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grapejuicestyless · 10 months

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Unforgettable

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Y/n Y/l/n is a classic rockstar with a magnetic pull and a bad reputation with men to her name. Turns out Y/n might not be such a bad girl after all and the men she used might have not been the truth.

Pages bursted from every seam of her notebook, littered in scribbled lyrics of failed beginnings, one night stands and the most innocent poetry writings that reflected the opposite of the devilish woman behind the pencil marks.

Everything about her was shiny. Her glittery deep purplish blue eyeshadow and the highlight on the tip of her nose to the glistening sweat that dripped underneath her top.

She was messy, yet so detailed. Every hair out of place seemed to fit perfectly a top her head. The lazy smear of lipgloss and eyeshadow applied carelessly yet laying in such way that it almost looked intentional.

It was that careless attitude that was so magnetic about her. The rockstar exterior she possessed attracting the innocent into her wild web of her craft.

But, despite her rockstar complexion and her love life reputation, the girl had an undeniable talent that could not be ruined by the poor press that swirled her name.

So it could only be fitting to place the most standout woman there into the cleanest band reputation wise. It was humorous, when it was announced. Y/n Y/l/n, joining Harry Styles for his long awaited Love On Tour.

Harry, who had hand picked her from the bunch of bassists waiting to wow him, was immediately aware of her presence. Her look sharp and eye catching, but her talent even better. She had a skill for her craft that nobody else was even able to come close to achieving. It was almost destiny she had shown up, notebook stuffed full of sloppy writing and bass scratched from her frustration.

Truthfully, Y/n hadn’t really longed to be placed into the band. She didn’t exactly enjoy the bright pinks and pop music that blasted through the speakers. She had only gone to the audition because she had been itching to play. Having traveled the world with some of the biggest inspirations, and by herself on a successful world tour a couple years ago, Y/n found herself bored in her home for so long. She was just about ready to go out a preform to a room filled with angry elderly people who hated all loud noises. Anything to give her the thrill of being in front of the crowd again.

So, when she was emailed one August evening, detailing of an audition for a bassist to join a well known artist on stage, she pushed aside her unfamiliarity with the genre.

It wasn’t that Y/n disliked pop music, it just wasn’t her favorite. She’s spent most of her time closer to a soft rock sound, pulling from past inspirations and old sounds that could be reworked into her work. The glitz and glam of the fresh and new sounding pop music was only something she hadn’t really gotten into, explaining why she felt more nervous than glad she was selected.

Yet, her ability to adjust and charm her way through her lack of experience within the genre was enough to keep her going, placing her where she was now. Standing next Harry, under the intense lights of Madison Square in the middle of one of the hottest summers to date.

…

A year had passed, just about, since Y/n first stepped onto the stage, her bass slung around her neck with a tattered strap that was practically molded to her shoulders. She gave a good amount to the band, adding in bass lines that ascended the songs into a better form of themselves. Making sure not to overpower the other instruments, but to lift them up and amplify how they sounded collectively as a band.

“That was good, that sounded great actually!” I turned back, the side of my lip pressed into the surface of the microphone. My hands found their way around the cord, untangling it to gain some more movement around the stage.

“Why don’t we recollect, get some water and stretch out?” I shot a thumbs up to the sound guy, who had been playing around with some switches behind a small barricade farther back in the arena. After the go ahead was given, the lights dimmed to a soft glow on top of the stage and the heat seemed less intense.

“No way, that’s so cool! Where did you find that, I’ve been having so much trouble looking for a new bass recently.” Her voice was slightly raspy, deeper too, I noticed from the dryness that I assumed was itching at her throat.

I watched her toss her head back, lips wrapped around the plastic water bottle until it crinkled beneath her hands and was left with nothing more than a few stray drops of water pooling at the bottom.

Elin, who she had been conversing with enthusiastically, seemed to match her energy precisely, showing Y/n the same amount of excitement over the new piece of equipment. Eyes gleaming with interest and passion over the topic. It felt warming knowing that work felt less like an obligation but instead was a privilege.

A close knit family that brought a dopey smile to my face at only the thought of it. I listened to them and there insane energy inconspicuously, eyes avoidant of the women and instead settled on the ledge between Sarah’s drums and where the trumpet players would stand later that night where the nearest supply of water was.

From afar, underneath the sound in my head of my aggressive swallowing of water, it sounded like the pair were dispersing. The conversation ended with a faint laugh that dwindled out the longer the conversation ended.

It was a true laugh, sincere. Almost a belly laugh but just not quite there yet. The sound so familiar it was instantly pinned in my mind as Y/n’s.

The common misconception about Y/n was that she was shallow, unfeeling and unknowing of basic relationships and proper manners. The media had poorly labeled the innocent woman, her lyrics thought to be too provocative and explicit. Too in depth and detailed that gossip accounts were ready to start this false narrative about the most undeserving person of the hate.

Maybe it was her careless expressions after completing a hard bass line, or her rockstar style that made her such an easy target for the untrue opinions and thoughts. She had that old grungy thing about her that both made her desirable and criticized, yet she made it work.

Y/n was the sun, in my eyes. A bright, young woman with wisdom beyond her years and heart so full it was overflowing with empathy and sympathy. Her lyrics reflected her past experiences, like any other artist. Her failed relationships that left her in the darkness and her distantly timed hook ups to fill the cold loneliness beside her bed.

Truthfully, she was more like the rest of the industry than any gossiper could comprehend. Her writing abilities expressed so freely, so vulnerable that it caused that discomfort, that pit in the listeners stomach forming with each song she put on her albums. The real truth was that she wasn’t some shallow, sex driven girl who dated guys to write about how they did her wrong. She was a loving woman who loved everyone more than life and was overly naive. She dated trying to find someone who could understand her like she understood everyone else. She spoke what was on her mind completely true and unfiltered constantly. Not fearful of the backlash her opinions would bring. That’s what continues to draw me to her throughout our time together.

“Hey, Harry.” Her voice was sweet, laced with honey and dripping in sweetness. I barely noticed her touch on my shoulder until I looked down at her guitar string scarred hands and found myself smiling.

“What’s up, Angel? What’s going on?” I turned my back to her, head thrown over my shoulder to look back to her face while my hands worked on screwing on the cover to my water bottle.

“You know, the usual. Just wanted to tell you I thought that note change during Sign of the Times was beautiful. You should go for those higher notes more often, you hit them every time.” She was completely honest in her opinions, which is why I held her words dear to my heart.

Y/n had no issue telling me what she thought. She was rather quick to give pointers of what worked better and how to substitute those notes that were strained and uncomfortable. Yet, she did it with such a down to earth point of view. She remained humble, even if everyone here knew she had talents beyond all of ours. She acted like she was just as good as the rest of us, like we were equals.

“I know, it’s just hard with so many people around. Don’t want to fall flat and ruin it.” Shrugging, we walked together to the stairs at the edge of the stage.

“Don’t psych yourself out, Styles. You nail those notes all the time. Your range is unbelievably complex. You have that ability to hit the higher notes every time.” She placed her hand in mine, following me down the stairs cautiously as the last one was always less steep than the rest, causing mishaps occasionally.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” We nodded at each other, silently understanding that the conversation was ending but still taking each other in. It almost felt like something was pulling us closer, eyes growing heavier and smiles getting looser. Breathing sharper.

“I’ll see you tonight, yeah?” It was breathy, the way it came out of her mouth. Almost like it was something she hadn’t wanted to say but forced herself to.

I nodded, watching her eyes crinkle before she turned away briskly, quick to find her escape through the illuminated tunnel. For a moment I felt like a fly in a web that was her creation, stuck in place to just stare as she left.

…

The show was unworldly. An atmosphere so intense and the energy so insane the floor swayed beneath my feet. The shows were structured the same each night, yet each one felt like a completely new experience. It was how the fans danced together in a formation that they’d created during Treat People With Kindness and how they’d share different experiences drawn out on their cardboard signs. It was surreal, something I felt lucky enough to experience with some of my closest friends, my band.

It went by smoothly, as projected to. The lights and the transitions between each songs igniting an excitement beyond no other I had ever experienced. Sarah played the drums precisely, hitting every beat necessary as her husband, Mitch, created the familiar tunes that were the songs of the past few albums. Within in the music, Y/n stood perched just next to Pauli, continuing to support Mitch and Elin within her bass playing.

By the time Kiwi had reached its end, I caught myself looking back to catch a glance at Y/n. Telling myself it was only to get a short moment to observe her living in her passion. Really, deep down I knew it was something more, something that had always been there yet I hadn’t had the courage to admit until that out loud.

…

The dressing room was quiet, after the show. The post show blues, as I used to refer to it as. The ultimate high coming back down with the realization that it was all over.

I let myself peel the sweaty chevron shirt off of my body and kicking off my green Gucci shoes. I left on the mismatched bottoms while ruffling through the pile of clothes packed in my suitcase for a shirt and shorts.

“Hey, rockstar. Trying a new look?” My head raised, turning halfway to meet her eyes.

“Yeah, really going for that oiled up 2000’s boy next door idea.” We laughed, eyes closing at how stupid I must’ve looked to her. Finding it funny and slightly embarrassing as the rose tint spread like wildfire across my cheeks.

Soon, our laughs turned into silence, warm smiles reflecting off of our faces onto the others. It was comfortable, lip caught between her teeth and mine pulling at the skin of my bottom one.

“I heard what you did tonight. Proud of you. I told you, you could hit that note change. Honestly, sounded better out there than at soundcheck.” My heart fluttered.

“I could say the same about you. It’s like you gain more power with each show.”

“Stop it, you just might make me blush.” She stepped closer, merely a few inches left separating the two of us. Her breath tickling my skin, her hands clenched by her sides nervously.

Suddenly, she had lost all that confidence that told the world she could play anyone like a fiddle. Suddenly she lost that fog around the mirror that created the illusion of a rockstar super player who moved from one man to the next, without rhyme or reason. She became what we’d all learned of her. The girl who loved long and hard on the people close to her, and the girl who despite was she was destined by the media to have been, had only had a couple relationships past the one night stands that filled her notebook. She batted her eyes, and I held my breath.

“Y/n…” It was a whisper. A soft murmur beneath my breath, but I was sure she’d heard it.

I found myself slowly reaching for her hand, opening it on top of my palm and brushing my fingers gently over the creases that ran along them before letting it fall back to her side. My eyes lifted from where we touched back to her face. Only to allow myself to find contact again. I let my hand slip around her waist, pulling slowly until our bodies were pressed together. The only thing separating our lips was the small gap we’d placed between them.

“Harry..?” She seemed conflicted, unsure almost. Hesitant.

“Is this okay?” It came out shaky, the nerves reaching a point that could only be cured by her acceptance.

“I…I just…” She thought on it, “I don’t want you to believe everything about me. I don’t want to lose you when you realize I’m not who you think I am.” The confession sounded like it was almost painful to admit.

“Oh.” I blinked, “Y/n, angel, no. I would never think that.” Her eyes were avoidant, her body more tense than moments prior.

“Please, look at me.” I let my other hand raise under his chin, pointer finger hooking underneath her chin to raise her gaze to mine, “To me, you are everything. You understand me. You see things that nobody else sees. Y/n, you bring out the best in me. I would have never had the courage to push myself and change that note tonight if you hadn’t pushed me to do it. You have this honesty that makes everyone value your words and you have this power over me that continues to draw me to you. I can not explain it, but believe me when I say you are all I want.” Her eyes fogged with what I believed to be her taking in my sudden confession. Yet, with her realization at what I had just said, she still remained silent and I felt the instant regret growing harder in my heart.

I had been through enough rejections to build a home. Yet, the thought of her rejecting me hurt more than anything I could’ve put myself through.

“Shit..Im sorry. I didn’t mean to-“ My explanation was no use, her hands on my cheeks and her lipstick smearing across my lips in a red hue as her lips pressed hard into mine in a sudden burst of confidence.

My eyes shut quickly, settling into it, only for it to be taken away quicker than I had longed for. Eyes opened in a lustful haze. Yet it wasn’t sexual, but completely innocent and perfect in every sense.

“I love you.” The words slipped passed my lips before I could stop them. A smile growing in a lovesick fashion across her face as my confession Is held in for so long reached her ears.

“I love you too.” She returned the confession, leaning in again to press her lips harder into mine and a heavenly sigh escaping her throat.

It was passionate and loving in a way that I’d never experienced before. The shared feelings were strong, new, vulnerable. A new beginning that both of us secretly longed for.

How funny the public would find it if the news ever broke that their precious bad girl rockstar was actually a giant love bug and an angel on earth. How much of a shock it would be to those who tore her down for her fashion choices and her lack of precautions in the public eye.

She might not be who she was made out to be from the exterior, but the one thing the press had gotten right about the devilish woman who broke too many hearts and dished out too many fights she could handle.

She is unforgettable.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst

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peanutdream · 2 years

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top 10 artists that make you fall in love with your own language again

#typhoon and froukje's back's must be massive from carrying this language.#also honestly a lot more artists as well #god. Een Teken is such a nice song im....... 😭#honestly i just think its wild that almost every country and language has just?? their own music charts??#filled with music that might only be known by a select amount of people #like. there's SO many songs that are absolute classics that i might not even know in my lifetime???#i sometimes think about how shit like watskeburt and sterrenstof are absolute classics from my (early?) teens but how those #songs are highly likely not ever heard outside of my own country.#let alone a song like fucking. get spanish?#not saying these songs are amazing or anything but just. hm. i guess how big they are here #or were #but that they arent anywhere else?#or growing up like shit such as k3 and ch!pz and those things being a Very Big musical part of my youth but just. the memory of that period #being preserved in a very offline type of way?#also knowing with each and every passing year that less people who will know what i mean when i say goedemoggel 5 kiklo inktvip #actually. that might also be why it's so jarring to see dutch memes on here. because i usually only encounter dutch stuff offline #or discuss it with people i've actually seen or encountered irl.#or something like that.#sorry for the long tags sdjfkdsjfklfdg #anyway i sometimes yearn to know music that ive never heard. thats all i think.

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ncssian · 3 years

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A Favor: Part Nineteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: another chapter where the girls are clowns and cassian worships nesta's every breath 🙄 i promise some variety is headed your way soon

***

Gwyn adamantly refuses to accept any gifts for her birthday, much to Emerie’s irritation and Nesta’s relief. No amount of love for her friends can make Nesta enjoy the turmoil of hunting for the perfect gift, and she happily shows up at Gwyn’s apartment that night with nothing save for an overnight bag.

Gwyn easily has the nicest home out of all three of the girls, and it makes Nesta feel oddly proud to have a financially stable friend. Nesta herself has been flacking on her legal consultant duties to Night Court Inc., choosing to make do with the money she’s already earned while focusing on school.

Once they’ve all changed into sleep clothes and are settled around the living room coffee table with a cupcake and a glass of wine each, Gwyn pulls out a brightly colored bracelet-making kit with a sheepish grin. “I found this while I was looking through my childhood things,” she says, opening the kit. “You guys aren’t too grown for it, are you?”

“Depends,” Emerie hums, leaning over to get a closer look. “Is it Rainbow Loom?”

She gets her answer when Gwyn dumps out bundles of multicolored string instead of rubber bands onto the table. Looking disappointed, Emerie plucks up a handful of string. “Fine, I guess I can make do.”

Nesta licks cream cheese frosting off her thumb. “How do you make them? The bracelets?”

She’s met with two dumbfounded stares. “Have you never been to a thirteen year old’s slumber party?” Gwyn says.

“...No?”

When Gwyn and Emerie keep staring, Nesta feels the need to add, “I’ve never been to a sleepover. This is my first.” She was never one to be invited to sleepovers or social gatherings; even when she made acquaintances in middle and high school, they were just that—acquaintances.

“That’s… actually kind of sad,” Emerie says. Gwyn elbows her hard, making her yelp.

“I never thought of it that way,” Nesta says, shrugging. Though maybe it’s because a lot of things about her childhood were sad; it isn’t like she kept count of it all.

“Well, you can learn how to make bracelets now,” Gwyn states, taking out a little plastic baggie and emptying it out onto the table. Small silver charms scatter everywhere. “Everyone gets three colors and one charm.”

Nesta leans forward, making out the different charms. She spies one in the shape of a book, and another in the shape of a dove, and one in the shape of a music note. She snatches up the eighth note before anyone else can. Gwyn takes the book for herself, and Emerie considers the selection of charms before picking a dagger-shaped one. They prepare their string next.

“Now, we can either braid them or knot them.” Gwyn demonstrates how to do it either way, Nesta watching closely before imitating her. She braids the strings of her bracelet as best she can, her cheeks turning red with frustration whenever she spies one of the other girls’ perfect knots. Her half-eaten cupcake is forgotten as she tries to get her bracelet to stay together.

At one point she just has to accept the shoddy work she’s done and tie the bracelet off. She checks to see if it fits on her wrist.

“Now everyone give their bracelet to the person on their left,” Gwyn declares.

Nesta clutches her sloppily-made bracelet to her chest as Emerie responds, “What?”

“So we can wear each other’s bracelets,” Gwyn explains. “And carry around a part of each other all the time.”

“If I had known we were gonna be sentimental, I wouldn’t have picked the cute charm,” Emerie grumbles. Nesta agrees, but Gwyn just clicks her tongue and starts switching bracelets around. In the end, Nesta has Emerie’s dagger bracelet, Gwyn has Nesta’s music note bracelet, and Emerie has Gwyn’s book charm.

Nesta wiggles her bracelet on and turns her wrist over in the light. “That was fun,” she decides. “What happens next at a sleepover?”

“Next,” Gwyn says, “we exchange our most embarrassing secrets with each other, and then we do each other’s hair.”

Emerie shakes her head. “Okay, now I’m really too old for this. Anyone want to watch a movie?”

Gwyn nudges Emerie. “I’m the old one here, and it’s my birthday.” She raises her pert chin in a way that doesn’t look very grown up at all. “What I say goes.”

Emerie flicks up an eyebrow and stares in challenge, which Nesta interrupts by saying, rather exasperatedly, “I’ll go first, then.”

She digs around in her head for something embarrassing enough to be socially acceptable, only to realize that although a lot of embarrassing things have happened to her before, none of them are secrets. She finally settles on an admission. “When I was a kid, I had a thing for breaking and entering into rich people’s empty houses and hanging out in them. Does that count as a secret?”

Gwyn gapes, laughing in disbelief. “Are you going to leave it at that?”

“That actually sounds fun.” Emerie swirls her wine. “Why’d you stop?”

Nesta had almost forgotten. “I got caught.” She remembers the terror of being fourteen and fleeing past cherry blossom trees on her bare feet. “The owner’s family showed up early to vacation one year, and I never risked going back after that.” She shrugs. “Who’s next?”

Gwyn raises her hand excitedly. “I used to be a hardcore Gleek. Like, I had a closet full of Glee memorabilia.”

Nesta doesn’t quite know what to say. Emerie winces. “Maybe you should’ve kept that one a secret.”

“It was only one facet of my entire theatre kid personality. Should I tell you about the rest?”

Emerie raises her hands in surrender. “Please don’t. I’ll go next if it makes you stop.”

Gwyn laughs and Nesta perks up. “What’s your secret?” She hopes Emerie will finally admit to filling their shared Kindle account with lesbian spanking fiction.

But Emerie suddenly gets serious, clearing her throat and fingering the stem of her wine glass. “I might have the worst secret,” she says awkwardly. “I haven’t been honest with you guys.”

Nesta straightens, and Gwyn looks intrigued.

“In my defense,” Emerie says, “I never expected all of us to end up hanging out this much. Before Nesta and I became friends, all I did was show up to school to kick rich kids’ asses and make career connections.”

“Spit it out, Emerie,” Nesta tells her.

So she does. “I’ve been lying about my age.” Her cheeks turn red, either from alcohol or embarrassment, Nesta doesn’t know.

Nesta furrows her brows. “You’re not twenty-four?”

Emerie shakes her head in guilt.

“How old are you, then?” Gwyn says.

Emerie mutters something too low for them to hear. When Gwyn tells her to repeat herself, she says, too loudly, “Twenty-eight.”

She’s met with silence, and then—

Gwyn starts cackling, nearly keeling over. Nesta can only stare in shock. “Why would you—?”

“Because school is a shark tank,” Emerie says. “Everyone else went there straight out of undergrad, and I had to work four jobs for four years just to afford tuition. Being old at Prythian means being poor.” She quietens, looking down at her brown hands twisted together. “And by the time we started to get close, it felt too weird to bring up. So… I’m sorry?” She looks up to see if Nesta is upset.

Nesta doesn’t know what to feel, but Gwyn seems to. “You called me old,” she accuses. “You’re nearly a grandma!”

“Were you going to lie about your age forever?” Nesta interjects.

“If I had known there was going to be a forever, I would have opened up a lot sooner,” Emerie defends.

Nesta drops her head onto the table and covers her ears with her arms. “This is so weird,” she says against the wood of the table, her voice muffled. “I can never look at you the same way ever again.”

“That’s fair,” Emerie says cautiously. “But are you really mad?” Nesta feels a hesitant hand touch her shoulder.

“I need time to process,” Nesta says from her cocoon. Suddenly she hears a hum and a click, and her cocoon gets even darker. Gwyn and Emerie make twin sounds of surprise.

Poking her head up, Nesta blinks to find total darkness in the apartment. The heater has stopped running, leaving behind a quiet stillness.

“Shit,” Gwyn curses, fumbling with her phone. The flashlight turns on, lighting up her face. “I swear I paid my electric bill.”

“I don’t think it’s just you,” Emerie says, getting up to look out the window. “Look, the whole street is out.”

By the time they gather some candles and light them, the apartment has dropped twenty degrees in temperature. Nesta shudders, wishing she’d brought some warm pants with her.

“Let me get us some blankets,” Gwyn says, running off to the linen closet. Emerie and Nesta huddle together on the couch while they wait.

“So you’re really not mad at me?” Emerie asks, hope in her voice.

“Not mad,” Nesta says. “But I think we all lost a little respect for you back there.”

Emerie smiles. “Just a little?”

Gwyn comes back then wearing a thick sweater and carrying a pile of comforters. “I got a text from the landlord,” she says, unceremoniously dropping the blankets onto the couch. “Ice took out the power lines in the whole neighborhood, and we’re not getting any electricity until morning.”

“But it’s negative temperatures outside,” Nesta protests. “We’ll freeze to death.”

“Not if we all cuddle.” Gwyn tries to beam at them, but the effort is futile. “I’m sorry, guys,” she sighs, plopping onto the couch beside Nesta. “This is a terrible birthday celebration.”

Nesta wraps an arm around Gwyn and tucks her into her side, soaking up her warmth as Emerie spreads a heavy comforter over all of their legs. “What are you apologizing for? You did nothing wrong.”

The girls sit in silence for a few minutes until Emerie speaks up. “I wonder what Mr. Madani is doing right now.”

“What?” Nesta frowns.

“He’s probably all alone in his fancy heated cabin, unaware that you’re stuck in the cold dark.” Emerie suddenly smacks Nesta’s arm. “Hey. Why are we freezing our asses off here when you practically own that cabin?”

“I do not practically own that cabin,” Nesta splutters. “And this is Gwyn’s birthday. Why would I take you to Cassian’s place on her birthday?”

“Exactly!” Emerie says. “It’s Gwyn’s birthday, and she deserves better than this. Can’t your boyfriend be a little charitable and share his nice house with us?”

Nesta turns to Gwyn for help, but Gwyn just says carefully, “...Is it a big cabin?”

Emerie nods fiercely, pulling out her phone. “Eris has a picture of it from New Year’s on his Instagram. You wouldn’t believe how much money these Night Court execs make.”

Nesta makes pointed eyes at Gwyn. “You really want to spend your birthday with two strange men?” Cassian and Azriel aren’t exactly meek, nonthreatening men either—at least not at first glance. Considering the state Gwyn was in just some weeks ago, this doesn’t sound like a good idea at all.

Gwyn sounds wary but open-minded when she says, “You trust them, right? And it’s not like we’re going to let the guys join our sleepover. We’re just going to have a warm place to stay while we wait for my power to come back.”

When it’s phrased like that… Nesta purses her lips, thinking.

“Fine,” she finally decides. “Let’s go.”

***

Nesta strips off her jeans almost as soon as she enters the cabin. Much to Cassian’s pride and pleasure, this leaves her wearing only one of his old sweatshirts. Meanwhile, Gwyn and Emerie stand around awkwardly in the middle of the living area without knowing what to do next.

“Make yourselves at home.” Cassian grins at them. “Do you need anything? Food? Drinks?”

“Stop worrying,” Nesta groans. “We don’t need to be mothered.”

“I totally hear you,” he nods. “I’ll make cookies.” And maybe some hot drinks. It’s supposed to be a birthday party, after all.

Just then, Azriel appears at the top of the stairs in a dark hoodie and sweats. He’s halfway down the steps when he notices the living room full of girls and promptly turns around.

Cassian calls his name before he can escape. “Want to help me out in the kitchen?”

“No, thanks,” Az says over his shoulder, leaving Cassian alone to play host.

While Gwyn and Emerie admire the cabin (“There’s a gym down the hallway and a library upstairs,” Nesta points out to them), Cassian gathers baking ingredients in the kitchen. He rarely eats desserts or junk food, much less makes them, but surely he can manage a snack for the girls.

When he returns to the living room half an hour later with cookies and mugs of hot chocolate, the coffee table has been moved out of the way and replaced with a spread of blankets and pillows. The fire crackles hotly enough that Gwyn and Emerie have joined Nesta in discarding any extra clothing articles, and they all cheer from the couch when they spy the food.

“Goddamn,” Emerie whistles at the platter of cookies on Nesta’s lap. “Nesta told us you were a catch, Mr. Madani, but she didn’t tell us she got the full housewife package.”

“Shut up.” Nesta shoves a cookie into Emerie’s mouth and passes Gwyn some hot chocolate. Any toughness vanishes when she looks back at Cassian. “Thank you,” she mouths, and he answers by smoothing out her ponytail.

