#as in I live a block away from a fire station and the last fifteen minutes have been loud | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

catboybinnie · 3 years

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first date ━ seo changbin.

summary: part of the first date collection. on your way home from work, florist!reader notices changbin smoking a joint on his fire escape, and decides to ask for some. what ensues is an unexpected first date.

pairing | seo changbin x fem!reader

genre | alternate universe (non idol au), fluff & smut

wordcount | 4.7k

warnings | marijuana use, sex while under the influence of marijuana, oral (f receiving), nipple play, penetrative sex, protected sex

“Hi,” you call, tilting your head up towards the man on the fire escape twenty feet above you.

After a moment, he says, “hi,” back to you, but it sounds more like a question than a greeting. You can’t blame him. You probably wouldn’t talk to someone shouting to you from the sidewalk of your apartment either. He’s staring down at you, features fuzzy in the evening shadow, but your attention isn’t on his face, anyway.

“Can I hit that?” You gesture towards the joint in his hand. The siren call of weed makes you stupid.

The man doesn’t answer you. He sits up straight again, now out of your sight completely except for his feet dangling off the edge of the fire escape. A stream of smoke curls into the air from where you suspect his head is, and you wait a moment for a response before realizing, a little too late, exactly how stupid weed makes you. He’s not going to respond.

Just as you turn on your heel to continue your trek towards the subway station, his voice calls your attention back. You twist your neck around to look up at him, peering down at you from twenty feet above. “Can I make you a deal?”

“Sure,” you nod.

With an outstretched hand, joint resting between his index and middle fingers, acting like an arrow as he points towards the taco truck at the end of the block, he propositions you. “Grab me a number three from there and I’ll roll you your own.”

Well. Shit. That’s not the answer you were expecting, though you can’t say you were expecting an answer at all. It’s a fair deal. Whatever a number three costs is probably on par for a joint, anyway, so you shoot him a thumbs up and go get him a number three. You get yourself one, too, for the road.

Minutes later, he tells you to stand back so he can drop the ladder for you, so you do, and you wonder how the fuck you plan on climbing the fire escape with a burrito in each hand. He answers that for you by taking a couple steps down the ladder until his black vans are at eye level with you.

He’s a lot closer to you now than he was before, and a combination of shop lights, streetlights, and an apartment light leaking between curtains illuminate him. He looks around your age─ dark hair, dark eyes, intense, offset by fuller cheeks and plush lips.

One hand grasped around the rungs to hold himself up, the other hand stretched down towards you with a freshly-wrapped joint. You exchange one of the burritos for it, watching as he climbs back up the fire escape with a short thanks.

“Hi,” you call back up at him once he settles again.

“Hi,” he responds, setting the burrito down next to him as he goes to pull the ladder back up.

Weed makes you stupid, so before he can pull the ladder back up, you ask him, “can I come with you?”

“If you tell me your name,” he replies, so you do. He says it slowly, like he’s tasting it, and you like the way he says your name. If you had the ability to say someone’s name like it’s the most important word in the world, you’d probably abuse it for street burritos, too.

“What’s your name?” You ask him. Maybe you do have the ability to say names like that, maybe you don’t.

“Changbin,” he tells you, so you repeat it, and you try to say it like he did─ deliberately─ but you fuck that up completely. Sounds more like you’re teasing him for something, you sound like an asshole to your own ears, but he just grins down at you.

“Are you coming up?” He─ Changbin─ takes a bite from his burrito.

So you do.

xxx

Forty minutes later and your head’s heavy, but like the weight’s all cotton candy. It isn’t something that makes sense when you’re sober, but it does when you’re stoned out of your mind, so you tell Changbin that.

“My head’s full of cotton candy,” you state, plainly, sticking your thumb in your mouth to lap at the melted cheese that dripped out of your burrito.

“What color?” Changbin asks.

You hum, pondering for a moment as the two of you swing your legs over the fire escape, staring out into the city. You decide on, “blue, but baby blue, like… periwinkle,” and he laughs beside you.

He laughs nice. The thought makes you snort, and you turn to look at him just as he blows a cloud of smoke out and hides from your sight. It’s definitely the weed spinning the world more slowly but your ears cling to his laughter, replaying it like an echo. He laughs nice, and you need to let him know.

Before you get the chance, Changbin interrupts you to ask, “why are you hiding from me?” He swats at the air between you two where thick smoke streams from both of your joints coil together. He bats it all away and smiles at you, slow and lazy.

“I’m right here,” you reply.

He jerks his head in the direction of his apartment window. “Do you want to go inside?”

“Yeah,” you nod.

You crawl in the window after him, balancing the last bite of your burrito between your fingers like it's a precious gemstone, holding your joint between your lips and taking shallow tokes with each breath. Smoke spills from your nose and you feel like a dragon.

The window leads you directly into his kitchen. It’s almost entirely brick, with dark wooden countertops, black steel furniture, and high ceilings. Spacious─ this guy must have money─and leads into a larger living room with a massive black L-shaped couch, more brick walls, more wooden furniture, and a spiral staircase leading to a lofted bedroom.

“What do you do for work?” You ask.

“I’m a producer,” Changbin responds, now perched on his kitchen counter. He leans over to the ashtray at his right and puts the joint out in it, abandoning it altogether, before he leans back on his palms and tilts his head to keep looking at you. “I make music.”

“Anything I’ve heard?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He smirks. “What about you?”

“I’m a florist,” you answer him, shoving the last of your burrito in your mouth.

You spend the next fifteen minutes like this, getting to know each other. It feels like longer, like fifteen years, because even though you put your joint out in the ashtray next to his, you’re still higher than the moon and time has long since stopped moving linearly.

Somehow, you wind up standing between his legs with your hands on his knees. You don’t remember getting this close.

“Do you normally follow random men up a fire escape?” Changbin teases you with that slow, lazy grin.

“Fuck off,” you laugh, shaking your head. “Never.”

“What made you follow me? Besides the weed,” he adds. “You’re not going to rob me, are you?”

“I can’t even feel my legs,” you tell him. “If I tried to run right now, I’d fall over.”

“Is that why you’re holding on to me so tight?” Changbin slides his hands down his thighs until he reaches his knees with ease, but stops just short of your hands. His fingers barely brush yours, like he’s shy all of a sudden.

“Maybe,” you say, watching as your fingers tap up that inch of space and intertwine with his. Your head doesn’t feel heavy anymore, but the air around you does, like it’s charged with something volatile and massive where your skin meets his. For a moment, you wonder if you’re imagining it. You wonder if you’re suddenly being weird. You wonder if Changbin is going to kick you out of his apartment, and if your roommates are still awake because you definitely left your keys at work.

He gasps, grips your fingers right back, and the tension breaks. His heels nudge the back of your legs and you take the hint, stepping closer between his legs until your hips hit the counter and your face is inches from his. Changbin’s eyes are bloodshot and red, glistening with the effort of keeping them open to stare into yours. His pupils flick down to your lips real fast, and you lean in a little closer. Just a little closer.

“Do you kiss on the first date?” You ask.

He smirks again, tongue poking out to wet his lips, eyes still flicking down to yours like he’s waiting for the right moment. “Oh, so this is a date? You ask every guy out on a date by smoking his weed and inviting yourself over?”

“You smoked me out and I bought you food, this is definitely a date,” you smile back at him.

“More like a sesh,” Changbin responds.

Before you get the chance to say anything else, he closes the gap between you two, pushing his lips against yours. He kisses like he smiles: slowly, lazily, like time doesn’t exist and all he plans on doing for the next millennia is this. Slots your lips together and sucks your top lip between his, slips his tongue into your mouth to taste yours, nips at your bottom lip and down your chin until he’s sucking a line of sloppy, wet kisses down your jaw. All the while, you’re standing between his legs with one hand on his knee, still intertwined with his, while your other arm wraps around his neck in an attempt to fill each other’s space up with your bodies completely.

Changbin’s teeth lightly scrape your neck and you gasp. “You make the sweetest little sounds for me, baby,” he murmurs against your skin.

Your face flushes with the realization that you’ve been making noises this whole time. You rebel against this information by bringing your hand up to his face, guiding him back to your lips, taking a step back with each kiss so he follows after you. Changbin slides off the counter and crowds you into the corner of the kitchen’s entrance, capturing your lips again in the process. One of his hands grips your jaw, applying just enough pressure for you to open wider, giving his tongue better access to your mouth. His other hand reaches down to hook your leg up at the thigh, pushing his hips flush against yours and forcing you to wrap your leg around his waist for balance.

He tastes like weed and street tacos. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Changbin pulls his lips off of yours with a wet smack, nosing into your cheek to ask, “do you fuck on the first date?”

“So this is a date?” You grin. “Not just a sesh?”

It’s his turn to laugh now, mumbling for you to fuck off, before he gives you a series of languid kisses. “Yeah, it’s a date.”

You capture his bottom lip between your teeth, pulling him back towards you for more kisses. You pull apart just to nod and say, “then yeah, I fuck on the first date.”

xxx

The walk up the spiral staircase to his lofted bedroom takes a little longer than it should, with the two of you giggling and crawling up on your hands and knees the entire time. Once the two of you reach the loft, he ducks quickly to scoop you up into his arms and carry you over to the bed, smiling at you the entire time. It’s romantic until his knees hit the edge of the bed and his smile turns devious before he throws onto the mattress. You shriek, gripping at his black sheets, already pushing him away with your feet as he crawls toward you.

“Stop kicking, Y/N/,” Changbin laughs. In the small moment that you falter, too wrapped up in the way he says your name, like it’s the most important word in the world─

Changbin manages to grab your ankles and spread them apart, effectively stilling your kicks even as you persevere in your attacks, cursing him out while laughing.

“Do you ever worry that someone’s watching you through a telescope?” You ask, gesturing towards the massive floor-to-ceiling windows on the other side of the loft. The back of his apartment provides you with a view of the rest of the city just beyond the river and the bridge that divide it.

“Not until now, no,” Changbin’s eyebrows furrow as he looks out at the city, and it’s obvious that he’s literally never even considered that. He sighs, then shrugs. “Well, at this point they’ve seen my dick from every angle, so what’s one more time.”

Before you push the subject further with something even more ridiculous, he slides up between your legs, forearms on either side of your head, and kisses you deep. Whatever it was that you were going to say dies on your tongue and disappears from your mind completely as your five senses are completely overwhelmed by Changbin.

The taste of his lips; the smell of marijuana mixing with his sheets; his fingers reaching down to skim your hip where your shirt’s riding up; the little sounds he’s somehow pulling out of you, like no one’s ever done before; he pulls back, and you open your eyes to take in his disheveled appearance, hair messy and lips kiss-swollen, and you think, proudly, I did that.

His fingers tug at your shirt, and you wordlessly reach down to pull it off. Changbin sits back on his heels, hands reaching down to run up and down your arms, your waist, the swell of your tits underneath your lace bra. He swallows, a small sound in the back of his throat, and his tongue pokes out again to wet his lips.

“You too,” you say, your voice breaking the spell he’s under, and he hastily pulls his own shirt off.

You sit up on your elbows, taking in the view of his bare skin; Changbin looks strong but still so soft, so you reach out to skim the pads of your fingers down his chest, down his abs, tracing the warmth of his skin and the vague line of his abs down to the waistband of his jeans. You hook your fingers in the band and look back up in time to see the way his throat bobs.

“Can I see?” You ask.

Changbin snorts. “Isn’t that the point?”

“Fuck you!”

“Isn’t that the point, too?” Changbin laughs, and dodges another kick you send his way.

“Shut up and take your pants off, Changbin!” You flop down onto your back, throwing your arm over your eyes and groaning just to be dramatic.

You hear him laugh again, more of a light, warm giggle, and then the sound of fabric rustling and metal unzipping. Moments later, he guides your arm away from your eyes and rolls his hips down into yours, kissing you again before you get a good look at the prize. You can certainly feel it, though, thick and heavy on your hip. Your heart stutters in your chest at its weight, and you’re suddenly very aware of the heat in between your legs.

“Why am I completely naked and all you’ve done is take your shirt off?” Changbin mumbles against your lips, squeezing one of your tits in his hand.

“Do something about it,” your voice is breathier than normal.

Changbin sits back again and you follow up on your elbows, finally getting a look at his cock springing up from between his thighs. Thick, long, and hard, and you bite your lip as you admire it.

Never in your life have you ever wanted a dick inside of you this badly.

“You’re drooling,” Changbin teases you, yanking your pants and your underwear down to your ankles. You kick around a bit until, with his help, you’re also (almost) entirely naked.

You sit up and reach for his cock, but Changbin backs away from your touch.

“Not until you take your bra off,” he says.

“Brat,” you roll your eyes but comply, reaching behind your back to unhook your bra and pull it off your chest.

Changbin’s eyes are locked on your body, his gaze so intense that you start fidgeting beneath it. Your heart hammers in your chest. Any funny remark or weird comment you can make dies in your throat the second his hands travel up your legs, spreading them further the closer he gets to your pussy. Embarrassed, suddenly, you turn your head to stare out the window, fisting at the duvet beneath you.

“Hey, no, look at me,” you hear Changbin say before he grips your chin and turns you towards him. He swoops down to kiss you again (slowly, lazily) until you start making noises of contentment into his mouth.

Your breath catches in your throat when you feel his fingers rubbing against your pussy, dipping between your folds, circling your clit, teasing your cunt as he smears your own slick around. Your hands instinctively come up to cradle his face and run through his hair, your lips chasing after his in a series of hot, open-mouth kisses.

Changbin breaks away first, sitting back on his heels again and pulling his fingers away from your pussy to hold in front of his face. He huffs out a laugh at the string of slick connecting his middle and index fingers, his eyes meeting yours. “Look how wet you are for me, Y/N.”

“I’m going to kill you if you don’t fuck me already,” you growl, sitting up so you’re eye-to-eye with Changbin as you take his wrist and wrap your lips around his fingers, tasting yourself.

His eyes glaze over and his mouth drops open watching as you suck his fingers dry. Slowly, you drag his fingers out of your mouth by his wrist, letting them catch on your lower lip and pull a little, before smearing spit down your chin.

“You’re trying to kill me now, holy shit,” Changbin babbles and lets his hand grab your neck, not choking you, but to steady you as he kisses you again. Despite the urgency in his voice, he manages to kiss you slow, again, like time means nothing.

He guides you down onto your back again, kissing you the whole way down, before his lips start making their way down your jaw, your neck, your body. Once he reaches your hips, he glances up at you, eyes glazed and hooded, so you can watch him kiss a trail from your hip to halfway up the inside of your thigh. His other hand pushes your other leg up, hooking your thigh over his shoulder so he can shimmy up closer to your leaking pussy. You’re so wet, so hot, for him that his breath fanning out over your core feels cold. It sends shivers up your spine.

Changbin licks a stripe from your hole to your clit, making your back arch as you push your hips up into him, a deep groan coming from him. “You taste so fucking sweet,” he moans.

You can do nothing but whine as he sucks on your clit, his tongue rapidly flicking across the sensitive nub. You push your hips up again for deeper friction only for Changbin to push you back down, his forearm pinning your hips in place as he continues eating you out.

And he’s fucking messy about it, too. Alternating between kitten licks at your hole, sucking kisses up your pussy, flattening his tongue to catch as much of you in his mouth and the rest dribbling down his chin to mix with his own saliva. His spits on your pussy a few times, his thumb coming up to rub circles into your clit while his tongue fucks your cunt. You’re babbling his name, begging for more, moaning and gasping and grabbing your own tits with your own hand while the other rakes through his hair.

Then, Changbin adds two fingers. You gasp at the sudden intrusion so he takes your clit between his lips again as he fucks you with his fingers. Your eyes are half-lidded in absolute pleasure, blinking blearily at him while he busies himself pushing saliva out of his mouth again, coating your pussy in a mix of slick and spit. The added wetness makes it easier for him to finger fuck you, makes it easier to curl his fingers into your walls just right and find the spot that has you moaning his name loudly enough for the entire city to hear.

Heat pools in the bottom of your stomach and before you know it, your back arches and your body stills as you cum. Changbin licks you all the way through it, his fingers pressing against that spot inside of you that exploded from his touch, until you release one final moan.

Chest heaving, you look down to see him sit up from between your legs, smiling, lips and chin wet with spit and your own slick. You haven’t managed to catch your voice back yet, so you beckon him over with a lazy twist of your fingers. He rolls his body down to meet you and you hold your face in his hands, kissing him deeply, still moaning a little bit into his mouth.

“Where the fuck did you learn to do that?” You murmur, dragging one knuckle down his spine.

He giggles against your mouth and ducks away from you, hiding his face in your neck. “The internet,” he replies.

“So are you going to fuck me now?” You ask, and smirk when he (with a swiftness) sits back and rifles through his bedside drawer.

Changbin pulls out a condom and a half empty bottle of lube, which you raise your eyebrows at. “Someone’s busy.”

“Fuck you,” he rolls his eyes but smirks, working at rolling the condom over his cock. “I’m a chronic masturbator.”

“I know you’re being sarcastic, but that’s actually the hottest thing in the world,” you reply, not even trying to hide the lust in your voice at the mental image of Changbin fucking his own fist in this very bed.

“Maybe I’ll let you watch sometime,” Changbin smirks again.

Before he can position himself, you roll over and push at his shoulders until he gets the hint to lie back in the spot you just vacated. “I’m going to ride you,” you tell him, swinging your leg over his hips until you’re straddling him, “until I physically can’t anymore. You deserve it for eating pussy like a champ.”

Changbin laughs, and it’s his turn to cover his face with his hands as a red flush spreads across his cheeks. You pry his hands away from his face, smiling as you plant kisses all over it (saving his lips for last) until you’re both laughing together. It’s sweet. It’s the best sex you’ve had in a while, and you don’t even have his dick in you yet.

Your fingers circle the base of his cock as you line yourself up with him. You look up to see his eyes staring as you lower yourself onto it, biting your lip through the stretch until you're fully seated. As soon as he bottoms out in you, Changbin groans, and his hands find your hips. After a few moments, once you get used to the stretch, you slowly begin to move. Your legs shake with the effort, your body still tired after your own orgasm and lazy from all the weed you smoked, but you manage to pick up a good pace. You roll your hips down as you fuck yourself on Changbin’s cock, relishing in the sensation of him throbbing inside of you, and butterflies erupt in your stomach once he starts moaning your name.

Absentmindedly, you press your hands down on his pecs and settle your weight into them for balance. Like the rest of him, they’re firm but soft, like he definitely works out and could probably deadlift you like it's nothing, but still soft enough to cuddle into for warmth. You quicken your pace a bit as heat starts pooling in your stomach again, his cock brushing that sensitive part inside your cunt that has you hurtling towards a second climax. One of your hands massages into his chest, your other hand tweaking at his nipples for something to do.

Changbin makes a strangled cry in his throat, like he’s trying not to let it out, as your fingers keep pinching at his nipples, rolling the buds between your fingers, while your hips circle an agonizing rhythm on his cock. Suddenly, his hands squeeze your hips to hold you in place while his hips buck up, burying his cock deep inside you as he cums with a loud groan.

Brows furrowed, eyes squeezed shut, lips red and kiss-swollen─ he is truly a sight to behold.

Even as he releases his death-grip on your hips, you don’t move to get up, opting to stare at the man beneath you as he slowly collects himself. Changbin notices you staring and the flush on his cheeks intensifies, his eyes suddenly looking anywhere but you.

“I─ sorry, that was… new for me.” He mutters sheepishly.

“Huh?” You tilt your head in confusion.

Changbin huffs in frustration, finally meeting your eyes. “I usually last longer than that, I mean. But, uh, the… you know.” He gestures between your hands and his chest, eyes shifty again.

Then it clicks for you. “Ooooooh,” you slap your hands down on his pecs, ignoring the squawk of surprise from Changbin, and press your tongue against the inside of your cheek to try and stop the spread of your smile. “The nipples! Was it the nipples?”

Changbin makes another sound in his throat, looking to his left and out at the city before he nods.

“Oh my god, you liked it!” You giggle with glee. You’ve never been with a man who liked his nipples played with, and if you have─ well, they certainly never let you know.

“Shut up about it,” Changbin mutters, crossing his arms over his chest to dislodge your hands.

You lean over, softly cradling his cheek in your hand as you guide him to look back at you. “I’m not making fun of you,” you reassure him with a kiss, “I think that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Do you think you can cum without me ever touching your cock? Only your nipples?”

Changbin tries to hide his face again, but you gently take hold of his wrists and pin them to either side of his head. Instead of providing you with an answer, his eyes scan your face, like he’s seeing you for the first time, and he cranes his neck up to kiss you again (slow and lazy, just how you like it).

“Do you work tomorrow?” He asks after a while.

“No,” you answer.

He hugs you close to his chest, using the position to roll you both around until you’re on your back beneath him. Slowly, he finally pulls out of you, both of you hissing at the sensation after having been joined together for so long, and he ties the condom off and throws it in the little trash bin beside his bed.

“If you stay over, our first date doesn’t have to end,” Changbin says, casually, like it’s nothing, but there’s a lilt to his voice that makes you think he’s holding himself back.

“Are you not the type to fuck on the second date?” You challenge him. “Is that why you want our first date to last forever?”

Changbin laughs again─ warm, light; butterflies erupt in your stomach again─ and shakes his head, “Y/N.”

Your name sounds safe in his mouth.

He intertwines his fingers with yours, bringing your hands up over your head, and kisses you again. Says your name a few more times, like he knows it makes your heart race.

“What if I promise to cum from you playing with my nipples?” Changbin asks between kisses. “Will you stay?”

“Oh, fine, I guess,” you huff, being purposefully dramatic even though you made the decision not to leave this man the second your fingers brushed on the fire escape.

xxx

In the morning, Changbin keeps his promise, and cums untouched after mere minutes of you pinching and sucking at his nipples. He says your name again, just to get your attention, just so you can kiss him, and it sounds safe in his mouth.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #changbin smut #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids fic #skz fic #changbin fic #collection: first date

268 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

For the meet ugly prompts, 02 indruck?

Here you go! I went SFW on this one and interpreted the prompt kind of broadly. It's set in the same world as this Sternclay prompt

Fun fact: there is a fire lookout in the Monogahela, but the structure I describe is based on more elaborate ones elsewhere

02. I bought a house three months ago but I’m finally moving in and discover you’ve been squatting because you’re homeless

Only in Duck’s life would “dream job” and “months alone in the woods” be equivalent.

The Bickle Nob Fire Lookout is a coveted position, and Duck is pretty fucking flattered they chose him as the ranger for July and August. He took the high clearance off-roader to get here, he’s got his bags full of everything he needs not to die of boredom (or anything else) and his schedule of supply drops. He’s as ready as can be and so fucking excited when he opens the door of the wide-windowed cabin.

Then he jumps back, startled to find a skinny, silver-haired man asleep on the floor.

“Uh, sir? This site is off-limits to visitors.”

The man wakes up in a series of catastrophic movements; he bangs into the wall, tangles in his blanket, and nearly stumbles out the window when he manages to stand.

“I, I’m sorry, I didn’t foresee anyone coming here.”

“Department spent all of June arguin’ about whether it was worth allocatin funds for this, so that’s why the place was empty. Fire up North two weeks ago scared ‘em enough to send me up here.” Duck explains with a casual smile; after all, even if he’s way off the trail, there’s no reason to assume this guy is out to cause trouble, “if you got lost hikin, I’m happy to radio down and ask for someone to come get you and take you back to your camp.”

“Nono, I, ah, I’m not lost. One needs to have a destination to be lost.”

“O-kay. Uh, well, whatever you’re lookin for, I’m afraid this ain’t it. This buildin is for the fire lookout only.”

“I promise I’ll be very unobtrusive. I even have my own supplies, you won’t have to worry about me in the slightest.” The man smiles,opening one of his two bags to show it crammed with shiny packets of food.

Duck shakes his head, “Can’t do it, sorry. I’m serious though, if you need a ride into town I can get a hold of someone who can help. Maybe, uh, you could find whatever you’re lookin for there?”

“No” the man sags, but begins zipping up his bags, “I do not think I will find it there. I am sorry for intruding.” He steps out the door, turning towards the deeper woods on the western slope.

“You need a map?” Duck calls. The man doesn’t so much as look over his shoulder.

Duck unpacks as much as he can, checks the weather station and notes the readings suggest those thunderheads on the far horizon are coming his way. By dinnertime, they’re right on top of him, rain pattering on the roof and thunder rattling the windows. He’s scanning the trees when he spots a metallic flash, not of lightning but of silver hair. His mystery visitor is huddled under a tree, wind forcing the hood of his raincoat back over and over again.

The rules and regulations in the forest are there to keep the environment and visitors safe. If something doesn’t violate those basic requirements, Duck sees no reason not to bend them.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

“I really cannot stress how grateful I am that you allowed me back in.” The visitor, who introduced himself as Indrid, finishes packing their scant trash into the can, “I promise that as soon as the storm passes I’ll leave you be.”

“Yeah, about that.” Duck scratches the back of his neck, “you really don’t got anywhere to call home, do you?”

Indrid opens his mouth. Duck stares, pointedly, at the holes in his white shirt and the worn shoes sticking out from frayed jeans.

“....No, I do not.”

“In that case, you stay here the next two months, on two conditions: one, you don’t get in the way of me doin what I’m here to do. Two, you don’t tell anyone I let you do this. Deal?”

“Yes, yes absolutely” Indrid shakes his hand, bouncing up and down a bit, “thank you so much. You will barely know I’m here.”

This turns out to be completely true and utterly false.

Indrid does keep to himself most of the day; he draws, reads, lays in the sun outside the cabin and generally stays out of Ducks way while he’s working. But he’s also the person who sits and jokes with him during meals, who eagerly follows Duck’s hand when he points out interesting birds or plants, and watches intently when Duck reads his instruments.

He never thought he could live in a fifteen by fifteen foot space with another person and not have a full head of grey by the end of it. Indrid Cold is the exception that proves the rule, Duck certain he’ll never be able to be cooped up with anyone but Indrid ever again.

It helps that he still gets his quiet time; Indrid will got out for walks, even watches for smoke so Duck can do the same. They use the wild foraging guide and Duck’s knowledge of local plants to bring back extra food. Indrid was particularly pleased when he located some wild blackberries. When Duck reminded him to watch out for bears near the berry patch, Indrid simply smirked and said there was only one bear on the mountain who could get him.

Duck’s daydreaming of what Indrid might do if caught on his way back from a dusk walk. And, more urgently, how he can convince Indrid that he wants to sleep outside tomorrow night. So it takes two tries of the front door before he notices it’s locked.

“Indrid?” he knocks, “you in there?” Stepping back, he finds the windows hastily covered by his bedsheets and blankets. He knocks harder, “that’s real fuckin dangerous, if there’s a fire we won’t see it. ‘Drid! Open the damn door!”

He continues banging, unanswered, as the moon--two days from full--rises above.

--------------------------------------

Indrid covers his ears to block out Duck’s increasingly worried shouts from outside. This is the right choice, the best of a bad bunch; it will keep Duck and anyone else nearby safe. The ranger will probably turn him away come morning, rightly furious at his irrationality. Indrid resolves not to argue with him; he’ll slink back into the trees, just like he did the last time someone threw him out for his transgressions.

It starts in his chest, his heartbeat climbing to marathon speeds in spite of him holding still. Then his skin prickles, silver hair sprouting from every follicle, followed by his back bowing in pain and his jaw elongating with a crack. From there the adrenaline kicks in, flooding his body so the transformation doesn’t render him unconscious (and therefore helpless) with pain. When next he raises his head, a werewolf with glowing, red eyes looks back at him from the darkened windows.

Beyond the covered windows, someone howls. Then he scents it, another of his kind coming dangerously close. He has to go out, he can’t leave Duck out there with something that will rip him apart, surely he likes the human enough for his mind to see him as a friend, not prey-

CRACK

The door splinters off its hinges; he growls, ready to defend his home. A deeper growl answers him as a larger wolf, black-furred and yellow eyed, stalks across the threshold.

“What. the. Fuck?” the newcomer snaps, “I told you, you can only stay if you don’t fuck up my work and locking me out comes real fuckin close to that!”

He cocks his head “Duck?”

“No, I’m the fuckin president of the united states.”

“I, I’m so sorry.” Indrid drops to all fours, then flattens to his belly just to be safe, “I didn’t know, I just wanted to be sure I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Duck points to the broken door, “you coulda just done that from the opposite side and I woulda been dinner.”

“No I, I know that if I confine myself I tend to be...calmer. I don’t get overstimulated and then agitated.”

“You coulda just told me. Lockin me out is real rude.”

Indrid whines, crawls close enough to nose at him.

“You don’t gotta do that; I ain't assertin dominance or some shit, I’m just a little annoyed.”

He whines again, “please don’t make me leave.”

“I won’t.” Duck’s voice turns softer.

“And you will not get angry at me for not being appropriately grateful for your leniency?”

Duck frowns, “Aw jesus, did you come from one of those old-school packs?

“Yes” Indrid grumbles, hating himself for how easily he fell into manners he loathes, how deep the teachings of his home run.

Duck eases him up so they’re both sitting, then noses the side of his face, “We don't do that around here. Least, I don't. I don’t spend a ton of time with most of the other Weres when they’re wolfed-out, but they ain’t big on tradition and hierarchy the rest of the time.”

“Ah. That’s, that’s good.”

The other Were stretches, stands and pads about the room, removing the make-shift curtains, “You gotta teach me how you’re so fuckin accurate on when the moon is full enough to make us shift whether or not we want to; I thought I had a day left. I, uh, I was gonna ask you to sleep in here while I ‘slept under the stars’ so you wouldn’t know.”

“You’re not afraid of hurting someone?”

“Nah, especially not this far out. Sometimes I hunt deer, but whatever strain of this I got doesn’t go feral unless some shit goes majorly wrong.” He drops the blankets on the floor, “don’t know about you, but I don’t feel like huntin tonight. Or stargazin. I’m beat from work.”

“Agreed. Transforming against my will always makes me tired.”

Duck lays down on the floor,yawns, “In that case: sleep tight ‘Drid.”

Indrid tries to do just that. But every time he catches Duck’s scent he wishes he could move closer to him, then remembers that would be rude, and continues in that back and forth until he’s wide awake. It doesn’t help that his Were form runs cold; he’s shivering in spite of it still being close to eighty degrees.

His ears flick at Duck’s footfalls. Then a warm, bulky frame curls around his freezing, lanky one.

