#almost like he wasn’t in a rush to become a solo artist the way people think!
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#one direction#polls#was just thinking how much this town is still one of my favorite songs#and honestly i do think all their first single were really solid#also i did this (i think) in release order and i didn’t realize sign of the times came so much later#kind of funny when people insist harry hated the band and wanted to go solo more than anyone and then he took the longest lol#almost like he wasn’t in a rush to become a solo artist the way people think!
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love to hate me
request: celebrity! jaehyun + enemies to lovers + “don’t you want to know how i feel?”
pairing: friends to enemies to lovers! jaehyun x female reader
genre: smut, angst, fluff... this fic has it all folks
word count: 7.514k
warnings: toxic behaviour, public sex, light restraining, jaehyun pulls a ‘white boy punching the wall’ at some point
summary: “You and Jaehyun meet as SM trainees, developing a friendship until he debuts and you deicde to leave the company and pursue a solo career. When you reunite again in a music show and he acts like he barely knows you, you stubbornly begin a series of hate-brimmed sex rendez-vous. Your touch-and-go relationship continues on, until a song collaboration will force you both to deal with all your repressed feelings for each other”
a/n: this is the longest it has ever taken me to finish a fic.. I have a love-hate relationship with this (no pun intended XD). I hope whoever requested this likes it!
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Of-fucking-course you had to bump into him out of all people at the vending machine. All you wanted was a drink to refresh you before you got up on stage, and now you have to deal with Mr. Too Good For This World and his relentless teasing. His eyes, lit up by an amusement that was also evident in his smirk, stayed glued on your body, raking up and down at it for a second too long. Not that you didn’t like it.
“Stare much?”, you bark at him in hopes of snapping him out of his trance, and push through him to punch in the code of your favorite drink. But alas, he always had a comeback ready on the edge of his lips.
“You look ridiculous”, he states and you have to admit that your outfit, though fitting for the Halloween special of today’s music show, was way different than anything else he had ever seen you in. Reincarnated as Dorothy Gale for the night, your stylists had chosen a short, light blue checkered dress, with red stilettos that gave a sexy twist to the character’s ruby slippers. Hair neatly braided in two pigtails, decorated by ribbons and topped off by glittery pink makeup. The image of innocence. Jaehyun had to laugh.
“Says the man dressed up as Woody”
It was unfair, you admitted, how good he looked in that stupid outfit. His hair was gelled back, a few strands framing his handsome face strategically. The yellow shirt fitted him like a glove, its bright colour lighting him up as well. And those jeans, tight in all the right places, just melted over the muscles of his thighs. The ones that you’ve come undone on one too many times.
“So”, he lilts, giving you a once over before lowering both the volume and pitch of his voice, “want a ride?”
You scoff, sparing him an incredulous look, “on what horse, cowboy?”
He doesn’t reply, only points with his eyes to his crotch that is undeniably sporting a visible tent, and you gasp when you see the outline of his dick twitching under your stare.
“Jesus Christ, Jaehyun”, you mutter with a disgusted look on your face before picking up the almost forgotten beverage that the vending machine had barfed out for you. The boy mentioned, however, was unfazed.
“They don’t call me Woody for nothing”
Almost choking at the drink that was supposed to calm you down, you catch his eyes rolling at you through your third cough. Well, that ruins one of your favourite childhood movies. “Don’t pretend to be a prude. Now are we going to fuck before you get on stage of not?”
You can clearly remember the first time you met Jung Jaehyun alone. You always spotted him somewhere in the SM buildings, joking around with his future bandmates, barely ever without company. As a fellow vocal trainee, he introduced himself to you as Yoonoh, filling up the awkward silence while your vocal teacher prepared the music sheets for the both of you to rehearse.
You were thankful the two of you always got paired up together. Jaehyun was charming, easy to be around, funny. He was a model SM trainee with the otherworldly looks he possessed, almost impossible for anyone’s eyes not to follow him when he entered a room. Radiant porcelain skin, soft brown locks, and a dimpled smile that made your heart melt in seconds.
You can also clearly remember the first time you had the privilege of hearing him sing. Jaehyun had a beautiful baritone voice, one that contradicted his flower boy image but matched his manly personality perfectly. The four walls of the small practice room resonated with his sound, that was stable and smooth like honey. The lessons were challenging but Jaehyun made them bearable through spending time with him. Maybe it was your shared struggles, or how you were always tired and vulnerable when you saw him. Maybe it was those damned dimples, but your heart always beat faster when you were around him.
“Sometimes I get discouraged”, he confides in you in that same room, hours later, early into the morning now. The vocal lesson stretched on longer than expected, leaving you two sitting on the floor, sharing a cup of lemon-honey tea to soothe your vocal chords. You let your head rest to the leather couch behind you as you stare into his handsome features one by one. What time was it? Shouldn’t you be back at your dorms by now? It didn’t matter, this was one of those moments when time seems to stop and life seems unreal. When the only thing that you care about is the person standing next to you, and whatever it is they have to tell you.
“I fear that I will never get to debut. There’s handsome guys all over the company. I just don’t know if my skills are enough.”
You thought he was crazy for thinking that way, wanted to scream at him that he’s just perfect and more than enough for the company, or for anything in this world for that matter. But Jaehyun was reserved, the type to always mask his true feelings behind a smile and you were more than glad that he finally opened up to you, that he saw you as someone trustworthy. You didn’t want to dismiss his feelings, so you just pet his hair while you listened to his concerns.
As you mindlessly gaze at the rainy weather outside, a couple of droplets following their own path down the froggy window remind you that time does run by. Even if every day seemed the same, following the same routine, going to the same classes over and over again.
Jaehyun had this sad look that contorted his pretty face and you hated it, reaching up to massage away the wrinkles between his eyebrows. You don’t know which godly creature made the hourglass of time freeze this moment, nor did you know why Jaehyun leaned forward to capture your lips into a kiss. Maybe it was his way of saying thank you for keeping your ears and heart open for him, for listening to him when he needed it most.
It felt so lovely while it lasted, two young people leaning on each other during an uncertainty that anchored them far away from their emotional shoreline. But life as a trainee isn’t a fairytale and falling in love can have serious ramifications. So you promise to each other that this will be a one time thing, and then you never speak of this night ever again.
Unsurprisingly enough, Jaehyun got to successfully debut, yet you didn’t have the same luck. The company had plans of focusing on their new boy group, thus postponing your debut for an uncertain amount of time. It was hard for you to decide to switch labels, to throw away the years of hope and dedication you had pinned on this company but the faith you placed on yourself was stronger.
It’s years later when you finally get to promote as a solo artist in a different company, and you are happy to say that the decision you made all those years ago was the right one. The exposure you got wasn’t the same as being in a Big 3 company, however leaving SM entertainment has its pros. Flexible schedule, less scrutiny, great creative freedom over your work.
This wasn’t the first time you have come across your old trainee buddy. Jaehyun had multiple comebacks in a year, so it was only natural that his group’s and your promotions would sometimes overlap. You were only a rookie, and NCT turned out to become pretty popular, so of course the wins were always tied to their names.
The first time you walked past him in the hallways, dark makeup and professional styling making you both almost unrecognizable, you expected a wave, small talk, maybe some reminiscing of the old times. Instead, you got a cold stare or at best, an arrogant smirk coupled with a “Do better next time”. It was shocking to you how much Yoonoh, the boy with the shy smile and awkward social skills, would turn into such a stranger.
How you always ended up sneaking out with him to have a quickie in one of the ready rooms, was beyond you. He rushed you inside before checking both sides of the hallway, cautious to hide from any curious eyes. The coast was clear and Jaehyun doesn’t like to waste time, so he pins you against the door he just closed behind him, face dipped in your neck. You can feel his fingers dancing on the skin of your thighs, eager to explore what is hidden under your frilly skirt, and their delicacy in contrast to his feverish kisses sends a shiver down your spine.
One pretty whine from your lips, then two, three and you can feel Jaehyun smile deviously against your neck. The softness is too enticing for him to resist, so he nips at it skillfully, trying to get a reaction out of you. He recognizes that you have plenty of talent as a singer, yet the symphonies you sing out for him in those little sessions seem to be his favorite.
“Jaehyun, cut it out. I’m going on stage in like, 20 minutes”
“Turn me on then”
Wasn’t he the one that basically flashed you in the middle of the cafeteria for just existing? Isn’t it his hard on that digs against your lower stomach? The demand made you mad, and you wanted nothing more than to entice him with a nice blowjob, only to take a big, strong bite off that cock of his. But see, you had a full face of makeup on and your career is way more important than a fuckboy, so you’ll have to get creative.
Flipping him around so that he’s the one trapped between you and the door, you start to suck on his collarbones , then nibble at the tender flesh. He seems distracted enough by it so that you open the button of his jeans and fully remove his belt from their loops with no objections. Palming him over his boxers to keep him entranced, you manage to bring his wrists together, wrapping the leather around them, then lastly fastening them in place.
His eyes widen in shock when he realizes that he’s too late, wiggling his hands in a futile attempt to free himself. Your laugh is sadistic, making the hairs on his arms stand on edge and you gloat in the effect you have on him.
Giving your palm a good lick, you form a ring with your fingers, wrapping them around the base of his member. He hisses and drops his head back, thudding loudly against the wall. His cock enlarges and reddens as you move your hand up and down, changing the pressure according to his reactions. Jaehyun isn’t one to express himself freely but there is not much he can do to stop the low moans leaving his lips. Not when you rub circles over his tip with the soft skin of your palm.
He looks so fucking good, all squirmy and desperate and trying to hold himself from saying ‘please’. You almost want to keep going, squeeze him more until he whines and begs to cum, and admire the white beads dripping from his slit and covering your hand. Almost.
You halt your movements with a last strong stroke, crossing your arms over your chest as you stare back at him. Jaehyun tentatively opens one eye to see why you have stopped, only to come across that bratty smile that he loves as much as he hates.
“You should have dressed up as a siren. Seducing people before they realize you are a man eating bitch”
“If you want someone to jerk you off you can go ask one of your little fangirls. I want to get fucked.”
“Let me go then. And you’ll wish you never did”
You scoff at his cockiness, nonchalantly freeing him from his constraints, and the way he immediately has a hold of your jaw reminds you of a predator eyeing its prey. His eyes have a crazy look in them, moving frantically over every part of your body like he can’t decide what to grab onto first. He decides on your hips, bending you over a table full of snacks and makeup tools and flyers of today’s schedule.
“You think it’s funny to tease me like that?”, he asks you with a peremptory voice that signifies you’d better shut up.
You hear shuffling behind you and assume it’s him slipping on a condom, so you make yourself more comfortable on the wooden surface. A hard slap on your ass jolts you alert.
“I asked you a fucking question”, Jaehyun presses brusquely and flips your skirt fully over your ass, pulling your panties down until they’re bunched up right over your knees.
“It’s fun”, you moan out, breathless both from the pleasure and the stinging feeling on your right cheek, “What are you gonna do about it?”
Was the room occupied by one of the artists that have already been on stage? Or will they barge in at any moment to find you bent over and pussy dripping for Jaehyun to finally dive inside you? He chuckled at the sight of you, eyes feasting off your naked body, your ass up just the way he likes it. Not so innocent anymore, huh?
He doesn’t reply to you, aligning himself against your slit and bottoming out in one go instead. Involuntarily, you let out a small screech, the sudden stretch catching you off guard.
“You better stay quiet, siren. Or maybe you would like it if people found us like this? Saw how good you take my cock whenever I ask”
You wanted to bite back at him, but the only sound you could make was a guttural moan. It was embarrassingly loud, and you fall forward to bite your fist and force yourself to shut up. It was effective, yet Jaehyun had other plans for you, pulling your pigtails towards him in a strong grip that has you against his chest in seconds.
“Nuh, uh, uh, siren”, he hums in your ear, his panting making his voice sound huskier and smokier than ever, “How about trying to stay quiet by using your willpower alone? That way it’s more- how did you call it? Fun.”
He slows down his pace momentarily, as if he’s giving you time to answer him. But the moment you open your mouth to talk back at him, he thrusts particularly hard inside you, forcing a whimper out of your lips.
“Fuck you, Jaehyun”
“As you wish”
Jaehyun was conceited and cocky and a dick, but he was also a good fuck. He kept at it with what seemed like all the energy in the world, fucking you against that table until you came all over him, and your legs gave out. It ended how it always did, with him moaning how fucking sexy you look and how much he hates you, and you swallowing your pride as you swallow his cum. You’d tell each other to fuck off and never bother the other again, until you meet up at the next comeback, to do this shit all over again.
And that’s how things would stay if it wasn’t for that goddamn phone call from your manager.
“...so we thought what better way to promote your new song by recording a duet with NCT’s Jaehyun?”
No, no, no this can’t be happening. No way. Anyone but him.
“Are you sure this is the only way we can promote me? Can’t I just go to variety programs like every other idol out there?”
“y/n, duets by different group members are one of the most efficient methods of promoting there is! And with NCT’s latest song topping the charts this will be a great opportunity for you. Taemin and Sunmi did it. Suzy and Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Punch-“
“Alright, okay, I get it”
“Besides, since you used to be an SM trainee they specifically asked for you. The directors made some pretty big compliments on your work”
Isn’t it a little too late now? Not like they didn’t have the chance to debut you, right? That being said, there isn’t much to oppose to decline SM’s offer; your manager is right and you know it. Saying no to Lee Sooman and giving up a popularity push like that is basically career suicide. Nor could you let your manager know about your and Jaehyun’s little adventures, minutes before you have to go on stage.
“Just send me the schedule. I don’t have to record with him, right?”
“Oh no, they’ll record his part first and then they’ll send it to us. But there will be a music video of course”
Oh for fuck’s sake.
There was this little monster of worriedness that was screaming inside your head, refusing to shut up. This collaboration isn’t going to be easy, but you didn’t want to let Jaehyun’s pettiness get in the way of your career. Fumbling with your phone in your hands, you kept removing and reinserting its case compulsively, over and over again, until you mustered the courage to take matters into your own hands.You knew his number was buried somewhere in your contacts.
you [16:35]: hey it’s me, y/n
Jung Yoonoh [16:50]: y/n who??
you [16:55]: y/n y/l/n? the girl whose guts you were inside in last week? we have a song coming up 😒
Jung Yoonoh [16:57]: oh y/n right
Jung Yoonoh [16:58]: thought you’d have deleted my number
Well you sure have deleted mine, you murmur with your blood boiling, regretting reaching out to him in the first place.
you [16:59]: i always hoard peoples contacts
you [17:00]: old habits die hard i guess
Jung Yoonoh [17:00]: like the habit of me being inside your guts?
You gasp out after reading his last message, hands awkwardly juggling your phone until you’ve forced yourself to calm down. After waiting for a while, until your face has reached its previous temperature, you feel focused again, and type out your original intentions for this conversation.
you [17:05]: this isn’t what i texted you about.
you [17:07]: we have this project coming up and while I know we aren’t exactly on the best terms, this comeback is very important for me
you [17:08]: and i don’t want to fuck it up
Jung Yoonoh [17:10]: kitty cat, relax. maybe this is a brand new word for you but i know what professionalism is
you [17:10]: don’t you ever and i mean ever call me that again
you [17:11]: glad to see we are on the same page
You didn’t expect a message back, nor did you get one. All you could do from now on, was pray that the promotions would go smoothly and Jaehyun wouldn’t do anything stupid that would jeopardize your collaboration.
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And the day you dreaded finally came. The first day of filming for the music video.
You had already finished recording the song, a bittersweet balad about two lovers who lost their way, only for their paths to cross again. When you listened to the demo for the first time, it only took three notes from Jaehyun’s pre-recorded verse to spread goosebumps on your skin. His voice was deeper and even more developed than you remember. Long forgotten memories, shoved deep inside your brain so as not to leave a bitter aftertaste in your mouth, came flooding up again. But things have changed since then.
The sky was crying rain and lightning, fitting to the storm inside your head. Normally you'd be excited to film a music video, bubbling with energy and unable to contain a smile. Today, all you could do was let your teeth abuse the cuticles of your left thumb, until little drops of blood ruined the fresh manicure you got for the shoot.
Following your manager inside the studio, you take a quick glance at all the props the creative directors have prepared. They were very intricate, filled with all different types of flowers everywhere. Some of the fake rooms looked like classrooms, two others were decorated like teenage bedrooms. It was a lot more than you have anticipated.
“The song will be part of a drama OST, that’s why the budget is higher than usual”, your manager tells you as if he was reading your mind.
He leads you to the changing room, where you try on different outfits your stylist has chosen for you, while simultaneously being briefed on the concept of the music video. It’s kinda cheesy and cute, with you and Jaehyun posing as high-school students falling in love. Certain scenes of the drama, whose plot matches the music video’s, will intercept in between.
You’re seated on the makeup chair, sunk in the uneasiness caused by your co-star. Jaehyun had arrived a few minutes after you, his bare face more handsome than you’ve ever looked in your most glamorous state and you can’t help but stare at him. He is all polite smiles and bows to the staff, and even gives you a formal greeting.
You’re not sure why you just can’t bring yourself to stop your legs from shaking as the makeup artist patiently tries to apply a rosy blush on your cheekbones. It’s like you’re scared that everyone will see right through the both of you, somehow enter your brain and find out that you’re replaying your last encounter with Jaehyun in the music show’s waiting room in your head. As you try to read through his expression, to see if he’s nearly as nervous as you are, you defeatedly can’t decode what’s going on inside his head. Not like you ever could.
You glance at both you and Jaehyun through the mirror, admiring the youthful makeup. Blushy cheeks and innocent eyes of two teenagers in love, masking the raw lust between two nemesi. It couldn’t stray any further from the truth.
A staff member leads both you and Jaehyun (who is refusing to spare even one look your way) back to the main set. The director is passionately explaining what he wants to see from you in your first scene, but you can barely focus with Jaehyun’s eyes burning holes through your school girl outfit. You block him out and walk inside the ‘classroom’, spotting the cameras and sitting on your designated seat, while you wait for your signal to start.
Of course, you had acted before. Yes, you had expected for the director to ask you for some more intimate moments with your co-star. But when Jaehyun passed you a “love note” from the desk in front of you, looking all blushy and shy and with his dimples showing, you felt that the role of crushing schoolgirl became a little too easy for you to act out.
And maybe, just maybe he was feeling the same way too. He looked pretty flustered when he saw you dancing across class, shifting restlessly in his seat when you bent forward to tie your shoelaces. Whether you did it on purpose or not, was a question your ego didn’t allow you to answer truthfully.
Most of the individual shots would be handled at a different shoot, so all you had to do was get over this one day with him. That’s what you repeated yourself over and over again. And you did pretty well, smiling charmingly at the camera, with the director praising you for your “innocent look”. You didn’t miss the scoff slipping from Jaehyun’s lips but you were good at ignoring it, focusing on getting through the different scenes in one-shot.
You were currently leaning your body against the wall, playing with your hair while Jaehyun glances down at you, like a boy that is ready to confess to his first love.
“y/n, I need you to give me something more shy, more bashful”, the director yells eagerly, but you can barely hear him, too focused on regulating your breathing. The look your co-star is giving you right now might seem loving and pure to the staff, but you know all too well the motives hidden behind his facade. It’s the calm before the storm, the silence he purposefully keeps to make you squirm, right before he whispers the most sinful propositions in your ears.
Reading him like an open book, you stand still as he leans closer, just enough so that no one besides you get to hear his words.
“Come on y/n, can’t you act bashful? Or is it impossible for you to get embarrassed after getting fucked against the window of a TV station’s building?”
Clearing your throat, you’re suddenly hyper aware of every single sound and movement in the room. Suffocating, even in the light clothes you were wearing, and desperately trying to mute out his words that bring you back to the day he was repenting.
“When you were pressed up against that glass, moaning my name, all exposed for anyone that simply looked up to see, you weren’t too shy, were you?”
You raise your palm to wipe a bead of sweat that has collected on your temple, and breathe deeply through your nose, as if a good pump of oxygen would cool off the sudden heat between your legs.
“Shut up Jaehyun”, you simply hiss through your front teeth, but he isn’t done yet.
“You know I can’t hold myself when I see you in skirts. So pretty. And you love to tease me in them too, I’ve noticed. Flashing me again and again until you get to suckle on my dick”
You were sure his voice was barely louder than a whisper, but the thought of anyone accidentally prying into your conversation had your whole body raising in temperature. The heat didn’t take long to reach your cheeks and you couldn’t remember the last time your legs felt like jelly, as they do now.
“Perfect y/n, that’s exactly what I’m looking for!”
You blinked back at Jaehyun a couple times, your mind trying to process that the director is cheering you on instead of scolding you to focus. The trembling hands, the fast-paced heartbeat, your big doe eyes. Though involuntarily, you had nailed the scene.
“You’re welcome”, Jaehyun mouths at you just as the staff announces a break. He scurries off to his dressing room without a word, as if he hadn’t just spewed his dirtiest of thoughts on set. It was almost as if he was daring you to follow him, but it’s not like he had left you a choice. You were fuming.
“Jaehyun”, you called out to him strictly but he didn’t acknowledge you, only walked further inside the small room with his name written neatly on the door. He was removing some of the heavier jewellery, rubbing the red lines they had left on his neck and wrist, momentarily catching your eyes on the mirror's reflection. They were misty, unreadable, and with how unpredictable you knew he could be, you decided to close the door behind you.
“Closing the door?”, he muses and in just a few long strides he has managed to trap you between his body and the wooden surface. It is reminiscent of your last meeting at the music show, and the memory of you tying him up doesn’t help with the organizing of your thoughts. “What are you planning on doing to me in here?”
You point one finger against his chest, not enough to create any real distance between you, but it comforts you nonetheless.
“What the fuck was that out there? What happened to professionalism?”
“Relax, kitty cat. I was just helping you act better”. His eyes stayed glued on your hips, once again making you all wound up and jumpy under his stare, “And it worked. You should be thanking me”
“I. Told. You.”, you started, tapping your finger on his sternum to emphasize each word, “Never call me that again. Today’s already hard as it is, why do you have to make it harder?”
He takes one more step towards you, his chest now touching yours and your hand that separated you lands involuntarily on his right peck. As if his presence wasn’t overwhelming enough, you feel a hardness pressing against your thigh, and for a moment you worry he can feel how wet you really are under your skirt. His voice is a low, a deep rumble.
“I don’t know. Why do you have to make everything so hard?”
“You are unbelievable”, you scowl at him and free yourself from his trap. You turn to the big mirror to avoid looking at him anymore, and you come to the embarrassing realization of how fucked out you look right now. You had to get out of there as soon as possible, before you do anything stupid and lose any trace of self control left in you. But not before you gave Jaehyun an earful.
“What I meant was that I am out there, being paid to be all lovey-dovey with you. This is not something easy for me you know. It’s basically prostitution.”
You catch Jaehyun’s eyes in his reflection, and for a fleeting moment they turn a colour that you hadn’t seen them in for a long time. Hurt? Disappointment? Whatever it was, it was gone in a second, replaced by that smile that made him both irresistibly smackable and fuckable at the same time.
“Did it cross your tiny brain that maybe someone could hear you? Staff leaks information all the time! If they found out we were fucking…”
“Were? Past tense?”
“Are. Will be. Whatever.” You sigh, defeated, hiding your eyes with your palms as you face him once again. “Like I said, this is important to me. So no more dirty talk on set. Okay?”
Jaehyun avoided your glance, from embarrassment or uninterest maybe. “Okay”
You continue to sit there silently, but your head is so occupied with a million thoughts that you don’t notice. How you will get through the rest of the shooting, whether your manager is looking for you or not, the coldness of the glass Jaehyun had pressed you against that day. The only thing that snapped you out of it, was him suddenly taking off his shirt.
“What are you doing?”, you ask panicking, but you can’t dismiss the pool of excitement in your belly.
“We have a wardrobe change after the break, remember? And since you refuse to leave my changing room..”
You clear your throat, trying your hardest to rip your eyes away from his abdomen, that you’ve so keenly marked with love bites before. His naked skin must have monopolized your attention way more than you realized, as you can’t remember when he slithered his way closer to you, towering over your height.
“Stare much?”, he almost growls, arousal dripping from his voice.
Every fiber of your being wanted to lurch forward, glide your fingers through his hair and start nibbling at those pretty lips of his. The sexual tension, amplified by the argument you just had, was filling the room like a thick liquid would fill a cup. One more drop, one more second of his staring and it would overflow. It felt so real, that you could feel that drop landing on your forehead. Then another one on your cheek, and that’s when you realized that what you felt was real.
“What the-?”, Jaehyun mumbles as he stares up at the ceiling, a big wet spot staining it and allowing the water drops to slowly wet his styled locks. As you start to put two and two together, someone knocks loudly on the door, making you both jump one feet away from the other.
“Get undressed”, a high-pitched male voice that you recognize as Jaehyun’s manager calls through the door, “the rain is ruining the set. It’s a wrap for today”
———————————————————————
A soft touch on your lower back, an even softer breath making your ears tingle. A tentative kiss on your neck that’s full of purpose and makes you shiver.
And then another touch, this time more south on your body. Fingertips grazing over your sensitive clit. Easily moving through your wetness and finally dipping inside of you. That baritone voice.
“This pussy is mine, isn’t it, kitty cat?”
You look up to meet the face of the familiar voice, only to meet Jaehyun’s baby brown eyes. The pleasure was enough to make you ignore the despised nickname, flowing intensely through your body. You let out a desperate moan, gripping his arms to keep your balance. His fingers are now dragging through your walls and you clench around them instinctively, confused but enamored by his touch. You are falling apart.
“Jaehyun? What are you doing?”
“I want to make love to you”
“Love? But you hate me”
He plants another kiss on the slope of your neck, his hands picking up in pace and making you feel like you’re floating on air.
“Love. Hate. Is there really any difference when I’m here, ready to please you? Willing to make you feel things you have never felt before?”
“You already do”, you admit, only seconds away from your orgasm. The bliss is so close you can almost taste it, but for now you choose to taste his lips. They are so soft and warm that you realize you haven’t kissed Jaehyun since that night at the practice room. How you miss him. Not the group visual, not the idol, not even Jaehyun. Yoonoh.
“Yoonoh”, you moan out against his lips as the pleasure overtakes you, a low buzz humming in your ears, “mmm yes, Yoonoh”
“Who the fuck is Yoonoh?”
You finally wake up, your manager shaking you awake being the first thing you see. The sun’s morning rays are peeking through your blinds, warming your skin in lines. Your phone’s ignored alarm clock is still buzzing on top of your nightstand.
“No one. I’m awake, thanks”
Fuck. That makes it what? The fourth night in a row you dreamt about him?
“Get, up. Quickly. We’re late”
You groaned at the banging of your head that was caused by you getting up so fast. It was early into the morning, as you had to get ready for the mv’s second shooting day. The heavy rainfall wouldn’t allow for the filming to continue for another week, yet aided your growing anxiety of having to encounter Yoon- Jaehyun again.
You felt a little stupid, like a kid that goes to middle school for the first time, anxious but full of butterflies in your stomach in the thought of seeing him again. You weren’t sure who the anger, that came with the inability to control the fresh feelings bubbling from your dream, should be directed at. Your manager for booking you this job? Jaehyun for making it his goal to have you dripping wet on set? You, for letting it all affect you so much?
You decide on the former, giving your poor manager the cold shower for forcing you to deal with the problems you’ve caused yourself. Checking your phone, you realise that you are, indeed, late, and wonder how quick you’re going to have to make your morning shower.
“Is Jaehyun and his team there already?”, you ask your manager as nonchalantly as you could, feigning mildly interested in his answer.
“Oh, they didn’t tell you? The other team asked for the shootings to continue separately”. You felt your stomach drop all the way down to your condo’s basement. And the icing on the cake: “Jung Jaehyun’s request”
Maybe your manager wasn’t as clueless to your electricity, or maybe it was your sudden impulse to pluck every loose thread of the pyjama top you were wearing that made him sense the discomfort following what he’d just said. He plops next to you on your bed, boards creaking in the silent room and you feel his rough hands patting you on the back.
“I’m sure he had an overlap in schedules and needed a break, nothing to do with you”
But you knew better, and you knew your palms wouldn’t stop itching unless you picked up your fucking phone and sent him a message.
you [06:30]: i heard you can’t make it to set today. everything ok?
You wish you never did. The radio silence from his number was way worse than any insult, any form of teasing he could give you on set. You even tried calling him, desperate for an answer, a closure even. Maybe he was busy. Maybe the shooting took longer than expected. Maybe he wasn’t avoiding you; one of his managers uploaded his latest story on his instagram, not him. Maybe at the end of the week he would get back to you.