Satisfied with his work and feeling guilty for crashing the girls’ fun, he’s about to call it a night when he feels a tug at his pants. Nesta is looking up at him with eyes that ask him to stay. Cassian glances nervously to Gwyn and Emerie, who are arguing about what movie to watch from his extensive streaming collection, and glances back to Nesta. Are you sure? he asks her silently.

She nods, but it isn’t until Gwyn says, “Just sit down, you’re blocking the TV,” that he indeed sits his ass down on the floor by Nesta’s feet.

A short tug of war between Gwyn and Emerie results in Emerie getting the remote. She blows a hair triumphantly out of her face. “No Planet Earth documentary for you, then,” she says.

Gwyn sits back, grumbling, “You’d think I’d get treated better on my damn birthday.” Nesta adds, “I like documentaries.”

“You’ll like The Proposal even more,” Emerie refutes, scrolling through the TV.

The smell of melting chocolate chips must invade the rest of the cabin, because not long after the movie begins, Cassian catches Azriel sneaking downstairs. As subtle as a shadow, no one even notices him until he plucks up a cookie from the side table by Nesta.

She slides her eyes over to him without turning her head. “You look like a punk with your hood up,” she snorts. “What are you, fifteen?”

From the floor, Cassian withholds a sigh.

Az shoots her a dark look, clearly not appreciating the attention brought to his presence. “Don’t be a little shit,” he warns in a low tone. He reaches for another cookie and Nesta bats his hand away. “Those aren’t for you,” she hisses.

“Can we please not—” Cassian tries.

Az glares and goes for the cookie again. Nesta smacks him back, which results in a slap fight that is only interrupted by Gwyn pleading, “Guys, we’re missing Sandra Bullock!”

Nesta pulls away, looking apologetic, and Az flushes pink. “Sorry,” he mutters. But he snatches up three cookies with a final look at Nesta and goes to sit in the armchair on the other side of the room.

Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie get cozy once more, quickly forgetting that Az is there. Emerie stretches her brown legs out across Gwyn’s lap like a cat. Nesta drapes her own leg over Cassian’s shoulder without warning. He turns around to meet her eyes, surprised, but she’s already intently focused on the movie. Smiling faintly to himself, he reaches up to brush her skin. It probably looks to everyone else like she owns him head to toe.

One thing Cassian quickly learns about the girls is that they simply can’t sit still. Even Nesta is more restless than usual, and she nearly kicks Cassian in the head more than once while readjusting herself on the couch. Emerie moves to sprawl on the rug. Gwyn sits upside down and watches with her head dangling off the seat.

As for Cassian, he loses all interest in the movie once Nesta joins him and Emerie on the floor, unable to contain her emotions from the couch. He glances between the movie and her face to find what’s making her so giddy, but it’s only the two main characters getting ready for a shower. He lifts a brow in amusement for no one to see, but settles back to watch her face in the glow of the dying fire. He’s waiting for her smile.

Because when Nesta really likes something, she’ll smile, and when she smiles… Everything scrunches up: her nose, her eyes, her cheeks.

On the TV, a naked Ryan Reynolds and Sandra Bullock collide into each other, toppling to the floor. Nesta’s grin makes an appearance, and she slaps Cassian’s thigh in excitement, hard enough to hurt.

He hisses in a sharp breath, but doesn’t say anything or look away. He thinks he might have to kill anyone that refuses to protect the smile on her face right now, no matter who it is.

Once the scene changes, he walks two fingers up her leg to get her attention. “Nesta,” he whispers, unable to help himself.

She glances at him for half a second before looking back to the movie. “What?”

He opens his arms and gestures her closer. Come and let me hold you.

Nesta makes a face. “Don’t embarrass me in front of the girls.”

Cassian’s lips turn down. “You don’t mean that.”

She does. To prove her point, she crawls closer to Emerie and settles down next to her. Gwyn joins them on the floor, and they all huddle together.

When he catches Az staring at him with a hint of revulsion, Cassian coughs off the yearning and rejection and glares right back.

After the movie finishes, Emerie victoriously crushes an empty can of beer in her fist. Cassian has no idea where it came from. “More Sandra!” she demands.

It takes three more movies before Emerie is knocked out cold on the arrangement of blankets and pillows on the floor, Gwyn with her. Nesta eventually came back to Cassian and fell asleep with her arms wrapped around his waist, and Azriel passed out sometime after Miss Congeniality, curled up in the armchair with his fist propping up his head.

Now, Cassian carefully untangles Nesta from himself, nudging her towards Emerie instead. In her sleep, Nesta turns over to clutch the other woman’s arm and mumbles something unintelligible.

Cassian props a pillow gently beneath her head and picks up another one, throwing it harder than he needs to at Azriel’s face. “Get up,” he hisses.

Az jerks out of his sleep, looking around the dim room in confusion. Cursing lowly, he pushes himself out of his seat and scrubs a hand through his hair. “What time is it?”

“Three.” Cassian pulls a comforter over Nesta and Emerie’s shoulders.

Az crouches and picks up the other side of the comforter, adjusting it over Gwyn’s body. Cassian thinks he might see a frown cross his face for half a second, but then Az is standing up and brushing off his clothes.

After turning off the TV, the guys head for their rooms. “I didn’t think three grown women could be so... much,” Az says as they climb up the stairs.

Cassian huffs a laugh. “We were like that when we were younger, too.”

“Yeah, but we were teenagers.”

They reach the hallway. “I don’t know about the others,” Cassian says thoughtfully, “but Nesta never got to be a normal kid.” She barely got to be a normal adult. And in a couple of short years, she’ll be working her ass off at some prestigious firm and won’t have time for simple things like sleepovers anymore.

Cassian selfishly hopes he can give Nesta all the normalcy he can before that happens.

***

a/n: i’m gonna do my best in future chapters to give cassian depth beyond just his relationship with nesta 🥴 but first, be on the lookout for a gwynriel bonus scene :)

tags: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara9 @lanyjoy-13 @frosted-crackers @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad

#ncssianwrites #nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #a favor #nessian fic #nessian au

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beepboop358 · 3 years

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A Prom in S4 Theory & Music Coding Predictions

Some leaked set pics indicate that there MAY BE a junior/senior prom at Hawkins High, which they are calling the "Lover's Ball". It's unclear if this prom will be included on screen, or if it will just be mentioned as an event coming up at Hawkins High because this flyer could just extra set decor. Regardless if the prom happens on screen or not, there will probably be some tension about 'who's asking who' to the prom that we will see in s4. Given that this picture was just leaked a few weeks ago, it probably falls closer to the end of the season sequentially.

Having a big school dance in s4 is suspiciously close to how they had the Snowball scene in s2. This would certainly follow the even/odd season patterns, (and actually add to the list of the patterns), which kind of makes me think we will see this prom on screen, or at the very least it will be mentioned in the course of the season.

The Duffer Brothers love Steven King and reference his work and especially 'IT' a lot in the show, but they haven't done anything with Carrie yet so maybe we will get a Carrie moment this season at the prom...

Carrie was on the video store fridays movie inspiration board for ST4.

At the "Lover's Ball", there will be definitely be some music coding relating to Byler. Since music coding is kind of a key thing in the show, I've been rifling through 80's songs to try and find some that may fit with s4's themes/character storylines (and I may do a seperate post about that later), but for this post I'm just gonna focus on what they might use at the prom for relating to Byler.

Since the season is most likely going to take place in 1986, I only selected songs that had a compatible release year so it would be historically accurate. (these songs would also be great for a byler playlist!)

Some strong contenders for the songs that might play at the prom to reference Mike and Will's relationship could be:

"True Colors" by Cyndi Lauper (1986)

This song is honestly too good of an option for them not to use. I'm reallllyyy crossing my fingers for this one.

It's hard to take courage In a world full of people You can lose sight of it all And the darkness inside you Can make you feel so small

"And I see your true colors Shining through I see your true colors And that's why I love you So don't be afraid (don't be afraid) To let them show your true colors True colors are beautiful (you're beautiful, oh) Like a rainbow Oh oh oh oh oh like a rainbow"

If this world makes you crazy And you've taken all you can bear You call me up Because you know I'll be there

"Heaven" by Bryan Adams (1984)

This first verse is literally just the story of Byler... 😭 The rest of the song applies but that verse verse is just sooooo accurate. (I'm crossing my fingers for this one too)

"Oh thinkin' about all our younger years There was only you and me We were young and wild and free Now nothing can take you away from me We've been down that road before But that's over now You keep me comin' back for more

Baby you're all that I want When you're lyin' here in my arms I'm findin' it hard to believe We're in heaven And love is all that I need And I found it there in your heart Isn't too hard to see We're in heaven

Oh once in your life you find someone Who will turn your world around Bring you up when you're feelin' down Yeah nothin' can change what you mean to me Oh there's lots that I could say But just hold me now 'Cause our love will light the way"

"Take My Breath Away" by Berlin (1986)

This song is on Will's Spotify playlist, and I thought it could also be used at the prom since it's a romantic song. I see it as an 'entrance to the prom' moment song, almost like a 'first look' - like the Mike and El moment at the snowball when she first walks in, but with Mike and Will this time. I think the lyrics clearly hint to this kind of 'first look' moment as well.

"Watchin' every motion in my foolish lover's game On this endless ocean, finally lovers know no shame Turning and returning to some secret place inside Watchin' in slow motion as you turn around and say...take my breath away"

Watchin' every motion in this foolish lover's game Haunted by the notion, somewhere there's a love in flames Turning and returning to some secret place inside Watchin' in slow motion as you turn my way and say...take my breath away"

"In The Air Tonight" by Phil Collins (1981)

This song was originally meant to be included in the snowball scene from s2, but it ultimately was not used and "Every Breath You Take" was used for this scene instead. Since it was intended to be a part of the s2 dance, that's why I think it may be used at the prom this season. (you can read the scripts on 8flix)

——— I forgot to include this explanation originally BUT, I think this song might be used to show some anger/resentment between the two, and to show a decent amount of tension, depending on their development this season. Like maybe Mike is kind of leading Will on in private by continuing to initiate intimate scenes between them, but in public Mike is still trying to put on his “straight boy act” and kind of being a jackass about it, and this song could be used to show the tension between them that has caused.

"And I've been waiting for this moment, for all my life, (Oh lord)

Well, I was there and I saw what you did I saw it with my own two eyes So you can wipe off that grin, I know where you've been It's all been a pack of lies.

Well I remember, I remember don't worry How could I ever forget It's the first time, the last time we ever met But I know the reason why you keep this silence up

No you don't fool me The hurt doesn't show, but the pain still grows It's no stranger to you and me"

"In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel (1986)

Some of the lyrics in this song just SCREAMS byler, just look at the 1st, 2nd and 4th paragraphs. I would be suprised if they didn't use this song in either s4/s5.

Love, I get so lost sometimes Days pass and this emptiness fills my heart When I want to run away I drive off in my car But whichever way I go I come back to the place you are

All my instincts, they return The grand facade, so soon will burn Without a noise, without my pride I reach out from the inside

In your eyes The light, the heat (in your eyes) I am complete (in your eyes) I see the doorway (in your eyes) To a thousand churches (in your eyes) The resolution (in your eyes) Of all the fruitless searches (in your eyes)

Love, I don't like to see so much pain So much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away I get so tired working so hard for our survival I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive

"Heroes" by David Bowie (1975)

David Bowie was bisexual. A cover of his song “Heroes” is used in the show twice already, sung by Peter Gabriel. The song plays when they pull Will's fake body out of the water in season one and Mike cries in his Mom's arms, with some very queer-coded lyrics in the background, and after Hopper's letter in s3 (which is very Byler-centric)

"I will be king. And you, you will be queen 'Cause we're lovers, and that is a fact. Yes, we're lovers, and that is that. Though nothing will keep us together. We could steal time just for one day We can be heroes forever and ever. What d'you say? I, I wish I could swim, like dolphins, like dolphins could swim I, I can remember (I remember) Standing by the wall (By the wall) And the guns shot above our heads (Over our heads) And we kissed as though nothing could fall (Nothing could fall) And the shame was on the other side. Oh, we can beat them forever and ever. Then we could be heroes just for one day We're nothing, and nothing will help us Maybe we're lying, then you better not stay But we could be safer just for one day"

I just thought the above songs might be some highly likely possibilities given that they fit the year of the s4 and also make references to not only love, but the idea of hiding, pain, shame, longing, etc., and can make some (partially stretching here) references to other things in the show such as:

RAINBOWS and TRUE COLORS, SHINING THROUGH (rainbows imagery is always associated with Mike & Will in the show and a is symbol of lgbtq+ pride, True Colors shining through = who you really are on the inside finally coming out)

IF THIS WORLD MAKES YOU CRAZY ("crazy together", "only love makes you that crazy" and references the "world" motif in the show)

YOUNGER YEARS, ONLY YOU AND ME, YOUNG, WILD AND FREE (references "not wanting things to change" and wanting "to make things go how they were" part in Hopper's letter, and the "But we're not kids anymore" comment during the Byler fight)

ENDLESS OCEAN and SWIM, LIKE DOLPHINS (references water's significance in the show)

FLAMES (Will in front of the burning car in s4 teaser?)

LIES and LYING (Mike lying to El about how he feels)

INSTINCTS RETURNING, FACADES BURNING, WITHOUT MY PRIDE, I REACH OUT FROM THE INSIDE (Mike's feelings for Will are his instincts, the facade is the act he put on in s3 to seem straight, burning could reference Will & fire, and I think the last 2 lines of that 2nd verse reference vulnerability- perhaps in an apology/confession)

I GET SO LOST (confusion about his sexuality, feeling lost without the other) and SO MUCH WASTED TIME (known each other since kindergarten but were unaware the other felt the same way/was dealing with same things, they could have been even closer)

KINGS and QUEENS (the d&d game mike wrote where he has king Tristan give him a medal in s1)

STEALING TIME (references "turning back the clock, to make things go how they were" part in Hopper's letter and the time theme in s4 and time is central to the s4 plot)

AND WE KISS - AND THE SHAME (references the shame they both feel about being gay since it was so stigmatized in the 80's)

Byler @ Prom Possibilities:

If Mike and Will did dance together at the prom, they will probably get bullied because they live in a small conservative town. They will probably either run out, upset, or Eleven will step in to protect them which could lead to the Carrie moment.

Or Mike and Will will not dance together in the actual dance room, but instead sneak off to somewhere else in the school and have a private Byler dance moment where they can't be teased and it's just them together.

OR Mike and Will are still acting weird at this point in the season because neither of them is communicating what needs to be said out of fear, or one of them has confessed or done something to indicate how they feel, but the other hasn’t so everything is weird between them. There would be lots of tension from this and we would get lots of longing looks and adoring moments between the two of them from the sidelines. (I think this one is the most likely)

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rushingheadlong · 4 years

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Okay, so here’s some longer ramblings about my Thoughts on Brian’s use of Queen songs in his solo tours… focusing mainly on the Back to the Light tour here because by the time Brian toured for Another World he had a VERY different opinion about and relationship with Queen (in that I think he had reached a much healthier place with regards to the band than where he was in the early 90s).

Also specific tour info and setlists are all mainly from QueenConcerts.com, I’m not citing anything specifically in-text this time, sorry.

So I’ve talked about some of this before, but basically two big things to keep in mind here are that:

Back to the Light was Brian’s first solo album and first solo tour. (The Star Fleet Project doesn’t count, as he never toured with it, never recorded it with the intention of releasing it, and the album liner notes literally say that it’s not a solo album.) While obviously he had experience touring with Queen, touring solo was an entirely new experience for him with challenges he hadn’t really faced before.

Brian really wanted nothing to do with Queen after Freddie’s death and not just in an immediate, “I’m grieving and we need to figure out how the band is moving forward,” sort of way either - Roger and John were the ones to start sorting out the remaining tapes to make Made in Heaven because Brian refused to help at first. (Yes some of that was because of the BttL tour, but he started helping between tour legs in 1993… there was no reason he couldn’t do the same in 1992 except he just didn’t want to.)

And because of both of those things I think Brian was caught in this place of needing to distance himself from Queen (to give himself space to grieve, to find himself as a solo musician, to build a new identity for himself in the wake of everything that happened in the late 80s/early 90s…) and also recognizing that he couldn’t do that for a wide variety of reasons.

For one thing, Brian didn’t really have enough solo material to fill out an entire setlist. Take a look at a typical setlist from the BttL tour:

23 songs (+ the band introduction) and a 2-song encore. Of those 23 songs, 8 were Queen songs, though not always the full song. The remaining 15 songs included 3 separate solos (not counting Last Horizon) and two cover songs (1812 overture and Since You’ve Been Gone). The encore is another cover song and a Queen song.

(Of the BttL songs that he didn’t play regularly on his tour, Rollin’ Over is technically a cover to begin with, Nothin’ But Blue and Just One Life are both slower songs which Brian seems to have limited in his setlist, and the last is I’m Scared which he may have had trouble adapting to be able to play it live, given the “Chaos Karaoke” section in the middle.)

The point being, that Brian really didn’t have enough solo material to flesh out an entire 1.5-2 hour concert and at this point he didn’t even have enough covers ready to perform like he would for Another World. Picking Queen music to supplement his setlist was the most logical choice to go with.

Brian also would have been in the position where he was simply known best for his work with Queen, and there’s some evidence that he struggled with getting enough recognition for the early legs of the BttL tour. The South American leg in 1992, for example, was only 5 concerts and then for portions of 1993 Brian was actually touring in support of Guns N’ Roses rather than headlining the shows himself. (The first North American leg in early 1993 was also apparently rather poorly promoted.)

So Brian may very well have realized that he needed to lean into the Queen fans who had followed him over to his solo career, at least to some extent - and this in itself might have put him in a difficult position because not only did he not want to tie himself to Queen at this point in time but he probably also had to tread carefully to make sure that he wasn’t seen as trying to “profit” from Freddie’s death or music that was by-and-large considered to be Freddie’s in origin.

And he seems to have handled that by choosing to play songs that he wrote himself. Love of My Life is an obvious exception but he clearly acknowledges during concerts that he’s playing it for Freddie, and even so that song had morphed into a Brian-and-Freddie song over the years anyway just by virtue of how it was performed live over the years. He also plays a snippet of Bohemian Rhapsody, but everything else from Queen on that “typical” setlist are his songs. Even one-off Queen songs are generally his, or else just small snippets of someone else’s song (like the Mustapha clip). No one can say that he’s trying to “profit” off of Queen and Freddie if he’s technically still playing only his own music.

(If we want to veer off into absolute baseless wild speculation for a moment... I do wonder if Brian might have had legal concerns about playing Queen’s music. I don’t know anything about Roger’s work with The Cross, but the BttL tour took place before any of Roger’s true solo tours so this would have been the first time the question of playing Queen music after the “end of Queen” came up. And, unfortunately, it does happen that when groups disband that there are sometimes legal restrictions put in place on who can play what songs on solo projects.)

(I’m not saying that this was something that happened with Queen and, frankly, I don’t think Roger or John would have cared if Brian had wanted to play “their” songs... but I can see Brian, who was already in a very unstable place with regards to his mental health, building this up to be an issue in his own mind and letting his anxiety and depression run wild with it, and ultimately deciding to head off any issues by only playing “his” songs instead.)

Stepping back into things we have proof for, for the most part Brian chose songs of his that were faster and heavier and put them in places in his setlist where he can “power through” them without needing to pay them any special attention or really acknowledge that these are Queen songs to begin with. This lets him keep the energy of his concerts up in general (important for gigs where he was the support act) but also lets him trade on Queen fans’ recognition of songs like Now I’m Here and Hammer to Fall - these songs are known in a way that his solo work wasn’t (and still isn’t), so people who came to his shows to see “Queen’s guitarist” get moments strategically interspersed throughout the concert where they’re given high-energy songs that they know and can enjoy.

And the placement of the Queen songs is very strategic. Brian doesn’t go more than three songs (or 3 songs and a solo) without playing a Queen song, and he ends his concerts with the upbeat and well-recognized Hammer to Fall so even if people had felt “meh” about his solo work they get to leave the concert with a favorite Queen song fresh in their minds instead.

I also think that despite his feelings about Queen and the fact that Brian very clearly struggled with how to handle his obligations to the band in the wake of Freddie’s death, there was probably some amount of comfort in playing familiar songs during this period of time - not only as a way of dealing with his grief, but also to give himself moments where he needed to be less “on” because he already knew these songs so well after years of playing them (and simply by virtue of the fact that he wrote them himself).

If you watch enough of Brian’s solo concerts you can start to notice that there are moments where he tends to forget that he is the lead singer now. He starts wandering the stage during the guitar bits and almost doesn’t make it back to his mic in time to sing again, especially during the Queen songs. And I think for Brian there might have been a feeling of needing his solo songs to be “perfect” because (in his eyes) that was going to make-or-break his career as a musician after the end of Queen, but he could be lax with Queen’s stuff because that’s who he was and he knew the fans would be happy enough to hear him nail the Hammer to Fall guitar solo that it wouldn’t matter if he almost missed singing the next verse.

And, like I mentioned before, these early tours were difficult. He was touring with a new band, he was a support act again instead of the headliner (which meant adjusting his set to fit the limited time he had), he had technical difficulties, he was touring with a new and probably temporary guitar tech… As much as he wanted to stand on his own, I’d imagine these tours were probably incredibly stressful especially in the beginning, and having a few moments to just play music that he knew like the back of his hand was probably a godsend for him.

But at the end of the day, Brian still had an incredibly conflicted relationship with Queen at this time. His cover of God (Dream Is Over) is literally about the ending of Queen and includes the line, “I don’t believe in being Queen anymore, I just believe in me - just you guys and me.” He very strongly felt that Queen was over and he wasn’t in a position where he could handle any obligations to the band, and he was deeply mourning not only his friend’s death but the loss of something that brought him immense happiness over the last 20 years of his life.

On the one hand, the very specific and calculated ways in which Brian incorporated Queen songs into his solo tours is reflective of his attempt to distance himself from the band - but at the same time, Brian has said that returning to touring was like “therapy” for him after Freddie’s death, and I do think that by trying to be strategic about how he used Queen in his solo shows he inadvertently created a situation where he could work through his feelings about the band in an extremely controlled and positive environment.

Rather than being left to flounder and find a way forward on his own, he could go out and perform a carefully curated selection of Queen tracks to crowds that would respond positively and remind him that this music was still loved. He could play Love of My Life for Freddie and get it sung back to him and share his pain and grief with others so he wasn’t alone with it. He could give it his all performing his new music and then take a step back with a Queen song and just breathe and recognize everything that was good and was working for him in those moments.

And I think the fact that the tours were a source of healing for him is a large reason why he started working with Roger and John on Made in Heaven in the fall of 1993, even though he continued touring through mid-December, especially considering that he didn’t join them between tour legs earlier in 1992-1993. Granted, he probably would have eventually joined them regardless but I definitely think that if the BttL tours hadn’t been as therapeutic as they were he would have joined them later, and we probably would have gotten a very different album for Made in Heaven than what the final product did end up being.

(As a final sidenote, it’s worth noting that during his Another World tours Brian had roughly the same ratio of Queen songs to other material, except the bulk of Queen songs were played in one large chunk in the middle of his shows rather than strategically spread throughout the setlist. It seems like rather than building his concerts so slower songs were bookended by faster/heavier songs, he chose to put Queen songs in the middle surrounded by his solo material and covers - possibly because he didn’t feel like he needed to rely on Queen’s material to get him through a show, but he still wanted to acknowledge that music and that chapter of his life especially now that he was in a better place at least in terms of his relationship with Queen.)

#brian may #text #ramblings #anyway I think this is most of my thoughts about this?#there's a lot going on here but I mean it's Brian I always have a lot to say about him lmfao #brian #bmb

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locke-writes · 4 years

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One Night

Author: locke-writes

Title: One Night

Prompt: She’s A Rebel - Green Day, Bucky Barnes (Musician!Reader x Music Journalist!Bucky AU) For: @thefanficfaerie ‘s 3500 follower celebration

Rating; T

Word Count: 3,137

Marvel Taglist: @lotsoffandomimagines @lgbtonystarks

Bucky smiled softly as he watched you in the recording studio. He always enjoyed these moments as they were quite rare. For the most part when you were at home he'd never get to listen to what you'd been working on as you tried to keep full songs a secret. Sometimes he might be asked his opinion on a riff just to help discern if one note sounded better than another for any song you might be working on but you were very much a private person when it came to your songwriting. He found a humor in the fact that this was quite the opposite of you on stage as you'd often tease audiences with bits and pieces of songs currently in the works.

Although he might not admit it out loud Bucky certainly felt that at times he took his position for granted. Not everyone in the world could say they started a company with a friend they'd known since childhood and not everyone could say that it was their job that led them to the love of their life. Bucky always felt he owed it all to fate although Steve had a different opinion on that being part of the reason you and Bucky had met. Bucky stopped his mind from wandering and turned back to the story at hand, jotting down more notes for use when he returned to his office.

Sitting back down in his office Bucky began typing up an outline. He smiled as it felt sort of humorous for him to be writing this particular article. It wasn't just a piece on the anniversary of the your band's debut album or a teaser for the fact that you were working on another to be released later in the year, for him it was partially about the anniversary of when you met, the anniversary of when his life completely changed.

As he was typing he let his mind drift to the first meeting and subsequent thereafter.

The magazine had only been running for six years. It was no Rolling Stone but their readership was growing by the minute what with the fact that they had decided to make it readily available digitally as well as in print an idea that wasn't necessarily revolutionary but did help for availability. Steve had the idea to start the whole thing which Bucky was apprehensive about at first albeit now grateful for Steve pushing him into agreeing. From their apartment originally to now renting out a few floors in Stark Towers they'd risen fast.