“This okay?” Duck carefully drapes an arm over him.

Indrid sighs, feeling safer than he has in a year, “better than.”

---------------------------------------------------------

“I’m a seer.”

Duck looks up from his breakfast, mouth full but question clear.

“Last night, you asked me how I knew we’d transform. Seeing the future makes it rather easy.”

“Damn, that does sound handy.”

“In many ways it is. Though it carries some, ah, some downsides.” Indrid steers his thoughts towards safer paths, “If you’d like, I could use it to help you with the fire lookout.”

The ranger grins, the expression twice as warm as his fur the night before, “That’d be fuckin great.”

Indrid smiles back, keeps his eyes on the windows so as not to look longingly back at the rumpled sheets. They awoke this morning in a heap, Duck’s modesty preserved only by a blanket and Indrid’s hair stuck in all directions. He’d been ready to apologize for not moving away before dawn, but Duck simply reached out, stroked his hair down, and asked if he wanted coffee.

-------------------------------------------------

“You’re right, you can see more animals this way.” They’re perched, fully transformed, on the rocks outside the cabin. Indrid knows how to use his night vision for hunting, but Duck is teaching him how to use it for more peaceful matters.

“Yeah, long as you stay put most animals get up the nerve to nose around some.”

They’d transformed side by side, Duck banging his head in the process. Indrid licked near the bruise and made soothing, sympathetic sounds when Duck whined and cursed his luck. Back home, being demonstrative was frowned upon; here, Duck seems to always be casually bumping their bodies together.

When they go to bed several hours after moonrise, they curl up side by side without hesitation. It’s so very easy to tune out his visions when Duck is near and Indrid falls asleep while the ranger is still whispering about the birds they can hear.

He wakes up an hour later in a panic, disasters of visions past tearing through his mind.

“‘Drid? What’s wrong?” Duck noses the base of his neck.

“Nothing. Just a bad dream.” He closes his eyes, tries to focus on Duck’s scent, his breath, the wind in the trees, but still the ghosts of his memories lurk in the corners of his vision.

“Can I try somethin?” Duck murmurs. Indrid thought he’d gone back to sleep.

“Of course.”

Teeth tenderly and ever so carefully clamp the fur and skin of his neck. He goes limp in one breath. He was high status enough that no one ever did this to him, but goodness does he wish they had

The ranger let’s go, “Do I need to do it again?”

“Please.”

Duck obliges and Indrid whimpers, melting shamelessly in his arms.

“Thank you. I think I can sleep now.”

“Any time, ‘Drid. Uh, before you, uh, go to sleep there’s somethin I wanna ask you. Since you need a place to stay, do you, uh, wanna stay with me? In Kepler.”

“You’d really like that? You, if this is out of pity-”

“It ain’t.”

There were no futures where it was. Indrid wanted to hear the words all the same.

“Besides” Duck nuzzles him, “we already know we make damn good roommates.”

Indrid can’t help it; he howls, brief and joyful, safe in the knowledge that Duck will be ready with a laugh and a kiss in reply.

#indruck #indrid cold/ duck newton #meet ugly #taz amnesty #werewolf au

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ravenforce · 4 years

Text

Stark Legacy 6

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Carol Danvers x Wanda Maximoff x Maria Hill x Reader but Natasha Romanoff x Reader centric for this chapter.

Summary: I have no words to summarize this one. I feel like this is a whole story on it’s own. Nat x Reader, with a few flashbacks.

Word Count: 4207

A/N: Please, let me know what you guys think. I poured my heart into this, Idk why I tend to do that whenever I write for Natasha. HAHA. Also, I deviated a little bit on the coma/death arc for the reader, sorry.

Previously: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

***

Natasha walks inside the gym a little later than she normally would and fully expecting her blonde girlfriend to be there since she didn’t wake up with her on the bed either. To her surprise, Carol’s not there too. She shrugged and went on her gym routine with a furrowed brow. The next day, without even meaning to, Nat woke up to Carol trying (unsuccessfully) to silently slip off Wanda’s embrace and off their massive bed. Nat gave her girlfriend a good fifteen minutes head start before tailing her.

Nat tried not to think ahead but Nat being Nat, she was still prepared for all possible outcomes but out of all the scenarios she thought Carol would drive to, she never - not even once - thought that she’s driving to SHIELD Headquarters. Nat’s eyebrows furrowed while waiting a few blocks away for Carol to be cleared to enter the premises. She knows for a fact that Carol’s not due for her weekly meeting with Fury because they all maintain a synchronized calendar to keep track of everyone’s schedule.

“What are you up to, Danvers?” she whispered to herself.

Nat sat on the parking lot for another ten minutes before following Carol inside. Nobody in their right mind would ever question why she was there even without an appointment. Natasha went through the command center to see if Deputy Director Hill is on her station but, she too wasn’t anywhere to be found.

What is going on? Where is everyone? She thought to herself while walking along a deserted hallway. When she rounded the corner, she roughly bumped into someone. The deep frown on her face was immediately erased when she saw who she bumped into.

“There you are!”

“You’re here too?”

They spoke at the same time. Nat chuckled for a second before registering what Maria had said. Before she can ask, Maria spoke first.

“Does the Earth mightiest heroes have nothing better to do on their free days than loiter around here?” Maria teased before pulling Nat for a quick hug.

“I don’t loiter -” Nat grumbled on her girlfriend’s shoulder. When they pulled apart, Maria’s sporting a teasing smile. Nat rolled her eyes playfully. “I am not loitering. I’m looking for Carol.”

“Yeah, she’s here,” Maria confirmed while tucking a stray red hair out of Nat’s face. Nat bit her lip in an attempt to keep herself from blushing at the softness her girlfriend’s showing.

”Didn’t she just met with Nick yesterday? What’s her business here today?”

At the mention of Fury’s name, Maria stiffened as she remembered that she’s already running late to her meeting with the man himself. She cursed under her breath, hurriedly plants a soft kiss on Nat’s cheeks before sidestepping the redhead and practically running out of there.

“Carol’s in the gym with Agent Stark,” Maria said loud enough for Nat to hear from the other end of the empty hallway before she disappeared.

Nat stood there frozen for a minute before she turned on her heels to see what you and Carol are up to. “Y/N Stark -” she whispered to herself as she walks towards the gym. Nat can’t deny the fact that her heart started beating wildly on her chest at the mere mention of your name.

It felt like an eternity has passed since Nat ever heard your name at all. So much has happened between then and now including your supposed death and the world literally ended, Nat didn’t really have time to dwell on all of her unanswered what-ifs. What if you didn’t die? Would she have had enough courage to feel she deserve you if you both were given more time?

***

Nat was enamored the moment she met you while she was undercover as Tony’s assistant. You were unlike no other she’s ever met before. A genius in your own merit was yet content to live peacefully behind your brother’s dark and long shadow. Funny without being obnoxious. She was sure she’s in love with you when you fought side by side while infiltrating Hammer Tech.

“I didn’t know you could fight, princess,” she teased while trying to catch her breath after taking down most of Hammer’s security.

You rolled your eyes at her, pretending to hate that stupid pet name. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Natasha Romanoff -” you fired back. Enunciating her name indicating that her cover was blown with you for a while now.

“Let’s change that after we’re through with this -”

A new batch of security emerges that forced you to go back to kicking ass. “Are you asking me out right now?” You punched one man on the throat, knocking him out effectively.

Nat’s chocking another on her side of the hallway. “No better time than the present, Stark. So what do you say?” She squeezes the guy a little harder, making him go slack on her arms. Nat was just catching her breath when another man appeared behind her. She almost doubled down when you threw a knife that you procured from your knee-high boots behind her.

“Nice -” she said a little breathless, partially from being tired and also a little turned on.

You walked up to her to give her a hand from the floor. She took the help gratefully. “Yes.”

Nat understood immediately. “Let’s wrap this up quickly then,” she said with a smirk.

***

A few days after sparring with Captain Danvers at SHIELD, you visited the compound one morning to make a quick delivery. The compound was eerily quiet for eight in the morning, making you wonder if you came in too early. Your wandering stopped when you heard the hopeless clanking of pans in the kitchen. You smiled, hoping that it is who you want to see that’s making all the noise. You leaned against the doorway, watching wild red hair rummaging through the cupboards.

“After all this time, you’re still hopeless in the kitchen,” you said to announce your presence.

Natasha stood abruptly, bumping her head on one of the open cabinets. She turned around with a frown while clutching the top of her head. “What the hell! You scared me!”

Her frown only deepened when you won’t stop laughing. It’s not that you didn’t want to stop, you just couldn’t. She looks so adorable with her scowl and wild bed hair bathed in the early morning sunlight streaming through the massive windows in the room. You walked towards her.

“I’m sorry but, this isn’t my fault -” you stopped two feet away from her. “ - no one’s supposed to sneak up on the Black Widow, right?” You teased while rubbing the top of her head.

“No Black Widow business until I have my second cup of coffee, you know the rules.”

Of course, you do. You can’t forget anything about Natasha even if you want to.

“I’m sorry,” you said sincerely. You didn’t really mean to startle her - that badly.

Nat looked at you from under her lashes, and had your knees been human they would surely buckle under that look. “Kiss it better,” she demanded.

“What are you, five?” you teased to diffuse your nervousness but, Nat can see right through you.

“Coward.”

You huffed before pulling her towards you and kissed the spot where she hurt herself. “There! Happy now?”

Nat smiled. “I am now.”

***

Before you can say anything else, the rest of the inhabitants of the compound trudges in the kitchen including Maria, Carol, and Wanda.

“Hey.” Everyone greeted monotonously indicating that none of them are fully awake yet. You just smiled politely to everyone to give them time to fully shake the sleep off their systems.

Sam strode in last. He was sweaty and looking alert, probably from doing his morning jog. “Y/N!” he exclaimed when he noticed you. Everyone bristled at his volume, which probably won’t be acceptable regardless of the time of the day. “What brings you around? Not that we don’t want you here. Did you finally realize that you’d like to join our team now?”

“What?” Maria asked after registering Sam’s line of questioning.

“No offense -”

You decided to cut Sam off there. Any sentence that starts with no offense is often kind of offensive. “No, Sam, I’m not joining the Avengers.” Maria visibly relaxes at that while Sam deflated. “I just came here today to deliver you guys this -” You fished out an envelope from the inside pocket of your brown trench coat.

Nat who was still standing next to you reached out and took the envelope. “It’s an invitation,” she mused. Everyone’s looking at you expectantly.

“Yes. Pepper’s throwing me a homecoming party, and I don’t have the heart to tell her no,” you smiled. “Pun not intended.”

The kitchen erupted in excitement while freshly brewed coffee was being passed around. “This is so cool, it’s been so long since we had a Stark party,” Bruce commented, earning a soft elbow from Bucky and poorly concealed side-eyes from the girls. Bruce opened and closed his mouth, unable to form an apology.

“It’s okay Bruce but don’t expect it to be as grand as Tony’s parties,” you said smiling. “So?”

“Count as in!” Sam jumped at the opportunity to change the topic fast. Bucky sighed, resigning to his fate. “For you, I will be there, doll.”

“Thanks, Buck.”

While everyone was distracted about talks of the party and what to wear, you turned towards Natasha. “You’re coming too, right, Tasha?”

Nat smiled at the use of her nickname. You’re the only one who likes to call her that. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, princess.”

***

The party was in full swing when the Avengers arrived at the Tower. Aside from the team, Pepper invited a select few Stark Industries people, from investors as well as your old lab team. Nat didn’t expect anyone else aside from Maria to be invited. So she was surprised to see you standing amongst Agent Colson’s team. Nat’s sure that you saw them arrive but, you made no move to excuse yourself from listening to Agent Simmon’s surely interesting story.

Pepper did excuse herself and greeted the Avengers. “Hey!” She gave everyone a quick hug. “Traffic? Come on, let’s get you guys some refreshments.”

“Yes! Let’s get hammered!” Sam cheered too enthusiastically.

A couple of steps though, Pepper turned back to see the girls still rooted in their place at the doorway. “Coming, ladies?”

“Ah, I think we would say hello to Y/N first,” Maria and Carol answered at the same time without taking their eyes off of you.

Pepper followed their love-struck gaze and chuckled. She assumed it’s a pack thing, so she didn’t bother asking Nat and Wanda anymore and just followed the boys to the catering table. Nat watched Maria and Carol strode confidently towards you, and efficiently inserting themselves into the conversation. Nat watched her girlfriends, subtly inserting their bodies on both your sides, creating a barrier between you and Agent Johnson and Agent Simmons.

***

Natasha can deal with the fact that all her girlfriends have a crush on you. She doesn’t see herself having trouble sharing you with her pack if it came to that. It’s the others she’s worried about. You’re too bright that everyone’s gravitating towards you like moths to a fire, like Icarus to the sun. All night, Nat tried to get you alone but, every time she thinks she finally does, someone else would come over and make conversations with you.

Nat thinks you’re too polite to tell them off. So she excused herself when Agent Simmons came over to talk to you again (for the nth time that night). You smiled at her before turning back to Jenna. The bartender put four tequila shots in front of her the moment she sat on the bar. Bucky then turned to her.

“Thought you might need a stiff drink,” Bucky grumbled over the rim of his beer bottle. Nat downed one shot before glancing in your direction. Bucky didn’t miss how the redhead’s frown dipped a little deeper. “Didn’t think you’re one to walk away when vultures are trying to snatch your girl.”

Nat downed her second shot and slammed the glass down the counter. She’s not my girl, she thought bitterly. She knows full well that you’re not hers to hate Agent Johnson for simply wanting to be near you or for laughing at something you said and her hand landing casually on your biceps. You’re not hers for her to be jealous, she knows that painfully.

She couldn’t watch any longer. She downed the last two shots before turning towards Bucky. “I think I’ll get some fresh air,” she whispered, eyes downcast. “Thanks, Buck.”

Bucky only nodded before Nat hopped off her stool and walked out of the party venue. Nat didn’t turn back to see you watching her leave.

***

Nat snugged a bottle of expensive wine from a passing staff on her way to God knows where. All she knew was that she needed to step away to clear her head or drown her feelings and her regret.

You and Nat have been casually dating for a couple of months, even with your brother’s utter disapproval of the relationship. For the first time in a long time, you were standing against your brother on a matter but that was Nat you were talking about. You weren’t going to give her up without a fight. Eventually, Tony relented but without threatening Nat that if she ever breaks your heart, she’ll be the first person on his non-existent hit list.

Everything was fine. You both were happy until Nat suddenly decided she’s not ready. You didn’t know what happened. All you know was one day, she came back from a mission and decided she’s not ready to be tied down to one person.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but I’m not built for this -” she waved her hand. Indicating not only the domesticity of sharing the same living space but also everything that comes with it like building a home with another and shedding walls to letting people in. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t cry, and Nat knew you were letting her go gracefully. Even when she was breaking your heart, you were still thinking of her. “It’s okay, Tasha. I understand,” you said simply. You gave her a small smile before kissing her one last time.

Nat took a long swig of the wine before acknowledging your presence behind her. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at your party?” she spoke without taking her eyes off of the city skyline. The view from the rooftop of the tower was spectacular.

You chuckled nervously. Nat only goes to the rooftop when she needed to think and breathe. You wonder if you’ve done something through the night that might set her off. “I saw you leave the party, I was looking for you.”

“Why?” She took another long swig, making her head spin a little bit.

“Why not? I’ll always look for you when you’re gone.”

Nat suppressed the urged to groan, opting to chug the wine, but you were lightning fast. You caught her wrist before her lips could touch the bottle. You fished the wine out of her grasp. “What’s wrong, Tasha?”

“Nothing,” she answered automatically. Her eyes are darting back and forth from your eyes and your lips. There’s a sad, hungry look on her face you couldn’t understand. You decided to ignore it for the time being and just confront her about it when she’s not one shot away from being drunk.

“Okay, if you say so. Let’s go back inside, it’s cold out here.”

You started to walk back towards the only door to the rooftop when Nat tugged you back roughly to her. “Tasha!” you exclaimed in your surprise when she pinned you between her and the deck railing.

Nat held your eyes for a second before she laid her forehead on your shoulder. “Do you enjoy it? Having everyone wrapped around your fingers?”

You can hear the hurt in her voice. You wanted to question her about it. You want to understand what she’s talking about, but the words wouldn’t come. Especially, when you felt her turn her head slightly, and her left hand caressed your cheeks.

“I can’t get you alone all night,” she whispered as she noses her way from your jaw through your neck.

“Tasha -” God knows you tried not to make it sound like a moan, but it came out exactly like that.

The rest of the words died in your throat as you felt Nat plant the softest of kisses on your neck and her right hand found your leg through the long slit of your dress. Suddenly, it wasn’t so cold anymore. The fire that is Natasha Romanoff warmed you immensely, and you were ready to burn for her again, still.

“You were mine first,” you heard her whisper before she pulled her head away from your neck and smashed her lips against yours for a minute. Then she’s running away, again.

***

MH: Meet me at SHIELD.

WM: What’s wrong, Mar?

Nat frowned at the demanding chat from Maria. She waited patiently for an explanation; she tried not to jump to a conclusion. But at the back of her head, she prayed it’s not another alien threat. She can deal with Hydra, but she doesn’t think she has enough to give to fight and lose people to another Thanos level problem.

MH: Y/N’s down. Otw to the lab with Happy to get started with repairs.

Nat paled, and for a minute, she couldn’t move. Fear gripped her, the past flooding back to her.

She rushed into the hospital when she heard about the accident. Relief flooded her senses when she saw Tony and Pepper alert and awake on their hospital bed. Steve and Rhodey were already there. When the group noticed her, Tony immediately averted his eyes while Pepper started bawling.

“Is the baby okay?” Nat asked, worried that something happened to the baby.

Silence. Nat turned to Steve and Rhodey. Rhodey just frowned, lost for words too. Steve looked like he was trying to string a sentence in his head. “I’m sorry, Nat -”

Nat became even more confused. “For what?” she asked. “Guys, you’re scaring me.”

Tony took an audible, deep breath, catching Nat’s attention back to him. This time, he held her gaze. “Y/N’s home, Nat,” he said. “When we found out that Pepper’s pregnant, we told her, and she came home.”

Nat didn’t know that. No one told her that you’re home, which was understandable after she broke your heart. “Okay,” she nodded. Still, a tad confused as to where this conversation was going. “Do you need me to call her for you?”

“She’s gone, Nat -”

“Wha -”

“She’s dead.” Tony decided it’s better to rip off the bandage clean. Pepper started sobbing again. “She was with us tonight.”

Her phone vibrated on her hand again. She looked at the message from Wanda.

WM: Breath, Nat. She’s inhuman now.

And at that moment, Nat was so thankful that Wanda’s an empath. She released a breath she didn’t know she was holding and closed her eyes for a second to center herself. When she opened her forest-green eyes, she fired a quick text to the group chat before nearly running out of the compound.

NR: I’m on my way.

***

Nat was cursing in Russian under her breath as she power walk through the hallway of SHIELD towards the labs. She made a mistake of jumping on the first available vehicle in the compound’s parking lot, instead of using her MV Augusta F4 RR 312 motorcycle. It would have taken her to the HQ in no time.

She was rounding the last corner before she arrived at the lab when she bumped into Happy.

“Hey.” The man looked exhausted even though the machines in the lab did all the work, but Nat understood it completely. The idea that you got injured affects those who knew you before you were inhuman than those who knew you post-human. “I’m beat. I’m going to crash upstairs.”

Nat nodded with a smile before adding, “thank you, Happy.” She hopes the simple words convey how much she appreciates the man for taking care of you after all this time.

“Anything for Y/N,” Happy answered, smiling. He was almost on the other end of the hallway when he called for Nat again. Nat stopped in her tracks and look at him quizzically. “Be quiet when you get there.”

Then he disappeared. Nat just shrugged and continued to the lab. When she got inside, she floated to the room where she knows you would be and found you sandwiched between Carol and Maria.

“Shouldn’t you be the one sleeping?” she teased softly. You looked up when you heard her voice from the door and smiled.

“I would if I needed one, but I don’t. You, on other hand, look like you can use a nap too.” You tried to speak as softly as you could as not to disturb your sleeping friends(?), but they still manage to stir and look at Natasha. Together they patted the only space available in the bed for her.

Your lap. Nat quirked an eyebrow at the two before looking back at you. You smiled before raising your hand to beckon her to you. Nat decided to throw all her inhibitions to the window and gracefully climbed on the bed with you. It took a bit of squirming around to accommodate her on top of you, but you managed. Nat laid her head on where your heart should be.

Suddenly, Nat felt exhausted. Like all the stress and emotions - the confusion, the disbelief, the longing - she desperately tried to run away from ever since she found out that you’re alive caught up to her then. Her eyes started to close as you run your fingers through her soft red hair.

“I’m still yours,” you whispered, confident that Natasha has joined her softly snoring girlfriends in dreamland. It was quiet for a minute. The only sound in the room is the whirring of machines from the lab outside.

“I’m ready now,” Nat mumbled loud enough for you to hear before she completely went under.

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witchygagirlwrites · 3 years

Text

Best Friend (Part 2/3)

you and Kevin are best friends but when you start to fall for him you start pulling away until a life threatening situation urges you to confess how you feel

An alarm ripped through the firehouse before you heard Casey's voice "STRUCTURAL FIRE AT AN APARTMENT BUILDING. MULTIPLE INJURIES. LETS MOVE PEOPLE"

You grabbed your jacket and ran behind Brett to your rig and just slammed the door shut as she pulled out onto the road.

-----

At the same time you were responding to the call the intelligence was getting a notification saying it fit the m.o. of the arsonist they'd been after for the last two weeks.

"Now remember this isn't officially our scene until they have it cleared but let's roll out alot of these sickos like sticking around to watch their handy work we may hit it lucky and catch this asshole" Hank barked out as everyone grabbed their jackets and headed for the stairs.

-----

You were working through the triage area another Gabby had set up upon arriving to the scene.

So far the worse injury you'd seen was a broken femur. There was lots of cuts and luckily low degree burns but so far it was looking as if everyone had gotten out unscathed until a man around your age approached you.

He was wearing a ups uniform so it was clear he'd probably heard the news and headed straight here. You figured it would be a simple case of finding out the name of his loved ones and pointing him towards which tent.

-----

"Sir can I help you?" You asked and he nodded "My wife Jessica she's uh she's eight months pregnant. She was on bed rest where is she? We live in two fifteen"

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words. You had walked every inch of the traige area and hadn't seen a pregnant woman. "Sir can you just have a seat right here" you spoke keeping your voice calm from years of training it.

Her eyes widened as she shook her head "I'll go talk to him. You go tell Casey we've got someone still inside"

-----

You grabbed one of the bags out her rig that held a scba mask and fire blanket and threw it over your shoulder as you ran to where you'd last seen Matt.

You spotted Kelly first and hollered "SEVERIDE!" He turned towards you so you told him "There's a woman eight months along inside. Apartment two fifteen" he nodded and headed back in calling across his radio.

You started back towards triage but heard a clanking noise like someone hitting on pipes and it occured to you these buildings had multiple emergency exits. She could be trapped and by the time you got one of the guys out to her it could be too late from smoke inhalation alone.

You pulled your radio from your side and tuned it to the channel they used to communicate inside "Um fellas I think i may have heard something near the north west corner"

A few moments passed and you heard the clanking again and no one had responded. Your only thought was a pregnant woman dying because you didn't do anything so without thinking of your own safety you headed in the direction of the noise carefully stepping over boards that had fallen from the fire burning two stories up.

"CALL OUT!" you hollered and heard a weak "I'm here!" and followed it. You pulled the scba mask out and put it over your face because the smoke was already to the point of making tears spring to your eyes.

-----

Meanwhile the scene two blocks from the fire was one of madness. Antonio had spotted the guy as soon as he parked his car and alerted the rest of the unit who eventually caught him after a foot chase.

Antonio, Hank and Al headed back to the station while everyone else continued to the fire to see if they could possibly help.

Time Kevin stepped out the car he spotted Brett and immediately looked for you as he walked towards her. When she looked up he smiled and pointed around "Where's my girl?"

Brett looked around then hollered at Gabby asking where you had ended up.

Gabby shrugged that she didn't know then spotted Casey walking out the building and asked him if he talked to you or if they'd found the pregnant woman. When the answer to both was a no the entire scene went into a panic.

-----

You carefully picked your way towards the sound of the plea for help and spotted legs pinned under a beam. You followed them and said a silent prayer at discovering her stomach was untouched.

You leaned down so she could see you and smiled "Jessica? Your husband is worried about you" she started crying at seeing she wasn't alone then started coughing. You immediately ripped the mask off yourself and helped her put it on then spread the fire blanket over her. "I'm gonna try to move these beams just stay still ok?" She nodded so you moved down to her legs where they were pinned.

You pulled the radio from your side and tried the line again "Fellas I'm in the north west corner near the rear emergency exit I've got a trapped female late twenties in her eight month. I need some help"

When no response came you groaned and slid it back on your side before deciding to try the beams.

You squatted down to get a good grip ignoring the burning starting in your lungs and how the heat was licking up your shoulders telling you the fire was getting close to where the two of you were.

You tried with everything you had but it only moved a couple inches no where near far enough to get her free.

You eased it back down and moved up to her side to access any other wounds. You asked questions around coughing and she nodded yes or no.

From what you could tell at least one of her legs were broken but the baby was moving at least.

There had been no noise from your radio so you tuned back to the line Gabby and Brett would hear and tried "Dawson, Brett. Get the boys. I'm trapped in the North West corner near the rear fire exit. I found the pregnant woman. Her legs are pinned and I'm guessing from the heat the fire is working towards us"

-----

Everyone went silent when Gabby yelled across "SHUT THE HELL UP!" and raised her radio so they could hear your voice. You were already gasping between each word from the smoke and warning the fire was headed your way which it was. She also knew you'd die before you left someone injured.

Kevin felt his heart drop hearing your voice. You tried to keep it strong but the way it broke at the end giving way to a cough felt like someone had punched him in the gut.

Casey started barking out orders to the men to keep the fire pushed back from where you were then hollered for Kelly "Severide! You're with me" Kelly ran to his side and he looked back at Gabby "Keep her talking. We'll get to her"

-----

You had laid the radio down next to Jessica's legs and tried again to free them but it was to avail. If no one came you would both die. The burning in your lungs was getting worse and breathing was more of a task but Jessica was pregnant. There was no way you were taking the mask from her.

You were struggling to get enough air in your lungs as the surrounding area got even thicker in smoke clouding everything but Jessica from your line of view.

Suddenly the radio crackled and of all people you heard Kevin's voice come through "Sweetheart hasn't Otis told you if you wanted to play fireman you needed more training?"

You cracked a small smile and got enough smokey air into your lungs to say "Well you know me always the impatient one"

A wave of nausea hit you along with what felt like the start of a migraine and you had treated inhalation victims enough to know it was officially setting in.

"Well just slow down. Severide and Casey are coming to you. The rest of the crew is working to keep the fire back" you nodded knowing he couldn't see you and moved up to check on Jessica. She was alert and staying calm like you'd asked. When you asked how her breathing was she nodded and focused on the breaths like you told her.

"Kev the smoke is getting really bad" you admitted breaking a little when you started counting in your head the amount of minutes you'd been in here hoping you'd gotten that mask on Jessica before the smoke got too much on her and the baby and knowing if they didn't get here soon the smoke could kill before the fire had a chance.

The sound of what you knew was more portions of the building collapsing ran through the space and you worried what would happen if enough fell to block the two of you from rescue.

-----

Kevin held the radio to his forehead taking a few deep breaths before trying to talk again. Your voice was getting a hoarseness to it Gabby said wasn't good.

He knew you well enough to know you were scared. Whether for yourself, the pregnant woman in your care or both of you he wasn't sure but he knew if you were scared it was bad.

"Kevin can you keep her talking?" Gabby asked and he nodded she added "Ask her about the pregnant woman keep her mind on something else"

Before he could hit the button on the radio to talk to you again a loud crack was heard followed by Otis shouting about the fire trying to break through.

He shook his head to keep his attention fully on you instead of the insanity of the scene "Sweetheart Gabby said how's your patient doing?"

-----

You were barely holding onto consciousness at the moment when Kevin's voice cracked across the radio again. Him asking how Jessica was stirred you enough that you crawled from where you'd been squatting at her feet up to her face.

Soot was covering the mask so you wiped it off and saw her eyes were wide but she was doing the breaths you'd showed her "How ya doing?" You asked grimacing at your own voice. "I'm scared" she finally admitted.

You leaned down closer to her and whispered "I am too but we just gotta hold tight"

She nodded and laid a hand on her belly. You followed it with your eyes and saw what was probably a foot moving back and forth across her belly and smiled weakly.

You pulled the radio up to your mouth and hit the button "She's holding tight"

-----

Kevin smiled when he heard your voice again. It was the best sound in the world and he just had to keep you going just a little longer. Kelly and Casey had reported they were almost to you but portions of the roof had collapsed barring their way.

"How bout you? How you doing?" He asked into the radio praying to anything listening that the firemen would get through to you in time.

"Chest hurts like hell" you breathed and he cut his eyes at Brett who mouthed "Smoke inhalation" and felt his stomach flip.

"Well how about I talk and you can just listen and let me know you're there ok?" He offered and Brett nodded that it was ok to go that route.

-----

You were checking Jessica's pulse trying to make sure her heart was beating where it should. When you were sure it was you spoke into the radio "You always did like to talk Kev" and had to block your mouth in your arm to keep the cough from gagging you.

He hesitated and said "Well you can't run from me now how's about you tell me why you been avoiding me? Do my breath smell bad or something?"

You almost laughed "Naw Kev you smell fine. I might not right now"

You leaned over on the wall close to Jessica's head keeping a hand on her pulse at all times. "Well baby why then I miss you this is the longest we've talked in a while"

"Hard to explain Kev" you answered and leaned your bed back listening for any clue the boys were getting closer to the two of you.

-----

"Three more minutes Kev. That's all we need" Gabby whispered in his ear and he nodded.

He stepped away from everyone else to clear his own head. He had to keep his attention solely on you and only you. "Try me. I'm understanding and I know when Kelly and Casey get to you. You're gonna come out in boss mode ready to handle any and all injured out here and won't have time to talk to me till later"

------

You looked down at Jessica who was fighting to keep her eyes opened and shook her gently. She was breathing for two and even with the mask the smoke was getting to be too much. She opened her eyes and looked up at you "Who's on the radio?" "My friend" you answered and she nodded "Sounds as worried as my husband would be"

You knew another few minutes you would lose consciousness then Jessica would be right after you. You'd been breathing pure smoke for too long and god help if you passed out then her body decided the trauma was too much and her water broke.

