that she wasn't wasting her money on therapy sessions.

When Ally came back downstairs, you were predictably in the exact same spot you were in and Ally finally did away with her coat, placing it over the spine of the sofa and she stepped out of her heels before coming around and plopping herself down, careful not to knock over your stack of books.

The sudden movement startled you out of your skin and you quickly pulled out your airpods and looked at your boss, “Hey! Sorry, how long have you been home?”

Ally smiled down at you tiredly, practically sinking into the sofa and you could feel her exhaustion rolling off of her in waves, and you couldn't help but sympathize because damn, and you thought you were tired.

“I just got in, I'm sorry I didn't call earlier, things got busier than I expected and then everything went into chaos.”

You smirked when she threw her hands up half heartedly with a roll of her eyes, “Would a glass of wine help?”

“No, but it would definitely be a start if you join me for a glass?” she raised an eyebrow, and as much as you wanted to say yes you've already procrastinated enough and you really didn't need alcohol in your system around her lest you say something you absolutely shouldn't.

“I would but I have to finish this and it's getting late. Do you mind waiting up until my Uber gets here?”

“It's really late, you should just stay the night, (Y/n).” Ally sat up then, waving away your comment, though now she was closer and hovering over you a bit, “I'll take you home tomorrow after breakfast, that sound fair?”

It wouldn't be the first overnight stay but it would definitely be the first time that she'd be home too and you just couldn't say no to that even though you probably should have insisted more that you go home, but you accepted her offer without further debate. You'd gone back to your assignment, minus the airpods this time, and Ally got up to go to the kitchen and you could hear her fixing herself a glass of wine.

Ally set a bottle of water next to you on a coaster before settling back in her spot and finding something to watch on TV, and of course you noticed that she was a hell of a lot closer than she was before.

Your pen had paused on the yellow paper and your eyes glanced over the same sentence three times before your mind processed that you could practically feel the heat from her legs next to your arm through her slacks, and if you leaned just an inch you'd be touching her. You fought the urge to look back over your shoulder, but instead you looked up from beneath your lashes and saw that she was browsing the movie channels at a snail's pace.

Behind you, Ally was sipping her wine in one hand and flipping channels with the remote in the other but her eyes were nowhere on the TV screen. But she noticed the moment your pen stopped moving and your shoulders tensed more than usual, she'd been watching you closely and curiously.

“You okay, honey?”

You turned around to answer her with what you hoped was a calm smile and wished that you hadn't, really. Ally was going to kill you sitting the way she was sitting, her energy screaming big dick and the top three buttons of her shirt were undone and her hair was a little messy. Either she was going to give you a heart attack or your libido would.

“Sweetheart?”

You blinked, coming back to reality so fast you would’ve gotten whiplash, “Uh, yeah...maybe I guess I’m just tired too.” Yeah right.

You chuckled nervously, embarrassed really, and licked your lips again and Ally tracked the movement with rapt attention not that you would've caught it because you were busy being mortified being caught staring like a creep.

“Are you sure? You look flushed, drink some water,” you smiled at Ally, ever the mom.

“I’m not—” not what? Thirsty? Yeah you were but not for some water.

“You’re not what?” Ally pressed, still holding you hostage with her eyes alone.

“Not thirsty for water.”

Ally raised an eyebrow, the corner of her lips twitching and you hate that you noticed, “Oh? Then what would you like to drink if it’s not wine or water?”

Good question. One you didn’t have a good answer to. Not trusting yourself to formulate words into an appropriate sentence, you just nodded and turned back around and grabbed the water she brought you. You were determined to ignore until you were finished with your work—for the sake of your sanity and dignity.

Fuck.

Still watching you, Ally laughed quietly into her wine glass and finally settled on a movie, keeping the volume low as she got comfortable. Deciding to let you off the hook for not answering her question. (This time.)

A few days later...

It was another late night for you but you weren't working for Ally tonight, so you went to the gym instead after studying. You were still wearing your tights and sports bra when you left, only throwing on a jacket because the night air and sweat weren't a great mix.

You didn't have anything at home to eat that wasn't expired or so frozen it came from the ice age...it all went in the trash so all you had left in your fridge was a case of water and cheese sticks. It wasn't surprising though, you spent a majority of your free time at Ally's home and you just ate lunch and dinner there usually. So you went straight to the grocery store after your workout with your trainer.

“Hey (Y/n)!” you looked up and internally groaned, rolled your eyes and threw a whole bitch fit.

You offered Sean a tight near sarcastic smile, “Sean. What is up.”

“Nothin',” he said, leaning against the counter he was standing behind with a cheesy smile, his eyes leering—and it made your skin crawl, “Just working...you?”

“Uh,” you were already over this conversation, “Same, anyway—”

“You still work for that crazy killer lesbian?”

You stopped, pivoting back around slowly to see if he was joking or not, of course it was hard to tell because he was looking at your ass, but the minute he turned around his eyes laser beamed to your chest. Specifically your pebbled nipples and the bars pierced in them. You moved the labels of your jacket to cover them fucking pig.

“Uh, my eyes are up here and two, that 'crazy killer lesbian' is your Senator.”

He shrugged, “I didn't vote for her.”

“I'm...okay, it was nice talking to you but I have things to do.”

“Well, wait,” he moved in front of you, stopping your escape, “That's not what I wanted to talk to you about actually, uh, but listen...do you maybe wanna go to dinner with me this weekend? My treat?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, completely unimpressed with his audacity, “You literally just called my boss a crazy killer lesbian and now you're expecting me to go to dinner with you?” as if, you wanted to add but held yourself in check—barely.

“I'm sorry about that,” Sean only shrugged but he was bashful about it but it only served to irritate you further because it was obvious that he didn't quite mean it and you were mentally slapping yourself for just not ordering that damn pizza.

“Whatever, goodnight Sean.”

you tried to move around him but he shifted, keeping you in place and you knew you could've just turned around, you should've but he would've just followed you, “Well wait, you never answered my question. About dinner?”

“No.”

“Well, wait a minute...why not? The lesbian thing? It was just a joke. You can take one, can’t you?”

“And I'm not laughing, get the fuck outta my way Sean—”

“You—”

“I believe she told you to fuck off.”

Sean's eyes snapped up over your head slightly, and you would've laughed at his stupid face had you not been pivoting around yourself, your eyes meeting a very familiar chin and you looked up, but Ally's eyes weren't on you but instead glaring daggers into Sean. He'd be ten feet under if she got her way with that look. You wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of it. (Maybe another version of it...)

“S-senator?”

“Oh, I'm not the crazy killer lesbian anymore? How disappointing.” when Sean could only stare at her like a fish out of the water, Ally stepped forward—a lot closer to you and you didn't have the strength to move or even look away, “I believe you were told to leave. Oh and if I even hear that you looked at or said anything to (Y/n) incorrectly, you're going to have a lot worse than a harassment complaint from a Senator to deal with.”

