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lillupon · 3 years

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Soccer players!Minwon enemies to lovers

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minwon w photoshoot encouraged me to dust off the soccer players!minwon enemies-to-lovers fic i wrote 4 years ago and never posted. i thought it was too ooc even for a fanfic, and they hated each other so much that i couldn't make them smooch lovingly ;;

reading this whole thing makes me scream omfg i can’t believe i wrote this LMAO it’s so far out of leftfield for me

The ball comes hurtling through the air and Mingyu launches himself into the opposite corner of the goal, just barely getting his hands around it. Hitting the ground knocks all the breath right out of him, but the ball is safely tucked against his stomach. He’s on his feet less than a second later.

“Fucking wake up!” Mingyu screams at his defenders, and in particular, Wonwoo. They’ve been sleepwalking through the entire game so far. Reacting seconds too late. From where he’s standing, his teammates look like they’re watching with their fingers up their noses as the ball sails over their heads.

“You can fuck right off, Mingyu!” Wonwoo flips the finger as he jogs backward.

Seething, Mingyu throws the ball towards Seungcheol, far away from Wonwoo, just out of spite. He can’t stand that guy. Wonwoo’s a mouthy son of a bitch. Thinks he’s hot shit just because he’s signed for half a million dollars a year and makes more money off endorsements than the rest of the team combined.

It’s only been thirty minutes and Mingyu feels like he’s been playing for hours. He’s heaving for breath. Pissed off at his defenders for letting the ball slip between their legs. If they had been doing their jobs properly, the other team should never have been close enough to even attempt a shot. But mostly, Mingyu’s frustrated at himself for letting in three goals. He’s getting sloppy, he knows. The pressure is getting to him. It’s a high-stakes game, one that will either bring in the sponsors or have their current ones jumping ship. The way things are going now? Mingyu may as well pull his pants down and present his ass for the reaming he’s going to get from their coach.

The referee blows the whistle, signalling the end of the first half of the game. They’re down four nil and the morale of the entire team is starting to flag. They want to give up, Mingyu can tell. It’s almost impossible to recover, especially since no one’s head is in the game. Mingyu can’t talk, either. He can barely see straight past the red haze clouding his vision.

He storms into the locker room without a single glance at his teammates. He yanks off his gloves and whips them into the far wall. They’re made of fabric, but when they hit the wall, it sounds like a gunshot going off.

Someone grabs Mingyu by the shoulder and wheels him around. He comes face-to-face with Wonwoo who looks as angry and frustrated as Mingyu feels. His brows are drawn into a furious vee and his cheeks are blotchy with red. He gives a shove that has Mingyu stumbling back into the lockers with a metallic rattle.

“What the fuck was that?” Wonwoo snarls.

“That’s what I want to ask you! Because it’s looking to me like you’re playing for the other team. Is someone paying you to throw the game?”

Wonwoo scoffs. “Oh, fuck off. You’re acting like it wasn’t you who let in all those goals.”

“Those goals would never have happened if you were doing your job properly, and you know that.”

“Yeah, just pin your failures on me,” Wonwoo says. “I wasn’t the one looking the other way when number fourteen scored.”

“I don’t think you understand how this game works. If you were doing your job properly, number fourteen shouldn’t have even gotten to me.”

“Sure, let your defenders do all the work. I guess you’re just getting paid to scratch your ass out there,” Wonwoo sneers.

A growl rips from Mingyu’s chest and he lunges, arms outstretched. Suddenly, Seungcheol is there, restraining him with an arm around his waist. Mingyu shoves him off. Doesn’t take his eyes off Wonwoo for a second. With a huff, Mingyu yanks down his jersey to straighten it out.

“What the hell’s the matter with you two? You guys are teammates, not on opposing sides of a war. Jesus,” Seungcheol, center back, says. He’s a good guy, veteran player. A real pacifist with more sense than anyone Mingyu has ever met. “We’re all trying our best out there, okay?”

“I wonder about that,” Wonwoo mutters under his breath.

Before Mingyu can respond to that, Seungcheol says, “Take a walk, Mingyu.”

“Me?” Mingyu asks, incredulous. “Why do I—”

Seungcheol fixes him with a deeply unimpressed look that has him falling into a grudging silence. Mingyu turns on his heel and leaves.

He finds himself in the storage room. It’s dark. He fumbles his way to the back. There’s a stack of mats in the corner and he punches them a few times to loosen the frustration coiling inside him. He takes a deep breath, holding it for three seconds before exhaling slowly. He’s been doing a lot of yoga and breathing exercises lately, trying to get all zen and shit. He’s not sure it’s working.

Mingyu scrubs a hand over his face and sighs heavily. He can’t help but feel like this game went to shit because of him. He says a lot of things to the defenders when they’re slipping, and he means every word. But when it comes down to it, he’s the one who either saves the ball or lets the other team score.

The door swings open then, letting in a flood of light. It’s Wonwoo.

“Jesus, what the fuck do you want?” Mingyu asks.

Wonwoo is smiling at him, which is never a good sign. “Seungcheol told me to apologise to you. Said it wasn’t good for us to go into the second half angry and resenting each other.”

Mingyu narrows his eyes. “So? Are you going to?”

“Take a guess.” Wonwoo comes closer. Mingyu squares his shoulders, ready for a fight. “I’m here to tell you to open your fucking eyes next half, you talentless piece of shit.”

“You need to sit the fuck down,” Mingyu snarls at him. He’s shaking with anger and adrenaline, blood pumping so hard it’s like he’s still out there lunging for the ball. He’s had it with this kid—never mind that Wonwoo is older than him. He doesn’t act like he’s older, spoiled brat that he is. “Get it out of your head that you’re better than the rest of us. Because you’re not.”

“I don’t—”

“Shut the fuck up. Everyone hears you complaining on the phone about how your teammates can’t play worth a damn. You mouth off on us and walk around like you own the entire team. This might come as a surprise to you, but you don’t.” Mingyu steps in close to Wonwoo, crowding him in against the wall. Their chests nearly touch and he can feel the heat radiating off Wonwoo. Wonwoo has to tip his chin up to look him in the eye, and it satisfies every petty inch of Mingyu.

Mingyu continues, “You’re just a two-bit rookie who doesn’t know center back from striker. You’re never where you need to be. You don’t pass when you need to pass. You think you can win on your own, and when we lose, it’s everyone else’s fault except yours. The only reason you’re here is because your daddy has connections.” And because you have a pretty face that the sponsors can’t get enough of, Mingyu doesn’t say. Wonwoo’s got the classic K-idol look, with his sharp cheekbones and defined jawline. Too bad he’s an asshole. You can’t win it all, Mingyu supposes.

Wonwoo is glaring up at Mingyu, breathing hard. The colour runs high on his cheeks and his jaw muscle jumps. He’s wound up so tight he looks two seconds away from either punching Mingyu in the face or coming in his pants. “Fuck you, Mingyu, you’re one to talk. You think everything is a challenge to your authority. You act like you’re the poster boy for good behaviour, but you’re the one who’s getting into fights out there, you hypocritical piece of shit,” he grits out. His mouth works, and then he spits a fat globule of saliva at Mingyu.

Mingyu recoils. Drags his forearm across his face. Growling, he grabs the front of Wonwoo’s shirt and slams him against the wall, pressing him bodily against it. They’re nose-to-nose and Wonwoo is going cross-eyed from trying to keep Mingyu in his sights. Jesus, Mingyu wants to bust him up. Make such a mess of his face that he cries every time he walks past a mirror.

Instead, Mingyu ends up glowering at him. He has no idea what it is about Wonwoo that riles him up. Every rookie wants to prove themselves, show that they can’t be walked all over by doling out as many caustic insults as they receive. Everyone’s frustrated and ready to lash out at the slightest provocation after a string of losses, and Mingyu gets that. But for some reason, Wonwoo manages to tick him right the fuck off.

Mingyu’s half hard in his briefs. It’s not unusual. All that adrenaline and pent-up aggression have to go somewhere. He just hates the fact that it’s Wonwoo that his body decides to react to. Mingyu grinds his teeth. His fist tightens on Wonwoo’s collar. Jesus, he’s not entirely sure if he’s going to deck Wonwoo or makeout with him at this point.

They’re pressed together from shins to chest, so it’s no surprise that Wonwoo notices that he’s hard. Wonwoo’s lips curl up into an infuriating smirk. “Don’t tell me this is how you usually react to our fights, Mingyu,” he says. As though he’s not fattening up in his shorts. Mingyu can feel it. “Is this what it’s been about all this time? You trying to get my atten—”

Mingyu smashes their mouths together. Wonwoo makes a muffled noise of surprise. Mingyu’s heart is beating somewhere up in his throat. He’s not entirely sure what he’s doing, but he knows he’s gotten Wonwoo to shut up for once, and that’s no small success. Wonwoo struggles against him, puts hands on his chest and tries to push him off. Mingyu grabs his wrists and pins them to his side.

“I fucking hate you,” Wonwoo snarls against the press of their mouths.

And then he starts to kiss Mingyu back.

This has been a long time coming, ever since that drunken night that ended with them on the bar floor, dry-humping each other under the guise of wrestling. Wonwoo’s been an itch in his system for months now.

There’s nothing gentle about the kiss. They kiss like they’re fighting, all teeth and not enough tongue. Mingyu wedges a knee in between Wonwoo’s thighs and presses up, causing him to gasp out a moan. Wonwoo rocks his hips down in search of friction, a guttural groan vibrating in his throat.

Mingyu pulls away, breathing hard. He puts his back to the nearby wall to give him something to lean against. “Get on your knees,” he says.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Do you want this dick or not?” Mingyu asks. “I don’t care either way.”

He thinks Wonwoo will back out. It’s for the best if he does. They’re in public; they’re in the middle of a game; they hate each other’s guts; he’s pretty sure Wonwoo has a girl, or at least, someone he fucks, on and off. One of those reasons alone would have made this a colossally bad idea.

Instead, Wonwoo clamps his mouth shut and drops to his knees. Mingyu’s stomach lurches as though he is looking down from a great height. His mouth goes dry and he swallows with a loud and painful roll of his throat. No fucking way. Now here’s a sight he never thought he’d see: Wonwoo glaring up at him, somehow managing to look both pissed off and turned on at the same time.

Mingyu palms himself through his shorts. Wonwoo’s eyes immediately zero in on the movement. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and whatever shred of hesitancy Mingyu felt burns up.

He pushes his shorts down, just enough to get his cock out and to let his balls hang free. He wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and gives it a rough, experimental stroke. A pearl of precum has blurted out from the slit. He smears a thumb over it, the breath shuddering out of him.

Wonwoo is riveted, eyes tracking the way Mingyu’s hand works over his shaft. His own cock is tenting in his shorts. Mingyu absolutely lets it get to his head, his lizard brain preening. A reaction like that, just from a little bit of kissing, just from seeing Mingyu’s dick. In Wonwoo’s defense, it is a pretty good dick, if Mingyu says so himself.

Mingyu jerks himself off. Once, twice. “You want this?”

That seems to snap Wonwoo out of his cock-induced daze. “I’m not going to beg,” he says, but already, he’s leaning forward, mouth falling open in request.

It’s downright nasty, is what it is. Mingyu is sweaty and stinks of Eau de Hardwork. The fact that it’s Wonwoo of all people makes it all the hotter. His nostrils flare as he inhales the musk of Mingyu’s cock. His lashes flutter.

Mingyu feeds his cock to Wonwoo. Gets his hand slapped aside. Wonwoo takes over, curling his fingers around the base of it, suckling at the head a bit to get it wet.

Mingyu inhales sharply when Wonwoo licks a flat stripe along the underside of his cock where a vein throbs. Wonwoo tortures him with those kitten licks, hotly mouthing his way up to close his lips around the head of Mingyu’s cock.

Mingyu doesn’t want to show Wonwoo how affected he is by all of this, but he can’t help the low groan that leaves him when Wonwoo swirls a tongue around the sensitive crown. As though aware of Mingyu’s tenuous control, Wonwoo’s eyes crinkle with amusement. He pops off Mingyu’s cock. His mouth works. But this time, instead of spitting in Mingyu’s face, he dribbles a line of saliva down his length.

“Suck a lot of cock, do you?” Mingyu says. His voice is embarrassingly rough. He threads his fingers into Wonwoo’s hair and tugs in an attempt to get that mouth on his erection again.

Wonwoo’s response is to open wide and swallow him down, hand covering what his mouth can’t.

“Oh fuck,” Mingyu moans, head falling back against the wall with a thud. Unwilling to miss even a second of this once-in-a-lifetime moment, he looks between his legs from under half-lidded eyes. Seeing Wonwoo’s dark head bobbing up and down, hand moving in tandem with his mouth… The sight is as gratifying as the suction on his cock, if not more so.

Mingyu rocks his hips back and forth. This whole thing is so surreal that he can’t help but half-laugh, half-moan. “If I knew all it took you to shut up was a cock in your mouth, I would have done this a long time ago.”

Wonwoo’s teeth flash and Mingyu yanks him off with a hiss, fingers tightening into the short strands of Wonwoo’s hair. Wonwoo’s breathing hard, lips glistening with spit.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” Mingyu says, hand tightening and giving Wonwoo’s head a little shake to punctuate his words, “or I’m gonna throw this door open and show everyone what a good little cocksucker you are.”

Wonwoo’s lips curl. “The door is five meters away, dumbshit. I’d like to see you try.”

A flare of anger spears through Mingyu—smug fucking bastard—and he doesn’t even think when he slaps Wonwoo across the face. It’s not a hard slap, but hard enough to let Wonwoo know that he means business. Except that fucker—he moans. The sound is so faint that it might be mistaken for a shocked noise, and it’s quickly covered up by Wonwoo who mockingly drawls, “Yes. I understand, Sir.”

Satisfied, he lets Wonwoo back on his cock. This time, Wonwoo doesn’t waste time teasing and swallows him down.

For a brief moment, Mingyu is still somewhat in shock. His own action took him by surprise. He doesn’t usually slap the people who blow him; he’s usually grateful. But Wonwoo brings out the worst in him. And then there’s the fact that Wonwoo moaned quietly—Mingyu knows what he heard—at the palm strike across his cheek.

Those thoughts are promptly sucked out of his dick. Mingyu doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone who looks so haughty while sucking cock. Sometimes, Wonwoo will pull off to circle his tongue around the head, the corners of his lips ticking up impishly. He’s full aware of the effect he has on Mingyu. Then he takes Mingyu almost all the way down to the hilt. The noises he makes are filthy and carnivorous. Hungry.

Goddamn, he likes this, Mingyu thinks wondrously.

Wonwoo’s eager. Squirming on his haunches. His free hand has found his way between his legs to knead himself. He’s getting distracted, the rhythm he built up faltering.

Mingyu shoves Wonwoo further down onto his length. Feels the tip of his cock hit the back of Wonwoo’s throat.

Wonwoo chokes and pulls off, inhaling on a gasp and coughing. He drags a forearm across his mouth, wiping, and glares up with watery eyes. The force of his glare is diminished by the redness of his cheeks. It’s a look that sends a jolt of arousal straight to Mingyu’s cock.

“Get back here,” Mingyu says. “And don’t get distracted by your own dick this time.”

Mingyu puts both hands on Wonwoo’s head and begins to fuck the tight circle of Wonwoo’s mouth. Wonwoo is ready for it this time. It doesn’t take long before Mingyu transitions from slow and shallow rolls of his hips to full-on thrusting into Wonwoo’s mouth. Mingyu curses, gut spasming with his rising pleasure.

Wonwoo’s throat works around the intrusion. His lips are stretched wide, chin coated with saliva. His eyes are wet, lashes clumped together. It’s all so obscene, so incredibly fucking hot.

Mingyu’s balls draw in tight and his breathing goes ragged. He fucks Wonwoo’s mouth a little faster, grits out, “Oh, fuck—” That’s all the warning Wonwoo gets before Mingyu is shooting his load. Mingyu groans loudly, hips jerking involuntarily. He keeps Wonwoo held down, the sensation of Wonwoo’s throat contracting around him prolonging his orgasm. Mingyu wants to laugh. Holy shit. “Yeah, that’s it,” he breathes. “Swallow every last drop.”

Wonwoo makes a valiant attempt at doing so, but there’s so much cum that it trickles out the corner of his mouth.

By the time Mingyu is done, they’re both breathing hard. Well, it’s Mingyu’s who’s breathing hard; Wonwoo is coughing and gasping for breath.

Mingyu’s not done here yet. “Clean it up,” he says. Wonders how far Wonwoo will allow himself to be pushed before he snaps.

Wonwoo is quiet when he uses the head of Mingyu’s cock to scoop up the errant drops of cum and push it back into his mouth. Then, he laps up the remainder of Mingyu’s release.

Mingyu shivers at the rasp of tongue on his softening cock. Once he’s clean, he tucks himself back into his briefs.

“What about me?” Wonwoo asks.

Wonwoo, rich and spoiled boy that he is, has probably been given everything he has ever asked for on a silver platter. He says “Jump” and people say “How high?” It wouldn’t hurt for him to work for the things he wants; that would be a first in his life.

And maybe, Mingyu is also thinking about how hard Wonwoo gets when he’s pushed around. How that light slap had him moaning softly.

With that in mind, Mingyu pushes his cleats between Wonwoo’s legs. The top of his shoe bumps his erection. “Go on,” Mingyu says. It’s no big deal, he tells himself even as his heart is pounding violently against his ribs, if Wonwoo decides that he’s had enough of Mingyu’s bullshit and stalks off. Mingyu has already gotten what he wanted.

“What?”

“You have thirty seconds to get yourself off. Go,” Mingyu says, prodding his toe against him.

Wonwoo’s eyes round and he flushes a violent shade of red. He opens his mouth as if to protest. But then he doesn’t. Just clamps his lips together and begins to move his hips. It’s possibly the sexiest thing Mingyu has ever seen. Blood rushes to his head, swelling and pounding and pulsing in his skull. A groan escapes Mingyu, as though he is the one getting much-needed friction on his cock.

“Look at you,” Mingyu whispers. “Rutting against my foot like a bitch in heat.”

Wonwoo honest-to-god whimpers. There’s no other way to describe the absolutely tiny, pleasure-filled sound that leaves him, so incongruous with the person Mingyu has always known him to be. He drives his hips down with increased desperation, moaning shakily. He clutches around the bend of Mingyu’s knee, forehead knocking against Mingyu’s thigh.

If Mingyu hadn’t spent just seconds earlier, he would have gotten hard again. Instead, he just watches Wonwoo bump and grind on him with a dry mouth.

Someone knocks on the door, three sharp raps. “Game’s about to start. You two kiss and make up yet?” It’s Seungcheol.

Mingyu yanks his foot away.

Wonwoo sobs out with loss. Tugs on his ankle. “No, I haven’t—”

“Too late. Your time’s up.”

He groans, a truly miserable sound. “I hate you,” he says, glaring up balefully.

“If you’d quit thinking with your dick for two seconds, you’d remember that we’re in a middle of a game,” Mingyu says.

Wonwoo stands up on coltish legs.

It actually hurts Mingyu’s heart a little to leave him like this. He leans in to whisper into Wonwoo’s ear, “So this is what’s going to happen. We’re gonna go out there and we’re gonna do our jobs. And if we don’t make a fool of ourselves out there, then I’ll take you back to my room and fuck you so hard you’ll be limping through practice for the next week. Sound good?”

After a moment, Wonwoo relents and says through gritted teeth, “You better. Or I’m going to flip you over and fuck you myself.”

Mingyu snorts. Yeah, that’s the Wonwoo he’s familiar with.

Wonwoo roughly adjusts his crotch. “Jesus, how the hell am I supposed to play like this?”

“If you don’t get your head in the game, we’re going to end up becoming the MLS equivalent of Brazil in the 2014 World Cup.”

Wonwoo blanches.

Miraculously, they end up tying the game at 4-4. It’s a better outcome than anyone could have expected. Wonwoo flashes a wicked smile, looking ridiculously proud of himself. And he should be; a single ball didn’t get past him in the second half.

Mingyu finds himself smiling back.

#my writing

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brynfelan · 3 years

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The One Where Hajime Only Knows Class 77b Because He Works At A 24-Hour Grocery Store

it’s DONE, it’s BAD, it has all the pacing of a POORLY-WRITTEN SNL SKETCH, but I can’t give less of a shit I am tired and putting it out into the world. @idnek83 I told you I’d fucking write it. It’s 5am and this was written purely out of spite. also, the credit for this idea goes to them. the only reason i wrote this is because they were too much of a coward to.

Word Count: 3272 Summary: Hajime Hinata works at a 24-hour grocery store and only knows class 77-B because they all come in at different times to buy some weird shit. Chaos ensues. This is crack, just straight up crack.

There are worse things than working the graveyard shift. It pays a little extra than day hours, there’s less work to do at the counter, and the only thing Hajime really has to worry about is a drunk customer getting rowdy. Actually, he enjoys it in a weird way. He just stands at the counter, runs people up, and then leaves at six in the morning to do whatever the hell he wants with his day. Usually sleeping, but it’s also nice to be free all the time.

His favourite part of the job is the set of students that come in between the hours of two and five almost every day. They aren’t usually together, but he’s pieced together that they’re all in the same class by descriptions that he’s gotten from the more talkative of the bunch. He doesn’t know all of their names, some of them he only knows by nicknames, but he does know all of their faces.

