#just to give me the chance to post all my aus sitting in my folder (there is A Lot) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

amiharana · 8 months

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Bored with nothing to do so I’m requesting streamer au again 😕🏃🏻‍♀️🤙

ask and ye shall receive ☝️😌✨ i mentioned in the tags that the last time i posted about streamer au that i wanna write the champions going to twitchcon and sharing an airbnb together sooo 👹

i'm actually not too sure how to incorporate the location of twitchcon into this au, because (1) i've never been to twitchcon actually KJDJFKKJS and (2) it depends on whether or not hyrule is divorced from the u.s. & the rest of human society e.g. a universe where hyrule is the country analogous to the u.s.... for purposes of this au, i've been kind of writing hyrule as a city that all the champions live in, so maybe it can be somewhere in the u.s.? what state does the city of hyrule give LOL

reading the wikipedia about twitchcon tells me that most of the cons have been held in san diego, CA so all the champions fly there together for the con, and could you just imagine them at an airport 😭 like you know those tiktoks of people either traveling with their family or their friend group and in each case there's always like the dad/dad-friend who's in charge of everything, from being there super early to holding all the passports, etc? because i can totally see daruk being that guy HAHAHKDJHFDKJ

outside of being a streamer, daruk is a dad irl and the oldest of the champs so he quite literally sees all of them as his kiddos 🥹 the flight will be at like 5pm but daruk insists on being there at the airport at 9am, he'd write labels on each of the champions' luggage with their contact information, he would put all their plane tickets into a manila folder and keeps a death grip on it until they reach the desk for boarding 😭 the dad instinct has been Activated ✅ and then when they get on the plane, daruk gets his little travel neck pillow on and conks the fuck out once the plane takes off 😄

before i continue, here's the plane seating configuration i was thinking of in my head:

most planes are usually three-seaters instead of two but for purposes of this ficlet idrgaf 🤞🤓 move along and get with the fantasy 🙏❤️

urbosa will just be chilling to herself (i have this image of her with earphones in and also knitting? no one knew that urbosa was a knitter including me), sidon is talking to zelda's manager impa, and mipha and zelda are talking and giggling to themselves bc they're gfs now <3 but link and revali? woof. these homos are totally going to be shyly holding hands on the plane the whole time, and then when they land, zelda will post a selfie of her looking extremely unamused on the plane next to mipha giggling, with link in the background looking at revali with wide eyes blushing while revali is holding up their intertwined hands to his lips.

in my head, this is gonna be set after the LOH show from the last streamer au ask, but before the date that revali had planned during the show. so throughout the entirety of the event, from the plane rides to and from twitchcon to the sitting together at their panel, revali and link have Hella Tension with each other. since the date that revali had planned during the LOH hasn't happened yet (they have a day in mind though hehe), they're both anticipating it and are also in this limbo stage of being exclusive but not really having an actual label on their relationship. all they know is they really enjoy each other's presence and perhaps they'd like to be around each other more often :>

but link is still insecure and still quite surprised that revali even returns his interest, that the date has been planned and is on an actual, real day and that revali wants to go out with him, and oh goddess revali wants to go out with him. it has him sitting tensely in his seat, nearly sweating because this has to be some sort of fever dream, right? revali, a streamer infamous for his rather arrogant, brutal words and attitude, who has had all the disparaging insults to say about link, and doesn't miss a single chance to rag on him. this couldn't have been the same revali who looked at him so fondly through the camera on the LOH stream, who has taken note of everything link says offhandedly, who sent him a heart in their discord dms (and revali never uses emojis). this has to be some elaborate prank on link and—

he feels a sharp tap on the side of his head, knocking him out of his downward spiral, and he looks up, rubbing his head and ready to bicker with zelda, but it isn't zelda who's hit him. revali stares down at him, one knee on the plane seat and his hands on the headrests in their row and in front of them.

"stop thinking so loud," revali says, before finally sitting in his seat properly. "it's painful to watch."

link scoffs and rolls his eyes. "any more painful than watching you fall in the xp farm while you were making it?"

"maybe don't hit me while i'm building next time and i won't fall in," revali snips back.

"you were wearing an elytra."

"and with what space, pray tell, could i have used to gain altitude? it's a vertical column, you absolute fool, the only way was down."

"and down you went, so i could take all your xp," link replies cheerfully.

revali rolls his eyes as he finishes settling into his seat. "and you'll still use all of that on the worst combination of enchantments possible." they both fall silent, the quiet din of voices around the plane their background noise.

"what were you thinking about?" revali then says quietly, suddenly. link glances at him and is surprised to find the other man staring at him with genuine concern. butterflies come to life in link's stomach, so he averts his eyes, down at his fidgeting hands in his lap. there was no eloquent way to phrase his worries about their date to revali, of all people.

"don't tell me you have flight anxiety now," revali murmurs. it sounds like it was meant to be a joke, but it misses its mark when link doesn't answer, fingers still fidgeting in his lap. "link?"

"i'm not worried about flying or the plane," link mutters. "i've traveled by air before plenty of times, it's not that."

"then what's got you all locked up like this?" revali replies, in the same quiet voice. link still doesn't say anything. "link..."

then, revali reaches for the blond's hand, smoothly intertwining their fingers and bringing it upwards, propping his elbow on the armrest between them. link's eyes widen, blinking, and he slowly moves his gaze from his lap to their intertwined fingers, and then to revali's face. he only stares back, a rather soft look in his eyes, and the butterflies in link's stomach burst to life again.

"you don't have to tell me if it's something personal," revali says, and his tone is so gentle, link thinks he's going to melt in his seat right there. is this the same revali who called him a fool less than a minute ago? "but don't bottle it all up or you'll end up exploding. it'll only make things worse and we wouldn't want that, would we?"

link stares at him with the same wide eyes for a moment longer, and then nods once slowly. "yeah, i guess you're right," he whispers, and after another second, he squeezes revali's hand softly. it seems to make revali's gaze soften even further, and he squeezes back.

"is there anything i can do to help?" revali murmurs. link blinks at him, and suddenly, it feels like the floodgates have opened and he can't stop himself from telling the truth.

"it's the date," link blurts aloud, his cheeks warming and turning pink. shit.

revali's head tilts to the side slightly. "the date?" he repeats. "the one we—?"

"yeah," link whispers. under revali's gaze, filled with such genuine concern, he feels shy again and he looks back down at the other hand in his lap. "it's just... i know we talked about it already, but it just doesn't feel real, like it's all some prank, you know?" he giggles nervously, his left leg beginning to bounce. "knowing you, i wouldn't put it past you to plan one as elaborate at this either, but even if it wasn't a prank, i can barely wrap my mind around that it's actually going to happen."

revali doesn't say anything for a couple moments, and it makes link more nervous, his leg bouncing a little faster, his heart pounding a little harder. please say something, he thinks to himself.

"you know," revali says finally, still in that ever so gentle tone, "we don't have to do the date." and link's heart drops to his stomach. "it was never something i was going to force on you, especially not on that pathetic joke of a show. don't feel like you have to go on a date with me to please your fans if it makes you uncomfortable—"

"no," link says, whipping his head to look at revali with wide, horrified eyes. "th-that's not what i was trying to say, i do want to go on the date with you." admitting it out loud makes link blush and he wants to melt into a puddle in revali's surprised green gaze, but he can't keep shying away. so link steels himself and maintains eye contact with revali, taking a breath before continuing. "i do want to. please trust me on that, i do. i'm just nervous about it because..." link swallows. "i like you, like a lot, and this date is like, confirming that you like me back and actually planning to go on it is insane, because i never thought you'd really return my feelings and what if you back out? because i'm not gonna stop you if you don't wanna go on the date anymore, but i want to go on it so bad 'cause—"

"hey," revali cuts him off, with a strangely soft voice. "breathe for me, darling."

link blinks and then lets go of a long breath he didn't know had accumulated in his lungs. revali nods reassuringly and squeezes his hand again. "one more time," he says in that same soft voice, so link does, breathing in deeply and releasing it slowly. he feels much calmer now.

but then, revali presses his lips to their intertwined fingers, to the back of link's hand. "i want to go on the date with you too," revali murmurs to the skin, and link nearly shivers. "and believe me, i won't be backing out unless you do, because i like you too." he tilts his head slightly to the side. "do you think i'd be so cruel to drag this out if i truly didn't want to go? if anything, i should be worrying about whether or not you want to go through with it since i was the one who planned and proposed it."

"well, sometimes you're too proud to admit you're uncomfortable when it's about being better than me," link mumbles. "i would have been doing us both a favor..."

"i'm not uncomfortable," revali says softly, reassuringly, "but it's good to know that i wouldn't have been the first to back out." he smirks a little, but the fond look in his eyes betrays him.

link's stomach erupts into yet another swarm of butterflies, but he tries to play it off and scoffs. "this isn't a competition, revali."

"perhaps i'll make it into one, if that's what'll get into your stupid little skull that i want to go out with you too." the blond blinks and suddenly, revali's lips are grazing the tip of link's oh-so-sensitive ear. "first to back out of the date loses," he murmurs, the vibrations of his voice tingling into the shell of it.

in an instant, a million thoughts race around inside of link's head, and at the same time, he can feel his face reddening and dripping off of his skull like lava. his mouth drops and his eyes bulge out of his head, but no words come out as revali gently takes the tip of his ear between his teeth, and link all but short circuits—

"boys, i hope you're behaving yourselves back there," comes urbosa's voice. revali immediately pulls away and sits stiffly in his seat, hands in his lap, looking down. link blinks, missing the warmth though his face still burned, eyes still wide staring at revali, whose cheeks were beginning to match link's. "we have a fairly lengthy flight ahead of us, and i would hate to have to deal with you two causing any sort of trouble."

"like what, joining the mile high club?" zelda snickers across the way, only for mipha to gasp in shock, the both of them erupting into giggles.

link rolls his eyes and he catches revali's jaw tense, but the other man doesn't move from his position. letting out a breath through his nose, link sits back in his seat and looks out the window, watching the ground crew scurrying around and preparing the plane for flight. he's glad to have gotten reassurance and confirmation of their relationship now, at the very least.

but then, he feels revali's fingers slip back into his hand, warm and firm against his palm. link looks back, but revali isn't looking at him, his cheeks perhaps a couple shades darker than when he last looked. the blond just smiles and squeezes his hand, looking back out the plane window as the pilot announces readying for departure in the speakers above. revali squeezes back, and their hands stay intertwined for the rest of the flight.

TEHE THEY'RE IDIOTS IN LOVE. the ground crew are the koroks btw they flew on Great Deku Airlines 🙏 zel n miph definitely take pics of revalink holding hands and also when they fall asleep, link's head on revali's shoulder and revali's head leaning on link's... when urbosa wakes them up during landing, link only groans and tries to curl up closer to revali's side, mumbling about having another five minutes and urbosa is recording the whole thing for the champions vlog later 😹 when they get off the plane, revali is grumpy and glaring down anyone who tries to talk to him, but he adjusts himself when link leans on him sleepily, clinging to his arm 🥺 even in the rental car, link's head falls on revali's shoulder again as he snoozes and revali just stares down the rest of the champions, daring them to say anything as his own cheeks color pink 😄

by the time they get to their airbnb, link has regained some consciousness, but he keeps his head on revali's shoulder blinking sleepily until revali gently taps at his thigh to tell him to get up. there are four rooms in the airbnb, so roomies get assigned as (daruk & sidon), (impa & urbosa), (mipha & zelda), and of course, (revali & link). everyone rolls their eyes when revali and link blush at getting assigned to each other, glancing shyly at each other before looking away 😄

after that, the group begins to explore the airbnb. "this is a very nice place," mipha says politely, running her hand along the wall decor. "however, i didn't expect so much winter-themed decor in midst of summer."

zelda shrugs, following after mipha. "this place is owned by a man named pondo, who appears to have an affinity for the season." they come across a pair of bowling shoes mounted on the wall, surprisingly shiny and clean. "among... other things."

revali rolls his eyes as he follows urbosa down the similarly wintry-themed hallway to the room him and link have been assigned (where did link even go?), rolling both of their luggages along. why is revali taking link's luggage with him, you may ask? it's not like anyone asked him to take link's stuff with him either 😹

urbosa stops before one of the doors nearer to the end of the hall, leaning against its threshold and cocking her head at it. "this one's yours," she says, somewhat amused. "behave yourselves. you might be sharing a room, but we're sharing a whole house."

revali's face flushes and burns like a forest fire. "we're not going to do anything like that," he mutters, unable to meet urbosa's gaze. "we're not even official yet."

"but you're officially holding hands in public," urbosa lilts, pushing herself off of the threshold. "so that's official enough."

he makes a face at her. "i bet you're not even going to tell mipha and zelda the same thing, will you?"

urbosa sighs. "i have to keep a closer eye on both of them, actually. those two are complete menaces now that they're official." she pats at revali's shoulder. "i'll leave you to unpack."

and so revali enters the room, beginning to unpack some of his things and leaving link's stuff by the foot of the bed. when he finishes up, he flops onto the bed, staring at the ceiling of their shared room.

their shared room... revali blinks and sits up as it truly settles in that he and link are going to share a room for the week they're here. oh gods. they're sharing a room for a week, and sharing this one bed in the room. well, revali could always offer to sleep on the couch or make link do it, but he thinks about the warmth of link's hand entwined with his, link's soft sleepy expression gazing back at him, link's unruly blond hair spilling like silk all over his skin and the pillow he's laying upon— revali shakes himself out of his reverie, desperately willing himself not to blush. he shouldn't think such things when they haven't even put a label on their relationship yet—

suddenly, the doorknob turns and clicks open, and in steps link, dripping wet and dressed in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. his modesty (is it modest if you're already wet and half-naked?) is protected with only a gentle one-handed grip to hold the towel together and with his free hand, link pushes his wet bangs up and over his head. oh goddesses. it's like everything is happening in slow motion. revali's lips part, his eyes widening, and he can't look away. he should, because that would be the logical, gentlemanly thing to do, but alas... the droplets of water sliding down the ridges of link's abs are rather... enthralling...

"um," link starts, "hi. i, um, forgot to bring clothes with me to the shower."

"the shower," revali repeats dumbly, and it takes his entire will to force his eyes upward to link's face instead of his very grabbable slim waist, or the v-line slipping under the towel. link's cheeks are tinged pink and his eyes are averted as he scratches at the back of his neck.

goddess, he's adorable, revali thinks immediately before catching himself. he can't say things like this when link is practically naked!

"yeah, i needed to refresh after the flight," link says, biting his lip.

"to refresh," revali repeats, blinking. it feels like his brain is melting and reforming and melting again into a searing hunk of unintelligible meat. he can't form a single coherent, logical thought right now, completely transfixed by the enticing droplets of water sliding down link's pretty throat. refresh... oh goddess, revali needs to get out of here right now. "right, okay, shit, sorry, i'll just—"

revali makes it out of their shared room and into the backyard of the house in record time. urbosa and impa are going over plans at the breakfast nook as he zooms by, beelining for the sliding glass door that leads to the back of the house, but not before urbosa can call out, "i told you to behave!"

revali could behave, alright. but it seemed like revali jr. was going to need a little more restraint.

KFDHUSKDJFHKSDJHFFKH WELL ANYWAYS. idiots to lovers is my favorite trope for these two, like they are the ultimate little freaks ever <3

after link gets his clothes on and revali jr. calms down, the champions have a shitty little dinner composed of various fast food places that were nearby 😹 idk the last time i stayed at an airbnb, i went to get mcdonalds with my cousin in the middle of the night and now it's like a core memory, so i'm passing it onto the champs. i do love me some fries and chicken nuggets though 🤍 impa is outside taking a call at the time, but i'm thinking ab daruk n urbosa with double double burgers and animal fries from in n out..... sidon n mipha with five (5) filet-o-fish sandwiches each 😭 zelda dipping fries into her sundae :] link absolutely would have gotten something from dennys, he's chaos incarnate returning to his homeland (dennys), and revali kind of gives me the vibes that he doesn't fw fast food at all LOL, so he just gets whatever link gets to make it easier on himself, but grumbles and blushes a little when urbosa smiles knowingly at him. hehe >:]

after dinner, they all slowly file off into their rooms to wash up and get ready for bed. there's two bathrooms with showers between the four bedrooms, so they divide the two between the guys and girls. revali takes his shower after sidon, and takes a much quicker one than he's happy with. he totally seems like the type of guy that has an intricate hair care ritual/routine and would hog the bathroom for more than an hour, but link still has to take his actual shower and y'all already know down baddd revali is for him 🤣

revali comes back to their shared bedroom, his hair wrapped up in a towel, dressed in pajama pants and a large plain shirt. link is flopped on the floor of the room as he scrolls through what revali assumes to be tiktok.

"shower's yours," revali says, walking around link and sitting on his side of the bed. he takes off the wrap and bends over to towel dry his hair. "why are you on the floor?"

"my clothes are dirty so i don't wanna get in the bed with them," link says, sitting up and staring at revali. "and i'm sharing with you. i would have thought you would complain if i was in bed with my dirty clothes."

revali fights the heat crawling up his neck and swallows. goddess, they're actually going to share the damn bed. "do whatever you want," he manages in a mumble, sitting back up and throwing his hair back, grabbing the brush he left on the nightstand. "that's... very considerate of you, though."

link hums, before jumping to his feet and taking his stuff with him to the bathroom. when the door shuts with a click, revali glances back at it before letting out a sigh. can he really make it through the night sharing the bed with this heavenly creature of a man that's become rather fond of in the last few weeks?

revali is finishing up with the last of his braid when link comes back from his shower, thankfully fully clothed this time, dressed similarly with pajama pants and a shirt. but instead of practically breaking down the door, link opens it slowly and peeks inside, meeting revali's eyes and neither of them looking away, for several moments.

"are you going to come in or will you stand there the rest of the night like a ghost?" revali says finally, breaking the stare and tying the end of the braid. the only light on in the room now is the lamp beside revali on the nightstand.

link finally opens the rest of the door and shuffles quietly inside, closing it behind him before sitting at the edge of the bed. when revali looks back up, link is looking down at his lap and fingers fidgeting again, like he was in the plane. it makes revali soften, recalling why link had been anxious then.

"getting cold feet?" he says, as softly as he can. link's head shoots up to look at him, eyes wide with terror like he was on the plane when revali suggested that they didn't have to go forward with the date.

"no," the blond answers immediately, but revali can see the way his lip trembles when he says it.

"i can sleep on the couch—" he begins to offer, but link quickly shakes his head and crawls onto the bed to properly sit on it.

"no, i want to—" he starts before cutting himself off. link's cheeks pinken. "i want to... i want to share the bed... with you..."

"you don't sound very confident," revali tries to joke, but his tone is still so unbearably gentle.

link shakes his head again, and this time when he looks at revali, his face is set in an adamant expression, his brows furrowed. "i do want to share the bed with you," he says. "i can. i swear. please trust me."

for some reason, it makes revali's heart skip a beat, but he just snorts and shakes his head before settling into the bed, turning the lamp on the nightstand off. "sure," he says, tugging the blanket underneath link up. "and if i wake up in the morning with you on the floor or on the couch, i'll definitely still believe you."

link wrinkles his nose at revali (cute, he thinks), and then follows after him under the blanket on his side of bed. revali sighs as he relaxes, lying on his back as he stares at the ceiling. link shuffles beside him onto his side, and revali can practically feel those wide blue eyes staring holes into the side of his face.

"want to take a picture?" revali mumbles, already feeling drowsy. the travel fatigue was starting to get to him. "it might last longer."

"sorry," link whispers. "you're just so... beautiful."

revali almost has the energy to blush. almost. "thanks," he says instead. he shuts his eyes, and listens to the sound of link's breathing beside him. they're both quiet for a while, until revali continues in a much quieter voice, "you are too." he swears he can hear link's breath catch as he lets sleep claim him.

and it's the best sleep he's ever had in his life. usually, revali wakes up at the crack of dawn, when the light is barely creeping over the horizon, no matter what time he slept. but when he wakes in the morning, the sun is already fully above the horizon and shining through the curtains. link is curled into his side, head on revali's shoulder and an arm thrown over his stomach, revali's own arms cradling link's body, keeping him close. the blond snores lightly, but sleeps like a rock atop revali. dimly, he realizes their legs are tangled together under the blanket, but he's warm and he's comfortable. revali closes his eyes; maybe staying in bed a little while longer like this wouldn't be so bad...

but that thought is cut short with urbosa knocking on the door to their room. "wake up, lovebirds, breakfast is ready!" she calls. "make sure you look decent before you get out here."

even closed, revali rolls his eyes and lets out a soft groan. link mumbles and shifts under his arms, trying to snuggle closer to revali, who dares not move an inch as the blond makes himself comfortable once more. only when link settles, still curled around him, does revali speak again, opening his eyes.

"i'm surprised you're not jumping out of bed for food," he says softly. "i'd have thought of you as a ravenous beast with an endless hunger, or perhaps a garbage disposal unit."

link hums at him. "comfy," he murmurs in response. "still sleepy too."

fortunately for revali, he's also still too drowsy for his heart rate to pick up and link hearing it. "a couple more minutes wouldn't hurt then," he replies, letting his eyes fall shut. "breakfast can wait."

they get a max of 7 minutes cuddling together under the blankets before zelda and mipha bust down the door together, saying they're taking too long and the food is going to get cold, and i don't care if you're being cute and gay and snuggly GET UP ALREADY!!! this time, link groans and throws the blanket over their heads, clinging to revali, but he sighs and decides it's time to actually wake up. after all, revali is well-acquainted with link's large diet and he needs to make sure the blond is always eating well, right? 😁😁 link will still be sleepily, grumpily clinging to revali's arm as they make their way to the dining room since he was so comfy in the bed, and only fully wakes up when the smell of food hits his nose 😹

a couple days later, the champs have their panel at twitchcon 👁️ i don't really care enough to write a whole scene about what the champs get asked, because it'll probably just be standard questions like, "what kind of group content do you guys have planned?" or "are you guys going to make a twitchcon vlog?" ("yes") or "zelda please marry me" ("security please get this person out of here") and i just am not feeling creative enough to write all that

HOWEVER. HOWEVER. revalink during the entire panel. ooughh. oughh man. they're sat together towards the center right of the panel table (from audience pov/stage center left), giggling and whispering to each other as questions are asked, chiming in here and there to crack jokes or answer as needed, stealing glances/side-eyes at each other whenever they can. they're so silly :3

at some point, The Question gets asked; "okay this one's for link and revali. have you guys gone on the date that revali planned from the love or host, or has this all been an elaborate ruse to make us all think you were dating?"

the question catches both link and revali off-guard, the both of them blinking dumbly at it. i mean, they were expecting to be asked a question about their relationship, seeing as it was a bit public and anyone could see it from their collab streams & videos, the way they bantered on twitter or in the comments of each other's instagram posts. they weren't subtle about it at all, but of course anything could be an act on the internet.

link's cheeks begin to pinken as he glances at revali, before turning back to the questioner to respond. "well, um, so—" and finally, the sound of link's voice makes revali's brain click back into place.

