#i tape a piece of nice artist paper to him and it feels great to draw on | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

iam93percentstardust · 3 years

Note

Hi, happy Shared Birthday Month, cause it's my birthday month as well!! Can I please prompt you a WinterIron, where Bucky and/or winter soldier is a science nerd and a massive Tony Stark stan? Happy with setting in any era, any rating 😄 Thank you! You are amazing and I love your stuff!

Happy late birthday! Sorry it took me a bit to get to this prompt but here is a cute no-powers au, featuring some minor Natasha/Steve and some science from a paper my lab group read in group meeting yesterday (check the ao3 story for the paper citation). Sorry I didn't come up with something more original for the science but this was on my mind.

As always, everything I write is also on ao3.

“Okay, Steve, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me—for us,” Bucky quickly corrects when Steve shoots him an amused look. “So what are we going to do?”

“We’re going to sit quietly in the audience,” Steve says.

“And what are we not going to do?”

“Shout that our best friend would like to bang Tony Stark like a screen door in a hurricane,” Steve dutifully repeats what Bucky has been telling him for the whole drive to the studio. He gives Bucky a sly smile. “Even if it’s true.”

Bucky swats his skinny arm lightly, enough to sting but not so hard that it’ll bruise Steve’s arm, which bruises like a peach. He still can’t believe he managed to win the tickets to watch the live taping of the one hundredth episode of Tony Stark’s show, It’s Only Science If You Write It Down. He’s been following the show since its first episode five years ago. Growing up, Tony Stark was to him what Britney Spears was to other kids. Stark was always in the news for his innovative inventions for his father’s company. Everyone had thought he would take over SI after his parents’ deaths, but instead he’d handed the company over to Pepper Potts, a then-unknown young woman working in SI’s financial department. Stark still held the majority of shares in the company but he’d turned his focus to becoming the next Bill Nye, along with his best friend. Bucky had stumbled across one of the articles about him when he was young and immediately developed one heck of a crush on him that hadn’t at all disappeared with age.

And now he’s here, attending the first ever live taping of Stark’s show.

It’d be a dream come true if only Steve wasn’t the one attending with him. Don’t get him wrong, Stevie’s great, but he’s also convinced Bucky needs to date more often and he’s very… enthusiastic about making sure that everyone they meet that Bucky thinks is even the slightest bit cute knows that.

Stark is the crush to end all crushes. He knows that Steve knows it. He also knows what Steve is like, and he thinks he’ll die of shame if Steve feels the need to let Stark know it too.

“You have your inhaler, right?” he asks as the line creeps forward.

“Yes, mother,” Steve sighs, patting his pocket. “And an EpiPen in the other pocket and my meds in my wallet.”

They’re reminded to keep their phones firmly in their pockets by the surly security guard—incongruously named Happy, according to the badge he’s wearing—at the front door and then ushered inside the studio, only to be stopped by a young woman with a clipboard as they’re climbing the risers.

“Hi,” she says with a sphinxlike smile that makes Bucky want to check that his wallet is still in his pocket. “Which one of you is Bucky Barnes?”

“Uh, that would be me,” he says, raising his hand slightly.

Her eyes catch on the silver sheen of his prosthetic. They don’t register anything other than idle curiosity, but Bucky still awkwardly tucks the arm away. It’s been almost ten years since the accident, but he’s still not used to the looks he gets when people see it.

“I’m Natasha,” she says. “Mr. Stark’s personal assistant. JARVIS noticed you when you entered the studio. Mr. Stark wanted me to inform you both that there’s been a change to the contest winnings.”

Dread starts to pool in Bucky’s stomach but it doesn’t have long to settle before her smile gentles and she adds, “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. He just wanted to invite the two of you backstage after the show is over.”

Bucky’s mouth drops open. Steve reaches over to close it and asks, “Why?”

To Bucky’s surprise, Natasha gives Steve a clear onceover, seemingly pleased by what she sees. “Mr. Stark wouldn’t like me to give away his secrets, but I’d imagine it has something to do with the way he spilled his coffee all over his front when he saw your friend’s picture.”

“Really?” Steve asks skeptically. “A notorious playboy tripping all over himself for this yahoo here?”

Natasha laughs, hard enough that Bucky mutters, “It wasn’t that funny.”

Once she’s calmed down, Natasha says, “He’s not as bad as you think. A lot of it is just reputation. And yes, as soon as he got a look at him, he was demanding I figure out a way to get him backstage.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Steve demands, taking an indignant stance.

Natasha hums, eyes going dark. “Oh no, you got invited backstage because I wanted to meet you,” she purrs. “I’ll come find you boys later. Enjoy the show.”

She saunters off, putting just enough of a sway to her step that Bucky suspects if he were attracted to women, he’d be mesmerized. As it is, he’s the one who has to reach over to close Steve’s jaw this time.

They take their seats and a few minutes later, Tony Stark and James Rhodes walk on set. They’re quietly talking to each other as the crew bustles around them, makeup artists darting up to make sure their faces look perfect. Stark is dressed in a t-shirt that says Engineers do it on the test bench—which is a terrible joke really and shouldn’t make Bucky want to laugh as much as he does—and well-worn jeans that perfectly mold to the shape of his bubble butt. Rhodes could be dressed in a paper sack for all that Bucky notices him.

Steve leans over and whispers, “You sure that I can’t yell that you want to bang Tony Stark like a screen door in a hurricane? Natasha made it sound like he’d be open to it.”

“You do,” Bucky hisses back, “and I’ll tell Natasha you were looking at her rear when she walked away.”

Steve makes an indignant noise and sits back in his chair, sulkily crossing his arms.

“Quiet on set!” the director yells. “And… action!”

“Hi!” Tony Stark says, smiling right at the camera. “I’m Tony and this is Rhodey and you’re watching Disney Channe!”

“He’s kidding,” Rhodes says long-sufferingly. “You’re watching It’s Only Science If You Write It Down.”

Later, Bucky wouldn’t be able to tell anyone what the show had been about. He’d spent the entire show too entranced by Tony’s voice and charisma to pay any attention to the actual science, which is a bit of a shame. He really does like science—he wouldn’t be getting his PhD in physical chemistry if he didn’t—but he can’t tear his eyes away from Tony long enough to actually watch the experiment. It’s fine; he can always watch the show later when it’s released (and maybe, if he’s lucky, he’ll have Tony to watch it with).

It seems like both an eternity and only a moment before the show wraps. Tony and Rhodes leave to thunderous applause, only coming back out for quick bows before disappearing backstage again. Bucky and Steve stay seated while the rest of the audience filters out slowly until Natasha comes to get them. She and Steve chat quietly as she leads them backstage but Bucky can only listen with half an ear; he’s too nervous about meeting his personal hero.

Rhodes is leaving the room Natasha leads them to. He breathes a sigh of relief when he spots the three of them. “Good, you’re here,” he says, specifically looking at Bucky. “Maybe you can calm him down. He’s been bouncing off the walls since he saw your picture.”

“Really?” Bucky squeaks. He clears his throat and tries again. “Really?”

“Really. He read all your papers last night—twice.”

“He has?”

Rhodes nods. “He really likes your piece on inelastic electron wave packet scattering.”

“Yeah? What did he—”

“You’ll have to ask him,” Rhodes interrupts. “I might be a rocket scientist but chemistry isn’t my preferred field of science. If you don’t mind, I’ve got a date to get to.”

He pushes the door open, letting them in, and leaves. Natasha slips through the door, followed immediately by Tony saying, “Where are—oh god, they left, didn’t they? I knew this was too much. Nat—”

“They’re right outside,” Natasha says smoothly. She opens the door further, revealing the two of them awkwardly standing there. Bucky’s gaze darts around a fairly nice dressing room before finally landing on Tony, who is blinking back at him with a wide-eyed, slightly stunned look.

“Hi,” he breathes out.

The corner of Tony’s mouth twitches up in the tiniest of smiles. “Hi.”

“Great, now that that’s out of the way, get out,” Natasha says, giving Tony a shove so that he stumbles out of the room, right into Bucky’s arms. She reaches out and grabs Steve, pulling him inside. “Don’t disturb me for the next hour.”

“Uh,” Steve begins, but he doesn’t actually look upset by this turn of events, so Bucky doesn’t worry—too much, anyway.

He does, however, turn to Tony and ask, “Is he going to be okay?”

“Oh yeah, he’s fine,” Tony says breezily. “Natasha’s just very direct.”

“Right.”

Now that it’s just the two of them alone in the hallway, it’s a little more awkward. Bucky opens his mouth twice to say something, only to shut it again as soon as he realizes his question is stupid. For his part, Tony shoves his hands deep into his pockets and rocks back and forth on his feet.

Then the sound of what is obviously Steve moaning floats through the door. Bucky cringes and jerks his thumb in the direction of the door. “We should—”

“Yep,” Tony agrees.

They get all the way back to the set before they stop. They look at each other for a beat before dissolving into giggles. “Oh my god,” Tony says, clutching his sides. “I knew she moved fast but—”

“Well, Steve doesn’t move fast at all,” Bucky says, “so you can see where I’m a bit lost.”

That sets Tony off into another round of laughter. Bucky is calming down a bit so he takes the moment to admire the way Tony laughs with his entire body. It takes Tony a moment to realizes he’s being stared at. When he does, his laugh tapers off as he gives Bucky a lingering look.

“I’m Tony,” he says eventually.

“Bucky.”

“Wow, that’s really unfortunate.”

“You’re not wrong,” Bucky agrees. “Blame Stevie for that one.”

“Childhood friends, huh?”

“Literally played naked together in the kiddie pool.”

Tony grins. “That sounds familiar.”

“You and Rhodes—”

“Oh no, but if you ever get the chance to meet Janet Van Dyne, remember to ask her about the time she thought she could make a living selling mud pies.”

Bucky takes a moment to marvel that this is his life now, that Tony thinks nothing of giving him dirt on the most prolific fashion designer of their generation. “So, uh, Rhodes told me you read my papers?”

Tony’s eyes light up, and, wow, he looks really pretty when he’s excited. “Yes!” he exclaims. “I want to hear your thoughts on the—uh—the time-dependent density functional theory model.”

“I’d love to,” Bucky says honestly. He bites his lip. “Maybe over coffee?”

A delighted smile spreads across Tony’s face. “I’d really like that.”

He holds out his hand for Bucky to take, which he does. Tony’s hand is small and warm, fitting perfectly against his. They stand there, smiling at each other like idiots, until the surly security guard pokes his head around the corner and asks, “Boss, do you need me to drive you?”

Tony jumps. He shoots Bucky a sheepish grin and then calls over his shoulder, “No, I think we can walk, Happy.”

“Are you sure? There’s—”

“It’s only two blocks.”

“Yeah, but—”

“You know what, Happy. You should go see if Natasha needs you to drive her somewhere. I think she’s got a date too.” While Happy is distracted, Tony tugs Bucky towards a side door he hadn’t noticed earlier. “Come on,” he mutters. “Before Natasha decides to kill me for sending Happy to interrupt her.”

“You could not antagonize her,” Bucky points out.

Tony shoots him a mischievous grin. “Where’s the fun in that?”

#alle writes #alle answers #winteriron #if you like please consider reblogging

211 notes · View notes

valwrite · 4 years

Text

the bella-vista avenue book club; daveed diggs

masterlist

summary: if only she’d double checked her Amazon shopping cart, Y/N L/N wouldn’t find herself torn between what book to give her hot neighbor next.

warnings: fluff, cheesiness, a slither of smut, mentions of a car accident, cooper is a basic dog name, i know but stfu about it.

fic style: oneshot.

word count: 6455.

author’s note: this fic took way too long to write, bye. no but for real, i’ve been back in uni for one month and so far i’ve: done way too many assignments; had more breakdowns than a disney child star; had a covid scare; and spontaneously dyed my hair dark blue/green at 4am instead of finishing an essay. we’re doing well, folks :)

It took exactly twenty one days for the loneliness to kick in.

On the day the lockdown was first announced, Y/N L/N felt the most confusing sentiment of relief and fear blended together. She'd spent just about the whole day in the meeting from Hell, during which three people had stormed out of after countless shouting matches had broken out and her boss had blatantly fired one of the guys from her department, right in front of everyone. When she did eventually get out of said meeting- a whole two hours later than her usual work days ended -, she was struggling with an impending migraine, threatening to blur her eyesight the whole drive home. She arrived home safely that evening, by the force of some miracle, only to find countless texts from relatives and friends alike, detailing the quarantine announcement and all the rules that came with it. Though concerned over the state of the world battling against the rapidly spreading virus, Y/N was just glad there would be no meetings for a while.

Quarantine was exciting at first. In the normal day-to-day life she lead, Y/N often found herself falling short on time to do things she truly enjoyed. There was just always one more task needing done at work; one more errand to complete; one more mile to run. By the time she stepped into her home come the end of the day, her eyelids were always battling to stay opened. So, it was very fair to say that the sudden infinite amount of free time had her feeling rather excited.

Day two and she'd already set herself a list of goals to spend all this time on, a chance to do all the things her schedule got in the way of. Of course, with the situation at hand, all these goals were modified to be achievable from within the confines of her home. The first goal she achieved was knitting a sweater. Granted, it was a mess she'd ended up trying to turn into a dog sweater only to watch as her fur-baby, Cooper, chewed it into rags.

There was no goal on the list to be good at all those goals.

In the following weeks, Y/N found herself trying her hand at pottery - she both made and broke a mug -, baking - the first cake burned but the second she made was actually pretty edible -, guitar playing - it really was just like riding a bike: one never really forgets how to do it - and many other hobbies. In between finding her artistic calling in life, it seemed family quiz nights became the norm.

But twenty one days, that's when she finally took notice of just how lonely living had become for her. A full twenty one days of not having made eye contact with anyone outside of a screen or who happened to not own four paws and a tail.

The loneliness wasn't unique to her, she was very aware. But she was stuck quarantining in a house all by herself, hours away from any of her family and she knew it was going to be a fair while before she even spoke with someone face to face. Much longer than most people. She was still at the point where even bringing up the thought of going to the store- with a trusted mask on, of course - would send her mother into a spiral of worse case scenarios and her father would be threatening to call her doctor.

As neurotic as the two could be about her health, Y/N completely understood their reactions. Things had never really been the same since her accident, even with the years gone by.

She was sat on her sofa- well, actually, sat on her floor, with her back against the sofa - when the door bell rang. She was up at lighting speed, bounding her way over to the front of the house before peaking a look through the peep hole and finding no one there. Unfazed by this, she unlocked the door and pulled it open to unveil a package at her doorstep, the ever familiar Amazon logo splashed across it. In the past few weeks, the delivery service and her bank account had become well acquainted, with most of her new found hobbies being aided by it.

In a matter of seconds, she'd picked up the package, shut the door and made her way into her kitchen, a drawer being pulled open as she dug through it for a pair of scissors. The package was ripped up and there she found a sight she wasn't awaiting, her eyes widening ever so slightly and a "Huh." noise escaping her.

There, laying on the remaining cardboard package, sat a hardback copy of A Tale Of Two Cities. And right next to it sat an identical copy, both of them staring up at Y/N.

“This can't be right, right?” She proposed the question down at Cooper, who'd at some point sauntered in to the kitchen and sat down at her feet, his tail wagging lazily upon being spoken to.

Sure enough, when she checked her receipt online, there was only one copy on the list. She wondered if it was perhaps a “buy one, get one free” kind of deal but quickly found no evidence to back up her hypothesis.

Thinking of what the right thing to do would be, Y/N on instinct began to investigate how she could possibly return the additional book they'd sent to her. As she came to the realization that it would entail her having to return both books and, then, waiting once again for a copy to be sent to her, she changed her mind instantly. A few other solutions came to mind: she could mail it to her sister-in-law, she was just as much of a book worm as Y/N; or she could keep it until the next time she needs a birthday present for someone; or she could just keep both of the copies, even if it felt a little wasteful.

It was only later on that very evening, as Y/N chopped away at some onions and was struggling to contain her tears- she had a spoon in her mouth because her mother swore it stopped you from crying, spoiler: it did not -, that the perfect idea struck.

In the corner of her eye she spotted him, strolling about his own kitchen. He hadn't lived next door for very long, he'd only moved in at the very start of the year, if she remembered correctly. And though they had never really spoken or interacted- polite waves and stiff smiles when spotting one another either leaving or arriving home wasn't exactly very conversational after all-, Y/N couldn't help but decide he was going to be the honorary recipient of the book. After all, what was the worst that could happen? Well, he could use the book to keep his fireplace alight, but Y/N was more eager to just think optimistically about it.

With her mind firmly made up, she neatly wrapped the book in some stray wrapping paper she'd found in her junk drawer and tied a neat, makeshift bow around it. His doorstep was only a couple feet from her own and it wasn't long till she was stood right in front of it, finger hovering over the doorbell as she wrestled with the thought off handing the present directly to him. She recalled one night, where her bedroom curtains had been wide open to let in the moonlight, and he'd walked past his own bedroom window, nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. The image of water dripping down those defined abs made her mind up and she placed the wrapped book next to his door, the little note she'd written taped on to it carefully.

Happy housewarming! I hope you're taking care during these trying time! - Y/N, your neighbor from door 27. p.s. Cooper (the German Shepherd) says sorry for peeing in your flowers :(

A few days later, as Y/N and Cooper arrived home from their daily walk, a mysterious package sat on the doorstep. What made it mysterious was the fact it wasn't from Amazon, nor from her local grocery store either. Cooper possessed no hesitation and dashed over to investigate, his tail beginning to wag as Y/N approached the front door.

“What is it, Coops?” She crouched down, her hand rubbing over the top of his head as his tongue dangled out of his mouth. There was a small piece of paper stuck on the package and, at first, she wondered if perhaps her attempt at a kind gesture had backfired and the hot neighbor had just dropped it back off. Then, she read the note. “Housewarming? Took you a while. This Dickens guy's good, hope he finally get's some popularity soon. - Daveed, your neighbor from door 28.” A smile crept onto her face as she learnt his name. It felt nice on her lips. His calligraphy skills only made the name look prettier. “P.S. check this book out, author is a real hidden gem. P.S.S. tell Cooper it's chill, I got my revenge and peed in his flowers.”

It was there on her doorstep, with a thin layer of sweat decorating her face and a tired out dog at her feet, that Y/N upgraded Daveed from hot neighbor to hot and funny neighbor.

It was almost like an otherworldly sign when Y/N stumbled over a chew toy the next day, her whole body slamming right into her bookcase and out from it fell a book, smacking her right on her head to add yet another bruise on to her list. Her mother had always joked that she bruised easier than a peach, partially on account of her incapability to walk five paces without stumbling over air or slipping on dry ground.

She let out a groan, her hand rubbing at the spot the book hit her and she reached down to grab her attacker- which lay face down - off of the floor. The cover turned out to be that of The Great Gatsby and the sudden urge to wrap it up, attach a note and drop it over at Daveed's doorstep became overwhelming. It still felt so personal to know his name.

Was she seriously about to use a book as an excuse to try catch a glimpse of her hot neighbor, who just yesterday was claiming to have peed on her flowers? Yes, yes she was. Because, after all, he was hot. And if society had taught her anything, it was that hot people were excused of everything. Okay, perhaps she was exaggerating just a little bit but it all added up to the same thing: Daveed was hot and she was thirsty.

Maybe quarantine really was beginning to have an effect on her.

A few hours later, Y/N was comfortably snuggled under her blankets in bed, the room illuminated by nothing but her television screen and the streetlights outside. A door opened somewhere, her anxious brain questioning if it was one of her own doors but the sudden laughter she could hear changed her train of thought quickly.

Oh my god, his laugh was music to her ears. And, oh my god, she'd actually made him laugh.

She lay back, wondering which part of her note had made Daveed laugh as consciousness slowly slipped away from her. One house away, her hot and funny neighbor was near mirroring her position in his own bed, his head replaying the note he'd received from the cute girl next door.

Not too sure about this author, he seems to have a fetish for big feet! I'm beginning to question exactly what kind of weird foot erotica you read, Daveed from door 28! -Y/N, your foot hating neighbor. P.S. this guy definitely needs more clout, can't you just picture his writing being used to teach the younger generations? P.S.S. Cooper isn't happy about you peeing in his flowers but he is happy about the treats.

Two days later, in the morning, Y/N was sat at her kitchen island. Her computer lay open in front of her, untouched for the past half hour as she flipped through the pages of her book and sipped away at the smoothie she'd blended up for herself. Cooper lay sound asleep under her seat, the occasional snore coming from the pup. It was those moments in her quarantine that she enjoyed most, just pure tranquility. It took her mind off of the loneliness.

A feeling overcame her, as the hairs on the back of her neck began to rise. It was almost like she could feel someone's eyes on her. She tore her own eyes away from the printed text and checked her surroundings vaguely. It was only when she looked straight ahead, out of the window that she spotted the intrusive stare of his.

They were sat in near parallel, him also sat at his kitchen island with a computer opened, only he had a mug of coffee instead of a smoothie. When their eyes made contact, he grinned at her, waving the book in his hand before pointing at the cover. The Great Gatsby.

He really was reading the book she'd sent over.

Mirroring his actions, she lifted up her own book, the one he'd sent over all those days ago. The Hobbit.

It was short, it was sweet and it was the longest they had ever interacted off paper. Even without verbal communication, so much was said between them both in that small instance. It was a sign that these little book deliveries were appreciated, they both cared enough to read whatever the other sent over.

Maybe it was time to consider Daveed her hot, funny and caring neighbor.

The book exchanges continued onward for weeks.

Daveed sent over a collection of fairy tales by the Grimm brothers, his attached note read: Thanks for putting me onto Fitzgerald, gonna have to see if the school board will let me teach his work in my lectures. Think they might be against it, what ya think? In the meantime, check these indie short stories out. Think Cooper will resonate with the wolf in the Red Ridding Hood story. -Daveed, your literature professor neighbor. P.S. Noticed the Raptors jersey on your washing line, tell your boyfriend the Warrior in me is unimpressed.

To which Y/N replied to with, alongside a copy of Twilight,: Cooper loved the Red Ridding Hood story, but he says you remind him of the grandmother in it. Speaking of wolves, check out this classic example of American literature, the lack of emotions this author puts into her writing is truly astounding. -Y/N, the Raptor next door. P.S. The Raptors jersey is mine, but I'll applaud you for smoothly trying to find out if I have a boyfriend. For the record, I do. He's tall, dark haired and lives in my imagination. P.S.S. Could you ask your girlfriend if she knows any good foundations? I'm thinking of changing mine.

He took less than a day to fire back with a copy of 50 Shades Of Grey: If Cooper is the wolf, and I'm the grandmother, would that make you the girl? I think the romance in this book is quite poignant, it really values the emotional over the physical. - Daveed, your grandmother neighbor. P.S. Not sure about my girlfriend's foundation, seeing as she doesn't exist, but I use L'Oreal. Very creamy, or whatever it is foundation is meant to be like. P.S.S. You looked cute in your paint splattered t-shirt the other day.

