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junoswrlld · 6 months

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✧˖°📖nerd antics ୨୧˚

choi soobin x gn!reader 1.9k words warning swearing & lowercase intended & kms jokes genre fluff, established relationship, crack(this was very unserious) featuring sim jake-enhypen and eunchae- le serrafim junos’s note this is supossed to be a birthday present for nai @run2seob happy birthday pookster *runs away*

mini synopsis -- u do nerd anime stuff with Soobin (he shows u anime figure collection & jake jumpscare)

Friday 3am

your phone screen illuminated your face in the otherwise dimly lit room as tonight was just like any night for you, the usual scrolling through tiktok at 3am, more specifically scrolling through the soobin hashtag.

it was definitely endearing seeing all the heartwarming things moas would post about soobin. The genuine affection they harbored for your boyfriend, was palpable. Their posts ranged from heartwarming anecdotes to hilariously relatable observations, all testament to the magnetic charm of Soobin.

but one video caught your eye, an episode of Eunchae's Star Diary, a close friend of yours interviewing Soobin and Kai. It was a compilation a fan made of all their favorite clips from the show. about halfway through the clip show Eunchae asks Soobin about his fixation with anime.

Eunchae leaned in and asked, "oh, Soobin you like anime?"

soobin laughed, feigning surprise. "ah yes, how'd you know?" he said.

eunchae couldn't help but chuckle in response, "Aren't you famous for it....?"

seeing this clip made you go down a rabbit hole of trying to find times when Soobin talked about the interest of his of anime. and in one video he seems to mention having a shelf of sorts the he uses to display anime figures. This intrigues you because it's not like you didn't know of this fascination, having been dating him for a little over two months of course he's told you all about it, but a shelf dedicated to figures? you've heard no talk of the sort.

and you've also had to chance to see such thing since you haven't yet been to soobins dorm, thus you've also never got the chance to see this shelf, so you decided to text him about it

you: u collect anime figures??? soobie:WHO TOLD U?!?!?!? you: u did? you:i watched a clip of u mentioning it soobie: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO you: its not that embarrassing soobinnnn soobie: SO U ADMIT ITS AT LEAST A LITTLE WEIRD?!?!? you: WHAT NO you:id collect them too if i had the money soobie: really?? soobie:oh my gosh im in love you: omg wtf kms ur killing me you: anyways can i come over tomorrow(x together)? you:or i guess later today since its 3am soobin: like after practice? ofc u can you: im #scared after what ive seen of the dorms from tiktok you:a bike right by the stove? really? soobie:OMG LOL ill definitely clean it up for u you: u better

5 hours later (8am)

soobie:y/n. you: what???? soobie: i just heard my 8am alarm go off you: not my fault u couldnt stop talking to me soobie: real u just have too much rizz you:real!!! soobie: but i gotta get ready to go to practice now you: wanna reschedule when i come over then? you:yknow so u (and me) can get some sleep? soobie:ur just reading my mind you: we should have planed it for tmr any since its saturady soobie: omg were so not smart you:im very smart idk about u tho you: since u spend all ur money on anime figures n stuff soobie: honestly fair

Saturday 2pm

you've arrived at the dorm building, its a modern structure with a sleek and contemporary design. It stands tall, several stories high, with large windows that allow plenty of natural light to filter through. The exterior is adorned with a combination of glass and steel, giving it a polished and sophisticated look.

The entrance is well-lit, and as you step inside, you're greeted by a spacious and stylish lobby. The walls are decorated with subtle, tasteful artwork, featuring images of past achievements or group photos of the residents. The floor is immaculately tiled, and there's a reception desk where visitors can check-in.

after the rigorous check-in process of the front desk ladies just making sure you're not some crazy fan trying to break into the dorms, they point you in the direction of the elevators you would be taking to Soobin's room.

As you step into the elevator, your anticipation for seeing Soobin intensifies. The doors start to close, and just before they shut completely, a hand slips through, causing the doors to retract. You look up, and to your surprise, you find yourself face to face with a group of idols entering the elevator.

you think that maybe it's one of the front desk ladies that might have forgotten something? or maybe it's Soobin getting to his dorm at the same time you did. so without giving it a second thought you spam the "open door" button, hoping to help whoever is on the other side of the door.

just when you think that it's surely soobin based on the height the person entering the elevator has, he turn to meet eyes with you.

JAKE?!!!?!??!?! FROM ENHYPEN???????

of course, you have idol friends since you're dating the Choi Soobin, but he hasn't introduced you to Enhypen yet! you don't even think he's told them about your relationship, so what if Jake thinks you're some crazy fan like the front desk ladies did??

jake side-eyes you as he exits the elevator, reaching his floor, clearly thinking you're not supposed to be there. silently relieved that the awkward encounter has come to an end, at least for the moment since you can't stop replaying the moment in your head and cringing.

exiting the elevator onto the floor where Soobin's apartment is located, the hallway greets you with a quiet atmosphere. as you walk, the recent awkward encounter with Jake replays in your mind, leaving behind a sense of unease and self-consciousness. however, amidst these feelings, there's a spark of excitement, especially considering this is your first time visiting Soobin's dorm. the anticipation adds an extra layer to the mix as you make your way down the hallway.

as you reach Soobin's apartment door, marked '127' as he had told you. taking a deep breath, you knock, eager to see him but after 10 seconds of awkwardly waiting outside his door you hear a loud thud coming from the other side. you knock again, thinking his clumsy ass might've fallen over and hurt himself.

just as you were about to knock again the door wings open, and soobins stumbles to lean against the door frame.

"hey, uh, you come here often? i said that with Rizz by the way." Soobin says with a sheepish grin, trying to mask the fact that he stumbled with his charisma. His disheveled appearance and the loud thud suddenly make sense.

as you observe Soobins slightly disarrayed state, a realization dawns on you. the charm in his smile doesn't quite hide the signs of a hurried cleanup. the misplaced items and the askew chair suggest that he must have been rushing to tidy up the place right before your arrival. and the thud? Probably something clattering to the floor in the midst of his cleanup efforts.

"hold on, why do you look so shaken up??? i swear the dorm isnt that bad, i cleaned it up and none of the boys are here. you good?"

"NO DUDE I LITERALLY JUST SAW JAKE FROM EHYPEN. I'LL NEVER BE ABLE TO LISTEN TO EHYPEN THE SAME AGAIN!!!!!!!!!"

soobin gestures at you to come in and you do. "it couldn't have been that bad y/nnn. what did he say anyway?"

"he didn't say anything BUT he did give me the nastiest side-eye on the planet. and i swear if i was near a cliff i would've jumped cause that interaction made me wanna kill myself."

"i hope you're joking about the last part cause i dunno what id do without you pookie." he says while winking and putting up double peace signs.

you couldn't help but cringe, your eyebrows involuntarily scrunching together.

"some light aegyo didn't make you feel better?" soobins shoulders slumped, and he cast his gaze downward in defeat. "how about i put on a studio ghibli film so you don't die of embarrassment?" he says while guiding you to sit on the living room couch.

"spirited away."

"what?"

"put on spirited away."

"of course"

after a Mini Studio Ghibli movie marathon, you remember the main reason you wanted to come over in the first place.

Soobin's cheeks flush slightly as you enthusiastically exclaim, "OH RIGHT!!! where's your little figure collection hiding? that's like the main reason I'm here."

"WHAT ANIME FIGURES?!?!? I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!!!!"

"YOU ALREADY TOLD ME YOU HAVE THEM?????? WHY ARE YOU SO EMBARRASSED??"

"i thought you might've already forgotten, and why do you wanna see it so bad anyway?"

"soobin, i literally think it's cool. plus i wanna see the things you're passionate about or whatever." you say with a teasing smile, trying to ease the tension of his embarrassment.

soobin sighs, giving in to your insistence. "i guess if you wanna see it so bad." He murmurs softly, fingers intertwined with yours, guiding you towards his room with a gentle tug.

as you enter soobins room you can clearly tell that the living room was the only one he bothered tidying up, as all of his room was left in chaos.

"welcome to my humble abode" Soobin says, gesturing playfully around the room.

"I'm surprised the figures aren't scattered across the floor with how messy this place is."

"to be fair i didn't exactly have time to clean considering you never told me when you'd be here till you were 10 minutes away"

"i guess you're right but wheres this shelf full of figures ive heard so much about?"

soobin pulls you out of the doorway and closes the door behind you, revealing the infamous collection that was hiding behind the opened door.

"WOAH. this is way more than i thought it would be."

"so it is weird???"

"WHAT?!? NO, if anything its really impressive cause how do you have all the money for this??"

"i'm an idol."

"oh right. well anyway, who's this girl?" you say as you go to pick up a chibi-looking figure. when you're only inches away from picking it up soobin slaps your hand away.

"what was that for!?!?!?!" You ask, fingers instinctively reaching for the tender spot where the impact landed.

"don't touch them?? they're only for display. and that's a Nendoroid of Lillie from the pokemon anime, kai bought her for me. also how did you not recognize her? do you not watch pokemon??"

"okay, nerd. also i hate to break it to you soobin but the last time i watched an episode of pokemon i was 12"

"im heartbroken," he says dramatically stumbling away from you, grasping onto his chest (CUZ THATS WHERE HIS HEART IS). "you've broken my heart, this is to much to bear."

"don't worry soob, I'll buy you a new figure to mend your "broken" heart"

"REALLY????? are you serious cause there's this one figure i really want to preorder," he says grabbing his phone out of his pocket at the speed of light to show you what he's talking about

"soobin do you really think i have the money for that? also, what the fuck is a Nendoroid???? what kind of alien name is that?"

"Nendoroid is the chibi figures, they're my personal have to collect."

"this wasn't as mind-blowing as i thought it would be."

"what did you expect?"

"i dunno maybe some secret underground vault of ultra-rare figures guarded by miniature anime warriors or something"

"Well, sorry to disappoint. But hey, can we go back to watching Studio Ghibli movies now?"

"absolutely"

note pt2... please dont flop please dont flop please dont flop please dont flop please dont flop please dont flop please dont flop please dont flop please dont flop please dont flop please dont flop please dont flop please dont flop please dont flop please dont flop please dont flop please dont flop please dont flop please dont flop please dont flop please dont flop please dont flop please dont flop please dont flop please dont flop please dont flop please dont flop

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brella · 5 months

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Peeta pov "She came here with me." ? or him planting the Primrose for her. ?

Haymitch had thought, at first, that he was joking. Peeta can hardly blame him. Who with half a brain would expect the truth from a Tribute? Joke or fable or bald-faced lie, it’s all the same—a good story on Caesar Flickerman’s show is the surest way to get sponsors. Only, Peeta could come up with better stories, and better lies besides, than being in love with Katniss Everdeen.

You’re a good showman, I’ll give you that, Haymitch had said, once he realized that Peeta was serious.

Peeta’s skin had crawled under the soft lighting in the suite. Making a show of what he felt for Katniss seemed immoral, somehow. It was meant to be a whisper under an oak tree, shaking hands and secret wants—not a tool, not a spectacle. Then again, he knows he’d never have the nerve to say it to her face. On live television, to an indifferent Panem, is much less frightening. And even though it’s sooner than later that he’s six feet under (as the old song goes), he doesn’t want that secret to be buried with him.

So: a show it is.

Caesar is almost blinding to look at in person. His immaculate wig, his sun-white teeth, his spray-tan and the baubles on his suit: Capitol excess incarnate. But he’s easy to talk to. Most people are when you’ve got years at the register under your belt, when saying the right thing to your mother could spare you a bruise—Caesar, though, is something else entirely; he’s got a kind of charisma that could stop Death itself for a minute or two. Peeta can’t help but study him. Everything is measured, everything has value: timing, cadence, eye contact. It’s easier to mirror than Peeta expects.

“Tell me,” Caesar says, once the pleasantries and banter have run their course. “Is there a special girl back home?”

Even though just about every Tribute, every Games, gets that question from Caesar, Peeta has to wonder if Haymitch had pulled some strings. His pulse quickens with anticipation, but he keeps his cool. Be coy. Build suspense.

“Nah,” he says, slipping in a little of a District 12 drawl. It makes for a bashful tone. “Not really.”

He has to make it obvious he’s fibbing, but not too obvious. He ducks his eyes, focusing on the tips of his shoes. Patent leather. Probably cost enough to feed a family. Have other Tributes worn these? Surely the cost would make it impractical not to reuse them.

“No? I don’t believe it for a second! Look at that face!” Caesar exclaims. “Handsome man like you…”

Oh, Peeta thinks. So I’m a man now.

“Peeta.” Caesar leans in, so congenial, so inviting. Behind his charming eyes, though, Peeta sees nothing. Nothing to recognize or remember. “Tell me.”

Now is the time. Make them ask you twice before you answer. Peeta can feel the audience’s attention, swelling in the room, almost symphonic.

“Well, there, uh…” He pauses, gathering his guts. That’s where the best acting comes from, he’s found: truth. “There is this one girl that… I’ve had a crush on forever.”

Crush—so half-baked, flourless—but he knows the Capitol will eat it up. Sure enough, Caesar nods his head, eyes twinkling.

“But,” Peeta goes on, “I don’t think she actually… recognized me until the Reaping.”

That, too, is the truth. Why should Katniss remember him at all? She had lived—she had not died. That was all that mattered. What she remembered from that rainy day, he expected, was the hunger—a kind of hunger he had never had to know.

What he remembers is her face—clearer than his mother’s fists, clearer than the pain.

Clearer than any pain in the world.

“Well, I’ll tell you what, Peeta,” Caesar says—almost encouraging, like an uncle giving advice to his favorite nephew. It’s the first time in the interview that Peeta has felt genuinely, truly sick. “You go out there, and you win this thing—and when you get home? She’ll have to go out with you.” He turns back to the audience, drawn by the sound of applause. “Right, folks?!”

There’s that laugh of his: brassy, gleaming, perfectly rhythmic and perfectly pitched. Peeta’s body wants to laugh along, purely on instinct. He lets a fraction of it through. Just a fraction.

“Thanks, but, uh… I don’t think winning’s gonna help me at all.”

“And why not?”

Here. Right here. Peeta’s breath shakes on its way out of him, hollow at the center. How to answer? How to explain to Caesar Flickerman, to the glittering Capitol, to the Districts who couldn’t give a damn about him—how to explain Katniss Everdeen’s braid in the sunlight on the walk to school, the gentle clarity with which she’d sung the Valley Song, the sight of her and Gale Hawthorne and their pocket-knife-smiles in the schoolyard, the devotion that she had to her sister, the calluses along her fingers from a bowstring—how to make them understand the constant, quiet heat of her, and all the winters of life through which it had kept him warm?

This is the time to be exact. A sound bite is worth a thousand speeches. If you’re gonna do it, Haymitch had said, with a kind of cutthroat pride, do it so it breaks their hearts.

“Because she came here with me,” Peeta says.

#thg #everlark #THANK YOU ANON FOR ENABLING ME #ask #anonymous

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inkandpen22 · 3 years

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Permanent Chaos (3/?)

Pairing: MGK x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: mild swearing, mentions of smut, mentions of underage drinking

Part Summary: Sam and Y/N are on The Late Late Show to promote The Seasons of Life.

Masterlist

Before the interview, Nicole practices questions with me so I don’t get blindsided. Meanwhile, Sam and his manager, Steven, practice talking about our upcoming photo shoot for Vanity Fair. Steven is much more laid back than Nicole. Sam is free to do whatever he pleases. The country sees him as an average twenty-something. If he ever messed up he would be forgiven. Nicole emphasizes to me whenever she can that I have no room for error. I must be a saint as “America’s Sweetheart.”

There’s a knock at the door to our dressing room and Steven opens it. A man with a check board and a headset instructs, “Ms. Voss, Mr. Merka you’ll be on in five. If you could follow me.”

“We’ll be right off camera if you need us!” Nicole informs me and Steven agrees with a hum.

“Have fun guys!” he adds.

Sam holds the door for me and the two of us follow the man down the hall into backstage. Sam takes my hand as a precaution, just in case the chaos might separate us. Through double doors, we enter backstage and we’re stopped behind where we’re meant to enter. Loud music begins to echo from the stage and I recognize the song as one of Machine Gun Kelly’s. He’s all the rage now, one of those rockstars that girls fifteen and up obsess over. I don’t have much space left in my mind to obsess with everything going on. As we wait, I bop and sway my head back and forth to the beat absentmindedly.

The man says over his shoulder, “he’s great huh!”

I frowned confused, “wait, is he performing live?”

The man raises an eyebrow as if the answer is obvious. “Yeah, his interview was a few minutes ago. I’m surprised you didn’t cross paths when you got here.” He’s then pulled away by a lady dressed in all black. “I’ll right back! Stay right here!”

I scoff under my breath, the dude treated me like a dingus.

“Well, he was friendly” Sam mutters sarcastically under his breath.

“Right! Geez, he’s what? Only around four years older than you? At least he looked it. My bad for not knowing I’m apparently in the same building as a god!”

Sam snickers but covers his mouth since we’re not allowed to be loud. The song ends and the crowd goes wild on the other side.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Machine Gun Kelly!” The applause goes on and on with James attempting to speak over it into the camera. “After the break, we’ll have the breakout stars from the hottest show of the decade The Seasons of Life, Y/N Voss, and Sam Merka! So don’t go anywhere!”

The audience gets loud at the sound of our names and a shot of adrenaline rushes through me. People rush around backstage to get the music equipment off the set. Sam and I move up against the wall so people can get through. The crew is yelling to make the switch quick. Propping myself up against the wall, I watch the chaos happening. Sam leans against the wall and faces me. I don’t mind the tight quarters though. He acts like a wall, blocking me from the craziness.

“It never gets like this on set,” Sam says, scanning the stage.

“That’s because we don’t film live,” I remind him with a chuckle.

My arms cross over my chest and Sam props his elbow on my shoulder. If this was a photoshoot, this would be a great shot of us. We’re being ourselves, depending on each other as per usual. We’re comfortable with one another. To kill time, I glance around as people move about backstage. My eyes meet a lengthy, bleach blonde, tattoo-covered musician walking off stage. He instantly goes for the guitar case against the far wall in the corner. As if he could feel me looking, his attention snaps away from his guitar and toward me. His focused features gently fall as he stares at me from across the busyness of the show. A chill shoots up my spine and spreads across my face. Instantly, I'm drawn in and can't find the means to look away.

Sam steals my attention when he straightens up in my side view. “We’re on,” he informs me.

I immediately bring to focus and adjust my floral pencil skirt to appear put together.

The man from before leads us up to where he left us last. “Okay, here’s the deal. James will announce your names. There will be cheers, you will walk out together and sit on the couch. The order in which you sit doesn’t matter.” He pauses to press on his headset, “sure, alright, one minute.”

I shift my head to the side and yet again I see them, the same pair of eyes that made me freeze. I quickly snap my attention forward as though I’ve been caught red-handed. He’s not what I had expected. I’ve heard of Machine Gun Kelly, who hasn’t? I’ve seen pictures here and there. I’ve heard a song or two. Never in a million did I ever imagine we would meet eyes and he would make me stop breathing for a second. It was nothing short of groundbreaking. It’s dangerous and immaculate at the same time.

Soon, the noise of the audience dies down to signal the end of the commercial break. Sam and I are told to walk out so we cross through the corridor. Sam leads and reaches his hand back for me to take. I do so mindlessly since it’s what we always do. We wave to the audience and James stands up to greet us. He hugs Sam and they exchange a few words. I keep on waving to the audience and point towards a girl who has a shirt with the show’s title on it. Sam moves over so James and I can say hello.