------------------------------------------------------
Going to his dorm unannounced was not a good idea. Waiting for someone to open the door for you, you hope his members will recognise you from your trainee days, or those rare nights Jaehyun sneaked you in when you were both lonely and in need of a… well, whatever you two were.
You’re starting to worry that whoever saw you from the peephole thought you were a sasaeng and called security, when Mark opens the door. His eyes are wide open behind his glasses, clearly not expecting you and immediately yelling for his ‘Jaehyun hyung’.
Soon, the called male arrives at the apartment’s entrance, annoyed for being interrupted from whatever it was he was doing. “What is it, me and Jungwoo are watching the season fina-“
As if Mark suddenly turned invisible, Jaehyun walks right past him, grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you to his room without another word.
Jungwoo, engrossed with the aforementioned show’s season finale on his computer screen, tries to cover up his naked torso in panic when he notices you.
“Get out.”, Jaehyun orders him, and the younger man knows that his tone is not one to be argued with. It triggers the cold sweat that makes your clothes stick closer to your skin and forces your heartbeat to quicken, pumping blood all over your body. The door closes, leaving you both alone with only the sound of Jungwoo’s laptop still playing in the background. A lighthearted scene that is too oxymoronic against the tension that is just palpable at this point. What the hell were you thinking coming here?
“What the hell were you thinking coming here?”, Jaehyun speaks your thoughts out loud, and you wince at how empty your head is with excuses.
“Are you ignoring me?”
“What?”, he asks dumbly, hoping you would avoid asking again.
“Was it that hard to text me back? Am I such a waste of your time?”
Jaehyun seems angry at your confrontation, his bad mood escalating with every word that is leaving your mouth. He still avoids to look at you, toying with some plushies and decorations next to his bedpost. You realize you never had time to really notice them, barely recognizing them. You always entered the room blindly, pressed up against Jaehyun’s body and with his lips all over your neck, then left as soon as the sex was over. His apathy was infuriating.
One by one, you start to remove all of your outerwear, dropping your clothes on the floor until you’re left in only your bra and jeans. Jaehyun stares at you incredulously, then at the pile of clothes on the floor, unable to make out the reasoning behind your impromptu stripping.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting naked. Seems to be the only time you can actually pay attention to me.”
You reach for the buttons of your jeans, only able to unzip it halfway before Jaehyun has you pinned against the wall behind you, his fingers cool and pressing lightly against your neck.
“I-I fucking hate you!”, he cries, punching the surface to release some of the steam, and lets go of the hold on your neck almost completely. How tempted he is, to just fuck your right against that wall, pour out his anger by pouring out his cum inside you, then ignore each other like you always do.
It’s the easy thing to do, keeping the toxic circle going. All barking and fucking and no real problem gets resolved in the end. He wouldn’t even call a cab for you, preferring to be hated for something he wasn’t than to be rejected for showing the real him. You would still have no idea about his feelings towards you, going around saying how awful he was while asking for a round two. But Jaehyun was tired.
“Can’t you tell that I am trying to distance myself from you?”, he sighs and it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him sound so emotionally exhausted.
“Why do you dislike me so much? We used to be friends and then one day you-“
“Friends? Just friends?”, he interrupts you with a chuckle and a sarcastic puff through his nose, and you shake your head.
“If you also think that what we had was more special than a common friendship then why act like you don’t know me?”
“You were the one who wanted to ‘forget about anything happening and never telling a soul about it’, remember?”
“I thought we came to a mutual agreement! I was just trying to save our careers and it worked Jaehyun, you got to debut and I-“
“And you just threw away everything we had like it was the easiest thing to do! Do you ever want to know how I feel, y/n? First you want nothing to do with me, left the company without even saying goodbye. Then I try to forget about you, become an asshole to keep you out of my life and suddenly you want to jump my bones. One day you just play blind to everything, asking for professionalism and now I’m the one ignoring you? What the fuck do you want? A fuck buddy? A professional? A friend?”
“I want you, Yoonoh. Fuck, I just want you”
You’re not sure which one of you initiates the kiss. His lips are as plump and kissed as hard as you recalled, a couple of tears staining your cheeks that you didn’t realize you were holding back. It felt so right, the way his head pushed and pulled away from yours, always inviting you back to him. One hand was situated over the dimples of your waist, the other lost between your hair, untangling it gently. You decided to lay yours over his heart, feeling its tempo and calming yourself down.
You kiss for what seems like an eternity, so drunk in bliss that you can’t remember how you made it through life without Jaehyun’s taste all over your tongue. When he pulls away from your lips, you almost whine, but his fingertips dabbing at the soft skin of your cheeks feel just as comforting.
“I don’t want us to be like this anymore”, you whisper to him and he nods encouragingly, holding you even closer. “I’m sorry for not reaching out to you all these years ago, I just thought ‘What would a brand new idol want to do with a failed trainee like me’-“
Jaehyun brings your fingers to his lips, kissing all your knuckles one by one and you think you’re gonna burst at the seams. “You weren’t a failure, you were the best thing to happen to me back then”. His voice is so sincere that you don’t dare question the veracity of what he’s saying and you let him continue. “When I saw you again I was so bitter, I decided to turn off my feelings. I think I get too comfortable in that role. I put it on for me, my members, my fans even”, he stops then, laughing sadly, “it’s how I finally got you”
It was your turn to open up his eyes to the truth, holding his face between your hands and admiring its beauty.
“That’s not true. I kept staying because I knew what was hidden behind all that armor. I guess, the sex was the only way to get closer to you”
“Not because I’m good?”, he jokes, wiggling his eyebrows and you can feel his dimples forming under your fingers.
“Eh, you’re pretty good too”
He starts pecking your neck, his smile obvious in his kisses and you squeal when he lifts you to his bed. Bouncing on the hard mattress, you let him lay his body weight over yours as he gives you a million traces of his love.
“So, I’m guessing this means we start over?”, he asks reluctantly as he emerges from your half naked body and you hold back from cooing at him.
“I thought you loved to hate me?”
“I think I hate it, but I love you”
#neosmutcollective#Jaehyun#jung jaehyun#jaehyun smut#nct smut#jaehyun imagines#jaehyun scenarios#jaehyun angst#nct scenarios#nct 127#nct angst#jaehyun fluff#nct
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Paul Weller in conversation with Mary McCartney: ‘We used to pinch a lot of Beatles songs’
For this Woking-born son of the 1970s, there were four father figures who underpinned everything, from his first guitar to an inspirational career that continues to expand and explore more than 50 years later. On the release of his latest solo record, his third in three years, we asked Paul Weller to pick through the past with an artist who knows better than any how The Beatles shaped the generation that followed. By Dylan Jones; 4 June 2021 from British GQ Magazine
(edited for Mary McCartney content only)
For Weller’s latest GQ appearance, we thought it would be good to put him together with an old friend, the photographer Mary McCartney. Which is what we did...
Mary McCartney: So, Paul, when did you become a Beatles fan? When you were 12?
Paul Weller: When I was five years old. I had some of the singles, because my mother bought them, but the first time I saw them was the Royal Variety Performance in 1963, when I was five. From the time I saw The Beatles I loved music and then when I was around age 12 I started trying to learn to play guitar. Me and my mate had a few lessons for a bit and got a few weeks in, but the guy was trying to teach us how to read music, so we got bored with that. And as soon as we learnt enough chords we stopped the lessons and we just start doing it ourselves.
MM: When did you actually start writing songs?
PW: As soon as we – me and my mate Steve Brookes – learnt the three or four chords. I’m still mates with him now. We started a band and we just learned together and we just kept swapping whatever we’d learned in the week, swapping back and forth. It was just me and him and then we just gathered up people as we could find them. There was never any doubt in my mind that’s what I would do and, even at around 12, I thought that was definitely what I was going to do for a living. Well, I didn’t know it could be a career, I just knew I was going to do music. So by the age of 14 we were playing pubs, working men’s clubs and social clubs with The Jam. But your dad’s band was the catalyst for all of it.
MM: You know, I’m directing a documentary about the history of Abbey Road Studios at the moment, so I’ve been taken back to those times. There is a photograph of me aged three months on one of the sofas in the studio, so I was there before I can remember being there. Whenever I walk in through the doors I still get a funny feeling. But I’m learning a lot about The Beatles’ recording process, though. What was your writing process in the early days?
PW: When we started to write songs we just used to pinch a lot of The Beatles songs. They were very basic, just us taking our first steps as songwriters. I was actually very passionate at the time, but I didn’t have the skills to articulate that passion. That kind of developed. Our first songs would have been nonsense songs, just “My Baby Love Me” stuff... But, like every other fledgling songwriter, I just started off by aping other people, like The Beatles did, like Dylan did. Everyone starts out copying other people.
MM: I assume you recorded your new album during lockdown?
PW: I did. I had about four or five tracks left over from [last year’s] On Sunset and they were just lying around, unused. So I started working away, chipping away, trying to put together a new batch of songs. As ever, I recorded them all in the studio down in Surrey, just me and a guitar singing along to a click track. If I couldn’t record with the band, I’d send the recordings to them and they’d play their parts and then send them back. It was a very odd process, but it worked. However, when we could finally all record again together, it was like the first day of school after the summer holidays. It was great. The writing process was actually the same as it always is, but because I knew I didn’t have any live work for the foreseeable future, we just created all this space. I think the lockdown was actually hugely influential in a way, as all the quiet made me appreciate nature in a way I hadn’t done for quite some time, maybe ever. I could really feel and hear and see nature again, it started to take over. I loved hearing the birds sing and not seeing any aeroplanes in the sky. It helped me think about things I would never normally think about in any situation. I felt more in tune with nature. I had a thought that if we weren’t here, if we all disappeared, which I’m sure we will do one day, the earth would just reclaim itself and that it will always be here and we won’t.
MM: It was such a nice feeling, actually stopping and looking and appreciating, not rushing around. I was lying in bed one night in the middle of London. It was 2am and it was so quiet it felt like we had gone back 100, 200 years. I couldn’t hear the rumble of the underground and it was almost as though cars hadn’t been invented.
PW: How was your lockdown, Mary?
MM: Mine was good, but we’re not here to talk about me. I’m grilling you today. But mine was good. Well, I say it was good, but it was unnerving. I think, on a global scale, it was just unnerving because it was like living in a science fiction movie. I think the main thing a lot of us benefitted from was having to slow down and not being able to just go and do things. So, in that sense, it wasn’t a bad thing. I was obviously worried about people’s health and the economy, but, like you, I really got in touch with nature. I did a lot more photographic work outside. And, of course, I started to prep for the Abbey Road doc. What’s the perfect recording scenario for you?
PW: Well, I love my studio and, to be honest, I’d be quite happy to never come out of the place. I could quite happily stay there forever. I bought the building in 1999, but it’s only really been the past 15 years or so that we’ve really got it together, with the sound and the vibe and the equipment. I’m continually making little acoustic adjustments to the room. We’ve got a drum kit set up all the time, as well as a mic’d piano, so it’s always ready to roll. I can play guitar, obviously, as well as bass and piano, but I’ve never really enjoyed playing the drums, because I can’t sing and drum with any conviction. It’s a different art altogether, playing drums. I like drummers who play the song, who can play the tune and who aren’t trying to do their own thing. That requires a certain amount of discipline, a different discipline: not playing too much but playing the right thing. Your dad is a good drummer.
MM: Yeah, he is. Mum introduced me to a song he played drums on years ago, called “My Dark Hour”, by the Steve Miller Band. He’s credited as “Paul Ramon” and he does backing vocals, guitar, bass and drums. It was recorded in Olympic Studios in London towards the end of 1969, after an argument Dad had had with the others over Allen Klein becoming their manager. The others had gone off and he said Steve Miller walked in and asked if he wanted to play the drums on this track he was recording. I think the drumming on it is so good, but you can tell he’s letting out a lot of tension.
PW: I love that first solo album of your dad’s, the one with you as a baby on the back. That’s probably one of my favourite records. It was lo-fi before lo-fi was even talked about.
MM: I love the rawness of it, as it’s just so personal. I still listen to McCartney and Ram a lot. They shot the album cover up in Scotland. They were horse riding and he zipped me up in his jacket. He put me in the jacket so I was safe, as he was going riding. I love that picture from a photographic point of view as well, as it’s very real. It’s taken at the end of the day, during the golden hour. It’s so natural.
PW: Now, what was it like growing up, then, as a daughter of a Beatle?
MM: Well, it was more like growing up as a daughter of Paul and Linda, because they were such a great couple. But,
also, they were such adventurous people. So, we were kind of following them around and going on lots of adventures. We went on tour with them and we really only stopped when we needed to go to school. So I have lots of memories of travelling as a girl. I even remember going on the double-decker that they used as a tour bus in 1972. The seats on the upper deck were replaced by mattresses and bean bags.
PW: I assume it was your mother’s inspiration that made you want to be a photographer...
MM: I think so, as I think I just always saw her taking pictures. She had such a casual style too. She didn’t do a lot of setting up and neither do I. It’s just so much nicer when you connect with your sitter and when you just casually take pictures. I much prefer that and I certainly know that you don’t like to have your picture taken in a very set-up kind of situation. What really got me into becoming a photographer was looking at Mum’s pictures from the 1960s. They were about her being with someone and taking pictures and very much not “This is Jimi Hendrix”. Again, casual. When I became a photographer, I took Mum’s talent for granted. She would take pictures out the car window and then they became these books or a print on the wall. When I started doing it myself I’d put the camera up and I’d be like, “Dad, can you turn the car around so I can take this picture?” And he’d be like, “No.” She would take pictures so effortlessly and I didn’t realise there was a knack to it. Mum and Dad would treat everyone equally; I do remember that. We were always surrounded by people, so I suppose that’s why I think I am a bit of a people person. I like meeting people and I like connecting with people, but I still find I’m quite shy about it. I find it stressful, but I like it. But I could never in a million years get up on a stage, ever. Even thinking about it makes me feel like fainting. When did you first walk out in front of a big crowd? How does that feel? Is it just feeling that adulation and love and appreciation and then giving that back? Does that feel really healthy? I always think when it works perfectly, it just must be such a healthy feeling.
PW: It’s almost a weird thing, because just prior to going on stage, especially in the hour before, I’m in bits. I’m so nervous and so don’t want to be there and want to go home, and then within minutes of actually being on stage, as soon as that first tune strikes up, I automatically feel as though this is completely where I’m supposed to be. It feels like the most natural, most comfortable, Zen-like place you could possibly be, it’s so weird. I’ve always felt nervous before going on stage. That’s never changed. I mean, it’s got a little bit better as I’ve got older, but not much. I think I need to have that feeling. It was weird, because there was a time when I tried to stop drinking – before I stopped completely – and when I stopped I suddenly wasn’t nervous before going on stage. And I didn’t like it. It felt really odd.
MM: Isn’t there something superstitious about this?
PW: No, I don’t think so. I just think it gives you an edge. Those nerves can make you edgy and I think that’s important for me.
MM: And then did the nerves come back?
PW: When I started drinking again they did.
MM: But now you’re not?
PW: When I finally stopped drinking it took me at least two years to get used to that feeling of going on stage totally sober and straight. And now I love it. But it took a good two years to get comfortable, as it was really odd at first. I’d be on stage and I’d notice so much, like there’s a guy in the front row who’s wearing a green shirt or something, and now I don’t feel that at all. Now it feels natural and I have a greater appreciation of it. That’s the other thing as well, getting more from it and being more conscious of what we’re doing.
MM: Growing up, watching Mum and Dad on stage just felt natural. But I’ve seen you play a few times and it makes me realise how much I couldn’t do it myself. There is such great energy and it’s really entertaining and you look completely natural, but I wouldn’t be able to feel comfortable in that position. Also, to me, it feels like your music has to be played live. I went to a concert before lockdown and the person was so vacant and not connected to the audience and, because of that, it made me nervous. You could tell they were going through the motions, that it was an act. They had no connection at all. Whereas when I look at Dad on stage he’s all about connection. I think I had taken it for granted before that, but when you see someone who doesn’t connect, you realise how important it is.
PW: I know some people who turn up just before they go on stage and as soon as they finish they get in the car and they’re off. I don’t understand that either. It’s a far bigger thing than that for me, because I’m looking for that connection. As much as the audience might be, I am as well, and my band too, because I’ve seen it happen with my own eyes and there are some nights where you get so connected together by an audience that this thing just grows and grows. It transcends the moment.
MM: It’s like magic.
PW: It’s something special. The last time I played at the Fillmore in San Francisco, a couple of years ago, it was like that, and it wasn’t because of gear. It was almost like we took off, like the whole room just lifted up.
MM: Have you got a ritual for after the show?
PW: No, not really. No.
MM: My dad has this sandwich and a Margarita, because he doesn’t eat before he goes on. He waits until after.
PW: I have a cup of tea these days. In the past, I would have got off my nut, but I don’t any more. But if you have a gig like that and that becomes your benchmark, you’re always looking to get back to that moment, which is not always possible. But that becomes the thing you’re always searching for, to find that connection. We’re always striving for the spectacular. It’s the same with record companies. Sometimes you have to compromise, but what you really want to do is pursue your own passions. It was more difficult when we first started, because the record company tried to step in more and tried to guide us to do this or that. In the early days of The Jam they even suggested we cover a 10cc song. We said, “No fucking way is that going to happen.” You’ve got to stick to your guns. You’ve got to pursue what you set out to achieve.
MM: Fashion and clothes feel important to what you do, maybe because they make you feel a certain way to be able to perform?
PW: Yeah. But although I was too young to be really involved in the 1960s, I still lived through that time and that whole thing has never gone away for me. I love that period and it informs a lot of what I do, including how I dress. The whole look and sound of that time is just really formative. I don’t feel I’m stuck in that time, but it will always be the cornerstone of everything I do. I just thought it was such a brilliant time for music and fashion and art and all that stuff.
MM: What do you think it is about it? Is it experimentation?
PW: I think so. It was those postwar years, coming out of all that austerity, that bleak black and white, grey world – large parts of the country were still like that in the early 1960s. There were still bombsites. There was still slum housing. So it took a long time for Britain to become modern, but when it did, it was explosive.
MM: Dad describes it as it all suddenly going technicolour.
PW: Yeah, I think that’s true and you just see the clothes and music expanding. Men stopped wearing demob suits and started wearing all these bright-coloured clothes.
MM: And the pill came about and made life a lot easier.
PW: Then the other pills came a little bit later and helped expand everyone’s horizons. These people were pioneers. And also look at the art world – Peter Blake, David Hockney, Bridget Riley. It felt as though everything was becoming more modern and opening up and becoming different and colourful. I was only a very tender age, but, nevertheless, that influence was of great importance and value and always has been. Punk was probably the first time I experienced that freedom. We missed out on the 1960s, had a lift with Bowie, but after that it was largely a cultural wasteland. I was always looking for when I thought it was going to be our term. The 1970s were still very much in the shadow of the 1960s until punk. And then it all blossomed. Then it all started to make sense.
Fat Pop (Volume 1) by Paul Weller is out now.
Producer: Grace Guppy. First assistant: Pedro Faria. Digital technician: Alexander Brunacci. Make-up: Jane Bradley. Retouching: The Hand Of God
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Da Queen
Everglow AU: 7th member
Mya/Enya x Everglow
Mya impresses a certain someone during her rap stage (the rap featured in here is called ‘F*ck Pretty Rap Star’ by Tymee and I totally suggest you check it out)
A/N: ALSO CHECK OUT MY PATREON FOR ACCESS TO EXCLUSIVE CONTENT AND EARLY ACCESS (patreon.com/kllamallama)
Requests are OPEN!!!
Masterlist and other Follow Me links in bio!
“You’re sure you’re up for this?” The staff asked.
Mya snorted, jumping up and down to warm herself up. “A little late to ask me now, isn’t it?”
They were at an award show and Mya had been asked last minute if she would fill in for a rap stage. She’d said yes, partially because it had been way too long since she’d really been able to rap and partially because it was the only real spotlight Everglow was going to get at the show.
“You can interact with other artists, do whatever you need to do.” The staff was saying. “You just have your minute and a half set and it’s all on the artists’ stage.”
“I know.” Mya smiled. “We rehearsed.”
“You feel good though, you look good?” Their manager was clearly more nervous than she was.
Mya looked down at her outfit: high waisted pink shorts with black fishnets underneath, and white crop top that read not your baby, and a hot pink fur coat, which she planned to wear hanging around her arms rather than pulled up on her shoulders. Her hair was in space buns with little braids throughout, and on her feet she had a pair of silver platform shoes that would rival E:U’s biggest pair.
“I feel great.” She promised.
“You’re on in ten.” A staff member said.
Mya took a deep breath and tapped her ear piece once, making sure it was good before she lifted her mic. She was stepping out of the curtain and then climbing right up the steps onto the stage. She’d written her lyrics two days ago, and was honestly terrified. She’d never performed a solo rap stage before.
“3....2...” The staff pointed at her right as the music started up.
Mya stepped through the curtain confidently. “Hey yo! Enya in the building!”
She never liked to look like she was trying when she rapped, preferring to make it look effortless as she floated around. She didn’t make eye contact with anyone except for the camera in front of her, letting them lead her to Everglow’s table.
She held out a hand and Onda took it, pretending to fangirl as as Mya tried to look like she couldn’t care less.
My rhyme my vibe from live performance, change your name to pretty un-rapstar because i’m the whole package.
Letting go of Onda’s hand she made her way to the next spot, which involved her climbing on a table.
She almost faltered when she saw who’s table it was.
Almost.
She didn’t skip a beat as she stalked over, becoming slightly aware that she was rapping ahead of the track. But she wasn’t about to slow down.
She put one foot on the bench to step up onto the table, when a hand appeared, offering to help.
Mya took Yuta’s hand without even looking at him, letting him balance her as she stepped onto NCT’s table and then dropping his hand without a care. She crouched low on the table, letting her fur coat slide lower to show more of her back.
work on your skills first, and then let’s talk about equality, if you’re real then take out pens and paper, not lipstick!
She blew a kiss to the camera as the lights went dark around her signalling the camera focus switch to the main stage. She ripped out her in-ears, catching some of the cheers, and didn’t have time to look at any of the artists around her as a stage hand lifted her off the table and pulled her back below the stage.
“How’d I do?” She whispered to their manager.
“You killed it.” He promised. “Seriously, I don’t know why I was nervous.”
Mya laughed. She couldn’t believe she’d actually done it. And finished like four beats ahead of the music, too.
Backstage, Mya slipped back into the short back dress that she had been wearing earlier, opting to leave her hair in the buns. She went to head back to the artists section, when she spotted a familiar group making their way down the hall.
She didn’t have to wait long, because the second Yuta caught sight of her he dipped away from his group.
“Mya!” He exclaimed. “That was amazing!”
“You liked it?” She beamed. “It was kind of rushed.”
“I loved it.” He promised. “You looked so cool. Like you weren’t even trying. And your lyrics....you wrote them?”
“I did.” She nodded. “I only had a few days to get ready.”
“You were amazing.” He shook his head. “I had no idea you could rap like that.”
“What?” She tilted her head. “Did you not think I was a good rapper?”
“No...I...That’s not....” He sighed, catching onto the fact that she was teasing. “I’m serious, Mya. That was like next level. I’ve never-”
“Yuta! We’ve got to get ready.” Someone called.
He clenched his jaw slightly, before smiling apologetically at her. “I’ve got to go.”
“Good luck.” She offered. “Look for me in the crowd?”
“It won’t be hard to find you.” He poked the top of one of her buns. “But I’ll see you there. I can only hope to do half as good as you did.”
Mya winked. “I live to be a role model.”
“YUTA!”
“I’M COMING!” He turned. “I’ll talk to you later, okay? Because I need to figure out how you did that.”
“A magician never reveals her secrets.” Mya waved goodbye, waiting until he disappeared into the dressing room before making her way down the hall. A staff member showed her to Everglow’s table and she sat down as quickly as possible to avoid distracting people.
“Well, didn’t embarrass you guys too badly?” She teased.
“I think I’m in love with you.” Onda said honestly.
“I don’t think you’re the only one.” Sihyeon laughed. “That guy who’s hand you grabbed? I thought he was going to pass out.”
“What guy?” Mya asked innocently.