You didn't see him leave but you heard the squeaks of his sneaker and in seconds flat you and Ally were alone in the cereal aisle and you had absolutely no idea how to even breathe at the moment, much less process that she just saved you from...whatever that even was.

When Ally was satisfied that Sean was gone, she finally looked down at you—there was still a fire in them that you couldn't place but her brown eyes were softer than they were a few seconds ago, and you felt your shoulders relaxing slightly.

“Are you alright, (Y/n)?”

You cleared your throat, taking a small step back—but you still felt exposed under her unblinking stare though not in the same way you felt with Sean, it was the complete opposite, “Yeah thanks to you, so um thanks...a lot. Your timing is impeccable, but what are you doing here so late? Where's Oz? Is he okay?”

Ally smiled at you, shaking her head disturbing her always perfect hairstyle, “Oz is fine, or at least he will be, he must've ate something today at school and it's not sitting well with his stomach,” Ally rolled her eyes but not at the fact that her son had food poisoning but that he had food poisoning from the school lunch. She could only imagine that other children—reforming school lunches was already on her agenda but now she was seriously considering moving ahead of schedule.

“Oh no, how bad?”

“Not too bad...he'll be okay, I'm just here for medicine to stock up on,” Ally reassured you, her eyes flickering over your shoulder for a second, “What are you doing out so late?” and wearing that? She mentally added, but held her tongue because she knew that it wasn't her place to comment on your attire—not that she was complaining about it, but Ally just didn't like the way Sean was leering at you either. She was a hair away from showing him how she earned her title.

Suddenly aware of how much skin you were showing, and that your jacket fell open again but unlike with Sean you didn't feel the need to really cover yourself (even though you knew that you should've). You appreciated her eyes more than his...and probably anyone else's.

“Oh, I went to the gym and since I don't have any food at home...”

Ally chuckled, “Is this your way of asking for a raise?”

“No! No, no you pay me plenty...I'm just too busy to cook is all and then I'm just too tired to eat sometimes. College life.”

“I was teasing, welcome to adulthood. It doesn't stop,” you laughed along with her but you both knew there was truth behind those words.

“I shouldn't keep you, I know you have things to do.”

“You know, I doubt you're going to get a decent nutrient meal here tonight, especially shopping while you’re hungry...” Ally hummed, seemingly thinking hard about something before opening her mouth to carefully speak those words, “You're more than welcome to come home with me for a late dinner if you have nowhere else to be. I'd be more than happy to feed you.”

Heh. Feed me what? You blinked, mildly surprised with how fast your mind went straight to the gutter and you felt your face heating up faster than a house fire, and you had no doubt in your mind that your boss knew exactly what she was doing to you.

But she didn't, Ally didn't have one clue to what was happening in your mind because her own mind was a pile of scrambled eggs while forcing her eyes to stay above your neck. You were both very much still in public.

And the last thing Ally wanted to do was make either you a cliché, especially with her being a public figure in a male dominant career field, both in politics and her restaurant.

“Unless you had your sights set on cereal?” Ally coughed lightly, suddenly nervous and you realized that you'd been standing there staring at her like a moron this whole time.

“No, I'd love to come home with you,” you said cheerfully, meaning every damn word for different reasons, and you smiled at her, before your eyes widened when realizing how forward you sounded, and suggestive as hell, “For dinner! I'd love to come home with you for dinner.”

“Well what else would you be coming for?”

“Dessert.”

Direct result after two blunts...sorry if it's kinda lame tho lmao I went in thinking I was writing smut and gave up somewhere

#ally mayfair richards #ally mayfair richards x reader #ahs cult #ahs x reader #sarah paulson #ahs imagine #american horror story #sarah paulson x reader

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taexual · 4 years

Text

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (19)

jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: suggestive themes, some angst

words: 7.7k

chapter nineteen

You expected Jungkook to skip class the next Monday morning because neither of you had gotten enough proper sleep this weekend, but, surprising you, he was standing outside of your dormitory even though it was barely light outside, holding two coffees in his hands, and smiling.

Squinting at him suspiciously, you waited for an explanation why he looked so excited to be awake at seven in the morning – not to mention, why he got up early to get you and him coffee, and then showed up at your dormitory in time to catch you leave.

“I just wanted to go to class together with my girlfriend,” Jungkook said simply enough, emphasizing the last word.

“You’re lying,” you said, still watching him intently but accepting his coffee nevertheless. You almost considered yourself overly paranoid as soon as you took a sip of the blissful beverage, but Jungkook’s smile widened.

“Okay, fine,” he said, unable to hold it in much longer. “Yoongi told me something last night and I’d been looking forward to talking to you about it, so I’m still on a high.”

“Did you sleep at all?”

“No—listen. We got an out-of-town gig,” he said, his eyes glittering so bright, some of the street lamps nearby flickered awkwardly, intimidated. “It’s the first one. Apparently, the manager of some club or event hall—I don’t know—was visiting a relative on campus this Friday, and they saw us play. It’s next weekend. I want you to come with me.”

“Tha—that’s great, wow. I’m proud of you,” you said and you did mean it but, at the same time, you felt worried.

Jungkook had abandoned Parental Advisory right before the encore last Friday. What if some inane force got into his head and made him ditch the show again? He was obviously still not used to the consequences of his actions since, most of the time, he miraculously came out of every mess alive.

“You’re all very excited, I don’t doubt,” you said, choosing your words carefully, “but, uh… are you sure about this?”

You could see some of the initial joy fade away from his face after your question, and your mind immediately awarded you with a mental kick.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well, last Friday—” you tried but Jungkook cut in as if he’d guessed that this was going to be the direction in which your conversation turned.

“No, don’t,” he said hurriedly, not wanting you to say another word about how much frustration he’d caused his bandmates. “We’re fine. We’re family, we don’t fight long.”

You nodded empathetically – or so you hoped – and tried again, “I was just saying that you—”

“I’m fine,” he cut you off again, still smiling patiently even though his voice was inching closer to the edge with each hesitant word that came out of your mouth. “You’ll be there with me. I’ll be fine.”

The confidence in his tone was infectious, however.

He said he’d be fine. You weren’t going to insist and make him doubt himself, not when he was voicelessly asking you to trust him.

“I hadn’t technically said yes,” you pointed out instead, more to tease him than anything else.

Jungkook replied, tongue-in-cheek, “I asked as a courtesy. I’m kidnapping you if you don’t agree to come with me.”

Relieved that the tension seemed to dissipate after you decided not to shove your worries on him and maybe even push them away from your own shoulders, too, the two of you started to walk towards the building where your class was going to take place.

“You always take my choices away from me,” you told him, a playful smile still on your lips. “Let me make a decision.”

Jungkook nearly froze, feeling the hairs on the nape of his neck stand up. He saw your face and could recognize that you were just playing around, not really trying to tell him that you were offended, but your words, joking or not, still hit a painful, throbbing spot inside of his mind.