Kazuichi Soda for example, comes in at around two in the morning every Friday night. He usually buys shitty beer or cheap liquor, and complains that he’s the one that got sent out from the party to get more booze. Sometimes he also picks up random assortments of tools or screws. Hajime thinks it should probably be illegal to sell a man a 40 of cheap whiskey and a power drill at two in the morning, but he learnt to stop questioning the combination of things that people buy at this kind of hour. He dreads to think of the drunk creations that Soda makes.

On the other hand, Mahiru only comes in around once a month. Hajime knows her name is Mahiru because the first time, she drunkenly introduced herself to him and tried to explain that her combination of items were for a photoshoot and not for any kind of nefarious purpose. He isn’t quite sure what kind of crime she could commit with several bunches of half-dead flowers, a whole cream cake and a bottle of champagne, but he’d definitely like to see it.

It’s four in the morning on a Tuesday. Hajime gets off in two hours, and he’s currently dealing with one Gundham Tanaka. He knows his name is Gundham Tanaka, because he announces it every single time that he gets rung up.

“Huh. Sunflower seeds and hamster bedding. You got any pets?” It’s an innocent question, but at this point he really should have learnt not to question Gundham.

“You fool! I, Gundham Tanaka, have my four Dark Devas of Destruction at my command, ready to strike at any moment for insinuating that they are mere pets as you mere mortals call them!” Ah, good. This happens every time. “You may also notice that I am purchasing this protective potion. This is a defensive measure to protect myself from the very devils that seek to feast on my demon blood!

Hajime looks down at the mosquito spray. He’s definitely not getting paid enough for this.

“Right, yeah. Sorry man. I hope those, uh, devils don’t bother ya too much. That’ll be twenty-two fifty-nine.”

Four hamsters poke out from Gundham’s scarf to deliver the money to Hajime. He isn’t sure if that’s sanitary, but at least he gets to see some cute animals during his shift. For “warriors”, as Gundham calls them, they’re pretty sweet and don’t seem to be adverse to getting pet when they hand (mouth?) him the bills.

Even if it gives him daytime freedom, this job isn’t worth ten seventy-two an hour. He sometimes thinks about switching to the day shift, but he gets paid more to work nights and effectively does half the work. Hajime knows that it’s the best job he’s gonna get for a while, and it pays enough to get him through college. Still, he reminds himself to check for something better when his shift’s over.

Gundham is the last of the class he sees that night. He’s definitely eccentric, maybe the most eccentric of the bunch, but he’s never caused a real scene. Except for one time when he managed to smash three bottles of red wine in quick succession, but it happens. Hajime didn’t have to clean it up, so he’s definitely not paid enough to care.

The next night, it’s Sonia that walks in. She’s never formally introduced herself to him, but Soda never shuts up about her, so Hajime has a pretty good idea of who she is. She’s buying nearly his month’s rent in skincare products and murder mystery novels. She talks the whole time too, about how this store is so different to ones in her home country, how he must get so many interesting experiences working at these hours.

“Yeah, you sure could call it interesting,” He snorts a little, “You get some interesting people come in at these hours.”

“Ah, of course! You are a respectable man to hold a necessary job such as this, I believe I would be, as they say, boned without you here! Is it customary to tip workers in institutions such as this?”

Jesus, how much money does this girl have?

“Uh, not grocery store workers ma’am. Cash or card?”

When she pulls out the cash from her purse, Hajime nearly faints. He decides that she must either be a foreign dignitary or deep in some criminal ring in order to have this much money on her person at any one time. It’s not even in exact change, and she’s a hundred over her total.

“This is too much, ma’am. Here, this is yours.”

When he tries to give the hundred back to her, she steps away from the register and puts her hands behind her back. She’s smiling, and shaking her head.

“Oh, no. I shan’t be taking that! You must keep it.”

She’s either an angel, or Satan trying to tempt him with nearly double what he makes in a night. Arguing with her is pointless, she refuses to take her items until he pockets the cash. He hopes that he never has to explain that to his manager, because he hasn’t read the company policy but he’s nearly a hundred percept sure that accepting personal money is very much against it. She finally leaves nearly half an hour later, after insisting he keep the money. He can’t tell if he hopes she comes back, or that he never sees her again.

He ends up keeping the hundred. That’s way too much money to be given to pass up.

If Hajime had to name a favourite customer out of the students, it would have to be the girl that comes in a couple of nights a week to buy snacks. He doesn’t know her name, but she always talks about video games. They share the same taste in them, and he likes hearing about his favourites from another person’s perspective. He doesn’t really have anybody to play them with, but it almost feels like he does when she comes in and asks how far he’s gotten in whatever just came out that week. He thinks about her during his shift sometimes when things get slow.

That same night, a boy with all the manners of a particularly pissed off cat comes in. He’s with a girl that towers over him, and Hajime would laugh if he wasn’t afraid of getting his ass handed to him, since he’s pretty sure the girl is carrying a sword. He’s buying twelve packs of cookies, and a single toy bunny. He pays with a black credit card. Neither of them say anything to Hajime. He’s pretty sure that’s the “Baby Gangsta” that Soda has spoken about on a couple of occasions, but definitely doesn’t want to ask just in case he gets sliced in half. He only notices that he was holding his breath when they leave.

An absolutely giant man walks in just as Hajime is about to clock out. No really, he’s huge and all muscle. Hajime might be scared of him, if he didn’t have such a huge smile on his face. He occasionally comes in early in the morning to buy a hideous amount of protein powder and other groceries. Every time he does, he invites Hajime to “train” with him. Hajime is too scared to ask what training involves, and turns it down every time. By the size of the guy, he’s pretty sure any amount of training would kill him.

Hajime doesn’t know when he clocks in the next night that it’s going to be the most hellish night of his life. He doesn’t know that tonight is the night he hands in his two weeks yet. He’s pretty optimistic when he walks in, freshly showered and having just gotten back a pretty decent grade for one of his classes.

It starts at five. Kazuichi Soda walks in first, already drunk and talking to Baby Gangsta about some motorbike he’s going to jack up so much it won’t be road legal anymore. The Giant Man is close behind, talking to a girl about doing “it” (Hajime has no idea what “it” is and frankly he isn’t sure he wants to know). That’s the first sign. No more than three of them have ever walked in together at any one time.

Lagging behind a little is Gundham and Sonia, followed by Mahiru and the tiny girl that sometimes accompanies her. The only thing Hajime can remember about her is that she called some other girl a “toilet clogging bitch” one time. Three other men follow behind, one with light hair that looks just a little too skinny to be healthy, one that looks nearly exactly the same as him except taller and heavier, and one that’s even shorter than Baby Gansta. A girl with her eyes glued to a Game Girl trails behind them, the Sword Girl almost steering her out of the way of a promotional stand for donuts. Behind them is Ibuki Mioda, a girl that comes in sometimes to buy Monster Energy by the crate at three in the morning, talking to Mikan Tsumiki who usually accompanies her to run of the health risks of drinking too much caffeine.

Behind all of them is the devil himself, dressed up like an angel. Hajime doesn’t know he’s the devil yet, but he will in about an hour.

They’re in the store for all of ten minutes before shit starts going south. Hajime can hear things being tossed around in the aisles and shouting. He definitely isn’t paid enough to deal with that, so he stands at his register and hopes it calms down.

“C’mon, we just finished our finals, Ibuki wants to go hard!”

That’s never a good thing to hear when you still have two hours of your shift left.

Now, part of the reason why Hajime likes working the graveyard shift is that it’s quiet. Nothing happens, except for the one time a guy in a Scream mask came in and robbed his register at axe-point, but he’d already been working at the store for two weeks and couldn’t give less of a crap whether or not the company lost money over that. Tonight, it isn’t quiet. Tonight, there are sixteen students that Hajime thinks might give him a migraine if they don’t shut up for five minutes.

The worst part is when they disperse through the store. Before, all the noise was coming from one place. Now it’s everywhere. Hajime thinks that some of them are having a competition to see who can make all the toys that make sounds go off in the quickest amount of time. He can hear shouting and squealing and laughing (and is that crying? Is one of them crying in his store?) and he wonders if it would be worth it to just walk out and let them take whatever they want.

It doesn’t end there. There’s a loud smashing sound, and then the high-pitched whine of the girl who looks too young to be buying booze but Hajime has never cared enough to card because it’s not his job to parent her.

“You snot-nosed bitch! I bet you’re trying to make Hope’s Peak look bad, you drunk whore!”

“I’m s-sorry! I didn’t mean to!” The crying gets worse the more the short one yells, “I-I’ll clean it up and pay for it, don’t worry! Please forgive me!”

Hope’s Peak is that exclusive private place down the street, right? Hajime passes it everyday, but couldn’t have ever dreamed of getting to study there. He isn’t even really sure what they teach, besides that they always push out the greatest in whatever field of study they run. No, Hajime chose the cheaper option, and while it might have been nice to go somewhere so prestigious, it definitely wouldn’t have been good for his wallet.

From the other side of the store, he hears clapping and laughing. He doesn’t even want to think about what fresh hell is going on in the DIY section, where he’s pretty sure he can hear Soda spilling paint everywhere if the swearing from Baby Gangsta is anything to go buy.

Half an hour or so after they all walked in, Hajime is ringing up fifteen people. He’s the only one working tonight until the cleaners come in, and this is more people than he’s ever had to deal with in his life.

Sonia has bought sixteen bottles of the most expensive champagne the store sells. Hajime doesn’t want to think about the ordeal he went though last time she was here, so when she pushes an extra hundred into his hand he doesn’t bother arguing with her. Gundham, on the other hand, has apparently bought up every single vegan burger that was in the freezer section. He’s also got all the buns, and what feels like a hundred different condiments and salad options. Through tears, Mikan apologises for the trouble she’s causing while trying to pay for whatever bottle she broke – while at the same time picking up enough hangover medicine to cure an army.

By the time he’s rung everybody up, he’s exhausted. He wants to go to bed and never get out of it, to never see anybody again. He hates customers at the best of times, and these people might be excellent outside of this setting, but in his store they’ve been an absolute nightmare.

They’re all packed up and ready to go when the girl with her nose in the video game pipes up.

“Hey, where’s Nagito?” She asks through a yawn.

Then, it happens. Hajime hears a “whoops” from the back end of the store, and everything he’s ever wanted to not happen on his shift happens.

One shelving unit goes down, then another, then another. The sounds of shattering and splintering echo through the now otherwise silent store. They go down like dominos, each falling shelf worse than the last. It’s five fifty-seven in the morning, and Hajime can only watch as his divine punishment for choosing to work in a grocery store near a college is shown to him. Bottles are smashing, toys are crushed, he’s pretty sure that whatever happens in the fish section is no longer safe to look at with the naked human eye.

“I’ve never thought about committing murder before,” He says, “But now I think I understand.”

Everybody is quiet until the dust settles. The white-haired demon walks out completely unscathed, with an innocently shit-eating grin on his face.

“Ah, I can pay for this. I’m so sorry to have caused such trouble,” He says, waving his hands like it’s no big deal, “Please, allow me to pay for the damages. My terrible luck is a scourge on this Earth, I simply can’t apologise enough.”

Hajime sighs, and looks at the clock. It’s five fifty-nine. There isn’t an enough money in the world to pay him to deal with this.

“What the fuck happened?” Baby Gangsta asks, from the back of the crowd, “Seriously, you’ve had some bad fuckin’ luck before, but this shit takes the crappy cake.”

“Oh. I tripped.” He dusts his knees off, and smiles again.

It’s unnerving that he’s so calm about this. Hajime dreads to think what else he’s done in the past that would make this seem so natural to him. Can you bar somebody from your store for accidentally wrecking every single item that you have to sell?

“There is some hope to come from this, Kuzuryu, don’t worry!” He pulls out a tiny stuffed dog from his pocket, “Please, how much will this be?”

All Hajime can do is stare. He isn’t sure what god he pissed off to deserve this. He doesn’t believe in karma, but he hopes that whatever he gets in return for this is pretty damn good.

Six in the morning rolls around. The day-staff have walked in to the mess that is the store, and his manager is just staring at him. Hajime looks at him, and just shakes his head.

“If you want the story, talk to the guy with the white hair. I don’t even know what’s happening anymore.”

Immediately after he says that, he hears a whoosh. Then, everything starts feeling a whole lot warmer.

“Shit, store’s on fire. Komaeda, you’re going to get us banned from this store!” Kazuichi yells, running as fast as he can to the exit.

The others follow, and Hajime gives his manager a “what-can-ya-do” shrug, before following. This store isn’t worth getting a lungful of smoke over. Hell, he isn’t even sure working here is worth the extra cash that Sonia seems adamant to give him every time she comes in.

Sixteen students, Hajime, four other co-workers, two cleaners, and a General Manager stare as the building burns. Before his manager can open his mouth to speak, Hajime looks at him and says, “Nope. I quit. I’m leaving. Now. This isn’t my fault, and you can’t pay me enough to deal with it.”

There’s no argument. His manager just lets him go. The sixteen students get a lifetime ban. Hajime also gets a lifetime ban. The white-haired devil writes a check and walks away basically scot-free. The store is going to be closed for the next fuck-knows how long until it can get repaired. From the number of zeroes on that check, Hajime’s pretty sure this is an expensive problem to fix. He doesn’t care, it isn’t his problem.

“Hey, Mr-Store-Clerk Guy!” Ibuki grins at him, “Wanna come and party with Hope’s Peak? We just got done with finals!”

“Ibuki, that’s a fantastic idea! To repay our debt to him for causing so much trouble, we simply must invite him to part-ay with us!” Sonia claps her hands together and smiles like Ibuki’s just discovered Atlantis, “Please do come with us! But first, might we get your name? We all see you so often, and have never thought to ask!”

It’s six in the morning. Hajime rubs his temples. Any sane person would say no, because he’s tired and just quit his job so he’s going to need to find another one as soon as possible, and having a store burn down on your watch is not good on your resume.

It’s six in the morning, and if there’s any day that Hajime wants to start drinking at ass-o-clock in the morning and not on his dime, it’s this one.

“I’m Hajime Hinata. Please don’t burn anything else down.”

“Oh, don’t worry!” Nagito calls from where he’s standing by the manager, “I’m sure that after that I’ll have some incredibly good luck!”

#brainrot #drabble #not really a drabble it's like 3k #but have it #love it #do what you want with it #this is the worst thing i've ever written #yes counting the fanfiction i wrote for my gcse in english language #this is so dumb #i can't even tell if it's funny or if i'm just tired #either way #have it

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bibbykins · 4 years

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Heliophilic Rain and His Pluviophile (M)

Yikes, it’s been a hot minute. That’s my bad. I have been having it a little rough with my job and so I’m in the process of finding another one and that among a billion other things is slowing me down. Which makes me wonder if I were to open commissions if anyone would be interested? I also would like to add there is a scene that could be triggering so proceed with caution, please. Either way, thank you for your patience as always, and I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: (Soft) Yandere! Yoongi x Reader Genre: Smut/Fluff

Word Count: 8.5k

Warnings: possessiveness, yandere tendencies, anxiety, unspoken threat of sexual assault, slight violence, oral, penetrative sex, cock warming, toxic relationship (he's yandere ya kno)

Summary: He was the rain just as you were the sun, both too transfixed with watching each other to get any closer. Few things feel more refreshing than drops of fresh rain on heated skin or the warmth of the sun on a gloomy day. It would be a shame to not indulge in the natural wonders of the world before you.

“Her voice was like the wind. I could listen until it was all that filled me. I could listen until she swept me away into the vast ocean of her presence. I would drown if it meant I would drift back to her. Her voice was like the wind. No matter how much I tried to catch it, I would get carried away. Suddenly, I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. Suddenly, home was wherever she said it was, so long as she did so with that voice of hers.”

“His voice was like the tap of rain against a window. He was asking me to go out to see him, but there was something beautiful about the way I knew he wasn’t referring to me specifically. I was a mere onlooker to his presence. Even so, I would catch a cold if it meant I could reach him, even for a moment. I thought this, knowing I would never have the guts to go outside. I made peace with this until the taps on my window turned into knocks on my door.”

——-

The office had an industrial-chic style about it, filled with neutral tones and the clanging of chains for no other purpose except fashion donned upon its employees. The color palette was gloomy and soothing, just how Yoongi liked it, an aesthetic that his employees gleefully shared with him as well. Each morning, Yoongi would look out his office and admire his growing business, eyes never lingering on one place too long, he loved all of the office equally. This much rang true until he couldn’t tear his eyes away from your form.

“She’s like a breath of fresh air, isn’t she?” Hoseok placed his hand on Yoongi’s soldier as he watched you through the glass doors of the conference room you were currently introducing yourself in, “Don’t be too hard on her, she’s competent and hardworking, okay?”

Yoongi could barely hear his friend as he lost himself in the way your eyes crinkled from a genuine smile adorning your face. You were his new host to one of the podcasts his company picked up. From the merger with Hoseok’s company full of his college friends, Yoongi went from popular podcast host and semi-popular producer to a CEO of Min Productions, famous music artists in production and performance, who oversaw the production of music and several podcasts on several topics, and you were what he had initially dreaded.

From the merger, came money, but what also came with it was Namjoon, the PR head of the company Hoseok was a part of, being able to choose one of every five talents for Yoongi to build up, hopefully into fame. Yoongi had just reached his fifth host, the podcasts he chose mostly consisting of music commentary or general life talks from people with aesthetics aligned with his own. However, from the sea of neutral colors and low voices partaking in casual conversation came you.

You were a perky college senior with some light in your eyes still. You were a rare find and had no set style ranging anywhere from pastels to the grunge he was used to seeing, but what never changed was your smile. Your teeth made an appearance at least 10 times a day, judging by the third smile you had just flashed the crew in a two-minute time frame.

Your podcast, however, oddly betrayed your attitude. You ran a sex and lifestyle podcast where you asked questions most people were too shy to throw out into the world pertaining to the unspoken social rules of casual dating and sex. It was interesting, yes, but it didn’t align with the brand Yoongi had been building judging by the synopsis.

The fuss he made to Namjoon ended as soon as he sat down and listened to a podcast of yours.

—–

“I have a formal complaint I would like to file!” You proclaimed as Yoongi found himself listening to your most recent podcast, “Why the fuck can’t I get a sugar daddy my age? It’s almost like… like my age demographic consists mostly of broke-ass college kids living with their parents, in a dorm, or like ya girl, an overpriced apartment and not rich as fuck for no reason. Fucking whack, I’ll say it.” He unwittingly cracked a smile at your charm and sarcasm, “I spent one day on sugarbaby.com and had to watch vanilla straight porn at the number of wrinkly dicks I saw instead of profile pictures. That’s like the most boring porn. So here comes a Patreon plug for the brainwashing I will conduct on myself in case I saw anyone’s grandfather’s penis.” You had an unabashed charm about you that urged him to listen more, maybe just one more episode.

Yoongi found himself listening to your entire discography, even the less promoted music you released once every blue moon, which wasn’t half-bad. However, he couldn’t find a picture of you, most likely because you posted under the alias Sugar Sun. The only pictures of yourself being from behind.

“On this episode of men are trash: men are fucking trash. Hello all, Sugar Sun here, and let’s talk about my day,” Yoongi could feel his intrigue grow, as you kept releasing, your delivery became less forced and more natural, “I don’t talk much in class, believe it or not. I’m a stuttering mess and like two people know my name at my big ass university, so when I do talk and my shit hole of a lab partner yells at me in the middle of a presentation to speak up, I cry, in front of the class. But do I stop the presentation? No, I’m fucking frozen with fear, so I just continue with my tears and the presentation. Bitch, what the fuck I looked like a middle school drama kid doing a monologue in front of her math class for no fucking reason.” You took a deep breath, “In conclusion, I’m sensitive and men are trash. Now, to the podcast.”

You had gained more traction with your commentary on romantic life and general comedy, catching Namjoon’s attention, “Hello again, double S here, with a special announcement. I got like, an actual company to sign me! Wild, I know! I’ll get paid and have meet-ups and stuff, which means you lovely listeners will get to soak in my face and talk to me in person and really experience why the only orgasms I’ve had are self-made!”

—–

“Yoongi!” Hoseok tapped his shoulder, snapping him out of his trance you put him in.

“Sorry, she’s just-”

“Be nice,” Hoseok warned.

“Like sunshine.” Yoongi could feel the air enter his lungs as you sat down with a smile, “Like, what the fuck, Hobi?”

His friend blinked, “Woah, shit, what?” He stifled a laugh, “You know, there isn’t a no-dating policy, right?”

“I’m well aware.” Yoongi rolled his eyes, “But there will be if anyone tries anything.” He spoke nonchalantly and Hoseok choked on air at his friend’s obliviousness while the glass doors of the conference rooms were opened, you pouring out from it, waltzing to Yoongi and Hoseok.

“Hello, Mr. Min and Ho-Mr. Jung, I’m Y/n, or Sugar Sun, thank you for this amazing opportunity.” You bowed as Hoseok shook off his bewilderment for just a moment to give you a small bow with Yoongi.

“I look forward to spending more time with you.” Yoongi spoke in his regular gruff voice, the same one that proclaimed to have your hand in marriage just moments before, “I find you’ll be a breath of fresh air to the company.”

“I also look forward to seeing how your podcasts go, you have a photoshoot in a couple weeks, right?” Hoseok smiled warmly at you as you beamed back to him. Yoongi swore the whole exchange was blinding.

“I do! I’m a little nervous, since it’ll be my big face reveal, and I don’t know how well I model.” You giggled and Yoongi found his new favorite song the moment you did.