"Kev I care about you so much" by this point you'd basically pulled Jessica's head into your lap. "I care about you too sweetheart" he answered quickly and you started coughing again using your arm to block it from Jessica.

Your eyes were drawn up and what you saw made your eyes widen. There was a large section of the floor overhead barely holding on. If a good gust of wind whipped through it would fall directly on top of the two of you.

You handed Jessica the radio and pointed up "I gotta try to move you. At least a little so hold onto the radio ok?" She nodded so you squatted again trying to use the wall as momentum to get her moved and smiled when the beam shifted enough you were able to get her legs free this time.

She cried out in pain and you saw her leg was twisted at the opposite angle it should be. You pulled her back a few more inches and moved down to check her lower half.

As far as you could find there was no open wounds. You had her free but there was no way you could get her out. You were too weak.

"Kev tell em I got her free" you breathed across the radio half collapsing next to her as you tried to get a breath that didn't burn.

-----

"SHE GOT HER FREE" Kevin hollered across to Hermman who reiterated across the radio.

Kevin's desperation cut through the air bringing you back to the bit of consciousness you were clinging to. Jessica had turned her head to look at you but she couldn't get up because of her leg and you just felt too weak.

-----

"You're doing great baby. Kelly got one more wall to get through and they'll be at you. Talk to me" he tried and when you didn't respond he felt his knees weaken "COME ON SWEETHEART ANSWER ME!"

"I love you kev. You need to know that" you spoke weakly into the radio right before you spotted a chunk of roof coming down headed for Jessica and dove blocking her face and chest with your body and felt darkness wash over you.

Kevin was dumbfounded. You just told him you loved him but was it how he loved you? Was it how he felt like he wasn't himself when the two of you didn't talk, was it how when he was with you he felt. Was it how he was standing there feeling completely helpless watching this burning burn knowing you were trapped inside?

Before he could respond to you Hermman hollered "EMTS GET READY THEY'RE COMING OUT!"

------

Kevin saw Casey first carrying a body and it was apparent from the bump that was the pregnant woman you'd went in after.

A man wearing a ups uniform ran forward as she was being loaded onto a gurney "Is she ok?" The woman ripped the scba mask off and pulled her husband into a hug "She saved me"

The woman was quickly loaded into another ambo that peeled out for med but Gabby and Slyvie were waiting on you. Kelly walked out with you in his arms. "DAWSON, BRETT SHE'S HURT AND NOT BREATHING"

Once he was clear of the building he laid you down and started cpr while Slyvie and Gabby ran forward.

Kevin hadn't realized he was moving until he felt Jay and Adam both grab him. "stay back man let them work" Adam pleaded but he couldn't. You were laying bleeding from the back of your head and you weren't breathing. He loved you more than just about anything in this world and now he wouldn't have the chance to tell you.

Otis and Hermman both joined the efforts to try to hold Kevin back. His eyes were glued to your still form and he felt his knees buckle out from underneath him when he heard Gabby holler "WE'RE LOSING HER"

#chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd fic #kevin atwater drabble #kevin atwater x reader #one chicago fanfic

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sp00kworm · 4 years

Text

A Figure by the Lake

Pairing: Jason Voorhees x Female Reader

Warnings: General Slasher Warnings, Stalking, Violence.

A/N: This was an exchange piece with the fabulous @of-devils-and-drawings who deserves all the love in the world. I present, the softest of Camp Blood Killer, Mister swamp water man, for your entertainment, in six thousand words. I based his looks off of Jason Lives so take that as inspiration!

---

Camp Crystal Lake. Now, it was a refurbished, new living area for holiday makers once again. The small town fifteen miles away had seen enough of the bloodshed to last years, but none of them dared go near for fear of the death curse lingering around the place. The revenge of the Voorhees family. Pamela and Jason. All swore blind the legend was real. Jason Voorhees had lived in the woods for twenty years without his own mother’s knowledge before seeing her slaughtered and extracting his revenge on any who dared to set foot on his territory. The man who filled your car hummed, chewing a toothpick as he eyed up the luggage in the back of the car.

“Where you headin’ missy?” He asked as he replaced the cap on the fuel tank and walked back to your window, wrapped tightly in a thick, sheepskin coat and a heavy scarf. He replaced his gloves and shuddered in the snowy cold as you smiled pleasantly, stroking your Pitbull with gentle movements of your hand. Bronson barked cheerfully from the seat next to you as the man peered into your window.

You were ready for the horror-stricken face as you opened your mouth, “Crystal Lake.” You uttered, “My family has an old cabin up on the outskirts of the place. They’re developing the land. Letting people buy holiday homes.” You continued, watching the local’s face turn dark.

“Do you know what happened up there?” He asked as he sparked up a cigarette, blowing smoke up into the air. You knew for sure it could blow up the gas he was stood next to, but the man didn’t seem to care.

You knew what happened. The 1980s slaughters were known the world round. A woman and her love for her son, and her son who only sought blood-soaked revenge. You looked at the date in your car. Friday the 13th. You had to smile. Jason’s birthday was the 13th of June. A Friday. It was somewhat ironic.

You shrugged your shoulders at the man, “I know. The killings. I’ve heard the stories in the dinner. I had lunch before stopping here for some gas.”

He shook his head, “Slaughter you mean. There’s been enough killing around here. People stay away. Ain’t no good to come from poking a phantom’s nest. You be careful, ya here? Jason ain’t dead and gone, and he won’t be for a long time.” He slapped the top of your car, “That’ll be thirty bucks for the gas.”

You handed him the money and rolled away from the small gas station, trundling up the new road which the developers had put in for the town. It was a smooth journey until you met the old roads. It was about fifteen more minutes of slow driving through into the old, run down roads that led to the cabins. It was slow going through the mud, and you thanked the gods above when you finally made it to the cabin and parked, just as the snow began to slowly drift from the sky. You thanked the gods again that you had brought enough groceries for the stay. Two weeks in the peace and quiet would be nice. You pulled on your coat and got out of the car, sighing as you looked at the sheer amount of luggage you had to move from the car into the house.

The noise of a car had drawn him from where he was washing in the streams. The icy cold water still dripped from his hands as he watched from the treeline. The cabins were being worked on, he knew that, but the construction workers were gone for the winter, and Jason was left alone once again. No one had ever shown up in the winter. He watched you shiver and unload the car, making trips back and forth with the load of things you needed. Jason watched you mess around with a large looking dog for a while before he took his shirt and coat from the tree and headed back towards his own home to make his plans. Jason thudded through the undergrowth, exhaling air that turned into mist through the holes of his mask, as he ducked through the trees and into his own, small hut. He closed the old door and peered around before heading towards the rickety chimney he had built. Jason lit a fire with the dry logs he had piled up the wall. It was silent as he lit the fire, the flames taking to the logs quickly from the kindling.

The phantom watched it burn and pushed his cold hands closer to the fire, feeling the heat in his undead fingers. The dead skin pulsed with warmth until he pulled away to say hello to his mother.

“Hello, my sweet boy. Did you have a good day?” Pamela asked from his stand. Jason nodded as he plucked the skull from table and gently touched the top of the bone, looking at the eye sockets as his Mother smiled back at him.

“Did you see someone, sweetheart?” She cooed, “Did you get rid of them for me? You’re such a good boy, Jason.” Pamela’s blue eyes were soft as Jason looked away from her. He placed her down as he shook his head.

“Did she get away?” She asked softly, “Oh that’s alright my boy.” Jason shook his head ‘no’ again, “What’s wrong then?” She looked at him again and smiled, “Watch her. Winter visitors are such a pleasure to have.” She cooed as Jason touched the moth-eaten jumper and carefully turned her towards the fire, “Thank you, sweetie.” She cooed as Jason settled down next to the fire. He pulled out a pine tree branch and opened his box, intending to put it into the scrapbook he had managed to snatch from one of the visitors a long time ago.

It took hours to get all the shopping and your luggage away, and even then, it took you a while to get a fire going. The cabin was new, fitted with central heating, but you looked for the logs the company had left and eventually curled up in front of the fire, Bronson by your feet, soaking up the heat from the flames. You hadn’t cooked. It was too late, so you settled for one of the ready meals as you soaked up the heat, wiggling your feet by the fire as you looked at a book open on the side of the couch. The snow was getting worse outside, blowing a gale at the windows. You hoped the power would stay on. They’d installed on-site generators in case of a power failure, but you found yourself enjoying the dark, the fire and a small lamp illuminating your book as you spooned poorly made lasagne into your mouth.

“Well, Bronson, it looks like we’ll be getting a lot of work done while we’re out here.” You hummed as you leaned over to pet his head, stroking the blue coloured fur with a smile, “Though we might not if the power drops out.” Bronson sighed and settled back down to sleep as you got up to throw away the rubbish from your dinner. As you washed the dishes with a sponge, you looked out of the window at the snow. It was slowing down. You smiled as the snow caused the automatic porch light to come on again, and you squinted into the light, looking for any sign of life. You blinked and looked harder into the snow as a shadowed figure appeared at the end of the garden, stalking along the fence. You blinked again and the black shadow was gone.

“It might be a bit of a weird holiday this one, Bronson.” Your dog only grumbled from where he had climbed onto the sofa, laid on his back, soaking in the heat from the fire.

The next day was just as cold, but the snow had stopped falling. There was a decent covering on the ground, and you opened the door with a smile as you looked at the drifts. Winter was done properly up here by the lakes. You turned to see Bronson in the door, his large mouth open as he waited for the signal to be allowed out. With a whistle, you tugged him back inside to put his jacket and harness on before tapping his butt and watching him sprint into the drifts.

“Bronson!” You laughed as you walked into the snow, wrapped tightly in a heavy coat, scarf, gloves and hat. It was below zero. You laughed at your dog as he snorted and buried his face into another snowdrift. He barked and followed you as you trudged through the snow, towards the treeline. The Pitbull on your heels snorted and barked as you walked into the woods, your hands in your pockets, clutching his lead and the bags you had brought with you just in case.

Jason watched from the trees as you disappeared into his woods. He hefted the axe over his shoulder and followed, the logs he had come to collect hefted on top of his shoulder. Lumbering behind, he watched from around the trees as you ventured further and further from your own cabin, and closer and closer to his own home, on the outskirts of the lake, hidden behind broken trees and rotting areas of swampy water. It was frozen still this time of year. He followed quietly, keeping his smell away from your giant dog as he watched you climb over the rotting trees and roots that blocked the pathway to his home. Jason stood still, his breath stopping all together as his eyes danced across the surroundings.

You frowned at the heavy tree in your way and whistled softly as you climbed over the heavy log and then watched Bronson bound over the top of it, his ears flopping as he panted and looked around the snow. You both scrambled over a set of upturned roots before peering into the white surroundings. Bronson pushed his nose into the snow and snuffled around your feet as you looked between the trees. A shack was sat between another upturned giant tree and a set of rotting stumps. The wood was old and rotting in most places. You approached the old panels slowly, Bronson snuffling alongside you as you both approached. It was a very old cabin, homemade from heavy timber. The roof needed replacing, small parts of it having caved in with the rot and winter snow, but it looked lived in. With a frown, you approached the front door. It was as old as the rest of the place, the hinges rusted and the lock a simple deadbolt. It was undone. You swallowed and swung the door open. Bronson peered inside as well, quiet, his ears pressed flat to his skull. You both were quiet as you looked at the smouldering fire and the tins littering around. They were stacked in the corner on top of a very old dresser. A few bones were stacked too. A knife was sat next to the bones and what looked to be a small carving project. Carefully you peered at the small figurine being shaped from the deer bone. It was a beaver. You looked around again at everything.

A rocking chair swayed with a squeak by the fire, rocking back and forth as the cold wind rushed inside. Everything was rotting. You entered a small bedroom, Bronson protective on your heels as you opened the door. It swung open and revealed a dry room. A table was sat in the corner with a makeshift bed in the other, piled with old shirts, blankets, and pillows. You looked at the table and gasped. A faded photo sat on the top, next to a moth-eaten jumper. You approached and looked at the skull sat next to it. Pieces of dried skin littered the tabletop as well, curling black lumps that looked putrid. The photo was of a young woman and her boy. The blond woman grinned back at you. Pamela Voorhees. You swallowed and tugged Bronson by his collar.

“Come on, Bronson. We don’t belong here.” You ushered him out and looked around the place one last time before you closed the door and rushed through the snow once more. Bronson whined as you both hopped back over the log, trudging back through the snow, “I think we have a certain resident to appease, boy.” Following your own tracks, you were unaware of the killer watching you disappear back into the snow.

Jason watched you leave with uncertainty boiling in his stomach. You hadn’t done anything to his home. He threw the logs down by the fire and turned to his Mother.

“Maybe she’s a good girl, Jason? Watch her for me sweetie.” She cooed. Jason nodded sombrely and made sure to lock the door as he left his home, covered in a heavy jacket and his work gloves, a machete sheathed on his hip.

Cooking for one was difficult, and soon you realised you would have more than enough for you and someone else. Bronson was busy chowing down his own food in the corner, and you sighed softly as you plated the leftovers onto another hot plate. You looked out into the cold, still night and wondered if this would be enough to appease the giant killer that might be lurking. It was stupid. He was a ghost story. But you knew to believe in the warnings of spirits. Carefully, you found a plate cover and covered the meal before opening the front door and placing it, shielded from the cold by the entryway box for tools. It wouldn’t remain warm forever, but if he was watching, you knew he’d be curious enough to investigate, spirit or undead monster. You placed the meal down and closed the door, locking it in a small fit of paranoia as you headed back to finish cleaning up before bed. Bronson slumped down by the fire as you finished putting the pots away and headed upstairs for a shower. You sighed at the white canvas you set up by the window, still with no ideas about what to put on it. Hopefully, hot water would ease your nerves.

The door opened with creak and Jason peered at the light spilling from the house, breathing slowly, evenly, in the trees. You peered out with a plate in your hands, covered to keep it warm, before you tucked it against the toolbox and closed the door once more. Curious. Jason waited. He watched as you moved upstairs, curiously, following you around the house, watching from the bottom floor as you pulled the jumper over your head. His eyes went wide as you pulled off your tank top underneath, revealing the bra you had on. Set, he couldn’t pull away his gaze as he watched skin move and ripple, tilting his head as he moved to catch sight of your backside as well. Naughty. He chastised himself as he turned, moving back to the front of the house to investigate the plate you had put on the porch. His mask turned his breath into steam as Jason stood over the plate. He knelt and picked up the plate in one gloved hand. He opened the top and looked at the hot food on the plate. It looked like the meals his Mother once made. Jason felt conflict churn his guts. Mashed potato. He adored mashed potato as a child. Jason looked at the door in front of him. He glanced at the blade at his hip and the knife by his thigh. He could open the door himself, crash through the wood and slaughter you. Instead, he stole the food away, scaring as Bronson yawned inside, rushing back into the trees with thoughts he shouldn’t have churning in his head.

“Jason. Have you ended her?” Pamela asked from her seat in the rocking chair. Jason looked at the head and shook his head as he sat by the fire, grinding the details into the beaver’s face with his small skinning knife, “Why not, darling?”

Jason looked at his feet, sheepishly, and pulled out the meal from behind him. He held it up to his mother’s head.

“Oh, my darling boy, she’s a good girl, isn’t she?” Pamela cooed. Jason felt phantom hands stroke his head before he drew out the spoon, he had whittled it some time ago. He could eat but being undead meant it wasn’t necessary. Still, he pushed the mask up enough to reveal his mouth and cautiously ate a spoonful of the cooling potatoes. He grunted, the memory of the food he used to eat as a child making his chest ache painfully.

Pamela smiled from her place in the chair, “Yes, my boy, she is a good, good girl. Just like you, my perfect little boy.” He continued to eat thoughtfully, beside the fire, before realising he had finished the entire thing. The killer looked at the plate sadly before picking up his beaver again. He eyed the little creature’s eyes before setting to work on finishing the tail. Pamela hummed a song before melting into the background again. He remembered to set her head down for the night before he trundled back into the blackness, the empty plate, and the small bone carving in hand.

The snow when you woke up was horrendous. You peered down the driveway and sighed at the layers of snow melting on your porch. It was terrible weather. You shuddered as you climbed out of the bed, immediately wrapping up in your gown before you patted Bronson, beckoning him up as you started the day. You descended the stairs with a yawn and a stretch over your head. Excitedly, you remembered the plate you had left outside of the door. The keys jingled in your hand as you unlocked the lock and slid the chain bolt free. You swung open the door and watched Bronson bound into the snow again. You watched him for a moment before giving him a tut of disapproval. As you took a step forward, your slipper met the plate. Sadly, you looked down, only to smile at the sight of the empty plate and a small token next to it. You picked up the plate and the small carving. A beaver made from bone sat perfectly in the palm of your hand, its front teeth opened wide as though it was ready to chew through a new piece of wood. You laughed at the carving as you tucked it into your pocket, shouting for Bronson back. The dog bounded back into the house and you looked at the treeline before closing the door and setting to towel drying your now wet dog.

Jason looked on from the woods as you laughed with the dog in the lounge. He watched as you placed the small beaver on your fireplace. The killer nodded to himself before hiding away in the trees to continue to watch you in peace.

Over the course of the first week, you made sure to leave food for the legend out on the porch. Every morning it was gone, your plate returned alongside some trinket the man saw fit to leave for you. On the seventh day, you opened the door and saw that the plate was left alongside a small pocketknife. The blade wasn’t long. It was a switch blade and you snapped the thing open to look at the pointed end. It was clean, polished with metal cleaner to be shiny. You smiled and took it inside once again, placing it on the small shelf with the other goods, on display in the window. The snow was still present. Icy but slushy under your feet. You made breakfast and showered before you ventured out into the cold, this time, turning to the right, heading towards the famous Crystal Lake edge as Bronson snorted and ran beside you. The track down to the lake wasn’t huge, a short walk in all reality, but you enjoyed it nonetheless, peering up at the trees as the crows called overhead. Bronson barked and rushed forwards with a stick, his tail wagging as you took it from him and hurled it as far as you could in front of you on the track. He followed happily and you both continued towards the water’s edge. Bronson sniffed at the water curiously before deciding the icy water wasn’t worth the time jumping in. You peered around at the huge lake.

It was easily a mile across, you surmised, from bank to bank, and the roots of the trees had recently been cut back to give it a more open appearance. It wasn’t as overgrown as it once was, the reeds kept back at the pier and tugged out from around the sides to prevent the water from looking too murky. With a cold inhale of icy air, you wandered closer to the edge, looking at the murky water as Bronson snorted and walked around, sticking his face in every pile of mud he could find under the snow. A crow called again above you. You looked up at the tree and frowned at the bird before it squawked again and fluttered off, leaving a black feather to float down into the snow. Bronson gave the feather a sniff before he moved into the snow again, shoving his face underneath the piles. The pier was new. The rotting boards and support structure were new, the wood painted a white colour. It would probably need redoing when spring rolled around. You walked up, towards the end of the pier and looked out at the icy lake. Parts of it were frozen, thing sheets floating around and clicking into each other. You watched a duck tuck itself into the reeds on the bank as Bronson barked at the end of the pier, gaze set on the trees. Murky water slopped against the wood with a gust of icy air and you shuddered before turning back to your dog.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” You chuckled as you turned around and carefully walked back towards the banks.

Your foot slipped beneath your own weight. Ice, hidden by the white paint, made your grips slip. Suddenly, the water lurched towards your face, icy pain imminent. You closed your eyes and gasped, winded, as arms snapped tight around your waist and heaved you upwards, away from the icy water. Wheezing, you turned your head to look at your saviour. Icy, blue eyes stared back at you through a grubby hockey mask, and you peered down at the dead hands holding you tightly against the man most now only knew as legend.

“Jason…Voorhees…” You wheezed as you were manhandled away from the pier. Bronson barked at the creature and he bared his teeth before he jumped for his arm. Jason’s eyes flicked, and in a swift movement, he snatched the dog by the collar, holding you with one arm, the other holding the hound at arm’s length. Bronson yelped as the grip twisted into the fur on the back of his neck.

“Let him go!” You coughed weakly. Jason’s eyes flashed between you both before he dropped you and offered you your dog. He dropped Bronson on the floor, lowering him to his feet, giving you enough time to wrestle a lead from your pocket to hold him at bay. He cowered behind your legs as you looked up again at the Camp Crystal Lake Killer.

“You’re real…” You whispered, gazing up at the giant. He was dead, clearly, the skin mottled and dark, pale in other places with rigor mortis, the blood stagnant. Yet, any wound seemed to not have left a scar. You looked at the hands and watched him twitch the fingers. Jason shifted, uncomfortable with the staring, and turned his eyes on Bronson again. The Pitbull cowered behind you.

“I’m sorry if we’re trespassing.” You whispered before finding your voice, “Did you, uh, enjoy the food I left out for you?” You asked the giant man. He paused in his staring, the hockey mask turning to the side, as though bashfully, as his massive head nodded.

He held up his hands in front of him and you watched his right hand move to his ask before dipping down with flat fingers, the palm upturned.

“You sign?” You asked with a smile, “That means ‘thank you’ right?”

Jason nodded twice with two slow movements of his head.

“Well, you’re welcome.” You smiled at him as genuinely as you could manage, “Though I don’t know if you really needed the food. You seem to be able to look after yourself.” With a small sigh, you rubbed the top of Bronson’s head, fear making your heart beat double time, “Are you going to get rid of me?” You asked quietly.

Jason’s eyes widened a little as he listened to the fear lacing your voice. He shook his head firmly before holding his hands up again in front of his chest, fingers twitching before he signed to you slowly. His thumb pointed to his chin with his fingers curled into a first. He moved his hand forwards before holding up his other hand and pointing a finger out from his right. He connected the finger with his left hand. You frowned, confused, before watching him stick his finger into his other hand repeatedly.

“Does that mean you’re not going to kill me?” You asked gently.

Jason nodded, confirming your guess, before signing the two words again slowly for you.

“Okay, I believe you.” You smiled as Bronson peered back from behind your legs, his nose sniffing at Jason’s heavy combats. The giant recoiled from the dog, his hands clenched by his stomach before Bronson deemed him not a threat, and simply sat down, staring at Jason with soft eyes. Curiously, Jason reached to pet Bronson, his large fingers flipping the dog’s ears around as he gave him a small scratch behind them.

“He likes you.” You laughed softly before awkwardly shifting from foot to foot, “Would you like to come and eat with us?” You asked.

Jason felt his heart catch in his chest. You asked him to come and eat with you. He was embarrassed. It was very forward. He took a step backwards, glancing at the treeline in contemplation as he wondered what sort of motive you had for inviting him to dinner. Words were empty. He knew that. Jason had been lied to again and again. He knew though, that you did intend to give him food. You left it for him every night. He wished his mama were there with him. He reached for his hip and shook his head.

“She’s a good girl, Jason.”

His mother was right. Jason nodded and looked at the snow covering the ground before stepping away from the lake and pointing back through the trees.

“Sure. I’ll lead the way.” You smiled as you tugged Bronson along at your side. Jason followed to your right in comfortable silence, observing your grins and smiles at your dog with a smile of his own, hidden behind the ruined hockey mask.

“Is that shack in the woods yours, Jason?” You asked as you reached the edge of the trees. You looked up at the phantom as his fingers curled into a fist and he dipped it down, nodding his head at the same time. You looked over the snow drift and smiled, “It’s a nice place. You seem to be able to look after yourself.”

Jason shrugged his shoulders, his jacket rippling with the movement before he wiggled his hand and his head in a ‘sort of’ motion. He was embarrassed by the praise, though you couldn’t see his face. His blind eye twitched as he watched you trip in his periphery. With a snap of his arms again, he snatched you up from falling face first into the snow.

Winded again, you looked up at the killer as you span in his arms, “Thank you, Jason. Sorry, I’m such a clutz.” You laughed as he placed you firmly back on your feet and held out his hand towards the dog lead. Bronson was happy to bound over to the giant, and you laughed as Jason was tugged around by the dog. Bronson barked, leaping into the snow, only to be fished out a moment later by one, giant, powerful hand. Bronson looked at him with a dumb smile before Jason placed him back on his feet and let him walk in front of the two of you.

Your cabin porch, at least, was free from snow. You slammed your feet on the wood and watched Jason do the same, shaking snow from his shoulders before he reached down and unclipped the dog lead from Bronson. The Pitbull gave one large bark and licked at the yellow workers gloves over Jason’s fingers before scratching at the door to get back inside.

“Here. You can come in if you want? It won’t take too long to make something.” You offered. You smiled up at Jason and he felt his resolve melt a little as he tentatively took a step into the house. His figure filled the doorway before he peered around, looking for a threat that might jump out at him, before he relaxed enough to carefully step into the lounge area.

“You don’t have to take your shoes off if you don’t want.” You offered as Jason looked down at his boots with concern. They were dirty and your floors were very clean. With a tilt of his head, he leaned over to undo the laces of his boots and carefully tugged them off. He even managed socks. You were amazed at how well put together the gentle giant was for an undead corpse.

“Thank you.” You smiled as you slipped the harness off Bronson and removed your own coat and shoes. Jason looked back and took his coat off as well, thumping over to the coat rack to hang his own mucky coat over a hook.

“You can sit in the kitchen if you like?” You headed towards the small kitchen in the back and smiled as Jason followed, stepping around the rug carefully before he peered over your head, into the well-equipped kitchen, “Do you like music, Jason?” You asked.

Jason repeated the sign for ‘Yes.’ back to you and nodded his head before continuing, ‘Not too loud. Soft.’, But you didn’t seem to understand those signs.

With a nod you reached over the counter and smiled as you showed him the small manual radio. You swivelled the knobs and caught the frequency of the local radio station. It was something weird and country sounding. You showed Jason the radio, “You can twist the knob to tune into different stations. Try and find something you like.” He took the small thing from your hands and eyed it before quickly setting to work spinning the knobs, searching for something for you to listen to. As he played with the device you pulled out the things for dinner. Jason grew tired of the knobs quickly and settled on where it had been before he had messed around, the soft country playing in the background as he watched you cut vegetables and add them to the pot for a stew. His curiosity made him accidentally turn the wrong knob on the radio and the giant jumped with a grunt as the music screeched. He almost threw the thing, but before he could, you already snapped the volume back down.

“Be careful, Jason.” You chuckled before wiping your hands properly and covering the food, “Now, maybe you should teach me some of that signing? It might be handy.” He nodded and stood from the table, following you to the lounge.

The food in front of him looked delicious.

“Oh, she is a good girl, Jason.” His Mother cooed from wherever she was, he couldn’t see her, “She’s looking after you, my dear. She could be good spouse material for my darling baby boy.”

Jason shook his head. Surely his mother didn’t think that. She had never mentioned wanting him to settle down. He curled in on himself a little. He knew he wasn’t handsome or even worthy of someone doting on him.

“Are you okay?” You asked nervously, “I thought you might like this, since you like mashed potato so much.”

Jason nodded his head and signed, ‘Thank you’ before he picked up the spoon and then remembered his mask. He looked at the gravy dripping from his spoon and placed it back down into the bowl. With a huff he pointed to his face and looked away.

Instantly you understood what he meant, “You can take it away if you would like?” You asked, chewing the inside of your cheek.

He nodded enthusiastically before placing on finger under his nose and curling it away from himself. Before you could ask him to do it again, he grabbed hold of his shoes from the door, and tied them swiftly. He shrugged the jacket on and took the bowl gratefully from the table. With a nod, he disappeared out of the front door and rushed away as fast as he could manage with the bowl of stew and potatoes.

You found a book in your cabin later. American Sign Language 101. You looked through at the basic words and frowned at the pictures for the word ‘ugly’. Jason had called himself ugly. You rubbed at Bronson’s ears and shook your head as you looked at the fire burning in front of your feet.

The next morning you turned from your canvas to a knock on the door. It was still early. Bronson perked up from where he was laid by the fire. Curious, you laid your brushed on your small table and headed towards the door. You opened the door and smiled.

“Jason, what are you doing here?” You asked before the bowl from last night was thrust into your hands.

‘Thank you.’ Jason signed.

“You’re welcome, big guy.” You opened the door a little, “Do you want to come in or are you busy?” You asked, revealing the paint streaked apron covering your body.

Jason shook his head and raised his hands once more, ‘Walk?’ He asked carefully.

“Sure. Bronson needs one anyway.” You left the door open with Jason stood in it as you took your apron off and whistled for Bronson. The dog trotted to the front door and greeted Jason with a lick to his gloved hands. You pulled on your shoes and coat before snatching Bronson’s lead and the book you were looking through last night. Jason pointed curiously as the big book and you held it up for him to see.

“It’s a Sign Language book. I wanted to learn a little bit more, so I can understand you better!” You smiled up at the giant as he appeared a little flustered and lost, his hands twitching by his thighs before he closed your door behind you and pointed in the direction of the lake. You followed with Bronson close on your heels.

Your visits to the lake became a daily routine. Jason would walk you there just before lunch and you’d both return just in time for you to cook dinner. Jason was conflicted every time you asked him into your home, but he followed you in each time. His Mother was positive. She appreciated what you were doing for him, and Jason was thankful for someone who cared. He even did odd jobs around your cabin, chopping wood and leaving it for you as well as fixing a fence after Bronson chewed a slat free.

“Jason, are you okay?” You asked as you placed his food in front of him. He could see you were nervous, wondering about something. Worrying. The giant reached out and took your hand in his own. He was about to recoil, remembering the cold temperature of his flesh, yet you didn’t flinch away from the icy grip. You squeezed his fingers and looked into his eyes.

‘What’s wrong?’ He signed after letting go of your hand.

“I’m just…” You sighed as you sat down, “It’s what you said when you first took that dinner.” You looked the phantom in the eyes, “That you were ugly.” You made the sign with your finger and scowled, “But I…All I’ve seen is a lonely man who has done nothing but help me…and be sweet.”

Jason looked away, peering into the food you had served him before he turned in his seat and repeated the sign back to you.

‘Ugly.’ He snapped his fingers together with a sigh and you shook your head at him.

“You’re not…” You chuckled, “Well I’ve never actually seen your face…” You confessed. The killer shook his head resolutely, his hands clutching at the strap of his mask.