He was using your feelings for him to get you to do what he wanted. He was doing it again. Even despite his mother’s concerns about his influence on you seven years ago. Even despite you both being adults now.

“I wasn’t—I… I just didn’t want you to make the wrong choice,” he said, browsing through dozens of lame excuses and choosing the one that made him sound the least like an asshole.

You knew he wasn’t an asshole. That was why you didn’t get upset when he told you that you were coming before you got a chance to accept his offer.

Still, wanting him to open up and explain what was going on inside of his head, you wondered aloud, “what’s the wrong choice here? Me, not going with you?”

“Yes,” Jungkook answered, not hesitating but looking down at the gravel underneath his boots, “I need you there with me,” that didn’t sound right. He corrected himself with an awkward chuckle – as if to reduce the strength of his next words, “I always need you with me. That’s why I didn’t wait for you to—”

“Well, say it like that, then,” you asked in a voice that was almost as impatient as your heart, who’d suddenly decided it wanted to leap out of your chest and take a walk around campus. “I’ll never say no.”

His face lit up. “Is that a promise?”

You responded to him by smiling and then looked away, letting him know, “absolutely not.”

“What?” the boy blinked, suddenly lost in his translation of your language. “You just said—!”

“You’re a shithead with unreadable intentions,” you told him kindly. “I can’t promise to always say yes to everything you do. But if you actually ask—”

“Okay,” he gave in, accepting your condition because you were making a good point. “I’m asking now.”

You nodded, appreciating that he did ask, after all, even though it’d all been decided already.

“I’ll come,” you said.

Jungkook smiled – genuinely now, not looking for ways to tease you or fool around anymore – and exhaled heavily to show you an exaggerated version of how relieved he was to hear this.

“Thank you,” he said. “I love you.”

The confession was supposed to be the new normal, but your heart was still on a field-trip, your heartbeat echoing all over your body as you smiled back. “I love you, too.”

The first time you saw Inna since she left last Friday, was when you got home from class on Monday. She heard you come in but, contrary to what you’d expected, she didn’t greet you by the door, demanding to know what had happened over the weekend.

Instead, you found her sitting by her desk, turned over in her chair as she was facing the door of the bedroom, a smirk on her face.

Automatically, you felt your own lips stretch into a smile as you entered the room, asking, “what?”

“Should I prepare for a third roommate to move in with us?” she asked, taking enormous pleasure in the way you sat down on the bed and purposefully turned away from her to unpack your bag.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, hoping to sound nonchalant but, judging from the way Inna snorted, probably sounding desperate to change the topic. “Did you have a good weekend?”

“Oh, I did,” she replied, her face still adorning a Cheshire Cat’s grin. “But I bet it was nothing like the weekend you’d had.”

Pursing your lips because you couldn’t help but feel yourself respond to her cheerful expression with a smile, you asked, “will you stop looking at me like that?”

“I absolutely won’t,” she replied, “not until you tell me every detail.”

“You don’t want every detail…”

The way your sentence faded made Inna gasp. She jumped from her chair abruptly and threw herself across the room, landing on her stomach right next to you, on your bed, her legs flying up from the floor in excitement.

“Oh, like hell, I do!” she exclaimed, drumming on your thigh with her palms as she waited for you to stop digging around your bag and finally give her something. “Come on, I’m starving here. Feed me.”

Almost laughing, you allowed Inna to grab your bag out of your hands and shove it away, out of your reach.

“Did you hear how that sounded?” you asked as you lied down on the bed next to her.

“Unfortunately, I did,” she countered, “because you won’t start talking. Come on! I know you want to.”

You did want to. But, unfortunately for your dignity, you also wanted to giggle uncontrollably and your roommate’s encouragement wasn’t helping your restraint.

“I won’t be able to say one sentence if you keep looking at me like that,” you warned her.

Inna had a solution for everything, turning away from you as she talked you through her plan, “Talk to my back. I promise I’ll stay quiet. Well, no, actually, I can’t promise that, but I promise I will definitely hear you out until the end before I start screaming.”

In fact, she did not.

You could hear her supportive whining and flapping of her feet as soon as you told her about how you found Jungkook outside of your dorm room when you returned from the barbecue. Her response to your story kept growing louder, and, before you were through with the re-telling of the conversation you’d had with Jungkook this morning, she was nearly shrieking, making it impossible for you to quit beaming.

Even when you expressed your concern about Jungkook’s tense relationship with his bandmates, Inna responded in a way that supported your joyful state of mind and made all of your anxiety seem unnecessary and over-the-top.

“This is it,” she declared, triumphant. She still wasn’t looking at you. “You’re really together this time and there’s nothing that can happen to ruin that.”

“Famous last words, Inna.”

“Oh, please,” she turned on her back, looking at you through her eyelashes. “You’ve reached the limit of the curveballs the universe can throw at you. You’re fine now.”

You felt a natural instinct to argue – it was like a rudimentary reaction to anything that promised you a good future: you had to find every way in which something could go wrong so you’d be prepared once it inevitably did – but you swallowed it, nodding instead.

“Yeah,” you agreed, choosing to live in the moment because it was too precious to just let it pass. “We’re fine now.”

Coincidentally – marking the beginning of a new period in your life – something almost unbelievable happened on the day of the Parental Advisory performance.

Because a gig out-of-town was, obviously, a huge deal for a band that had only performed locally before, Jungkook brought it up to his parents.

He did it offhandedly, almost as a last-minute way to let them know that he was finally advancing in more than one aspect of his life. And also, to spite his father who’d called his band a “hobby”.

But, surprising him to the moon and back, his parents asked if they could come and watch him play.

And so, they were here, inside of the venue, exploring the poorly lit and barely furnished event hall, and not being any more judgmental than they usually were.

“It starts at eight, right?” Jungkook’s mother asked you, since her son was backstage with the band, dealing with the lighting. “Maybe we could sneak in some dinner before the show.”

“Oh, actually, the band is planning to go out for some food together,” you said, unsure if the invitation extended to parents – and doubting it very much, considering the name of the group – but still feeling like it wouldn’t be polite to not invite them. “Maybe you could—”

“No, we won’t intrude,” Jungkook’s father replied this time. “We’ll meet you here after. Eight o’clock sharp. Although, being sharp doesn’t matter much at events like these, right?”

He smiled, waiting for your supportive laughter, but you could barely muster up a chuckle.

He’d said it like he was about to watch a street performer break dance outside of an opera house – like it was a form of art that was universally acknowledged, but it didn’t hold any meaning in the larger context of art – and you had to fight your sense of justice so you wouldn’t correct him.

Jungkook may have been reckless and, sure, he may not have finished a show one time – that you knew of – because he got wasted instead, but you’d never heard of a Parental Advisory performance that did not start exactly on time. Inna had used this argument to convince you to get into them a dozen times before: the members respected their audience, they didn’t think of this as a joke.