Yoongi had a tendency to do this, whether or not he wanted to. He was a passionate man. He craved love and could see it coming from a mile away. Despite being one of the seven main heartthrobs of his college campus, he almost exclusively stuck to serious relationships, and he meant it when he said serious. Yoongi was a little, to put it lightly, obsessive. He was a jealous boyfriend, but he did his best to try not to be too overbearing. He was also excessively protective, and the women he dated were grungy free spirits who enjoyed the chase when all Yoongi wanted was to catch them then hold them for the rest of his life. Despite being blinded by his own passion, he could still see when it wasn’t going to last, having accepted to never find a girl to accommodate and sedate him when needed. However, when you looked his way, or he heard your voice, it was something more than a need being filled.

You felt your heart leap out of his chest, trying not to fall into Yoongi’s hands when you first saw him, and here he was, nonchalantly giving you an inkling of a smile. Maybe it was the lack of a solid fuck or a relationship, but you were definitely breaking some HR rules in your mind.

Suddenly, you became aware of the content you dished out. You talked about your sex life often, and he knows you’re inexperienced and terribly horny. You internally punched yourself in the face. He probably thinks you’re so weird. Yet, here you were, a huge fan of Agust D and now Min Yoongi was staring at you.

Yoongi smiled, “Don’t worry, I’ve had my experience with a face reveal or two.”

You returned his smile, remembering the day Agust D revealed his face. The whole world stopped, and you only fell deeper when you looked at his eyes, “I-I remember, I’m a fan.” You looked down shyly before facing him again.

“Funny, I am a fan of yours.” He spoke lowly as Hoseok had long walked away unnoticed.

You giggled stupidly, “A fan?” Your sunny smile beamed at him. He had always preferred rainy days, but if this was what the sun looked like, he could get used to being a little warm here and there, “I can hardly believe it.”

“I’m gone a lot and yet, your voice has a certain factor to it that draws people in. ” He mused as his eyes trapped you, “I wonder where you’ve been all my life.”

Just like that, the bubble popped. The chimes came to a screeching halt. The rose-tinted glasses were abruptly ripped off of your face. The magic cleared, and you were left with the realization that while you had damn near counted every interaction, no matter how minuscule, and he hadn’t cared to remember you until now.

“Here’s my personal cell,” He hands you a pristine card with silver numbers, “Call me if you need anything, and I mean it.” You take the card with a quaint smile that deflates

He’s never noticed you until now, of course. The answer to his thoughts was that you’ve been right here.

Before Yoongi could register the chill in the air without your smile, Hoseok came back, “Hey Yoongs, let’s go, we got a flight in a few hours.“

“Right.” Yoongi breaks eye contact with you.

“Have a good flight!” You smile, not as wide as before, and Yoongi sees it.

“See you Tuesday, y/n!” Hoseok waves.

“Don’t be late!” You giggle and as soon as they both are out of earshot, Yoongi grills him.

“You know her?!” Yoongi snaps as he enters the town car.

Hoseok blinks at him, confused, “Duh? I thought that was a given.” Upon seeing his friend’s puzzled face remain, Hoseok’s eyes went wide, “Holy shit, you don’t remember her?!”

The older male blinked in confusion, “I’ve never met her before?”

The younger businessman threw his head back as he placed his hands over his face in frustration, “She was in our forensics class and our history class last year’s fall semester and the year before!” He was exasperated, “Remember the super genius sophomore?”

Yoongi racked his brain. Last year? He had been dating some angsty theology major. How could he have let himself be blinded by a temporary fling when the love of his life was right there? He could kick himself at this moment. No wonder your smile faltered, you had remembered him, “Liar, you can’t be serious.”

“Dude, she tutors me to this day in history.” Hoseok deadpanned, “All she requires is I buy her meals that day.”

“How often do you guys have study dates?” Yoongi grits out as his friend snorts at the notion of it being a date.

“Your possessive is showing,” He snickered, “My girl is all I can see these days, no matter how cute y/n is.”

“I will end you if you touch her,” Yoongi doesn’t hesitate, “Especially with the way you treat girls,” His face scrunches in disgust before he grumbled, “But how often?”

“Every other Tuesday.” Hoseok smirked, “And you mean used to treat girls.”

Yoongi huffed in agreeance.

—-

“Hello, party people.” Your voice entered Yoongi’s headphones as he leaned back on his hotel bed, “Sugar Sun here, in my bedroom. We’re calm, we’re casual, it is a Friday night and this one goes out to my fellow homebodies.” You switched off to play a song. Part of the contract you signed was that you are allowed to go live whenever you liked to encourage and tend to fans. You explained it was almost a tradition for you to set aside a Friday night in once a month for your fans and Yoongi found in comforting as he lay alone.

Your taste in music was so unbelievably cute, he couldn’t help but smile at the lo-fi song, “And we’re back, hello all here and all who are joining as I speak. Today I took a tour of the studio my actual podcasts will be recorded in and holy shit, they seem to actually take me seriously as a personality and even artist, so expect some tunes soon.” Yoongi smiled at this, you don’t even know your potential, “I’m looking at the chat now to see if there are any questions, and- oh, yes, I did meet my boss. Yes, the iconic Min Yoongi. He is as dreamy as they say, but I have actually met him before.” Yoongi sunk a little further in shame, “Did he remember me?” You read from the chat, “No, of course not. I’m a voice, but no one will know me if I don’t use it.” You sighed out and he felt his heart clench. He was such a fucking idiot. “Which I don’t much beyond this mic. Am I scared to say this now that he’s my boss?” He held his breath a bit, “No, I doubt he’s listening. He said he was my fan, but he could just have said that to be a nice guy.” You laughed, a hint of sadness evident, “What a fucking disaster I must seem like if he were to, huh?” The sadness in your voice more prominent, “If he is, hi Mr. Min, please erase this from your memory, as well as my sophomore haircut.”

The live went on as normal and Yoongi drifted to sleep to the melodious sound of your voice for the remainder of the flight. However, even in his dreams, you were just out of reach, and he couldn’t begin to put into words how much it killed him.

—-

You don’t know how you got here. You looked around at the shabby setup. This "photography studio” looked a lot, and you mean a lot, like it was a half-assed school set not long ago. You scoffed, throwing your hands up incredulously when you caught sight of a black couch. You really hated your manager.

The jackass was assigned to you and you were too scared to say how uncomfortable he made you. He treated you like a child, but the way he looked at you was too adult for your taste. He was constantly texting you and asking for photos of your face, which you were constantly rejecting. To top it all off, he wants you to call him Big Brother, not Oppa, Big Brother. You opted for Big Bro instead, since he won’t give you his name. No, to top it all off, he booked your photo shoot with a “friend” of his to “save the company money”. He asked you to show up in a dress no longer than your knees and you felt dumber and dumber as time went on for doing so.

You stood in the middle of this studio-warehouse apartment waiting for this great photographer to show up. As you stood here, your initial thought was “how fucking ridiculous is that” but the longer you were there and the more you studied the ropes that were no longer as well hid, something in your stomach began to turn.

You were in actual fucking danger. This situation could not be a funny story if you didn’t live to tell it. Your eyes darted from different red flags in the room. A spot of dried blood scratches on the cheap wallpaper, bare plaster marks against the beige wall, a poorly-concealed camera you hadn’t noticed until now. Your chest squeezed when your phone vibrated.

You could get out of here! All you had to do was send an SOS.

Hoseok: Good luck in the photoshoot from my other half and I!

You smiled lovingly at the snapchat from the male, the more permanent girl in his life with a smile on her face and an encouraging thumbs-up. They were evidently on a date, finally, so there was no way you could call them to come get you. You would hate to bother them.

Mr. Min: Let me know how the shoot goes.

You faltered over the message. He was professional as ever. Would he think less of you if you abandoned a shoot like this?

Yoongi agonized over the three dots that stared him down. He had to remind himself to blink as he watched the minutes tick by that felt like hours. What the hell were you typing?

It had been about a couple of weeks since you’ve been under Yoongi’s company and all had been normal. Your routine was the same, and so was his. Except for this time, you two would exchange polite texts on what the other would do.

Sugar Sun: Great song as always!

You would always send exclamation points or some sparkle emojis, even a sun here and there. Yoongi found himself unable to shield his cheesy grin at the texts you sent him. You were always the first person to praise his new work. He found himself craving your praise more and more, but he forced himself to remain professional.

Mr. Min: Loved your live.

He always used punctuation despite using fragments which somehow added an aura of professionalism that he effortlessly radiated in person. Nevertheless, you would always send back a sparkly thank you which made Yoongi melt. He prided himself on not overstepping boundaries by attempting to control your professional life. His self-restraint proved quite strong as he held himself back from taking you out to lunch or giving you special treatment. This restraint was put to the ultimate test when he found out you were assigned Hyungin as your manager. He was an unfortunate employee with constant reports that would ultimately be rescinded by the female employees.

He was a disgusting piece of shit, Yoongi deduced. Hyungin was the brother of the management agency contracted by his company, per Namjoon’s damn insistence, and he was itching for that contract to end, and soon. Yoongi had to physically hold himself back when he found this information out, trying to respect you by not meddling or keeping tabs on you.

His resolve was a very thin string that was tugged and tugged as the days went on with Hyungin having total control over your schedule and an excuse to contact you 24/7. You were a strong girl and had not made a report. He had to respect that.

Your lip began to twitch, a movement you quickly halted as you shook the fear off. Maybe you were overreacting. Maybe you were being stuck up. You weren’t like Yoongi, maybe you had to photoshoot in shabby places.

You: I’m kind of scared…

You shook your head, erasing the message and locking your phone. You huffed, it was 30 minutes past the scheduled time. Surely you had the right to leave? You heard the back door open and could feel the bile lurch in your throat.

Something was very wrong. You were not overreacting. There were several heavy footsteps and as they thudded through the warehouse, nearing your reaching form, you could not deny the quaking fear that traveled through your veins like electricity.

One? Two? No, four sets of steps. The uneven rhythm proved as much, too many for a measly photoshoot. Too many for you to take on all at once. The correct amount to hold you down. The correct amount to-

“Little sis, are you here?” A sickening voice called out and you realized the steps stopped with only his continuing.

He was trying to surprise you.

“Come on, dear, let’s get to know each other.” You could hear the predatory smirk on his face and you choked on a horrified breath as the fear pricked your skin and pierced your lungs.

You were choking on your own horror.

“Come out, come out,” He called and you were frozen, absolutely fucking frozen.

Run.

You stood up, breaking into a sprint that was a hair too slow. You felt a calloused, obscenely rough handgrip your forearm with a vigorous force and you screamed. He was squeezing, and at this rate, your bones would surely snap, “Not so fast, little girl.” He stood next to you, breath pungent with halitosis. From peripheral vision, you could see his five o'clock shadow and you realized the size difference and the lack of camera. You couldn’t stop screaming, mimicking every cell in your body that seemed to yell,

RUN.

Just like lightning, you struck him with your head, harder than you knew you could stand. His nose gave you an all too satisfying crack and his grip loosened enough for you sprint again, this time more than quick enough to keep going. You heard the clamoring of footsteps and eventually, all you could hear was the sound of the wind as you turned corners you had no familiarity with, running until your legs could no longer carry you.

Your legs finally shook you down to your knees in a part of town you barely recognized. You had passed through here once before as a freshman in college sight-seeing. It was a tourist spot and you exhaled on the sidewall as people stepped around you.

You heaved a breath that you swore you had been holding for hours with a small victorious smile. Your eyes scanned the area of regular people and your hands shaking brought attention to the purse you thankfully still had.

Without thought, you ripped it open, using your phone to call the first person you could.

“Y/n?” His voice was gruff, as if he was whispering whilst trying to talk normally, “Is everything okay?” He seemed confused, you had never called him before.

“Can you… uh…” You faltered after realizing the strangled sound you made, voice raw from the screams you let out, “…please come get me.” You nearly whispered.

“Send me your location, I’m on my way.” Yoongi didn’t miss a beat before adding, “Stay where you are, don’t go near anyone.” He ended the phone call and you followed his directions, dropping your pin. You sighed in relief as you took refuge on the sidewalk, draping the cardigan in your bag over your shoulder, securing it around yourself.

Yoongi shot up from his office chair, looking at his employees mid-powerpoint. His marketing team turned into ice at his gaze. His eyes were much darker than a moment ago, and his jaw was like stone, “I have an emergency to attend to, we will proceed at a later date.” The room nodded stiffly as their boss walked out, all of them unaware why, having been too scared to even try to listen to his phone call.

Never in Yoongi’s life had he sped so recklessly. You were 10 minutes away and something was wrong. Your voice had never sounded so vulnerable. He had never heard it that quiet before. You were in a plaza of popular building, and if you had a photo shoot today, this would not be near any studio at all. His blood boiled at the thought of anyone taking away your light.

He slammed on the brakes when he caught sight of your shrunken form on the sidewalk, your head jerked up at the sound as your entire body jumped. Why were you so scared? Your face had a small streak of makeup on the side of your face and his skin only flared as you scurried into the car and Yoongi began driving to a more familiar side of town.

“Please don’t take me home.” You pleaded, unable to face him due to the shame.

Yoongi chose not to prod, for the time being, only nodding in response as he drove. He could see you stare out the window at the passing building and he watched your shaking for curl into the car seat. He settled on this resolve of leaving you alone all the way up to the inside of his apartment until your lip quivered as you plopped down on the couch, eyes unwavering from its spot at your feet. Then, you began to cry. No, not cry, sob, sob your hardest and just like that, a single tear snapped the ever-thinning string of restraint he had left.

You were pulled into Yoongi’s chest as sobs racked through your body, you clutched his shirt as you soaked it with tears of fear, relief, joy, and you couldn’t stop. Hell, you could barely breathe. Even so, Yoongi held you as his expensive dress shirt crumbled under your grip and stained with your mascara and eyeliner proving not to be as water-resistant as you hoped. His grip was unwavering and when a hand went to stroke your hair, you could feel oxygen reach your lungs again.

“It’s okay.” He breathed, “You’re safe now.” He fought the urge to clench his jaw again as you gripped his shirt harder.

Your breathing began to even as he whispered soft words into your ear until your eyes couldn’t cry anymore. The both of you stood there for what felt like an eternity, clinging onto one another as he felt the softness of your cardigan against his hands. You eventually broke the silence with a meek, “I’m so sorry."

"Why is that?” He spoke softly, his last intent was to scare you.

“I ran away from the shoot, and I know it’s not professional but…” You shivered, “ He didn’t have a camera.” Yoongi could kill somebody, “He had three other guys with him.” Someone, no, all of them are going to have to pay, he concluded. Nobody involved would leave the ordeal with their lives intact. They would lose everything for trying to take his sunshine away, for making your light falter, for even a moment.

He ripped himself from you, to sternly meet your eyes, “Do not apologize for the swine you encountered.” Your eyes only reflected sorrow, “You’re alive, and that is what matters most, okay?” You nodded.

“You’re not mad at me?” Your voice cracked against your will as you looked up at Yoongi, eyes glassy and begging for reassurance.

He visibly softened, “No, Sunshine, I could never be mad at you.” You nodded in understanding, “But will you let me fix this for you?”

Maybe you should have known from the beginning. You looked at Yoongi, so eager to be your saving grace, eyes intense with intent, and yet his touch was so soft. A man in love was a dangerous man, you once read in a book. Yet, never in your life have you craved such a man before, and if Yoongi’s rage mixed with infatuation could measure close to love, you would take it. He was powerful, he was kind, and he was pleasing to the eye. He was offering you the world in that one question.

“Please.” You cast your pride aside, “They don’t deserve mercy.” An angry tear went down your cheek, “I’m so tired of trying to brave it, doubting myself, denying myself any chance of help.” You could feel the tear trickle with hot fury, “I’m so fucking sick of relying on myself.”

Yoongi was quick to catch the tear with the softest hand you’ve ever felt, “I’m here now.” He spoke with the utmost confidence.

Your relationship with Yoongi from that point for the next couple of months was interesting, to say the least. You had somehow moved in upon his request, him rationalizing it by saying they knew where you lived. Granted, he wasn’t wrong. Hyungin knew where you lived, but within two weeks he and the monsters you encountered were promptly locked in a very dangerous maximum-security prison. You decided not to dwell on how they took such a shitty deal with a well-deserved long sentence.

Some things were above your pay grade, and you made peace with it.

Even so, he didn’t stop there. He could no longer stand on the sidelines anymore. That line blurred beyond recognition the moment he held you in his arms. He was essentially your new manager, stating he owed you at least that much after letting you fall into the hands of such a monster. Thankfully, the releasing of official statements and press conferences were received well. The victim-blaming for the nature of your podcast kept to an obsolete minimum. Your face still had not been released upon your request and you were able to move on, the media no longer covering the story as the sentencing was sealed.

The months passed in a flurry of Yoongi being awfully vague each time you asked about his personal life. He was constantly home outside of work, which you didn’t mind, but you didn’t want him to put his social life on your accord. You also had much less confidence in his infatuation for you then you did a couple months ago. Every time you tried to make a move, which meant a small brush of physical contact, he was not responding. The last time he gave you affection was the hug during your breakdown. The most you got out of him were a couple of head pats.

Like that did anything for you.

For crying out loud, you ran a sex and lifestyle podcast with no sex from the hot man you lived in the same home as.

Hell, the most emotion you see from him is the purest politeness you have ever encountered.

“Hello my listeners, welcome to the obligatory virginity talk.” Your voice was crisp in the mic as Yoongi laid in his bed, headphones in, listening to the newly released podcast. He was still a loyal listener, despite you living in his guest bedroom. He still could not get enough of your voice. If anything, he craved you more and desperately held himself back. He loved having you with him, but never did he think he would have to turn to rubbing one out during your more racy episodes or when he heard you pleasuring yourself in the dead of night.

Not even his thoughts could satiate him with you right there, and yet, out of reach.

“It has come to my attention that many of you think I’m a virgin, not that it’s an insult..” He could hear the smile in your voice, “Alas, I am not, but that doesn’t change my hand being the most impressive thing my pussy has seen, I’ll tell you what.” You giggled at this, “No, I take that back, my magic wand is my BFF.” Yoongi shifted, wondering if you had your toys in your room. He had sent for all of your things after all. God, he could already feel his dick hardening. How pathetic you make him at the very thought of you fucking yourself silly, eyes rolled back, vibrator against your clit. He huffed, shaking away the thoughts, “ Anyhow, let’s talk trends I am late to, rare, I know, but what’s this whole spelling coconut with your hips riding someone business?” You pondered, “I haven’t ridden someone in a good while, and my dildo can’t tell me if it feels good, so I’m at a loss here.” You sighed almost longingly, “God, I miss getting fucked, but also romanced,” You groaned, “It’s been a rough as fuck dry couple of months, which didn’t bother me for a while considering… you know, but the world keeps turning and I stay alone but moving on…” You droned and Yoongi went into overdrive.

Did you seriously want to fuck someone? Like someone else? You were living with him now, why would you feel the need to have relations with anyone else? His fists clenched at the very concept. You couldn’t be talking for show, you were say too genuine. Before he could even stop himself, he marched over to his bedroom door, ripping it open.

Only when he did had did he realize that you were in front of him, hand raised to knock on the door, “Oh, hey.” You gave him a smile as you slowly retreated your raised arm, “I was just gonna see if you wanted to watch a movie with me?” Every so often you both would have a movie night in which you would try to understand his feelings with small touches and ultimately fail. Nevertheless, you enjoyed his company. Today, you were buying into an article’s advice and watching a scary one. Not that you were terrified, but you were a jumpy person.

At this rate, you couldn’t tell if you were horny or just wanted affection.

Both, probably.

Your crush on Yoongi had only worsened throughout this whole experience to top it off. He was hot and kind who could blame you? And yet, he never made a single move as if he had no interest. God, what if he didn’t have any interest?

Your heart sank for a moment, “If not, I think I was gonna try to go out-”

“No!” Your eyes widened at Yoongi’s panicked tone when he cleared his throat, “I mean, I want to watch a movie, so you don’t have to go out.” He muttered and you nodded slowly. He could not have you going out, not after what he heard. You were craving other people. He couldn’t bear the thought.

“O…kay…” You smiled a bit, “Well, I picked a scary one if you think you can hang.” You gave him a sly smile before going to make popcorn.

He smiled as he watched you prance to the kitchen. You were so beautiful and fun and everything he’s ever needed. All that was left was for you to be his, but he didn’t want to scare you away. He had to be a gentleman. He had to wait for the right time. That’s what Jin, Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung said. The only issue was that he had no idea what the hell that meant.

“You know, Mr. Min-”

“Yoongi.” He was quick as ever to correct you, “Please.” He sounded more desperate than usual and you nodded.

“Right, well I was just going to say that you have absurd taste in snacks.” You said with a chuckle, “All I ever see in you cupboards are coffee.” You wistfully sigh, “I need to go grocery shopping.”

The sound of you being so domestic-made Yoongi break into an ill-concealed smile as he settled onto the sofa, setting the oddly scary movie you chose up, “I can take you on Saturday.” You nodded when you finally found a bag of chips and sat next to the man of your affection with a cushion between the two of you.

You really couldn’t say what the movie was about, you had only seen it between the gaps in your fingers all while Yoongi watched it with a straight face. When it ended he said a short goodnight as always, except something in you, lurched out.

“Actually, I think I may go out after all.” You swore you followed your mouth’s lead as opposed to the opposite. You just said shit and had to go along with it. Fuck, you didn’t want to go out. You wanted to stay home and be scared that there was a ghost in the closet, but now you had to get ready and shit.