#everglow#everglow au#everglow imagines#everglow 7th member#female kpop#female!kpop#female member kpop#e:u#sihyeon#yiren#aisha#onda#mia#requests open#au#kpop#imagines#imagine#kpop au#kpop imagines#kpop imagine#nct#nct imagines#yuta#yuta imagines
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restructuring update prompts
a prologue to officially re-introducing ash kwon // aka i decided to re-do this because i changed some parts of ash’s backstory and established career claims after i did this the first time and half of this wasn’t really true anymore rip
also there’s nowhere for me to put this in the answers anymore so i’ll put it here: circles is ash’s best song
content warning: mentions of alcohol abuse and drug use / abuse, but none of it is in-depth
assuming your muse has changed in some way, be it internally or as a result of a change of the external factors around them, how is your muse different?
for the most part, ash’s general personality and character has stayed the same. he’s the same angsty, creative, romantic dude at heart, but he’s a little more jaded in some ways.
ash moved around before he became a trainee now. he lived in san francisco, sydney, and seattle. when he lived in sydney, it was just him and his mom and he grew really close to her during that time. he doesn’t really feel like he has a home at all since seoul is the longest he’s ever lived somewhere, but he’s less happy so that’s not home either.
ash is a better technical singer now ig, being a main vocal. he focused more on singing as a trainee now instead of dancing. his ankle injury in 2018 was a little more serious now, which is why he doesn’t dance much in his solo music anymore. it’s also why he’s less interested in dance, but, at the same time, i think it leaves more potential for him to re-develop some love for it again.
he’s also now the maknae, although it’s a common joke in the fandom that he doesn’t act like it. he debuted a year and three months younger than before and he feels a lot more beholden to the industry now. has even less of an idea of what he’d be outside of it at this point, even though he got closer to actually leaving it than previous ash ever did.
he’s still had a couple of minor attitude controversies in titan’s early days caused by cultural differences. he was in public relationships in 2016 and 2019. neither were received well for their own reasons. his clubbing habit has gotten him into some controversy, though bc has never issued a statement on it beyond that one time they had to confirm the woman in a picture of him clubbing was his girlfriend because people were trying to accuse him of cheating. he has a passionate anti gallery and obsessive sasaengs that make his life a living hell.
since renewing his contract, ash has also had a few hiatuses of varying lengths due to his physical or mental health. this was true before with how he naturally developed, but it’s more tied together now as a result of generally poor physical and mental health he’s been experiencing for a few years now after his dating scandals and his ankle injury in 2018.
his image is more streamlined now too! he never really had the era of being pushed as a cleancut boyfriend that old ash had around 2018. he’s been marketed as a musical genius / sexy bad boy rockstar / artist with a tortured soul for as long as he’s been majorly pushed individually. this means he’s still very sexualized, but he hates his image a little less because he can be a little more himself as far as personal style and self-expression through tattoos and piercings goes.
what does your muse think of their company and their group?
this hasn’t really changed. ash has no real love for bc entertainment and wouldn’t really care if titan disbanded tomorrow. some of their music is good and some isn’t (though he considers less of it terrible without wolf and gorilla in the mix lmao), but he feels he’s mostly outgrown it as an artist. not that it’s below him, but it’s not what he connects with creatively, which is far more important to him now than it had been when he’d first debuted. he doesn’t hold ill will toward his groupmates unless he feels they’ve given him an individual reason to, and actually feels more guilty toward them for getting involved in scandals and taking hiatuses more than anything, but they’re also not his best friends. he views titan as a purely work endeavor and he doesn’t feel bad about the fact he got about as close as possible to leaving them without actually doing so that he could back during contract renewals. after all, they’d be fine without him. he’s a main vocal, but they’ve got two others. he’s a dancer, but they’ve got two others. he can write music, but titan has never been his main priority there and others are more than capable of doing it. he wants out of both the group and the company but is starkly aware of the fact that he did this to himself when he re-signed out of what he now perceives to have been impulse and greed.
since titan is the seniormost active group under bc, ash tries to be a good senior to his company juniors in general, but there are certainly more welcoming alternatives than him. he worries about them from a distance more than anything else.
is your muse on their first contract or their second? if they’ve renewed, what were their feelings around that at the time and what were their hopes for their second contract?
he’s on his second contract and he definitely regrets renewing. he hadn’t planned to renew for the longest time the lack of privacy and the public criticism and the hate he’d received were just too much, and he had plans that would require him to stop being an active idol, namely marrying his girlfriend of two and a half years at the time. their relationship wasn’t stable enough at the time for that to be a good idea and that was proven when they broke up shortly before final negotiations for contract renewals, but ash wanted an excuse to escape and the idea of a happy, normal life more than he wanted to be rational.
spite after the (very brief lmao) break up was part of his decision to renew, but bc entertainment also offered to support him as a songwriter and producer in addition to allowing him to regularly release solo music. he still really loved music and his first taste of promoting as a solo artist had been right before renewals as a proposal to sway him into re-signing, so he was swayed to sign on for seven more years. they followed through on their promises, but he struggles to weigh the recognition he’s earned as a solo artist and songwriter-producer against signing his life away again and doing a number on his physicla and mental health. most of his health issues and his hiatuses have happened during his second contract, as well as several behind-the-scenes situations that could have become scandals if they’d had any less luck, mostly stemming from ash drinking too much and his occasional recreational drug use, so he’s not sure bc even really feels the contract renewal was entirely worth it.
what are your muse’s goals and motivations?
if you asked ash this, he wouldn’t know what to answer. he doesn’t feel very motivated these days and pretty much feels like he only does anything because he’s contractually obligated to. making music as a form of expression has long been his main drive, and beyond that, the desire to make a mark on the world he can be remembered by through his music, but he often oscillates now between feeling like there’s not much more he can realistically achieve and the sense of hopelessness that he can try as hard as he wants, but his music’s never going to be what he’s defined by when he’s a public figure with an image.
he also feels a duty to make his parents proud. though i could argue that might be less now than it was in the previous iteration of ash, it’s still very much there. they let him come to seoul when he’d just turned thirteen to follow a dream that many never get to follow all the way through to the end and they believed in him fully. they express how proud they are of him when they do talk, but he doesn’t know that he believes them. he doesn’t feel that anything he’s done has been deserving of paying them back for everything they’ve given to him.
right now, he wants to be able to feel excited about his life and what he’s making again. he’s trying to better himself internally in regards to the way he views himself and his mental health, although he’s more prone to still taking steps backwards there than he was at this point previously. a lot of the ways ash has found to feel that excitement and creativity he wants (such as recreational drugs and excessive alcohol consumption and fleeting, sometimes toxic, relationships) do damage to his mental wellbeing, so it’s a balancing act at the moment.
what is one conflict, internal or external, that your muse is currently dealing with, has recently dealt with, or will need to deal with in the future?
i covered this partially with the last one, but one major conflict remains his internal conflict about his passion for music. this was very much where ash was before as well, but now that i’m really pushing songwriting and producing as his main career path, it presents a more equal professional and personal challenge for him.
more than having truly lost joy in making music, he’s burnt out. his latest album lovesick was emotionally exhausting because it was a partially rushed, deeply personal and vulnerable album exclusively based on an unhealthy relationship that had stretched its hold on him out over for almost six years, and then he went into making music that he couldn’t relate to at all and didn’t really fit his image all because bc thought it would sell well.
the burn out in his personal life has affected the burn out in his professional life he would be feeling anyway and made it ten times worse. it feels more hopeless because he doesn’t have much else going for him. in the past few months, his relationship with alcohol and drugs also reverted back to unhealthy after he was doing better with it for a while, not helped by a really bad stint with his mental health. all of this was at its worse in june before he went on hiatus, and in this universe, his behavior was more of a factor in his hiatus than him practically begging to leave the group because ash is more resigned to the fact that he chose to sign back on with bc and that that’s on him. instead, there was more of a push by his manager, who knew that ash was on the road to a major scandal if action wasn’t taken.
almost all of his conflicts are internal right now. he’s become successful enough that external factors other than the large umbrella of having to remain in titan can be negotiated, but he’s too tired to do so because of everything going on inside of him. there’s a lot of negative feelings going on inside of him, and he’s trying to deal with them one by one, but it’s hard to see the weight of them easing that way.
if your muse has established career claims, what are their thoughts on their career so far? if they do not, how do they feel about not having individual activities yet? what would they like to do in the future, if anything? if they don’t have ambitions for individual activities, explain why.
ash has been able to establish himself a little more as a songwriter and producer outside of his solo music. he wrote “universe” for titan in 2017, and after that, as promised, bc hooking him up with the right opportunities and connections to establish himself more. since then, in addition to his heavy involvement in his solo music (his 2020 album lovesick was entirely written/composed/produced by him alone), he’s worked on calypso’s “rollin’” in 2018, polaris’s “fake love” (a korean music awards song of the year!) and “the truth untold” in 2019, and lily’s “i’m so sick” this year. i’m planning on more being added there with these extra ecp and maybe some refunded since i think i’m going to drop some of his points claims to streamline his career better.
his canon discography creative claims reflect his progression as a songwriter, from very earnest and romantic to more sensual to very uhhh angsty and personal to developing a more polished and professional sound as he grew in experience as a songwriter and producer.
ash is praised for having several representative works as a songwriter that all speak to his individual style, and ash is happy with what he’s gotten to do since he does genuinely enjoy working as a songwriter and producer.
he’s planning to continue branching out in this direction, so look for quite a lot of ash dabbling in canon discographies in the future. before, i’d say ash’s primary push was solo music, but my plan for him is for songwriting and producing to be his main career path from now on with solo music as a close secondary.
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While making the last list (Angsty Frank/Gerard), I realized that I have my own tag for works that give me feels. Several of these are on the angst list as well, but these are specifically works that make my heart hurt. For everyone who needs to feel something, let me recommend:
Frank/Gerard That Gives Me Too Many Feels
Can Never Wrong this Right by theopteryx, 24k, Explicit. Written for the hc_bingo challenge, for the square of 'forced soul-bonding.' It's 1949 and Dr. Way is a professor of Archeology and Frank is his constantly exasperated (and secretly pining) assistant. When their latest trek takes them to South America to locate the fabled Blood Stone, however, they both find more than they bargained for.
In the Music of Time by greedy_dancer, 13k, Explicit. It’s Frank’s last day off before the North American leg of the World Contamination Tour begins, so he’s not particularly happy when his nap is interrupted by a frantic phone call from Gerard. Gee’s clearly upset about something, but the urgent instructions he gives Frank as he rushes back to their hotel room are not making much sense. And why does Gerard keep asking Frank if he’s alone? Frank’s confusion only grows from there. The next thing he knows, Gerard is right there, kissing him - which should be impossible, considering Gee’s still on his way, and talking to Frank on the phone. It is Gerard kissing Frank, though. A blond Gerard. Gerard, circa 2006. And if that wasn’t enough to give Frank the mother of all headaches, it appears that there are actually not only one, not even two, but three Gerards come from various dark times in Gee’s past, congregating in the hotel room, looking for hints of a brighter future. This is the tale of Frank and the four Gerards, and of the afternoon that set everything in motion.
What Ships Are For by mwestbelle, 22k, Explicit. Gerard is most concerned when he finds that, while away at university, his father has taken in a new ward of his own brother's age. But upon his return home, he finds the young man to be particularly enchanting; unfortunately, according to the High Society he lives in, not only is Frank entirely too poor to be considered, but they might as well be brothers.
Bread and Butter by jjtaylor, 18k, Mature. Frank unfolds the extra blanket at the foot of the bed and quietly drapes it over the outline of Gerard under the covers. It’s Tuesday and Frank is headed into the bakery to do battle with brioche.
The Circuit by stoplightglow, 24k, Mature. In the world of competitive motorcycle racing, nothing is more prestigious than the Grand Circuit Tour. Americans everywhere gather to watch as the twelve best racers in the nation compete for the title of Circuit Champion and $100,000. Gerard Way is no stranger to the race. When he was a teenager, his name was practically legend - but after disappearing without explanation six years ago, he's become little more than a relic of the past. Now, at age twenty-six, Gerard is back on the Circuit with something to prove. It's Frank Iero's first year on the tour, but he's more than ready. No one has seen a kid blast through the ranks so fast since Gerard Way first appeared on the scene a decade ago. With a cocky attitude and the whole country swooning over him, nothing can slow him down. The stakes have never been so high. Welcome to the Fourteenth Annual Grand Circuit Tour.
In Repair by autoschediastic, 33k, Explicit. "Shit," Frank mutters, and shoves both hands through his hair. He looks around the kitchen like he's gonna find what he should do scratched into the old linoleum, then looks back at the bot. He gnaws on his lip. Fuck it. He already knows what he's gonna do. He's just gotta do it. Getting down on his knees, he braces a hand on the edge of the crate and leans over the bot. It's dressed in a plain white tee and matching drawstring pants like an escaped mental patient. Frank rolls his neck and cracks his knuckles, shaking the ache out of them before carefully laying his palm against its cheek. He's pretty sure his voice is steady when he says, "Activate." Nothing happens. Fucking shitty packaging-- the thing's busted. But Frank keeps his hand where it is, jumping a little when he feels the surge of energy beneath it. The robot's skin goes from room temperature to lukewarm, then warm. Frank watches it open its eyes, the light behind them adjusting until they're a pale sort of brown. It looks at him and asks, "Am I dead?"
You Only Hear the Music When Your Heart Begins to Break by Solarcat, 14k, Teen And Up Audiences. Frank has high school figured out. His mom has given up arguing about the amount of time he spends in Gerard's basement, and he doesn't actually care if people think it's weird that he and Gerard hold hands in the hallways and go to the bathroom together. The only thing Frank cares about is figuring out why Gerard's suddenly avoiding him -- because what's the point of losing your virginity on Prom Night if you can't tell your best friend about it in the morning?
Fit to be tied by maryangel, 56k, Explicit. Frank is a bartender. Gerard is an alcoholic. They were clearly made for each other. Also, Frank is a werewolf.
Love: The Package Deal by jjtaylor, Frank/Gerard, Gerard/Lindsey, Frank/Jamia, Lindsey/Frank/Gerard, 30k, Mature. Gerard gets a special kind of amnesia. Frank gets to reexamine his idea of acceptable relationship structures. Lots of people fail to communicate effectively, but they all sure remember how to kiss.
Gerard Way's (Vampire) Detective Agency by jjtaylor, 43k, Mature. Pete, in Decaydance Mansion, with a yarrow stake. Frank and Gerard, in the greenhouse, with a plant of questionable origin. Bob, everywhere you look, with a gang of assassins for justice. Vampires, valets, pamphlets, haunted furniture, dub-thrall, disembodied voices, zombie couriers, and sinister rituals.
The Detective's Secret and the Mystery of the Dancing Flowers by jjtaylor, 84k, Mature. Wanted: Replacement Valet for high profile Midnighter household. Must have excellent references, believable reason for leaving former place of employment, all Clan paperwork in order. Experience in filing, housekeeping, carriage driving, men's grooming, bookkeeping, scheduling. Highly desirable skills include: basic gardening, Daylighter legal practices, first-aid, hand-to-hand combat. Please contact Frank Iero for more information.
You'll Always Feel This Way by wakingup, 14k, Not Rated. It's Frank's birthday and he's gonna A) get drunk B) hit on Gerard C) get laid. Yeah, it's definitely going to work out like that. (Spoiler alert: it might not be that easy)
Rock and Roll Never Looked so Beautiful by corruptedkid, 58k, Explicit. Gerard Way is a rising solo artist, set to become the next big thing in the alternative scene. Frank Iero is a trashy punk with a reputation of his own as the frontman of Pencey Prep. When their paths cross, a love story is born, only to come crashing down when Gerard hits it big. As Gerard ascends to the A-list, Frank adjusts to life on his own. He almost manages it - until two years later, when fate puts him face to face with Gerard once more. Everything has changed, but the connection between them is still there. Their story has ended once before, but if they're lucky, they just might make a new one.
What Are You Made Of? (What Do You Dress It Up In?) by stoplightglow, 2k, Teen And Up Audiences. “How’d you learn this?” Frank hears himself saying, words spilling out just to distract himself. God, it’s so fucking itchy, and Gerard is taking forever. “What, makeup?” Gerard says, not really a question. “Do you mean, like, how I got the techniques, or how I started wearing it in the first place? Because technique-wise, I mostly just stole my mom’s magazines and did whatever they said was right.” “How you started wearing it in the first place, then.” The pencil freezes, and then Gerard takes half a step back so Frank can see his eyes. “I haven’t told a lot of people that story.”
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Title: snowbound pt 1 of 2/3
Theme: snow
Fandom / Character(s):Ben Solo/Kylo Ren x Earth!FemaleReader.
Warnings: First up. I preface with two strong warnings.. I am not a medical professional in any capacity. Second, I am only kind of a casual Star Wars fan, so Idk how things work in their universe as compared to here on Earth. The actual warnings here are blood!tw and injury!tw. Again, I remind you. I am neither a veteran star wars fan nor a medical professional. So, some things may be entirely wrong. And Ben Solo is most likely written totally OOC as he is not a character I am used to writing, by any stretch although i love him with my whole heart... Anyway... The warnings are: Blood!TW, Injury!TW, OOC fandom character and a strong dose of hurt comfort / fluff in the next parts I kind of hope i get to do for this. This part is so long because I was using it to sort of set things in motion..
Word Count: 2k. Listen, I was setting things up and got carried away, rip me.
Listen... You all just don’t fucking understand how much I love Kylo/Ben... I know, I know, he’s a bad guy. Anyway, this is me doing something I’ve literally been dying to do, a scenario in which Ben somehow winds up Earthbound just in time for the holidays...This is my daily entry for my bb @champbucks over on the @12daysofchristmas challenge blog...
OH YEAH.. for the sake of a timeline here.. This part takes place around the end of November/beginning of December. Part two will take place two and a half weeks later and part three will take part a day or so, maybe two, after part two. Trust me, this needed to be said.
Also, again.. I made the banner for this. Don’t steal or repost.
TAGGING:
So, here’s the thing.. There really isn’t anyone on my Star Wars masterlist and like... I haven’t really written anything Star Wars related... Until now. So, if you want to be tagged in my star wars stuff, click the little link below or send me an ask/dm on my main and I’ll happily add you.
@champbucks and @12daysofchristmas
[ about my writing | masterlist | multifandom tag doc ]
“What the hell?”
The boom from outside had the windows to my grandma’s old cabin rattling and I quickly sat up just in time to look out the window at the head of my bed to see a bright flash of blue as it disappeared beyond the treeline across the road.
,, Curiosity killed the cat, remember?” my brain nagged at me the whole time I was slipping on the jeans I’d worn earlier in the day. That nagging only grew as I slipped on my warmest boots and by the time I had my daddy’s old shotgun loaded and I was heading out the door, I wasn’t entirely sure if going over to see what the hell was going on in the woods across from my house was a good idea or not.
I mean yeah, the odds were that some idiot kids were racing around Deadman’s curve and one crashed.. Or a drunk trying to drive home on an icy road hit black ice and lost control… At the thoughts of what probably happened, I stopped in the middle of the road and felt my back pocket.
As soon as my fingers grazed the cool weight of my cell phone, I took a deep breath and started to walk towards the woods on the other side of the little country road.
My eyes were adjusting to the semi darkness, so when the wrecked craft came into view just a few feet into the trees, I had to stop and really stare at it, rubbing my eyes.
“What the fuck?” the words left my mouth in a soft gasp as all the breath left my body. I knew exactly what I had to be looking at by now… And rather than turn and walk away, back to my grandma’s cabin, I kept moving closer. Pushing through bushes and trees and overgrown weeds and dead grass as I made my way towards the clearing to get a better look.
I knew it probably wasn’t a good idea, because everybody knows there’s a damn good reason we have a military base on the outskirts of our little town and we all know they’re not testing weather balloons out there.. I knew that if this were a military thing, there would most likely be a cover-up.
So I did what anybody would and I pulled out my camera, recording the crash site and taking a few pictures of the craft as I walked around it slowly.
I froze completely when I heard a wounded groan.
Now, I’d assumed that whoever crashed whatever this… Thing.. Was… they’d gotten the hell out of dodge as soon as the crash was over.
,,Or they were dead on contact because the impact was really hard.’’ my brain finished. I glanced all around the clearing that the craft crashed in the middle of. Everything was silent. Almost deathly silent, as if something had come along and sucked up all the sounds and background noise. I shivered and hugged myself, swearing under my breath about not having the presence of mind to stop for a jacket or grab my first aid kit on my way over here...
A scream died on my lips when I felt a strong grip wrap around my ankle as soon as I stepped closer to the wrecked craft, bending down to peer inside, my phone out and ready to call for emergency services.
When I looked down, after I dove away as quickly as possible, of course, I swallowed hard and tried to find words.
“Help.”
As he said it, I got the distinct feeling that this was not a word he enjoyed saying, not at all.
I could only nod and when my brain finally felt it had enough time to process what was going on, it kicked into overdrive.
“Can you pull yourself out?” I finally managed to ask the question.
“Trapped.” the word came on the heels of words that were totally unfamiliar to me, yet somehow I knew instinctively that this guy had to be swearing up a storm and in immense pain.
I guess tonight’s one of the few reasons I’m glad I went into the medical field instead of becoming a horror novelist or a starving artist like I used to want to when I was a kid. Tonight my years of school and training and the experience I’d gotten thus far as an intern at the hospital in town was all going to come in handy.
Because the lack of military vehicles or police by now only meant one thing to me.
The military either didn’t know yet so this gave me a chance to finally do something about the way they were polluting the water supply and making people sick or… Nobody knew about this.
Laughing softly at the thought that I might’ve stumbled onto an alien crash landing, I bent lower, peering into the smashed window and I dug around in my jeans pocket until I found my dad’s old pocket knife.
“I’m gonna.. I’ll try to cut you out, okay?” I muttered. He grunted, a light pained scowl playing at gorgeous and full lips.
I leaned inside a little, swearing as I felt shards of glass.. Or whatever the material was on the windows, digging into my hand..As soon as I got a good look, I realized that he wasn’t trapped by a harness or belt of any kind.
He was trapped because when the craft he was inside made impact, the damn thing basically folded like a soda can. I winced. Drawing a few sharp and shaky breaths, the fog from their warmth lingering in the air as I tried to stop and think.
I should be calling EMTS. I should be leaving him here because everything I’ve ever learned about accidents of any kind clearly predicates that if someone is hurt and you don’t know how fucking bad, you don’t move them.
But here’s the problem with that knowledge and my current situation… If I didn’t do something, then either that military installation was going to get away with the shit they’ve been doing the past few years since they mysteriously popped up on the outskirts, show up to finish this guy off in the time it took me to get help on the way… And then they might just do me in also because I had evidence and proof that they were up to something shady out there... Or… They’d find him and take him back to the base and do God only knew what to him.
,, but he might be an alien…” my brain gave me the gentle reminder and the counter argument arose almost immediately, ,, he can’t be. He looks like I do. He looks human. I can’t just turn my back and leave the guy… If he is military and they do realize what’s happened, he’s as good as dead… And I cannot live with someone’s blood on my hands.”
And with that thought, I proceeded to try and figure out the safest way I could to go about breaking years of protocol that had been drilled into my brain.
I started with the obvious. I leaned in, my body brushing against him as I raised my hand, pressing my fingers to his neck, feeling for the jugular so I could attempt to see if his pulse was steady.
He groaned quietly and I explained in a hushed tone, trying to keep him calm, “I’m trying to take your pulse… to make sure it’s okay to move you if I can get you loose. Because we’re gonna have to get you out of here somehow.”
He merely nodded. I almost asked if he spoke the same language as me, but that was a later question. I was still operating under the assumption that I was working with a very small time frame, either way.
Because even if the military didn’t know what happened out here, they would soon.. Because this just felt like something they would be aware of or become aware of. And I wasn’t going to let them get their hands on the guy, especially when he was injured and far too weak to fight them off.
Or so I thought…
,, where the hell am I? What happened? Need to.. Get out of here. Get back to the others.”
I heard it so clearly that for a second or so, I thought he might’ve actually spoken. I answered quietly, “You’re in Montana. Apparently, you crashed whatever the hell this thing is. If you’ll be still and stay calm sir, I’m trying to get you out of here. We have to hurry. If those damn military guys realize what happened and come down, we’re both probably fucked.” and continued checking him over.
I dreaded what I was about to have to try and do, because if there was any internal injury, I was about to make it worse. The goal, I decided mentally, was to move him as carefully but as quickly as possible.
He gritted his teeth and gave another long and wounded grunt as he seemed to pick up on my rush and started trying to maneuver his legs free from the part holding them in place.
“Okay, whoa. Easy, sir. Stop moving, damn it!” I said frantically, eyes widening as they settled on the dark depths of his eyes.
He glared at me, speaking in a calm but firm tone. “I have to get out of here.”
“And if you’ll go about this carefully, like I said before, you might actually live through this. I don’t know if you’ve been injured internally or not. I won’t know how severe your injuries are until I’m back at my cabin. I’m hoping that since you’re vocal enough to be an entire stubborn ass right now, that you’re really not seriously injured.” I snapped back because he’d snapped at me just seconds before.
He eyed me, almost wary. Almost as if he weren’t entirely sure whether to trust me. But I stared him down, firmly as I could. He managed to get his legs free and clear of the way they’d been pinned somehow and if I hadn’t thought the guy might be strong as an ox when he grabbed my ankle before, I now knew that fact beyond a shadow of doubt.
Oh, he grunted and groaned and growled in pain the entire time, but he seemed to be entirely too stubborn for his own good, too hell bent on getting himself out.
Once he was slowly pulling himself through the busted glass and lying on the snow, I cleared my throat. He winced and gritted his teeth as he pulled himself to a sitting position in the snow. The form fitting black garment he wore on his upper body was shredded in a place or two from the way he’d pulled himself through the window of the wreckage.
“Do you think you can walk? Because we need to figure something out.” I asked the question as I worked on keeping calm. But I was in a bit of a panic see, because internal injuries are difficult to spot and often, they go unnoticed until the person injured either dies or suffers massive complications. And I knew that me, moving him as little as I had and then him freeing himself from the wreckage somehow and all that movement… It was tempting fate, in my own opinion, but I was that determined not to let all this be covered up or to have this man’s blood on my hands.
He looked as if he were going to attempt it and I stood, holding my hands out to him to at least try to help him. But after the second or third attempt, the fight or flight response within me kicked in and I was… Growing impatient to get him indoors and both of us hidden away somewhere safely.
“I’ve got an ATV up at the cabin. It’s literally just across the road at the top of the hill… I need you to stay here and stay hidden. Are we clear?” I didn’t mean to bark it at him like an order, I guess I just assumed at the time that if he were a soldier who worked that base, he was used to it.
He bit his lip and eyed me.
“Don’t tell me what to do.” that firm tone, I won’t even begin to go into the effect it had on me, but I was the one who wasn’t injured and didn’t possibly have the US Armed Forces about to pop up at any second, so I had to act as if nothing he did or said had any sort of effect on me at all.
And god was it ever hard!
“Which one of us crashed a fucking piece of government property and is injured, sir?” my hand dragged through damp hair and tugged a little as I tapped my boot against the crunchy snow covered forest floor.
“ The ship is mine.” he corrected. I eyed him with a brow raised.
“Whatever you say. Either way, arguing semantics with you is not getting either of us to my cabin.”
The searing pain that shot through my palm as I rubbed it against my jeans had me grimacing, but I tried to ignore it. He stared me down, head tilted slightly.
“Alright. I’m going now.” I turned on my heels and I bolted up the hillside, hurrying so fast across the slippery pavement separating me from my cabin that I nearly slipped a time or two and I finally got to the shed that I’d parked the ATV under after riding it along the creekbank earlier to look for fallen trees I could use as firewood.
The keys were still in the ignition. I jumped on and fired it up, biting back a pained whimper as I curled my hand around the handlebar and that only put more pressure on the wound that I didn’t even realize I’d gotten trying to help the man out.
I shoved out the pain and focused on getting back across the road as quickly as possible. And in the back of my mind, yes.. I did find it more than a little odd that nobody had come down. The neighbors a mile away from me have to have heard… Then I remembered that Herb and Isla were out of town, in Kentucky with their oldest daughter and her family for the holidays.
,, c’mon lady luck, don’t fail me now.” the thought came and went and I took a shortcut through the treeline that I knew would put me straight in front of the crash site. Now I just had to hope to God that the guy was okay and he hadn’t left the scene.
Right as the crashed ship came into view, I spotted him trying yet again to use the wreckage to pull himself to his feet and I rushed over.
“You’re a stubborn one.”
“Trying to..” he took a few heavy breaths and grumbled before continuing, “Get back home.”
“And you can do that.. The second you’re at least partially healed, sir. I’m gonna…” I trailed off, awkwardly positioning myself against his side so that he could use me as a crutch and lean on me to get to the ATV so I could take him back to my place, “Lean on me.”
But the guy was an actual fucking giant.
And normally, in a non life or death situation, I’d have been absolutely mesmerized by… Pretty much everything about him. But tonight, I was too focused. Too intent on getting both of us to safety.
,, daddy always told me curiosity killed the cat. Now look what I’m smack in the middle of.” I thought to myself, grunting a little as he leaned into me heavily, my arm around his lower back and his arm around my shoulders as he clumsily tried to make his way to the ATV.
Once I got on and he managed to get himself on behind me, I took off. “Might wanna cover your face.”
And a minute or so later, as I parked the ATV right at my porch steps to make it a little easier to get him inside, he eyed me warily again, this time questioning, “Why are you doing this? Don’t you know who I was?”
“What do you mean was?” I asked the question, all the worst possible scenarios flashing through my mind. And that adrenaline surge from earlier that I had yet to come down from? A little more panicked.
He muttered something and shrugged, putting a shoulder around me again as he grunted and managed to get himself standing.
The light overhead on my porch caught on his bloodied pants leg and I grimaced. “Well, pretty sure that’s a broken leg.”
I kicked open the front door with my foot and helped him into my living room, letting him sink down onto the couch. After I got him all settled in, I rushed around my pantry gathering up my medical supplies that I kept on hand.
And I wandered back into the living room, taking a seat on the handmade heavy wooden coffee table in front of my old plaid couch. “You’re gonna have to… Take off the shirt..”
He eyed me, this curious gleam in his eyes that quickly vanished when I firmly repeated myself.
His eyes caught on my palm and he eyed my own smaller wound, then fixed his eyes on me. “You’re dripping blood on the floor.”
“And I’ll worry about that as soon as I’m totally certain that aside from a possibly broken leg and a few cuts and bruises, you’re fine.” I insisted, a firm tone of my own as I started to tug the ripped fabric up and over his body. I grimaced at the older scars and bit my lip as I surveyed the bruises already starting to form against pale skin. “Are you in any pain at all when you breathe?”
Bear in mind here. I am still only just an intern. So I haven’t actually had to deal with a whole lot in the way of injuries. The most I’m currently allowed to do is make rounds and do consults, checking in on patients to let their actual physician know what they might need or how they might be feeling on that particular day.
So this was all trial by fire for me.
One glance at his well muscled body had me definitely continuing to think that he was one of the guys from the military base and I made a mental note to maybe NOT turn down Carrie if she offered to set me up with one of the guys her fiance knew in the future as I had been doing.
He cleared his throat.
“A little.”
“Most likely dealing with a bruised rib or two. I’ll wrap those for now.. I’ll call in a favor with Dr.Albertson in the morning...I don’t think he’ll tell anybody.”
The man nodded, agreeing.
I went back to cleaning and patching the wounds I could patch and then I turned my attention to his leg.
“I’m going to have to cut your pants leg…”
“Or I could take off my pants.”
I eyed him as soon as he said it because truth be told, not only did he have me flustered in saying it, but also, I couldn’t entirely tell if he were being helpful at last, or if he were being a flirt.
As if to prove he was serious, he rose up slightly, unfastening the black pants he wore, working them down his hips and I have literally NEVER… ever.. Turned away and tried to still catch a peek as I did in that moment.
“Christ. You could’ve given me a second to turn.”
“Why?” he tapped my shoulder as he asked the question and I turned around.
My breath caught in my throat and I quickly had to refocus myself. Because if I thought taking his shirt off was a bit of a distraction… Then him sitting there pantsless was.. A bit more.
I bit my lip and my eyes settled on the lower portion of his leg. The swelling was bad. The leg was definitely broken. I sighed and clucked my tongue, shaking my head.
“I’m gonna have to call in that favor with the old man now. Because this can’t wait to be looked at. And I need to be sure you’ve got no internal injuries.” I stood abruptly, nearly doing so fast enough that I almost landed on top of the guy.