"have you any decorum?" he cuts the blond off smoothly. "it's not anyone's business how our relationship is going, actually. but if you desperately wish to know, then all you have to know is that it's plenty real and though we haven't gone on the date yet, it's planned and it's happening." revali looks at link, whose head is fully turned to look back at him, utterly flustered, eyes wide and cheeks fully flushed pink. his heart softens; cute.

suddenly, revali gets an idea. as subtle as he can, he reaches under the table and takes link's hand into his, sliding his fingers down the blond's palm before lacing their fingers together. if it's possible, link's eyes get even wider, his face even darker with blush, revali's heart practically melting even more from the look on his face. "link will not be seeing anyone for a while," revali says softly, but making sure the mic catches his voice as he keeps his eyes on link, "and he's very content with our current predicament.

a chorus of "awh"s and cheers rise from the crowd, while the rest of the champions groan or roll their eyes at the display. link gives revali a small smile and squeezes his hand. revali returns the smile with a fond look and squeezes back.

"i hope you guys know they're holding hands under the table right now," comes zelda's voice through the speakers, haughty and prim. the crowd screams and shouts and cheers even louder. "it's very rich of revali to complain about you not having any decorum and then continuing to have no decorum himself in public."

"oh shush, zelda, you're holding hands with mipha under the table too," urbosa replies. zelda shrieks in opposition, mipha bursts out laughing, the crowd gets louder, but link and revali are still staring at each other, still blushing, still holding hands stuck in their own world.

and of course, people were taking videos during the panel. the entire scene from question to zelda's shrieking is recorded and posted and made edits of and retweeted and qrt'd to death, until they're #1 on trending. it's a little embarrassing; this is the most attention revali and link's relationship has ever received, especially outside of their community. but neither of them regret it. next time, maybe they'll even post a picture of them actually holding hands. <3

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es-kay-zee · 3 years

Text

Lust | Lee Know x Reader

I had plans to make this kinky as all hell, but I somehow ended up going the opposite direction with this. oh well, it was still pretty fun to write. I’m also sorry if there’s parts of it (or all of it?) that don’t make any sense. I didn’t proofread it at all and my head was just empty while writing it.

I was kinda liking it at one point, then I overthought about it and now I think I hate it but I put in all this time so it’s getting posted. I just feel like it kinda went all over the place

Warnings: officemate! au, sexual tension (maybe? Idk, i tried), fem! reader, fingering, oral sex (fem receiving), protected sex (yay!) there’s like a split second of softdom! Minho, but other than that moment there’s not really any dynamics.

Requested: Yip

Word count: 4.6k

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It didn’t take a genius amongst your co-workers to be able to tell what was going on between you and Minho. Everyone could see the way you looked at each other. They could see the way you took extra time at the printer, considering it was right next to his desk. You would stand there for longer than necessary, just watching him work. How his fingers would type away on his keyboard, the sleeves of his button-down rolled up to his elbows. God, what you would do to have his fingers inside you.

No, you can’t think like that. He’s just your co-worker. He may be hot as all hell, but this is a professional environment, right?

It was also painfully obvious to everyone how Minho looked at you the same way. Just as you would spend extra time at the printer, he would spend extra time at your desk whenever he had to hand you some files. He would try to make some idle chit-chat with you, but really, he was just staring at your lips the whole time. While you would admire his hands and arms, he would admire your lips. He often found himself wondering just what your mouth was capable of.

Don’t get him wrong, he didn’t only see you as some pretty thing around the office. He also admired your dedication and work ethic. He loved how much effort you put into your job to ensure you produce the pest quality of work. But he wasn’t stupid, he could see just how hot you are.

But he’s not allowed to think of you in that way. He’s not allowed to spend many a night imagining your hand, your mouth wrapped around his cock instead of his hand. After all, you’re just co-workers. And it’s all professional, right?

That’s what you both keep telling yourselves.

It’s a normal Friday, not long before midday, and you’re zoning out at your desk, trying to figure out what the hell you were going to do over the weekend. You’d originally had plans to meet up with a few friends, but they all cancelled on you, leaving you with nothing to do on the approaching Saturday and Sunday.

You’re dragged out of your thoughts by someone waving a small folder in front of your face.

“Hey, earth to y/n?” You snap your attention onto the figure in front of you, quickly realising that it is, in fact, Lee Minho who’s standing at your desk. You hurriedly fix your posture, sitting up straighter and clearing you throat quietly before responding.

“A-are those some more files that need doing?” The way you stutter over your words has you internally cringing, hoping he can’t tell the effect he has over your body.

“Yeah, they’re the latest invoices that have come in. These ones need to be paid by Tuesday and then these ones need to be paid by Thursday,” he explains to you, holding up the two separate folders in his hands.

Reaching out your hand for the folders, you feel your fingertips brush against his once you grab them. You withdraw your hands as quickly as possible, feeling your heartbeat pick up slightly as the subtle contact. Your gaze lingered on his arms for a moment, his sleeves rolled up just the way you liked. Minho is so effortlessly attractive that it’s unfair.

You pry your eyes away from his forearms, away from the veins you can see running along his arms, instead looking at his face. The moment you look him in the eyes, however, you can’t help but think that maybe staring at his arms would have been the better option. His eyes were just as pretty as the rest of him, but the way he was looking at you right now, the way he was staring so intently at you, had you cowering slightly under his gaze.

“So, you had lunch yet?” he asks, breaking the silence that had fallen between the two of you, resting his hands in his pockets.

“Not yet, was just about to head up to the cafeteria shortly,” you reply, your eye focus being caught by his stance. You can picture it, him standing over you just the way he is now, hands in pockets, forearms visible, smirk on his face. Just imagining him standing there like that, looking down at you like you’re some sort of prey while you’re on your knees for him. Slowly undoing his belt and-

“Well, I was gonna head up now. Wanna join me?” you are once again pulled from your wandering thoughts by Minho, but the damage had already been done. You could feel your neediness throbbing in your pussy, your slickness slightly coating your underwear.

“Uh, sure,” you say, quickly locking your computer and grabbing your lunch.

You walk with Minho back towards his own desk so that he can pick up his own food before making your way up stairs to the third floor. Once you both make it to the cafeteria for the shelves. You grab your mug before making yourself a coffee, Minho doing the same next to you.

You both head towards a back corner of the large room, finding two seats at a small coffee table. A small conversation begins between the two of you, somewhat awkward, but not uncomfortably so. The occasional silences weren’t left empty, instead being filled with lingering glances at one another.

You make it through all your food and just over half of your coffee before it happens. Disaster. Minho has looked away from you for just a moment and the sunlight cascading through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows hit him in just the right way. It made him glow in the light, distracting you while you took a drink from your mug. You weren’t focusing on anything but how delicious he looked in front of you, ending up with you tipping your mug up to far and spilling it all down your front and onto your lap.

Your small yelp snaps his attention back to you and you both just stare down at your soiled clothes. Heat rushes to your face when you realise the exact repercussions of what’s just happened, and the heat spreads when you notice that Minho has also realised it. Your white blouse drenched in coffee; the material becoming see through. Minho’s gaze lingers on your chest for a moment too long for between normal co-workers, your bra entirely visible through the now coffee-coloured fabric.

Minho clears his throat before speaking. “Uh- I’ll g-get something to help clean that up,” he stutters out, standing up as quickly as possible before rushing off to grab some napkins. It’s not long before he returns, a whole stack in his grip.

He places them on the table, taking his seat again. Picking a couple napkins back up he turns his whole body towards you. Your breathing stutters when he leans in close to you, your eyes looking deep into his as he freezes in place.

He’s torn. Torn between wanting to help you for your sake, wanting to help you for the sake of being able to touch you, and not wanting to overstep any boundaries. He can hear his heart hammering in his ears, and he wonders if you can hear it too. Especially with how close the proximity currently is between you two.

He takes a deep breath before making a decision about whether or not to help you clean up. He reaches his hand out, carefully beginning to dab at the spilled drink on your lap, fully expecting to be told to stop.

You tense under his touch, but not out of discomfort. It’s the way his hand moves along your thigh that has you frozen. Your thigh. One of the more sensitive parts of your body, and his hand is rubbing back and forth along it. The contact causing your brain to short circuit as you feel the heat begin to pool in your core.

“Um… Make sure to soak these clothes before you wash them. That should help get any stains out,” Minho says, trying to ease the tension.

“Oh, yeah, thanks. I’ll be sure to do that,” you reply, his voice snapping you out of your stupor. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to ignore your growing arousal.

Minho has to fight back his own increasing need at the sight of you nibbling on your lower lip, wanting little more than for it to be his own teeth tugging at the soft flesh. But what really gets him, is you taking a few napkins and beginning to dab at the coffee on your shirt, unintentionally pulling his gaze back down to your chest. Now he was fighting back groans, trying desperately to let the sounds die in his throat before you get the chance to hear them. That would be too embarrassing for him to handle.

It’s not long before you sigh a heavy sigh, giving up the hopes of being able to save your outfit and keep your presentability for the workplace, accepting it as a lost cause. Minho stops his own wiping at the sound, looking at you instead, waiting for you to speak.

“You know what, this is a mess. I might as well just head home for the rest of the day. There’s no point sitting here at my desk all day like this,” you say, looking down at your clothes. “Besides, most of my work is done for the day anyway.”

It’s only when you lift your head up when you finish speaking that you realise just how close Minho’s face is to your own. Close enough for you to feel his breaths against your cheek. Your eyes dart down to his lips, but only for a split second, not wanting to make your arousal so obvious. Minho, however, notices. But luckily for you, he decides not to say anything about it. Yet.

“That sounds like a good idea. Uh… here,” he says, removing his blazer jacket and holding it out to you.

You reach out and grab it, your fingers once again momentarily connecting with his as you take the item he’s passing you. You both rise to your feet and you give him a confused look, wondering why he’s handing you his blazer.

“I figured you wouldn’t want to walk around with a see-through shirt,” he explains in response to your unspoken question.

The heat returns to your cheeks at his statement, quickly pulling the clothing item on and buttoning it up, making an attempt to cover yourself.

“Thanks,” you say. There’s some part of you that doesn’t really want to cover yourself, that wants Minho to see you. But you push that part aside. After all, you’ve got to maintain some sort of professionalism. “We should probably head back down now.”

“Yeah.”

You both gather your belongings, taking your mugs over to the dirty dishes rack and placing them in along with all the other dishes. Yet another silence befalls the two of you as you make your way back down the stairs to your floor, the quietness neither comfortable nor awkward. Something in between.

Finally reaching your floor, you make a beeline for your desk, aiming to grab your bag and get out of here as quickly as possible. But before you grab your things and head into your boss’s office to say that you’re leaving early, you pause, turning back to Minho again, stopping him before he gets too far away.

“I’ll get your jacket back to you on Monday if you want. I’ll even get it cleaned to make sure there’s no coffee on it.”

He takes a moment to think, once again torn between options. One being just saying okay and letting you just bring it to work with you on Monday. And the other option… Well, if the way you were almost whining when he was touching your thigh earlier is anything to go by, then the second option might just work out for him. Fuck it.

“Or you could bring it over to my place? Tonight? I-if you want to,” he says, making sure to keep his voice only loud enough for you to hear, not wanting any nosy co-workers listening in.

Your entire body feels like it’s on fire as you think of the possible outcomes of you going over to his house, albeit under the guise of simply returning his blazer. You can already feel yourself growing wetter at the thoughts running through your mind. You blink rapidly, shaking your head slightly to yourself, remembering that you have to answer him instead of just standing there daydreaming all day.

“You’re in luck. I was gonna go out for a few drinks tonight, but my friends all cancelled on me. So, it turns out that I’m available,” you say, fighting hard to keep your voice steady and to not let on just how needy you were.

“Well, you could always have those drinks with me while you’re over,” he offers, stepping closer to your desk.

“I could.”

You both smirk at each other, knowing exactly what the outcome of tonight will be. Minho searches around your desk for a moment, eventually finding and grabbing a sticky note and a pen. He scribbles something down before handing it to you.

“That’s my address. See you at 7?”

“Sure thing, see you then.”

He smirks at you again before finally heading back to his own desk and you finally head off home, being sure to stop in and let your boss know you’re leaving.

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Before long, 7 o’clock rolls around and you’re sitting in your car, parked on the road-side, opposite Minho’s house. Checking yourself in your rear-view mirror quickly, you make sure you look presentable before getting out of your car, his blazer draped over your arm. You’re somewhat nervous as you approach his front door, reaching up and knocking. It only takes a short moment before the door swings open, revealing Minho. He steps backwards, holding the door open as he gestures for you to enter. You step past him and into the house, taking in his appearance while he closes the door behind you.

His outfit is simple, a plain t-shirt and a pair of jeans, but to you he looks damn fine. His jeans are tight enough to show off his thighs while not being too tight that it would create any struggle to remove quickly. That’s handy. And his shirt leaves his delicious arms on display. You look up at his face just to see him staring at you in the same way you were just starting at him. Like you’re the single best thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.

“Hi,” you say, bringing his attention back to the current moment. He blinks a few times, taking a moment to recollect his thoughts.

“Hey, you look really good.” He gestures towards your dress. You chose one that was simple, yet effective at its job. You wanted to wear something that showed off your legs, something that would get his attention. And judging by the way he kept looking you up and down, it was working.

“Here’s you blazer,” you say, holding it out for him.

“Oh yeah, thanks,” he replies, having already forgotten that he’d even let you borrow it in the first place. “I’ll just go put that away. Feel free to make yourself at home.”

He dashes off down the hallway, presumedly towards his bedroom. To take the moment alone to take in your surroundings, noting how Minho’s house had a very homely feel to it.

You take a seat on the couch while you wait for him to return. And it doesn’t take him long to do just that, already walking back up the hallway towards where you are. He heads to the kitchen first, grabbing a couple of glasses.

“I have some wine here. Want some?” he offers.

“Sure,” you say, knowing that soon enough the drinks will be abandoned in favour of other activities.

It’s not long before Minho approaches you, two glasses of wine in his hands. He hands one to you before taking a seat in the spot next to you on the couch. Directly next to you. He’s so close that the side of his leg rests against yours, but you’re not complaining.

“Try not to get too distracted by me again,” he says, a cheeky grin plastered on his face. “We wouldn’t want you to spill another drink.”

You both laugh at his teasing statement, but your mind focuses on the word again and you realise that he did know the causing of today’s earlier mishap. Well, that’s a bit embarrassing.

The next short while is filled with more idle chit-chat, a measly attempt at wasting time before getting down to business. The entire time you’re talking, Minho’s arm is resting along the back of the couch behind your head and he’s very shamelessly eye fucking you. In his defence though, you’re doing the exact same thing to him.

“Do you want another glass?” Minho asks when you finish your wine, placing his hand that’s not currently resting on the back of the couch on your thigh. You let out an audible breath as his hand softly caresses the flesh, the feeling sending pools of arousal directly to your heat. As his fingers slowly trail further up, beginning to disappear under the skirt of your dress, you know that he’s not really offering you another drink. It’s his way of moving the conversation along, of asking you if you’re ready to do what you truly came here for.

And you’d be damned if you weren’t ready.

His fingers continue to travel higher, skimming along your inner thigh, avoiding where you desperately need him. You bite your lip, trying to stifle a whimper. It doesn’t work, and it instead draws Minho’s focus to your mouth. And he’s back to thinking about your mouth, how your lips would feel wrapped around his cock. The idea alone has him growing painfully hard in his jeans. Hell, he’d do anything to have your lips on him, in any way.

“M-Minho, please,” you whisper, wanting him to stop his teasing caresses and finally touch you the way you want. The way you need.

“Please what?”

“Please t-touch me.”

“Touch you? I am touching you,” he says, stopping his hand’s movements and instead just resting it in place.

“No, please touch my p-pussy,” you say, your hands coming up to cover your face, embarrassment coursing through your body, causing your face to heat up.

Normally, Minho smirked at you, getting a kick out of how flustered you are.

“Ah, I see. Well, if you want that to happen then you have to prove to me how much you want it.”

And that has you whining.

You quickly manoeuvre yourself so that you’re straddling Minho’s lap, tired of waiting for him to provide you with some much needed friction. Your hands rest on his shoulders, his own flying to your hips when you slowly, experimentally grind down on him. Your actions get the best reward, in the form on a shaky moan from Minho, and that’s the moment you can tell that this whole thing is affecting him just as much as it’s affecting you.

When he told you to prove it, he was expecting you to just get more flustered. He certainly wasn’t expecting you to make such a bold move. You roll your hips against him again, this time drawing a moan from yourself. One of his hands slides up your back, grabbing the zipper for your dress and slowly sliding it down. Once he has it undone, he pulls the dress up and off your body, revealing your lack of bra underneath. Shit, he hadn’t even noticed earlier that you weren’t wearing one, he was too distracted by your legs. He looks up at you, his own lust-filled eyes meeting yours, watching you lean in closer to him. Closer, and closer.

And then your lips – those oh so pretty lips – were on his own, moving together in a rush of adrenaline and lust. There was no delicacy in the kiss, only pure wanton desire as your hands roamed each other’s bodies. You’d both been waiting for this for so long. Craving it.

His hands slide down to your ass, kneading the flesh. He’s quick to stand up, keeping you held up, your legs wrapping around his torso. He carries you down the hallway, only breaking the kiss for a split second at a time to make sure he didn’t bump into anything, before he would dive back into your lips. Your kisses were intoxicating, addicting. Minho just couldn’t get enough. Even when he finally made it to his bedroom, dropping you down onto the bed, he still doesn’t pull away. It’s only when you pull away for breath that he stops, you both panting deeply from the lack of oxygen for so long.

Your hands glide across his linen-clad chest, the fabric warmed from his hot skin. He groans lowly at your touch, desperately wanting more. One of his own hands finds it’s way to your breast, his thumb rubbing over the hardened nipple.

His touch is soft, gentle. He’s testing the waters, wanting to figure out what you like, what touches really get you going. He knows he’s on the right track when your back arches slightly at the contact, and he grazes his thumbs over the nub again, harder this time.

You can feel how soaked you are, your underwear beginning to stick to you uncomfortably. You buck your hips upwards, trying desperately to get some sort of solid friction going, the aching between your legs bordering on painful. Sensing just how strong your need is, Minho pulls away from you, moving down the bed until he’s laying between your thighs, his fingers already dipping into the waistband of your underwear.

He wastes little time in pulling the fabric down your legs and tossing them off to the side. And now, finally, after so long of wanting it, he’s able to gaze upon your pussy, glistening with your juices.

“Holy shit, you’re so wet you’re dripping,” he exclaims, looking up and making eye contact with you. And it makes you clench around nothing when you look at the man that’s remained on your mind with his head between your thighs.

“Only for you,” you reply, even your voice dripping with need. Minho looks back down at your soaked cunt and, in the split seconds before his touch, every nerve in your body and mind comes alive with electricity. He licks one long stripe along your entrance, and the moan you let out is obscene. And he loves it.

Minho is filled with a new determination, a determination to make you moan over and over again. To have you feeling so good that you’re screaming his name.

He circles his lips around your clit, working the nerve bundle with his mouth while he brings a hand down to work your entrance. He slides a digit it, immediately curling it in search of your special spot. He quickly adds a second finger, continuing his search for your g-spot. He knows he’s finally found it when your hands go flying to his head, threading into his hair, tugging hard. He groans at the sensation, loving the way your hands feel in his hair. God, everything you do just turns him on, and he begins to unconsciously rut his hips into the mattress. He continues working your core while you moan uncontrollably.

“F-fuck, Minho. I’m s-so close,” you manage to whimper out, but he already knows. The way your walls tighten around his fingers over and over tells him everything he needs to know.

“Do it, baby. Cum for me,” he says, and you don’t have to be told twice, your orgasm washing over you with more force than you expected. He finger-fucks you through your high, only stopping when your body stops convulsing in waves of pleasure. He pulls his hand away from your core, a whine escaping you at the empty feeling. If he could make you cum that hard with just his fingers and mouth, how on earth are you going to survive cumming on his cock?

He crawls back up your body, placing his arousal-coated fingers at your lips. You open your mouth with no hesitation, immediately sucking the digits in, swirling your tongue over them as you sucked. The sight alone almost had Minho cumming in his jeans. For so long, all he’s wanted is your lips around some part of him, and while he also wanted to be graces with the visual of you sucking on his cock like your life depended on it, he was more desperate to just fuck you.

He wastes no more time in ridding himself of his clothes until he’s completely bare, reaching into his bedside table draw for a condom. positioning himself above you once again. He’s about to open the condom packet before you stop him, taking it from his hands opening it yourself. He moans when you slide the condom down his length, your hands feeling better on his cock than his own ever could.

The moment you lie back down, he lines himself up with your entrance, not wanting to go another moment without being inside you. He pushes into you, not stopping until his hips rest against yours, the room filling with moans as your bodies finally connect. His cock stretches your walls so perfectly, like two puzzle pieces made for each other.

After a brief pause, he slowly pulls back you, only to thrust back into you. He repeats the motions, gradually settling into a solid pace, not to fast and not too slow, a perfect balance of the two.

He drags his lips up the soft skin of your neck placing sloppy kisses as over, being sure not to leave any marks. As much as he wanted to mark you where it was visible, he couldn’t. He didn’t want you to have to go through the hassle of covering them each day at work while you wait for them do disappear. Instead, he opted for sucking bruises into your collarbones and along your chest.

Your brain felt like static, unable to string together a single coherent thought as Minho continues to thrust into you, pleasure radiating throughout your entire body. The knot in your stomach grows tighter for the second time during the night, and from the way Minho’s thrusts are getting sloppier, you can tell that he’s close to his own end as well.

He slides his free hand in between the two of you, fingers finding your clit. He rubs circles into the bundle of nerves, and you feel yourself unravel, his fingers being the final to push you over the edge. And it’s your fluttering walls that has the same effect on Minho. You both ride out your highs together, him spilling into the condom and you around his cock. Your loud moans are music to his ears, while his are the same to yours.

Once you both come back down from your highs, Minho pulls himself away from you, quickly disposing of the condom before coming back to lay next to you.

Your body feels heavy, your brain foggy and distant, a tiredness falling over your entire being, exhausted from your orgasms. You groggily roll onto your side, curling your body up into Minho’s and almost instantly drifting off into sleep. He wraps an arm around you in return, feeling sleep approach for him as well. He rests his face against the top of your sleeping head, placing a chaste kiss to your hair. And just before he let himself fall asleep, he made sure plan out in his mind what he was gonna cook you for breakfast in the morning; pancakes.