“Yes, eight o’clock,” you said, the same polite smile frozen on your face. “Jungkook is really looking forward to this.”

“He should be looking—”

“We are, too,” his mother stepped in, bringing a hand to your shoulder and squeezing it gently – a gesture meant to make up for her husband’s immediate response about what Jungkook should have been looking forward to. “We’ll see you later tonight.”

You nodded and followed after them so you could see them out of the venue – not that this was your responsibility, but it felt like the right thing to do since their son wasn’t here – except someone grabbed your hand right after you reached the exit. Gasping in shock, you turned around to see the son in question, grinning at you.

Fighting off the surprise, you looked back to see his parents walk out of the venue and then narrowed your eyes at Jungkook as you inquired, “were you waiting for your parents to leave before you came out?”

“Yes,” he admitted, shameless. “Sorry I had to use you to keep them company.”

“It’s fine, they’re nice people,” you said and then added teasingly, “you should hang out with them sometime. I think they’d like you.”

Jungkook gave you a look full of skepticism. “I could hear my dad basically call my band useless from all the way over there.”

“He—” you started, but then realized that defending his father would have meant lying to Jungkook, so you sighed instead. “Yeah. He just doesn’t see what this is all about, I guess. Have your parents ever watched you perform before?”

“What do you think?” he asked, nervously tugging on your hand – that he kept on holding – as a reflexive reaction whenever the topic turned to his family.

You nodded knowingly.

“So, this will be their first time,” you said. “They’ll come around. Well, your dad will. Your mom seemed excited.”

“About the show?” Jungkook asked, lifting up your hand and intertwining your fingers, “or about the fact that you’re here with me?”

You smiled, unable to help it. “Both?”

“No, that can’t be it,” he countered, taking one remaining step to close the distance between you. He dropped your hand on his shoulder and wrapped his arms around your waist. “No one’s more excited about having you here than me.”

You ignored your racing pulse and played along, “are you sure? Because I’m pretty excited. I was even thinking of getting one of those ‘I’m with the band’ t-shirts that I remember your groupies wearing.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened in humor. “My groupies?”

You shook your head in a chastising manner. “Don’t act so surprised.”

“That’s not surprise, that’s indifference,” he spoke and, even though he was clearly using his lines on you again, the smell of his cologne when he stood so close to you, pressing your body against his, was too intoxicating for you to call him out on it. “And, in any case, I’d like to see you wear something else entirely.”

“Hmm? What’s that?”

Jungkook leaned in closer until you could feel his breath on the nape of your neck as he whispered, “nothing at all.”

Almost jumping in surprise as a wave of excited shivers ran down your spine at his words, you squeezed his bicep in a warning manner and chuckled. If Jungkook didn’t know you better, he’d have thought you sounded nervous when you spoke again.

“Don’t forget where are are,” you reminded him as he hummed against your neck, pressing several gentle, butterfly kisses on your tender skin. “Your bandmates are right behind that wall—”

“Are they?” Jungkook asked, pulling away enough to look at you but not enough to give you any space to breathe as his forehead lingered mere millimetres away from yours. “Maybe we should do a soundcheck of our own, make sure they can really hear us?”

You watched him with parted lips and he cherished in rendering you speechless so much, he couldn’t help the smirk that spread on his face right before he leaned in to kiss you.

Sighing – mostly in defeat because, clearly, he’d succeeded and you weren’t going to protest much anymore – you tightened your grip on his shirt as you kissed him back.

Jungkook had very much forgotten where he was as soon as he felt the softness of your lips against his and, taking a few steps forwards until your back hit the wall, he used the element of surprise to his own advantage as he deepened the kiss, trapping your body between his and the wall.

Both of you could hear muffled noises, coming from somewhere in the venue, but just like before – in his childhood bedroom or in the hallway of your dormitory – you were too far gone to care about any noise – or anything at all – that wasn’t literally right in front of you.

He kissed you like he had a point to prove, like the performance he’d come here for wasn’t going to begin at eight, but it began now. And he gave his all, pulling you closer and tightening his grip on your waist as his fingertips crept down to your belt to pull out the turtleneck that you’d carefully tucked into your jeans this morning.

Wanting to touch you, not just your clothes, he evidently couldn’t have cared less about your relative exposure to the rest of the venue, as he pulled out your sweater and sneaked his hands underneath. As soon as his fingers felt the warmth of your skin, he exhaled into the kiss, forcing you to grasp his shirt harder.

You knew of Jungkook’s abilities when it came to mood swings – the boy could climb from zero to one-hundred in under a second, that was nothing to him – but the unexpected lust and the intense passion of his kisses still took all of your breath away as you held onto him, not making any requests to slow down or take a break even if your lungs were starting to ache.

“Oi!” a voice called out suddenly. Jungkook didn’t even flinch, kissing you harder, if anything. “You need to tune in your—nevermind. Just hurry up and come backstage, will you?”

Jungkook made no sound of acknowledgement whatsoever, too focused on the task at hand and too lost in the feeling of your lips to worry about anything else, so you were the one who had to pull away, your lips smacking against his as you broke the kiss. When he opened his eyes, Jungkook looked almost offended.

“They’re waiting for you,” you told him, breathing heavily as if you were recovering from finishing first at a marathon. He looked at you as if you spoke a different language. You tried, “the band?”

“They can—”

“We don’t have the whole day!” his member called out again – you couldn’t see which one it was because Jungkook still refused to pull away – and you heard him open the door to return backstage. He shouted at Jungkook again before leaving, “but you do your thing! Not like a lead vocalist is that hard to replace.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes at the last part and you felt yourself smile softly, nodding your head in the direction of the stage.

“Go,” you encouraged. “I’ll go sightsee.”

He raised his eyebrows. “And leave me here?”

“You have a soundcheck to get to.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook said, grinning again as he leaned in to press a soft kiss right below your jawline. He pulled away far enough to add, “with you.”

You half-laughed, half-exhaled as he peppered gentle kisses down your neck.

“Not that kind of—Jungkook,” your voice did not sound nearly as stern as you wanted it to; even your hands seemed limp as you tried to push him off of yourself and gain some space to breathe, “seriously.”

He reacted to your rejection in the way he always did – by taking a step away from you and giving you an almost mournful look, “you are pushing me away. That is unacceptable.”

“You have more important matters right now,” you told him.

“I do not,” he insisted childishly.

“You do,” you repeated and then, pushing yourself off the wall, you placed your hands on his shoulders as you attempted to turn his resistant frame around, “go. I’ll come back in time for the dinner.”

Jungkook allowed you to push him towards the door to the back of the stage, but he still whined dramatically in a last-ditch attempt to tug at your heart-strings, “I don’t want you to leave.”