“Hi, James! How are you?” I greet as we embrace.

“Excellent, how are you, Sweetheart?” He charms.

“Great! Excited to be here!” I gush as I shuffle to the side to settle on the couch beside Sam.

“Thirty seconds!” A man, whom I assume is the producer, announced loudly.

I sit down next to Sam on the light blue velvet couch. He sits back and crosses his arm over the back of the couch behind me then slides it down to rest over my shoulders. I lean into his side, crossing my legs toward him.

“Five seconds!” James sits down in his black desk chair next to Sam and looks into the camera. He’s given the signal and he lights up. “I’m joined here by the two biggest young stars of the decade, Y/N Voss and Sam Merka!” The audience applauds loudly and I wave to all of them. James turns to us with a bright grin. “First off, how are you two?”

“We’re great, couldn’t be better!” Sam answers with a charming smile. He takes my hand and I rest them on my lap instinctively.

At the start of the series, our management and the show’s team encouraged us to be mildly affectionate in public situations to promote interest in our tv counterparts. Since then, it’s come so naturally to us because as friends we genuinely feel better when we have physical contact when on display. We’re security blankets for one another.

James continues, “you two play the power couple, Hollyn and Elliot, on the hit show The Seasons of Life, better known simply as Seasons. It’s all anyone is talking about lately! Has all the publicity changed your lives at all?”

Nervously, I tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear before I speak. “I can’t speak for Sam, but at least for me, I answer with a confident “yes!” The Seasons of Life has changed every aspect of my life. When we first started filming the first season, I was still living in South Carolina. I went to a normal high school and had to travel back and forth between here and there. Back then, no one really knew of me. I was your average teenage girl trying to have the best of both worlds.”

James nods, seemingly fascinated by my response.

Sam smiles in agreement, switching his sight between James and myself. “My story is basically the same except I was in college studying law.”

“That’s right!” James perks up, “There’s a decent age gap between the two of you!”

We glance at each other and nod, both of us grinning.

“Does that make the more romantic scenes between Hollyn and Elliot harder?” James inquires.

“No, not at all” I answer, squeezing Sam’s hand.

“Y/N has always acted with such maturity and grace that she makes it unbelievable easy onset. The eight years feel nearly nonexistent.”

“We haven’t had too many extremely romantic scenes,” I add jokingly, looking fondly at Sam.

He meets my gaze and hums in agreement. “Have to build up that suspense!”

James laughs at Sam’s remark and goes on with his questions. “Last year, during the season finale, Twitter blew up because your characters finally got together! And had that bow-chicka-wow-wow scene,” James wiggles his eyebrows. The audience cheers in excitement. Everyone was over the moon about the scene. “Y/N, what was going through your mind during that scene?”

“Sam, Jonathan, and the rest of the Seasons family never fail to make me feel so secure onset. For that scene, in particular, Jonathan made sure it was just the three of us on set so that space felt relaxed. It was my first time ever filming a sex scene of that magnitude and I was so lucky to have this fella right here to help me,” I gush as I place my hand on Sam’s knee with a pat.

“That’s lovely,” James feeds into the sappiness that the audience eats up. “Was there ever talk of getting a double for you?”

“I told our director, the producers, everyone that only I can do the scene. It didn’t feel right to me to have someone else play Hollyn. Especially for a scene that would have such an impact on the characters involved. The fans had been begging for Elliot and Hollyn to finally get together and I couldn’t pass up being a part of the moment when they finally did. It wouldn’t have been fair to the fans if it wasn’t me playing the role.”

The audience approves of my response with their loud reaction which eases my nerves immensely.

“Absolutely incredible,” James compliments. “I can’t imagine the scene being done without you two. I mean, you two have such chemistry! What were your reactions to watching the infamous final scene? Did you watch it together?!”

Sam and I side-eye one another then burst out laughing because I can recall my exact words. I’m sure he can too.

“This is a question for Y/N,” he points out between laughter.

I hit the back of my hand on his stomach, “why me?!”

“You said!” He chuckles, so he does remember my words.

I get the giggles as James pushes me to answer. I settle down and catch my breath. “Well, I had a watch party at my house with the cast, and right after the scene happened and the show cuts to the dramatic final credits, I yelled “yay! Hollyn finally got laid!”

James hides his face with his cards as he laughs. Laughs of all kinds spread throughout the audience and I can feel my face getting warm. James’s laugh is contagious and I can’t stop.

“You all know how uptight Hollyn could be! Maybe she’ll be a little more laid back!” I add with a shrug and James bursts out laughing.

“You two are absolutely hilarious,” he wipes his watery eyes. “And adorable! Please tell me you’re dating in real life!”

Sam hiss between his teeth and glances at me. “I’m sorry, we’re not…” he answers hesitantly.

“What!” James’s jaw drops, “but you two are so cute together! I mean, you’ve been holding hands the entire time!”

We shake our heads and Sam explains for us both. “Y/N and I are super close. We can see how people would assume we’re dating but in all honesty, we’re just really good friends. Considering, for example, to have done the final scene from last season we kinda have to be. We met when she was just a teenager and I was in graduate school. We’ve seen each other grow. We’ve been around the world together and since our characters are paired together, so are we. Meaning, we’re constantly together and I’m thankful we are because I’m so lucky to have such an amazing partner in all of this.”

“Aw, isn’t he the sweetest!” I pout playfully and rest my head on his shoulder.

“Ugh, can we change the whole “only friends” thing?” James begs. “I ship it!”

The audience agrees and then he moves on to talk about the next season. We say all that can be shared at the time being and we share some pictures from filming yesterday as a teaser for the season.

“Y/N, is that you crying here?” James questions.

The photo on the scene behind us shows the part where I cry because Elliot just told Hollyn she’ll only ever be a rich girl from Los Angeles.

“Yeah, the first episode is filled with drama! Elliot and Hollyn already have a rocky time.”

“No! You’re joking!” He whines, disappointed.

We flip through more photos and answer a few more questions. James says into the camera that when we get back we’ll be playing a game. The game is Who is Most Likely To? Between me and Sam who is more likely to…

After the commercial break, James looks toward the camera with the utmost enthusiasm. “And we are back with Y/N and Sam! I have given each of them a paddle! One side says Y/N and the other reads Sam! Now, the game is Who is Most Likely To? So, between the two of you, who is more likely to “fill in the blank?” We all set?”

“We’re good!” Sam and I say at the same time as if we practiced.

“Alrighty, question number one...” James reads his cards. “Who is most likely to sleep until noon?”

I instantly flip my paddle to myself without a second thought. Sam is such an early bird. The type to get a five-mile jog in by ten. I lean forward and Sam said me as well.

“I’m not gonna deny it. If I could I would stay in bed all day,” I giggle without shame.

“You have stayed in bed all day,” Sam teases and I playfully nudge him in the arm. The whole set finds it humorous.

“Who is most likely to get a tattoo?” James reads with a raised brow.

The audience “ooh’s” in anticipation. I flip my paddle to Sam’s side, never in a million years would I get a tattoo.

“Y/N, you flipped your paddle super fast. Why is that?” James inquires.

“Mhm, nope! There will be no ink on this skin!” I wave my head frantically. “Sam can do whatever he wants with his body but it’s a no for me.”

“We’ve actually talked about tattoos before and I plan on getting one here soon,” Sam describes.

James asks him about what he plans on getting and that conversation goes on a minute or two. Sam explains where he plans on placing the tattoo and when he’ll get it done.

James reads over the card and smirks, “who is most likely to date another celebrity?”

Sam, no doubt. I feel no urge to date, thank you very much.

“Oh! Looks like we got ourselves a mix-up! Sam said Y/N and Y/N said, Sam!” James laughs toward the audience.

“Me?!” I gasp, earning amusement from the audience.

Sam turns his body to face me, “why not?”

“You know, if you two dated this could work itself out,” James points out to get a reaction from the crowd.

“I’m not really looking to date at the moment,” I explain, and James is surprised. I explain further, “the show is important to me and this summer I just want to fun. Plus, my schedule is quite hectic and I would feel bad for dragging someone else into it all.”

He completely understands and asks the final question. “Who is most likely to get married first?”

I flip my board to Sam again. James starts to laugh and I comprehend that it’s the same case as last time. I check Sam’s and I’m right, he said to me.

“Why do you keep putting me?” I fuss playfully.

“Because it’s true! You’re such a little liar to say me!” Sam teases.

“You’re older!” I reason.

“Oh please,” Sam rolls his eyes and leans back into the couch.

“I’ll have to agree with Sam on this one,” James adds and I look to him betrayed.

“Y/N, you’re America’s Sweetheart! Every young guy’s dream girl!”

I hide my face in my hands and shake my head with a giggle.

“Doesn’t mean I’ll be the first to get married! I have no interest in anyone right now!” James and Sam beam as I finish.

“Ah, ah see! You said “right now,” James points at me.

These two are teaming up on me now.

“Thank you so much you two for coming in! It’s been a lot of fun!” James thanks.

“Of course, it was a blast!” I charm.

He stands and so do we. He hugs Sam then me, “you two make me laugh like no others.”

James looks into the camera and wraps up the end of the show. “Thank you, Julia Roberts, Adam Levine, Sam Merka, Y/N Voss, and Machine Gun Kelly for joining me today! Have an excellent night everyone! Until next time!”

The band starts their music. Sam and I dance to the beat and James join in. The produces yells that the show has cut to a commercial.

To hear my name and Machine Gun Kelly’s name mere seconds apart is something I never thought I’d hear.

“Thanks again for coming!” James repeats once the show is over.

“We had fun! Thanks for having us!” Sam compliments.

The duo shares a brief “bro hug” and James embraces me one last time.

Then, Sam and I head backstage to our dressing room. Nicole and Steven should already be back there since I didn’t see them on the set.

“That went well!” Sam mentions while we walk down the hall.

I hum, “totally not getting married first though.”

“Whatever, you’re lying to yourself,” he laughs as he opens the door to the dressing for me.

Nicole and Steven are waiting for us and instantly begin talking about the Vanity Fair shoot tomorrow. It’s never-ending.

____________________________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @canyoubuymetoast @bri-3530 @asil1652 @andstilltryingtofindmyself @nadia2021 @olafsidehoe @mgkobsessed @fairywriting101 @ferrell-cat @naylanae-0308 @tonystarkswife10 @alexsa56 @brocksbabyyy @stormrider505 @magnificenthumancopangel @sarcasticfangirlus @lilramencup95beech @missyviolet123 @skeleton-gxrl @glitterybearllamaflap @margaritaville20 @amoresixx

#machine gun kelly #mgk fanfic #mgk smut #mgk aesthetic #mgk imagine #mgk

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softkuna · 3 years

Text

Sukuna || Concert || Fic

Part 2 (oc) Part 2 (reader)

Content ║ Sukuna x Reader

His vocals held that pompous cockiness he was renowned for. It dripped down with the sweat along his neck and chest. His bandmates followed yet were lost in their own worlds. They let the instruments take control of them. You would never admit that you liked the music, either. It was that 90’s punk-grunge Christian parents thought lead to devil worship. The screams weren’t for the devil, no. They worshipped The King of Curses. Now you understood why.

Count ║ 1,664 words.

Consider ║ Cursing. Sukuna being kind of being a dick. Female reader. Grammar issues most likely ^^”

Creator ║ So uh…. I saw a photo of Rockstar Sukuna and this happened. Enjoy my self indulgence. Also… Song for Reference.

Ryoumen Sukuna positioned himself on stage. The sea of people were glued to every motion he made. You were one of those people in the front. Dead center. Your editor paid a lot of money for that spot, too, but you still wanted nothing to do with it. Sure, you needed a big story to get out of that damn plateau but this was not what you had in mind. You focused on fashion, not punk boys with eyeliner.

His face turned to the stage, knees rocking his body to the beginning of a simple, yet effective beat. Broad, muscled shoulder curled forward, securing his zone. But then the guitar came in. A near feral grin ricocheted onto his features as it did. In an explosive leap, his feet left the ground only for the scuffed Doc Martens to slam into the stage at the second beat. Right hand whipped the mic’s wire out of his way, left arm jostled as he started to sing.

Bitches love me 'cause they know that I can rock

Bitches love me 'cause they know that I can rhyme

Bitches love me 'cause they know that I can fuck

Docs crashed with every step, their synchronicity with the band behind. One hand kept on the mic, the other whipped its wire out of his way. It wasn’t that he was energetic, no. He was captivating, calculated in every step, yet casual. His control over his body and the crowd… immaculate. It was a precarious balancing act that he pulled off with little to no effort at all. Steps were to the beat, his entire torso being thrown into the movements.

He wore a white tank top with a breast pocket. The branding of it was recognizable simply by the pristine floral embroidery along the bottom and hems. It hung past the hem of black leather pants. A custom-made silver necklace beat against his chest with each toss of his built physique. You snapped a photo.

His prowess was obvious, even for someone like yourself who knew not a single lick of rock culture. Even with the vulgar and energetic lyrics, the whirling stop-start slow-fast tempo, Sukuna perfected the music as though he were at one with it. Embodied and embraced it. The sharp smile he threw to the collage of faces before him was the only thing you needed to know that he was in his element.

The song was strong, heady even. It buzzed throughout your mind and swung at your heart like a right hook. Each punch of the drums was exhilarating. Every kick of the bass left you wanting more. As alive as Sukuna was on stage, you were there feeling it with him.

The concert went on, moving through each piece like a surging smooth river. It was hard to tell when one song began and the other ended. Whenever you could, you’d snap a photo. There were some good shots in there. Some of his imposing form dangling at the edge of the stage, arms wide out displaying his designer bracelets. Others when he’d toss his entire spine back. The best, though, were when he’d come face to face with the guitarist, his brother, in a beck and call. In their wardrobe, they were a delicate balance of blacks, whites, and coral.

A certain thrill came about you as you realized the wardrobe of each member reflected their position. They weren’t to outshine him, but they all had a theme. Everything must have been custom ordered and hand tailored. Their entire image was just as important to the show as music. Every photo was set up to illustrated the complementing lights and darks they had set up on stage, a living and breathing portrait of youth.

You couldn’t help but notice how every time you’d point the camera at him, he’d lock those brilliant eyes onto yours. He recognized you before. How could he not? Out of everyone in the front row, you were the only one wearing some preppy knit dress. He never would have expected to see a face like yours in his crowd. Some rising reporter with a side blog. He never cared about press, but you’ve been making a name for yourself due to your precise analysis of social culture and clothes. He actually thought your last article on street fashion was interesting and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t gawk at your Instagram after. All in all, he kept his glances for your camera instead.

The stage lighting shifted, illuminating the beads of sweat sparkling along his tatted skin like diamonds. The unnatural redness in his eyes blew an intense gaze across the still crowd. They came to a complete stop. Unease settled into your stomach. This was your cue to go. You knew what would happen next and you weren’t ready for when it did.

His foot tapped. The guitar started. A mosh pit rioted.

It was a concert tradition according to the fan page you looked at moments before walking through the door. ‘If you don’t leave with a black eye, did you even go to a Two Faced concert?’ they’d ask.

Your frame was shoved against the rail, knocking the wind out of you. Bodies collided behind and you felt trapped. Your lungs squeezed and your hands scrambled for your bag. Inhaler. Inhaler. Tightness inflamed your chest as a particularly bulky man squeezed you into the rail. Your hands clasped to inhaler, but before you could press it to your lips, another body collided into you. It clattered a few feet over the rail, hitting the stage. Fuck.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw it happen. Panic painted across your face as you hauled your torso over the rail. Your arm reached for what was dropped before it immediately covered a coughing fit. What idiot would come to his concert an, his domain, and expect to just come out unscathed? It was your own damn fault if you got the wind knocked out of you, but he had to give you credit for trying. Just as he was about to look away, someone grabbed the back collar of your dress.

Sukuna wasn’t one of those artists who genuinely cared about their fanbase or paparazzi. That was for the other members to do. It was well known, too. He didn’t indulge in pictures if he didn’t want to or wasn’t on stage. He didn’t sign anything without a check. No one knew music like he did. No one performed like he did. No one mattered like he did. Whatever it was that overtook him then, he wasn’t sure, but he dropped the mic. A sharp blare washed over the P.E. system. All eyes turned to him. Bandmates faltered for only a moment.

Two steps back. Sprint. The tips of his shoes left the edge of the stage. Ryoumen Sukuna took flight. Arm reached for him, stopping his prized body from colliding with the harsh concrete below. The hand on you left, desperate to make contact with The King of Curses. The band went on, the crowd’s scream piercing the air as they swayed the singers body this way and that. You clambered over to grab the inhaler, took a hit, and dove for an exit.

That’s how you found yourself where you were now, in a backstage hallway, staring directly into the fierce gaze of the lead singer. He smelled of sweat and cedar. A brow rose, hands stuffed into unimaginably tight pockets. Confidence wasn’t lost through Sukuna’s stature; shoulders back, weight slightly on one leg more than the other. What was lost, however, was the excitement. In fact, you felt like studied specimen, eyes scanning your limbs and stopping on your ribs. The bruise forming under your dress seemed to flare in response. His tongue clicked disapprovingly.

“What do you want? You’re not some rabid fan.” His voice was smooth as a sip of whiskey. He already knew the answer. For a moment you wondered why he didn’t just call for guards. He wondered the same thing. Just as he wondered why he leapt off the stage. Not that he regretted the act seeing as it got him trending for the umpteenth time.

Sukuna had become accustomed to certain responses. Some offered him their bodies in exchange for a few moments of his time. Shit like that was beneath him. If he wanted a quick fuck and a column, he’d find it himself. His free time was his and that was non-negotiable. So, he almost always cut them down to size. It didn’t matter to him if he made them cry or threatened their careers, he’d always say no. Pictures? No. Signature? No. Coffee? Get the fuck out of his face. Attention and fame may have been his drug of choice, but desperation and disrespect were one in the same and you do not disrespect the King.

“No. I didn’t even know who you were until 12 hours ago,” you admitted with a shallow breath. You stroked his ego like velvet rubbed the wrong way. He opened his mouth, ready to toss you out then and there. The look in your eyes was enough to shut him up. Hunger. And he was your dish of opportunity. “However, I do want an interview, maybe even film you for an expose,” Your hand reached for his.

His mouth pulled into a beautiful predatory grin. This one had ambition.

“I’ll allow it.”

#this is just me being indulgent #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna #ryoumen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #🍺.fic #🍺.jjk #⛩.sukuna #⛩.fic

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kittinoir · 2 years

Text

Phantoms Ch. 20

Read on Ao3

“Are you still ok?”

Adrien was hyper aware of his hand on Marinette’s waist, of the hot studio lights bearing down on them, of the hundreds of people it took to run a shoot gawking at them when they thought they weren’t looking. He’d worried for days that the photoshoot and interview he and Marinette had accepted, the first one since his father had been arrested, had come too soon, even though he’d realized that morning it had been almost five weeks since that day.

“Yes,” Marinette said, her eyes flitting briefly to his face, bright and warm and happy. Adrien could feel himself falling, drawn, as always, but Vincent’s indignant shout helped him refocus.

It had been Marinette’s idea.

Not that they’d been short of offers. Everyone, it seemed, wanted a first hand account of what had happened, how it happened. How it started. Where the jewels came from. Adrien suspected that if they’d done a less than excellent job protecting Paris and her people, they’d also be wondering if such powerful items should be left to two teenagers at all.