#stray kids smut #lee know smut #skz lee minho smut #skz smut

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all-the-names-are-taken-aaaaa · 4 years

Text

Gabriel not targeting Marinette for Good Reason AU

Gabriel was seething with anger as he replayed the video. "You mean to tell me Adrian never said anything because he was afraid I would pull him out of class?"

Nathalie sat down looking more tired then anyone had ever seen her. "It appears Miss Rossi also blackmailed him using your name. Since she had your favor she believed she could separate him from his friends with just a few words or at least had him believe that."

Gabriel tried to keep his breathing calm. "How much damage are we aware of?" Maybe he could at salvage a friendly work relationship with her.

Nathalie looked ready to tear out her hair in frustration. "Enough to make her leave Paris."

"WHAT" Gabriel slammed his hands down. How could that insolent little brat! Something had to be done soon.

"She is friends with Adrian still. Him finding out she was leaving is what caused the break down. Her and Chloe are leaving in two weeks. He doesn't know exactly were they are going though. And as far as specifics other than that video it would be easier to look at this folder." Nathalie hands him a folder full of things Adrian and Marinette had gathered as proof not that anyone seemed to listen.

"Contact Miss Rossi's mother. I do not care if you have to go to her work. She will be thinkfull we are warning her about the possible lawsuits. I'll personally fire her. And offer my lawyer to Miss Dupain-Cheng." Gabriel knows there is little chance of recovering from this without his company taking some sort of hit. Hell it could possibly go under if people decided it was his fault the girl was full of herself. He had warned Miss Rossi to be nice to her no matter were they interacted.

"Yes sir" Nathalie stood. Based off what Adrian said Lila had made sure it was near impossible to contact her mother. The easiest was would be to go to were she supposedly worked and hope Lila had told the truth about that.

"I am looking for Miss Rossi. It's an urgent. It's about her doughter" the girl sitting on the counter looked up wide eyed.

"Oh god" she muttered rushing out of the room. She returned quickly with a woman looking sickly pale.

"Is my doughter okay? Was it an akuma?" The woman- Miss Rossi asks franticly.

"Mama your daughter is physically fine but she has gotten herself and possibly you in a lot of trouble. Please take a look at these. There is a few videos as well." Nathalie explained letting the woman veiw the folder. The horror on Miss Rossi's face was clear.

"Are you from the school? One of the Celebrities?" Miss Rossi asks. Still looking through the folder.

"Miss? I am Nathalie Sancoeur. I am the assistant for Gabriel Agrest. You should have my number from when you signed the papers for Lila to model." Nathalie began to panic as she saw Miss Rossi's reaction.

"I never signed papers for that. She told me she and the rest of her class modeled on a field trip to the Agrest house..." Miss Rossi looked paler if that was even possible.

"No. She has been working for the Agrest brand for almost a year. There was never a field trip and even of there was we would have to have everyone's parents sign work permissions since they are minors. I'll have someone retrieve the papers so you may look at them" Nathalie explains pulling out her phone and sending a text.

"May I ask a few questions? What is this about travels?" Miss Rossi's horror turned to anger and disappointed slowly as things snowballed from there.

"Nathalie is everything okay? I am almost at the school." Gabriel had calmed. Still angry but calm ish.

"It appears Lila forged her mother's signature on all the paperwork for us. And lied about school. A lot. We will meet you at the school." Nathalie says.

"Yes please do" Gabriel had to take a moment to calm himself. This was not going to end well.

Gabriel stands in the court yard. Classes that had been let out a few minutes early stop and stare. As classes let out more people loitered. Interested why the famous man who was rarely seen was in their court yard.

"Dude your dad is here" Nino whispers to Adrian. Nino pats him on the back as they leave room. Marinette close behind them. The rest stay to hear Lila's latest story. Marinette and Nino wait with the rest of the kids in the courtyard.

"Father?" Adrian asks once he is closer.

"We are waiting on Miss Rossi and Miss Dupain-Cheng." Gabriel states. As Adrian moves to stand beside him. Marinette with Nino moves closer to the inner edge of the crowd but no closer. Gabriel spots her but says nothing

Lila leads her class too the courtyard. She gets excited upon seeing Gabriel believing she could play up her fame. She walks over "Mr. Agrest" she says politely "Do we have a photo shoot?" pointing to Adrian.

"No Lila. You will never have a photo shoot again. You will be lucky if you allowed to be near my son ever again" Gabriel says guiding Adrian behind him. Everyone becomes quiet with the exception of Alya who attempts to storm up there to defend her bestie but is stopped by Nino. Instead she livestreams believing her best friend's celebrity contacts will defend her.

"Lila Rossi you had a responsibility as one of my lead models. You knew the rules and chose to ignore them. Now I find out you forged you mothers signature. You could and probably will face many many definition lawsuits. Not to mention you threatened my son. You blackmailed my son. Your behavior towards my son is sexual hurassment. Do you understand that? Do you realize you took away a huge opportunity for yourself and the company by attacking her? And to post it. We found out because you posted it. Did you think we would not investigate? Did you not think we would contact your mother? Did you think your mother would cover for you? Did you think there would be no consiquences? Did you think you could lie your way out of this?" Gabriel fumed. Lila pales as she sees her mother enter the court yard. Thousands of people tuned in to the live stream. Miss Bustier and the principal come out ready to try and calm the situation only to be stoped by an angry woman.

"Why did you not contact me? You are responsible for Lila while she is here. How did she miss this much school without a single person contacting me. Falsely getting A student explained? A condition that makes her lie? Why didn't you fact check everything? How incompetent are you? How many students did she threaten? How much of this sort of thing is allowed at this school?" Miss Rossi goes off. "No! You contact that poor girl's parents so you can explain to them too. While you are doing that I'm calling Bridgette Chang(known member of the school board)."

"Anyone who has been threatened by Lila Rossi please come forward"Gabrial says. About ten students come forward. "We will be taking this too your office contact all of their parents" he says looking at Damocles.

Some of the students had to leave for after school activities but the parents were contacted.

During the meeting Lila became so enraged that she tried to attack Marinette for revealing her lies. Gabriel grabs her by the back of her shirt and pulls enough for her to fall back into her chair. "Miss Dupain-Cheng. I would like to offer my apologies I had no clue of Miss Rossi's behavior. May I offer you my lawyers?"

"Oh that won't be necessary. The Wayne lawyers are particularly suited to handle her and the tabloid writer" A young man states as he enters the room. "Damian!" Marinette yells running up too hug him "Angel" he says quietly hugging back.

"Is there anything I could do? I do not wish for conflict with your rising business?" Gabriel states. If possible more color drains from Lila's face at the realization Gabriel was serous about being as nice as possible to Marinette. "We are going on tour with Jagged and getting personal tutors. Could Adrian come with us? It would be a great learning experience and it would improve his social skills and your brands audience." Marinette asks.

Gabriel nods "I am sure we can arrange something." The entire room is shocked by today's events.

An investigation is launched on the school. The principal and Miss Bustier are fired. Alya has to give up the Ladyblog and do community service. Lila has to pay a lot of fines, do community service and is transferred to a school for troubled teens. Everything is on her permanent records tho. Those that cheared Lila on as Alya had her rip apart the sketchbook were grounded and forced by their parents to pay for the destroyed designs.

Luka, Kagami, Adrian, Chloe, Marinette, and Damian spent the next year traveling with Jagged. Paris sets up an alert system to contact the hero's. Each hero has a bracelet that buzzes if there is an akuma. Luka performing with him. Luka also has kaalki. Kagami teaching fencing in random schools close to were they were staying and improving her social skills. Adrian and Chloe model Marinette's designs as well as Agrest designs. Adrian practices social skills and takes acting classes with Chloe. Marinette expands the MDC brand. Damian proposes on stage after Jagged convinces Marinette to sing. That video went viral.

Hawkmoth winds up in a fight were Chat yells "why are you doing this" about a month into the tour. Once it is explained that it's for his wife. Marinette/ladybug reviels there is a way to heal her without killing someone else with a wish thanks to guardian powers. So Emilie Agrest stars in a movie with her son and Chloe two years later.

#alya salt #lila salt #marinette #miraculous ladybug #miraculous lb #mlb salt #marinette deserves better #damian x marinette #maribat salt #lila exposed #miraculous fanfic #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #miraculous of salt #damian al ghul #damian #uncle jagged #jagged stone

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mypimpademia · 4 years

Text

Worth It.

Shinso x reader

TW: Swearing, reader steals a man, pure bad bitchery

Note: this concept has been in my head for literal MONTHS and now I'm finally writing it bc i had no idea how to before (i still dont know how to write it as I'm writing this, I'm bouta wing it like a mf)

I made Intelli the mean girl for this fic bc she a bitch fr

A college AU but its hardly relevant + a lil smau

Towards the end of writing this, I started hating it. I'm so sorry😭

I recommend this song too bc this is where the idea for this fic came from:

This was getting annoying to watch.

How long was Hitoshi planning to stay miserable with that girl?

Intelli and Hitoshi have been dating for awhile now. You had honestly never liked her, but you just barely tolerated her for Hitoshi. But only a few weeks into their relationship, things went to shit.

Intelli became overly controlling over him, and even tried to force him to stop being friends with you, and some other people. You, being his best friend, told him to break up with her.

Of course, Hitoshi agreed that it'd be best to do that. But not even a few hours after talking to him about it, he came back to say it didn't go as planned.

Intelli was holding blackmail over Hitoshi's head, and posed a huge threat to his dreams of becoming a hero. Most of what she said she'd expose was no where near true, but with her intellect she could easily make people believe it.

But frankly, as their relationship went on, the sight of even a strand of her hair made you want to either puke or fight her.

"Toshi~" Intelli cooed, coming up behind Hitoshi and wrapping her arms around his neck.

Hitoshi visibly cringed, but tried to hide it as best as he could.

"Hey, babe." He boredly muttered, doing a terrible job at faking any enthusiasm.

Unlike your best friend, you made no effort to hide the disgust you held for her sheer presence.

"Y/n..." Intelli muttered, her tone dripping with distaste for you, making you scoff. "Mind if I steal Toshi for a bit? No? Thanks-" She attempted to drag Hitoshi away by the arm, but you placed a firm hand on her shoulder to stop her.

"I do mind actually, we were in the middle of a conversation before you interrupted." You told her. She chuckled, before tugging on Hitoshi's arm more.

"Yes, but he's my boyfriend-" She attempted to give reason for her to take him away, before even Hitoshi stopped her.

"I've got a project I need Y/n to help me on, I can stop by your dorm later though?" Hitoshi suggested, lying through his teeth.

Intelli's eyebrow twitched, but she gave in, letting go of his arm. "Bye, Toshi." She said, kissing Hitoshi's cheek and looking you up and down, before walking off.

"Sometimes, I can't tell if she's just plain a bitch or if she's secretly a dumbass." You sighed. "Maybe she's a little bit of both..." Hitoshi chuckled, making you laugh with him.

"You really need to find someone new." You told him, shaking your head. "I know, but I'd rather not chance losing my dream career." He groaned.

"True... Whats your type anyways? I know its not Intell anymore, she's probably traumatized you." You giggled.

"She did, but I think my type is someone who can really understands me, and someone I can have fun with." Hitoshi said.

"Like a best friend?" You questioned him. "Yeah, exactly like a best friend. That'd be my perfect version of a s/o." He replied, expression growing soft.

Since Intelli and Hitoshi's relationship had gone down hill, you've been there for him more than ever. It eventually lead to this unspoken romance that constantly roamed between the two of you.

But because of Intelli, neither of you pursued it, for the wellbeing of Hitoshi.

"Well, if I were you, I'd find someone and just make sure the bitch doesn't find out." You told him. But if you were being honest, it was more like a suggestion, because he really did need, and deserve someone other than Intelli.

"Like cheating?" He gawked. You were both thinking the same thing— Intelli would likely find out. But it was better than simply being stuck with her, so you nodded.

"Well, I'd at least make sure the other person knows. But it'd be worth it."

'I'm worth it.' You thought.

You sighed, looking down at your phone, the time on your phone displayed.

"Shit, I've gotta get to class, we've got a guest lecturing us and my professor will tear me a new one if I miss it." You told him, stuffing your phone into your pocket.

"See you later?" Hitoshi asked you.

You were about to say something about how he told Intelli they'd hang out later, but decided against it.

"Yeah."

◇◇◇◇◇◇

You sighed, feeling your tired feet throb as you walked down the hall to Hitoshi's dorm. Taking one of your backpack straps off your shoulder, you began rummaging around the pocket where you usually kept the spare key to Hitoshi's dorm.

You blinked, as you weren't able to find the key in the small pocket. You began searching your entire bag in the middle of the hallway, taking nearly everything out.

"Shit." You mumbled, thinking you had lost it.

Then you remembered, 'Thats right, I was in a rush this morning. Its on my desk.' You thought to yourself.

Like hell you were going all the way back there though.

You placed your items back into their bags, then pulled out your phone to text Hitoshi.

You hummed, rocking back and forth on your heels as you waited for the door to be opened.

A moment later, you heard the lock click, and the door swung open.

Hitoshi looked you up and down before smiling. Then looked both ways of the hall, before tugging you into the room and shutting the door.

"Why are you treating me like a side piece or something?" You questioned him.

He hummed in confusion as he locked the door.

"Does it feel like that? Sorry." He apologized. "What did she do this time?" You asked, referring to Intelli, as she wash the only person the put Hitoshi this on edge.

"She said if we were doing anything other than a project we'd break up, and you know what that means." He told you, shaking his head.

You hummed, and pulled out your phone.

"What are you doing?" He asked, peering over your shoulder.

"You'll see." You blunty told him.

You sent your message, and tossed your phone onto his bed.

You grabbed onto Hitoshi's collar, tugging him towards you so he was looking you in the eyes, making his breath hitch as his face tinted red.

"You're crazy if you think I'd get you snitched on." You playfully consoled.

"What did you do?" He questioned again, watching you flop down on his bed as you kicked off your shoes.

"I texted Monoma and Momo to post about a project on private snap that only has Intelli on it so that it'll be more believable." You told him.

Hitoshis eyes went wide, as he mentally questioned how you came up with that so fast.

You patted the space next to you, beckoning him to sit with you.

He sat down, shaking his head and laughing.

You and Hitoshi talked for hours and hours, but it each flew by. When you finally checked the time, you barely had enough time left before dorm visiting hours were over.

"What? Already?" Hitoshi gaped, as he watched you sling your backpack over your shoulder.

"Mhm." You hummed.

He groaned, clearly not wanting you to leave, but sat up anyways so he could come see you out.

Hitoshi unlocked the door for you, but upon opening the door, you were both met with an unwanted sight.

"Hey Toshi!" Intelli greeted, completely passing over you even though she saw you.

"H-hey, Intelli." Hitoshi spurred, trying to keep composure.

"I came to help on the project. Even Momo was complaining, so I thought you could use some help." She offered, clearly not convinced that there was actually a project.

But like you said, you weren't going to let him get caught.

"No, we finished it." You told her bluntly, folding your arms across your chest.

But clearly, Intelli didn't plan on letting up either.

"Well then, I could proof read the written portion." She insisted, taking a step towards you.

"We already did that already."

"Well I'm sure there are some mistakes."

"We triple checked."

Hitoshi looked back and forth between the two of you, silently preparing himself to break up a fight.

"You must not get what I mean—" Intelli straightened her posture more than it already was, and leaned towards you. "There's probably mistakes because it was you helping him." She mocked.

Hitoshi already had a hand reaching for your waist, ready to pull you back in a situation where you lunge at Intelli.

"You wanna talk about mistakes? How about we start with you, bit-" Before you could take a single step towards her, you were being pulled back by your waist.

"Watch your dog, Hitoshi." Intelli retorted.

Damn, was she lucky Hitoshi could hold you back.

"At least I bite, unlike some people." You shot back. She narrowed her eyes, leaning towards you again.

"Y'know Y/n, you're not as good as everyone thinks you are. Everyone thinks you're so great, and nice, but I know how you really are." She said.

"You only think that because everyone's not you. Its no goddamn wonder your blackmail folder is thicker than you." You hissed.

Intelli, clearly flustered that you even knew about her blackmail folder, stood straight again. She crossed her arms and cleared her throat slightly.

"You think youre so much better than me. A better person, a better best friend, you probably think you'd make a better girlfriend too, right?" She asked you.

"Of course I do, who the hell wouldn't?" You chuckled.

You felt Hitoshi's grip on your waist loosen. Either he was getting just as angry and was going to let you fight her, or he thought it the tension was thawing.

"Alright, since you're so much better than me, show me." Intelli insisted.

You smirked. "Alright, you asked for it."

Slipping out of Hitoshi's grip, you turned to face him.

His brows raised in surprise and confusion. And next thing he knew, you had him by the collar for the second time today.

But this time, your lips were pressed against his.

It took him a moment to process, but soon, he melted into it. Moving in sync with you, he placed his hands back on your waist.

As much as you wanted to continue, you still had to tell that bitch off.

Pulling away from Hitoshi, wiping away the string of saliva that connected your mouths, you turned back to Intelli.

You walked straight up to her, and placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Toshi doesn't react like that when you kiss him, does he?" You hummed, hearing Intelli audibly gulp.

"Like you said, I'm a better person, a better best friend, and a better girlfriend." You repeated her words from earlier.

"I wouldn't lie to him, expose him, whether what he did was true or false, and i wouldn't hold him back from doing what he wants." You taunted.

"And the thing is—" You leaned in, next to her ear.

"I dont think it, I know it."

"I'm perfect for him." You whispered to her.

Intelli nearly toppled over in defeat, leaning against the nearest wall to support her body.

"Anyways, see you tomorrow, Toshi." You mused, before walking away.

◇◇◇◇◇◇

The next day, you met up with Hitoshi in your free time like usual.

You were aimlessly walking around campus, talking about random topics, laughing as you watched random people do stupid things, and just having fun.

Except now, you were hand in hand, and the air around the two of you seemed lighter. And the look of adoration you and Hitoshi shared was more evident.

But in the middle of it, of course, something had to happen.

Intelli had stopped you both in your tracks, her brainless groupies behind her.

"Did you know everyone is talking about you, Hitoshi? And with all the things they're saying... you might not be able to recover from it." She said snarkily.

"Not too worried about it actually." Hitoshi admitted, a slightly bored tone to his voice.

"Tch, well you should be. So tell me, was she worth it, Hitoshi?" She inclined.

Hitoshi looked over at you, a grin spreading across his face.

"Hell yeah."

#hitoshi x reader #bnha shinso hitoshi #hitoshi shinso imagine #shinsou hitoshi #hitoshi shinso x reader #bnha shinso x reader #my hero academia shinsou #shinsou headcanons #shinsō hitoshi #bnha shinsou #shinsou imagine #shinsou x y/n #bnha #bnha hcs #bnha headcanons #mha #mha hcs #mha headcanons

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seacottons · 4 years

Text

uni!au with ateez — [ part one ]

—[ san - performing arts ]

ironically, you met when you helped him after a taller male shoved him down whilst in a heated argument.

he burst out laughing when you asked if he was okay.

“don’t worry, we’re just practicing our lines!”

you quickly glanced up at the building and grimaced once taking sight of the gleaming silver ‘performing arts building’ plaque.

of course.

to say you were embarrassed was only scratching the surface.

you had no regrets, because the incident was the catalyst that formed your friendship and eventual relationship.

will never let you live that moment down.

“remember when you tried to save me from mingi?”

“i thought we promised not to bring that up again-”

“why can’t i? i was saved by an angel that day?”

san invites you to both his dance and theatre shows.

will appear to be very professional on stage, but you catch his eyes frantically darting to the crowd to try and spot you.

and once he does, he will repeatedly smile and wink in your direction.

you’re always early, so you manage to snag a seat in either front two rows.

likes when you bring him bouquets as a congratulation gift after his performances.

gets very loud backstage just to let everyone know you bought him a gift.

a huge show-off.

is very good at facial expressions.

you fall for every time he pretends he’s crying or hurt when you don’t give him attention.

he will imitate different characters and repeat after actors while you two watch movies together.

“it sounded sexier when i said it, right (y/n)?”

is a very clingy cuddle bug.

and a leech.

will always have his arms around you while walking at campus.

loves to give you back hugs.

is the type to wait outside for you until you finish class.

and takes you to the cafeteria afterwards for lunch.

embarrasses you in said cafeteria by spinning the lunch tray while waiting in line.

also likes to spin your phone just to freak you out.

also the type to excitedly text you about the donuts and coffee they’re giving away at the library’s breezeway.

likes to refer to you as ‘angel’.

will beg you join the different clubs he’s in.

and then brag about you to the others once you do.

will hype your choice of attire even if he’s already seen you earlier that day.

the type to also sneak you a latte in the middle of your class.

also the type to sneak in with you during your auditorium classes.

you regret it sometimes because he leaves no room for you to pay attention to your professor.

often times, so much so that you have to lightly pinch his side in protest.

“do you want me to fail this class?”

he likes to participate in the many events held at campus.

everyone knows him.

challenges you to dance offs in the middle of campus.

you refuse and push forward a startled mingi instead.

“mingi wants to have a turn this time!”

also likes to lay in your arms whilst you play with his hair.

“were you a cat in your previous life?”

he will then proceed to meow in your ear.

“i’ll take that as a yes.”

—[ hongjoong - fashion design ]

dating him would consist of always admiring his new projects.

supplying him with unhealthy amounts of coffee.

trying out new pieces he made.

offering to carry his overly large portfolio binder sometimes.

sitting down and listening to him rant about how his roomates fail to wash clothes properly.

he has a guide taped to the washing machine with the different symbols of clothing labels.

“no, san, you can’t use shampoo as detergent.”

“but seonghwa finished all the detergent!”

using seonghwa’s lint rollers to remove all the fabric fibers stuck on hongjoong’s clothes.

you scold him while cleaning the bleeding scratches on his fingers from his sewing needles and pins.

“don’t worry, it’s nothing i can’t handle.”

“but i don’t like seeing you get hurt, you bum.”

you bought him strawberry bandaids because he thought they were cute.

sometimes, when he has time, he’ll custom make clothes just for you.

he insists on having multiple matching outfits.

will ask you to model his work for his social media page.

thinks you look best in skirts.

you’ll be the source of comfort during presentation week.

he’ll be a wreck whilst making a new collection.

but you’re always there to pick him back up.

most of the time, you’re the source of his inspiration as well.

you insist he shouldn’t sit for hours writing essays or sketching numerous ideas for future work.

but he’s stubborn as a mule.

nights with him include binge watching fashion shows or cute cartoons.

or painting your nails.

you both enjoy coffee dates when you have time.

he tells you he wants to open a fashion line one day.

you’re trying to stand still as he plucks numerous pins into the dress you’re trying on.