Not even an hour later, he opened his door to find a hardback of the Holy Bible and the following: I went into that book expecting a rush of happiness and sweetness, but ended up feeling scared and turned on in the most confusing way. I worry about your taste, Daveed, and that is why I'm recommending this book to you. This will cleanse you of all you've done wrong, my friend. -Y/N, your concerned neighbor. P.S. I'm not the girl, I'm the huntsman. P.S.S. Your dog is so cute, Cooper wants her/his number.

It took 45 days of lockdown for Y/N to finally venture out to her local grocers, tired of ordering food online and desperate for some human contact which didn't have to be separated by a great distance and united by a glass screen and a stable internet connection. She'd felt wrong; out of place; strange the whole time she'd been wandering up and down the aisles of the shop, her mask secured on her face and a near full basket hanging on her arm.

The fact Cooper was at home, holding down the fort for the time being gave her a little comfort.

Despite paying through self-service, and using a contactless card payment, her father's voice was ringing in her ears, scolding her for even taking the risk of stepping outdoors. Naturally, she appreciated his caring tendencies but she liked to consider herself old enough and smart enough to manage her own health problems.

With four bags stacked awkwardly in her arms, she took a few steps away from her car, attempting to peak over her shopping to see just where exactly the gate to her garden was. She could very faintly hear Cooper's excited whining, his paws scratching against the metal gate.

It was the sound of a voice, a very distinct voice, calling out her name that halted her movement and turned her head.

“Let me,” He, Daveed from door 28, paused, his hand clutching at his heaving chest. As her eyes drifted over him briefly, she took note of the trainers, the sweaty running shorts and, most of all, his bare chest, perfectly lined abs scattered along him. “get that for you.”

Before Y/N could so much as protest, Daveed had already snatched all four bags from her arms and was stood holding the gate open for her, a stupidly handsome smile decorating him. Her mask was still firmly held up but she smiled beneath it and done her best to share her gratitude with him.

“You don't need to do that.” Despite her words, she never attempted to take her bags back from him, instead cautiously slipping her way past him into her open garden. Cooper launched his paws up onto her, a bark of excitement escaping him before he licked at her arm and redirected his attention to Daveed. Cooper was still fairly young, not even a year old yet, but he was a fierce dog when it came to guarding his owner from any stranger. So, for Y/N to turn back and find him happily circling Daveed's legs, his favorite toy in his mouth and his tail wagging at lighting speed, it was purely a shock to her system.

And the clearest sign she'd ever seen that Daveed, whether he was a complete stranger to her or not, could be trusted.

“Where should I leave these?” He ignored her protest, effortlessly walking up the path of her garden with the heavy bags secure in his hands. Having him around her, all sweaty and heavy breathing and half dressed was more of a health hazard than her trip to the shops. Y/N began to wonder if it was legal to look so good.

“Uh, just,” She fished through her purse for her door key, avoiding the temptation to peak at his abs again. “on the table over there, if you don't mind.” She nodded her head in the direction of the small table sat out on her front porch and, within a couple seconds, she felt as Daveed brushed past her, so close she swore she could feel the heat radiating off of him.

He done exactly as she requested and lay the bags gently to rest on the table, the muscles in his arms flexing. Y/N had to wonder if this was a purposeful action, a way to tempt and seduce her, as if he needed to try much to succeed at that. She'd more or less been whipped for him the second he delivered his first book to her.

“Are you looking after yourself?” Her parents had asked this every time they spoke on the phone - which was basically a daily occasion - but hearing it from Daveed felt refreshing, as though she'd never heard the words before; as though she'd never been spoken to with such tenderness. She let her eyes meet his face, a dangerous choice when she found a dazzling smile reflected back at her.

“I am.” Was it possible for a smile to be brighter than the sun? “Are you?”

“Yeah. Even started eating kale.” Daveed chuckled and she followed suit, because his laugh was infectious and she would willingly let it consume her. “It tastes like shit, don't get me wrong, but it's gotta count for something, right?”

“Oh, totally, kale-boy.”

“Excuse me, I'd prefer if you called me by what I really am: a kale-man.”

The mask slid down the bridge of her nose as she smiled wider than the Cheshire cat. In her mind, she cursed her heart-eyes behavior but it did nothing to halt it, Daveed simply put her on edge in the best way.

“It was nice to finally hear your voice, it's cuter than I thought.” She wondered if he was aware of the effect he was having on her, if each word and every gesture of his was carefully calculated to make her weak in the knees. “I'll save you from my sweaty smell and head off now, I can hear the shower calling my name.”

The last thing, yet also the best thing, Y/N needed to be envisioning was a water soaked Daveed. “I didn't want to say anything but, yeah, you smell worse than Cooper's breath.”

“There's the attitude from all your notes!” Daveed had at some point stepped closer to her, to the point where it was likely a big enough inhalation of a breath would have their chests touching. He was so tall, and muscular. “I'll see you around, Y/N from door 27.”

For two minutes she stood there, mask slapped across her face and her breath caught in her throat, nothing but the raw memory of his body so close and, yet, so far away from her own. She made her way indoors, finally, in a zombiefied state. Cooper trailed happily behind her through the house and all the way into the kitchen and, like the good pup he was being raised to be, he helped put away a few of the groceries, by greedily grabbing at the packet of dog treats when something else in the bag caught Y/N's attention.

“Thank you for the bible, now may I rebut with a copy of the Torah? The characters might seem similar but I swear it's different. Friend? Was that you officially friendzoning me, Y/N? And to think I was willing to look past the fact you're a raptor.” She mumbled allowed without even noticing, her eyes drifting across the note in her hand. When Daveed had snuck this into her shopping, she didn't know. Perhaps he'd left it earlier on that day and simply scooped it into the bags after carrying them for her. That sure made more sense than her theory of him hiding the book down his running shorts. “P.S. My dog and I share a number, so I guess I'll just have to give you that one. Just tell Cooper no phone calls past ten o'clock, that's her bedtime.”

She'd never thought it would be so easy to achieve her hot neighbor's number, but the crumpled paper in her hand told her differently.

The room was dark. Or maybe her eyes were closed. Y/N honestly didn't know nor care enough to find out which was the truth. No, all she cared about was the feeling of her nerves being lit on fire and simultaneously soothed. As the moments passed, she became more and more aware of the predicament she found herself in. Her head was thrown back on the comfort of someone's pillow- it couldn't be one of her own, it was far too plush and soft -, both her legs were bent up at the knee, her hands were busy grasping on to anything and everything close by (the bed sheets, the headboard, the hair of whoever was currently positioned between her thighs) and her mouth was agape. Hushed moans and whimpers of ecstasy filled the thick air of the room, and they were all coming from her.

The tension was building in her gut, a knot winding itself tighter and tighter all the while threatening to snap at any moment. Her hips started grinding in time with the warm tongue against her heat. Or, maybe, she'd already been grinding before. Nothing was making sense. Up was down, left was right and Y/N was on the brink of the most thrilling orgasm she'd felt in a while, or ever, really.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?”

Her eyes- which apparently had in fact been opened all along-, with heavy eyelids, flickered down to between her legs. The man was certainly a specimen built to the likes of a Greek god, or something deriving from one. His fingers, buried deep within her, coaxed out another moan from her as they curled upwards. Daveed only smiled in satisfaction at this, as if he was getting more pleasure from it than she was.

Daveed.

Holy shit.

Daveed was between her bare legs.

Y/N bolted up and out of bed, hand reaching out and switching on the light. Just as she expected, there was no sign of Daveed in her room: not on her bed, not under her covers, not in her closet. But he was everywhere in her mind. Fully dressed, Y/N had never felt more naked in her entire life as she gazed out of her bedroom balcony door, over at the very window of the man who'd soaked her dream in a haze of steam.

His light was on.

Worst of all, she found that Daveed was sat at his desk, typing away at something on his opened laptop. As though he felt her intrusive gaze, he looked up from the screen and met her eyes. Due to the distance between them both Y/N couldn't tell for sure but she could have sworn he sucked in his lower lip before releasing it in a teasing smile, his hand lazily waving at her.

With all the shame in the world, she shut her curtains and flopped back on to her bad.

In the span of five minutes she'd dreamed of Daveed doing unspeakable things to her with that mouth of his and been caught peeking into the bedroom of the very same man.

She hadn't phoned him.

She hadn't sent a book over to him.

She hadn't opened her blinds.

He'd been stuck thinking about her for eight days straight, yet it was beginning to feel like she'd been nothing but a creation of his own socially starved brain.

In the grand scheme of things, Daveed was not a narcissist. But he also wasn't an idiot. He was very aware of his own looks, of the lingering stares he'd receive from his students- male and female alike-, of the way soccer moms would shamelessly pay more attention to him than their own sons when he coached the local little league team. And, up until that point, he'd been sure Y/N had been reciprocating whatever feelings he'd amassed for her.

One thing Daveed was is decisive.

Mask pulled across the lower part of his face, he let himself into the gated front yard. In a couple seconds, Cooper had pounced up at him, tail wagging a million miles an hour and tongue lapping away at his face. He chuckled as he lowered the dog safely back onto all four paws.

It only took knocking on the door twice for him to get a “Hold on!” shouted from some part of the house as a response. Relief flooded him at the sound of Y/N's voice, reassuring him that everything was okay. But it only brought on more questions about her sudden lack of communication.

“Hell- Oh, Daveed.” A mask decorated her own face, meaning he was unaware of the hint of a smile on her lips. All Daveed could see were her widened and tired eyes. “Can I help you?” He'd been stood staring her in silence for a little too long, it seemed.

"You never called.” He'd never sounded more pathetic in his life.

“You noticed.”

“Of course I noticed. Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?”

Apart from appear in one of my wet dreams? “What?! No! I've just been busy and I also didn't want to burden you, if I'm honest.”

“I gave you my number so you'd call me, Y/N.”

“And here I thought it was so our two dogs could kick off their fairy-tale romance.”

“As their parents, don't you think it's our responsibility to get along?” Daveed wanted to ask what had kept her busy for eight days. He wanted to know what she thought about in the morning, in the evening. What she thought about him. About the prospect of there ever being a “them”. But it wasn't the time nor the place. “Promise you'll call.”

“I promise I'll call you, loser.” She laughed behind her mask, leaving him with a longing to see her smile. “Now get lost, I've probably just burnt my omelette because of you.”

Daveed had just closed his front door as he felt his phone begin to buzz in his pocket, an unknown number displayed across the screen.

“You owe me an omelette.” Were the first words he heard as he answered it.

Two months passed. The quarantine rules had loosened and tightened over and over again. The supermarkets had restocked their shelves many times. An entire season had come and gone. And Y/N and Daveed had spoken nearly every single day on the phone.

He'd come to learn a few key things: a health scare had kept her busy those eight days; she was allergic to bullshit and always called him out on his; she loved rose wine, or any wine really; she had the most beautiful mind.

She'd also come to learn some stuff about him: he was a university professor, specifying in classic literature; despite the muscles, he was one heck of a dork; he knew a little too much about the rap industry and was prone to throw himself into tangents about the subject; his voice was even more heavenly in the morning.

“Make yourself something to eat,” Daveed spoke down the line, a twinge of excited demand in his voice. “pour yourself a glass of wine and go up to your bedroom balcony.”

“Ooh, someone's feeling bossy tonight, huh?” Y/N laughed, switching the phone between hands as she pushed herself off of her couch, disturbing a sleeping Cooper. After a few strokes to his head, she began her journey to the kitchen, suppressing a laugh as the tired dog chose to follow her, much like he done all the time. “Am I allowed to ask why I'm doing this?”

“Just do it, before I hang up.”

“I'll add grumpy to list of Daveed Moods tonight.”

With a bowl of heated up leftover pasta, a bottle of red wine and a glass balanced in her hands, and her phone glued between her ear and her shoulder, Y/N found her way up stairs to her bedroom. She was incapable of turning on the lights until she'd put down the items in her hand. It was then, as the lights lit up her room in a warm, golden hue, that she noticed Daveed.

No, not in her room. That would have been completely creepy, and partially arousing.

He was sat out on his own balcony, room lit up behind him, with a dish of unknown food, some wine and a candle lit in front of him. He was dressed casually, yet Y/N still found herself on the cusp of drooling at the sight of him. And when he finally noticed her, Daveed waved with the most shit eating grin on his face.

“Cute onesie. What is it, a bunny?” His tone was friendly, as always, but that never stopped her from groaning in frustration at his teasing.

“Did you call me up here just to criticize my choice of clothing, Diggs? Because I was taking part in an intense Criminal Minds marathon before someone interrupted me.”

“I actually called you to invite you to enjoy the evening with me.” It was a curse and a blessing to be so foul minded, Y/N's instantly flooding her with different meanings to his words. “The sky looked pretty tonight and I need someone to appreciate it with me. Unfortunately, you're the only one who answered my call.”

“I won't hesitate to hang up.”

“Stop talking and sit down, your dinner'll get cold.”

Who knows how much time really passed as the two sat staring out at the other, bellies filled by food and wine, hearts filled with desire and longing. There was a great distance between the two balconies but Y/N couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so close to someone, even before social distancing had become the norm.

“It's crazy, I know. How can we be prepared to teach classes now that the infection rates are higher than back at the start of the year, where we all shut down?” Daveed had brought up the fact he was going back to work soon, a topic which made him a perfect blend of relieved, infuriated and confused. “I give it one semester till they make us go back to online teaching, honestly. What about you? Any signs of getting back to your office?”

“We just got the go ahead last week, we're opening back up in a fortnight.” Her reply was paused by a sip of wine, her second glass of the night. “I say we but I really mean them. My doctor told me I'm not allowed to go back yet, apparently I've got some tests left to do.”

The silence that ensued lasted quite a few minutes, then Daveed sighed down the line.

“Is it alright for me to ask why?” He seemed to regret his words instantly, at least from the limited expressions Y/N could read on his face. “I mean, the doctor thing. Are you sick or...?”

“Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't ask sooner.” In their months of getting to know each other, there were times she couldn't even open the door to him when he'd deliver some of her mail or drop off a bunch of flowers he'd stolen from a neighboring garden. It was always under the excuse of doctor's orders and he never questioned or doubted her, he just accepted her for everything she said and gave of herself. “I was in a car accident a couple years ago. It wasn't fatal for anyone, thankfully, but it was pretty bad. One of my lungs ended up collapsing.

I pretty much lived in and out of the hospital for months, which almost sucked more than having a lung that was pretty much giving up on me. I don't know if you've ever spent a lot of time in hospital but it's like attending your own funeral. Everyone that visits you has this look of grief, everything they say is apologetic and there are so many tears. Not to mention the fact the place smells like a crime scene with how much bleach cleaning they do. Anyways, I'm okay now but I guess they consider me high risk or something so they're taking extra steps to make sure I'm as safe and as far away from that virus as possible.”

“So, correct me if I'm wrong, but does that mean I won't be able to take you out anytime soon?” Daveed spoke up finally, and boy was she glad that he didn't want to stick on the topic of her hospital stay. It was a dark and sad time, and she didn't want to experience any of that with him.

“Nope, not until I get permission from my doctor.”

“Can't believe I'm getting cock-blocked by some fucking virus.”

A laugh, so loud that Daveed heard it without his phone pressed to his ear, erupted from Y/N. “You'll just have to settle for balcony dates for now.”

“This isn't a date, Y/N.” It was his turn to laugh.

“Oh, sorry.” Clearly, she was worse at reading signs than she'd thought. She'd never felt more foolish in her life.

“When I eventually do take you on a date, there won't be so much space between us.” His words honestly had the chance to make or break her in that moment, her entire soul depended on whatever he said next. “It'll be a night where I take you to the most ridiculously expensive restaurant. We won't really like the food on the menu but we'll stay as part of a principle. You'll be reluctant to let me blow all my money on the bill but I'll get my way eventually. We'll find some excuse or reason to stay out. Maybe we'll find some piano bar, do some dancing, share some drinks. I don't think I'll be able to stop thinking about how beautiful you look. We'll still be hungry because dinner was shit, so we'll get some fast food before you let me drive us home. I'll probably hold your hand while I drive. I'll walk you to your front door and, even if I really wish you'd invite me in, I'll be relieved when you don't. I'll try tell you how much I enjoyed our night but I'll probably fumble my words. You'll finally send me on my way but I'll find a way to steal a kiss from you. I'll probably think about your lips until the next date I take you on.”

“The english major really jumped out of you.” Y/N wished she didn't lack the self control to say something normal when a man spoke to her like Daveed did. “But, uh, that sounds really nice. Honestly. Except the bill part. We'll be splitting it or I won't be coming on that date.”

“You're so high maintenance, Y/N from door 27, but I guess that could work.” The eye-roll was audible in his tone. “Speaking of english major, I actually have a book for you to read.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I'll drop it round in the morning.”

“I'll be at the doctors in the morning, sorry.” The wine had rushed to her cheeks, heating them up and making the chill in the air all the more relaxing, lulling her into a half asleep faze.

“Don't worry, I'll leave you a note.”

#daveed x reader #daveed diggs #daveed diggs x reader #daveed diggs drabble #daveed diggs fanfiction #daveed diggs oneshot #daveed diggs imagine #daveed diggs scenario #daveed diggs fluff #daveed diggs smut #daveed diggs hamilton #daveed diggs clipping.#daveed diggs x y/n #valwrite

240 notes · View notes

blizzardfluffykpop · 3 years

Text

Knitted Sweaters

Summary: Meeting Joshua’s family for the first time, his family welcomes you with open arms.

Oneshot full of fluff

Word Count: 1,093

Joshua X Reader

Requested: hiii for your christmas request things can i request #18 with joshua from svt? thank youuu hehe happy holidays!! 💖💝💘💕💓💗

Prompt: 18. Receiving a knitted Christmas sweater from your bias (lover's) mom.

We're heading to Joshua's childhood home right now. I'm going to meet his parents for the first time. It's fair considering that he met my parents last month. I close my eyes trying to calm my nerves down as I lean against the car door window.

I start reminiscing about how I met Joshua. It was our sophomore year of college and I was starting to go up the stairs. He slipped on the top stair and it sent him tumbling down towards me. I immediately sprung into action picking up his books, papers, and pens. He was clutching his head in pain and I asked him if he was alright and he let out a strained, 'no'. I wrapped an arm around him supporting what weight I could and it was already clear that he had a limp. At the time it was the first week of our sophomore year.

When we made it to the nurse, I turned to leave him with his books. He reached out and grabbed my hand asked me to stay with him. He sprained his ankle and had one hell of a concussion. "What's your name?" "(Y/n)." He smiles and tells me, "Thank you, I'm Joshua by the way." I smiled back and that was the start of our relationship.

It was about three days later when we realized we had geometry together. We started by coming over to each other's dorms to work on math projects. When we weren't procrastinating or playing darts, we were quite productive together. Then our relationship evolved to the point where we didn't need math as an excuse to come over. Where we were seeing one another because we wanted to see the other. He would play his guitar for me and I would show him my artwork. The more we visited each other the more I realized I was falling for him.

One thing led to another and we ended up making out on his bed to some obscure indie artist. His RA opened the door, locked eyes with us, shook his head, and shut the door. Needless to say, we ended up confessing our growing feelings to each other.

We've been dating ever since, I couldn't believe I ended up with a guy like Joshua. Someone whose heart was pure and kind. Who treated me with the utmost respect. My heart feels full whenever I'm around him. But meeting his parents makes me nervous. I know what to expect from my parents but they are unfamiliar territory. When Joshua walked in on Thanksgiving, my mother proclaimed; "You must be Joshua, we've heard such good things about you." My father immediately pulling him into a hug with a proud look on his face welcoming Joshua into the family.

While I have had a phone conversation with his mother after he fell. Telling them about his injury probably wasn't the best introduction. But I knew his banging head couldn't handle a phone call. Worrying his parents as they asked me how he fell and who I was. Trying to get them to calm down and letting them know their son was going to be okay was difficult. I promised his mother that, 'Yes, I would walk him to his dorm and make sure he is okay’. Since then, I haven't talked to them only getting to know them through Joshua.

They seem nice and caring but I'm nervous because I want to make a great impression. Knowing that my first impression wasn't the best. Joshua places his hand on my knee and I open my eyes to look over at him. "Don't worry baby, they're going to love you." It dispels most of my nerves, I place my hand over his and rub circles into it. He flips his hand over and I intertwine our fingers together.

I look at the backseat for our presents. I squeeze his hand, he smiles and squeezes my hand three times. I smile over at him as we pull into his driveway. I gulp down my nerves as we get out of the car, I open the back passenger door and grab the presents. He walks up to the front door and rings the doorbell. Out comes his mom and she grins, “Oh, honey I’m so glad you’re home!” She brings Joshua in for a hug and looks over to where I am. “You made them carry all the presents?!” She swats at him and grabs a few off of the top and brings them in.

Once I get to set the presents down, she says, “Oh my gosh, when he said you were beautiful, he wasn't kidding. I remember when he told me he started dating you,... I can’t believe you didn’t bring them home sooner, Shua!” She squints over at her son and back at me, “Sorry mom--” She chuckles, “Oh, they’re already here!” His father gasps from the top of the stairs and rushes down. “Oh, you must (Y/n)! It is such a pleasure to meet you! Honey, don’t you have something to give them?” I look over to Joshua with a raised brow and he grins. The two of them gesture for us to sit on the couch. His father sitting down next to him and his mother approaches me with a gift in her hand.

She hands it over to me and says, “Open it up, deary!” I nod and untie the bow and peel off the pieces of the tape and open the packaging to reveal a sweater. I turn it to face me and it’s a knitted sweater with my initial on the front. Tears well up in my eyes as I hug his mom tightly, “Thank you so much!” She hugs me back just as tight, “It’s no problem deary, thank you for taking care of Joshua. Please be with him for a long time, he needs someone like you.” She whispers in my ear and I throw the sweater on over my shirt. “It’s so soft,” I whisper and they all grin at me as we exchange the rest of our gifts. “Welcome to the family, (Y/n)!” His father exclaims as they pull together Christmas dinner.

Joshua grabs my hands and tells me, “I told you they would love you.” I smile and say, “You’re right, thank you, I love you, Shua Hong.” He kisses my nose, “I love you too, (N/n) (L/n).” I bring his hand up to my lips and place a chaste kiss on it. “Let's help your parents make Christmas dinner.”

55 notes · View notes

bellakitse · 4 years

Text

Of cute beagles and decidedly cuter owners

For @gra-sonas who had this excellent post and let me use it. I hope this is fluffy enough for you, hon!

Michael, Rosa, Kyle, and Jenna just moved into a new place that doesn't allow pets, luckily across the street is the cutest beagle ever. Rosa is ready to plan a dog-nap, Michael suggests writing a note to the owner instead.

All Rosa wants is to play with Buffy, while all Michael wants is Buffy's owner.

Michael arrives home sometime after six p.m., the hallway of the modest townhouse he and his roommates moved into, still has boxes lying around. They've been in the two-story home for three weeks now. But with work and school, no one has found the time to finish unpacking. Michael has his new teaching post at the university while he works on his doctorate. Kyle has medical school. Jenna, a rookie cop, works crazy hours, and Rosa, their resident artist, has been using all her waking hours to work on a set of pieces she hopes will end up in the city’s next art exhibit. None of them have been particularly motivated to put boxes away, but Michael is starting to think he’s going to have to say something soon, or there’s a chance the boxes will become part of the décor.