He eyed me and I pulled back and away from him, raising to a full stand. Walking quickly into my kitchen and sliding the pocket door closed behind me.
“Hey, doc? I know it’s late, but if you get this, can you please swing by my grandma’s cabin on your way home tonight? I need your help. And I need someone who can be trusted to stay quiet on what you’re gonna see.”
I’d just walked back into the living room when my cell phone rang in my hand.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’d rather explain when you get here, doc.”
“I’m on my way now. Just grabbing my equipment.”
“Thank you, doc.”
“I always told you and I promised your grandma when you were knee high to a grasshopper. If you ever need me, kid, I’ll be there.”
I hung up and sank back down onto the coffee table, letting a deep breath escape my mouth. The adrenaline was starting to wear off finally and all I could do now was… Process everything. Try to figure out just how far up the proverbial creek I might’ve gotten myself.
The man shattered the silence in the room by clearing his throat and reaching out. I eyed him, a brow raised.
“What are you doing?”
“If you’re not going to do something about your hand, I’m going to.”
“It’s fine. It’s a little scrape.”
“There’s blood caked on it.”
Something in the look he gave me had me extending my hand. It almost felt as if I wasn’t in control of myself, though I didn’t realize this until much later…
His larger hand gripped mine carefully, holding it on bare legs.
“You still haven’t put any pants on, what the hell..”
“If you called that person and they’re going to come and examine me, doesn’t make sense to.” he didn’t look up as he answered, instead, focusing on swiping the cloth that I’d gotten as a spare in case I needed a clean one for his wounds. When the light overhead caused something in the wound to glisten, I tried to yank my hand free in a hurry, but that sensation was back in my mind and his grip on my wrist tightened to a point where I couldn’t move.
“Be still.”
That firm tone again, honestly, fuck him for it.
“Fine. But I feel like I should remind you, I am a medical professional. I could get this looked at when Doc arrives.”
“Well, I’m doing it now.” he stated calmly, as if I had no say in the matter. And when I opened my mouth to argue, to insist I could just wait the ten minutes it would take Doc to get to my cabin, nothing came out.
He gave me this smug look as he took my tweezers and worked them into the cut, making me bite my lip and take a few deep breaths.
When he finally got the shard free, I pulled my hand back, cradling it against me.
He eyed me, amused it seemed.
“I’ll clean it out and wrap it now, thanks.” I mumbled in a softer tone, giving him a small smile and thanking him.
Now, we just had to wait on Doc to arrive...
#12daysofchristmas#12 days of christmas#ben solo fanfiction#ben solo fanfic#ben solo imagine#ben solo imagines#trapped on earth au#my writing; ben solo#my fics; ben solo#my moodboards; ben solo
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pairing: finn/rey, background han solo/leia organa
fandom: star wars (sequel trilogy)
rating: general
word count: 4833
warning: swearing
summary: “Finn’s very picky about who he gives his music to, so can tell you I was surprised. "Or the plot explained: Rey ends up talking to the cute cashier in her local record store. He's leaving her post-it notes. This crush of hers might be getting bigger than first anticipated. (record store au) happy belated birthday to my babey @sapphicstarlights ♥ really hope you enjoy this perfect!! mwah)
read on ao3
You’re probably wondering what Rey’s doing here. In fact, she’s kind of wondering that herself.
The deal’s that she’s become more or less a regular customer of the cozy, slightly pretentious but in just the right way, record store at the corner of her street.
Or she would be a regular customer, if she actually bought anything.
Rey doesn’t even own a record player.
Yet she finds herself in the small aisles of the Resistance Record Shack nearly every weekend. And don’t ask her about the name, she’s got no idea what it means, the resistance part, that is.
Rey really does like the music playing in here. It varies in genre, actually, first time she was here it was Pink Floyd, other days Amy Winehouse, and today… she doesn’t actually know what artist it is, but it’s still nice.
The store’s actually connected with the coffee shop next door, she’s never bought anything there either, but it only adds to the coziness of it all.
But as she glances towards the front desk every now and then, the real reason why she’s here comes into view.
And there’s nothing wrong with admiring someone from afar, right?
Rey tells herself that, anyway, because visiting this store only for this reason is incredibly embarrassing, in her own head, and a bit weird.
Said person Rey’s been visiting this store for is one of the cashiers, and no, she’s never talked to him, but he’s really pretty, okay?
She doesn’t really know why she’s so drawn by him.
He seems the height as her, and he’s always wearing a band t-shirt of some sort, and it’s not always she knows said band, but maybe she’s checked some of them out from time to time.
Rey’s not obsessing, she swears by that.
This man’s always got his arms exposed, even when she first discovered this store last winter, when it was snowing . And yes, once she walked by and saw him talking to someone outside, no jacket or anything.
Strange. She doesn’t really know if it adds to her interest in him or just makes him weird, who knows.
Almost all the times she’s been in here, he’s controlled the music, and the choices are usually great, but a lot she doesn’t know.
Recently he’s played a lot of non-English music, and it made her realise that she doesn’t really listen to much music outside of her own language.
And maybe, she’s seen him in deep concentration sometimes, reading on the back of a record sleeve, or putting records in order, and found his frown a tiny bit cute.
She knows it’s weird, okay, she knows.
A glance at her watch makes Rey realise she should probably leave, because Leia needed her help with moving the last boxes into her and Han’s new apartment, but before Rey goes a voice startles her.
“You looking for anything in particular?”
And she has to jump a bit, and next to her, he’s standing.
His voice isn’t really what she expected, but then again, she doesn’t know what she expected.
It’s very warm, and he scratches his neck, a look of embarrassment starting to wash over him, “Ah, fuck, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
Rey’s wide eyed for a moment before shaking her head, “It’s fine.”
And awkward silence. Hate that. Say something Rey, god damn it.
“I, uh, no, not really. I gotta get going anyway, I was just browsing.” she tells him, which is a horrible explanation, but she didn’t really plan to, you know, talk to him or anything.
In her time, Rey’s seen and admired a lot of people without ever approaching them.
She does that a lot in the car workshop she’s an intern in, and she did when she was looking for colleges, and she did back in school in England.
Her girlfriend at that time, Jess, told her it wasn’t weird, but maybe she was just lying to make Rey feel better.
Jess is really the only person she’s admired that she’s gotten to know.
She’s not very impulsive, and Rey wishes she was, sometimes. So did Jess, not that she forced her, because she would never. But Jess did some things alone, and Rey felt bad that their differences did that.
They split up when they both went on exchange, though, and Rey’s honestly really glad they’re still in contact.
Ever since, Jess has been encouraging her to date again, but Rey’s come up pretty result-less no matter the time.
She also made the perhaps mistake of telling Jess about the cute guy at the record store, who’s now in front of her, and now, her former girlfriend urges her to reach out.
Maybe that’s why she’s here, really.
Still, he’s in front of her now because he approached her, not the other way around. Jess doesn’t have to know about this, though… right?
“It’s a good section you’re browsing, honestly,” the man tells him, head gesturing towards the sign stating Alternative Rock, 70s. “I sort of wish we had a bigger selection, but you know, only got so much space.”
He ended his sentence with a chuckle, and she couldn’t help but give him a smile back.
If Rey wasn’t sure Leia would call her any minute now, she would stay and talk to him just a bit more. He seems like talking to strangers isn’t really his thing, so she can only wonder why he’s got a job that involves customer service.
Rey can’t really end their conversation on that, though, so she rushes, “I, uh, well. It’s sort of stupid, but I don’t own a record player.”
And in a second, his eyes go wide.
“Oh my god, really? I mean, they’re expensive as shi- Sorry. It’s essential, though!” he tells her, laughing, but quickly holds his surprise, “Or I mean, not to make you feel bad, I know technology’s moved on and all. But you just like looking at records, then?”
And, well, fuck. She can’t really say she’s been looking at him from time to time, that might be the creepiest thing she can ever do.
“Yeah? That’s, uh, that’s why it’s stupid. And I like the music playing here, anyway, and the atmosphere, really.”
And the cashier smiles back at her awkward demeanor, and extends his hand.
Rey has to look at it for a second before he speaks up, “Well, I’m glad you think that, we’re aiming for something… I don’t know, homely, I guess? I’m Finn.”
“Rey.” she tells him, shaking his hand in return. His voice is on an octave higher than her own, and his words rush over one another. And he’s got a dimple when he smiles, but just a single one, which she finds adorable and strange, for some reason.
And she has to look at her watch again, because she really is late, and she looks up at him with an apologetic smile, “Finn, it’s really nice meeting you. I swear, honestly. But I do really have to go.”
Rey doesn’t know why she feels so bad, but she does, and she wishes she could stay a bit longer. But this is way more social interaction than she thought she would be having today.
Maybe Leia’s gonna be proud of her, Jess too.
“Oh Christ, yes! I apologise, I keep a hold of you for no good reason,” he leans on the rack behind him, seemingly trying to assume his own business but not really knowing what to do with himself, “Nice meeting you too, Rey.”
And she can’t do anything more than nod, smiling again, and gives him a stupid, awkward wave before turning around and hurrying out the door.
That was weird, but it went okay under the circumstances, didn’t it?
She’d ask Jess that, anyway, when she calls tomorrow. And maybe she’d ask Leia, because she’s always got the right advice to everything Rey asks, somehow.
Advice about boys, or girls, isn’t something Rey’s inquired her about before, but there has to be a first time for everything, she guesses.
And she finds herself pondering over the conversation, in the back of her mind, on the train to Leia and Han’s residence.
And Finn. Rey likes that name.
Finn.
…
The weekend following her first conversation with cute cas- Finn, came, and now, she’s walking into the record store with a new determination.
She, maybe, possibly, told Leia of this meeting, which caused nothing more than a knowing smile and a question of this boy’s name.
Leia also yelled to her husband, stocking up in the kitchen, letting him know what they were talking about, causing Rey’s face to heat up. But Leia and Han had taken care of her, ever since her parents died, so she was fond of their shenanigans.
And the knowledge of Finn only sounded a scoff from her father figure, but he’s always grumpy, and really, nothing ever surprises him, which she finds kind of hilarious.
Rey also told Jess over the phone, of course, and she squealed .
Jessika is no way near a squealing type of person.
When the door closes behind her, Rey spots who she’s looking for, putting a new vinyl record on to play over the bustle of the small gathering of customers.
She has to take a quick breath, but figures it’ll be stupid to just, well, stand here, so Rey approaches him. Terrifying, but also kind of thrilling.
“Hey,” she says, maybe a bit too loud, because Finn jumps, and she’s quick to apologise, “I- oh my God, did not mean to scare you.”
When he recognizes her, he smiles, wider than last weekend she notes, not like it means anything.
Obviously it is, they only just met last time, and now he’s probably just being polite. Shut up, brain.
“Guess we’re even now, huh,” he answers with a laugh, “Really, don’t worry about it.”
For some reason, he makes her feel calm.
She’s not usually like this with strangers, crushing on them or not, so this is different.
Rey’s giving him a smile back, because how can she not, and she has to somehow move this conversation further along, so she finds it in herself to ask a question, “I thought of what you said, and I don’t know, maybe I should invest in a record player.”
Finn’s eyes lighten up now, eyebrows shooting up a bit, “Definitely! Or I mean, as I said, it’s a thing that’s back in fashion, not really that practical, but oh well. Can I ask though, what kind of music’s your thing?”
And in that moment Rey finds herself dumbfounded, and she almost wants to laugh at herself.
Well, hm, now that he asks, she hasn’t really thought about it much.
Rey likes a lot of music, but she doesn’t know if she has any favorites. Is that weird?
“I, uh, it’s… kind of embarrassing. But I don’t really know?”
A look of confusion appears on his face, and she wants to dig herself in a hole already, but can’t really leave this hanging, so she continues hastily, “Or I mean, ugh. I just haven’t really thought of any favorites… you know? Sorry, that’s stupid.”
And honestly, the smile that returns on his face now might be creating butterflies in Rey’s stomach, don’t judge her, okay.
“It’s not stupid, Rey, seriously. You just need to figure out what your niche is, right? You know what - how about I give you one of my favorite records on the side of the player.” he tells, already going behind the desk and digging through something excitedly, “Can’t promise you’ll like it, but ugh, it’s so good.”
This situation’s overwhelming her, but she doesn’t mind right now, because he’s so nice, how can one be so nice?
And why does he have to be so damned cute about it? It’s the worst.
Finn’s already putting it in front of her, “This is on sale right now, actually, if you still wanna try it out? And the record’s from my own collection, so don’t worry about that, okay?”
Rey just nods, and has to chuckle, and gives him a reassuring look, “I’d love that. If it’s not any trouble to you, that is.”
The man’s shaking his head profusely at her.
“Hell, no. Wanna help you into your venture of the music world as much as I can. Prepare to get your mind blown.”
And well, Rey didn’t expect to spend any money today on anything else than groceries, but look at her now. Back on the subway, a giant box in her arms that results her in not being able to sit anyway and other passengers giving her weird looks.
She just wants this awkwardness to be over. Fuck that.
The one she had with Finn, though, well.
Rey didn’t mind that too much.
…
So, you can probably guess that Rey’s going back to the record shack this week, too.
Jess gave her the knowing smile that always gets on her nerves, over facetime, when she told her of her weekend plans.
“I hate you.” Rey told her, but the girl just laughed. Dammit.
But to be fair, this time she’s got more, what do you call it, content for the conversation? Whatever that means.
Rey’s listened to the record Finn borrowed her, to be clear.
She almost immediately set the whole thing up the minute she came home, and well, she hadn’t really expected to buy a record player, and so she struggled to find a placement for it.
Hurriedly cleaning out her desk would have to for now.
And the album was insane, she had to agree with her, well, crush. She can say that. Leave her alone.
Rey had heard of Janelle Monáe before, heard a couple of singles on the radio, as you do, but listening to the whole thing that same night was pretty good, to be honest.
In fact, she found herself putting on the record again when she was making breakfast. And when she took a shower.
But she also found the album, and saved it, on spotify, meaning now would be an appropriate time to return it to its owner.
Thing was, when Rey was packing it to go back to the store, she stumbled upon a blue post-it note, sticked on the back of the sleeve.
Funny that she hadn’t noticed it till today, and she could question her distracted self about that all day, but instead decided to just pick the note off, which read, It’s her most recent album, but my favorite of hers. There’s also a short film made based on it, fun fact. Or well, don’t know if it’s a ‘fun’ fact. Hm. Hope you enjoy it! xo
So, maybe, Rey stuck the note on her bulletin board before she left.
Can you blame her?
Perhaps you can, but the note was nice, and didn’t actually help her infatuation with this man.
And so her mind’s still stuck on that blue note when the bell signal rings over her, a couple of young men hurrying out beside her.
It’s a little busier than last weekend, Rey thinks, but given the size of this place it’s still not crowded enough to be unpleasant. A few of them are residents of the coffee shop anyway, making their through the Jazz aisle while impatiently waiting for their café latte to go.
Of course, she spots Finn immediately.
Stopping her inner self critic, she approaches him as he’s filling up a rack, noticing her with a “Oh, hey!”
He’s smiling significantly bright, and it makes Rey wonder if he’s won the lottery or something. He doesn’t continue, though, so instead she speaks up, “I figured you want your record back.”
Finn seems confused, and in a second remembers, gratefully accepting the album she’s handing him, “Yes! My god, did you like it? I won’t judge you. Maybe.”
His laughter’s easily contagious.
Maybe Jessika was right, Rey’s becoming a lovebird, or lovesick, or something.
“I loved it. Saved it online and everything, actually.” she tells him, and looks down because she might be blushing. Stop it.
And Finn looked proud.
Honestly, she wishes she could see what was going on in his mind, but could definitely tell he was having a good day.
But before Rey could say her goodbyes, another record was placed in her arms.
What’s going on in her life, recently?
The title blond is showcased on the white cover, along with a man sporting green hair. She feels like she should know who this artist is, feels like she’s seen this image before, but comes up empty.
Rey realises she’s fallen silent when Finn speaks up again, “If you liked Dirty Computer, you’ll love this too. I hope.”
She shrugs, “I trust you.”
The silence that falls upon them makes her nervous, because he’s smiling at her, and it feels comfortable, but she also immediately wishes she could take that back.
Finn seems unfazed though. Actually, from the look of his similarly nervous gestures, he’s flattered.
Is this a signal, like Jess tells her? Ugh, Rey hates being this unknowing.
“I, well, I gotta go. Or I mean, gotta stock up. Sorry.” he said, his voice slowing down from its previous upbeat tone.
Rey wishes Jess, or Leia, or even Han could be here and just tell her what to do, because she doesn’t really know. He has a lot of the same mannerisms that she does, but then again, she’s never been good at reading signs.
“Of course.” she replies and is about to be on her way, when the same voice calls again, “I’ll see you around, right?”
His dimple’s appearing again.
“Perhaps.” she replies, biting her lip.
Perhaps.
...
The first thing Rey does when she unpacks the new record from Finn is look for a post-it.
And guess what? He did it again.
Another blue note on the back of the sleeve, this time telling her, Hope this isn’t too weird, hope you’ll like this album as much as I do. And it was great meeting you. That’s weird. Enjoy it, though! xo.
Damn this man.
And of course, the note found its way onto her wall, and the record found its way to the player, and Rey may or may not fall asleep to it.
Finn might’ve jumpstarted a Frank Ocean obsession in her.
Her spotify’s really becoming a lot more useful now, and she actually decides to pay for the stupid premium option just so she won’t get ads while she’s on the train.
Rey’s listened to channel orange, the artist’s previous album, and she might prefer that a tad over the record Finn gave her, but he doesn’t need to know that.
And she actually brings the whole shebang over to Leia and Han, and plays the album for them, they’re pretty excited too.
They keep asking about Finn constantly, but you know.
It’s because of them she doesn’t go to the store that weekend, and Rey finds herself wondering if he expected her to be there. He won’t get mad if she doesn’t give him the record back today, will he?
Truly hope not.
She wishes she had the guts to ask him… about, whatever, anything. His phone number. Or maybe not. Maybe just like, ask him about his life.
God, Rey can hear how lame she sounds.
But the worry in her takes control, which is why she hurries in the store, on a Monday. She’s got an hour before she’s supposed to meet at the workshop, she can make that, right?
Thing is, when Rey makes her way to the counter, she can’t see the man she’s looking for, and she has to fight her stomach from dropping.
Holding onto the record just this longer than the previous made her feel like a bother.
But a curly haired man is controlling the player now, dogtag around his neck and wearing a jacket that… looks like it’s been through a lot.
Rey decides to clear her throat, getting his attention, and speaking up when he gives her a polite smile, “Hey, uh, sorry to disturb you. But is Finn working today?”
She tries to hide her nervousness, but probably fails miserably.
Maybe he’ll just think she’s a friend of Finn’s, and not a random person he’s met a couple times and for some reason lent out his favorite music to even though he barely knows her- or did he talk about her?
Jesus, Rey, no he didn’t, stop overthinking.
“Not today, no, ah- sorry to disappoint.” the man tells her with a chuckle, confident and genuinely sorry at the same time, “Finn’s not on Mondays. Can I be of help, though?”
And Rey can’t help her disappoint, but obviously, of course, he can’t just be here whenever she wants him to, she feels ridiculous.
She’s on the line of walking out again, but figures why the fuck not, and responds, “Well, maybe? He borrowed me this record last week, and I figure he might want it back, so…”
And the cashier’s eyes widen up, and exclaims, “Oh, right!” before realising he might be too loud, “Sorry, Finn told me you might be dropping by. I’ll get it to him, don’t worry about it.”
So trusting him, because why should she not, she barely knows either of them, hands the record to him, but is stopped in her words before she can leave, “And he actually wanted me to give you this.”
And because life keeps getting stranger and stranger recently, what the fuck, there comes the third record her crush has borrowed her.
This might be one of the weirdest relations she’s had to anyone.
It’s somehow a different feel she’s getting from this cover, a band called The Regrettes, the art showing some people, presumably the band, sitting on a giant birthday cake.
“I love this album, actually, Finn’s got good taste. But I mean, music taste’s relative, you know? Got half my taste from my boyfriend, anyways.” the shorter man in front of her says.
She has to chuckle, and thanks him, accepting the bag he offers, so hopefully she won’t be looking as dumb in the eyes of the New Yorkers in the underground as she did previously.
“I get what you mean. And thanks again for this, Finn really didn’t have to. But, uh, yeah, it was nice meeting you....”
He realises the lack of introduction with her words, looking surprised again, “Poe. Sorry, it’s Poe.”
She nods, “Rey.”
“Rey! Honestly, Finn talked about you for ages this weekend.” Poe tells her, and when Rey raises her eyebrow, he continues, “Like, wouldn’t shut up.”
And… what the fuck.
He talked about her.
Is this real life?
At this point, it’s almost like things are happening, and she’s just watching like a fly on the wall, letting it all happen.
She wants to ask into it, but a look at the clock on the wall reminds her she has cars to fix, “Fuck, sorry, hate to end on a weird note, but I’m late. Dammit. Thanks again, though.”
“No problem at all.” and he smiles brightly, giving a wave. “Finn’s very picky about who he gives his music to, so can tell you I was surprised. Enjoy it!”
Rey stumbles over herself because what sort of way was that to leave her? Oh God.
She simply nods in her nerves, trying to disappear as quickly as possible, while Poe assumed his business, not weirded out by her behavior, so that’s something.
Rey has absolutely no idea what this means.
She feels like she’s going insane.
And she also feels a little bit warmer picking the new note off, this time a yellow one, This is a bit different from the others, but have a feeling it's just up your alley. Missed you this weekend. xo
...
Looking at the small collection of notes Finn’s given her, she finds something in her, somewhere, to write a note of her own.
That recent one might be giving her some courage.
Everything you’ve shown me is amazing. And Poe was nice, though I sort of wish you would’ve been there. Is that stupid? xo.
Jesus.
She doesn’t tell Jess about this, in case it goes wrong, and because her nerves are on the very edge.
He said he missed her. Could that mean something? Anyway, if he doesn’t reply, she’ll know she read it the wrong way.
Maybe he’s already dating someone and he’ll kindly reject her. Yes. It’ll be fine.
And Rey figures she’ll regret it if she doesn’t act, in the end.
Right?
…
She meets Finn again when she gives the record back, except he’s sort of in rush, so they don’t get much talking done.
He smiles at her, though.
Seems like everytime she sees him, the smile gets a bit bigger.
Is Rey becoming delusional?
And she still finds a note on the back of the newest borrow, this time, Hope you like this one. And maybe I talked about you a little bit, sorry, Poe said he told you. Please don’t hate me. xo.
He might just be making her like him even more. If that’s even possible, at this point.
So, maybe, possibly, she writes a new one back to him.
It takes her a while to word it.
Is she coming off desperate? Creepy? Or just pathetic?
Sometimes, Rey wishes people would just say what they mean to her face.
Guessing is hard.
…
Stop, how could I hate you? Poe did no harm. Just didn’t expect you to talk about me. Hope I’ll see you soon? xo.
…
I guess you could say you made an impact on me. xo.
…
There’s two notes this time, and it seems like he crumbled it but put it on anyway, Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, is that too much? Fuck.
…
Rey’s just about had it with her own mind.
This thing… whatever it is, trading post-it notes with Finn, it’s been going on over a month now. And she really hopes what she’s reading is meant in the way she hopes it is.
Jessika’s expertise on social interaction and finding out what people mean, really mean, told her that he was flirting.
Rey doesn’t know how to flirt.
Jess tells her she’s already doing it, and fuck, she still doesn’t understand, but honestly, action might be required.
Finn’s so adorably anxious, even more than herself, and Rey figures she might as well make a move. A clear move.
Whatever that means.
And she makes sure to wait till her off day, because this isn’t something Rey wants to be doing in a rush.
If it’s a rejection, though… maybe she should’ve thought of that before she went to the store. Now, there’s really not much going back.
Rey’s got courage, dammit, she’s got so much in her that she marches in through the door, up to the counter, spots Finn, thank god, and hands him the music from last week.
Good start.
Only thing is he’s silent and no words are coming out of her mouth either.
She might be seeing Poe eyeing them weirdly from the corner. Fuck it.
Rey pulls out a note, the first one Finn gave her, and writes on the back, and hands it to him.
Finn looks nervous, and bewildered, and fucking cute. And he reads it, and he’s smiling, and he doesn’t look like he knows what to do with his hands.
Are you flirting with me?
“I, uh,” he starts, sucking in a breath, nodding, looking at her and exhaling, “Yes. I mean, it doesn’t look like that? I just-”
“It does.” Rey bursts out. “It does, to me, but I’m not good at… this. And it’s hard for me to say these things out loud. You know?”
And Finn’s whole posture changes, like her words lift an invisible weight of his shoulders, and instantly, he looks lighter. Like he might float away.
“I know.”
The smiles comes easily on to her lips now.
It’s silent again, but the silent that’s over them is entirely different, because it’s a comfortable one, and Rey wishes she would stop blushing but she can’t look away.
Finn’s blushing too.
They’re embarrassing.
So, yeah, Jess was right, and maybe these post-its only made this whole thing ridiculous, but she can’t find it in herself to care.
The man in front of her was flirting with her. Meaning he likes her. He doesn’t give out his music to many, but he gave it to her. She likes him.
“If you’re not going anywhere, uhm-” Finn says, “Are you?”
Nope, why would she? Rey shakes her head.
“I’m off in an hour or so. Would it be okay if I bought you coffee?”
And honestly, for once, she decides not to hold this thought to herself.
“Hell yeah.”
#mine#swedit#finnrey#fandomaestheticgang#my writing#eloquencenet#fanfiction#f/m#m/f#hanleia in background mwah#fluff#meet cute#record store#modern au#alternative universe#rey pov#fanfic#starwarsedit#starwarsfanfic#writing#crushes#first meeting#poe's also there cause i love him#sabrinasfamily#rebeccasfamily#marisasfamily#meghansfamily#lennon tries to write
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trust me | 02
pairing: yugyeomxreader
length: 2.3k words
genre: fluff
summary: reluctant avoidance
01 02 03
A chill wrestled with your body as you headed to the front of the company building. The wind was at a constant battle with your face, whiplash injuries could be completely unavoidable today.
“Do you really need to be here this early?” You decide to pick up the pace avoiding the question just asked by Daeho.
“Good morning,” A member of staff greets both of you briefly. Was it really morning? These dark cloudy skies, dull and dreary as anything, never made it feel like it was. For five in the morning, it was almost as if the clock was lying through its handles.
“...You haven’t slept.”
“Minjoon said he would be able to take a look at some of the songs I have been working on.” An opportunity to work with Minjoon was difficult to miss out on. He was often busier than you were. Despite being friends with him since middle school you didn’t like to take advantage of friendships for your own gain.
“Today is the only day I’m free.” Soon enough, Daeho would be putting up a protest and preventing you from entering the company after filming ends for the day. There had been a constant repetition of coming to your music studio whenever you could for the past couple of weeks.
“I know but I would feel better, as your manager if you would go back to your apartment and sleep before coming here.” He grumbles whilst trailing along behind you. By the time the elevator doors were opening, sunrise was breaking the spell of gloomy weather. You shroud your eyes while entering from the sunlight’s reflection and the elevator’s apparently bright lights. Since when had these little tea lights become so intense on the eyesight?
“I left my glasses in the car.” With a disappointing mutter, you let out a deep breath. Your actions and mind both led independent lives, never did they want to coordinate with one another to make life a little easier.
“I’ll go get them for you.”
“Is Aera coming to the wedding on Saturday?” An actress you were friends with was getting married, you were glad your friends were finding their happy endings. They all considered you to be the youngest of the group, each time you met with them they made sure to remind you not to rush into things. They kept saying ‘in its own time love would make its way to you.’ you could only wish these words were true.
“I believe so, it is her brother’s wedding.” Were you really that tired? Of course, she was going to be there! Aera had been saying for weeks she was going to be singing for the couple.
“Is this my descent into madness? I hope Aera will forgive me for thinking she wasn’t going to be there on Saturday,” You slightly pout. The elevator stops preventing you from crouching down and crying. It was alright, you were almost at your studio. Being exhausted never did show you in the greatest of light. Your emotions were in the constant in between, would you overreact or show no reaction at all?
“I won’t mention it, I’ll be right back.”