‘Ugly.’ He signed again as he leaned back, protective of the hockey mask covering his face. With a smile, you nodded at him and eased back over your own food.

“I understand. You’re not ready to show me…” You stood up slowly and held your hands away from him, “But, when you are ready, just know that I’ll accept it, no matter what.” You promised before you leaned forwards, and pressed a soft, single kiss to his forehead. The mask was as cold as his skin, and you leaned away, dazzling the phantom with your smile.

Jason’s hands shot out, catching you by the wrists before he gently eased them up towards his face, his blue eyes gazing at you in awe as he let you brush the strap on the back of his head. Firmly, he held you in front of him before he raised his hands and fumbled.

‘I love you’ He signed, ‘Protect you.’ He promised before he took hold of your waist again and tugged you into his lap, wrapping his giant arms around your body before he pressed the cool mask to your face.

“Jason…I’m not here forever…” You whispered against his cold face, “I have to go home.”

His arms tightened as fear pierced his gut, ‘Stay?’ He signed with sad eyes, ‘Come back?’

You gave him a watery smile before nodding, “I…I can.” You thought on the life you had, back in the heat, the warmth of a residential house. Small, cramped, surrounded by other people. Your job wasn’t even most of your income. Your art could flourish. You could be with this loveable, giant phantom. No one would ever know. You took a deep breath and stood up, pressing another kiss to Jason’s head, “I’ll find a way. I have enough money to stay another few weeks anyway.” You grinned, “We can figure it out from there…” You took a giant hand and pressed a kiss to the cold flesh, “I think I love you too.” Jason made a soft noise as he grappled you back into his arms.

A Figure by the Lake, you thought, as you worked on the canvas the next day, looking at Jason as he walked back towards the water.

#jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees x female reader #jason voorhees #friday the 13th #ft13th #camp blood killer #camp crystal lake #crystal lake #jason #jason voorhees x you #slasher #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher reader insert #reader insert #my writing #art exchange #exchange piece

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musedblues · 4 years

Text

The Fire and The Flames

summary: In which two baby groupies are born, learn to navigate backstage, and catch the attention of their favorite guitar-wielding boys, on tour with the band whose music brought the girls together in the first place.

a/n: How am I just now writing for John? Jess made me do it, and I can't help but aspire to make her dreams come true. So enjoy this tale inspired and encouraged by @brianmays-hair featuring my very own projections because boy do I miss concerts. I truly poured my soul into this nbd (loosely based on the 75' anato tour)

w/c: 16k

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She won tickets on the radio. You pep talked her into dialing the station and started making dinner while she waited on hold. You'd found out the big news when she burst into the kitchen screeching like a loon, and even though a solid five minutes passed before she could properly say the words, you already knew.

You were going to see Queen.

It was the band's music that brought you and the girl together. She'd been hovering over the last of their newest record the shop had to offer. When she caught your pout upon approaching the newly emptied case, she declared that you could borrow the record, after she bought it. Then she told you her name.

"Queen... they're gonna... we're gonna-" You stammered and shrieked, trying to wrap your mind around the news. You'd missed their last show a city away, because of a flat tire. And the one before that because you were dead broke. Now money nor travel affected your ability to call a cab to take you to the show fifteen minutes away, where tickets with your names on them waited at will call.

///

"Come on!" Elizabeth tugged your sleeve all the way across stalled traffic. Her dark curls were pinned in perfect place, her most expensive jumpsuit hugged her form in all the best ways. You feared your heart would burst through your chest, leaving a giant tattered hole in your best top.

The theater was on one end of the misty street, but Elizabeth yanked you inside the doors of a record shop before the pavement ended. The show wasn't for another couple of hours. You relished the steady hammer of your heart, fawning out loud over how Queen were probably halfway through their soundcheck by now, right down the road from where you stood, waiting to see them. After milling through the country and blues section, you ended up in the back of the shop, where a small cafe served coffee and pastries.

With nothing better to do, you and Elizabeth sat at a high top table, munching on sweets to pass the time. Patrons of all kinds scurried in from the weather. While most seemed to come in to warm up, one group of girls burst in like they owned the place, jingling the bells on the door so loudly it caused your heads to turn.

Three outlandishly dressed girls waltzed passed the crates of records, glancing to the occasional title with a smirk, headed directly to the back counter. One of them threw herself toward the display case of cakes and cookies, dramatically ordering something warm from an exhausted barista.

You and Elizabeth had turned back to chattering over your coffee orders, glancing at the time on your watch with growing impatience. Then one of them sauntered over.

"I like your buttons." One of them piped up. The girl's heavy platforms dragged along the tile floor. Her hair was dusty blonde, totally unkempt, waving past a bright green top, ending at the hem of her black velvet pants. And just when you'd gotten lost in evaluating her bold fashion, Elizabeth chirped back.

"Oh, thank you! I made this one." Elizabeth brought her bag closer to her chest, pointing to the few pins proudly displayed along the strap. You'd made the other two, out of magazine clipping with Queen's name in bright blue letters- advertisement for an old show; the perfect accessory.

Another one of the girls gasped, spinning into view. Her short blonde hair fell to her shoulders, just above a big leopard print coat. Two ruby red shoes poked out of the end of her garment, and you wondered where this crew did all their shopping.

"Are you going to the show, too?" She asked with a broad grin, reaching out to bring Elizabeth's purse handle closer to her sight. And as if she was truly anxious to hear your answer, the girl scurried toward the empty seat at your side, settling in to listen while you gushed.

"Oh, yes!" You grinned, glancing at Elizabeth who was smiling just as wide. "We won tickets on the radio."

By then, the last girl had made her way to join the party. She wore a long purple dress and her thin red hair in pigtails.

"It's not for another hour, yet." She sighed, crossing her arms and glancing back to the counter where she must have been waiting for her order to appear.

Elizabeth welcomed the crew to pass the time with the two of you, even offering bits of her dessert to the new friends you made. They each seemed more than glad to settle at your table, glancing anxiously at their own watches all the same. For the while you waited, you learned their names.

Rita was the redhead with warm eyes and more questions about your lives than answers for her own.

Lilly was her younger sister, the small fiery blonde, who did most of the talking- so much she forgot to drink the coffee she'd put on a show of ordering.

And Jade was the wild-haired girl, without much to say, and a smile that held secrets you were simply dying to know. She kept her eyes traveling back to the window that pointed in the direction of the theater, but the building was still out of view. So when her eyes widened, and she stood to her feet in a flash, you wondered what she'd seen.

"It's time!" Jade announced, pushing in her seat while her friends followed her lead without question.

"Well, I think the doors won't be open for another fifteen minutes but I'm cool with waiting in line," Elizabeth spoke in a rush, tossing her trash in the bin and wrapping her coat back around her well-dressed figure.

The trio waited for you and your friend to collect yourselves, share an excited giggle, and scurry along. The air was still wet, but the rain had yet to fall. You prayed it would stay that way, as you approached the theater, noticing the line stretched for blocks full of anxious fans, eager for a night of music. It would totally suck if you had to linger during a downpour, but you decided Queen was worth the mild pending torture.

The group of girls you'd become acquainted with skipped ahead of you, turning every now and again to make sure you and your friend were keeping up.

As you approached the dreaded line of freezing faces, you sucked in a breath, prepared to find your place at the end, and stick it out till the doors opened. But as you turned to follow the line, you were yanked in the other direction.

"Follow us, trust me!" Jade dug her fingers into your coat, pulling you toward where Lilly and Rita skipped ahead. Elizabeth latched on to you, pulling herself to keep up in a confused rush.

"We'd better wait in line. What if we get back to late? We've been waiting for these tickets forever and-" Elizabeth fretted, keeping her step in time with Jade's pace who set your own. And before your friend could go on making excuses to wait in the cold, shelter came into view in a gloriously unexpected way; Lilly and Rita were slipping through the backstage door.

"Oh, no way!" You croaked, eyes going wide as Jade reached out to the door Lilly stood holding open, waving you in with a hurried hand.

The door slammed shut with a metallic thud. The sound of your shoes echoed in the dank, empty space as your new friend's giggles drifted from where they led the way.

"We should not be back here." Elizabeth worried, reaching out to clutch your arm in a panic. Jade had let you go and spun out of view. Your only hope was the sight of Lilly and Rita skipping far ahead.

"But we are." You whispered back, scanning the hall you stomped through, in a hurry to Lord knew where. Distant chatter and ruckus could be heard as you approach the end of the four-way turn. Jade popped back into view.

She walked backward with ease, wearing a broad grin and holding two gaudy orange stickers in either hand. Two backstage passes. Elizabeth glanced at you, then back at Jade, let out a loud laugh, and snatched the sticker from her hand.

"Welcome to the show, ladies." Jade grinned, handing you the last pass as Elizabeth slapped her own to her chest with glee.

"Oh, God." You chuckled, sticking the pass to your best top as Jade spun to lead the way a little faster. You had just gotten so lucky. "Oh my God, Oh my-"

And just before you rocketed into a true blue freak out, Elizabeth's nails dug into your palm, as Jade halted in place, fanning her arm out for a group to cross the hall before yours. It was them. It was Queen.

Freddie led the way in a bedazzled leotard, a coy grin painting his face as he swept his dark fringe back.

Roger followed close behind, his boldly patterned shirt unbuttoned all the way. He was laughing at something one of his bandmates said, placing a hand on Freddie's shoulder as they turned the corner.

Then came Brian. His features were sharp, and his expression was mild, almost sleepy. His long legs branched out from underneath a white pleated top, and carried him around the corner. Just before he vanished, Brian's gaze happened to sweep sideways, almost certainly landing on you and Elizabeth. And as soon as you registered his look, Brian's form was replaced by another.

John followed last, his hands shoved in his tight pockets, as if on a leisurely Sunday stroll, rather than on his way to put on a kick-ass show. His flaxen hair drifted behind his shoulders, and his eyes stayed on the ground.

When Queen disappeared around the corner, and a few workers with clipboards and headsets rushed to follow, Jade had to hurry you and Elizabeth along like an impatient older sister. Elizabeth held on to your hand like a vice, and you traded a stunned glance as you were being pushed in the right direction.

Before you knew it, you were holding your best friend's hand at the side of the stage where your favorite band settled into position. When the curtain opened, and the lights blinded you, the music came alive.

Roger sat on a throne, thrashing about, trading winks and nods between shrieking in perfect harmony.

Freddie stomped between his bandmates, singing to them, singing to the audience. Singing like his life and death and things in between depended on it. You could see beads of sweat peppered across the skin he dared to expose.

Brian drifted from glancing to the strings under his fingers, across the sea of shouting spectators and then to Freddie, with a shy smile. As if to say "look, I'm doing it! We're doing it." Every time the skinny lad leaned into the microphone, Elizabeth leaned into you as if magnetically linked to the guitarist, pulled in whatever direction he moved, even if he hadn't gone far at all. Every time Brian flew into a solo with practiced concentration, Elizabeth let little squeals escape her throat, much too taken with the sights and sounds to keep up her usually elegant demeanor.

Then there was John. You relished the times his clunky heels staggered out from the shadows, drifting clearer into your view, his head bopping, his poker face hardly changing, not even when Freddie spun to sing right at him.

You'd almost been too concentrated on finding his profile on the other side of the dim stage. When one song faded from the next, with all the precision you'd heard on your worn-out record from home, you were jerked from cloud ten. Yeah, it existed.

"We've got to make it back to the green room before the band, so I can introduce you to the girls!" Just like that, your new wild-haired friend ripped you and Elizabeth away from the greatest sight you'd ever seen, before it was even over.

Jade paraded you around a couple of corners and into an unceremonious room; where a single tattered couch, a wall-length mirror, and a table full of drinks were the only accommodations.

It was enough for a band, you supposed, but not for the mass of people in waiting. You'd come upon several unfamiliar, jarringly beautiful faces, smoking and laughing to pass the time- instead of listening to the music. How curious.

In one big hurry, Jade explained that the green room wasn't always so full and you were lucky to have come on a night that it was. That shows this close to home were always a big party.

"Those are the twins, Gretta and Violet. They're always together." Jade pointed across the way to two girls with the same long dark hair and different shades of lipstick. They turned their pleasant grins your way as Jade pushed you along.

"That's Michelle." Your new friend spoke, pointing to a girl wearing a dramatic frown. "She's moving to Idaho tomorrow. She always bought us merch from the shows we couldn't make it too. We'll have to keep the tradition alive for her when she's gone."

You were shuffled through a crowd of fresh, painted faces, trying to grasp onto every new name they were matched with. And when you made it to the back of the room, Jade let you and Elizabeth go, and disappeared.

"What do we do?" You turned to Elizabeth, swallowing your nerves. You'd been introduced to everyone but Jade failed to give your names away. You felt terribly out of place. Not to mention the fact that your favorite band of all time was due to walk through the doors of the same room you occupied, at any second. Elizabeth rose her finger, with a thought.

"Maybe we could-"

"Girls, this is Ratty. He's new here, just like you." Rita had appeared out of the blue with a tall shaggy-haired man in tow.

"I'm not new, any more babe. Two months is a long time to have to put up with these musical hellions." The fellow chuckled, revealing a cigarette from his jacket pocket. The man explained he was a roadie, hired by the band in September, to help with the technical in's and out's of putting on a show, emotional breakdowns included, apparently.

By the time Ratty finished telling his story, just before you could ask where he got a name like that, the band burst in the doorway.

"My darlings!" Freddie waltzed in, his smile glowing, his presence demanding. Almost everyone turned to greet him with cheers and whistles, except a couple of stagehands whose eyes were glued to the groupies who'd previously had nothing better to do than hold mindless chatter with them.

The band flooded in behind him, acknowledging different people in their own ways, between smiles and jokes and sleepy nods. You and Elizabeth stayed back, shooting each other looks. As much as you wanted to mingle, to matter, you couldn't be sure of your place.

So you stayed against the wall, your pleasant grin relaying secret pleas for help to your friend who answered back with her open wide-eyed apprehension.

"Hello, little wallflowers. I've never seen you around before." Freddie, in all his sweaty, charming glory twirled up to you and Elizabeth. He spun to great you like he'd been greeting everyone else. The way you'd been starstruck till now seemed to settle at the tune of the singer's gentle and well-meaning attention. But, Freddie was still the star of your favorite band, and your nervous glance landed on your friend to speak as your words got lodged in your throat.

She introduced herself boldly, stating her name with false confidence you wondered how she'd come to pick up so quickly.

"Elizabeth, like the queen herself." Freddie barked a laugh, letting his gaze travel across your friend's well-dressed form. "A queen amongst Queen." He seemed to realize.

"And you're something special too aren't you?" Freddie quirked his head to you, as you stood in stunned silences, still. "You're her little twin flame. I quite like you pair."

You and your friend let out little laughs as Freddie nodded in approval, strangers shuffling past in the background. That was when Roger emerged from the mess of folks, wearing drowsy eyes and a smile you'd seen the likes of from other boys in bars.

"Roger, this is our very own little queenie and the jewel to her crown." Freddie gestured between your friend and yourself, as you both tried to keep the same level of composure as everyone else in the laid back room. What a shame squawking like the fans you were, might have been.

As soon as the drummer seemed to evaluate the pair of you, and say hello, a perfectly manicured hand dug into his shoulder and pulled him away from view. Roger went without a fight, as Freddie rolled his eyes, turning to face you all the way once more.

"Oh please tell me you'll be joining us the rest of this tour, dears," Freddie spoke, almost flippantly, with a wave of his hand. "The bloody weather will be a drag, but you two will be much-needed company."

"Yes. We should. Shall we?" You spoke in too big of a hurry, turning to find Elizabeth already shaking her head. When you looked back to Freddie his brow was quirked, waiting for a similar decision.

"Just... give us one minute." You smiled, dragging your friend further down the wall.

"Freddie fucking Mercury just asked us to go on tour with Queen. Why are you shaking your head?" You demanded to know.

"We can't go on tour." Elizabeth said, plainly.

"You need to learn to let loose. That was your bloody new year's resolution, remember? It's coming up on the last two months to keep your word. Come on, Elizabeth. We haven't got anything better to do for the rest of the year. I'm already home for the holidays and you're between jobs. The stars have fucking aligned."

You watched your speech work magic. Your friend sucked in a breath that made her stand a little taller. And when you paused, she nodded and turned away from you to tap Freddie on the shoulder.

"Where to next, then?"

The singer's eyes sparkled, as he shot you a look that made you wonder if he knew you were the one to talk her into being so bold.

After your world subtly shifted on its axis, and plans for your near future changed on a dime, Freddie Mercury vanished as quickly as he'd appeared in front of you. The room was buzzing with folks who wanted every bit of the singer's attention, and he couldn't help but spin with a smile when his name was called out from a different corner.

You and Elizabeth shared whispered reminders to play it cool and mingling with the girls and guys who were either equally as nervous to speak to the band, or simply patient enough to wait their turn. The closest you came to making your wildest dreams come true, were the times you let your stare linger on John as he traveled back and forth from the bar to his bandmates. You couldn't be sure if he'd caught your nervous smiles in his direction, but you kept your lips upturned, just in case.

And when Jade started to leave, she motioned for you and Elizabeth to follow along.

"Don't pack too much, but bring everything you think you'll need. I'll fetch you from the station. And just remember it's not cool to be early, but never be late." The frizzy blonde listed several vague instructions to you and Elizabeth whose ears dialed in, trying to decipher the code in which she spoke. Then, Jade disappeared into the night, leaving you and your pal to race home and prepare for an unexpected ride.

///

You stood in a pale yellow hall, knocking on the door that displayed the room number you'd been given. Down the way, you heard Jade open the door of the room she must have been occupying. She'd picked you up from the train station earlier, well, led you from there to this very hotel on foot. But she did help carry some of your things. You recognized Lilly greet Jade, just before the short blonde groaned.

"They're here?" The small girl groaned in your direction. "And they're coming on the whole tour?" Lilly's complaint didn't go unnoticed by you, but Elizabeth must have missed it. Rita was already welcoming you in, when you turned back from eavesdropping.

"Hurry, we've only got fifteen minutes!" Rita pulled you into the room. "That's like, five minutes in this world." The redhead laughed, spinning toward the writing desk where her suitcase and things were spread out as if she'd be staying much longer than one night. She loaned you some fancy french perfume in your hurry to get ready, all the same.

When you stomped up the steps of the bus, you decided not to question how you'd gotten lucky enough to end up where you were. Instead, you turned to flash your best friend a smile, as everyone greeted each other with grandeur. You kept moving, past benches the other girls had claimed. Between them, were the boys that belonged to your favorite band. Whose faces you were still trying to get used to admiring in real-time, their expressions surpassing the charm they usually oozed from the news clippings you saved and called posters.

"Look who it is! I'm so glad to see your lovely faces come, sit." Freddie gushed when he glanced up to find you'd made it to where you were now. The singer excitedly waved you over to join his company, on the other side of a small booth across for your favorite bassist.

You nudged Elizabeth next to John, far too nervous to sit next to the guy you'd never officially met, but swooned over plenty before now. Your friend shot you a curious glare, probably wondering why you'd given up a seat next to the bassist she knew darn well you fancied. But still, she sat.

"John dear, next to you is our very own Queen of the Tour. And, next to me, our personal ray of sunshine." Freddie turned to you with a smile in his voice, as you eased to sit with a grin.

"Hello." The bassist nodded, glancing between you and your friend without looking either of you in the eye. He instead remained almost entirely fixated on the ring he fiddled with, on his very middle finger. You tried not to let yourself stare long, but his hands were, somehow, even nicer up close.

"These two are keepers, Deacy." Freddie nodded, in the most serious tone you'd ever heard him utter. The lilt in the singer's voice brought a cocky smile to Elizabeth's lips, as John looked up. His stormy eyes locked with yours, for a second, just one second, before he snapped back to Freddie, who was speaking again.

"So tell us about yourselves, dears."

And through a few nervous stammers and shy laughs, you and your friend took turns speaking while Freddie traded knowing looks with John. The bassist seemed indifferent at first, but his polite smile seemed to widen ever so slightly as Freddie coxed you and Elizabeth to share more stories. You wanted to stare, to snapshot a mental image of John's profile to recall later in the day when it was less embarrassing to fawn over his features. But you couldn't let your eyes linger long before a blush threatened to burn across your cheeks.

"See, Deacy? They're really something, aren't they? I'm never wrong about these things, you know!" Freddie flourished, looking to you and Elizabeth as he stood. The bus stalled outside of the venue. It was time for round two.

On the solid ground your motley crew staggered across, Freddie latched onto your best pal. He pulled Elizabeth along the pavement and all the way through empty venue halls, into the green room. The singer fawned over the girl's pleated bell bottoms, pointing out his own array of clothes he'd brought along. And for once, you were left on your own to roam between groupies, roadies and band members most interested in holding each other's attention.

"Hi... I don't believe we've met." A soft, almost timid voice came from just over your shoulder. You spun around from your mission to paste yourself to the wall, like the night before. Stalling you was a certain curly-haired guitarist, holding out a paper cup of tea your way, clutching his own to his chest.

You took the drink with a surprised grin, before telling the guy your name. Brian rose his cup to yours in a mock toast. All the nerves you'd felt meeting his band members were giving you pause now. Brian was shockingly easy to talk to.

"And who is your lovely friend?" Brian asked, letting his eyes flutter across the room, where Elizabeth and Freddie were trading bracelets and laughs.

"According to your singer, she's your band's monarch. She's called Elizabeth." You smiled, watching Brian's warm eyes linger on your friend.

"I see." He grinned, tearing his gaze away to face you again. As you monitored the guitarist's withheld smirk, and the look in his eye, you took a bold chance. You lifted a finger from around your paper cup and motioned Brian to lean a little closer.

"You're her favorite. But she'd never be the first to let you know." You spoke softly, keeping your eyes on Elizabeth across the way. Her dark curls and bright smile were easily admirable. Brian hummed, a sing-songy noise.

"And who's your favorite, then?" Brian asked, a little laugh ending his query.

It was then, when you let your smile represent your response, that you realized why some of the girls had answered your questions so vaguely, so far. Why they'd smirked instead of speaking, too. There were some things too dear to address directly. There was something about the spell that drew you here and now, that might have broken at the slightest misstep.

So you focused on the music. You and Elizabeth shared starry-eyed glances and subdued squeals when the lights dimmed, and the band plugged in. You felt your heart hammer to the time of the drum. You danced along to every riff and line together, until the end of the show when the lights stopped flashing, and the band unplugged. And as you took your sweet time back to the green room, you looked to your friend and proposed standing on the other side, tomorrow night.

///

The shadows of the stage were where you felt most alive. Better than alive, like you'd blasted through reality and ended up in one of your many daydreams. As you tried to understand where you fit into the mess when the show hit the road, you came to understand more about the others who crowded the bus.

Rita sat in the back, with a book in her hand and a look in her eye. She watched on with a grin like an exhausted, trusting mother. She hardly ever spoke up, or out, or joined in the outrageous fun. Instead, she flashed you knowing grins and followed Ratty around like a lost puppy.

You couldn't tell if the roadie noticed or not. He'd been so busy rushing around assisting the band with technical difficulties, and more often than not, the boy's silly little requests and complaints. The times he did notice Rita waiting up for him though, he smiled, and relaxed in the back of the room; just before springing up when Freddie whined for assistance once more.

Jade was the heart and soul of the tour, always coming away from stops with extra snacks for everyone, trading shoes with the girls who couldn't dance one more second on their skyscraper heels. She bounced from one person to the next and never made one feel like second best, when she poured them tea without asking, before disappearing as soon as she'd materialized.

The rides from town to town were usually fun. But hours passed and boredom kicked in, striking everyone at odd moments when all they lost their turn at board games and had nothing to do but watch the world zoom by the window.

Times like then, you'd glance to John across the way, and after several deep breaths, you'd dare to ask what might have been on his mind. He'd answer in small shrugs or silly one-liners, but never said what you were hoping to hear. When you'd all but exhausted every pathetic attempt at catching and keeping John's attention, you'd stood to find something to distract you from staring too long at the guy.

You stepped over Roger who's legs took over the small path toward the kitchenette. He pulled his feet in just in time. Lilly clung to his side, imploring you to watch your step. You weren't anywhere near disturbing her position, you knew she was only speaking in code, warning you to steer clear of her favorite blonde drummer.

Lilly was never too far from Roger's side. You couldn't tell if he minded or not. Lilly knew Roger couldn't very well see her from behind his drum kit. So she'd make vulgar promises to wait up for him elsewhere, loud enough for everyone to hear, and pretend they didn't. But those rare times the girl wasn't super-glued to Rogers' hip, he never seemed to keep his eye out for her, anyway.

You didn't question it. You just kept to yourself as well as you could on a bus full of rockstars and they're royal court.

You traded smiles with Ratty who slumped out of the kitchenette in time for you to take over, but you were only alone for a few seconds time. Brian came shuffling near, reaching for an apple and leaning against the counter so he could say something just to you.

"I figured it out." He noted, like a snide, scheming sibling.

"You're a smart guy," You laughed, reaching for the mini coffee pot. "But I've got no idea what you're on about."

"We're playing Scrabble." Brian declared, cocking his head toward the table most everyone had gathered around. "And there happens to be an empty spot next to John. He won't bite, you know, unless you ask nicely."

Thank God you hadn't taken a sip of your drink yet, or you likely would have spit it right out in a fluster. Brian might have picked up on your silly little schoolgirl crush, but he needed to realize you weren't like the other girls who shamelessly slithered hot on the boy's trails to and from the closest doors with locks. And neither was Elizabeth.

"We're here for the music, got it?" You gave Brian a stern look. "Heartbreak is not an option." You shook your head in his direction, but Brian kept his lithe grin before spinning to lead you along. Maybe you were only warning yourself.

///

At the next stop, Lilly strung along a cluster of girls who'd been camping outside the venue, and started some kind of party in the indoor pool of your latest hotel. Somehow, you'd all wound up there after dumping the band's equipment, sharing drinks and downtime in an all-new setting.

While most of the girls crowded the pool, you stuck to the mini bar in the back and kicked your feet up on Elizabeth's lap. Neither of you thought to pack swimsuits in the beginnings of winter, and neither of you were bold enough as Jade, who'd stripped down to her skivvies to dive in the deep end.

You watched on from plastic chairs, giggling to yourselves over things you'd always found funny. Roger was the first to pull up a seat at your table, handing out fresh drinks to you and Elizabeth. The guy seemed relieved to enjoy your company without having to keep up his usually debaucherous demeanor.

"You don't fancy a swim, Rog?" Elizabeth asked, popping the tab on the bottle he offered her. The shrieks and splashes of a dozen groupies echoed through the humid room.

"Are you kidding? I can risk ruining my hair hours before a big show, love." Roger grinned, rolling his eyes as he settled deeper into his seat. After you and your friend laughed, Roger kept rambling, starting in on a story about the time he'd chopped his sister's braids off when she'd talked him into playing barber, as a boy.

By the end of his tale, you and Elizabeth came down from wild laughter to find the other boys had gathered around the table. There was only another hour left to leave to chance before another show was scheduled to take off. And here you were laughing at Rogers embellished storytelling.

The girls in the water seemed none the wiser, squealing at each other and calling out the boy's names every now and again in hopes they'd join their fun. And the boys in the band let the sound of a siren beckoning their names linger in the air, unanswered. How could two separate worlds exist so cohesively? Maybe they didn't...

"Don't you all get sick of all that?" You asked, after one of the girls called out to one of the boys for the hundredth time around.

"Yes," John answered firmly, swigging the last of his beer and standing up as if the answer gave him permission to finally leave. You hadn't meant to coax him to go. You'd been trying to speak past your nerves all week, and get a little closer to the guy. But all of your polite advances had been for naught. Over dinner and on the road, you would ask John what books he was reading. You would compliment his hair, and ask if he wanted more coffee. But so would the other girls. You were just another in a line of ladies much bolder than you.

///

"Every time he does that I want to cry, it's so sexy." One of the new girls fawned over Brian. He stood across the way, favoring a hip, letting the other jet out as he hung his head, focused on tuning his guitar.

A cast of current groupie girls giggled from a few rows ahead of where you and Elizabeth sat. Lilly had marched them each to the front row for soundcheck, something she never usually stuck around for.

You could have gone to lunch, yourself. You could have roamed around the new city. But even the tunes Queen fiddled about with as they set up in each new town was music to your ears. You caught Elizabeth's withheld expression of resentment every time a new groupies eye turned to focus on the slender dark-haired guitarist, for whom they grossly expressed their love.

"They keep looking at him like a piece of dinner," Elizabeth grumbled under her breath, slumping in her seat. You glanced up from the magazine in your lap and focused on the stage.

"Yeah," You breathed. "but he keeps looking at you."

Brian turned his smile to the floor when he noticed you and Elizabeth stealing a look his way, as he'd already been focused on your friend.

Just then, one of the new girls let out an annoying squeal upon noticing Brian bite back a smile.

"Oh, would you shut the hell up!" Elizabeth barked, catching the attention of the group of girls off guard, turning their grins to sneers your way, but at least they stopped squealing.

"You know tonight is my last night, right?" Jade chuckled, shuffling through the bleachers with an announcement you hadn't seen coming.

"You're leaving?" You asked, not flinching when Roger let loose on a couple of symbols. Jade leaned on the back of the seats in front of you, crossing her arms over her impossibly long hair. Sure, some days the bus was fuller than others. Girls would hop on and off without ever trading their names. But Jade was always there. She had been long before inviting you, too.

"No one ever rides for long. You'll get motion sick, ya know?" Jade traded this information like a secret.

"Well, we can't let you leave without a party." You declared. Jade's eyes grew starry before declaring you left the planning up to her, and waved you along to get ready for another show.

///

You weren't sure how it happened. Maybe he was coming down from the rock and roll high, or maybe he was exhausted enough by the long show, that he'd forgotten how to act. When John sat next to you on the bus with a smile, you nearly shot up in a panic. Was this some kind of cruel prank?

You tried to bury your alarm, and savor his company before it was gone.

"Another good show," You nodded, stiffening in your seat as John threw his head back against the leather with a sigh.

"Barely. Ratty nearly busted me amp in the middle of Liar." John jested as the roadie walked through the bus, swatting away the comment with a grumble of his own. He looked just as worn out as the boys who'd put on the show.

You laughed at John's remark as the bus filled up, too nervous to think of what to say. You'd spent all your free time considering the right thing but the moment fate allowed, your mind went blank, damn it. You decided it was enough to be graced with his presence so delightfully near yours on the ride back to the hotel.