He hadn’t wanted to do any of it. He’d had enough of fame to last him a lifetime. He was happy to never step in front of another camera again. He might have been good at it, but modelling was what his parents wanted, not him.

But Marinette had wanted to be transparent with everyone. She hadn’t asked him to join her, had only mentioned her intention, and that she thought it would hearten people to see her well, and to have the truth, maybe give Chloe the night off.

Of course he’d agreed to go with her. Of course Ladybug and Chat Noir would present a united front. And more importantly, he knew that, as well as she was healing, she would still rely on him. She might not say it, but she’d never needed to.

And Adrien had to admit, the clothes the stylist had chosen were immaculate, if a little on the nose. Marinette looked beautiful in a knee-length red dress with black beadwork that emulated the spiralling pattern the miraculous ladybugs took when they were used to fix the damage done during their battles. A high black lace neck and sleeves mirrored her suit, but they’d given her small black heels instead of flats. As beautiful as she looked, he and Marinette had shared a private laugh at the shoes; ‘Ladybug’ would never choose something so impractical - and that’s who she was today, with or without the mask.

His own look was similarly styled. The lines of his black jacket matched the cut of his suit, with green piping accentuating the severe lines. A gold bow tie with a small bell was at his throat, and the hem of his pants disappeared into tightly laced boots. It was different from Gabriel’s cold perfection, but Adrien preferred it. At least this time, he felt a little like himself.

“We have it!” Vincent announced, bringing Adrien back to the present. Belatedly, he realized he’d been staring at Marinette’s profile, tracing the curve of her cheek and quirk of her lips, content to hold her, whole and strong and smiling in his arms. A blush came to his cheeks as he released her, but he didn’t mind it. He’d never cared if the whole world knew how he felt about her; only that she remained in his life.

Still, he left space between them on the couch for the interview. He knew that would be how she preferred it, and as much as he wanted to cast propriety aside, he knew it was smart for anyone who still doubted them to see them as something other than lovestruck teenagers.

So instead of lacing his fingers through Marinette’s like he wanted to, he smiled at Nadja Chamack as she sat down across from them and folded his hands in his lap. The smile, at least, was genuine. Nadja had been there from the start of their journey, had given them a platform to address citizens, had even given Alya a real shot that lended her legitimacy. If they were doing this, Adrien could at least say he genuinely liked Nadja.

“Adrien,” Nadja said warmly, “Marinette.” There was true affection in her gaze when she looked to Marinette. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to finally be sitting with you like this, despite the circumstances that led us here. I just…I want to say thank you for what you’ve done for us. For me.”

Prime Queen was a distant battle, one Adrien could admit he’d both hated and enjoyed far more than he should have at the time, and while there was no footage of his akumatizations, he knew it was likely Nadja had seen a recording of her own. He felt bad enough, knowing the permanent damage he’d caused. He couldn’t imagine how much worse it would be if he knew exactly how he’d behaved.

“We were happy to do it,” Marinette said, reaching across the space to squeeze Nadja’s hand. Adrien grinned. There had been days where it had made them both miserable. Late nights, early mornings, lost memories, nightmares come to life - fathers that became villains. But there had also been joy, rooftop picnics, clever plans, and love. Always love. She was right: he’d been happy to do it.

“We’re ready when you are,” Marinette said softly as Nadja pulled herself together. “Nothing’s off limits, unless it has to do with the upcoming trial. We’ll answer anything.” She hesitated. “We just ask that you don’t focus too much on our relationship. There are some things we’d like to keep to ourselves, and we don’t want to trivialize what happened.”

Nadja nodded. “I understand. I’ll ask one or two questions to clarify things for viewers, bring some joy to such serious topics, and move on. Good?”

“Good,” Marinette said with a shy smile.

Nadja touched a hand to her ear. “We’re ready.”

“We’re going live,” came a bodiless voice as the three of them shifted towards the camera, “In five! Four! Three! Two…!”

There was no ‘one’, just a silent signal Nadja must have received through her ear piece.

“Don’t be bemused, it’s just the news!” Nadja said. “Tonight I’m joined by Adrien Agreste and Marinette Dupain-Cheng, or, as we’ve known them for the better part of two years, Paris’s own guardians, Ladybug and Chat Noir!”

Adrien shoved down old instincts to protect his identity by any means necessary. This exact scenario had featured in more than one nightmare, and he could tell by the way Marinette’s hands curled into fists on her lap that it was the same for her. Old habits died hard.

“Happy to be here,” Marinette said. Adrien could hear the genuine warmth in her voice, the quiet confidence he’d always associated with Ladybug.

“Parisians have waited for months for Hawk Moth’s reign of terror to come to an end,” Nadja said, not unkindly. “Through it all, you two never wavered. Let me be the first to say, on behalf of Paris, thank you!”

“It’s our pleasure, Nadja,” Marinette said, “And we want to reassure Parisians that we are still here for them. We know the person who wields the peacock Miraculous is still at large, and as long as they attempt to wreak havoc on our city, we will be here to stand in their way. We will continue to keep you safe, if you’ll continue to have us.”

Adrien hid a wry smile as Nadja assured them and the viewers that they hoped Ladybug and Chat Noir would stick around. He’d assumed Marinette would be nervous in front of a camera and live audience, but he’d forgotten just how clever she could be. It was a nice piece of work, letting people know they were tracking down the peacock Miraculous without necessarily saying it had changed hands. There weren’t many pictures of Mayura available, but if the new holder made an appearance and they were questioned about it, well, they hadn’t actually lied.

“So Adrien, Marinette, the two of you are classmates at College Francois Dupont, correct?”

“That’s right, Nadja,” Adrien said, finally chiming in. “Francois Dupont was the school I chose when I finally decided to end my home school education. I ended up in Marinette’s class.”

“Classmates and friends!” Nadja exclaimed. “What are the odds?”

“A friend of ours calculated it for us a few weeks ago,” Marinette said with a laugh. “The exact number was pretty high, but not nearly as high as we thought it would be. And, truthfully, we weren’t even friends at first!”

Adrien shook his head at the memory as Marinette giggled. “She thought I put gum on her seat,” he explained. “And with my spoiled celebrity reputation…It was a misunderstanding that I was luckily able to fix. I can’t imagine my life anymore without Marinette in it.”

Marinette’s cheeks flushed pink, and too late, Adrien realized he might have been too candid in front of an audience, but there was nothing but love in her face when she silently mouthed ‘me, too’.

“You two have an amazing connection,” Nadja prompted.

Beside him, Marinette took a deep breath and reached over, sliding her hand into his. “We do,” she admitted. The flush was back, but she didn’t avert her gaze or drop her chin. She wasn’t used to putting her personal life on display, but she was proud of them, he realized. “And in the past few weeks, we’ve become more than just partners.”

“It’s a very recent development,” Adrien added before Nadja could probe Marinette further. “As everyone knows, we kept out identities a secret to protect our friends and loved ones. What people may not realize is that we also kept our identities secret from each other as an added safety measure. There were times when one of us was compromised despite our best efforts; had we known each others identities, Gabriel would have discovered it. It was tough. I mean, Marinette was the only person who knew what it was like, and I couldn’t talk to her about it. She couldn’t talk to me. At least, we didn’t know we could. It was isolating, but given how things happened, it was also for the best.”

“And how did things happen?” Nadja neatly segued, sticking to her promise of two questions. “We understand certain details must remain under wraps until the trial, but what can you tell us?”

“Unfortunately, not much,” Marinette admitted. “Gabriel met a unique set of circumstances that told us it was possible he was Hawk Moth, but it wasn’t until we discovered his base of operations that we learned the truth. We had gone in assuming…hoping, that it was someone else who had access to the household. That wasn’t the case.”

“It’ll all come out during the trial,” Adrien explained. “I’ll be testifying against my father. I witnessed his detransformation. For better or worse, we’re sure we have the right person.”

“Our hearts are with you, Adrien,” Nadja said. “One would think it should have been easy for you two to discover one another, but of course you would have been occupied while he operated.”

If Adrien had any lingering doubts about Nadja, they evaporated at that comment. He’d avoided being online the past few weeks, but it was impossible to avoid every single comment that had been made about how he should have caught his father sooner. He would forever be grateful to her for publicly vouching for his integrity.

“It’s amazing how many times coincidence doesn’t occur,” Marinette said. She spoke calmly, but Adrien could feel her tension. “Nearly two years, and we never ran to the same place to transform before or after a battle, even when we were returning to the same place. Believe it or not, I never even suspected Adrien could be Chat Noir.”

“You didn’t?” Adrien said, turning to her in genuine surprise. “I thought you were Ladybug at least once.”

“You did?” Marinette said with a wide grin. “I was so careful! What gave it away?”

“It was when Mme. Mendeleiv had footage of her disappearing cheese and came scarily close to describing the kwamis,” Adrien recalled. “I got up to talk to Plagg about it and I noticed you get up, too. Shortly after, an akuma alert went off and I saw you disappear into the bathroom instead of heading back to class like we were supposed to. It just kind of…clicked. Of course, that was when you pulled your little Multi-mouse trick and convinced me it couldn’t be you. You still have to explain that one to me!”

“Amazing!” Nadja said, shaking her head. “So Marinette, if you didn’t think Adrien was Chat Noir, how did you find out? Did he tell you?”

Marinette shook her head. “Bad timing,” she said. “As you know, we have timers on our powers. Chat Noir’s ran out at the wrong time. I couldn’t believe it at first; they were so different! But the longer I knew, the more I saw each of them in each other, until it was just…Adrien.”

Adrien listened to Marinette tell the story. Felix had implied as much was true, but they’d never spoken about it. He’d wanted to, but it seemed like there hadn’t been any time. He wanted to untangle it all with her, straighten those days out until there was a clear, shining line from their past to their future. He wanted to laugh at the near-misses and misunderstandings, forgive each other for the hurts they couldn’t have known the other was carrying. He wanted to know where love had been hiding when they couldn’t see it.

“I think once I thought Marinette could be Ladybug that first time, I couldn’t stop seeing her in the same light,” Adrien said before Nadja could ask him. “She convinced me they were two different people, but once I thought it, I couldn’t stop seeing similarities. I was in love with her before I even knew it.”

Nadja smiled at his earnestness but didn’t pursue it. “So what happens next?” she asked instead. “Where do you go from here?”

“We go the same way we always have,” Marinette said with a delicate shrug. “I still have dreams. I love Ladybug, but she’s not all that I am. I’ll go to school, I’ll work hard, and hopefully, I’ll make those dreams a reality.”

“My father’s company will be dissolved,” Adrien said. He felt Marinette’s fingers contract around his in surprise and squeezed back reassuringly. “All the proceeds from his last collection will be donated to the survivors of my father’s violence by way of a grant that provides free therapy. I am also, at this time, announcing my retirement from modelling. I have dreams as well, and now I finally have the freedom to discover exactly what they are. I don’t know exactly what’s next for me, but I can’t wait to figure it out.”

#phantoms

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cherry-gemz · 3 years

Text

The City by The Bay: Part II

Summary: Fates push you and a handsome and known stranger into each other's paths. His chilvary and good looks make you take a leap into his world and more.

Chapter Summary: You and Keanu get to know each other better.

Word Count: 2100 +/-

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Y/N (F!Reader)

Rating: PG, fluff

A/N: First time taking a try on a Keanu fic, be nice, please! This little ficlet will have more chapters, hope you enjoy.

Who might be interested: @whiskeyslullabye @marissat1998 @aestheticallywinchester @fookingbitch

Last chapter recap:

"Yeah...just around the corner. Did you...did you want to hang out for a bit? I mean, I didn't know if you were headed somewhere before I spilled your drink. What am I thinking? Of course you were off somewhere…"

"Are you always like this?" You giggle as you turn to head to the hall.

"Like what?"

"Nevermind, I'll be right back," you reply coyly. "And...I didn't have any plans today...I'd love to hang out."

"Really? Cool," Keanu responds and a grin appears on his face.

"Yeah, I can't stay very long, however. I have a meeting with a client for lunch," you reply and he looks deflated.

"Yeah, okay...well..hmmm," he says lost in thought.

You feel stupid, you can't believe he wants to hang out with you and you're choosing work. You're really kicking yourself for even mentioning it. This opportunity will never happen again.

"Well, I tell you what," he pipes. "I still owe you a cup of coffee. I happen to make the most amazing cappuccino. How about I start off with that?"

"Sure, that sounds lovely," you smile and his expression changes in a light-heartedness.

"Great. Great, Y/N, head over to the kitchen after you change your shirt and we can get to know one another better."

You beam and head to the immaculate restroom. It’s very contemporary and the natural light from the ceiling windows are pretty to look at. As you unbutton your blouse you look at yourself in the mirror: you have a goofy grin and you can’t believe in you’re in Keanu’s house. Let alone, changing your shirt and going to hang out with him a bit. This is all surreal.

You grasp his shirt and give it a sniff, clean. And you quickly put it over your head and leave the room with your blouse and book in your hand. As you turn the corner, you see him fiddling about and admire the open floor planned kitchen. You run your hand across the white, granite counters as he ushers you to have a seat at one of the barstools where you place your bag, the book he offered, and blouse down.

He claps his hands and rubs them as a cheshire cat grin appears on his face.

"Okay, be ready to be blown away at these magic hands," he waggles his brows and holds out his large hands as you stifle a giggle.

You'd watch interviews of him and he always seemed so genuine, and while he still does, there's a more childlike, goofiness that melts your heart a little more. You try not fall so quickly, but he really is quite loveable and easy to be around. Much different from the men you're accustomed to in the city. Their grittiness and quick paced talk tends to exhaust you. You're more in your element with one on one, in an intimate setting like today. It's ideal.

Keanu grins and turns steadfast to the counter by the fridge and beelines to the espresso machine. He grabs a new bottle of water from the upper cabinets and places it in the boiler of the machine. You sit taller and try to peer over. You're never really that fancy with your coffee and it's usually due to the nature of your work and how quickly you need that caffeine fix, but you appreciate the art and look forward to his recipe.

He continues his task at hand and opens a canister that's unmarked and pours two shots of ground espresso into the portafilter. He turns to you, to make sure you're watching as he plays along as if he's a magician and you're watching his act.

"Secret recipe," he beams.

"What is it?" You ask inquisitively.

He holds up his index finger and shakes it, "Na uh. If I gave that away, we could no longer be friends."

"Oh, we're friends are we?" You flirt and he blushes. You got him to blush!

He holds out the tamper he pulled out of the side drawer and presses the coffee three times to ensure it's packed tightly.

He then places the portafilter into the espresso machine's group head and locks it in place by turning it to the right.

He continues his stride and places the tiny, white cup under the head for about 30 seconds.

"Voilá!" He exclaims and you clap. He grabs a carton of cream from the fridge and you give him a puzzling look. Even as a chef, you're quite aware of the complexities of cream, so you're curious if this is part of the plan. He pours the cream into a small metal pitcher and inserts the steam wand.

"Ah! Almost forgot…" he smacks his forehead with his free hand and goes to the cupboard and pulls out a jar. You notice it's sugar and he pinches a good handful in the metal pitcher and continues.

As the milk foams, he starts to pour it atop the cappuccino and walks over to give you the cup.

"Mmmm, smells amazing. Thank you," you graciously accept the cup and take a sip. An explosion of the dark, roasted bean excited your taste buds. It's most likely hands down the best you've had.

"Omigosh, Keanu. This is beyond good. I don't think I can ever go back to normal coffee again!"

"Aw shucks, you'll give me a complex now," he teases.

"Well if you ever decide to quit acting, I say you'd make a hell of a living doing that. Why, my bookstore would have lines out the door to see Keanu Reeves make them a cappuccino!"

He laughs heartily, "That would be a sight wouldn't it? Ah that's fantastic."

You bring the cup to your nose as you try to make out the ingredients. You can tell there's a hint of spice and earth, and you take a guess of what he has mixed with the grounds.

"Is there cocoa powder?" You look directly at him and he bites his lip.

"What are you doing?" He asks and shakes his index finger at you playfully and walks over to you.

"Trying to figure out this recipe. You don't go tell a chef that it's a secret and expect them to not figure it out. I saw you toss in some sugar for the cream. And even noticed you use cream instead of milk. But I think it's cocoa...maybe even a hint of cinnamon?"

"What are you? Some super chef-dectective?"

He dabs the frothy cream from your cup and places it on the tip of your nose, making you giggle. He licks his finger off and gives a sly smile.

"Maybe I have a profitable future ahead of me?" You lightly rub off the cream and gaze into his eyes.

"I think so Y/N, I think so." He shyly turns his eyes away and taps the side of the cup as if he's pondering a thought.

"So tell me," you gain confidence in speaking with him. "If you can make such a delicious cappuccino like this one, why were you at Saint Frank's?"

"Hah," he replies as he turns to start his own cup. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

You smile in-between another sip and notice he's flirting back.

"Well?"

You prod and arch your brow as he leans his back against the counter. His black shirt hugs his biceps as he crosses his arms, and the blue jeans he pairs it with fit him perfectly. His medium length hair seems to always get in his face, but it's endearing and he swipes away some strands. He's handsome without any effort and you slightly blush as your mind wanders about how his lips would feel against yours.

"Honestly, I went out for a ride and needed to clear my head. I found myself just being pulled in that general direction and decided I needed a cup of joe," he says as he pours the cream for himself.

"I guess it was you pulling me in or something,” he adds.

"So then what, it's like fate that we happened to be at the same place at that exact moment? And you happened to bump into me and make me spill my drink, therefore resulting in me jumping on your motorcycle with you. And then visit the home of a mega movie star and try the most fantastic cappuccino?" You laugh and he tilts his head earnestly.

"What, you don't believe in fate, Y/N?"

"Not exactly," you reply.

"Why not?" He walks over and sits next to you on the other barstool.

"I mean, if it wasn't me, it'd be some other woman you'd be inviting over instead."

"No…" he replies as he takes a sip of his drink. "No, I don't think I would."

You both sit in silence for a minute, you sigh and then turn to look outside at the view.

"I'm sorry, Y/N if I've seen to offend you. I can drive you back if you'd wish…" his voice softens and you can tell you hurt him a little.

"What? No, Keanu. I'm...I'm sorry," you place your hand on his. His knuckles are worn and rough. He looks down at your hand and a small smile appears.

"I...I want to be here, really I do. I guess I'm trying to make sense of it all. You're Keanu Reeves. And I'm just me. Why do you want to know me for?"

“Why wouldn’t I want to get to know you, Y/N? I am very glad we met. You're funny and kind... I'd like to get to know you further. Let alone, you're beautiful."

You blush and look away, he's not coming on strong, but could he be sending you signals that he's into you? Did you die and just find yourself in limbo with the angel before you?

"Do you want to go for a drive before I take you back?" He asks as you both notice you haven't lifted your hand on his. You quickly remove it and place it in your lap.

"Sure, but this time please wear a helmet. I was worried sick thinking if something terrible might happen."

He softly chuckles, "Of course, I have many in my garage to choose from. Curious though, is it because you care about me, Y/N?"

"Oh believe me, more than you know," you quickly cover your hands over your mouth as you realize what you've said.

He kicks his lips and tries to brush it off.

"I'm sorry," you apologize. "I really should use my filter from time to time."

"No need for apologies. Your truthfulness is refreshing."

"Well I have a lot of that. Probably more than I should. I bet you find in your line of work it's difficult to find people you can trust."

"Yeah, I definitely have a close knit of friends through the years. Do you have family here?"

"Yes, born and reared in the Bay," you say with confidence. "I went to culinary school in New York for a minute, however. But there's something about this city that's magical."