“what do you think i should call it?”

“hj couture? does that sound too basic?”

he pauses momentarily before spooling the leftover red thread.

“(y/n). i’ll call the line (y/n).”

—[ wooyoung - culinary arts ]

invites you to his dorm and cooks for you.

his apartment always smells of warm spices and comforting meals.

pretends his roommates’ teasing doesn’t affect him, but the tips of ears always glow red.

will always bring over leftovers he made in class.

“i just thought you wanted to try this mille feuille.”

“which one is better? the salted rosemary loaf or the oregano and olive oil one?”

loves to bake and cook with you.

will make your birthday cake from scratch and will go all out decorating it.

has an annoying habit of taking pictures of you mid-bite.

“delete that right now.”

“but babe, you look so cute.”

“jung wooyoung!”

will wrestle with you as you attempt to take his phone away.

“okay, look! i swear i’ll delete it!”

he saves it in a hidden folder.

calls you his ‘cupcake’ or ‘sugarplum’.

teases you nonstop when you fail at something in the kitchen.

“babe! no! gentle folds! you pulverized those poor blueberries!”

“but the instructions say to mix!”

“the dough isn’t supposed to be blue!”

he’ll whine nonstop about how much he hates baking bread in class.

“do you know how abnoxiously long the fermentation process is!? i’m losing my mind.”

will wave and yell your name to catch your attention if he spots you nearby at campus.

you hear him every time.

he’s just that loud.

drags you to new restaurants just so you can rate them with him.

also drags you to go cutlery shopping.

accidentally dropped a plate in the store.

and when the employee came sauntering in the aisle suspiciously-

“(y/n) did it.”

once gave you food poisoning by accident.

you never wanted to eat scallops again.

you don’t mind his hands smelling like garlic or ginger most of the time.

or stained with spices.

“turmeric is a bitch.”

“woo, who wears white while cooking with turmeric anyway?”

will show off and brag about his knife skills.

demands to race with you to see who can chop the vegetables the quickest.

“you’re going down, (y/n).”

“uh- i don’t think i ever stood a chance to begin with.”

he lets you win sometimes though.

will beg you to visit him at his part time job at the cute cafe not too far by.

you always try to when you have the time.

and when he finds out you went to the rival cafe across the street one day..

“on a scale of 10 to 10, how bad is kang yeosang’s cooking?”

“what?”

“answer the question, (y/n).”

“woo, it’s 3 a.m.”

the next day, you explained that you were merely invited by your classmates to that particular cafe because one of them was a former employee there.

he childishly ignored you with crossed arms and a subtle pout.

“your jajangmyeon is much better. they didn’t even like the food there!”

he finally perks up with a large smile.

“wait, really?”

you think he looks endearing with his apron and chef’s hat.

will post cheesy captioned pictures of you after serving you delicately decorated plates of food.

‘two delicious meals for tonight, hehe.’

“gross. did you really have to say that?”

—[ jongho - kinesiology ]

you met him at the university gym and instantly clicked.

found yourself months later agreeing to go out with him.

a giant goofball.

sometimes makes faces at you while you exercise across the gym.

makes sure you watch him when he deadlifts.

loves when you hype him up.

opens all the jars for you.

and cuts all the fruit for you.

“why use a knife when you have my hands, love?”

you nearly choked on your saliva when he punched open the watermelon.

“can we ever just have a perfectly sliced watermelon!?”

“no- unless i break my arm one day.”

insists you jog with him around campus early in the morning.

likes to practice wrapping elastic tape on you.

you own half of his hoodies.

takes you to watch basketball matches.

then challenges you to a match when you go on dates to the park.

will persistently tease you about your poor aim.

and will absolutely not let you have the ball for more than a few seconds.

“stop cheating!”

“i’m not cheating! you just suck!”

joined you in some of your elective classes.

will also wear sleeveless shirts because he knows how flustered you get while his sculpted muscles are on display.

“what did professor kim just say?”

“what?” you tore your gaze from his biceps to glance at his face.

“are you staring at my arms again?” he snickers.

“no,” you say too quickly, face heating quite considerably.

despite his teasing, he’ll always baby you and take care of your needs.

has the cutest gummy smile.

you like to call him your gummy bear.

he hated the name at first, but grew to accept it over time.

likes to randomly pick you up.

sometimes will throw you over his shoulder.

has a habit of patting your thighs.

sometimes asks you to sit on his back while he does push-ups.

your eye bulged at the sight of a mop of ruby hair.

“don’t say anything.”

“you like apples so much you dyed your hair red?”

“i lost a bet.”

“you look cute though.”

you tugged at his tresses, smiling as you admired the shade against his tanned skin.

“baby?” you brushed his bangs away to display his forehead.

“hm?”

“you’re the apple of my eye.”

“i’m-,” he sucked on his teeth and pursed his lips, face scrunching in a mock grimace, “i’m going to throw up.”

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scabopolis · 3 years

Note

Hi, to no one's surprise I have a Dair prompt for you! There were so many good ones! Here it is: "I organize a petition to get you, the CEO, to live off of my wage for three months and since it’s getting media attention, your PR manager suggests you accept the challenge, and you keep coming into my department to ask me how to do things"

Alright, my darling friend, as I have informed you already, this spiralled wildly out of control. They’re both just such idiots, though! I kept trying to make them schmooch and all they wanted to do was be giant idiots in love.

So, as such, I thought it’d be best to post it to AO3, but here’s a teaser!

Also, I cannot express how poorly I did sticking to your prompt. It is shameful. ----- Title: An Utter Lack of Self-Preservation Instincts Fandom: Gossip Girl (though typing that makes me want to die...this is for the Princess and the Pauper fandom as I like to think of it) Pairing: Dan/Blair Other Characters: Dan being totally 😍 the meaner Blair is to him, Blair deserving nice things (and Dan being one of those nice things) Additional Tags: the lightest of enemies to lovers, complete AU (Dan isn’t Gossip Girl, OF COURSE), Suzanne’s total inability to follow a prompt b/c this isn’t at all what you asked for! Word Count: ~6,300 AO3 Link -----

It was intended to be a puff piece. A quick little fluffy profile with Vanity Fair about the new sustainable fashion division of Waldorf Designs. Except the article the editor sent over for her comment in no way resembles a puff piece. And the cause for such a deviation from the plan appears to be one Daniel Humphrey. Blair Waldorf never met the man but she is prepared to destroy him.

“‘Sustainability is of course a noble aim,’ says Daniel Humphrey, Digital Communications Assistant for Waldorf Designs, ‘but sustainable for who?’” Blair reads aloud to her assistant, her voice rising in pitch as she continues. “‘How is it sustainable for our US factory workers to live off minimum wage? How is it sustainable for a company as successful as Waldorf Designs to continue to offer unpaid internships? Perhaps the company’s intentions are good but it’s hard not to see this new division of Waldorf Designs as merely an attempt to greenwash products to make our most privileged client feel a little better about themselves.’” She slams the draft of the article onto her desk. “Has PR drafted a response?”

Her assistant Hannah nods. “We sent it an hour ago. It’ll be included in the article.”

An article that, owing to one Dan Humphrey, is now a longform deep dive into the deep-rooted inequalities that existed within the fashion industry. She is going to kill him.

“Where is Humphrey’s office?”

It isn’t entirely uncommon for Blair to sweep through the admin offices of Waldorf Designs. Still, her presence causes a slight frisson of energy to pass through the offices and cubicles on the seventh floor. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t love it.

She catches sight of Dan Humphrey well before he notices her. Based on his role (a glorified assistant) and the ‘I know better than everyone’ tone within the article, she expected someone straight out of college – someone ready to claw, and climb over everyone to prove their intelligence and worth. She did not expect a man who, if she were to guess, was closer to her 35-years of age. A man who looks a little bored, reclined in his office chair, drumming a green highlighter against his pant leg.

“If it isn’t Waldorf Design’s own Benedict Arnold?” He fumbles the highlighter. It spins out of his hand, as he quickly sits up and then jumps to his feet.

Perhaps not the most professional of greetings, but effective.

“You’re Blair Waldorf.”

“And you’re the reason for my migraine.” He frowns. “Follow me.”

There was a time when Blair might have dressed this Dan Humphrey down in a more public setting, but that’s not who she is anymore. Besides, there is a good chance they can still redirect the story. Dan follows her into a small conference room at the far end of the floor. She sits down at the head of the table and is a little surprised when he sits in the seat right beside her. Does this man have zero self-preservation instincts?

She sets the folder she carried up with her in front of him. “May I ask, Mr. Humphrey, why you felt it was your place or right to give a quote to the press on behalf of Waldorf Designs?”

“Dan.” At her raised eyebrow, he continues. “You can call me Dan, and I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He reaches for the folder, opens it. Blair watches carefully as he reads the article, his eyes widening the slightest bit as he reads. “No,” he says, his voice low and surprised. “She didn’t.”

“‘She didn’t’ what?” Blair asks.

Dan shakes his head, ignoring her as he continues to read. Once he’s done, he slides the folder back across to her.

“The author of the article is my friend—,” he pauses, reconsiders, “was my friend? Briefly my girlfriend, too, though that didn’t—”

“Humphrey, I am not interested in your friends or girlfriends. Please be less hyper verbal and tell me what is going on.”

He takes a deep breath. “I know the author, Vanessa Abrams. I didn’t realize she was quoting me, I—”

“Did you tell her what you said was off the record?”

“No. But she didn’t tell me I was on the record.”

Blair stands up. “I think legal can work with that.”

“You’re going to bury it?”

“I’m going to try.” He gives her a look like he’s—she doesn’t quite know how to categorize it—but, it’s almost like he’s disappointed in her. Which is absurd. She doesn’t know this low-level minion nor does she have any intention to get to know him. Still, she hates it when people make their disapproval evident. “What? What is that look?”

“Well, am I wrong?”

“Most likely.” She shifts her weight slightly from one foot to the other. “About what?”

#dair #dair fanfic #dan humphrey #blair waldorf #dan x blair #otp: a good team #c: dan humphrey #c: blair waldorf #p: dan x blair #tv: gossip girl #never stories #nightlocktime #(my first non-canon based attempt at this pairing)#(is that a thing people read?????)

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krreader · 4 years

Text

the notes.

pairing: kim namjoon x reader fandom: bts warnings: non idol!au ; art students!au genre: fluff word count: 1.5k+

summary: it only takes one person to see your potential to change your life forever, one way or another.

a/n: I was really torn between a tae or a namjoon story for this one, but I really like how it turned out, so I’m glad I picked namjoon lol. I hope you like it too my love and I hope it’s everything you wanted and more ♥

When your paintings were part of an exhibition in an art school, with hundreds of other talented students/artists who were showing off how hard they had worked on their projects for the last couple of months, it wasn't easy to get recognition.

Usually, those who the professors preferred got the best spots to show off their paintings and those who were the most popular were the ones that invited others to the exhibition and therefor gained a few interested spectators.

As for you, you were neither a favorite of a professor, nor the most popular in your University. You were a regular student who ended up somewhere in a corner of this exhibition with maybe one or two people stumbling your way, looking at your paintings with a smile and then walking away again.

It's not like you were an exception here though, you knew that there were many struggling artists like you, sitting on that chair next to your paintings and hoping that at some point, someone would come and see that you had talent.

So that gave you a little comfort.

The exhibition would be open for the public for around three weeks.

The first week, nothing exciting happened and you were happy that you weren't able to count the amount of people that have looked at your paintings with two hands anymore. Just barely, but there have definitely been over ten.

It was during the second week, when you arrived at your designated spot and found a little post-it note hanging on one of your paintings.

At first, you had thought it might be one of your professors that had stopped by while you were gone, telling you you did good, but... no.

“I love this one. When I look at it, it's like I'm staring into another universe.”

You read the lines over and over again, before looking up and around, hoping to see whoever had written that, but the halls were empty. No one, but your fellow art students.

Nevertheless, it was a nice compliment and you quickly shoved it in your folder. It would be one of those cheer-up post-it notes that you’d stick on your wall.

You hadn’t gotten a lot of compliments on your paintings so far, most people just looked at them with a smile and then went about their way. To read something like this meant a lot, even if you wished that person would've said it to your face.

You noticed the second note a day later, when two guys found their way into your designated hallway and were looking at one of your paintings.

You stood next to them, beaming happily and hoping that they'd say something, or that maybe they’d allow you to explain the meaning behind it.

And finally, one talked.

“You really have a lot of talent,” he smiled brightly at you, the other guy walking around your small part of the exhibition to look at every painting that you've made, “What inspires you?”

“It's really hard to say. Something as little as a memory can make me forget everything and draw for hours until I get a result like that. Other times it's interactions, songs, poems.. really anything.”

The guy smiled once again, looking at his friend when he joined him again, before bowing a little, “Thank you.”

You wished they would have stayed longer, but as mentioned before, there were a lot of talented people here. It would be selfish to want them to linger only at your part when there was so much to see.

It was when you sat down again, that you noticed another post-it, this time, sticking to another painting.

“I know it's easy to feel discouraged, but please never give up on drawing. You are one of the most talented people in this school. Even the friend who placed this note here thinks so.”

When you read the last line, your eyes instantly widened, wanting to run after them and ask them about who it was that wrote these notes, but the two had already disappeared, there were too many hallways here and you didn’t want to leave your spot for too long.

You let out a heavy sigh, gently brushing over the note with your thumb, before reading it once more with a small smile.

Why wouldn't he just talk to you? It's not like you didn't appreciate this form of compliments, but you'd really like to thank him in person.

It was only the next morning that another note was waiting for you, only that this time, it was accompanied by a new brush.

“Use it well for future projects that will change the world.”

“Who are you?” you muttered under your breath as you let your fingers brush over the bristles of the brush, smiling at how good they felt.

“I should have introduced myself a while ago.”

The sudden voice made you jump a little and turn around in an instant, being surprised who you were now face to face with.

Because you knew who he was.

Everyone did.

Kim Namjoon wasn't just a talented artist, he had the eye to find a special piece of art amid thousands of paintings. The professors were already trying to convince him to stay after he got his degree, hoping that he'd join the staff and teach here.

So why was someone like him here?

“Excuse me?” your eyes were wide.

“I was actually going to come myself yesterday and introduce myself, but then something came up and I asked my friends to give you the note after he got interested in your paintings as well. Did he give you the note?”

“Those... were your friends?”

“Taehyung and Jimin. They're students as well. They were as impressed by your paintings as I was when I first saw them.”

Maybe you shouldn't have wished for him to introduce himself and give you the compliments in person, because now you could feel your cheeks heating up and didn’t really know what to say anymore, other than:

“Thank you,” you stammered with a small smile, “That's really kind of you to say.”

“I know how hard it is... to be an artist. I just wanted you to know that you have a special kind of talent.”

“But.. why the notes in the first place?”

Namjoon shrugged with a cute grin, “I thought it was romantic...”

“Romantic,” you choked out, literally choked out, because you instantly started coughing, not having expected that to come out of his mouth.

It took a few seconds to regain your composure and once you did, you found Namjoon chuckling.

“Anyways, there's a reason I revealed myself this soon. There is a special display tonight for certain artists that the professors think should get a chance to present their paintings to a crowd. And... well, they allowed me to pick one too. And I'd like you to be my pick.”

“Me?!” your voice was an octave higher and louder, quickly bowing when you found at least five people staring at you with furrowed eyebrows, “Why me?” you repeated, a little calmer now.

“I meant what I said on these notes. Your paintings make me feel something and that is a quality that I cherish very much in artists. Also, the fact that they put you back here makes me really upset. You should be up front with your talent.”

“You really would put my name forward?” Namjoon couldn't help but smile once more when he saw how your eyes began to shine at this possible opportunity.

“I would.”

“No... strings attached?” you figured that he'd want something back. You would do a lot for an opportunity like this, to finally get the recognition that you've craved so badly.

But his answer surprised you, “If I had the opportunity to shine a light on every talented artist there is out there, I would. I'm trying my best to help at least a few... and I'd like you to be one of them. Without wanting anything back.”

No wonder the professors wanted to recruit him. He'd be an asset for this school for sure.

“Well, I really appreciate this, but I'd feel bad if I didn't give you something back, at least. You've made the past days a lot happier with the notes and also the brush, which is a really nice brush, by the way,” you gulped down hard, slowly building up all the courage that you had in your body, “Do you like coffee? I could.. buy you one if you want to. I mean, if you have a girlfriend or something then obviously not, or maybe? I don't know, uhm..-” you stumbled over your words, the more you spoke, the more embarrassed you became.

But Namjoon thought it was endearing.

“I don't have a girlfriend and I would love to go for coffee with you,” at that, you let out a relieved sigh and straightened your back a little, “But for now, let's focus on the show tonight, okay? I'd like to go over some details with you and figure out which painting you want to display.”

It was so refreshing to find a man like him.

He was open to a date, but he didn't make that a priority right now. The priority was what you had worked so hard for. He recognized that.

It made you fall a little for him already. Or maybe a lot.

It was a lot of emotions that moment, you couldn’t really tell.

#bts imagine #bts x reader #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon imagine #namjoon x reader #namjoon imagine #rm imagine #rm x reader #bts #bangtan #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #kim namjoon #namjoon #rm #reader #requests

205 notes · View notes

writer-k-pop · 3 years

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Prologue - Waning Crescent Hotel

Please read this (W.C.Hotel) if you this is the first post of this series that you see. Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death Genre: Angst, Hotel Del Luna AU, Choose your own adventure, SVT x Fem! Reader Staff: Yong (Spirit General Manager) / Jiwoo (Human General Manager) / Soon Bok (Room Manager) / Mun Hee (Front Desk Receptionist) / Shin (Grim Reaper assigned to Waning Crescent) Word Count: 1.7k

W.C.Hotel | Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

I watch as the sun set and the hotel's lights begin to illuminate the darkening halls. Scowling, I stare at the second full moon this month, a blue moon. It only reminds me of Hotel Blue Moon and how quickly its owner changed. I scoff at how Man Wol (owner of Hotel Del Luna), was able to leave her cursed position and pass the hotel onto another while I'm still stuck here with no end in sight.

A soft knock at the door irons out my scowl.

"(y/n)." The voice of Yong, the hotel's spirit general manager, seeps through the thick wooden doors.

"Mm, come in." I turn away from the window, leaving the moon behind, and walk to my desk.

Yong walks in with a few folders and heels clicking clearly against the floor.

"How did you sleep?" She asks, coming to stand in front of my desk as I take a seat.

"As fine as one can during a blue moon." I respond, nodding towards the wall of windows.

"Ah, Hotel Blue Moon will have a busy night." Yong comments, "Anyway, these are the names of those who will be leaving us today." She sets a folder down on my desk.

"How many?" I ask without opening the folder and leaning back in my chair, uninterested in those who would leave.

"3." Yong answers with a light tone.

"Is he here yet?" I question. 'He' being the grim reaper assigned to our location, Shin.

"Not yet. He is scheduled to arrive in a couple hours to take the first guest." Yong informs me.

I sigh, "Alright let me know when he arrives. I need a word with him."

Yong nods, "I will let him know."

"What else?" I motion for her to continue, starting to get bored with all the talking.

"There was a new guest who checked in during the day." Yong continues with the news, unafraid of my mood. "They are scheduled to stay only for 2 days."

"Two lives?" I repeat the amount, "That's on the lower side. But okay. Fine. Anything else?"

"Manager Jiwoo asked that you check over this to make sure it looks right." She lays down the next folder on top of the other unopened ones.

"What is it?" I scrunch up my face at it. Jiwoo's family has been working here as our human general manager for ages and I still am unused to dealing with humanly affairs.

"I believe it is the list of decorations for the upcoming holiday." Yong replies.

i nod slowly, "I'll look at it. Anything else? Or can I go back to brooding over the damned blue moon?"

Yong shakes her head, "Shall I have a bottle brought up for you?"

"Better make it two." I stared out the window at the bright, white circle in the sky. But before Yong can step away, I sigh. "When do you think this punishment will be over?"

"If we're speaking honestly," Yong begins and I nod, encouraging her, the closest thing I have to a friend, to continue. "I don't know."

I lean forward and rest my elbows on the desk, my head in my hands. "Over 1500 years stuck here with no end in sight. The Gods went overboard." I whine.

"You did kill 13 souls on their way to their first life and therefore ended their chances of ever reaching the living world." Yong reminds. "I'm sure they thought the punishment was fitting."

I slam my fists down on the desk, sending some of my desk items tumbling to the ground. "That damn demon, Vengrol!"

Even through my outburst, Yong simply stands obediently in front of my desk, hands clasped together. When the air settles, she begins to pick up the fallen items without any words.

"I can't believe I fell for Vengrol's games." I mutter to myself as Yong places the collected pens in their cup, "Because of that I had to wait to fall in love with thirteen first lives and now I'm waiting for all those souls to be reborn during the same lifetime then pass through my doors. Life's a fucked up game of waiting. I hate it." I grunt and scowl.

"If we're looking at the entire plan, all that's left is for them all to be born in the same lifetime." Yong comments, placing my stapler on the desk.

"That could take another 1000 years. It is hard enough for three souls to be born within the same lifetime. But 13? I should just give up on the hope that I'll ever be able to leave." I slump back.

"You never know." Yong simple says, "I should be going but I will make sure someone brings a bottle-"

"Two." I interject.

"Two bottles up for you." Yong corrects herself before taking her leave.

"Send it to my garden." I instruct as she opens the door.

She nods and walks out of my office.

When the door shuts behind her, the stuffy quiet greets me like an old friend. My eyes lazily return to the full moon and I allow myself to wallow in my past for a bit.

I, a young grim reaper, had struck a deal with a demon named Vengrol. Though I hadn't known he was demon at the time. He told me that the Gods had given him a list of 26 names that needed to be ended before reaching the living world. That those souls were mistakes. Vengrol had asked if I would be willing to split the list with him. Being the innocent and young grim reaper I was, I had agreed. Vengrol had said the time table was a week.

I should've seen the signs. The Gods never create a mistake soul. The Gods let every soul live at least once in the living world. One week to kill 13 souls was atrocious. Yet, I missed them all and completed my promised half.

When the week was finished, and all 13 souls had been ended, Vengrol appeared before with a wicked smile on his face. That's when I knew I had messed up. Vengrol simply waved a hand and then disappeared.

I was caught and brought before the Gods who were fuming with anger.

In the end, the deal was 13 incomplete loves for the 13 incomplete souls I had taken. My punishment was to live as the owner of this hotel where I would see to the rest and relaxation of the souls who had finished living their lives. The owner perpetually stuck between the living and spirit worlds.

My punishment would be finished when, and only when, I had fallen in love with 13 first life souls and when I met each love again as they passed through my hotel would my punishment end.