“Why?” Yoongi stopped, hand gripping his door handle much harder than usual.

You were taken aback by the question. It was valid, you supposed. But was it? How do you even answer that question? “Well, it’s been a while since I've… ya know…” You clicked your tongue, suddenly too shy to say,

“Had sex?” It was so blunt, and his eyes pierced through you and yet, you could feel your core tingle.

You were nothing but a sputtering mess, “W-W, I-I, Mr. Min-”

“Yoongi, y/n.” He spoke through gritted teeth as he stalked over to you. Despite the unconscious steps back you were taking, the couch brought you to an abrupt stop.

“R-Right, anyways, I-” You shut your mouth when Yoongi hovered over you with his presence alone.

“Say it,” He glared daggers into your form, “Say my name.” Before you could even open your mouth Yoongi groaned, slamming his hands on the couch on either side of you in frustration, “God, why do you want other people when I’m right fucking here?” Your mouth was agape at this, “I’m so sick of holding myself back.” He cursed, body pressing against yours.

“What do you mean? Other people?” You mustered and Yoongi let out a chuckle void of humor.

“I listened to your podcast about wanting to be with someone and getting romance and…” Yoongi seriously thought you had been referring to anyone but him? Him? Seriously? The hot man in the place you live? You couldn’t stifle your laugh which caused his rant to falter, “How is this a laughing matter I am-”

“So fucking dense.” You giggled, “I’ve wanted you to at least look my way for the past three years, and you seriously think I want to be with other people?!” You sighed, “I live with you for fuck’s sake, and you won’t touch me!” Now, you were letting your frustrations out, “I brush your hand, I touch thighs with you, I-I scare the shit out of myself hoping you’ll at least hold me!” You heaved a breath, “And all you do is stay still!” You let out a frustrated yell, “The most attention I got from you was when I was almost attacked, is that what I need to do to draw sap from a fucking rock?!”

Yoongi flared at this, “Don’t ever think about putting yourself in danger.” He pointed at you, “I couldn’t take it, and I can’t take you not being honest with me, I thought you never noticed-” He was being a hypocrite, but he didn’t care.

“How could you say I don’t notice you when you straight up forgot I existed until this year?!” Yoongi was the one dumbfounded this time, and you took your chance to push past him, “I will go out tonight because I deserve-”

You couldn’t even breathe the next syllable before your back hit Yoongi’s bedroom door, his hands pinning your wrists above your own, the man breathing heavy. The air was thick with frustration as he gave you a stern look, “You deserve the world, I know,” The anger in you began to dissipate at his sincerity in his words, “And I am so in love with you, that I don’t think I’m worthy of giving it to you,” Your breath hitched at this, “But I don’t care anymore, because I would sooner kill someone before they put their hands on you, I’m sure you know I mean business, Sunshine?” You nodded, every cell in your body springing to life as Yoongi drew his lips closer to you, “So?”

You blew out a shaky breath with an equally shaky smile, “L-Love me? I-"

"Say you love me, and I’ll do it.” He was more rushed this time, urgent almost, “I’ll stop holding back, and I will give you all that you deserve and so, so much more.” He was almost pleading.

What the fuck do you know about love? What does it look like? Sound like? Is it the way Yoongi smiles at your dumb jokes in the morning? Is it the way his voice sounds through the walls as he practices newly-written lyrics? He was a good man to you. He was an attractive man. He could give you the world, and all he wanted in return was your love. Could all of this be love? Could it be the way he’s made you feel the past couple of years, especially the last couple of months?

Well, why the hell wouldn’t it be?

“I love you, Yoongi.” You breathed against his lips and he didn’t miss a beat in closing the gap so not even air could come between the two of you.

Electrifying all over again, but so, so different. This wasn’t fear. This was lust lighting a fire within you that Yoongi only stoked further as his silky tongue tangled with yours in a flurry of repressed emotions and endless unspoken confessions. His mouth attached to your neck and you let out a moan, quickly going to cover your mouth.

He ripped your hand away almost instantly, “You’re rarely this shy when you’re in your room, why deny me your sounds now?” He growled against your ear and the pure sex in his voice only made you moan louder. He was the rain you had admired from afar, but now he was pressed against you, and holy shit, were you getting wet.

“Yoongi, I don’t know if I can wait, I want to cum so fucking ba-ah!” You yelped when his hand went to cup your sex under the long shirt you always wore. You were on your tippy-toes, too sensitive to press your full weight onto him.

“Such an innocent-looking girl with such a nasty mouth.” He squeezed you in his hand and watched in glory as your eyes rolled back, “Since you’re a fan, I’ll be nice.” He teased as he got onto his knees, dragging your panties down with him to the floor.

“Oh shit.” You let out a breath that was quickly stolen when his tongue pressed against your entry. He lifted your leg, placing it over his shoulder as his mouth lapped at your clit and you lost yourself in the feeling, moaning mindlessly.

“You taste like deliverance.” He mumbled against your pussy and this only made your eyes roll back at the eroticism in his words. You couldn’t even keep track of what he was doing anymore.

All you could do was feel. His tongue fucked you into oblivion as he held your hips still, determined to make you come with his mouth, and his mouth alone. He let out a lewd suck and you quivered at the sensation and action. He knew how to play you and please you that you did. His tongue entered you again and he let out a delicious moan which vibrated against your folds, “Fuck, you sound and feel so fucking good!” You cried out as his tongue made thick strokes against you that only sped up expertly as he moaned into you, “Can I cum, Yoongi?” You asked, a smart girl, he concluded. He smirked against you, full intention to deny your request until, “Please, my love, I want to cum in your mouth like a good girl.” You begged pathetically and he couldn’t refuse you. You had him wrapped around your finger and hardly knew it. He got to work quickly, tongue entering you again only to flick upwards and you groaned at this. Groans were quickly replaced by increased screaming as he stiffened his tongue and licked all around your sex. You began to scream his name like a mantra as you tighten around the muscle and came the hardest you ever had.

You slumped against the door, chest heaving, “You okay, baby?” The nickname from him elicited a tired smile. You looked down at the man, lips glossy as he licked them. He sat back on his calves and you wasted no time in diving at him on the floor.

Before he could react, you gripped him through his sweatpants and smiled when you realized he was rock hard, “Can I please ride you?” You looked up at him through your eyelashes and he knew he couldn’t possibly say no.

“Your wish is my command, sunshine.” He growled when you straddle him as he sat, legs spread and back against the back of the couch now. You gave a less than innocent smile as you reached for his member, delicate hands wrapping around him, only to pull it free and closer to your entrance, “Condom?” He questioned.

“Pill, I need to feel you, fuck.” You panted, against logical judgment, but it was lost when you pressed the head against your own entrance, “Shit.” You ground against Yoongi as his head lolled back.

He could hardly handle it as your hips twirled, the tip just outside your entrance. Finally, he had enough, and with strong hands pulled your hips to fill you to the hilt. Your mouth popped open in shock and pure masochistic delight as the pain only added to the high of lust Yoongi gave you, “Sorry, baby girl, I knew you would feel so fucking good.” He emphasized this with a thrust up, “Plus, I could hardly resist being deep inside you immediately.” He growled in sadistic pride as your face twisted in pain and pleasure.

“Hurts so good.” Your hips moved spastically, chasing another high with Yoongi deep inside you. Not once did you lift your hips. You wanted to stay full, and Yoongi was more than happy to oblige, “So good, I wanna stay like this.” You moaned out as he sucked on your neck, hands going under your shirt to grip your breasts with a fevor you craved.

“You feel like heaven.” He grunted against your neck as he littered it with hickey after hickey. You were his and the way you squeezed around him and clawed at his shoulder only spurred him further.

Yoongi could feel himself twitching inside you and this only made you gasp as you gleefully squeezed around him, “Yes, yes,” You sounded like a prayer to him, “Cum inside me, I need it.” You were nearly screaming as he began to thrust into you at a rapid pace.

“Yeah? You want me to paint those pretty walls white, hm?” He teased you despite the strain in his voice, “Fuck it right into that pretty pussy of yours, no mine.” He grabbed your hips, working your body for his own high, “This is my pussy, isn’t it?"

"Yes, it’s all yours, Yoongi!” You yelled and with that, he groaned as he came, ropes of cum that you could feel as his hips made good of his promise to fuck it into you. You milked him as you squeezed tighter before coming undone as you came with a scream that sounded like the next symphonic masterpiece to the fucked out man inside you.

You huffed a small chuckle against his neck as your curled your form around his, “So needy.” He teased as he went to remove himself inside of you only to be met with a squeeze from you that made him curse, “You’re gonna kill me, I swear.”

You giggled, “I like how you feel inside of me.” You shrugged before shivering at the empty feeling only to gasp when three fingers were shoved into you. You wiggled in glee, “Fuck.” Your breath hot against his neck.

"You just like to be full, huh baby?“ You nodded shyly, "You’re perfect.” He chuckled as he used his other hand to stroke your back.

—-

“Announcement time, my dear listeners” You spoke in the studio, trying not to sound like it was through gritted teeth. You counted your blessings that you were alone, “As you know, your dear old Sugar Sun has promised a face reveal and I-Min Yoongi!” Well, mostly alone. You heaved a breath as you came against his mouth for the third time.

The man between your legs looked up at you, eyes way too innocent, “What? I’m waiting for my part.” He spoke nonchalantly despite the wetness on his lips.

“I’ll never get there if you keep making me cum and start over.” You glared and the man shrugged, “I got far enough, right, babe?” You pouted and watched his resolve crack, “Honeypie?” You pleaded and he faltered, “Love of my life?” He grumbled as he sat up next to you in front of the mic.

“Fine, go ahead.” He licked his lips.

“…and I decided to go a step further.” You smiled as the man next to you held your hand, “I will be doing a photoshoot to reveal my face and my collab partner to an upcoming song and my boyfriend…”

You looked to him, eyes twinkling, “That would be my cue.” He placed a quiet kiss on your head, “My name is Min Yoongi or Agust D as some of you may know, and I look forward to my career and life with this little piece of sunshine.” You giggled at this.

“So cheesy.” You gave him a bright smile nonetheless, “Crazy news, I know, but I secured the fucking bag, my dear listeners, he’s never getting rid of me."

You were joking for the most part, but you didn’t know how right you were. You would not be away from him any longer. You were his sunshine, his little songbird, and his world all at the same time. He needed you like he needed to breathe. Now, you were his. You were his sunshine despite the rain he embodied. The rainbow between the two of you was too intoxicating to even bear the idea of giving it up. Even for a fraction of second. You were his. Every moment, minute, second, everything would be together. He was yours now and forever just as you were his. Blissfully and eternally in love.

"I’m too crazy to let go now.” You laughed as he kissed your temple affectionately.

So was he.

Buy me a ko-fi (it would make my day)

Masterlist

#yandere bts #yandere yoongi #bts fanfic #bts smut #yoongi smut #bts oneshot #bts yandere au #yandere bts smut #bts #bts fluff #yoongi fluff #min yoongi

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bladekindeyewear · 4 years

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Bloggin’ thru new Homestuck^2 bonus, The Influencers part 2. Kinda got my gears ground during part 1, but that largely wasn’t this sideplot’s fault, so I should still be able to enjoy it.

Reminder, bonus update blogging is always light on detail because I don’t wanna spoil all the paid content, but I’ll give the gist of my reactions and go into anything plot or character related that helps understand the main story, as well as giving you a real top-down view of “what happens” so you know what it’s about and whether or not to invest in looking yourself. (And I don’t necessarily have to give you anything that isn’t main-plot-relevant.)

So where are they going to follow the main party? They shouldn’t need to record the funeral I’d assume, because that already would have been televised (and awful for Jane’s PR)... *click*

9/28/2020 - The Influencers, Part 2

TEACHER: Time’s a-ticking. TEACHER: The next plot point is yours to change, if you want it. Don’t you feel it calling to you?

Yeah, just hanging a lampshade on this whole parallel sideplot I guess.

> (==>)

Whatever it is, Imode feels it. A tiny string of relevance spooling out from their belly. They want to follow it.

That’s pretty Lighty and/or Seery. I’ve used that terminology to describe the pull of Light and its “relevance” connotations even since the only fanfic I’ve ever written, back in 2011 during Homestuck’s run, and it’s obvious enough terminology that I think Rose later mentioned it somewhere like in the Epilogues. Are these three kids perhaps going to get a fourth, and become their own session by the end of this like Harry, Vrissy, Tavros and Yiffy might?

They can’t stop picturing their friend, Harry Anderson, arrested or tortured or worse. They’re not sure what there is to be done to stop this chain of events, but they’re sure as shit gonna find out.

(”They” is almost certainly referring to Imode here, not all three, since Imode uses they/them.)

Alright, self-aggrandizing used for good. Show off the sort of thing that Vriska could have accomplished if she actually used her talents for her team for once. (Besides, like, the similar thing she did just recently by making a scene.)

> (==>)

Imode is the first to choose pursuing this path over bootlicking, and the others are sure to follow.

> (==>)

Yup, Avril and Silas follow. (Had to be reminded of ALL of their names, it’s been months since their single named appearance.)

> (==>)

Crockercopters overhead but none taking note yet, just ominous setdressing

> (==>)

IMODE: lemme take a ⏱️ to 😮‍💨 before we figure out where to go next. AVRIL: wait don't you know? IMODE: Huh? AVRIL: we were following YOU this whole time.

Oh, that answers the first question I asked. They have NO clue where they’re going. Let’s see if they luck out and find the clock tower.

IMODE: You 👂 what he said about the next step 📞 to us, same as i did. Don't you feel it pulling at you?

Literal pull? Powers? Future player? --All baseless speculation of course.

SILAS: Woah are you seein’ this.

Vriska’s probably putting on her very public display now. (This is a bonus so I’m skipping lots of banter and arguing.)

> (==>)

Oh, they just saw John flying up to the clock tower in his outfit. And catching sight of him fly is rare celebrity gossip stuff so of course it’d stand out to them, apparently. (Only one of them is athletic apparently, the other two are groaning at the prospect of more running.)

> (==>)

Avril always enjoys running, but there’s something else thumping along to the rhythm of the thuds of his feet and beat of his heart. He’d thought Imode was nuts for feeling it just a minute prior, but now he’s realized he isn’t deadweight, that he hasn’t fucked up someone’s life irrevocably, and it pushes him faster and faster as he tears ass toward the belltower.

(Did we know Avril was he/him before this? Probably but if so I forgot.)

Okay, since we’re getting glimpses into each of their headspaces narratively that BOTH have had some oblique aspect references, I have to at least OPERATE on a guessy assumption that there’s a sort of classpect-for-each-of-them thing going here.

I’ve quoted both those whole paragraphs here... so what do I see? This is going to be a bit tougher because I don’t care as much to remember these characters...

Imode had some Lighty-or-Seery language, and then could not stop picturing bad things happening to Harry, wanting to avert that chain of events. So something of a Seer or Mage would make sense. But given how easily Lighty stuff and the Understanding classes (or at least what we think those are) can be conflated, Mage of Light seems a bit of a premature jump. Heck, I’m only saying Mage because a Seer of Light already occupies a starring role, and because her first act on that feeling was to jump after it herself and tell the others:

IMODE: Stay here and 👢👅 your way into fame if that's what you really want. IMODE: I’m ✈️. Follow me if you’re not 🐔💩.

--leading by example rather than directing the others into battle. Only half-caring if they followed, willing to pursue it herself if necessary. So, potentially more “Active”.

As for Avril... the word “heart” is mentioned there, sure, but the full context is “there’s something else thumping along to the rhythm of the thuds of his feet and beat of his heart”. I’m inclined to think that the rhythm/beat references, especially the even footsteps and heartbeats hitting like a metronome, might be more tied to Time? But if so, I don’t see anything class-related. (Could also be Blood, and him thinking of what he owes in the last sentences could be reinforcing that? Big question marks for now.)

> (==>)

Door to the belltower’s locked. The kids figure John’s forgotten that his son can’t fly.

AVRIL: this is it, this is the thing we can help with! #feelinit #vibes IMODE: OK I'm excited that you believe me now, but what are you gonna even do? IMODE: use your big all-star 💪 to break down the 🚪?

--so they think they can “resolve a missing plot point” by getting the way into the clock tower open? Is this going to be a theme or running joke of the Influencers sideplot, showing plotholes resolved in bonus content like how we finally saw how Gamzee’s body was relocated last time? When I was explicitly mad about that? (This seems like a much smaller one though.)

Apparently in HS^2 proper they remarked that the door SHOULD be locked, but Vriska just opened it anyway and wasn’t surprised it was unlocked, which she would’ve ascribed to her luck -- how the universe just makes way for her. (And we’re literally seeing HOW the “universe” “made way” for her this way, through these Influencer kids. Even though Vriska could have broken down the door in a second and it’s practically meaningless.)

> (==>)

Avril just has the key!

AVRIL: so like my photoshoots are like, #modernfashion #myworkout #urbexp IMODE: Yea, your 📸 are why we’re all in this mess. We know. Get to it. AVRIL: fair. ok well this is the urban exploration part. AVRIL: a lot of the public infrastructure buildings in the kingdom have the same weird, shitty deadbolts on them. AVRIL: its like they were mass-produced for ease of access or something. AVRIL: none of the deep crockergov stuff, but a lot of the kingdom maintenance buildings. AVRIL: so once you swipe one key, you got access to it all. AVRIL: that’s how i get a lot of my hard-to-get shots #tradesecrets #tellnoone

Hhhmmmmm. So what does this tell us about his potential role? Getting places you’re not supposed to is associated with the Thief, Rogue, Bard, and sometimes Knight classes... as well as the Time/Space aspects, or the Void and Breath aspects. A Thief or Rogue of Time could do the trick, and fit with the rhythm paragraph earlier... whereas Space doesn’t have the same rhythm associations even if it is “places” he’s getting into for these shots. And photography, snapshots still in time, is something Dave was also explicitly into. Plus, this exploit he’s showcasing is specifically for older buildings, playing into history/archaeology from an urban perspective.

So, Time is looking like a safer and safer bet for him.

> (==>)

lock click

> (==>)

long-hair swoop, cheer

SILAS: Yeah, I’m tickled a near-disproportionate amount by the unlockin’ of a door, so I’m inclined to believe you were onto somethin’.

Still no real hints about Silas, yet.

AVRIL: ok so. we did it, right? #missioncomplete AVRIL: feels a little anticlimactic #tbh IMODE: idk, I think so? whatever I was feeling doesn't seem so immediate anymore. IMODE: I wonder if-

Okay, that’s some near-confirmation that Imode was LITERALLY FEELING the plot or some such. We’ll probably end the Influencers sidestory eventually with at least solid GUESSES blatantly obvious for their potential Hero Roles or the like.

> (==>)

Ah, Vriska and the kids are coming-- and we get the Silas paragraph(s)! Silas is green-themed with green text, and a session with a Time player has a good chance of having a Space player too, so let’s see if...

Silas doesn’t know what being spotted by the other kids might mean, metaphysically or logistically or legally. She’s not particularly pressed by that sort of thing. But this is a day that’s come with more introspecting than she’s used to having to endure in a year, so she's ready to get moving before it becomes an issue.

As Harry Anderson, Vrissy, Vriska, and Tavros proceed to have this conversation, Silas pushes to catch up with Avril’s pace. She’s not sure where they’re headed, and has no clue what all this means for her. She knows the step she’s taken isn’t one she’ll be able to backtrack from, but she’ll figure that out tomorrow. For now, one foot in front of the other.

That...

I mean there’s a lot of talk of time-FRAMES, from a lazy perspective, but just-pushing-forward-in-the-here-and-now is reasonably Spacey? ...hm. I was excited for the Silas paragraph(s) but I don’t see any immediately-apparent pattern meant for us to discern classpect info here. Maybe a female Page example (since we could use one), propelled along by events without knowing what’s going on at first, too early in her journey to have taken more than her first step up the gradual incline of her long-term potential?

I really don’t know I guess.

Anyway, that’s the end of the bonus upd8! See ya in a while.

#Homestuck #hs2 #Homestuck Liveblog #upd8 #Homestuck^2 #Avril Thorpe #Imode Kurita #silas p beauregard iii #spoiler #spoilers

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filmbefore · 3 years

Text

well , well , well ... look who finally decided to bite the bullet nd bring a second muse ... ok so hopefully you all know me at this point but if you need a refresher ,, im moe !! i am twenty one , i live in the est , and my pronouns are she / they . i have been playing violet for the past month - ish now n i just thought it would be fun to bring this annoyance . woop woop ! anyway lets get into it <33

MAX MOON , a MEMBER of the yale's elite , they're TWENTY and a SOPHOMORE UNDERGRAD student majoring in BUSINESS . they are as JOCULAR as they are VOLATILE . ( hwang hyunjin / he/him / cis male )

STATISTICS .