Most of what he did on the daily basis was executive work. He didn't hate it but he preferred writing, Steve was more the artist having everything under control when it came to scheduling photoshoots and figuring out who was on the cover every week. Bucky wanted to be the writer, that's really all that he wanted since the start but you own your own company you've got to be the executive. This made the rare moments that either he or Steve got to work on something for themselves and not be stuck in meetings, all the more special. It meant moments where Steve came crashing into Bucky's office, all the more interesting.

"Tell me you don't have plans tonight and mean it." Steve shouted.

"I don't have plans tonight and I mean it" Bucky replied looking up from the outline of future issue topics.

"Good because I need you to take this story off my hands, something came up with one of the photographers and I need to take over which means I won't make this show."

"What's the story?"

"New band on the block, Battering Ram. An indie punk band that's doing a series of club shows in the city before they head on their first US tour. It's their debut album and I scheduled them for an interview. A real, who is the band sort of thing, nothing complex."

"Yeah I mean, have you cleared it with their manager or whoever you've talked to"

"Called him about an hour ago. I figured you'd say yes, told him I'd be giving you my ticket and press pass but that you'd need your name added to the list since it's a sort of, first come first serve show tonight."

Bucky nodded as Steve walked out, he glanced down at the ticket noting that doors opened at 7:30. He knew if anything he should be there at 5 for sound check but he knew it might be better to be there at the start of the show rather than before in an effort to get a real feel for who the band was.

Backstage at the club you were buzzing, excitement running through you. Everything seemed surreal and you couldn't seem to focus on the lyrics you'd been working on. The guitar techs were tuning everything up which meant you couldn't even play a little or work on anything new. You just felt lucky that you weren't the only one who seemed to be a bit nervous and filled with excited energy. Sam was going over the setlist spouting out lyrics as if he'd forget them on stage which you knew had never and probably would never happen. Thor was tossing drumsticks back and forth tapping out a beat on his knees while Nat was organizing and reorganizing all her bass picks.

The album had only been out for a few weeks but it had been gaining traction steadily, something you'd hoped for but never thought possible.

You'd all met through one another, Sam being friends with Thor because they met at some bar when it was open mic night. Nat had been your roommate who knew someone who knew someone who'd gone to college with Thor. None of you could have predicted that you'd hit it off nor that you'd all come together in such a way to form a bad that would actually have some modicum of success.

All of you were nervous in part because you wanted a great show but in part because you knew there was a music journalist coming. Well, not just any music journalist, the Bucky Barnes. You'd been reading the magazine he'd created since day one and now he was coming that night to see the show and interview you all. You just tried to keep your mind on the show all through soundcheck and then when it came time for the actual concert.

Part of Bucky's approach to covering new bands was to never read up on them or listen to anything before the show. He wanted a true first impression, he wanted the music and the stage presence to speak for itself not be built up in his mind because of something he'd already read or heard online. To say he was thrown by the number of people piling out the door was an understatement. The club wasn't large but it wasn't small either and he was sure that there were double the amount of people that the fire department would permit. He gave his name at the door and showed his press pass pushing his way up to the bar to get a better view of the stage.

Pulling out the small notebook that he'd placed in his pocket he began noting the stage. Minimalist was the right word for it. A banner with the band name and the instruments selected for the first song were already on stage. Bucky wondered if there would be more added, if maybe this was just set up for soundcheck earlier and hadn't been changed out. Twenty minutes later after getting caught up in conversation with a few fans who'd agreed to give quotes for the article Bucky was shocked to find that the stage hadn't been changed. This was just how it was going to be.

Sam ran out on stage first as always to introduce the rest of the band. You scanned the crowd looking at the size and you grinned. These were the places you'd first experienced the music that would change your life, you loved the fact that you'd get to share it with a crowd here. Maybe someone in the crowd could be influenced by what happened here on stage. You counted off in your head before strumming the opening chord.

Never in his life would Bucky admit too feeling foolish at the moment he'd first heard Battering Ram play. Never in his life would he admit this to you, but that's exactly what he felt in the first moment when the music washed over him. In that first moment, with that first song, he hated himself for not knowing about the band sooner. Punk was a finicky genre nowadays with a lot of bands trying to recapture early 70's punk but failing to find any originality. But here you all were with this sound that he couldn't quite describe. There were notes of Ramones, Black Flag and even X yet somehow you tossed that all on its head when you launched into a cover of Jolene which was unexpected by himself but apparently on the album as he heard whispers in the crowd of people not certain if that would be played.

He hated the fact that he actually had to judge the show at that moment. He hated it because he wanted to watch, he wanted to listen to opinion. And he wanted specifically to pay attention to you. There was something about you, he couldn't say what, but he was enthralled — entranced — by you. You didn't sing backing vocals like most guitarists, you just played. Sometimes you interacted with the other members of the band but mostly you just seemed to exist almost as a fixture of the crowd itself, either starting or ending the songs. You talked with the crowd, you played riffs of songs not performed and then you melted into the music.

Time was lost and before Bucky realized the encore had been finished you and the band retreated off stage. He slid through the crowd making his way past security to backstage where it was a whirlwind of movement, everyone checking off and packing instruments away. Coughing briefly he made himself known shaking hands. Water was handed out and he began a long line of questioning.

There were good and bad interviews in every reporters life. Sometimes there was little to work with, answers that didn't seem fully formed and no matter what prodding nothing could be produced to fill up the word or page limit that was set. This was a good interview, every member eager to answer questions. Bucky learned everything there was to know, from how everyone started in music to how you met, the horror stories of early gigs and when you realized that you had an audience. He asked about the album, about influences, about who wrote songs and why.

That night he learned you didn't sing because you sounded terrible but you wrote all the songs (a few with help), because lyrics seemed to constantly flow through your head. That night he learned that Sam sang because he'd been forced into choir as an elective in high school and figured out that he actually kinda liked it. He learned that Nat wanted to be a bassist not only because of the small amount of female bassists in the world but because she realized that all her favorite songs had great bass parts. Thor's nickname was the God of Thunder because he had tried and failed miserably to play soft beats on the drums but always gravitated towards the loud booming sound.

Bucky learned a lot that night, including the fact that he knew he wanted to ask you out. Physical attraction certainly didn't hinder what he felt but there was something there, something that he felt when you spoke that he didn't want to stop feeling. He'd ended up lingering backstage that night long after the interview was over, helping out break down the set, grabbing drinks with the band, and suddenly when the night couldn't have gone any better there you were, sliding a piece of paper with your number on it and telling him to text you sometime.

Sometime was later that night when he texted asking if there was any way you had time to grab dinner. You replied not even five minutes later saying that you didn't have a show the next night and was that too soon.

It wasn't too soon, in fact it wasn't soon enough.

Steve teased him the next day when they had a one on one meeting about the show. Bucky sped through the details and rushed straight into the fact that he had a date with you that night. Bucky knew that what Steve said about his inability to focus through the story was true and after Steve had left he began trying to work out just what he was going to say in the article He was pleased that the words seem to flow through him as he began writing but his mind kept wandering. Leaving work that night he practically ran home just to get ready and over to the restaurant to meet you for your date.

The first date.

The last first date either of you would ever have. Although Bucky didn't know it at the time.

Whatever he had felt the night before when talking to you alone, he felt it again when he saw you outside of the restaurant waiting for him. He almost asked you about it though he refrained in case it was something strange, something that you'd find odd. He'd learn later that no, you'd certainly felt it too.

That night you asked him about his arm, something Bucky found easy to speak with you about rather than the sense of fear he felt upon some explanations. You asked him about the magazine and was he terrified in starting it up. You asked him about the big things like where did he see himself in ten years and asked about the little things like his favorite color. He asked you about the band and did you ever think that you would be a musician for the rest of your life. He asked you about the guitars you played and why you continued to play the first guitar you ever owned. He asked you about your childhood and about everything he could think of.

If there wasn't reason to leave like the place closing you could have stayed talking to him forever. That night Bucky kissed you when he took you back to your apartment and if you could see the future through a kiss than you would have seen the rest of your life laid out before you.

Two nights later you had your second date as Bucky figured out when you didn't have shows. What shows you did have he managed to make it too, at one point bringing Steve along for you to meet. Steve didn't bother saying anything about what he saw that night to Bucky but he noted the way you looked at his friend and Steve knew, or at least he had a feeling he hoped was going to be right, that you and Bucky were it for each other.

In the two weeks that you were going to be in the city your time was split between the band and Bucky, not that anyone in the band cared. They saw that Bucky made you happy and they liked him, not just as someone who they approved of but as someone they didn't hate hanging out with. The last night before the tour you and Bucky decided to try and work through the long distance thing. Both of you were nervous but you knew that if you texted and called one another when you could as well as making use of the wonders of Skype dates then maybe everything would come together.

The story was published three weeks after the show where you'd met. Suddenly Battering Ram was climbing the charts and extending the tour from six months to seven. Bucky was disappointed it would be another month he'd have to wait to see you but he didn't care because he'd wait a lifetime for you. He told you this when you Skyped him to give him the news and all you could do was smile. Part of you felt like you were rushing into something with Bucky but another part of you felt like this was what you had wanted for your entire life whether you'd been aware of it our not.

He ended up meeting you at the airport when you landed after the last show of the tour. Dropping you off at your apartment he ended up staying the weekend. At the end of that weekend he ended up asking if you wanted to get an apartment together. You said yes.

Three days was the amount of time before you decided to live together and three months was the amount of time it took before Bucky decided to propose. He didn't have a ring, he didn't have a plan, in fact he didn't even know he was going to ask before he did. You were on the couch eating dinner and watching Netflix while he was in the kitchen grabbing a drink for you, you laughed at some joke and then the words were out there in the air. You were stunned and he was stunned but he repeated the words anyway, this time more sure of himself because he knew that this was exactly what he wanted.

That electric feeling that blew through him the first time you met, the feeling that coursed through his veins every time he kissed you. He didn't want to stop having that feeling. It felt surreal to him that you'd said yes to a first date, to a second, and to getting married. It felt surreal when the wedding was over and there was a ring on his finger, it felt surreal that you were his and he was yours for the rest of his life. It was something that Bucky would never take for granted.

Bucky saw a notification pop up on his phone, just you letting him know you were picking up dinner and asking if he wanted his usual from the Chinese place by the studio. He quickly sent back a reply and put the finishing touches on the story before sending it off to Steve to review and heading out of the office.

This was his life now, one he would never change for anything in the world. He had a job he loved, friendship he would never take for granted and most importantly. Bucky had you.

#locke writes #marvel #bucky barnes #marvel imagine #bucky barnes imagine #marvel fic #bucky barnes fic #marvel fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel oneshot #bucky barnes oneshot

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astridsinclair · 4 years

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ASTRID SINCLAIR ( ELLE FANNING ) is a SEVENTEEN year old JUNIOR student at Broadripple Academy. SHE is originally from BRYN MAWR, PA but moved to Broadripple THREE YEARS ago. She is TALENTED and OBSERVANT but can also be RECLUSIVE and ANXIOUS.

“How lost do you have to be to let the devil walk you home at night?”

Name: Astrid Rose Sinclair

Nickname: None

Age: Seventeen

Birthday: December 29th 2002

Grade: Junior

Room: Two

House: Keough

Sports: None

Clubs: Orchestra (Piano), Chamber Choir

Character Aesthetics: Oversized sweaters, sheet music, the smell of rose water, unmade beds, the perfect hiding spot, a bottomless lake, vintage records, unkempt hair, freshly baked bread, the sound of rain on the roof, a full moon, long walks alone at night.

FACTS

Astrid’s mother, had been the most popular girl at Broadripple when she had attended the boarding school, as had her older sister. So when Astrid arrived the teachers and students who had known the other Sinclair women were surprised. While she looked the part -long blonde hair, twinkling blue eyes and rosy cheeks- she couldn’t have been more different from her sister and mother.

Astrid had always been a shy, serious and reclusive girl. While her older sister Sophia took after their mother, all charm, energy and confidence, Astrid took after their father, a music theory professor at Bryn Mawr college. She would spend hour in his study with him, reading or going through his extensive record collection.

While she quietly excelled in all her classes the only time she stood out is when she was playing the piano or singing. She started playing at a young age and had always had a naturally beautiful singing voice. Thanks to her father’s background in music she was given the tools to let her natural musical ability thrive. She can almost always be found in a quiet corner of the library or practicing in the music room when no one else is around.

Most of her socializing consists of her band and choir mates and even with them she struggles to make friends. Most of her classmates either ignore her or try and avoid her. When she is brought up in conversation the regular response is “Who? Oh that weird girl in the orchestra” or some of the crueler students have started comparing her to the ghosts who allegedly walk among them, saying she would fit in more with spirits than the living. But one everyone has been ignoring her, she has been watching them. Astrid has observed, and seen more than she lets on.

Those who do get to know Astrid know that underneath that hard shell is a bright and talented young women. One time she made one of the girls in choir laugh so hard that her drink went out of her nose, and her roommate regularly hears her singing in the shower. It takes awhile but once Astrid feels comfortable with someone she is your friend for life, just not many people try.

It’s always the quiet ones. For a year now Astrid has been climbing out of her window almost every night at 12:00pm and sneaking off campus. She gets in her car and drives a few towns over, normally using her sisters old ID to sneak into bars and clubs before stumbling back to campus at the wee hours of the morning. She doesn’t know why she does it, except for the fact that it feels so good to go somewhere where no one knew her, and she would never have to see them again.

Now that they’ve been moved to the woods this habit has become increasingly more difficult so she has to settle for taking one of the bottles she hides under her bed into the woods to seek out a cheap thrill. The strange sounds and curious happenings in the woods don’t scare her nearly as much as her classmates do.

HEADCANONS

Astrid has an extensive records collection, unfortunately she can’t bring all them with her to school but she always brings at least 20 of her favorites with her each year. Many people assume that she only listens to classical but she has a diverse taste

Astrid’s nails are always painted in bright colors, and it’s the only part of her style that stands out. She likes the way her colorful nails look while she’s playing the piano. Other than her fun nails Astrid can always be found in a a chunky sweater that is a few decades out of style.

She is extremely blind without her glasses, wouldn’t it be a shame is she tripped and fell in the woods and lost them?

She has three cats back home that she loves and misses so much. Their names are Binkie, Patches and Alfonse, and they are her screen saver on her phone.

She writes her own songs and music but no one knows this and she has never played them anyone, not even her dad. Sometimes she might sing one of your songs in the shower.

Her grandparents were are very religious, which is why they sent Astrid’s mother to Broadripple. While her mother is a lapsed catholic she wanted her girls to also attend Broadripple because she had such a good time at the school. The church was never a big part of her life, and her family only ever attended services at holidays and if her grandparents were in town.

THE RETREAT

What do they think about The Retreat? She wouldn’t mind it (she likes the woods, and doesn’t mind “slumming it”) but since but since it means that she is in even more close quarters with her classmates, with no means of escape, she hates it.

Do they have any previous experience with camping or other outdoors? She has a small amount of experience. Her family camps occasionally and her house is by the woods in Pennsylvania and she likes to go on long walks in them.

What does their cabin bunk look like? How will they decorate their space? Astrid’s bed is hardly ever made, she likes to be cozy so she never has less than three blankets, a quilt, and five pillows on her bed. She has small amount knick-knacks that she brought with her and of course her record player

Do they believe in the supernatural? To what degree? She does to a certain degree, she had grown up hearing the spooky stories from her sister and mother, but she never put too much stock into them. But now with all the strange things that have been happening? She can’t deny it makes a shiver go down her spine.

Are they easily spooked? Astrid is the definition of spooked, but she would take a ghost over some of her classmates

TEST RESULTS

Astrid’s Results:

My Results:

WANTED CONNECTIONS/PLOTS:

A few good friends, a small amount of people who she has been able to open up to over the three years at Broadripple, probably members of the orchestra or choir. These select few are the only people who Astrid lets see her with her genuine self.

Someone who tries to get to know her but she holds them at arms length, someone who she doesn’t know well but wants to befriend her. Astrid is hesitant to let them in but they are determined to bring her walls down. This person can truly want to be her friend or maybe they have nefarious motives.

Someone who knows her secret, before they were all moved into the woods someone caught Astrid climbing out of her window late at night or maybe they were sneaking out to a bar as well. Maybe they bond over it? Maybe they use this information against her?filled by @connyr0

The person Astrid is the most intimidated by, while Astrid is afraid/intimated by pretty much everyone in the school this person takes the cake. Maybe they pick on Astrid? Did they come up with the ‘ghost girl’ nickname? Do they just like to watch her squirm?

Astrid saw something she shouldn’t have, she often goes unnoticed and unseen by her classmates, she sees and hears many things because people simply don’t realize that she’s there. Most things are trivial but now she’s wrapped up in someone else’s drama because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

#retreat:task1 #this is long be prepared #𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖉 ━━ ✦ a girl walks alone a night

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onegirllis · 4 years

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Since Life is Strange 2 is finally fully released, I let myself to write a probably not-so-short review of the complete season. The momentum for such a summary is already gone I presume but it took me a moment to finally digest and find the proper words to describe what I think and feel about this production. Following the game from the start, I patiently waited to look at the story as a whole, hoping to find an explanation for tons of burning questions and satisfying outcomes to my choices and decisions. Unfortunately, most of those didn’t happen, therefore I present you with a piece that is not very favorable towards the newest Dontnod production, harsh in places but honest. Please, do not read if you really enjoyed the story of the two brothers and find it meaningful and important, not burdened with any fallacy. Life is way too short to read reviews that just leave you frustrated.

Remember the scene in Life is Strange season one (I still hate the fact that I have to separate different instances of the franchise calling them seasons), when Max summoned by an enormous plasma TV in Victoria’s room fantasizes about watching “Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within” on it? “I like this movie, I don’t care what everybody says,” getting protective about her preferences, the little freckle leaves the room soon after, never gifting us with any explanation as to why she indeed values this animation so much or why it was an important statement. It was never brought back again, it will never matter, becoming simply a meme material or a trigger for snarky comments from Twitch streamers and YouTubers. I watched the said movie a long time ago, recalling only two things about it: the breathtaking animation of hair at the beginning and the fact that the main male character looked like Ben Affleck. The rest of the story fell into obscurity before the end credits hit the screen. I reached for this title only because I was interested in anything video games related, and the name of the popular franchise was more than enough.

The same thing goes for Life is Strange 2.

Just like the mentioned FF: The Spirits Within, the second instance of the beloved series is more of an animation than an interactive experience. Recently, plenty of video games, overwhelmed by finally reachable technology of smooth mocaps, facial expressions, hyper-realistic locations, and scanned people as characters, turned into an alley dedicated to B-class movies. From adventures by David Cage to Death Stranding, video games started to flip their working template, replacing the actual action with long animations, not the other way around. With scattered gameplay, sometimes forced as if the developers reminded themselves at the last minute that this product is supposed to be interactive, they raise an eyebrow at best, and boil your blood with the lack of creativity at its worst. Life Is Strange 2 follows this trend with astonishing enthusiasm and to the core. Even regarding this particular genre that’s supposed to focus on narrative, it barely stands as a walking simulator becoming a hardly watchable TV series — a road trip story where walking is limited.

Well, shit.

The gameplay in Life is Strange 2 is nonexistent. To be frank, riveting action-packed sequences were never a trademark of the series, but a blatant lack of any didn’t make this experience any better. With the first one, the rewind power allowed the player to actually be part of the narrative. The second, where Sean just serves as a witness to his brother’s actions, plays more like a full motion picture. An enormous amount of un-skippable cut-scenes change LIS2 into a tedious, dragging journey straight from the worst selection of buy 1 get 3 free Z-class movies. The music and the mastery in creating an atmosphere that rose Dontnod to international fame due to widespread acclaim can’t save those sequences either. It almost feels like their own creation so enchanted the development team that they ignored all the red flags and clumsy solutions to immerse in the world themselves, treating the actual player as a lesser evil, throwing them a bone just to claim it is a video game format. To no surprise, most of the items the player interacts with don’t matter at all and don’t serve any purpose either to foreshadow an upcoming outcome, present exposition to the world, or be in any way helpful.

The lack of superpower is not an issue here though. Before the Storm met the expectations with way more grace, proving that a story doesn’t need a lot of strange in life to grip and hold its audience for hours. Watching a superhero growing up is an interesting premise, but a hell of a challenge to execute and execute well. Some stories like “Little Man Tate” translate to a brilliant film, but don’t necessarily work as games, after the planning stage or first Game Design Document. The references regarding the first game also remain scattered and uneven, tossed on the pile with a heap of faith that devoted fans would notice, but without a purpose in mind.

Even if I sound harsh, I do believe that Dontnod wanted to deliver the best story possible, but Life is Strange 2 feels even too big to absorb or fill with details. Captain Spirit, not necessarily my cup of tea either, was in my opinion way more coherent, as the creative team felt more comfortable with such a small scope of a product. Everything falls into place after careful exploration, makes more sense with every minute. The mystery about the mother, an alumnus of Blackwell Academy, and an admirer of Jefferson’s work is a solid premise that didn’t raise expectations up the roof nor overpromise. The mystery of yet another mother, this time Life is Strange 2, played for over 3 and a half episodes, falls flat in comparison and ends in the disappointing question “that’s it?”

No, that’s not it. There’s more to it.

Life is Strange 1 was mocked as Tumblr: The Game, while the second instance could easily pass as Twitter: The Animated Series. The writers didn’t challenge themselves or the audience to answer the question of why certain people voted for Donald Trump, or why they would do it yet again. The only reason presented in the story is quite simplistic and obvious – because they are evil, deplorable people, not worth listening to. They are the worst. We are better. Issues of being harangued by foreigners about domestic policies and troubles of your own country are a brewing can of worms I wouldn’t like to touch at the moment. Still, this particular stance, which serves as painful generalization that every single republican voter in the US is foul, can be forged only by someone who either lives in a bubble or doesn’t live here at all. Simply because we all have parents, grandparents, relatives, friends, or co-workers who decided to elect the actual prescient to power. Some of them are racists, disgusting, and horrible personas, and some just belong to the scared of change, confused and manipulated crowd that don’t accept the fast-paced transformation nor the need for a revolution. We coexist together, arguing and fighting, especially during holiday breaks, but even if it costs me a headache, I wouldn’t call them evil. Millions of people voted for Trump, but only a few wouldn’t spit on a swastika if confronted with the Nazi banner.

It’s even more painful when you understand what kind of message was sewed into the stitches of a shattered story. There was no ill will, or at least I don’t think so, but an honest, genuine need to express the concern about modern America. Unfortunately, when executed, this concern changed into another yell or discourse by the family table during an argument with your racist uncle. An open discussion in a game community that unifies both left and right supporters equally by their love for this form of entertainment would be appreciated by many, just like after playing LIS1, a handful of people changed their views on LGBT issues.

Instead of a lesson that had to be experienced, we got a lecture about morality and tolerance, contradicting itself constantly and nonchalantly following the well-known tropes NOT in a sarcastic and admirable way known from Saturday Night Live, but in a lazy and sometimes even clumsy substitute of a dramatic format. The political landscape painted in LIS2 is caricatural, unforgiving, harsh like a deserted wasteland with a few peaceful oases to stop at, but shies over its own existence, not willing to thoroughly discuss the dreadful weather. Guess what? The sand won’t change into greener pastures only because you close your eyes, putting your imagination to work. Donald Trump might not be re-elected for a second term, but his supporters will stay in place, even more conflicted by the other side. It’s a brave decision to deliver such a punitive story but such a cowardice to break its pillars, hoping that the general public wouldn’t notice or get distracted when things get too heated up.

The lack of subtlety forced scene by scene is even more polarizing. There is no peaceful dialogue with the other side as if it couldn’t exist in this world. There is no change of heart or a path to do so. Sometimes it feels like the only message that LIS2 writers wanted to provide was to find your own, peaceful and liberal hermitage, either among hipsters in the Redwood forest, driving a car that your ‘family with money but no soul’ had bought you or move to a trailer park filled with artistic souls in Nowhere, Arizona. Any contact with the outside world can hurt you and your feelings. Drop off the grid or die. The end.

No discussion.

The efforts of trying to understand the motivation behind even the most dreadful character of the first game, got lost in preparation for the second. LIS2 builds a higher wall between two political sides, than any other game released after Trump became the president of the United States and desperately wants to keep it erected, ignoring the crumbling foundations of such. A proverbial river you shall not cross nor build bridges over since the only outcome would end up in death, destruction, or you and your young brother getting hurt.

I’m familiar with the discussion about LIS2, especially with a shouting match that if you do not like this instance, you are therefore a racist pig, a disgusting person without a soul, conscience, or working brain that doesn’t understand the situation and never will. On the contrary. In my humble opinion, we deserve a better discussion, better stories, better representation, not sticking to whatever is presented because it’s brave enough or was never approached before. I disagree with the stance that a Latino, bisexual main character is enough to close your eyes, omitting all problems that this title tries to shun, riding its high horse. No. Those topics are way too crucial to just walk past, setting for less with your head down, thanking for the game industry to take notice. You the player deserve better, even if you don’t struggle with specific issues on a daily basis. And after playing LIS2, you may feel so good about yourself, stating that an effort was made but it it wasn’t made enough.

I expected more. I wanted Dontnod to do more, and frankly, I feel silly putting so much faith in them and supporting their efforts. Armed with resources provided by Square Enix, I’m sure they are aware of the fact that most of their audience is quite young and wouldn’t mind a lesson or message about what to do amidst troubled times. Well, Dontnod doesn’t have any but warns you that voicing your opinion or being different may end up in disaster. Outraged, they just yell at the news, angry about what our reality has changed into, but nothing comes out of it. It’s all right, though. Our parents do the same thing. We started to do the same thing, but instead of complaining to family members, we have Twitter.