"So you believe in magic, but not fate?"

You laugh, "Okay, you got me there."

He finishes off his cappuccino and motions to ask if you're finished, which you nod and hand him your cup. He walks over to the sink and rinses out the cups. It's fascinating to watch him do mundane things like wash dishes.

"I am beginning to enjoy the city. There is much richness to it and the landmarks are beautiful. I will be honest though, I haven't had much time to explore like I usually like to do when I'm on location."

He places the cups back in the cupboard and dries his hands with a cream colored terry cloth.

"You did mention you had a project up here. Mind if I ask what?"

His eyes light up as if he were a kid on Christmas Day expecting all the joys of the morning.

"Oh well it's not for a movie. I'm not filming yet...least as far as I know. My agent, Meredith keeps me up on that."

"If not a movie, then…?"

"A book," he replies.

"You're not giving me much here, buddy," you laugh as he joins you.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I...it's just something dear to me that I've been working on and haven't really announced anything yet."

"Look, I get it. Don't worry, no pressure, you reply as you start to get up.

"Well it's not that," he gestures a stopping signal with his hand. "I... I really don't know what it's about it. I'm collaborating with a friend of mine, a photographer. And we are in the early stages, that's all."

"Oh well it sounds great," you say enthusiastically.

"Yeah...I feel good y'know? I feel like I'm doing something different and that I can connect to people on a different level."

"Keanu...the influencer," you say as you raise your hands up in the air as if an imaginary marquee is right before your eyes.

"Haha, I wouldn't go that far. But, I'll have to keep you posted."

"Yeah, that would be great," you cringe. Great. Everything is great. Why are you being such a spaz?

He doesn't notice, but he gets quiet again and you don't know what to do next. Silence sometimes makes you feel awkward and now throw in the ridiculously nice and dreamy man in front of you and you're a ball of nerves.

He seems relaxed, however. In tune with himself and surroundings.

He smiles and holds out his hand, "C'mon. Let's get going on that ride. I'll take you to one of my favorite spots in the house besides the library...the garage. Oh, and don't forget your book."

You nod as you place it in your bag and accept his hand and hope to never let go.

#Keanu Reeves #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #The City By The Bay #meet cute

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gottagetbetta · 3 years

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It’s midnight!!! Meaning it’s Fine Line’s Anniversary 🥺🥺🥺 so I will do an unsolicited ranking of its songs and how much they mean to me (also note these change everyday adjdnsama no cap so if your fave is at the bottom take no offense I’m just feeling a type of way😌)

1. FINE LINE- so Hi I am Daniella and I believe in Fine Line supremacy. Periodt. No but seriously guys over the year this song has come to mean a lot to me and not to be dramatic but the lyrics make me feel like Harry physically ripped my heart out and put it on paper. It’s been very challenging for me this year overall but even the “we’ll be alright” alone makes me fall apart and I’m like ya know maybe we will be

2. Sunflower Vol. 6- Absolute cuteness overload!!! I hope when I fall in love for the first time it’ll feel like this song sounds. Also it just makes my heart happy :)

3. To Be So Lonely- okay all of these are gonna tell you how I relate probably so buckle up but anyway I too am ~lonely~ and just the overall message I can’t explain how it makes me feel precisely but JUST KNOW I feel things. Also the cello breakdown in the middle brings a tear to my eye it’s so beautiful

4. Lights Up- I genuinely love that we have all agreed that this song is about acceptance and loving yourself for who you are and in an interview Harold really said I didn’t really know what I wrote it about ajajajsjfj anyway the intro to this song sounds like sex for my ears I will not elaborate and the choir is utterly beautiful and enrapturing. This was a heck of a way to kick off the fine line era

5. Cherry- cherry makes me feel a visceral sadness but that’s okay I guess I’ll deal with it because it’s such a special song. He doesn’t try to hide how he’s feeling, he’s straight up petty in it and you know what I’m here for it. It kinda validates that crappy feeling you get when the person you loved moves on and you never really have an outlet for it but listening to this song is a great way to vent when you’re in the inbetween of sad and angry and I genuinely appreciate it

6. Golden- I love brightness, I love happiness, I love being open and vulnerable, and I love love. This song has all of those things and ya know not to be overly and disgustingly soft but I kind of just walk around day to day with this vibe in my head and I love that it has been materialized into a song that I enjoy listening to. Once again, Harry Edward Styles has taken a piece of me and put it on his record

7. Adore You- as a black woman it is the “brown skin and lemon over ice” for me. When I hear this song I really do feel like I’m listening to art and the music video just furthers that. I think it’s such a sweet and cute thing to be like look I’m not expecting anything back but just to let you know for the sake of knowing you’re loved, you’re really freaking cool

8. She- she supremacy is real. Also this is not Harry’s song this is Mitch’s. I will not be accepting any other opinions at this time. Do we really know what the heck this song is saying??? No. Do we still have it on repeat cause it is just that good???? Yes❤️

9. Treat People With Kindness- alright y’all now I grew up in the church and I am still a lover of black church so when I TELL YOU this song gets me hype I mean that. The influences from traditional gospel makes my heart soar and the message overall is very nice and very Harry and I appreciate him letting us know he’s freaking crazy and off his rocker with the “if our friends all pass way, it’s okay” line :)

10. Falling- uhhhhhhh this is only so low because YOU GUYS this was a cry song for a hot minute. Falling is very real and ya know sometimes I don’t be looking at celebrities as like ACTUAL people like us so the lyrics in this one just humanize Harry on another level for me and I feel so many emotions hbsjsnnsns

11. Canyon Moon- CANYON MOON IS A SONG FOR PEOPLE WITH IMMACULATE TASTE. I’m not wrong. Thank you. Most of this list has been based on personal relation which is why CM is so low but just know that this song makes me very happy. It is the end credits of a happy movie. It makes me wanna dance with my family on the grass and play stupid hand games like when we were kids. Just such good wholesome vibes all around

12. Watermelon Sugar- now I’m not gonna be a Harry who says it’s overplayed. I mean they’re right 🥴 but it is still a more than valid song nevertheless. I love the summer vibes of it and it’s so easy to bop to and you literally know it the first second after you’re first hearing it and if that’s not what good songwriting is I mean what can I tell you. Props to Mr. Styles for making a song about eating coochie his first number one!!!

Overall Fine Line is an album that I don’t think I could forget if I wanted to. Harry really gave us something special with this one and not only gave us a glimpse of himself but put a mirror up for us to also see ourselves in every lyric as well🥺 but yeah I’m gonna stop cause I’m getting sappy but happy Fine Line anniversary and I’m very happy to be apart of this fandom😌

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antonfm · 4 years

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can u believe that a whole entire day after the rp opens , i finally have my shit together enough to post an intro ! can u fuckin believe it ! anyways , i’m elliot ( she/they ) , i’m 20 n i’m a supreme dumbass who needs 2 get their life together on so many levels . . . it’s fine though ! completely fine ! totally n utterly fine !!!

( timothee chalamet & cis male ) who ?? these days , it’s all about anton olivier , who comes from manhattan , ny , and is making headlines as an actor . he currently has a fan count of 45.9k , no thanks to the rumours of them being vainglorious ! but , on the other hand , his most devout fans say he’s actually retiary . last i heard , he caused quite a buzz when he was caught leaving multiple lovers’ houses despite being in an allegedly ‘ committed ’ relationship ! it’s no wonder they remind me of inky black as a beautiful contrast to stark white , tastes of fake blood & bourbon dancing a mistimed tango on your tongue , stacks of literary classics like small mountains on your living room floor , abandoned chastity ring ( ruby red gemstone , isn’t it ironic ? ) , heat - slick kisses smeared to the corner of your mouth ; dark academia / technicolour ghost disappearing in the middle of a crowd , slipping into the back of a lecture theatre abound with rapt attention , pressing bruises into not - yet - ripe fruit for the thrill of watching it wilt beneath satin touch .

𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔫𝔢 . rudimentals .

full name: anton françois olivier . nicknames, aliases:

ant .

mon cher . ( by his mother . )

age: twenty - three . date of birth: october fifteenth . place of birth: manhattan , new york city . nationality: american . ethnicity: caucasian ( french ) . spoken languages: english , fluent french ( spoken in household more commonly than english ) .

zodiac sign: scorpio . hogwarts house: slytherin . myers - briggs: infp - t .

career claims: charlie heaton , some of bill skargsard’s stuff . ( i’ll write his imdb page later . )

𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔴𝔬 . physicals .

height: six foot three . weight: 157 lbs .

complexion: pale , scarily so . nothing medical about it , just a natural pallid sheen to sharp features . a small , light dusting of freckles over the nose and cheeks and forehead . face shape: heart - shaped , incredibly angular . sharp cheekbones and jawline , square and dashing in a sinister kind of way . very thin , very gaunt . facial quirks: in some lights his left eye is ever so slightly lighter than the other , but it’s a trick of the light .

hair: black , naturally so ( your mother’s hair ) . has a slight natural wave that sometimes springs to a loose curl . recently , you’ve grown it out so that it curls around the nape of your neck and falls into your eyes . typically , strands are tucked behind your ears unless they fall out of place . soft , incredibly so --- - cherry blossom shampoo and conditioner ensures that . eyes: bright blue , cobalt . golden rings around the pupils , with green and hazel flecks throughout . lashes are unfairly long and dark , a prettily sooty smudge against the high ridge of your cheekbones . brows are dark and expressive , unruly , arched ever so slightly . dark indigo bags underneath your eyes aren’t an unusual sight , results of too - long nights and a strange work schedule . nose: your mother’s button nose , small and straight and ‘ lovely ’ according to your rabid fan base . nothing much to say about it otherwise . you considered piercing it when you were fifteen and going through it for unknown reasons . mouth: relatively normal lips , slightly plusher lower lip but that’s not saying much . chewed , bitten , chapped like nothing else / favourite flavour of burt’s bees is pomegranate . teeth are white , straight , pretty good teeth ; indents of which often find themselves deep in that lower lip .

scars: none of note . the typical petite white scars of childhood across knees and elbows , but nothing too serious . tattoos, piercings: none . there are plans in the works , but currently ? nothing . more body modifications: again , nothing . bitch is boring .

𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢 . biographicals .

not quite your typical tale of boy - meets girl ; art gallery curator curator watches broadway ‘ ingénue ’ & falls head over heels in an infatuation that borders on obsession but is returned tenfold . adele st . croix can’t believe her luck ( moved to manhattan just two years previously , resumé builds beyond belief , engagement to a big name is imminent ! ) and pierre - louis olivier has never been so deeply in love before . the courtship is wonderful , twilight walks in the park , regular dates at terribly romantic restaurants , soft kisses on random stoops and rough , impassioned kisses on your own . the engagement comes in 1995 , & a year later , marriage is a cover story and a four - page spread in all the glossy tabloids your mother loves to collect .

your conception comes as a shock , of course . neither wanted children so early , just a year into their marriage but the very first time that your mother’s silky - smooth hands rest on the then - flat expanse of her belly it’s over . unspoken talks of termination that weighed uncomfortably heavily on unmoving tongues are quashed , replaced by fluttering anticipation of a child . your impending birth is announced three months after your parents find out they’re expecting you , & soon enough your own infantile chunk of their upper east side penthouse ( a grandiose wedding present ) is carved out �� ; decked in earthy tones and warm creams , pastels of all shades and joy woven into each choice , you are a source of joy to rival the sun .

birth is almost perfect , only one day past your due date . naturally your first breath is a noisy one , wailing and crying and oh , how they adore you already ! adoration seeps into your bones from the first time mother holds you , presses a kiss to your head and breathes in that lavender , fresh - linen new baby smell . from that very first moment love is ingrained into every single pore ; love is what you breathe , what you feed on , what you see the world through . your mother and father are almost sickeningly in love , true dotage in its finest form and later in life you suppose you’re lucky to have grown up with such a wonderful idea of what true romance is meant to look like . they love each other , and they love you .

childhood is wonderful , if you’re perfectly honest . it’s a blur of ice cream at fancy parlours after your mother picks you up from school , renting movies and getting wonderful takeaway and laughing until your sides ache . it’s freshly - laundered uniforms that just look so damn precious , school ties in immaculate windsor knots . ( schools are all catholic , of course ; some things die hard , but your mother and father’s commitment to their faith dies harder . ) church on sunday mornings , followed by brunch and a movie / picturesque , absolutely perfect . ignore the paparazzi trailing behind you , though . ignore the fact that despite everything , a childhood dripping with luxury and privilege is not really a normal childhood . normal children don’t dress in such expensive clothes in their free time , normal children don’t understand the complete and utter hedonism that you’re enabled .

it’s only a matter of time before you find your calling , though . you are fourteen , already a gangly mess of too - long limbs and charming smile and curls that melt even the iciest of glares . you’ve sat in the backs of theatres while your mother rehearses for your entire life , and stepping into the harsh spotlight itself feels like home in a way you can’t possibly describe in either of the tongues that crowd your mouth . your first performance is macbeth , and you dominate like nothing else , tragic figure with a mouth of steel . for the next few years of your high school education you always score the leading role , not through anything but the sheer force of your talent . acting is second nature to you , a comfortable set of skins you fall into like it’s nothing , like they’re nothing .

sixteen when you get your first gig , a guest appearance in some established police procedural , but it’s a rush like nothing else . one gig leads to another , and another , and another ! it’s not until you’re hired by netflix to do their biggest hit , some then - untitled sci - fi horror 80s thing , that you take off like nothing else and god , it’s like nothing you’ve ever known . blockbusters are offered to you after your second season airs , you find yourself in cameos in fucking marvel movies , & yet nothing’s quite as thrilling as horror . something crawls under your skin the first day you shoot stranger things , and it’s stuck ever since ; you make a good archetype , the dopey yet helpful boyfriend , the white knight . you’re barely nineteen when you decide what your avenue is and make a conscientious decision to stick to it .

and now ? your imdb page glitters , cacophany of roles quite unlike each other , bad guy and good guy and killer and saviour , all crammed in together . didn’t think you had time but somewhere you met someone , fell in love , started dating , all that ; but that bleeding , genuine heart of yours can’t be contained , falls in love five times a day , catches itself upon the hooks of others and impulse control is a long - forgotten acquaintance . newspapers call you a heartbreaker , but you never break hearts ; you simply leave your scent on bedsheets and heartbeats alike , prettiest kind of ghost . sometimes you play up the ‘ arrogant heartbreaking dipshit ’ spiel for interviews but with you , what you see is what you get : passionate , driven , emotional . a fervour . a lover , a romantic , altruistic kinds of chaos . the prettiest kind of confusion , all wrapped up under that surname . oh darling , you’re the nicest kind of sweet nightmare and you don’t even know it .

𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔬𝔲𝔯 . wanted connections .

the committed relationship .

the string of lovers he’s been seeing .

exes , on any kinds of terms .

school friends from forever ago .

co - stars .

rivals !!!!

literally anything PLEASE

#⤷ 000 . ❛ ( : ) 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰 !#cala.intro #i cldnt make my own gif n im big sad abt it #fuck catalina ....... anyways !

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dantedwards · 4 years

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Sometimes a drink is just a drink.

For such an immaculately kept bar, the lack of patronage was almost...unsettling.

If you closed your eyes you could faintly make out the echoes of what once was: the rattle of ice in stainless steel shakers, the quite thrum of a half dozen conversations bubbling about, soft piano pieces flowing out from a back corner. But when you opened them,everything was silent and still. Absolutely still. Just as eerie as it was serene. Just as off putting as the scene was pristine.

Oh it was bright and cheery enough, bereft of the markers of inactivity, but somehow that made the aura of loss strike more keenly. If the lights had been out and he had seen cloths over tables, stools up on the bar, he may have felt better about the whole thing. May have. But it was unlikely.

Joseph S. Greenman had the feeling, as he descended down steps free of the dust and rust of the outside world, that this place used to mean a hell of a lot to a whoooole mess of people. Those who lived in town and those passing through. Quite possibly more so to the latter than the former. Running a hand along a brass plated rail, he could still feel the sense of...forgiveness, an establishment of this caliber gave freely.

Come in, it said, shake off the cold. You're welcome here.

It had a way of drawing together the disparate elements of a society gone mad, and giving then a place to belong. Even if only for a little while.

Marvelling at the luxury of his surroundings, the Western detective couldn't say he had ever seen its like. Let alone had a change to grace such a place with his presence. Though few ever saw his company as graceful. The glitz and glamor of something so effortlessly chic and timeless was astounding.

Myriad walks of life may have left their footfalls here, but it was clear to whom this space had always catered to. Or at least had been meant to in it's heyday.

As it was, he broke off his musing with a heavy sigh. He could use a place to think. And nothing aided a man in thought quite like a quite spot with a nice drink. Rolling wide shoulders under his overcoat, he dipped out of it and slung the heavy jacket up onto a waiting rack.

Now Joseph had been, not quite given, the key to the front door, in an envelope slid into his room some time the night before. Glancing around as he drew nearer and nearer to the counter, he was fairly certain the proprietor had either recently passed on, leaving the care of the property to another, or felt comfortable enough to invite him in, and him alone.

But not comfortable enough, he had noted, turning the otherwise unremarkable package over, to disclose their name. Which was worrisome enough in it's own right.

He unbuttons his jacket, having forgone the vest, and took a seat smack in the middle of the row of stools. Jo scanned the shelves along the back wall with a practiced eyes.

No two bit back water dive was this. It was lined with only the best, not a half bottle empty to be seen. He chewed his lip a moment, wondering if that was a sign of diligence...or of reduced traffic.

"You've the look of a man embroiled in fitful contemplation. I think I've got just the thing."

She was dressed plain and neat and elegant, matronly without being motherly, prim without all the starched stiffness one would expect, with a ready smile of straight smoke stained teeth that scrunched her eyes over a pair of glasses that would have looked a smidge too big on anyone else. Joseph coughed as he hadn't even heard her approach and gave a nod.

"A man of few words!" She gave a small laugh, "Good. I don't need you to speak. I need you to listen."

"I'm good at that."

"I hope so. You haven't much a reputation here."

"I like it that way."

"Can I just say," she became a whirl of activity across the counter, a mesmerising display of skill and ritual, "it's refreshing to have a thoroughly fresh face about the place?"

"Well I can't stop you, but I do appreciate it."

"Hmm..." She taps her chin. "Yes. Yes I think you will do nicely."

He gave a grunt, watching the reassuring balance of ingredients before him, and placed the key on the counter.

"Why."

"We've come a long way. But it's still a man's world. And some things take a man's hands."

"I ain't looking to kill nobody."

"And I ain't looking to have nobody killed."

Another grunt. A small slide.

Joseph looks at the glass. And takes a sip.

(Called a Southern Slo Down)

"You didn't ask."

"I didn't need to."

"Mr. Greenman," she fairly nearly purrs. "Oh I liiiiike you."

"Ma'am." He dipped his head, and the glass, hiding the ghost of a smile as he sipped quietly for a time, content to let her show as many of her cards as she cared to. For now.

"You may be unlike any man I've ever met."

"Then you either haven't met very many, or only all the wrong ones."

"You honestly think," she cocks a brow, leaning back, "I've come to know that small a number working here? I've seen my share of both."

"My mistake then."

A few more sips. A few more bars.

"I'm not grey about the temples but we both know you didn't slip me this," he taps the key, "just to pour me a drink."

"A question then: would you have poured your own?" She moves back near the counter, the small of her back pressed to it as she watched him sideways.

"I was tempted to."

"Come show me."