FULL NAME: maximilian river moon AGE: twenty GENDER + PRONOUNS: cis male + he / him SEXUALITY: a bi king HOMETOWN: new york , new york ASTRO: sagittarius sun , leo moon , aquarius rising HEIGHT: five foot eleven HAIR COLOR: black EYE COLOR: brown

FAMILY .

okay this is going to be a lot shorter than violet’s family shit bc quite frankly max’s family is boring so look away

so max was born to a couple of ,, Disappointing parents like they had max really really young and him being around kind of made them lose track of their own lives

his mom did beauty pageants but never won, his dad ran for local offices and lost every time, his dad would try to get into photography and end up working at the photoshoot places at the mall, his mom tried to go back to school and flunked all of her community college courses, yadda yadda ... you get the drill

and you guessed it ,, they pretty much blamed all of their own failures on this crazy little kid that they brought into the world by accident

and yeah max was basically mf NUTS from day one. he was never really mean or anything he just had attention issues and wanted to be yelling or throwing things all the time ( and stayed that way from birth to now pretty much )

it p much always seemed like max got all the luck in the family when it came to anything ( making his parents despise him even more ) so when the boy managed to make his way through school and stumble into the yale application process ,,, nobody really questioned it

and when max started gaining a following on social media ,, no one really questioned that either . however someone SHOULD have questioned it when a nineteen year old boy kick started his own self care company and marketing it towards his fanbase of pre-teen and teenage girls

no one did tho !! in fact .... the elites were interested in the kid’s business and people skills and recruited him for the exclusive squad at yale . lucky him ig ????? time will tell . he’s new here and still has a lot to learn

BLACKMAIL .

DRUGS + PHYSICAL ASSAULT TW

max’s dad actually bought his son a bunch of followers at the start but never told his son bc he didnt want to deflate max’s ego ( even tho he should have ) so yeah maybe maxie boy isn’t as lucky as he thinks !

max actually hates his mf self care company ok like the boy rarely shows up for work or any of his meetings and talks shit about the company and its content frequently . unfortunately the investors and a bunch of contracts are keeping his ass there

and finally ,,, max paid to cover up an assault charge from when he attacked some guy who he thought was stalking him at the start of his rise to fame . the guy wasn’t even really stalking him ,, max was just on drugs at the time and was extremely paranoid

PERSONALITY / FUN FACTS .

ALCOHOL + DRUGS TW

yeah as you can maybe tell thus far ... maxie boy is a mess !!! he’s a spoiled only child and grew up with so much of the attention on him , even if the attention was negative . basically everyone has always protected his ego his whole life , which really did him a disservice and now he has a huge head for no real reason . he has an escapist kind of mindset and will do just about anything to get out of something he doesn’t want to do . but yeah he lowkey has a drug n alcohol problem but that will be something to figure out later lmao i swear he’s not ,, like intentionally mean . he was just never taught how to act different bc he was kind of being raised by kids himself but yeah im sorry in advance for him :P have fun dealing with the nightmare OIWJEOJRIOJEROIJWER

#𝐌𝐀𝐗 / intro .#YUHHHHHHHHHHHHH YAYYYY

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blackgirlblues · 4 years

Text

Being A Black Girl: And Chasing Your Dreams.. Yikes.

Hi,

It’s me, your resident black girl back with some new shit to rant about. I’ve been posting a few screenshots of short poems and paragraphs I’ve been writing on my phone as a way to heal and get over Capricorn boy from my last post on here and I see you guys like and reblog. Thank you for showing love, although it makes me sad that so many of you seem to be going through the same range of emotions I am. I’m sorry.

I know it’s a lonely place to be in.

But, on the bright side, I’ve got a lot of new followers joining the diary/manual/rant page that is blackgirlology and it’s nice cause I think it’s becoming a little bit of a community. So, in a way, were never really going through any of these emotions alone. If you’ve found this page-you’re part of a community. Bask in it.

Anyways, that aside, a lot has happened since I last spoke to you. I don’t know if any of you may remember, and for some new people this will be a surprise. But I’m actually a singer songwriter from Ireland. Moved to London a year and a half ago to pursue my music dream and that’s how I met Capricorn boy whos been the source of all my poems.

Throughout this time in between, I’ve been trying to chase my dreams, and chase them relentlessly. and this summer i did just that, let me tell you, what im about to tell you guys, is to put it simply, wild. I’ll just cut to the chase.

It all started in July. I’d been in London for quite a long time now, over a year and now have a manager who’s my best friend first and foremost. We’ll call her Maya. I met her in my first week of moving to London in the student halls I was staying at and we became best friends pretty quick. She studies music business, so it made sense and she just naturally ended up taking up the role as my music manager. Shes seen everything. The songs I wrote about Capricorn boy, the tears, everything. And she saw everything this summer.

I saw an ad for a record label opportunity in London. It was advertised on my university facebook page; a new indie label, looking for demo submissions for a competition they were setting up to find their new signee. I sent a screenshot to Maya who agreed I should send my stuff in. I did, they liked it, I got a meeting, we were sent terms and conditions for the competition. We signed it, the rest was supposed to be history.

Big yikes.

There’s so many layers to this story that I will be shortening it, just because it can get very draining for me to talk about or even write about. I’ve healed from it i think, but I still want to put it here and write it about to finally close that chapter and be done with my feelings about what happened to me and my music.

Basically, the whole competition, the record label, the dickhead CEO, it was all a scam. I had accidentally signed away the master rights to my new song to a record label started by a fake CEO who was committing fraud and known for tricking young artists into handing over their master rights so he could profit off of them, for power.

It was a mess. Another contestant told me and Maya when we were outside of their office. Just minutes before we were under the impression that I was doing an interview for Billboard Magazine. Honestly, I never truly believed it. Shit was too good to be true.

But she told us everything. How he was actually a run away from Spain, where he was caught and exposed for doing the exact same thing to artists there, how he didn’t have any money to fund the competition he had somehow roped all of us into, how he was illegally avoiding paying his team, how none of the creatives we had collaborated with for photoshoots etc were paid, how everything was a lie, how he didnt have any connections, and how he was trying to convince me specifically to sign a 360 deal with his label.

Which, guys, I’m not stupid. After the first week of being with the label for the competition and letting my song live through their disastrous marketing campaign, Maya and I long decided that regardless of what they said, I would not under any circumstances be signing anything with any entity of their company.

After being told the truth, I had to sit down. You see, when I came across this opportunity, I thought this was finally the life I’d been manifesting coming true. I had begun to grow in my spirituality and start journaling, writing down my manifestations, and getting to work with a record label who would later offer me a fair contract before I turn 20 was one of the manifestations I had written down every night before I went to bed. However, what I’d gotten was the exact opposite.

I remember, me, Maya, and 2 of the girls from the competition all stood around in a circle outside of their new office that the CEO also hadnt paid for wondering what our next move would be with this new information. There was still 2 other contestants inside who had no idea what was really going on was an elaborate scam. One of them wanted to go in and expose them on the spot. I said no, we had to go in and pretend like everything was normal until we figured out what to do afterwards.

So in I went, plastering the fakest smile on my face and pretended like I still thought I was about to be speaking with Billboard Magazine. Once I got out, I broke down in Maya’s arms.

I went home to my flatmates, Ellie and Bea and cried for hours before I had to go work a 7 hour shift at a pizza place.

I stayed in bed, and cried, and cried. and cried again. I didn’t get out of bed unless I needed too. The only people I talked too were my flatmates E and B and Maya.

Everything was sorted out eventually, a lot more happened, but as I’ve been writing this article for you guys, I realised that all of that stuff is no longer relevant to my journey and isnt something I want to bring back into my energetic circle because I’ve made peace with the fact that a lot of people who betrayed me when I was at my lowest, peace with the fact that these contestants who wanted to “work together” to get out of this mess, actually wanted to save their own asses and leave me in the cold.

But I still got out of it and I’m still here.

I nearly got sued by a man with less than 20 pound to his company account online, but hey, I’m here.

I guess why I’m telling you guys this really short account of my summer is to both record it for myself but also to say its okay to flop, its okay to fail. I did both this summer. and thank god i did. it was the best thing that ever happened to me.

following your dreams is scary, doing it as a black girl is terrifying because society has already kind of set you up to fail. there’s already misconceptions about what you do, who you are, where you come from and how good you’re going to be at what you do. its almost like we cant fail and we need to work 10 times harder to obtain half of what the average white person will get. and sometimes it can feel like we dont have any space to fail or make mistakes because of this but let me tell you thats not true.

if anything, the universe will put you in places that will force you to grow through the mistakes you make. and thats exactly what happened to me this summer.

i chased my dream so relentlessly i ended up in an environment i thought i manifested, i thought was good for me, only for the universe to show me that that specific environment i’d been wishing to be in is the furthest from what i need right now in my life.

this so called failure showed me that not everybody who smiles can be trusted, and that people can be way more deceiving than i ever thought, especially when push comes to shove and they need to save themselves. you start to see the real them when it starts to get tense. the people who seem to be around you when you’re doing good will most likely dissapear when things start to go south, including some of your oldest friends. you will get radio silence on their end. be upset. cry. but after that be glad that this situation revealed their true colours.

and then never put any more energy into them again.

this failure showed me how fucking strong i am. how resilient and kind i am even in the face of disrespect and actual evil. it showed me how much i can care for someone who i believe is at a risk of losing it all, and showed me that this will not always be reciprocated. and for a while i thought that meant that i had to harden myself up and grow a shell. but i dont think so. i will not allow the things ive been through to make me into a hard person when i was born soft. i mean now, im a little rough around the edges, jagged enough to cut anyone who comes too close with some of that bad energy, but soft enough to hold myself tight and glue myself back together when i need to. soft enough to hold the people who held me this summer. soft enough to help people who i know deserve it.

im a good person in a shitty world, i don’t need to match the world and become a shitty person to survive.

after all of this happened, i stopped writing music.

i haven’t written anything properly or produced anything in months and sometimes i get worried that ive completely lost my talent. but thats another thing that this failure taught me, i can never truly lose whats meant to be mine. i know that i was put on this earth to create change, to inspire, to be an activist and a voice for people who dont have one. i know i was put here to do it through a creative medium and right now i still think that is music.

i think i just need to stop being so scared to start again, to learn my craft again.

i used to be so scared of failure but now i am so thankful for it and the lessons its taught me. i had so much hurt and pain and hatred in my heart for the universe for, in my head, doing this to me. but then i realised that the universe never does anything to you, it does it for you. all of this happened in my best interest and while i definitely didnt understand at the time, i get it now.

thank you universe for the worst summer of my life.

and my black ass will be continuing to chase my dreams relentlessly, failing, tripping and falling on my ass until i get to the very top.

besides, if everything had just gone right, that wouldnt have been very interesting, would it?

#blackgirlology #black girl #black power #black love #black blogger #Black Blogs #music #blog #blogger #journal #journaling #diary entry #diary of a black girl #diary #dear diary #tumblr diary #dreams

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mitchsmarners · 5 years

Text

L.A Devotee | chapter two

Eddie made no complaint the whole way through the bar and simply raised his brow at Richie as he pushed them into the bathroom and closed the door. “Are we going to make out?” Eddie asked, eyeing Richie up and down slowly. “Because you look really good right now, but there’s no cameras in here so I don’t really see the point.”

“Are we going to… NO!” Richie shook his head harshly, wanting to bang his head against the stall door. He could practically feel the body heat radiating from Eddie’s body and yeah… okay, maybe it was making him a little dizzy but that wasn’t the point here. Underneath everything, Richie Tozier was human after all.

[or: child actor Richie Tozier was raised in The Industry, he knows how to play the game. He knows exactly how to keep his head down, and make his way through the famous life without attracting any extra drama. Until his management branch takes an up incoming band under their wing, and enlist Richie to publicly date the lead singer, and that all falls to shit.]

Photoshoots were the quite possibly Richie’s least favourite part of being famous. Well, no, he knew many things he hated about being famous much more- but doing photoshoots was his least favourite part of being famous that he was also paid for. So, for him to arriving onto a set for a photoshoot that wasn’t his, and he wasn’t being paid for, was a big reach for Richie. He’d pitched possibly the biggest fit he’d ever done in his managers office that the day before when he was told what was expected of him, but Kay had been more than firm.

“This is the first big shoot for their band and you’re supposed to be a supporting, loyal boyfriend.” Kay had pointed out to him. “You need to be there and show support.”

Richie had shot back some retort about how he’d thought he was going to be more of sugar daddy for Edward of Musician than a supporting boyfriend, but he’d already known that he’d lost the battle. He was standing in front of Beverly while she holding up two shirts that Richie thought looked pretty much the exact fucking same. “Why I am being done up? I’m not even being photographed!”

Beverly gave him a withering look, lowering the shirts slightly. “This might not be your photoshoot, Richard, but you’re a fool if you think nobody is going to be taking pictures of you. This is the big debut of your relationship-“

“Fake relationship,” Richie attempted to interrupt but Beverly clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Don’t interrupt me, Tozier, you know it doesn’t end well for you.” Beverly pushed on, removing her hands from Richie’s mouth and holding the shirts back up beside his face. “You need to look just as presentable as you would if this was your own photoshoot. Put up a good face for the public.”

“Why do I have to put up a good face?” Richie sneered. “The public already knows me, and what I wear in casual situations.”

Beverly paused, lowering the shirts and narrowing her eyes at him. “You’re right.”

“I’m… what? Did you just say that I was right?” Richie squeaked, eyes widening in mock disbelief. “I never thought this day would come. I’d first like to thank my parents, and of course, the Academy-“

“Even a broken clock is right twice a day,” Bev said with an eye roll and a soft smile. “It’s just… you are right. If you come around here looking like it’s a business transaction then your fans going to figure out pretty quickly that this isn’t real. You need to look like your every day self, not somebody who’s purposely impressing the public.”

“So you’re not going to make me change?” Richie asked quietly, looking down at himself. He’d actually given the outfit of the day a little bit of thought, and most of that thought was the needed to think the worst possible thing in his closet to be sure that Eddie fucking hated it. He found those sparkly boots hidden way in the back of his closet from his Harry Styles wannabe days, and paired them with a bright Hawaiian print shirt and neon red skinny jeans. He’d been considerate enough to wear a red and white print on his shirt, and he felt that was a branch of niceness he hadn’t been obligated to provide.

Beverly looked him up and down and crinkled her nose. “Yeah. I’ll call Kay and make the point to her, you know she’ll see it from our point of view. Go over and talk to Eddie, and at least look boyfriendly. I don’t care what you say, just look cute while you say it!”

“I can do that!” Richie called over his shoulder, grinning, as he moved over to Eddie. He couldn’t deny that guy was attractive, looking particularly more the part today in the beat up leather jacket and ripped jeans that Beverly had pushed him into than the sweater and khakis he’d been wearing when Richie had met him the other day. His hair seeming curlier than Richie had noticed when they were in Kay’s office, but Richie was sure it that was because of product or a lack of product.

Richie forced a smile, cupping Eddie’s hip with one hand and leaning in to press a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. He pulled back and smiled blandly at him. “How are we doing here?”

Eddie looked Richie up and down and rolled his eyes, still wearing a smile. “About on par with your outfit; loud, bright and unnecessary.” Richie fought off a cringe and wrapped an arm around Eddie’s waist. “Do you want to meet the guys? I don’t think you’ve been introduced.”

Eddie guided Richie towards the three men that were all gathered around the white backdrop the basic photographer was holding them in front of. Richie could see without needing to look around that people were taking discreet photos of the two of them, so Richie kept his arm around Eddie’s waist as he was lead over.

Eddie pressed a little bit against him as he smiled at his bandmates. “Hey, guys, this is Richie! Please excuse his outfit, it seems his mother never taught him how to dress himself.” Richie stiffened against Eddie, and it seemed that Eddie felt it, as the back of Eddie’s neck started to turn a little pink. “He’s our ticket to fame, apparently.”

The serious looking boy with tight curls, and the only one in a simple grey button up without the leather jacket, gave Eddie a dull look. “Our talent is what is going to be our ticket to fame. I won’t be reduced to a spineless boyband with a prostitute front man.”

With that, the curly haired man was turning and walking away. Richie noticed for the first time that the perma-grin had left Eddie’s face, the other man walking his bandmate walk away with pursed lips and almost sad eyes. Richie knew that inner turmoil this early in the game was a bad play, but Richie wasn’t on contract to give them advice.

“I’m sorry about that,” The black man with the guitar over his shoulder said, giving Richie a soft smile. He noted that none of them were giving an obvious introduction, no shaking of hands, and Richie chose to believe that it was because they’d been trained to act as though they knew each other- and not that they were just dicks. “Stan isn’t really on board with this whole publicity stunt thing. He seems to think it takes away from what we’re doing on our own.”

It isn’t, Richie thought a little sadly. Every publicity bullshit you have to go through to make it, you’re still doing it on our own. You’re still earning in. But he’d never say anything so reassuring, as he didn’t plan on making it easier on anybody so Richie just smiled. “I’m pretty sure that none of us wanted this, sweets.”

Richie squeezed Eddie’s hip a little bit tighter and Eddie jerked to look at Richie. “Obviously.” Eddie replied, voice dripping with venom and hand coming out to squeeze Richie’s fingers.

A boy with broad shoulders and chubby cheeks glanced awkwardly between them, and scratched the back of his neck. “Alright, well… I’m going to go check on Stan, but uh- Richie, you should come out for drinks later tonight, we’ll get to know you better-“

“Oh, I’m sure Richie doesn’t want to,” Eddie quickly said, leaning away from Richie slightly. Richie used his grip to pull Eddie back towards him.

“Oh, Richie doesn’t want to,” Richie said sweetly. “But he probably should, and will likely get in trouble with the big boss if he doesn’t. I’ll bring Audra with me, so that you’ll be able to have some friendly conversation while I sit there and look pretty as Eds arm candy.”

“Oh, gross,” Eddie let out a disgusted noise, pushing Richie away and seeming to remember the last moment to make it look the playful. “Do not fucking call me that. I hate nicknames.”

“Ohhhhh, Ed Edd and Eddy, you just made a big mistake telling me that.”

xxx

“Why.” Richie moaned from where he was resting against the front door of his and Audra’s house. He was wearing the outfit that his best friend had picked out for him, as well as his best pout. The outfit was nice, very nice- fitted dark blue jeans and a tight white button up that he knew held against what little muscles his figure managed to hold but Richie didn’t want a nice outfit. He never wanted it to look like he was looking good for Eddie. “He doesn’t deserve it!”

Audra knelt down in front of him, looking the goddess she always did, and smiled. “Don’t think of it as dressing up for Eddie. Think of it as proving to Eddie that you’re a hot piece of ass and he’s fucking lucky to have the privilege of people believing you two are in a relationship.”

Richie smiled up at her, closing his eyes. “You’re the only person in this entire world worth a damn to me. Marry me?”

Audra clicked her tongue, and patted Richie on top on the head. Her head her fingers moving away, then returning. A coat fell over Richie’s body and he looked up at his impatient looking best friend. “You’re the one who signed up for this. Get up, we’re going.”

“I never refused to go,” Richie pointed out, accepting Audra’s outstretched hand and letting himself be hoisted to his feet. “I just don’t wanna get dressed up.”

“You’re actually wearing less layers than usual,” Audra said, pushing Richie out the front door. The pub where they were meeting Eddie and the his bandmates was just down the road from where Richie and Audra lived, and they knew their regular orders. It was about as close to a lowkey place that you could find in mainstream L.A and the only place that Richie ever really felt comfortable going out to. They knew Richie’s tricks and schemes, and actually how Richie could his drinks.

It was a nice place, that managed to seem small and tight knit while actually being a rather large place, and Richie instantly felt warmed when he came inside. Wrapping an arm around Audra’s waist, he held her over to their table. He’d made that sure that Eddie’s band mates knew where to sit, because Richie Tozier was beyond a creature of habit.

He caught Eddie’s eye through the crowds of people, moving to tables and getting drinks, and Eddie gave him half a smile. Richie nodded in acknowledgment and was part way to the table when he was intercut by the serious boy from the photoshoot earlier. His hair was just as proper as it had been when the shoot had been taking place, and Richie figured that Beverly would never have to do much work with this guy. She was going to love that.

“I’ve been told that I owe you an apology,” The man- Stan, if Richie recalled correctly, and he usually did, said. He scuffed his surprising of Converse sneakers into the pub floor.

‘And what’s brought you to that conclusion, sweetheart?” Richie cooed as he let Audra pushed past them towards the table with the others. He made a point to remember not to let his posture be too stand offish, because he was aware that he was supposed to already be friends with that guy.

The guy who looked pretty uncomfortable right now, as though he didn’t apologize very often. “It was brought to my attention that it’s not your fault that Eddie has sold out his artistic integrity, and that I shouldn’t take my aggression towards Eddie out on you.”

Richie pursed his lips. “I’m going to be real with you for a second here, man. You might be being a little hard on Eds. He’s got the right idea. I can promise you, there’s nobody in this industry that isn’t a fucking sell out. If you start out with a sell out, then at least nobody can accuse you of it later. Get started with your hands tied, and you won’t be played for a fool.”

Stan narrowed his eyes, looking over Richie’s face carefully. “You’re not like I expected you to be. I just assumed that you’re be some big name asshole.”

“I am a big name asshole!” Richie cried, a little annoyed at just how whiney and offended he sounded.

Stan gave him a little hint of a smile. “Nah, you’re not. If you were an asshole, you would have just let me talk shit about Eddie since it’s obvious you don’t like him. But you defended him.”

“I didn’t defend him for him.” Richie said, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms. “I only said what was true. Be as mad at him as you wish, I think it’s hilarious that you guys are already having conflict and you haven’t dropped a single yet. It’s cute that you think you can have a career that way.”

Stan’s small smile turned into a grin. “That’s a solid effort. Very appreciated.”

Richie scowled as Stan turned and began to walk back towards their table. Grumbling under his breath, Richie followed him. The table was filled with the only seat available being so close to beside Eddie that Richie might as well sit down on his lap. He’d known that he was going to have to sit beside Eddie, of course, but he hadn’t counted on it looking like foreplay. Rolling his eyes, Richie squished in beside Eddie and tried to damnedest to look as though he was happy about it.