In the beginning, I tried and tried so hard to love and find the thirteen. But every time I pushed forward, I was knocked back 6 feet. After a few years, I stopped trying and waited. And waited. And waited. I spent so long waiting that I wondered if the Gods had ever planned to actually give me my 13 loves.

But alas, after 1000 years, I had finally loved all thirteen. All thirteen souls who were living their first life.

Now, I'd waited bitterly through 500 years of moon cycles for those souls to check into my Waning Crescent Hotel in reverse order that I fell in love. My first love will be my last guest.

And once all thirteen have rested and been sent away, I will be able to leave this wretched prison.

I clench my fist thinking back to the times one of those thirteen would mistakenly show up at my hotel's door with lives still left. Which meant I had to send them over to Man Wol's Hotel Del Luna and that also meant that my ending wouldn't begin.

Grunting in frustration, I rise from my seat. I take a deep breath and wash away my wallowing. Glancing down at my desk, I remember that Jiwoo needed me to review the list. So I pick up the folder and make my way out of my office and towards my private garden.

My heels echo down the empty hall of my floor and my dress flows behind me. Getting into the elevator, I press the button for the main floor and prepare to face the guests milling around the lobby.

The elevator doors ding open, revealing a couple of guests. When they register who I am, they widen their eyes and nervously greet me. Giving them the tiniest nod, I walk past and head for the doorway in a hidden corner.

The closer I get to the tree that binds me here, the angrier I get. Standing at the entrance to my small garden, I stand and simply stare at the tree that sits in the middle. The tree that is a constant reminder of why I’m here and how long I have and will wait.

At the base of the bare tree, thirteen chrysanthemums sit, still fully bloomed even after hundreds and hundreds of years. The white petals stand out like spotlights against the dull tree and one can't help but stare at them, even if I don't want to.

Rolling my eyes, I walk over the small table where two bottles of champagne sit next to a tall glass. I set the folder down on the table and grab one of the bottles. Opening it with ease, I pour myself a glass before taking a large drink straight from the bottle. The bubbles tumble down my throat while the nutty-fruity aromas rest over my senses like a blanket.

Feeling the alcohol finally relaxing my muscles a bit, I sit in one of the two chairs at the table and open up the folder.

Reading over the list, all the items Jiwoo listed seem reasonable for the upcoming holiday. So I take the pen from its holder and sign my name in approval. I set the folder aside and bring the glass to my lips. As I take a sip, I eye the tree but just the single look at it upsets me. So I down the whole glass at once.

"I should stop drinking here." I mutter to myself before pouring another glass.

About halfway through my third glass, my ears perk up to the echo of a pair of approaching footsteps. Annoyed that someone would be interrupting me, I set down my glass with some force.

"What do you want?" I question the intruder without looking back at them.

"It’s Mun Hee." Mun Hee, the front desk receptionist, says, announcing himself.

"What do you want?" I repeat my question, my annoyance growing. I turn to look at him, just standing there.

Mun Hee stays silent for a couple more seconds, before saying in awe.

"He's here."

Return to the Navigation Page (Waning Crescent Hotel) to choose the first guest.

35 notes · View notes

justoneday-namjoonii · 4 years

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Don’t Breathe | 4.0

»Genre: hitman!au/bountyhunter!au || stalker!au ||

»Warnings: kidnapping, stalking, obsession, themes of potential Stockholm syndrome, mono-phobia, mature elements, manhandling, breakdowns, yandere (? i think ), he thinks it’s cute when she cries, eventually they fall in love, Disclaimer: I do not condone nor suggest stalking/kidnapping or anything of that nature, this is purely fiction.

»Summary: He doesn’t get shaky hands, he never forgets his gloves and he never leaves a trail. He was paid to get rid of everyone who witnessed the exchange between a gang lord and a politician, they were picked off, one by one. He found out a month later, he missed one. A young writer who attended the event where the exchange took place. He has to kill her. Can he do it?

✤ pt.1 - pt.2 - pt.2.5 - pt.3 - pt. 3.5 - pt. 4.0 - pt. 4.5 - pt. 5.0

A/n: will edit later^^ hope u enjoy💖

taglist: @tangledsparkles @just-another-fangurl21 @impartoftoomanyfandoms @komorebi-unnie @tangledsparkles

The city has always held dark secrets in the shape of hopes and dreams, luring in optimistic ankle-biters, wishing to really become something. And more often than not, it works out. That dreamer gets to live the reality they’ve been waiting for, and it all seems a little too perfect.

“Can I get you anything, sir?”

“One coffee please,” Peeking up from his phone, he acknowledges the petite waitress, “no cream no sugar.”

“Coming right up,”

He’s gone over the folder a thousand times, just making sure he didn’t miss anything. As far as information on you, he’s got all he needs, now it’s a matter of finding out what you were doing in the 24 hours before you vanished. He was able to stop by the police station and talk with the detective on the case. She wasn’t much help, but she did say Suzy had been calling her twice a day, looking for updates. Jin didn’t contact her as often but he’s been waiting for updates from Yoongi instead.

“Excuse me?” He pulled from his thoughts when he sees the woman in front of him, “Hi, I’m Suzy, you’re Min Yoongi, right?” She looks a bit unsure, he figured she’s just waiting for him to respond.

“Yes, sorry,” He stands up and shakes her hand before they both take a seat, “thank you for coming so short notice.”

“Of course, a meeting was canceled this morning so I had the time,” Sitting her purse in her lap, she tries to look relaxed but the way her brows furrow, he knows she’s worried, “I hope I can help in some way,”

“How long have you known her?” He opens up a little notepad and takes out a pen.

“Six, Almost seven years now. She was an intern for a while, she’s been writing for us for all that time. Recently, I wanted her to start dabbling in field assignments as a reporter, she wasn’t too keen on the idea but she agreed.”

She glances at the notepad as he quickly jots down little notes. “What was the assignment?”

“A press conference with a lot of the controversy regarding the parties who attended. Quite a few people who attended from some news stations and outlets like that started dying off. She doesn’t really do politics, but I asked her to write an article on it because she was there. On the morning of publication, she didn’t show up to work. The publication was at 8 so I had to look for it so we could publish it. She had been working on it for weeks but it was missing from the writer's archive, it looked like it was deleted. The physical copy was gone and her computer was too. That’s when I went to her house and she was gone...”

The deep furrow in Yoongi’s eyes has her swallowing the lump in her throat.

“She went missing the day the article was supposed to be published? Am I the first person you’ve told this to?” She nods.

“Why didn’t you tell the police about this? If she went missing the exact same day the article was to be published, that information changes the case. Knowing that others who attended this conference have died, there’s a chance she was being targeted because she was there as well.”

“I- I don’t know, I just didn’t think about it, I never would have thought she’d be targeted for posting a harmless article.”

“I’m going to assume she was being targeted because of the article, it makes the most sense. Someone at that conference didn’t want this to get out and they knew she was writing the article somehow.”

If her heart could sink any lower, it’d be in her feet. She should have never had you write that article, maybe you’d still be here if she had just listened to you. “What does this mean?”

“This city is filled with crooked people in power, there’s a chance that one of them were behind this,” He closes up the notepad and takes one sip of coffee, “I’ll do a little digging and see what I can find.” He pulls his jacket on and tucks a few dollars under his cup.

“Wait,” She stops him, “what can I do to help? I feel like this is my fault, if anything bad happened to her-”

“Don’t blame yourself for this, it could have happened to anyone. Secondly, if you could give me sources on everyone one at the conference; reporters, cameramen, moderators, anyone. Someone had to have witnessed something, and I need to talk to them.”

“Okay, I’ll work on that today.”

Police, detectives, forensic scientist, all the necessary individuals required to pursue a missing person case passed through the station, on their own assignments. One of the detectives on the officers on the case, Jaemin, slips into his office to take a call.

“Hello? Mr. Lee, I’m sorry I could get to you early,”

“That’s fine, I just had a quick question. That missing persons case, you all are getting ready to drop it right? I heard there was investigation still going on,”

“Yes, unfortunately, we have an outside source working on the case and I hear he’s good. But don’t worry, Minho, I can shake him.”

“I hope so, one little reporter shouldn’t have made a big case,” He sighs, annoyed at the thought, “she’s dead, the client got what he asked for. I want this case to close as soon as possible.”

“I hear you, I’ll make sure it happens,”

“Good.”

He hangs up the phone and glances at the man across from him, waiting for the hefty check owed for his handwork on his last job. With a deep sigh, Minho picks up a pen and writes the check quickly and tucks it in an envelope before handing it to him.

“Everything okay, boss?” Jimin takes the envelope with a peachy smile.

“Kim’s last case is causing some problems- Not an error on his part of course, the target was reported missing and an investigation is happening. It was a multiple target case but there was one target that’s just fucking it all up,”

Jimin makes a thoughtful face. “A female? Young?”

“Yes, why do you ask?” Minho crooks a brows.

“He doesn’t seem like the type but I don’t know, where’s the body?”

“He doesn’t disclose that type of information, I respect his decision to do that,” Minho sighs, looking through files of other guild members to match them with clients, “I can’t imagine it’s a pretty process,”

“Well, maybe-” He pauses, finding the thought a bit humorous, “Maybe she’s not dead, y’know, just a theory,” He purses his lips, “but maybe not, his record is so clean, I doubt he’d leave a witness to tell the tale of whatever he does to them. I don’t blame him,”

“He told me that she’s dead, there’s no doubt about that.”

“Well, if he won’t disclose the body, how can you be sure? And you said he killed the other targets and there’s evidence of that, why is she the only one gone missing?” Jimin makes a nonchalant observation and Minho starts to really think about it, could Taehyung be hiding something? That’s not like him, he’s one of his best. He’s never had to doubt Taehyung, every assignment he’s been given, he’s completed without flaw. He can’t believe Taehyung would do anything to put the organization in jeopardy, he won’t believe it.

“Jimin, can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

The smell of blueberry pancakes tantalizes your senses, your eyes sleepily follow his movements from the fridge to the stove every few minutes. He’s making late breakfast because he said he was in the mood for some brunch. You finally get a glimpse at the tall stack of pancakes next to the griddle and you sigh, it looks so good.

A few days have gone by, and the sleeping arrangements have been different. Some nights, he’ll tell you you can sleep in the spare room and others he’ll have you sleep with him, it’s not entirely unpleasant when you’re with him. He makes you answer questions and tell him about your hopes, dreams, fears, and everything in between. Generally, he's been more lenient with you, not chaining you up so often, letting you roam around a little bit to get some exercise. Lately, he's felt more like your companion than your captor. You’re beginning to see parts of him that are so human. And you’re starting to believe that he’s not lying to you, he’s genuinely trying to protect you. It’s hard to believe that that’s where you’re head is.

He has music on, playing soft study-like songs that make you feel calm. You tried to keep from grinning, like you’d try to contain a cough in a quiet classroom. He sways to the rhythm gently, tapping his foot and flipping the fluffy breakfast treats. How he hums to the song absentmindedly, it reminds you of how Jin used to hum while studying or doing anything really. Taehyung’s voice is really nice, it’s smooth and comforting

“Y/n, come taste,” He turns and holds a fork up with a piece of pancake on it, beckoning you to come to have a bite. You go to him of course, happy to sample what you’ve been smelling for the past thirty minutes. When you come to stand by his side, eye-level with his shoulder, you wait for him to put a piece on a fork for you.

“Say ah,” He holds the fork to your mouth and as silly as you know you might look, you don’t care, you just wanna eat. Your mouth opens and your eyes go wide when it finally meets your taste-buds, “good?”

You nod, it’s as good as it smells. You wonder why you haven’t tried to cook like this for yourself before. Work seemed to consume you, you can admit that. Sometimes, a coffee would suffice as your breakfast. And at night, a drink and a burger with fries from the restaurant down the corner would satisfy you. But cooking, making something for yourself, it hasn’t happened in a while. You used to do it a lot when you first moved when you and Jin were spending a lot of time together. It’s different being by yourself, it’s sometimes easier to over-treat yourself with fast food or quick little meals from local places. Seldom do you get to enjoy a homemade meal made just for you. He’s smiling down at the two plates he’s making when you look up from your daze and for some reason, you feel shy but a little, happy?

No, stop it. You’re not supposed to feel happy, don’t allow yourself to sink further into that deceiving head-space. Into the space that makes him the source of humanity, the reminder that you’re alive. Finding yourself looking forward to seeing the light in his eyes, hearing the bass in his voice heavy on your ears. It feels good, you relish in it. Yes, you’re still trying to stay on his good side but these positive feelings, they feel too real.

“Let’s eat somewhere different today,” He gives you your plate with a cup of syrup, a fork, the works. “I think I need a change of scenery,”

You’re not sure where’s he’s planning to have this breakfast when he starts walking upstairs. For a moment, you think he’s going to his room but then he walks to the room where he’s yet to open since you’ve been here. Your stomach turns, you’ve been wondering what was behind this door.

When he opens the door, he waits for you to enter first, a smile ever so present on his face, he’s in such a good mood.

You walk inside and the size of the room alone is huge but you’re more surprised by the canvases propped against the wall. The white sheets spotted with colors and a bit bunched at the edges, it’s an art studio of some sort. Is this what he does when he’s home? There’s one canvas on a tall easel and it looks unfinished so he must’ve worked in here not too long ago.

He takes opens the French doors to the balcony and takes a seat on the floor. You do the same, holding your plate above your lap in the same way he’s holding his. The smell of the paint doesn’t bother you too much because of the fresh air, and the blueberry pancakes outweigh the smell as well. “Thank you for breakfast.” You whisper, now cutting into your three fluffy stacked pancakes, what you more interested in at the moment honestly.

“You’re welcome,” He grins to himself, “other than what I’ve been making, what do you like to eat? I’m getting groceries tomorrow,”

You don’t respond, too busy staring out the window in a daze and eating as if he weren’t there. He calls your name to get you to glance at him, just to make sure you can hear him. “Nothing,” You deadpan, “I’m okay...”

“There has to be something you want.”

“Fine,” You set your fork down, a little annoyed, “um, chocolate chip cookies, the ones with the chunks, and almond milk.” Hoping he’s satisfied with your answer, you finish the last bite of your food and continue to enjoy the view outside.

He takes your plate and sits it in on his so he can take it downstairs, leaving you to the peaceful room by yourself. You’re just now realizing how large his land is. There are other large homes nearby but they’re a fair distance away.

It’s been a while since you felt the sun on your bare skin or the soothing breeze dance past you. You’ve missed this, running in the early hours of the day when the air is just right. The first people you used to see were a handful of dedicated adults jogging, some accompanied by their dogs.

This paint room has a super tall ceiling, makes you feel like you’re in a museum. When you look at some of the paintings on the floor propped against the wall, you smile. It looks like he likes to paint faces, distinct expressions on faces. Then there are flowers, the basic artist subject. There’s a long wooden desk with paintbrushes, pens, pencils, paper, a lot of paint.

He comes back to the room, but his presence is oblivious to you for a little while, until his stumbles over a stray paintbrush and you look back at him.

He straightens up, his big eyes staring you down as he walks over to you. “Do you like to paint?”

“I’ve never really done it before, maybe when I was little but that’s about it,” You watch him open up a case and pick out a few brushes. He opens a few tubes of paint and squeezes a small amount on a pallet, then sets that down in front of you, “is that for me?”

“Mhm,” He nods. Gently taking the canvas that’s covered with a sheet from the easel, he puts it on the floor with some of the others. He opens up the closet to look for a nice-sized blank canvas for you to use. You pick up a brush and absentmindedly brush it against your skin to see how soft it is.

“Here we go,” He adjusts the canvas onto the easel, “come stand here,” He gestures to the little space directly in front of the easel and you oblige, curious.

“You want me to paint something?” You look back at him, a little confused.

“Yeah,” He stands next to you, staring at the blank canvas before looking at you, “only if you want to.”

This is probably the most interesting thing you’ve done since you got here, you figure he’s starting to trust you more. You take a moment to pick a brush, given you have little to no knowledge about this craft, you choose a random one. Not too big, not too small.

He watches you debate over which spot of paint you want to dip the brush in, you decide on blue. A dark blue with a little bit of white. At first, you try to draw a flower, something easy, but it proves to be harder than you anticipated. When you think the brush will make a nice little crescent shape for a petal, it makes an unappealing squiggle. As menial as it seems, its frustrating that it’s not coming out the way you envisioned in your mind. After about five minutes of trying to fix it, your patients get peeled down to its last layer.

“Ugh,” You withdraw your hand and just stare at the canvas, a deep frown on your face, “it’s not coming out right...”

“You have to give it a chance,” He gets up from the bar-stool he was sitting on in front of the desk, “take a step back, and think about something beautiful that little mistake could become.”

Giving up on your small brush, you squeeze a glob of paint on the pallet and exchange the brush for your fingers. He tilts his head when he sees you rub your fingers in the pallet and then drag your hands down the canvas. Coming up behind you, he tries to get a better look at what you're doing. You’ve dipped your hands in different blues and you covered the canvas completely, eyes focused.

Your hand stutters when you see his long fingers mimic the movement that you’d been doing. Being that his size nearly doubles your own, his chest is just centimeters from you. His arms comfortably reach the canvas, as if you weren’t an obstacle.

“What’re you doing...” You sigh, making gentle brushing motions alongside his, “This is my painting.”

“Oh, so you do want to do this?” His fingers stop all movement, “I didn’t think you cared that much, I’m sorry,” He pulls back, ready to wipe his hands but you grab his wrist with your paint-covered hand.

“I’m kidding,” He didn’t seem to mind getting the paint on his skin because he didn’t get upset, “you’ll probably make it look better anyway.”

It’s tearing you up. How this feels nice and how you don’t want him to stop. Just standing here, so close to him, and watching his fingers dance across the canvas, it’s torture. When your hands bump, both of you laugh and it makes a pretty burst of blue.

He dips his hand in the lightest shade on the pallet and presses it on the edges of the canvas before you let your hand fall from the art-work. It takes a minute, but he stops putting on the finishing touches and steps back to look it over.

“Hm,” He grabs two rags from the floor, giving one to you and keeping the other for his hands, “I like it.”

You try to wipe your hands clean but they still have a bluish tent. “What about this does something for you?...”

“I like capturing a moment in time, making my thoughts into something visual and tangible, it’s therapeutic.”

You stare at the painting in an attempt to see something poetic, or anything other than a bunch of blue paints smeared on a canvas. But in your futile attempt, the thought that he might think you’re enjoying this comes to mind, does he think you’re enjoying this? Giving you art supplies to keep your occupied like a little child, you shouldn’t be offended but it does feel a bit patronizing.

“That’s probably why you write, yeah?” He asks, leaning against the stool. “I’ve read all of your articles, you have a beautiful way of expressing yourself through words.”

“It doesn’t always feel that way,” You toss out an honest answer, “I wouldn’t call it therapeutic, but I do enjoy it...”

“I was hoping this room could be an outlet for you, somewhere for you to clear your mind.”

Lately you’ve been falling into theses moments of zoning out and you just feel like you’re losing your mind. But that’s when he comes behind you, wraps his arms around you and you instantly come back. And it goes like this, almost every day. He gets closer, you let him, and you start to feel more like he wants to trust you.

“What does our painting mean to you?” He shuffles you forward, getting you closer to the painting with his arms still secured around you.

“You tell me first,” You counter.

He takes a look, head tilting a bit, “It makes me think of my childhood, it wasn’t a very colorful one. I was taken from my mother as a toddler after the courts deemed her an unfit parent. She was in a bad place, had no business having a kid anyway.” He rests his head atop yours, mentally slipping into his past to reveal it to you.

“I was in foster homes until I was a teenager, went from house to house every few months. The people who'd come and take me home were either trying to get money from the state or looking for another helpless kid to work for them. I didn’t know it then but I wanted stability, I wanted someone that I could depend on but never got it. I ran away when I was a teenager and depended on my self and here I am.” You can hear a smile in his voice, but you’d dare to say it was pain out of pain.

“It’s all blue, blue can mean stability or loyalty, that’s how I see it.” He let’s his hands slide down your arms and back up to your shoulders to give them a squeeze. “Also, we made it together, so that’s special in itself. Now, your turn,”

“Um,” You purse your lips, “it’s nice...” You answer as if you didn’t know any other words, you’ve never been good with speaking anyway. You rather write paragraphs than ramble on.

“It is,” He agrees, “but how does it make you feel?”

“I don’t know,” You frown, pulling his arms off so you can walk off, “it’s just a painting.” It’s cold not having his arms around you but you reason that you need the shock.

You don’t want to start thinking deep, knowing about his past, sympathizing. You need to look like you don’t care. Does he buy it? Probably not, but sometimes he doesn’t like to force you to talk, it puts you in a foul mood and he notices.

“Just when I think you’re about to open up,” He tsks, shaking his head, “you remind me of the situation, and how you want so badly to make this uncomfortable for both of us.” His cheery mood is faded and you know you screwed this up.

You defend yourself nonetheless. “I’m not trying to make this uncomfortable for anyone, I’m already uncomfortable.”

“You’re such a liar,” He turns you to face him and steps in front of you to eliminate the space, “a bad one though.” You look up at him, trying not to let him intimidate you into backing down.

“I’m not lying.” Wow, that’s the best defense you could come up with.

“You are,” He pushes his hand through his hair, a stressed furrow in his dark brows, “I’m glad we ended up with each other, really I am. But when you act like this, I can’t say it doesn’t hurt a little,” He leans down, breathing against the apple of your cheek almost. “because I know it’s not how you really feel.”

Taking his time, he looks your face other, and this is what kills him the most. He gets so close to your face and everything in him wants you to lean in, he waits for the moment that you lean in and eliminate the space between you two.

Ding dong. You’re saved when the doorbell rings and you use this as your chance to slip away from him. He drops his head and sighs, this was bound to happen, he sort of regrets approaching you anyway. When he leaves he closes the door and leaves you wishing he was anyone else. You could hate anyone else right now.

When he checked the cameras on his phone, he was surprised to see that it was non-other than Park Jimin, what does he want? The bell rings for the second time and he rushes to silence it.

“Kim,” The man smiles, and Taehyung takes in his casual attire, meaning he was off today just like him, “I was beginning to think something happened to you,” His eyes intermediately go to Taehyung’s blue-tinted hands, “sorry to drop in unannounced like this.”

Taehyung makes an offended expression almost, he can’t hide his physical reaction to the concern, it seemed fake. “Didn’t have my phone on me, what do you need? It’s my day off,” His tone isn’t rude, but genuinely confused.

“I, uh,” Jimin rakes his mind for the story he’s supposed to tell, “my cuff-links! I left them in the bathroom that night,” His smile looks a bit too plastered, and when Taehyung doesn’t invite him in he let’s out a nervous laugh, “they’re expensive okay, rubies, can I grab’em?”