Granted, this was hardly the first time an interview of this nature had prompted him for a showcase of his skill. But as he doffed the jacket and rolled up his sleeves he had to admit it was nice for once not to have to use a fist to do it.

No small set of scars crossed his forearms but again, she surprised him. Touching the largest of them without a word, and removing her hand before he could look at her. Even when he did she was adjusting her glasses and reaching into a pocket.

"You may be," he hopped lightly over the bar for a man of his bulk, "unlike any woman I've ever met."

"Then you either haven't met very many," she whispers off to the side, "or only all the wrong ones."

The liquor had done it's job and with rosy cheeks he belted out a genuine laugh. Rich and rolling and reverberating back to them. The first sound of mirth this little corner of illustrious entertainment had heard in many a month.

"What do I call you ma'am?"

"Oh I'm enjoying ma'am just fine," she places a cigarillo to her lips, "but Bridgette would be better."

"Bridgette then," he nods, striking a match off his chin and holding it before her.

"More a gentleman than you appear."

"More a lady than you say."

Match out he's soon dashing too and fro as the glass he intends to use chills.

"You're a fair hand back here."

A plume of smoke passes over his shoulder.

"It's calming."

"You call *this* calming," she cracks a smile of her own, "any quicker and you'll break a sweat!"

"All life takes work," he hefts the second bottle.

"Blood. Sweat. Tears." Setting it down he scans for the third.

"Shed all three before and behind the counter." Jo pours and eyes her up and down, not bothering to measure, not needing to.

Another plume.

"I would wager so have you."

Three dashes.

Two cubes.

One more match.

"But I've never been a gambling man. And don't mean to start now."

He mutters a curse under his breathe and blows out the flame.

"You said you didn't need me to talk and that's precisely what you got me doing."

Both cubes get tossed and he skewers a cherry dug from a mason jar.

"For you."

The elder woman maintains eye contact the entire time she moves to grip the glass and raise it to her lips. Small shiver courses through her frame.

(Called a Pentaque)

"Dinner. Tomorrow night."

Joseph takes his own and salutes her.

"Tomorrow night."

If you closed your eyes you could faintly make out the echoes of what once was: the rattle of ice in stainless steel shakers, the quite thrum of a half dozen conversations bubbling about, soft piano pieces flowing out from a back corner. But when you opened them, something lingered in the air, light as a fading scent drifting out of reach, like so much smoke and mist. But present nonetheless.

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erasethedarkness · 5 years

Text

Silver Threaded Lining -Day 6 | Blind Date / Setup- (Best Jeanist x f!Reader)

Summary: Working at a news station had its perks- and one of them included being friends with a popular newswoman. When asked to take her place in a blind date, you were skeptical but wanted to help her out, accepting the request in the end. Neither of you had any idea what was in store for you once you arrived at the venerated Chateux de Joel Robuchon.

Note: Ship and reader requested by Every.man.at.midnight on Ao3!!! Also, this reader insert is… definitely a more larger than life one. Like, it’s probably not really relatable, but hopefully it’s still one that can suspend your beliefs. The reasoning for this is that I wanted to take into consideration the type of person Best Jeanist is, and this is what I came up with and what felt most intuitive to me. Also, I’m tempted to write a sequel or turn this into a series? Just because it’s … so… fantastical and extra? Let me know what you guys think. Hopefully I didn't butcher his character since this is my first time writing for him.

Theme Song: Tell Me Baby - Red Hot Chili Peppers

Reader: Female (requested)

Words: 2908

Tell me baby, what's your story…

Working as a makeup artist was one of your greatest pleasures. You got to mess around with different palettes, special effects, and meet people from all walks of life. Professionally, you were employed by one of the top news stations, which gave you the opportunity to work on celebrities and heroes. And for fun, you ran a special effects channel with a fairly sizeable following and sponsorships from various makeup brands. Life was pretty solid and good, though you were too busy to focus on every aspect of it. With your work and social life booming, it was only natural that your personal and romantic life were neglected.

“Say, (Y/N), are you free tomorrow night?” one of the news anchors asked as you worked on her makeup. Her eyes were closed and brows raised, so you couldn’t make out much of an expression as you applied some shadows, but you two were fairly close and you could be honest with her. In the workplace, she was basically your best friend.

“Yeah. Why do you ask?”

“Well… could I ask you for a huuuge favor? Please? I’ll seriously owe you one.”

You paused from her makeup, cuing the newswoman to open her eyes and look at you. She was faced with a somewhat worried and skeptical expression as you inquired more.

“What trouble did you get into?”

“It’s not trouble!” she quickly defended herself before sighing and closing her eyes so you could resume your work. “It’s just… One of my friends set me up on a date, but I’ve been talking to this guy from SVME a lot lately and I think we’re hitting it off really well, so... I don’t really wanna go on this date. But, you’re single and pretty and talented and, like… I think that whoever my friend’s got waiting for this date is gonna be a great person and maybe even a good fit for you. It’s someone she’s trying to set me up with, so… it’s not like I mean any disrespect, y’know? I’m just asking for a favor, one girl to another. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Please?”

You listened to her argument, meticulously applying false lashes and then blending it into the eyeliner so it looked flawless. Taking a step back, you looked at her face to make sure it was symmetrical and up to standard.

“You have no idea who the guy is?” you sighed, giving away that you were seriously considering it. You wanted to help her out, and it’d been about a year since your last date because you were just sick of bothering when you had other things to do, like manage a successful channel on top of working.

“Not at all. She just promised I wouldn’t be disappointed. So… hopefully you won’t be either?”

With a sigh, you told her to open her mouth so you could apply lipstick. “...Alright,” you agreed. “What are the details?” She went into everything she knew- time, location, and expectations- and promised to reimburse you for any money you’d potentially have to spend. You nodded, simply noting everything.

The following night came, and you gave yourself a final look over before leaving. Your makeup was perfect and set, you weren’t worried about your lipstick fading or distorting with dinner, the dress you picked was elegant, flattering, and trendy, and the heels you wore were both fashionable and comfortable. You were aces. The friend you were doing this favor for sent you a car that would take you to your destination, and without time for a moment’s hesitance, you were chauffeured to the rendezvous.

From the moment you arrived, you were treated no less than royalty. As soon as the car pulled up, a valet opened the door for you. “Bonsoir, Mademoiselle. Bienvenue au Chateux de Joel Robuchon,” (“Good evening, Miss. Welcome to Chateux de Joel Robuchon,”) he greeted you with a bow, gesturing towards the western inspired establishment with an immaculate white glove. You smiled politely at him with a small nod of your head, stepping out gracefully. The valet closed the door behind you, the car leaving a second after, and you were left with a small walk across the elegant courtyard to the four-story building. When you arrived, the doors were opened for you once again, and you were greeted with a fusion of elegant French and Japanese hospitality and grace.

It really was like being in a castle. A host came to meet you and took your jacket, while a hostess guided you to the second level where the restaurant and lounge operated. She asked what name the reservation was under, and you gave her your friend’s. With a smile, the hostess suggested you help yourself to a drink at the Rouge Bar while you waited, as you were the first to arrive. Finding that agreeable, you were escorted to an elegant, more than fully equipped and stocked lounge. It was dark with warm, golden lighting that made the red walls something sensual and alluring, rather than loud or intimidating. Black leather furniture beckoned you to take a seat wherever you pleased, and you were promptly met by a waiter offering a drink menu. You ordered a light wine to sip at while you waited for your mystery date, and gazed around the bar. At least it was going to be easy for him to figure out who he was meeting- you were the only lady waiting alone.

As you reclined and sipped, you noticed some of the patrons’ behaviors change. Eyes were skirting to and from the entrance and voices hushed themselves. You managed to hear a woman whisper to another, “Oh my goodness, is that… That’s Best Jeanist!” The temptation to turn around and see the hero for yourself was great, but your dignity and pride were greater, so you didn’t flinch or move to follow everyone else’s gaze. Bringing the wine glass to your lips, you tasted it once again before noticing the curious eyes beginning to fall on you.

“Miss (Y/N)?”

You knew that voice- you knew it from countless interviews, and having met the hero once when he appeared on your news channel. Of all the makeup artists, you were the lucky one who got to powder and touch up his already faultness face. With fluid timing, you blinked while gracefully turning your head to the speaker, eyes opening with an almost hypnotic look. A single green eye received yours, its match hidden beneath fastidiously combed and treated blond hair. His expression was covered by a square silk scarf that was both tasteful and contemporary, complimenting his navy three piece suit. It was no wonder this man was at the forefront of men’s fashion.

“Best Jeanist.” You acknowledged him by his hero name, a calm and sweet smile on your lips. Although you couldn’t see it, you hoped he was smiling from the way the corners of his eyes seemed to just barely move. The hero bowed to you, his hand extended to help you stand, creating a scene that was almost impossible to believe- both to you and those spectating. Delicately, you lifted your hand from the wine glass and placed your fingertips into his palm. With nimble finesse, his fingers curled behind yours, thumb gently crossing over your knuckles as you rose to your feet, and then respectfully let go as you thanked him.

Your thoughts raced as you two were escorted to your table. How could your friend pass this up? On top of that, how did she not know that she was going on a date with Best Jeanist? And who was her friend that was able to convince the No. 3 Pro Hero to even go on a blind date? You had so many questions that were going to be answered the next time you saw her.

A new elegance welcomed you as you two entered Joel Robuchon Restaurant. Dreamy gold lighting and draperies warmed the walls while black dominated everything else. Tables were blanketed in a silky black cloth, their legs just as dark and matching the chairs that framed them. Polished and shining black vases and centerpieces decorated the tables while the flowers, accents, and plates were a stark and contrasting white. It was beautiful and even surreal- especially for a first date, set up or not.

Agreeing on the 6-course specialty menu and a bottle of wine to share, the date began smoothly. You both expressed your preferences and were pleasantly surprised to share some similar tastes, needing to compromise on very little. Starting off this way allowed an immediate familiarity to develop between you two, the conversation becoming more natural and effortless as a result. He made you smile and you made him laugh, all before the bread basket arrived. Even though you were sitting across from the revered Fiber Hero, you didn’t feel any pressure or unease. It honestly felt like you two were on the same page, the same level, in the same ballpark, and just… equal. Already, there was a foundation of mutual respect laid down, and he even asked you to call him by his name as you two worked through the six plates, taking your time and getting to know each other.

“So how is your recovery coming along?” you asked him in a soft voice with genuine concern and interest. Everyone knew the damage he took from All For One and that he would be resting for an unknown but extended period of time.

“Quite well,” he answered professionally. Although he’d been looking at you all night, his gaze became a bit sharper at your question. It wasn’t that he was soured by it, but you could tell it was something he was fairly guarded about. He was able to walk and move, yet there must have been more limitations than before.

“Is that the newsroom answer?”

The hero chuckled at your perceptiveness, making you hope again that he was smiling afterwards. Your imagination was vividly curious of what it would look like, but that was something even you weren’t bold enough to ask yet.

Offering your own smile to him, you carried on gracefully, unaffected by the closed off topic. “I’m glad that you’ve recovered as much as you already have, and look forward to seeing you back in action,” you supported. “I think only the greatest heroes could survive and recover from such grave injuries. It really shows you have so much you want to live for.” Your sincerity softened that steeled look he gave you, and eased away the faint tension that came with it.

“Thank you, (Y/N).” His voice was casual again. Even with the composed and dignified way that he spoke, you were able to pick up the differences between his relaxed and formal speeches. “Experiences like this are rather humbling, for better or worse. They remind us all that heroes, too, are human.”

“Had you forgotten that you were, Hakamata?” There was something coquettish in your voice, bolstered by the confidence you had in catching the nuances he expected to slip through.

“It’s easy to forget,” he responded, meeting your coyness with his own. “I am greatly honored to be a widely received hero and icon- as accessible as the availability and handiness of denim itself. Such responsibilities require a near superhuman balance in life.” The way he spoke of his popularity was anything but arrogant, showing that he took this all very seriously. It wasn’t simply a job or profession- being a hero was an identity that everything else conformed to. “In its own way, the time necessary to heal is a kindness.”

His words were enchanting with the way he spoke. Each syllable was magnetic, tempting you closer to the person across from you not as a hero, but as a man. Your conversation was scarcely interrupted by the restaurant’s staff, plates coming and going as if phantoms were providing them. In this moment, there was only him in your field of view. “How so?”

“It’s the only reason a moment like this is possible right now,” he explained with a foreign glint in his eye. You couldn’t help but wonder if that was what it would look like if eyes could smile. “While we’ve met once before, it was brief and strictly business. Wouldn’t you agree this time is a benevolent result of my injuries?”

Your lips pulled back as you chuckled softly, your cheeks lifting with a smile as you blushed and averted your eyes. For the first time tonight, he charmed you, and he did it without relying on fame or prestige. Seeing a break in the conversation, the attentive wait staff approached your table, retrieving the empty plates and bowls, pouring the last of the bottle of wine for you two, and then presenting you with a dessert trolley that could rival entire bakeries and chocolatiers. An espresso list accompanied the sweets, and you two ended up with the same order, save for a minor detail in your truffles. One was accented by raspberries, and the other by thin orange slices.

“Only in part. This was also the work of our friends, wasn’t it?” you teased him with a mirthful smirk.

“That’s true,” he agreed, explicitly acknowledging for the first time that this was a blind date. “However, no amount of planning could make two unwilling people meet in circumstances like this. Close encounters are perhaps the strongest reminders that, as humans, we seek a love and intimacy beyond praise and fame. And if I may be candid, (Y/N), I’m honored to have been recommended to you. It may seem silly, but… I do place trust and faith in a close friend’s suggestion.”

Once again you blushed, closing your eyes this time as you took a sip of your cappuccino. He was more of a gentleman than you expected- and you certainly had high expectations for such an exemplary hero.

“I take it you’re skeptical of those you meet on your own?” The question was rhetorical. “I suppose you’d have to be; there must be a plentitude of people with ulterior motives seeking your attention and affection.” You placed your cup in its saucer, your hands coming together in your lap afterwards as you sat ladylike with a sweet smile on your face despite the seriousness of your words. “For what it’s worth, I had no idea who I’d meet tonight. When you offered your hand, it felt like a dream- this whole date has.”

At last, you could tell with certainty that Best Jeanist was actually smiling beneath that silk scarf. His handsome expression was as joyous as it was composed, and you were proven very wrong in believing he couldn’t become more of a heartthrob.

“If we continued meeting, would I be able to convince you reality was better than a dream?”

You were stunned by the smoothness of his words. As a rule of thumb, you were exceptionally skeptical of charismatic men, but you made an allowance for the one across from you tonight. While others came off as womanizers and playboys, Hakamata seemed knightly and trustworthy. After all, the whole of Tokyo trusted him with their lives- including you.

“I would love to find out.”

As you two finished dining, the bill was directly handed to the hero. You offered to pay, or at least cover part of it, but his kind eyes and voice told you there was no need, and the expenses were already taken care of. He took the bill, and you could make out that it seemed like some sort of letter before he folded it and slipped it into his breast pocket. Standing, he opened his hand to you once again and guided you to take hold of his arm as he escorted you downstairs. You two walked with a closeness that evolved over the course of your extravagant dinner, and he waited patiently for you as you received your jacket before escorting you outside.

Before getting close enough to signal the valet to open the door, Best Jeanist stopped with you. His arm shifted so that your hand fell into his as you turned to face him. “May I see you again, (Y/N)?”

Your eyes gazed into his and noticed that his hair was pulled back just enough to allow you to see them both. You couldn’t help but grin a bit widely, your teeth just barely showing as you nodded. “Yes,” you answered in what only came out as a whisper. That unmistakable joy gleamed in his eyes at your response, and you two exchanged personal contact information. When it was all saved, he finished walking you to the familiar car that awaited. Just as you were about to sink into your seat, your date brought your hand towards his lips, his other coming up to the scarf and lowering it just enough so he could give it a proper kiss, covering his face afterwards as he brought his eyes to yours.

“Thank you for this wonderful night. I look forward to the next.”

You blushed as you thanked him in return, the door closing soon after and the driver taking you back home. This was a night you’d never forget, and the idea of future ones with him quickened your heart.

… You’re so lovely, are you lonely?

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therealcalicali · 6 years

Text

PROLOGUE: CLOSER TO ME

Synopsis: Upon moving to a new city, the Reader crosses paths with Ivar, Hvitserk and the rest of the Lothbrok clan. Since her own life is already filled with internal demons from a strict upbringing, their introduction into her life only adds to the drama. As things progress, Reader discovers that there is more to her interactions with Ivar and Hvisterk than meets the eye.

Read Chapter 1 here: CLOSER TO ME: CHAPTER 1

Read Chapter 2 here: CLOSER TO ME: CHAPTER 2

Read Chapter 3 here: CLOSER TO ME: Chapter 3

Read Chapter 4 here: CLOSER TO ME: CHAPTER 4

Read Chapter 4 here: CLOSER TO ME: CHAPTER 5

Read Chapter 6 here: CLOSER TO ME: CHAPTER 6

Read Chapter 7 here: CLOSER TO ME: CHAPTER 7

Read Chapter 8 here: CLOSER TO ME: CHAPTER 8

Read Chapter 9 here: CLOSER TO ME: CHAPTER 9

Read Chapter 10 here: CLOSER TO ME: CHAPTER 10

__________________________________

Prologue Warnings: None

Word Count: 6500+

Setting: Modern Vikings

Genre: Romance/Drama

Pairing: Ivar x Reader x Hvitserk (Love Triangle)

Tagged: @irishhiggins @mblaqgi @i-care-bout-you-boo @peaches-seed @sajess98

You suddenly felt very stressed out. Not that it didn't happen to you once in a while but this particular day was different. It was as if the conversation with your mother had taken you back to the awkward childhood and teen years you've tried so hard to escape.

“Come on Y/N. Let’s forget about it for now.” You advised yourself about your mom’s criticism of your personal life.

Despite it being a Friday night, you were scheduled to work so you didn’t have time to mope around. After a quick shower, you hastily dressed and put on your make-up. Since you didn’t have enough time to do any type of hairstyle, you opted for a sleek ponytail. After putting on your earrings, you grabbed your purse before you realized you had misplaced your car keys. For what seemed like forever, you tore up the apartment before you finally found them under the couch.

“How the hell did they wind up down there?”

By now, your make-up had begun to smudge a bit due to your increased activity. The light layer of sweat was not only on your face but on your body as well.

Grateful to have located the keys to your 1998 Honda Civic, you dashed to your balcony and opened the sliding glass door. Relaxing yourself, you allowed the cool night air to wash over you. You crisp white blouse and black pencil skirt finally stopped sticking to you as the moisture on your body dried away.

"Ugh! Why can't we ever just have a normal conversation? Just once!!" You pondered with exasperation looking off into the distance.

In silent contemplation, you stared into the beautiful night sky a few minutes before returning indoors to head for work. You had barely finished sliding on your black work pumps when you knocked over the forgotten cup of cold coffee onto the beige carpet.

"For the love of God! Can anything go right today?" You screamed in frustration. Your voice almost echoed in the one bedroom apartment you had resided in for only 4 months.

It was a new place as well as a new city. Just what you needed to get away from your overbearing family and nosey friends. And despite what they all thought, you didn't go running back home in defeat. Truthfully, you had surprised everyone. No one actually thought you could live so far away from home, but so far, so good.

You glanced at you cell phone for the time as you stepped out of your apartment door.

"Crap! 7:45 pm!" You observed with a roll of your eyes.