“You act like you’re five years old sometimes,” you told him and then added, less seriously, “I’ll see you soon. Be a good boy and behave.”

“Oh, behave,” he repeated, intrigued now. You stopped in front of the door and released your grip on his shoulders, allowing him to turn to face you. The twinkling lights in his eyes were challenging as he asked, “will I get a reward if I behave?”

“Yes,” you said, “your reward will be not getting your ass handed to you by your members. Now go.”

You gave him one last nod towards the door and then a reassuring smile, too, because the boy was pouting as if this was his first day in kindergarten; you felt ridiculous and he was absolutely using that to win more of your love.

You were about to turn around to leave when Jungkook suddenly leaped forwards, taking your hand and stopping you.

“You’re leaving without kissing me goodbye?” he asked, looking almost outraged. “Your audacity is just—”

You pressed your lips to his abruptly, shutting him up before he could proceed any further with this game, and then pulled away as soon as you felt his grip on you tighten; Jungkook was losing his sense of reality again.

Not saying anything else, you used his disappointed reaction as a way to get your hand out of his without him stopping you, and then, with a quick wave, you jogged towards the door. When you turned to glance at him one more time before you left, Jungkook was still standing there, shaking his head and smiling at the ground.

You‘d checked Google Maps before arriving to get acquainted with the area and, as it turned out, you didn't have to look very far to find an activity to occupy yourself with, because right across the street from the venue, was a horror book store that Namjoon had told you about before, back when you were working on your Sociology project.

Snapping a quick picture of the exterior of the store, you texted it to Namjoon to let him know you visited it, and went inside to explore.

The space was small, with barely enough room for two people to pass each other, but it was paradise for every horror fan. Not only did it contain books – many of them first editions, no less! – but also old DVDs and promotional movie posters. Actually, you thought you even saw a few VHS tapes hidden behind some books, too.

Canceling your plans to explore the rest of the city, you made a split-second decision to spend the few hours before the dinner here. And you didn't regret not going anywhere else – the several books and movies that you‘d bought seemed like a great purchase and you were satisfied.

However, as you headed for the restaurant where the band was supposed to meet up for dinner, you felt weirdly worried. It was Jungkook who‘d sent you the address of the restaurant, but he sent you four texts of it, and you were concerned that no one else was going to show up because he‘d only informed you – four times – and forgot about everyone else.

As it turned out, that wasn't what you should have been worried about.

In fact, at first, you didn't think there was anything worth worrying about at all. You saw the boys seated at a table outside, underneath a large parasol, laughing and having drinks. Jungkook noticed you first and he stood up to meet you on the steps of the patio.

“Heyyy,” he said as soon as he saw you, drawing out the y’s for what felt like three whole seconds.

You lifted your eyebrows but chose not to make a comment. “Hi. Did you order yet?”

“No, we were waiting for you,” he explained, putting a hand around your shoulders to guide you towards the table. He didn’t duck when you two walked past the narrow space between two tables and nearly got his eye taken out by a parasol rod. “Oh, wow! Now that—that could have killed me.”

“It could have blinded you,” you said, giving him a long look, “how would it kill you?”

Laughing instead of replying – because, apparently, you had just made a joke – Jungkook helped you into your seat and took one right next to you. When he turned to take your glass and fill it with champagne – the waiter had left three bottles on the table; one of which was already empty – you got to take a closer look at him and realized with horror that his red eyes were definitely not a sign of having had too much champagne.

“So, how was the soundcheck?” you asked, looking at the other members of his group – which was a mistake because Jungkook wasn’t aware of how much champagne was too much, and it ended up spilling out of your glass and pouring all over the table. “Careful—! Jungkook, why—let me. I’ll do it.”

He was laughing again and apologizing as he clumsily tried to clean up the mess on the table with the sleeve of his jacket. Gently pushing him back into his chair by his shoulder, you grabbed a few napkins and tried to soak up the liquid that hadn’t seeped into the tablecloth yet.

The rest of the group wanted to help – a chorus of belated “oh!”’s sounded around the table – and, even though you expected them to be about as useful as Jungkook, they proved to be a lot more in touch with their surroundings.

“The soundcheck,” Jungkook said, pinching his thumb and index finger and kissing it like a chef, while everyone else around the table cleaned, “was great. We’ll have an unforgettable night.”

You saw Taehyung giggle and gave him an inquisitive look – one that proved to be more threatening than you’d intended, because the boy blinked and stopped smiling as soon as he caught your eye – prompting him to explain.

“We had a quick, little smoke before we came here,” Taehyung said and then nodded his head at Jungkook, “him a little more than the rest of us.”

From the way it seemed, the smoke Jungkook had had was nor quick, nor little – he was swinging on the back legs of his chair as he sipped champagne; a second later, he lost his balance and would have fallen over if you hadn’t been standing next to him.

Hearing his alarmed gulp and seeing the chair freewheel backwards, you stopped and pushed it towards the table with your thigh and Jungkook burst into laughter.

“You are my lifesaver,” he declared and would have probably burst into a solo round of applause if the waiter hadn’t distracted him by bringing the appetizers.

“Is he going to be able to perform like this?” you asked, sitting back down. You glanced at Jungkook and noticed his preoccupation with the shrimp on the plate in front of him. “He probably doesn’t even realize where he is.”

“We still have a few hours,” Taehyung replied. “He’ll be fine.”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you watched the boy next to you indulge on everything that was on the table at the moment – it seemed like he would have gladly tried to take a bite out of the glass bottle of champagne, too, that’s how little attention he was paying to the things he was putting into his mouth – and you tried to find the reason why he decided to get high before a show that his parents were going to attend.

But then, perhaps, that was precisely it. This was a concert like none he’s done before in more ways than one: not only was it off-campus but it was also going to be the first time that his parents would see him sing live. So, however ridiculous it was to say this about someone as confident as Jungkook, but he must have been nervous.

“Maybe it’d be a good idea for him to—” you started to say but half of a breadstick was shoved at your face before you could finish.

“Try this!” Jungkook insisted, waiting eagerly for you to open your mouth as if he was going to feed you ambrosia itself. “It’s brilliant.”

Worried about what he would do if you refused, you parted your lips and allowed him to feed you the breadstick. He waited patiently while you chewed and then smiled proudly when you gave him a nod and a weak smile.

“I could have a hundred of them,” he announced then and, judging from the dedicated glint in his eye, he was planning to do just that.

“Is that normal?” you asked his members again, nodding your head towards Jungkook as he stuffed his face with breadsticks.

“What, his love for bread?” Hoseok replied this time, snickering. “Surprisingly, yeah. It becomes more prominent when he’s high. He once ate an entire loaf in one sitting.”

The other boys burst into giggles – thus, reminding you that they weren’t sober, either – and you exhaled slowly, realizing now that this dinner was going to be a particularly long one.

You’d hoped that by the end of your main course Jungkook would be back to his normal self, but that was not the case at all. In fact, his high didn’t wear off even when you returned to the venue after the dinner.