Taehyung opens the door wider so he can come in. He just hopes you have enough caution to stay hidden until Jimin leaves.

“So,” Oh no, he’s making conversation, “been doing some painting?” Jimin disappears into the small hall where the bathroom is to get his “cuff-links,” or so he says. Assuming Taehyung was hiding someone in the house, that evidence wouldn’t be in the guest bathroom. He has to stay in there a little longer, he hasn’t looked around well enough.

“I was,” He was trying to do a little more than that.

“Found’em,” He opens his hands to show the cuff-links that he planted just now, “Hey, can I get some water?”

“Sure,” Tae goes to the sink to wash his hands and Jimin leans on the large marble island, waiting patiently. Two plates. That’s the first abnormality that he notices. Two place-mats at the table and two sets on dishes in the sink, but it doesn't seem like he’s had any guest, there’s no car in the driveway.

“Y’know, I heard about that missing girl, one of your targets,” Jimin throws it out there, seeing if he’ll take the bait and give a reaction, “I bet that’s stressful.”

“It’ll blow over,” He opens the covert and takes out a glass, “how did you know she was my target?”

Damn, he shouldn’t have said that,

“You know I’m close with Minho, he mentioned it. He said it wasn’t your fault though, the investigators have an outside party helping, that’s why it’s not closing as fast. I have a little question for you,” He grins, “you don’t have to answer but Minho said it was a young girl, a writer, apart of a multiple target case, how did you do it?”

Taehyung sets the glass in front of him. “It doesn’t matter how I did it, as long as it’s done.”

“You’re as stiff as they come, Kim,” Jimin decides to lay off before Taehyung grows anymore suspicious, “I don’t do target eliminations but if I did, I would spill some details sometimes.” He takes a few gulps of water and looks at Taehyung who hasn’t stopped staring at him for the last few seconds.

“Well, thanks for the water,” He makes his way to the front door and Taehyung is more than happy to walk him out.

“You’re welcome,” He watches Jimin pass through the door and when he sees him get in his car, he closes the door with a sigh of relief.

He doesn’t go into his art studio for hours after Jimin leaves. He settles for busying himself with going over his next assignment over twenty times.

It’s getting harder and harder to keep this up, he never thought he’d get to this point. Something wasn’t right about that, Jimin isn’t his friend, and he’s never approached him like this—he knows something. When he makes his way upstairs, he tries to brush it off but here you are in his sanctuary to remind him.

“You were gone for a long time, who was that here earlier?” You mumble, barely sparing him a glance from your gaze off the balcony.

“No one you need to worry about,” He’s upset, that much you can tell, “I need you to go back to the basement for a little while, so you need to use the bathroom and eat.”

“What?” You can’t be hearing him correctly. “But why?...”

“Because I said so,” He stands in the doorway, arms crossed and posture uninterested, “let’s not have a repeat of last time,”

“But I haven’t done anything wrong...” The light drains from your eyes and anxiety pits in your stomach. “Is this because I wouldn't tell you what I felt about the painting?... Taehyung, I-”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?” You walk inside and tears start to burn at your eyes instantly. You walk over to him and look to him with pleading eyes, hoping he’ll find it in his heart to change his mind. “Taehyung, I hate being down there, I’ll go to the other room, I won’t bother you...Please just don’t make me stay down there.” Tears stream down your cheeks and

“There’s an outside investigator who’s looking for you, the police are looking for you, and soon enough the man who hired me will be looking for you too. I’m trying to protect you and make you comfortable but you only like the benefits of getting close to me, you don’t actually appreciate that I’m giving you so much.” His tone is cold, no longer filled with that tinge of adoration and warmth.

“I do appreciate it!” You didn’t think he’d get so upset, you’re trying to save yourself now. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I don’t-”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” He cuts you off, hands reaching for your arms but missing when you pull away. He grabs your arms with more than enough force and pulls you to him, and this time it hurts, “Don’t fucking pull away from me.”

“B- but,” You whine, wiping your tears as you try to comprehend why he’s acting like this all of a sudden. “Taehyung, please-”

“Shut up!” He lashes out, eyes dark and voice louder than it’s ever been before as his grip on you just tightens. “Stop whining like you’re hurting because you’ve made me feel a lot worse than this. You think I don’t notice what you’re doing? I’ve let you push and pull for as I could,” The volume in his voice seems to increase his physical size somehow and decrease your own, “but your little game isn’t fun anymore, I’m fucking sick of it now.”

“But I’m not-” You try to speak but he clamps a hand over your mouth and the horror of your worse nightmare washes over you. He’s trying to hurt you.

“Be quiet.” He walks forward until your back is pushed up against the wall, letting his hand fall from your mouth slowly so he can take your trembling wrist in his hands.

“All this time, there was so much I could have done, that I’ve wanted to do, but I’ve waited patiently...” By the way he keeps biting the inside of his cheek, it’s clear that he’s teetering on the edge of something.

“You’ve been starting to want it too and that’s why you push me away so hard, for some reason you like to deprive yourself.” He cracks a smile and looks up at you’re teary eyes, cooing at the sight of you falling apart.

“But you won’t admit that to yourself, or me. So, the best thing I can do for us is to lock you back up.” You shake your hand but he nods, a cynical glint in his gaze when you lean your head back to stop some of your tears.

“Why’re you shaking your head no? That’s what has to happen. Here’s how it’ll work; I’ll blindfold you so you don’t even have to see me and I won’t have to see those pretty eyes anymore. Maybe even gag you so I don’t have to hear your sweet little voice say another word. Then I’d have the pleasure of taking you upstairs and giving you a bath each and every day, you wouldn't want to see scary-Taehyung, right? So that blindfold will have to stay on. You’ll just have to trust that the only eyes and hands on you are my own. And every day I’d come down to feed you and you’d know that I’d make your life a living hell if you dared say one word. There would only be a hand full of sounds I would allow you to make,” He tilts his head, amazed by how much color had left your face.

“How does that sound? You wouldn’t have to be around the big scary-Taehyung anymore, is that what you want?”

Your lips tremble when you attempt to open your mouth and say something, it’s too scary. He’s scary. All this time, you’ve been waiting this out, trying so hard to stay calm and get close, but not too close. And this is the result.

“Answer me.” You shake your head, fearing the sobs that would erupt from your mouth if you spoke. But he doesn’t care, “Ah-ah, I’m not gonna treat you like a little baby just yet, answer me with your words.”

“N- no...” You push out your answer, chest heaving from trying to breathe through your cries.

“No,” He scoffs, mocking your answer, “well had you been the target for anyone other than me, that’s what would have happened to you. You either trust me, or you don’t, you can’t have it in the middle anymore.” Hands still firm on your arms and knee still anchored against you so you can’t move, it’s suffocating. “You have to choose, do you trust me or not?”

“I- I trust you...” You sniffle, nose burning red and your sight blurred from your tears.

“Ah, I don’t believe you,” He drops his hands from you, “I think you need to learn your lesson in the basement until I think you can be honest-”

“No!” You throw your arms around his waist and wail into his chest like a baby. “I- I trust you! I do, please don’t put me down there-” You hiccup, “I’m sorry, I really do trust you, I know you’re only trying to protect me, I get that now. I- I just want to stay with you, I wanna be with you.”

You want to be with him, a sentence he never thought he’d hear you say. He was just trying to scare you into revealing your true feelings but he didn’t expect you to cave that fast. He returns your affection, wrapping his arms around you gently. “Yeah, that’s what you really want?” You nod vigorously, your grip around him so tight it would take a hundred men to pull you off.

“Yes,” You look up at him, and just the quick, the Taehyung that you know is back. Those soft eyes, that gentle smile that wants nothing but to see you smile, make you happy. This is the only Taehyung you ever want to see.

He caresses your hair, pushing it back from your flushed face. The way you’re staring up at him, it makes him feel like you’re the only people in the universe and he’s swimming in a galaxy made of the stars in your eyes. He wants to eliminate that little space. But you beat him to it. You’re on your tippy-toes and that pesky little space is eliminated and he plunges face-first into the seventh heaven that is you. You have to show him and yourself that you trust him, you want to prove it. Your eyes are sealed tight and you’ve given up all control in favor of him doing as he pleases.

“Mh,” He leans down to lessen your reach and puts your hands around his neck. Breathless, his lips start to tingle and he bites down to regain a more familiar feeling. You’re so soft, just like he imagined. It’s all too much but not enough all at once.

He carried you away with loving arms, leaving all of his feelings to tip over like a bucket of paint and spill over the blue-stained sheets

* * *

“Hey boss, I went to his place this morning,” Jimin finally got the call from Minho, “did I see anything? Not really. There were two placemats at the table, two sets of dishes, it kind of looked like he had someone over but there was no one that I could see. Maybe he had someone over last night, I don’t really know,”

“Did you ask about the target?”

“I did, but he gave me a bland answer. He said it doesn’t matter how it’s done as long as it’s done, his usual, sorry I couldn’t be more of more help,” Minho thanks him for his efforts before hanging up the phone.

“I’m just so scared for her,” She plucks her third tissue from the box in front of her, “I haven’t slept in days.”

Jin drove all this way to sit with your mother, he called her and she said her husband out on business. He couldn’t imagine being alone when your child is missing, the thought alone hurt.

“It’ll be alright,” Jin sits at with your mother, who at one point he thought had a chance of being his mother-in-law. “They’re doing everything they can to find her, she’s a fighter.” He grasps her hand.

“I know,” She sighs, crumpling up the tissue and throwing it in the bin, “you came all this way, have you eaten? I feel like cooking something.”

“I wouldn’t want to make you-”

“Please, I know you have the same favorite meal as Y/n, let me make it for you.”

“Alright, thank you,” He smiles, watching her leave to the kitchen with a bit more light in her eyes. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he slips it out.

Min Yoongi: I talked to Suzy today and I can almost guarantee that her being missing is related to the handful of reporters who died at a conference she attended a few months ago. Why she was the only person that went missing makes me suspect an alternative motive. I’ll update you if anything changes.

Yoongi slips his phone back in his pocket and walks into the police station, it’s late but he hopes the cop over your case is still in. When he walks up to the front desk and asks, the receptionist points him into the direction of the person he’s looking for.

“Min,” The man smiles, extending his hand and dropping his conversation with the Sargent in front of him.

“Cha Eunwoo, so you’re the lucky guys on this case,” Yoongi has known Eunwoo since his days at the academy. He went FBI and Eunwoo went police department, both choosing paths that fit them the best in the end.

“Yeah,” He scratches the back of his neck, dismissing the guy he was talking to, “I know you’re working alongside us, a personal favor?”

“Something like that, is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

Yoongi doesn’t notice, but there’s a pair of lingering eyes that watch him and Eunwoo moves to his office.

“What’s going on?”

“I talked with the girl's supervisor today,” Yoongi walks around the desk, looking out at the pretty sunset, “I was informed that she went missing the exact same day an article of hers was supposed to be published. This article held details from the conference that have never been revealed. The article's physical and digital copies are gone. Cha, this doesn’t seem like you’re average missing persona case, there’s something bigger going on,” he rests his hands on his hips, bottom-lip tucked between his teeth. “I don’t want to tell her family that just yet, not until I’m sure.”

“You know what,” Eunwoo makes a thoughtful expression, “you could be right. There has been speculation around this case that the abduction was planned for a while now, I think for her sake we should look into that. Thank you Min, this could really change the nature of this case and it’s probably gonna get bigger, especially if we bring the parties at the conference into question.”

Jaemin was hanging outside of the hallway but runs to the restroom when he hears footsteps approach the door. When he’s sure there’s no one else in the stalls he frantically pulls out his phone and makes a call.

“Hello?”

“The case is about to blow up, the PI is onto us and I think the organization is about to be in jeopardy.”

“Damn it,” He sighs, “what do you suggest we do?”

“You have to tell Kim to reveal the body.”

#taehyung smut #taehyung stalker au #taehyung angst #taehyung scenarios #taehyung fluff #taehyung fanfic #bts angst #bts au #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fanfic #taehyung assassin #bts assassin au #don't breathe

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mimzy-writing-online · 4 years

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Advice to Fanfiction Writers who Feel Guilty about Abandoning Stories

This is one of my greatest struggles in writing fanfiction and to date I have two stories that have been inactive for at least a year, and many that have never been published because I feared I would abandon them.

In this post:

We debate the values of finishing a work before you share it online versus sharing it when you’re only a few chapters in and working from there.

What to do if you feel overwhelmed with the size of a project.

What to do it you’re losing traction and fear you’ll never finish your story.

We discuss ways to abandon stories with closure.

And some positive reminders, because

Before I start, let me say this: You are never required to finish a story. You have a right to publish as much or as little of the story as you like, and if you abandon the fic without another word, that is absolutely fine. That is your right. You never need a “real or valid reason” to abandon a story.

Your worthiness as a writer is not determined by how many stories you write, publish and finish. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone.

Okay, onwards...

Should you finish your story before you begin sharing it online?

It sometimes seems ideal to finish the story before you publish. There are benefits to it:

The obvious benefit is that if you decide to abandon the story, then nobody knows it exists and nobody is waiting for a new chapter, so there’s no guilt or no random comments reminding you to finish that abandoned story.

Additional benefits come in being able to edit previous chapters before they were published when problems like the following appear:

-If you find you accidentally made a plot hole in previous chapters that you can’t solve in later chapters, you can go back and edit before you publish that chapter and have it become your story’s canon forever.

-If there’s something in the world building (like in an AU) that you wish you could change, that doesn’t fit the mechanics/physics of what you want to do. Example, in a soulmate, magic, or superpower AU, you might put limitations or a lack of limitations that you regret having and wish you could change because plot needs it to work differently.

-If you regret a character’s backstory for whatever reason (it’s too angsty, or too simplistic, or doesn’t account for how good they are at a certain skill such as fighting, or their character development in future chapters needs it to change) you can change the backstory before your readers get to know them.

-If you took character or plot development in one direction and decided as the story evolved to take it in a different direction, you have the option to rewrite a few chapters or to continue on and smooth it out in editing.

The benefit is that you can edit the problems out before readers ever see them.

The downside to waiting until completion to publish a story is that there’s a lack of feedback to remind you that you’re doing a good job, and therefore a lack of motivation to continue the story because you’re the only one who cares and you know in theory how it ends. You can just tell yourself the story in your head and let it go, but the downside is that it disappears when you no longer thinks of it.

The thing is, writers need feedback. Even the most independent and confident writers need support from their readers.

You’re not a terrible person for wanting people to read your story and give you positive feedback before you actually finish the story.

You’re not a terrible person for wanting validation before the story is complete.

You are a human being who needs love and support from people who appreciate your work.

Don’t feel bad about that.

Should you publish a story before completion?

If you feel that’s best, then yes. If your story is relatively short but you don’t know where to take it, publishing it and having readers give you advice or ideas on where to take it might be the ideal. If you’re halfway there but you’re losing motivation, then publishing then might be a good idea, because the positive feedback and appreciation will keep you motivated to write.

A good way to get feedback and appreciation without publishing your work too soon is to find a beta reader or to have a friend read your story. If you want feedback on problems in your story to fix and edit, then you want a beta reader. They will tell you when your story is great and where they’re less interested in, which will give you a place to start improving.

What to do if you feel overwhelmed by the size of your project:

I’ll break it down into a few steps:

Step One: Word Vomit. This is extremely helpful when beginning a new project, but it may also be useful if you’re stuck on one section of your story and need to reorganize. Open up a word document, open a notebook and put all your ideas onto a page. Scene ideas, bits of dialogue, world building concepts, backstories, anything you think you’d put into your story.

Even if you’re twelve chapters in, taking a moment to do this may help in creating a new idea.

Step Two: Organize your word vomit and outline the story

Step Three: Write

If you’re still overwhelmed with the size of the story but you have a decent amount of progress on it:

Step Four: take all your favorite parts about the story and examine them closely. Pick your favorite scenes and characters and try to rework what you’ve got into something smaller.

Step Five: Narrow down your story to something more concise. You can throw out extra sub plots that you’re not feeling strongly about. You can choose to do time skips during periods of time in the fic where not much interesting is happening and it can be summarized into a paragraph.

Because this is fanfiction, there’s already a huge chunk of canon for you to fall back on that your readers will understand without you needing to explain too much. If the story you’re working on falls back on canon plot a lot, it’s possible to gloss over canon scenes or major canon events that weren’t heavily changed in your fic. This is especially true in universe alteration stories and fix it fics where the stories still follow most of the canon plotline but with a few details changed.

Abandoning Stories with Closure

Quick reminder: You are not required to finish a story, nor give it a conclusion. Whatever your reason for not continuing the story, it is valid. You come before your story.

Onwards...

There’s the classic method, which is leaving a note to readers that this story is abandoned.

Following that, you can choose to leave the fic as is, which is a perfectly good option. It allows you the chance to come back one day and finish it when your mental health is better, when your writing skills are stronger, when your life has more free time, when there’s new canon material to work with, when you have new inspiration.

I think the above option is best, but if it doesn’t sit right with you, the next options are possible.

You can choose to make one final chapter where you try to wrap up as many loose ties as reasonably possible. Realistically you can’t finish everything, but hopefully you and your reader will be able to leave your story with some emotional closure. If you can, end your last chapter on a higher note.

If writing that is not possible, you could leave an outline of what you think might have happened next. It will allow your readers to see what the end conclusion would have been and get closure.

You can allow someone to finish the fic on their own, give them the rights to be the new author. Some readers might even approach you to volunteer to continue the story.

I’m going to restate what I said before, because I think it’s something we all need to remember. Writers are plagued with self doubt, self criticism, and impostor syndrome (i.e. thinking you’re not a “real writer” because you’re not “good enough” which is B.S.) and I think we all need to remember that there’s nothing wrong with us.

We’re allowed to be imperfect, to make mistakes, and to leave projects abandoned. That doesn’t make us bad writers, it makes us real.

You are never required to finish a story. You have a right to publish as much or as little of the story as you like, and if you abandon the fic without another word, that is absolutely fine. That is your right. You never need a “real or valid reason” to abandon a story.

Your worthiness as a writer is not determined by how many stories you write, publish and finish. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone.

I, the author of this post, am proud of each and every one of you for just being here, just existing. You’re real writers whether you think so or not. Your writing is amazing and good and it will always be improving. I believe in you, as both a person and a writer. I know you can do it.

[Note: I began this guide in May of 2019, and now it’s February of 2020, so talk about abandoning a project and eventually coming back to it. I think this is the oldest post in my drafts folder of the blog. Jeez. But it’s done, finally written and edited and now I can publish it.]

#fanfiction #fanfic #writing advice #writing tips #ao3 advice #my post #AO3 #FFN

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aerynwrites · 4 years

Text

The Devil You Know

Narco!Javier Peña x Reader AU

Part 1 - The Stranger

Author’s Note: So I’ve had this idea for a small series in my head for a while now and my friends have helped encourage me to post it, so here we are! I hope you guys enjoy, and thank you to my friends who showered me with kind words and encouragment! (You know who you are and i love you) All spanish translations are located at the bottom of the post. I also do not speak Spanish, I used spanishdict.com to translate for me so I hope they are accurate.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and guns.

Summary: You had been waiting for a break - that one case in the DEA that would give you a chance to really make a difference. So, when you are tasked with taking down a large but highly secretive and underground drug cartel, you jump on it - despite lacking the information on who runs the operation. Then...you meet a stranger in a bar.

Next Part | Masterlist

/////

You can’t help the excited smile that creeps onto your face as you leave the Ambassadors office and return to the two conjoined desks you and your partner shared. Ambassador Noonan had just informed you that you and Steve were to lead the team tasked with taking down a local but growing drug cartel located right here in Bogotá. The Los Carnales Cartel had started out small and then boomed, becoming one of the fastest-growing drug cartels in the country. The only problem was that they seemed to have come out of the woodworks, and they were experts at keeping their operations underground. The DEA had little to no information on any of the key players except for a few sicarios on the bottom.

But it was a start.

The start you had been waiting for since you had been transferred to Colombia almost six months ago. Soon after you had arrived your partner, Steve Murphy, had landed as well, and you had almost immediately bonded. You both worked together seamlessly through the various small drug busts you were assigned, but you had both been yearning for something more – something bigger. And it had finally happened.

You plopped down in your seat and looked expectantly at Steve who only gave you a sparing glance and gestured to the phone held between his ear and shoulder. You rolled your eyes and pulled the phone from his grip dropping it onto the receiver.

“What the hell-“ he spluttered, surprised by your sudden theft of his phone, “That was an important call!” he huffed.

“Oh hush,” you tutted, “I have news that is more important than any phone call you’ll ever receive,” you say happily, clasping your hands together and resting your chin atop them.

Steve sighed, running a hand down his face, “And what news would that be?”

“Ambassador Noonan wants us to lead the task force to take down Los Carnales!” you exclaim, tossing one of the two folders on your desk to your partner.

His eyes widen and he rips the folder open skimming through the files, “You’re serious?” he asks breathlessly, looking at you with caution.

You nod enthusiastically, “Yes! We start tomorrow, the Ambassador wants us to read over the files tonight and come in tomorrow ready to take these bastards down,” you say triumphantly.

Steve lets out a soft laugh and leans back in his chair, hands behind his head, “I knew we would get something like this sooner or later.”

You just smiled and nodded, “I’m just glad it finally happened,” you begin, “I know we were doing important work already, but I wanted to get to the root of the problem, really make a difference, you know?” you say wistfully, taking the file and tucking it away in your purse before standing.

Steve furrows his brows, “Where are you off too in a hurry?”

You tap your watch, “Day’s over Murphy,” you say, “And I have a date with destiny,” you joke gesturing to the file in your bag, “Well, and a glass of whiskey to celebrate.”

Your partner just laughs and stands with you as you grab your gun from your desk drawer and tuck it into the holster on your side before slipping your jacket on. Steve bids you goodbye and you do the same before walking to your car to head home.

-----

You hadn’t spent long in your apartment, only enough time to read through the files the Ambassador had given you and for the disappointment to slowly build within your mind. You had read through the files almost three times, only to be disheartened by how little was actually there. You knew you didn’t have a lot of information about the cartel, but to actually see how little you had? It was disheartening. You only had two names for sure, and they were a low-level Sicario and a local drug runner who had been seen frequenting local bars and clubs.

You suppose you had to start somewhere.

You let out an exasperated sigh and closed the file before glancing at your watch. Eight o’clock wasn’t too late to go get a drink right? Plus, it was a night to celebrate – at least that’s what you told yourself as you grabbed your purse from the counter and walked out of your apartment and onto the streets of Bogotá. You and Steve had frequented a bar just down the street from your apartment, usually just stopping in for a drink after work or meeting Steve’s wife Connie there for just a night to catch up and not think about work. So you knew the path to the small hole in the wall dive and you were there within ten minutes. You walked towards the door and saw Carlos, a local kid who was always outside the bar selling that days newspaper and the fruits his family grew. You saw him starting to pack up for the night and called out to get his attention.