As the band filled up the bus and it started down the road, Freddie dreamed out loud of a long hot shower. You watched as Brian settled next to Elizabeth, including her in the argument he was having with Roger. You noticed the way he looked at her, when you weren't stealing glances at John. It was like you were making sure he was still there, not some figment of your imagination.

He never uttered another word on the ride, and when you got to the hotel, you knew the end of your shared company was near. So you offered John a measly goodnight, hoping he'd pick up on the way you hoped the statement was less of a goodbye and more of a wish to get to say so again.

When John slinked into his room without so much as a look your way, your heart ached with worry over what you'd done wrong.

"He's just shy." A voice spoke low in your ear, as you moved through the hall. You turned to find Roger at your side, offering a shrug. Was he giving you a reason for John's failure to communicate, or defending his friends decided quiet? Either way, the drummer was showing you a bit of kindness, and for that, you smiled and nodded his way.

When Roger floated to his room, and you'd nearly made it to yours, your journey was halted. Lilly stepped in front of you, blue eyes clouded with smokey anger.

"Stay the fuck away from Roger Taylor." She spoke through her teeth, sending a chill down your spine. You nodded, in a hurry to step out from under her killer gaze. You nodded because you would, because you had no plans on stealing the girl away from him in the first place.

Elizabeth asked if you were okay when you finally made it to safety. And even though Lilly's sister floated from the ensuite with a smile, you couldn't help but spill your guts to your best friend. With a great deal of caution, you told Elizabeth what the short blonde has said to you. Rita heard, but seemed to pretend she wasn't listening. And like usual, she slipped out of the room in hopes of occupying another.

This was when everyone went separate ways. This was when girls who waited long enough outside of the tour bus got lucky for just one night. When you scurried to dinner with whoever was in the mood for pizza or chips.

But tonight was off-kilter from the ones you'd become accustomed to. A fierce knock on your door revealed a giddy Jade, and a freshly showered Brian.

"Come on, then! I've found the perfect pub to celebrate my last night in." Jade informed, dancing in place. Elizabeth floated toward Brian with a wide smile that matched his own, like they planned to meet up just like this, before now.

You asked Jade for directions, saying something about freshening up before you went out for the evening, reminding her that a wasted groupie had spilled her champagne down your top before the show ended.

You'd never felt more alone while you rushed to change, in a hurry to meet up with the friends you'd been lucky enough to make. All except one, it seemed. The memory of Lilly's warning kept replaying in your head. Each time you thought back to it, the fear she'd managed to douse you in fizzled away, replaced by anger. You thought back to the night's she'd yank Roger away from signing autographs and pull him down halls when he complained about having to be someplace else. How he'd let her, as if there was no way he could outrun the girls hunt to have him all to herself. It made you sick. That was no way to treat anyone, let alone the talent of the band whose music was the only reason Lilly was lucky enough to be here. She didn't even seem to care about it, anyway.

You hurried to head out, in desperate need of fun. As you spun into the hallway, freshly dressed and ready to party, the couple you'd been in deep thought over were bickering at the end of the hall.

"You're not going with them, Roger. We're going to dinner like I planned." Lilly stamped her foot. Roger wilted, explaining how Jade had invited everyone to celebrate her last night on tour. At the mention of another girl's name Lilly rolled her eyes.

"You aren't canceling our plans, Roger I fucking swear-"

"Is it really so hard to imagine he doesn't want to be around you for once, Lilly?" You snapped, making your way closer as both parties turned their stunned attention your way.

"I'll make it easy for both of you, come on." You marched up to the pair, looped your arm through Roger's, and turned toward the elevator on your way all the same. He picked up the pace, pulling you away in a big hurry, but before you were gone, you caught the look in Lilly's eye.

On your race to the elevator, you tried to shake your fear of Lilly's death glare, and feel more prideful of your ambition to thwart her plans. When the elevator doors shut, and Roger sighed in relief, you did too.

"Thank you." He nodded his messy hair, relaxing against the wall on the ride down twenty floors. "You're a real friend."

You looked at Roger then, you could practically see his guard melting away. You'd never expected to end up here and now, not in your wildest dreams.

"Well, you know, your music has always been there for me. I suppose it's the least I can do to be there for you, too." You weren't trying to boost his ego. You didn't want anything from Roger either. It was simply the most honest response you could think of. You meant it.

"I invited her along. I promised not to leave home without her. But I never promised more than that." Roger explained, digging for a cigarette in his pocket. He explained how the two had misunderstood each other. How he'd realized he'd lead her along and felt too sorry to let her down gently. You both went on laughing about how the music led you all here and now, like some kind of spell, a curse in Lilly's case.

When you spilled out into the world on a mission to find the crew who'd geared up for a long night of fun, you were still laughing. High off of the euphoria of telling Lilly off, you were sure.

Freddie, John, and Ratty were only just leaving, as well. Roger called out to the boys, racing to catch up with his friends without a small blonde bombshell weighing him down. The boys turned with grins to find Roger racing their way, while you watched on with a smile, finally feeling like less of an outsider for once.

And while the crew joined up, John stalled and turned to watch you approach, as you stepped closer with bated breath.

"You alright?" He asked in a small way. As if he wasn't sure he should have even been asking.

You'd laughed it off with Roger. But the look on Lilly's face after what you said to her was burned in your brain. You realized you'd been biting your lip every time the thought threatened to make you queasy.

"I think I've earned myself an enemy, tonight." You shrugged, watching John join your stride, his pace matching your own. Maybe it was his closeness that was sending waves through your stomach, you thought.

"Why's that?" John wondered, ever the conversationalist. This was still further than you'd managed to get with him, most days, though.

"I’ve stolen Roger away from the girl who's been claiming him all tour long." You joked, hoping it would make you feel better about how angry you'd made her. You weren't one to step so boldly out of your shell. John went silent for a beat, glancing at Roger racing ahead, pumping his fists, getting his companions in the party spirit.

"You and Roger? You two really-" John pipped up again, his hair blowing back with the breeze.

"Wait! God, no." You barked a wild laugh. One that might have embarrassed you if John hadn't relaxed into a smile, too. When you managed to find the words, you explained yourself.

"There is no Roger and me." You made yourself clear. "I just couldn't stand to hear Lilly treat him like she does. I finally told her so."

"Well good.. then everyone wins tonight, don't they?" Even the rockstars spoke in code, huh? John kept his smile, a real genuine grin. The first one you'd noticed pointed so unabashedly in your direction. Was there something better than winning? You'd suddenly hit the jackpot.

You walked in time with the fellow around the corner to the pub Jade had scouted out. There, your friends spent the rest of the night bumping into one another in the dark and shouting curses at the jukebox when it ate their coins. As the drinks flowed, Elizabeth and Jade had taken over the dance floor. Brian cowered behind you, asking what he should do, desperate to make it clear to your friend how hard he'd fallen for her, without scaring her away. Roger bought you some shots for being so bold in his honor, and John stayed close. Not nearly as close as you might have liked, but closer than ever before, shooting drunken quips and questions your way. You were too tipsy to hide your blush. You wondered if John was too drunk to notice.

///

You didn't have far to travel, but the early morning ride seemed like the longest of all. Jade left you all with hangovers, booking it to her train station without saying goodbye.

The bus was somber, with everyone sulking in their respective spots. Freddie and Roger scribbled over notes at the table. Rita and Ratty hogged the sofa, kicking Lilly toward an empty bench of her own, where she fell asleep. You sat reading in the seat next to John. His arms were crossed and his eyes were closed, yet still, in his shutdown state, you could feel his presence like a looming storm cloud.

Brian sat strumming an acoustic nearest Elizabeth, both pretending to be focused on anything besides each other. The lanky guitarist had taken to following Elizabeth around everywhere like a lovesick puppy. You watched as he stole her away with excuses to help fix his hair- to ask her opinion on a certain hotel's free library and its selection- to sit next to him at dinner. You watched as she agreed, and smiled and leaned into his side when he gestured her closer to ask something over some loud pub speakers. You watched your friend fuss over all her best flared out pants, and boots, asking if you thought she looked alright... If you thought Brian would think so. You promised Elizabeth she had nothing to worry about with a sure nod.

It was the same gesture you gave her now, across the bus, when Brian abandoned his guitar in her lap without question, on his way to fetch a snack.

"I'm so bloody sick of this shite." Roger grumbled, swatting away Brian's offer of some fresh fruit, the only thing the bus cabinets had to offer, this afternoon. Roger stood from his spot across from Freddie, giving some passionate speech about all the things he was hungry enough to eat, how badly he wanted a proper meal.

You all laughed as he devised a plan to race to the nearest eatery the second the bus stopped. Freddie declared his grand plans for sleeping away the next fifteen hours of truly free time, wondering how half of the bus had fallen into cat naps with such ease on the ride that jostled through the winter weather. John with his eyes still closed, spoke up, startling you, saying something about how he'd never been asleep but hoped if he pretended long enough, he'd eventually find real rest.

When the next hotel beckoned from outside the foggy tour bus windows, Roger raced for the door, inviting anyone who was also famished to come to join in his afternoon plans to feast. Brian nodded to Elizabeth, who shrugged and followed along with a grin.

John lept after the small party, demanding they wait for him to join. You laughed at their desperation, how the boys were in the midst of living out their wildest dreams, yet all they wanted was some warm lunch.

When you looked up from collecting your books, bag, and coat; Brian, Roger, and Elizabeth were zooming down the steps chanting like school kids on their race to the mess hall, and John was standing at the end of your seat.

"You comin'?"

///

Roger strung you all along like the sky was falling and you only had an hour left to find nourishment before the end of times. How you all fit into the back of one cab, you weren't sure. The patient driver helped your gang locate the nearest, nicest restaurant and laughed when Roger was the first out of the ride, dancing up to the double doors of some cabin-esque eatery with their specials presented in faded chalk, in the ice-covered picture window.

You and Elizabeth sat across from the boys in the band, who dreamed of home while impatiently waiting for your orders to cook. Brian compared the fireplace in the back of the place to his families. John was delighted to find his favorite dish on the menu. And Roger acted as if he'd been admitted into high heaven, simply pleased to be sat in one place with nothing more to do than enjoy himself, and some real food.

The five of you laughed for hours, enjoying the extra-large cups of cocoa on sale during the storm you'd arrived in the middle of.

"It's so nice to have absolutely nothing to do. We could stay here all night and we wouldn't miss a thing." Brian chirped, smiling to the barista who traded his empty cup of cocoa for a new fresh one.

"I don't know how you boys do it, I surely would have lost my voice after so many shows in a row." You pipped up, always in awe of how hard they worked.

"Well, Deacy barely has a voice so-" Roger jeered.

"You leave him be!" Elizabeth crushed an empty sugar packet and flung it toward the drummer, who feigned shock. You glanced across the table, catching John's gaze. His had already been settled on you, and when you noticed, he looked down with a grin, twisting the ring on his very middle finger.

///

Love was dangerous. One taste, one blurry vision of the adoration you always dreamed of, and common sense flew out the window. You and Elizabeth were busy gushing over the picture-perfect time you'd spent with three-fourths of your very favorite band. How close your two favorites had been for the few hours you spent making Roger's simple dream come true.

Instead of getting ready for the next show in a timely manner, you and your friend chattered away about the night before, and you'd missed the bus to the venue. Rita had all the extra passes, and you absolutely panicked on your race to make it on time.

Outside the propped open backstage doors were two burly men you hadn't seen earlier in the day. They stood inside of a stone foyer, out of the snow like royal guard. Neither of them budged when you and your friend rushed up to explain what had happened, begging to slip inside the already open entry.

You had nothing to show but desperation, and the men weren't standing for your girlish desire. What else could you have done? Elizabeth took her turn at begging when just passed the propped open doorway, a familiar face floated near.

"Lilly!" Elizabeth shouted, waving past the well-built men who blocked your entry. The small blonde halted and peeked her head around one of the men's shoulders with a wicked grin.

"Oh, please tell them we know you! We don't have our passes!" Elizabeth breathed, bending her knees as she begged.

"Doesn't matter. Can't get in without a pass." The taller guard sighed. Lilly put on a frown, listening to your friend's pleas.

"Oh, here." Lilly clicked her tongue, reaching in her bag and unveiling a shiny orange sticker she'd had on standby. As the blonde reached through the security guards to hand the pass to your friend, you practically heard heavens gates creak open.

When Elizabeth moved to snatch the sticker, Lilly latched onto her wrist and pulled the girl inside, as the guards reluctantly stepped aside.

"Oops. That was the last one I had." Lilly's always evil smile had long foreshadowed this power play. She shot you a look reminiscent of the glare that haunted your dreams.

"No, come on, she's really with us!" Elizabeth turned around and reached out for you. But the guards snapped back into place, clearly on the side of the wicked witch who was already skipping deeper inside, stalling to pull Elizabeth along.

"Oh my God!" You shouted in disbelief.

"Don't move an inch, I'll be right back!" Elizabeth yelled from where she moved in a hurry inside, just before one of the big tall men slammed the door shut without blinking an eye.

You slumped in disbelief, crossing your arms to shield the cold that came along with the falling snow. The guards paid you no mind from their small shelter as you paced back and forth, trying to keep your cool, all the same. Maybe it was the weather reducing you to shivers, but Elizabeth seemed to be gone much longer than it took to find a pass to pull you back in.

"The hell are you doing?" A voice called from behind where you stood freezing, trying to hold back frustrated tears. Ratty stood with a big clunky case in hand and a cigarette between his lips. He was a sight for sore eyes.

"We were late." You greeted through the sorry explanation.

"Christ," Ratty flicked his cigarette toward the fence and reached into his coat pocket for an extra pass.

"Come on." He uttered, handing the sticker your way, nodding for you to follow him inside. The guards shot you a glare as one moved to open the door, while the other stepped aside. You unpeeled the sticker and placed it proudly on your coat, determined for that to never happen again.

"Oh, Deacy..." Ratty sang as you stepped in time with the roadie, behind the stage. John had only been around the corner, fiddling with an amp no doubt. He was dressed for the show already, a shy smile included. You tried to shake the snowflakes tangled in your hair, embarrassed by how silly you must have looked.

"I've gotten the things you need, my friend." Ratty held out the case to John, who approached as you walked his way.

"You have, haven't you?" John replied to Ratty, but kept his studying eye on you, his grin turning to a frown. "Where've you been?" John asked, seemingly concerned by how cold you must have looked.

"We were late. Lilly apparently only had one extra pass for Elizabeth, who went searching for another..." You sighed through a polite smile.

"Rita has them all. She went looking for you, Rat." John quirked a brow, taking the case from the slim man at your side. Ratty huffed and nodded toward the green room, where everyone in question would likely end up sooner or later.

The three of you shuffled that way in silence, and if you'd ever glance to John at the right moment, you'd notice he was stealing looks at you too. When the bassist reached out, placing his hand on the small of your back as the three of you entered the green room, you felt like you belonged. Like he wanted you there. The shiver his fingertips sent up your spine was different from the chill you'd felt lingering outside moments ago.

As you arrived, Freddie seemed to sigh in relief, greeting you with a sweet lilt in his voice. As Ratty met an impatient Rita near the wardrobe, and Elizabeth came running in, just in time.

"Is Rita back? Oh-" Your friend found you shedding your coat in the corner, reaching out like you'd been found from a deserted island after years away.

Lilly followed, rolling her icy eyes when she noticed you'd found your way.

"Look who made it in, no thanks to you." Elizabeth muttered in the small blonde's direction, who breezed into the room like she owned it.

"It is a triumph, considering neither of you belong here, anyway." Lilly spat, not even bothering to look in your direction. As she waltzed past where John had opened the case Ratty gifted him, the bassist slammed it shut and looked right at the girl.

"Would you get the fuck out, Lilly? You're the one who shouldn't be here. You make everyone feel like such shite, they're too afraid to tell you otherwise." John snapped, causing a stunned silence to fall over the room.

Everyone watched on as Lilly turned red hot, her fists balled up at her side, ears steaming, eyes searching for her next victim. She whipped in Roger's direction.

"Aren't you going to defend me?" She cursed, watching the blonde lean against the counter where all Freddie's eyeliner waited to be put to use.

"No." Roger spoke, plain as day, with the shake of his pretty hair.

With that, Lilly let out a string of curses as she stomped out of the room. But before you could celebrate, Rita came alive from the corner of the room.

"That was totally unnecessary." The tall redhead scolded John as she collected her coat. You watched the man hold back a chuckle at her mismarked anger.

"You finally speak up and that's what you have to say?" Ratty yelled, stepping to meet Rita on her way out the door.

"It's time!" A man with a headset burst in, waving the band to fall in line. Commotion swept through the room and out into the hall as everyone bickered and cheered each other along. You and Elizabeth were the last to leave after you'd picked your jaws up from the floor and laughed like loons over the scene you'd watched unfold.

When you finally made it to the side of another stage, something came over the two of you. You followed Elizabeth past a few snaking wires, down some stairs and into the back of the concert hall. Stragglers gathered and marveled over your orange passes that permitted you backstage where you belonged.

You danced along with fans who'd traveled through the storm to hear the music. And Queen proceeded to play the best show you'd seen the entire tour, or ever at all.

///

In an impressive hurry, the conference room of the hotel you'd rented was decked in streamers, and drink carts were set up in almost every corner. The band was greeted with cheers and toasts, all to celebrate the show they'd just performed.

For weeks you watched as they kept in tune, in time and impressed crowds all over the country. You'd gotten chills at every solo and sound. Yet tonight was better than all the best before. And since the boys had a three day weekend ahead of them, a proper party was in order.

Ratty sent everyone on a mission to set up the perfect spontaneous shindig. He took to the crowd, in charge of inviting the right kind of people to the afterparty. You stuck with Elizabeth to set up the celebration, and the hotel was more than happy to help. The lady at the front desk waved you back to the kitchen to select the best kind of sweets they had on hand, to set out for your pending guests. She even let you at a storage closet full of streamers and decor for moments such as now.

All the while, Lilly and Rita remained missing. But no one missed them much, as you downed champagne and mingled with fans who poured into the party and gushed over the music, and the boy's accomplishments.

Freddie arrived already buzzed from the ride to the party, and Roger was the perfect pseudo-host. He went around, clapping backs, sharing smiles, and passing bottles from stranger to stranger. And somehow, when you found Brian, he was already plastered, closer to crashing into sobriety than the others who were just getting started.

"Congrats Bri." You grinned, reaching out to pull the guy in for a hug. He didn't let go when you pulled away, instead clung to your shoulders for balance as he asked,

"Where's Beth? I want her to congratulate me." Brian spoke, barely keeping it together.

"Brian, oh no. Don't call her that, she hates that." But as you warned, he wasn't listening. And while he twisted in place to scan the crowd he found Elizabeth posing for a photo with Ratty, near the table of sweets.

"Oh, there I see her!"

"Don't call her-"

"Beth! Love, can you believe it? We've earned ourselves a party!"

Brian bound her way, arms outstretched like some big cuddly rag doll. And despite the nickname your friend once scolded you badly enough to remember to never call her again, she smiled. She leaned into Brian and shook her head at the way he rambled, and held his hand as he spoke right to her.

You watched on with a grin, and meandered further into the room, reveling in the knowledge that tonight would be one you'd look back on and tell your families about for ages. Then someone called your name.

"Come sit, we've got first dibs to the bar." Freddie motioned you over to some hideously cushioned wicker furniture, just on the edge of the gathering crowd.

"There are plenty of bars around tonight, Fred." You laughed, glancing at one of the mini stations set up in every corner.

"This one is nearest to the kitchen, love."

"And we've got the key." John boasted from the matching loveseat facing the throne Freddie made of his wicker chair. As you laughed, the bassist waved you over, and you'd be a fool to back away. You sat at John's side, trying not to drool over his tight-fitting suit. He was just as drunk as his counterparts, wasted enough to get up and start dancing like he did. But he didn't budge. He settled deeper into the sofa next to you.

"You." Freddie pointed behind the place you sat, barely managing to tame your heartbeat. A kid with coke bottle glasses stumbled closer, clearly stunned by Freddie's favoritism.

"Bring us back something clear and toxic." Freddie held a shinny key between his fingers, waving it toward the kitchen door. "And fetch a little something for yourself, darling."

The kid nodded, nearly bowed, snatched the key, and slipped in the back when he was sure no one was looking. John burst into a fit of giggles at your side as you and Freddie traded smug smiles. The dark-headed singer spun off into a made-up monologue about the laws he'd enforce if he were queen for a day. You joined John in laughing until it hurt, until the kid with the glasses popped out of the kitchen with vodka in hand.

You reached out for the kid to pass the drink to you, joking about how the other boys were too far off their rockers to be in charge. He even handed over a few spare cups before handing the key to Freddie with a nervous grin. You poured the kid a glass first, as thanks. He took the drink and nervously slinked off to the corner while Freddie demanded the next cup. When it came time for you to offer some to John, you felt the cushions shift. He'd leaned forward to where you worked at the coffee table.

"I'm so glad you're here," John muttered, right in your ear. All your senses shut down and reopened with a thousand nerves on end. His shoulder pressed into yours as you passed the cup of vodka his way. He smiled and said a small thank you before leaning back, leaving you to pour your own, very tall drink.

The night passed by in blurb, like the world around you had been set to super speed. But you stood still, taking the occasional sip of alcohol. Freddie fled his throne to dance. Ratty passed by to steal the vodka, arguing with John, who filled both your glasses before letting the roadie take the bottle. You thought you notice Roger kicking cans of beer from tabletops.

All the while, John never left your side. When he reached for the key Freddie entrusted him, John let his arm drape over the back of the sofa. When a certain song came on, he leaned over to tell you how much he liked it. But mostly, he chatted to fans who plopped in the seats nearby, to extend their congratulations.

When a record screeched to a halt and the crowd groaned collectively, you stood up. As another track started to play, you moved to the exit, daring to look over your shoulder to the place you'd abandoned John. A girl you didn't recognize had taken your spot, and John wasn't looking back.

You knew his closeness had been driven by the drinks he'd downed. But it still stung to realize. It still hurt to understand you were just another passing face in his world that never stopped spinning in different fast-paced directions. When you made it up to your room, the quiet was almost welcome.

It wasn't long before you slipped into your pj's and dimmed most of the light, until Elizabeth burst in.

"I'm gonna do it." She announced, out of breath like she ran all the way here to tell you so. "I'm gonna stay with Brian."

You knew this had been coming, and at long last. You encouraged your best friend to jump into her jammies and bolt out the door. And when she did, you knew everything was as it should be, even for you. Even though the quiet pierced your ears, now. You knew tonight was one you'd remember forever. But you never dreamed it would end this way.

///

You awoke to a crashing. Muted hollers echoed from the hall, while the sun beamed through the curtains you forgot to shut. Your head pounded from the party the night before, but the ruckus from the hall was enough to drive you out from under the covers in a hurry.

You opened the door, rubbing your eyes to find clothes and shoes flying out from a doorway and toward an open suitcase at the end of the hall. Then Roger staggered out, dodging a pair of heels that zoomed dangerously passed his head. Lilly emerged no sooner, throwing the rest of her things into the suitcase on the ground, yelling at the drummer the whole time. He stood, listening, taking it. So you stood, crossing your arms, watching Lilly throw her fit, delighted at the sight of her leaving, no matter how dramatic it might have been.

When she grabbed the handle of her hastily zipped bag, she cursed her way toward the elevators. When the doors closed, Roger turned, noticed you, and laughed. His excitement morphed into a grimace as he lifted a hand to his head- he'd had much more to drink than you.

You gave the blonde a small wave and chuckled as you crept back into your sickeningly bright room. You snagged some pills from Rita's opened suitcase, stole some of Elizabeth's shampoo, and prepared for the day ahead and whatever it might bring.

The hotel was eerily quiet, the commotion from the party and Lilly's fit reduced to echoes in your memory and nothing more. There wasn't even a soul to be found in the breakfast bar, each chair in place. You picked one and ordered a hot drink, wondering what other ghosts haunted the place you seemed to exist alone in.

You only got to sulk for a few minutes. Elizabeth skipped through the halls, bounding to pull a seat up next to you, a frantic mess of giggles. You grinned, taking a sip of your drink as you watched her slouch across from you, biting her lip into a smile.

"He kept calling me Beth. And I kind of liked it."

You both burst into chuckles, heads thrown back in the early morning, despite having barely caught a wink of sleep. She ordered a drink, and some breakfast when you asked why she wasn't still with Brian. She explained that his head hurt too badly to move yet, and she was famished.

So she split her breakfast with you and told you all the details she was willing to share. You laughed the whole time, fawning over each dreamy scenario, pausing only to announce how lucky she was and how happy you were for your friend. You'd known all of Brian's trustworthy motives, having spent many a long night coaxing him to sweep your best friend off her feet. A piece of your soul settled knowing they were finally together.

Roger and Freddie interrupted your giggle-fest to join in breakfast, complaining about their aches and pains they would have slept away if Lilly's screaming hadn't rattled them into consciousness. When neither of them ceased whining, you stood to go fetch some more pain killers Rita kept on hand to pass out in times like now, and out of reach during most all other occasions.

When you got to the room, nothing was much the same as when you'd left it an hour ago. The cleaning service had come and made your bed. And Rita was there, clamping her suitcase shut.

"You're leaving?"

The redhead turned to you with a heavy sigh that seemed to be her answer.

"I don't belong here anymore, babe." Rita shrugged when your twisted expression wasn't eased.

"You can't leave..." You cautioned, but for all the wrong reasons. Elizabeth had made it clear that she planned to switch roommates, and that was good news indeed. But if Rita left, you'd be alone. And you couldn't afford to rent more rooms all on your own, for the rest of the tour.

Rita didn't explain much further as she hoisted her bags toward the door. You remembered why you came up in the first place, asking her for some of the pain killers she always kept. You half encouraged the girl to stick around to keep mothering the lot of you, joking that the whole show would fall apart if she left you lot on your own. She only traded you the bottle of pills and a sorry smile before spinning toward the elevators with her bags in hand.

You'd felt alone in the space before, but you hadn't ever felt the way you did, now. Like everything was over. Not just the tour as you knew it. Not just your place on the ride. But like life had shifted into a new, dull grey territory right before your eyes.

///

"Here you are, then." You tossed the bottle of pain killers to Roger, who still managed to catch it in one hand despite his sluggish state. The rest of the band had all flocked to the breakfast table you'd claimed earlier in the day, watching the sun dip lower in the sky. And even though your throat went dry as they glanced up your way, you announced that you had something to say.

"I'm going home." You declared with wimpy confidence.

Everyone gapped at you, waiting for the penny to drop. But you'd already said what you needed to.

"No, you're not." Elizabeth laughed, standing from the spot you'd left her in a bit ago. Funny how some things never changed even when everything else did...

"Rita just left and there's no way I can cover a room all on my own for another week and a half," You explained, watching your friend shake her head. Elizabeth pulled you away from the group, and back toward the elevators.

"You're not leaving me on tour with a bunch of boys." Elizabeth declared, pushing the buttons to send you to the proper floor.

You argued with her all the way up to the room. You watched your friend collect her things, finding tubes of lipstick and shoes mixed among your collection. She combated all your excuses with her own, while she packed her bags.

"We'll figure something out, okay?" Elizabeth spoke up, toting her things into the hall. "But you're not leaving."

You could see the boys making their way back to their rooms, as your friend left you on your own. You let her, and couldn't help but smile when you watched Brian take her suitcase in his hand as they swept into his room. But before you could turn and face the inevitable, you were stopped once more.

"You can stay with me, if you'd like."

John stood in your doorway, with his hands shoved in his tight pockets. Oh, no way.

"I'm not a groupie John." You sneered. You had no interest in being a temporary roommate.

"I never said you were. In fact, I'm glad you're not." John chuckled. It made you hate how much you adored him. He really wasn't interested in you, huh?

"I just don't want-"

"I want you to stay with me." He seemed sure, he wasn't even asking. He never really did ask, did he? John looked at you as if you didn't have a choice. Reluctantly, you let yourself feel glad that you didn't have much of one. And then you hesitantly packed your bags.

When you got to the room John had been staying in for two nights in a row, he hadn't done much to celebrate the small stability. His bags were in the corner and the lights were dim. You tossed your things into an opposite corner.

That night, you barely spoke to each other, and you curled on the sofa to sleep your worries away.

///

The snow had ceased but the chill in the air cut to the bone. It was torture to walk from the bus toward the plane. It was small, much smaller than the already cramped tour bus. Maybe having less friends along for the ride had its perks after all...

The boys were dressed to impress, knowing they'd land to a dozen flashing cameras and excited fans. You and Elizabeth settled in the back, accepted some complimentary flutes of champagne, and buckled up for another long ride. The boys gathered around for some kind of meeting to discuss the last leg of the tour.

She never asked. Elizabeth just kept giving you this look, coxing you to spill any details on what your stay in John's room had been like. And when the plane reached its altitude, you'd had enough of your friends daring glares.

"I slept on the sofa." You admitted through a sigh.

Elizabeth dropped the magazine she'd pretended to be interested in, to her lap, and turned to you with wide eyes. When you met her glance, she swatted you on the shoulder with a disgruntled huff.

"One month left." She rose a manicured nail. "You have one month left of this year and I will not let you live it on sleeping on his sofa."

You snorted a laugh. She sure had come a long way since diving headfirst, last minute, into her new year's resolution. Just then, the boys broke away from business, and Elizabeth perked up.

"John, dear, this seat isn't taken!" She stood to shuffle toward Brian, but you knew her motives were mostly with you in mind.

John could have kept walking and sat next to Ratty, behind you. He could have stayed where he sat, still. But John stood up and waltzed over to where Elizabeth had fled, with a grin on his face. As he settled next to you, he crossed his arms and closed his eyes. You turned toward the window, trying to jot down every detail of the land below you, knowing it would always be there, and you could come back to it, but nothing would never be exactly as it was now, ever again.

///

After another kick-ass show, the unruly group you'd been trailing across cities and skies with seemed eager to go their separate ways.

Roger took off, into the town you'd barely learned the name of, hot on the trail of a tall brunette. Freddie invited a cast of characters back to the hotel; you watched as strangers filled up the bus before the band was even finished tearing their set down. And Elizabeth canceled your plans; one's you'd made on the ride to the show, to go to dinner just the two of you and spend the whole night catching up. Even though she'd just been down the hall for a night and a half, you decidedly missed each other already.