The hallway’s motion sensor light flickers on as you walk on a slow approach to the door. Your security lock lit up welcoming you to attempt to put in the correct code within three tries. It unlocked on the second try. The pads of your fingertips threaded against the rough soundproof panelling, somewhere along here there was a light switch. A post-it note caught your attention now the room was illuminated.
Peeling the note off you realised it was the reminder to go visit Minjoon, “Ah… I almost scared myself there,” You mutter. You gently pat your chest trying to calm the rising heartbeat. No one was able to get into this room apart from the building manager and what would they want with a desktop and empty notepad. It was becoming difficult to use this room to produce though, you had no access to a piano keyboard which did allow you to experiment with other sounds. If you moved apartments you would move your studio into there but since you were a solo artist, it was a lot easier to occupy one of the studios at the company. You were on the doorstep to many other producing artists.
“Here are your glasses.” Daeho appears and hands them over to you. You place them on your nose and push the bridge up higher.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” You say. It was technically now your only free day of the week which also meant Daeho didn’t need to be watching over you.
“Mhm. At 4 AM.” You were waiting for him to say more, don’t stay here for too long or make sure you sleep today. Daeho, over the years, was becoming more like a nagging mother than your manager but you appreciated it. He was right, you weren’t always taking proper care of yourself.
-
“Minjoon?” You knock on the door before entering, a figure, not Minjoon was resting in a chair in front of the computer. He was playing around with the track currently on screen, you weren’t exactly sure what he was trying to do with it, you would need a closer look to figure that out.
With caution, you open your mouth again, “Who… are you?”
The chair swung around to face you, “It’s only me.” There it was, his friendly smile. You return the courtesy before taking a glance around the room, Minjoon wasn’t here.
“Minjoon will be back in a minute,” Yugyeom said.
It was a coincidence Yugyeom was currently sitting in front of you, right? He’d been one of the few people you were wanting to avoid, Daeho was the other. Detaching yourself from the situation was better than falling in love with someone you couldn’t have. But here he was. It was as if your heart had finally received a reply to the long-awaited question. Would your crush develop further from here? You were hoping for the sake of everybody, including yourself, it wouldn’t.
“You can sit down, I’m sure Minjoon won’t care… No, I promise you he won’t.” Yugyeom chuckles as he corrects himself, you couldn’t stop the smile from increasing.
Shit.
“What are you doing?” Changing the subject as fast as Aera could when she was drunk, you sit down beside him to stare at the soundwaves of the track. He continued to fiddle around with one part of the track for a few moments before answering your question.
“I’m producing.” You laugh and say nothing more. Producers more than anyone liked to keep the tracks they were working on private until they were perfect. Only a select few would help out, if they were needed, of course.
“A new GOT7 song?” You press lightly hoping to extract more information out of him.
“You know us?”
“Of course! We’re in the same company. Why wouldn’t I know you?” You protest. Okay… you had heard a couple of songs from them, before entering the company, however at that point you didn’t know who the members were. The most important thing was that you did enjoy listening to them. “Do you know me?” You retort jokingly. You didn’t expect much from him.
Yugyeom glimpses briefly to you with a wide smile on his lips before chuckling, “I do! I’ve been listening to your song, long nights a lot recently.” Ah... That song. For some reason, it had caught the attention of many, giving you the spotlight for the first time in your music career.
A sudden noise prompts you to turn around, Minjoon was here. His tall frame blocked the light from flowing in, he was almost as tall as Yugyeom now that you thought about it. You weren’t entirely sure how Yugyeom and Minjoon knew each other either, it could have been from anywhere.
“It looks like I’m interrupting something.” Minjoon clears his throat to regain control back over his studio.
“I just need to finish looping and then you can have your studio back,” Yugyeom mutters. He calmly returns to fiddling around with the track, it was as if the last few minutes hadn’t just occurred. Your heart was excited just for this? A small conversation. Disregarding Yugyeom, you use this chance to talk to Minjoon.
“Did you get the tracks I sent you?”
“Yes but I haven’t had the chance to take a look at them just yet. I was approached to make a demo for a drama OST… actually.” Minjoon pauses. Before continuing a few seconds later, “Would you be able to sing for the demo?” Sing for an OST? It would be your first time… well, it would only be for a demo though.
“Uh… When do you need me?” You ask still trying to scramble around your schedule in an exhausted brain, nothing was coming to you, but your thoughts seemed to be ringing alarms for the next two days. Best to avoid those two days.
“Right now…?” You feel your eyes stretch as Minjoon reverts to placing his to hands together, almost begging for you to participate. “I need to set up a microphone to record so about 5 to 10 minutes.”
There was reluctance with the following thoughts, dragging you down one by one, whispering to you, you needed to sleep. “Sure, I’ll just go buy some coffee and be right back.” A walk would refresh your mind and hopefully, the coffee would be enough to give you a buzz.
After a short walk, you are greeted by a worker standing behind the green counter, by the looks of it, they were as tired as you were with a college textbook hidden away in the corner. You give them a smile of encouragement before heading to the back of the store. You stare at each brand of coffee for a while, picking out which you had tried before and how useful it was going to be.
“You’re dozing off there.” A familiar voice appears beside you, it wasn’t surprising to hear it anymore.
“No…” You pout slightly and decide to reach in for the largest can of coffee.
“Staring into space for a good three minutes wasn’t you dozing off?” Yugyeom questions with some bafflement, he couldn’t convince himself that you were debating over which brand of coffee to buy for that amount of time.
“Do you always try to discover the secrets of your fellow labelmates?” You glance up to meet his gaze. No matter how many times you had done this, he was still looking with awe, as if the stars occupied his eyes and you were drifting to the centre of his universe.
“I’ll keep it quiet. Minjoon said to take your time, he’s wrestling with the equipment at the moment.” Yugyeom proudly smiles, you wonder if he was involved in some way, nether the less you chuckle.
“Alright, I guess I will pay for this and sit down somewhere.” Most convenience stores always had a place to sit, usually, the ones you went to had them placed by the window. You say a brief goodbye to Yugyeom before leaving him alone.
You watch the quiet road through the window, most people were still enjoying their last hour of sleep while they could and in some places, market stalls were being set up for the day. With a small yawn, you rest your head against your arm, it never beats the softness of a pillow or even a person’s chest.
“You can fall asleep, I’ll wake you up in ten minutes.” He was still here? Yugyeom occupies the seat beside you, bringing with him a cup of noodles, luckily you weren’t hungry otherwise the smell would have caused a loud stomach rumble. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself further in front of him. He hadn’t said anything since that day. In some ways you were thankful he had decided not to question you on it, but then it hit you, he saw you in one of the worst states you could have been found in.
Now he had brought up the idea of sleeping in front of him, had you not inconvenienced him enough already? No matter how hard you were trying to keep your eyes open they became heavier as time went by, Yugyeom silently scrolled through his phone. This only became encouragement for you to fall asleep and before you could open the coffee can, you were gone.
Yugyeom faintly chuckles watching your arm fall to the table along with your head. He points his phone in your direction taking a couple of photos to show you later. He couldn’t help but sigh with a smile creeping onto his face.
Would it be so bad if he started liking you? There was an ongoing debate running through his head: liking you without dating vs liking you with dating. He understood the reasons for the dating ban but wasn’t five years too much? Two more years to go and he was already questioning whether to rebel against everything he was warned not to do.
“Y/N.” You open your eyes slowly coming to the realisation you had actually fallen asleep, just your luck and another thing you can tick off your list of embarrassing things to do. You straighten up and swiftly run your hand through your hair wishing you had a mask on you. Your fingers search through the pockets hoping for the soft allergy mask you carried for emergencies. Yes, you were considering hiding your face as an emergency.
Your luck was somehow working today, you pull the mask over your face before finally turning to Yugyeom. He was amused by the small flustered show you had put yourself through. You apologise for falling asleep and get up from the seat ready to walk away.
“Wait! You forgot your drink.” Yugyeom hands the coffee can over to you. Luck was being fickle today. You profusely apologise and thank him once again before you were able to leave.
Was it selfish to ask him to stop appearing in front of you? It would prevent your own metaphorical heart from heartbreak. Shaking your head hoping that the thoughts were clearing themselves from your consciousness. You make a promise to yourself, avoid Yugyeom and keep working hard.
#happy leap day#kim yugyeom#yugyeom#got7#got7 au#got7 scenarios#got7 fanfic#got7 imagines#got7 fluff#au#scenarios#fanfic#imagines#fluff#trust me
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9 and 10, shiro ship or voltron ship of your choice :D
trope mash-up prompts
this is pure silliness tbh
9 & 10 — Dance AU + Airport/Travel AU with Shallureith
A twelve-hour layover on paper didn’t seem that bad. They were all together so they could take turns taking naps, and there was a nice reprieve in being stuck in an airport. It was like a break from reality, an excuse to eat doughnuts cross-legged on the floor and watch Netflix at 3 PM. Or at least that’s what Allura kept telling herself. By hour nine, though, it was becoming apparent that her theory didn’t work so well off paper.
Shiro was working through his series of physical therapy stretches, less because he actually needed to and more because he’d finished the book he was reading. Keith, meanwhile, had been pacing for the last fifteen minutes because he’d sat still for a grand total of thirty. Propping herself up from where she’d been laying back on the floor, Allura huffed out an exhale and eyed the both of them. As if following some unspoken cue, Keith paused in his pacing to meet her eye, and Shiro lifted an eyebrow in question.
“We could play a card game,” she offered. Canting his head, Shiro seemed to consider it, but Keith’s nose wrinkled in distaste. Despite being the one to offer it, Allura sympathized; her legs itched with restless energy, a need to move, and not just sit and occupy her mind. “I have an idea,” Shiro said, “but uh…it’s dumb.” Naturally, that seemed to pique Keith’s curiosity, and he inched closer. Allura stifled her laughter but inclined her head. “I’m okay with dumb,” she said. “It’s midnight and we’ve run out of snacks.��� Their backpacks got stashed under the seats, and within five minutes, they were on the moving sidewalk. Shiro, as the one with the idea, got to lead, and Allura had to fight back giggles as he directed them into plies. It was the same combination he always fell into when he was warming up or teaching a class on the fly, and they were synchronized as they sunk into a grand plié in fifth. At the end of the track, Keith took over and they move onto fondus on the one rolling the opposite way.The airport was quiet by now, but the few people who passed by paused and squinted at them a moment before hurrying on their way. A couple of the younger ones stopped long enough to take a picture or video, grinning as they turned away to carry on to their gate.They skipped some steps, trading tendus and degages for pas de cheval and piqués. Anything that didn’t work well on moving rubber tracks while they were wearing tennis shoes was thrown off; this was just for fun, after all, not a real class. They stretched with ankles resting on the railing, and developped on an angle to keep from blocking the one or two other passengers trying to get one way or the other.Jumps were skipped for safety reasons, as well as turns, but that didn’t stop them from going into lifts like they’d had a whole class to warm up. Shiro pressed her up over his head like they were standing on steady ground, and she couldn’t help a grin breaking over her lips that was half nerves and half delight. There was always something exhilarating about big lifts, about soaring through the air with the floor eight feet below. She could hear the announcement as a plane deboarded, and a new rush of passengers started trickling through the terminal. Oh no, she thought, holding in some cross between a giggle and groan as she held up her arabesque. They’d started this as a silly distraction while the terminal was occupied only by sleeping passengers, but now they were getting something like a crowd. People stopped, first just a couple, then a whole cluster along the railing.As Shiro stepped carefully from the track and settled her on her feet, there was a round of muted applause — not too loud, as if mindful of those still sleeping on the floor and across the bench seats. “Maybe we should call that enough,” she said.Before Shiro could answer, though, there was a burst of startled laughter and applause, more raucous than before, and looking over, she covered her mouth with her hand. Keith had unfolded into a handstand, body perfectly perpendicular as he trundled down the moving walkway. Shiro bleated out a strangled laugh as Keith shifted to full splits, still inverted, completely ignoring the couple who now rode behind him and stared blearily at his antics.“Shall we?” Shiro asked, grinning, and offering out his hand.“Will you be my Romeo?” she replied.It had been their last performance this season, and the pas de deux was still fresh in her mind and body. Shiro broke into a grin at the challenge and accepted immediately. Onstage, the process of getting into the lift was simple, graceful; on the walkway, it was a little more utilitarian. Shiro knelt, reaching up his arm, and Allura laid out on his shoulders in the same motion. He took a step onto the walkway as he rose, in time for her to extend her leg to the ceiling and let her arm drape down across his chest.“Holy shit,” someone gasped in their little audience, and Allura grinned. Shiro turned in a tight circle rather than the usual steps and swung her legs down so that she hovered as if en pointe in thin air, chest arched to the sky. Lifting her back up, he braced himself for the second developpe, higher this time so she nearly unfurled into the splits still draped over his shoulders. He stepped onto firm ground, settling her lightly on her feet, and the crowd broke into a round of true applause. Laughing, Allura dipped in a curtsy, extending the hoodie around her waist like a skirt.“Now that’s just cheating,” Keith laughed, coming up behind them. “How’m I supposed to top it?”“Well, you could always lift me,” Shiro replied, jostling Keith’s elbow with his.Catching the light in Keith’s eyes, Allura laughed.“You two figure that out, I’ll buy some time with our audience,” she said.Trading classical for modern, she stepped onto the walkway to toss her leg up into a full tilt, fingers placed delicately under her chin. She’d been hired for a music video over the summer, her first big commercial contract, and as she pivoted into an illusion, leg fanning in a great circle behind her, she heard a murmur of recognition.“Hey, wait,” someone started as popped a hip and flicked her long white braid over her shoulder, “she was in Leon!”She shot a wink in the general direction of the speaker and, as the walkway rolled to an end, dropped into an inverted cabriole before springing up and into a messy pirouette. Carpet and sneakers didn’t make for a good turning combination, but she got a whistle as she stepped out of it, laughing.On the other end of the walkway, Keith and Shiro were already starting, and she stole glances as she hurried down the length back to their starting point. It wasn’t that different from peeking from the wings during a crossover, only she was usually in a skirt and stage makeup for that rather than her worn-in leggings and airport-bathroom face wash.The prep into this one was deceptively simple: Keith crouched as Shiro tossed his weight onto his shoulder, flopping like a particularly bulky sack. There was a smattering of confused laughter, as if the audience thought they’d traded dance for a farce, and Allura grinned. She knew this step, remembered this piece. It was an older one — a pas de deux about the homoeroticism of trench warfare created by a guest artist on Keith and Shiro back when they were still students. The lift was, admittedly, a little more effective with the achingly intimate cello solo that normally accompanied it, but she could already feel anticipation tingling under her skin at what came next.From his limp drape over Keith’s shoulder, Shiro straightened up into a handstand, arms tight around Keith’s waist and feet pointed to the ceiling. The laughter shifted into quiet gasps. Keith’s hands hooked around the back of Shiro’s thighs, guiding them in a motion almost like an upside-down cartwheel. As his legs came around, though, Shiro didn’t neatly step off but froze, body perpendicular to the ground. Keith’s wiry arms shifted, lean muscle straining under his t-shirt. A few steps from the end of the walkway, Allura froze. That lift was supposed to swing around, Shiro rotating across Keith’s waist — but there were glass walls cutting their path off. Swinging him forward was bound to leave Shiro with a concussion and knock both of them on their asses on the walkway. Her hands tightened, involuntary, with worry.As she watched, Keith bent, shifting so that Shiro was nearly diagonal to the ground as his legs came around, slicing a breath above the rail. She gasped, startled despite herself by the fluidity as the two of them shifted, reoriented the choreography and brought Shiro neatly into an inversion before stepping off to a chorus of whooping and claps from their transient audience. Looking out over the little crowd, she could spot half a dozen cellphones lifted up, filming, and she held back a laugh. Coran was going to have a fit.A boarding call came over the PA as Keith and Shiro reached her, both breathing a little hard, and the crowd started to disband. Drawing her bottom lip in under her teeth, Allura rested her hands on her hips.“I think it’s time for our finale,” she declared.“That didn’t count?” Shiro breathed out, laughing.“Nah,” she said. “Hey, remember that character class we took with Nikola Kaminski?”Shiro’s eyebrows rose, but Keith’s lips turned up in a grin, and he started nodding before he even replied.“Oh hell yes.”She wouldn’t have been able to do it with Shiro, not with their height difference, but Keith was the same height as her if she didn’t wax down her hair. They took the walkway grinning, two steps apart and bouncing slightly in rhythm with each other. The dispersing crowd paused, lingering to see what was going on, and Shiro stalled with the first steps of Nutcracker’s Russian. Allura laughed, shoulders shaking, but gave Keith a firm nod as they approached the center of the walkway. He took one chasse, throwing himself up into her arms. She heaved, pushing off with her thighs, and flipped him up so one leg extended to the sky. Suspended there for a moment, he flicked one hand up to salute the audience before she swung him back down and they pranced off their impromptu stage. Despite the hour, their tiny crowd burst into cheers and applause. They’d accumulated more than she’d realized during the mini performance, and Allura laughed as they took bows from either end of the walkway. Drawn away at last either by boarding calls or by the sense of the performance ending, the crowd trickled away and Keith and Allura wandered down to where Shiro waited for them. Her heart raced under her t-shirt, cheeks flushed with adrenaline and endorphins. Keith’s cheeks were as pink as hers felt, and Shiro’s bangs stuck to his forehead. Reaching up, she combed them back, and he laughed.“Well, that is a new stage for me,” he remarked.“Your dumb idea was pretty great,” Keith said, looping an arm around Shiro’s waist. Shiro grinned, and Allura pressed a kiss to his cheek before tangling her fingers with Keith’s. “I honestly thought you two were going to get concussions doing that Huntsman lift,” she admitted as they turned back to their waiting bags. Keith shrugged his near shoulder, as if unbothered. “Keith had me,” Shiro said. “I wasn’t worried. Did you hear them during your Leon solo?” Laughing, Allura dropped into her seat, twisting around to drape her legs over Keith’s lap. Now that the adrenaline was starting to fade, she was finally almost sleepy. “I wondered if anyone would recognize it,” she admitted, leaning her head against her hand. “Too bad you didn’t have the costume,” Keith remarked, dropping his arm over her shins. Shiro snorted and Allura reached over to pinch his arm. The costume in question had been little more than a white bralette and shorts — and an entire bucket of red and black paint. Keith only grinned, unrepentant. “Next time I do a bikini dance, you guys are doing it shirtless,” she declared.
Glancing over to meet Shiro’s eye, Keith lifted his eyebrows and shrugged. “Deal,” he said. “I assume that’s our first summer layoff project,” Shiro agreed. Allura laughed, settling more fully into her seat. The metal arm rest pressed into her back persistently, but if she leaned in toward Keith and shifted most her weight into the pleather back, it wasn’t so bad. “Perfect,” she said, eyes slipping shut. “You two come up with some choreography and I’ll run final edits.” Already sleepiness curled around her, lulling her off. Distantly, she could hear a quiet chuckle and feel the gentle warmth of Keith giving her leg a light squeeze. The last thing she heard as she drifted off was Shiro: “Sweet dreams, Princess.”
#voltron#voltron ficlet#shallureith#dance au#shiro#allura#keith#voltron fic#my writing#ask games#this is such nonsense but was fun ty!!#machidielontheway#asked & answered
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Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/63750316
Chapter 30
They finished a few songs and finally their album took shape. Soon, they only needed one last song, a culmination. It turned out to be a rather complicated task. With all their unfinished pieces and ideas they didn't think through yet, they tried to make something good. Since everyone had their own favorites they kept discussing and experimenting. Some time later Morrie started to play his melody again, just when Nick was standing next to him at the piano. The others listened up and gathered around Morrie.
"Not bad," Matt said, guitar ready. "This could be it. Let's play it again."
Morrie shortly glanced at Nick and winked, before he repeated the melody. Matt joined him this time. Nick closed his eyes and listened to them. The way Morrie played it...he had the feeling that something was missing, so he left the piano to grab his guitar.
When Morrie had finished Nick said: "I imagine it more like this..."
He began to play what he remembered from the blurry images in his head. After a while Matt joined him too and they created something that sounded really good in Nick's ears.
Morrie however interrupted them.
"Your rythm is completely off, don't you hear that?"
He repeated his version and this time it was Nick who played along. Together they let their melodies clash, struggle for attention and playfully embrace each other before they fought again. In time, they became louder and faster during their musical duel and forgot everything around them.
Suddenly Chris' guitar screamed into their match with it's amp on full blast. Then the entire band freaked out, playing against each other, until their amps overmodulated. Nick's ears rang but he felt that for the first time in his new life he let all his suppressed feelings out. The fear, the stress, the self-hatred...he could let that all go and it was wonderful.
Morrie was the first to stop, sweating and gasping for air, watching what had become of his idea.
Eventually they all slowed down, until only Nick and Chris remained, circling around each other, locking gazes and hoping for the other one to get tired first. Nick's fingers already hurt but he didn't want to give up by no means. Then Chris suddenly bumped into him, causing Nick to stumble backwards, almost losing the thread. But he caught himself and went for a counterattack.
The fight continued, but now they focused more on hitting each other and less on what they were playing.
Finally they crashed on the floor and the song ended with a lamenting howl of their guitars.
Lying down in sudden silence they heard the others laugh.
"Wow," Chris gasped. "Do we have that on tape?"
Brad walked over to the recorder with a smirk.
"Yep, it's all here. Listen."
They enjoyed their crazy showdown.
"Playing that in our show we'll make the entire town collapse," Matt said grinning.
"If that isn't a culmination, I don't know what is," Nick added, satisfied with himself. "What do you think, Morrie?"
His lover had his arms crossed and looked a bit grumpy.
"Perfect for our farewell tour," he said dryly. "I was actually serious about it."
"What's not serious about this?", Chris eagerly replied. "We want to wake people up, create a show they'll never forget! We have to make an effort to outdo Nick's downer-fight after all."
Nick proudly cocked his head at that.
"With this?", Morrie pointed at the tape. "Sounds like an air raid. We might as well drive a tank on stage."
Brad seemed to like the idea.
"What do you think?", he looked around "We could borrow one from the Memorial Camp."
The others grinned, all except Morrie.
"Ha ha! Forget it, this is not gonna be on the record. No way!"
"Oh, Morrie, can't you take a joke?", Nick said in a peaceable tone. "Of course this isn't the finished song."
"So, we'll try again?"
"Sure."
Nick turned to the rest of the band.
"And what version do we use?", Matt asked.
"I liked Nick's more," Brad answered without hesitation.
"I'm sorry, Mortimer, but me too," Matt agreed. "It had a better flow."
"I'd try Morrie's, it's something we didn't do before," Chris said.
"But it's no showdown-song," Brad pointed out.
"Stalemate so far," Matt concluded. "What do you think, Nick?"
They all silenced and gave their lead singer expectant looks.
Suddenly Nick felt a lump in his throat. He eyed each one of his friends. Morrie stared daggers at him. Nick knew how important this song was to Morrie, but this wasn't about doing a favor, it was about their career, their style.
"I think it's still very vague. Why don't we keep that for our next record? I liked 'Blue Moon'. That song has potential and it's almost done. It's my favorite for our showdown."
"But as you said it's not done either," Morrie replied.
"Yes, but we've come very far. Let's finish this today."
"You're a bit impatient, right, Nick?", Chris asked.
"An you're not? People forget! Our last show is long ago and soon forgotten."
"Fair enough. Let's try it," Brad conluded.
They did their best.
Nick was glad he had avoided another discussion about Morrie's song, but he had the feeling that his lover was colder now. Still, he pretended he didn't notice and focused on their work. Hours later they finally had their last song recorded.
After the final note had been played they jeered and fell into each other's arms. Morrie's embrace was less loving than usual. But for now Nick couldn't help but let the others cheer him up. They decided to celebrate their new record immediately, no matter what time it was. Their noise decoyed Virgil.
"Our manager is here," Chris alerted the others. "Come on, get him!"
They darted for the poor confused Virgil, lifted him up, threw him into the air and then carried him outside. Nick watched them happily. When Virgil's screams faded away, Morrie sourly muttered: "Have fun."
Nick gave him a surprised look.
"Don't you come with us?"
"No, I need some calm and quiet now."
Nick carefully stepped closer to his lover.
"But Morrie...it's our record."
"Really? Our record?", Morrie said in a sharp tone.
"But...yes...of course." Nick was puzzled.
Morrie turned his back on him.
"Did you take any of my songs?"
Nick furrowed his brows, thinking about it.
"Sure...", he stuttered, "'Smile Again' is yours, right?"
"It's Brad's", Morrie snapped.
Nick's heart dived.
"But your solo in it is fantastic!", he pointed out to make up for it.
Morrie wasn't convinced.
"Still, it's not mine."
Nick didn't even understand the problem.
"That melody isn't yours either", he remembered him.
Morrie finally turned around, but his voice was a hiss.
"Is that a reason to steal it from me?"
Nick backed away, startled about the blame.
"I didn't steal it!", he defended himself. "But it sounds different in my head."
Morrie came closer, snapping at him: "You heard it yesterday and didn't say a word! Why now?"
"I only made a suggestion!", Nick shouted back, still confused.
"You stole it!", his lover screamed now, "You didn't even let me finish my take! And I thought we were at one! It was supposted to be our song!"
Nick felt his eyes water.
"And you won't let me take part in it? In our song?"
"You promised me you wouldn't use it!"
"I didn't use it, I only altered the style!"
"Yeah, right, like we didn't make songs like these in hundreds! Where's your creativity, Norbert, where's the art? Will you ever try something new?"
"Oh, it's that again!", Nick snapped. "We're just not good enough for the great artist Morrie Memento! I'm sorry my love, but this isn't your solo career!"
Suddenly it was very quiet. Morrie turned around and left the room, shutting the door with a bang. Nick suddenly had a horrible déjà vu. With a racing heart, he ran after his lover.
"Morrie!", he shouted.
His lover was halfway up the stairs.
"Great, just great," he snapped. "It's just like it always was, me against the rest! You always treat me as if I was the odd one out. You're stealing my ideas and otherwise you keep me in the background!"
"But that's not true!"
Nick rushed after him.
"We can still work this out! It just wasn't the time!"
"I've heard enough of it for today," Morrie shouted and banged the door to his guest room.
Nick came to a halt right in front of it.
"Please, Morrie, open the door," he whined. "This is all a misunderstanding."
"Fuck off!", he heard Morrie shout. "Go and celebrate your triumph!"
Nick begged and pleaded, but his lover didn't let him in.
Depressed, he slumped down at the doorstep, agonizing over what he had done wrong. He wanted to cry but his tears were stuck somewhere behind his eyes and his heart felt like it was twisting in his chest.
He was very uncomfortable in his big empty house in wich he was unwelcome. He wanted to leave, just like the others, and have a good day. He thought he deserved one, because he had been working hard too.
But then again he'd only ruin their party.
So he made a decision.
In his room he turned back into Nick Lightbearer before he left his home. He soon found himself standing in front of that empty looking house he liked to visit. As always, James was there and let him in. Nick assumed that he wasn't a good sight, but then again James had never seen him happy so far.
"Scotch again?", James asked when they arrived in his living room.
Nick hesitated at first, then he thought it didn't matter and answered: "Yes, please."
Greedily, he grabbed the drink from the other man's hands. Their fingers shortly touched, and the feeling made Nick's heart beat faster.
"What do we toast to?", James asked with a mysterious smile.
Nick raised his glass.
"To you, James."
James shortly froze, but soon his features relaxed again and he said: "To me, then."
They drank.
Nick suppressed the question about where he got scotch of this good quality. It was perhaps normal in his district.
"Why me?", James wondered after he had put down his glass.
"Because today I accomplished something I couldn't have done without you. Because I owe my new life to you."
Nick glutched the glass while he spoke.
"We did nothing but talk." James' tone sounded both surprised and flattered.
Nick leaned back, trying to get more comfortable.
"I'm clean because of you. You picked me up from the street and saved me. Just like that."
James' mouth corners twitched.
"I told you I wasn't quite selfless."
"Still, you could've given up on me, just like everyone else. Helping me is stressful, I know that. But you believed in me when no one did."
"So...you're here to celebrate?"
James lifted an eyebrow.
Nick winded.
"Actually...I'd love to, but...I'm afraid I'm here to bother you with my problems again."
James answered him with a curious look and a soft voice: "Nick, you should know by now that you don't bother me at all. Just tell me what's eating you. That's what I'm here for."
Nick first had to take another nip of his drink before he said: "Our new album is ready. Soon we can play concerts again."
A spark flashed up in the other man's eyes.