¡Oye, Carlos! Espera un momento!” you called, smiling as the boy startled slightly before realizing it was you and waving excitedly.

“Hola señorita (y/n), ¿cómo estás?” the small boy asks, ginning at you widely.

You chuckle, “Lo estoy haciendo bien Carlos, espero que lo estés haciendo bien. ¿Es demasiado tarde para comprar un periódico?”

The young boy just shakes his head and pulls the local newspaper from his bag handing it to you. You take it from him and thank him before paying him, slipping in a bit extra. The boy just smiles up at you and you just put a finger of your lips and wink.

“Muchas gracias señorita!”

You give him a smile as you step by him to enter the bar but turn back to him as he gets onto his bicycle, “No hay problema Carlos, ten cuidado” you said and waved him off before finally entering the building.

The bartender gave you a small wave as you walked in, already pouring you a glass of whiskey and setting it in front of you as sat down at the bar. You gave him a small smile and a thank you before settling into your seat and laying the newspaper on the bartop in front of you. You took the glass of dark amber liquid in your hand and took a small sip, relishing in the familiar burn as you swallowed before setting the glass down again. You casually cast a glance around the small bar, a habit you had picked up since becoming an agent - always be aware of your surroundings.

For the most part, it was the usual crows of regulars, but the one thing that did catch your eye was the small group of men sitting at the table in the corner. You had built rapport with the people in this small part of town, and you knew a lot of them by name, their routines never changing. But as you sat here now, eyes glancing over the small troop, you realized they all looked unfamiliar. And the one thing that stuck out to you most were the guns on their hips.

You weren’t an idiot, you knew there were more gangs, cartels, and drug lords here than anywhere you had worked before, so guns weren’t unusual - but it still made your anxiety spike slightly. Not wanting to draw attention to yourself, you turned your eyes back to the newspaper in front of you, trying to see if there was any news that may be relevant to your job, and continued to nurse your drink. You had barely gotten halfway down the front page when you felt a presence fill the seat to your left. Without moving your head you cast a short glance to see a man with dark hair in a dark rust-colored shirt flagging the bartender down. You turned your eyes back to the paper in front of you, trying to focus on that, until the man next to you spoke up.

“What are you having?” his deep baritone reached your ears and caused you to tear your eyes from the paper and look at him fully.

The first thing that crossed your mind was that he was handsome - dark hair, dark eyes, a mustache that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else, but seemed to suit him well, and a charming smile. However, this initial observation was followed quickly by annoyance that you couldn’t just drink and read in peace.

When you didn’t answer right away, the man gestured to your empty glass, “Your drink,” he clarified, as if you didn’t understand.

You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes and instead turned to look back at your newspaper, “I heard you,” you bite, “I’m not interested.”

The man lets out a low chuckle and you try to ignore the feeling it ignited within your chest, “I didn’t ask if you out-” he says, a glint in his eye, “I asked what you were drinking.”

You sigh, eyes still not leaving the newspaper, “Whiskey,” you mutter, “Why are you so intrigued by my drink choice?”

The man doesn’t answer, he only hums quietly before letting out a short whistle, waving the bartender over, “¿puedo conseguir dos whiskys? uno para mí y otro para la dama,” the man says gesturing to you at the end of his sentence.

You let out a huff and finally tear your eyes from the newspaper to rest on the man to your left, “what part of ‘not interested’ did you not understand?”

All the man does is smirk at you, “You know Spanish?” he asks teasingly.

You don’t fight the urge to roll your eyes this time, ��yes, I know how to know Spanish. It would be pretty hard to get around without it.”

The man just chuckles, his eyes falling from you to the bartender as he sets your drinks down. The man just offers him a wave before sliding your drink to you. You look at it cautiously, not moving to take the drink and instead stare at him as he takes a small sip from his before setting it back down.

“Listen, I’m not here to kidnap you or whatever it is you think I’m here to do,” he begins, a slight genuineness behind his words as he continues, “Just want to make conversation.”

You scoff, “I highly doubt that.”

“I’ll prove it too you,” he says as if offering you a deal, “What brings you here?” he begins tentatively.

You purse your lips, still unsure of whether or not you wanted anything to do with the handsome stranger before finally letting out a small sigh, hand moving to wrap around the glass of alcohol. At least you get a free drink out of it.

“I got a...promotion at work,” you say slowly, not telling the whole truth, “so I’m out celebrating.”

The man hums again before giving you a smile and rasing his glass, “felicitaciones en su promoción!”

You let out a small chuckle and tap your glass to his before taking a large sip, “gracias,” you say softly.

A smirk creeps onto the mans face, “you should speak Spanish more...it suits you..” he trails off waiting for you to fill in with your name.

You can’t help the blush that blooms on your cheeks and you clear your throat slightly, “u-uh yeah, thanks I guess,” you mutter lowly before sticking your hand out to him, “my name’s (y/n).”

He smiles and shakes your hand before withdrawing and taking another sip from his drink, his eyes trailing up and down your figure. You swallow thickly and shift in your seat before speaking up once more, “Do I get the pleasure of knowing the name of the guy who’s paying for my drink?” you ask, watching as he turns the glass on the counter slowly before opening his mouth to respond.

-------

Javier Peña had built a name for himself here in Bogotá.

He hadn’t come from much, his parents born in Colombia but then moving to the states for a ‘better life’. Something that fell through the cracks while Javier was in grade school. They moved back to Colombia shortly after and Javier had learned very quickly that in order to survive, you had to fight. So that’s what he did. Over the years he was in and out with the wrong people until eventually, he was a force to be reckoned with.

The leader of the Los Carnales Cartel.

He was smart. He was clever. And most of all, he was willing to do anything to get what he wanted - and anyone who knew him knew that and didn’t get in his way. That’s how he managed to stay afloat for so long. He kept his operation under wraps, only a select few people he trusted knew anything about the operations of his drug business. He took pride in the fact that he has been operating unobstructed for almost two years now, evading even the DEA.

Until tonight.

He, of course, didn’t know that the DEA had their sights on his cartel - hell - he didn’t even know that they knew he existed. But as he and a few of his sicarios sat in a local bar, one he had only been too once, many years earlier, he saw you. He had clocked you the minute you approached the bar, watched as you bantered lightly with the boy selling newspapers, and listened as you bid him farewell before taking a seat at the far end of the bar, newspaper in hand, and badge on your belt.

Wait - badge?

One of the reasons Javier was good at his job, is he was always aware of his surroundings - observant of those around him that may be a threat or cause problems. So when he says the golden metal gleam in the low light of the bar and caught the sleek black metal of a pistol on your belt, his interest was peaked. You weren’t a cop, at least not a local one. You spoke English too well, you sounded American, and most of all you were wearing a suit.

He looked to his comrades and told them he would be back before stalking across the bar and sliding into the seat next to you, amused at your refusal to look at him. He finally got you talking, and eventually even got you to reveal your name, taking this moment of vulnerability on your part to get a closer look at you. His eyes roamed from head to toe until they landed on the badge once more, just barely able to make out the letters on the golden metal peeking from beneath your blazer.

Drug Enforcement Agency - Special Agent.

You ask his name and he smiles, a triumphant gleam in his eye as he realizes the opportunity presented before him. A DEA agent who has no clue who he is, and has already let her guard down. He lets out a low chuckle, eyes on his half-full glass as he turns in slowly on the bar top, before looking back at the woman across from him and opens his mouth to respond,

“Javier Peña.”

----

¡Oye, Carlos! Espera un momento! - Hey Carlos, wait a minute!

Hola señorita (y/n), ¿cómo estás? - Hello miss (y/n), how are you?

Lo estoy haciendo bien Carlos, espero que lo estés haciendo bien. ¿Es demasiado tarde para comprar un periódico?” - I’m doing good Carlos, I hope you are doing good. Is it too late to buy a news paper?

“Muchas gracias señorita!” - Thank you very much miss!

“No hay problema Carlos, ten cuidado” - No problem Carlos, be careful.

¿puedo conseguir dos whiskys? uno para mí y otro para la dama - Can I get two whiskey’s? One for me and one for the lady.

felicitaciones en su promoción! - Congratulations on your promotion!

////

Permanent Taglist: @lord-wolfgen @petalduck @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @stillreadingfantasy @pedrosdoll @simonsbluee @justlovetoreadfics @discogrrl @maryan028 @asaucecoveredsomething @hiscyarika @theforceofdisney @hail-doodles @murdermewithbooks

Pedro Tag: @fleurdemiel145 @lustriix @yeah-boiiiiiiiiiii @longitud-de-onda @jellyfishpoptart @ah-callie @mutantsandproud @pascalisthepunkest @24kgolden @kaelyn-lobrutto24

#pedro pascal x reader #Javier pena x reader #narcos x reader #narco!javier pena x reader #Narco!Javier Pena #Javier pena

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lunetheaveragefan · 4 years

Text

one day...

Hi! Sorry this is a day late, but I tried my best. Chapter 4 might take a little longer to post since I haven’t started it yet, but I’m feeling super inspired so I’ll probably write some (if not most) of it this weekend. :)

A Sander Sides high school AU

Pairing: Prinxiety and some background Logicality

Summary: Virgil is used to being alone. He only has one friend, Logan. But when Logan makes a new friend, things begin to change as two more join their group. Roman, a boisterous theater kid, seems determined to destroy Virgil’s lonely, average life. How much will Virgil’s life change?

Warnings: Some cursing and quick mentions of bullying/making fun of. If you notice anything else, let me know!

Word Count: 1,639

okay, here’s chapter 3!

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CHAPTER THREE

The rest of the day, Virgil did his best to avoid Roman. He didn’t know if he could face him after the spectacle that morning, not to mention how much he had been thinking about his soft hair and tan skin and beautiful eyes.

Since when have Roman’s eyes been beautiful? Dammit, Virgil, get yourself together. He made fun of you all throughout middle school, nevermind what happened freshman year. People don’t change, you idiot.

That afternoon, he walks, head down, to a nearby coffee shop to meet Logan to study, although Logan usually reads. He already knows everything; it’s Virgil who needs to study, but Logan has told Virgil dozens of times already that it doesn’t bother him.

That day, Virgil opens the door and scans the room for Logan. To his surprise, Logan is sitting at a booth nestled in the corner. Once he gets there, he slides into the seat, back into the curve of the corner.

“Why’d you get this table?” Virgil asks, pulling his folders, notebooks, and pencil out of his bag. “Do we really need all this space?” Logan looks up from his book.

“Uh…well, you see,” Logan stutters. Virgil is more sure than ever that something strange is going on with his friend. Logan takes a deep breath and starts over, “Well, I figured we’d need more space since I also have to do some work.”

“Oh, okay.” Virgil tries to keep his voice light, but he’s still skeptical. Logan likes having a schedule, and part of his weekly routine was every Thursday after school, without many exceptions, he got a small table by the window to study. Currently, there’s no one sitting at it, so there’s no reason for Logan to have picked this booth instead.

Virgil forcefully drops the subject from his mind, knowing he needs to get to work. He has an English paper he needs to finish for tomorrow, and he’s barely a paragraph into it. Devoting most of his time to his art projects has made him behind for his other subjects.

Flipping to the page in his notebook with his evidence and reasons, he opens a Google Doc on his computer and gets to work. The quiet is nice; there’s just the sounds of Virgil typing and Logan flipping pages, along with the background noise of the cafe. After working for about 20 minutes, Logan starts acting weird again.

Every few minutes, he’ll pick up his phone, checking the screen. For what, Virgil can’t tell, but he suspects Logan is checking to see if he’s gotten any texts. What Virgil is really wondering is who could possibly be so important or urgent that Logan would stop reading to check his phone, especially so often. It isn’t until a little later that it occurs to Virgil that Logan said he had work to do, but all he’d done up to that point was read. What is going on?

A few minutes later, Virgil gets his answer when the bell above the door chimes. He glances up instinctively. He looks back towards his essay before he can comprehend who just walked in, but when his brain catches up to his eyes, his head shoots up to find that the high schoolers who just walked in are now standing next to Logan and his booth.

“Heya, Logan and Virgil!” Patton says in his usual cheery voice. Virgil gives him a half smile back, although he’s still puzzled as to why he’s here. It could’ve been a coincidence, of course, but with Logan’s strangeness, he doesn’t think it is. It only makes Virgil more sure when he looks over to see Logan smiling from ear to ear.

If Logan really did invite Patton, why is he here too? Virgil wonders.

“Hey, Patton,” Virgil says. “What’re you doing here?”

“Logan invited me!” comes the reply, and Patton smiles back at Logan, filled with his usual unabashed joy. Logan blushes, and Virgil puts a finger to his mouth and pretends to gag. Unfortunately, Logan sees and rolls his eyes, mouthing, “Don’t be a child.”

“You decided to bring a friend, I see,” Virgil states, looking at the boy standing next to Patton.

“Yeah, when I heard it was to study, I figured I’d come along. I haven’t had much of a chance to, with the play and all,” says Roman almost bashfully. His hand rubs the back of his next as he looks at the floor. Virgil nods and turns back to his essay.

“Sit down,” says Logan, gesturing to the booth. “Roman, you can sit next to Virgil, since Patton and I have to work on our chemistry lab.” Virgil snaps his gaze to Logan and glares at him. When the other boy doesn’t react — or even notice — Virgil takes a deep breath and continues working, considerably more stressed than before.

Roman plops down next to him and smartly decides to stay quiet. They all get to work, Patton and Logan chattering about some reaction of some sort from across the table while Roman and Virgil sit in silence, each working on their own homework or projects. Virgil doesn’t mind it; he’s got his headphones in and is therefore pretty much dead to the world, but not quite dead enough for him to miss the fact that anxiety has begun rolling off of Roman.

Attempting to ignore it, Virgil turns up his music, but nothing can block out the awkward tension between the two boys.

“I’m sorry for earlier,” Roman blurts out. Logan and Patton remain oblivious on the other side of the table. Hesitantly, Virgil pulls down his headphones. He wishes he didn’t have to, but he figures whatever Roman needs to say is important. “I should’ve looked before I threw my arm out like that. Could you ever forgive me?” He seems so sincere, yet Virgil can’t find it in him to trust him. But those eyes.

“I forgive you,” mumbles Virgil, cursing Roman’s chocolate eyes. He’s like a goddamn wounded puppy. Before Virgil can pull up his headphones again, Roman speaks.

“So, what are you working on?” His smile is bright and friendly. Why does he want to be my friend all of a sudden? He’s never been nice to me before. For a while, he was downright rude, and then he just started pretending I didn’t exist. Not that I minded.

“Just an essay for English,” Virgil replies, forcing himself to stay neutral. Socializing has never been his strong suit, but after a while, he’d learned how to fake it. “Uh...what are you doing?”

Roman frowns before responding, “This stupid algebra homework. I just don’t understand math.” He appears angry for a second before smiling again, almost as if he felt he had to pretend everything was okay. Virgil knew quite a bit about pretending. He did it for years before realizing people did, indeed, give a shit about him. Like Logan, for example.

Virgil glanced over at him, but he was still in deep, animated conversation with Patton. From what Virgil could hear, they had gone quite off task from chemistry. Something’s definitely off. Logan was the most responsible person he knew, and always made an effort to study and work when needed. Virgil had never seen Logan get off task when there was something that had to be done.

But that’s a matter for a different time. Right now, there is a boy sitting next to him that he had to talk to.

“Do you, uh, need any help? I took that class last year, so I should be able to help you.”

“Really?” Roman asks, his face lighting up. Virgil nods, hands dropping from his headphones. “Thanks, Virgil!”

Now, Virgil had never thought of his name much before. He’d always liked it, but he didn’t think much of it. But when Roman said it, so full of happiness and spirit, Virgil realized how cool it was. The sharpness of the ‘v,’ the slow, drawn out sound of the ‘l’ at the end. Quickly, Virgil bent over Roman’s paper to see what exactly he was working on, letting his hair fall in front of his face to hide the blush seeping across his cheeks.

What the hell is going on with me? This is Roman Princeford. He’s arrogant and rude and selfish. He doesn’t think about anyone but himself.

Yet, after Virgil helped him with his algebra, Roman offered to help out with his paper. When he found out it was about Shakespeare, he insisted upon reading it. Surprisingly, the comments he made after reviewing it were pretty helpful. Virgil discovered after a while of small talk about school and typical human topics that he didn’t completely despise Roman’s presence. Sure, his over dramatizing of things was a little annoying, but everyone has their flaws, right?

Virgil didn’t know if he could ever forgive Roman for what happened in middle school or freshman year, but maybe they were on their way to some sort of understanding.

And, although Virgil will never admit it out loud, he can acknowledge that Roman Princeford is a very handsome guy.

Once he gets home, feeling confident that his English paper is the best it’s going to get, and finishes everything else he needs to do, he lies down on his bed. He tries to listen to music, but all he can think about was how much Roman had thrown him off today. He’d seemed to want to help Virgil. There wasn’t a single rude comment or excessive bragging session.

When Virgil realizes he’s smiling while thinking about earlier, he quickly banishes all those thoughts from his mind and rolls over onto his side. Pulling a blanket up to his chin, he burrows under the covers. You are not going to start enjoying hanging out with Roman Princeford. No way. And you most definitely don’t have a crush on him. He starts to think about winter break coming up in a month and a half and wonders what he’ll get his cousins for Christmas. Quicker than usual, he falls to sleep.

The dream Virgil has that night about kissing Roman doesn’t mean anything. Does it?

#virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #prinxiety #logicality #sanders sides #high school au #fanfiction #fanfic #one day...

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loquaciousquark · 3 years

Note

30, 34, 38 for the writer's asks?

30. Do you write down all your ideas?

Oooh, tough question! In general, I don’t write down something until I’m ready to write it out and commit to it. It’s why I don’t have a WIP folder or more than one active WIP at a time. I have to keep my brain focused on one task from start to finish - otherwise nothing gets done. Even now at work, when I’m working on a task list, I often have to stop myself and say out loud, “Stop multitasking. Focus on one thing. Get that done first.” because otherwise I just hop from thing to thing without ever finishing any of it.

So, the fact that I’ve written down the bodyguard AU outline means that it ought to happen some day, as soon as I finish filling in the holes in the world. The ice skating fic is the other file I do still have saved on my computer’s desktop as a tentatively still-open world, since I have part of a follow-up written from Carver’s perspective. It’s about 1500 words in, but I realized it’s not doing anything I want it to and doesn’t really have a point, so I haven’t gone back to it in a month or two. I might do something else about Danarius’s penitentiary woes, though, if inspiration strikes.

34. Have you felt emotional while writing a scene before? What scene was it?

I cried like a baby writing the end of Lacrimosa. I have a very vivid memory of sitting on my apartment bed in my tiny bedroom, the lights off, writing in the dark very late at night in total silence, and then I got to the part where Aveline is trying to comfort Hawke and I just burst into tears the same moment Hawke did, and then I cried through the rest of the writing.

That fic was astounding in a lot of ways, but it still remains one of the easiest writes of my life. Not emotionally, of course, but physically - I just sat down and wrote it from start to finish, no editing, and then I immediately posted it the same night I’d seen the prompt on the kink meme. (Yes, I did save the links to all my original anon fills on the k!meme, why do you ask?) Jade helped me pick out two pieces of music that fit it perfectly, which I added in later, but yeah. My most vivid memory of writing that fic is sitting there crying into the dark, trying to see what I was writing through my tears.

I also cried writing the memory of Malcolm’s death in Ascendi. I never got any comments that indicated readers did too, but that’s all right. Just lots of crying for me!

I will say the speech Hawke gives to the raiders yelling at them for their stupidity in attacking a pregnant, moody Champion apostate makes me laugh out loud every single time I read it.

38. What story of yours are you surprised that people liked as much as they did?

Oh, definitely Were We Not Called. I wrote that coming off of the difficulty of writing Worth Life, which has the protagonists separated for most of the fic & where Fenris thinks Hawke is dead for a good chunk of the story. I spent a very long time working on and refining Worth Life and it got a really decent response, which I thought was super generous of the fandom, but it had a lot a lot of emotional damage & grief & mourning that I think was kinda heavy for the world at the time, and once Hawke & Fenris reunited the interest faded away a little bit--which was totally fine & expected, honestly!

But while I was finishing up the edits for Worth Life, I saw a prompt about AU soulmates (I think in a list from @thegeminisage??). It sank its teeth into me hard, and I whipped out Were We Not Called in like two weekends or something after having spent six months on Worth Life. Jade edited it and got it back to me, I started putting it up, and the response blew me away.

@eponymous-rose and I have talked a lot before about why some things blow up in fandom and some don’t. The thing that seems to affect it the least is the amount of time and effort you spend working on a piece; instead, by far, sometimes you just get really, really lucky. Sometimes all the stars align just right, and you happened to write a trope that everyone wants to read at just that moment, and you happened to post it at just the right time of day for most people to see it, and maybe just the right person happens to reblog it at the exact moment for someone else to have the free time to click in and read it for themselves. It was just a perfect storm of some unbelievable chance, and the comments on that were so very kind (and numerous) for something I’d spent a lot less time working on, haha. Even now, it’s one of my most popular fics, and I haven’t got a clue why!

Funnily enough, even though it doesn’t have many kudos or comments, by far my most-hit fic is Crucible. This fandom, huh. 👀

Thank you for the questions! :D

#long post for ts #fic writing meme #shadoedseptmbr #quark replies

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chelsfic · 4 years

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Trustfall - August Walker/Female Reader fic Part 1

Part Two now available

A/N: This fic is based on a couple of drabbles that I recently wrote exploring the villainous side of August Walker. I’m basically reworking the plot into a longer fic. I’ve read a lot of fic where Walker is basically an AU good guy version of himself and I really wanted something where he is allowed to be the bad guy. So I wrote it. You can read the drabbles here: Part One; Part Two

So, because this is bad guy Walker (to start) I’ll warn you that there is gun violence in this first part and the reader gets hurt. The rest of the fic will be exploring how Walker stays in the reader’s life and how the relationship gradually transforms from guarded mistrust to eventual acceptance and trust. Hence the title.

I’m posting this really quickly so I apologize for typos.

*** You’re making coffee because that’s what you do when you have guests. You offer to make them a hot beverage. It certainly has nothing to do with the fact that you want to hide in the kitchen for ten minutes and catch your breath. And if the five men in your living room are not technically guests…well that doesn’t matter either.