With less than an hour left to the show, Jungkook was dozing off backstage, harmonizing under his breath and dropping the microphone in shock when you entered, closing the door a little too loudly for his overly-sensitive ears.

“Oh!” he exclaimed matter-of-factly before leaning down to pick the microphone up, all while ignoring the scolding of audio engineers. “You’re right on time—listen to this.”

You stopped a few steps away from him and watched as Jungkook put his microphone to his lips before he opened his mouth to grunt and release other low, gruff sounds, coming from somewhere deep in his throat, that made him sound like a cat, choking on a ball of fur.

He looked immensely pleased with himself when he finished the impromptu concerto. Raising his eyebrows, he awaited your reaction.

“That’s good,” you said, mentally calculating if there was enough time left to push him into a cold shower. “You’re all set for your audition to join an a cappella group.”

“An a capp—no, I’m not joining—wait, do you think I should?” he asked, sounding terrifyingly genuine.

You heard the door open and close behind you, but Jungkook leaped forwards before you could turn around and embrace the distraction.

“Hey, Yoongi, listen to this—!” Jungkook said and was about to repeat his previous demonstration, but you decided this was enough.

Pulling on the sleeve of his shirt, you cut him off and, ignoring his surprised yelp, you dragged him towards the communal bathroom on the other end of the changing room.

“Hey!” Yoongi called out after you. “Where are you taking him? The show’s in forty-five minutes!”

“He needs a cold shower,” you called back, not bothering to stop or turn around, “or he will perform his rendition of a hairball being stuck in his throat on stage.”

Yoongi didn’t question you further – he’d regained enough of his rationality to understand why that’d be a bad way to start the show – and, a second later, you were already pushing Jungkook into the shower stall, still fully dressed. He hadn’t changed into his stage clothes yet, so you didn’t think it mattered.

“Are we taking a shower together?” he asked, lifting his eyebrows. “Because I’d prefer to be undressed for that.”

You turned the shower on. A long moment of silence passed after the water hit Jungkook.

“Ah, shit!” he finally exclaimed, gasping and jumping away from the stream of the ice cold water that had already soaked him. His reaction was, clearly, still delayed.

Regardless, Jungkook gave you a look full of terror and disbelief – as if you’d thrown him to the wolves and he only realized that after half of his leg got chewed off.

“Why are—” he tried to ask but you cut him off, getting the front of your own clothes splashed with water as you redirected the barely motioning shower head towards him.

“Because you’re high out of your mind,” you replied, “and if you don’t want to get disowned, you need to sober up as quickly as possible.”

“How is this—my head is going to freeze!” he complained, trying to bolt but only slamming his body into yours – and, thus, making you even more wet – as you blocked his exit. “Please. I’m cold.”

“Good,” you replied – so honest, it was almost ruthless. “That should speed up the process.”

He whined for the next few minutes – you were convinced that, after the first minute, his whining turned into a habit because, at that point, he already looked half-asleep – but he didn’t try to run away, which was a blessing, because if he came to his senses, he could overpower you and escape with relative ease.

However, escaping wasn’t on his mind and Jungkook endured the cold shower with newfound determination. You chose to take it as a sign that he was now sober enough to recognize the danger of going to perform while he was so high, he wouldn’t have been able to recognize himself in the mirror.

He climbed out of the shower shaking, somewhat dizzy, but aware of his surroundings.

“I’ll get you a towel,” you said after you’d helped him take his black t-shirt off – it basically rolled off his damp skin, really – but Jungkook pulled you back by squeezing your hand.

“T-thank you-uh,” he said, his lower lip trembling from the cold.

The gesture surprised you – you thought he’d sober up, but you didn’t think he’d appreciate that – and you felt yourself respond to him with a nod and a smile.

“I’ll be right back,” you promised again.

Most surprisingly, the shower seemed to work. To be fair, Jungkook still giggled when he walked into the side of the door on his way out of the bathroom, but he could actually sing now – as soon as he stopped shivering, that is – and, with five minutes until the start of the show, he looked much more ready for the performance ahead.

“Thank you,” a voice said to you as you lingered by the door of the changing room, toying with the end of the extra shirt that you’d borrowed from Jungkook. You turned around to see Yoongi. “Most people would have just left him to deal with it on his own.”

You were quick to realize that Yoongi was, obviously, thanking you for taking Jungkook off his hands.

“He’s capable of a lot of things,” you replied, “but cleaning up his own mess isn’t one of them.”

That got him to chuckle. “Yeah. I honestly thought he’d be fine. It’s not the first time we went for a smoke before a show. To ease the nerves, you know?”

You didn’t know. Somehow, you’d assumed, the members of Parental Advisory never felt nervous.

“Yeah, uh, I get it,” you said, realizing how naïve that belief had been. “He sort of overdid it this time, though.”

“Sort of,” Yoongi repeated, “that’s one way to put it.”

“Would it make me sound masochistic if I said I’d seen him worse?” you asked, only half joking.

“No,” he replied, “but the fact that you stayed with him in spite of it, kind of would.”

He gave you an apologetic smile but you responded with an understanding nod.

There was nothing to get upset about: Jungkook had wreaked havoc on your life, that was true -- but only because you’d let him. You could have walked away if you felt like you’d had too much, but you chose to stay.

“Yeah,” you started to say after inhaling deeply enough to fill up both of your lungs. “Well, he’s—”

“He loves you,” Yoongi said. “He probably thinks that’s enough to make up for the times he fucks up.”

You lowered your head, admitting this to him and to yourself, “sometimes that is enough.”

Rationally, the fact that Jungkook loved you probably wasn’t supposed to be enough, but, to you, it was. And you were the one who made the decisions for your life; you were the one who decided if you were treated fairly or not.

And tonight felt fair.

Tonight felt like you were helping someone out; someone who didn’t have enough strength – or, simply, pride – to even ask for help.

“His parents are in the audience tonight,” you said, voicing the reason why you understood Jungkook’s thought process that had lead to him, getting high right before the show. “He’s probably ten times more nervous than usually.”

Yoongi nodded. “Yeah, but he’ll do great. He’ll be fine now.”

“The shower should have—”

“Because you’re here,” he added unexpectedly. “He would have probably found a way out of this even if you weren’t here – no offense – because he’d had plenty of practice coming out of fires he’d set himself. He’d come out of them burned and in pain, of course, but, at least, he’d survive. And now... with you being here, he might come out of this completely unscathed.”

You thought about his words, looking away from him and, thus, giving Yoongi the permission to excuse himself and join the rest of his bandmates by the side of the stage as they prepared to start the show.

Then, finally, choosing not to fight the small smile that had successfully made it to your lips, you exited the changing room, too, and joined Jungkook’s parents in the venue.