“About time,” Eddie said cheekily, letting his hand slid along Richie’s thigh and squeezing at it. Richie turned and smiled at him at softly as he could manage with pure irritation pulsing through his veins. “Thought you were going to spend the entire night standing over there flirting with my guitarist. Wouldn’t be good for our image, baby.”

“Oh, baby,” Richie cooed, patting Eddie cheek lightly. “You don’t have an image to look bad yet. You’re just my new cute little arm candy. Probably going to want to turn off your Twitter notifs.”

Eddie’s face seemed to fall, and his shoulders hunched up slightly around his shoulders. There was something about him then, some sort of hint at vulnerability and innocence that it brought Richie pause. There was a short moment of remorse that thickened in Richie’s gut before Eddie slapped on a smirk and leaned back in the booth seats.

“Okay, yeah.,” Eddie drawled with a laugh. “I mean, it’s easy for you to say, isn’t it? It’s a little harder to get your name known when you have to work for it yourself.”

Richie’s dislike for Eddie Kaspbrak came back so fast it almost gave him whip lash. “You’re not doing it yourself, though, are you?” Richie challenge quickly, stepping all the fuck over the words he’d told Stan just minutes earlier. “I’m doing it for you.”

Eddie was openly glowering at him now, and Richie knew goddamn well how terrible this moment would look if anybody got it captured. Not that Richie cared all that much about whether Eddie and his band’s career took off, but if Richie messed this up for the management he knew that he’d be facing people a lot scarier than Kay McCall. Sighing, he grabbed Eddie’s hand that was still resting on his thigh and pulled Eddie out the booth.

Eddie leaned back up against the stall, crossing one leg in front of the other. “You know, this is fun and all- I like how you’re eyes go all wide and out of focus when you’re trying not to loose your shit but- you don’t drag me into bathrooms for now reason. Want to get to the point, hon?”

“You’ve got a lot too learn.” Richie said slowly, shaking his head slowly and eyes flashing. He watched the way Eddie’s eyes trailed his body and his blood rushed up to the back of his neck.

Eddie took a few steps forward, hand coming to rest in the middle of Richie’s chest. His fingers flecked and got caught up in the fabric of his shirt. He looked up at Richie through his lashes and smiled. “Are you going to teach me, then?”

Richie let out a shaky breath, bringing his hands up and rubbing at his eyes. This fucking kid… “Dude, you are greener than a blond girl with big boobs at her first CW audition that thinks flirting with the director is a good idea. Get off me.” Eddie stepped backwards immediately, holding his hands up and looking slightly intimidated. “You’ve got big balls, kid, I’ll give you that.”

Eddie looked momentarily confused, a little child-like, and bit down on his bottom lip. “I don’t… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Richie clucked his tongue and shook his head. “I can’t decide if you’re stupid or just asshole.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m not both.”

Richie clenched his jaw, ready to snap, but before he could get angry he found laughter bubbling up in his chest. Cupping his hands back up over his face, Richie allowed himself a few moments to laugh. When he lowered his hands away once again, Eddie was looking at him with a surprisingly soft yet confused smile. “You know…” Richie said, clearing his throat. “I’m pretty sure you’re a little bitch, but at least you’re an entertaining one.”

Eddie’s smile turned into a grin. “So does that mean you do want to make out?”

Smirking himself, Richie slammed both hands on either side of Eddie’s head and leaned in. Eddie’s head thumped back against the metal stall, and Richie watched as his pupil’s blew out while staring up at Richie with wide eyes. Richie knocked their noses together and chuckled.

“No.”

Richie let himself out of the stall, fighting back the giggles, while Eddie stared at the air where Richie’s body had just been in a wonderful mix of betrayal and admiration.

#reddie #reddie fic #my writing #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #lad

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thedeviljudges · 5 years

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i need to tell y’all how much i hate capitalism, corporations, and men because the story i have for y’all is fuckin’ wild. like fuck men and fuck companies.

so in PR when someone calls about your services, they don’t automatically sign up or whatever. they tend to research different agencies and every agency will make a proposal (a document + presentation that discusses our approach and what we can offer a company/someone), and based off of the proposal, they choose who they want to work with. so essentially, we put in hours we may not even get paid for on a chance we might get picked.

anyway, we had a proposal for a client that my boss and co-worker went to a meeting, and they come back and one of em tells me what went down.

they’re in the meeting, and i guess this is before the presentation started, and the table of men are talking about how they bought at least 5 expensive cars (ferrari’s and... whatever the fuck else), a big rig/18-wheeler, and then they started a discussion buying a yacht.

so i’m like, okay why the hell is this relevant?

turns out, they bought everything for photoshoots to use on their website. like, just dropped a million or two to purchase these items to revamp their website with pictures.

i commented to my co-worker that they could’ve just saved money renting the damn things, but what do i know.

she continues the story about her and my boss doing the presentation and it going very well except for one part: social media.

many agencies have incorporated social media into what they offer. we outsource for it. part of the pricing is that we get the money then pay the outsourcer so the company doesn’t have to; we essentially act as the middle man on that front.

because of this, pricing is in the five grand range. it’s a lot, but social media isn’t just about posting pics and shit. there’s numbers and strategies involved.

however, the company had a different number in mind coming into this whole process. more like three grand. and then proceeded to tell my boss and co-worker that the price was a little steep.

so my ass is hearing this from my co-worker and going...... how?? how the fuck are they gonna sit there and say social media is too much when they just casually spent over a million, at the very least, on fucking cars they’re using for a fucking photoshoot???? how y’all gonna blatantly discuss buying a boat well over a hundred grand.... and then turn around and say social media... is. too. much.

i’m so?????? like, y’all are some dumbass motherfuckers, i swear to god.

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emisonme · 6 years

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Image, Image, Image............

Thank goodness 2017 is about over. This whole year has been a bunch of false narratives and bullshit. I was talking to some friends earlier, and with all the information we got the last few days, it became clear just exactly what this whole year has been about.

I have a feeling my inbox is going to be filled with hate, from both sides after this one, but it's what I think this whole year has been about. So, I'm going to write it, post it, and hope for the best.

I have had these thought for quite some time, but I wanted to hold off writing about them, until I had a better feeling about it. With the name drop of Camila’s album, I now know my feelings were in the ballpark.

I have had the feeling, from the moment Camila changed her twitter name to just “Camila”, that that was more than likely going to be the real title to her debut solo album. She did that back towards the end of July. When we got the initial album title, I thought, “how dramatic. Not the best title for an album, but it goes well with the drama.”. Then we started hearing, some of the songs she was performing on tour with Bruno, WOULDN’T be on her album. That also got my hackles up.

There really wasn’t much about what was happening and being said, that was making much sense. I knew the rush job of ST from 5H was all for cross-promotion purposes, but I was also trying to rectify the feeling I had, of why the girls, nor the Label, seemed to be giving two shits about the album they had just released. Now, I got my answer.

This whole year has been narrative based, and the continuation of a cycle. I have said before, the Music Industry loves to build people up, tear them down, then build them back up again. That’s what 2017 was. This year was dedicated to rebuilding Camila’s image and destroying the group image.

Before anyone goes off on a tangent about how it’s all about Camila, and fucking over the girls, not so fast. This has been the plan since 2015. They completely destroyed Camila’s image, within the fandom, to get her out. THEY made it your wishful desire that Camila exit the group. Like I said before, “your wish is THEIR command”.

The Labels needed a reason to begin the process of putting the group on “hiatus” or disband them. They used Camila to do it. They always knew Camila was going to be the first to go solo. That was THEIR plan all along. A happy group does not go on hiatus, or disband. THEY made her the scapegoat for the eventual demise of the group. THEY started destroying her image within the fandom, well all along really, but it started in earnest in 2015, and it didn’t stop until the release of that second statement by Fifth Harmony back in December of 2016.

The release of the first group statement, made Camila look selfish, and made the group look hurt, but resilient. Then Camila’s released statement made her look better. She was just trying to be happy. The release of the second group statement, contradicted their first and started making people question what was really happening. Then we got the misinformation campaign, through written articles full of “inside sources” and “people close to the situation”. That’s when some of us figured out, everything we were being told was a heaping pile of bullshit.

We figured out, everyone knew 2016 and 7/27 was going to be Camila’s last with 5H, despite everything THEY were telling us. Everything was running smoothly. Normani was dancing her ass off on DWTS. The girls were supporting her. You know, “happier than they’d ever been.” Then we started noticing, uh oh, for four young Ladies who claim to be happier than they’d ever been, they sure look miserable all the time. Word of all this solo stuff from the girls started getting out, (funny how they could do it, but Camila couldn’t) and we started to notice some “tension” between some of the members. Here we go again!!!!!

We get the released photoshoot from Laucy, that “confirmed” that Laucy was on/off for years, that they weren’t together anymore, rumors of Lauren “cheating” on Lucy with the one and only Ty $, then we started getting Tyren shoved in our damn faces. “Lauren” is all over Social Media liking every damn shady tweet about Camila she can find. Going on political rants that eventually started turning people off. The fandom started turning against her, calling her a “fake feminist”, a “bi-slut”, an "attention whore", and a shit load of other crap I don’t even feel like mentioning.

THEY are tearing her down, just like they did Camila, but no worries, they already know how they are going to build her back up again. They are doing the same thing with Normani, to a lesser extent. THEY have now made it a competition between Lauren and Normani, and the L-stans and N-stans are falling for this shit, hook line and sinker.

They had Normani announce her new solo Management. She has been in the studio working on her solo music. They have Lauren out there doing collabs like it’s going out of style. (which it is) They have Dinah doing her solo collabs as well, and we just found out, Ally is doing a stint in a TV show. But, it’s all good. They're communicating and happy as can be for each other’s solo endeavors. THEY still need to make some money this year, so they also have 5H doing some little side stuff to keep the group in the limelight.

Notice how I worded that. They have Fifth Harmony doing side projects. The last couple months, you wouldn’t even think Fifth Harmony released an album in late August. They have been promoting everything but. The truth is, if you paid attention, they aren’t so much "sabotaging" the group, so much as they are using the group. They are manipulating the fandom, to demand the disbandment of the group.

Let's go back to 2015 for a minute. Like I said before, in my opinion, everything that happened this year was supposed to happen last year. The problem, Camila wasn’t quite ready to go solo, and the girls weren’t ready either. THEY planned to use the success of Worth It and Camila’s duet with Mendes to launch her solo career. THEY planned to use the success of WFH and the 7/27 era to launch Lauren’s solo career. THEY were planning to use DWTS to launch Normani’s solo career, and Dinah and Ally had shit planned as well. It all got pushed a year, because none of the girls were ready.

2015 was a year of lessons for the girls. They all realized, they were being used and manipulated, and they were stuck in crappy contracts from hell. What most of you don’t realize, is Camila leaving the 5H partnership actually opened the door for the girls to renegotiate their contracts.

I said in another post, since Camila was no longer a member of the 5H partnership during the 7/27 era, they had to have negotiated her back into the group. That’s exactly what they did, but it also opened the door for Camila to renegotiate her solo contract and the girls to renegotiate their individual and group contracts. How? Because the percentages changed.

When the girls agreed to become the group Fifth Harmony, they had to form a Partnership, or a legal entity, to funnel the group money through. Everything was split, debt and profit, 20% each. When Camila withdrew from the partnership, they had to renegotiate the numbers with the Label and the Partnership, to be split 25% each. Camila was, and is still responsible for her initial 20% of the debt that was obtained during her stint with the group, and she will still obtain her profit margin that was negotiated for everything her image was attached to during her stay with the group.

So, Camila’s departure from the Partnership opened the door for Dina LaPolt to come in and renegotiate with the Label, the numbers and percentages, obtain ownership of the Trademark, and negotiated the girls’ solo/development deals with the Label that Dan Wootton mentioned in his article.

That’s enough contract talk for now. That shit is to complicated for this post. Anyway, since everything got pushes a year, we ended up here in 2017. Before LA got ousted, he picked up the option for 5H3. They needed an album for cross-promotion purposes. They needed the “competition” for their plan to work properly. The girls insisted on more freedom for 5H3, so they got some writing credits. It was no big deal for Epic, since they were doing 5H3 on a minimal budget anyway. The Label put all their eggs in the Down basket, because they only needed one hit to make everything work. Oops! They were certain, because WFH was such a big hit, that it’s puny baby brother would work just as well. It didn’t. They released Down on June 2, with a video. The fans hated it.

Before that though, Camila released her debut solo single, Crying In the Club. It was a good song, but it was a Sia sample. Camilizers, and music fans in general, didn’t want a Sia sample. Been there, done that! Fans of Camila wanted and expected something different from her. We knew it was a safe Label choice, and it was good, but not good enough.

There was more interest in, the Camila written, I have Questions, that was the prefix in CITC’s music video. Unfortunately, IHQ wasn’t the official single. It was more or less a promo track for drama’s sake. The written statement she released explaining her album process and the circumstances behind IHQ, left us all intrigued, and we couldn’t wait to hear the whole song. We got that a couple days later at the BBMA’s, then the studio version was released the next day. Let the analysis begin!

Now, we were told that her album was titled, The Hurting The Healing The Loving, and that IHQ was basically the beginning premise for the whole album. It would take us on a journey through her healing from the hurting, and end with the loving. Great concept, unfortunately, the whole THTHTL premise was to boast the narrative drama. I’m almost certain, THTHTL was never going to be the title of her debut solo album. We were simply fed that narrative to get the fan base riled up, and the headlines coming.

Before you go off on me, NO, I’m not blaming Camila and calling her a fucking liar. She had no say in this narrative at all. In my opinion, that’s why she kept putting little changes in the story behind IHQ. That was her way of letting us know, not to believe everything we hear. The story behind the song is real. It is her real heartbreak being poured out through her song. Someone did betray her trust. Something did cause her to feel all those feelings. It’s the who we don’t have the answer to. She has been purposely leaving out the who, because she and THEY don’t want us to know exactly what happened and who caused it. What THEY did want, was all the speculation. Specifically, with all the little subtle changes to the story along the way, the fans believed Fifth Harmony was the catalyst for the song, and more specifically, Dinah.

Really? Yep! They had Dinah play her part in it, as well. Once they got the girls in front of an actual camera for questions, they basically had Dinah admit it was her, without actually saying so. You have to love the way everyone always beats around the bush with an answer, instead of just coming out and saying what they mean. Manipulation of speculation at it’s finest. “We do this, have her say that, and the fans will think exactly what we want them to think.” CHECKMATE!

Why do THEY want the fans to think the girls treated Camila horribly behind the scenes? To rebuild, or fix Camila’s image, that THEY purposely fucked up, and to begin the destruction, or the downfall of the group image. Now, there are only a hand full of true Harmonizers left. Everyone else picked their favorites and wants them to go solo, because and I’ll quote “the group is holding them back”.

With the underwhelming performance of Down, THEY had to do something else to promote Fifth Harmony’s new album release. Que Dan Wootton. His August 17 hit piece on the girls did the trick. It lit a fire under the Harmonizers. A couple days after that, they even did a written interview, where they finally came out and wished Camila well and actually had no problem fielding questions about Camila’s departure.

The album was released on August 25. It debuted at #4. Two days later, at the VMA’s, they ejected an effigy of Camila off of their platform, and just like that, back to destroying the group image, and fixing Camila’s. Camila wasn’t even there, but she was talked about more than just about anyone else after the show.

That little stunt made the girls look like petty petulant children, throwing a temper tantrum. It made Camila look like she had every reason in the world to run away from Fifth Harmony as fast as possible. That’s what it was all designed to do. The Ladies of 5H look shady, while Camila is out there wishing her ex band mates the best in every damn interview. The shadiest thing THEY have had Camila do, is unfollow them all on Social media. But, after that stunt, who could blame her, right? That’s how you tear down a group image, and repair the image of the one who actually departed.

Larry Rudolph has made a career at creating, destroying, and rebuilding artist’s images. He has been doing it for a long time. Lauren, Dinah and Ally have Maverick to rebuild their images when this mess is over. Normani has S10 to fix hers. Granted Larry and Maverick have more to fix with Lauren’s than anyone else. They are completely tearing her down and re-branding her. Every day, I see people that used to worship the ground she walked on, saying they don’t even know who she is anymore. They are dismissing her in droves. It’s sad to see. I wish people would realize what is actually happening, and support her through this phase, instead of hating on her.

Anyway, back to the point of this post. Recent events confirmed for me, that this whole year has been about cross promotion, and image control. Fixing Camila’s, destroying the groups, and re-branding Lauren, Dinah, Normani, and Ally, for their upcoming solo ventures.

I’ve pretty much figured, since late July, Camila’s album was going to be self titled. The title was never going to be THTHTL. That was all narrative based. I also figured it was going to get pushed. I don’t think it was ever going to be released in September. That, too was part of the narrative. She kept telling us, people just didn’t listen.

Pretty much every interview, she would tell us she wasn’t ready to release “her baby” to the public yet. That she was going to hold onto it as long as she could. That she was continuously in the studio trying to perfect it. It was easy to see, when September rolled around, we weren't getting the album. Then we started hearing, that she would write all the songs on her album, and that some of the ones we have heard from tour, wouldn't be on the album.

It was easy to tell, when she talked about her album and her first single, she hardly talked about CITC. All the questions and answers were about IHQ. It was planned that way. I don't think CITC was ever going to be on her album. It was a stand alone single, to get something competitive out there, to keep her relevant in the charts. IHQ was released with it, to hype the media, and create drama.

I'm not saying Camila was being fake, because she wasn't. None of the girls are being "fake". They are following the plan that was laid out for them. The Music Industry is cluttered with talent, and if you want to have a lasting career in the Industry, you have to follow the plan that the people who know how the Industry works, sets out for you. Camila told us that herself, when she said, "the Industry is about 10% talent, and 90% hard work." She wasn't saying a talent-less twit can make it in the Industry if they work hard. She was saying, talent can only get you so far in the Industry. If you want to make it, you have to be prepared to work for it.

As I've stated before, The Industry is run on manipulation, timing, and image. Great music is almost an afterthought in the Industry. They don't give a shit if a song is good. They only care if they can take a song and make it sell. I've heard a boat load of crappy songs become number 1 hits. I've seen even more talented artists fall through the cracks, because they couldn't handle the game.

The Music Industry is ruthless. As Lauren, and I have said, the Industry can eat people alive. It can destroy you from the inside out. If you have a strong moral compass, and an even stronger support system, you can make it. You have to surround yourself with people who have your best interest at heart, not their own. People in this fandom bitch and moan about Camila and Normani always having their mothers with them. Their Mothers are there to make sure their daughters stay grounded, and to make sure their daughters don't fall victim to the Industry. I'm happy they are always there with them.

The Industry manipulates their artists, they manipulate their fans, they even manipulate the general public consumer. They can take a song, that should have never made it out of the studio, and turn it into a world wide phenomenon. The internet made that even more possible, and way easier. Throw some cool dance moves to a shit song, and the world will learn every step. Put a song on all the most popular playlists, people will stream the shit out of it. Release a song or album, when there's not a lot of popular competition, get the "media" to hype the hell out of it, the people will eat it up. Throw a rap artist on a pop song, suddenly you have rap/hip hop consumers buying and streaming pop songs, and vice versa. Create an image for your artist that is geared towards what's popular or happening in the world at the moment, and people will fall in love with them. It's all a form of manipulation, and people eat it up.

It's not the artist's plan to manipulate you. Young new artists have no idea what they are actually signing up for, when they sign on the dotted line. They are easily manipulated into signing the next ten years of their lives away, then they are either forced to play the game, or get hit with a lawsuit they will spend years trying to pay off.

That's what happened to Camila, Lauren, Dinah, Normani, and Ally. (and the majority of young artists that come into the business) They had a dream, made the choice to chase that dream, and found themselves smack dab in the middle of a cutthroat business, who's only concern, is how much money they could make them. THEY didn't care that Camila was getting death threats and bullied on social media. They didn't care that Normani was getting bullied by racists on social media. They didn't care that all of the girls got, and are still getting, hate, on social media. It's just all part of the game, and their plan to make the girls as successful as possible to make THEM more money. THEY don't care about the artists mental health, physical health, or well being in general. Just get your ass out there and make me some fucking money.

So, don't place blame on the girls for playing the game, and following the plan that was mapped out for them, from the start. They are simply trying to make it through their initial contracts without getting swallowed up by the Industry.

It will get better for each of them. The truth always has a funny way of coming to light, no matter how hard, or how much money you throw at the lie, to keep the truth hidden, it will come out eventually.

If I'm wrong, about any of the things I express or theorize, I will be the first one to come out and say, my bad. I screwed the pooch on that one. But, my track record has been pretty good so far, so take it for what it's worth.

#camila cabello #fifth harmony #lauren jauregui #dinah jane #normani kordei #ally brooke

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bolbianddolanhouse · 4 years

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BNHA self insert AU [Book 3]

New? Read here! Then here!

Chapter 10: Hey Can I Have a Sip of Your Water?...

It’s Wednesday my dudes and I made my decision to go with Sir Nighteye’s agency. Like what kind of idiot won’t take up that offer?

-Wednesday night, dorms-

I video call my mom after a few days of not hearing from home. Hanaka and Tensei are bad at communicating with anybody, so all my texts get unanswered for days.

“Hola? Ma?” I say as the image of my parents sitting on the couch pulls up.

“Te oigo Iwata” she responds “Como estas mijo?”