While Life is Strange 2 tries really hard to come across as a realistic and raw portrait of the US at the end of the decade, they didn’t have enough courage to show realistic obstacles two runaways would be faced with. The brothers do meet a handful of bigots and racists, but the rest of the fellow travelers help them beyond understanding or hidden agenda. Sean and Daniel never really struggle to find a place to stay or a warm meal, usually complaining on or off the screen just before the game mercifully provides them with a solution. There’s no trap they can fall into, no ambiguous characters that promise one thing and then demand something in return. It’s very honorable for Brody to pay for a place to stay, but if an adult man gave young kids a key to a motel room, I would consider a way more sinister outcome. It’s not even about Brody himself, since good people exist, just like the racist ones, but the boys not even once are put in a realistic, scary situation created by a supposed ally. If somebody is helpful, this person is always decent, offering them a job, a ride, some food or money. The bad people wear red hats and yell racist slurs. America by Dontnod is simple to navigate but raw and painful when not necessary and fairy-tale-like when it could teach an actual lesson. Running away from home is not so hazardous because of Trump supporters but because you can end up dead in a ravine, being robbed and raped. It’s not the first and surely not the last time when the developers feared to touch any topic of sexual abuse with a ten-foot pole, but then the journey plays more like a vacation than a desperate escape. Sean gets beaten-up a few times, loses his eye due to a brawl, but it doesn’t affect him at all in the long run. When Daniel finally gets kidnapped, it’s not an Epstein-like circle, dealing with human trafficking, but a religious cult that worships him. The first option, even if it feels like a stretch, is unfortunately way more realistic than the latter.

Preaching to the choir is not the biggest sin this game commits though. That brings me to the most discussed theme of the production, which is education.

With all due respect to the developers, writers, and designers, Life is Strange 2 in this aspect falls flat as a discovery of a Sunday father, who is responsible for taking his kid to the zoo and struggles to find any common ground with his offspring, either trying to crack jokes about famous pop-culture phenomena or talk about food discussing their next favorite meal. The said father is trying his best though, perfectly aware that it’s his only chance to teach his son a thing or two, but doesn’t know exactly where to start, torn apart between buying more ice cream and throwing a fit about a stain on the carpet. The father doesn’t even like kids that much and can’t translate his lessons into an engaging play that would be memorized forever, rolling his eyes and counting the days to his kid’s graduation so they could share a beer or two and talk about adult things. Now, any effort to explain how the world works seems to be in vain, therefore a waste of his precious time. Leaving the emotional approach aside, the father doesn’t have to cuddle with his kid when he’s scared, bullied, traumatized or asks millions of questions about the future or present, because the full-time mother is waiting at home willing to replace him in this duty. The mother, knowing that her ex-partner sucks big time at talking about feelings, will be the one who will hold the kid, patiently explaining that the boogieman does not exist, playing pirates, or stay late at night to distract his sorrows. The kid will never discuss his fears with his dad though, trying so hard to impress his male parent. He will never know, and it’s fine. The mother is going to do the job while he can deliver a once a week entertainment along with the lines of ultimate wisdom that most likely will be forgotten anyway.

This is not raising a kid, it’s nursing them like a fragile plant in a flowerpot, focusing on water, sun, and fertilizer, but discarding the emotional background, hoping that somebody else would take care of such issues if things go south.

Sean can’t raise his brother well, simply because he is immature and will stay immature for the rest of the game. There is no moment when he truly goes through a transformation changing from a boy to a man, a fully grown-up adult who takes responsibility for his actions and makes sacrifices for the sake of the greater good. No, surrendering in a fight in the church doesn’t serve as one, neither does the first sexual experience. He doesn’t wonder even once if the hastily constructed plan is benefiting Daniel, forcing it to the last minutes of the game, taking the separation as the worst thing that could happen. There’s no spark of a tragedy like in “The Road” when a father gives up his son to strangers for the sake of saving him. Sean doesn’t care, presenting no character development across the board, merely pushing forward. If there are doubts, they disappear in the blink of an eye when the next cut-scene takes place.

I understand that such a young lad as Sean wouldn’t know how to raise a kid, especially if having no model to rely on. However, a part of growing pains is developing the awareness that we know way less than we assumed. That said, Sean Diaz is always assuming he is right, not asking for advice regarding Daniel even once. Apparently, it’s not something that he’s interested in or ever will be. If Life is Strange 2 wants to pass as a coming of age story, it falls on its face before it even starts.

Moreover, locked in the auto-driven plot, Sean cannot grow up and gain a new perspective; otherwise, the story wouldn’t reach its big, explosion-packed finale of crossing the border. His desperate efforts of influencing his brother usually converge to order him around, feed him with half-truths or simply leave him in the dark when convenient. I didn’t see any difference or change in Sean’s approach from episode one when he scolded his brother, annoyed for his party plans being interrupted, and in episode three, when he reacts similarly, for the sake of spending time alone with the chosen love interest. There’s no deep thought, no wonder about his own wrongdoings expressed to his brother, no faults admitted, no fallacies explained, with one life-threating situation after another. From an illegal weed growing farm, to destroying police stations, Sean just follows the road, paved by the writers, oblivious to the harm done to his younger sibling, as if Daniel simply forgets the morally gray choices, growing his moral spine entirely on performing chores. Washing the dishes and peeling potatoes does not make us better people but understanding a perspective so different than our own does. Thanks to Sean, Daniel expands his world, but it’s a very one-sided perspective, focusing on always praised, hippie-style liberties, and disregarding every option that requires any code of conduct, as represented by the grandparents. While the older brother forces the younger one to keep up with the designed tasks, he never discusses the issues that really matter. In episode 3, the youngster gets involved in a heist, a robbery, but after it fails, costing Sean his eye and the possible death of some of their companions, this is never mentioned. Mexico, a plan that is hardly a plan at all, is supposed to be an answer to all the questions and doubts. El Dorado of knowledge.

This is not how you raise a dog, not to mention a child.

There is no emotional bond, no special ties between the brothers, except a few problematic moments that play mostly on simple connection forged by blood, not by circumstances. Sean worries about Daniel because he’s his brother, but the player starts to wonder quite quickly why and what for. Reminiscing about old times gets nailed down to a few lines about the comforts and amenities of a life long gone. The tough topics, such as grieving after personally witnessing their father’s death, are mentioned scarcely and without much emphasis, as if serving only as a reminder to the player, but not a poignant struggle. Same goes with the dog, their friends mutilated at the end of the weed farm chapter, Chris (aka captain spirit) who is mentioned just before the end credits of the second episode, and tons of others. On top of it, the scattered and not so often dialogue lines about putting people in danger refer only to the good folk, siding with the brothers, not to humankind in general. Killing a police officer or knocking down a gas station owner are just natural ways of how things work in America, honorable deeds since it’s apparently perfectly fine for a kid to attempt a homicide if people are mean.

What a brave story.

Chloe Price had been suffering for five years after William, her beloved father, died in a car crash. For Sean and Daniel, there is no grief to experience, but a memory to share with a plan to erect a monument in the future. Esteban Diaz is a plot device, a symbol of inequality, but not a family member. Even a dream sequence with his guest appearance lacks the impact of the subconscious conversations we’ve seen in Before the Storm. It just simply doesn’t matter.

I can’t believe I have to say this but the relatable part about LIS1 wasn’t the tornado, just like in LIS2 crossing the border is its weakest point, but it’s those small moments, gestures, quick smiles in passing, the atmosphere and a breath of fresh air when a line, sometimes silly, got dropped. In the most recent story, there is not a single line worth quoting, memorizing, or discussing. And please, don’t bring up “awesome possum” again. It’s literally taken from The Lego Movie song.

The brothers, just like Thelma and Louise, decide to leave everything behind, throwing away the life as they knew it and forging their own future despite all odds. Although, when the two desperate women drive off the cliff committing suicide, chased by the armed forces, there is nothing to explain as the audience fully understands their reasoning. Their will of life was strong, but the path they followed was too steep to return. Without any help or support, confronted with brutal honesty and the world’s cruelty around them, it is the best possible solution. The story of the two brothers, even if it tries to echo the iconic movie, couldn’t be more different. Despite resources at their disposal, family members that do care about their wellbeing, the whole community rising in protest in their hometown, they risk everything for the sake of getting back to the land they don’t even know. Their Mexican heritage is also mentioned just as an exposition, and, as we learn in the very last episode, just before the ending that Daniel doesn’t speak Spanish. So why do the stubborn Diaz brothers despite all odds travel to Mexico? Because.

Canada was too close, I guess.

Last but not least, let’s talk about sex, because why the hell not. A lot of fans or admirers of the previous instances howled across all social media about how much they miss Max and Chloe. I don’t really think it’s the case, but those two girls symbolize something that LIS2 has a tremendous problem with. There’s no emotional connection between the characters the brothers meet along the way, especially the ones that really should matter. Even the love interests feel more like nagging choices than anything else, an experiment during a camping trip, not something that would last or could be fantasized about. Instead of nerve-wracking decisions such as if you’re supposed to kiss Rachel, hold her hand, or the ecstatic discovery (for PriceFielders, but it was ecstatic, right?) that Chloe changed her phone’s background, we are instead presented with a lineup of sexual experiences, that maybe trail-blaze the road when it comes to topics tackled by a video game, but fall into obscurity as an emotional construction. There is no build-up between Sean and Finn as everything develops to a kiss in one conversation, and Cassidy has fewer lines than Victoria Chase before she invites Sean to her tent. We watch it as we watched it before, trying to get attached, feel something, but the only thing we remember was how much it touched us years ago when we played a different game but with a similar title. The sex scene, relatable or not, is stripped from the emotional intimacy and is as sensitively challenging as a dog being killed.

Character development doesn’t move an inch even if Sean, a surrogate father to his brother, lost his virginity to an older girl. There’s no single thought in his head that he might conceive his own offspring during this short but probably memorable experience. There’s not a single line except for the satisfaction of some female parts finally discovered. Oh, dashing explorer, will you ever learn?

It’s sad. I did want to like this game and gave it plenty of chances like no other titles ever. I’ve made excuses for the poor execution, technical problems, with the whiny voice acting that was driving me up the wall, plot twists written (I think) on a lunch break, and so on, but I couldn’t stand it. It’s a hard pass when it comes to a video game in general, not to mention the story, script, and everything else. Life is Strange season one; a low-budget production, was the first step to create a masterpiece that LIS2 might’ve been able to become. The second season didn’t learn much from LIS1’s mistakes, additionally exchanging the well-known beauty for a garbage fire, ignoring all the warning signs along the way. Delivering a story that tackles such important topics, it slides between the checkmarks on the board of issues, mentioning conversion therapy, religion, gayness, illegal immigration, and a spiral of crimes but never elaborating on any of them. There is no meat and potatoes presented on the plate of events, but just a sticky, sweet gravy with nothing underneath that leaves you not only hungry but frustrated, willing to call the chef and yell at the waiter. The trick is that unless you were living under a rock, there are tons of other productions in different media that give those themes justice, carefully unfolding all the aspects, giving voice to both sides. The fact that it’s the first video game having an affair with serious issues doesn’t matter. I don’t believe that anybody who consumes any kind of other media like decent books, movies, or TV shows can remain blind to the problems of Life is Strange 2, claiming it to be a good story. It’s not.

So here we are, girls, boys, and beyond. Life is Strange 2 with its broken mechanics, story, characters, and spirit slowly but surely will be forgotten. It’s Dontnod’s Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within that you might love to watch or play on your brand-new TV, despite what everybody else would say, omitting any valid or invalid criticism, but unfortunately, it won’t change the general optics about this particular piece of media. A lost chance or recklessness created a convoluted mess and with a heart beating in the wrong place. You might praise Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within, get excited about it since it’s a free world, free country (and even if it’s not, no one will take this ersatz of such liberty) and don’t let anybody tell you what to love. The problem is, that most likely the only thing that people will remember about this production is that the main male character looked like Ben Affleck and the hair animation was dope. Everything else won’t matter.

The same thing goes, unfortunately, for Life is Strange 2, subtitle: The Spirits Without.

#life is strange 2 #review #honest #dontnod #square enix

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ringmaster-jack · 4 years

Text

Lore

♠️ The wayward ringmaster had gained many a title over the passing years(both boastful and infamous), but only one name held any permanence-- and that name was Jack. A common name, simple, yet among those who had the misfortune of dealing with him, it held a weight to it. ♠️

Note: Lots of triggering content in the following expansion related to mental health, abuse, suicide, drugs, etc. Be warned.

♠️ Born in the dregs of Dawnhold to an ex-aristocrat and a Shuriman immigrant, Jack was the second oldest of ten; proceeding his sister by a mere two minutes. Though his first three years of life were relatively unremarkable, everything changed after the mysterious passing of his father.

Coming from highblood society, his mother, Harper Farrowthrone, had been excommunicated from her family inheritance when she'd chosen to follow her heart, instead of adhering to the tradition of an arranged marriage. Pregnant with their fifth child, her husband's passing left her emotionally and financially crippled. It was the beginning of a long and miserable life-- for her, of course, but even more for the multitude of children she brought into the world.

His twin was provided a formal education, trumped up to be the one who would excel and provide for them in her later years-- but Jack and his younger siblings were not so lucky. Jack spent most of his formative years taking odd jobs and stealing what he could to help care for his family. They never settled in one place for too long, as his mother's growing reputation as a courtesan often preceded her.

Jack was an obedient boy, quiet, if only to mask his stutter. But his unbridled sense of curiosity would get him into trouble more often than not. He spent what free time he had teaching himself to read-- and after that, absorbing as much knowledge as he could through any means available. He had a interest in many topics. Music, animals, magic--especially magic. It was forbidden in their homeland, after all, so like any overly-inquisitive child, he would seek it out--forbidden or not.

Unfortunately, it was this curiosity combined with an overabundance of childhood trauma that led him into a tumultuous teenage life, filled with excessive amounts of rebellion and a rapidly growing criminal record. In and out of detainment for any number of reasons, it was rare for the youth to ever be home, except to aid his younger siblings whenever their mother was being particularly neglectful.

His 16th birthday was marked by a suicide attempt.

Rather than addressing what were some glaringly obvious mental health issues, his mother--now only known as Harper by his word, had opted to take a more tough-love approach to dealing with her unruly son. He’d barely been given time to heal before he’d been cast off to the military, deemed fit for battle if only because his seemingly unstable mannerisms were clocked as fraudulence, an attempt to dodge a duty that most able-bodied citizens of Demacia were fated to live.

It came as no surprise that he only lasted a year or so before he ended up exiled from the nation entirely, a dishonorable discharge, and then some.

Jack didn’t mind. If anything, he found his newfound exile freeing; no longer bound by the walls, laws, or a system of belief that never did anything but bring him suffering. He took to the lands to pursue a lifelong dream of becoming a famous musician, adopting the title of bard and performing for any and everyone who might care to listen. Though he held a raw talent for music, and a captivating energy that earned him many a free drink or sordid love affair, he never gained much in the way of wealth. He spent a couple of years bouncing from city to city, his starry-eyed conjecture and youthful determination quickly stifled by the harshness of the world outside the myopic views of Demacian society.

Beaten down by a vagabond lifestyle with little to show for his efforts, Jack’s luck seemed to change when his sister stumbled upon him. Grown and graduated, Tabitha had followed her own path; though unlike her more creative sibling, she held an ambition for science. With a bit of arm twisting, she convinced her twin to follow her to Piltover-Zaun; and give up on his childish pursuits so he could make a ‘real life’ for himself in the city of progress.

Jack settled quickly into Zaun, though perhaps not for the better. He’d dappled in the use of mind-altering substances in the past, and in violence-- but it was Zaun where he truly began forming habits that he’d later become known for amidst the shadiest districts of the city’s underbelly.

His first feat of homicide had been justified, an act of self-defense over a trick turned horrifically sour. The following 14, however, not so much. It hadn’t taken a lot to ignite his untapped bloodlust. Sat on years of surplus trauma and a developing affinity for stimulants, he was selective about who he took down, however the personal code of morality in which he followed was deeply askew. He’d thought himself a vigilante of sorts; but more than one of those who he’d killed had earned their deaths for as little as a particularly offensive insult. Getting away with murder in Zaun was surprisingly easy; so long as you were smart about it.

By the time his 15th victim met their gruesome demise, Jack had earned himself two nicknames in the local papers. The first, ‘The Nightwalker’, which wouldn’t have been so bad had it not implied he was a female prostitute thanks to his penchant for killing mostly men. The second, and one he proudly embraced in privacy, was ‘The Jackal’, a title he’d been dubbed in reference to the jackal-like gasmask he tended to wear on many of his ‘outings’, ever the stylish sort. Neither of these personas were linked to that 15th murder; one of the only others where self-defense could have truly been claimed. And it was; successfully, when his sister turned him over to the authorities.

It was an extreme act of betrayal in Jack’s eyes; he and his sister had always been close, and she already knew of his so-called ‘habits’. Her streak of sadism was perhaps more vile than his own, merely cloaked beneath a thin but legally passable veil of ‘scientific progress’. Little did he know how deep her betrayal ran, fueled by years of a lust for something greater than herself.

Jack’s follies had landed him in what was perhaps the most notorious asylum in the city, if not all of Valoran. Incidentally his sisters place of occupation, Jack had never pieced together the direct connection between her and the two and a half years of ‘treatment’ he received; a colorful term for what was in essence torture.

Rumors of the experimentation and abuse that patients suffered were commonplace among the denizens of Zaun-Piltover, though there’d never been any formal investigation into such matters. Most of those forced to live among the padded walls were criminally insane, the lowest of the low in an already corrupt world that didn’t give a second thought to what happened behind closed doors. Many horrors took place in the iron penitentiary for those unlucky enough to dwell there, and the Demacian was no exception to that rule.

Where Jack sought pleasure, his sister sought power--something she intended to achieve by any means necessary. Obsessed with studying an ancient entity she’d attained from a generational blood bond, Jack had never thought much of the strange black bottle his sister kept with her throughout their childhood. A sentimental trinket she'd been gifted by their father before his passing, where he'd been left with nothing-- it was just another demotivational tic in an already lengthy list of family dysfunction. Tabitha had convinced her employers to fund her experimentation with the promise that if successful, the eldritch being could be used as a powerful weapon for Zaun, much like Targon's incarceration of the star dragon Aurelion Sol.

Though there was some truth to this promise, the woman had much greater ideals. Rather than upholding a centuries-long duty to guard and confine this creature in secrecy and silence, Tabitha sought to directly bind herself to the beast instead, and ultimately gain access to what was a potentially limitless well of celestial power. An attractive and intelligent woman, Tabitha had all the charms and wiles of her less fortunate brother, and she executed them to her advantage at every given turn. Countless lives were lost in her quest to find a way to anchor this dark deity to a living human before she’d administer her unethical practices onto her own brother; an act that, much to her surprise, actually proved to be successful.

Successful to a degree, that was.

While the beast accepted Jack as it’s host(unlike those unfortunate souls who she’d tried to bind it to in prior times) Tabitha found difficulty in actually controlling it-- or her brother, who had, understandably, not taken well to being used for such horrific experimentation. But Jack hadn’t the slightest idea that it was his own sister who had orchestrated these things, as well as the following attempts to brainwash and psychologically manipulate him.

Always a stubborn man, Jack resisted the conditions he faced with fervency. The power that came with being bedeviled by a dark god wouldn't have been so bad. Though he was terrified of the creature, they eventually formed a symbiosis, a sympathy given to what he came to realize was merely another being that had undergone it’s own sequence of horrors prior to his arrival at the asylum.

What had driven Jack past the breaking point was being told these things were a product of his own mind--that the people who ended up dead around him had been taken by his own hand, that he blacked out and had no recollection of it--that he was indeed, totally, utterly insane, and needed to be treated if he ever hoped to be anything more than this. Jack knew he had some issues, but hallucinations and murderous blackouts had never been a part of that equation. Almost constantly medicated and forced to undergo an assortment of studies which did more harm than good, it was inevitable that escaping became top priority. At times, this notion extended to the prospect of escaping by means of death-- never successful, though it did land him in isolation for long periods of time.

With an intense fear of being alone, and a strange dynamic to the creature he was told didn’t exist, Jack found solace in speaking through the walls. Often times he wasn’t certain if anyone was even there--but on rare occasions, he’d earn a response or two from the patrons on the other side. He formed what he assumed to be a one-sided friendship with a very particular fellow--a man to whom he later found out to be a notorious murderer himself, and one that Jack held a bittersweet envy for in his own time on the streets. When they’d first met face to face, it was in the medical ward, and incidentally the first time he’d made a successful attempt at escaping with aid from the other killer, who had unfortunately not been so lucky to reach the outside world.

He was free for only a few weeks before he returned, despite all common sense and the adamant disapproval of the being still bound to his mind. Jack had made a promise to his friend behind the walls, a promise to get him out of there, too-- and he couldn’t shake that thought from his consciousness. Unsurprisingly, his shoddy attempt proved unsuccessful, landing him back in his own confinement and exposing him to tortures that far exceeded anything he’d experienced thus far.

Unable to successfully control the man or the beast that inhabited him, Tabitha ordered their separation. It was an incredibly painful experience, and one that didn’t go quite according to plan, as it ultimately resulted in nearly killing her brother, and later on, the escape of the creature who she tried to manipulate. Though Jack survived this particularly gruesome procedure, it left him physically and mentally scarred, blocking out memory of the incident entirely-- though that could have been in part the brain surgery. This worked in Tabitha’s favor, as several months after losing her prime subject, she’d sent her brother back into the world as a form of bait. Though no longer physically bound to the entity, Jack still held remnants of it’s essence inside him-- which she’d hoped would serve as a lure.

For a short time, he’d occupied the home of one of his sister’s partners, Seraphina, to whom she had arranged his living-- but soon found himself at odds with her over any number of things. Their personalities clashed, but it seemed the woman was rather persistent in staying with him-- especially after his sister’s untimely death in an accident that he never really did get much information on.

Even when he took to the streets, Seraphina was persistent in her effort to keep him out of trouble, though more often than not he ended up dragging her into his shenanigans too. Ever the astute charmer, it didn’t take too much effort for Jack to convince the woman to follow him into the world of showmanship-- an idea that had come to him and stuck there after a particularly eye-opening night witnessing a small but impressive sideshow. Seraphina was an animal behavioral therapist by occupation, having formed her thesis on the language and habits of fire drakes after several years of living in the wilds, and the thought of being able to work with creatures like this again was an irresistible temptation-- not to mention she’d be given the freedom to use her elemental abilities without the risk of being patronized or imprisoned.

Though their act started off small, it only took a year for them to make their mark. Coming from wealth, Seraphina provided the funds that got them off their feet, and did most of the paperwork and partnering needed to establish their place in the sideshow circuit. Though Jack, with his natural charisma and assortment of talents(A Jack of all trades, as it were) had taken the title of Ringmaster, the firebreather ran things behind closed doors--something that the ringmaster all but forgot the more his own popularity grew. He developed a small fan base who would follow them when they went on tour, something that only emphasized his already bolstered ego-- his dream of taking an almost rockstar persona realized in the performing arts.

By the third year, they’d made themselves known among Zaun and otherwise-- with a wide array of ragtag performers and freaks, many of whom were taken off the streets and welcomed in to their caravan with gusto. Having formed a family of sorts, Jack and his posse opted to take base in the underground catacombs of Zaun, a place he’d frequently explored in his previous years on the streets but never fully realized the potential of until he brought others with him. Styling it into their home, it wasn’t always the safest lifestyle, but they’d managed to cultivate and furnish much of the area enough to be quite comfortable. For Jack, it was also a brilliant means to continuing pursuing his less acceptable hobbies without fear of persecution, carving out an entire sector for him and him alone.

Things continued like this for a couple more years without too much turbulence save for the usual array of misbehavior that Jack was prone to-- everything had finally started to fall into place. He finally had a purpose in life, a calling, and he embraced it with the utmost passion-- perhaps too much at times, but it was a far cry from the life he’d led before, all but forgotten with the passage of time.

Until their 5th year.

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cozycryptidcorner · 5 years

Photo

The Unlikely Alliance, Chapter 2

Hey, everyone! A donor who wishes to remain anonymous has paid for a continuation of Sally and Ronan’s story! Please enjoy. I’d like to thank both the original commissioner and the anonymous donor for their support!

You can read the first chapter here, if you haven’t already!

The watercolor wash of yellow and orange begins to dry as Sally starts mixing the perfect shade for the bright red foliage of the surrounding trees, the large window on the side of the living room giving her the perfect view without her having to go outside in the cold. Three mugs sprawl out in front of her, one for cleaning the paintbrush off, one for untainted mixing water, and one for her tea that she might have accidentally placed her brush in once or twice. Gently blowing on the first layer of paint to get it to dry quicker, Sally glances up at the old clock, mentally calculating how long Ronan has gone. About… two hours at this point.

She can’t look at her phone to call or text him; it’s been turned off and placed in the safe that Ronan has in the basement. There is a single, ancient-looking landline with Ronan’s phone number scribbled on a notecard to the side, and when Sally had lifted the receiver, she heard the telltale hum of the connection. Even though she had debated calling him, she didn’t want to come off as clingy. Hanging out by yourself in a cabin that’s so far away from civilization with only a single ratty old dirt road to get to and from it can give anyone an extra dose of nervousness, so it’s not like she’s irrational with wanting company. While she could just hang out in the room Ronan had presented as hers earlier in the day, with the gorgeous cross-stitch piece hanging in a frame on the wall, she feels strange sitting on the bed as if she’s invading someone else’s space.

Instead of spiraling down with her insecurities and fears, though, she begins to paint a beautiful maple tree. A part of her wishes she could have her phone to play some of the music she wants to hear, but at least there’s a little portable radio that she has tuned to a station with a decent array of music. The only downside is, of course, the advertisements that she can’t just skip after five seconds or pay for premium access, leaving her to suffer through it. By the time Ronan gets back, she’s already shouting alongside the ’BIG MAC is BAC’ commercial with great success.

“I leave you for what, a few hours, and you’ve already been brainwashed by corporate propaganda.”