Your shift was supposed to start at eight but thanks to your mom, you had really lost track of time. Luckily, you lived pretty close to the freeway. Despite running late, with some luck you could probably get there at a decent time. You quickly made your way down the steps of the second floor all the way to the gated parking garage.

"Hey Y/N! How have you been?"

The sweet voice belonged to your neighbor and acquaintance Marianna. She was seated her red BMW waiting for the gate to open wide enough for her to leave. Looking at her immaculate makeup and her professionally styled hair, you immediately felt frumpy.

"I'm doing pretty good. Just running late." You replied with wave.

"Oh? So, what's his name?" Marianna gave you a devious grin.

“Nothing like that. I'm just going to work." You said in a soft tone as you unlocked your car door.

Marianna shook her head with feigned disappointment and pulled her lips into a toddler-like pout. It actually got a genuine giggle out of you. She was quite a raven haired beauty with a very outgoing personality. You could definitely see that she had what most people would refer to as an A-type personality. The funny thing was that despite you being quite the introvert, you admired her jovial, outgoing nature.

Besides, if it hadn't been for her picking conversations with you by force in the laundry room and apartment gym, you wouldn't know anyone except the people at work.

"Well, I guess I'll see you in three days. I'm working the New York route for extra money. Saving up for VEGAS you know."

She made sure to emphasize the word Vegas because she had recently made you promise to go. For whatever reason, as busy as Marianna’s social life was, she seemed intent on befriending you. Why, you had no clue. But then again, you thought it would be sort of nice to experience new things with her leading the way.

With the gate finally opened all the way, Marianna threw you a peace sign and drove off.

When you finished buckling in, you tried to start your car. To your horror however, it took three attempts for the ignition to finally kick in. Upon hearing the engine and radio come to life, you heaved a huge sigh of relief. After the day you had so far, the car not starting would have just been the icing on the cake.

"Guess I do have some luck left after all." You though to yourself.

__________________________________

Loud music and boisterous conversations hit you as soon as you walked into "Club 52". The state-of-the-art nightclub was a hot spot almost seven days a week. Obviously, the weekends were jammed packed. From live performances, burlesque shows and much more , it was lit. Needless to say that when it came to atmosphere, your workplace had it all.

"Well, well, well. Glad to see a certain somebody finally decided to join us. Welcome, il mio timido (Italian: my shy one)." Your boss; Frank Pesci's; deep voice boomed as you tried to quickly put on your apron behind the main bar counter.

He was a dark haired, blue-eyed Sicilian who always wore tailored suits that fit him to perfection. And today was no exception. Even in late fifties, he was quite the head turner. Women of all ages flirted with him on a regular basis but he only had eyes for his wife of 25 years.

You gave your boss a nervous smile and hoped you weren't in any real trouble. Weekend were important in the club scene so you hated that you were almost half an hour late. Frankie; as he liked to be called; was the kindest man you had ever met so he most likely wasn't going to be too harsh.

As you finished tying your apron, you tried to decide whether or not to lie about why you were late. As if he knew what you were up to, Frankie watched you with an amused expression as you brainstormed. His blue tie made his blue eyes seem even brighter as they gazed into Y/C eyes.

"Oh forget it! I better just stick to the truth." You told yourself finally.

"I'm so sorry. I guess I lost track of time while talking to my mom. It won't happen---."

Frankie lifted one finger up to cut off your apology. The action spoke volumes about what he was going to say. He had hired you after you practically begged for the job despite not having any experience. Being generous, he had taken pity on you after initially trying to dismiss you from the job interview.

You had explained how you were new in town and that he was your last hope before your rent was due. It was safe to say he was touched by your plight because he hired you despite better candidates interviewing that same day.

Frankie shot you a genuine smile and calmly informed you it was going to be a busy night due to several private parties going on. The biggest private party was in the Blue Room and he wanted you and your coworker Folaki to host the event.

"ME? PRIVATE PARTY HOSTESSING? Nope!" You internally objected.

Just the mere thought of it made you feel queasy. Unfortunately before you could protest the duty, Frankie gave you a sly smile and walked off to talk to patrons.

"Ugh! He did that on purpose!" You said aloud without realizing just how loud you had really been.

"You need to relax Y/N. It's not as bad as you think it's going to be."

Folaki, with her slight Nigerian accent, playfully bumped your hip with her own. She had worked at Club 52 for over three years and was super popular with the patrons. And much like Marianna, she was extremely sociable.

Before you could get a word in edgewise, she grabbed you wrist lightly and soon had you struggling to keep up with her pace. As the two of you walked towards the Blue Room, Folaki enthusiastically tried to encourage you.

"Look Y/N, it's about time you worked the private parties. Trust me. They're so much fun. Just chat people up and play games with them. You'll get the biggest tips you’ve ever seen." Folaki said as she turned to you and swayed her hips seductively. "It's the best tips you'll ever get without working at a strip club girl. Trust me."

You were quite horrified at the thought of chatting up strangers. It was all good and well when you worked the regular floor because you could be reserved and speak when necessary. But with party room guests, they were expecting a superb host/hostess for the money they dished out.

"Do you think I could just switch out with Jason? I mean, he's done this tons of times. Besides, it will make things go smoother for you if he’s helping instead of me." You said attempting to convince Folaki as you passed by the Red Room.

The Blue Room was within sight and your heart began beating in your ears so loudly that it drowned out all other sound around you. Folaki glanced at you after checking her makeup in her compact one last time.

"Don't even try it Y/N." She giggled while shaking her head. Seeing how nervous you were, she put her arm around you as you walked side-by-side. "Look, Frankie said he wants you to get out of your comfort zone. He strictly forbid everyone from switching assignments with you.”

Noticing your still apprehensive expression, Folaki gave you a tight squeeze. “Don't worry so much. We're going to kill it. You and I are going to make a great team."

"Great.” You thought.

___________________________

The Blue Room was buzzing with activity, music and lots of laughter. Despite being nervous as hell, you noticed that whomever had rented it out, had really good taste. The color scheme was white, black and blue and very upscale in decor.

Typically the themes chosen by patrons ranged from amusing to gaudy but this was stylish all the way. You were so lost in thought that you almost forgot why you were there in the first place. That was until Folaki yelled your name.

Looking up, you saw her at what appeared to be the main table beckoning you with her hand. Apprehensively, you began making your way through some attendees. As you neared the table, you nearly froze when everyone seated there turned to look at you. If it had been possible to run away at that very moment without getting fired, you would have.

There were several men and two women staring at you with various facial expressions. One of the women; a blonde; looked you up and down with some disdain before sipping her water. You noted that the men at the table were all very handsome. Not that you got a really good look because you tried to keep your eyes on Folaki.

"So, as I was saying guys, I'm Folaki and this here is my partner in crime Y/N.”

You gave a polite wave to the group upon hearing your name. As you did so, you noticed that a guy with a somewhat solemn expression was looking at you instead of Folaki. It made you uneasy because you had always hated when people stared at you for too long. It made you self-conscious.

“We'll be your hostesses for tonight so don't be shy if you need anything." Folaki spoke with so much passion that everyone at the table was hanging on her every word. "And for the record, I'm not just talking food and drinks. If you need REAL competition come game time or karaoke, holler at your girl." She added pointing to herself with a haughty shift of her shoulders.

The last bit got a huge amount of laughter from everyone at the table to your surprise. The guys especially seemed entertained by her cocky declaration. One guy promptly slapped a hundred dollar bill onto the table.

"Alright Folaki. You and me! We'll play Punch-Out when I'm ready!" The dark haired guy said with a distinct accent. His blue eyes danced as he playfully scowled at your coworker thinking she would back down.

"Well, it’s your money. Don't say I didn't warn you." A confident Folaki responded before pulling out the work tablet from her apron.

"Well then, two hundred says Folaki whips your ass Ivar!" Another guy said as he too slammed money down.

This caused ruckus and chatter as the others also placed bets. As this was going on, Folaki leaned down to a muscular blonde guy to get drink instructions. You watched all of it totally unsure of what to do or say next. Boy, were you ever out of your element. While lost in your thoughts; as usual; you felt a tug on your apron.

"What are you daydreaming about?"

You looked down to see the attractive guy that had been staring at you earlier. He still had hold of the hem of you apron despite having gained your attention. Tilting his head slightly, he smirked at your uncomfortable expression.

"I...um, I'm so sorry. Uh, is there anything I can do for you sir?"

He seemed genuinely amused by your nervousness and chuckled a bit. The blonde chick at the table didn't seem as entertained though. You noticed that she had leaned over to whisper something to the brunette. The two women looked at you and inaudibly laughed which caused the back of your neck to get hot.

You knew very well they were talking about you and it wasn't anything nice, of that you were certain. You composed yourself as best you could and turned your attention to the attractive guy again and waited for his order. As he pondered, you took out your tablet.

Fiddling with it at least gave you a reason not to look at anyone. Especially the two bitches who kept eyeing you for whatever reason.

"You don't have to be so formal you know. Take a note from your friend Folaki. We don't bite." The blue eyed guy said with an innocent raise of his eyebrow.

"That is….unless you want us to. Isn't that right Hvitserk?" A curly haired blonde exclaimed as he put the guy you were speaking with into a playful choke-hold.

"Get off me Sigurd, you jackass! Can’t you see I'm trying to get drinks?" Hvisterk said as he tried to get out of the wrestling hold.

Finally, when he had set himself free, he elbowed Sigurd and looked at you again. You noted that all of them had heavy accents but couldn't quite place the origin.

"Can’t you see I'm trying to get drinks?" A voice mimicked Hvitserk.

You looked to see a handsome man walk up. The blonde man was so striking that you almost lost your train of thought. His expressive eyes danced over you a moment before turning them to Hvisterk.

"Happy Birthday son. So, think you’re man enough to take me down yet?" The man said as he wrapped a strong arm around Hvitserk's neck.

For his part, Hvitserk was stronger than he looked. He managed to escape his father’s sturdy clutch and stood up. The two of them stared each other down for a few moments, sizing each other up. You shifted on your heels nervous about what was going to happen next. To your relief, the father opened his arms and Hvitserk quickly embraced him.

“Thank God.” You thought.The last thing you wanted to do was clean up the aftermath of a fight.

As you observed them all, you noted that these people were quite aggressive. Not only in their actions but manner of speaking as well. You only hoped that the alcohol wouldn’t make them worse before the night was done.

"Ragnar! Well, I guess the Gods do have a sense of humor after all.” A slender and tall woman nonchalantly said arriving at the table. I'm glad to see you could make it. I thought for certain that you weren't coming. I guess your warden let you out for a change."

She placed her hands on Sigurd's shoulders and gave an obviously fake smile to the man. A few of the guys at the table noticeably cringed at her words. You could feel the tension at the table now and wished you could go check on other party guests. However, you decided to stay put. After all, it would have been rude not to wait for Hvitserk’s order. Especially now that you knew he was the guest of honor.

Ragnar scowled at the woman a moment before popping on a great big smile to your amusment.

"I see you're as beautiful and charming as ever Aslaug. You can rest your mind now because as you can see, I am very much present for my son's party." He added a crooked smirk at the end which seemed to irritate the Aslaug.

"Politely bickering as usual, aye?" A tall man happily jeered.

He patted Ragnar on the shoulder and waved to Aslaug to her obvious annoyance. With a fake smile still plastered on her face, she departed causing almost the entire table to sigh in relief.

"Was it something I said?" The tall man mischievously asked aloud.

Ragnar and the others laughed at his remark but one guy in particular remained stone-faced. It was the boisterous one that had bet on the arcade game against Folaki. You knew his name started with an “I” but just couldn't remember what it was.

"Uncle Floki, mother is very sensitive." He gently stated with sincerity. "We shouldn't make light of her concern for us all." He stressed.

The Floki gentleman laughed harder as did Ragnar. Even the other guys; who were trying not to laugh; couldn't contain their snickers.

"Ivar, please! You mother is the last person anyone would ever describe as sensitive." The muscular blonde guy chimed in as he ate a tortilla chip.

Everyone burst into laughter again as Ivar glared at all of them with the most intense eyes you had ever seen. He had a storm in them no doubt. There was definitely something uncontrollable and ominous hidden underneath his handsome facade.

"Bjorn, my dear brother, you wound me." Ivar said in an oddly calm tone. "My mother has been through a great deal. Perhaps you could be more, oh, I don't know, understanding? He leaned back into his chair as he continued. “After all, your mother did everything in her power to make sure she won father back. Now mother is all alone. So you see, she has every right to be sensitive." A stern Ivar concluded.

Bjorn rolled his eyes and without a word got up to talk to other people, you assumed. From your peripheral view you saw Folaki finish speaking to a group of people near the door before leaving the Blue Room. Most likely to fill orders. The tension was still quite thick when suddenly Ivar's eyes landed on you.

"Hey you!" He snapped. "Why are you just standing there? Do your damn job and fuck off!"

Boy, did you wish you were dead. Everyone turned their attention to you. The blonde chick seated near Sigurd and Hvitserk covered her mouth as she giggled loudly. The brunette smiled slightly but seemed uncomfortable by what had just occurred. If there was ever a time where you wished the ground could open up and swallow you whole, this was it.

"Ivar! That's uncalled for." Sigurd said in your defense.

"Shut up Siggy. He turned from Sigurd and looked you square in the face. “She's a worker who's supposed to be fetching food and drink not standing around listening to private conversations."

Ivar silently taunted you upon noticing that your eyes were welling with tears. You were trying so hard to hold them in but knew that they could begin dropping at any moment. Your hands gripped the tablet so hard you thought for sure you would crack it eventually. Ivar looked quite satisfied with himself for whatever reason and was smiling in victory at you.

"Um, I...I'll go check on the catering and your other orders. If...uh, you need anything else I'll be back in a few minutes." You quickly said and turned on your heels as quickly as possible.

You were so eager to leave the scene that you navigated through the packed party effortlessly. As you were leaving, you faintly heard your name being called but chose to ignore it. You had to get away from those people at the head table NOW!

"Air. I gotta have some fresh air!"

_________________________

Somehow you managed to get into the employee break room before the tears finally fell. The bitter saltiness hit your tongue as you wept uncontrollably.

“Why are some people such assholes?” You wondered.

After a few minutes, you managed to pull yourself together. You wiped your face with Kleenex tissues and looked yourself over in a large mirror. Aside from your eyeliner being smudged, you looked alright. However, the slight puffiness of your eyes did giveaway the fact that you had been crying. You powdered your face and reapplied you lipstick before tossing them back into your locker

“Jerk! I should have cracked this damn tablet over his head." You said aloud as you sat down on the sofa.

Placing the tablet on your lap, you checked on their order statuses. Despite everything, you didn't want to make trouble for Frankie by not doing your job well. As you were getting ready to go outside for fresh air your cell buzzed. When you looked and realized it was your parent’s number you decided to let it go to voicemail. After all, you had enough bad things occurring at the moment without your mom coming for round two. You went out into the club and past the main floor without stopping to speak to anyone.

You made your directly towards the exit anticipating fresh air. You finally got it as you stepped out onto the busy sidewalk. The streets were full of pedestrians of all ages out for a good time. Observing them almost made you forget the humiliation you had just endured.

The city was affluent and safe so you were never surprised to see the preteens out and about as well. As a group of them passed by you, one girl handed you a giant pink lollipop. You smiled and thanked them as you leaned against a streetlight. The owner of the flower shop across the street; Ms. Zimmel; noticed you and waved. She was most likely out for her regular smoke break. Unlike most flower shops, she was smart enough to keep her store open late into the night.

But then again the location was unique. There was always heavy foot traffic so naturally she made a killing much like the other businesses on that strip. As you waved back to Ms. Zimmel, you felt a light tap in your shoulder.

"Excuse me. Y/N, correct?"

You turned around and came face to face with the curly haired blonde who had defended you.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

"I don't mean to bother you but…oh, where are my manners. I'm Sigurd by the way." He said extending his hand.

At first you were apprehensive but he looked at you with kind eyes which made you relent and shake his hand. Pleased by your willingness to listen, he immediately continued speaking.

"My father asked me to come and apologize to you, as did my brother Hvitserk. He's the one we’re throwing the party for." He grinned.

"Thanks Sigurd. Look, don't worry about it. I...I'm a professional and I'm going to finish the event despite what happened."

You replied looking down at the pavement so he couldn't see that you didn't believe your own words. In actuality, you had no desire to return to the Blue Room but, knew you had to. At least you received an apology despite it not being from creep who insulted you in the first place.

Almost like he read your mind, Sigurd stated that he was sorry that Ivar had not apologized.

"Don't take it too personally though Y/N. When my brother does stuff like this…he NEVER apologizes.” Sigurd shook his head in a show of exasperation. “It's just unfortunate that you happened to be within his gaze at the wrong time."

His words seemed very genuine so you finally decided to look up at him again. As you did, you took notice of a taller blonde guy with a long ponytail walk up behind Sigurd.

“What the hell are they? A rock band or something?” You wondered.

"So what devious little things is my little brother convincing you to do? Rob a bank, knock off a few liquor stores?"

The blonde guy roughly tussled Sigurd's hair triggering Sigurd to elbow him hard in response.

"For your information Ubbe, I was just making sure our hostess was okay."

"Well, are you?" Ubbe asked with a twinkle in his light blue eyes. He looked you up and down in a peculiar manner but you pushed it out if your mind.

"Yeah. Thanks um..."

“Ubbe.” Ubbe interrupted to provide you his name.

“Thanks Ubbe. I appreciate the concern.” You said with a faint smile.

"We Lothbroks are gentlemen for the most part. You'll see." Ubbe gave you a crooked smile that resembled his father's. "Well, shall we go in and do this party up or what?" He asked you.

You knew it was time to do your job despite your heart not really being in it. Besides Folaki needed you and that outweighed some jerk talking down to you.

"Okay. I'm ready."

___________________________

When you entered the Blue Room behind Sigurd and Ubbe, you made a bee-line towards Folaki who had just finished placing a massive tray of tequila shots on the table. In her other hand she balanced an equally large tray of lemons, limes and salt shakers. How she managed to be so skillful and coordinated, you would never know.

When you reached her side, you thought she was going to be angry that you had vanished without telling her where you were going, but she wasn’t.

“Everything okay Y/N?”

“Uh, yeah. I was actually about to ask you the same thing.” You replied a bit surprised at her concern.

She placed the other tray down and whispered that she had heard about your incident from the Hvitserk. He had even asked her to find you and make apologies but she was unable to locate you.

“Oh, that’s because I was outside. Thanks for telling me though.” You said as you tried to stealthily glance at Hvitserk.

He must have been looking at you already because your eyes met as soon as you turned your head. You felt like such a dork as the two of you looked at each other for a moment. After all, you had not intended on getting caught. Without breaking his glance, Hvitserk lifted his tequila shot up as if to toast you. As you watched him as if you were hypnotized, he took the shot and winked flirtatiously.

The wink made you turn from him immediately. What you didn’t know was that the abrupt manner in which you turned away amused Hvitserk. He leaned over to laugh about it with Ubbe, Sigurd and his Uncle Floki.

“I think our other hostess is one of those shy types. It’s so different than what I’m accustomed to.” Hvitserk chuckled as he grabbed a lemon wedge and another shot of tequila from the tray.

Ubbe looked over at you and back to the guys.

“Indeed. No one would ever describe our women as shy.” Ubbe said with another glance in your direction.

Sigurd nodded his head in agreement and took a shot. Hvitserk took another shot and stated that he found it fascinating to interact with a woman who wasn’t aggressive. Ivar rolled his eyes at their conversation but said nothing. He was too busy trying to keep the blonde girl; now seated next to him; from giving him a hickey.