When you enter the living room again, three of them–including the one with a hood over his head–are gone. You guess they’ve moved to another area of the house since you didn’t hear anyone leave. Ethan is sitting on your couch next to the imposing figure of a man you don’t know. Even sitting down you can see that the man is tall and powerfully built. His posture suggests he’s used to being in command and hints at the potential for violence. It’s a frightening prospect, but not unexpected–you got the same vibe from Ethan when he first approached you about setting up the safe house. You try to suppress the shiver of unease as you approach the pair.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Ethan says, taking the mug of steaming coffee from you. “This is Agent Walker. Walker this is Y/N, she owns this house and is kind enough to keep it available to my team….She’s a teacher.”

The last part is tacked on in a monotone and you watch as Ethan’s eyes turn cold and pointed toward Walker. He’s saying, without saying it, that you’re innocent–that you’re not involved in this life the way they are and that you should be protected at all costs. You feel a rush of appreciation for the sentiment, although it doesn’t do anything to calm your nerves.

“Nice to meet you,” you mutter. Your fingers touch as you hand him a mug and his blue eyes flick up to lock with yours.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he says. He’s all business, but his eyes hold yours for another beat and you feel your cheeks flush red. You’ve always hated how easily you blush. He’s handsome, you admit to yourself. Tall, broad-shouldered, dark mustache and stubble along his jaw. He’s very handsome. But the thought is completely abstract. Just an observation in the midst of your chaotic nerves.

You turn to Ethan and excuse yourself. You’re not needed here and you’d rather not over hear whatever plans they’re working on. You’ll minimize your involvement in whatever way you can. It’s not as if you don’t have a choice. Ethan gave you the choice when you inherited this house from your father and he gave the choice again when he showed up at your door this morning–even though you’d already agreed and accepted the monthly payments in exchange for use of the house. He still gave you a final chance to back out, despite the team’s desperate need. He was a good man.

You retreat to the little room at the back of the house that your father used for a study and you use for a combo office/reading nook. There’s an oversized plush armchair in one corner and a worn desk stacked with homework folders and portfolios in another. Mismatched bookshelves line the walls and the hardwood floor is covered by an old, worn-out oriental carpet. It’s shabby but comfortable. You feel safe in here as you cuddle into the armchair and pull an afghan around your shoulders. You’ll get lost in a book and by the time you poke your head out again, maybe they’ll be gone.

Ethan and the rest of the team leave to head to their rendezvous leaving Walker behind to guard the prisoner. You emerge from your office starving and in search of something to eat. As you cross the hallway toward the kitchen you peek into the living room to find it empty. Walker must be upstairs with the prisoner. You should just leave them be but you remember the brush of Walker’s fingers against yours and the blue of his eyes as you looked up at you. Maybe you’ll offer him something to eat.

Your socked feet don’t make any sound as you dash up the stairs. You walk silently down the hall and you’re about to raise your hand to knock on the open door of your guest room when the voices you heard from the hallway form into coherent words and your hand freezes in the air. They’re talking about Hunt and his team…as if they’re working against them. As if they’re working together.

Walker’s stance goes rigid and he turns slowly to face you. He’s transformed from the subdued version of himself you met downstairs. Where before there was the potential for violence, now it is very much present, blazing in his glare and lurking under the surface of his tense posture. You watch a muscle in his jaw tick and he shuts his eyes in irritation.

“Fuck,” he hisses and his hand goes to the side arm at his hip. “Nothing is ever easy.”

Your eyes widen in terror as he unclips the gun from his side and points it at you. Everything is happening to fast for your brain to keep up. A minute ago you were thinking about making lunch, now a man is threatening you with a gun. You hold up your hands, palms out, and beg for your life.

“You don’t have to do this…I won’t…I won’t tell anyone anything!”

You’re backing away from him into the hallway, eyes dancing in every direction but always returning to the sight of his hands cradling the gun, finger tense on the trigger.

“No…,” you moan. Your back hits the wall and you feel your knees give out as you slide slowly downward. Your legs splay out before you and you feel suddenly, absurdly ridiculous that you’re not even wearing any shoes and you’re about to be shot.

Walker is standing over you. Your eyes are fixed on his feet and legs too scared to look up and catch sight of the gun pointed in your direction. You flick your gaze upward for an instant and see his face, jaw clenched in anger, eyes burning into you. He’s furious.

“Please don’t do this,” you whimper and pull your legs in to hug yourself into a ball–as if you can somehow disappear if you make yourself small enough.

Walker grunts and leans down, grabbing your right leg and pulling it away from your body. Before you can even begin to struggle he’s straightening it out along the floor and aiming his gun at your calf.

He looks up at you and you’re caught in his gaze again just like before, a lifetime ago, downstairs. The same blue eyes and dark lashes that you’d found so captivating. Now all you can feel is dull fear. His face is unreadable but he finally addresses you with soft words, “Sorry baby.”

And then he pulls the trigger.

***

You’re only out of the hospital for a week when he comes back. Agent Walker. The traitor. The man who shot you in the leg and left you bleeding on the floor and all alone.

When the bell rings you curse and struggle up from your position lying on the couch to hobble forward using the crutches you’ve only just been issued. The wound required two surgeries. The doctors tell you that your muscles may have been permanently damaged. You’ll require physical therapy and you may walk with a limp for the rest of your life. There had been questions–questions you didn’t know how to answer–when you first arrived at the hospital. And then, suddenly, there were no more people asking questions. You suppose Hunt and his team had something to do with that. You received a bouquet with a note in your hospital room. They thanked you for your service and wouldn’t trouble you any longer. The status of your home as a safe house was blown.

“Coming!” you call out as you reach the front hallway.

You struggle to balance on the crutches as you fiddle with the deadbolt. The lock finally cooperates and you swing the door open. You throat goes dry in an instant and you clench your fingers around the doorknob in a white knuckle grip. He’s standing on your doorstep just like he did before, looking hopefully expectant. But this time he’s wearing weathered tactical gear instead of a suit and tie and one side of his face is covered in fresh pink scar tissue. He holds his hands loosely away from his body as if to appear harmless. Ha! Like you could ever forget the danger lurking behind his beautiful eyes.

“What–,” you croak and your mouth closes entirely. You take a moment to clear your throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Y/N,” he pleas, hands outstretched, “I’m not here to hurt you, I just want to talk.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you,” you reply, starting to shut the door in his face.

He steps forward until his body is in the doorway, preventing your movement, “Please, just hear me out and then, if you want, I’ll leave here and you’ll never see me again.”

You mentally curse Ethan Hunt and his stupid team for leaving you in this position. If you were to believe them then you were completely safe because the man before you is presumed dead and no one else should know your address or its significance. He’s wedged half inside, half outside and you’re standing uncomfortably close in order to keep your leverage on the door. It’s painfully obvious how easy it would be for him to overpower you. He’s over six feet tall to your paltry five and a quarter inch height. He’s twice as broad as you are at the shoulders. But he just stands there awaiting your reply.

“Fine!” you sigh and back up awkwardly, nearly tripping over the damn crutches.

You lead him back to the living room and collapse unceremoniously back into the nest of blankets you’d been cultivating before his unwelcome appearance. Walker perches awkwardly on the other end of the sofa and watches you with a guarded expression. You lift up your bad leg and rest it on a tower of pillows. There’s no cast as the bullet didn’t break any bones, but you’re wearing a brace to keep it immobile while the muscles heal from surgery. Walker has the grace to look ashamed as he sees you struggle to get comfortable, but he wisely makes no move to assist you.

When you’re finally done squirming you look at him expectantly and gesture with your hands for him to get on with whatever it is he came here for. Outwardly you look calm and collected. Inside your heart is racing and your thoughts are in a chaos of confusion. You’ve just allowed this man into your home, the same man who shot you in the *leg* with a *gun* only three weeks ago. Is he here to finish the job? Is he here to get information out of you? Why on earth could he be back here?

He briefly explains what’s happened since you last saw him. The bombs, the chase, the cliff. He’d landed on a ledge, miraculously surviving to terrorize another day, it would seem. And now he’s in the wind, off IMF’s radar and laying low. He has resources, allies, money. But he needs a place to stay. Someplace no one, including IMF, would ever expect.

You huff out an aggrieved sigh, “Why is my home a magnet for trouble?”

“No one will look for me here, Y/N,” he says, the look in his eyes is intense. “And I know you can be trusted.”

“If they think you’re dead won’t they not be looking for you, period?” you ask. “And why do you think you can trust me, Walker? You shot me…remember?”

Walker’s eyes are like chips of ice as he responds, “I can trust you because you know what I’m capable of…if you tell anyone.”

A shiver runs down your spine and you feel yourself shrink back from him into the cushions. So, he isn’t going to stick to the good guy act. Not when you have something he needs. You suppose it’s a relief, not pretending. But it leaves you little choice going forward.

“Y/N,” he goes on, voice softening somewhat. “I know Hunt was paying you. I have the resources available to continue that arrangement. I’ve looked into your background. I know you need the money…”

No, you think. No choice at all.

If you’d like to be tagged, let me know!

@thorins-queen-of-erebor

#august walker #august walker x reader #august walker imagine #mission impossible: fallout #henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #chelsfic

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wernerherzogs · 5 years

Text

there it is, finally! the list of my favourite hl fics of All Time.

disclaimer: some of these i have read only once and forever ago, but i’ve got them saved in a folder, and i vaguely remember them Meaning something to me when i read them, but basically -- if you read something from this list and end up not enjoying it, sorry not sorry! i operate on nostalgia sometimes, it’s possible i wouldn’t be that into some of them now, too, but whatevs!

i made myself stick to one work per author, otherwise this would be endless, but if an author’s nickname is bolded, it means i’ve had the time to read all of their works, and recommend them all.

i’m fairly certain i’m forgetting stuff (especially those stories that i’ve never saved/bookmarked), so i’ll try to keep this updated fairly regularly -- whenever i remember an old fave, or fall in love with something new. i’ll make sure to reblog this post then.

the order is completely random. this is a list where every work carries equal significance, even if not always for the same reasons. it was supposed to be alphabetical, but turns out i’m far too lazy for that. (shocker.) i took the liberty of shortening some of the original summaries, because this post is going to be Too Long anyway. rip.

enjoy! hopefully.

***

blackjacks running down my back | sequel by dangerbears (+ lj) (~10,000)

AU. university stuff. best friend stuff. music stuff. sappy stuff.

try to not remember (rather than forget) by hereforlou (59,602)

He hadn’t left, but that’s what it had felt like most of the time. Just as if one day Harry had up and left him.

(Or, the one where Harry wakes up.)

Like Real People Do by moodlighting (58,469)

Harry is Louis' soulmate but Louis isn't Harry's - it takes Harry a while to figure it all out.

a prayer for which no words exist by Eliane (34,313)

Louis is a few seconds away from blowing up a rather important section of the New York subway when he sees Harry for the first time.

Who Painted the Moon Black by throughthedark (requires an ao3 account) (95,697)

“People died,” Harry whispers so quietly Louis strains to hear. “People died, and I killed some of them. How does life just go on after something like that?”

Louis shakes his head. “I don't know. It just does.”

hold on to your stars before they fade by adelagia (31,740)

The first time they meet, it is sunrise, and Harry is naked.

(Or, the one where Harry is a lost fairy, and Louis takes him in.)

Lambing Season by HelloAmHere (24,544)

“Shut up,” Louis says, an involuntary grin tugging at his mouth. It’s not every boy who will stand in the middle of a cold barn in a suit and play musician trivia. “I’m Louis.”

//lambing season brings sleep deprivation, noisy alarms, cold barns, demanding animals, and warm strangers.

Wild And Unruly by 100percentsassy, gloria_andrews (123,655)

Harry is a cowboy sitting on the biggest oil reservoir in Wyoming, and Louis is the paralegal assigned to pressure him into selling his land.

Walk That Mile by purpledaisy (149,570)

A Route 66 AU where falling in love was never part of the plan.

the dead things we carry by MediaWhore (25,316)

“Oh,” Mrs. Padley says, clearly taken aback. “You two know each other?”

There are some things people never fully come home from. Until, one day, if they’re lucky, home comes to them.

i believe him when he tells of loving me by bitterlee (28,894)

louis doesn't remember harry. harry takes him home.

Come Along With Me by darkofthenights (28,032) (requires an ao3 account)

An AU where Harry is a magician and Louis doesn't believe in such a thing.

Dust Off My Wings by eravain (19,882) (+ download)

AU where the boys are cottage neighbours, Louis develops an obsession with the mysterious boy next door, and the end of summer is really just the start of everything else.

Boys of Summer by sharktoothedfawnskinned (49,545)

What he wants is for this to be a forever thing, not someplace Harry spent the summer once. What he wants is for this to be more than a memory.

(New Jersey beach town AU.)

ever ever after by hattalove (22,645)

“Happily ever after, huh?” he can’t help asking, in a voice that’s softer than he’d like. Harry seems to sense the fragility of the moment. He settles down, containing the excited flailing of his hands, and mirrors Louis’s position. “Of course,” he says. “Don’t you have those here?” Louis bites his lip. “M’ afraid not. It doesn’t really work out that way for most people.”

or, an enchanted AU. sort of.

heroes of the orange skies by queenmcgonagall (30,656)

Louis likes bathroom walls and Sharpies, Harry likes metal, Zayn likes Liam and Liam likes Zayn, Niall is wise, and they all go to the zoo.

Empty Skies by green_feelings (134,048)

For three years, Harry has been running from his past. Now, he is moving to London and pledges to fulfil his only dream -- making it big in the music industry. Not everyone has a place, though, and the competition is tough. As is his past catching up on him.

Louis is part of the biggest boy band of the world, and getting there had meant a lot of hard work, as well as sacrificing parts of his heart and soul. He's still happy. Maybe not as happy as he could be, but who is he to complain?

nocturne in silver and blue by tinyweirdloves (97,594)

louis is a fallen star and harry brings him home. told over the course of fourteen years.

life does not go backward, nor does it tarry in yesterday by bottomlinsons (4568)

Louis and Harry are Knights of the Round Table and Camelot has a dragon problem. (Arthurian AU)

In This Light by exhilarated (99,234)

Harry is a wardrobe stylist who likes to live in the moment, and Louis is a popstar who looks dreamy in double breasted jackets. Harry never stood a chance.

our little corner of the world by brownheadedstranger (29,913)

AU. Louis is stuck in his mom's diner for the summer. Harry is the line cook with a pickup truck.

Every Arrow That I Aim Is True by estrella30 (24,890)

Louis doesn’t say anything again so Harry whispers, “Just stay here with me for a while, yeah? I’ll take care of you.”

Louis is quiet. He never picks his head up, but Harry can see the pillow move from where he’s nodding and his fingers tighten around Harry’s. “Yeah,” Louis says. “Yeah, all right.”

i'm not calling you a liar (just don't lie to me) by hazmesentir (33625) (requires an ao3 account)

Louis can't stop lying. Harry runs a farm. Somehow, he squeezes the truth out of him.

An Eternal Enigma by goldenquill (67,478) (+ download)

Louis is a reluctant king with a head full of fairy tales, and Harry is an emotionally challenged musical prodigy. Zayn is a hopelessly romantic painter, Liam is the castle’s resident ghost with sporadic amnesia, and Niall is the accidental head of the kingdom’s most prevalent spy ring. Very loosely based on the lives of Ludwig II of Bavaria and Richard Wagner.

all my love was down in a frozen ground by navigator (16,033)

Louis goes to the woods.

AU very loosely inspired by the creation of Bon Iver's first record.

walk my days on a wire by sunshiner (38,586)

“We’re here because we have inventive managers,” Louis says, giving Harry’s leg a little nudge with his knee, but all that’s going around in his head is, I think I'd be in the same spot in every possible universe.

or, when actor Louis Tomlinson used to daydream about dating Harry Styles, this is not what he had in mind.

take my hand (and my heart and soul) by bananasandboots (45,623)

"I – yeah. Hi," Louis finally answers, slowly, awkwardly. "I um. Sorry. I heard about your accident. You're alright?"

Or, the one where Harry hasn't spoken to his best friend in sixteen months and can't remember why.

These Inconvenient Fireworks by wontsitstill (190,000) (+ download)

Future AU in which nobody tries out for X Factor but the boys end up finding one another eventually anyway. Louis is a jaded bastard who owns a cat named Duchess and teaches drama to teenagers, Harry is an idealistic aspiring photographer/part-time footy coach, Zayn teaches English lit and wears leather jackets, Liam saves people from burning buildings, and Niall is Niall.

things have gotten closer to the sun by starseas (49,276)

when a solar flare is announced to end the world in twelve days, harry reunites with the people that he used to know better than the back of his own hand.

Harry Styles Cooks... by sunsetmog (ongoing)

In which Louis Tomlinson can’t cook, there’s a very special shower curtain, and Harry Styles used to be a baker.

Or: Louis owns all of Harry Styles’ cookbooks, and he never intends to cook a single thing out of any of them.

101 Uses For Dragon Eggs by colazitron (42,249)

Louis just got back from a three week assignment yesterday and today was only supposed to be paperwork he needs to do to finish that up, before he was going to leave early and enjoy the weekend. And then Zayn, the traitor, emailed him about a bloke who was rumoured to have found a dragon egg and apparently live tweeting the whole thing.

Don't Want Shelter by FullOnLarrie (ongoing)

Louis and Harry have known each other all their lives. Friends as children, they danced around each other as teenagers, and have spent the last twenty-five years either screaming at each other or not speaking at all. Except for that one time ten years ago…

When Hurricane Nicole threatens the coast, they end up stuck together in their families' old vacation home that they begrudgingly co-own.

Escapade by dolce_piccante (requires an ao3 account) (146,241) (+ download)

In the grand scheme of things, finding a date for a wedding should be no problem for Louis Tomlinson. He's rich. He's handsome. He's reasonably well behaved. But when the wedding is for his lifelong best friend (and former boyfriend), and is happening in under a month, finding a date for the ceremony and accompanying festivities becomes more of an adventure than he ever could have planned for.

Whether Clouds or Clear Skies by onewasturning (25,861)

“Harry,” Louis says, “last night I had an experience bordering on profound.”

“You’re making it sound like you did something sexual with my muffin,” Harry says.

Or, Louis gets into the habit of stealing baked goods while Harry’s busy keeping tabs on the weather.

the dead of july by whimsicule (117,446)

Being an Avenger means continuing to be Captain America and smiling and being honorable for the public and Harry does his best. But it doesn’t give him time to figure out who he is supposed to be once he takes off his uniform and puts the shield to the side. Just being Harry had always involved Louis, and Harry fears he doesn’t know how to exist without him.

or: Harry is Captain America, and Louis’ been dead for 70 years.

In the Clear by aclosetlarryshipper (80,751)

After Princess Gemma and her fiance Niall are captured by the witch from across the land, Harry and Louis are forced on a journey together to save them.

Featuring Lumberjack Liam, Magical Zayn, unsolicited tattoos, and untangling the past.

Also known as The Larrietale.

a house built out of stone by robpatFF (22,486)

Louis has a used bookshop and Harry has a habit of claiming things that don't belong to him.

out of the blue corner by fallingaway (85,422)

Louis is a boxer banned because of doping. Harry is a journalist following the story.

with your love we could breathe underwater by luminescents (28,542)

Harry’s brow furrows, a look of confusion spreading over his face. “But I am real. I exist, see,” he says, raising a hand out of the water and wiggling his fingers at Louis.

AU where Harry is a mermaid, Louis is a human, and they both discover a lot more than they anticipated.

dancing in the dark by clairdeloune (74,709)

Harry comes out and it brings more than he's expected.

Untangle Me by suicxne (103,000) (requires an ao3 account)

Or the one where Harry and Louis finally get it right.

California Sold by isthatyoularry (123,536)

Notoriously closeted boyband member Harry Styles is famous on a global scale, meanwhile Louis, as his best friend, is back home in Manchester, living the typical life of a 24 year old. When Harry needs Louis with him in LA, a publicity stunt gone wrong changes their friendship forever.

A fake-relationship AU between two lifelong best friends.

you came into my life by disgruntledkittenface (57,180)

When the Queer Eye cast and crew sweep into Louis’ small town and fire station to make over his best friend and coworker Liam, Louis’ carefully constructed walls start to fall down and he has to face his fears – and the only guy he’s ever been able to see a future with.

like cabbages and kings by you_explode (60,875)

When Louis was a kid, he had a series of very vivid dreams about a place called Wonderland.

Loyal Knight and True by rainbowninja167 (51,569)

Oh, Harry thinks, mouth open on a silent gasp. This is how it happens.

In contemporary Oxford, Harry Styles and Niall Horan run a magical bookshop, unbowed by an entire academic establishment that insists magic doesn't even exist.

for now (and forever) by orphan_account (sadly can’t remember the actual author) (83,283)

"Listen to yourself," Harry laughs, shaking Louis' shoulders. "Don't you think it's a bit weird to con the country you're supposed to be serving?"

Louis is going into the Army, Harry is going nowhere, and there's nothing like a little identity fraud between friends.

Say You'll Remember by whisperdlullaby (93,521)

au. louis and harry are best mates that are only half aware that they're also soulmates. alternatively, louis goes to university and harry travels the world, and they always manage to find their way back to each other.

takes place over nine years, in which they love and hurt, make mistakes and learn, and above all, grow.

Faking It by TheCellarDoor (46,173)

A uni AU in which Louis has been Harry’s best friend since he offered him cubed fruit on the playground, and they spend more time cuddling in their dorm beds than they do apart, but it’s not like that. Or is it?

Battle Cry by Velvetoscar (21,377)

Harry's got a heart, a soul, and a band. And with that, obviously, comes a future paved in great success, right? So all he has to do is win the Battle of the Bands, right? Simple.

What's not so simple is the fact that Louis Tomlinson is his biggest competition. And also happens to be made of everything that Harry's ever wanted.

Take Me Where I Cannot Stand by LoadedGunn (13,988)

Harry can agree that being husbands in space presents some challenges. Sometimes they have to escape mindless cannibals, sometimes they're being held hostage, sometimes Louis doesn't want Harry to get pregnant, and sometimes someone slips on a banana peel. But that's all part of the fun, isn't it? They could have been juggling geese.

(Firefly AU where Harry and Louis are co-pilots in life.)

Just Me, You, And This Box of Matches by tomlinsunshine (87,020) (requires an ao3 account)

Louis is fairly sure that his new neighbour is going to destroy him. And also their apartment building, and the dumpsters outside, and all the forests within a thirty mile radius. But. Mostly him.

you're an egg if im an egg by giraffesaretall (1252)

au where one direction are eggs.

#SURPRISE MOTHERFUCKERS #fic #fic rec #top fics #i know no one rly expected me to do it by this point #so that's exactly why i did it lmao #:)#pretty sure i've recced 80% of these before so like #sorry for the disappointment #also ik i'm missing a lot #but i just spent a few hours on this so #have this as a start i guess #now excuse me when i go pass the fuck out #also i'm sure the app will mess up the formatting so #sorry about that!#long post #(also some faves got deleted and i didn't find them in #my folder. sad times. :( )

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