She hadn’t heard him come in since the radio had been turned up to the maximum volume to try and drown out her anxiety. In fact, Sally has been so wound up that she is one hundred percent prepared to stab him in the eye with the back of her paintbrush, knuckles white against the wooden handle as she spins around. At the sight of him, hands full of grocery bags in the posture of someone who will only make one trip from the car to the fridge even if it kills him, she lets out a sigh of relief, setting the makeshift weapon back down on the kitchen table. Maybe she should turn down the radio, even if it’s just a little bit.

Ronan sets the reusable (reusable!) bags down on the counter, the plastic-like material crinkling slightly as he does so. As he unloads the different groceries down- bread, eggs, bacon, and so on- he’s already separating some of the items away from the others, putting almost everything away except a select few. Within moments, he’s got a cast iron skillet on the old gas stove, lighting a match to ignite one of the burners. Oil, then vegetables, stirred with a wooden spoon, the smell almost becoming too much for Sally’s empty stomach to sit quietly. She tries to distract herself from the hunger by clearing away her art supplies out from the center of the table, setting everything carefully to the side.

After just a moment of mixing on heat, he adds eggs, waiting just a moment before lifting the panhandle with a cloth, shaking it back and forth for a moment, flipping the omelet with nothing more than the help of physics. Sally almost bursts into laughter, but she’s too shocked to do anything more than stare as it finishes cooking. Ronan slides the food onto a plate he had quickly rinsed and dried, placing it just in front of her as if he’s a professional chef. After the moment of shock wears off, Sally picks up the fork and takes a bite, and, okay, she won’t lie. She was expected it not to taste anywhere near as good as it does.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you can cook?” She asks, incredulously, as she shovels an unladylike amount of food into her mouth. “I wouldn’t have ordered all the takeout if I had known!”

“You never asked.” Ronan’s mouth curves in a slight smirk. “And besides, I never turn down free food. Or the opportunity to not work as hard.”

Sally lets out a puff of exacerbated breath because of course, but doesn’t feel the need to complain as she eats the rest of the food. Of course, she volunteers to do the dishes, might as well offer up some productivity, so while she starts filling the sink with sudsy water, she watches Ronan’s movements like a hawk. There’s something about the awkwardness of invading someone’s house that feels like it’s increased by threefold because… well, it’s Ronan, and she doesn’t know anything about it. The fact that she is in his cabin with a hypothetical window into his life, it feels strange.

Once the dishes are done, Sally realized how little there is to do. Yes, she can finish this painting today, and another one tomorrow, and another one after that. But with the limited amount of things to use as subject pieces, ohhhhh noooo, she’s going to get so restless. Pulling all her supplies back from the corner of the table and spreading everything out again, she tries to distract herself with the inevitability of cabin fever as she continues painting each and every leaf that she can see. The few hours before dinner fly by quickly, as they tend to do when she’s engrossed in her work, and Ronan is soon back in the kitchen, working on whatever recipe he has up his sleeve.

“Question,” Sally starts as Ronan sits across from her, “and feel free to shut me down if you think I’m acting xenophobic, I’ll knock it off. I know that werewolves feel the urge to change during the full moon, but I don’t think you’ve disappeared in the couple of months you’ve been with me.” Inwardly, she cringes at her choice of words. Sounds almost like they’re a couple.

Ronan cocks his head to the side slightly, eyes flickering in thought. “Well, you know how people who are violently allergic to things have epipens, right?” At her nod, he continues, reaching into his pocket and pulling out something about the size of a thick pencil. “Werewolves have something similar. If we feel the need to turn, we’ll slam this into our thigh, and that should stave off anything for a good couple of hours, which normally is enough time to get away from whatever the trigger is.”

Oh, it suddenly makes sense now. “That’s convenient,” she says, unable to think of any other words to describe having to stab yourself whenever you felt on the edge of a frenzy. Good isn’t quite the term she is looking for since this isn’t really a situation that could be construed as positive.

Ronan shrugs as though it’s nothing. “It’s easier than being locked up in the slum camps.”

Sally bites down her tongue and doesn’t say anything else. Once a were ends up in the slum camps, whether it was for petty crime or a fully fledged change in a populated area, it is very, very difficult for them to get back out. Even if they do, they need to have a human sponsor, an upcoming job with on the book wages, and those are the only two qualifications that she, a person who has lived a somewhat sheltered life, knows about. She has little doubt that there are so much more hoops those poor people have to jump through simply to be able to walk around unchained again.

Silently, she pokes at the food on her plate, scrambling for a way to turn this conversation somewhat positive, but the first thing that pops into her head is, “I’m glad that you’re the one protecting me.”

There is a pause, during which she is mentally kicking herself before Ronan responds. “This is the best job I could ask for given the circumstances.”

Which isn’t really an affirmation of any kind, more of a double-edged sword. They finished their food in silence, and Sally immediately started clearing the table. There’s no dishwasher, which she is only momentarily grateful for since that’s thirty minutes she doesn’t have to think about how she should be productive. Instead of hanging out in the living area with Ronan as he begins to clean and oil a wickedly sharp looking hunting knife, Sally finally decides to retreat to the room she’ll be staying in.

While it might not even be close to the most luxurious place she has ever been to, it most definitely is the homiest. And, as Sally thinks about it, homey is something she favors much more than whatever money can buy. Home is someplace that someone works to get, their emotions bleed through the surface, their love and hard work pouring into every crevice of the log walls and wooden floor. At the same time, Sally feels almost like she shouldn’t be there, that she is intruding on someone else’s life, and that she doesn’t deserve to catch glimpses of what Ronan is like outside of his job.

In any case, she lays down, the sheets stiff from years of unuse, pillow so saggy beneath her neck that she has to fold it in half for any kind of support. While the curtains have been drawn shut from whenever Ronan was last here, Sally eyes them suspiciously, as though someone might be on the other side, biding their time. With the tossing and turning she does, it’s a miracle she can even get a wink of sleep in the night, her heart thumping at any kind of creak the house sounds as it settles. That’s the thing about different buildings, they make unique noises in the night. It’s funny how little it took for Sally to forget that just from living a single year in an apartment.

Just as she had predicted; the next days of monotony begin to drive her mad. Sally tries her best to stay busy, she does, but she can only do so much homework without her professor’s instructions before she begins to lose it. She’s painted almost every interesting position out of the windows, and then gathered up some random objects from the cabin and tried making a still life. That painting only partially developed before she got bored of the subject material and abandoned it, still taped to a random piece of wood board she found for stability. Ronan walks with her outside, but only in short, quick bursts, not nearly enough to make Sally feel less isolated from the rest of the world.

Even though Sally would rather very much prefer that Ronan doesn’t leave her side, he still has to go out and buy food, without her. She watches him leave in another motorcycle he had stashed away in the adjacent shed (apparently he has more than just one), since taking her car might catch the attention from the wrong person. The moment he leaves from view, she begins to feel nervous once more, and even while she tries to rationalize it, you really can’t logic anxiety away.

Before she has a chance to spiral, the door knocks.

Her mouth goes dry.

Ronan always just strolls through the door like he owns the place, because, you know, so someone knocking would mean that this is someone else; theoretically, she thinks, trying to calm herself. Ronan might have just forgotten his keys, the ones he used to… leave… on the motorcycle. There’s a hunting knife that hangs on the wall like some antique trophy, so Sally stands on the tips of her toes to snag it before approaching the door. Biting her lower lip from nervousness, her fingers close around the cold doorknob as she tries calming her breath. Then, slowly, she opens it.

It’s a little girl, only about as tall as her waist, clothes filthy, puffy hair full of dirt, leaves, and twigs. The side of her quivering mouth is dripping with blood, her faded jeans ripped around her left knee. The eyes, though, are what catch Sally’s attention the most; bright, ruby-red, the color vivid enough to feel like it glows against her dull, earthy skin. In a small, mousy voice, she asks, “are you Ronan?”

“I- um, Ronan isn’t here right now, can I help you with anything?”

Wrong thing to say, apparently, because the little girl sticks out her lower lip, tears filling her eyes, and begins to bawl as if Sally had just straight slapped her instead.

Immediately panicking, she bends over, trying to get to the little child’s level, and begins to let out a hasty bit of comfort. “It’s- it’s alright. Ronan should be back any minute, really, he just went out to get food.” She realizes that she still has a machete the size of her forearm in hand, and not only is it probably terrifying the kid, but it’s also too late to do anything about it. Camly, robotically, she places it up on the coat hanger shelf that sits on the wall, directly to the side of the door while the girl goes hysterical.

Sally has never really needed to deal with a screaming child, and as the girl’s breath comes out in uneven gasps and chokes, tears clearing away the dirt from her cheeks and chin, she just sort of stands there, watching for a moment in complete befuddlement. Without any other idea of what to do, Sally ushers her in, setting the girl on one of the couches while she searches for something to wipe the grime with, going through the drawers frantically as she temporarily forgets where anything is with the impending stress. Finally, Sally is victorious, lifting up a small washcloth before running it under warm water from the tap.

The little girl doesn’t protest as Sally begins to gently scrub the mud off her face, her sobs slowing down to quiet, miserable hiccups as she gradually gets cleaner. Now, Sally doesn’t exactly have anything that could possibly fit this girl’s skinny, tiny frame, but there is no way she is going to let this poor creature stay in those dirty clothes a minute longer. One of her painting shirts should do the trick, and since it exists merely for the express purpose of getting dirty, Sally doesn’t mind its fate too terribly. Sally helps the girl change after she locates the shirt, slipping the oversized thing over her dusty hair, the stick-like arms popping out of the sleeves after Sally reaches through the holes to help guide her hands.

Soon enough, Sally has a much calmer child sitting at the table, pouring glass after glass of water for her to drink as if the poor thing has gone days without. There are billions of questions circling inside Sally’s head, what is a child doing out in the forest, why does she look like she just clawed her way out of hell, and how exactly is Ronan involved with this, but she starts with something small, something easily given up. “My name is Sally, what’s yours?”

The girl looks up at her, like a deer in headlights.

Sally feels almost guilty, the poor thing looks like she’s ready to be punched in the gut at any moment. “It’s alright if you don’t want to tell me, that’s you’re choice to make.”

It takes only a moment of silence. Quietly, as though the girl fears some kind of reprimand, she speaks. “Bernadette.”

Sally tries not to revel too hard at this step in the right direction. “Bernadette? That’s your name?” At the girl’s nod, Sally tries offering some encouragement for the show of trust. “That’s such a beautiful name! Not quite as fancy and pretty as plain old Sally, huh?”

Bernadette’s mouth twitches upward in a way that reminds Sally of Ronan, the hesitancy for showing any positive emotion was so on par that she gets an overwhelming sense of deja vu. Just as she’s about to start wheedling the story of why a kid that can’t be more than eight years old is out and about in the deep wilderness, more knocking comes from the door. It’s not like the girl’s knocking, which had been quiet and timid, but loud, demanding. Bernadette’s eyes glance up to drawn curtains as if they would suddenly disappear to reveal her worst nightmare lurking on the porch.

As Sally approaches the door, she feels her heart lurching in her stomach as she hears thick, dull sounding footsteps just outside on the porch. If this were a few months ago, Sally would automatically assume it’s Ronan, clomping on the wooden porch and waiting to be let in. But something is off about the rhythm of the steps, the sound of the boots, ticks and shows that someone would only catch if they are just shy of being intimately familiar with a person.

Carefully, she retrieves the machete back from the top of the coat rack, gripping it so tightly that her knuckles turn white. There is no peephole to look through, so Sally just opens the door quickly in the hopes of throwing whoever it is off their game, giant knife hidden behind her back in a not so subtle manner. “Can I help you?”

The sight of this man makes her skin crawl.

For one, his smile is far too wide for her comfort. It reminds her of that one man her dad still does business with, one that watched her with eyes a little too hawk-like when she was younger, showering Sally with strange compliments that made both her and her dad uncomfortable. Second, while his uniform is of a police force, it isn’t exactly one that Sally is intimately familiar with, but she is confident that Ronan must be. CCU is embroidered on his uniform, just above the left pocket, and she knows that he isn’t here for any humans.

“Can I help you?” She asks, hoping her dull green eyes will help put him off.

“Pardon the intrusion, ma’am, but I’m here to do a scheduled checkup to the were resident listed in the lease.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Sally doesn’t know where Ronan is or when he’ll be back. “Um, I’m sorry, my bod- er, boyfriend, will be back from the grocery store shortly. Can you come back in a few hours?”

The officer waits for a beat, blinking his icy eyes only once. “I didn’t realize that Ronan had a girlfriend, nor one so… human, as you seem.”

Sally forces a smile and begins to shut the door. “I’ll let him know that you stopped by, nice meeting you!”

He sticks his foot in the threshold, stopping the door just as Sally thought it was all over. Calmly, she opens the door again, throwing up a poker face so quickly that even trained detectives don’t even notice.

“Will that be all?” She asks, her tone an unfriendly an echo from when she first opened the door.

“Mmm, we’ll see.” He digs through his pockets, retrieving a folded piece of paper. Unfolding it carefully with his pale hands, he flips it around and shows a picture of a little girl, hair in careful, precise braids. When the officer shoves it towards her, she takes it reluctantly, not wanting any part of this in the slightest, needing to play along only until he leaves. “Have you seen this girl? She’s been missing from her family, her poor mother is absolutely frantic.”

Even though she tries to only pretend to look over the picture with no real intention of memorizing it, she realizes that the sparkly red eyes look familiar. Too familiar. Something in her face must have given it away because the officer snatches the picture back victoriously.

“Where is she?” He asks, voice no longer holding up a facade of friendliness.

Lie. “Oh, her,” Sally waves her hand nonchalantly. “I don’t know. She came looking for money and scraps, so I sent her to the nearest poor house. Don’t know what a were kid was doing all the way out in the forest, but it can’t be anything good.”

Out in the distance, Sally can hear the steady putter of an oncoming motorcycle. She does her best to not show any shred of excitement as the officer’s face twitches, ever so slightly. “And where would that be?”

Sally offers a shrug. “I don’t know, aren’t there ones in every city? She’ll find it.”

Then, miracle of all miracles, Ronan pulls up. Sally can already see that his muscles are tense, ready to fight, but still cautious about having to go toe to toe with this man.

“Ah, Mr. Kazimir! How nice of you to join us. I was just chatting with your girlfriend!”

Ronan didn’t even give much of a reaction to the last bit, just as Sally had hoped. Two grocery bags in each hand, he walks over, calmly standing to the officer’s side. “Did you need anything, sir?”

“No, no, just doing a wellness check. You didn’t come in for your annual appointment, as promised, and haven’t answered any of your cell calls. The only reason you haven’t been arrested yet is that your boss has been vouching for you.”

Ronan looks exasperated, but he does his best to keep his cool. “That was yesterday, wasn’t it?”

The officer chuckles, giving Ronan a not-so-friendly pat on the shoulder. “Well, if I had a girl with a body like that, I might forget a few things here and there, too.”

Neither Sally nor Ronan laughs along.

“Is that all, sir?” Ronan asks, voice tense.

The officer sighs, “well, there is a kid on the run from the institution, but your girl says that she sent that runt away. Now I have to go look all over town, maybe even out in the next.” He looks at Sally, almost petrifying her with the murder in his eyes. “Next time,” he says, voice no longer holding a shred of faux friendliness, “just invite the child in and wait for me to show up, eh?”

“Sure,” Sally says, trying to keep it together.

Ronan waits until the officer gets into his sleek, fancy car, driving off with the roar of an engine before coming in. Sally steps away to the side as he does so, letting the machete hang limply by her leg as she closes the door, locking the deadbolt. For a moment, everything is completely silent, then Ronan turns towards her, eyes livid.

“You turned away a- a- child? What is wrong-”

“Will you shut up for a second?!” Sally surprises herself by her tone and how much his words hurt. “Do you honestly think I’m that- that malicious? That I’m stupid? Is that what you really believe about me?”

Ronan blinks, half shaking his head, and is about forming another sentence when Sally beats him to the punch.

“I thought you would know me better than that.”

One of the bedroom doors creeks open behind her, and by the look in Ronan’s eyes, Bernadette must have stepped out. Without another word, Sally stares him down as the little girl takes a step into the short hallway, the floor creaking against her slight weight.

“I was hiding,” Bernadette says, her voice timid and airy.

Sally immediately spins around, dropping the anger so Bernadette won’t have to witness the ugliness of it all. “And that was a very, very smart thing to do, honey. If that man had come in, I wouldn’t have been able to stop him.”

Bernadette nods, and actually smiles at her for the first time, showing off a gap where her front teeth should be. Without another word to Ronan, Sally takes the bags from his hands, then sets them on the kitchen counter to take stock of what they have to use for dinner. Bernadette is probably starving, after all, and Sally wants this little girl’s first meal to be a good one.

“Thay man is going to be back with a search warrant,” Ronan says, “once he realizes there is no sign of the girl out in town.”

“Then, I guess,” Sally pulls out a loaf of bread, “we should think about moving on, huh?”

“Running would look suspicious.”

“And staying for him to find her is a better alternative?”

Ronan closes his mouth tightly, knowing that she’s right. “Not only did that CCU guy see your face, he probably is going to figure out that there’s a hefty price on your head once he starts asking around. There’s no way I can transport you anywhere, anymore, at least nowhere with federal were regulators.”

Sally presses her hands against the counter, hoping the pressure against her palms will help steel her nerves. “Give me my cell phone, I’ll call in a favor.”

“Sally-”

“I said to give me my godda-” she lets the curse word sizzle out as he glances over to Bernadette, “- just get me my phone.”

Ronan stares at her, just for a second, but doesn’t utter another word of argument as he spins around, retreating back to the safe. As he does so, Sally taps her fingers against the fake granite, and asks Bernadette, “what are you feeling for dinner? Grilled cheese? Pasta?”

Her ruby eyes sparkle, if she were any hungrier, she might start drooling on the floor.

Well, Sally doesn’t want the kid to eat herself sick, so she can’t just slam down a feast of unprecedented carbs, no matter how much she wants to spoil her. “Why don’t we start with some grilled cheese and soup? It’s warm you right up.”

Ronan comes up, just in time for Sally to relay the dinner plan to him, handing her the phone.

Calmly, despite the butterflies ramming up and down in her stomach, she walks over to her room. After shutting and locking the door, she flops onto her bed, watching the cell phone’s screen light up as she turns it on for the first time in what feels like years. After typing in her password, her thumb hovers over the phone app for a minute, listening to the muted voices of Ronan and Bernadette on the other side of her door.

Breathing in and out, trying to get a hold of herself, she types in the phone number she’s had memorized by heart.

It only rings once.

“Sally?”

Deep breath. “Hey, dad. I need a favor.”

#exophilia #sfw #werewolf #werewolf boyfriend #monster boyfriend #monster lover

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marvelousmarvelimagines · 5 years

Text

Five Times You Caught Tony Stark’s Eyes

Pairing - Tony Stark x Avenger!Reader

Summary - It’s not easy to grab the attention of the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, but here’s five times that you did.

Word Count - 3,138

Warnings - Language, and also some slightly smutty situations.

Tony Stark had seen a lot of things in his forty years of life. From a burrito flying through the air into a car window, to a wormhole leading into space, he had seen a lot.

But he had never seen anything like you.

The fire blazing in front of him was reflected in your eyes, creating a barrier between you and the rest of the team. That wasn’t the only thing reflected in them though. It was a look Tony recognized well. It was fear. You put on a brave front, but he could see right through it. The bravado you put on was all an act from a woman trying to hide that she had no idea how to control this thing inside of her. You were scared to death. Tony knew at that exact moment every single incident that got you on the Avengers radar must have been accidental. How could someone that looked that terrified be a murderer?

Surprising everyone, even himself, he stepped closer to you. He could hear the team’s warnings, as well as his AI’s, echoing in his ears, but as usual, he paid them no mind. How could he focus on anything other than you as your eyes widened.

“Stay away!” You yelled at him, but your voice lacked the authority it had earlier held, and Tony stepped forward again.

Your arm thrust up, but you seemed too panicked to do anything, scrambling backwards toward the wall behind you. Tony could see the sweat gleaming on your skin, the trembling of your hand as your gaze darted around trying to find a way out. You looked like a small mouse that had been cornered by a large cat with no escape in sight.

Tony deactivated his mask, revealing his face to you. That grabbed your attention and you focused once more on him instead of the fire surrounding you. “Mr. Stark, you need to get away! Leave me alone!” This time there was another tone in your voice, one of pleading as you looked at him. You didn’t want to hurt him.

“No can do, kid. We just want to help you.” He tried to reassure you as he continued forward. “Can you let me through?” Tony asked once he reached the edge of the fire.

You shook your head, “please,” you gasped, “stay away . . . I can’t -” Your whole body seemed to be trembling with terror as he stared at you. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt anyone else.” You said.

“You won’t,” Tony tried to reassure you. “I would say we’re pretty damn near indestructible, but Cap here has weak legs,” he said, gesturing to the super soldier over his shoulder.

His humor was rewarded with a little smile, but it vanished as soon as it appeared.

“I can’t control it.” You told him.

Tony leaned down so that he would be level with you. The heat from the fire caressed his skin, but he didn’t notice it. Your eyes were locked on his, filled with a multitude of emotions ranging all over the place. You were scared, you were powerful, but most of all, you were desperate. While you might not be asking for it, Tony could see you needed help. “We’re good with that. If I can build an iron suit in a cave surrounded by terrorists, I think I can help you out with this.”

It felt like hours, hours of staring into each other’s eyes, while all around the fire continued to blaze. Tony’s gaze was filled with awe and sincerity, while yours was filled with pain and uncertainty trying to figure out if you could trust him. Then, your hand started to lower, hesitating for a moment. “You promise?” You whispered so low he almost couldn’t hear it over the crackle of the flames.

“Promise,” Tony replied.

The flames lowered.

⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊

Appreciating the little things had never been a priority in Tony Stark’s life. Why should it when there were much finer things to be appreciated in reach of his fingertips? Any piece of the latest technology he could have. Say he wanted some pizza from Italy? Easy, take his plane and go there. Stopping and smelling the roses? Please, there were artificial scents for that he could order and have at the tower in under an hour.

Not you though.

He had never seen someone so fascinated by such simple things before. Everything you did was like you were doing it for the first time. He couldn’t count the amount of times he had found you laying on the roof enjoying the sun. Then there was this little smile of relief you got every time that someone greeted you or left you with a hug. It was like it made your day. Also your obsession with animals. At the rate you were going, Tony didn’t think that there would be a cat in New York City that hadn’t been pet by you. It seemed so . . . easy to make you happy. Coming from the girl that half a year ago had been sobbing and helpless on the ground surrounded by a fire she couldn’t control, it was the most impressive turnabout Tony had ever seen.

This might take the cake though.

Tony couldn’t stop staring. Rain poured down from the skies as you moved around the roof of the tower, your clothes so drenched your button up hung off your shoulder, your curled hair falling in waves around your face, but yet, you still danced, a soft smile on your face as you embraced the downpour. He had thought he had gone unnoticed even though he had no idea how long he had been standing there.

“I can feel your judgement from here.” You called out to him.

Tony started, but recovered before it became too awkward. “I thought fire and water didn’t get along?”

You shook your head, opening your eyes and turning your smile to him. “Common misconception.” Once again, Tony watched every step that you took as you moved closer, stopping mere feet in front of him. His chest tightened as you held out your hand to him. “Join me?”

“Uh, bad idea, see this shirt is about the cost of saving several mountain gorillas, and I have to get to a Gala in -”

“When has something being expensive ever stopped you?” You asked him, lifting an eyebrow.

Tony thought about it for a minute. He knew the fancy gala would be starting soon, but it was already in his reputation to be late. Why start changing now? Besides, he wouldn’t mind spending some alone time with the mystery that was you. “Two conditions.”

Your smile widened as if you expected nothing less. “I’ll hear them and take them into consideration.”

He took a step closer to you, right at the edge of the door as he spoke. “Number one, I expect round the clock care when I inevitably get sick from this little venture.” He told her, holding up one finger.

She laughed and Tony found his breath leaving him at the sound. God how was a laugh so attractive? Nobody was supposed to have an attractive laugh. “Agreed as long as it doesn’t involve foot massages.” She told him, scrunching up her nose.

Tony bit his bottom lip as if considering her counter, but then nodded. “Number two, not my type of music. JARVIS, cue something from my playlist would you?” The Steelheart song his AI had selected, ‘I’ll Never Let You Go’, began playing and Tony had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

“I’m impressed. I thought for sure it would be some AC/DC.” You pointed out.

“Me too,” he looked at her and stepped out into the rain, tugging her close. “Guess we’ve just got to play the cards we’ve been dealt sometimes.”

If you hadn’t been pressed against him, he would have missed your sharp intake of breath as your bodies met, because your face didn’t change a bit, your smile still in perfect place. He watched as a single raindrop dripped from one of your eyelashes and slid down your cheek. “Isn’t that the truth.” You said, wrapping your somehow still warm arm around his neck and pulling him even closer as you both moved in circles in the pouring rain.

⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊

It was hypocritical of him, he had known that from the very beginning. You had known that too, but you hadn’t questioned him. You had told him once that you trusted him more than anyone in the world. He had responded by telling you that was a mistake. You had replied that he hadn’t let you down yet.

This time he felt like he had.

“Just for a few days. As soon as all of this has blown over I’ll bring you back and you can sign the accords like you wanted.” Tony told you, sitting on the porch of the small cabin that he had rented out for you.

“I don’t understand why I can’t sign them now. It’s not like the government doesn’t know of my existence. Doesn’t signing them -” You paused, and Tony knew right away that you had come to the same conclusion he had as soon as this whole idea was brought up. “You think they’ll prosecute me.” You said, your voice so low Tony almost missed it.

“I don’t know that -”

“Why wouldn’t they?” You stood up and Tony watched as you began to pace around the porch, your hands trembling with emotion. “I’ve killed innocent people. I’m a murderer. I killed my own boyfriend, Tony. I should be locked up. They could make a good example out of me too. Show that superheroes aren’t above the law.”