"But that's wonderful! Nickie, you made it! You should be proud of yourself!"
"Uh...well...", Nick muttered meekly. "The others contributed the biggest part, but that's not the problem."
He sighed.
"It's about Morrie...he's angry at me and I don't even know why. It has to do something about a fight we had in the past."
Nick needed more scotch.
"One of his songs didn't make it into our record and...that made him snap."
He shook his head.
"Even though it wasn't good enough yet. We usually have more ideas than we can finish. We also argue about things, but he...he overreacted. As if I had dismissed him in general."
James nodded quietly, he seemed to think about it.
"Could it be that he's jealous?"
Nick pondered.
"I guess...but the others are too. They now the fans will scream my name when we go on stage. But they aren't angry because of that. We all know it's just the beginning."
"So...it was the song...," James concluded. "Was it...very special to Morrie?"
Nick ran a hand through his hair.
"Yes...actually it's something he had been planning for a while now. It's a melody he had heard someone whistle in the night."
Nick immediately started to hum the melody to James, who slightly jumped and then listened in awe.
"What do you think?", Nick asked.
"A beautiful song," James said. "But it's not his own."
"No."
Nick shook his head.
"But he wanted to turn that into a hit. Our hit, to be precise. Because he played it the day we met again."
"That sounds romantic."
"It is! And I like the idea, but...it wasn't ready yet. And Morrie acts like it'll never get a second chance."
Nick emptied his glass and asked James to refill it, wich he did.
"What exactly is wrong about it, Nick?"
Nick sighed again.
"He's...playing it wrong. I don't know why but I feel that it's meant to sound differently. It's...rather sad. It reminds me of...Motilene. And night and coldness."
He shivered and then drank his new scotch.
"Actually nothing a decent song should sound like. Perhaps it's ridiculous that I'm even bringing it up. Perhaps I should leave it all to Morrie."
James filled his own glass with furrowed brows.
"Do you allow me to try a shot in the dark?"
"Sure."
"Could the song be yours?"
Nick almost choked on his drink.
"Mine? Morrie said someone whistled it from a rooftop. I don't climb on rooftops at night."
"Are you certain?" James slightly smirked.
Nick shook his head in defeat. His mind tried to explain it.
"Okay...I was very often drugged out of my mind at night and left my house to go who knows where. I wandered around in the streets and many times the bobbies had to bring me home. I have no idea how I could've gotten on a rooftop but...it's possible."
Nick looked at James, searching for the truth in his eyes.
"You think it's my song?"
"I don't know better than you, but the fact that you care very much about it and you know how it's supposed to sound..." James shrugged. "To me, it's most likely yours."
Nick was baffled, staring at his hands.
"Morrie won't believe me anyway," he said in a sad tone.
"I guess I have to leave it to him, or else we'll never finish it."
"Do you usually extort each other like that?"
"Of course not, but with this I don't have any other chance. Morrie won't give up and I don't want another fight! That was horrible!."
Nick gulped. Suddenly the tears found their way out.
"I hope it's gonna be alright again. This can't be the end of us," he sobbed.
James took his hand and gently squeezed it.
"If he really loves you, he'll come around," he said in his comfortingly soft voice.
"And if he doesn't love me anymore?", Nick cried.
"He won't leave you because of this, trust me. In the end, as you said, he overreacted. I'm sure your band will be at your side."
"But they only came back because of Morrie!"
"They didn't have the impression that you turned him down, or am I wrong?"
"They didn't say anything...", Nick admitted.
"Because it's not true. Morrie will understand soon."
Nick gulped.
"I've been like that...reckless...selfish...What if I didn't change? What if I'll never make it? What if I'm stuck with my bad traits forever and I'll end up alone?", he cried, clutching James, seemingly the only one who accepted all his darkest sides.
Whose voice was gently stroking his heart.
"You changed already, Nick, just look where you are now. And you're most certainly not reckless, you worry about everyone. Morrie had no right to hurt you that much."
Nick sobbed.
"And...and what if it's not enough?"
James gave him a concerned look.
"Then you should ask yourself if he deserves your love."
Nick fixated the other man's eyes, as if they could save him from drowning and hung on his every word.
"You're not selfish, Nick," James whispered and gently squeezed Nick's hand.
"You don't think about yourself, but about him. He hurt you and your first thought is that it's your fault. But you didn't do anything wrong."
Nick wriggled about on the couch.
"Actually...I'm doing something wrong...all the time..."
"But he doesn't know that. From his perspective, you're only there for him and he's still treating you like that. You don't have to put up with that. He doesn't sound like the noble man you described to me."
"Then he didn't mean it," Nick said, eagerly shaking his head.
"Perhaps," James said doubtfully. "Nick, promise me that you won't let anyone hurt you. Not even Morrie. You don't owe this to him. This is your new chance and it would be a tragedy if someone ruined it for you."
He gave him a sternful look.
"Protect yourself. You're precious."
Nick heart was racing, he felt it in his throat, that was dry, but he was too paralyzed to grab his drink again.
"You like me, James," he whispered.
"Yes," James quietly admitted. "I guess I'm obvious about it."
Nick didn't move. His eyes were fixed on the other man.
"I like you too," he sighed.
James smiled. For a moment he seemed to be overwhelmed with feelings.
Then he raised his glass.
"To our friendship then."
Nick stayed in James' house until the evening. His new friend showed interest in Arthur's wellbeing, so he told him about their visit in the Avalon Hotel. And about Arthur's new job. That was a rather pleasant topic that kept him from thinking about the fight with Morrie. He didn't leave until minutes before curfew. He was a bit drunk but feeling much better.
At home he found his band continuing their party in the living room. Even Virgil was there.
"I see you're enjoying yourselves," he greeted them.
"Nickie," they shouted."Come on in, have a drink with us!" They didn't sound angry at all, just happy that he finally showed up.
Nick still held up his hands.
"Uh...I'm afraid I had enough already, thanks."
"Nonsense, you're still looking great. Unlike this one here," Matt pointed at Virgil who was lying on the couch.
"Virgil! What did they do to you!"
"I feel awful," his manager muttered.
"He's exaggerating," Matt smirked. "So, what's up? You want a drink or...will you fuck us over again?"
"I...I...", Nick stammered. "I wanted to see Morrie."
"Oh...," his friend's expression turned more serious. "He's upstairs. I think he actually wants to tell you something."
Nick hoped it was a good sign and went to Morrie's room. He took off his mask and wig before he knocked.
"Morrie?," he meekly asked. "It's me, Norbert."
When his lover opened the door he looked pale.
"You weren't with the others," he whispered. "Where have you been?"
"Somewhere else," Nick answered. "Somewhere I was more desired than here."
Morrie blinked. His eyes were red.
It took a second until he broke into tears.
"I'm...so...sorry...", he sobbed. "I lost...my head, I...I shouldnt've said all these bad things to you..."
He was interrupted by a heavy crying fit.
"Do you take them back?", Nick hated to ask but he wanted to be sure.
Morrie eagerly nodded before he could speak again.
"Yes...I...take it back! Everything! Please forgive me! Don't...leave me!"
It was as if he had heard his conversation with James.
Nick had no more questions. He pulled his lover into a bear hug, held him tight.
"I won't leave you, Morrie," he whispered softly.
His lover sobbed.
"Where have you been?"
"I visited my therapist," Nick answered while patting the other man's back.
"Oh...god, I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I thought you...", Morrie stammered and shivered.
Nick kissed his cheek.
"It's okay, my love. Let's go inside. You need to rest."
He led his lover back into his room and sat down on the bed with him.
"I need to change too," Morrie whispered into Nick's shoulder.
"I keep thinking about the past. I'm afraid...I'm afraid that everything goes wrong and we end up where we started."
He sobbed again.
"I...hurt you..."
Nick closed his eyes. It felt so good to hear this from Morrie. It meant he really loved him.
"I'm afraid too," he admitted. "But we're not alone. We have us. We can help each other out. If I do you wrong, tell me. But please don't keep it to yourself until you snap."
"No, of course not," Morrie cried. "I'm so...ashamed. I don't want to hurt you again."
Nick stroked his hair.
"What did I do to upset you so much, my Morrie? What is it?"
His lover just sobbed and clung to his jacket.
"Please, tell me. I'm too dumb to find out myself."
Morrie shook his head.
"You're not dumb, Norbert. You speak your mind. And when you don't like a song you don't make a secret of it."
"But Morrie, it's not that I don't like it. I just think we should work on it more. There'll be another record. Don't tell me you want to quit now."
He softly nudged him in a playful manner.
"But it'll never sound like I imagined it."
Nick fell silent. He was probably right.
"Morrie, this happens to us all. We work on a song until everyone of us likes it. It doesn't mean that we don't appreciate your ideas. You'll get your song sooner or later, I'm sure of it."
Morrie was quiet for a moment. Nick wondered if he had said something wrong again, then his lover suddenly whispered: "I wanted to give it to you as a present."
Nick's heart missed a beat.
That was something else.
Why didn't he notice?
"I guess I am dumb," Nick sighed sadly. "I had no idea."
He looked into Morrie's eyes.
"I'm sorry."
He started to shiver.
Now it was Morrie who held him.
"It's okay. It can't be helped if you don't like it."
"But I like it Morrie, I...", Nick paused. Why was this so complicated?
"I didn't listen to it with my heart. I only wanted to hear what I remembered."
Morrie silenced while Nick pressed his face on his chest, crying.
"I'm sorry", his lover whispered. "It could've been a wonderful day, but instead I made a mess of it."
He rubbed Nick's back.
"May I make amends? Or are you done with me tonight?"
Nick lifted his head to lock gazes with Morrie.
"Stay with me," he whispered.
"My Norrie...," his lover sighed.
"Besides, I just can't dismiss you when you want to do naughty things with me."
He smiled and Morrie blushed.
#wehappyfew#whf#we happy few#whfnick#whf nick#nick lightbearer#morriememento#morrie memento#whfmorrie#whf morrie#nickxmorrie#foggy jack#whf foggy jack#foggyjack
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Cherry Flavored Whiskey
We Get What We Deserve CH. 1: Cherry Flavored Whiskey (Rockstar! Dean Winchester x Reporter! Reader)
Square(s) Filled: Tattoos for @spnkinkbingo , Lust for @spndeanbingo , and Growling/Whining for @spnabobingo
Ship: Rockstar! Alpha! Dean x Reporter! Omega! Reader
Characters: Lead Singer! Dean, Reporter! Reader, OMC, Manager! Crowley, Bass Player! Sam (mentioned), Drummer! Castiel (mentioned)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Tattoo Kink, A/B/O Dynamics, drinking, drugs, Oral (male receiving), Dom! Dean, Also Bon Jovi (in case you don’t like the music)
Word Count: 7.7k words (oof I know...)
Beta’d by: @impandagrl
Summary: Dean Winchester has been compared to the Rock Gods of old. He’s rebellious, gorgeous as hell, and an amazing musician. Times have become tough for his band though and with no one else to turn to, he decides to go solo. His manager wants to spread the word, so he offers Common Measure, the magazine you work at, an exclusive interview with Dean. Knowing you need to prove yourself, you offer to perform it.
We Get What We Deserve Masterlist
A/N: This is heavily inspired by the movie Rock of Ages and Tom Cruise’s character (I save heavily when really most of this is lifted straight from it). I absolutely love the tattoos from it (reference in the upper right hand corner of the banner) and so this Fic was born. I am in love with the song Wanted Dead or Alive and I hope y’all enjoy my longest fic to date. Let me Know if you want to be tagged in this series!
“Y/N! Get in here!” A voice screamed out for you as you picked your head up. You’d had your nose buried in your work, but being yelled at seemed to refocus you to the present. You quickly collected the few stacks of paper on your desk and rushed towards your boss's office.
Your boss, Thomas Gallagher, ran Common Measure, a pop culture and music industry magazine centered in the hub of it all, LA. Being his assistant wasn’t easy, he was constantly looking over your shoulder, making you scramble to reach the deadlines he set and had you attempting to get exclusive interviews for the good of the magazine. All the while, you were trying to learn how to be a better reporter.
It was your dream after all. Working for a publication like Common Measure. You’d ached to be in the center of gossip and learn what was really going on behind the people that everyone always looked up to. Most would call what you wanted to do harmful. All you wanted to do was get to the bottom of a story. That’s what mattered, the story.
“Yes, sir?” You squeaked as the man swiveled around to face you in the giant chair behind his desk. The weight of the paper stacks that you had grabbed making your arms ache with exertion. This job was harder than you had initially expected and you half wished you had listened to your mother’s warnings more closely.
She hated that you wanted to escape the boring life that was planned for you as an Omega. You needed more, you needed to be able to choose your own path, and right now, that didn’t include an Alpha.
Thomas reached forwards and opened his desk drawer to slide a CD towards you. You recognized the artist, Dean Winchester;rockstar, playboy, and public rebel. “I need you to get an interview for me.” Your eyes went wide as he spoke. “Dean’s decided to go solo.” The news shocked you.
Team Free Will, a band made up of Dean Winchester, his brother Sam, and Castiel Novak had been formed almost a decade ago. While the group wasn’t nearly as popular as it had been in recent years, the more pressing issue was the fact that your boss was asking you to handle such an important assignment on your own- and as your first interview for the company.
“Sir? Are-are you sure? I mean this-“ Thomas’s voice cut you off.
“If I had any other option besides you, I’d be sending them in there, but none of my other reporters will go. He’s got a reputation for uh…sleeping around with the press.” He cleared his throat and looked up at you. “And the other half complain he’s too hard to work with, which is why I’m sending you.” He smirked, standing up and stepping towards you.
“I understand, sir, but still…I’d need time to research and- and..” You trailed off as your boss sat on the edge of his desk. Never in your life would you have dreamed of giving up a story. This was the opportunity of a lifetime
“You’ll have time. Team Free Will is performing at The Roadhouse next week as the start of the band’s farewell tour. You’ll go then. If you can get a good interview out of him, I’ll promote you to a real journalist Y/N..”
Words formed in your mouth but none left. It’s impossible. He was dangling the golden apple right in your face; giving you everything you wanted. All you have to do is complete an impossible task.
“Okay sir. I’ll do it.”
After a week of research on Dean Winchester, you’d come to the conclusion that the man had to be going insane. Despite having sold out shows, none of his current work had been doing any chart topping. And to make matters worse, the band hadn’t released a full album in at least two years. You could only assume it was because Dean had been growing ever increasingly harder to work with. Story after story came up with how Dean would show up to sessions drunk, high, or with the random guy or girl of the day. He would spend thousands of dollars a day on his life philosophy about “knowing yourself” as he would say it.
Born and raised in Kansas, he had a rough home life growing up. An absent mother and a more than likely abusive father, Dean seemed to have only one family member that he still kept in touch with, his baby brother. He had left home when Sam turned 18 and brought along his high school sweetheart, Lisa Braden.
Dean began playing covers of classic rock bands with Sam in his mid 20’s before adding Castiel Novak to the group four years later. Not only was Dean able to play the guitar, but he also played piano, drums, bass and sang (although when the group performed he stuck to guitar and vocals). Sam played bass and back up vocals, while Castiel rounded them out with drums.
At some point after the band’s first original album, that high school sweetheart seemed to disappear, only to be replaced by an endless string of lovers that couldn’t resist a Rock God Alpha, alcohol and drugs. While there was a period of 5 good years, the other half of the band’s decade had been filled with mediocre hit after mediocre hit.
It was obvious Dean had grown out of favor with the public, but Dean couldn’t let that stand, even to the point of going solo and picking fights with his bandmates, Sam included. He needed to be in the spotlight, otherwise he’d have to actually think about what he’d done in his life. While you’d known some of those details already, no one had put them together in a way you had.
Now, standing in line outside the Roadhouse, you felt fully prepared for this interview. You'd had your concerns that being here, where Team Free Will had played their first concert would be daunting. Instead, you had a focused drive to rip the man's life story from him.
What had to be thousands of fans had lined up around the outside of the small bar. Bulky security guards stood around them, holding back hoards of screaming fans. Mostly Omegas by the smell. You crinkled your nose at the scents of sweat and slick. It almost made you want to vomit.
A large security guard opened the door and asked to see your pass. You raised the Press Pass that was dangling around your neck and tilted it towards him. He grunted and nodded his head, indicating she could enter. A second guard walked up to you soon after. “I’m here to take you to the green room, Miss Y/L/N.” You gave the man a soft nod before falling behind him.
Crowley MacLeod stood outside the double doors that must have been the entrance to the greenroom. He offered you a smile, though it felt ice cold. You knew the man was Dean’s Manager. A harsh and ruthless individual and though he was always ahead of the curve on what the music industry was looking for, never really cared about what it actually meant to be a musician.
“Miss Y/L/N I presume.” He extended his hand towards you and after a moment, you took his hand in a firm grasp and shook. While most accents seemed to put people at ease, Crowley’s only made you shiver. “It’s always a pleasure to work with Common Measure.” The man held your hand a little too long for your liking, but eventually he let go. Turning around, he pushed open the doors and walked into the room.
A wave of sex hit you, the smell was so bad that it physically made you stumble. Once you’d straightened up, you tugged your bag closer to your chest, hoping it would ground you. Not long after that, the tell tale odor of weed hit you next. Your eyes lingered on the pool table in the center of the room, where Dean Winchester lay.
An omega woman up on the table with him, lying legs extended, legs extended for Dean to place his head on, a cowboy hat placed over his face. Four Omegas, two women and two men, stood by the bar, huddled around another man making them all drinks. It took every last cell in your body not to roll your eyes, but you manage to control yourself for the moment. Bottles of empty booze, food trash and a comical amount of drugs litter the room as well. It feels so damn cliche for Dean to really be as bad as what you’d been reading.
Crowley ushered you closer, and you’re able to get a better look at his body. He’s wearing what had to be the tightest leather pants that you’d seen on a man, a matching leather jacket lays fanned out so that anyone can see his chest- seeing as he was bare underneath.
While you’d seen what his looked like before, seeing them in person was a whole other ordeal.
They were enough to make you swoon. You had to quickly check yourself before unconsciously tugging the pencil skirt you wore further down your legs. An indisputable sense of connection hit you out of nowhere. You could smell his scent from here and while the weed and smell of sex is definitely there, underneath there’s a layer of whiskey and something sweet, cherries if you had to pick something.
The most eye catching of his tattoos were the dual pistols drawn over his v-line. To onlookers, it seemed like the guns were being holstered around his belt. Over his left pec an intricate heart was drawn, the word Mary written in cursive. The first thoughts that popped into your head were something to the affect of, sexy.
You averted your eyes, while Crowley leaned forward and spoke into Dean’s ear. “Hey Dean, there’s someone here to meet you.” He turned around to look back at you, making you push your glasses up the bridge of your nose. The information didn’t seem to be too important to the Rock God as he continued to lounge on the table. Crowley gave you an awkward laugh before turning back to Dean.
“It’s Y/N Y/L/N from Common Measure. She’s got a couple questions for you to answer.” You held back a laugh as Dean continued to lay there. Of course. One of the male Omega’s behind you giggled, the other three of the pack leaned in and whispered to each other as they stared at you. You forced yourself to remember that you didn’t care what they thought, you were here to do a job.
Crowley must have finally said something that got Dean’s attention as he began to sit up. “Common Measure...” He trailed off as he moved the hat off of his face and set it aside. Dean dropped his feet to the floor and looked around before turning to face you, the sunglasses on his face, hiding his eyes. “Where’s Thomas?” His voice was gruff and full of sleep, he looked around again before looking back at Crowley.
“Thomas is a little busy, so he sent his newest reporter, Y/N. She’s here to do a report on your new solo career, Dean.” A groan fell through Dean’s lips as he turned away from you both, Crowley gripped his arm, whispering something once more that convinced Dean to do what Crowley wanted.
After a pause, Dean slowly turned back to you; that cold, heartless smile spread across Crowley’s face. He stepped back from and clapped his hands together. “You know what? I’m gonna leave you two alone.” He began to back out from the room. “Gotta return some phone calls.” With one last wink he was gone. “Play nice!” He called out behind him.
Finally alone, well sort of, Dean gave you a proper once over. The attention made you once again lower your gaze the floor. Your tongue peeked out and ran over your bottom lip. Seconds ticked by before you extended your hand to Dean. “Pleasure to finally meet you.”
Something about you must have bored him, because he didn’t even look at you. Your hand still stuck out, waiting for a hand shake. Before you could say something else, a high pitched scream rang out and made your head turn.
A blonde haired girl ran past the still-open doors, past the distracted security guards and right up to Dean. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. I love you Dean!” The guards finally reacted to the runaway fan, but stilled as she opened up her shirt and proudly showed off the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath.
Your eyes widened as you watched the small omega unashamedly show off her tits. Dean held up a hand to hold her off from coming any closer. Once more he looked towards you and stepped in close. He grinned as he slid his hand along your waist and into the bag hanging at your side. An almost inaudible gasp left your lips as he touched you. Warmth began to blossom through your body as he did. Dean must have found what he was looking for as he pulled out your sharpie and bit down on the cap to pull it off.
The girl began to pant heavily as Dean reached down and began to sign his name on the girl’s chest. You and the fan made eye contact for a split second, but she didn’t seem to mind the fact that another woman was watching this happen.
When you turned away, you noticed Dean’s face was turned towards you. Though you couldn’t actually tell, you were certain he had been staring right back at you the whole time. Once his name was proudly written on the womans tits, he leaned forwards and kissed the girls cheek, making the omega moan and release a distinct scent of slick. Only then did the two security guards decide to pick her up and drag her back out.
She continued to call out for Dean, though. “I love you. Love you...” Her voice echoed out. Dean spitting the cap from his mouth brought your attention back to him. You offered your hand out for the sharpie and he moved to hand it back. At the last second, he dropped it to the floor on purpose and brushed past you to sit down on one of the couches provided for him.
Wrinkling your nose in disgust, you picked up both the pen and cap, wiping away the saliva from the later before setting the /used/ item back into your bag. “Okay...you get five minutes.” Dean slumped back, arms stretched out. A sense of panic flooded your systems.
Though it wasn’t nearly enough time to get what you needed, it was the best you were going to get from him. You scrambled to pull out your voice recorder to set on the table then grabbed a pen and your notebook filled with the list of questions you had prepared. Once sitting, you shouldered your jacket off and looked back at Dean.
“Five minutes.” He slurred as he looked at his watch. “Anndddddddddddddd…” He trailed off for a second as you waited eagerly for your time to start. “Go.”
“Okay, Dean Winchester, back at the Road-“ Dean cut you off with his voice, still looking at his watch. Confused, you waited.
“No, no, no.” He paused yet again as he looked at his watch. “Now go.” Dean gave you a soft smirk before settling back into the couch.
“A-at the Road House where it all started.” The pause had made you stumble for a moment, but you were eager to get back on track. “Your first album gave birth to some of rock’s greatest anthems and now a solo career. Why now?” You tilted your head as you waited for a response.
Dean’s eyes lingered on your voice recorder, leaning forwards to pick it up and bring it closer to his mouth. He looked relatively serious as he answered. “Well, due to the changing nature of the music industry. The changing uh...” he stuck his hand out and gave a small wave as he thought. “Cultural trends. And uh… when you think of blah, blah, blah..”
Unable to contain his smile, Dean grinned at you and started laughing as he continued. “Especially once you take in blah, blah, blah.” You sighed and sat back, unamused by his joke. Dean laughed so hard that he even let out a snort, although it was much more likely that he simply didn’t care about this interview. You’d have to push back and not be afraid to be mean to him. While daunting, yes, he was still just a man…
“Four Minutes.” Dean still laughed every so often, but extend the recorder to you, holding on to it. Giving your question list a once over, you leaned forwards to ask him your next question.
“You know,” you started, eyes narrowing at him. “Some people say that you’ve become quite difficult to work with. That you’re constantly late, reclusive, sometimes even nonsensical.” Dean pulled the recorder back towards his mouth and tilted his head as he looked at you.
“And I ask you this, have these /people/ even met themselves?” Yet, again he extended the recorder back to you. A part of you wondered if he’s doing this to try and keep control of the interview and that he’s afraid to let go of his control of every situation.
Pursing your lips together, you decided to hit him with the answer. “Well, I’m talking about your band.” A silence fell between you before he scooted closer and looked over at you. He seemed to not believe you, perhaps because his own brother is included in that. Perhaps he couldn’t believe his brother would say that about him.
Dean pulled the recorder away and whispered. “Let me tell you something. I know me better than anyone else.” To you, he sounded more than a little defensive. “Because I live in here.” He pointed to his head, before reaching down to grab one of the bottles of scotch on the table.
He used the top of it to push the sides of his sunglasses up. Tipping his bottle to you, he looked back down at his watch. “Eight minutes.” He spoke into the recorder. It throws you because even the man's own timeline is being fucked up. Is he so drunk that he can’t keep five minutes straight in his head?
“You just said four.” You leaned forward, your anger so great it seeps into your words; the need to call him out is so overwhelming, you don't even consider taking advantage of his slip up. You had gotten absolutely nowhere with him.. You needed something about Dean Winchester to bring back.
Realizing his mistake, Dean brought the recorder back to his mouth. “Three.”
“But you..” Dean dropped the thing back down onto the table, making a loud THUD noise.
“Do you think that it’s possible that you shut out and alienated so many people in your life that you had no other option, but to go solo?” Of course, Dean wasn’t paying attention. Instead his focus is on the bottle of booze in his hand. He has it completely tipped over and poured the last drop into his mouth, giving it a little shake even, to make sure that nothing else would come out. He held it above his head for a couple more seconds before swallowing and bringing it back down.
“Gotta stay true to the music. Hey dude! Can I get some more Scotch?” He leaned to the side to catch eyes with the bartender. The man smirked and pushed a small trolley towards the both of you, filled with what must be the most expensive alcohol you’ve ever seen.
It sits closer to you, so that Dean had to walk towards you to get it. His crotch now eye level with you and the tight leather left nothing to imagination. You could clearly see the outline of his cock and that made your face burn red. It’s more than a little hard to focus on asking him another question. He leaned forward to reach out for a bottle planting his hips squarely in front of your face and pressing forward. You had to lean away for his body not to mash into your face. Dean didn’t even seem to notice what he’s done.
“Who is you're mu-muse?” You stumbled again as Dean popped open the top of the bottle and resumed drinking. When Dean didn’t answer, you cursed under your breath and resituated yourself in the chair. You needed to glance down at your notes to figure out where you left off in your list of questions.
“One Dean Winchester, raised in Lebanon Kansas, raised by a Mother who died when you were four and your Father who died almost 12 years ago now. You dropped out of High School in 11th grade. Your first concert was Aerosmith. And you were 22 when you hitchhiked with your little brother all the way to L.A., along with your High School Sweetheart.” All of this was information you already knew but there was a point you were trying to make. “Remember her?”
Dean’s face grew somber, his eyes focused on the bottle of scotch in his hand and he didn’t answer. “No comment?” You let a teasing tone bleed through, it was enjoyable to watch him have nothing to say. He inhaled and glanced at his watch.
“Two minutes.” His voice was soft, his teasing smile from earlier completely gone.
“Did I hit a nerve?” You smiled and sat back, enjoying the look on his face. He was close to cracking, you could tell. “Was it Aerosmith? Lebanon?” You paused as you leaned forwards to whisper to him. “High School Sweetheart?”
Dean continued to say nothing as he dropped his head, matching your gaze. You kept pushing. “Lisa Braden. Your first love. And your last hit single, it was written about her.”
His jaw clenches as the anger in him builds before sadness hits him instead. “Record sold a hundred million copies.” He mumbles, before brings the now empty bottle to his lip. He’d sipped through it all during your talk and his eyes focused on it instead of you.
“And that record was released about eight years ago. Some people say you’ve sold out since then.” Dean growled in anger. It caught you off guard and you had to fight back the natural instinct to whine, submit to his anger and shut up. You find a way to suppress it.
“I’ve sold out, alright; every seat, every stadium I ever played.” Behind the anger, his previous untold sadness still lingered. You felt desperate to be real with him. Nothing he’d said to you so far has been true.
“And yet, creatively you’ve come to a stand still. You’ve been in and out of the studio for the past two years? And no results. Nothing.”
The two of you locked in a harsh gaze as you wondered what his eyes looked like. What color they were, what emotion he’s truly feeling behind all the makeup, leather and tattoos. You had grown to genuinely enjoy the man’s early music. A part of you could feel something you had never felt when listening to other bands music. You desperately wished that Dean would stop acting so surface deep.