“We’re at a party with my family. Control yourself woman!” He commanded as she playfully leaned on him and stroked his cheek.

“But you said you liked it when I’m the initiator. Besides, I’m bored.” She cooed in a phony erotic tone.

The brunette girl swigged down her tequila and bit her lemon wedge. After she threw the peel down, she looked at the blonde.

“What my cousin means to say, Ingrid, is that it’s all good and well when we’re hanging out but not with our parents and extended family around. I mean, it’s kinda gross.” The brunette added with a bit of irritation in her voice.

“Whatever Tonna. Unlike you, I am not afraid of public displays of affection...or what people think about me for that matter.” Ingrid replied with pride.

Tonna, wanted to say something else but decided against it. She instead turned to chat with Ubbe. The fair-haired Ingrid snuggled her head on Ivar’s shoulder who, for whatever reason was scowling at you.

He watched as you served some attendees and then arrive back at the head table. Folaki had gone to speak with the caterers about the cake so you were on your own.

“Hey everyone.” You said softly. “The food is going to be served soon but I wanted to know-”

“Louder! For the love of Odin, who exactly is supposed to hear anything you’re trying to say?” Ivar bellowed.

Your heart started beating rapidly as you tried to remain calm. You had hoped that the asshole was done harassing you for the night but obviously he wasn’t. A drunk Floki; who was standing behind Ivar; shook his head as he patted the young man’s shoulder. It was his silent way of telling his nephew to take it easy.

“Don’t pay him any mind, my dear. He’s just having a bit of fun with you.” A jovial Floki said.

“Fun? This is the little bastard’s idea of fun?” You thought.

Ivar’s sinister glare didn’t diminish. You could literally feel his intimidating energy all over your body despite avoiding looking in his direction.

“I, I was saying that, if there’s anything you need before I go check on your guests, please-”

“This must be the work of Loki! I mean, this can’t be real. Seriously, were you a death-mute when you were younger Y/N?” Ivar cupped his hand to his ear as if he was struggling to hear you. “Speak up!”

Everyone watched to see what your reaction was going to be. Naturally some were laughing because the liquor had kicked-in with the exception of Sigurd, Hvitserk and Ubbe. Ubbe especially, was over Ivar’s behavior. As he sipped his rum and coke, he glared at his younger brother. Despite giggling a little bit, even their cousin Tonna seemed to feel a bit sorry for you. She hit her cousin’s shoulder and told him to stop.

Remorseless, Ivar shrugged his shoulders and acted stunned that she would defend you.

“What cousin?” He said innocently. “Do you not see that she isn’t made for this? Hun er en skæftig mus! (Danish: She’s a timid mouse!) You can tell she’s never been popular.” He impishly looked at you. ”Isn’t that right mus?”

You felt like someone had exposed you. As if his words had left you naked in front of everyone. You were angry and sad all at the same time. It was a familiar mixture of emotions you hadn’t felt since moving to your apartment. Your mind flashed with images of your youth and college years. It was just a blur of bad memories.

“Look at her. She’s like a deer in headlights.” A pleased Ivar said as he swigged his tequila down.

A dark haired guy placed his hand on your shoulder snapping you out of your daydream.

“Apologies, my dear. I’m afraid he gets quite temperamental when he drinks. To answer your question, we are in need of several pints of beer. Guinness, if you please.”

“Tell her to make some of them extra stout, Alfred.” A drunk Ragnar said as he walked past the two of you.

“Well, I suppose you heard my Godfather’s request.” Alfred laughed.

You were just about to do as Alfred had asked when Ivar’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Hey, Y/N! Not only are you apparently quite incompetent at your job but daft as well. Look, I’ll spell if for you. B E E R! ” He wrinkled his nose at you and furrowed his eyebrows like a mischievous child. “Now.......fetch!”

Ivar continued drinking his beer and chuckling at the same time. His amusement at your expense was bad enough but commanding you as if you were a dog pissed you off. At that moment in time, his smug face and chuckling was all you could see. It simply pushed you over the edge. And that’s when it happened.

You don’t know why you did it, but you did something you didn’t know you were capable of. After all, you were always nice even in the worst of situations. But not this time. You snatched the commemorative beer horn out of a stunned Alfred’s hand. In a heartbeat, you leaned past a tattoo-faced man and poured all of the horn’s contents on Ivar.

Ingrid, the blonde chick, must have perceived what you were about to do because she moved quickly enough from Ivar’s shoulder that only a few drops hit her.

Cold, dark beer washed over his head, face and down his upper body before he even realized what was happening. You didn’t stay to see his reaction, or anyone else’s for that matter. Still clutching the beer horn, you rushed towards to exit of the Blue Room as quickly as your pumps would allow. You heard the great ruckus behind you but didn’t turn around. If you weren’t imagining things, you could swear it sounded like applause and laughter.

In the Blue Room, the word of what you did spread like wildfire. The men especially got a huge kick out of your actions. The reason for their admiration of your actions was due to whom Ivar was. Not that the other men in his family weren’t feared but Ivar was another story altogether. Despite being the youngest Lothbrok, he was as savage as he was cunning. And when it came to him dishing out cruelty, let’s just say no one had ever given a dose of his own medicine.

“You deserved it, Ivar.” A tipsy Hvisterk said to his brother who was being dried off by Ingrid.

The blonde was going on and on about how you would be fired once your boss got word. As she continued to dry him the best she could, Ivar stood motionless with a scowl that could kill. If you had been there, he may have very well done so.

“We should complain to her supervisor as soon as possible.” Ingrid suggested wiping Ivar’s hair with a towel your coworker Folaki had provided.

Despite knowing what you had done, Folaki was keeping it to herself. She knew you needed time away from everyone so worked the floor herself. Since the food was already being served by catering, she didn’t have to do anything except serve drinks.That was something she could do with her eyes closed so she kept working hoping you were alright.

It didn’t take long for Aslaug, their mother, to rush over to the head table. She looked at her son Ivar with shock. Almost as if she thought the story about a hostess pouring beer on her son had been a lie. Without asking, she snatched the towel from Ingrid’s hand and continued drying Ivar’s hair herself.

Hvitserk wasn’t going to watch his mother dote over Ivar when he was in the wrong. He stood up and in his typical quiet manner, began to walk away.

“Son, I hope this didn’t ruin your party.” Aslaug said as she finished drying Ivar’s hair.

“Of course not mother. I’m just going to mingle with some of our guests. After all, I can’t sit at the head table all night.” He added glaring at Ivar.

Ivar was unfazed. He wasn’t a stupid man and knew very well what his brother was implying my the look he gave. Despite what Hvitserk or anyone else thought, Ivar simply didn’t see anything wrong with his actions. In his eyes, you were the only one in the wrong and that was then end of it as far as he was concerned.

Floki; who was seated nearby with his wife Helga; knew you were in trouble. All the enjoyment everyone got out of Ivar’s comeuppance most likely increased his rage towards you.

“Ivar, let us see if we can do this without making the poor girl lose her job.” Floki leaned and whispered in his nephew’s ear.

But Ivar’s mind was made up. He didn’t process things like most people so you would have to make amends. What that was, even he didn’t know what he wanted from you just yet. But he knew he wanted you to grovel.

“If I am satisfied that she is remorseful Uncle, then fine. But if not, she can live on the streets for all I care.” He looked at Floki with a very sedated expression. “She would learn what happens when you don’t think of the consequences of your actions.

“You’re one to talk.” Bjorn said taking a seat with a massive beer mug in hand.

“No one was speaking to you, brother. I was the one offended and I will deal with it as I see fit!” Ivar replied with flared nostrils.

“Why don’t we all just have some more drinks first.” Harald Finehair suggested as he got Folaki’s attention. He asked her to bring bottles of a strong liquor called Akvavit.

It was a smart move on Harald’s part. He and his brother Halfdan knew that if they let Ivar keep going on, he would only wind himself up even more. They had seen what he was capable of in his moments of blind rage and didn’t feel like seeing any of it that evening.

____________________________________

In the breakroom, you had been seated on the floor by your locker for what seemed like forever. You were still shocked about everything. If the beer horn hadn’t been laying by your side, you wouldn’t have believed that you had poured beer on a patron.

“That little shit! Now I’m going to lose my job. I should have held it together better.” You vented. “I shouldn’t have let him push my buttons like that.”

You decided not to delay the inevitable. You knew you had to face the music and there was no use in hiding in the breakroom. Because sooner or later, the word was going to spread to Frankie. As you stepped out of the breakroom, you almost crashed into Jason. He was one of the nicest people at your workplace and the two of you hit if off from day one. He was Jewish but he would always inform everyone that he wasn’t a “practicing Jew”. Whatever that meant. The two of you were pretty close so naturally he took the opportunity to tease you about working your first private party.

“So, virgin, how’s it going so far? Was it all you thought your first time would be?” He joked.

You hesitated a moment before you ran down the whole story about being harassed all night and what you did prior to hiding in the breakroom.

“Well, personally, it sounds like he deserved that shit. You should have hit him with the beer horn too.”

You burst into laughter at Jason’s response. His funny remark actually made you feel better than you had all night.

“Look, if they try to get you in trouble with Frankie, I’ll go to bat for you.” Jason said giving you a quick hug. “Now, let me go check on my VIP’s”

With that, the two of you went your separate ways. Since you had made up your mind to tell Frankie everything yourself, you began walking towards the main floor of the club.

I’ll just tell Frankie everything and hope for the best.” You thought. “One thing’s for sure, I won’t apologize. Jason is totally right. That guy deserved even worse!”

As you turned left into one of the corridors near the private party rooms, you were caught off-guard by a sight that made your heart sink.

You saw the man you were wishing death and all other types of natural disasters upon headed in your direction. You weren’t sure if he had been trying to find your boss or another manager but you suddenly didn’t care. All your anger dissipated as you watched him wince with each step he took. You just felt terrible for what you had done now that you saw his true condition. Having grown up with a cousin who was Autistic, you had a real soft spot for people with disabilities.

Despite the numerous people in the corridor, Ivar’s blue eyes somehow found you. Clearing your throat you approached him quickly so he wouldn’t have to walk any further. As soon as you were in front of him, his eyes darkened and his expression was that of a man who could strike you down on the spot.

“Y/N! You have some nerve! You think you could embarrass me and just walk away? Well, you’re--”

“I’m sorry.”

Ivar’s voice broke as you interrupted him. He looked at you with confusion and anger. Regardless, he was taken aback.

“What I did was beyond unprofessional. It was also very rude to do that to you in front of your family and friends.” You added.

He looked at you for a little while before he finally said that he wanted you to apologize to him in front of everyone at the party.

“You did it publicly so you can apologize publicly.” He added.

“Okay. It seems like the right thing to do.” You replied.

Ivar scoffed as he began walking towards the Blue Room again.

“Right thing to do?” He echoed your words. “Are you always so eager to make amends Y/N?” He looked at you as he took his painful steps. “Should I assume you to be a pushover?”

Your actually pondered his question for a moment instead of getting mad. In actuality, your friends back home had always accused you of being a pushover despite them being the one’s who took advantage of you most.

“I’m not a pushover.” You asserted to his amusement.

“Sure. A smirking Ivar said. “Is that why you apologized without me even speaking to your boss?”

Since he was actually somewhat correct, you said nothing. The rest of the walk to the Blue Room was silent. Ivar didn’t say anything else and you felt that you had pushed your luck with him far enough for one night.

_________________________________

When you entered the Blue Room, the party was in full swing. People were having too good of a time to pay any attention to the two of you. Everyone except Hvitserk, who swiftly made his way over to see what Ivar was up to.

“What’s going on here?” He looked at you and then to Ivar.

Ivar rolled his eyes without giving response. He instead grabbed a cocktail off the tray a passing Folaki was holding. She locked eyes with you briefly as if to wish you luck before disappearing into the crowd.

“I’m going to give an apology to your guests...and Ivar.” You answered.

“What?” A displeased Hvitserk looked at Ivar. “Why are you making her do this?”

“No. Listen, it was my idea.”It wasn’t your idea of course, but you could tell that the two brothers differed on how you should make amends. “I crossed the line. After all, it’s my duty to remain professional no matter what’s going on.” You assured him.

As you tried to walk past the two brothers to go find a microphone, you felt a strong hand grasp your arm. You turned around to see a smug Ivar leaning on his crutch and holding your arm with his free hand. He then looked at Hvitserk who seemed as confused as you were. With his eyes still on his brother, Ivar spoke to you.

“Y/N, it is okay. Now that I think about it, the apology in the hallway will suffice.” He said letting go of your arm.

You had no clue as to why he had changed his mind but whatever the reason was, you were grateful.

“Thank you so much...Ivar. And you as well Hvitserk.” You began walking in the direction of Folaki. “If you two are okay for the moment, I’m going to help Folaki. Let me know if you need anything.”

Hvisterk watched you walk away until he could no longer see you which, of course, didn’t go unnoticed by Ivar.

"Enjoying the view brother?”

A blushing Hvitserk shook his head and popped a potato chip in his mouth so he wouldn’t have to give Ivar an answer.

369 notes · View notes

chocojjk-sideblog · 6 years

Note

thank you! take the time you want 😘here's my request: when the reader was little she used to be debbie in billy elliot with tom and she had a crush on him but he liked this girl megan (he said in an interview that she was his first kiss lol hope you remember) anyway the reader grew up and she is a singer,actress and dancer only for musical theatre,and one time tom went to see something like les miserables or idk and he saw her and he has this feeling that he knows her so he goes to find her?)

Tom and Harrison were in Los Angeles for the week and since a show was promised to them by their lovely friend, Zendaya, the three were seated in the fifth row of Pantages Theatre. The golden lights illuminated the chamber beautifully as they all relaxed into their vibrant red seats, waiting for the show to start.

As he sat there astounded, Tom couldn’t help but ponder about his early days performing in Billy Elliot. The feeling of nervousness as you remain backstage, waiting for the spotlight. The feeling of ease once you’re on stage - the only thing on your mind is putting on a good show. Finally, the feeling of euphoria as you come in contact with the broad smiles letting you know that the show was a success. He wondered if he would’ve ever gotten a chance to perform in this beautiful theatre if he stayed.

Tom continued to ponder when his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by darkness. And then - a spotlight. The show has begun. “Beauty and the Beast.” We all know the story, it starts off with the Beast and it’s beautiful rose.

The eerie music finally transitioning, y/n appeared on stage in her commoner outfit and has taken the full spotlight. While she focused on hitting her notes correctly and immaculately playing her role, the only thing that the boy in the audience could think about was where he has seen her. He couldn’t quite remember who she was but he was certain that he has seen her face before. Also, her voice, it was such a sweet but familiar sound to him. Tom continued to rack his brain for information but as much as he tried, the answer he was searching for unsuccessfully came to him.

As the show went on, the more aggravated Tom found himself to be. y/n was now wearing the beautiful yellow gown, making her the brightest star on stage, yet he still had no idea who she was. So captivated by the sight in front of him, she has completely distracted the boy from thinking. Her hair - swaying perfectly to the rhythm of the music. Her eyes - showing every emotion. Her lips - delivering every line with the passion he desired. Tom Holland was definitely flustered.

The show has finally ended, everyone joining their hands together as they gave a big round of applause, wide smiles etched on their faces. The light has now focused its attention on the audience, lighting up the once dark room. Then she saw him. The boy she has been pining over for years. She couldn’t help but think her eyes were deceiving her. Making direct eye contact with her, the boy gave her a slight nod while she gave him a small smile in return. A miniscule, yet meaningful moment between the two.

Tom was just about to leave the theatre with his friends, when his blonde headed best friend grabbed him by the arm. “What are you doing bro? Don’t you wanna personally congratulate her on her first broadway show?” Harrison inquired. ‘But who is her’ Tom thought to himself, all while nodding along to Harrison, the identity of the girl capturing his mind.

“C’mon, we’re wasting time, lets go backstage,” Harrison announced, grabbing the clueless boy along with him.

Tom, still lost in his thoughts, haven’t realized that he was now standing in front of the girl that has occupied his thoughts for the past three hours.

“Hi Tom, it’s nice to see you, I hope you enjoyed the show,” y/n thanked him.

“Uh y-yeah, I-i did, you did a fantastic job uhm - ?” his eyebrows furrowed together as he thinks of what he should call her. Usually he would go for the name, but since he never figured it out, should it be love? Darling? or is that too forward?

y/n, noticing the pause, realized that the boy in front of her has no clue who she was. Clearing her throat, she spoke “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

“I know who you are!, I just, uhm, can’t remember your name,” Tom replied, defensively, scratching the back of his head.

“y/n. My name is y/n,” she said with a tight smile, trying to hide how hurt she was by the comment. Once Tom heard her name, everything clicked. She was a Debbie.

“You were a Debbie?!” he pointed out excitedly.

“Yeah, i was a Debbie,” she returned, giving the boy a genuine smile. ‘At least he remembered where he knew me from’, she thought to herself.

“How come i don’t remember your name?” he said to himself, not expecting the girl to hear him.

“Well, you kinda had your full attention on Megan Jossa,” y/n says chuckling. “I don’t blame you though, she was gorgeous,” she added.

Tom gave her a smile, “she was, but uh- i think i just got caught up with the acting,” he explained. “How come you remember me? It’s not like we were paired up together? Right?” inquired Tom.

“No we weren’t,” she said giggling, “and i know you because well, for starters, youre Spiderman,” Tom chuckled upon hearing this. “-and well, i kinda had the biggest crush on you back then.” y/n confessed as she looked down to her shoes, avoiding his gaze.

Tom couldn’t believe what she said. He wasn’t the type to make the first move, hell, he hasn’t been in a relationship for years and have only ever really had one girlfriend. So the girl’s confession left him shocked in place, not really knowing what to say or do with the information.

y/n quickly realized the awkward tension that settled above the two, rambling, she added “i-i don’t anymore though.”

“Oh,” Tom murmured. The tension at a peak level of awkwardness. “Well, i don’t know anything about you now to have a crush on you, is what I mean” she added quickly. y/n didn’t quite know why she was explaining herself, it’s not like she owed him an explanation. However the the look on the boys face was enough for her to know that she took a jab at his heart.

Tom looked at her finally catching her gaze, “well, why don’t we change that?” hinted Tom, as he shot her one of his million dollar smiles. “Tomorrow night, at 7. You and me. I’ll pick you up?” he said confidently. However on the inside, his newly found confidence was confusing him every second. He just wished that it won’t backfire on his face, i mean, he’s seen this be done in the movies and thought that it was cute. Hopefully, she felt the same way.

“I’d love that,” y/n replied, a small smile plastered on her face.

(( omygod i finally finished this, i had to write this 2x adfjasl;kfjl,, idek if im happy with this…..BUT THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REQUEST I WAS VERY EXCITED TO WRITE IT UNTIL MY DUMBASS ACCIDENTALLY DELETED EVERYTHING LMFAO ))

#tom holland #Tom Holland blurb #cbwrites #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #c.b.

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blackleatherjacketz · 6 years

Text

You’re The Boss: Final Chapter

(Gif Isn’t Mine)

Negan x Female Reader, Sherry x Female Reader

Warnings: Thoughts of potential suicide, Quotes from Hamilton and Wicked

Read: Previous Chapters

Notes: Thank you all for reading this and sticking with me! I love you all so much.