“That was not your fault.” Tony said in a stern tone, punctuating every word with emphasis. “He was abusing you, Y/N. Your powers were new and out of control. You were defending yourself.”

You turned back to look at him, tears streaming down your face. “Historically, women who murder their own abusers don’t do well in court. You know that as well as I do.”

Tony had never been one for physical affection, but he made an exception for you, pulling you so tight against his chest he could feel your heartbeat, pounding and erratic with emotion against his own chest. “Then I’ll make a deal. I just need time. I promise nothing’s going to happen to you.”

He watched from a distance, taking in everything about you. The way your tan skin glowed in the flames you were creating in the fire pit. The tips of your fingers moving around in a dance as you manipulated them. Your white dress contrasting with the black night surrounding you, making you stand out even more in his tired eyes. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen. God you were a sight for sore eyes. He took a step forward, a branch cracking under his feet.

You glanced up, finding Tony in the darkness and letting out a gasp at his appearance. Now that he thought about it, he might should have cleaned up the blood a bit before coming to see you. “Tony . . .” You ran over to him, your hands covering your mouth in shock at the wounds on his face as you stopped a few feet away.

A sarcastic comment was on the tip of his tongue, but he continued looking at you, and he couldn’t do it. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically, and he couldn’t keep up his usual facade. Not with you. “I fucked up.” He croaked out.

He didn’t have to say anything else. You hugged him close, one arm wrapped tight around his middle while the other pulled his face into your neck. You didn’t have any words to say, but he didn’t need them. He just needed to be close to you.

⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊

It was a rare night that Tony Stark got to sleep all the way through it. Even more so when it wasn’t in his own bed, but Tony woke up feeling refreshed that morning. He could hear the wind blowing through the open windows, the white curtains flowing with it. The sun was rising, painting the sky in purples, oranges and yellows, a sight he normally only saw through tower windows after he had been up all night tinkering. He had to admit, it was nice to see from the comfort of a bed.

A soft sigh turned his attention away from the windows, and he glanced down at the woman curled on her side against his front. Your whole body was relaxed and warm as always. Your hair was a gentle wave against the pillows between the two of you, a serene look on your face with your lips parted, still deep in sleep. Then his eyes landed on your bare shoulder, and he couldn’t resist.

Leaning over, he pressed a kiss to your skin, followed by another, then another, all the way to the spot behind your ear that he knew drove you crazy. He was rewarded with another sigh as your back arched into him. “It’s way too early for you to be kissing me like that.” You mumbled into your pillow.

“Is it?” He asked, a hint of a smirk on his lips as he splayed his hand across the smooth skin of your lower stomach. “I’m not used to normal waking hours. I can stop if you want.” He said, turning his attention to your earlobe, nibbling on it softly.

This time you whined, pressing your ass back against him. “If you do I’ll set you on fire.” You replied, half joking.

Tony paused at that, his hand massaging your inner thigh with tender circles. “Now are you talking about the good kind of fire such as, ‘dear god I have to do terrible things to this awful man right now, or the bad kind of fire in which you’re thinking, ‘dear god I have to do terrible things to this handsome man right now?’” He asked, nipping at your neck.

At this point, you seemed to be almost awake, and rolled over on top of him, hips floating above his just enough to where they were almost touching, hands resting on either side of his head. “You know, those both kind of sound the same to me.”

“Did they? Seemed to have distinct differences to me.” He replied before sliding his hands up to grip your hips and pull you down to his hard length.

He couldn’t miss the way your arms tensed, and he knew you were gripping the sheets tight. As if it was second nature, you rolled your hips down on him, causing a slight groan to leave his mouth. He loved how your body reacted to him and his teasing. Even in the most inappropriate of situations, you always responded. In fact, he recalled fondly how angry you had gotten at him during one of your previous press conferences with the rest of the Avengers when he had kept a hand under your skirt the whole time while you all sat at the table. Nevertheless, within seconds of the press conference ending you had him pulled into a broom closet where he had fucked you against the door. You may deny it, but you couldn’t resist him. He enjoyed you attempting to though. “You’re walking on thin ice, Stark. I don’t start my mornings this early without coffee. You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“What can I say? I like playing with fire.” Tony replied.

You laughed, so deep in your belly that Tony could see it with your breath, the sight making him smile. God he loved you like this. Carefree and happy, adorable and yet alluring at the same time. Most importantly, with him. “You’re lucky I love you, or I’d hit you for all the fire puns.”

“Now, that’s an interesting idea. What do you say -”

He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. When you started kissing down his chest, he found himself rather occupied doing other things.

⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊

“I need another drink.”

“You do not need another drink. As your best man, I am not going to allow you to get drunk before the most important day of your life.” Rhodey told him, clapping him on the shoulder. “Especially in front of an actual priest.” He muttered under his breath while smiling at the man in question.

Tony’s fingers tapped against his Tom Ford clad leg in no particular rhythm. “Drinking in front of a Priest is hardly the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

“No, but drinking on your wedding day might be. She would set your suit on fire. You realize that right?” Rhodey told him.

The thought of that had a fond smile appearing on Tony’s face. “Yeah, yeah I do.”

Then the violins started. An instrumental version of Sweet Child O’ Mine was the song both of you had ended up agreeing on after you had flat out refused You Shook Me All Night Long several times. Now, watching your Maid of Honor, Carol Danvers, walk down the aisle to it, sending a little wink to Rhodey as she did, he had to admit you were right.

As the music swelled, he could feel his heart rate getting faster and faster to an almost painful level. If he didn’t know any better, he would say he was having a panic attack. But then the doors opened and he saw you.

Gorgeous, lovely, pretty, ravishing, stunning, breathtaking, ethereal, a fucking knockout. Tony struggled to come up with a word that fit your description at that moment, but there was none in the English language. Head to toe in white lace, with a smile that left him breathless, you were every bit the angel he teased you were. At that moment, he wanted to run down the aisle, grab you close and marry you as soon as possible, but he didn’t, taking every second to memorize how you looked to implant in his mind forever. Finally, you reached the bottom of the stairs where he was waiting. It was then that he noticed the fire red detailing on the back, an ode to the both of you and how you had met.

If there had ever been a doubt in Tony’s soul that you were not meant for him, this moment stomped it. It wasn’t until you reached up with gentle fingers to brush a tear away that he realized he had been crying. “Did you ever think we would get here?” You asked him, your smile still blazing and your eyes shining with love.

“From the moment I laid eyes on you.” Tony replied.

#tony stark #tony stark x reader #iron man #iron man x reader #tony stark imagine

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21stcenturyhope · 5 years

Text

BTS Imagine // Their ideal type (Hyung Line)

Thanks to @eyajoon for the request!

Read maknae line here.

KIM SEOKJIN

It wasn’t a surprise that you kept losing since you kept turning your head to steal glances at Jin. You couldn’t help the smile that came to your face while watching him play Mario Kart. You loved how focused he was when it came to his video games. It was cute in a dorky way.

“I win again! Come on, Y/N! It’s like you’re not even trying.”

“Alright, alright… you caught me. I just didn’t think your fragile ego could handle it if I kicked your ass.”

Your trash talking effectively distracted Jin. He challenged you to yet another rematch which allowed you to continue admiring his near perfect features.

You had known Jin your entire life. Your mothers were best friends growing up and naturally, they passed along their close friendship to their children. As the two of you got older, you noticed the little things Jin did for you that made you slowly fall for him.

He was always taking care of you whether it was picking you up from work, cooking for you or visiting your parents together back in your hometown. Jin was literally Prince Charming reincarnated. But your heart ached every time you reflected on your feelings because there was no way Jin could ever reciprocate your love. You had so many shortcomings in comparison to him and he deserved nothing less than the perfect partner.

“Okay, what’s up Y/N? You keep staring at me and it’s not as fun if you let me win each time.”

Biting your lip, you were hesitant to ask what was really on your mind.

“Um… well… I heard Lee Min Seo approached you the other day and…”

“Ah, is that all? Are you wondering if she really did confess her feelings for me? Well, she did but I’m not surprised. Just look at this face.” He winked at you, trying to lighten the mood.

“Be serious for a minute, Seokjin! Are you two dating now?”

Jin’s vibrant laugh filled the room as he caught your hands in his to prevent you from swatting at him again.

“Lee Min Seo is certainly pretty enough but she’s not really my type. I prefer someone who enjoys my cooking and likes to stay in to play Mario Kart with me.”

A blush came to your face and you stuttered, not knowing how to respond. This didn’t deter the smile from reaching Jin’s face. Was he really referring to you?

“Do I really have to spell it out for you, Y/N? I’m talking about you. You’re the one I like.”

And with that said, Jin finally took the opportunity to lean in for a kiss.

MIN YOONGI

Yoongi always said that one of the reasons why he first approached you was because he thought you knew how to drink. It was true – you were one of the few people that he knew that could drink as well as he did. And countless drinks later, the two of you were now best friends sipping on whisky at your favourite bar in the city.

Per usual, you were quietly sipping on your drink as another girl approached to hit on Yoongi.

Were you really that invisible? It was a little offensive that people would just brush you off as they came to him, assuming that someone like you couldn’t possibly be with someone like him. It had happened so many times now that you were starting to believe it yourself.

To an outsider, you could understand Yoongi’s appeal. He looked like the mysterious, brooding type when he casually leaned against the bar to sip from the drink in his hand. His all-black attire only added to the bad boy aesthetic that seemed to drive all the girls crazy.

It was laughable because you knew that Yoongi was the exact opposite of a bad boy. He had few friends but to those who knew him well, he was extremely loyal and caring. His passion for his music was overwhelming and he always made time to give back to the community in some way. The best way to comfort him when he was upset was to cook for him and just hold his hand. These were the reasons why you fell in love with Min Yoongi.

“And there’s one more broken heart in this bar tonight. Really, Yoongi? Why do you keep turning them down? Do you have something against all these pretty girls? I thought they would be your type.”

“First of all, I don’t have a type. Even if I did, it wouldn’t be based off their looks,” he replied, piquing your curiosity.

“Okay, humour me. If you did have an ideal type, what would they be like?”

Yoongi took a sip from his drink, carefully pondering your question.

“Well, for starters, they would have to love music. It doesn’t have to be as much as I do but it would be nice if they understood the passion behind my song writing. Someone who knows when I need time to myself but also doesn’t let me get too wrapped up with my own demons. Oh! And definitely someone who can hold their liquor.”

For a moment, you thought he was describing you. But you weren’t foolish enough to believe that Yoongi could actually have feelings for you. You nervously gulped down the whisky in your glass, not knowing how to react.

“I hope you know I was talking about you, Y/N.”

His surprise confession shocked you and you choked on your drink. Yoongi’s bright gummy smile emerged as he handed you some napkins to clean yourself up.

“Come on, Y/N, I thought you knew how to drink!”

You shot him a playful glare for his teasing as he took your hand to lead you out of the bar. The only person Yoongi was taking home tonight (and for the rest of his life) was you.

JUNG HOSEOK

You weren’t even surprised to see Hobi’s shoes by the door when you came home.

Being best friends, Hobi had a key to your place and would show up unannounced at your apartment often and sometimes even when you weren’t home. It was an odd friendship because the two of you were extremely close but had very little in common.

You found him lying on the couch with a blank look in his eyes just staring up at the ceiling tiles, his mouth forming a familiar little triangle. With just one look, you could tell that Hobi was having a bad day. It happened more frequently than people thought.

Hobi always felt an immense amount of pressure to be the happy mood maker around everyone. The expectations could get to him sometimes and he only felt truly comfortable showing his real emotions around a select few, including you.

You knew exactly what to do in this situation. You settled yourself on the couch with Hobi’s head in your lap and began to run your fingers through his hair. You didn’t say anything and waited for him to speak first.

Hobi let out a huge sigh and reached up to grab one of your hands and brought it close to his heart.

“Today has been a shitty day.”

You hummed in response, your free hand still continuing to stroke his hair. You didn’t interrupt, knowing that Hobi would continue at his own pace.

“It was so frustrating, Y/N. Nobody was getting the choreography right today and I think I might have snapped too harshly at Jin hyung.”

Now you understood why he was so upset. Hobi was the type of person who hated conflict and he was always sensitive when arguing with someone he cared about.

“Well, it’s a good thing for you that I have a solution to all your problems. Let’s bake cookies!”

“Cookies?” A smile formed on Hobi’s face for the first time since you came home.

“Cookies. You can give them to Jin as an apology. And if he doesn’t accept, you can eat all of them yourself. Either way, you’re guaranteed to feel much better.”

Hobi’s bright laughter filled the room and warmed your heart.

“See, Y/N? This is why you’re perfect for me.”

A blush crept up your face and you stuttered your response. You’ve had feelings for Hobi for a long time but had never acted on them thinking that your different interests meant you two weren’t compatible.

“Hobi, don’t say that! How can I be perfect for you when we don’t have the same interests?”

“Y/N, be honest with me. Do you like me as more than a friend?”

You nodded, the words unable to come out of your mouth. Hobi softly kissed your hand that was still held in his own.

“Then that’s all that matters. I think we have more in common than you think. I know we share the same values and morals. As long as we care about each other then we can make this work.”

KIM NAMJOON

“Look how pretty this one is!”

It had been a while since you and Namjoon had been able to hang out. So, the first weekend that both of you were free, you took advantage of your parents’ beach house for some one-on-one time with your best friend. The two of you were now taking a walk along the shore to collect sea shells. Well, you were looking for sea shells while Namjoon searched for his crab friends.

Work had kept Namjoon busy the past several months but his girlfriend had kept him busier. You had developed feelings for Namjoon quite some time ago and you were heartbroken to find out he was seeing someone. But what hurt more was that she was almost the exact opposite of you. Knowing that, you realized that you and Namjoon could never be because you simply weren’t his type.

But several weeks ago, Namjoon had ended the relationship suddenly. You didn’t allow yourself to hope for something to happen between the two of you but you were sincerely worried about your friend. This weekend was the first chance you had to talk to him face-to-face since his breakup.

“Namjoon, be honest with me. How are you really feeling?”

“Y/N,” he laughed. “Like I said the past three hundred times you asked me, I’m fine. Really.”

And he really did seem fine. Namjoon was smiling widely which showed off the dimples you adored so much.

“I just don’t get why you broke up with her. It seemed like everything was going well for you two.”

“Sometimes, it’s just not meant to be. The more I got to know her, the more I realized she wasn’t really my type. We weren’t compatible in a lot of ways…”

You nudged him lightly indicating he should elaborate on his answer. Namjoon went silent for a moment as he tried to put together words to best describe it.

“Honestly, Y/N… she wasn’t you. I took for granted all the wonderful things you do for me and how well you truly know me. I broke up with her when I was finally smart enough to realize what I had in front of me all along.”

That was not the answer you were expecting. You remained speechless which made Namjoon a little nervous and so he continued to ramble.

“I promise, Y/N, that you’re not a rebound! My feelings for you are sincere. You compliment me in so many ways and even though it’s not something I thought I wanted, you turned out to be everything I needed. Did I say too much? Have I scared you off?”

“Joon, shut up for a second.”

Before he could continue doubting himself or your feelings, you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt to pull him down for a long overdue kiss.

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jinterlude · 5 years

Text

Our Second Chance (Ch.6)

↳Story Header © @softjeon (do not steal this header!)

➳ Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Female OC x Kim Namjoon

➳ Genre(s): Modern!AU, Royalty!AU, Modern Royal Family!AU , Enemies turned Lovers, Friendship, Humor, Romance, & Angst

➳ Warning(s): None for this chapter

➳ Words: 7K

➳ Summary: Have you ever gotten that familiar feeling when you first see someone? That strange connection between yourselves even though you have no clue where that came from. Yeah…that was the sensation that Sumin felt on a daily basis ever since she has come face-to-face with the one and only Kim Seokjin. Despite being named after their ancestors, two people who were madly in love with each other, these two cannot stand to be in each other’s presence. However, that must change or else history will repeat itself. Sounds like an adventure, right?

※ Previously: ch.1 | ch.2 | ch.3 | ch.4 | ch.5

※ Next time: ch.7 | more coming soon!

Chapter 6 – Might as Well Stab Me in the Heart

Previously

A faint and long groan left her lips as Sumin began to feel the nerves that always accompanied the unwanted attention.

Now, to add insult to injury, she had to choose between Namjoon and Seokjin. Great.

"Sweetheart, who would you like to dance with?" asked her father once more, deep down, knowing that she'd choose Namjoon.

She looked to the right, meeting Namjoon's pleading eyes. They practically screamed at her to pick him. Pick the better guy. Pick the one who had always been there for her. Pick the person who's still ready and willing to catch her.

Then, there was Seokjin, who, too, had this look that begged for her to pick him. Even though he had screwed up royally with her, he wanted a second chance. He's not ready to say goodbye to her. Not now. Not ever. He's prepared to be whatever Sumin wanted him to be. She just needed to say yes...

"I...um...choose..."

Eager eyes remained focused on the anxious, confused, princess. A variety of questions filled their minds as their curiosity grew.

Who would the princess choose to be her partner?

Why was she incredibly hesitant?

More importantly...

Why hasn't she chosen Namjoon?

Every member, royal blood or not, knew of their arranged marriage. There had been talks that it would be the most beautiful ceremony that the people would ever see.

Yet...

There had been no official date...no talks of wedding dresses...nothing.

Sumin knew deep in her heart that she could not marry a man she did not love. She knew that everyone deserved a chance of finding true happiness, and she did.

She found her true happiness in...

"Seokjin," Sumin shyly peeked up at the handsome duke, "It would be an honor if you would be my partner for this dance." She said softly as a faint pinkish hue appeared on her cheeks.

Seokjin sighed softly with a short smile. He took a step back and bowed deeply out of respect.

"Princess Sumin, it would be my pleasure to be your partner." He replied; his genuinely happy eyes met hers. Honestly, happiness would not even begin to cover his emotions right now.

Maybe there was hope for them yet...

The king nodded slowly, while he did want to "suggest" that she danced with her fiancé; instead, he knew that it would not make his precious daughter happy. It would only cause more sadness within her heart, and that was something that he could never want to happen to Sumin.

"Wonderful!" He shouted, turning his attention towards the orchestra, "As it is a tradition for the princess to dance with a suitor of her choice, I think it only fits that they dance to the music that played for my ancestor, Queen Sumin I, on her eighteenth birthday!" He announced, waving his hands grandly.

This feeling of bewilderment crashed against their bodies. Did they hear Sumin's father correctly? The orchestra was to play the song that played the night of Queen Sumin I's eighteenth birthday? Also known as the night that she and Sir Seokjin, I essentially announced that they were on the right path to the alter.

Oh, my goodness...

"Maestro, if you please." The king politely ordered before stepping away from the center of the dance floor. He had to make room for a couple of the hour.

With slow breathes, Sumin grew more nervous with passing moment. How on Earth was she supposed to dance to the song that's pretty much the love theme for her ancestor and Seokjin's ancestor?

Easy.

She couldn't.

She honestly felt like she shouldn't be even sharing this loving moment with someone who had broken her heart.

Yet...

At the same time...

She didn't give a damn.

No one could ever make her feel this way—this broad spectrum of emotions that kept her on her toes.

One moment she loathed Seokjin, plotting every single way possible to murder the man. Then, the next, she was head over heels in love with him, wanting Seokjin to be absolutely, unconditionally happy.

There's never a middle point whenever it came to Seokjin.

With one final deep breath, Sumin slowly exhaled, releasing all of her nervous energy. Shen then finally placed her hand gently on top of Seokjin; unknowingly, creating this electrified sensation between them.

Seokjin smiled softly before leading the two of them to the center of the dancefloor. While he looked calm and collected on the outside, on the inside, he was an absolute mess.

Quite honestly, he did not believe that she would choose him to be her partner after everything he had put her through. Deep within his heart, he firmly believed that she would have selected Namjoon, and the two of them lived happily ever after.

However, by the goodness of their hearts, Gods of romance decided to take pity on his poor soul. They had graciously bestowed him this surprise second chance. It was if they were telling him that this, this moment, was his one final chance. Create the happy ending that his ancestor failed to achieve

And so...he did.

He was going to use this opportunity to lay it all on the table.

He would allow Princess Sumin to have the power to choose who she wants—who her heart yearns for.

The soft yet impactful sounds of the flute echoed throughout the ballroom. Soon, the violins followed after as every single guest waited with eager eyes for the princess and her chosen partner to dance.

It was quite interesting. The last time this song had been played was the eve of Queen Sumin's I eighteenth birthday—when she danced with her beloved knight, Sir Seokjin I.

So, it only fitted that this song played when Princess Sumin II and Lord Seokjin II had to dance together. It was if their ancestors messed with the chess pieces on the board to ensure that this exact moment occurred.

If they didn't get their happy ending, then that didn't mean that their kin couldn't either.

They just needed a push...

Quickly bowing out of respect, Seokjin soon returned to his original position. He gently placed his hand on Sumin's waist while the other softly grasped her right hand. Feeling the softness of her skin sent his mind into a wild frenzy, but he controlled it. The last thing he wanted was to be this giant bumbling mess around her, mostly if he was too apologize for hurting her unintentionally.

"Ready?" He mouthed with a huge smile.

Sumin couldn't help but blush as she nodded slowly.

Seokjin returned the nod as he mentally counted down the beats. The moment he reached the number, "one", he signaled Sumin that he was about to begin. He stepped forward as she stepped back; thus, initiating the classic "Waltz".

The two of them danced, practically gliding around the ballroom. The gleam in their eyes twinkled brightly as nothing but smiles of content slowly graced their faces.

Their mind was in the most calming state. Their hearts no longer raced against their chest. No more sense of anxiety that lingered within them.

They were just...themselves.

"Sumin..." Seokjin began softly, waiting for Sumin's acknowledgment. Once he saw that he had it, he continued, "I...I just wanted to say that I am extremely sorry for running out on you last month. Especially, without giving you a proper explanation and then ignoring your calls and text messages."

Sumin smiled sadly; her eyes trailed to the floor.

"It is quite alright..." She said softly, trying her best to ignore the aching pain in her heart. It was if her heart said, "No. It is not quite alright for you to hurt me the way you did, especially after everything good between us."

If only she dared to tell him that...

Fortunately, for her, Seokjin saw right through her lies. A fun trait skill he had developed after spending an incredible amount of time with her.

"You know...You wouldn't hurt my feelings if you told me the truth. I know I was a giant ass to you, so please...just talk to me." He said, coaxing her into confessing what's on her mind.

Sumin's eyes focused on the handsome Lord. A faint gasp escaped her lips as she became utterly shocked to hear him say that. To reassure her that it was okay to be hurt because of him.

So...

She let him have it...

"You want my honest feelings? Okay. Fine. My feelings towards you are nothing but complete betrayal. I have done nothing that could warrant such a horrid response to you except display my ancestor's engagement ring around my neck," Sumin paused, taking a moment to control herself. The last thing she wanted was to receive judgment from the rest of the royals. "At first, I blamed myself for wearing something that could trigger you to the point of you ignoring me for an entire month. But then, after talking to Sowon, it's not my fault whatsoever," She halted in her steps, putting an end to their little dance, "It's yours." She declared before removing herself from his hold and turning around to leave.

Rough whispers were heard as every single guest began to gossip about the princess.

What did she and Seokjin talk about that could have caused her to leave?

Why did she choose him in the first place?

What's going to happen next?

Seokjin stood there, feeling a bit embarrassed to be left behind, but he soon snapped back into reality. He ignored the judgmental looks from both the party guests and Namjoon as he dashed off after Sumin.

Coming into this party, he was determined to fight for her—and so he did.

"Sumin, wait!" Seokjin hollered; his footsteps echoed throughout the empty corridor. He loosened up the tie, unbuttoned some of the top buttons of his dress shirt, and carelessly tossed aside his suit jacket. If he had to chase after the woman of his dreams, he might as well be comfortable doing it.

He picked up the pace of his steps, running down the dimly lit hallway, as he frantically searched for the princess—his princess.

Rough and sporadic breathing came out of the mature teen. Sounds of metal clanking against something could be heard throughout the stone walls of the castle. Hurried and loud steps alerted every single castle worker that someone was in trouble with a certain princess.

Not again...

Sir Seokjin looked everywhere in the castle grounds but no sign of his lovely companion. Before, they had rather intense spats between them. Yet, it never caused his beloved to hide from him.

"Princess Sumin!" cried a seventeen-year-old Seokjin. "Princess Sumin!"

A frustrated growl emitted from his lips as he grew frustrated. Not at his love but himself. It was because of him bringing up the prospect of her marrying someone else that irritated her.

And...

Well...

You get the gist.

The newly appointed personal knight of Princess Sumin searched high and low throughout the castle grounds. He looked at all of her usual hideout places, and as he searched the music room, this look of realization washed over him.

If he were his princess, he would pick the one place that would make significant meaning yet not as obvious.

She was the gazebo that settled nicely in the center of the rose garden.

The teen rushed out of the music room and headed straight for the garden where his princess waited.

He exerted every ounce of stamina he had left until the soft, salty air greeted his body. A light breeze brushed his cheeks, swooping through his locks of hair. It was as if Mother Nature had comforted him before he pretty much begged for mercy at the hands of his future wife. Though, Sumin didn't know that quite yet.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, his eyes focused on a familiar backside. The way her hair slightly swayed because of the wind. How the subtle sun rays illuminated her body nicely, creating this holy aura around her.

He saw how tranquil she looked caused his heart to skip a beat and practically pound against his chest.

And to think...he had just calmed it down enough so that it wouldn't be heard when he talked to Sumin.

With one final deep breath, Seokjin stepped forward. He maneuvered through the rose garden until he reached the pavilion. The same pavilion where he had confessed his feelings for his childhood friend. The same pavilion where they had become a couple.

"Sumin..." He began softly, alerting the princess of his presence.

"What do you want, Sir Seokjin?" She questioned coldly, unbothered to give him her attention.

Seokjin flinched at her harsh tone, but he deserved it. Not even a few months of calling her his, he had suggested that she should marry someone else.