“Guerin!” Jenna greets from the kitchen as he makes it into the living room. “Thai or Chinese for dinner?”

“Whatever Valenti doesn’t want,” he calls back out to her, smirking when he hears the man in question curse at him from the kitchen. He hears a chuckle and turns to find Rosa in her favorite spot of the house, the big bay windows. It was the selling point for Rosa when they decided to rent the place together.

“You have to start getting along with him eventually, Michael,” she says, not looking up from her sketching pad.

“Do I have to?” Michael questions as he drops his bag on the couch and walks over to her, lifting her legs to sit down. He leans over to sneak a peek at what she’s working on to find the drawing of a beagle.

“It would help,” Rosa says, a smirk on her face. “We did sign a one-year lease, you’re stuck until then.”

“Cute dog,” he points at her work, instead of acknowledging her comment.

“It belongs to the neighbor across the street, I saw them this morning,” she explains with a smile that turns into a frown moments later. “It sucks that we can’t have a pet here.”

Michael nods; he’s heard all three of his roommates complain about it. Their landlord had killed their hopes for a pet before they signed on the dotted line of their lease.

“I love that expression,” Michael points at the drawing, the beagle has an impressive resting bitch face.

Rosa laughs, nodding in agreement. “I only saw them for a second, but that face is memorable. I had to stop myself from running across the street to beg the owner to let me play with his dog, probably would have freaked the guy out.”

Michael chuckles at the comment, Rosa is the more impulsive one of them all, he could totally picture her on a puppy-high scaring some poor guy into thinking that he was going to get robbed for his dog.

“We just moved in, Rosa, can we maybe wait a few weeks before scaring off the neighbors?” he teases, laughing when she gives him an unimpressed look.

“You’re supposed to be the fun one, Michael,” Rosa pouts. “Kyle and Jenna are the strict, boring ones. You should be helping me plan a dog-nap.”

Michael opens his mouth, only to be interrupted by Kyle and Jenna walking into the living room.

“What’s this about a dog-napping?” Kyle questions, coming to sit down on the couch. Jenna sits next to him, leaning into his space. Her hair is messed up, and her lipstick smudged off, some of it transferred to Kyle’s white polo.

Michael and Rosa look at them, and then at each other, wrinkling their noses in distaste. This is what they get for moving in with a couple who can’t keep their hands off each other.

“Whatever you did in our kitchen, I hope you disinfected it,” Rosa comments still making a face. Michael nods in agreement, a part of him a little jealous of what Kyle and Jenna have. He wants someone to make out with in the kitchen, someone to smile at him the way Jenna and Kyle smile at each other. Something real, like what they have.

Kyle blushes under Rosa’s judging look, but Jenna just rolls her eyes, running her hand through Kyle's hair to settle him.

“Dog-napping, Rosa?” she questions, getting back on track.

“Oh!” Rosa lightens up at the mention, and Michael is starting to worry about just how serious she is. “The beagle across the street, it’s precious.”

“I saw it the other day,” Kyle says with a smile of his own. “Very cute dog.”

“Very cute owner, too,” Jenna comments, tugging on Kyle’s hair when he pouts, it says more than Michael needs to know about their relationship.

“True,” Rosa agrees after a moment, thinking about it. “But not so cute that I’m not totally willing to steal his dog.”

“We haven’t even been here a month,” Michael speaks before Rosa can really get going. “Let’s not commit a crime just yet.”

Rosa exhales loudly like she thinks he’s the biggest party-pooper ever, for not encouraging the stealing of an animal. “What do you suggest then? Because I need to cuddle that dog, bad.”

Michael thinks for a moment before his eyes light up with an idea. He pulls Rosa’s sketch pad and pencil out of her lap. “We can write the owner a note asking if we can meet his dog,” Michael suggests, quickly composing the letter when no one says no. “Dog people understand crazy dog love.”

“Tell them they have the best dog,” Rosa instructs him.

“Ask what treats it likes,” Kyle chips in, getting into it.

“We can take it for a walk if they’re too busy,” Jenna adds, just as excited.

He finishes the note, signing it with all their names and adding Rosa’s drawing. “There. I’ll drop it off in the morning,” he says satisfied, the others nod seemingly pleased themselves. “Now, about dinner…”

Michael doesn’t think about it the next day, he tapes the note to their neighbor’s front door and goes to the university where he spends the day teaching freshmen in his Engineering Physics class. It’s only when he gets back home and finds Rosa practically vibrating with excitement that he even remembers about their neighbor and their dog.

“They wrote back, Michael!” she shouts as soon as he walks through the door, waving a piece of paper in the air.

“Who?”

“Buffy Manes!” Rosa exclaims, rolling her eyes at him when he doesn’t answer. “That’s the beagle’s name, look they left a note.”

Michael takes the piece of paper, instantly charmed by the paw print on the back.

It starts:

‘To my new friends, Michael, Rosa, Kyle and Jenna’

Thank you for your nice letter! It made my tail wag all night. The drawing was so good, whoever drew it is very talented, a perfect likeness.

My name is Buffy Manes, and I’m 4-years-old. I love treats of any kind. I love playing catch, -tennis balls are my favorite- and digging holes.

I am the bestest girl! Thank you for noticing, my dad tells me that every day.

I would very much like to meet my new friends, so I’m giving you my dad’s number, call any time.

Sincerely,

Buffy and Alex Manes

505-718-2035

“Okay,” Michael starts, a smile tugging at his face. “This is seriously fucking cute.”

“She liked my drawing,” Rosa says happily, which Michael finds hilarious. “And her name is Buffy, how adorable is that? If it’s for Buffy, the vampire slayer, this Alex guy is my new best friend. He has the cutest dog and good taste in 90’s tv shows, we need to call them, now.”

“What about Kyle and Jenna?”

Rosa waves his question away. “They went on a date,” she says, tugging at his shirt impatiently. “Let’s call.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughs as he pulls out his phone and dials the number, ringing a few times before someone picks up.

“Manes,” greets a deep voice that makes Michael stand up straighter as it sends a shiver up his spine. That is a very nice voice.

“Um, hi, Alex?” he starts, suddenly nervous. “This is Michael, your neighbor from across the street, my roommates and I left you a note about your dog, Buffy?”

“Right,” Alex says, letting out a soft chuckle. “With the drawing, it was really good.”

“Thanks,” Michael says, grunting when Rosa pokes him. “That was Rosa, she’s the artist, and she’s in love with your dog.”

“You’re not?” Alex questions, sounding a little offended.

“I’m actually the only one of my roommates that hasn’t seen Buffy,” he admits, as Alex makes an amused noise. “But I’m sure she’s great, her letter was perfect. Did it take long to teach her how to write?”

Alex laughs, making Michael feel pleased and oddly proud. “No, she’s a genius, it took no time at all.”

“Well you should be very proud,” he jokes getting another laugh out of Alex. “So anyway, we were hoping that we could arrange that meet-up with Buffy, and you, of course, any time you want,” he rushes to say, ignoring the way Rosa is looking at him.

“We’re home now,” Alex starts, a little hesitant. “If you want to come over.”

“Now?” Michael questions to which Rosa starts nodding vigorously. “It would just be Rosa and me, Kyle and Jenna are out, is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Alex breathes, sounding more at ease. “That’s probably better actually, I don’t do great with a lot of people. We’ll meet you two outside in 10?”

“Okay,” Michael says quickly. “See you guys in a few, thanks.”

“Not a problem, Michael,” Alex says before hanging up. He decides then and there that he likes the way Alex says his name.

“Were you really flirting with a stranger over the phone?” Rosa questions incredulously.

“No!” Michael denies, blushing when Rosa raises an eyebrow at him. “Maybe?”

Rosa shakes her head at him, amused more than anything else. “Keep your head in the game Guerin, we are in it for the dog. Let’s go.”

Michael follows Rosa out of their home, she’s practically shaking by the time they cross the street and open Alex’s gate.

“Don’t freak them out,” he warns. “Alex said he’s not the best with people.”

“I’ll behave,” she promises just as their neighbor’s door opens.

A robust beagle comes out first, followed by what has to be the most beautiful man Michael has ever seen. He has tousled dark hair, big deep brown eyes, cheekbones that could cut glass, and full pink lips quirked up into a hesitant smile. The rest of him is perfect too, strong shoulders and arms, wrapped in a soft-looking grey Henley, and he’s in a pair of black jeans that hug his legs nicely. As he takes a step forward, Michael notices the crutch in his left hand.

“Michael, Rosa?” he questions as he comes down two short steps, standing before them.

“Hi,” Michael breathes, if possible, Alex is even more gorgeous up close, especially when he smiles at Michael.

“Hi,” he greets back at him, before looking at Rosa to give her a smile of her own. “Well, you didn’t come to see me,” he says, looking down at his dog, who is standing faithfully at his side, waiting. “This is Buffy.”

Buffy looks up at him at her name.

“They’re here for you, baby girl,” he speaks to her. “Greet.”

The moment Alex says the command, Buffy leaves his side, making her way toward Rosa as she gets down to her knees to pet her. Buffy’s tail starts wagging excitedly the second Rosa starts to pet her.

“Who’s a good girl,” Rosa coos at Buffy. “You are, you’re such a good girl, so sweet.”

“She’s a therapy dog,” Alex tells them with a proud look on his face as he watches his dog. Michael bends down too, letting Buffy sniff his hand first, chuckling when she starts to lick it.

“She’s very friendly,” Michael comments, looking up at Alex, his breath catching when he finds Alex’s eyes on him.

Alex nods, his expression soft. “She likes to make friends.”

“We can be her friends,” Rosa says quickly, as she rubs the top of Buffy’s head, looking back at Alex. “Her name? Is it because of the show?”

“Yeah, when my friend Maria and I picked her at the shelter, she said that Buffy would slay my demons,” Alex says with a slight laugh. “It stuck, so I named her Buffy.”

Michael bites down on his lip as he stands up, he does it to keep from asking what Alex’s demons are, wanting to know everything about him.

The rest of the visit, they’re on Alex’s porch. Rosa plays with Buffy, while Michael stares at Alex like an idiot as he tells them cute anecdotes about his dog. He shares a little bit about himself with them, each tidbit Michael stores away for later. He learns that Alex was in the Air Force until he got hurt. Alex knocks on his leg, which Buffy responds by leaving the belly rubs Rosa is giving her to press her small head against her owner’s leg. The gesture obviously meant to comfort him, which going by the smile on Alex’s face it does. He still does military work but as a private contractor and mostly from home and has had Buffy since his enlistment ended, and he hasn’t been in town too long, only a few months.

“I don’t really know much around here,” he comments with a shrug. “The base, the market, and the dog park, but that’s pretty much it.”

“I can show you around,” Michael blurts out before he can stop himself, he feels himself go hot as he feels Rosa’s eyes burn into the side of his face. He knows the second they’re alone; she’s going to mock the hell out of him.

Alex starts to smile only to look over at Rosa. “Umm,” Alex begins nervously, and Michael realizes with surprising clarity that Alex thinks they’re together.

Luckily Rosa seems to notice too, jumping in before he can make a fool of himself. “You guys should go,” she says with a grin. “This loser barely goes out himself, it’s just home and the university for him. Sad, really.”

“You’re just as bad as me,” he argues, trying to defend himself. “When’s the last time you went out?”

“Last week,” Rosa says smugly. “I met up with that hot blonde who modeled for me a few weeks ago, she showed me her portfolio,” she continues, waggling her eyebrows which makes Alex laugh. “You guys could go get a bite, and I can stay and hang with Buffy.”

Alex smirks at her, his eyes dancing with amusement. “That’s really what you’re after, isn’t it?”

“I’ll be honest, you can turn out to be Dahmer and eat Guerin,” Rosa says bluntly, ignoring him when he makes a noise of protest. “I’m cool as long as I get to keep playing with your dog.”

Alex looks at her, letting out a low whistle.

“As you can see, I need better friends,” Michael says, shooting Rosa a glare. “Do you want to go get something to eat?”

Alex bites down on his bottom lip, and it takes everything in Michael not to lean in and do it for him. “Now?”

Michael nods. “No time like the present.”

Alex smiles softly at him, there is a slight rosy color on his cheeks that makes Michael’s heart skip a beat. “Okay, let me get my wallet.”

“And I get to watch Buffy?” Rosa asks hopefully, as he stands. “I’ll take real good care of her, give you picture updates and everything.”

Alex looks at Rosa for a moment before nodding, his amusement obvious. “Sure, she’s really mellow, so I don’t see it being a problem if you really want to watch her.”

“Alex, you’re my new best friend,” Rosa says with a serious expression on her face.

“I’m sure that would mean more to him if you hadn’t just offered your current best friend up to be eaten,” Michael grumbles at her.

Alex laughs as he heads inside.

“This is where you say thank you,” Rosa whispers at him.

Michael frowns at her.”You did nothing,” he answers, getting a snort back.

“I just wing-womaned the shit out of this,” Rosa gripes. “You were just staring at him like a smitten idiot.”

Michael hates that he can’t argue with the truth, and in a fit of childishness, sticks his tongue out at her.

“Mature,” Rosa laughs as Alex comes back.

He gives them a curious look as he closes his door, leash in hand. “We usually go for a walk at seven,” he says, handing Rosa the leash after attaching it to Buffy. “She likes the park two blocks away.”

Rosa nods as she starts walking towards the gate with Buffy. He and Alex follow behind them, crossing the street back to their place where his truck is parked.

“We’ll go for a lovely walk, don’t worry,” Rosa promises.

Alex kneels down to rub Buffy under her chin, getting a lick for his troubles.

“Be good Buffy, I’ll be back soon,” he says tenderly before pressing a kiss on the top of her head, it makes something inside Michael flutter behind his ribcage.

Standing back to his feet, he walks over to Michael, giving him a charmed look when Michael opens the door of his truck for him.

“Have fun you two,” Rosa tells them as Michael puts the car in drive. She picks up Buffy and heads inside.

“You just made her night,” he tells Alex as he starts to drive downtown.

“I’m glad,” Alex answers, flashing him a smile. “You said in your note that you guys can’t have pets?”

“Grumpy landlord,” Michael explains.

Alex makes a face. “That really sucks. I got lucky, my landlady didn’t seem big on pets either, I wasn’t even going to interview for the place, but I brought Buffy with me and explained that she’s my therapy dog and I guess Buffy won her over. It’s hard resisting her face.”

“Probably hard resisting yours too,” Michael blurts out, already cringing before the words are completely out of his mouth. He keeps his eyes on the road to avoid looking at Alex, but after a moment of silence, he can’t help but sneak a peek at him. There’s a shy smile on Alex’s face, and his eyes are welcoming as he looks back at Michael, making him feel more confident to continue. “It’s a very nice face.”

Alex’s smile grows until he’s laughing softly, shaking his head at Michael's boldness. “You have a very nice face too, Michael.”

Michael grins to himself, his heart beating faster with excitement. He parks the car outside his favorite Mexican restaurant. “Hope you like tacos,” he says as he gets out, going around the car to Alex’s door.

“Are you even allowed to live in New Mexico if you don’t like tacos?” he questions, passing Michael his crutch. He gets out, and Michael reaches out his hand at his waist to steady him, his body responding instantly when Alex lets out a small gasp at his touch.

Michael lifts his eyes to Alex’s face, finding his gaze already on him, eyes wide, lips slightly parted, and Mickael knows Alex just felt the same spark he did at their touch. He steps in closer, crowding Alex in the door, his pulse spiking when Alex’s eyes drift down to his mouth.

“Proposal,” he starts, his voice low.

Alex hums softly, his body seemed to sway, brushing against his, his eyes half-closed.

“We turn this into a date,” Michael suggests, smiling at the surprised but happy look Alex gives him.

“How does it differ?” Alex questions with a teasing glint in his eyes.

Michael squeezes the side of Alex, where his hand still rests. “I get to kiss you at the end of the night,” he answers, inhaling sharply when Alex closes the small space between them, brushing his lips against Michael’s.

Alex takes his crutch and Michael’s hand leading him into the restaurant.

“You should text Rosa,” he throws over his shoulder, giving Michael’s hand a squeeze.

“Why?” Michael asks, still a little dazed from the touch of Alex’s lips.

A couple of hours is too fast to fall in love, right?

Alex turns back to him, a beautiful smile on his even more beautiful face, and Michael decides that, no, a couple of hours is more than enough time to fall in love with Alex Manes.

“To tell her that starting tonight, she’s going to have plenty of opportunities to borrow Buffy if I get to borrow her roommate.”

Michael grins, pulling out his phone even as he pulls Alex back into another kiss, this one deeper and longer as he takes his time, enjoying the taste and the sounds Alex makes. Rosa will be pleased with the arrangement, and he’s good with it too.

#roswell nm #malex fic #malex #michael x alex #my writing #buffy manes

87 notes · View notes

jimjamthehorrorman · 4 years

Text

"Texas Hold Em'"

(PART TWO of the "Unconditional Love" fic. In this AU, the boys are all alive, modern setting and not cannibals. Just a bunch of eccentric boys with secrets. Hope you enjoy!)

Early morning, a tinge of blue coats the walls like thick paint. You forgot to close the curtains, but this isn't your house, so how would you remember so easily? You wonder if your dog is having a good time lazying up the house with your friend who came to pupsit. But you have other things to worry about, she's in good hands.

The guest room at the boys farm was empty other than an uncomfortable old futon, some strange bone art (as you know, Nubbins and Bubba are quite the taxidermy artists) and the subtle smell of a "cinnamon clove" candle on the dresser that really ties it all together.

The sound of a rooster crowing next to the window reminds you..

"The boys are up already. Today I finally get to meet the notorious 'Chop Top'" you thought to yourself, struggling to get the heavy flannel sheets off so you can get dressed. "first day as a farmhand, that's a step up from gas station attendant."

When Drayton saw how easily you got along with the boys, he realized that you could be a good addition to the farm. Obviously you wouldn't live there full time. You've got your own home and your own life seperate from them, but something draws you there when you have free time. Actually, someone.

Stomping down the hall, you hear boots already mud clodden. Speak of the devil, he knocks at the door frame with a gentle thud. He groans in a way that almost sounds like "are you up?" You see his eye barely peak through the gap in the door.

"I'm getting dressed, Bubba!" You shout, grasping at the sheets to cover yourself. You hear the sound of his heels turning and a slight jog that turns into some thudding and stomping again. He must have been embarrassed because he turned heel, ran, stumbled and hit the lamp in the hall on his way out.

"BUBBA YOU FOOL, YOU DAMNED NEAR BROKE GRANDMA'S GOOD LAMP!"

Drayton's up.

"GODDAMNIT BOY, GO ON OUT AND GET THE TRACTOR STARTED!"

You hope to yourself he isn't like that with you. Poor Bubba.

"You about ready in there Y/N? We've got to get some work done and then we'll get breakfast made." He took a totally different tone with you. It's almost sickening that he can be so nice to you and so mean to his brothers, but you can't complain because he'll do his best to hold his tongue with you around.

"I'll be out in just a few, Drayton! I'm putting my boots on now!"

He chuckled on his way down the hall.

"Chop Top's back from the VA Hospital, so be prepared. He's crazier than any of us." You can't tell if he's joking or dead serious.

You meet Nubbins at the door.

"Hey! Hey Y/N! Bubba wants you to meet the animals and his favorite are the birds! They're so nice, really good tempered! The ducks are his favorite but I think the chickens are mine!"

"Alright! We'll go check them out together, they have to be fed anyways right?"

"Oh yeah! And they eat real good too! Hungry little things!"

He prances down the lane towards a little crooked shack, Bubba's standing outside the door putting buckets of water and feed out for the birds. He just can't stop wearing that pretty mask and suit. He knows how much you like it and you haven't seen the other mask since the day you met. He's dressed to impress and he's going to get his dress boots dirty, you just KNOW it.

The sun's come up as you were coming down the lane and Nubbins, running in his standard silly formation, makes it to the door and slams it open, letting out all the chickens to Bubba's dismay. He hadn't finished putting everything down and now he has to get his shoes muddy to get back to the other side.

He looks to Nubbins and groans loudly, putting his hand up to his masked face. Shaking his head, he walks around the muddy nasty pen and finishes his job. As soon as he sees you he perks up, running out the pen and nearly ripping his good coat on the wire fence.

"Good morning big guy! Thanks for the privacy this morning!" You laugh as you watch his cheeks redden from under the mask. "It's alright you didn't know I was changing. Anything exciting planned for this afternoon?"

He points toward the gate at the end of the midpoint in the driveway, a truck is making it's way out toward the road and you see Drayton, his mouth running like he's cursing his whole way out. His window is closed but you feel for the poor soul on the other end of the phone.

Nubbins runs up and grabs you by the shoulder. "He's going to get Chop Top from the bus station in town! They finally got him out, he's going to get him and we'll have a great time, a hell of a time!"

You've heard wild stories about this guy, and you weren't sure how to feel about him but certainly he would come to be as close to you as the other boys.

Bubba and Nubbins finish doing their jobs while you get some Alfalfa treats for the cattle out back. Who knew these hefty old things were like big dogs themselves? The one with the biggest horns you knew to be "Dolly" the longhorn named by Drayton and his favorite. You give her a couple extra treats for good measure.

It's only been about fifteen minutes since Drayton left, and based on Nubbins' watch, he wouldn't be back for another 45. Now's your chance to get even closer to Bubba. He doesn't talk much but there's a spark and he for sure likes you.

More of an action than words guy, that boy.

"Hubba Bubba, look at you all fancy!" You smile at him, he's got his sleeves rolled up to the elbow, his pant legs rolled to the knee and he's slinging a 50 lb bag of cracked corn into the feeder. He looks down at you, giving you a once over before wiping corn dust off of his tie and jacket. "I'm done with my jobs if you want to go on a walk!"

Bubba giggles to himself before putting the burlap sack on the pile and walking up to you, excited to spend time with you, knowing soon you two can have a snack at the barn.

"So, do you like living on the farm?"

He nods, he loves it here with all the animals, you can tell. He scratches his chin under the mask. He must get hot wearing those all the time and shaves quite often so it must get itchy.

Walking down a hill toward the barn you pass a beaten up old shed. Getting too close to the door he grabs your hand and snags you in close to him. He's shaking his head no.

"What's wrong with the shed, Bub?"

He looks uncomfortable and points to the barn.

"Okay okay, we'll keep moving." You give him a pat on the lower back and keep walking before giving one hesitant glance back at the shed. What's in there and why is he not letting you in? Weird.

Halfway to the barn you realize you're still holding Bubba's hand. He's tangled his fingers up in yours and you feel him gently trailing his thumb around on your hand. He looks down at you every once in a while just to be sure you're comfortable. He's nervous and it's easy to tell.