Tags: @sonnshineandrainbows @acutecupidity @skittle479 @mblaqgi @destiel-lover321 @collette04 @littlepeachwhispers @dramaqueenarg @haleyea @sleepylunarwolf @lokisaveus @beautifulfound @negans-network

“You’re leaving.” Sherry states, standing in the doorway.

You stop shoving Tylenol and betadine into your pack and stare at her. A woman in black, as thin as a rail, grasping onto the frame of the only home you knew in the past six years. She isn’t asking you if you’re leaving, she’s telling you. Her hair falls perfectly onto her shoulders as she approaches you, her footsteps as silent as you wish yours could be.

“There isn’t anything left for me here.” You tell her, making sure to pack your scissors and a scalpel.

“Nothing? I thought you actually cared for him, that you wanted him? You’re the only one who genuinely wanted to be with him.” She can’t even say his name. She walks over to the exam table like the first time you met her and sits down.

“I do.” You close your eyes, pressing them shut as the pain of your choice pierces deeper. “I just… you know how he is.”

“I know!” She yells in a coarse whisper. “I know how he is, and that’s why I’m staying. When he was with you, he wasn’t so wild, so angry with the rest of us. When he was with you, things were better for everyone.”

Oh great, this is exactly what you want to hear right now. The one person who is supposed to be on your side is begging you to stay in this toxic relationship.

“He gave you your stuff back, your old job back! He NEVER does that. Do you know how lucky you are?!” She crosses her arms over her chest, crinkling the tissue paper on the table.

“It’s not enough, Sherry. He…” you open your eyes. “Everyone I know is gone. The whole reason I brought them here was to save Marshall, and he was the first to go! Now it’s just… me?! And I’m not even who I thought I was anymore after I let him… Living in fear of whose face he’s going to burn off if they don’t ‘bend the knee’?”

“You think that you brought them here? You think that any decision you made after he laid eyes on you was your own? This is his world, and we’re just living in it.” She uncrosses her arms and looks you over.

“Yeah well, maybe he’s underestimated me.” You grab a pen light and put it in your bag, fastening it quickly before strapping it onto your back.

“Maybe you’ve underestimated him. Maybe all of this was a trick to make you think he left so he could test you… see if you’ll stay in your cage when the door is unlatched.”

Oh shit, what if she’s right? What if Negan was testing you? Would he waste all those resources and manpower just to see if you would escape? Would he have Fat Joey come in and ruin your makeup sex just for that? Was this his way of breaking you, of making you second guess yourself? Was Sherry in on it, too?

“Well, I, umm, I didn’t think about that.” You tell her frankly, leaning against the countertop.

Now you don’t know what to do. This could go one of four ways. You try to play out the absolute worst case scenario for each situation. If you stay, and Sherry is spying for Negan, you’ll be in trouble… BIG trouble. If she isn’t working for Negan, and you stay, then you’ll be stuck in this miserable existence forever. If you leave and Sherry is right, then he’ll catch you. And if he catches you, well, you don’t even want to begin to think about what he’ll do to you then.

You grab a handful of morphine and fentanyl, telling yourself that you’ll ingest them before Negan gets his hands on you. If you have to go, you’ll at least go out on your own terms instead of his or Lucille’s.

“Doctor Carson needs those.” Sherry whispers. You had hardly noticed that she stood up from the exam table, standing only inches away from you now.

“I need them more. Bob died for these drugs, the least I can do is take them with me.” You shove them in the front pocket.

“Bob is dead?” Sherry looks genuinely surprised.

“He was at the outpost, or at least that’s what Negan told me before he left.”

Sherry lowers her head, her diamond earrings glistening in the faint moonlight from the window above her. She bites her lower lip and looks up at you, her eyes wet with tears. “There’s really no one here for you, then?”

“No.” You adjust the straps on your pack. “Just me.”

She takes in a deep breath, glancing out into the hallway to make sure no one is close by. She leans into you, almost as if to hug you, and whispers into your ear. “There’s a single guard at the gate after nine o’clock. He makes a slow circle around The Sanctuary starting on the east side. Most of the smarter ones will be in the caravan with Negan by now. If you are who you say you are, if you can take care of yourself… you can go in an hour, but only then.”

Her words are immaculate as they dance into your ears. Finally! A way out! Has she been watching them all of these years? How long has she been here? Has she been trying to escape, too? How long has she been planning this?

“And you’ll meet me there?” You whisper back.

“What?”

“You, Tanya, Frankie, and Amber? You’ll meet me at the gate when I give you a signal? It can be a bird call or something else, it doesn’t have to be…”

“Stop.” She places her hand on your chest, her pressure soft but firm. “We can’t all go, it will draw too much attention.”

“Then let it. Like you said, most of the people who would stop us are with Negan already, headed for the outpost. Think of what we could do together. I could protect you, all of you!” You stare into her eyes.

“We’re not like you. We wouldn’t survive. Ex-military and a nurse, compared to what? Two gardeners, a babysitter, and a massage therapist?! We’d be dead in minutes!” She scolds.

“This isn’t a job interview, Sherry, this is your freedom! This is your life! And what kind of life is it if you stay in those heels and that dress, doing whatever he wants? You’ve stayed alive this long before you came to The Sanctuary; you can do it again!”

“We still have people to protect. If we leave… our loved ones get hurt.” She moves her hand to your shoulder, smiling at the fact that you aren’t brushing it off.

“Sometimes…” she purses her lips. “Sometimes I wish that Dwight was already dead so that I could be like you, to be fearless and invincible.” A tear falls down her cheek.

“I’m not fearless. I’m afraid all of the time.” You confess, clasping your hand over her fingers. “I’ve never stopped being afraid since I got here.”

“Good, then let that fuel you.” She gives your hand a quick squeeze before stepping aside and letting you pass.

You put your hand on top of her hair and kiss her forehead. “I’ll see you on the other side of the wall.”

She nods. “I’ll see you on the other side of the wall.”

#Negan #Negan twd #Negan fan fiction #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #The Walking Dead #the walking dead fan fiction #Negan Smut #sherry the walking dead #You're The Boss #blackleatherjacketz

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onedivision · 3 years

Note

HELLO !!!!!!!! hello hi, its me, your lovely secret valentine 💌 how are u doing my darling??? i hope that February is treating u well!!!!

also im soo sorry for not sending a message yesterday????? idk i literally have no sense of days now. college is exhausting and TODAY IS THURSDAY??????? this week felt like a wholeass decade tbh

anyways, mmith and fine line are just simply immaculate!!!!!! oh zane lowe one was a good one and me? well i don't really watch interviews anymore but zane lowe one was also my fave <3 idk what the whole interview was soo relaxing and serene.

oh fandom memory??? oh ONE DAY FOR SURE !!!!! (Off topic but louis on one dee day.... phew) but you know what i honestly love? the boys birthdays like its soo festive and idk i just absolutely adore those 5 days and obviously july 23rd and u????? also oh what's ur fave larry conspiracy theory?? ALSO YOUR HARRY BIRTHDAY EDIT WAS 😭😭😭 Brooklyn why????? im hurting over here </3

ALSO STREAM DEFENCELESS ✨

i hope u have/had a lovely day babe

-💌

HELLO MY SECRET VALENTINE DARLING !!!!! i am doing alright thanks love how are you ????

days literally don’t exist anymore, don’t worry about it <3 i genuinely don’t know how it’s february already !!!!

the boys’ birthdays being something you love is so !!!! soft !!!!! but i totally agree i think it’s so lovely to send them wishes that like. we don’t know if they’ll see them but it still makes us feel closer somehow ?? idk !! and july 23rd..... rip to me seeing louis on the 1d 10 year anniversary..... which was the final show of tour.......... i’m making myself sad so i’m moving on

fave larry conspiracy ???? i feel like i see some wild shit on here on any given day but nothing is really jumping out at me rn..... idk !! i love them all !! anything that’s like cute and soft i will choose to believe for fun simply because i know i’ll forget about it within days (i have. a very bad memory) but yea idk i really don’t !! hit me with a few of your favourites and maybe it’ll light a little spark in my mind haha

also i’m crying literally thank you for even watching my edit !!!!! i appreciate it so much omg !!!! and finally i have been streaming defenceless :) literally amazing !!!!!

hope you have an amazing start to your weekend <3

#valentine #with the conspiracy theories i genuinely don’t know #haha see what i did there #anyways seriously please send me yours and then i’ll have an idea haha #ALSO happy lairport day !!!!

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yuriyuu · 7 years

Text

Alone

Sometimes Viktor gets horribly depressed, but he learns he doesn’t have to deal with it alone.

Pairing: Viktor/Yuri

Rating: G (but with some language)

Word count: 2226

Read on AO3

Viktor walks through the door, looking more immaculate than he has any right to after a long day, a long week. He comes home wearing that fake-ass smile of his, acting overly jubilant over nothing. He comes home, and immediately sweeps Yuri up, showering him in love and affection. Yuri’s heart sinks. This song and dance, he knows it all too well. As much as he loves being in Viktor’s arms, as much as he loves feeling treasured by him, it’s only nice when it’s genuine, and not this contrived bullshit. So Yuri immediately pulls out of Viktor’s embrace, looks at him with worry flashing through his eyes, forgoes the usual pleasantries and says, “Cut the bullshit. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong! Everything is fine! I just really love you and am happy to see you is all!” He feigns confusion, as if he has no clue what Yuri’s talking about.

Yuri narrows his eyes, shooting him a look of that’s bullshit and you know it. Everything’s wrong. Nothing’s fine. That much is obvious, if it wasn’t already apparent by Viktor’s chipper voice, impersonal grin, and the hint of utter exhaustion Yuri can detect behind the glossed over enthusiasm in his eyes. “You’re lying right now, aren’t you?”

Immediately, Viktor frowns, and looks slightly offended by the accusation, offended by the audacity of partner to call him out on his little white lies. “What makes you say that?” His voice still remains falsely chipper, and fabricated happiness of it grates on Yuri’s ears.

“You always put on that fake smile when you’re horribly depressed, don’t even try to deny it. The worse off you are, the more you try to exaggerate it.” Yuri pauses, crossing his arms as he quickly tries to figure out how to word the next part, “You talk to me like you don’t even know me, like I’m some random interviewer interviewing you for a magazine or some shit. So damn impersonal. I know that’s not how you talk to me, you only talk to me like that when you’re lying about your feelings. So please, tell me what’s wrong. Stop lying to me.” He knows his voice sounds desperate, pathetic even toward the end, but that’s only because he is.

Now it’s Viktor’s turn to narrow his eyes at Yuri. “Why are you accusing me of this? I’m happy! Everyone was commenting on how happy I’ve been lately! Everything is fine.”

God, how stupid are the people in VIktor’s life to see that for the past week he’s been lying through his teeth? How can they be so blind? It’s either they are blissfully ignorant of how Viktor suffers in silence, or they are willfully ignorant because they don’t want to actually deal with Viktor, real Viktor, who really isn’t always the most pleasant person. The thought of that alone makes Yuri’s blood boil.

But it’s pointless to get Viktor to concede. He won’t admit something’s wrong, he never does. “Fine! Everything is fine!” Yuri snaps back, “Excuse me for caring.” It’s an instant regret the moment the words leave his mouth. Patience has never been his strong suite, and he rues each and every time his temper gets the better of him and he ends up yelling at Viktor when really, that’s the last thing he should be doing.

Yuri doesn’t bother waiting for Viktor to respond, because he just knows the minute Viktor says anything back, he’ll end up snapping again. He just sulks off to their room in a huff, and tries his best to ignore the gnawing feeling in his chest of how goddamn insulted and insignificant he feels when Viktor can’t even be honest with him and admit he’s sad. Honesty. That’s all he wants. Honesty and the ability, the privilege, to support Viktor just as he’s supported him all these years throughout their relationship.

But whatever, if Viktor wants to shut him out like that, then there’s nothing he can do, and the thought of that makes him seethe with how useless he feels.

Viktor doesn’t chase after him when Yuri sulks off to their room, nor does he really say anything when Yuri comes out a while later and states that he’s the one making dinner tonight.

“Oh? What are you making?” Is all he asks, still in his fake, impersonal voice.

“Something you’ll like,” Yuri says back before walking into the kitchen. If Viktor refuses to let him provide emotional support, then he’ll just have to show he cares in other ways. It’s a small gesture, making his favorite meal, but it’s one he hopes will say I’m sorry you’re sad and I wish you’d let me help you more than this because I love you very much but you’re a stubborn asshole who would never admit when you’re sad so this is all I can do for you.

Of course, as Yuri is chopping carrots, the thought of all the stupid, ignorant people in Viktor’s life comes to his mind. How can they not see that Viktor is clearly depressed out of his mind? And Yuri suspects it’s just been building up. How can they not realize that Viktor is fooling them all? It doesn’t fool him, it’s never fooled him. And stupid, stubborn Viktor, refusing to admit he could use some help. Yuri gets it, he does. Viktor’s been in the public eye, held in such high regard for so long that he’s expected to be flawless, but it still makes him grind his teeth in utter frustration. They’ve been together for how long now? Viktor’s seen him at all kinds of low points, and goddamnit, Yuri just wants to repay the favor.

The more Yuri mulls upon it, the more he works himself up again over it, and soon enough he’s chopping so aggressively he’s sending carrots flying across the kitchen.

But soon enough, somehow, dinner is ready to be served with a minimal amount of angry mishap, and when Viktor sees what Yuri has made, his eyes light up slightly before he says, “Oh, you didn’t have to go through the trouble of this!”

The slight flicker of genuine delight in Viktor’s eyes makes Yuri’s heart flutter in his chest. “Oh shut up, I wanted to.” And I just want you to feel a little better.

Neither Viktor nor Yuri say much while they eat. Viktor looks tired as they do, and he’s no longer wearing that awful fake grin of his. Perhaps Viktor realized it’s pointless to keep up the disguise around Yuri, that he’ll always see right through it, much to Viktor’s chagrin. Still, it’s progress at least, but Yuri knows better than to say anything. The last thing he wants to do is send Viktor back into game of charades, because then he’ll just end up snapping at him again, which does neither of them any good.

After he’s done eating, Viktor goes to get up and clean up the mess Yuri’s made in the kitchen, but before he can get up, Yuri grabs his hand and says, “Don’t. I’ll clean up tonight.”

“But you cooked, so it’s my job to clean up.”

Yuri gives him a look, a look which states his mind is already made up and they would not be arguing over this. “Well tonight, I’m cleaning up. Go relax in the bath or something.”

Again, Vitkor looks exhausted, exhausted, but glad that he’s been relieved of cleaning duty. “Thanks,” Yuri hears him mumble.

“Whatever, it’s fine. Go take your bath and leave some hot water for me.”

As shitty as it is that Viktor feels so terrible, Yuri’s just glad he’s no longer trying to blatantly hide it, even if he won’t outright ask for help or admit he might need some extra love and care.

Later, they both sit in the living room together, each of them doing their own thing and neither of them talking to one another. It’s a moment of neither of them knowing what to say to each other, neither willing to approach the elephant in the room of Viktor’s looming depression. Yuri knows he’ll be denied, and Viktor is unwilling to acknowledge it.

“I’m going to bed. Coming?” Yuri eventually says. He looks at Viktor, eyes pleading for him to come to bed with him so he can snuggle him until he feels slightly less crappy, but Viktor shakes his head.

“Go on without me. I’ll be there later.”

“Fiiiine,” Yuri whines, dejected. “But don’t stay up too late.”

What Yuri really means is I can’t sleep without you so please come to bed soon.

Viktor, unfortunately, seems to have forgotten that little fact, and does not come to bed soon. Yuri lays in bed, tossing and turning for what seems like forever, growing steadily irritated that Viktor has not come to bed yet. After falling asleep and waking up after a brief fifteen minute stint for what feels like the upteenth time since he’s laid down, Yuri decides he’s going to drag Viktor’s ass to bed whether he likes it or not.

Yuri makes his way to the living room, and all of his hopes of dragging Viktor back to bed with him are dashed when he hears the sound of...crying? Was Viktor crying? He walks into the living room, and his heart shatters when he sees Viktor curled up against the side of the couch, sobbing into a throw pillow.

“Oh, Vitya…” Yuri whispers as he crawls onto the couch next to Viktor.

“Yuri! Where’d you come from?” Viktor yells as he jumps slightly, “I thought you went to bed.”

Yuri nonchalantly shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep. Now tell me, what’s wrong? And I swear to God if you say you’re fine…”

Viktor aggressively wipes away tears and sniffles, as if he’s trying to hide the evidence that he’s been crying to no avail. “I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have to see me like this,” he mumbles, burying his face into the throw pillow he’s been crying into the the past who knows how long.

Yuri decides he’s not having any of that bullshit. He slowly peels the pillow away from Viktor’s face, exposing his tear-stained cheeks and his puffy, red eyes. How long has Viktor been crying here, alone? Yuri decides it doesn’t matter, he’s here now and he’ll be damned if he leaves Viktor alone to wallow in his misery.

“That’s bullshit,” He says, “You’ve seen me cry plenty of times. Now please, tell me, what’s wrong?”

“You were right before. I’m not fine. Everything is not fine,” Viktor blubbers out, wiping freshly shed tears out of his eyes, “I don’t know why. I don’t know what’s wrong. Everything should be fine, but it’s not.”

“Shh...it’s okay, love.” Comforting people isn’t particularly a talent of Yuri’s, but he crawls into Vitkor’s lap and gently embraces him, holding him close

Viktor takes the initiative and hugs Yuri back, hiding his face into his shoulder and sobs, apologizing as he does.

“Don’t apologize, it’s fine, really,” Yuri says softly, running his fingers through Viktor’s hair in attempts to soothe him. “I just wish you wouldn’t lie to me.”

“I’m sorry. You really shouldn’t have to deal with me like this. I can deal with it on my own, I always have-”

“Stop right there,” Yuri demands, cutting him off and peeling Viktor away from his shoulder. He brushes Viktor’s bangs out his face and looks straight into his eyes. “We are partners. We’ve been together for how long now? A couple years maybe? How many times have you nursed me through my own bullshit? And it’s not like I haven’t seen you like this before, I know you get like this, I’ve seen you get like this, this isn’t news to me. It may be news to your friends, but it’s not to me.” He pauses and leans in to gently kiss Viktor’s forehead. “I want to be here for you. I know i’m not the most dependable or sympathetic person, I snap at you and yell a lot, but I want to be here for you. I’m only going to say this once, so don’t make me repeat myself, but I care about you a lot, okay?”

It’s not long before Viktor’s crying all over again. “I don’t want to deal with this on my own anymore. I...I can’t deal with it on my own anymore.”

“You don’t have to,” Yuri says to him, holding him close again and rubbing soothing motions onto his back, “I’m here for you, alright? I’ve always been here for you.”

“I...thank you, Yura,” Viktor mumbles into the crook of Yuri’s neck. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

If Viktor wasn’t currently crying into his shoulder, Yuri would shrug in response. “I don’t know. Dumb luck maybe.”

“This is the best dumb luck that’s ever happened to me,” Viktor says with a bit of a quiet, breathy laugh. He can’t quite get over how naked he feels in the conversation, that Yuri’s always seen right through him, especially when no one else ever has. It’s a bit overwhelming, really.

“You’re the best dumb luck that’s ever happened to me too, and that’s why I want to be here for you, you stubborn asshole,” Yuri says, snuggling closer to him.

“Thank you, Yura, really…”

“Anytime, love.”

#vikturio #victurio #yuri plisetsky #viktor nikiforov #yuri on ice #my writing #dropping fics at 3AM is my specialty

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