Way to go, Seokjin.

"I come in peace, my princess." He announced in a cautious tone of voice, taking a step closer to his woman.

Sumin scoffed softly, glancing behind her shoulder. If they were not fighting right now, Seokjin would say that she looked quite alluring with an annoyed expression.

Gotta love teenage hormones.

"Why? Come to suggest some suitors for me to marry and more than likely produce heirs with?" She asked in a snarky tone, turning her head away from him.

Seokjin sighed, taking a few more steps until she was within reach of him. Not caring if she'd elbow him in the gut, he wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his head on her shoulder.

"I am incredibly sorry for saying something in my momentary lapse of judgment." He said softly; his voice almost a whisper.

Sumin's lips quivered. A sign that signified she was about to cry.

The apologetic adolescent instantly noticed it and placed a sweet kiss on her cheek. He repeated his actions, making sure that Sumin knew how loved she was by him.

"I do not want you to marry someone else. My heart would shatter into millions of pieces if I saw you kiss and love someone that was not me." He confessed before nuzzling his nose against the crevice of her neck.

A soft sigh of content escaped her sweet lips. The hurt princess closed her eyes, taking a moment to enjoy his embrace and his sweet yet sexual actions.

"Can you forgive me?" He asked, lifting his head away from her beautiful neck and tilting it in a way so that their gazes could meet.

Sumin opened her eyes, finally meeting Seokjin's pleading stare, and said,

"I forgive you. Just do not joke like that again."

"Never again."

Currently standing outside, the anxious duke stared at the princess's backside. He drank in the sight that he had been blessed with.

He took note of how the full moon acted as a spotlight for the pavilion. How the soft autumn breeze brushed through her entire body, lightly swaying Sumin's dress.

What a familiar feeling he experienced. It was if Seokjin felt connected to his ancestor now more than ever.

With one final deep breath, Seokjin gained enough courage to take a step forward. The sounds of his dress shoes connecting with the wood floor alerted the heartbroken princess.

Sumin swiftly turned around, her eyes red from the tears that trickled down her cheeks.

"I have nothing more to say to you. Now, leave." She declared coldly, pointing towards the castle.

If this were any other person or situation, he would gladly leave; however, after realizing that he fell completely in love with Sumin, he wasn't going anywhere.

"Well, that's good because I have a lot to say, and I just want you to listen." He fired back, walking closer to the angered princess. He continued to close the gap between their bodies until he had her caged against him. Her back pressed firmly against the wooden railing as her hands gripped the edge of it.

Her breathing grew harder as his sudden bold action only agitated her.

"You better create some space between us, or else I will call for my guards." She threatened, narrowing her eyes at the handsome man.

Seokjin simply waved away her empty threats. While her facial expression told him that she was about ready to slap him, the sounds of her beating heart told him otherwise. Yes, she was too pissed off at him, but she was willing to listen.

"Just give me five minutes. That's all I want." He practically begged.

Sumin observed the pleading look in his eyes how his lips quivered as if he was about to burst into tears.

Maybe five minutes wouldn't hurt.

"Fine. Five minutes and then I'm leaving." She said, crossing her arms against her chest. Not because she had grown frustrated with the man, but to prevent their chests from touching one another.

Honestly, it was taking every ounce of her sanity not to capture his lips right then and there.

"Thank you," He whispered with a look of gratefulness.

Sumin forced a smile before dropping it quickly as if she telepathically told him that he didn't have much time. Five minutes would be over before he'd even realized it.

"I know it's my fault that I ran out on you like that. There's honestly no genuine reason why I had been a complete asshole to you. Again, I apologize for it," He began, taking a moment to compose his thoughts, "I had an inkling that you would be handed down the ring that my ancestor had given yours, so I don't know what possessed me to get so worked up to the point that I just couldn't bear to be in your presence. Then, during the month when I had ignored you, I took the time to seriously think about all the possibilities as to why I acted like a coward and behave the way I did." He paused, contemplating if he was ready to confess his innermost feelings for the woman. If he was prepared to sever his friendship with Namjoon over someone who he, at first, barely tolerated but had grown to love and want nothing more but to hers.

The answer?

Yes.

He was ready to lay it all out there.

Sumin, on the other hand, tried to wrap her mind around what she just heard, what she saw in Seokjin's sudden change in demeanor. The way his ears became this bright red; a sign that she had realized that it meant he had grown nervous about something.

Then, it hit her.

He was about to confess something.

Whether it be good or bad, she had yet to determine it. All she knew, right now, was that he was about to say something that could be life-changing—for both of them.

"And what did you realize?" She questioned softly, though, her gut already had a hunch.

Seokjin's eye bore right into hers; the intensity of the gaze became so strong to the point that Sumin wanted to look away, but she couldn't.

Then, his face began to draw near, closing the tiny space that was between them.

"That the ring you wear around your precious neck is a symbol of our ancestor's love, and it would be a huge honor if you were to allow me to put that ring on your finger." He answered in a calm tone of voice.

Sumin gasped softly; her mouth slightly agape. Her mind screamed at her to say yes, as did her heart. Her entire body wanted to shout at the top of the cliff, yet nothing came out.

"What are you trying to say?" She asked, wanting to make sure that he was indeed confessing his love for her as she had thought.

Seokjin smiled sweetly, "I'm saying is that I'm in love with you, and it would be such an honor if I can call you mine."

Yup.

He was indeed confessing his romantic feelings for her.

"I love you too." She said sweetly as tears began to form in Sumin's eyes—happy tears.

Seokjin's heart soared. Did he just hear right? She accepted his confession and even returned it?

God, he could die happy right now.

Without a moment to lose, Seokjin grabbed Sumin's face and connected their lips. He poured every ounce of love; he had developed for the princess into the kiss.

Honestly, nothing and no one could ruin their moment.

Not Sumin's father.

And not Namjoon...

After what seemed like hours of pure and utter bliss, the happy couple pulled apart. Their lips bright red and plump from the passionate kiss they had just shared. Their faces were a bit flushed as their eyes remained fixated onto each other.

A few nervous chuckles escaped their lips as they swiftly wrapped their minds around the fact they had just confessed their love for each other and then initiated an intense make-out session.

Yep.

Sounds about right.

"Should we return to the ballroom? I think everyone is wondering where we're at." Seokjin randomly suggested, though, secretly, he didn't want to. If he could, he'd rather have the two of them to stay right inside the pavilion, enjoying the crisp autumn night air.

Sumin chuckled at Seokjin's randomness.

"I mean, we should..." She began, trailing on, "But, I don't want to." She finished, wrapping her arms around Seokjin's waist and burying her face in his chest.

The ecstatic man chuckled at Sumin's response, finding her behavior quite adorable right now.

He then reached up and wrapped both his arms around the princess, securing her against him as if he was afraid that someone or something would separate them.

However, seconds later, his grip began to loosen. While it was ideal for just the two of them to spend some time together after such a significant milestone in their lives, they had royal duties to attend to—mostly—Sumin.

She had to tell her father that her engagement with Namjoon was off and that she had officially found someone that she wanted to marry.

Leaning up to kiss Seokjin one last time, she pecked his plump lips sweetly. She couldn't help but smile into the kiss, showing how happy she was with him.

Seokjin too returned the smile before kissing her lips a few times.

Once they officially broke apart, Seokjin interlaced their fingers together and then led them back inside.

"You ready to face the rather judgmental party guests?" the duke heard Sumin playfully ask.

Seokjin peered down, flashing an amused smirk, "I didn't know my parents were in attendance." He teased back, earning himself both a smack on the arm and chuckle from the princess. His princess. "The slap was worth it because I got you to smile." He stated, grinning brightly.

Sumin's face flushed as she quickly averted her gaze from him.

She felt her cheeks become incredibly hot from how bad she blushed. Who would've thought that he would have this type of effect on her?

Not even Namjoon caused this type of reaction during his incredible façade around their parents.

This just showed her how real this was between her and Seokjin. The genuine love the two of them shared. The complete and utter happiness that they experienced from the moment after confessing to right now.

Everything was real, and that was going to stay...

Walking hand-in-hand into the ballroom, Seokjin and Sumin stood right in the entryway; their faces displayed a sense of euphoria. They were to be unbothered by the opinionated stares and gossip that they would more than likely receive from the royal guests.

Out of the corner of his eye, Namjoon saw the happy couple. His heart tightened at the awful sight of seeing his dearest friend holding hands with the love of his life.

Well, that would soon change the moment Sumin talked to her dad.

However, until that happened, he still had a chance to change Sumin's mind and perhaps ruin Seokjin's chances for good.

While, yes, he had lived with the mantra of "her happiness is my happiness," he just couldn't see himself allowing the duke to win over Sumin's heart. Not after what he had done to her.

If anything, he'd rather see her marry Yoongi or even Hoseok. Anyone but the person who had created an entire month of sorrow for her.

Gulping down the last of his champagne, Namjoon placed the glass flute on the table. He stood up, fixing his jacket, and then headed over to Sumin and Seokjin. He quickly mustered the most believable smile as he neared the romantic duo.

"Hey, guys." Namjoon greeted the two simply, placing a friendly arm on Seokjin's shoulder.

The two soon-to-be-engaged couple directed their attention over to the prince. Two different reactions were visible. Sumin looked genuinely happy to see her best friend while Seokjin looked ready to punch Namjoon for ruining his last chances of talking to her.

However, he also had to thank him for doing it that because if Namjoon hadn't sabotaged his chances, then Seokjin wouldn't have had the perfect opportunity for confessing his love for Sumin.

The irony of it, right?

"So, I see that the two of you worked it out." The secretly angry prince said, gesturing to their intertwined hands.

Sumin nodded, smiling brightly, "Yep! Now, I just need to tell my father that our engagement is officially off because I have chosen someone myself." She said, untangling her hand from Seokjin's, "If you gentlemen will excuse me, I need to go find my father." She added, turning towards Seokjin, "I will be right back." She told him before kissing him on the cheek and then leaving.

Both Seokjin and Namjoon smiled at her, waiting for her to be out of their line of sight so that they could drop the little act.

Once she was no longer in sight, the two immediately lost their smiles.

This look of complete seriousness washed over them as the tension suddenly became grave.

"We need to talk," Namjoon suggested bluntly.

Seokjin quickly agreed and then followed the prince out in the hallway.

The two fellas ventured deeper into Sumin's castle, not wanting their argument to be heard by anyone but themselves.

The words they were about to say did not need an audience.

It was personal...

Halting in their steps, Namjoon glanced around, making sure that no one would stumble on them.

While Seokjin leaned on one side of his body against the wall. He crossed his arms over his chest as this disinterested expression slowly appeared on his handsome face.

"Okay. You got me out in the middle of Sumin's foyer. Now talk." Seokjin demanded rudely, already fed up with the conversation, and it hadn't even started yet.

Namjoon scoffed at Seokjin's closed off behavior. The conversation was already off to a great start...

"What are your intentions with Sumin? You go from hating her guts to practically falling head over heels in love with her. What gives man?" Namjoon questioned, wanting to get to the bottom of everything.

Seokjin raised one of his brows, "Why do you care? Weren't you the one the told me that I should give her an honest chance?" He fired back.

This time it was Namjoon's turn to raise his brow.

"Yeah, but I thought you would've fucked up majorly and then have her pretty much loathe you to the point that she realizes that she should marry me because I would never hurt her." He explained, slowly exposing his true intentions. Intentions that were hidden from everyone, especially his friends.

A look of utter disbelief graced Seokjin's face. He then pushed himself off the wall and walked right in front of Namjoon.

"Now, I get it. You are completely in love with Sumin, and it kills you knowing that she has chosen me," He leans closer just a bit, "And not you." He finished, saying each word slowly.

Namjoon growled; his eyes practically became slits as he wanted nothing more but to punch Seokjin in his smug face.

"It doesn't matter. She can learn to love to me after you somehow fuck things up with her yet again," The prince took a step back, "In fact, I'm counting down to it because that just goes to show you that once again, I will be there to catch her when you let her down for the final time." Namjoon said, smiling smugly.

Seokjin's breathing became heavy. His hands balled into a fist.

Yep.

He wanted to punch Namjoon so severely.

"And how do you know that I'm going to let her down? Now that we both confessed our love for each other, I'm going to do my fucking best to make sure that I don't screw things up with her." Seokjin opened his hands, "So, as much as I want to continue this conversation, I rather go talk to my princess," He then positioned his left hand above his eyebrow, ready to salute his soon-to-be ex-friend, "See ya, Prince Namjoon." He said coldly, turning away from him.

Namjoon breathed heavily, incredibly shocked with how things turned out. He honestly did not see their conversation going this route.

He didn't see their friendship going this way...

"What about Sumin, Seokjin?!" Seokjin heard Namjoon yell.

Unknown to them, an intruder heard as well...

After having an interesting talk with her father, Sumin glanced around, hoping to see Seokjin still standing where she had left him. But when she had noticed that both Namjoon and Seokjin were gone, she had to find them.

The princess quickly excused herself from both her mother and father's presence and maneuvered through the billions of guests, hoping to find them lingering around.

When she couldn't find their faces, Sumin immediately went searching for Sowon. Maybe she had a clue as to where they had gone.

Sumin pushed through the guests, thanking the stars that Sowon was staying close to the bar with Jungkook by her side. The princess quickly asked her dearest friend if she had seen either Namjoon and Seokjin, and just as the queen was about to answer, Jungkook beat her to it. The prince told her that he had seen the two of them walk out. They looked tense.

That wasn't good...

Sumin quickly thanked Jungkook and hurried out of the ballroom, bunching up parts of her dress as she did not want to trip while searching for them.

She practically jogged down the corridor; the sounds of her heels clicking against the marble floor echoed throughout the castle grounds.

"Where are you?" She nervously thought as this feeling of anxiousness filled the pit of her stomach.

She gradually picked up the pace as her eyes looked in every single direction. She silently prayed that she'd find them before anything drastic happened.

"What about Sumin, Seokjin?!" Sumin heard Namjoon shut just as she was seconds away from coming face-to-face with Seokjin.

Not wanting to be seen, she quickly ducked behind a nearby wall and waited for the conversation to continue.

She subtly peeked her head out and saw Seokjin stop in his tracks and immediately turn around.

"What do you want me to say, Namjoon?! That, I do not love her at all," She saw Seokjin take a step towards Namjoon, "That, I just told her all those things hours earlier because I wanted to practice my acting skills and see if I can fool her into thinking that I am honestly in love with her! Well, there you go. I do not love her, nor will I ever genuinely fall in love with her! Now, you can be her knight-in-shining-armor and protect her from me!" Sumin heard Seokjin announce, breaking her heart piece by piece.

Seriously, it felt as if someone punched her in the chest. That's how bad her heart ached.

Her mouth became agape as she felt utterly flabbergasted—confused—with Seokjin's words.

So, what he had told her was a lie?

A...fucking...horrible...lie...?

Tears cascaded down her cheeks as Sumin tried her hardest to silence her sobs. Her legs became wobbly as she no longer had the strength to remain standing. She eventually collapsed onto the marble floor as her breathing became sporadic.

Heartbreak sucked...

Not wanting to be anywhere near them, Sumin ran out of her hiding spot. She could care less if the two boys were alerted to her presence.

She simply no longer cared about anything...

But...if only she stayed a few seconds longer, she would've heard something that would put an end to her unwanted heartache.

"There, does that make you feel better, Namjoon? Does this help your pride knowing that I have said these untrue things about the woman I love? No, right?" Seokjin paused, taking a quick moment to compose himself, "If you truly valued her happiness, then you would simply bow out right now and allow her to be happy with me." He said. "Seriously, give her and I the chance to have our love blossom into something more because I swear to you, I will never hurt her again." He added with determination lacing his words.

Just as Namjoon opened his mouth to say something, the two of them heard the sounds of rushed, fleeting footsteps. The sounds instantly alerted them, causing their eyes to widen.

The color drained from their faces the second they registered that the fleeing intruder was Sumin.

"Shit...!" Seokjin cursed, rushing after Sumin once again with Namjoon closely trailing behind.

Tears streamed down her eyes as the broken princess ran down the corridor, ignoring the worried expressions on the castle workers that she had unfortunately passed by. She continued to run, uncaring about the fact that she was headed straight for the ballroom.

All was on her mind was that she needed to cry on someone's shoulder so naturally, she ran towards the one person who's always there for her.

Sowon.

The distraught princess halted in her steps, her breathing incredibly sporadic. Through teary eyes, Sumin glanced around the ballroom, praying that Sowon was still in her original position.

And luckily...she was.

Sumin bunched up her dress and swiftly walked over to the queen. She politely pushed by the many party guests until the gap between her and her dearest friend decreased.

Not bothered to tap the queen on the shoulder, Sumin flung herself in Sowon's arms, alerting both the queen and her prince.

Confusion etched on Sowon's face as she could not understand why her soft princess currently sobbed her eyes out.

Then, it hit her.

That fucking duke...

"Jungkook..." She began, calling for the young lad's attention, "Can you take care of my princess?" She asked calmly, gently rubbing Sumin's back.

Jungkook cocked up a brow, "Why?" He asked slowly.

Suddenly, an evil yet sweet smile graced her face.

"Because I'm about to murder two idiotic assholes for hurting my princess." She answered simply with a murderous gaze.

Jungkook's eyes widened as Sumin was suddenly thrust into his arms, and Sowon began to walk in the direction of the entryway. From what he could see, the pissed off woman was cracking her knuckles, ready to punch Seokjin right in his handsome face.

Not wanting her to get into a scandal and wage war on a neighboring kingdom, Jungkook swiftly dashed after Sowon, gently tugging Sumin with him.

As he closed the gap between him and Sowon, he stretched one of his arms and then quickly wrapped it around the angry queen's body.

Sowon was caught off guard, but before she could fight against his grasp, she felt her body being lifted.

"Put me down this instance!" She hollered, earning a few glances by random bystanders.

Jungkook firmly shook his head as he positioned her over his shoulder but remembered to make sure that she still look dignified.

"Sorry, my independent, gorgeous, fiery queen, but I cannot." He said nervously as he and Sumin began walking towards a vacant area of the ballroom.

Usually, the compliments swooned the headstrong queen, but not this time. It just merely pissed her off even more.

"Why the fuck not, Kook?" She practically growled as she thought, "He's fucking lucky that I am turned away from him..."

Jungkook glanced over his shoulder, meeting Sumin's gaze, "Because, I don't want you to get into trouble with Seokjin's kingdom." He answered truthfully.

Sowon, on the other hand, scoffed. She didn't give a fuck if she declared war against Seokjin's kingdom. She wanted him to pay for how badly he broke her soft princess.

Hm...war didn't sound like a bad idea...

Sumin knew the look on Sowon's face. Whatever her interesting friend currently thought about, it wasn't right.

"No, you cannot declare war against Seokjin and his kingdom..." Sumin told the queen, earning a few grumbles from Sowon.

"I can't declare war, but do I want to? Yes. Yes, I would like to wage war against that stupid prick for hurting you." The queen said, making a good point.

Sumin forced a smile, "I'm sure you do, but I don't want you to..." She paused, sighing, "I just want to forget about tonight." She said somberly in a soft tone of voice.

Sowon frowned, "I know you do, sweetie. I know you do."

"Like, a huge part of me is devastated after hearing Seokjin say that he fooled me into thinking that he loves me. Then, the other part of me wants to know if there was something else that could've compelled him to say that. Like, maybe he wanted to make Namjoon feel better or something." Sumin paused, halting in her steps for a moment, "I can't accept that Seokjin would do a complete turnaround." She confessed, her voice almost a whisper.

Sowon made a noise as she could bear the sight of her dearest friend in so much pain. She noticed that the princess's chest hitched just a bit—a tiny sign that told her that Sumin was about to cry again.

The more Sumin talked about it, the more it just pained her as she slowly realized that maybe...just maybe...Seokjin told the truth.

He truly did not love her, after all...

Just as the queen opened her mouth, Jungkook said something that caused her to shut it.

"I know I'm probably the last person you want to hear from, especially since you're more than likely going to think that I'm simply defending my friend, but I can honestly tell you that Seokjin is not that great of an actor." The strong prince confessed, gently setting Sowon down.

Sumin stared blankly at the prince as she told him that he seemed entirely believable when he had said to her that he had fallen in love with her.

Jungkook sighed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his dress pants.

"Well, that's because he was telling you the truth." He said, resulting in a smack upside the head from Sowon. "Okay. Ow! But, I'm telling the truth. I have known Seokjin since I was a teenager, and he fucking sucks at lying. Like, there's this one time where I had asked him for an opinion on whether if I should denounce my title as the prince or not, and do you want to know what he said?" He asked, earning nods from both Sowon and Sumin, "That stupid older friend of mine said that I should give up my throne and live up in the mountains where I can be raising a bunch of goats and rabbits." He stated, revealing how terrible Seokjin's idea was.

Sumin blinked a few times, while Sowon looked appalled by the duke's stupid idea.

"Exactly...so I wouldn't take what you heard Seokjin say to heart," Jungkook said to Sumin, smiling just a bit.

Sumin sighed as her mind grew even more confused. While, it helped to know that Jungkook solidified her optimistic thoughts but, on the other hand, she reached her breaking point when it came to Seokjin.

She didn't know if she wanted to set herself up for heartache for the third time...

"I appreciate what you had to say about Seokjin, but I don't know if I can handle yet another heartbreak," Her eyes trailed to the floor, "My soul definitely can't handle another one," Sumin confessed quietly, feeling tears pool in her eyes.

Both Sowon and Jungkook looked sympathetically at the princess, silently wishing that they could something for her—especially Jungkook since it was technically his fault that Namjoon and Seokjin behaved the way they did. It was his fault that Namjoon gained a surge of confidence when it came to Sumin.

It was because of him that Namjoon egged Seokjin into saying those hurtful lies.

Way to go, Jungkook...Way...to...go...

Moments of silence passed by as the three of them simply stood there. Sowon and Jungkook acted as shields from any nosy bystander while Sumin remained crouched down; her back rested against the wall.

A blank expression was written all over the princess' face as she succumbed to her negative thoughts.

It was crazy that in just a few minutes, she went from battling between her rational and emotional side to only allowing her emotional side to take control.

Now, she thought about everything and anything that led to more emptiness within her body.

Maybe, she should just marry Namjoon. He wouldn't hurt her. He would always protect her from any form of danger.

But then...

Would she be happy with him?

Would she learn to love him?

So many questions flooded her mind, causing this strange yet intense tension to emerge.

Great, now she had a migraine...

What else could go wrong?

"Princess Sumin...your father would like a word with you." She heard the royal messenger say.

Fuck...

Her...

Life...

"Okay. Tell my father that I'll be right there."

A/N: Wah?! After like 84 years of not updating this story, I finally came back with a long update! Seriously, I am actually surprised that this chapter managed to reach 7K words. The most I have ever written was like 6.5K words. Maybe more, but I never reached 7K haha That just shows you guys how much I love this universe :)

Anyway, I hope guys like this update! I’m not sure when I will start writing ch.7 since I have three teacher exams to take this month, a lot of Human Development assignments, a project for my Psychology class, and making sure I don’t fail my Physics class lol More than likely, I will resume writing my own stories around December since that’s when I will be done with school!

Wish me luck on my many assignments! :D

Don’t forget to leave a comment/like/reblog/and an ask in my inbox! I love hearing your thoughts!

- Kim

p.s did you guys enjoy that little flashback to Fight for Me era Sumin & Seokjin? I know I did :)

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The Golden Rules for Booking Live Entertainment For Your Event

Booking Live Entertainment

The Golden Rules When Booking Live Entertainment for Your Event

Tips & Tricks For The Entertainment Buyer

Having worked as a professional magician and mind reader for the past sixteen years, I have seen hundreds if not thousands of venues all over the world. From Boston, where I am based, to Singapore, where I work for a few weeks once per year, and many cities and countries in between. A similarity that crosses all borders is the consistent lack of knowledge the client has when booking live entertainment. This is true for that of a variety type. (e.g magicians, jugglers, clowns, etc.).

Now this can be forgiven (to an extent), as most people have not booked live entertainment before and know absolutely nothing about how the process works. These individuals can be forgiven and kindly instructed by the performer on how the smooth the process can and should be. That said, when you as the entertainer are working through a seasoned booker (e.g someone who works for a company that plans all large and small functions), there is really no excuse for poor booking processes.

After speaking with several performer friends from all areas of entertainment, we have come up with a list of guidelines any future client should be at least familiar with before hiring professional entertainment.

When To Book Live Entertainment

So you want to hire some entertainment for your party, event, graduation, anniversary, etc. Whatever the case may be, you want to spice it up with something live and fun! First thing you should know is that performers of all varieties whether magicians, fire eaters or live bands, need time to prepare their shows. Most of us specially design our performances around your event, and this does take some time and will go into the price of the performance. You will want to give at least 3-4 weeks notice to a performer before booking. This is my suggested time frame for me, other performers require much earlier notice, and some can take an event with just a couple days notice. It depends on our schedules, current bookings and flexibility and of course, the performer himself (or herself). Our schedules are very strange, and totally non-traditional - we can have gigs at all hours of the day, night, and even into the very early mornings. Please Note: If you call a performer a day or two, or three, or even four before your event, they will most likely charge a little more for the short notice. It takes time to make your event special, whether by creating custom routines as I do, setting up a music set list, or getting required licenses or permits for more dangerous acts like fire eating and sideshow stunts.