Dean shrugged his shoulders and set the bottle on the table. After a glance at his watch, he stood up. “Time’s up.”
“You know, you’re not so special. You’re just a lonely man with a lot of regrets.” You fired back. Dean, instead of replying, reached down to the recorder on the table and pressed the Stop recording button.
“I said time.” Dean sighed as he moved away from you and over to the bar. Huffing in frustration, you began to pack up your things, sliding the notebook and pen into the bag. You stared at the tape recorder for a second before standing up and pressing the record button.
“Final question. What happens when you realize you can’t get rid of Dean Winchester?” He stilled for a moment, back to you, before turning around and narrowing his eyes at you.
“You have no idea what it’s like to be me.” A calloused hand came up to his face and rubbed at his jaw. You stepped purposefully towards him.
“Well now’s your chance to tell me. What’s it like to be /the/ Dean Winchester.” Finally, as if the words resonated with him, Dean slid his sunglasses off to reveal deep forest green eyes. They’re weary and older but a hint of playfulness was still in them. A determined look filled them too, as he stepped in front of you and crooked his finger.
“I’ll show you.” He leaned in to whisper, his beard scratching along your jaw. The small pain made you jump a bit and he stepped back and motioned towards his security guards. Each man took one of your arms and carried you out to the stage where he would be performing later that night. It seemed the Technicians needed Dean for a mic check.
You are forcibly plopped into a seat near the edge. It irked you that you’d been manhandled, but if Dean was willing to talk about himself truthfully, then you were there to listen. He stepped up on the stage and narrowed his eyes as he began to sing.
“It’s all the same, only the names will change. Everyday, it seems we're wastin' away. Another place where the faces are so cold. I drive all night just to get back home.” You recognized the song. One that Dean had always been fond of and had even recorded a cover for one of their more recent albums. “I’m a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride. I’m wanted dead or alive, wanted dead or alive.”
Even though Dean was looking at you, one of the omegas from the green room moved to the stage and began to touch across his chest, even going so far as to kiss along his chest. Soon a second and third one joined in. One of the male omegas dropped to his knees and kissed the inside of Dean’s leather clad thighs.
“Sometimes I sleep, sometimes it's not for days. The people I meet always go their separate ways. Sometimes you tell the day. By the bottle that you drink, and times when you're all alone all you do is think.” Dean grabbed a bottle of scotch from the floor of the stage and took a shot of whatever was in it. He grinned as one of the girls tugged him by his belt over to her instead.
“I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride. I’m wanted dead or alive, wanted dead or alive.” Four pairs of hands yanked off Dean’s jacket, revealing his torso completely to you. A surprised gasp left your lips as he turned around- only to reveal more of his tattoos. Shit. You groaned as you let your mind wander for a split second, imagining yourself on your knees for him, dragging your tongue along the pattern of each and every one of his tattoos.
You brought your thoughts back though, knowing you had to stay focused. No matter how desperately your omega side wanted to give in and let him really show you what it’s like to be a cowboy.
“I walk these streets, a loaded six-string on my back.I play for keeps 'cause I might not make it back. I been everywhere, still, I'm standing tall. I’ve seen a million faces, and I've rocked them all.” Dean finally seemed to get lost in the song. His eyes were wide as he picked up his guitar and strummed the lead guitar portion of the song. He seemed to have transported his mind somewhere else. He no longer looked in your direction, but at an undetermined spot in the distance, like he was imagining a sea of people there watching him.
In that moment, he’s relaxed. Despite the sweat gathering on his body, he seemed completely calm. Once more, you could practically feel the energy from him, but in your own skin. Pain hit you deep in your core, followed by a unmistakable sense of longing.
“I’m a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride. I’m wanted dead or alive. I’m a cowboy, I got the night on my side. I’m wanted dead or alive, and I ride, dead or alive. I still drive. Dead or alive. Dead or alive, dead or alive, dead or alive, dead or alive.” But then, just as Dean’s concentration and beautiful form is created. It’s broken by something. He’s snapped out of it and looked around as the song finished. He swallowed thickly and set down the guitar.
Dean stepped down and headed towards you once again. “Does that answer your question?” He asked and headed off, shouldering his jacket back onto his body. The security guards picked you up once more and dragged you into the green room again. You managed to shove them off and follow behind Dean on your own, feet stomping loudly as you did.
Once there, you found Dean back on the couch, beer in hand. Only this time, Crowley was there. He raised his hand and frowned when he sees how pissed off you are. “A great interview, love. Hope you got everything.”
You ignored him , stepping up right in front of Dean, anger building inside you. Where was the passion that he had on stage? Dean was nothing more than a blob of sex, drugs, and booze now. He was lifeless, dull. No wonder his albums stunk. None of his albums in recent years had come anything close to the level of passion that you had seen on that stage.
“You’re not cowboy. You’re a man child, stuck in a rut.” Dean only laughed and closed his eyes, He tipped his head back.
“Love it when you talk dirty.” Crowley stepped towards you, not liking the comments you were hurling at his star.
“You know Dean, you were great, but whatever made you that way is gone.” You don’t even have the anger to yell at him. Instead you spoke with a broken whisper.
“That’s right, just give it to me.” You realized his sunglasses aren’t there to hide the emotions that he’s really feeling at the moment. He was vulnerable to you but he doesn’t hide. He knew you’re right too.
“Now you’re just another rocker asleep at the wheel, singing the same songs you wrote ten years ago.” Crowley let out a tense laugh as you spoke.
“Okay lady. Why don’t-” But you’re not about to start caring what some dick in a suit thought about you.
“And as long as you’ve got this manager keeping you on the road and doping you up with girls and booze and-and..” You point to the bar, where the omegas have come back and are huddled against it. They all smile over at Dean. “And million dollar record deals. He’s gonna keep you asleep and drive your career right off a cliff.”
As soon as you said it, you know you’ve gone too far. If you’re honest with yourself, you’ve become personally invested now that you know what Dean used to perform like. Something inside of you needed it to come out, even if it meant having to bruise Dean and his manager’s ego.
“Alright, lined crossed. Let’s go.” Crowley reached forwards for your arm, but you force it out of his grip and snarl at the Beta.
“Don’t touch me.” Crowley only scoffs, but Dean looked to actually be listening to you now. No jokes, just listening. Maybe what you’d said was getting to him. “You used to write great music. Where are they now?” You plead with him for an answer. For something. This has become so much more than your editorial piece now. No, now it’s about you, asking Dean where he went. “Where’s the real Dean?”
“You know what? I’m gonna have to get your editor on the phone. You’re out of here.” Crowley pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and dialed a number. “Thomas Gallagher’s office please.”
“Get out.” Dean whispered. Your heart ached as he says that and you nodded as you backed away
“My feelings exactly. This interview is over.” With a snap of his fingers, the guards moved in and began to surround you. Dean raised a finger and moved it from you over to Crowley.
“Not her. You.” Dean’s eyes stayed locked with yours, a small squeak of happiness left your lips. It made a soft smirk fall on the rock stars lips. “Everyone but her.” He replied. A confused Crowley hangs up the phone and sighed as he left, along with the omegas, bartender, and guards. Once the door’s shut, you realized. You two are alone, more than you were comfortable with at the moment.
“You know, I think you have this sense of entitlement. Due to the fact that you’re a rock god.” It takes a second to register the fact that Dean has started to move towards you. Once he’s close enough to break your personal space bubble, you began to step back. “But it’s not real. It’s not…love.”
Dean shook his head. “It isn’t love.” He repeated. The two of you continued the dance, when Dean took one step forward, you took one step back.
“Off the record?” He breathed. Warmth from his words fanned across your face and your steps faltered before you regain yourself. You nodded yes, sparing a look down to his lips. “Sex,” he drawled the word out and you slipped down onto the couch after the back of your thighs hit against it. “And other people’s projections of what they want me to be."
You clear your throat, having to scoot away as Dean began to slide down beside you. Heat made its way through your lower belly. He purposefully tried to get close to you and while your head screamed Don’t let him. He just wanted into your pants. Another part, the omega in you, said that Dean thought you were special. You understood him like no one else had. “Of what you want me to be.”
Every part of you ached to turn your head and look at him. You stole a glance, but forced yourself to turn away from Dean, having to further shift away from him on the couch.
“Sex. It keeps me from going out and getting the one thing that could save me.” Dean grinned as you once again half turn to face him, but will yourself to face forward. “But I can’t have that now. I’m a slave to rock and roll.” Again and again, Dean crawled towards you but again and again you slid away. “Like I said, I know me better than anyone, because I live in here and no one else can.”
It got you, the pain that Dean had. The anger was all because of the burden he was carrying. He once had someone to love but she left and then Dean was on his own. He didn’t know how to share himself with another person.
“I can.” You whispered and turned your head to face Dean. Eyes wide as he looked at you with a primal need you’ve never seen in someone’s eyes before. It’s because he believed that. He needed that.
And yet, he’s slow and gentle as he leant forward and pressed your lips together. One hand moved up to cup your cheek and bring you closer to him. A soft sigh left your lips as you tried and pull back for a second, only to dive in deeper the moment his tongue swiped across your bottom lip. “Open for me Omega.” He growled into your lips and you answered back with a high and needy whine.
You do as he asked and you let your lips part in the kiss. His hand moved down and began to press you further into the couch. One of his hands moved up to your face to pull your glasses off. You decided to reach up and pull your hair out of the tight ponytail that you had it in.
Dean moved up to really look at you, a hand moving through your hair and fanned it out. “Is this really what you want, omega?” He asked as a hand moved up to squeeze at your breast. His large hands gripped onto you tightly and pulled at the soft flesh under his grasp. A soft breath fanned over your neck as he drug his lips across your skin.
You jumped at the way his beard brushed against the skin of your neck, you let out a desperate whine for more. “Dean.” You breathed his name out in pleasure and tried your best not to sound too desperate. A breathless chuckle left the man’s lips as he spread apart your thighs.
“You..you’re different, aren’t you Y/N?” Dean tilted his head and you’re a bit surprised he remembered your name. “You don’t expect something from me. Do you?” You shook your head at his question. Part of you wondered if he’s guessing what you want, his truth. You expect nothing, but honesty from him.
“I’ve been looking for you ‘mega.” Dean sat up on his knees and looked down at you. He shouldered off the jacket that hid those beautiful tattoo’s of his.
“I’ve been look for you, Alpha.” Heat begins to rise to your cheeks. Now tinged pink due to the fact that you’ve never called someone alpha before. It felt perfect. Dean’s eyes rolled back a bit and he let out a low growl.
“Say it again.” Dean placed his hand over your throat. He forced your head back to look him in the eyes. “Tell me what I am.” He demanded.
“My alpha.” You whined as he looked down at you with lust blown eyes. He looked down at his hand on your throat and pulled it away only to push up the pencil skirt you wore. The itchy fabric dragged along the smooth skin of your thighs. Dean's eyes zeroed in on your panties, but you snapped your thighs shut.
You placed the tip of your index finger on Dean’s skin to draw a shudder from him. The touch shocked you and the both of you sat in silence as you traced the pattern of the pistol along Dean’s adonis line.
“Mmmm, you like them?” He questioned and brushed his thumb along your lower lip, pulling it down for a split second. Eagerly, you nod your head yes for him. It’s hard to deny the look Dean’s replicated. An eighties rock god was definitely befitting of Dean Winchester.
“I love them. Can I..?” You start to question, but you don’t even have to finish. Dean moved off the couch and stood on his feet in front of you. The Alpha’s right hand moved through your hair as he guided you forward, letting you do whatever you want.
You purse your lips and kissed his hip bone before you dragged your tongue over to where Deans tattoo was. You outlined the design with your tongue. Not wanting to leave the other one unattended, you moved over to the matching design and gave it the same amount of attention as the other one. You brought your hand up and started to unbuckle his belt. The leather pants he wore, pushed far enough down his body to get to his cock. It came as a bit of surprise as his cock sprung right into your face.
Dean didn’t order you to do anything. Once you pressed your mouth to the side of his cock, you could feel his grip tighten on your hair. Every time he let out a growl, your body reacted before you can. Slick began to collect inside your folds, but you pushed past it. Eager to please Dean and get him off.
A few gentle kisses and kitten licks have the Alpha’s cock hard and aching for the attention that you planned to give. “You ever suck a cock before sweetheart?” While it wasn’t your first, you wouldn’t say you were an expert. So, you gave him a tentative nod.
“Relax okay? You’ll get used to it.” Dean offered you a reassuring smile as he let you take the first part of his cock into your mouth. A few movements and you realized that his whole cock wasn’t going to fit inside your mouth, not like this anyway.
Dean bucks his hips into your mouth and the tip of his dick rams past your gag reflexes and makes your eyes widen. It burns your throat but you can handle it. So, you pull away, a small string of saliva connect dick and lips, how romantic.
“Use me Alpha. Wanna..” You struggle to catch your breath as you speak. “Wanna make you feel good.” It’s all he needs to hear as he really grips onto your hair with one hand, the other on the back of your head.
“Tap out if you gotta.” He whispered before he moved his cock back into your mouth. His dick slipped past every barrier and slipped into the back of your throat. It stung and you’re certain your throat will be sore tomorrow. Only when he sees you handle the depth he’s reaching does he pull out and slam your face against his pelvis. Your nose squished against his skin.
You didn’t notice it at first but you feel tears stream down your cheeks. Dean’s head is tipped back and his eyes closed, full lips parted in pleasure. Even though your face is being fucked, you realized that you enjoy the way Dean looked in this moment more than anything. The concentration that he had on stage is back and you love the way he looked in this moment.
Just as you think you can’t last much longer, Dean stilled, his cock completely buried in your mouth and comes. You don’t know if you should swallow or not. So you let instinct guide you as you swallow what he gave you. There’s a moment of silence as you lingered on the floor.
Dean stepped back and eased his cock back into his leather pants and guided you back up onto your feet. He tilted his head before he smashed your lips together in a bruising kiss. Teeth banged each other as he held onto you.
Once you feel the need for air, you pulled away and looked up at Dean, wondering what he’ll do next. “I..I think I’m ready to give you that story you were looking for.” He breathed out and pressed his forehead to yours.
Dean’s eyes opened up to gaze at the familiar ceiling of his bedroom in the bunker. Moments tick by and he turned his head to glance at the cheap clock on the opposite side of the room. It displayed the time- 3:16 am.
Despite the time, Dean felt wide awake. He hissed as he tried to move around, feeling a sick pain/pleasure course from his cock. The seasoned Hunter was unbearably hard, to the point where it was a struggle to get out of his bed.
He’d had the dream the night before and last night when he’d woken up, Dean had to fight with himself to jack off to it. Sure, dreaming about getting sucked off was always nice, but the other stuff weirded him out. He didn’t understand what Alpha’s and Omega’s were, but he didn’t think he wanted to know. Everything worked a bit too much like a bad romance novel.
Now, he laid in bed and tried his best not to think about his dick or the way Y/N had the prettiest mouth he'd ever seen. Dean had wracked his brain, unable to figure out why he dreamt of this you in particular. Dean grabbed his laptop and looked up your name. Unable to find any in any database that matched your description, Dean set his laptop back down.
Dean hesitated before he grabbed the laptop again. His eyes lingered on the search bar as he typed in Alpha and Omega. God. I'm already regretting this.
Tags: @tarot--thot @cuddly-cat-in-a-trench-coat @timeless-crow @musiclovinchic93
#spnkinkbingo#spnabobingo#spndeanbingo#Dean x reader#dean x reader smut#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x reader smut#dean winchester#supernatural#supernatural fanfiction#dean winchester au#lia's 2019 kink bingo series#we get what we deserve ch. 1
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Liam’s Interview for Men’s Health Australia
When we arrive in springtime London to meet with singer Liam Payne, he’s at the centre of a heaving team of staff, fussing around a small hotel room in the heart of the city. It’s a small whirlwind overlooking a comparatively peaceful Hyde park.
Amongst all the drama, Payne remains unruffled. He’s alert, aware of every person and conversation in the room, yet oddly at ease with the lunacy ensuing, greeting me with a traditional British bro-shake.
His calm under pressure is perhaps a product of his adolescent stint as one-fifth of the world’s biggest boy band, One Direction, an experience in which an ability to find your equilibrium amid chaos was an essential survival skill.
What’s immediately apparent is that Payne is a surprisingly self-aware and largely egoless 25-year- old, no mean feat for a man who’s helped sell over 50 million albums in the past decade.
“You’re kind of known sometimes as, ‘the guy from that band’, which is not really where you want to be at a certain point,” Payne says within minutes of our first meeting. It’s a refreshing show of vulnerability so early on, setting the tone for a poignant, sometimes emotionally raw two-day encounter with the star. “If you are what you think you are, then you don’t have to fucking prove anything.”
Delivered with a hint of defiance, it’s a sentiment that applies whether you happen to be a popstar or a product manager.
“I’ve got a lot of things wrong in my time, but they were also the moments that I’ve learned the most about myself,” Payne adds. “The moments to do with fear, patience, intelligence, all those different things.”
The truth is, Payne has lived his life in fast forward, cramming youthful missteps, naïve blunders and redemptive wisdom into one dizzying decade in the crucible of pop-culture stardom, a vortex that generally chews up and spits out young men. Instead he’s emerged, if not fully formed, then certainly as a man acutely aware of who he is. He’s as unsure as the rest of us what happens next – there aren’t many five-year plans in pop stardom – but you’d be hard-pressed to find a guy more ready to seize his potential and make his mark. And that’s an enviable position to be in, whatever direction you want life to take you.
BOY BAND BLUES
At the height of their success, One Direction achieved the impossible, inducing Sixties-style hysteria in an era deemed too atomised for such levels of superstardom. A five-piece boy band, manufactured on TV’s X-Factor by none other than Simon Cowell, with universal appeal. The mop-top haircuts, cheesy grins and wholesome values echoed boy bands of decades past, with an updated millennial twist.
To fully grasp the band’s gigantic pop-cultural footprint consider this: One Direction are the only band in history to have their first four albums debut at Number 1 on the Billboard Hot 100, a feat not even The Beatles managed in their heyday.
“It literally was the perfect storm,” remembers Payne. “There were so many scenarios that had to fall into line for that to happen. It’s not something that can easily be recreated or probably ever will be because of the way the Internet was kicking off, the way The X Factor kicked off. I just think it was just dumb luck.”
Prior to meeting Payne I’d been given strict instructions not to ask any One Direction-related questions. As it turns out Payne freely offers up details of his decade in the eye of the boyband storm. Indeed, he’s happy to share, almost as a cautionary tale.
“It’s difficult when you have the level of fame that we had in the band,” he says. “There have been a lot of people in trouble with mental health that aren’t really getting the help that they need and I think that’s a bit of a problem in our industry. It’s the same shit that happens to everyone, that’s been happening since the 70’s. You know what the traps are and if you are lucky enough, like me, to be able to get out of that scenario and back into a sense of normality, then you know it’s a bit different.”
Payne was only 14 when One Direction blew up. Forced to grow and mature under the magnifying glass of the global media, his adolescence quickly became click-bait fodder and, despite the companionship of fellow band members, he remembers his 1D days as a lonely time, punctuated by alcohol abuse.
“When you’re doing hundreds and hundreds of [concerts] and it’s the same 22 songs at the same time every single day, even if you’re not happy, you’ve got to go out there,” he says. “It’s almost like putting the Disney costume on before you step up on stage and underneath the Disney costume I was pissed quite a lot of the time because there was no other way to get your head around what was going on. I mean it was fun. We had an absolute blast but there were certain parts of it where it just got a little bit toxic.”
It’s the only time in my two days with Payne that the mood darkens. The sentiment echoes around the empty room for a moment, Payne’s eyes glazing over as he’s transported back to those riotous days. Did he ever feel in control during those times? “No. Never.”
“I still struggle with it now,” he adds. “I really struggle to say no because I don’t like to let people down. It’s in my nature.”
If there’s anything Payne hopes his fans take away from his time in fame’s spin cycle, it’s to embrace your past for what it is and grow from it. That way, at least, you ensure the only direction in which you can head is forward.
PAYNE AND GAIN
As if to remind us that we are in fact in the UK, on my seconds day with Payne the spring weather gives way to frosty winds and constant light drizzle. It doesn’t seem to bother anyone in Payne’s camp. Today is the singer’s turn in front of the camera and he wears the dreary London day as well as his perfectly-tailored suit.
After much negotiation, we manage to get onto the rooftop of The Beaumont Hotel, giving Payne a chance to survey his turf. It’s the most at ease I’ve seen him in our time together, the rain seemingly washing away the last traces of his boyish nervousness.
For all his self-discovery and reflection, Payne seems to have solace from the trials of pop stardom in fitness. He’s energetic and you get the sense his next workout is never far from his mind. Even as we shoot on The Beaumont’s suddenly wet rooftop, he jumps at the chance to squeeze in a few triceps dips on a flimsy railing. It’s an odd look, the former boy-band star dressed in a beautifully tailored Hugo Boss suit, the contrast perhaps symbolic of the crossroads Payne now finds himself at.
The less than optimal workout gear not withstanding, Payne credits his newfound fondness for fitness for keeping him on the straight and narrow.
“For me, working out was one of the things that I really wanted to tick of the list ‘cause I always saw myself as that sort of sporty active person and I actually wasn’t,” he says, “I was smoking tons of cigarettes and drinking alcohol. It was the complete opposite but in my head I was still a 14 year-old cross country runner who was fucking on top of the table.”
And although it seems Payne may have simply traded one addiction for another, there’s no denying the positive effects his commitment to movement has had on him.
“I run every morning at the moment,” he says, showing off pictures from this morning’s run on his phone. “I’ve been getting up and doing a before sunrise sort of thing, whereas before I would have been out of bed at 11 and smoking cigarettes.”
Surprisingly for a man of his age, Payne’s workout motivation remains relatively pure, free of any vanity and at odds with the current gym-bro culture.
“I think it’s just having a gentler approach to things and not thinking that everything has to be brawn, muscle and testosterone,” he says. “Man, just fucking be a man about it but do it gently.”
At the same time his fitness journey isn’t solely about pursuing emotional growth. Payne is keen to increase his strength, offering inspiration to fellow “lanky lads”.
“My biggest problem training wise has always been trying to bulk up,” he says. “Bulking up is super hard and my metabolism is just so quick and I’m always on the go, so fitting food in has always been quite hard.”
Currently eating over 12,000 kJ a day in pursuit of size, no doubt spurred on by his latest workout partner, Mark Wahlberg. Payne needs to mantain this high-energy intake and systematic recovery plan to sustain his vigorous training schedule. And it doesn’t come easy. “I have ice baths every single day”, he says. “It’s a fucking mission to get yourself in and out.”
Hard as it may be, fitness has become Payne’s sanctuary, the therapy that keeps his mind in the right place. “The moment you have that little bit of time to yourself where you put your body through a bit of stress, it’s like everything just starts to fall into place.”
FIND YOUR BEARINGS
As I accompany Payne to meetings with stylists and photo shoots for German fashion house Hugo Boss, it’s hard not to reflect on the duality of his circumstances. It’s clear Payne is caught somewhere between boy and man. He mantains the youthful energy and humour that endeared him to millions of teenage girls worldwide, yet there’s a vulnerability and self-awareness many pop stars could benefit from. The partnership with the fashion giant makes a lot of sense, with Payne looking to solidify himself as a man of style and the brand hoping to appeal to a new generation. In Payne, they’ve found the perfect bridge between the old and the new.
The singer certaintly brings edgy appeal and a generous dollop of street creed to the table.
“I haven’t really managed to settle,” he says (...), as we approach at his mate’s photography studio. “(...) Everything happens five years earlier in my life. I should just blame Brexit. It’s fucking Brexit.”
“I’m single... with a goal,” he continues, as he holds me back from a passing black cab. He has a cheeky look, (...).
(...)
(...) although Payne isn’t in a rush to define himself as a solo artist just yet. Unlike his fellow 1D grads, he’s yet to release a full album, instead biding his time to explore his sound and, indeed, himself.
“At the moment, I’m kind of song searching a little bit, which is hard because a lot of songs sound the same to me,” Payne says. “I hope to tell more of a story about myself with the music. I think the first few songs I’ve done were fun and we were very lucky with the success we had, but it doesn’t necessarily paint the right picture of me.”
Indeed, Payne is keen to distance himself from the image he initially portrayed following the 1D departure, despise the success he enjoyed. On sales alone, he’s the most successful of the One Direction alumni. But he insists that the “Lamboghinis, big houses, flash shit, gold chains” have given way to “pick up trucks, lakes, sunrises”.
“It might seem crazy, like a midlife crisis, but I don’t give a shit,” he says. “That’s what I enjoy doing. And then you just kind of have to develop on top of what you like. And I know what I like is getting up and watching the sun come up. And I can do that every single day, free of charge.”
He admits that it’s a complete transformation. He’s not wrong. For a man whose life and career have been shaped by sharp and distint trajectories, this qualifies as a very clear 180.
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|BRAVADO|HOSEOK (M)| AU
EX IDOL ...TRANSITIONING TO SOLO K ARTIST (NOT BTS)
A/N: I had taken the sneak peek for part 1 down and swapped it out for the BACKSTORY ...but you guys asked for it..also it’s like completely reworked lol. This is 2.7K the full thing will prob be around around 10k…storyline heavy since it’s the first chapter but there will be a good amount of smut!
I’d suggest reading the backstory..at least after this so you have a better Idea..as this is a AU for multiple reasons….BUT you don’t HAVE to read it to get the gist.
PLEASE NOTE: THE WAY I’M WRITING HOSEOK’S FEELINGS ABOUT BEING A IDOL IS NOT HOW I THINK HE FEELS...IT’S REFERENCED HERE..AND WILL BE REFERENCED IN DETAIL DURING THE STORY. BUT THE GROUP HE WAS IN..THE CONTRACT AS EXTREMELY STRICT EVEN FOR KPOP. THE GROUP MUSICALLY OR CONCEPT WISE WAS NOTHING LIKE BTS SO PLEASE DON’T READ INTO THIS TOO DEEP !
Lol it’s just a story!! !
-The OC is tatted...but that’s as far as it get physically also her name in this is actually a nickname/business name sooo she’s still “Y/N”
Glancing up at all the lights throughout the city, just silently observing the way the sun was starting to set, taking in the different color waves that dusted the sky.There was this...array of calmness that had washed over Hoseok's body as of late, and he couldn’t even tell you where it came from. To be real, you'd think he’d be a total wreck considering he was in the final stages of finishing his debut album. A Week from today to be exact, in one week he’s due to sit in front of his label and play them the finished product. Once that album get’s the labels stamp of approval..that's when it all starts, picking the single, finding dancers and a choreographer..shooting the music video, and album cover art. Oh let’s not forget the endless traveling to promote the single as well as multiple live performances. While hopefully finding a couple hours a to eat and sleep. The funny thing is, no matter how utterly exhausting that all sounds, especially because for the first time in his career he’d have to do it alone. Hoseok still felt good, damn good,confident, happy, genuinely happy, the butterflies that roamed through his body as he anxiously awaited the start of his new journey felt more exhilarating than anything else. For the first time in years he was looking forward to the idea of stepping into the “Unknown” excited to grow and mature within in craft. Now don’t get me wrong I’m not sitting here saying the ride so fars been nothing but rainbows and butterflies. He did damn near have a mental breakdown last night while in the studio with Gray and Yoongi, over the production of a song. Let’s just say it was pushing 1AM, and Hoseok had a little too much coffee..mixed in with a little too less sleep...and for some reason the 808 just didn't sound right. But of course..after finally getting a good oh I don't know 10 hours of sleep, waking up to a voice memo from Gray... ultimately the 808 actually did sound right! To be fair it always did, he was just stressed and trippin’ a little ,but that was normal, that was expected this is his first solo project , his baby if you will.
“Our sunshine” that’s what his fans called him, no matter what mood you were in, if Hoseok smiled at you...your body responded on command. There was no way around it, and the energy and pure bliss that radiated from his body as of late reflected that nickname to the tee. I’m not implying he was completely miserable during his career as an Idol because he honestly wasn't. Hobi loved his members, fans, and will be forever grateful for the life and memories they’ve given him. But, Idol life at least under the contract he signed...wasn't meant for a free spirit like Jung Hoseok, and this mini hiatus he’s been on since the groups disbandment, has shown him that first hand.