You try your best to reassure him by doing the same and smiling back each time. He lets out a relieved sigh as you make it to the barn. A decrepit old metal barn from the 50s filled to the top on one side with square bales of hay and the other side a little table with five chairs and a couple of empty stalls sit. The barn is open on both sides other than the back, a torn up old screen sways back and forth in the wind, like a piece of paper held on with tape. Bubba retracts from your hand to pull down some bales with ease, stacking them into something roughly resembling a couch.

He flops down on them with only a slight rustle of the hay, obviously more comfortable than the little rusty metal ones at the table. He sits up and pats the bale beside him. You walk over and flop next to him, looking around to see that Nubbins is nowhere close by, you wrap your hand around his and lean into him. Between the heavy overalls you have on guarding you from the itchy hay and this space heater of a man, you're warm and comfy. Bubba gazes down at you and envelops you in his arms. He too is very comfortable.

---

"I think they're in the house, I couldn't really tell you!"

You hear Nubbins in the distance, it sounds like he's yelling to Drayton and Chop Top but you can't be sure.

They can't possibly be back yet unless...

Bubba's asleep. You were asleep. How long have you been out? How long have they been home? Is Nubbins covering for you?

"Well tell them if you see them before us that Chop Top and I are making lunch and they'll be too late if they don't get themselves up here!" Drayton sounded like he was content for the moment but if you didn't get to the house soon you'd be in big trouble. Footsteps trail around the back of the barn, Nubbins peaks in and whispers loudly to the both of you.

"Get yourselves together love birds! Drayton's gonna whoop my ass if you two don't get in this house soon. It'll be real bad! So hurry on up!" He blows a raspberry at the now awake Bubba who groans at the thought. You look up to see the bottom of his mask has rolled up to reveal a normal looking chin and mouth, a freshly shaven face is hidden by the mask every day and you don't get to see it so this is a glance you didn't expect. As he starts to roll down his mask, you grab his hand. He looks at you scared and worried.

"I'm not going to take it off" you smile at him and he calms, holding onto your hands. "I just want to try something and you have to tell me if you're uncomfortable okay? I won't ever try to make you uncomfortable."

Bubba nods at you, his left hand trailing up your arm, resting on the nape of your neck where he can run his fingers along your hairline. As you lean in for a kiss, he closes the gap. Your lips touch and he pulls you in closer, holding you in his arms.

Bliss. You may have been kissed before, but he was a whole other ballgame. He had never kissed before and there was a level of touch starvation that he was trying to cope with upon this embrace. He was holding you and being held by you at the same time and he was beyond happiness.

Bubba's depraved lips were soft as silk and cherry flavored as they grazed over yours, his cologne thick but not overpowering smelt of burning oak wood in a crackling fireplace. The only fire here is one of desire and soon you would both be burning. His hands crept up and down your back and hips, trailing over your hands and back to your hair. Soon enough you felt smooth shaven skin and soft pillowy lips crawling down your chin and neck, circling your shoulder. You were completely and utterly surrendered and victim to his tender embrace.

*horribly obnoxious phone ringing*

Bubba breathed hard letting you go, a sigh escaping his lips as he pulled his mask down again. You reach into your pocket and pick up the phone. Of course, Drayton was getting finicky.

"Where are you kids? Your jobs couldn't have taken that long!"

"Sorry Drayton we'll be right there!" He hung up and you could see the dissapointment in Bubba's eyes. You were dissapointed too but relieved because you weren't sure how far that could have gone. "Sorry Bubba, Drayton wants us at the house."

He grunted as he stood up, helping you up after him. He held your hand as you walked back to the house. You didn't get a snack, instead you got a whole lot of a hot take.

---

The birds squawked and cooed softly as you passed by, echoing the same calmness that filled the breeze. In that breeze came the smell of lunch: a mixture of fried eggs, bacon, fried apples, little crunchy potatoes and fresh squeezed orange juice. The taste of cherry carmex chap stick still lay thick on your lips as Bubba walked beside you.

It was going to be the best job you could ever have dreamed of.

#leatherface x reader #leatherface mlm #leatherface cosplay #leatherface #bubba sawyer imagines #bubba sawyer x male #bubba sawyer x female #bubba sawyer x reader #horror imagine #slasher imagines #slasher love

68 notes · View notes

blurry-fics · 5 years

Text

Sketches

Pairing: Tyler Joseph x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1491

Request: Hi Kae! Could you write sth where Tyler accidentally finds out that his s.o. can draw, but hardly ever does so cause of insecurities? Thanks 💛 -Anonymous

Author’s Note: I haven’t really written many fics set during the hiatus, so this was super fun to do! Hopefully all of you enjoy it as well :) (gif credit)

“Ok, what do you think of something like this?”

Tyler slid his laptop over so that it was now sitting in front of you. On the screen was a listing for a plain, brown jacket, complete with some large pockets and a nice zipper right down the center. You and Tyler had spent all morning looking through various clothing websites, seeking out inspiration and potential outfits for the next set of music videos. Since it was the first introduction the fans would get to the new era, as well as the end of the hiatus, Tyler was really putting the pressure on himself.

“Would you wear it just like that?” you asked.

“Well, no. It would probably have some yellow on it and we could dirty it up a bit to make it look worn,” Tyler said, absentmindedly pointing at the jacket. “I don’t think this is it.”

He slowly closed the laptop and buried his face in his hands, letting out a long sigh as he did so. You reached over and lightly rubbed at his back, making sure to give a little extra attention to his shoulders. Between finishing up the album and preparing to end the hiatus in a few short months, Tyler had been extra stressed lately. You were doing your best to support him in any way that you could.

“It’s like I have this whole vision in my head and then I can’t pinpoint, what, a jacket? It’s ridiculous,” he continued.

“Sometimes having a vision can make it harder because you’re looking for something that might not even exist.”

“I know. It just feels like I haven’t found anything that’s even close to what I’m imagining.”

“Ok, I think I have an idea,” you said. “Just wait here for a second.”

You left Tyler sitting at the dining table with a confused expression on his face as you ran off to the office. When you returned with a piece of paper and a pencil in hand, he had already gone back to scrolling through the endless pages of utility jackets that the website had to offer.

“What’s this idea of yours?” he asked as you sat back down next to him.

“I want you to close your eyes.”

“Eyes are closed,” he nodded.

“Ok, now picture the outfit in your head. I want you to think of all the little details and everything.”

Tyler thought for a moment. “Ok.”

“Now describe it to me in as specifically as you can.”

While Tyler described the outfit, you sketched it all onto the sheet of paper you had grabbed from the office. It had been awhile since the last time you did some sketching, a combination of never having the free time to do it and letting your insecurities get in the way when you did, but all of your old techniques came right back to you as soon as the pencil hit the paper. Keeping up with Tyler’s descriptions was a breeze, and you even managed to sketch in his face just for fun.

“Then you add the yellow tape over the shoulders and I think that’s it.”

“Hold on just a second,” you said, drawing out the end of the word as you quickly sketched in some tape. “Ok, do you want to take a look?”

“Yeah.”

Tyler slowly blinked his eyes open and leaned over so that he could see the piece of paper sitting in front of you. His eyes immediately went wide and he pulled it closer to him, letting his eyes roam over your haphazard sketch.

“Y/N,” he said plainly. “You drew this?”

“Yes.”

“Just now?”

“Yes.”

“Wow, this is amazing.”

You felt your cheeks getting hot from Tyler’s obvious impression with your artistic ability. It was never something you had really made a fuss about drawing attention to, mostly because you had never entirely convinced yourself that you were living up to the hype other people gave you.

“It’s just a sketch,” you shrugged. “Nothing special.”

Tyler had fully picked up the paper now. “Nothing special? Y/N, we’ve been dating for four years and I had no idea you could draw like this. If I hadn’t listened to you sketch this as I was speaking, I wouldn’t have believed you did it in ten minutes. Look! That’s me!”

“Yeah, that’s you,” you laughed.

“Also you totally nailed the outfit design. That’s almost exactly what I was picturing in my head.”

“I thought getting a sketch of the picture in your head would help you, and everyone else, find something that resembled what you wanted for the video. If nothing else, we can put a little more manpower into finding it now that we all have a clear vision.”

“This was a great idea,” Tyler nodded. His eyes were still glued to the sketch. “Thank you so much.”

He leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to your lips.

“I’m happy to help, Ty.”

Tyler looked over the sketch for a little while longer before he finally set it back down. “Do you, um, have any sketchbooks or anything? I would love to see more of your art, Y/N.”

Now it was your turn to raise your eyebrows in shock. There had only been a small handful of times in your life when people asked to look through your sketchbooks.

“Yeah, I have some in the closet upstairs.”

“Alright, let’s go-”

“Hey, hey,” you said, reaching out and putting a hand on Tyler’s arm. “Why don’t we get through the rest of the outfit ideas you have in your head and then we can go look through my sketchbooks.”

Tyler slowly sat back down in his chair, “Yeah, that’s probably not a bad idea.”

So that’s what you did. Tyler described another handful of outfits to you, all of which you sketched down onto a piece of paper. Each time, he was just as impressed with the outcome. You were also enjoying seeing a small piece of Tyler’s universe come together.

When you had finally gotten through all of Tyler’s ideas, you led him upstairs to the closet where you had tucked your sketchbooks away and laid them all out. You sat cross-legged on the floor with Tyler and watched as he slowly flipped through their pages, making comments on nearly every sketch or full-size drawing that you had done. No matter how many times you tried to brush off his compliments, Tyler insisted that they were sincere.

“I swear I’ve never seen you draw once during the entirety of our relationship,” Tyler said as he flipped through one of your high school sketchbooks. “Until today, that is.”

“I stopped drawing as much once I got out of high school. Sometimes I would draw if I got bored while you were out at meetings, but even those moments were few and far between.”

Tyler looked up at you, “Why did you stop?”

“I wasn’t happy with what I was creating and it slowly started to become more of an obligation than a hobby. I never really had a reason to keep doing it, either.”

“Why did you hate what you were creating? These are beautiful.”

“You know how it is,” you sighed. “Sometimes you just hate everything you create with no real reason for it. Not to mention that I always had friends who were better than me, so I convinced myself that my art would never live up to the things they were creating.”

“You can’t compare art, though,” Tyler frowned. “Everyone has their own unique style and vision that could never be compared to someone else’s. You’re the only person that can make art quite like this, Y/N.”

“I know, trust me, I’ve heard it a million times. I would love to get back into art, it’s just hard to overcome that wall of insecurity.”

Tyler gently closed the sketchbook he was holding and set it back on the top of the pile.

“Well, I would love to help you get back into it however I can. Your art is beautiful and worth sharing and I would hate to see you shut it away because you fail to see the beauty in it.”

Your mouth slowly curled up into a smile. “Thanks, Ty. That means a lot.”

He held his arms out and you happily accepted his hug, making sure to press a quick kiss to his cheek as you did so. You hadn’t expected Tyler to be so supportive of your art, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t happy that he did. Drawing had been a huge part of your life, and you were glad that you had the opportunity to bring it back with plenty of people to support you.

“You know, there’s some more concepts I have that I would love to see on paper, if you’re up for the challenge.”

You smiled and kissed him again, “Absolutely.”

#tyler joseph #tyler joseph x reader #tyler joseph fluff #twenty one pilots #twenty one pilots fluff #tyler joseph imagine #tyler joseph drabble #tyler joseph fanfiction #twenty one pilots x reader #twenty one pilots imagine #twenty one pilots drabble #twenty one pilots fanfiction #fluff #skeleton clique #blurry-fics #gn!reader

60 notes · View notes

lightsburnbrite · 5 years

Text

The Devil is in the Details: Part 3

Karina sat in the empty office, drumming her fingers on the desk. She had set aside the day to start putting the gallery together but was currently short on any motivation. Finally, Karina pulled up a spreadsheet containing all the pieces she intended to display and got to work sorting them. Once she knew how she was going to display the paintings, the movers would deliver them.

Grabbing a tape measure, Karina started jotting down a few notes on which set would hang where. She was almost finished when she heard the little bell above the door ring, signaling a visitor.

“Sorry,” Karina called out with out looking up, “we’re not open yet.”

Coming from around the corner, Karina was surprised to see Daniel.

“Hey.” He flashed a broad smile once the door was closed behind him.

Karina attempted not to appear too surprised and offered a smile in return but quickly stopped when it felt more like a grimace. “Hi. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Right, sorry.” Daniel smiled again as he began to wander around the still empty space. “Nena told me about your gallery.”

Karina tilted her head in just a way that she was indicating that she expected him to say more.

“Oh, yeah.” He let out an awkward little giggle as he shrugged his shoulders. “It’s just you look different.”

Without thinking, Karina glanced down to her Joy Division t-shirt and jeans so worn they were practically shredded in some areas. “Well, I mean, you’ve only seen me in work clothes so…”

“No, no. You look good, really good.” Daniel seemed to realize that he had crossed a line and immediately went back to apologizing for dropping by unexpectedly. “I came to see if you needed some help.”

With a polite yet entirely forced smile, Karina shook her head. “Thank you, but I’m still figuring out what I want to do so I’m not really at that stage yet.”

“I didn’t peg you as an artist.” He turned back to Karina and cocked his head to the side in a gesture she figure was supposed to indicate he was ready to listen to her response.

Inhaling, Karina smiled again in an effort to keep a pleasant face. “No, it’s more of a pet project. I inherited a lot of paintings and I don’t have room in my apartment to display them all so I figured this would be the best way to share the pieces that I didn’t want to donate.”

The whole time, Daniel was nodding enthusiastically. Karina thought he looked like a little bobblehead. “Wow, that’s a great idea. I’ll…just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help out.”

“Sure,” Karina noticed that she had subconsciously made her way towards the door, “I’ll do that.”

Once Daniel had left, Karina scrunched her mouth into a frown, wondering why he had come in the first place. The visit hadn’t scared her, she didn’t feel threatened, but still she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Making her way back towards the office, Karina found that she was having a difficult time concentrating again. Instead, she found herself wandering the space, seeking inspiration or motivation in any form. When she heard the door chime again, she actually jumped this time.

“Hey,” Leon spoke softly as always, but his voice was now more soothing to her ears. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Karina beamed a smile at him and kissed his cheek before wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest. “No, it’s ok. I just wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“I thought you might like some lunch.” He winked as he held up a picnic basket with a blanket folded on top, causing Karina to laugh.

“Did you really put all this together?” Karina took the blanket and gave it a shake to unfold it before taking a step closer to kiss Leon again.

With a sly little grin, he shook his head. “Nope. One of the chefs at the club was very nice and set it up for me. We’ve got sandwiches and some sort of cucumber salad.”

Karina began unpacking the basket, pulling out its contents. When she got to the sandwiches, both wrapped in brown butcher paper, Karina handed the one marked with an “L” to Leon but immediately laughed when she found the other one wasn’t marked with an initial but instead had a little drawing of a mouse on it. “You’re too much, do you know that?”

“I do.” Leon looked very pleased with himself, but Karina couldn’t decide if she wanted to chide him or reward him for his cheek.

Leon continued to smile. “But you love me anyway.”

“I do.” Karina mimicked his initial response before she crawled closer to give him a kiss. “How long do I have you before the club takes you away again?”

Pressing his lips together, Leon hesitated. “Four days. Then I’ll be gone for about a week.”

“I guess that’s not so bad.” She rested her chin on her hand and pretended to pout. “Thank you for coming home early.”

Leon gave a little nod. “I told you it was as much for me as it was for you.”

When their lunch was wrapping up, Leon glanced around. “How much more were you wanting to get done today?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Karina sighed. “I’ll probably just measure the walls and then I can figure out where I want to hang everything at home. I was thinking of calling Jannis to see if he wanted to display some of his pictures here, just to get things started, you know?”

Leon leaned forward and kissed Karina’s forehead. “That’s really sweet of you. I was thinking, what if we went to the big house for a couple of days. I can train in the gym there since I don’t have to report for a few more days and there’s the pool so it won’t be as hot and we won’t have to deal with any interruptions.”

“I’ll have to talk to Nena but I can probably rearrange my work schedule. It would be nice to go hide in the woods.” Karina laughed at that, imagining the two of them huddle in a cave instead of lounging around a house that could almost be considered a palace instead.

Karina locked everything up and they met back at their apartment. Leon beat her home and she arrived, she found him lounging on the sofa with his legs dangling over the arm. With a laugh, she motioned for him to sit up so she could join him. Leon moved just enough and then when Karina sat down, he rested his head on her lap.

“I called Olga and told her to expect us tomorrow morning.” Karina instantly began to run her fingers through Leon’s hair. “Sound good?”

Eyes closed, Leon let out a little sigh. “Sounds perfect. What do you want to do tonight? See a movie? Go out for dinner?”

“Is Serge seeing anyone right now?” Karina gazed up at the ceiling, a pensive expression on her face.

Leon opened his eyes, trying to get some idea as to how that answered his question. “No, why?”

“I was just thinking it might be nice to set him up with Isabella.” Looking down at him now, she continued to play with his hair. “We could get them both out for dinner with us.”

“I don’t even think Serge is home right now. I mean, yeah, we could do that, but not tonight.” Leon stood and stretched his arms above his head. “How about Sophia’s?”

“I do like the idea of not cooking tonight.” Karina held her hands out for Leon to help her up. As soon as he did so, Leon pulled her against him, wrapping his arm around her waist.

They stayed that way for a bit before Leon slid his hands down and gave Karina’s backside a squeeze. “Go start getting ready and I’ll call for a table.”

Rummaging through her wardrobe, Karina found her white eyelet lace dress. It was just cool enough for the unseasonable heat but also not too casual. By then, Leon had changed into a pair of navy shorts and a white oxford shirt and was getting ready to tie his brown boat shoes when Karina asked him to zip the back of her dress.

After she pulled half of her hair up into a topknot, Karina tugged on Leon’s elbow so that he was standing next her in her full length mirror. “You know, sir, you do clean up nicely.”

“Is that why you married me?” Leon kissed her temple before fastening his watch.

Karina grabbed her clutch and followed him out of the bedroom, giving him a quick swat on his rear. “Among other reasons.”

Leon continued to walk towards the front door, but spoke over his shoulder. “Don’t start with me, Maus or we’ll never get out of here.”

Once they were seated, Karina looked up from her menu and grinned at Leon.

“What?” He laughed. “That look is usually when you’re thinking something ridiculous.”

Karina just shrugged. “I was just thinking I’m happy that they provide an a la cart menu because I came here with my parents once and they tried to serve me octopus.”

“I’m sure that went over well.” Leon smirked, his dry sense of humor sometimes cracked when he was around Karina.

“Yeah, I didn’t eat the main course that day.” She flipped the page. “I might get the-”

“Chicken?” Leon raised an eyebrow.

Karina pretended to frown as Leon finished her sentence. “Am I that predictable?”

“Just your palate, Mausi.” He gently nudged her foot under the table. “When you don’t eat pork, beef, or most other meats, your options can be limited.”

Sitting the menu down on her plate, she playfully tipped her head in defiance. “And what are you getting, the adventurous eater that you are?”

“The tuna.” Leon smiled before adding a wink.

Karina shook her head and laughed as she covered her eyes, her cheeks blushing to a bright pink.

Leon was genuinely stumped as to what prompted that reaction. “What? What did I say?”

“Nothing.” Karina sighed as she caught her breath. “It just hits me every so often that I am hopelessly in love with you.”

This time he nodded. “I know. I am absolutely in love with you too, Karina.”

When Leon awoke the next morning, he wasn’t surprised that the other side of the bed was empty. Karina had an internal clock that prevented her from sleeping in on most days and Elsa had come to count on an early morning stroll because of it. He stayed in bed for a few more minutes until he saw Karina walking back and forth from the kitchen wearing one of his sleeveless shirts and a pair of boyshort underwear. The sleeve holes were large enough that when Karin lifted her arms to get something from the cabinet, the side of her breast was clearly visible. Leon felt a familiar tingle in the pit of his belly and laughed to himself, hoping that the day would never come when he wasn’t turned on by his wife.

“Good morning, beautiful.” Leon called out from bed.

“Hello, sir.” Karina strode in and sat on the edge of the bed before she leaned in to kiss him. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

With a yawn, Leon shook his head. “I was just enjoying the view.”

Leon reached out and stroked the curve of her breast with his index finger before giving her nipple a pinch.

“Ow!” Karina laughed as she shrunk back.”

Sitting up straighter, Leon stretched. “You wanted to leave soon, didn’t you.”

“As soon as you’re ready.” Karina stood and pulled out his duffle bag. “Now start packing because I cannot wait to spend two days with you in the middle of nowhere, pleasantly drunk, and stuffing myself full of Olga’s food.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Leon stood and started to help Karina pack. “How can I resist.”

#leon goretzka #The Devil is in the Details

7 notes · View notes

guylty · 5 years

Text

Update +++ Update +++ Update +++ Update +++ Update +++ Update +++ Update +++ Update +++ Update

Flat Richie has left Germany and is now on his way to the next stop… He’ll have to go a bit of a distance. And to while away the time until we hear from him again, Nordlicht – Flat Richie’s most recent host – has written a detailed account of the visit. In order for all readers here to understand, I have translated the German original into English. However, Nordlicht’s original account is so funny and nicely written, I am going to include it at the bottom of the post for those among you who are able to read German. Also – all photos courtesy of Nordlicht. Here we go…

On Thursday I finally had Flat Richie in my arms. He had been well taken care of by my predecessors – he is a lot bigger and heavier than I expected. Plus, he had something priceless in his bag: a real Richard Armitage! Almost fresh from the press. Remembering the notion that HE had touched the same pages, I could almost imagine I was still able to perceive the slightest whiff of his scent 🤤😍 … Forget coffee paper (a reference to a discussion on this blog), Richard Armitage paper is the one and only that counts. I can now empathise with Francis in the Blake scene … but don’t worry, I did not eat the page 😉. However, it was an uplifting feeling to hold the yet virginal page (not worn and drooled over) in my hands. Thanks again to Armidreamer for this great idea.

The moment of unwrapping the parcel made me really feel like a kid at Christmas, so much excitement, suspense, surprise. So yes, Thursday night was a very special night. Many thanks to all who are participating in the project and making something wonderful possible. And a very special thank you to Guylty, for organising, but also for the wonderful logbook. It totally fascinated me. You put so much love in it and really conjured up a little treasure which alone makes participating in the project worthwhile. And even though I was glad not to be too far back in the itinerary, I regret not being able to see the log once it is filled with even more contributions.

I offered the three travellers the opportunity to enjoy early spring time and refuel in the sun – and took a few photos of them. Flat Richie politely refused, as you know he prefers selfies. So only Thorin and Guy accompanied me on a ramble through my city – which has not hosted a real king for a long time. Some years ago the Pope visited, but what is that compared to the King under the Mountain? Unfortunately I could offer neither gold nor jewels to him whom I would follow anytime, anywhere. Strangely enough though, my suggestion of a flower crown as a substitute was not received with much enthusiasm. However, the two had no problem with being accompanied by a silver fox. Here are the results of my amateurish photo session. We had a lot of fun doing it.