What Are You Looking For

Hiring entertainment for your event can really enhance your guests' experience. Whether it's a live band, DJ, caricaturist, or magician, live performances create a truly unique experience that your guests will share with their friends and families when they leave. You want to determine what kind of entertainment best suits your particular event. For example: If you're getting married at a golf resort. With 200 guests and a traditional setup (cocktail hour, plated dinner, speeches, dancing, etc.), then you will want to determine where and when entertainment makes sense. If you're interested in magic or mind reading, which is very popular at weddings, then you would be best to place it into the cocktail reception for what is called "strolling" or "walk-around." This is where the performer wanders through your cocktail hour performing small, up close effects and routines for small groups of guests. This offers a personal experience you sometimes lose with a full length show. It also breaks up the occasional repetitiveness of such portions of the event. Magic, mind reading or a little light music can really make a difference. Have an idea of what you want, lay out your event, and see where it makes the most sense. Maybe a full length comedy mind reading show after a three day corporate retreat? Or perhaps you're celebrating your child's birthday and want some entertainment to keep all the little guests entertained? A children's magic and balloon show is a perfect fit here. Look into my other article on Magic & Mind Reading for Adults vs. Magic for Children, for more detailed information.

Determine Your Budget

This is by far one of the most important points a soon-to-be entertainment buyer must understand. It should be known that every performer, no matter what persuasion, charges differently. A fire eater will charge differently from a juggler or clown. A mentalist will charge differently from a magician or stilt walker. This is based on how they value their time and expertise.

Have at least a rough idea on what you're looking to spend on entertainment. Do not be afraid to ask a performer if he or she can work within your budget. Be realistic about it and think about your event and the kind of image that you want your guests to take home with them, and try to get a rough idea on what you would be willing to spend achieve that image. You will not insult us with your budget. We will just say no politely or even recommend someone who could better work within your financial parameters.

Entertainers usually know each other and bounce work around quite a bit. We almost always know what our friends and competitors charge. The more unique the performance style, the smaller number of performers. If you have $200 for a full length hypnosis performance, you may want to look into another form of entertainment. Most hypnotists don't leave home for less than triple that amount. If you have $5,000 for entertainment, then you're in a whole new bracket of entertainers. More on that later.

Details, Details, Details

Now you know what you want. The next thing to do is get your details together. These include the following in order of importance for the performer to know:

1. Date of the Event

2. Time You Want The Entertainer To Arrive & To Begin Performing

3. Type of Event (birthday, corporate lunch, trade show, etc.)

4. What You Want From The Entertainer in Detail

5. Budget!

6. How Many Guests You're Expecting

7. Description of the Venue (indoors, outdoors, theater style seating, tables, etc.)

8. Will There Be Other Entertainment (what kind, how long, etc.)

9. Have All Of Your Info Available (phone number, email, mailing address, etc.)

Having this information ready when you call an entertainer will make your booking process go much, much smoother and usually result in only one, maybe two phone calls or emails. Missing information does happen. Maybe you don't have your venue nailed down yet? No problem, try to give us a rough idea of where you're looking so we know how to prepare. If you're thinking a typically busy, dark restaurant but then go for a show at the beach, in the sun, with wind... This will be a little frustrating for the entertainer.

Know Your Venue

As stated above, the venue is very important. To most of us, we can perform practically anywhere (within reason). I've worked on moving boats, trains, and even on a private jet. Some of us who work with dangerous items, such as sword swallowers or fire breathers, require very specific environments in which to work safely for themselves and the guests in attendance.

Let's look at a few examples of common venue locations for a mentalist or magician:

1. The Country Club - always a popular location for a little walk around magic/mind reading or even a full length performance. Usually everyone is well-dressed, having formal meals, and looking for a more sophisticated form of entertainment. This is not the best place for a chainsaw juggler.

2. The Nightclub - usually dedicated to bachelor/bachelorette parties, adult birthdays, company buy-outs, holiday parties and practically any event you'd book to have some serious fun! Usually it is very loud, crowded, and drinks are flowing. This is not the best time to have a palm reader or full length magic show. Instead you could opt for some strolling entertainment, live music, or even a dance group.

3. Your Residence - Probably the most common location for family events, graduations, anniversaries and private holiday parties. You won't normally see a lot of craziness as you would in the nightclub. Such events are normally filled with family members, friends and children. Everyone knows each other, is very comfortable and is not scared of being a little silly from time to time. A great time for a hypnotist! Or even personal tarot readings. Definitely a great time for a mind reading performance.

The point is to use your venue to its absolute potential. Play out the scenario in your head with the entertainment you have in mind. If it seems like it could work, go for it. Chances are you're right!

Price Shopping

As performers we all work insanely hard to provide the absolute best entertainment for the best possible value. Our prices are all different, but with variations based on what we offer, where we live, how much equipment we have to transport, etc. Customers should know that there is A LOT more that goes into the booking on our end then you might think. This can include organizing our material, writing up contracts, invoices, and riders, getting to and from the gig; setting up; tearing down; packing at home; unpacking at home; re-setting our equipment; writing emails; making phone calls; updating schedules and social media; and more. What the customer sees is a small portion of the work performers do for a single booking. All of that goes into our fees as well. Please keep this in mind if you live in northern Maine and you really want the face painter from New Jersey at your party.

That said, price shopping does not mean you will get the best show for the lowest price. Also, the highest price artist out there is not necessarily better than the one who charges half or more less than that. Your selection should be based on recommendations, referrals, skill-set, and your budget. Not everyone can afford to book Aerosmith. For example; say you are hiring a children's magician for a birthday party. In New England, the rough booking fees range between $275 and $500 for an hour long show, with the ability to have add-ons like balloon animals, teach-a-trick, or magic goody bags. If you're getting offers at $100 or even Less! you should seriously consider what you're getting. Watch videos, call past clients, check the quality of their website, marketing materials, etc.. Do your homework! You wouldn't by 100 pairs of socks for $1.00 would you?

Referrals VS Resume

This can be a tricky section for a buyer. A lot of entertainers, especially when they're just starting out tend to fluff their resumes with big name clients to draw attention. In many cases they're not totally accurate. That doesn't mean they're not good performers, they're just trying to get some business. Then again, a lot of professionals out there have very thick resumes that are all 100% legit. You can usually tell from observation who's on the level and who isn't.

The best way you can make a decision is through referrals, testimonials, video demonstrations and reviews. Any magician or mentalist worth his salt will post a video of a portion of his show, as a teaser. This is the hardest hitting material that makes the audience go wild. I would be leery of a performer who didn't have at least some kind of video, even a poor-quality one. It's 2014 after all; most of us have cameras in our phones that shoot better than handheld cameras just a few years earlier.

I've found that the best way I book events is through word-of-mouth and my website with a link to my YouTube channel.

Actual VS Perceived Value

Like referrals vs. resume this can be a tricky section to explain correctly. As a quick definition, the actual value of a performer is connected to the following: his or her performance quality, attitude (courteous, respectful of clients needs, friendly without being annoyingly friendly or overly familiar, etc.), dress sense/style, and uniqueness of the performance. Now these are just examples and include quite a few other points that you'll notice after you hire entertainment. Notice how price was not a part of the actual value. The fee a performer requires for the event is based around the points I made above in point 6. You will not know the actual value of your performer until you've hired him or her to perform. Now, perceived value is what we do when we look at the artists' website, bio, pictures, videos, social media pages, etc. We determine if we like them within the first minute - or usually a lot sooner.

It should be known that the perceived value can absolutely work against you. There are performers out there who spend thousands of dollars on top quality websites, advertising materials, search engine optimization, and promotional videos, but when you see them live, you are quickly hit with just how bad they are. This happens quite a bit, especially amongst the younger generation of performers. Video editing software and the right person behind the keyboard can make anyone look amazing. Do not let the perceived value of a performer determine whether or not you want to book them. Use that information as a reference to what you can probably (not always) expect when the show begins. Focus on referrals, reviews (from real people), media write-ups, and recommendations from friends or family that may have booked entertainment in the past. The best advertising for a performer is word-of-mouth!

Free Work VS Donated Work

Ask any performer how many times they're offered "great publicity" in exchange for performing for free. It happens to all of us, a lot. I personally am asked to perform for free at least once a week. Nine times out ten I have to decline the event. Entertainers who are starting out may take the booking even though it doesn't pay. They're looking for "flight-time" or time in front of a real audience to practice, rehearse material and get comfortable in their field. This is perfectly acceptable and should be encouraged to young or new performers. However, a professional entertainer, be it a magician, mentalist, juggler or human blockhead, will probably not take a free show in exchange for an ad in the magazine, free publicity, or free food.

Almost all of us entertain as a full-time job. We work solely as performers and we expect to be paid for our time, just as you expect to be paid where you work. You will probably insult a performer if you offer publicity in exchange for money they'd use to pay bills and buy food. After all, you found us so the publicity is already working right?

Now when it comes to donated work, it's a much different story. At least for me. Please be aware I am not speaking for ALL performers working. Everyone is different and structures his business differently. Some performers will probably not agree with things in this article and it's totally fine! Donating our time to a cause is something in which a lot of us take great pride. Every year I donate at least 10 hours of performing to various charities around New England. These are ones that are very close to me, such as The American Cancer Society, Horizons for Homeless Children and The American Red Cross. I love giving my time to these organizations and being a small part of making a difference. We entertainers are all full of emotion and big hearts and we love to see the expression of happiness on people's faces who otherwise would be sad or in pain.

Be aware of your situation when offering an event to a performer for very little or no money. If it's a cause that we believe in and we can spare the time on our schedules, we will jump at the chance. If not, please do not take it personally and understand we need to work and earn as much as possible in order to keep providing entrainment to people around the world.

Contracts, Invoices, Agreements, Riders

The boring details of the booking process, lots of invoices, contracts and specifications that almost every performer requires are vital to the quality of the performance. Contracts are absolutely essential for a performer to have, and we will use them for the smallest to the largest event. Most of us have had the experience of "being burned" on bookings because we didn't have an agreement in place. We learn quickly (well most of us do) and adopt the contract policy to ALL bookings, even donated time bookings. Do not take offense if your children's magician requires a contract for his performance.

Most of us keep very detailed records of every gig we work. Invoices, contracts and emails are all essential pieces of material for our tax purposes, marketing strategies, and general peace of mind. I personally require a contract, invoice and performance rider for my shows. Most of the points in my agreements do not apply to every single show. However, a lot of the time they do. If we ask for a table or access to plugs, that the windows be closed, or that we're in the shade if outdoors, understand these are important factors that will go into the quality of our performances. We can usually perform in most places under most conditions, but some entertainers can not be indoors without proper licensing (such as people who work with fire or dangerous objects) or outdoors without a tent or waterproof area. Basically, it's common sense. The DJ you hired for your daughter's wedding will not want to work in the middle of the sun for five hours with hundreds of feet of extension cords running all over your event. Plan accordingly and your event will be a huge success!

Understanding What You're Paying For

I know I have covered this in earlier points but it is very important to understand what you're actually paying for when booking a performer. Remember we spend years and years perfecting our skills to make them look flawless when showtime comes. Some of us live far away from your venue and have to travel quite a distance to get to the gig. I personally drive about 35,000 miles a year just for performances, and fly about 40,000. We spend a lot of our time in airports, cars and traffic! Our fees are constructed by us based on what we believe our performances are worth. This includes the years of practice, travel to and from the event, all the work we do before the show itself, what kind of event it is, and how popular and in demand we are. Cheaper does NOT mean better!

Paying Your Entertainer(s)

I would say I've waited probably two years' worth of days on being paid for some events. That does not happen anymore. It is not acceptable to make a performer wait longer than the agreed upon time of payment. As I said before, we are full time entertainers and expect to be paid before or immediately after we perform. Our shows are all one-of-a-kind demonstrations and no show is the same (at least as a mentalist). So what you're getting is a totally unique experience. A good way of looking at it is this: If you worked for a week straight and your boss said "Sorry, but would it be okay if we paid you in three weeks for this week?" You would probably lose your sh*t. That is exactly how we feel when we have to wait for payment for our services. We arrived on time, performed, and were professional, and we expect to be paid accordingly.

It is customary to pay an entertainer prior to the start of the performance. Most of us require a deposit of some kind along with our contract or invoice signed. Those who don't require a deposit (well, they should) should be paid in full on the day of the event. Please be aware of this when hiring entertainment for your next party. Not only will your performer thank you kindly, he or she will be sure to make your event a huge success.

Tipping: Gratuity for a performer, DJ, or artist lets us know you really enjoyed our work. We do not factor gratuity into our fees (at least I and my friends don't) so any extra tip you have for us will be greatly appreciated. Don't be afraid of what to give for a tip - we are grateful you thought of it at all. Most people don't usually think to tip entertainment, so when it comes we are always very happy. This is especially important amongst entertainers you didn't book, like street performers and carnival or fair artists. Most of them accept tips and some get paid ONLY in tips. Keep that in mind after you watch the street performers in Fanueil Hall in Boston during the spring and summer months.

Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/8554328

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jaydenibx6860-blog · 5 years

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imagine-that-one-thing · 6 years

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Honey Sweet.

It had inaugurated at the hotel when you were told you had to use the employer exit because the paparazzi were out the front. It wasn't the usual disagreement that settled with you rolling your eyes and him huffing before the two of you figured things out. It was more of the disagreement that has been an ongoing issue, a disagreement that wasn't going to settle any time soon, and for many reasons.

Things between you and Shawn were always cordial, you didn't have the picture-perfect relationship, it had its flaws but the two of you always came out on top. You didn't argue often but when the two of you did, it periodically seemed to revolve around the same thing. You being his clandestine secret. At first, you understood his reasonings, you worked around his concerns and abided by his limitations, but now, now you are tired of being buried in the shadows and left to feel like you're not validated.

You tap your fingers on the edge of your clutch bag as it rests in your lap, your finespun eyelashes over your hazelnut shaped eyes doing their best to hold back any tears threatening to fall. To say you’ve had enough of things would be an understatement.

“Darling, you know this is just for your safety,” Shawn breaks the silence with his soft voice, his hand reaching over for yours.

For a moment you think about taking your hand from his, but you can’t help but feel a wave of comfort drift over you at his loving touch. “This is past the point of wanting privacy, Shawn. Sometimes it feels like you don’t want to be seen with me like you’re ashamed. And I know you’re not, but that’s how it feels sometimes.”

“You know I love you more than life itself, you know I do this so you won’t be the next victim that the media pry after.”

“Shawn, we can’t hide forever. You know that,” you respond with a dry voice, baffled as to how Shawn intends to reserve your relationship much further.

He has kept you away from the spotlight and the media attention for the last few years. Any time the two of you are seen together in public, which is rarely, Shawn always claims the two of you are great friends, best friends. Everyone believed all the misleading comments Shawn would say and they still do. The media and the fans leave you alone for the most part because they don’t believe you and Shawn are more than what he tells them.

Shawn kept up with the PR, he is seen with other celebrities at times, attending events with them, performing with them and taking pictures with them on occasions. He plays the PR to keep you away from the drama and part of it is for him so his managers will stop pestering him. He see's it as a win-win situation, but you don't.

“Don’t forget to move your ring,” Shawn comments softly as his effervescent, champagne-brown eyes catch your fingers playing with the engagement ring on your finger, the ring he expects you to move to your right hand so nobody suspects a thing.

You glance over at Shawn, your blood humming through your veins and boiling erratically, “before you get mad, it’s only because we haven’t told anyone in the business world. Sweetheart, the minute they see the ring on your finger, word will get out and I won’t be able to stop it. No amount of PR will save you from the chaos.”

“Then maybe you should stop the PR and damn well tell the world we are together and happily engaged,” you mutter and he just stares at you, he knows you're upset and he knows he doesn't want to challenge you with your tone of voice, at least not right now while on the way to his event. “Well, right now we aren’t happily engaged because I’m re-thinking my decision or saying yes,” you respond lamentably as you take your hand away from his and take your engagement ring off. “Here.”

Shawn shakes his head, his hand having no intentions of taking the ring from you. “No, that’s yours.”

“Shawn—“ you’re stopped as the limo comes to a halt and the chauffeur pulls down the privacy divider.

“We need a moment before you open the door,” Shawn informs the man and he nods as he gets out of the car. “I love you but can we please not do this now? Please. I already don’t want to be at this damn event. I promise I’ll make things up to you. Just... wear the ring. I’ll see you inside, okay?” Shawn keeps his voice low as he leans over and kisses your cheek. “I’m not getting out of this car until you at least tell me you love me.”

“I love you,” you sigh, “but this still isn’t fair... good luck out there, I’ll see you inside.”

Shawn nods, “I’ll find you the second I’m inside, stay with security, yeah?”

“As you wish.” You nod, sliding your engagement ring on your right hand and moving away from Shawn so nobody will be able to see you as he gets out of the car. You hear the racket of the crowd and you observe the flashes from cameras the moment the door opens and Shawn steps out.

This has been your life for a while, entering events at different times, through different doors and with different people. It gets old. There are some nights you question why you stay, then you remember the deep love you feel for the entrancing, molten-brown eyed man that would love heaven and earth for you if he physically could. Every time you are given doubts because of the issues the two of you face with his career, you're always reminded of how much you truly love him.

The chauffeur helps you out of the limo and you give him a polite smile and he nods. It’s not unusual for him to be the one escorting you out of the limo and holding the umbrella over you. Shawn is usually too busy on a red carpet or in an interview and you’re usually stuck behind the scenes. “Thank you, I do appreciate it,” you inform the man as you lift your gown so you can walk.

“It’s an honour, ma’am. Your future husband made me promise to guard you with my life until you’re with security.”

“Well, at least I can say he is protective.” You chuckle as he continues to carry the umbrella and walk beside you until you both reach a door to the venue.

You’re greeted by security as the door opens and you feel the cold, air-conditioned area send chills down your body.

Damn, these things are always cold.

You heavily huff, beginning to wish you had of stayed at the hotel where you’d be surrounded by fluffy blankets and room service instead of at this event. The hotel Lobster and desserts sound better than any of this.

You stand on the outskirts of the small crowds of people, unsure of who to talk to because they’re all mainly people in the music industry and you’re— well, you’re you— and there’s nothing wrong with that, but nobody tends to notice you unless you’re on Shawn’s arm.

You debate whether to locate the bar, but your thoughts disappear the moment you see the set of familiar eyes staring at you and coming closer, his amiable smile radiating, “hey, I thought I was never going to find you in here.” Shawn sighs as he reaches his hand out for yours.

“Well, you did.”

“You look beautiful,” he compliments before he kisses your cheek, “sorry it took so long, it's chaotic out there."

"I wouldn't know, I have been stuck in the corner while being watched by those two," you gesture towards the security that aren't bothering to bat an eye as they make sure you're safe and sound. You know they're doing their job but it doesn't mean it makes it any less bothersome.

Shawn sighs and you can see the frustration crinkle in his eyes, "not now, please?"

"I'm going to go get a drink, I wouldn't want anyone to see us together."

"I'm coming."

You look over your shoulder at him, "you sure? someone might see."

"Don't be like this, you know I love you," Shawn responds as he grabs your hand and walks beside you, "you know deep down I only do this for you, you know it is a chaotic world out there, Y/N," Shawn whispers as you both bypass other elite individuals like him. "Do you really want to be followed everywhere you go? A walk around Target can turn into a tabloid on what you're buying. Your social media accounts will blow up with mean things."

"We've been through this before but you've made your decision," you respond as you reach the bar and politely order a drink: Scotch neat.

Shawn stands beside you, one arm leaning on the bartop, "ouch, Scotch neat means you're really not wanting to be here."

You shrug, "maybe the drink will satisfy me since my boyfriend, fiancé, can't do that."

"Now that was just harsh," Shawn grumbles as he continues to stare at you, taking in your features. Even when arguing, you know he is a sucker for getting lost in your features.

"So is keeping me your little secret... But we don't need to discuss this now." You respond as your hand reached for the drink the bartender prepared for you. Shawn nods before he watches you down the drink.

"Feel better?"

"Nope," you shake your head, "but we better get to our seats because they're about to start and it would be horrible if you weren't sitting in your seats when they started to go live." You sarcastically respond, making it known that you don't care much about this event. Tonight on entails one thing, you being in the shadows and having to pretend you're okay with everything.

You and Shawn step into the holding area of where the cameras are all set up and the elite are filling their designated spots that are strategically selected depending on who is going to be put on display for the night.

Surprise, surprise, Shawn is on display for the night.

Shawn stops and stares at the seats and he looks towards you. You bite down on your cheek as you take a deep breath and see that you're not the one that is meant to be seated beside him. You side eye Shawn as he runs his fingers through his hair and his eyes dart around. Usually, when Shawn takes you to these events, it is when he isn't in the front row and when you can sit beside him without any concerns. But tonight, tonight seems to be a whole other story.

"Special guest, huh?" You question as you look at Shawn, "did you forget to tell me about PR tonight?"

"Give me a minute," he shakes his head, his hand digging into his pocket as he pulls out his phone.

You shake your head and decide that it isn't even worth your time and effort to fight him on this, "it's fine, I'll just sit somewhere else. Good luck tonight," you calmly state, not wanting to start an argument in front of people but also not wanting him to think he is off the hook for anything.

You go to wander away but to your surprise, you feel the familiar fingers wrap around your wrist and gently pull you back, "wait," he mouths as his vivacious, virility brown eyes continue to dance around the area.

Shawn huffs and shoves his phone into his pocket and you raise a brow as you study him. You notice him clenching his jaw, his face seeming crimson with fury as his nystagmic eyes that miss nothing darken before he lets out a breath. "The one damn time I need Andrew," Shawn mutters as he taps his foot and politely waves Andrew down.

"Shawn, what's the problem? I have to be backstage in five minutes." Andrew sneers and flicks lint off his suit, not too thrilled to be dealing with Shawn.

Shawn gestures towards the seating arrangements, "what's this about a special guest?" Shawn questions while rubbing a hand over his light stubble.

"Oh yeah, you are sitting next to a surprise guest."

"No, no I am not," Shawn shakes his head, "I did what I needed to do business-wise, she's sitting next to me," Shawn gestures towards you.

"We have a seat for her a few rows behind you."

Shawn's body stiffens at the remark. "No. Either she sits with me or I will sit in the back," Shawn comments with his sonorous, rumbling voice of his. Shawns arm curls around your waist, tugging you next to him, protectively.

You bit your lip and glance away, abruptly feeling as though you're even more of an inconvenience.

Andrew nods with a heavy sigh, not approving much of Shawn's decision but seeming to understand it. Andrew inhales a deep breath and blew out slowly. "We can put a seat on the end so you're in the middle of the special guest and Y/N. Does that work?"

Shawn nods, "I don't care as long as she sits with me. Thank you, Andrew." Shawn half smiles.

Andrew side eyes Shawn, "Mhm, don't mention it," he grunts as he shuffles off to locate an event coordinator to settle the seating arrangements.

When you and Shawn settle in your seats and the lights begin to dim you take Shawns hand, "thank you," you whisper, kissing his cheek and he nods, not seeming too impressed.

"You're welcome, now I am going to have the rest of management up my ass and I don't want to hear a word when you have the media following you," Shawn mutters, "I perform after the third set of awards, you can stay here or wait backstage."

His tone of voice isn't charming, it is the tone he uses when he is beyond pissed off and doesn't want to argue but he doesn't want to seem like everything is fine.

"What do you want me to do?" you challenge, not wanting to step on his toes too much, you're aware his phone is blowing up with texts about how he shouldn't have made a big deal out of the arrangements.

"Do what you want."

"Shawn, you didn't need to change the seats just to be pissy with me," you hiss quietly before turning your attention to the fact that the awards are seconds from cutting live.

"fucking hell," you hear Shawn mumble before he is compelled to put on a fake smile and clap his hands while the host enters the stage and the cameras begin to roll.

*** ***

You stand by a security guard as you wait for Shawn to change out of his stage clothes. His second performance was the last performance of the show. You watch as other performers walk past you and politely smile and occasionally say hello, and you shift your weight from heel to heel as you continuously watch everyone battles heir way through the melee outside the doors and getting pictures by the press waiting by the cars.

You smile as you see the head of familiar curls, his jacket over the crook of his arm as adjusts the collar of his button up. "Hey, sorry I took so long, was kinda out of breath," he chuckles, leaning down and kissing you sweetly.

"It's okay, here," you gently move his hand from his collar and fix it for him, "you did well tonight, best performance," you grin, caressing your hands to his chest before kissing him again, allowing your lips to get lost between his sumptuous, sensuous and velour soft lips.

"You have to say that, you're my number one fan."

You shake your head, "don't have to say anythin', it's the truth."

"Mhm," he hums as he does his best to conceal his electrifying smile, "we should get going."

You nod and take his hand, ready to walk out the golden trim doors everyone else has used, "sweetheart, you know there's a lot of people out there."

"I love you, I do. I am tired of being the secret. We shouldn't have to hide and do all this." ... "It's tiring, Shawn. The car is right out front waiting."

Shawn nods, "I agree, but don't you think it looks odd that I came with one girl and I leave with another?"

"I thought you walked the carpet alone?" you challenge, raising a brow and crossing your arms over your chest.

Shawn clears his throat, "I walked half of it alone..."

"Well, you can either come with me or you can stand here." You shrug, lifting your dress and walking towards the glass doors that are radiating the flashes from the cameras.

"I'll walk out first," he calls out, hurrying to reach your side.

"So we are walking separately?"

"Hon, I have no choice."

You nod and enable him to open the door and step out before you do the same. He marches down the stairs and at first, you're blinded by the flashes and a little overwhelmed, but you immediately overcome the prying eyes of the world and escort down the stone steps. You watch Shawn as he waves to a few people before he stops in his tracks and mutters something under his breath.

He turns to you, his eyes gleaming as he extends out his hand, "you okay?" he questions, the two of you facing each other and disregarding the rest of the world surrounding the two of you.

You nod, "never been better."

"Good, now kiss me," Shawn instructs in a melodious voice and his opulent eyes glitter in the beams of the camera flashes.

"But everyone will see," you whisper, watching as his raspberry-red lips. curl into a megawatt smile.

He lifts his shoulders into a shrug, "I don't care, to hell with it all. I love you," he responds, before tenderly dipping you. With one glance into his eyes that had the same startling prominence as a summer brook, you were hooked, and nothing in the world mattered but the succulent, sultry and lilac soft kiss of his that was honey sweet.

Masterlist.

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