As he continued gazing out the window of the tinted SUV that was currently sandwiched in LA traffic he didn't even realizing the permanent smile engraved on his cheeks the entire car ride. One earpod in, currently playing a couple rough cuts of the songs he'd just finished last night as he just people watched. Loving the different cultures and personalities that danced along the streets of LA, the city of dreamers...always feeling at home no matter what part of California he was in. Moments like these were still felt new to him, the freedom he now felt being able to not be paranoid if he went to events solo. Or if he wanted to go out to a bar and have a couple drinks with friends..no matter the gender. Finally able to run his own social media accounts and post whatever he wanted….if he felt like posting a picture of him in a towel after the gym then he could. If he wanted to post a picture of him and a girl out at dinner….he could, now if we're being real here..the majority of his fanbase is still women so he’s not in any rush to settle down and spam his socials with a girlfriend. Nor does he even have time to entertain someone full time, but it’s just the principle,if he wanted too he could...and that’s something he hasn't been able to do since he was shit,18. His new contract for the most part was solely business related, it held no stipulations on his personal life. Smiling fondly at the growing line of fans that started streaming down the sidewalk, the event itself didn't even start for damn near a hour and a half yet fans were already posted outside.
Tonight was Jay Park’s album release at “The Novo” in Downtown LA, the event itself was a showcase and a album release party all in one, this particular event wasn't for the fans though. They were just all outside patiently waiting to show their love and support while of course also hoping to get glimpses of some of their favorite artist, as well as Mr. Park himself. The idea behind the showcase was more so for industry reps to get a first listen at the album: Radio personalities, music critics ,bloggers and of course Jay’s friends and family. Hints why Hoseok was invited, even during his boyband days the two of them were close, bonding over there love for hip hop and dance.He often refers to him as his “Little big brother” since even though Park is almost 8 years older..Hoseok is almost 4 inches taller,and there's not a day that goes by that he doesn't remind him of that. The two of them were a lot closer than the public actually knew, Park starting out in a boyband himself later transitioning into becoming the founder of his own label. Partially because he wanted to give other Korean artist who didn't fit in that “Idol box” full reigns and creative freedom over there craft, Jay understood Hoseok’s concerns and struggles first hand.
Currently headed not even a mile up the road to “The Ritz-Carlton”, which is where Jay was staying while he got ready for his party.Feeling the car come to a complete stop,taking that as a hint that they had arrived, pulling down the mirror to give himself a one over, before stepping out of the car. His dark wavy locks messily pushed out of his face, skin holding a warm glow due to being in LA for the past 2 weeks. Minimum makeup on, let’s be real when your going to a papped event ...all celebrities no matter who you are have something vailing over there skin. The last thing you need is the full exposure on a camera zoning in on every pour on your face, it just wasn't a full blown smokey eye. Letting his eyes trace down his face, gazing over the small silver hoop that sat in his nose, all the way to the ink the laced along the side of his neck. He felt good, he felt like him...not even trying to hide the smirk that danced along his lips as he glanced back at this reflection “Sir is this entrance okay?” The sound of the drivers voice snapped Hoseok out of his moment of vanity “Oh yeah, well, actually let me make a quick phone call first just to double check.” Tilting his head up to smile at the driver through the partition before scrolling through his text messages quickly looking for the one labeled “Mariah-JP” . Clicking the call button, placing it on speaker as he could tell his pods were dying, and he swore it didn't even fully ring once before she picked up “ PLEASE, tell me your here!?” The level of frustration and desperation in her voice shouldn't have been as amusing as it was,impulsively snorting out the ugliest cackle , not even able to imagine what her days been like. “Shit, I’m sorry I didn't mean to laugh but...wow...ugh yeah, I’m getting dropped off at the main valet entrance is that cool?” Wanting to make sure she wasn't it by any other door as he’d rather get dropped off than make her chase him around “Yes that’s perfect just hurrrryy!!!” Even the driver couldn’t help but chuckle at how frazzled she seemed. Quickly apologizing for the break in character not wanting to seem unprofessional in which Hoseok waved off, not minding one bit, the call was on speaker and it was honestly hilarious. Almost reaching over to open the door himself before he heard the drivers side door open, still a task he felt unnecessary..I mean..come on...he could open his damn door. But not wanting to offend the driver or interfere with him doing his job...he waited patiently for him to open his door.
Hopping out of the car swiftly, turning around to grab the small black David Yurman bag off the seat, as well as to double check that nothing fell out of his pockets as he wouldn’t be riding to the party with the driver. Part of the reason he was meeting Jay here first is because he received a text in regards to a mandatory pre-game session before hand. In addition to the fact that Park wanted his entourage of friends to arrive with im to walk his “black carpet”
Gazing up at this beautiful 54 story glass structure that sat in front of him.. instantly bringing back memories of the boys last world tour, were they sold 2 nights at the Rose Bowl. It was crazy how his heart started fluttering all over again just at the thought of it..the biggest grin stretching across his cheeks. To anyone else just walking by, hell even the driver he probably looked fucking insane but he didn't care, that memory too vivid, too pure..to be held in regardless of the circumstances. Eyes starting to tear up at the pictures he was starting to paint in his head, he swore he could literally still here the fanchants clear as day ..damn near a year later..
Snapping himself out of that memory before it got too deep, and his makeup got ruined..because if he would’ve sat in that moment any longer he would have started balling his eyes out! He felt the driver simply just pat his shoulder... It was the sweetest thing ever the way he just stood there, not asking any questions, not exactly sure what just happened that caused the sudden shift in Hoseok's mood. But he just let him have his space, not in any rush to leave, and even if Hoseok didn't physically say anything about it, he picked up on the gesture immediately, something so small, meant so much.It wasn’t required for him to give a damn, all he was instructed to do was drive...yet he could tell this young man needed a little more than that right now...even it was subtle.
“Thanks man I appreciate it” There was this sense of warmth that laced through Hoseok's voice as he spoke, a slight tremble knocking at his usual collected tone because he meant that phrase in more ways than one. Extending his hand to the drivers for what he assumed was just a handshake instead Hoseok slid a tip in his hand before smiling up at the gentleman fondly.
“The pleasures all mine, I hope you enjoy your night!” The warmth was returned graciously before he made his way over to the drivers side to pull off. Of course the driver didn't actually open his hand and look at the amount until he got in the car but let’s just say he was pleasantly surprised.
It didn't take long for Mariah to spot him...not that he was hard to miss in his leather embellished Gucci jacket. Damn near pushing past the doormen to hold the door open for Hoseok, who previously started walking towards the door extremely slow, with a shit eating grin on his face. “Don’t make me hurt you! Get your ass over here!!!” flailing her arms in the air as egged him closer, pulling her in for a quick hug because she damn sure looked like she needed one, in addition to a whole lotta liquor! Standing there in her cute pink little bodycon dress and Louboutins, hair pin straight, parted down the middle draping down her back.“Thank God...this man has been asking about you all damn day!” Sighing into Hoseok's chest as she spoke , her tone shifting immediately, soothing out while in his embrace. Hoseok’s known Jay for almost 5 years and Mariah's been Park’s assistant since he started his label in 2013, so naturally the two of them had become friends as well! A snort left Hoseok's lips as he shook his head not even surprised. Again that was his “Little big brother” after all….
“Offff course he has..” a slight air of sarcasm cracked along his lips as he tried to fight back the smile tugging at his cheeks. Secretly loving the fact that one of his closest friends genuinely just wanted him around, as friendship was something Hoseok held dear to his heart! Following Mariah’s lead through the lobby, grand wasn't even the right word to describe this hotel, the sound of Mariah’s heels clicking along the marble, as she lead them towards the elevator.”So on a scale of 1-10 how ready are you to quit today?” Brow arched at the implied question, as the door opened and she damn near slumped against the glass upon entering. But before she even had time to respond a ringtone comparable to the grim reaper cut through the air causing a loud cackle to erupt from Hosokes chest.
“Oh my God, please tell me that’s not Jay’s ringtone!?” Mariah couldn't even help the exasperated sigh that left her lips as she put the phone call on speaker. Not even waiting for her to say “Hello” before he spoke into the phone
“Have you-”
“Dude stop whining like a little bitch!” playfully sliding his tongue through his teeth as he teased Jay through the speaker. Waiting for him to recognize Hoseok's voice through the phone...
“Well it’s about time your punk ass got here! And who are you calling a bitch! It’s Jay hyung to you motherfucker” This was their relationship 24/7 they gave each other shit on a consistent basis, if you actually didn't know how close they were you'd probably think the hated each other. Park brought out a different side to Hoseok and he loved it, growing up in Korea, and growing up in the states is a complete 360! Even if your parents were extremely strict and “traditional” if you will. Naturally growing up in a integrated area...your character traits adapt to the people your around. So with the two of them technically being Korean -American there wasn’t a barrier within there “vulgar, or “crude” sense of humor. There were things he could do or say around him that Hoseok wouldn't dare say around most of his Idol friends just due to the culture difference. Dramatically rolling his eyes at the sound of Jay asking for him to be called “Hyung” as he already knew he only said it to be a smart ass .
Hoseok could hear another voice in the background that he didn't recognize but it was clear it was a woman and from the sound of things she busting his balls which made Hoseok happy to no end. “Alright, man will be up there in a minute, were literally in the elevator just stop your crying for 2 seconds little big brouthers coming!” Not even waiting for him to respond before he clicked end on Mariah's phone already well aware he’d have some smartass comeback.The sound of the bell dining rang through the small space, as the glass doors slowly parted...exposing the cherry stained wood walls.
Hoseok’s curiousity getting the best of him “Who's in the room with him right now?” Glancing over his shoulder as they swiftly moved through the sea of people..walking through the halls, a amused smirked moved up her face at the question “That would be Rain….” there was a certain twang to her voice as she said your name only making Hoseok even more curious as the approached the room.
Peeping her head through the door after swiping the keycard to make sure he wasn't walking around balls to the wind, and the minute the door cracked open, exposing the extremely spacious executive suite the two of them could hear the the endless banter that was currently taking place. “Yeah, I’m sure they are comfortable you look like your about to take your kid to soccer practice Janice. Where the fuck’s you minivan!?” Brow arched, tone slightly elevated at the implied question, after a good oh I don't know 10 minute discussion as to why Jay was NOT wearing those particular pair of jeans with his custom jack for his performance tonight. More importantly..he hadn't even started getting ready for the night at all, as he had a rack to his left with four options to walk the carpet in because he couldn't narrow it down prior too.
“Fuck off it’s a durango not a minivan! Anddddd you could always like, I don't know sew some leather patches here ...and oh here..” Eyes almost bugging out of your sockets not even believing he was legitimately standing in the bathroom trying to get you to alter a random ass pair of jeans that looked like they’d be rejected from Goodwill...a hour before his party.
“Are you- did you- Park!” The growl accompanied in the way you said his name made his entire face crumble into it self as he laughed which let you know he was just busting your balls at this point. “Okay you know what..I’m gonna kick your ass, and take those before I burn them, I swear to god!” Huffing out in frustration as you ran your fingers rough your scalp, taking a firm grip on your roots as you held your hair in place. Eyes fluttering over to your left following the footsteps that entered the room only for you to meet the gentleman who standing parallel to you. A smirk glossed over your lips as you acknowledged the way his eyes shameless took you in from head to toe. Your gaze almost somewhat encouraging him to continue as to be fair….you were doing the same thing to him. I guess you could lie and say it was the inner stylist in you that made you give everyone you meet a one over which is the honest truth. But if were being real, that didn't have a damn thing to with my your eyes were flicking from his lips over to his disgustingly chiseled jawline. More importantly, why did this man look so familiar..you knew him from somewhere you just..couldn't quite put your finger on it...
You watched the way his eyes admired the sinful manner in which your black leather Moschino mini dress clung to every curve on your body..more importantly the way the entire piece was held together by one single zipper than ran down the center of the dress.Letting his eyes drift over to the extremely sexy contrast of the full black and white sleeve that started at your shoulder and draped all the way down to your wrist, extending slightly onto the curve of your hand. Or maybe it was the fact that your entire presence didin’t crumble the minute he locked eyes with you. Even at first glance the aura radiating off your body had him intrigued you just looked like you could actually keep up with him, the real him. It was insane the way a good oh I don't know, 30 seconds of eye contact between the two of you said so damn much. I guess the night will tell if he was on to something or if you were just being a little tease..which to be fair you definitely were regardless, but that’s part of the fun right?
That’s all she wrote for the sneak peek...lemme know what ya think and if your excited for the full thing which is halfway done actually thank the lordt! lol
Love you guys as always,
Rocki
#hoseok#hoseok smut#hoseok au#jhope smut#jhope#jhope au#bts#bts au#bts smut#hoseok one shot#jhope one shot#bts one shot#kpop smut#kpop au#kpop one shot#kpop#jung hoseok#hoseok fanfic#jhope fanfic
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Name: Melinda Jameson Age: 37 Sexuality: Bisexual Gender: Female Portrayed By: Genevieve Angelson Availability: Closed
“It keeps getting worse here... I’m not sure my daughter is safe.”
→ Background
Melinda Jameson grew up in Bathgate, though moved to London when she was in her early twenties to pursue a career as an art critic. She’d always loved art but instead of making it, Melinda had always been one to critique. She knew a lot about the subject and wound up working for a magazine in the arts section. It wasn’t quite where she felt the most fulfilled but it paid the bills and she could call home and tell everyone how she was writing for a magazine. It took Melinda a few years before she figured out that what she really wanted to do was help artists book shows, market themselves, publish their art, etc. She took a quick refresher course at a local university, keeping her art critic job on the side to pay her way, but she dropped the job as soon as she passed the course and immediately began looking for a mentor of sorts. She got a job working in a local art gallery and learned the ropes from a few people there. She found it exciting, helping with the shows, setting things up for when a new artist was in town. Melinda loved the lifestyle and the hard work of it all. She really felt better once she figured out her true calling and the rest of her life simply fell into place.
She met her husband during a show she was attending for a young woman she’d helped get into the business. By this time, Melinda was working solo and she was very good at what she did. Robert was admiring some art and they hit it off, even ending up in a sort of bidding war over a particular painting. Robert won but the painting ended up hanging in their house over the fireplace after they got married. Melinda loved her husband, she did, but he worked long hours as a doctor on call almost all the time and it slowly started to wear her down. She would come home from a long day at work just wanting to lie around on the couch eating pizza or watching a movie with him or something and he’d either already be gone or soon be rushing out the door. They were rarely in sync and she hated it. It wasn’t all the time but it was enough to put a strain on things. Melinda held onto hope that they could work through it, find some way to juggle everything.
→ Back to Baberton
Melinda previously had an ongoing affair with one of her artists, Harvey Newell. The pair had met when Melinda saw some of his art at a street fair he was drawing at while freelancing alone, and she met with him after to convince him to let her become his representative (agent, for lack of a better term) after he drew her that day. She called him the very next day, seeing something in him and his art. She got him work, booked shows for him, etc. However he eventually called off the affair randomly, and fled to Baberton (the town his Gran lived in before she died) to hide from her, which Melinda figured out pretty easily. She felt a bit like a stalker just showing up but he had been dodging her calls and she was still his agent after all. It was around this time Megan confided in him that she was pregnant with his child. Harvey made it clear he wanted to stay in Baberton so Melinda managed to get the local gallery there to show his art full time. It was frustrating and threw her off a bit but he didn’t seem to want to change his mind any time soon.
Melinda stayed in Baberton for a while too, while things get settled, just to make sure everything works out and it’s the right fit... plus a break from her husband was nice. She made a few friends here but a new start in Baberton wasn’t really to be. She got back together with her husband, wanting to make it work with him, and ended up leaving baby Sarah with Harvey when she was born, and it came out with her husband that it wasn’t his child. The betrayal of the affair wasn’t able to be repaired however, and he eventually asked Melinda for a divorce. So, she’s back in Baberton, and this time she’s here to stay.
→ What’s Her Secret?
She regrets leaving Harvey with baby Sarah to raise her alone. Melinda wants to be a part of her daughter’s life but she also wants to be part of Harvey’s life... in the sense that she wants the three of them to be together as a little family unit. She knows they could make it work if they really tried and they loved each other once, right? Isn’t that what baby Sarah deserves? She’s prepared to fight to get custody back if he doesn’t even want to entertain this for a moment though.
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25 Days of BeChloe Christmases
DAY 24 - WHO ANSWERED CHLOE'S PHONE?
Author's Prompt: Beca was on tour and called her girlfriend Chloe to wish her a Merry Christmas. Only it wasn't Chloe who answered Chloe's phone.
A/N: This is one of those stories that have been sitting around in my brain, so I decided to center it around Christmas. I know this is a short but Day 25 is going to be longer.
Beca Mitchell was on top of the world. She was already getting recognition as a solo artist after her first album was released. She was embarking on a sold-out International tour. And a year go she finally, well accidentally, confessed her love to Chloe Beale who was now her girlfriend.
The confession came out of the blue for Beca. She hadn't planned to tell Chloe since it looked like Chloe had found her special someone in Captain Chicago Walp during their USO Tour especially after she saw the two kissing after her debut performance.
Beca remembered the feeling of annoyance when she saw them kissing. She wasn't annoyed at Chloe or even Chicago. He was a really nice guy and fit with Chloe's personality well. She was annoyed at herself for not having the guts to tell Chloe how she felt about her.
Beca thought back to that day.
"You okay?" Theo had asked as he watched Beca watching Chloe and Chicago kiss.
"I'm good," Beca said. "Chloe seems to be happy, which makes me happy for her."
"But?"
"But, what?"
"I sense there's more to that statement that you're letting on."
Beca sighed and started walking away. Theo followed and unbeknownst to Beca, so did Chloe.
They walked around a corner, and Theo stopped Beca.
"So," Theo said. "What are you not saying? You say you're happy for Chloe, but there's something more. What is it?"
Chloe knew she should have kept walking, but hearing Theo ask Beca about her she stopped just around the corner and listened.
"I am happy for her," Beca said. "I just-. I've been in love with her for so long but didn't have the courage to tell her how I felt. She's found someone who is perfect for her, and I only want her to be happy. So, I'm good."
Chloe couldn't stay where she was. She stepped around the corner and found herself about two feet behind Beca, with Theo looking over Beca's shoulder at her.
"You're in love with me?"
Beca's eyes widened when she heard those words spoken behind her. She swallowed and looked at Theo who was smiling at her.
"I think you might want to turn around," Theo said before he turned and walked away.
Beca looked down at the ground and let out a breath.
"Beca?"
Beca turned to find Chloe standing there with tears in her eyes.
"I'm sorry, Chloe," Beca whispered as tears stung her eyes. "I never meant for you to hear that."
"You were never going to tell me?" Chloe asked, an edge to her tone. "I've waited for seven fucking years for you to say you love me and I had to overhear it by accident because you were never going to tell me."
"I'm sorry," Beca said through her tears. "I never wanted to-. I couldn't lose what we have. And you looked so happy when you kissed Chicago. I only want you to be happy, Chloe."
Chloe moved, so she was standing right in front of Beca. Her tone is softer when she speaks. "I was telling Chicago goodbye. It started as a small kiss, and he got a little carried away." Chloe chuckled remembering how he 'dipped' her. "We both laughed when he let me back up. He apologized and said he wanted something to remember me by. I had told him earlier that I was in love with someone else and he was okay with it."
Chloe stepped closer and took Beca's face in her hands and smiled. "I told him I was in love with you."
Beca let out a small sob. "Really?"
"Really," Chloe said and leaned in to kiss Beca. Beca closed the distance and joined their lips.
Beca smiled at the memory. She and Chloe had decided to try the long-distance thing with her in L.A. and Chloe in New York. It's been almost a year since that night, and they've probably seen each other in person a handful of times, but they always made the most of those times.
Right after her solo performance, Beca flew to L.A. to immediately start working on her first album; it was released two months ago. Two songs on the album held the number one and number two spots on the charts just one month after the album release and were holding steady. Two other songs were in the top ten and moving up fast.
The tour had been planned before the album came out. Three days after the album's release, ticket sales increased, and she was going to be performing to sold-out crowds everywhere she went.
Beca made sure she left L.A. in time to stop in New York to spend Thanksgiving with Chloe before she flew to Europe to start her tour. They barely left Chloe's apartment the four days Beca was there. Beca and Chloe both cried when Beca had to leave.
Beca had been on tour for a month and was loving every minute of it. The adrenaline rush of performing before a live audience is something she's never experienced before.
The only downside to the tour was that she hasn't been able to see or talk to Chloe for most of that time. Beca texted Chloe every day, but with the time difference, the texts would go unanswered for several hours. She knew Chloe was busy with vet school, but her insecurities reared their ugly head whenever Beca received a response; they were becoming shorter and less enthusiastic.
It had only been a month, and Beca was worried that her being away and the lack of seeing and talking to Chloe for another two months was already taking its toll on Chloe and their relationship. Beca tried to call Chloe several times, but the time difference continued to mess with them speaking to each other. She was anywhere from six to nine hours ahead of Chloe's time, but their schedules never seemed to line up. Beca would leave voicemails and Chloe would leave voicemails, but Chloe's voice was becoming different with each message left. Beca could almost feel her pulling away from her, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
Beca felt her heart skip a few beats each time Chloe left a new message. They were getting shorter and shorter. Beca made sure to always end her messages with an 'I love you.' Chloe would usually do the same, but Beca can't remember the last message where Chloe said she loved her, too, and it didn't sound like an afterthought.
Beca was in Paris and had two concerts scheduled before she was to have a few days off, flying to Madrid two days after Christmas. Those few days now included an added show on Christmas Eve.
Beca had wanted to fly to Tampa and surprise Chloe for Christmas, but the extra show wasn't going to allow that to happen. She felt a desperate need to physically see Chloe. Based on the latest round of texts and voicemail message, Beca felt like they were back to just being friends based on the lack of any romantic overtures from Chloe. And, as much as she loved Chloe as a friend, she loved her more as a girlfriend, and she didn't want to go back.
Beca performed the Christmas Eve show and was back in her hotel room. She had texted Chloe before the show but had not received any response. She woke early and couldn't get back to sleep. It was almost six o'clock on Christmas morning in Paris and Beca decided to call Chloe. It was Midnight in Tampa and Beca wanted to be the first to wish Chloe a Merry Christmas.
Beca called Chloe's number and got no answer. Thinking Chloe must be asleep she hung up and tried again, hoping the constant ringing would wake her because she really wanted to hear Chloe's voice. This time the call was answered, but it wasn't Chloe's voice she heard.
"Hello?" A male voice came over the line.
"Um, hello?" Beca said and looked at her phone to make sure she actually called Chloe's number. "Is, uh, Chloe there?"
"She's not here," the guy said. "She was in a hurry to leave and must have left her phone behind."
Beca felt the tears stinging her eyes. She ended the call without saying anything.
Beca threw her phone onto the bed and put her head in her hands. She let the tears flow. Chloe had cheated on her. And from the sounds of it, it was with some random guy if she rushed off and left her phone.
Beca laid in her bed, letting the tears flow until she felt like she didn't have any tears left. She looked at the clock on the nightstand and watched as the clock changed to eight o'clock.
"It's been two hours since I called Chloe. I guess I know what she was doing for Christmas. Or rather, who she was doing." Beca couldn't shut her brain off or stop the thoughts that were running around inside her head.
Beca laid there for another few minutes thinking that even if Chloe hadn't done anything with that guy, she would still have to go back and retrieve her phone. Maybe she'd see the guy and realize she did want something to happen with him. And, then they would-.
"Stop it, Mitchell," Beca said louder than she had intended. Her voice sounded weird bouncing around the room back at her. She took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. She looked at the clock, and it was eight-ten. It had now been two hours and ten minutes since she had placed the call to Chloe's phone.
Beca wiped her hands down her face and got out of bed. She took a quick shower and decided to get dressed and go down to the hotel restaurant for breakfast. She needed to be around other people to try and keep her mind off Chloe and her suspected betrayal.
As she exited her room, Theo was leaving his. "Hey, Beca!"
Theo calling her caused Beca to stop and look back at him.
"Good morning," Theo said as he caught up to her. "It's only a little past nine. What's got you up so early?"
"Couldn't really sleep," Beca said. "I'm going to breakfast downstairs. Care to join me?"
"Sure," Theo said. "I was heading down for breakfast as well."
The two made their way to the restaurant in silence, only speaking when asking the waitress for coffee.
"Are you okay?" Theo had a look of concern on his face as he studied Beca.
"I, uh, called Chloe to wish her a Merry Christmas this morning," Beca said the tears threatening to start again. "Only she didn't answer."
"Just try again later," Theo said. "I'm sure she'd love to hear from you."
"I don't think so," Beca said sadly and wiped the unshed tears from her eyes. "Chloe didn't answer, but some guy did. I think she was, uh, I think she cheated on me."
"Oh," Theo said.
"Yeah," Beca said. "We haven't really had a chance to talk at all since I started the tour. Before I left, we had the most amazing few days together. I thought-." Beca swallowed. "I thought we were good. I've been thinking about asking her to marry me."
"Beca, I'm sure it was not what you think," Theo said looking at his menu. He looked back up at Beca, and a big smiled spread across his face.
Beca saw his smile, and it made her angry. "I'm so glad my pain is a source of amusement for you."
Theo bit his lip, but the smile remained.
"What are you smiling at?" Beca was getting frustrated with him. "It's because of you and those extra shows that I can't be with Chloe, and now she's probably found someone else to be with. I love her so much, and I don't want to lose her."
"I have a question for you," Theo said. "Why is it every time we have a conversation about you and Chloe, the last thing I say to you before I walk away is I think you might want to turn around?" Theo stood and smiled at Beca. "Happy Christmas, Beca."
Beca furrowed her brows and watched as Theo walked away.
"What the hell does he mean I should turn around?" Beca asked herself.
"Merry Christmas, Beca," a voice said from behind Beca.
Beca looked down at the table and let out a breath, hoping beyond hope that her imagination wasn't playing tricks on her.
"Beca?"
Beca turned to find Chloe standing there with a big smile on her face. Beca let out a small yelp. It wasn't her imagination; Chloe was really here.
Beca jumped up from the table and grabbed Chloe, crashing their lips together. Chloe kissed her back. Chloe pulled out of the kiss, but Beca didn't want to let go. She leaned her forehead against Chloe's.
"What are you doing here?"
"My parents didn't like hearing me whine about missing you so much," Chloe whispered. "They also didn't like how sad I looked when I got off the plane in Tampa. They knew I had been saving up to try and buy a ticket to surprise you while you were on tour. They also knew I wasn't able to save enough, so they gave me a plane ticket to come to see you as my Christmas gift."
Beca pulled back and wiped a tear from Chloe's cheek. She looked at Chloe. "I, um, called you earlier this morning to wish you a Merry Christmas. Someone else answered the phone. It was, um, it was a guy."
"Beca," Chloe said realizing what Beca must have thought. "I know what you're thinking, and I would never cheat on you. You have to believe that. I don't want or need anyone else."
Beca just stared at Chloe. Chloe smiled and said, "I love you, and only you."
"I love you, too," Beca said. "But, we haven't really talked to each other in the past five weeks, and I started thinking that maybe you found someone else. Someone who lived in the same time zone. Someone you actually got to see every day. Someone better than me." Beca's voice was a whisper by the end.
"There is no one better for me than you," Chloe said and kissed Beca again.
"Then who answered your phone?"
Beca wasn't ready to let it go. She was still the insecure Beca she had always been and couldn't believe that Chloe would, or that anyone would, fly halfway around the world just to be with her.
"It was probably my sister's boyfriend Aidan," Chloe said and gently pushed some stray hairs behind Beca's ear. "I was in a hurry and forgot my phone at my parent's house. They gave me the ticket yesterday at lunch, and I didn't have much time to get my stuff together before I had to be at the airport to catch my flight."
Beca looked into Chloe's eyes and only saw truth and love. She hugged Chloe to her. "I'm sorry. I got inside my head and jumped to the wrong conclusion. I just love you so much, and I still can't believe that you love me, too."
"I will spend the rest of my life making you believe it," Chloe said and kissed Beca again.
Beca held Chloe tighter as they stood in the hotel restaurant. Chloe pulled out of the hug and kissed Beca.
"Merry Christmas, Becs," Chloe said.
"Merry Christmas, Chloe."
Beca pulled Chloe to her for another kiss. Chloe deepened the kiss before pulling back and smiling at Beca.
"As much as I would love to stand here kissing you forever, I've been on a plane for past thirteen hours. I need Christmas sex, a shower, and a nap in that order."
Beca let out a laugh. "By all means," Beca said taking Chloe's hand. "I have just the place where we can do all three."
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