But Elizabeth was easily coaxed away at Brian's simple suggestion to take her on a real proper first date. And you couldn't blame her. In fact, you were the one who pushed the girl out of the green room and made her stop asking if you'd hate her for taking a rain check.

That left you, and John. He shrugged on his coat as the last of the strangers Freddie invited shuffled passed to catch the bus. And when he noticed Elizabeth turn to wave goodbye, John frowned as if she'd been letting him down, all along.

"I'm happy for her," You spoke up decidedly, stepping to trail behind the group of partiers headed for your ride. "but I may secretly never forgive her. I was pretty excited to waste the last of my cash on a five-star dining experience we probably would have spent just drinking anyway."

John laughed, a solid, made for the big screen, award-winning laugh. And when you stepped out into the bitter cold, anxious to make it to the bus before catching hypothermia, John curled his fingers around your arm and yanked you the opposite way.

"Uh, where are you abducting me to?" You weren't nervous about where you were headed, just the fact that John seemed so keen to lead you there.

"To a five-star dining experience, duh." John hailed a cab that slowed on the glistening street in perfect time. As he reached to open the door, the man stopped you from arguing all the same.

"And I'll even make sure you still have cash left to waste, don't worry." The bassist pressed his elegant fingers into your shoulder blades, ushering you into the ride.

///

"Thanks for being so hospitable miles away from home." You uttered, stabbing a fork into a salad that cost as much as your rent back home. The place you sat now was saturated in amber light, a warmth you had to swim through to reach for your glass of water across a massive marble table. John sharing his room was one thing, but a lavish meal was another.

"Home is where the heart is, right?" John shrugged, taking a sip of the beer still floating above the bottom of his bottle.

"And I happen to know yours is in the countryside, don't be coy." You teased, shoving a fancy basket of chips toward the middle of the table, gesturing for him to take a few.

Your conversation started slow, with carefully formulated quips, questions, and answers. But once you'd mentioned the few keywords, subjects that sparked to life in his brilliant grey eyes, John was an open book.

He yammered about growing up. You asked about music. He wondered about the future. You laughed about now. And maybe it was the late hour or the exhaustion of the never-ending ride setting in, but you laughed all the way home, too.

You were shaking away the hysteria on your walk toward the hotel. And by the time you reach the halls, you'd both gone silent as the day you met, keeping your smiles polite and your eyes hidden away.

He was the first to get ready for bed. You called the front desk for an extra set of blankets, propped some throw pillows in place on a new tiny sofa, and rummaged for your bedclothes beneath the mess of trousers you couldn't choose from earlier in the day.

You slipped past John when he emerged from the ensuite, almost like you were trying to avoid each other. The bathroom was full of leftover steam that fogged the mirror, quickly fading from the corners. As you took your turn cleaning up you tried not to think of how close this was to being over. How you'd miss Freddie's jokes, the ones he'd tell under his breath just to you. How you'd miss Roger's questions, and the odd times he'd settle in for a chat, even if he didn't seem to have the time. You'd miss Brian begging for your help in catching Elizabeth's attention. You would still have her at the end of this, to dreamily reminisce with while you danced around to records, like always. But you'd miss John most of all.

The lights were out when you crept back into the room. Even the moon was out of sight in the window it's dull shine outlined. On your way toward the sofa, where some blankets remained neatly folded just for you, John stopped you. From the place on the edge of the bed where he'd settled in the dark, he rose a hand to your wrist. Not grabbing on, just letting his fingers brush against your skin. Even the smallest bit of contact with the guy sent sweat to your palms.

Only when you turned to glance at John, did he let his fingers press against your arm, gently pulling you to sit at his side. The shadows of the room might have covered his face if you were any further away. But you were close enough to see the specks of color in his steel-grey eyes.

Did he know what he was doing to you? Could he hear the thud of your heart? Did John realize how much you adored him? You nearly couldn't handle being so close, closer than ever before. When you opened your mouth to warn him, no sound escaped.

John took your failed warning as an invitation to lean closer. You were suddenly glad you'd neglected to give notice to your nerves- when he closed the space left between you to press his lips against yours.

He kissed you slowly, almost timidly. Just the way most all of your other interactions with him had started out. When you kissed John in return, he stopped holding back. His gentle pecks ended when his lips parted against yours, setting the rhythm of your heart into overdrive. It was one of the kisses that there weren't words for. All of the reserved glances, every shared silence, had led up to now. Everything you'd tried to say, to make clear to John seemed to be relayed in the way you kissed each other.

You only stopped to breathe, but when the quiet grew louder, you realized there was more to say than ever. And funnily enough, John spoke up first.

"I like you, ya know?" He whispered, still dangerously close. You could practically feel the words as he formed them.

"I sure hope so." You breathed. Because now you couldn't cling to the edge for dear life, you were free-falling, and he was the only one who could catch you.

Instead of meeting in the middle to kiss you again, he replied. "What do you want?"

"I want to stay with you." You smiled, nearly mocking the way he coaxed you into sharing his room for the rest of the tour. Instead of meeting him halfway for a kiss, you said something more. "But I'll keep wanting too. So don't start something with a finish line in mind."

"I don't plan on letting this end, love." John declared with a grin, looping an arm around your middle and pulling you close. "Besides, we're just getting started."

His low purr in your ear was the nail in the coffin. You couldn't help but melt against John. He pulled you into the jumbled sheets. You tangled your fingers in his mess of sandy waves of hair. He fit against you perfectly. You stayed with him.

///

"Where's my hairbrush?" Roger whined, scouring the vanity with big worried eyes. You stole the silver comb from under Freddie's nose, tossing the thing to the drummer.

"You actually brush this mane?" You tousled his blonde fringe, that seemed to already stand on end. Roger looked pissed at first, but when he glanced at the result of your action in the mirror, he stilled.

"This is better, actually." He shrugged, and you laughed, as Freddie twirled by to steal the comb once more.

"We're just going to the museum down the street. Are you really wasting your eyeliner for a field trip?" Brian asked, tapping his foot impatiently in the doorway on the suite that combined all of your rooms together, in the new, final city.

You'd all been in comfortably close quarters for the last couple days and a half, and yet when everyone's favorite roadie suggested going out to enjoy the last free afternoon, everyone stuck together to do it. Ratty led the way as you all waltzed in pairs between a few buildings lined with piles of snow that quickly melted under the usually beaming sun. Freddie and Roger. Elizabeth and Brian. You and John.

He'd become a permanent fixture on your side, always reaching for your hand, stepping in time with you from place to place. You basked in his glow, and waved from whatever side of the stage you ended up near, not entirely unlike before.

When your gang flooded into the big quiet art gallery, Roger made you laugh, posing with marble statues and making you do the same, asking Freddie to snap your photo. Brian read plaques like stories for you all to hear while still fixated on the art he spoke for. You sat with Elizabeth and watched on with pride while a group of fans flagged the boys down. You and your best pal shared knowing looks before floating away from each other, and back toward the guitarists who'd been glad you managed to find your way on tour.

The last show was watched on by a bevy of film cameras. The boys in your favorite band played hard. You could practically envision the music notes floating away from the chords they struck in flawless synchronicity. Ratty stood, biting his nails ready to exchange instruments and wires in too big of a hurry, wishing there were more roadies to share the worry with.

"Calm down, this is going perfectly." You assured, squeezing the slim man's bicep. Ratty nodded and seemed to still. He'd come to ask you and Elizabeth's opinion, on all sorts of things, but most music. Ratty had watched you and your friend dance to the music night after night with the same unbridled excitement for the very first show. You'd become friends and confidants with the roadie, but above all things, you were still a fan. And not a performance passed without you and Elizabeth geeking out over the music.

Everything was perfect. But you knew better of course. You knew things would be different back where you started. You knew the spell you'd been caught up end might skid to a permanent stop when the tour bus wheels did. But there was no harm in losing yourself in the days that lasted, passing by too quickly.

Even as Brian made plans for your best friend to meet his family after they landed, you knew she'd only gotten lucky. Love like that only ever came once in a lifetime. But Queen seemed to have tapped into a wealth of fortune. And those boys deserved every bit of good they had coming.

///

You stood around the baggage claim carousel watching your friends rub their tired eyes. The tour was over, even though you'd known the day was coming, the realization hit you with all the subtlety of crashing into a brick wall.

That morning, you'd awoken with time to relish the way John slept soundly at your side. You watched the sunrise shine through his hair, relaxing under the weight of his arm that pulled you closer under the covers. You followed his lead, packing your things and hauling out to catch another plane, almost like usual. You were glad for the way he'd napped on your shoulder on the ride, afraid of letting him notice how scared you were for what came next.

John kept an arm around your waist all the way back where you came from, and you kept your head lulling back against his shoulder, terrified of what might happen the moment you stepped away to grab your bags. (If they'd ever show up)

Brian and Elizabeth were the first to leave. You watched the guitarist pull your best friend away from the group after a few unceremonious goodbyes. She turned to give you a final, nervous wave; a message you understand was code for her intention to phone you later.

Roger second, joking how he was sick of all of you, spinning around to take it back as Ratty raced to leave, too.

Freddie was last, but certainly not least.

"I'm off to sleep for a week!" He declared, slipping on a pair of bedazzled sunglasses. "But I'll be so glad to see you again the first of the year, darling." Freddie kissed your cheek and spun through the glass doors, headed for home. Before you had time to fret over Freddie's implied invitation, John offered up a real one.

"You'll come along to America, won't you?" He asked, tightening his hold around your middle.

"You want me to?" You asked feebly, daring to look into his cloud colored eyes.

"Of course. I don't think I can go most anywhere without you, now." John's smile reached his eyes as you bit back a grin, twirling a strand of his hair around his finger.

"Well, what about now?" You ventured to ask, holding your breath. You watched John lift a brow and search your face, the beginnings of a new sort of grin painting his own features.

"You'd come back to mine?"

"Of course."

And you did. You followed John right through the doors of his humble flat, joking how you'd already packed a bag. You shared John's space, his bed, his breakfast, his shampoo- but only once. You were quick to head to the market and by him a better brand, the best because he deserved it. John pulled you in for a dozen kisses, assuring he already had the best things life had to offer, all of them regarding you.

///

Before you knew it, it was time to hit the road once more. You'd saved almost every paycheck, except for one you blew on a dozen new outfits, and packed accordingly, and much more wisely than the time before. By now half of your things were mixed in with John's, anyhow.

"It's the start of a very happy new year! What's your resolution?" Elizabeth squeaked, as you rushed through airport terminals to greet your dearest friend. You hadn't seen much of her in the time since the last tour, but the music still led you back together, crashing into a long-awaited hug. Her dark curls were a little longer, and her style was still just as immaculate.

She escorted you onto the plane, where you'd found most of the rest of your crew.

You ruffled Roger's hair and leaned in for a photo with Ratty before he moved to curl up and sleep the flight away. John yanked you to sit at his side as Brian was the last to board, creeping toward his seat next to your dear friend like a giant trapped in a toy plane.

Freddie sat ahead of you all, leaning over the back of the seats, fawning over you and Elizabeth much like he had the day you met him.

"How glad I am to see your bright shining faces! We couldn't possibly have a proper tour without our very own queenie and you, my star." Freddie flashed a smile over the seat you sat before.

"Watch it, she's taken," John warned Freddie with a laugh, reaching to grab your hand.

"And for that you're welcome!" Freddie pointed between John and Brian, boasting about how clever he was to have invited you and your friend along, how he had been an undercover, genius matchmaker, all along. As your flight took off, Freddie blabbered on about how it was Roger's turn, saying he knew this nice french girl who'd be perfect for the blonde. Everyone laughed as Freddie yammered on. You clutched John's hand the whole ride, fiddling with the ring on his finger.

///

You left the boys to navigate their way around the first stage of the tour, while you took across town to get lunch with Elizabeth. You joked about how it was just like the first time, when you'd waited around hours before the show you won tickets too. The only difference now, was the level of fondness in which you spoke about your favorite band who were busy setting up at the venue down the road.

She caught you up on all the long-winded stories about Brian she'd been sorting away. You'd told her what you and John had been up too. And then you took your time meandering back to the concert hall, arm in arm.

The pair of you flashed your backstage passes to the doorman who let you in with a smile. The halls were full of cases and wires and new roadies and crew members who nodded as you and Elizabeth floated toward the green room. The closer you got, the more people came into view Girls and guys in denim and velvet, chomping on bubblegum and giggling over each other hairstyles.

You shouldered past a few unfamiliar love-struck groupies with their gazes set on your favorite band. Their drooly slack jaws clamped into frowns when you and Elizabeth fell into the open arms of the boys who'd brought you along.

Some of the girls lingered in the green room when the band rushed toward the stage. You were right behind them as always, stalling in the shadows, offering thumbs-up, and giving good luck kisses. Queen took their places behind their instruments, breathing in time with the buzzing amps as the lights dimmed, and the crowd roared.

Roger thrashed his drums with a smile, as Freddie sang his heart out. Brian turned his gaze to the side of the stage as he sang into the mic. And John danced out further from the shadows than ever before.

It was even better than you remembered. It was the best. You and Elizabeth won so much more than free tickets on the radio that day. The music had always been your personal soundtrack to your world, but now it was your world. And it sounded even sweeter as John plucked away at your favorite bass line, flashing his smile in your direction. He was your ticket in, tonight. And hopefully, many more nights to follow.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

taglist: @joeneslee @rogertaylorsangeleyes @imtheinvisiblequeen

#john deacon x reader #john deacon fanfiction #john deacon imagine #john deacon #queen fanfiction #queen imagine #queen x reader

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thewokewordsmith · 4 years

Photo

Zuko and Katara are refugees and war orphans who have been trained by the White Lotus since childhood to hone their bending skills to assassinate the Fire Navy’s highest ranking members.

I originally made this gifset for Zutara month but a lot of people in the notes were asking for a fanfic and I finally got around to writing it. It’s a one shot for now but I might eventually turn it into a multi chapter fic. Anyway please enjoy.

If you summed up my life until this point it would be. Travel light. Move quick. Create distance. It’s a way of life when your an assassin. Nothing left behind. Nothing to tie you to the scene of the crime. Leave no trace of your ever having been there. Leave no trace of your existence. Make it quick. Make it clean. Flee the scene.

That’s what they used to sing to us when we were little. They made a game out of the killing. Turned it into a song. A nursery rhyme so that our young minds could grasp the concept of killing. I don’t feel bad for being an assassin. I’m doing what needs to be done to end the war. Some say it’s hopeless to still fight after the Avatar was killed by Fire Lord Ozai’s daughter Azula, but I say fighting is better than giving up. People always think things are impossible until someone does the impossible. When it comes to ending this war I don’t believe in can’t. There’s just can’t right now. We can’t defeat Ozai right now, but we will.

Working at night has always been to my advantage, but my partner Zuko has never let it be to his disadvantage. His firebending is as deadly at night as it is during the daytime, and if ever it wasn't his dao swords more than make up for the discrepancy. The White Lotus masters pick our partners by watching the way all of us played together as children. To us it seemed like a regular playtime innocent enough, but there's nothing innocent about being one of the White Lotus' orphans, and it was really a test; a compatibility test to see what assassin we paired best with. Not only did they see how well we played together but they also watched how we fought with each other.

Zuko and I have always had our share of fights but we always resolved them. We don't let things fester we knock down, drag out, and make up. I guess that's one of the reasons the masters put us together. I don't know all of the reasons why the two of us were paired and I've never felt the need to ask. Zuko and I just work. We are both opposites and equals an unmovable object and an unstoppable force.

“We should be reaching Whaletail island in about fifteen minutes.” Zuko calls out.

“Who’s the mark?” I ask.

“Lieutenant Shimizu.”

I don’t need to study the photo of Lieutenant Shimizu I’ve got his face memorized already. I always remember their face even if I don’t remember their names. I don’t like calling the marks by their name. The killing is easier if I only think of them as marks.

“Five more minutes.”

I flex the veins in my fingers and my arms preparing myself to bloodbend as Zuko slips his Blue Spirit mask over his face. Our sky bison, Appa, dips low over the water. The members of the white lotus told us that Appa once belonged to the Avatar and I don’t doubt it because who else beside an airbender would have a sky bison? Some people say the Avatar isn’t dead. I’ve heard rumors that he’s in hiding and just waiting for the right moment to come back and save the world. I can’t waste my time with rumors and what ifs. I want a life beyond killing, running, and hiding. The only way to do that is to end this war, and I will by any means necessary.

The lieutenant’s ship comes upon us quickly. Bile rises up in my throat forcing me to clamp my lips shut tight and fight against the hot sick feeling but I hold back the urge to wretch. I always get an intense sick feeling before a kill. For a moment my skin is clammy but I whisk the sweat away with my bending to prevent chills. I’ve got to be totally focused. Zuko and I have planned this down to every last detail, but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the killing.

“We can't fly in directly to the outpost we'll have to find somewhere to land Appa and then make our way from there.”

“How many are stationed at the outpost?”

“Less than ten.” Zuko replies. “It's strictly no take downs unless anyone sees us then we have no choice but to take them out.”

“I know the drill besides they never see us coming. That's what makes us assassins.”

I remember my first kill and the shocked look on the mark's face as my ice crystal pierced his heart. It slipped into him so easily, and even though the mark didn't know me he looked so betrayed. His eyes stayed on me until he fell to the floor. There wasn't any blood it all seemed too neat to be a killing. Murder was supposed to be messy and hard but my first time had been neither of those things.

“Is he really dead, Zuko?”

“Come on Katara we don’t have time.”

“But he-.”

“Come on! Make it quick. Make it clean. Leave the scene.” Zuko reminded me as he pulled me out of the room by the sleeve of my cloak, but I couldn't take my eyes off of the man lying in the floor. He was dead. I really did it. I killed someone.

We were out of the building before anyone even noticed that the general was dead and I couldn't believe how easy it was. Surely they won’t be all easy I thought. They weren't. There has been more than one mark that's put up a good fight. I've got the scars to prove it but the outcome is always the same. They die and Zuko and I live on to kill again and again; enough to amass a body count. I've seen the look of death on so many people's faces but I never can forget my first. To this day that surprise look of betrayal haunts me.

“We can land over there.” Zuko points to a small island a few yards away and I guide Appa towards it. We leap off the back of Appa before he touches down to the ground.

“We're going to have to sail our way over.”

“I'm on it.” I bend out a piece of ice big enough and thick enough to carry Zuko and I over to the Fire Navy's communication outpost. The floating block of ice cuts through the water like a knife through flesh. When we get close enough to the out post I create a wave big enough to lift us up to the tower. For a moment it's like the two of us are flying, and how I wish that we could. I wish that the two of us could fly away from this all, but as it stands there is no running away there's only fighting and surviving in a world that's ruled by fire.

The outpost is made of metal that is old and rusted from years upon years of being left to bare the brunt of the assault from it's natural enemy the salty sea water, and surely it creeks and groans but as we climb the stairs to the top floor there is no sound. Zuko and I spent years mastering Gōsutomōshon. Ghost motion. The art of moving without being heard.

The guards are just starting up their rounds, and as we reach the top floor we stay out of their line of sight and they remain oblivious to our presence. We wait until they head in the opposite direction before making our way through the open door that will lead us to Lieutenant Shimizu. There is no one in the corridors no sounds save for the sea.

In the moments before a kill I become a different person. I wash away all traces of my off duty self and wholly become an assassin. Ice water pumps through my veins and I know longer know mercy or pity. You cannot bargain your way out of the fate at hand; not when my own hands are already stained with too much blood to turn back now.

“This is it. The lieutenant's room.” Zuko informs me.

“Not for long.”

I force the door open with a surge of water that pushes the solid metal door back on it's hinges. It alerts the lieutenant and before we can even step into his room he's bending at us. It doesn't do him any good. Zuko deflects his fire blast until I step into the room behind him to end things.

“Wh-who are you?” The lieutenant ask.

“The last thing you'll ever see.” Zuko answers.

I hate it when they talk. I don't want to know what they sound like I just want them dead. “Shatter!” I cry out and clap my hands together.

Zuko jumps on the spot. “Damn it, Katara you’re supposed to warn me before you do that!” Zuko snaps as the body lands directly in front of him with a loud thud of dead weight.

“Me saying shatter was your warning. Besides it's the quickest and most humane way I know to kill someone.”

“Humane? Freezing all of someone’s blood vessels and then shattering them into a million pieces is about a brutal death as you can get.”

“I’m sure they feel a lot less pain this way as opposed to boiling their blood.”

Zuko sucks on his teeth. “Whatever. Let’s get out of here.”

We leave the same way we came in. By the time the other soldiers discover their lieutenant's body we'll be long gone. As Appa flies us back to our camp we are silent. I've never asked Zuko what he's thinking about after a kill and he's never asked me. There is no need to; we are both thinking about the same thing. A life where we are not killers. We are thinking about a time when all of this bloody effort will pay off and we'll see the end of the war. It has to end someday. It has to. The hope that the war will one day end is the only thing that gives me the strength to keep killing. Above all else I believe that we will win; I just pray to Yue that we win this war before Zuko and I lose the war between good and evil that is being waged within us.

#Zutara #Zuko #Katara #avatar the last airbender #zutara month #assassins #fanfiction #the woke wordsmith

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muertawrites · 4 years

Text

The Lovers of Ba Sing Se - Part 1 (Zuko x Reader) [Modern Au]

Summary: Zuko isn’t used to being around people who aren’t afraid to share their every emotion. Meeting you during his time in Ba Sing Se changes that, and changes him for the better.

Word Count: 4,000

Author’s Note: Lmao the only person I’m writing this for is myself. Sorry not sorry. I usually try really hard to keep specifics to a minimum in my self-insert works, but this time I didn’t; I wrote about myself because, honestly, this fic is my love letter to me. I relate to Zuko so much and a huge part of the reason I love him is because he reminds me of myself - this fic is about me learning to love myself again after the people I loved and trusted most betrayed me, and saying a gigantic “fuck you” everyone who ever did anything to destroy my self worth. Part 2 is when I finally live out my fantasy of curb stomping Mai - tomorrow, same bat-time, same bat-channel.

Also, shameless plug, but I’m about 100 followers away from 1k, and I have some really fun stuff planned for when we get there so if you like this fic or any of my others, please follow! I love doing this and my goal is to devote as much effort as possible to it as I can, and I truly wouldn’t be able to do it without your support. Thank you so much for all of it. I’m so excited for the future of this blog and everyone who makes it possible ♥

~ Muerta

Of all the things Zuko thought might kill him, falling dishware was the last thing he would have ever considered a possibility.

He was sitting in the alley behind the Jasmine Dragon, making the most of his smoke break, when a ceramic cooking pot rained onto the pavement in front of him, shattering into trillions of pieces. Startled, he jumped back, dropping his cigarette as he craned his neck upwards; he spotted a head of brightly dyed hair staring down at him from the third floor balcony above.

“Oh shit,” you cried.

Within a minute, you burst through the back door of the neighboring building, panting and looking just as terrified as the young man you'd almost killed. Zuko stared at you, mouth slightly agape.

“Oh my god I'm so sorry,” you gushed. “Are you okay?? I didn't see you standing there, oh my god, oh my fucking god please tell me you're okay.”

Zuko was taken aback, unable to do anything for a moment but gaze at you in confusion, almost wonder. People in the Fire Nation were never this publicly expressive, even when barely avoiding manslaughter - he didn't quite know what to do with you, other than mutter that he was alright.

“I'm so, so sorry,” you blurted again. “You're sure you're okay? You don't have any glass on you or anything? Or need to be treated for shock?”

“No, I'm fine,” Zuko flatly replied. He nodded towards the trash bins across the alley. “You do know your building has those, though. You don't need to throw your old stuff off your balcony.”

You blushed, smiling sheepishly.

“It wasn't old,” you confessed. “It was a birthday gift from my best friend. Well… ex-best friend.”

Zuko huffed, pulling another cigarette from the pocket of his jeans and lighting it, looking down at his hands.

“Never had a breakup, huh?” he guessed.

“Oh, I've had plenty,” you told him. “They just don't get any easier.”

Zuko looked up at you, taking a long drag from his smoke. Your eyes were cast into the middle of the alley, settled on the shards of what once had been a reasonably nice piece of cookware. The shock and terror had faded from your expression, falling into one that was pained, anger and despair shadowing your features; you may as well have roundhouse kicked him in the chest, the look on your face mirroring the ache between his ribs. You hadn't revealed anything to him, but he knew instantly that your pain was the same as his.

He slid another cigarette from the box, offering it to you. You shook your head, lowering yourself onto the back stoop of the Jasmine Dragon; he found himself doing the same without thinking.

“I'm sorry about your pot,” he said, clumsily attempting to lighten the atmosphere. “It looked nice.”

You smiled faintly, pulling your knees to your chest and letting your chin rest atop them.

“I don't cook much, so it wasn't a huge loss,” you replied. “It was kind of cathartic, actually. I feel better.”

Zuko chuckled, tapping a bit of ash onto the ground between his feet.

“Good. Maybe feeling better will keep you from accidentally killing someone.”

You laughed, covering your face in embarrassment.

“Have I mentioned I'm sorry about that?” you winced.

“Hey, no sweat,” Zuko assured you. “It's not the first time. I've had people try to kill me on purpose before.”

He stood, stubbing out his half-smoked cigarette and pocketing it. He offered a hand to help you up, which you took, finding comfort in the strength of his palm as it wrapped around your forearm.

“I've gotta get back to work,” he told you. “You don't have any other gifts from your ex-best friend laying around, do you?”

You giggled, shaking your head.

“No,” you promised, “just that one. Thank you. For not threatening to press charges.”

Zuko laughed, realizing he was doing so for the first time in what had probably been years. The light feeling in his chest got even lighter when he noticed he was still holding your arm.

“Will I see you around?” he asked, the words escaping before they were even fully formed in his head.

You nodded, finally letting go of his hand.

“Yeah,” you said. “I'll see you around …?”

“Lee,” he told you. “I'm Lee.”

You smiled.

“Cool. I'll see you around, Lee.”

You saw Lee again a few days later, but not in a way you really wanted to. You were at work, standing outside the bar on the district high street with a coworker, attempting to attract some business during the weeknight lull; Lee spotted you while on his way to the nearby market, seeing you from a block or two away but doing his best to approach you as if he was bumping into you completely by accident.

Of course, this would be perfectly normal and not at all a weird way to run into a new acquaintance, if only the bar you worked in wasn’t catered towards men with a lolita fetish. You were dressed head to toe in pink and white, corseted in a risque bustier and frocked with a poofy, frilly mini skirt that was purposely too short, revealing the bum of your equally as ruffled panties; when you turned around and came face to face with the cute guy from the tea shop next door, you hoped someone would throw a cooking pot on top of you, death seeming like a much better option than attempting to explain yourself to someone who’d already had the privilege of meeting you during an emotional breakdown.

Lee blushed as pink as your costume, smiling coyly.

“We did say we’d see each other around,” he greeted you.

You grinned, relaxing a little.

“You’re not here to have a drink, are you?” you teased him. He laughed, his face turning redder as he reached up to rub the back of his neck.

“No,” he assured you, “I’m actually on my way to get some groceries. Figured I’d say hey.”

“Oh!” you exclaimed, “My break is in about fifteen minutes! If you don’t mind waiting I could go with you? I’ll buy you dinner to make up for almost killing you the other day.”

Lee chuckled, nodding.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind that,” he agreed. “... I don’t have to wait inside though, do I?”

“I mean, my boss would like it,” you told him, “but it’s so dead in there I don’t think she’d let you leave if you did.”

“Noted,” Lee replied. “I’ll wait in the coffee shop across the street, then.”

Not long after, you tossed a hoodie and a pair of jeans over your bustier and undies, meeting him outside the cafe he was stationed at and making your way to the market. You bustled alongside each other in a fray of other people, rubbing shoulders or hips as you were jostled along with the current.

“So,” Lee blurted, attempting to break the silence between you (although it wasn’t nearly as awkward as it probably should have been), “how’d you end up working in a fetish bar?”

Your simpered, cheeks going ever so slightly rosy.

“How do you think?” you jabbed sarcastically. “I needed money and they pay really well. It’s nice knowing I’ll be able to afford rent every month. What about you? How’d you end up at the tea shop?”

“My uncle owns it,” Lee explained. “We’re the only family we have left, so… we stick together.”

You nodded, understanding and not pushing the question any further.

“It’s not so bad,” he went on. “At least I don’t have to wear pigtails to work.”

You huffed with laughter, leaning over so that your shoulder purposely, playfully shoved his.

“Honestly, my job isn’t awful,” you admitted. “My coworkers are cool, and my boss is really kind. It’s also pretty fun getting to dress up in costume every day; it's like Halloween, except I get to do it whenever I want to.”

Suddenly, you paused, gasping.

“Look!”

You grabbed hold of his arm, startling him a bit but too excited to care. You pointed towards a nearby stand, in which an elderly man was frying pieces of dough. He twisted each in an elaborate knot, every order getting a different design. They were like miniature sculptures, too ornate to even think about eating, but the smell of rich spices and molten sugar was too tempting to ignore.

“I love this stand!” you cried. “He isn't always here, but I get something every time he is. Come on, I'll get us some to split!”

With your hand still curled around his elbow, you dragged Lee through the market throng. As he watched you order, making friendly conversation with the old man, he found himself feeling perplexed; he'd never met someone so comfortable with their emotions, so willing to let every part of them be seen. He wondered how you got so fearless, or if you even had to put effort into being so candid.

He found himself thinking about Mai, how cold and empty she was. He was reminded of the chill he felt around her, the bitter sting she often left in his chest, even during tender moments. Being around you was different; even having just met you, you made him feel invigorated but at ease, the tension in his muscles loosening naturally just from the energy of your presence. It was strange, but refreshing - he found himself grinning along with you as you left the stand, finding a place to sit and enjoy your pastry.

“I got us one with curry, and one with cream filling,” you told him, ripping each serving in half to share. “This guy is an artist, I swear. You're not going to be the same person after this.”

You looked up as you took a bite of the savory half of your meal, halting when you noticed the strange look Lee was giving you.

“What?” you asked him.

He shrugged, fixing his eyes on the pastry in his hand.

“You're just different,” he answered. “Where I'm from, people aren't open like you are. You're really… yourself. It's nice.”

You smiled, unable to help but blush. Bubbles fizzed in your chest, making you feel lightheaded and giddy.