“I’m fine, I just finished eating dinner”

“Are you sleeping well son?” asked dad with a chop “It’s internship season isn’t it? Hate to have you get sick before you could go.”

“I have been sleeping well, and that’s what I wanted to talk to you guys about” I took a deep breath “I made my decision and submitted it today.”

“Oh?! Who did you choose?” Mom asked with excitement.

“I choose the Sir Nighteye agency” I said with confidence but was short lived when my parents made this confused and concerned face “Whats with that face?!”

“It’s just that...I thought that man retired already” Mom broke the silence “Did you see the reason why they choose you?”

“It said ‘The order of Sir Nighteye’ and it called out to me that I shouldn’t ignore it”

“HE PERSONALLY REQUESTED FOR YOU?!” Mom screamed “Mijo that concerns me a little.”

“Why?” Dad and I asked in unison.

“Well, that’s a code blue in the field, a personal request to a particular agent” Mom got in her pondering pose “What got me a little fucked up is that, he doesn’t know you or of you! He knows me but I haven’t worked with him since the incident. That was like, what, nearly 18 years ago?”

“Wait, he doesn’t know you have children?!” I was trying to make sense of things.

“Nope, I have all my kids under the same type of protected citizen status as me” she explained “If anyone tries to pry information about me or your dad, it will show that I don’t exist nor if we have kids. That’s why I have to do all the legal paperwork in person at your schools, I have to confirm that you exist and not a random kid without papers.”

“I guess that makes sense” I sort of understood what that meant “But did I make a bad move?”

“Oh no! He’s to be trusted, among with everyone at that agency. I’m just confused on that personal invite” She changed her body language “Well, maybe I’m thinking into it too much! He might’ve predicted something where you do something to benefit them if you chose them. Either way, I’m proud of you mijo.”

“Sir Nigheye is a very well accomplished hero! I am very proud of you to get their attention” Dad added.

“Thanks...don’t tell uncle Tensei that I didn’t choose his over Sir Nighteye” I begged them.

“What did Manual put on your offer part?” sighed Dad stressfully.

I sighed with the same energy “For being my favorite nephew- Cool Uncle Tensei”

“That’s cringe what the fuck” Mom cringed “When he gave me an offer, he just put ‘quirk’ on the line.”

“He put ‘For my favorite little brother- Cool Big Bro’. Like he isn’t my only brother!”

“Manual doesn’t get paid enough for this shit” Mom sighed with us “When is that man retiring?”

“Whenever Tensei decides to retire” Dad replied with a chuckle “I asked him that too when I took on the role of head hero of the agency.”

“Wait, dad you don’t own the agency?”

“Hm? I don’t, it’s Tensei’s agency and he calls the shots” Dad chopped “I’m just the public face of the agency, your uncle is the boss.”

That was all news to me, hot tea if you will.

“Yea, it’s not much of a secret though. Tensei gets more coverage than you do still” She said to Dad “But that’s because he’s hot and single.”

“Am I not hot?!”

“You are to me~” Mom laid on the charm “But nobody is swooning over you because you look like stern business man in all of your photoshoots” She gave him a peck and wrapped her arms around him “They don’t need to know how hot you really are, because you’re all mine~”

“Okay, hi, I’m still here” I interrupted the moment, triggered by all those things I saw with the device “I just wanted to see what’s happening at home and tell you that.”

“Not much is happening at home, it’s gotten very quiet now that it’s just Hanaka and Tensei here” Mom pouted “I miss you so much, wish I could hug you right now.”

“I miss being home too, cooking for myself for the day sucks.”

“Oh why don’t you meal prep?” suggested Dad “That what I did when I lived with Tensei, we meal prepped our lunches so we didn’t spend money on fast food. And I know you’re picky and don’t like long food lines.”

“That’s- something I didn’t consider” That expanded my brain “Damn that’s genius, that’s a whole 45 minutes of sleep added everyday, just for prepping ahead of time.”

“Sometimes I have good ideas” Dad adjusted his glasses with a smirk.

“Bold statement coming from someone that put cooked oatmeal in cookies their first time cooking” Mom roasted.

“EW THAT’LL MAKE THE COOKIES ALL MUSHY” I yelled and gagged “Why?!”

“I didn’t know if it was supposed to be cooked or not!” Dad defended himself “It was my first time baking anything and I did it for your mom’s birthday when I lived with her.”

“I’m just glad you figured it out by the time you had kids!”

“Same” Mom agreed.

“Everyone is a critic in this house” Dad grumbled.

We talk for a while longer before saying our goodbyes. As I started to get comfy in bed, I snapped my eyes wide open realizing something....mom mentioned the incident that happened almost 18 years ago. But I recently turned 17.....OH SHIT THAT’S A DIFFERENT INCIDENT! My incident (at least the one that I know of) happened when I was 5, when the old house got broken into with us inside. And that was 12 years ago, so this might be important! I scrambled to write this down in the timeline, who knows what else I might of missed in that conversation or in others! Now I’m a little nervous for this internship, what happened right before I was born?

-The next day, Homeroom-

“Okay I know I’ve been pushing this back every other day BUT I swear this is the last time” sensei said after roll “So if you please take out the syllabus and take out a pencil.”

The class groaned because we all know what he’s gonna ask us to do. Like he said, he’s been pushing back the semester project. I guess now it’s gonna the year end project because that’s the next available space to add anything before the school year ends! Things are just popping up all the time, villain threats and attacks, there was a false alarm kidnapping and everyone was on lockdown, and an order to have us be ready for a school attack. At this point, my nerves have been fried past my limit that I basically run on adrenaline at the drop of the hat. To be honest, I still don’t know if I’m ready to do the real deal when it comes. But it’s end of September and I feel the nippy of that cold weather I’ve been craving. Nippy out, sweaters out!

“...so you have a week to finalize your projects when you come back from your internships. After that is finals week, so be prepared for that.”

I raise my hand “Sensei, one of the test days conflicts with my hero final.”

“Oh? Hm... then I’ll talk it out with your sensei” He writes that down on his notes “Thank you for bringing that up now.”

We go through our usual training and it was kicking my ass today. Well, more like I was kicking my own ass today as I’m trying to train as much as possible to show that agency that I was the best choice. Though I did and passed my agent licensing, I still feel like I’m not at my fullest potential. Problem is that I don’t know what else to do to further my abilities aside from getting support items but even they don’t know what to give me. I wish somebody could give me a helpful hint like in video games.

Aside from my own short comings...the school dance is coming up and I’m not going. Dances aren’t my thing and it’s not like I have a girlfriend that’s begging me to go with them. Otherwise, I’d go. Beizu and I have a whole boys night planned since two others don’t want to go either. Just guys being dudes.

-Night of the Dance, dorms-

“I made queso dip!” I announced as I floated in the shared space with the giant, ugly mug full of hot cheese.

“That mug is seriously the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen!” chortled Kopi “Can’t believe your mom left this thing for prosperity.”

“Can’t believe that thing is older than any of us!” added the other classmate “But who has the chips?! I wanna dig in!”

“Our delivery is going come any minute now” Beizu checked the time “Don’t start sipping out of that thing.”

“Ew why would we-”

“I was talking to Iwa” Beizu clarified “Can’t leave him alone without him turning full goblin mode.” He squinted at Iwa “This bitch would sleep in a nest of pillows and plushies if his parents didn’t love him enough!”

The boys looked at me with a range of emotions of disgust “What? I know better now! Besides, I’d sip out of this when everyone had enough.”

“You two known each other since kinder or something?” asked Kopi “I don’t think I ever see you two apart outside of class time.”

“We go way farther than that!” I chuckled “I’ve known Bei my entire life! Our mom’s raised us together and I don’t know a life without him. We went to the same schools and everything! We know we’re separate people with different tastes, but we just feel better going through things together.”

“So you two dating or?” asked the other classmate.

I choked on air “Oh god no! What makes you say that?”

“The shared room, the lunches together, the random snuggling in the shared space” Kopi listed “The pet names, the matching outfits...are you sure you’re not?”

“Nope, we’re just two boys that like to snuggle” Beizu clarified “Try it sometime! It’s a good bonding experience.”

“Yup! Snuggling or having as much as a hug everyday combats depression” I slid in with the scientific facts “So don’t be so uptight and judgmental, it’s not gay if you do it for your mental health.”

“You know what, you right” Kopi came to terms with it “And I have been down lately, haven’t hugged my mom since we moved in.”

“I’m gonna hug the depression outta you bro!” exclaimed the other classmate as he came in for a firm hug “I got you!”

“Wow, thanks bro” Kopi said with his eyes watering and hugging back “Fuck masculine culture, we cuddling and shit.”

There was a knock at the door “Oh that’s our delivery!” Beizu gets up “I’ll get it.”

“I got the goods for boys night!” Uncle Jin exclaimed as Beizu opened the door “Hello everyone, nephews. I got your requested drinks, chips and fried chicken meal from that one place I can’t pronounce” He handed over the bags “I also added a few extras goods for a really good boys night.” He gave us a look after he said that “Well, I’m off! I’ll be seeing my nephews later, stay out of legal trouble boys!”

“Wait he’s both of your uncles? How-”

“My mom and his biological aunt were best friends with him since their UA days” I explained “He’s an orphan, so he considers my mom and his aunt family. So when my mom had kids, he took on the role of uncle and we were just raised to call him that.”

“Yup, his siblings also call my aunt their aunt too” Beizu brought over the food “Just to make things easier, they’re our aunty and uncle.”

“That’s so cool that your families are just so close like that!” Kopi said, wide eyed “Do you feel like cousins? Since you were raised together?”

“Hm, it’s more like brothers” I thought about it “It’s hard to explain, all I know is that I’m very close and comfortable around Bei and his mom like we were always family.”

“Okay I’ll say it!” blurted out our other classmate “Your uncle looks like a K-pop star, is he a retired K-pop boy?”

“No....he’s just Korean” I didn’t know how else to explain that “I will say that he gets stopped on the street a lot for that same reason. So many girls claim he looks like Hobi from BTS. But alas, it’s just our uncle Jin.”

“What did he pack as an extra?” Kopi asked as Beizu brought over the bag.

“Lets see....OH SHIT!” I said as I took out a box from the bag “TWINKIES!”

“NO WAY! WHAT ELSE?!” Beizu was getting feral as he took the bag to see what else is in there “LUCKY CHARMS!!!!!!”

We were hollering and circling each other like howler monkeys, full feral mode with the boxes of junk food in each hand.

“What’s that?” asked Kopi cautiously.

We hard stopped our hollering and turned toward the two confused boys.

“Fellas, I’m about to introduce to you the reason America is number one in obesity” I said, ripping open the box “This is a Twinkie, these are so good and hard to get imported into the country, that my mom has a supply of these under lock and key somewhere in the house so we don’t eat through them in one sitting.”

“And these are Lucky Charms cereal, the actual cereal part is basically cat kibble” Beizu tossed them a mini box to each of them “But the marshmallow bits are what make the cereal so iconic. Also a rare import and I basically only have these when I’m over at his house on special occasions.”

Kopi had the first bite of Twinkie “Oh..my..god...What the fuck” he gasped and covered his mouth “I said a bad word! I get it now, if Japan freely imported this, we’re doomed as a country” He took another bite “This is dangerous.”

“Oh wow my teeth hurt already from all the sugar in this” said the other classmate, munching on Luck Charms “But it’s so good, this is a children’s cereal?! I get the hype.”

And thus boys night was just a sugar fueled, anti-prom... We watched Shrek movies and had a handstand contest, followed by never-have-I-ever and destroying masculinity by introducing Kopi to some skincare. That boy admitted to washing his face with shampoo OF COURSE I GOT OFFENDED! And we all had a sugar crash on the couch by the time everyone came back from the after party. One of the most memorable boys night if I say so!

More fast forwarding to the interesting part! The internships! Beizu is going to Hokkaido and I’m going to the capital. But first, we had to do some shopping for Beizu for some cold weather gear.

“Did that parka fit Bei?” I asked as I held an armful of thermals outside the fitting room “Also what size are you in pants? There’s a sale on thermals and I grabbed a few before these old women swarmed the rack.”

“It fit fine! You’re making such a fuss over this” chuckled Beizu “Why? I just need a parka and socks.”

“You’re gonna need thermals too! Hokkaido is predicted to have record cold while you’re there” I held the thermals up to his body to see which ones would fit “Remember what Uncle Jin and Mr Hitoshi told us about their times in Hokkaido?! So excuse me for wanting my best friend to stay warm.”

He just looked at me shuffling my armful of thermals “You’re so cute when you fuss over me, like a mom.”

“Shut up and try these on” I tossed him the items playfully “I’ll be looking at gloves if you need me.”

“Okay, mom” He chortled before going back into the fitting room.

We don’t really go clothes shopping together, we have two different aesthetics. He dresses very average, not that much colorful or statement. I on the other hand dress like a ‘Gucci Goblin’ as Tensei put it. I love a statement piece, bold colors and patterns that clash just right! Bonus points if its designer! You can catch me on my goblin shit in some knee-high socks, shorts and oversized sweater. So with my shopping mentality and Beizu’s lax approach to shopping, I’m often the one doing all thorough fittings and getting things ‘just in case’. One of us had to be that friend, or we’d be the ugliest dudes around!

“Okay I’m back” said Beizu as he walked over to where I was “These ones fit, was that all that needed to be fitted?”

“Yes, I got the gloves” I held them up for him to grab “Now we can go to checkout.”

“Great because I’m hungry! We should hit up the food court” Beizu suggested “What’s the craving for today?”

I thought about it “Lowkey want to inhale like 6 cinnamon rolls with an iced coffee, But if I’m keeping it real, we’re just gonna end up at Panda Express.”

“Don’t orange chicken shame me!”

“We’ve had authentic Chinese food Bei!” I retorted “And yet you still want the borderline neon orange shit!”

“Sometimes the neon orange shit appeals to me more than thousand year old egg in congee” huffed Beizu as we approached the line to pay “But that’s why I asked what’s the craving for today.”

“Fine, how about we get some udon?” I compromised with my arms crossed “Because I wanna get in that cold weather coziness.”

Some of our favorite winter time rituals we have is eat udon and binge watch Steven Universe. But of course, I’m picky, so my favorite udon is kitsune with extra fish cake and the fried tofu extra fried. Otherwise I won’t eat it, I hate soggy food!

“Excited for your internship?!” Beizu asked me as I was carefully eating my first bite of the hot udon “It’s going to be the first time we’ve been apart for so long.”

“It’s only two weeks” I chuckle “But I am excited, what sort of things will I learn from their agency?! Yea I’m going to see that broccoli man in that time span, but they have some of the best agents there! Plus they have the most secure agency in the country! And the company had a part in that.”

“I didn’t know that! That’s so cool!” gawked Beizu “It’s like visiting a piece of history...say, why don’t you take the device?”

I stopped my next bite of food “Wait, why? I thought you wanted to work on it some more.”

“Just giving it the final outer shell to house all the extras I’ve added to look more uniform” He picked up a noodle “To be honest, I can do that when we come back. But it’s functional and with full charge that’ll last the 2 weeks, so why not?”

I watched as he slurped down his noodle “I suppose I can see some of the past with it, don’t know how much will help us in our little investigation.”

“If you ask what year they got their security system, it can tell us whether or not your mom installed it or not.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

Beizu slurps his noodles loudly “My mom told me that for security systems, depending on which on it is, in the early years of the company was installed by your mom or my dad.”

“Wait, that’s tea.”

“No it’s strawberry Calpico” he held up his drink.

“NO! I mean, what you said was a juicy piece of information!”

“Oh! Yea I guess it is” He set the pink drink down “Mom was getting a little chatty with me over video call a few nights ago, it started off with her uncovering a few old things from the attic and ended up with her telling me a little more about my dad.”

“What did you learn?”

“That he loved working at the company because it let him be himself while being needed. He was the first one your mom hired to work for her!” He picked up some broth “In the early years, he’d do the marketing and the assembling along with finding more displaced heroes and agents that needed work. The company wouldn’t be where it is now without him putting in that initial effort.”

“That’s amazing! I think I’ll find something to contribute to that” I was moved by that “Hopefully I won’t get too swamped with agent stuff.”

We hurried to our dorms after our meal to finish packing. Almost too excited to sleep that night for the information we might uncover! So many things that could happen, wonder if I’ll be prepared enough to follow along.

-Morning of departure day, train station-

“Got your scarf?” I fussed over Beizu one last time before departing “Don’t want you to catch a cold or sore throat before getting there!”

“I have it right here! Relax Iwa!” Beizu put his hands on my shoulders “We’ll be fine, you have the device, I have all my gear... I’m just going to miss you.”

“We’ll video-call, it won’t be too bad” I got startled by the station announcements “I can never understand what the fuck these people say over the speakers! But you better go to the waiting dock, it’s almost 11am.”

“I know, let me just” He brought me in for a tight hug “One last hug until we reunite!”

I hugged him back “Okay, one more hug.”

After maybe a minute, he broke the hug and grabbed his luggage “I love you Iwa.”

I smile “I love you too Bei.” I watch him walk out of sight and I heading toward the pick up area. The capital isn’t too far from the station, it’s maybe an hour car ride, so it was arranged for me to get picked up.

A very official looking town car rolls up to the curb.

“Iwata Iida?” asked a voice from the cracked window of the town car.

“Yes, that’s me!” I stand at alert.

“No need for formalities!” said the voice as the window rolled all the way down “hop on in Iwata! It’s nice to see-”

“EWWWW WHAT’S BROCCOLI MAN DOIN’ HERE?!” I said with disgust “Naw I rather walk to the capital!”

“Please don’t! Your dad requested that I escort you to the agency” the green haired man got out of the car to stop me “He’s going to arm chop me to death if I don’t insure your safe arrival.”

“That’s not my problem!” I huffed as I walk away.

“We got you McDonalds” said another voice from the backseat window “and a large coffee.”

I stopped and did a 180 “YES SIR!” I jumped in the back of the town car as broccoli man put my luggage in the trunk. I looked at the man in the backseat, he had a centipede head.

“Hello son of Ingenium and Agent 19, let me introduce myself” politely bowed the man “I am Centipeter, Sir Nighteye’s right hand man, I handle the internships for both hero and agent departments.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Iwata El Roca” I return the bow “You can call me however you’d like, er, I guess it’s professional to address me by my agent number? In that case I’m agent 88.”

He hands me the food and large coffee “It’s an honor to have the son of two very good associates of ours! I didn’t know Agent 19 was a mother!” commented Centipeter “I thought she just put in all her energy in the company! I went to her wedding after all, so I know your father as well. Good on them for having their only son to carry-”

“Huh? I have 3 other siblings” I raised an eyebrow, mouthful of egg McMuffin “I do this agent shit for me! Fuck whatever my old man said and my mom is an excellent mother, CEO and activist.”

“Don’t argue or lecture him” tiredly sighed Deku as he drove out into the street “He’s as vulgar as his mother, and we all know how that ends.”

“Broccoli man is right” I sipped my coffee “Don’t try it, I will roast ya ass.”

“Well, I guess I misspoke” Centipeter cleared his throat “anyways, it’s a pleasure that you took on Sir’s request! Rarely does he have a look at agent interns.”

“Wait what do you mean?”

“Sir is a very busy man and is more focused on his top heroes” The right hand man explained “But he asked for you before somebody went to the display! He didn’t explain why BUT I have a feeling he peeked into the future and his ability to do so is to be trusted.”

That didn’t settle that well with me “Huh, then I guess.”

“He even predicted that you wouldn’t get in the car unless we had 2 egg McMuffins, 2 hashbrowns and a sausage burrito with a large coffee” he looked at a sticky note “with two sugars, no creamer. And to make sure Deku doesn’t show his face...oh dear I messed that one up” he chuckled nervously “But you’re here, and I can’t wait to see what Sir has in store for you!”

I peeked into the bag, and I’ll be damned that it was exactly my breakfast McDonalds order! Thats creepy that this stranger knows what I like and dislike but mom claims that he doesn’t know I exist?! Something is up and I’ll get to the bottom of it...after I chug this coffee to strike dominance in this town car.

I get led into this bougie ass building that had like 5 layers of security for anyone to enter. Next was the part I was dreading, the sleeping quarters. Mom said she had own room and so did Lili, but they’re the only exception because I’m a boy. So I have to mix with the other men that I HOPE they don’t harass me! It seemed like I was alone to settle in the neatly arranged room of bunk beds and wall lockers...until I was grabbed by the shoulder and yanked back.

“BOSS WHAT ARE- you’re not the boss lady?!” said this man with dark skin and green eyes “But you look so much like her, whats your name boy?”

I was still a little shaken up “I’m Iwata Iida, I MEAN Agent 88!” I stumbled on my words “I’m just settling in! I don’t know who you’re referring too and I’m sorry if I was disturbing you.”

“Don’t be scared boy, I should be apologizing to you” he let go of me and bowed “It’s just that you look so much like somebody I worked for. The curly hair and short stature from behind got me excited that she came back to do some agent work for us.”

“Oh? Do you often get borrowed agents?”

“Nope, it’s usually just her- OH WHERE ARE MY MANNERS! I’m Agent 711, Captain of the agent fleet here” He introduced himself “I originally came in here to see if the intern was here yet but it seems like I got on the wrong foot with you.”

“It’s no problem! I just finished settling in and ready for the next part.”

“Good! Lets take you to the captains office.”

I go into this office with a frosted glass door, where another man was sitting on the desk, he looks up with his sharp gaze “No way, theres no way!”