After the walk, Thorin and Guy were more than eager to offer me their help testing a new mattress. But I decided to leave them at home. A furniture store did not seem like the best place for a mattress test. 😏 But at home, the three were witness to my very first attempt at Aloo Masala. The lack of meat was generally lamented (peasants!). Finally and coincidentally at the weekend I had the opportunity to see Alice through the Looking Glass for the first time, and waiting for Richard’s appearance was sweetened by the nice company.

Far too soon, it was time to say goodbye, which was very hard for me. But the lads really are made only for a few nights at most rather than a lifetime. In any case, they were getting restless and wanted to embark on new adventures. Secured with a fresh layer of tape, their journey will hopefully continue on to the next happy hostess. And *I* know who that is! 😝.

Right – and this is the German original:

Nordlicht also enclosed pictures of the three items she chose from the Flat Richie box. Have a look at these gorgeous items:

She writes:

A Thorin figurine. An adequate substitute for Shrine Thorin, whom I had to send off just now. And who could resist the hottest dwarf of all time ?! Not me anyway. Especially since everything started with The Hobbit …

A Zox bracelet. Until recently I did not even know that there was such a thing or what that is. Guylty (and her enthusiasm for it) are to blame that this has changed! And this one fits well, because … well … Tolkien (false dwarf though, but let’s not be petty ;-)). The design reminds me of a mountain landscape. And ultimately, life is always about going forward, no matter what happens.

A necklace. The colour entranced me at first glance. I did not have to think twice. The pendant of this (I suspect) handmade necklace is beautiful.

Thank you for the fabulous report, Nordlicht! And just to set the record clear – too much credit for me. The beautiful gifts you chose were all provided by our fellow fans. I am not entirely sure (so please correct me in the comments if I am wrong) but I suspect the Thorin figurine came from Michele. The Zox bracelet was included in the package by me – but really has been provided by LoLo – who is the one who got me into them in the first place. (I am currently wearing a Tolkien themed Zox strap myself, given to me by LoLo.) Lastly, the gorgeous necklace was handmade – but not by me but by Helen who is a jewelry artist herself. I am the proud owner of several gorgeous pieces made by Helen, too. Check her work HERE.

Anyway, and now Flat Richie is travelling again. Somebody, somewhere on this planet, may look forward to receiving a parcel in 10 to 12 days… Who will it be? We’ll keep an eye out for Flat Richie’s next landfall.

#FlatRichie Has Left Germany Update +++ Update +++ Update +++ Update +++ Update +++ Update +++ Update +++ Update +++ Update…

#Flat Richie #Thorin Oakenshield

5 notes · View notes

arttlations · 5 years

Text

one

Aside from the fact that my essays always stray too far from the topic given or as mentioned before, lack elegance in my usage of language and hence cost me a few marks, my overall grades were basically good. Simply put, I was close to being called a top student. That is why, before the placings for the midterm exams were out, I made a bet with Fatty and the rest that I would be able to attain a level placing in the top 15. This was a safe bet, for if I could get a pass for my essay, top 15 in the level would be an easy goal.

However, when the placings were released, I was ranked 16th.

Speechless, I treated Fatty and the rest to the student cafeteria's best fried noodles. Each person ate two big plates, and along with the noodles that disappeared, so did half of my week's allowance. (Dad and Mum used to give my brother and I our allowance weekly.) I was dissatisfied; my essay had surprisingly gotten a good pass, yet why was I unable to get into the top 15? I took out the seven scripts and went through each one of them carefully: out of a 100, Chinese 87, Mathematics 90, English 92, Physics 89, Political Science 86, History 69. My History must have pulled me down; it actually fell below 70 marks. Still unwilling to accept the placing, I went through the script thoroughly, hoping to spot a calculation error of one or two marks. The 15th rank belonged to Lu Feng, who was also from our class, and he only got one mark more than I did. Getting one mark back would mean I could share the spot with him. This wasn't about honor but rather about whether I would be able to eat this week.

With this final check, my blood started boiling, my face turned red with fury. I got a full score for the multiple-choice questions, but the teacher only gave me a big red tick, not a single mark out of the twenty marks was added to my final score.

Twenty, twenty marks...... Amongst the top 15, even half a mark could change everything, let alone forty half marks.

The me who was originally lying in the top bunk bed of the eight-people shared dorm awaiting death immediately sprang up, prepared myself to look for Fatty first to get the money back and then get my rightful marks back at the teachers' office. Suddenly, as soon as I lifted my head, I saw Lu Feng who resided in the lower bunk below me dash through the doorway excitedly, in his hands was an expensive-looking paper box.

"Cheng Yi Chen, come and check out my CD player."

It was the year 1996, in our small village back then, it was a time where many children could only enjoy the heavy cassette tape players, and carrying an AIWA Walkman was already a privilege that extended way beyond the MD-Player. I too, carried an unspeakable sense of curiosity and admiration as I examined the black gadget, and in the meantime, completely forgot about my usual stance of not bothering myself with Lu Feng.

Since the start of school, only half a term had gone past, but the cliques in which the boys hung out in were already more or less formed. Lu Feng and I were two different kinds of people that would never mix with the other no matter what. For me, as you guys have seen, I was a good student and an obedient son. My brother who's younger than me by a year was still in his first year of junior secondary school while I was a quick student who moved up by a few grades to be in the first year of senior secondary school. Besides my marks, my other aspects were on the low side; my family's financial background was extremely normal, (I'll see you try if you had parents who are both earning an average salary and yet have to support a son, one without any knowledge in terms of managing finances, studying at a prestigious school.) I was taught from young that nothing was more valuable than the knowledge you get from books and was threatened with the usual scare "if you can't get into university, then you can go back to our hometown and plow through our ancestors' fields that extend for miles", hence, I would never compare myself with others. Be it in terms of my meals or attire, as long as it's edible or wearable, an example being my outfit from junior high, the standard blue or black long pants with a white top and white sneakers, I would still try to wear it. As expected, I had the most appropriate hairstyle that's aligned with the school rules, and a daily scene you would see would be me wearing an old-fashioned pair of glasses as I sat at my desk, occupied with work.

Lu Feng, on the other hand, he's...... um...... it isn't right to speak badly of someone behind their backs, so I would simply present an objective point of view, picking a few rumors I had heard through the grapevine.

Appearance: Apparently, he was the level's most stylish and handsome male student, and if compared to Andy Lau or Aaron Kwok, they wouldn't stand a chance. (Really? Why didn't anyone find a Chinese man with a high nose bridge and deep amber eyes strange?)

Family background: Yes...... I heard that his father was a Chinese American, but anyway, Lu Feng is a person of mixed race, and just putting this out here, from the start of junior high, Lu Feng's family had been donating large sums of money to the school yearly to build this and that.

Academics: Um...... Let's just say the fact that he had entered the top 15 was as senseless as the fact that I hadn't entered the top 15.

Character: Eh, this sensitive question makes it hard to arrive at an answer, but the money that his father had donated was partly for the removal of records of Lu Feng's multiple fights. In one of the years of junior high, he had miraculously not been caught for the whole year. The finance department was said to have been riddled with anxiety for quite a while then.

Simply concluded, none of us look up to the other.

This new machine had obviously made us forget about this as we sat together listening to Lu Feng's collection of CDs of popular rock artists who I had never heard of.

"The sound quality is quite good, isn't it?" Lu Feng excitedly chattered, "My father's a man who keeps his words. Getting into the top 15 this time all depended on luck."

I immediately understood. This was the prize Lu Feng asked for from his father.

Feeling the history paper in my hands, I hesitated. I didn't like Lu Feng, but I couldn't bear to dampen his spirits at the moment.

"Like it? I'm going out to play soccer in the afternoon, do you want to borrow it first?"

Gosh, this was hateful...... He was too generous.

I quickly rolled up the paper hidden behind my back. Forget it, the cost of the plates of fried noodles wouldn't even add up to half a piece of the CD player's antenna.

Lu Feng scooped up the soccer ball below his table, and shouting for the boys next door, he left. The player was still sitting on my desk. I sighed. "Because of you; to protect you I'll have to starve for two days."

Throwing my script aside, I picked up an English textbook for a read on Lu Feng's bed before I gradually fell asleep.

Go on, sleep, once you fall asleep you'll no longer be hungry.

When I woke up, Lu Feng was already back, his eyes carefully examining something in his hand as he stood by the bedside rubbing his hair dry. I wandered for a moment before realizing that was my history paper.

"Your marks are tabulated wrongly." Seeing that I had woken up, Lu Feng lifted the paper, his tone calm yet unfriendly.

I muttered an "oh" in return.

"Why don't you go correct it? You might just become 1st if the marks are added."

"If I changed it, you would..." As expected, I was never one with the gift of gab after a nap. Who knew, Lu Feng was one with an immense amount of pride, and the look on his face obviously changed upon hearing these words.

"I know you look down on me. When the final exams come about, I'll be able to get a placing above you just fine by myself, you don't have to pretend to care."

Well, so much for being nice.

"I don't have any other intentions. That player is pretty neat, but as to whether you want it or not, that is your problem, it has nothing to do with me. I have no need to curry favor with you, and I'm not looking down on anyone, so don't be so narrow-hearted." I was too lazy to say any more, and with a quick eye roll, I snatched my paperback.

The room was quiet for some time before I heard him spoke. "How about this, I don't like owing people favors, so let me treat you to a meal."

This person is pretty irritating, treating someone to a meal immediately after having scolded them off.

After giving it some thought and finding that I was indeed hungry, I nodded. "Sure."

After that, I often thought, if I wasn't for this exchange, if Lu Feng and I had kept our distance and simply brushed past each other as usual, the future, my future, his future, would perhaps have been different.

I never expected that Lu Feng would go to such a great expense for the meal.

Repeating myself again, that was the year 1996, Kentucky's chicken wasn't as commonly found in the past. To eat that meal of KFC, it required a one hour plus journey on an old bumpy bus before they reached the city. To be honest, my knowledge on these American fast foods only extended till what I've read about them or seen on television, and as a result, Lu Feng called me old-fashioned for I had on a serious and respectful expression as I dipped the French fries in the tomato sauce with deep concentration, even more so than when I do an analysis question in Chemistry.

Even though I was mercilessly made fun of and laughed at by Lu Feng, that became one of my life's most unforgettable meals, and that feeling would never return in the future as I sit in the KFC by the street eating a burger and pieces of chicken.

Maybe a person's first indeed leaves the strongest memories.

This will then explain why in the many years to come, I would still fail to forget this man called Lu Feng.

For as many firsts he had given me, he had taken just as much away from me.

prologue//two//masterlist

#arttl #a round trip to love #a round trip to love translation #boys love #bl novel #gay boys

2 notes · View notes

acaseforpencils · 6 years

Text

Jason Chatfield.

Bio: I grew up in the far flung suburbs of Perth, in Western Australia, and used to spend my paper route money on MAD Magazines (I cheaped-out and stole my dentist’s waiting room issues of the New Yorker. I think I was the only kid who looked forward to going to the dentist).

I moved to New York in 2014 and started pitching to the mag in person. I’m not sure Bob liked me, so I went back to pitching via email. Then I went in on his last day and finally sold my first piece. I feel like it was his final f—k you to the magazine. “Here! Have a Chatfield!”

Find this print here!

The cartoon was a goofy play on Vlad the Impaler.

I didn’t sell to the magazine again until last month, but I’ve had a handful sold as dailies. And I’m published in MAD often, so they’ve clearly done away with any of their standards.

When I’m not drawing gag cartoons I write and draw a syndicated legacy strip called Ginger Meggs which I took over 10 years ago. It’s been around since 1921 and now appears daily in 34 countries. He’s kind of an Australian version of Dennis the Menace, except he predates him by about 30 years.

Tools of choice: For drawing/roughs, I use a Prismacolor Turquoise clutch pencil with a red lead and try to find some paper with a little bit of tooth. The mixed media pads at Blick do the trick nicely.

I ink using a Uni-ball Vision Elite Stick Roller Ball Pen… or a Pigma Micron 03.

DO NOT use the Uni-Ball Vision Rollerball Pens, Fine Point (0.7mm) if you’re traveling. They explode on planes. And ruin your copy of The New Yorker.

For a wash, I just use watercolor and whatever brush is lying around. Nothing fancy. There’s a scanning app on my phone called “Adobe Scan” which does a nice job of scanning line-art into a PDF when I’m out of the studio and need to email in a quick rough.

I use a Wacom Mobilestudio Pro for finished artwork. I like to get out of the studio and work from a bar or restaurant, so it helps that I can take that with me. I use a little glove that I got on Amazon so I don’t grease up the screen, and the felt-tip nib that comes in the pen-holder makes the friction between the stylus and the screen more like pencil on paper. Unfortunately, they’re not waterproof, as I found on a recent vacation…

youtube

My wife plays piano and sings at bars around the city so I’ll often sit at the bar during her sets and draw. Digital/Traditional depends on what deadlines are most pressing. (She has a weekly residency in Astoria —if anyone’s interested in going, let me know!)

A lot of people email me for advice about tablets —I’ve been trialling/demo-ing Wacom products for 15 years— I think they’re great. If you’re married to doing stuff by hand but want to colour digitally, you can get a decent tablet without going broke. Depends on your workflow.

Writing Desk: My wife and I were living upstairs in 5A when my neighbour in 4B died. He was a brilliant poet and had an incredible old writing desk. It’s the only thing that was left in the apartment, so I’m looking after it ’til his grandson moves in at the end of our lease. I work for countless hours at this old thing. It’s beat up, but I’ve patched it together enough that it won’t collapse and bury me mid-brushstroke. I’ve stuck a few of my favourite toons on the top of it.

Tool I wish I could use better: My brain. It really is a sack of cats. Whenever I want to sit and do work, it clocks off. Then it comes up with a pearler of an idea at 3 in the morning when I’m trying to sleep. I write it down in my phone, but autocorrect makes it indecipherable by morning.

I like working with my writer friend, Scott. We both do comedy at night and have developed a nice short-hand. We also seem to have the same library of references and can build on each others’ premises, which tames my sack-of-cats.

Tool I wish existed: The Deadline Extender.® I’ve never missed a deadline, but that said… an extra 3 or 4 minutes to allow for a terrible wifi connection, or a errant scanner wouldn’t go astray.

Also: The Deadline Extender® PREMIUM: Let’s you go back in time to when you were procrastinating and slap yourself in the face. $30 p/month.

Tricks: Ok, well. This is going to sound a bit Dalton Trumbo, but bear with me: I do my best work…in the bath.The most productive 3 hours of my week are during Scotchbath Sunday; an immoveable chunk of time on Sunday evening whereby I lock myself in the bathroom, run a bath, lug my drawing stuff onto a bit of wood that sits over the bath, and just write and draw. Nothing else. I write weeks worth of my syndicated comic strip (Ginger Meggs), I write New Yorker cartoons, scribble up roughs for dailies— and when I feel like I’ve earned it (usually 2 hours in) I tap the side of the bath three times, and my wife peels herself from her piano and I unlock the door to a nice big glass of scotch. It’s a hell of a carrot on a stick to work towards when you’re stuck. (PS. Lest you think I’m some kind of Don Draper-era misogynist; the scotch reward part was her idea. I think she realized it keeps me in the bath and out of her way.)

Anyway. It’s a great way to switch gears creatively. It’s like being on an aeroplane. No wifi, no phones — just the work you need to get done. Get involved. #ScotchBathSunday.

Oh! And if I get my deadlines done for the week, I have a small budget for a solo lunch somewhere where I can eat cheese and draw. I really didn’t know cheese ’til I moved to America. (And yes, I’ve already been to Wisconsin. Good Lord.)

Tips? I always tell younger artists to not even think about touching a drawing tablet until they’ve learned to draw by hand first. Otherwise they’ll always be drawing away, knowing they have the insurance of the CTRL+Z key at their disposal if they screw up a line. That’s not a good habit to have when you’re working to a deadline. But, once you do know how to draw, by all means dive head-first into the digital realm. It’s incredible. Procreate, Sketchbook or Photoshop are all great.

Misc: One of the hangovers from working in advertising illustration is that I’ve had to be a bit of a chameleon style-wise for the last 15 years and haven’t allowed myself to just settle into one style. Lately, I’ve just decided to say “Bugger it!” and try and find a loose, consistent style that I’m comfortable with, that’s an apt conduit to my silly ideas.

I always loved George Booth’s line, and his ability to create a scene with so much movement but just at the right moment in time. Also Sam Gross’ dark, hilarious cartoons with perfect line-economy. And I’d give my left arm (I draw with my right) to know how Barry Blitt has so much control with his washes…

Chatfield’s portrait of Sam Gross

While I’m geeking out, I love seeing younger cartoonists find their feet and thrive in a style that just feels like they’re speaking to you— Ellis J. Rosen, Sofia Warren, Hilary Fitzgerald Campbell, Jason Katzenstein, Amy Kurzweil, and a seemingly endless list of talented younger artists who are putting in the work are a big inspiration.

I know it should be Steig or Thurber or Addams, but my favourite cartoonist is Sergio Aragones.

I was always so enamoured of MAD growing up and studied the lines of Jack Davis, Mort Drucker, Al Jaffee and the Usual Gang of Idiots. I remember being so frustrated I couldn’t even come close to getting my work to look like theirs, but I think I found a style somewhere in between when I fell short.

I think Wil McPhail’s poses are masterful, and I wish I knew how how the hell he did that. One day I’ll trudge up to England and knock on his door to ask him. I find myself doubled-over at John Cuneo’s Instagram, and Ed Steed’s absurdly funny gags. I have a slew of toons I’ve torn out of years’ worth of magazines and taped to my studio wall, or my zillion year-old writing desk. I’m constantly humbled by how generous and welcoming the existing crop of New Yorker cartoonists have been to a goofy Aussie immigrant — Joe Dator, Matt Diffee and Pat Byrnes, Mort Gerberg and an ever-growing list of prolific, talented cartoonists who make the 99% weekly rejection tolerable.

I’ve made some of my closest friends and have been lucky enough to meet my cartooning heroes through the National Cartoonists Society. I got to spend a lot of time with Sergio at the Lakes International Comic Art Festival in the UK last year which made my year. We were signing together for a whole afternoon and I spent more time geeking out with him than signing.

Okay. Enough drooling. Sorry.

I’m a fan of cartoonists.

Website, etc. I have a weekly podcast where I throw around ideas for New Yorker cartoons with a fellow comedian and writer, Scott Dooley. It’s called “Is There Something In This?” It’s a bit of fun. We don’t take ourselves too seriously, but we do take the art of writing gags very seriously. It’s an extremely difficult skill to master, and we’re virtually zygotes at it. We have lots of listeners now, which is bewildering. Talking about drawing is like dancing about architecture, but here we are. Anyway you can find it on iTunes or wherever you waste time listening to podcasts.

My website is jasonchatfield.com and my comedy stuff is up at jasonchatfieldcomedy.com ( I’ve been doing stand-up comedy for 11 years. If anyone wants to come see a show, hit me up! I’ll put you on the door). My instagram is @jasonchatfield. I’m still trolling the British chap who has the @jasonchatfield handle on Twitter to no avail. To that end, I’m @jason_chatfield on Twitter.

If you want more art supplies in your life, A Case for Pencils is on Instagram and Twitter. You can also find me, Jane (the person who created/edits this blog), on Twitter here, which is where I stick the paintings that I’ve been doing instead of interviewing people consistently (I needed to balance working on other people’s work and my own work!). Oh, and If you’d like to support this blog, which is always very appreciated, there are many different ways to do so, which you can find here!

#Jason chatfield #how to draw New Yorker cartoons #artists on tumblr #art supplies #drawing process #artist interview

18 notes · View notes

enbystede · 6 years

Text

I’m so terribly sorry this is late!! This time of the year is always busy, you know? I just got side-tracked. Here is my (late) gift for @dineshgilfoyle for the Silicone Valley Winter Gift Exchange! Thanks to @carrot-gallery for setting it up!

So here you go, Len! Hope you enjoy!

—–

Dinesh wanted to stay. He really, really wanted to stay. But that wasn’t what they did after they were together. Gilfoyle wasn’t really the type to want to cuddle after sex. Dinesh was, though. Sex was totally great and everything, but he missed the good old fashioned feeling of cuddling up to someone at night. It was secretly one of his favourite things, though admitting that would probably lead to a never ending cycle of teasing that he didn’t want to deal with.

“See you tomorrow.” Gilfoyle said in his never changing monotone as Dinesh got up to leave. “Uh, yeah. Bye.” He replied awkwardly, not really sure how to navigate this not-really-a-relationship-but-also-kinda-a-relationship-but-not-really. He wished he knew how to ask for what he wanted here, but he honestly had no clue on how to approach it.

XXXXX

Without any warning, Richard walked out of his room one morning with a bunch of wrapped presents. He silently handed them all a package each, then just stood there awkwardly wringing his hands. “I, uh, I know not all of you do Christmas, and we haven’t really done anything the last few years, but my parents always taught me that the holidays were more about, uh, spreading joy to, uh, the uh, the people you… care about, or, yeah. That’s what I mean, not going back on that. Things haven’t… been very joyful. Things have been really shit, actually, super shit, and I kinda missed assigning presents. So, happy holiday of your choice.”

Richard slumped down into his seat with a blush once he finished stuttering through his speech. Jared was beaming, already carefully pulling at the tape, Bighead was just ripping at it like a kid, and Gilfoyle was eyeing his with curiosity. With a glance back at Richard, he started tearing at his own paper, only to stop when Bighead let out a wild “Yes!” and jumped up to hug Richard tightly. “I’ve been looking for this for ages! How’d you know?!” “Every time you see a pop vinyl in the shops or advertised online you go: ‘Oh man, I’d love to have the sharknado pop figure’, Bighead.” “Oh, yeah. And you got me the first three movies, we’re so doing a marathon.”

Jared let out a happy little gasp, a bundle of bird documentaries and new knitting needles now sitting on his desk. “Oh, Richard, thank you! I haven’t been able to find this series in years, and you remembered what I said about my needles! This is wonderful, thank you so much.” Jared gushed enthusiastically. Richard was turning darker and darker shades of red, mumbling off the thanks and staring down at his lap.

“What the fuck.” Gilfoyle said, interrupting Jared’s continued thanks. He levelled Richard with a look of shock, his eyes slightly wider than normal. “This is a first edition of my fav- a very good book. First of all, how do you know this is a good book and how the hell did you get your hands on a first edition?” He asked, voice rather sharp. “You, uh, mentioned it once when you were drunk. Really drunk. Someone said something and you asked then if they were quoting it, they said no, and then you got pissed off at them for not even knowing what the book was.” Richard explained, only glancing towards Gilfoyle once, still mostly staring at his lap.

Dinesh remembered that night. He was the one who had accidentally quoted the book, and it led to him and Gilfoyle having sex for the first time. To him leaving after for the first time. The night that had been his downfall in terms of him falling in love with his best friend, without that night, he wouldn’t be in this situation. Getting sex regularly, while simultaneously being touch starved and in love with someone who didn’t love him back.