“I think it's because so many people told me not to be when I was a kid,” you mused. “They tried to make me hide the parts of myself I really liked, so I made them show even more, just to show them that they couldn't change me. That I was stronger than their cruelty.”

Zuko felt as if he'd been hit by lightning. He didn't know what it was, but something about you terrified him - it was the same thing that made him want to latch onto you and not let go. Despite having met you just days ago, he already felt as if he'd known you a lifetime - unbeknownst to him, you felt exactly the same way.

“Do you want to hang out tomorrow night?” he asked, stuttering the words.

“Yeah,” you replied, so excited you felt like shrieking so the whole market could hear. “I have the day off tomorrow. Think your uncle would let you swing that?”

“Yeah,” Lee assured you. “I think he would.”

You finished your meal together, sharing your favorite things about the neighborhood you lived in and simply enjoying each other’s company, as comfortable as if you were old friends. Instead of parting with you, Lee walked you back to the bar at the end of your break, stating that it was no trouble going back to the market to get the groceries he skipped to spend time with you.

When he left, you hugged him, and for the first time in a long time, you felt as if you'd truly made a friend.

On your date the next day, Lee took you to the local art museum - he remembered you expressing an interest in art history, and per his uncle’s suggestion, decided it would be the perfect place to take you. He loved seeing the awe on your face when met with a piece that captivated you, was drawn in by the impassioned way you spoke about cultures and myths from ages so long passed they felt as if they came from different worlds entirely. You spent the whole day together, ending the evening crashed on your couch with a pizza and a marathon of true crime documentaries.

From that day onward, you and Lee were connected at the hip. You spent every available moment you had either in the alley behind your building with him or having a cup of tea at the Jasmine Dragon, often staying long after closing with him and his uncle, Mushi, and feeling as if you'd finally found a family in your adopted city.

You learned that Lee was a skilled martial artist, asking him to teach you a little of what he knew and amazed at just how good he really was. He moved more like a dancer than a fighter, his comfort and ability with his body and a weapon captivating you. You learned that he also had an affinity for theater and had grown up completely cut off from modern music and pop culture, spending many of your nights together at local play houses and bars, introducing him to your favorite bands and shows. He learned that you were fascinated by literature and history - anything that had significant, profound meaning and beauty - and often found himself wandering museums and historic neighborhoods with you, loving nothing more than to listen to you talk about what inspired you. You also made him laugh, your sense of humor at times dark, but set into a personality that saw the world with childlike wonder, able to find immense beauty and value in things that seemed frivolous to the naked eye. You were kind, unwavering - everything his family and past lover weren't.

Zuko loved being around you because of how free you made him feel. The unbridled way you expressed your emotions encouraged him to face his own, following your lead in being unafraid of just how intensely the heart within his chest was prone to beat. You loved being with him because he made you feel safe, never judging you for anything and understanding the trauma of your past in a way nobody else had done before. You opened up to him about how the ones you loved did you the most harm, never giving themselves as fully to you as you did them, treating you as a means to take out their own pain and insecurities and convincing you that that was just the way love worked. Eventually, he confided in you the truth about his identity, confessing the horrors he fled in coming to Ba Sing Se. You never once blamed him for anything he'd done, knowing exactly what it felt like to have to read between the lines and give everything for those who gave you little in return. You fit together easily, never having to guess what the other was thinking; for once you both felt content, secure in the safety of your heart within the other’s hands.

One of your favorite places to go with Zuko was a cat cafe a few blocks over from where you worked, spending many a slow weekday off shift with fresh lattes, croissants, and cuddles from friendly, adoptable kitties. At first, Zuko was unsure, having never spent much time with cats, but after one visit he was enamored, gushing to you every single time you went how badly he wanted a cat and spouting multiple reasons why you should adopt one together. On a free Wednesday afternoon he showed up at your apartment unannounced (as he had made a habit of doing) and suggested you go together, an invitation you were more than happy to accept.

As you left the cafe, a couple walking on the other side of the street caught your eye - the man who stood nearest to you was horrifyingly familiar. You recognized him immediately, the shock of his sudden appearance shattering and hollowing out your insides.

It was your ex boyfriend, the man who broke your heart so far beyond repair, walking hand in hand with someone else.

“Zuko,” you mumbled, not even noticing that you used his real name in public, “I want to go home.”

Zuko furrowed his brow, taking you by the shoulders and gently turning you to face him, concerned with the sudden shift in your tone.

“What's wrong?” he asked softly.

All you could do was shake your head. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, leading you to the nearby subway station and back to your apartment.

Once safe inside the confines of your home, you changed into a baggy sweater and the softest sweatpants you owned, curling up under the kotatsu in your living room with Zuko, arms wrapped tight around his waist as you drifted in the tide of blood that poured from your newly reopened wounds. He didn't have to ask what you'd seen - he could tell from the vacant, glassy look in your eyes exactly which ghost haunted you.

“I can't believe he'd be with someone else,” you whimpered. “After everything he did to me… always giving me mixed signals and never telling me exactly how he felt… how could he be able to do it with another person? What was so wrong about me that he hid all of it from me, when all I needed was to hear it?”

You sniffed as Zuko pressed a thumb to your cheek, wiping away a tear that had fallen. He hugged you tightly, pressing you close as if to remind you that he was there - he was your present, and there was nothing your past could do to harm you.

“There's nothing wrong with you,” he promised. “He's taken enough from you. Don't give him any more.”

For a long while, you sat together in silence, cradled in Zuko’s arms while he rocked you slowly back and forth, the tenderness of his touch sucking the poison from your veins. After what felt like ages, he finally spoke, giving you the piece of his past he'd been too heartbroken to offer until that moment.

“My girlfriend, Mai,” he told you, “she was like him. Everything she felt, she forced herself not to. We were together for a long time, but… I never really felt like she actually cared for me. If she did, she never let me see it. I gave her everything for nothing.”

“Why did you stay with her?” you wondered, voice meek and quivering with tears.

Zuko sighed, letting his chin fall so he could bury his face in your hair.

“Because she was the first person who ever accepted what I offered her,” he explained. “I was so used to everything I did being unwanted, it was just nice to not be pushed away for once. But she didn't love me like I needed it. I wish I was strong enough to see that and walk away, like you did.”

You propped yourself upright, leveling yourself so you could look him in the eye. You rested your hands at either side of his neck, your thumbs grazing delicately over his hot skin as you hooked your legs around his hips, your body nestled in the gap between his crossed legs.

“Zuko,” you breathed, “I love you. Those aren't even the right words to tell you how I feel about you, but it's the closest I have. You're so passionate and kind, and you love so fiercely… I truly don't know how to tell you how beautiful I think you are, or how much you mean to me. You deserve so much more than how the people you loved have treated you.”

Zuko curled his arms around your back, pressing his chest to yours and burying his face in the crook of your neck, embracing you as closely as he'd ever done. Tears soaked the collar of your sweater, and in return you cried into the exposed skin revealed by his t-shirt as you tugged on the fabric, gripping him as if letting go meant losing him forever.

“I love you, too,” Zuko murmured. “You make me feel strong enough to show it.”

When Zuko left Ba Sing Se, it crushed you. You were furious, at first unable to understand why he'd throw everything away to return to the place and the people that destroyed so much of him. Most of all, you missed him like mad - you missed how easy it was being with him, how you understood each other as if you were another part of yourselves. You missed his laughter and his warmth, the side of your mattress he often slept in feeling colder than ever without him there.

You were relieved when Mushi - who you now knew to be the infamously disgraced General Iroh - returned, showing up at your door out of the blue with tea and baked goods from the shop. You hugged him tightly, crying like a child as he settled you at your table and told you about his escape from prison, as well as his conversations with Zuko the few times he'd visited him. Your heart ached, but it finally felt clear just how lost and confused he was; you were still angry, but you knew you could forgive him.

“His heart is lost,” Iroh explained, “but because of you, he knows how to listen to it.”

For the next month and a half, you took Zuko’s place at the Jasmine Dragon, spending your days off helping Iroh wherever he needed you. He became as much a part of you as his nephew did, and started to consider you as much a daughter as he did Zuko a son. Iroh’s presence soothed the burns left on your soul not only by those you loved, but by your own ferocity towards them.

Everything changed again the morning you woke to and find that Zuko had left the Fire Nation a third time, his face plastered across the news as a missing person with a bounty on his head. You knew based on everything Iroh told you what he planned to do, and immediately set to packing your bags. Travel into and out of the Fire Nation was difficult, but a few of your coworkers had connections to smugglers in the seedier parts of the district - they’d be able to get you onto a ship or a plane that could get you where you needed to go.

Before you left, you went to the Jasmine Dragon and told Iroh of your plans, asking him to keep watch over your apartment so that you could return if need be. You expected him to try and stop you - instead he pulled you into a strong, affectionate hug, telling you to be careful and call him whenever you were able.

“Go to him,” he hummed into your ear. “He needs you.”

Later that night, you met a group of other refugees at the docks, piling into the hull of a cargo ship bound for the Fire Nation’s imperial city. For the entirety of the journey, you wore one of Zuko’s necklace’s around your neck - one of the few things he’d kept from his life before his banishment and subsequent disappearance - keeping it tucked under your shirt and pressed to your chest for good luck.

[ Part 2 ]

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aertifas · 3 years

Text

Broken Mirror - Chapter 3

iii. a lot of catching up to do

Stargazer Heights is a tiny block of apartments on the east side of Sector 7 that Tifa calls home. For a while after she first arrived in Midgar, Tifa lived exclusively on the streets, huddled near train stations at night to keep safe, taking every possible odd job she could find to scrounge up enough money to afford a real place. Zangan had helped her as much as he could--her medical bills had put her in debt, not that she could remember much from her hospital visit--but eventually she had to fend for herself. And at fifteen, fending for herself was a daunting task.

But Tifa held on to something. She had to hold on. She was the only one left who remembered them--the village, her friends, her neighbors, her father. If she didn’t survive, who would tell the story? Who would ever know what happened?

Certainly not the public--Shinra was quick to deal with that. Tifa starved in those early days, but she always managed to buy the paper. She’d sit and read it at the station, cover to cover, just to find one single word about Nibelheim. About her home. About Sephiroth. Sephiroth appeared on the front page for weeks: “War Hero dies in freak accident”. No location, no date, no details. But Nibelheim only got a footnote; something about a reactor malfunction that Shinra had under control, nothing that the public should worry about.

Tifa’s entire life was erased from history.

And so, Tifa didn’t allow herself to get low. She doesn’t allow herself to get low. She survived before, and she survives now. Not long after she’d arrived in Midgar and she met Barret, a new resident himself, and his little baby Marlene. He’d bought the abandoned warehouse on the west side of Sector 7 and needed help moving construction supplies. Tifa was no stranger to heavy lifting, and the two began to develop a friendship. Eventually, Tifa suggested opening a bar--and the rest of the story wrote itself.

Shortly after, Tifa rented a room at Stargazer heights, owned by Marle. Marle and Tifa have grown close over the years; whenever she gets exhausted at work, or tired of Avalanche’s antics, she goes to Marle for advice. Marle’s older and she’s lived in Sector 7 for a long time, and she knows everything about living in the slums. She never turns Tifa away from her door, even in the dead of night.

Tifa feels a little guilty that she hasn’t told Marle about her overnight guest--but now’s not the time. There’s a lot that Tifa needs to figure out first.

************************************************************************

Tifa doesn’t tell Cloud her story--at least, not yet. She wants to hear his. She wants to know what he’s been through, what he was doing all these long years. Where he’d gone.

Why he doesn’t seem like himself.

Tifa and Cloud sit across from each other in the dimly-lit Stargazer Heights laundry room. Marle keeps three washing machines and three dryers in two neat lines in the basement of the apartment building. Cloud sits on a chair that’s up against the wall--now clad in a white t-shirt that’s much too big for him and even baggier pants--while Tifa sits atop a washing machine. They talk over the hum of the machines whirring around them.

“So did you end up fighting in the war?” asks Tifa. When Cloud looks down at his hands, she quickly adds, “Uh, don’t worry if it’s a sore subject--forget I asked--”

“No, it’s fine,” says Cloud, looking back up at her. “I… did go to Wutai. Just once.”

“That all?”

Cloud nods. “By the time I made it into SOLDIER, the war was almost over.”

“So what’d ya’ do after that?” asks Tifa, swinging her legs back and forth as they dangle from the ledge.

Cloud sighs. “Boring shit, really. They didn’t have enough for us to do as SOLDIERs, so we went around silencing Shinra defectors, mostly.”

Tifa purses her lips. “That’s really all you did?”

“If I had more to tell you, I would,” says Cloud.

“Why’d you quit?” Tifa leans on her elbows, eyes looking intently into Cloud’s. Initially, he looks away from her, unable or unwilling to hold her gaze. “Sounds like an easy gig--right?”

“Yeah, that was the problem,” says Cloud. “No risk, no reward. Couldn’t be a hero that way.”

Tifa thinks back on that night under the stars. Cloud’s words echo in her head. I’m gonna be a SOLDIER. The best of the best--like Sephiroth. It seemed like such an impossible dream back then, but Tifa always thought that, if anyone could do it, it would be Cloud. The boy that held the world in his sea-blue eyes.

Tifa thinks to herself, Maybe it’s better he didn’t end up like Sephiroth. Even before the fire, I never even liked the guy.

But saying this to Cloud would only add insult to injury. Instead, she says, “I’m sure you were someone’s hero.”

When she says this, Cloud finally looks up from his clasped hands and looks directly into Tifa’s eyes. He has the power to hold her gaze, to freeze her in her place, though he seems to not even realize it. Tifa finally has a chance to study his eyes--intensely blue, with a faint green glow from beneath. Even in this dimly lit space, his eyes seem to light up like blue flame. There’s something endlessly captivating about them--haunting, even--and they trap Tifa into their grip, shackling her to him.

Tifa hates to say it, but she misses his old blue eyes.

But this held gaze doesn’t last nearly as long as it feels. Cloud’s eyes eventually drop back down to his hands--now, clenched into two separate fists on his lap. “Yeah. Maybe.” After a long pause, he looks back up at Tifa, though not with that same wistful look as before, and says, “I’ve said enough about me. What about you?”

“Me?” Tifa asks.

“Yeah. You. Who else?”

Tifa taps her fingers against the metal washing machine beneath her. “After I left Nibelheim, I came to Sector 7. I eventually got a job bartending from my friend Barret.”

“Barret, huh?” asks Cloud. “Do I get to meet this Barret?”

“Someday soon,” Tifa says. “He’s a really nice guy.” She takes a deep breath, purses her lips, and says, “You ever heard about Avalanche?”

“Avalanche?” Cloud rests one hand on his pensive face. “Can’t say I have.”

Tifa furrows her brows, but just for a second. A thought pops into her head. Funny that he went to Wutai but doesn’t know about Avalanche. Barret talked enough about it for Tifa to know; Shinra had tried to snuff Avalanche out in Wutai, at the tail end of the war. That’s where Avalanche had set up their base of operations. In fact, Avalanche didn’t start gaining traction in Midgar until after the war was over.

But she doesn’t want to question Cloud. Maybe that just isn’t his area of expertise.

“Uh, it’s a group,” Tifa says, shaking her head. “How should I put this?... Avalanche doesn’t like Shinra very much.”

“Who does?” Cloud responds, leaning back in his chair.

“They want to protect the Planet,” Tifa explains, “and to do that, they have to take down Shinra. Shinra’s been labeling them as eco-terrorists in the news...”

Cloud squints his eyes at Tifa, perhaps unable to discern her expression. She hides her face a little from him. “What about Avalanche? You involved?”

“Sort of,” Tifa responds. “More like… I help them out from time to time.”

“Help how?” asks Cloud. Now he’s sitting upright in his seat, listening attentively. A look of displeasure washes across his face.

“Barret--he owns the bar,” explains Tifa, flustered. “Or, his name’s on the paperwork. He’s a part of them. Of Avalanche. And so every now and then, I overhear things. And I guess sometimes I cover for them.”

Cloud looks Tifa up and down, that intense gaze returning, trapping Tifa yet again. He scowls. “You shouldn’t be involved in a group like that. You’re putting yourself in danger.”

“Yeah. I guess I am.”

Cloud leans on his elbows, moving his eyes to the floor. “Guess I can’t blame you, though. Shinra… well, fuck Shinra. They don’t give a damn about anything. I’d probably have joined Avalanche, too, if I lived in the slums.”

Tifa nods. Her hands tightly grip the edge of the machine, turning her knuckles white beneath her gloves. “Yeah. I… Shinra just makes me so mad...” Tifa catches herself getting overwhelmed with this. This anger. It washes over Tifa in waves, pulling her under, drowning her. But she always catches herself before that fire in her heart brings tears to her eyes. She composes herself and continues. “Avalanche does good for the Planet, too. I’m… I’m glad I met them.”

Cloud’s eyes are trained on her hands, which have relaxed their grip. When he looks up at Tifa, she swears that he appears gentler, for just a moment in time. That harsh, constricting gaze he holds her in, replaced with softness that is uncharacteristic of him. That permanent scowl gone, tight jaw loosened, eyebrows turned downward. He says, “Tifa...” and Tifa looks at him, catching this expression only briefly. But once she does, he turns away and reverts to his normal self. The scowl returns, and the eyes glow severely, more now than before. “I trust you to handle yourself out there. You’re pretty strong.”

Tifa smiles. “Thanks.”

The rest of the time spent in that basement room is punctuated by small conversations, cheeky comments (all from Cloud), and the occasional lull back into silence. But even in these silent moments, Tifa looks at Cloud and feels a fullness in her chest. She worries for him--God, does she worry for him--but there’s something else in her heart. Something warm. Something familiar. She never admitted it before, but now she can’t deny it: she missed Cloud Strife. That starving girl who read the paper wouldn’t just look for Nibelheim--she’d look for Cloud Strife, hoping to catch even a glimpse of his name somewhere. She remembers even a few times where, with a heaviness in her chest that weighed her down like bricks tied to her ankle, she looked to the obituaries, and prayed softly not to find him there.

But now, he’s back. And she missed him while he was gone.

She’s happy to have him back.

************************************************************************

“I promise you, we’ll find you something better in the morning.”

Tifa pulls out a sleeping bag from her small closet and rolls it out on the floor, a few feet away from her bed. She insisted to Cloud when they returned to the apartment that she be the one sleeping on the floor--but Cloud wouldn’t have it. “You’re the one doing me the favor, here,” he reminded her sternly. “What kind of guest would I be making you sleep on the floor?” Tifa pleaded with him once more, but that seemed to be the end of the discussion.

Now, setting up Cloud’s accommodations, she feels a tinge of guilt. He’s gone through a lot--though Tifa can’t know exactly--and she wants him to sleep in a real bed. But the sleeping bag will have to do for the night. In the morning, she can find him something better.

“God, I’m exhausted,” Cloud says, slipping into the sleeping bag.

“Me, too.” Tifa found her way to her bed and covered herself with her thick sheets. Tifa turns so her back faces Cloud and keeps her eyes trained on the wall. She doesn’t want Cloud to notice her sheepishness--Tifa’s always been a private person, and normally she would never share her room like this. But this is different--this is Cloud. So she fights her shyness and her nerves. Even though thinking about how close he’s sleeping paints her face in a rosy hue.

“Hey, Tifa?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks again,” Cloud says, quietly. “For everything.”

Tifa laughs lightly. “You don’t have to thank me.”

Tifa doesn’t hear if Cloud responds to her. She’s already drifted off into a deep sleep.

************************************************************************

Summers in Nibelheim were particularly hot and brutal--especially after Shinra built the reactor at the top of Mt. Nibel. The Mako hung over the town in a thin blanket, trapping in heat, making the air sweltering and unbearable. But Tifa didn’t care. Not when she was a kid, and she had the whole summer to play, to run barefoot through the fields just beyond the town gate, to climb the water tower and watch those red and orange summer sunsets.

Next door lived Cloud Strife. This was before he’d grown his hair out long--actually, it looked a lot like it does now. Cut to just above the shoulders, styled in spikes. Tifa and Cloud were friends. She considered him to be her friend, at least. His bedroom window looked into hers, and they’d often talk across the gap. It would always be short, superficial conversations, “How are you?” or “What did you do today?” But Tifa looked forward to them. She liked talking to Cloud, even if just for a few minutes before she’d fall asleep.

But even though Cloud would talk with Tifa each night, Cloud never played with Tifa and her friends--even when they’d chase each other around in the town plaza, making enough noise for the old shopkeeper to yell at them, Cloud never asked to join. Tifa always figured he had better things to do.

She always wished he would ask, though.

One day--particularly brutally hot, even for summer--the boys suggested playing a game they called “Save the Princess”. One team, dubbed “Wutai”, would “capture” Tifa; the other team, the SOLDIERs, would have to defeat Wutai in order to rescue her. Tifa always thought this was a silly game--and boring. She always got stuck waiting for the boys to finish fighting; and, even when they finished, all she’d get to do was crown the winners as her “heroes”. Whenever the boys suggested this game, Tifa protested. But her alternatives were always vetoed.

This time, the boys had a problem: they didn’t have a third SOLDIER, giving Wutai an unfair advantage.

As they argued about what to do, Tifa peered across the square. Her eyes landed on Cloud, who sat by himself on a bench, eyes to the ground, his own wooden sword resting against the wrought iron armrest. He didn’t notice her looking at him, but watching him there, always a loner, Tifa came up with an idea.

“Let’s ask Cloud to play,” Tifa told the group of boys.

“No way!” one boy exclaimed. “Not Strife. He’s a jerk.”

“You wanna play Save the Princess--don’t you?” Tifa responded. And without hearing the other boys’ answers, she skipped off to the other side of the square.

When Cloud heard footsteps approaching him, he looked up and met eyes with Tifa. In the summer sun, his eyes appeared even deeper. When she looked at them, Tifa couldn’t help but smile.

“Tifa,” Cloud said, as if he were in awe that she’d approach him out of the blue. “What’s up?”

“Do you wanna play a game with us?” asked Tifa. “We need one more person.”

“How do you play?” Cloud asked her in reply, tapping his foot on the pavement rapidly.

Tifa grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. He barely had enough time to grab his wooden sword and sling it on his back. “It’s easy!” she shouted to him. “I’m the princess. You’re a SOLDIER. All you gotta do is beat Wutai and rescue me--got it? Then you’ll be my hero.”

“How do I rescue you?” he replied, eyes wide and starry.

This time, one of the boys chimed in--with an annoyed tone. “You gotta bring Tifa to the old mansion.”

Cloud nodded. Tifa took her place by the base of the water tower. She caught Cloud’s eyes with her own and waved to him, shouting, “You got this, Cloud!” and eliciting a rare, shy smile from the little blond-haired boy next door.

One of the Wutai boys yelled, and they all started fighting. Wooden swords clashing against wooden swords. Shouting over each other, yelling at each other, saying words that Tifa’s dad told her were “unladylike”. Tifa fell to a seated position and watched from the sidelines, arms crossed on her knees. Eventually her eyes travelled upward, bored of the fight, to watch the blue sky, and to follow the fluffy white clouds as they drifted aimlessly above her.

But she didn’t have time to daydream. She felt a tap on her arm, bringing her back to reality. Standing above her was Cloud, hand outstretched to meet hers, all while the other boys were fighting just a few feet from them.

“Cloud?” Tifa asked. “What are you doing?”

Cloud cocked his head, before simply answering, “Rescuing you, of course.”

Tifa gave him her hand and he pulled her to her feet. Hand in hand, Cloud pulled Tifa along behind him, making his way quickly to the mansion at the edge of town. It was only then that the other boys noticed them running, one calling out, “Hey, what the hell, Strife?” and another complaining, “That’s against the rules!”

Tifa barely had a chance to catch her breath. She shouted to Cloud, “What about the fight?”

“Heroes always rescue the princess first,” Cloud said to her. “Then they can deal with the bad guys.”

A red flush washed over Tifa’s face. She looked back to see the other boys right behind them in an angry mob. But she and Cloud were faster, and they reached the mansion first. It’s only after they arrived there that Cloud finally lets go of Tifa’s hand.

The biggest of the group of boys pushed his way to the front. He yelled in Cloud’s face, “Why’d you have to go ruin our game, Strife?” while Cloud stood his ground, scowling back at the boy with an unwavering glare.

Tifa stepped between them. “What are you talking about? Cloud didn’t break any rules!”

“Yeah, he did!” another boy shouted from behind. “He cheated!”

“You guys are being mean!” Tifa said. “Cloud won fair and square!”

“Come on, Tifa, don’t defend him!”

“That’s why we don’t invite him to play with us!”

The boys’ shouts grew louder and more aggressive with each taunt. Tifa was unable to yell over them, drowned out by their petty arguing. She turned to Cloud and watched his face. At first, he appeared angry. But Tifa saw his expression morph, for the tiniest fraction of a moment, into one that hurt her heart. In that second, he looked sad. He looked as if he could break down. He looked shattered.

But he didn’t ever express it, if he was sad. Because the moment Cloud began to feel sad, he replaced it with anger. He pushed the taller boy out of his face, deepening his scowl, and shouted through gritted teeth, “Fine by me. This game is stupid anyway.”

Cloud stormed past the group of boys, stomping off to the other side of the square. Tifa ran toward him, shouting after him, “Cloud, wait!”, but didn’t follow him. She stopped at the fence that lined the perimeter of the old mansion and just watched him walk away, shoulders tense with anger, hands balled into fists. Behind her, the other boys were coming up with a new plan, a new way to play the game. But Tifa barely listened to them. She just kept her eyes on Cloud until the boy disappeared in the distance, most likely finding refuge somewhere in the fields just outside of town.

That was the first time any boy thought to save Tifa first. It was the only time any boy thought to save Tifa first. And eventually, Tifa refused to play that game ever again.

*************************************************************************

Tifa lifts her heavy eyelids and finds herself transported back to her tiny apartment, staring at the piano concerto poster hung on her concrete walls by tape. In a state of stupor, of half-sleep, Tifa groggily rolled to the other side and looked across the room with bleary eyes.

The clock on her bedside table reads 3:35 a.m. She sighs deeply. I really must have needed some sleep.

Tifa thinks it’s a little odd, her dreaming of such a memory. Most of her Nibelheim dreams are tinged in bright red; some are dusted in blue and green. But this one was colored golden--the color of the many summers she spent under that beautiful mountain sky.

And Cloud? Tifa must have had Cloud on her mind when she fell asleep. That’s not such a surprise, though. Usually, Cloud is absent from her Nibelheim dreams, only appearing when she sees that gorgeous star-studded sky above her head. He’s sitting next to her on the edge of the water tower, as he should be. But this was a different memory; it must be because they’ve reunited after so many years.

She turns her gaze to the floor, where Cloud should be, to find an empty sleeping bag.

Wait… empty?

Where’s Cloud?

Tifa jumps from her bed and knocks frantically on the bathroom door, only to get no response. When she throws the door open, the room is empty. The sound of wind whirring against the walls draws her attention to the front door, which is slightly ajar, and every so often moves with the breeze and knocks against the doorframe with a metal bang.

Cloud’s sword, too, is missing from its place on the wall.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

Tifa doesn’t have time to think. She doesn’t even bother changing out of her pajamas. She throws on a coat and runs outside--not even bothering to lock the door behind her.

Blog Introduction/Chapter Selection | Next Chapter

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nasrinahmadi · 3 years

Text

nasrin ahmadi. the wildcard. page 93.

name: nasrin aafreen ahmadi

age: twenty-three

education: nasrin studied abroad in the united kingdom for her undergraduate career and now has returned back to the states, studying at her father's alma mater. nasrin is doing her graduate studies in anthropology and music, conducting research work on ethnomusicology in the mughal empire.

part one

Born in the peak of monsoon season to an ambassador and an English professor, Nasrin Ahmadi was already gasping for air. Her parents consulted doctors through embassies and backchannels in Delhi, searching for a solution. Within a few weeks, the hole in her heart was remedied, and she had secured her position as the youngest sibling—the one who has to be protected.

In the beginning, Nasrin was happy, a gleeful young girl who swerved through crowds of people with a mischievous smile. Her days were filled with love and affection from her parents and the ever so common idea that blood meant loyalty—and that Nasrin owed her loyalty to no one else but her family. That is, until one sunset in the courtyard right outside the ambassadors house, in the middle of a diplomatic event with other United States prominent figures—six year old Nasrin was snatched.

She was missing for six days, twenty two hours, and seventeen minutes. Nasrin’s mother would remind her of this every time she tried to leave the house the next two years. The worst days of her life. Nasrin’s father, on the other hand, went on a tirade and fired his entire security staff for gross incompetence. The only daughter of a United States diplomat stationed in India, taken right from under their noses.

Nasrin remembers very little about her kidnapping. The years of sanctioned therapy had determined it to be a consequence of trauma. Nasrin, on the other hand, believes it was because whoever kidnapped her was alarmingly gentle and sedated her into a sleeping beauty slumber until they got what they wanted. Call it Stockholm syndrome, or call it childhood naivety, but she always had a sinking suspicion of knowing her kidnapper. The cold case was drawn to a close after two years of searching for the culprit, who demanded a few documents from her father, then dropped her in the middle of the crowded city to fend for herself.

When her father’s term as ambassador came to a close, Nasrin and her family shipped back to a small town in New England, covered with tall trees and the sound of silence, a sharp contrast from the life she had lived thus far in Delhi. She and her brother, Amal, five years apart, were enrolled into a prestigious boarding school and shipped off with high hopes and dreams. At eight years old, Nasrin remembers pressing her face against the window of the chauffeured car, calling after her parents and begging them to reconsider. You’ll be safer there, I promise, her mother said, cupping her face and wiping away her tears.

part two

The last four years, the doe eyed girl still had a knack for misadventure, but she kept her head down and did her work, eager to please her mother and father as Amal began to struggle with his coursework. Nasrin fueled her feelings into the piano, if only to be fawned over the three times she went home when there would inevitably be a party of alcoholic lawyers, stoned diplomats, and coked up politicians. Classical music provided balance in an otherwise unbalanced life with no home base.

At twelve years old, Nasrin began to watch her loved ones fall apart, screaming to have them hold on, only to see them let go. Her father’s temper had taken a turn for the worse, and in a fit of drunken rage, her mother was pushed down the stairs and suffered two broken legs. Still, adamant to go home, Nasrin’s mother cooed over her on the phone, you’ll be safer there. When she returned for the summer, her mother was gone—without a trace. Once a professor at a prestigious liberal arts college in the area, now no one. Nasrin and Amal screamed at their father for an explanation, to which he only shook his head and sipped on his whiskey: you can’t find someone who no longer wants to be found.