I tensed up “Umm sorry?”

The captain shut the door “Dude I KNOW! HE LOOKS JUST LIKE HER!”

“No, take a look at this!” the man on the desk “Sir just dropped these off to me, look at the tag and the info page.”

The captain got the file from his associate, his eyes widened the more they read through the page “Dude...he’s her son?!”

“Right?! I didn’t know she had other kids!” the associate turned to me “Let me introduce myself, I’m agent 404, Co-captain of this agent fleet.”

“Nice to meet you! I’m sure you already know who I am” I bowed politely “I promise to keep up and be worth the trouble.”

“Wow, sorry I just can’t get over that you’re 19′s son! I suspected she did have more but she never brings you or family up” responded the man “I feel so old, seems like it was just last month I was still working for her.”

“Oh yea, you worked for her too! I always forget” chuckled the captain “404 and I worked for your mom before working here, we owe your mom for helping us in the beginning of our careers.”

“Really? It seems like mom helped everyone I’ve encountered back in the day!” I was started to get a little annoyed by all these occurrences.

“Yup, your mom got me out of a legal funk!” pipped up the captain “I got framed for sexual assault at the agency I started working at right out of high school. Your mom suspected racial bias and she turned up that my accusation was a scapegoat to a slew of other legal problems with that agency. Of course nobody would hire me with that mess attached to my name, so she offered me a job at the company until that mess clears up or some other agency wanted to take me in” the man smiled and leaned on the desk “I was so happy that she took me in, otherwise I’d be homeless or dead within a month! She helped me get the job here too, Sir trusts her word and he hired me after about 4 years working for your mom.”

“Your mom helped me when my day job let me go and I was between agent work. And I was there up until the company moved locations, then I started here” the co-captain smiled “She’s such a lovely woman, if she didn’t have that fussy assistant, I’d be her afternoon appointment if you know what I mean!”

“Eww you wanted to fuck my mom” I blurted.

The men turned red.

“Oh you’re exactly like her” laughed the captain “Honest and vulgar! I like that!”

“Yup, but lets get on with why you’re here” the co-captain got back on topic “Initially you were supposed to meet with Sir, but no surprise, he had to attend to his top heroes for some reason. So he asked for us to do the tour and other routine things.”

I get to meet the other agents and got to see the other parts of the agency. The routine was a not as exciting as I thought but the whole thing that I was supposed to meet with Sir Nighteye was at the back of my mind the whole time. What does he want from me? What makes me so special?

-Chapter 10, End-

#bnha #mha #self insert au #book 3 chapter 10 #not canon #will update regularly #ask me anything #//Palma-sama Speaks #Iwata is a picky eater and it's all his mom's fault lmao #but finally! internship arc! If you didn't guess with the title- it's a three parter #I know theres alot of fast forwarding but deadass there's nothing interesting that happens in between.#I see yall flooding my asks to give Iwa a GF and all I have to say its STOP!...I'm getting there #The boys night part was my favorite scene and I just couldn't cut it from the plot! So you're welcome for some feral boy activities #But more has been uncovered and this internship is gonna fuck Iwa up! Stay tuned! Sir Nighteye exposes the underlying plot

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get-the-g-blog · 7 years

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#MeToo

I originally wrote this specific column a while back when an article had just been published about the kidnapping of a British glamour model sent to Milan for a photoshoot went viral. Unfortunately the magazine didn’t want to publish it at the time so I decided to take my column to it’s own platform (as you see here). After transferring the old content across I’m finally ready for a new article and since this is the week everything has kicked off with Weinstein, #MeToo and Cameron Russell’s instagram full of model abuse, I thought it was time this column saw the light of day.

Before we begin/little disclaimer for you... I’d like to say that I consider myself lucky that the times (plural) I’ve had to deal with some kind of sexual harassment/been put into a compromising position, that it hasn’t been nearly as serious as other stories I’ve heard. I also do not/have never seen myself as a victim in regards to this specific incident nor any of the others. By writing this column I am not looking for sympathy... not even remotely... I just want to stand in solidarity with all the others out there and share a story of a close call that happened to me whilst I living was in Milan.

When you’re sent “on stay” as a model to another country, it’s not the glamorous experience the media makes out it is...it’s more like being put into a bubble world of relentless castings, promoter parties and model apartments that resemble year 6 camp at best.

For those of you that don’t know, model promoters are people...generally men...who work for a club or restaurant and are paid, per model, to take us out. Models get to eat and drink for free, which can be great...but so long as you know the game... because if you look around the ‘model sections’ there tends to be a few old, grey heads lurking there too... no such thing as a free lunch now.

I was sent to Milan a couple of years ago for two months to try to get work. It was the first place I’d ever lived outside of home, let alone overseas. I was young, open to adventures and fairly naive...basically the perfect prey. I was also scared shitless when I arrived, I felt extremely isolated but luckily I was bunked in with just one other model, K, who was the bomb!

The model promoter scene in Milan is massive. Bigger than anywhere else I’ve ever experienced since. It’s pretty much impossible to avoid but when K said she was completely anti-promoters I was happy to just go with the flow... I hadn’t even really worked out wtf a promoter was at this stage so I couldn’t have cared less.

One day at a casting we met a male model called T. T was a fast talking American and I wasn’t really a fan from the get go. He said he wasn’t into the promoter scene either so we should all hang out. We didn’t know many people yet so the more the merrier!

A couple of days later T invited us to a party for the designers DSquared and said we’d be sitting at the table with them for dinner. On the way to the party, it somehow slipped out that the event was actually being run by promoters and yeaaaa we probably wouldn’t be sitting with the designers. K was having none of it. We were nearly there so I wanted to check it out anyway so I somehow managed to calm K down and convince her to go, just for a bit.

The next day T, who seemed quite smitten with K, texted her to apologize and asked if he could make it up to us by taking us to a friends house in Varese (approx 1.5 hour drive outside of Milan) for dinner. New experience...new place...new people... where could I sign up?!

Since T was around our age I naively assumed that his “friends” would be to... I assumed wrong.

We were greeted by two older men, M (in his 50s) the owner of the huge ass property we found ourselves in...inclusive of it’s own stables, motorbike workshop and a restaurant. And G, an ex model booker (70s..at a guess).

Looking back now, this should have been a little more strange than I found it at the time, but I guess power in numbers... plus G was an ex model booker and T was a model too, so safe...right?!

After dinner and a drive to Lake Maggorie, G started talking about how late it was and that we should just stay the night at a local hotel. That way, in the morning we could ride M’s horses and then go out on the boat. T said he had a casting in the morning so he couldn’t stay but we should (a casting...on a Saturday... in Italy.. who the fuck was he kidding?!).

I don’t remember K or I saying yes but we were driven to the hotel anyway. Whilst G and the hotel manager were deep in discussion that I couldn’t remotely understand K said the hair on the back of her neck stood up and that we had to go home. She couldn’t explain it, just a weird feeling. When we told G that actually we wanted to stay at our place he absolutely lost it. Unreasonably so. He was yelling and screaming, throwing his arms all over the place. It was so outrageous; it made us dig out heels in more.

We were driven back to Milan on the pretense that we’d be back in the morning with T after his casting.

To spare everyone the essay that this would be if I gave you an exact play-by-play of what happened next (it’s already long AF I know), I’ll try to break it down for you.

T was being super shifty and aloof in the morning about when he was going to this “casting”. We wanted to wait for him but instead he booked us a cab, told us to get in and he’d be 30 minutes behind.

Once back in Varese K and I were taken with M and G for gelato in a nearby town, given a tour of M’s motorbike workshop, rode horses, witnessed G parading around in his teeny tiny speedos, ready for the boat... and there was still no T.

4 hours later than he’d said, T finally showed his smarmy little face. It seemed weirdly preplanned... just us two pretty young things left alone to be paraded around with these two old men... things were starting to feel off to me (just now... I know)

After the boat ride, back on the pier before dinner, I oversaw G and T exchanging some very terse words. G eventually stormed off, arms flailing in the air again and swearing under his breath (my ex was Italian... I know Italian swear words ;). I’d had a couple of niggling doubts in my mind from earlier in the day and this seemed a little bizarre but I ignored it. I just wanted get to dinner, eat fast and go home.

In the car on the way back to Milan, K sat in the front next to M and I was in the back next to G in the middle and T on his other side. It was late, everyone was falling asleep and that’s when shit got real weird. I was resting my head against the window, nodding off to dream land and that’s when G lay one had on my leg and started grabbing my face and pulling it towards him with the other, whispering “My darling, lie on me, lie on me, it’s much more comfortable”. He was literally pulling my head down on to him, stroking my cheek and pushing his lips towards mine. Every time I’d pull my head up, he’d pull it back down. “You’re tired my darling, don’t fight it, it’s ok baby, just lie on me”. There couldn’t have been creepier words spoken...and I couldn’t have been more awake. This wasn’t good. I knew it. Fuck knows what T was doing at this time. He must have been able to hear what was going on, he was literally on the other side of G but he remained still and silent, didn’t intervene at all.

I remember pulling out my phone and showing G pictures of my family, hoping to distract him the current head tug of war that was going on. I’m pretty sure my thought process was along the line of “look you motherfucker, I’m loved, people will look for me if i’m missing or kick your ass Liam Neeson style if anything happens to me”.

As we entered Milan I was completely on edge, even more so when they decided to drop T off first. I even mentioned that I recognised where we were (bullshit) in case they had any ideas about taking us somewhere strange. G and T exchanged more terse words as he got out of the car and this time I could make out they were talking about money. Luckily K and I were dropped off at our actual address shortly after, with G giving us too long hugs goodbye.

In the morning K told me she’d had bad vibes the whole day. I mentioned seeing T and G argue on the pier and she said she’d overheard that conversation, with T said “we should tell the girls, they should know” and G was having none of it. I told her I heard them argue about money outside T’s place and that’s when the penny dropped.

Turned out that T and G were in cahoots with each other running some kind of model escort biz. G would find wealthy older men who would pay the dirty duo to find models to spend time with them...whatever that time involved...as well as paying for all expenses of the day/weekend/week. T, being a male model and therefore ‘safe and trustworthy’ would find the unsuspecting models and bring them to the men. Unaware of what was actually going on, packaging it as a fun time with “a friend” rather than some old man i’m being paid to deliver you to.

K confronted T and he confirmed everything. I have no idea how much M knew about what G and T were doing, I was alone with him several times and was honestly never uncomfortable. Had it been someone else, I’m aware that this story could be very different. I never heard from M again.

G tried to make contact a few more times... messaging me about going for a ride in his Ferrari... like that’s going to do it for me.

T sent a few rounds of apology messages. I basically told him to go fuck himself. One of the final messages was something along the line of “I’m so sorry, let me make it up to you, come to Cannes, I’m staying on a yacht for a week with some friends, join us!”. A week...trapped on a boat with you and your “friends”...yea, that’s a hard no from me.

Looking back I can see how dangerously close we were to getting pimped out or trafficked. Had anything happened, we were millions of miles from home, we didn’t even have the address of the M’s property and we’d been taken away on a Friday so our agency would have been unaware anything was wrong until the Monday.

Hindsight is 20/20 baby.

We got lucky.

#MeToo #milan #model #model life #model promoter #creep #filthy creep #cameron russell #close call #human trafficking #pimped out

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mitchsmarners · 5 years

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In Just Four Minutes | Chapter Three

“Nooo.” Richie pushed at Stan’s guiding hands. His glasses were off, stuck into the front pocket of Stanley’s shirt, and pants were already half off. The similar discomfort from the diner settled in Eddie’s chest again. “I wanna get in with Eds. I wan’ my Eddie.”

Stan raised his eyebrows, glancing over at where Eddie was sitting still in his bed. He tried to give Stan a smile, but Stan seemed to be against Eddie in this moment. Richie hadn’t slept in Eddie’s bed often, maybe only a few times after getting high, and he was always weird about it later. Eddie supposed he was a little weird about it later, too, because he knew it was wrong to like it as much as he did.

[or: Eddie Kaspbrak hadn’t planned on being an absolute cliche the fell in love with his college dorm mate, but ain’t that just the way. To add insult to injury, said room mate has a girlfriend … doesn’t he?]

“Can I sit here?” The voice startled Eddie out of the daze he usually spent his business class in. Taking the business class had been a compromise with Eddie’s mother for letting him go away to school in the first place. She’d wanted to live, die and rot in Maine as she was going to do, but Eddie had wanted nothing more than to run far, far away from the state. (And her.) Agreeing to major in Business was the only way Eddie could get her to let him leave. He was planning on switching majors during the last call before Christmas break, but Sonia didn’t need to know that.

There was a tall boy with muscled arms and chubby cheeks standing in front of him, looking nervous and almost ready to run away. “I… A place in this class just opened up and it’s my first day, and everybody else looks…” The boy looked around the room, frowning and biting into his bottom lip. “Mean.”

Eddie nodded slightly. The other people in the business class where white men who looked like their daddies pay their whole ass tuition without blinking an eye, and white blonde girls who daddies paid the tuition and for their cars. Kids who’d have bullied him in high school. Eddie hadn’t bothered to get to know any of them, sitting in the back corner and tuning out the class everyday.

But this kid seemed genuine and Eddie cleared off his stuff from the seat beside him. “Yeah, business majors are the biggest problem with society these days,” Eddie said with a fake laugh. “I’m Eddie.”

“Ben.” Ben said, beaming at him. “I like your sweater.”

Eddie tugged at the sleeve of his sweater, which was in truth, Richie’s. He’d finally convinced his room mate after nearly two months to go through the insane amount of clothes in their room, and throw out all the things he wasn’t going to wear again. When Richie had gone to toss out the simple pastel blue sweater that had looked like it cost somebody a good chunk of cash, Eddie had stopped him. Richie had merely rolled his eyes when Eddie asked why he was throwing it out, claiming the sweater was “too fucking girly.” Eddie hadn’t seen anything girly about it, and had taken it before Richie could send it off to its death.

“Thanks,” Eddie said bashfully as his phone began to buzz in the pocket of his jeans. He gave his new friend an apologetic smile as he reached for it.

New Text Message from Weird Room Mate: edsssssssss the gang is meeting up for lunch at The Café. u in?

Eddie smiled, and glanced at Ben from the corner his eye.

To Weird Room Mate: May I bring a friend?

From Weird Room Mate: all friends welcome!!

Eddie turned to Ben and cleared his throat. “There’s a nice little café around here, I don’t know if you’ve ever been but… my room mate and our friends are all going for lunch. Do you want to come?”

Ben looked surprised for a moment, before covering it up with a huge smile. “That sounds amazing!”

Eddie beamed back.

xxx

Eddie slid into the empty seat beside Richie, leaving Ben to push in beside Stan and Mike. For a moment, Eddie realised that bringing Ben to lunch with two couples was sort of like bringing a date, but Eddie shook his head to clear that thought.

Richie, it seemed, didn’t seemed deterred from thinking about it, if the way he was elbowing Eddie and waggling his eyebrows. Shut the fuck up, Eddie told him with his eyes. Richie grinned toothily at him before sliding a plate over.

“I ordered for you,” Richie said, and Eddie smiled at the turkey sandwich and home fries on the plate now in front of him. It even had ketchup in a small circle to the side the way Eddie liked it. “So you wouldn’t have to deal with the judgemental eyes of Mike and the fake vegan when you ordered meat.”

“Would you stop!” Stan cried, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t know it was made with a cheese sauce, okay? Trust me, my stomach has already punished me enough!”

Mike chuckled, and wrapped an arm around Stanley. Eddie had learned pretty quickly over the last few months that Richie had absolutely no level of filter. He’d known pretty early on that that was the case, but he’d really had to face with Stan and Richie’s friendship. It wasn’t like any friendship Eddie had ever seen before, based almost entirely on pissing each other off and giving one another shit. It seemed to work for them, though, so Eddie never meddled.

“Thank you,” Eddie chose to say instead of making any sort of comment towards Richie’s picking at Stan. Richie reached out as though he were about to pinch Eddie’s cheeks, but thought better of it at the last second, and merely tapped his open palm on Eddie’s cheek twice.

Stan cleared his throat. “Edward. Are you going to introduce us to your friend or?”

“Oh!” Eddie cried, cheeks flushing. “This is Ben. He just switched into my business class. He also thinks everybody in there look like assholes. We bonded over that.”

“Anybody with half a brain would think those dicks in your business class look like assholes,” Beverly spoke up, putting an inhuman amount of wild berry jam on her rye toast. Ben looked over at him, and Eddie watched him realize that Beverly was beautiful. Saw the entire thing cross his face, Ben might as well have said wow out loud when he looked at her.

Eddie glanced at Richie, but Richie was entirely too concerned with seeing how much maple syrup he could dump onto Beverly’s eggs before she noticed what he was doing. Eddie let his gaze lead up to Beverly, who seemed to be looking… back… at Ben. Eddie frowned and shook his head. He was nearly three months into knowing Richie and Beverly, and not any closer to understanding them than he was the day he met them.

“There’s a party!” Richie suddenly slammed his hands on the table, seemingly bored with coating Beverly’s eggs while she didn’t pay him any attention. The eyes at the table all turned to him. “Can we go? We have not been to a single party, and that’s a crime! A CRIME! I deserve to party! Bev!! Tell them I deserve to party!”

Beverly laughed, and it was moments when her eyes danced like that, Eddie knew she loved Richie. There was a lot of things Eddie didn’t understand, that she assumed that she never would, but the love that ran between Richie Tozier and Beverly Marsh was undeniable.

“Nobody is stopping you from going to parties, Richie.” Beverly said, patting him on the shoulder and grinning. “Just because you’re afraid to go to parties alone. That’s your own problem.”

Richie whined and turned to Eddie, grabbing Eddie’s hands and pulling them towards his own chest. “Eds! Eddie Spaghetti, my one and the only, my light in the darkness!” Eddie rolled his eyes and a small smile rested on Richie’s lips as he continued. “Will you please, pretty please, come with to a party tonight? Please, please, for the love of all-“

Eddie pressed a hand over Richie’s mouth and gave him a withering look. “Richie you talk too much sober. I don’t know how I’m going to deal with you drunk.” Richie took on a wicked pout and Eddie sighed. “Partying isn’t really my scene, you know, Rich. And don’t turn this into some big lesson, I also have an assignment due in the morning. Which I haven’t started, thanks to you.”

Richie openly whined down, bouncing in his seat and pouting wickedly. Eddie almost felt bad, if he hadn’t been trained to see the laughter in Richie’s eyes.

“I’ll take you, Rich,” Mike said suddenly, grinning wickedly. “Haven’t seen you shit faced in a good while.”

“Well, shit,” Stan said with an eye roll. “Guess that means I’m going too, then.”

Mike kissed Stan on the cheek and then quickly directed the conversation back to Ben before Richie could drag them into anymore ridiculousness. Ben seemed more shy around Eddie’s friends than he’d been in the business class, but Eddie watched him warm up.

“You know,” Beverly said suddenly, leaning forward on the table and smiling towards him. There was something in the smile, that brought Eddie to pause. He looked at Richie once again, but Richie had been distracted by some sort of game of his phone. “I have to do a photoshoot for my photography class. You’d be just perfect, would you be interested in modelling for me?”

Eddie’s mouth dropped open, glancing around the table at the absolute lack of reaction from every other person sitting around him. Ben’s face burned bright red as he stumbled through an acceptance. Eddie picked at the turkey flakes on his plate, trying to ignore the growing discomfort in his stomach.

xxx

Eddie had finished his assignment at quarter after one in the morning, and chosen to simply stay awake. Mike and Stan would be bringing Richie back to the dorm soon enough, and it was easier to stay awake and wait for that, then be pissy when Richie wakes him up with his drunken behaviour. It was about two when Mike unlocked the dorm door and nodded at Eddie as Stan lead the stumbling Richie towards his bed.

But Richie was kicking his jeans the rest of the way off and falling onto Eddie’s bed, forcing Eddie closer to the wall and dragging himself under the blanket. “Okay.” Stan sighed, placing Richie’s glasses on the table beside Eddie’s bed. “Eddie…”

Stan pointed at Eddie with a serious look, and that was threat enough. Although Eddie wasn’t exactly sure what he was being threatened for. Then Stan and Mike were ducked out of the room and Richie was curling up beside Eddie. His eyes were closed, but his breathing was too erratic for him to be asleep.

“Rich…” Eddie said softly, waiting for Richie to hum in response. “Did it bother you when Bev and Ben were flirting today, or… whatever that was? Because you didn’t seem upset but you’re pretty good at keep secrets.”

Richie chuckled, letting his hand flop onto Eddie’s shoulder. “It didn’t bother me none, Edsy. Beverly is very hiccup very beautifully, yeah? Your friend has good tastes. I wish them the best!”

Eddie made a confused noise, but Richie was shoving his cold feet under his legs and it turned into a loud yelp. “RICHIE!”

“Richie, Richie, Richie,” Richie mumbled. “You know, Eds… I’m so glad you’re embracing the name Edward. It’s stupid that we gotta… that we gotta keep the names our parents gave us. You know? They don’t… they don’t know us. They don’t know us well enough to pick our names.”

Eddie frowned, shifting to look at Richie as best he could. Richie’s eyes were still closed, his face half-pressed into Eddie’s collar bone. “My parents picked a really dumb name for me.” Richie said, but the rest of his sentence was completely muffled into Eddie’s skin.

“What, Richie?” He asked, but Richie was already asleep.

#reddie #reddie fic #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #my writing #ijfm

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