Shaking those thoughts away, he opened up his own present, confused by the printed out google maps page at first, but noticing the book underneath. It was a cookbook, written in Urdu, and directions to a marketplace that was open every weekend with Middle East and Asian stores. Dinesh knew the conversation that led to this present, the way he complained that 'Middle Eastern’ take out never compared to his mothers cooking, but he only knew the spices in Urdu, his mother never shared the full recipe anyway. He hadn’t thought Richard had been listening, he’d been typing away at his computer, humming slightly in a seemingly fake reply every time he paused.

Before he could get over the shock and thank the man, he was pulled out of his seat by a surprisingly strong grip. Bighead dragged himself and Gilfoyle around the table and piled them onto Richard, then took Jared’s hand and pulled him into the group too. Now they were all just standing there, hugging, and normally he would just pull away and make some joke about not being gay, but it felt so fucking nice. Dinesh wanted this, some freedom from his starvation for just a little while. To his surprise, Gilfoyle didn’t pull away either, and it was Richard who did first, his mind and body taken all the physical affectation he could handle at the moment (and if Dinesh stayed under Gilfoyle’s arm a moment or two longer, that was no one’s business).

Dinesh had forgotten that Richard was a good guy, that he’d just been twisted by this cruel and unforgiving town into what he was now. At heart, Richard was a good guy, even if he was a bit of a genius idiot. But this, putting thought and dedication into getting something each of his friends would enjoy just for the sake of it? That was the Richard that wanted a music search engine so people couldn’t claim copyright on new music by new artists. That was the real, untwisted Richard. It was a shame what this place and these people had done to him.

XXXXX

Dinesh hadn’t worked in a kitchen for several years now, but it was simple enough to recreate his mother’s actions once he knew where everything was (with only a little bit of guidance from Jared). The pre loved Urdu cookbook had handwritten suggestions and extra recipes scribbled in and Dinesh adored it. Gilfoyle walked in just as he was ready to plate up, and he smiled over at him. “You want to join me?” He invited easily, already serving up two plates. Gilfoyle stabbed a fork into a piece of food and tried it, then shrugged and sat down at the bench.

They ate in silence for a while, then Gilfoyle started up a conversation about work. Their usual back and forth banter felt slightly different, less biting more… familiar. The words were the same, but the tone was gentler. Bighead interrupted them, looking sheepish about it, grabbing a few drinks from the fridge. “Jay and I are gonna take Richie out back, try and get him to destress a bit. You’re welcome to join us, or if you’d rather not, I’ll try and keep everyone out there for a while so you can… do whatever you want.” He smiled, grabbing some extra drinks before heading for the backyard.

Dinesh and Gilfoyle both blinked, glancing towards each other as Bighead left, Dinesh feeling his cheeks heat up. “How can he be so smart and yet so stupid at the same time?” Gilfoyle pondered aloud, finishing off the last of the meal before standing to grab a drink. “Want to head out there? Winding down doesn’t sound like a half bad idea.” “Sure.” Dinesh nodded, deliberately not touching the other man as he grabbed his own drink and followed him outside.

Richard was leaning against Jared’s shoulder, Bighead on Richard’s other side gently rubbing his arm, the three of them leaning against the burnt remains of the palapa. Jared gave them a smile and a wave, and Dinesh did his best to swallow an emotional wave of want and jealously. A hand grabbed his shoulder, making him look up in confusion at Gilfoyle who didn’t respond, just quietly led him over to where the others were sitting.

They were so close. Sides touching from shoulder to knee, still just far enough apart that if they got any closer only then would it feel deliberate. It was slowly killing Dinesh, so close to having what he wanted, but still so terribly far away from it all. His only small comfort was knowing he wasn’t the only one, both Bighead and Jared staring at the man between them the same way he privately looked at Gilfoyle while Richard remained oblivious to them both. They all sat drinking together in silence, a comfortable silence where they all simply lived in the moment instead of trying to make a moment happen.

XXXXX

When it started getting too cold outside (it was December), they piled into the house. Jared started making cocoa for them all, Bighead setting up a movie while they set themselves up on different chairs. Gilfoyle placed himself on the two-seater, looking up at Dinesh for a moment before gesturing to join him. Dinesh glanced back at the other three, but they were wrapped up in themselves, so he sat.

They started off the same way they’d been in the backyard, just far away enough for it to not be weird. Then Gilfoyle shifted to put his cup down, and when he moved back, he was closer to Dinesh. His skin tingled with warmth where he was pressed against Gilfoyle, his heart pounding so loudly in his chest he was sure the others must hear it. Instead of mentioning it though, Richard just fell asleep on Bighead’s shoulder, Jared’s arms around his waist.

An explosion happened onscreen, shocking Dinesh out of his head and further into Gilfoyle. The bearded man chuckled while Dinesh sighed. “Didn’t think you could scare so easily.” Gilfoyle teased, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Dinesh froze for a moment, but relaxed into the embrace. “I just wasn’t paying attention.” He replied, trying to let a hint of annoyance show through even though he wasn’t really. “I’m well aware of how oblivious you are.” Gilfoyle muttered, in such a way Dinesh didn’t think he was meant to hear. It could be dealt with later.

XXXXX

Dinesh moaned into Gilfoyle’s mouth, pushing his shirt off his shoulders, every part of them itching to get closer together. When they pulled apart for air, and for Gilfoyle to take his shirt off, Dinesh thought for some reason this was the perfect time to bring up that comment. “What did you mean about me being oblivious?” He asked, then instantly regretted it. Gilfoyle stopped, Dinesh’s shirt still in his hands as he stared for a few moments before dropping it with a sigh.

“It means I’ve been wanting you to stay for months, but by the time I go to ask, you’re already mostly dressed again so I don’t.” Gilfoyle said bluntly, a very light dusting of red colouring his cheeks. “Holy shit.” Dinesh whispered, blinking rapidly as he tried to process what he’d just heard. “I was just going to leave it. Friends with benefits was fine. But then you kept hugging me the other day, you made me dinner tonight, saw the way you kept looking at the other three hugging. It clicked for me, that it hadn’t clicked for you. Like I said, I was going to leave it, but you asked, so here I am.”

Dinesh kept staring for a while, before pulling Gilfoyle in and kissing him. It was different than all their other kisses so far, slow and meaningful, filled with emotions other than lust. His desire to be touched being fed steadily as Gilfoyle wrapped his arms around his waist, his own hands cupping the man’s face, his beard soft of his palms. Gilfoyle didn’t pull away like he was expecting him too, didn’t push him away, didn’t act weirded or grossed out, or any of the things that Dinesh had always thought he would do if he ever did this. He was pressing back just as eagerly, just as wanting, just as much emotion as himself.

They both smiled as they pulled apart, just enough to draw in air and not a bit further. “Okay, so maybe you might have a point about me being just the slightest bit oblivious. Only a little bit. I’m still way smarter than you.” He said, the breathiness of his voice and the grin on his face ruining the effect. Gilfoyle kissed him again, just a peck on the lips, before tugging him by his belt loops to the bed.

XXXXX

Dinesh rested his head on Gilfoyle’s shoulder, sleepy and satisfied. His satisfaction increased as warm arms wrapped around him, a large hand gently rubbing his back. “This is nice.” He mumbled into freckly skin, feeling the taller man’s chest rumble under him as he hummed. “Yeah. Wanna do it more often?” “Definitely.” “Cool.”

#sv winter exchange #sv secret Santa #sv #silicone valley #dinfoyle #dinesh chugtai #gilfoyle #bertram gilfoyle #richard hendricks #jared dunn #bighead #nelson bighetti #my fic

64 notes · View notes

brokenhz · 6 years

Photo

SUB ROSA SR190- Various Artists: AN ANTHOLOGY OF NOISE & ELECTRONIC MUSIC #1 first a-chronology 1921-2001 Reviewed format: 2CD digipack + 37 page booklet (still available) Welcome to Broken Hz, a new blog I've started for 2018 on which I'm going to expand on my project to document and review underground, extreme and experimental independent music on physical formats as released through various prolific record labels, the Cobalt Mindwave tapelabel blog is also part of this project and will also be updated later this year. Let's get right into the very first release I'm reviewing for Broken Hz. This is an excellent compilation released on Belgian label SUB ROSA which ever since the 80s released a wildly expansive selection of music in the fields of classic experimental electronic music pioneers, obscure folk music from countries far away, Fluxus works, classic and new music by contemporary composers and also plenty of music in the fields of Noise and related extreme music practices. This 2CD release AN ANTHOLOGY OF NOISE & ELECTRONIC MUSIC #1 first a-chronology 1921-2001, packaged with 37 page booklet features a rather wide-reaching selection of experimental electronic music by a variety of artists and composers and clearly showcases SUB ROSA's radical different approach to documenting classic and unreleased music like this. From the start in the booklet, Guy Marc Hinant points out that this anthology is in no way a traditional academic or chronological collection of electronic music. And after having read the included notes in the booklet as well as having listened to the 2 CDs of this compilation I can tell that this compilation is compiled in a way that instead of telling you as a listener how the history of Noise and Electronic music was in a dry manner, this anthology clearly lays out connections between pieces featured on the 2 CDs that are much more based on their sound, textures than mere historical significance / importance. This first volume is a joy to listen to as, rather like a mix the pieces flow rather naturally in the stream of sometimes Noisy, sometimes more abstract and quiet music that is presented here. Due to the free form and flexible presentation and enjoyable liner notes (that also show the thought process behind this compilation in a really fun way) you can also find connections between the pieces on this collection and electronic music of today. But like the title points out, this anthology is really focused most of all on Noise in the history of electronic music and is not going for the "traditional" expanded modern classical composition that other compilations dive into but gets straight to abstracted, intense and sometimes Harsh music. So this compilation is definitely one for people new to Noise and Industrial music or Noise fans, as most of these pieces have barely anything resemling melodies, instead being focused all on the deeper aspect of concrete and created sound, composed, structured or destroyed. Let's have a look at 18 tracks contained on these two CDs and how they often relate rather well to eachother. 1. kicks of with probably the first ever Noise piece recorded, Corale (1921) by Luigi and Antonio Russolo. It is an obviously already lo-fi piece of futurist art and while the noises the Intonarumori Noise devices make aren't easy to make out, the mixture of the orchestral music and strange rumblings still causes an effect of slight unease to me. Mysterious like an orchestra playing in a storm, the piece introduces the effect much Noise would continue to cause, a feeling of unease, mystery and (as shown later on on this compilation) danger. This is followed by the film without picture Weekend (1930) by Walter Ruttman, a piece that appropriately introduces the concept of sound montage. It's really fun and sounds like an absurd story of a rather wild weekend holiday in Germany. The industrial sounds and speech recordings in very old-fashioned german are rather hilariously edited together. I can imagine the audience who originally "saw" this film must have had quite some fun listening to this as it's very accesible in its light-hearted sense of humour. This piece is followed by the classic Cinq Etudes de Bruits: Etude Violette (1948) by Musique Concrete pioneer Pierre Schaeffer. This is classic musique concrete, a mixture of train sounds and mysterious instrument recordings. It's much more rhythmic than the previous piece and shows a rather more melodic and emotional side of organized sound. This is followed by a totally different kind of music, Scambi (1957) by Henri Pousseur, this piece features a lot of well-known elements from early electronic music, also called tape music, like the many silences in between the sounds, but this piece has a remarkably glitchy sound for its time. It's very abstract, it consists of a lot of glitchy noises, sometimes peaking into tape saturation or flowing into old-school reverb effects. It's one of those pieces that really feels like pure Noise sound worship, but it's definitely dynamic and exciting to listen to as well. The choppy progression and silences do disrupt my attention a bit while listening to it, so in this hyperspeed day and age, it takes more attention to really get into this. This piece is followed by The Dresden Interleaf 13 February 1945 (1965) by Gordon Mumma, again a piece that features a lot of those silences, this one's harsher though, with much more variation in sound texture. It couples well with Scambi though, in that it follows the Noise based composition style. Plenty of harsh Noise in here in some parts but also mysterious drones and a part of the piece builds up into a rather surprising loud climax. I won't spoil too much, have a listen. This piece is followed by Trance #2 (1965) by Angus MacLise, Tony Conrad and John Cale, a droning, hypnotizingly flowing piece that is admittedly more lo-fi in the recording quality than I expected but it doesn't take away from the fact that this is a rather captivating and immersive piece of music by three well-known veterans in Avant-Garde music. It might not be very "electronic" but it's percussion, metallic and almost industrial like, does add a surprisingly slight element of harshness to the generaly relaxing atmosphere. This is followed by a piece that on paper mind sound like a strange follow up track to Trance #2 but it works very well actually. This piece is called Untitled #1 (2000) by Philip Jeck, Otomo Yoshihide and Martin Tétrault, again a droning piece of some sweet turntable music by Philip and Martin coupled with Yoshihide's signature sinewave and Noise abrasion, though in this case much more subtle than I know of him. Based on what I read I think that a lot of the ambience is created by Philip Jeck, while the turntable noise rhythm is Martin Tétrault's work and wow is it a great piece, plenty of dynamics and some amazing bass created by the turntable make this a great introduction piece as well for all of these three artists. The piece is followed by October 24, 1992 Graz, Austria (1992) by Survival Research Laboratories which is essentially a sound recording of a live performance by the legendary industrial performance group. It is the piece on the compilation that's most similar to plain Noise and even more so because of the added distortion / overdrive added to the mix (probably). It definitely sounds like an event that you should've seen actually, but the recording with its bursts of low pure distortion filth and the weird cartoon sounds involved is a nice listen of Noise, definitely satisfying. This piece is followed by Küchen Rezept von Einstürzende Neubauten (1998) by Einstürzende Neubauten, which is pretty much what it says on the tin, sounds of cooking by Einstürzende Neubauten but there's also a mysterious faint guitar-like drone in the background which does make the piece a bit disturbing actually, interesting. 1. ends with Aspekt (1966) by Konrad Boehmer, a very intense piece of some good old-school synth Noise mayhem. The composition is very very dynamic and satisfying to listen to with its endless barrage of rhythmic and glitchy / harsh Noises being fired at you. This is great. 2. starts with Hommage à John Cage (1958-59) by Nam June Paik, a strange sound collage of noises that features a lot of disturbingly mangled voices, I found it a bit more disturbing than enjoyable at first but after listening I think it does have its original qualities to it. It's a grower for me personally. Rozart Mix (1965) by John Cage that follows it is better though, it's one of Cage's Electro-acoustic proto-plunderphonics style piece of clashing sound mayhem. What I like about this piece though is that while at times the piece sounds rather chaotic with its stack of music recordings and speech samples clashing frontally into eachother, it has again some rather funny elements to it, tho again also disturbing. The chopped up baby sounds add a great element of rhythm to the sound but also sound disturbing at the same time. Rozart Mix does have a great sense of texture to it and even with all the weird sound manipulation going on, the cloud of sound is quite relaxing in some strange manner. This piece is followed by Audience (1983) by Sonic Youth. It's admittedly another piece on here that'll take time for me to like really, it's basically a live manipulated (down pitch shifted) recording of the audience after a Sonic Youth concert. It's interesting but does require a less direct more trancelike way of listening, cause honestly not a lot happens in here really. The piece that follows it is better though, it's Poème électronique (1957-58) by Edgar Varèse, a classic piece of electronic music, composed in a tape music style but what makes this so unique is the mysterious element the theremin (?) adds to the mixture, with so many concrete sounds and textures being used, the "melody" gives this piece such a nice sense of cohesion that it really feels like telling a story rather than pure sound enjoyment. What follows then is companion piece Concret PH (1958) by Iannis Xenakis, a nice sweep of sound that feels like tiny little stones falling in a cave, it's like a sonic massage of the ears, very pleasant. Afterwards we have the piece FTP > Bundle / Conduit 23 (2001) by Paul D. Miller aka DJ Spooky That Subliminal Kid. It's a kind of plunderphonics / drone ambient hybrid piece that is pretty dark in its ambience but the music sample glitches layered over the ambience add a nice bit of abstraction to the deep flow of music. I like that these piece also has an old school "CD player skipping" sound in the glitches, sounding much more hands on than the clean cut glitches of nowadays. Very deep and original. After that we have a piece that is another favourite of mine on this compilation. A little Noise in the System (Moog System) (1966) by Pauline Oliveros. It's a (in 2001 unreleased) piece of music by Pauline Oliveros that predates a lot of Noise music of nowadays but has that very predicting forward-thinking sound of Oliveros. It is indeed for the most part a lot of modulated white noise that this piece consists of, coupled with Oliveros's signature high frequency manipulation techniques adding often strong intense washes of sound signal to the mix. Yes it gets very intense and harsh at times, ruthlessly blasting an enormous amount of high frequencies in your face but it's very progressive too, not just soundwise but also composition-wise. And the beds of white noise feel rather relaxing after some time, like a blanket of sound to put over your head. This is followed by what might be the most courageous piece to follow this up with, One Minute (1997) by Ryoji Ikeda. Yes, more high frequences, courtesy of Ikeda's now signature pure sine wave glitch rhythm, this track features some bursts of random sound though, and ends appropriately with a test-tone. A great ending of 2. and this excellent compilation. AN ANTHOLOGY OF NOISE & ELECTRONIC MUSIC #1 first a-chronology 1921-2001 is an interesting selection of experimental and Noise music throughout the years that is uncompromising in its selection and offers a rather varied look at all the possibilites and creativity that's been worked on in these 18 pieces. The 37 page booklet in the CD version is a great inspiring read as well as a nice reference to the CDs. It's a great mixture of music to listen to on its own or as introduction to more music by these artists and while not all tracks might be equally strong, there's no bad tracks on here. A recommended compilation for Noise and experimental music fans and people new to Noise and related and its exciting history. 2CD digipack + 37 page booklet version is available through SUB ROSA: https://www.subrosa.net/en/catalogue/anthologies/an-anthology-of-noise---electronic-music-1.html digital version is available on the SUB ROSA Bandcamp: https://subrosalabel.bandcamp.com/album/an-anthology-of-noise-electronic-music-1

2 notes · View notes

vin-taege · 7 years

Text

Zodiac

Summary: Despite Yoongi’s protests, you still buy the small mirror in the antique shop rumored to bring good luck. Soon enough, a series of fortunate events happen, and so does a chain of deaths. The mirror may bring good luck, but at what cost?

Genre: Horror, Angst, FengShui!au

Pairing: Yoongi x reader, ft. members

Disclaimer: major character death, mild depictions of gore

Legend: >> a few minutes forward

Yoongi doesn’t believe in superstitions, much less luck. Everything you got in life was because of your own will and perseverance, not because some higher entity thought you could have it. You, on the other hand, couldn’t agree less. There wasn’t any harm in trying out so-called luck-bringing rituals. If it didn’t work, nothing bad would actually happen, right?

The first part of your relationship was a bit rocky. His hectic schedule provided you barely enough time to see each other, and when you did, he needed to rest. He left before you woke up, and arrived just after you fell asleep. Composing for artists was a difficult and stressing thing, a fact you understood. That’s why when you moved to a new house, you wanted to start anew.

You were currently shopping for furniture in an antique shop. Taking Taehyung’s advice, you wanted to go for a classy look. Plus, the prices were way cheaper than those in department stores. Yoongi had already picked a dining table and its chairs, and you just finished checking out a dresser, when you saw it.

It was a fairly simple mirror, small enough to fit on top of your front door. It was a circular mirror, a thick octagonal border around it.. You went towards it and picked it up, its black, gold, and red colors vibrant. However, you noticed that there was a piece of cloth taped around the edges of the glass.

“May I help you?”, a voice said behind you, almost making you drop the mirror in surprise. You turned around to find one of the employees, a bored-looking teenager- who was probably annoyed at you touching their stuff.

“Oh, I was just looking. Um, do you know how much this thing costs?”, you showed him the mirror. He took it, checking the back and sides, before returning it to you. “Well, there isn’t a price tag, but I’ll ask Ms. Mei. That bagua’s pretty old, so it might cost a lot”, he said, leading you to the counter, where Yoongi was waiting for you.

Bagua.

You remembered reading about it once. In Chinese belief, it supposedly brought in good luck if you placed it at your front door. Perfect for your new home.

You placed the bagua on the counter, earning a questioning look from Yoongi. “Another ritual, cult girl?”, he teased you. You gave him a playful slap. “There’s no harm in trying.”

The employee went through a curtain behind the counter, and came back together with an old woman. She was shorter than you, her grey hair tied into a neat bun. She was wearing a shawl over her loose, red dress. Greeting you with a smile, she took the form you filled out earlier.

“The shop can help you transport your furniture. We have a truck, and I can get one of my employees to drive them to your house”, she offered.

“Yes, we would like that very much”, Yoongi smiled back, appreciating her thoughtfulness. She then looked at you, smile suddenly disappearing as she saw the mirror on the counter. Her expression darkened, and she even took a step back, wrinkled hands moving to pull the shawl around her tighter.

Even Yoongi noticed, and he flashed you a look of confusion. You nibbled on your lip awkwardly, the change of atmosphere evident. “Is there something wrong?” you asked her. “I wanted to ask how much this bagua costs. I saw it on one of the displays, so I thought it was on sale.”

“No!” she snapped. “No. Keep it. Y-you can have it for free. Just... be careful with it”, she said, her tone much softer this time. She hurriedly went back through the curtain, leaving behind the employee from earlier, who looked equally confused.

“I can drive the furniture. Just point out your car so I can follow you guys”, he trailed off, getting the truck keys. “Sehun, I’ll be out for a while. Man the counter”, he called out to the back of the store. You heard a faint ‘okay’, before exiting the store, with Yoongi holding your hand, the bagua clutched tightly in the other.

Fortunately, Jin and Jimin came to help move your things. It would’ve taken you two days to move just a cabinet, and a table set, and that’s even with Yoongi’s help. The table wouldn’t have been off the ground by an inch, and you’d already drop it.

“Wow, you guys got more than what you bargained for”, Jin said over a mouthful of cookies. Indeed, you did. For a cheap price, you got a small, but cozy bungalow. The inside was a plain white, which Yoongi liked since he thought it was simple.

“She even got into a fight with one agent”, Yoongi elbowed you teasingly. You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your coffee. “He was charging us way too much. The house wasn’t even that nice”, you argued, making the boys laugh.

The house you chose was near a forest, and was more on the rural side, but not too far away from the city. Most of your neighbors ran farms, so there were times a chicken or a dog would run down the streets, something you’d get used to. Taehyung was delighted to hear that, coming from a family of farmers himself, though he hasn’t visited the house yet, due to his busy school schedule.

To your luck, you didn’t have to change jobs since the shop you were working in was just a ten minute walk away. Definitely closer than your old house.

“Noona, what’s that?” Jimin nodded towards the octagonal mirror, the reflective surface itself still covered up. You took it from its spot on the table and brought it close to your face, holding it away as you took the cover off.

“It’s a bagua. It brings good luck apparently”, you told them as you tried to scratch the tape off. Yoongi snorted beside you. “It’s another one of those Chinese things she tried out. I gotta admit though, the incense she sprayed around in Chinese New Year did smell pretty great.”

Ignoring his comment,you finally got the cover off, and you peered into the mirror. It kind of looked like the eye-holes in hotels, where everything was slightly more rounded than normal. Weirdly, it gave off an odd feeling. Worry was tugging at your subconscious, but like Yoongi’s comment, you payed no attention to it. Maybe you were going to get a fever. It was just a mirror after all.