When Amal and Nasrin returned back to boarding school for the fall, Amal entered his senior year and applied to the slew of colleges his father required of him in order to become the next Ahmadi ambassador, but something had shifted for both of the Ahmadi siblings. Nasrin began to act out in uncharacteristic ways—her progress reports noted in a cautious manner: straight A student, but seldom shows up to class, only to cause chaos when she does. Nasrin forged her father’s diplomatic signature countless times, and Amal her accomplice, pretending to answer as him when the school called in concern. Despite never being close, Amal had taken his sister under his wing, and vowed to protect her from whatever force followed their father, that took their mother from them.

That is, until that night. When Nasrin turned fifteen, she started dating far out of her age range to be comfortable (call it her daddy issues), and found a new sense of reckless abandon in the extravagant parties of the rich and famous at the school. She was now someone rising—someone to be feared. Her brother had returned to campus for his winter break at Harvard, and the two had somehow come across the same party. Nasrin’s personality increased ten fold at these gatherings, not aided by any substance, sworn off of those given her fathers addictive personality. She hooked up with boys who were taken, just to relish in the distress of their girlfriends when they discovered. And now, many justified her behavior through assuming she was under the influence—troubled, in a way. But Nasrin was sober, she was addicted to wrecking havoc and destroying lives.

But that night, Amal stumbled right into Nasrin. She stared into his eyes and saw something familiar—the look in her fathers whenever he drank. Except, by the time Nasrin had found him, he was too far gone. Amal had fallen victim to the opioid epidemic, the one that did not discriminate by age, race, or class. But she still tried to fight for him—protect him, as he had once her. But her father’s words echoed in her mind: you can’t find someone who no longer wants to be found. Amal dropped out of Harvard his third year after years of partying with rich socialites and blocked Nasrin on every conceivable platform. His last message was a handwritten letter, delivered to the door of her boarding room–I’m sorry.

part three

It was at sixteen years old that Nasrin understood the meaning of you come into this world alone, you go out of this world alone. And when she fully embraced this sentiment, she became numb to the pain she caused others. She learned to rely on herself as the greatest defense. Her smiles no longer reached her eyes in a way both unnerving and charming.

The last few years, Nasrin has been hellbent on finding her mother and her brother, refusing to acknowledge that they had dropped off the face of the planet with no explanation. As she had been told many times about her own kidnapping, they were both cold cases—it’s better to assume, no matter how hard it is, that they’re dead. But something in her trusty, reliable gut, was convinced both circumstances were due to her father. Knowing his only claim to fame now was gaining empathy from his supporters as he ran for senate, Nasrin kept him on a tight leash—having one more member of his family go missing went from tragic to suspicious. She stole from him whenever she could, inserted chaos with a sense of elegance, but followed his dreams on face value. Now, by attending Harcourt Institute, his alma mater. It’s here she comes across the Harcourt Literary Society, and Nasrin believes it may be the key to truly putting an end to her father, once and for all.

the moment on the page

Nasrin is gasping for air. She’s small—weak, frail, a child. In an unfamiliar home, lying on a worn down couch. She lifts herself around and tries to observe as much as she can, though her head continues to pound. An elegant clock, tall ceilings, a plate of her favorite cookies in front of her.

The six year old reaches for the cookies, unassuming, and scarfs one down. Once she swallows, she feels the figure behind her before she sees them. Her head snaps around just as her right arm is injected gently once again. The hands guide her back to lying down on the couch, and right before her eyes close, her senses are heightened.

The man was tall, with large shoulders and kind eyes. Her hand was on his in an attempt to stop him from injecting her. It was rough and smooth at the same time, as if one part was sandpaper, and the other was silk. And the smell, it was overwhelming, a cologne, an aftershave, something she knew, someone she knew—and then darkness.

#harcourt:intro

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wwwafflewrites · 4 years

Text

A Rewrite of History

Chapter 1—Pilot

Even in such horrible times, you could find some good in the world. For instance: at least none of this was your fault. Like, usually this kind of stuff was your fault, but not even you could botch something so royally.

One minute, you were walking into the kitchen, at home, on a crucial mission for pizza rolls, and the next, you were standing on gravel. You looked on with sickening dread at the salvage yard and immediately recognized it. A rusty lot of cars and suspiciously-shaped, freshly-dug patches of dirt…This was from Supernatural. Bobby’s place, to be in fact. The Singer Salvage Yard.

You pivoted, staring at the mass of cars surrounding you, trying to make some sense of this. But you were dumbfounded. Your jaw went slack, as you took in your surroundings.

Fact was, you had just watched the season finale with your best friend, and you were justifiably upset. That finale was a train-wreck of emotions. But… not so upset you had wanted to be a part of the story. Well, okay, everyone has thought about being a part of the story, but you were at least modest enough to admit that if there was any character going to live, it wouldn’t be you. With your luck, you’d be the star blood splatter of the first five minutes.

You dumbly dawdled around the salvage yard, staring at the cars. This wasn’t possible. This was a dream. You just fell asleep on your couch and your best friend was going to find you drooling and dreaming about pizza rolls.

You threw a hand in front of your face, trying to justify this reasoning, but everything was too vivid. Not even a lucid dream could invent this. This… this was scarily real.

A door slam behind you sobered you up quick, and you threw yourself down and behind a car. Bobby would not take too kindly to a stranger on his property, you didn’t think. That is, if he hadn’t seen you already. In hindsight, you could have used some help, but you were too much of a coward to face him.

You tucked your arms into your chest, and then froze when there was a crinkle of paper in your right pocket. That hadn’t been there before. Keeping in mind that Bobby was walking around somewhere in the lot, you quietly unfolded the wad of newspapers. Skimming, you realized they all had one thing in common. Missing persons from Jericho, California. All ten spaced out throughout the years.

Wait, wasn’t that the plot of Supernatural’s Pilot?

Your eyes widened. This is where it all started.

“Who’s out there?!” a voice bellowed. Bobby Singer.

Looks like you hadn’t been as quiet as you’d thought. You needed a game plan—and fast.

You sprung up from your hiding spot and leaped for the most reliable looking car in your range. A gunshot rang out; it was much louder than you expected.

“Hey!” he cried.

I am so sorry, Bobby.

You hopped in the backseat, thankful for the keys hanging from the mirror. You scrambled grab and fit them in the ignition, the jingling only making your heart race fast. More shots were fired, this time denting the metal and blowing out the back window's glass. The engine burst with life, and you burned rubber.

Once you were a safer distance away, you hid behind the seat and shouted out to him, “What year is it?”

“Why the hell would I tell you?!” More shots ricocheted off the metal and you recoiled.

Good point.

You decided to chance and pause the car, peeking your head out, and ducked when bullets sprayed in your direction. “Please?! It’s important!” you shouted, hoping he would confirm what you already feared.

He had taken a defensive stance ten feet from the running car, prepared to fire if he saw eyes. “What, you come from the future or something? It’s 2005, ” he snarled. You knew he was being sarcastic, but it was the painful truth.

“Or something,” you murmured. So, this was it. Fifteen years in the future, and all the knowledge you needed to change it. You could change everything. You could save them from the pain they were going to endure. You could—

You could do anything, at this point.

Then, after a beat, you shouted, “I’m really sorry about your car!” And you sped off, already reeling in the small and neglected vehicle. This wasn’t going to be a fun ride.

More shots fired, and you distantly heard him holler in frustration. You didn’t blame him; you’d want to kill you too.

///

If Bobby could see you right now, he’d be laughing. The excuse of a vehicle had begun sputtering thirty miles in, and after forty miles, it began lurching to a stop. You punched the steering wheel.

It was karma.

You closed your eyes, then looked glumly at the passenger seat. There was a good-sized, blue rucksack situated beside you, which you could swear hadn't been there a moment before.

You blinked. Apprehensively, you reached for the bag. You raise your eyebrows at the heavy feeling of it, and you unfastened it.

Inside was a pistol, a silver knife, a sack of salt, cash, and shockingly, an angel blade. Christ. Well, wasn't that just subtle. That would definitely go well with everyone.

Lastly, you pulled out a small note.

We won’t let you die until the future runs a different path.

You scoffed a little, but your stomach clenched nervously. What did they mean, ‘let you die’? Was that a threat? You certainly didn’t want to die, so you didn’t see how that was encouraging at all. What, were they really expecting you to have no regards for yourself and just… blindly interfere with the Winchesters? You were scared, but you weren’t stupid.

You flipped the note, and there were more words:

Tell, and your companion will rot.

You couldn't help the stutter in your breath. This note was written by someone who knew you weren’t from here. They had your best friend. This was blackmail.

Meddling with history or not, you were going to need the Winchesters’ help. So your obvious choice was to help them anyway, right? Jump on their side, and when Big Brother wasn't tuning in, approach them for help.

You figured that there was only one thing that could possibly change the future so early in time. Something that was supposed to throw Sam Winchester back on the road with his brother.

Jessica's death.

You ended up jettisoning the car, Bobby probably would have tracked it anyway. It had been a four mile jog, wasting more than half an hour of your time already, but fortunately happened by a small gas station. Where there were gas stations, there were cars.

You walked in the respectable business, making a beeline for the newspaper. November 1st. Jessica was supposed to die tomorrow. You were going to have to pull an all-nighter. Dusk 'til dawn.

You sighed. This was real. This was actually happening.

Walking back outside the business, you began to choose the best victim—or in other words, a car.

There was a little Ford a few blocks away, hidden from the gas station’s cameras and out of view from Mainstreet. You closed in on your target, scanning for watchful eyes. From the looks of it, you were safe.

You peered into the vehicle. There were crumbs, pop cans, and some fast food wrappers on the floor, but it was reasonable—nothing you couldn't tidy up later. You couldn’t afford to be choosy.

You smashed the glass with the heel of your pistol, careful to conceal the weapon. You didn’t need more trouble than you were already in.

You hot-wired the car. It was a rough start because you hadn’t actually ever hot-wired a car before, but the wiki-how article you’d read in the past for a certain fanfic was proving useful.

Muttering an apology to the family who'd owned this vehicle, you drove off and buckled up for a long drive. You just hoped you'd make it in time. After all, you have to drive through four states to get there, and you'd probably be stuck sleeping crooked in the car at a rest stop.

You didn't have enough money to pay for a real bed. There was five hundred dollars in the backpack, but that was for food and gas money. You couldn't afford to blow it all on one night's sleep. This had to last you for who knew how long. Months? That really wasn't much to live on, if you thought about it.

Clearly, the person who had put you here had no knowledge of human spending. Because, wow, was money going to be tight. You were broke.

You finally pulled into a rest stop at two in the morning after yawning, straining, and heavily blinking at the road for a solid thirty minutes. You thought you could push through the night by blasting tunes, but at that point, you knew you were a danger on the road and you needed to rest.

Your mind wanted sleep, but the world was against you. Your mind kept going back to the note, and then to Jessica, doubting you could make it in time to her.

You leaned your seat back, shuffling and trying to make yourself comfortable. Because if there was one thing the Winchesters did, it was drive all over the goddamn nation, so you'd better get used to the feeling.

You cried yourself to sleep.

///

You'd never been to California.

Your impression of Palo Alto was, for the most part, a decent one. It was sunny, which you had anticipated. Downtown was pretty chill, with bikers and pedestrians left and right. Trees were everywhere, providing shade as a compliment to the harsh sun. You respected Palo Alto. You did. It had a nice, suburban feel to it.

The only trouble was the traffic. You were stuck in a constant go-lurch go-lurch motion for a half and hour. And it was getting too close to Jessica’s death for comfort.

By the time you got to the street you wanted, it was getting late. You were a little desperate to get there before the demon did. With a little Sam and Dean level investigation, wit, and lies, you found yourself on your way to Sam's home. Instead of breaking in the doorway, you climbed in through a loose window with a pry of your knife.

You weren't alone. Brady, Sam's college friend had a maniacal grin on his face, twirling his fingers at the ceiling. "You're just in time for the show."

You stared in devastation at Jessica, who was half dead currently, gasping on the ceiling and pleading for her life. If you hadn't gone to that rest stop, you would've been there in time. You could have saved Jess.

The smirk he wore was starting to bore a hole into you. Mortified, you backed away from Brady. You gripped the angel blade in your bag, which was loosely hung at your shoulder. But he vanished, leaving you with a dead girl on the ceiling and a sick feeling in your gut.

"Jess?" someone called out from the front of the house. "You home?"

You froze. Sam was home. No no no no no—!

There was a pause, and then you saw Sam come around the door-frame. He froze as well. You were both unsure what to make of each other.

"Who are you?" he demanded from the other side of the room.

You couldn't really breathe right, much less speak.

Your last brain cell realized that at any second the house was going to burst into flames. You had to get out. Now.

Sam noticed the red splat on the bed, and looked up. His expression morphed into one of devastation, and from there, you knew you’d never forget it. He looked so damn young, and to see the look of loss as he cried out his girlfriend’s name was absolutely heartbreaking. And it was all your fault.

Flames erupted around Jessica before you had the opportunity to say anything.

That's about when Dean rushed in, shouting his brother’s name and locking himself around Sam to pull him back away from the fire. Away from Jess.

You broke into a fit of coughing, breaking your train of thought. Blindly, you reached for the window again, batting at the latch. Climbing out took some effort, but you wiggled your way through the small window, collapsing in a heap on the ground. You were still wheezing when you got up. You needed to get the hell out of dodge. Because Sam Winchester now believed you murdered Jessica.

///

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kdramalifee · 4 years

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What are your most favorite/recommended dramas? I've honestly only have watched 4 cause never know where to start once I finish one. Thank you!! 💕

Sorry of the late reply ❤

Here’s a “few” dramas that I enjoyed. Some of them fall into more than one category so I’ve written what categories I feel they fall into for each one. I’m going to write the amount of episodes for each show, but I’ll only be counting by (approx.) hour, so if the drama has 32 episodes where each “episode” is half an hour, I’ll write it as 16 episodes. Also some of these have several names, so I’ve just used the one they use on mydramalist. I’ve bolded my favourites.

This list might seem a bit daunting (as it is quite long) but I recommend looking at the specific genres you know you enjoy and just pick one you think seems interesting (there’s no shame in dropping a drama if it doesn’t grip you). If you can’t decide which one to start first, send me a message with the ones you’re trying to choose between and I’ll help you decide ^^

Action/suspense/Crime:

Bad Guys: 11 episodes, Action, Thriller, Psychological. A police detective gathers a team of criminals to combat crime in exchange for reducing their sentence. Throughout the drama, secrets are revealed.

Class of Lies: 16 episodes, Suspense, School, Mystery, Law. A highly successful lawyer falls from grace after the fallout from one of his cases. He fakes his identity to get the position as a teacher at the school connected to this case in an attempt to uncover the truth and save his reputation.

Cross: 16 episodes, Medical, Suspense. To get revenge for the death of his father, Kang In Kyu becomes a (highly skilled) doctor/surgeon and gets a job at the prison where his father’s killer resides in order to kill him.

Doubtful Victory: 20 episodes, Mystery, Crime. A man who was wrongfully sentenced to death when he was younger escapes from prison and fakes his identity as a police officer to help prove his innocence. (Just a heads up: I don’t think a lot of people liked this drama (it gets a bit draggy in the middle). I liked it, but I think that’s an unpopular opinion)

Kill It: 12 episodes, Action, Thriller. Kim Soo Hyun is a veterinarian who is also a professional killer. One day he is hired in exchange for information about his past. At the same time a detective is trying to find Kim Soo Hyun. They both uncover a mystery regarding their shared past.

Healer: 20 episodes, Romance, Action, Mystery. "Healer” is a special kind of night courier, that gets his clients whatever they want, as long as it doesn't involve murder. He is hired by a famous reporter to collect information on a second-rate tabloid writer. He begins to uncover the mystery of his own shared past with the two reporters, thus putting them all in danger. (This is a very popular drama that a lot of people have seen, so if you haven’t seen it I would recommend it.)

Mad Dog: 16 episodes, Action, Investigation, Mystery. A group calling themselves “Mad Dog” fights against insurance scams. They start working with Kim Min Joon, the brother of the man who crashed a plane killing the child and wife of the leader of Mad Dog. They try to uncover the truth behind the plane crash.

Player: 14 episodes, Action, Investigation. A private investigation team consisting of a swindler, a fighter, an elite hacker, and a talented driver is asked to take back property hidden away by criminals.

Save Me: 16 episodes, Psychological, Suspense. Following the failure of her father's business, Sang Mi and her family move to Muji-gun where they have no friends or relatives. After a tragic event, the family is taken in by the “Spiritual Father” resulting in them being trapped in a cult. Four young men try to save her.

Stranger: 16 episodes, Investigation, Mystery. Hwang Shi Mok had brain surgery when he was a child, which caused him to lack emotion. Now, Hwang Shi Mok works as a prosecutor. He meets Police Lieutenant Han Yeo Jin at a murder crime scene and they work together to eradicate corruption at the prosecutor's office and solve a serial murder case.

The Guardians: 16 episodes, Action, Thriller. After the murder of her daughter, Jo Soo Ji joins forces with a few other people to monitor criminals 24 hours a day and rescue potential victims before the crime is committed. Together with these people she fights to get justice for her daughter, who’s murderer is still free.

WATCHER: 16 episodes, Action, Suspense, Investigation. Kim Young Goon became a police officer after his father was imprisoned for the murder of his mother. The detective who imprisoned his father is the leader of the internal affairs investigation team and gets Young Goon to join in order to fight against corruption and uncover the truth behind the tragic incident.

Fantasy/sci-fi:

Angels Last Mission: Love: 16 episodes, Romance, Fantasy. Lee Yeon Seo is the prima ballerina, but after an accident she has to give up her dream. After her parents' sudden death, she doesn’t trust anyone since there are a lot of people lurking around her and her inherited money. Kim Dan is an optimistic, carefree angel who is always getting into trouble. In order to return to heaven, he is tasked with a mission to find true love for the talented but emotionally distant ballerina

Are You Human Too?: 18 episodes, Romace, Sci-fi. After loosing her son to her father in law, a woman creates an android to replace him. Years later the android called Nam Shin III must pretend to be the son of the rich family when the real Nam Shin falls into a coma.

Chicago Typewriter: 16 episodes, Fantasy/Supernatural, Romance. The story of a popular writer suffering from writers block, a fan of said author and a literal GHOST writer who starts writing for the main character. In a past life, these three people were all members of the resistance wanting to free Korea from the Japanese occupation. The story is set in modern times and in the 1930′s.

Circle: 12 episodes, Alien, Sci-fi, Mystery. This drama is set in both 2017 and the year 2037. In 2017 we follow the story of a college student working together with a woman that looks identical to a girl he knew as a child to investigate suicides that she insists are actually murders. In 2037 technology has advanced to the point where you can control human emotion (creating a city without crime). A detective enters this city in order to investigate a missing persons case from 2017. (The first half of each episode is set in 2017, the other half in 2037).

Duel: 16 episodes, Sci-fi, Crime, Suspense. After his daughter gets kidnapped a detective tries all he can to get her back. Suddenly the culprit shows up without any memories, denying that he has anything to do with the case. They work together to find the detectives daughter and uncover secrets along the way.

EXIT: 2 episodes (drama special), Sci-fi, Psychological. Kang Soo is a loan shark that tries to get by day to day in his depressing reality. No matter how hard he tries, he can't escape the nightmare of his reality, and when he was about to give up on his life, he sees a flier asking, "Do you want to become happy?" He goes to the research center, however, he learns that happiness comes at a steep price of 300,000 dollars. He decides to steal the money.

Extraordinary You: 16 episodes, Romance, Fantasy, School. Eun Dan Oh, a 17 year-old high-school student, experiences gaps in her memory and eventually comes to the realization that she’s living in a comic book. Not only that, but she is also a secondary character who’s supposed to die later on in the story due to a heart condition. She decides to change her fate and defy the writer to get a happy ending for herself.

Go Back Couple: 12 episodes, Fantasy, Life, Romance. Choi Ban Do and Ma Jin Joo are both 38-years-old and a married couple. Choi Ban Do has been burdened with being the breadwinner and Ma Jin Joo is a housewife with low self-esteem. Even though they loved each other when they married, they now hate each other. They both regret marrying at such a young age. The couple travels through time and finds themselves as 20-year-old university students when they met for the first time.

He is Psychometric: 16 episodes, Fantasy, Romance, Mystery, Comedy. After losing his parents in a fire, Lee Ahn acquires the power of psychometry, the ability to read a person or an object's past through physical contact, and he decides to use it to take bad people down. While he does not know how to control his power yet, he meets Yoon Jae In who tries her best to hide her painful secrets. Together with his foster guardian, prosecutor Kang Sung Mo, and the latter's colleague, investigator Eun Ji Soo, they team up to solve an elusive case that has been haunting the lives of Ahn, Sung Mo, and Jae In.

Life on Mars: 16 episodes, Fantasy, Mystery, Suspense. As leader of a crime investigation team, Han Tae Joo has propelled his career and risen through the ranks by trusting data over all else. One day, while investigating a serial murder case, he has an accident. When he wakes up, he suddenly finds himself in the winter of 1988. He doesn't know why, but he's now a detective appointed to work at a police station in a small city. To get back to the present day, Han Tae Joo tries to solve the case.

Signal: 16 episodes, Mystery, Fantasy, Crime. Fifteen years ago, a young girl was kidnapped on the way from school, and Park Hae Yeong, who was an elementary school student at that time, witnessed the crime. A few days later, the girl was found dead, and the police were not able to find the culprit. As time went by, Hae Yeong started distrusting the police. Fifteen years later, Hae Yeong is now a police officer and criminal profiler. One day, he finds a walkie-talkie that allows him to get in contact with Detective Lee Jae Han who is in the past. They then set out on a journey to solve cold cases.

Splash Splash Love: 2 episodes (Drama Special), Romance, Fantasy. Dan Bi is a high school senior who has given up on math. On the day she is about to take the KSAT for college, she is transported back into the past during a freak rain shower. She finds herself hundreds of years in the past at the height of the Joseon Kingdom, which is suffering from a severe drought. She encounters King Lee Do who yearns to learn advanced mathematics and falls in love with him.

Strong Woman Do Bong Soon: 16 episodes, Romance, Fantasy. Bong Soon is a woman with supernatural strenght who pines after a childhood crush who now works as a police officer. She is approached by the CEO of a gaming company who has a distrust for the police and she starts working as a bodyguard for him. (There are some problematic elements to this show, but the romance is really sweet)

The Guest: 16 episodes, Supernatural, Horror, Mystery. It centers around three characters who had their lives ruined by a demon called “Son” (the guest) when they were kids. Yoon Hwa Pyung is a psychic that can see ghosts and who was once possessed by “Son” causing his mother and his grandmother to die and his father to try to kill him. Kang Gil Young is a detective whose mother was killed by the demon and Choi Yoon/ Mateo is a catholic priest that exorcises demons and whose brother was once possessed by “Son” causing him to kill his family. They band together to find and stop “Son”.

You Who Came From the Stars: 21 episodes, Romance, Fantasy. Do Min Joon is an alien who landed on Earth 400 years ago during the Joseon Dynasty period. He possesses a near perfect appearance and enhanced physical abilities involving his vision, hearing and speed. Later, he discovers that he has three months left on Earth. And that is when he meets Cheon Song Yi, the biggest Hallyu star in Korea.

Romance:

Come and Hug Me: 16 episodes, Suspense, Romance, Melodrama. When they were children, Yoon Na Moo and Gil Nak Won were each others first love. They are forced to break apart when Na Moo's father Yoon Hee Jae, a psychopath serial killer, murders Nak Won's parents. 12 years later, Jae Yi has become a popular actress and Do Jin is now an experienced detective trying to repent for his fathers sins. They meet again and start to develop a relationship.

Descendants of the Sun: 16 episodes, Romance, Medical, Action. Kang Mo Yeon works as a cardiothoracic surgeon and Yoo Shi Jin is the Captain and team leader of Alpha Team. They both get sent into an area of conflict, and start to devolop a relationship.

Hospital Ship: 20 episodes, Romance, Medical. This drama is about army doctors aboard a hospital ship, which is a floating hospital that serves people who live on remote islands. Eun Jae, a cold perfectionist surgeon whose fast-track career was derailed, starts working at the ship.

Just Between Lovers: 16 episodes, Romance, Melodrama. A shopping center collapses killing many people. When he was 15, Lee Gang Doo dreamed of playing for the Korean national soccer team, but a serious injury sustained as a result of the accident destroys those dreams. In the years after the accident, Gang Doo spends his days fighting through physical and emotional pain, struggling to support his sister and pay back a hefty debt, and working as a construction worker. When she was 15, Ha Moon Soo lived through the accident, and years later she is still plagued by nightmares. She lives above the women’s bath house that her mother runs and specializes in making architectural models that are an important safety element in any major building planning process. Years after the incident, a construction project is due to kick-off at the accident site, and they both get involved in the project, causing them to develop a relationship while struggling with the painful memories it brings back.

Shopping King Louie: 16 episodes, Romance. The story of “Shopaholic Louie” revolves around a handsome shopaholic named Louie, who is the successor of a vast business empire but becomes homeless after suffering from amnesia. Meanwhile, Koh Bok Shil, a country girl who lives a life that is worlds apart from the rich and famous, encounters Louie in Seoul. They develop a relationship.

Thirty but Seventeen: 16 episodes, Romance. Woo Seo Ri, a violin prodigy at 17 who was about to study in Germany, got into a bus accident and fell into a coma waking up 13 years later. Mentally she is still only 17, while physically she is now 30. Due to a trauma he experienced 13 years before, Gong Woo Jin does not want to have a relationship with others. They get to know each other and try and open the door to the happiness that they once thought had been closed to them.

When the Camellia Blooms: 20 episodes, Romance, Thriller, Life. Dong Baek is a single mother living in the small town of Ongsan. She runs the bar-restaurant Camellia, while also taking care of her son Pil Gu. The people of Ongsan frequently gossip about Dong Baek. She grew up as an orphan, is a single mother and runs a bar where many of the men in Ongsan frequent. Regardless of what the locals may whisper about Dong Baek, local police officer Hwang Yong Shik is deeply in love with her. Meanwhile, Dong Baek's ex-boyfriend Kang Jong Ryeol suddenly reappears in her life. He is a famous baseball player, that hid their relationship when they dated. While Dong Baek tries to find happiness, something truly sinister lurks in the background. A serial killer roams Ongsan and Dong Baek may be a target.

Historical:

Kingdom: 6 episodes, Action, Historical, Zombie. The King falls ill to smallpox and rumors start to spread that he has actually died. Meanwhile, Crown Prince Lee Chang is labeled a traitor by the Haewon Cho Clan, the clan of the current pregnant Queen and her father, Chief State Councillor Cho Hak Joo. While trying to uncover the mystery of what happened to his father, the Crown Prince goes with his guard, Moo Young, to Dongnae to look for the physician that treated his father, only to be stuck with Assistant Physician Seo Bi and a mysterious man named Young Shin in a village plagued with a terrifying disease.

My Country: 16 episodes, Historical, Action, Romance, Tragedy. Two friends ends up on opposite sides in a conflict involving the fight for the crown. Confronted with betrayal the two of them have to learn how to fight against their best friend all while trying to stay good in a cruel world.

The Tale of Nokdu: 16 episodes, Action, Romance, Comedy. One day, Nok Du’s father and older brother are attacked by a group of female assassins. Jeon Nok Du chases after one of the assassins to the capital. To find out why his family was attacked, Jeon Nok Du disguises himself as a woman and enters a widow village where the assassins are hiding. There, he meets Dong Dong Ju who is an apprentice to become a gisaeng.

Misc:

Age of Youth: 12 episodes, Friendship, Life. Five girls in their twenties come to live together in a house called "Belle Epoque. As the girls feel a bond of sympathy and become closer, they also deal with their personal issues as they live out their eventful twenties. The drama follows their struggles and incidents dealing with relationships - within their circles, with dating, and with each other - and a variety of events they are experiencing including credits, part-time jobs, drinking, hopes and dreams. (This drama also has a second season)

Avengers Social Club: 12 episodes, Friendship, Life. Features three women from different walks of life coming together for revenge: a fish store ajumma who envisioned a better life for herself, a housewife, and a chaebol’s daughter who was raised like a delicate greenhouse flower. They’re an unlikely trio who would never otherwise meet, but they join forces to carry out their individual revenges. Although they start out as co-conspirators, along the way they’ll build a strong friendship.

Chief Kim: 20 episodes, Business, Comedy. Kim Sung Ryong is a skilled accountant who works for gangsters. He makes his way into a company called TQ Group as a middle manager in the accounting department with the intention of embezzling money from the company. As he contends with hot-shot accountant Yoon Ha Kyung, financial prodigy Seo Yul and peppy intern Hong Ga Eun, Sung Ryong finds himself embroiled in office politics and notices other shenanigans by those in power that threaten to bring down the company. Sung Ryong slowly comes to realize that he’d rather fight against corporate corruption and fight for employees’ rights than complete the mission he originally came to do.

Miss Hammurabi: 16 episodes, Law, Romance. Park Cha Oh Reum is a newly appointed judge who is assigned to the 44th Civil Affairs Department at the Seoul Central District. She is always on the lookout for injustice and is able to profoundly empathize with others. Compared to her, Im Ba Reun is a cool-headed man of principle with the creed of ‘Court that is equal to all’, and he is displeased with junior judge Park Cha Oh Reum who is overly sympathetic when it comes to cases. (There is one moment in the first episode (I believe) where something problematic occurs, but I think its only that one thing).

Psychopath Diary: 16 episodes, Comedy, Mystery. Yook Dong Sik is a 34-year-old office worker who is so weak and timid that he is used by everybody around him. After an incident, he becomes the scapegoat of his company, and so facing losing his job and his family turning their back on him, he decides to commit suicide. While doing so, he unexpectedly stumbles across a murder scene, but gets into an accident while running from the murderer. He wakes up with amnesia with the psychopath's diary in his possession. With no clues to his true nature other than the diary,and his fragmented memory lining up with the diary entry, he begins to believe that he is in fact a psychopath serial killer.

Happy watching!

#ask #arminartlet #kdrama #im starting to realise i might have seen too many kdramas #and yes after a while i got tired of writing the synopsis so i just copied them from mydramalist #and just edited the ones i felt were too long

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