Apparently they’d been back here for a while and Jungkook’s mother had an ambiguous smile on her lips when she saw you approach their seats. You were taken aback by the similarity between the expression on her face right now, and the look on Yoongi’s face when he told you that Jungkook loved you.

Too surprised to ask how long they’ve been back, you chose to remain quiet as you took a seat next to Jungkook’s mother, and waited for the show to start.

Parental Advisory performed in the same breathtaking manner as they did back on your campus – they’d captivated the attention of everyone here before the first song even ended – and you could not stop yourself from cheering along with everyone else.

You could distinctly recall yourself in a contrasting position just a little while ago – back when Inna had dragged you to the Parental Advisory gig, right before you went to their after-party and talked to Jungkook for the first time in seven years.

Back then, you couldn’t let go of your prejudice and did not think it was fair for the group to have a following this large. They weren’t anything exceptional, after all. But, even so, you could remember the awe you felt when you watched Jungkook on stage.

He was in his element. They all were.

You still thought the music they performed may not have been extraordinary, but the members of the group had something inside of them – something that helped them connect with their audience. Something that made their performances a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

And every time Jungkook looked at your box – you weren’t sure if he could distinguish your and his parents’ figures – you realized that your preliminary opinion about him had been correct: he was arrogant and very full of himself.

But Inna was right, too – from the way he got every single person, even the security staff, immersed in the band’s performance, he had every right to be arrogant.

You kept looking back to Jungkook’s father, anticipating a comment from him and even biting your lip to resist the urge to smile after you involuntarily allowed yourself to imagine the way his voice would sound when he admitted that he’d been wrong and that, clearly, Jungkook had already discovered his place in life.

But his father remained quiet all throughout the concert and, perhaps, that was enough. He hadn’t made a single negative comment – and that alone said plenty.

However, surprising you, the biggest compliment from Jungkook’s father came as soon as the performance ended, and Jungkook returned backstage.

His eyes were still red, but his entire body was glowing from the post-show high, so you’d have never guessed the real cause of the redness on his face. He enveloped you in a hug as soon as he saw you, nearly suffocating you with the strength of his grip, and leaned over to press a quick kiss to his mother’s cheek.

That was when his father spoke up and offered to drive you both home.

You didn’t find it unusual at first – they had a car, why wouldn’t they offer to drive you home? – but Jungkook went stiff in your arms and, when he pulled away, you suddenly understood why the offer was unexpected.

Jungkook’s father had never driven his son anywhere, not unless it was for the sake of the company. Making it worse, you were probably correct to assume that, ever since Jungkook moved out of his parents’ house years ago, his father’s urge to drive his son anywhere had disappeared completely, regardless of the motives behind this drive.

“Uh,” it took Jungkook a minute to gather his words. “Thanks, dad.”

That wasn’t something he thought he’d get to say when he first woke up this morning.

His father nodded and reached into the pocket of his jacket for the car keys when Jungkook suddenly continued.

“But, actually, we thought of staying behind to get some drinks. To, uh, celebrate the successful performance, you know?” he said, threading carefully and holding onto your waist tighter. Even though you’d already pulled away from the hug, Jungkook did not let you take one step away from him.

His father’s face grew clouded. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

He asked it in a very official tone, as if he was making a business deal – almost wondering if merging with a different company was a wise choice.

“Yeah. It’s nothing big,” Jungkook said, caressing your shoulder to bring attention to the fact that you were standing next to him and his father had no reason to stare him down like that, “I won’t be there alone.”

“Did you even ask her if she wanted to come?”

The question – that sounded so natural coming from his father’s lips – forced him to freeze, just like that Monday morning, outside of your dormitory.

A loaded moment had to pass before Jungkook found himself again but, by that time, you’d already realized you had to interfere.

“I don’t mind,” you said, not wanting someone else to do the speaking for you when you were, technically, a part of the conversation. “I’d love to share a toast with the guys.”

You tried to substantiate your words with a convincing smile but, really, you didn’t know why you paid any attention to your facial expression at all – you weren’t lying.

Aside from Jungkook getting into a fight with Brock at the last Parental Advisory party, you didn’t have a terrible time there, and you figured that, perhaps, your bias against partying with the band members had been unfounded. Either way, you were genuinely ready to give it a second chance, especially when your body was still abuzz with the electricity from the show.

But Jungkook’s parents watched the two of you for another moment, looking very uncertain. You hadn’t heard them talk about you all of those years ago, and yet the shadows of their voices seemed to echo in your mind, expressing their concern about Jungkook being too big of an influence on you and, eventually, dragging you off the rails along with him.

Finally, a very defeated, “very well” sounded from his father’s lips as he gave you both a nod and turned around towards the exit, waiting for his wife.

“You were wonderful,” Jungkook’s mother whispered to him, giving you a wink and then bringing her hand over her son’s cheek, “thank you for inviting us.”

“Thank you for coming,” Jungkook said and, when his parents left, he turned to you and repeated his previous words with a deep exhale of relief, “thank you. For coming, for staying, for—”

You could feel the tension pulsing in his blood as he still hadn’t let you go and, wanting nothing more than to ease his anxiety, you cut him off with a kiss.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you allowed him to pull you into his arms as he held onto you as if you really were his lifesaver as he’d called you before.

“You’re welcome,” you said when you pulled away, taking his breath with you.

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518 notes · View notes

nightingaelic · 3 years

Note

Fallout 4 companions respond to getting captured by Super Mutants (for optional added angst, maybe even getting turned into a super mutant). Strong not included for obvious reasons.

Ada: "Be advised: My guardian has equipped me with a tracking device in the event of my capture. You lack the privileges necessary to access their estimated time of arrival."

Ada is always matter-of-fact about her situation, even if her legs aren't functioning and she's squashed between two bags of body parts on the floor of an abandoned hospital. She's also patient, and content to wait until the sole survivor comes to retrieve her. In the meantime, she'll run escape scenario algorithms to determine the best way out of the building. Not affected by FEV for obvious reasons.

Cait: "Are you f***ing serious?! I'll tear your ears off with my bare hands and string them on a necklace! You don't know who you're messin' with, you green bastards!"

No one can match Cait in sheer viciousness when fighting to free themselves, but even she has her limits. The sole survivor would likely find her in a cage, hyperventilating and on the verge of tears. If the super mutants made the mistake of exposing her to FEV, she would tear the nest apart herself. Mutation would be another internal struggle for Cait, but I think she could successfully make peace with her new state of being if given enough time. A makeshift, giant baseball bat might help.

Codsworth: "Unhand me, you brutes! By God, the class of people I'm forced to associate with these days just keeps falling!"

Pre-war Codsworth is constantly offended by the super mutants' behavior, particularly their lack of housekeeping. He can't help bemoaning his situation for all to hear, something that would probably annoy the super mutants enough to bonk him on the dome until he shuts down. Some assembly required once the sole survivor catches up with him. Not affected by FEV for obvious reasons.