“Woah, that looks cool”, Jin remarked, reaching for it. Yoongi sat back as you handed him the mirror, choosing to look at you questioningly. You shrugged at him. “Hey, it’s not doing harm.” He gave you a half-smile. “I suppose not.”

“Hyung, let me see”, Jimin shifted next to Jin, seeing his own warped reflection beside the older boy’s. “Woah, it’s like those fish-eye things. Yoongi-hyung, wanna look too?”

Yoongi gave him a gentle smile. “No, I believe I’m good.” He leaned onto you, using you as a cushion. You whined, trying to push him off. He rolled his eyes, only squishing you further into the side of the couch. Jin looked at you and fake gagged, before handing back the mirror. Suddenly, a honk from outside caught your attention.

“Ah that’s Hobi. We should get going. We don’t really trust Jungkook alone at the house”, Jimin chuckled. “I suppose so. Thanks for coming over.” you said, laughing with them. The pair got up, only to be greeted by Hoseok opening the front door. “Hobi!” you waved at him,urging him to come in. “Hello! Sorry I wasn’t able to help in the moving.” he rubbed his nape.

He nodded at the mirror. “What’s that?” he said, moving closer to get a better look. “Oh, just a little lucky charm I got.” you replied, ignoring Yoongi’s scoffs.

“Y/n good news!” Your boss walked in as you were arranging a bouquet. The business at the flower shop has been slow, resulting in low paychecks. The salary wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t the best either. The only things keeping you from resigning were your overly-nice manager and the need to help Yoongi with the expenses.

“Yes, sir?” you placed the final rose in the center, stopping to turn to him. “Fortunately, a sudden pop-up of orders came; at least a hundred different companies and people are asking for orders.” he beamed at you.

Your jaw dropped. The shop you were in was a small one, having only a number of chains nationwide. It was highly unusual, and almost miraculous, to have a hundred orders pop out of nowhere. “W-what? Really?” a smile slowly crept, heart beating at the news. “Yes! I’m equally surprised. So, let’s work hard! About a fourth of them are due next week, so we better get going.” he patted you on the shoulder, a ringing phone drawing him out the room.

You stared at the pink cloth wrapped around the flowers. Twenty five orders were needed by next week, and God knows how much the amount was. Coincidentally, your boss came back with a long slip of paper. “Here’s a portion of the list.” he said, placing it on the counter. “I’ve already talked to Jiwoo and Hansung. They’re going to help you.” he finished, rushing out to manage another phone call.

The list was a jumble of rushed writing. Big companies were even there, and so were weddings. Determined to finish the orders by today, you looked at the first name.

Song’s Wedding

Your heart rate sped up. Could it possibly be Song-Song couple? No way. “Y/n!” your manager’s voice brought you back to reality. “On it!” A ton of peonies and roses mixed together, making about twenty for the aisle, and another special bouquet for the bride. It was going to be a long day, but it was so worth it.

Yoongs <3

Yoongs <3: Really? You aren’t just joking right?

You: Yes! I’m shocked too, I mean 100 orders in one day?? wtf

You: but in a good way

Yoongs <3: I’m so happy for you, babe :)

You: … omg screenshotted

Yoongs <3:Fuck off before I take it back

You smiled, sending a quick ‘I love you’, before putting your phone in your bag and zipping it up. Your boss was a bit too delighted and decided to send you home early. It was perfect for walking around the village and getting to memorize the way home.

Lately, the weather has been unpredictable. One moment, it rained, the next, it was incredibly hot. Thankfully, it was just right today, although it was a bit windy. A strong breeze pushed your hair back, making you hold it down with one hand. You could feel your phone vibrating in your bag. With a huff, you tried your best to get it using your free hand.

‘Goddamn,’ you muttered ‘How convenient.’ You continued grumbling, then you felt something hit your chest. A shriek left your lips, and you furiously wiped whatever landed on you off your body. You calmed down enough, seeing a small, thin, brown envelope in the ground.

It got blown away a few inches more, before you caught it by stepping on it. You reached down, and opened it. ‘Holy shit’ you thought. The thing had 50 000 won in it.

You looked around, seeing no one looking for it. In fact, you were strangely the only person in the empty road.

“Min Yoongi!” you screamed at him as soon as you got your phone out. “Y/n, I love you and all, but I actually need my ears to compose-”

“Yeah, whatever. Shut up and listen. Ok, so I was walking down the road, and it was windy, and there was a thing-”

“Y/n, take a deep breath, and please talk slowly.”

“Yoongi,” you squealed. “50 000 won literally got blown to me.”

Silence followed, and at one point you thought he hung up. Then, you heard a loud thud, followed by what sounded like someone hitting a table multiple times. “You- what- how?” he managed to choke out, though you could hear extreme happiness in his tone.

“I don’t know! I was just walking, and no one seemed to look for it. I mean, we really kinda need it, babe.” you said in an uneasy way, guilt starting to follow. Maybe taking it wasn’t the most moral option, but you didn’t want to skip meals like last time. “I understand. But really, wow. I- I don’t even know what to say.”

More silence. Yoongi normally would’ve had something to say, never being a man lost for words. You didn’t notice how long you were talking until you began to see your house. “Hey, I’m home early by the way. I’m making a celebratory dinner.” you grinned. Yoongi let out a cute victory yell. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. My girlfriend’s calling for me, and there’s no way I’m passing this up.”

The news of your promotion spread fast among the boys. Despite Yoongi’s whines of having alone time, you invited the boys to your mini feast. They gladly accepted, with Taehyung excitedly coming over (and dragging Namjoon with him) within the first thirty minutes.Hoseok showed up next, fresh from his dance tournament. Jungkook texted that they’d be a bit late since they decided to make you a little present.

“Where’s the lucky mirror?” Namjoon grinned at you. Yoongi sent you a smirk. “It’s outside. She’d gladly show you the way.”

“You sure you don’t want to look at it, babe? Might give you a small work boost.” you winked at him. He laughed and shook his head. “I’d rather stay inside and not let the food burn.” You looked at Hoseok. “I’m staying to help this guy. Plus, I’ve already seen it anyway.” he politely declined.

Shrugging, you stepped out the door, the other boys following you. Namjoon giddily came next to you, glancing up at what you were pointing to. “Oh, a bagua?” you glanced at him, surprised that he knew the term. He gave you a sheepish smile. “I’ve been reading in my spare time.”

“A what, hyung?” Taehyung said, moving next to Namjoon as he looked at the mirror. “A bagua. Something from Chinese belief.” Taehyung hummed in response, staring as the reds and golds of the mirror captivated him.

Back at the dorm, the three boys were busy preparing a meal of their own. They planned to give you a bulgogi, knowing that you’d share it and they’d get some themselves. Jin has been leading the process, telling them to wrap it up as it was getting late.

“Jimin, just put the materials back. Look at that knife holder, it’s almost falling off. Plus, there’s tons of bowls scattered around. Move it, men!” he clapped. Jimin squinted at him. “Aish, so bossy.” he muttered. Jin ignored the comment, grabbing a glass of water. “I’m gonna change clothes. You guys look decent already, so we’re going straight out after I finish.” he rushed off, leaving the younger boys to tend to the mess.

He softly sang to himself as he entered the room, setting the glass down a bit too close to the edge of the table. His stufftoys and figurines lay messily on the floor, the older boy not finding the time to recently clean his room. Marios, Princess Peach, and a huge Donkey Kong plushie was left untouched near the table.

He dug through his closet, carelessly throwing out shirts. He’d clean it up once he gets home. ‘Aha!’ his eyes glanced upon a simple button-down, perfect. He took his shirt off, tossing it behind him. As he was about to button the shirt, he heard something fall and looked behind him.

The glass fell, water soaking through his shirt. He grumbled, turning his head to the door. “Kook, can you hand me the mop?” he hollered. No reply. “Kook?” he waited a few more seconds, still met by silence. He sighed, walking around the spill to a small cabinet where they kept the brooms.

He got a mop, dragging it behind him. He trudged around the junk sprawled around his room, dodging things he could step on. However, he mis-stepped, tripping over a backpack.

The older boy yelped, arms not fast enough from catching his fall, head hitting the edge of the table with a loud bang. His body landed on the Donkey Kong plushie, limp.

“Jin hyung?” Jungkook called from downstairs. “Are you okay?” No reply.

“He totally left us with all the cleaning.” Jimin chuckled. Jungkook shook his head with a smile. “I mean, I’m not even surprised.” He picked up the plates and bowls they used, stacking them on top of each other. He placed them in the sink, then turned back to Jimin.

“Hyung, can you handle the others? I really don’t want to touch raw pork, especially after I just showered” Jimin nodded at him, gathering the whisks and teaspoons. “Hey, isn’t it weird how we have at least three different butcher knives, but can’t get a knife holder that actually holds the knives?” Jimin gestured to the knife holder. Jungkook shrugged. “Then again, it’s Jin hyung, ‘master of culinary arts’“ he said, adding finger quotes.

Jimin’s phone beeped from his pocket. “It’s probably noona. You should answer her.” Jungkook told him. Obliging, he took his phone out, blindly leaning on the counter. “Hyung!”

He reluctantly drew his arm back. The chopping board was halfway off the edge, the knife holder placed on top of it. “You should look at what you’re doing.” Jungkook tsked at him. Jimin rolled his eyes. Suddenly, they heard a loud bang from upstairs, causing Jimin to drop his phone.

They looked at each other. “Jin hyung? Jungkook called out. Knowing Jin, he probably just fell down amidst the mess of his room. However, he didn’t reply. “Are you okay?” Jungkook yelled after him again. Or maybe Jin was just playing prank. The two boys felt an unsettling feeling neither of them could explain. “I’m gonna check on him”, Jungkook muttered, leaving the kitchen.

Jimin blinked, soon crouching down to reach for it. He mindlessly scrolled through his phone, trying to get his nerves eased up. His other hand reached for the counter as he tried to pull himself up, accidentally whacking the chopping board, sending the knives and bits of pork flying.

A loosely placed butcher knife fell, blade down, landing on his neck. Jimin gasped, blood rapidly dripping down and pooling in his throat. He couldn’t find the strength to stand up, crawling on the floor instead. Pork and knives lay around him, making it difficult to maneuver.

“J-Jungkook!” his voice came out hoarse, much of a silent yell. He clutched his throat, trying to stop the bleeding. “Hyung!” he heard the younger one call from upstairs. “We need to call the ambulance! Jin, he-” But Jimin didn’t even make it to the end of the sentence.

“Someone’s late”, Namjoon impatiently muttered. It’s been an hour since they texted, and even though Jin took his time while cooking, it was never this long. Finally, Taehyung’s phone rung, and he quickly answered.

“Jungkook, where the hell- What?!” he stood up, worry etched in his face. The room fell silent, except for Jungkook’s unclear voice on the phone. “Okay. Okay, we’re going there right now. Kookie wait, we’re going there right now.” he said, getting the backpack and dragging Namjoon up.

“What? What’s happening? Why aren’t they here?” Hoseok looked at the younger boy worriedly. You walked closer to him, Yoongi following you. Taehyung pulled the phone away. “Jungkook’s in the hospital. Something bad happened. Really bad. We need to get there now.”

You didn’t need another word from him before scrambling outside and craming into Hoseok’s car. “The one near our dorm, Daegu Hospital, something like that. Please hurry.” Taehyung told Hoseok. The older boy got the car running, and sped out.

Taehyung directed his attention back to Jungkook’s call. “We’re on the road. Just keep talking. We’ll get there, don’t worry. Jesus- why?” he choked, tears starting to spill out.

>>>

Jungkook had his head in his hands, fingers clawing out at his hair. He hasn’t stopped crying, and he was scared. Scared and traumatized. Nurses and doctors passed by him, giving him sympathetic looks. He didn’t need their sympathy. He needed a doctor to come out and tell him that his friends were fine. That the hit Jin took to his head only resulted in a minor concussion. That the knife sticking out of Jimin’s head somehow got removed and he’s in recovery now.

He heard footsteps shuffling down the hall, immediately hearing Namjoon’s worried voice.

You spotted him crouched against the wall. “Kookie!” you ran to him, kneeling to his level. “What happened? Are they okay now?” you held his wrists, moving your hands to wipe his tears. Yoongi kneeled next to him. “Jungkook, what happened?”

The youngest looked up, eyes skimming over your worried faces, before stopping at Taehyung. His face was ashen, and they knew they shared the same pain. The same thing you’d experience in a few seconds.

Yoongi rubbed his back, making him calm down before he spoke. He coughed, leaning over to you as you welcomed him in your arms. Jungkook shut his eyes, taking in a few deep breaths.

“It was a freak accident. Fuck, I shouldn’t have left Jimin. I- I should’ve asked Jin to stay. I could’ve helped them”, he said, tears streaming down his face again. Hoseok joined you and Yoongi on the floor, him also starting to cry. “Jungkook. Tell us what happened.”

“Jin hyung, he bumped his head on the corner of a table. It was a sharp edge. I told him to tape it or something since it was so sharp. I should’ve taped it myself, then maybe he wouldn’t-”

“Jungkook.” Namjoon said, voice cold.

“Jimin, he-” Jungkook choked on his own words. He couldn’t forget the gruesome image, Jimin laying on the floor, a huge pool of blood coming from his neck. “I don’t know how. He- there was a kn-knife in his neck. H-he was on the floor with a knife in his neck, I think he toppled the board, I don’t know anymore..” Jungkook sobbed, burying his head further in your shoulder.

Shock settled in everyone. It was too ridiculous to believe. You were just talking to Jin and Jimin yesterday. Jimin even texted you. They were supposed to bring bulgogi. You were supposed to have fun. The night was supposed to end anywhere else, except in a hospital, hoping that your friends were still alive.

“For patients Kim Seokjin and Park Jimin?” A doctor approached you. You helped Jungkook shakily stand up, crowding around the doctor. “We’re his friends”, Namjoon informed him.

The doctor stared at each of you, a sad expression plastered on his face. “Well?” Namjoon pushed, his tone alarmingly increasing. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to inform you that both patients didn’t make it. Mr. Park has lost too much blood, and Mr. Kim suffered heavy trauma to the brain, resulting in a blood clot.”

“And you can’t do anything about that?” Namjoon snapped at him. He glared in response. “The knife that fell on your friend’s neck hit two nerves, something impossible to treat with the time it took to get there. He was dead on arrival. The blow Seokjin suffered was forceful enough to form a small dent in his skull, and cause a blood clot. I’m sorry, but we couldn’t do anything.”

“That’s just bullshit! You could’ve at least tried harder with Jin. You guys are doctors- you’re supposed to save people”, Namjoon took a step forward, inly to be held back by Hoseok. The doctor, now alarmed, signaled to one of the nurses. “If you think of causing a scene here, I won’t think twice of calling security”, he warned, turning his heel to attend to other patients.

“You shouldn’t have said that, Joon” Hobi whispered. Namjoon shrugged his arm off, walking towards the exit. Hoseok gave you a teary-eyed look, before going after his friend.

You looked at Yoongi, who now had his eyes shut. “This is not happening. They’re joking right?” he scoffed. “They have got to be joking. I was talking to Jin this morning, there’s no way he’s...” No one wanted to say the word. It hung in the sullen atmosphere, where the chatter in the background turned to static and the hospital’s white walls seemed too bright.

Jungkook didn’t want to go home. Especially since all the blood and spills where still there. In fact, he never wanted to go back. It would hurt too much seeing Jin’s room, or passing by the kitchen. The thought of an empty bed across his room, where Jimin should’ve been, was unbearable.

“Hyung, can I stay over at your house?” he was looking out the window when he said that. All four boys looked at him ready to let out a ‘yes’. “Yoongi hyung, can I?” he looked towards the older man.

Yoongi didn’t reply. He was too busy staring at the road, thinking of how things escalated so badly. His hand held yours, and although he felt warm, it looked like he was a thousand miles away. You squeezed his hand, getting his attention. “Jungkook asked if he can stay over tonight.” you repeated. He nodded, sinking farther in his seat.

“We need to get spare clothes though.” Taehyung slowly said, knowing it’d imply something bad. Jungkook’s faced scrunched in a mix of annoyance and anger. “I’m not going back there. Not now, not ever.” he hissed.

“You don’t have to. You can wait in the car.” Hoseok said, already taking a left to their dorm. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! You don’t know how fucking hard it is to go back there!” Jungkook sprung up. “Namjoon, you understand, right?”

Namjoon had his earphones in. He didn’t feel like discussing anything with anyone, and he just wanted to ignore the elephant in the room. Aside from Hoseok, he was the one who tried to show his friends the good side of things. However it was difficult to when there is no good side.

When Jungkook was met with stone-cold silence, Hoseok spoke up again. “I know it’s shitty to say, but trying to avoid it won’t help you. I miss them too, we all do. But we can’t bring them back, and we have to accept that.”

He pulled up on their porch, unlocking the doors. “You don’t have to go, Kook.” you said, stepping out the car. Yoongi followed you, slamming the door shut.

“You know where their rooms are.” Yoongi said, tone flat. “Where are you going?” you asked him. He just shrugged, about to go in the kitchen, then stopping halfway. “Why? Is there something-”

“Don’t go in there, please.” He grabbed your shoulders, spinning you around. You decided not to question any further, knowing you wouldn’t want to hear the answer. He steered you upstairs, purposefully blocking your view of Jin’s room.

“Grab a few random shirts, then let’s get the hell out of here.” he said,opening Jungkook’s cabinet. You obliged, standing next to him, packing a few jeans and shirts. You included a beanie too, plus a bracelet you’ve seen him always wearing.

“Finished?” you nodded at Yoongi, showing the bag you filled. He gave you a small smile. “Everything will be okay. I’m so proud of how strong you are right now.” he gently said, giving you a kiss on the forehead. You returned the favor by pecking him on the cheek. “We should go.”

You went out the room last, making sure to properly close the door. Then, you heard something fall from Jin’s room. You looked back, contemplating whether to tell Yoongi or not.

“Yoongi?” he looked back at you. “Can you wait for a bit?” Although he wanted to protest, he gave in. “Make it quick. I can feel Jungkook losing his shit in the car.”

You couldn’t agree more with what he said. The place was starting to pull off a creepy feeling, but you had to know what made that sound. Slinging the bag over your shoulder, you slowly went to the room.

Your heart was pounding from fear and anxiety. It better be a figment of your imagination. You reached for the knob and swung the door open.

It was as if time stopped. Your heartbeat was the only thing you could hear. The room was cold, too cold. There was a big mess all around, and you saw a small puddle of water drying out next to a coffee table. The corner had a smear of blood on it, reminding you of the previous events. But that wasn’t the thing that caught your attention.

Jin stood at the center of the room. He was wearing a crumpled button-down, the buttons put in lopsidedly. His hair was sticking out, and a slight dent was on his head. The side of his temple was purplish, blending in with bloodshot eyes.

“Pay the price” he hissed at you.

You slammed the door shut, running back to Yoongi. “Get out!” you screamed at him.

He looked up at you in a daze. “What?”

You continued running, pulling him along with you. You’d explain in the car, or at least when you got home. You didn’t want to talk about the two boys in front of Jungkook, but this was way too messed up. You reached the bottom of the stairs, the front door a few meters away from you.

“Y/n, wait!” Yoongi tugged at you from behind, trying to get you to stop. You halted, turning around to face him. “Yoongi, you don’t understand- holy shit!” you screamed, looking behind him.

By the kitchen entrance stood Jimin, a large knife sticking out his neck. There was blood all over him, and he had the same bloodshot eyes. He opened his mouth, a pool of blood streaming out. “Pay the price” he repeated.

Yoongi confusedly followed your gaze. “What are you-” You cut him off, bolting out the house with him in tow. You didn’t stop running until you were inside the car. The backpack was clutched tightly in your hand, and Yoongi had to pry it off. “What was that?” The other boys looked over curiously.

You were about to explain, but then you saw Jungkook’s face. His cheeks were a bit puffy. His eyes were a slight tint of red from all the crying he did. You didn’t want to give off a mocking story, so you swallowed the fear. “I just got a bit freaked out. I’m sorry. Let’s get out of here.” Yoongi nodded uneasily, and you could tell he didn’t bite into your lie.

Hoseok started the car again, driving you back home.

“Thank you”, you hugged Hoseok. The two other boys stayed in the car as Yoongi helped Jungkook with his things. “Stay safe please” you whispered. He let out a sigh. “You too. I’ll try my best to calm Namjoon down. Tae’s still...”

“In shock?” you completed, face dropping. You’ve never seen Taehyung so quiet before, and it just made the whole thing worse. The impact of Jin and Jimin’s passing was completely evident, leaving a painful effect on the boys.

“I hope wherever they are, they’re happy.” Hoseok nodded in agreement. Without another word, he got back in the car and drove away.

You went to go inside, stopping next to Jungkook. He was standing in front of the door, staring at the bagua. “Kookie, what is it?” you gently placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t look at you, eyes still glued to the mirror.

“I really hope it brings good luck, noona” he said, voice starting to break. “I really do.”

Jungkook’s been silent for the past few weeks. He didn’t talk unless he was spoken to, and when he did, it was one-worded answers. Sometimes even just simple grunts or nods. He’d usually stare into space, drowning out the whatever noise in the background.

Things haven’t been the same. The funeral passed by, and none of you uttered anything about it. The boys even considered selling the apartment the three had, mainly because Jungkook knew he couldn’t stand the silence.

“Kookie, Yoongi’s gonna be back in a bit, okay?” you told him as you got your grocery bag. “Can you handle two minutes? I’m just going to buy a few things from the store.”

His eyes stayed on the TV screen, intently playing video games. He gave you a swift nod, looking over you as you passed by.

Sometimes you forget that you moved. You were used to seeing tall buildings and buzzing cars when you went out. However, now the neighborhood’s so much simpler and nicer. A soft breeze blew gently against you. There were definitely more bushes and flowers, making the walk better. A loud bark came from behind you, making you flinch.

During the first week of your move, a few neighbors have told you about some stray dogs lurking in the forest. These were the wild kind, being a rural area. ‘Stay out of the forest, unless you have a hunter with you’, they’d say.

You walked up the steps to the small village center mall. There were stalls selling various fruit and produce around. Your grocery list was fairly small, so you thought of bringing fruits home to cheer the boys up a bit.

“Good morning, miss. Want to test your luck?” You turned your attention to the man in a suit. He was handing out a flyer advertising a ‘grand raffle’. Seeing there’s no harm in trying, you nodded thanking the paper. He smiled. “Registration is this way.”

You scanned the flyer as you followed him. The raffle showed off practical prizes, the first one being a car. Yoongi always whined about getting a car of his own, so it would’ve been amazing if you won it for him.

The man passed you a form, needing a few details like your name and contact number. “When do you announce the winners?” you asked him, dropping your raffle stub in the drop box. “In a while, actually. We initially planned to close off the entries early, but you made it! You’re the last entry for today.”

What a coincidence.

“We’ll text you if you win.” he added. You thanked him, then carried on with your errand. You didn’t want to leave Jungkook alone, or Jungkook alone with Yoongi. The younger boy was too sensitive, and you knew your boyfriend might let the wrong words slip.

Fortunately, you easily found what was needed on your list. The line in the cashiers weren’t too long too, making your trip easier.

As you were taking your wallet out, your phone buzzed. You handed the employee your payment, before checking your phone. There were four texts, one from Yoongi, and the others from an unknown number.

“Ma’am, here’s your change.” She handed you a few coins and your now filled bag.

4 UNREAD MESSAGES

Yoongs <3: Babe, have you seen Hoseok?

Yoongs <3: Taehyung went home and Namjoon wasn’t there

Yoongs <3: Fuck you need to come to the hospital right now

Unknown: Congratulations! This is Lee Woo Bin from PriSeoul. I’d love to inform you that you one the first place in our raffle. You may claim your prize at the registration booth on or before the end of the month

<<<

Hoseok didn’t handle it easily. The first thing he did after the funeral was lock himself in his room and cry. When there were no more tears to shed, he ate less and danced more. Exhaustion couldn’t stop him from distracting himself.

Usually, Taehyung or Namjoon would visit him to give him something to eat. It even took them great difficulty to convince him to come back home and rest.

“Namjoon, I’m going out for a jog.” He ran out the door, avoiding any opportunity of protest from the younger boy. He didn’t bring anything else aside from his phone, earphones, and a bottle of water. Normally, he wouldn’t bring the last one, but since he didn’t want to worry Namjoon, he did.

Their dorm wasn’t that far from your house. They lived somewhere in the middle of the city and the country, so it was pretty convenient at times when they needed to buy something. Fruits and vegetables from the countryside, and clothes from the city.

He thought of paying Jungkook a visit. He knew how traumatized he must be, seeing two of their friends dead in one night.

Holding Onto You played as he put his earbuds in. He started to jog, not stopping even when his legs started to hurt. It was the afternoon, so the sun wasn’t scorching his skin as he ran.

He finally halted at an intersection, looking left and right before crossing. A second just as he passed the middle, a truck zoomed passed him, nearly hitting him. He stumbled into the sidewalk, looking on as the truck passed. “Hey, I’m suing! I almost died there!” he screamed after it.

His heart beat fast in his chest. He couldn’t stand up, too scared by the encounter. The printed-on design of collars and accessories on the truck’s back stared at him as it sped into the distance. His water bottle rolled away, but he couldn’t care less about it.

When he composed himself again, he got up. He didn’t want to continue taking the same route, considering he almost got run over. Instead, he took a rumored ‘shortcut’ in the forest.

He turned and went through a row of trees, the cement soon fading into leaves and twigs. The twittering of birds surrounded him as he jogged. Relief washed over him, the beauty of it all making him forget everything bad that happened for a moment.

Seamus flowed into his ears. At first, he wasn’t into Pink Floyd much, then Namjoon suggested it to him. The main source of all his new music tastes were either Namjoon or Jungkook, as the two were ‘adventurous’ when it came to songs.

Behind the song, he heard something faint and muffled, kind of like a bark.He ignored it, thinking his earphones were just starting to break. They were old anyway, and he’s been planning on buying new ones.

He heard it again, this time closer. Slowly, he lowered the volume, but still kept the earbuds on. He jogged faster, breaking into a full run when he heard the barks become louder.

Through shaking hands, he ripped the headset off before getting his phone out. He scrolled past his contacts, tapping Namjoon’s name. ‘Come on, pick up. Please.’ A hundred thoughts raced in his mind as he dodged bushes and trees.

The barks were accompanied by crunching leaves now, making it apparent that something was chasing him. On instinct, he looked back, seeing a wild dog, fangs jutting out, chasing after him. Its fur was coated in dirt, and saliva dripped from its mouth.

‘Shit.’ This was too surreal. He was a few steps away from death. One wrong move and he’d die or get seriously injured. Unless he can fight the dog off.

He whipped his head back, only to trip. In front of him was Jimin, hand outstretched to stop him. The younger boy had a blank look on his face as he stared at Hoseok.

From the ground, Hoseok looked up, locking eyes with him. “Hyung” Jimin whispered, voice gravelly. “Hyung, it’s time.”

Just as he finished, Hoseok felt fangs sinking into his his shoulder. Claws dug into his back while the wild mutt teared at his flesh. His screams ran through the forest, sending a flock of birds flying away.

Screams turned to whimpers, and soon enough, the dog stopped. It got off his body, walking towards the phone he dropped. Namjoon was on the line for a good minute, before the dog pawed it, accidentally ending the call.

It looked around more. Seeing no predators, it scampered off, Hoseok’s blood smeared all over its fur.

Namjoon rushed out of the house. It was a good thing Taehyung wasn’t at home, because he didn’t have enough time to explain to him why. He knew were Hoseok would’ve gone too.

The older boy was someone who always put other people before himself. Who played off his own hurt, and chose to comfort others first. It was obvious he went to visit Jungkook, especially since Yoongi’s been telling them that their youngest wasn’t doing well.

He dodged a few passers-by, shouting Hoseok’s name out in the process. “Hobi! Hobi, where are you?!” he breathlessly reached the intersection. He glanced around, looking for signs of his friend. Then, he spotted something wedged under the bushes.

The familiar water bottle lay under the leaves. He took it, rubbing the dirt off the surface. “Hoseok-” he stopped mid-sentence, bumping into someone.

He looked behind him, spotting an aggravated teenager. The boy was wearing all black, starting from his baseball cap, all the way to his leather jacket. It was so awfully pretentious. His minions stood behind him, the two of them balling their fists threateningly.

“Hey,” the boy narrowed his eyes. He took the toothpick he was chewing out and threw it on the ground. “You should watch where you’re going.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry. It was an accident, but I don’t have time for this.” He tried walking around them, but one boy grabbed him and pushed him back.

“Okay, I’m sorry. My friend is missing, and I know he’s in danger. So can you just let this one go?” he scoffed at them.

Their leader stepped forward. “I think the fuck not.” He lunged at Namjoon, delivering a punch to the boy’s stomach. The air got knocked out of him, and he stumbled because of the sudden hit. “F-fuck off. I need to find my friend.” he coughed out.

The group huddled around him, kicking and hitting him. It was three against one, and there was no way he could hurt anyone. The two boys held him in a kneeling position while the other one kept throwing punches at him. When he finally thought it was over, the boy he bumped into clutched his shoulder and forced him to stand.

“This should teach him.” he sneered to his lackeys, before punching him one last time.

The punch might’ve been a little too hard; or they might’ve been a little too close to a fire hydrant. It wasn’t until after Namjoon fell when someone yelled at them to stop. A middle-aged man chased them off, but by the time he got there, Namjoon’s blood was already spilling on the concrete.

Next to them was a yellow fire hydrant; a single red splat on the metal.

The road was crowded when you went out. The locals were drawn to the forest shortcut, forming a circle around a clearing. An ambulance and police cars lined the streets. Policemen were preventing the people from going in further. Inside, a few more police were investigating the scene.

“I pity the poor boy.” you heard an old woman whisper. “I do too. He mustn't have been from here. If he was, he wouldn’t even think of going in the forest.” her friend replied.

“The authorities really should start on putting up those anger signs.” she continued.

“Mama,” a little girl tugged on the hem of her mother’s dress. “What happened to the man in the forest?”

Her mom looked down on her, her face etched with worry. “Nothing, honey. Let’s go before daddy gets worried.” She picked her daughter up, walking away from the scene. You caught up to her, curious about the news.

“Excuse me, miss. What happened here?” you asked her. She contemplated whether to tell you in front of her daughter or not, but in the end, she set her child back down. She leaned closer to whisper to you.

“There was an accident involving the wild dogs. A man was chased down and mauled to death. I overheard the police talking, and they said he didn’t make it.”

Dread stated to fill you. Your phone buzzed again, reminding you of Yoongi. “T-thanks.” you bid her goodbye.

Yoongi <3: Y/n where are you?? We found Namjoon... his body at least

You: Babe, wasn’t Hoseok born on the year of the dog?

Yoongi <3: What? I think so. Just come here please

Namjoon lay on the hospital bed. His white clothes matched the sheets. His eyes were closed, as if he was sleeping, except he wasn’t breathing. Bruises coated his skin, and one side of his head was busted. A faint line of stitching showed on that side, much like what happened to Jin.

Taehyung stood at the foot of the bed. Jungkook clung onto him, his head tucked into the older one’s shoulder. They both looked tired, with Taehyung’s messy hair, and the dark circles under Jungkook’s eyes.

You stood in front of Yoongi. He was hugging you from behind, nuzzling his mouth on your hair. Though he tried to stay calm, you could feel tension in his hands.

“This is unbelievable.” Taehyung chuckled bitterly. “This is all your fault!” he pointed a finger accusingly at you.

You were taken aback by his sudden outburst. “What are you talking about? You think I wanted this?!”

“This all started ever since you bought that stupid mirror. First Jin, then Jimin. Now Namjoon was beaten to death, and guess what? His head exploded on a fucking fire hydrant. Even Hoseok’s missing, and god knows where he’ll turn up. Probably dead, because of you!”

“Taehyung, that’s enough!” Yoongi shouted at him. You flinched, never hearing Yoongi yell before.

SIlence returned to the room, and you couldn’t help but think that Taehyung was right. All the fortune came to you, but you didn’t want your loved ones taken away.

“Yoongi, we should go back to the shop.”

Without Hoseok, Yoongi drove this time. Taehyung helped you find his car keys so you can use his car for a bit. The bagua was shoved in your bag, wrapped with cloth. You didn’t know how the mirror worked, so you avoided all physical contact with it for the meantime.

You wordlessly reached the shop. Yoongi got off the car first, and without waiting for you, stormed into the shop.

He was slamming the bell on the counter when you went inside, the two other boys following behind. “Anyone here? Ms. Mei? Is no one manning the store? Sehun, where the fuck are you?!” his voice rang throughout the store.

Finally, the employee who assisted you with the furniture came out. He looked twice as annoyed, a sour frown on his face. He held a black bag and hauled it on the counter. “Sir, I would need to ask you to stop-”

“Where’s your boss? We’re returning something.” he stretched his hand out to you, gesturing for the mirror. You unzipped your bag, shuffling through your things, before handing him the bundled cloth.

“This-” he shoved it near the clerk’s face. “-has ruined our lives. Four of my friends died. Call me crazy, but they died because of this.”

His face paled upon seeing it. He stepped back, shaking his head. “Ms. Mei isn’t here, and I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Bullshit!” Yoongi drew his hand back, throwing the mirror on the ground. Glass shards lay under the now loose cloth. You felt relieved seeing the mirror broken. It means it’s over now, right? Whatever curse it had should be lifted. It was gone, and you were saved.

“That’s not how it works.” The cashier said weakly. “Ms. Mei is not here, and never will be. She’s dead. The day after you bought the mirror, she was about to move to America. She mentioned something about wanting to get away. A few days later, her grandson called the shop. She died after getting into a horsefly attack.” He pointed to where the mirror fell.

You stared in shock. It wasn’t there anymore. The cloth and the shards were gone. Yoongi looked back at mouth hung in confusion. You checked your bag again, digging through your wallet and phone. There it was, the cloth still wrapped around it. You felt around it, trying to feel a crack. However, there were no signs of damage.

The cashier coaxed you forward. The four of you stood behind the counter, the mirror placed in between. You put your bag next to his, the weight wearing your shoulders off.

“My name’s Minseok. I’ve been running the shop with her ever since the start. She’s practically like family now, you know? I’ve seen that mirror around a few times. She had it with her, but she never talked about it or showed it to anyone. Actually, I don’t know how it got on that shelf the day you saw it. I thought she changed her mind about it and decided to sell it.” He looked at you, and you nodded.

“Before she went to America, she told me something about it. It came from a girl, way back in the 18th century. No one knew her name, and she was dubbed Lotus Feet since her feet were bounded to give her small feet, or lotus feet. During the battle of Ningpo, her family was being hunted down by the British. Food was scarce, and they were having a hard time escaping. So, they decided to leave her behind. They thought she was a burden, so they left her for dead. This-” he tapped the mirror.

“-holds her soul. It’s evil. I know it brings luck, but if you accept the luck it brings, it takes a life in payment. In particular, those who have looked into the mirror after you.”

“But why did she die? If she knew about it, why couldn’t she do anything about it?” you asked him. The three boys were silent next to you. You could feel Taehyung’s burning stare, but decided to ignore it.

“You. You were the good luck it gave. Something she couldn’t reject. You wanted the mirror, and the curse was passed from her to you. The only way you can avoid its effects is to reject the luck it brings.” he pushed it towards you.

“Can’t I find someone else? How do I permanently end this?” you pushed it back.

“Unless someone willingly accepts the mirror, it won’t leave you. Unless...” he paused, nibbling on his lip while he was deep in thought.

“Unless?” Taehyung pushed on.

“Unless you can go to a Chinese blessing shop. You can destroy it there. There’s one, but it’s in another town, left from here. You should go.” He ushered you out, grabbing your bag and returning it to you.

You bounded put the shop, waiting for Minseok as he locked the door. “I can’t come with you. I’m sorry but I need to send money to my mom, since she’s really sick.”

He walked towards Yoongi and got a pen out. “Go on that road and drive straight down until you reach the fourth intersection. Take a left, then a right, and drive until you see a ‘Welcome to Jil-An’ sign. Turn right on the second crossing, and the second building should be ‘An Liu’s Charm Shop’. Just go straight in and say Fa Mei sent you.” he instructed as he scribbled down on Yoongi’s arm.

You got into the car, and Yoongi slammed the pedal. Through the rearview mirror, you could see Minseok’s fading form. The forest was getting larger as you ventured forward. The sun was starting to set too, and it was going to be a long night for you.

“Why can’t we just destroy it here? It’s more dangerous going there,” Taehyung looked out the window, big raindrops splattering on it rapidly. “Let’s just chuck it out the window or something.”

Along the way, you ran into a storm. It was pouring outside, and there were constant flashes of lightning. The car’s headlights provided little help with the amount of water dripping down the windshield. A twig or some leaves would slap against the car from time to time, but Yoongi was unfazed.

“We can’t do that. Didn’t you see what just happened at the shop?” he said through gritted teeth. Taehyung glared at him from the backseat.

“Easy for you to say. You’re the only person in this damn car that hasn’t looked at that mirror, and you perfectly know you’re safe.” he leaned forward, grabbing the back of your seat.

“Taehyung, sit back down. You’re distracting him.” Jungkook murmured, though the older boy ignored him.

“See that?” he spoke, just as lightning lit up the sky. “That’s the sign of me dying soon. I’m next. I’m the stupid bastard who looked into the mirror, not you.”

Yoongi shifted gear, driving impossibly faster. You looked across to see him. Tears pooled at the edges of his eyes, ready to be released. His breathing was getting irregular, and his grip on the steering wheel was tightening.

“It’ll just get restored again, you know that. Hyung please stop.” Jungkook whispered, pulling Taehyung back.

The older boy pushed him off, sending him flying to the window with a thump. “Shut up! Unlike you, I don’t want to die yet!”

“What, you think I want to die? How could anyone fucking know looking into that thing would kill you? Stop putting the blame on someone and think for once.” Jungkook snarled at him, throwing a punch.

Taehyung sat back, rubbing his throbbing jaw. Jungkook stared back at him, appalled. “Jungkook...” your eyes swept back and forth on the two boys.

“Can you please stop? We’re all suffering here.” Yoongi looked at Taehyung through the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry, okay? We’re trying to help here. We won’t just let you die.”

Taehyung scoffed. “Stop the car.”

“What-”

“Stop the car!”

Yoongi stepped on the brake, sending the car forward in a jolt. Taehyung's eyes flickered to the bagua you were holding, then to you. “If you won’t do anything about it, I would.

He lunged forward, grabbing the cloth from you. “Taehyung, no!” you screamed at him, trying to pull the mirror back. His hold was strong, and you couldn’t shake it off, even with Jungkook trying to pull his arms away. Yoongi clicked his seatbelt off and grabbed Taehyung’s wrist.

“Let go!” he yelled. Suddenly, Taehyung let out a pained scream. You looked up to see Jungkook forcefully biting his shoulder. Just as the younger one pulled away, he did too. With the sudden loss of contrast, Yoongi stumbled back in his seat, the mirror in his hands.

In a state of shock, he looked at it, his distorted reflection staring back at him. Frantically, he grabbed the cloth and wrapped it around the bagua again. With shaking hands, he handed it back to you.

“No,” you whispered. “Not you too. No, Yoongi-” Tears streamed down your cheeks. You hugged him, sobbing into his chest. The two younger boys speechlessly watched on.

You felt soothing hands caressing your hair. “Baby, it’s okay. We can make it.” he gently told you. His face was close to yours, and you could feel his cheeks equally wet. Was he crying too?

You heard the door lock click, and turned your head just in time to catch a glimpse of Taehyung stepping outside. You were about to go after him, but Yoongi held you back. Jungkook, however, was out of the car within seconds.

“Jungkook, no-” Yoongi was met a slam of the door. He turned to you. “Get your phone and call Jungkook. Tell him to go back” He readjusted the gear and backed up the road.

You opened your bag, trying to feel the outline of your phone. ‘What?’ You opened the bag wider, turning on the inside light to get a better look. “Yoongi, this isn’t my bag.”

The bag had bands of money in it. None of it was yours, and most of the contents looked like it belonged to a man. Everything pieced together.

“I changed bags with Minseok.” you stared at it in horror. It would be a matter of time now before something happens to the person next in line. Distressed, you rolled down the window, chucking the bag out. “I don’t want your money!”

Taehyung trudged through the forest. The wind slapped at his face, and the rain sprayed harshly against his skin. He wanted to go home. That was all he could think of. Maybe if he slept it off, he’d wake up to find that it was just dream. Hoseok would wake him up, then he’d go to the living room to find Namjoon sitting on the couch, reading the same boring book.

Jin and Jimin would call him over to hang out, and at the end of the day, he’d have dinner at your house just as usual.

He wanted to believe it so bad. The blinding lie was so much more comforting. It warmed him as he shivered under the trees. He brought an arm to wipe his face, not sure if he wiped away tears or raindrops.

In the distance, he heard Jungkook call for him. “Hyung!” he whipped his head around to find a figure making its way to him. “Hyung, come back!”

He didn’t know why, but he broke out into a run. He entered the forest, trying to get away from the younger boy. Why was he running? Isn’t he tired of doing that very thing?

Maybe he couldn’t think straight. There was no way of escaping death at this point, so what was the use of avoiding it? The cold was distracting him, that’s for sure. Jungkook’s voice was fading, but he didn’t stop.

The ground he was stepping on started becoming muddier. He concentrated on his steps, trying not to trip. Then, a loud snap followed by excruciating pain on his leg ensued. He fell down, clutching his left leg. A bear trap bit into it, the metal hidden under the mud.

He tried forcing it open, only to injure his fingers. He cried out. “Jungkook! Jungkook, help me!” he yanked at it, thinking of ripping it off in desperation. Pain coursed through every bone in his body. Slowly, he felt the sharp tips on his bone.

His screams grew hoarse as he tried prying it off. Thunder covered the sound of his yells. Mud coated his body from moving on the ground too much. The rain made his hold slippery, and he could feel a chunk of his leg starting to separate. Panicked, he looked around, eyes stopping on a familiar boy silently watching behind the trees. “Hoseok hyung.”

“Yoongi, we have to go after them, and the car isn’t helping.” you sternly told him. At last, he hesitantly nodded, stepping out the car. You took your seatbelt off, grabbed the mirror, and followed suit.

“Jungkook!” you shouted for him. “Jungkook!” Yoongi cupped his hands around his mouth. You walked more, the fog devouring the car as you got farther away.

“Y/n,” you looked at him. His brown eyes no longer held coldness. Instead, they were filled with regret. Sadness. The boy was tired. “If something bad happens, promise me, the first thing we’ll do is to run back to that car.” you nodded, understanding his point. There was no guarantee Jungkook will make it. It hurt to sa that, but it was the truth; and you didn’t want Yoongi to go next.

“Is that him?” Yoongi pointed at a shadowy form standing on the other side of the road. “Where-” you started to run towards it, only to have Yoongi pull you back again. A car zoomed past you, beeping loudly.

“Noona?” It was Jungkook. He started to show clearer as he jogged towards you. “Wait-” you shouted, fearing the worst. “-stay away from the road!”

A loud honk interrupted. Jungkook was illuminated under bright headlights, like a deer caught on the road. Metal against flesh collided, and the boy was thrown a few feet away. The driver of the truck tried to regain control, only tipping the truck over. Broken milk bottles lay on the road, some of the milk turning pink around Jungkook’s body.

Horrified, Yoongi put you behind him, and you walked back to the body. The milk turned a darker shade of red each step you took closer. Jungkook was slumped on the ground, his limbs bent at awkward angles.

Yoongi shook his head. He reached for your hand again. “Time to go.”

You forced yourself to take our eyes off the scene. If Yoongi didn’t save you, would’ve it been over? It was unfair. The mirror knew you couldn’t reject the luck it just brought. What if it happened to Yoongi? No, not him. Dear god, anyone but him.

Various thoughts raced in your mind as you got back in the car. Yoongi started it again, absentmindedly staring out the windshield. “You know couldn’t just let you die out there right?” you nodded at him. His voice was weary, the same voice he used when he comforted you.

The trees got replaced by pastures. Fences appeared at the side of the road. You were close. You could make it. You breathed out a sigh of relief as you passed the sign Minseok told you about. Yoongi let out a breath he was holding. He looked over to you, smiling. You smiled back, eyes glancing at the road again.

“Yoongi!” you screamed. He swerved, however still hitting the lone chicken that was about to cross. He lost complete control of the car, sliding off the road and crashing into a fence. You felt his hand holding yours, before you were knocked unconscious.

The police found the wreckage in the morning. You woke up to an unfamiliar voice talking to you. “Miss? I think she’s conscious now. Miss, do you remember your name?” Your body ached all over. Your head was pounding, and something sharp poked at your ribs.

A siren pierced your eardrums. You could make out the sound of mumbling, but you couldn’t hear what they were saying. Bits and pieces were caught up in your brain, then you suddenly felt something soft against you.

“-lost control, and it crashed on the chicken wire fence”

“What about the other one?”

“Didn’t make it, he-”

“Miss, can you hear me?”

The voices were blending in your head. You tried opening your eyes, immediately closing them as harsh light came into view. A hand cupped over your eyes, preventing further light from coming. You blinked twice, blurry eyesight starting to focus.

“We’re taking you to the hospital, no need to worry about anything.”

With much effort, you turned your head to face him. Your mouth froze into a scream, looking face to face with Yoongi. His head was busted and blood was all over him.

“Time to go, sweetheart.”

#bts #bts imagines #bts yoongi #kreativenetwork #bts yoongi imagine #bts scenarios #bts suga #min yoongi #bts angst #horror #bts au #bts jungkook #bts taehyung #bts jimin #bts hoseok #bts namjoon #bts jin

95 notes · View notes