Curie: "While we are waiting, would any of you mind answering some questions for me about how you came to exist in this state? Ça vous dit?"

With a wide new world of oddities to study, Curie takes her abduction as yet another opportunity to learn. If nothing else, she can observe super mutants in their natural- or at least chosen- habitat. Prior to her synth transition, not affected by FEV for obvious reasons. Post-synth transition, however, I think Curie would take the mutation as an opportunity to study the effects that turn a person into a super mutant. I don't think she would lose her bubbly personality, similar to the way Lily the nightkin retained some of her old sense of self.

Danse: "You may have the upper hand today, but you and the other freaks of nature are fighting a losing battle." [spits]

Having lost the most to super mutants in the past, Danse fights his captors until he is completely spent. In fact, the sole survivor would have to practically carry the man home for a lengthy recovery, something his suit of power armor would definitely help with. Mutation into a super mutant is one of Danse's worst nightmares, and if exposed to FEV, he would beg the sole survivor to show him the same mercy he once showed Cutler.

Deacon: "Oh yeah, this reminds me of that summer I spent camping out on the National Mall. You even look familiar. Know anyone by the name of Uncle Leo?"

Like in every tight spot he's ever been in, Deacon masks his stress level with quick wits and quicker retorts. Most likely to slip his confines, let the sole survivor fight their way to the heart of the nest, then reveal he was free the whole time and they needn't have bothered. If exposed to FEV, Deacon would probably panic and enlist the sole survivor's help in searching for a cure, positive that a mutated countenance would irreparably damage his ability to help the Railroad. Then again, he might see it as a "new look" and use it to his advantage for a bit.

Dogmeat: [snarling]

Any super mutants that get their hands on Dogmeat are highly likely to lose fingers. Still, there's not much the canine can do if he's put in a cage, other than bark and wait for rescue. While FEV leaves many dogs as aggressive shells of their former selves, I think Dogmeat would be largely okay with his new green-and-bulky form and would still happily guard settlements and follow the sole survivor around, not unlike Gracie from Far Harbor.

Hancock: "Whoa, whoa relax. I've got time to hang out for a bit, no need to get all worked up. Don't stain the coat, I doubt you can cough up the caps to get it cleaned."

Of all the companions, Hancock is the most unbothered by becoming a super mutant captive. It's just another wasteland adventure, albeit one where the opposing cast of characters are all at least two feet taller than him. He might earn some bumps and bruises for being unable to keep his smart mouth shut, but he'll just bide his time until he spots an opening to wreak havoc and escape, or until the sole survivor comes along to wiggle him out. Not affected by FEV for obvious reasons.

MacCready: "You know, I'm getting real sick of you green lunatics. Spent almost a decade living next door to some of your cousins, and they knew enough not to mess with me."

Upon capture, MacCready would roll his eyes and accept that he's going to have to wait for some help. He'd get more desperate the longer his wait went on though, envisioning a world where Duncan lost his dad without getting to say goodbye. Mutation wouldn't necessarily dampen his spirits at first: After all, if anyone can find a cure, it's the sole survivor.

Valentine: "Not exactly a group of masterminds, are you?"

At this point, Nick is used to getting abducted and locked up by just about every group in the Commonwealth. He knows super mutants well enough to know they don't listen to reason, but he can't resist getting in a jab or two about how he's far from edible. Not affected by FEV for obvious reasons.

Piper: "So, uh, what's say I write up a column about how super mutants are seriously misunderstood creatures and we'll call it even? No?"

Piper might have similar levels of confidence as Deacon, but hers are much more likely to waver when faced with possible death by ingestion. Her quips would be fewer and more nervous until the sole survivor arrived, at which point she would put her game face back on and cheer her rescuer along. If exposed to FEV, she would beg the sole survivor to help her find a cure for Nat's sake, and eventually weasel the information about Virgil out of them.

Preston: "I didn't need to get up close to know why you're called 'uglies,' but here we are."

While terrified at what the super mutants might do to him, Preston is the most level-headed when captured. He's already great under pressure in battle, and he's used to setting his own fears aside to find solutions for his woes. Most likely to have more people coming to his rescue than the sole survivor alone, due to his role with the Minutemen. If exposed to FEV, Preston would likely accept his fate with dignity, and make the sole survivor promise to dispatch him if he turns violent. I don't think he would, though, and the Minutemen would probably be more accepting of a super mutant officer than most.

X6-88: "I can afford to wait for field assistance, mutant. They will not make the mistakes I did."

X6-88 accepts his predicament calmly, like he accepts everything that happens to him. If unable to free himself, he will patiently wait for the Institute help he knows is coming, even if it's just the sole survivor with a pipe pistol. Regarding FEV mutation, turning into a super mutant might be the straw that breaks the camel's back for X6-88. In the Institute's eyes, the Courser is now hideous and no longer viable in the field: In X6-88's opinion, though, he is even stronger and more dangerous than he was before. I could see him finally choosing to desert his post out of a growing sense of self-preservation once transformed.

BONUS!

Gage: "Well look who's suffering from delusions of adequacy! I'd call you f***ers dumb as rocks, but at least a rock can hold a door open."

Porter Gage is great at heckling, and just good enough that he toes the line right up to where super mutants would start to understand he's insulting them. The sole survivor would likely find a gaggle of them around his confinement space, convinced he's complimenting them when he's actually being very rude. Breaking him out gives him the biggest smile. Becoming mutated himself might actually benefit Gage in the long run, as the raiders he used to be wary of would instead find themselves newly-wary of the Overboss' right-hand man.

Longfellow: "Too bad you aren't one of the more reasonable ones. Might've saved your skin."

Longfellow treats his own capture with a sense of humor, acknowledging that he's not as young as he once was and might need help now and then. Chuckles the whole time the sole survivor is fighting their way to him, and grateful upon release. If turned into a super mutant, he'd shrug, accept his fate, and ask to be escorted to live with his friend Erickson up near Far Harbor.

Maxson: "I welcome the day you and your kind meet total destruction."

If Danse is angry about being captured by his sworn enemies, Maxson is seething. Kidnapping a Brotherhood Elder is something that shouldn't even be possible in his eyes, let alone by super mutants. Once freed, he would do his best to erase the nest from the earth: Fire, missiles, tactical nukes if necessary. Also like Danse, Maxson would order the sole survivor to mercifully dispatch him if he were mutated. Additionally, he'd have them destroy any evidence of his exposure to FEV, and simply turn in his holotags with the news that he had perished in the line of duty.

Desdemona: [livid silence]

Plunks herself down, lights a cigarette if her hands are free, and waits. Eventually, the sole survivor or Glory will turn up, and she'll give them one, lingering look of disappointment before vanishing into the Commonwealth ruins. Least likely to get captured in the first place. If mutated, she would reassume her job as leader of the Railroad with no comment, and everyone else would know better than to ask.

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